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From the Mafia with Love

Mafia Takeover
Amy Rachiele, E.J. Fechenda, Kat Shehata, Lisa Cardiff
Genres: Adult, Suspense

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Russian Tattoos by Kat Shehata
Falling in love isn’t a crime—but falling in love with a Russian mafia boss could be deadly.
Competitive tennis player Carter Cook wants a taste of freedom. Her overprotective father monitors every aspect of her life, so when he becomes employed by Vladimir Ivanov—a sexy Russian with an array of tattoos and an accent that weakens her knees—a bit of danger is within Carter’s grasp. Behind her father’s back, she enjoys spending time with Vladimir at his lavish estate.

 But is he really the upstanding businessman she believes him to be? [Read more…]
The Bargain by Lisa Cardiff
Three weeks, twenty-one days, or five hundred and four hours…
That’s all it took to derail my life and twist it into something unrecognizable. One moment I had Evan, the man I thought I’d marry. The next moment shattered the illusion.
Now I have no one.
Except him. [Read more…]
The Beautiful People by E.J. Fechenda
Natalie Ross has always gone to her brother for help. Grant’s been her rock throughout their turbulent childhood. Knowing she’s struggling financially, he gets her a job at Crimson, one of the hottest nightclubs in Philadelphia where he works as head of security. 

Natalie promises Grant she won’t get sucked into the party scene or involved with any of her co-workers because she’s focused on finishing her last semester of college. Her promise doesn’t last 24-hours once she meets Dominic. [Read more…]
Mobster’s Girl by Amy Rachiele
Gripping my chest is the only way to hold myself together or what’s left of me will fall out. The past week has enlightened me on one thing-I don’t care.
 Megan, Mobster’s Girl 
I didn’t even hesitate. I took two strides and blasted him in the face with my fist. He was ready for it this time-unlike in church. He tried to hit me back but I ducked and smashed him again.
 Antonio, Mobster’s Girl [Read more…]
Buy on Amazon:
Russian Tattoos
The Bargain
The Beautiful People
Mobster’s Girl
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Reaching the Horizon: Tabitha tells how she got there…

Interview with Tabitha Lord, author of Horizon.

Bouncing Tigger: Can you tell your readers something about why you chose this particular topic to write about? What appealed to you about it? Why do you think it is different and your approach is unique?
Tabitha Lord: I’ve joked that I currently write science fiction because of Star Wars, but there’s actually some truth behind this! I was seven years old when I saw the movie for the first time and it impacted me in countless ways—from my toy collection, to the books I chose to read, to my later love of astronomy. My tastes in reading are diverse, and some of my other works-in-progress are varied and span different genres, but sci-fi is like the default setting for my imagination. It’s where I go when I want to be inspired, to play with possibilities, to ask what if, and then create brand new worlds where I can explore the answers. For me, the sci-fi genre is also a place to consider serious, meaningful issues in a different context, slightly removed from the real world.
With Horizon, I wanted to explore the idea of what would happen if one segment of an already small isolated population evolved differently (either naturally or by design) from the other. What if some had gifts that enabled them to imagine a different kind of future for themselves and their world? What if they were empathic and could sense each other’s emotions and thoughts? What if some of them could heal with their mind? How would the unchanged people feel about their neighbors? It created such an interesting premise I knew I had to find a way to make it into a story.  In many ways, Horizon is a traditional space opera, complete with battle scenes, adventure, and romance, but I think this initial concept sets it apart and gives it a unique flavor.
Bouncing Tigger: How long do you think about a topic before deciding to write about it? Do you have a set of notes or a notebook where you write down topics that appeal before making a decision as to which topic this time?
Tabitha Lord: For Horizon, the idea mentioned above swirled in my head for years before I started writing. Once I had the first chapter down, I created a rough outline for the rest of the story, and then for the whole series.
When I’m in the middle of a draft, I keep a notebook with me everywhere. Sometimes an idea for a scene will come to me while I’m driving or cooking or folding laundry. I have to stop whatever I’m doing and capture it! Sometimes other ideas for completely different projects will sneak in, and I write these down as well, but then I warn them they have to wait their turn!
Bouncing Tigger: How long does it take to research a topic before you write? And for this book?
Tabitha Lord: I research as I go along. It’s fun to write sci-fi because you get to invent things! I love naming planets and imagining cool new pieces of technology my characters can use. But readers still have to buy into the world you’re creating. It has to feel authentic and consistent. Caeli’s planet, where the novel opens, is recovering from a devastating war that took place a thousand years ago. Nature has reclaimed most of her world, and when we meet Caeli, she is alone and on the run in the wilderness. I used my own experiences camping, hiking, and growing up in a rural area to bring a credible feel to these scenes. I have actually carved my own utensils from chunks of wood with a pocketknife!
Bouncing Tigger: What resources do you use? In general and for the last book that you wrote?
Tabitha Lord: For my writing, in general, I regularly use a thesaurus! The internet is also my friend. When Derek’s spaceship crashed, I looked up schematics for fighter jets so I could understand a little about the systems at work in the engines and controls. My anatomy background is pretty strong, but when Caeli heals Derek, I still called my brother-in-law, a doctor, to make sure she was treating his collapsed lung correctly.
Bouncing Tigger: How many times have you been rejected before your first novel was accepted or before this book was accepted?
Tabitha Lord: Ah, rejection letters! I think I accumulated about twenty-five. The thing about rejections, once you recover from the sting, is that they can sometimes be helpful. If your manuscript isn’t polished enough, you may need to work with an editor. If the story isn’t pulling people in quickly, you may need to spice up your opening chapters. Usually there is a common thread, and if you are open to hearing it, you can make adjustments and move forward. My first round of rejections, which included one R&R (rewrite and resubmit), suggested that I had a good story, but the manuscript needed more work. I hired an editor, and after months of rewriting, I queried again. This time I had more success and was offered contracts from two small presses.
Bouncing Tigger: Did you need to self-publish on e-books before a publisher took you up?
Tabitha Lord: No. But after receiving the offers, I opted not to sign, and began to seriously look at independent publishing. At this point, it became mostly a business decision. For a modest investment on my part up front, I could surround myself with professionals of my choosing, bring my own book to market on my own timeline, and create more of a partnership type relationship with the people I worked with. I signed with Wise Ink Creative Publishing and they provided me with an amazing team. I had control over things like who to hire as a cover artist, when I would release the book, and printing and distribution options. And because they are all industry professionals, they wouldn’t let me out the door, so to speak, until my book was in its best form.
Bouncing Tigger: Would you recommend self-publishing and building an audience before approaching a publisher? If so, what benefits do you see that it might have for the aspiring novelist?
Tabitha Lord: I think there are compelling reasons to self-publish. But if you choose this path, it’s an investment. You are essentially starting a small business and you have to treat it as such to be successful. First and foremost your product has to be good, and you have to be willing to invest the time, energy, and funds to make it so. You also have to build an audience, and then promote and market yourself, or be willing to hire others to help you do it. You have to take ownership of it all. For some writer’s, like me, this is exciting. For others, it’s terrifying.
Regardless of whether you are publishing independently, traditionally, or some combination of both, building an audience is key, and, in most cases, this task falls to the writer. Long before Horizon’s release, I established an online presence by creating a website and blog, choosing a few social media platforms and really working them, attending conferences, and joining writing groups. I was building an audience, while at the same time creating a community for myself and learning as much as I could about the publishing industry. Writing is a solitary endeavor, but the writing community is supportive, vast, and surprisingly social!
Bouncing Tigger: Does writing provide sufficient income to live on? And how long did it take before this happened?
Tabitha Lord: I’m planning it will! But I have no illusions that it will take some time. Ask me this question again in another year or two!
http://www.tabithalordauthor.com/
@tlordauthor
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Can you buy a Wife?

ShoppingForABillionairesFiance-2
AUTHOR BIO:
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult books that push contemporary boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every book she writes, but unlike Trevor from Random Acts of Crazy, she has never kissed a chicken.
Author links:
http://www.jkentauthor.com/
https://www.facebook.com/jkentauthor
https://twitter.com/jkentauthor
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3238619.Julia_KentJuliaAuthorPhoto
Shopping for a Billionaire’s Fiancée gives near-billionaire Declan McCormick the chance to tell his story in this continuation of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Shopping for a Billionaire series.
Goodreadshttps://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24350644-shopping-for-a-billionaire-s-fiancee?ac=1
Purchase:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00ROH9ML0/ref=x_gr_w_bb?ie=UTF8&tag=httpwwwgoodco-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00ROH9ML0&SubscriptionId=1MGPYB6YW3HWK55XCGG2
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/shopping-for-a-billionaires-fiancee-julia-kent/1121000784?ean=9781937544218
Excerpt  1 from Shopping for a Billionaire’s Fiancee:
Something feels off. I sit up, moonlight streaming through the expanse of glass behind my headboard, the ticking silence of the middle of the night grey and ethereal. My mouth is dry and my skin tingles with danger.
My own home isn’t safe.
Clicking sounds in the distance pierce my closed bedroom door. I quietly open my closet and pull out the aluminum baseball bat I store in there for moments like this.
Whatever this is.
Later, I realize I should have called 911. But when you’re in the haze of being woken by a home invasion, you don’t think clearly.
Besides, evolution has primed me for this very moment. Testosterone oozes out of my pores. This is a moment men imagine from the time they’re small little beasts with superhero capes and nerf guns.
Defending our turf.
Quiet as a ninja, I walk on the balls of my feet, opening my bedroom door and proceeding down the hall. Andrew is silent, too, his feet hanging off the end of my couch, the blanket pooled on the floor beneath him. His mouth is open and he’s drooling a little, my nice leather sleek and shiny in the moonlight.
He’s useless against the seven-foot, muscled cat burglar who is obviously here to steal my soul and my valuable electronics.
My eyes dart to the door, where an inch of light from the hallway peeks in, illuminating the library table where I dump my mail.
A knee appears, with a shiny high heel at the foot.
Interesting cat burglar.
Then more knee. A thigh. Hips that make hot blood pound through me, the rest of Shannon entering the room on tip toes. She rotates and closes the door with such precision I start to wonder if she breaks into people’s houses for a living.
I flatten myself against the wall where she can’t see me, and slowly set the baseball bat on a small wool area carpet. We’re both creeping around my apartment in silence, but for very different reasons now.
She cuts behind the couch and stands in front of the breakfast bar, slipping off her trench coat.
Oh, sweet merciful universe.
She is naked except for the high heels.
Merry Christmas in August.
Those come-fuck-me pumps are candy apple red and scream out my name. No, really. I can hear them, tiny little voices that only my now-rising-to-the-occasion little head can hear. It’s like those shoes communicate on a radio frequency that my testicles can tune into.
And...I’m at attention.
What is she doing here?
“Shannon?” I whisper, stepping out into the moonlight, hoping I don’t scare her.
She startles and freezes, hand on one breast over her heart. Her hair is loose and flowing, and she’s curled it. She painted her face, eyes big and bright, lips red and stunning.
She shifts her weight to one hip, eager and a little shy, but also bold.
“Let’s make up,” she says, squaring her shoulders. “And happy birthday!”
Happy Birthday?
Oh, man. That’s right. I’d completely forgotten.
Andrew’s head pops up from the other side of the couch and he gapes at Shannon. “Dec? You hired a stripper? I knew you and Shannon were on the outs, but damn, man, you can’t just—”
“AAAAIIIIEEEEEEEE!” Shannon screams. If this whole marrying a billionaire and working in corporate America thing doesn’t work for her, she has a future in horror films.
Excerpt 2 from Shopping for a Billionaire’s Fiancee:
Shannon has no idea how many layers of beauty she has. And that’s exactly why she’s so exquisite.
When I was sixteen, the year before my mother died, Mom took me and my little brother, Andrew, to New York City for a long weekend. Pulled us out of school over the objections of the headmaster at our academy. 

Mom didn’t care. We spent three nights at the Waldorf Astoria, skated at Rockefeller Center, had the best seats at the top Broadway musicals, and dined on the finest footlongs you could get for $3. Loaded with mustard and sauerkraut, plus a cream soda or two.
(Do you have something against footlongs? Too bad. Two teenagers can only handle so much caviar and lobster.)
What I remember most about that trip, and what Shannon reminds me of every moment I look at her, was our trip to the Museum of Modern Art. Mom insisted we go, and Andrew and I rolled our eyes like sets of dice at a craps table.
And then.
And then I got it, right there in front of a Vincent van Gogh masterpiece. In art history class we’d covered this painting in detail. We were taught the biography of Van Gogh, how he came to create the series of paintings, his motivation, and his flaws. 

We’d dissected the meaning so thoroughly that I felt like I could recreate the art by automation, our elite prep-school instruction clinical and impeccable.
Standing in front of the painting, a few feet away, with my eyes trailing the curve of brush strokes, my mind taking in the nuance of color, my senses dazzled by the sheer essence of the whole, I halted. Froze. Was completely in the painting’s spell.
You can study something in the abstract. Know it’s real somewhere out there in the world, and understand intellectually that what you read in a book or what you’re told by someone else is true.
You have to stand in front of it and have it stare back at you, though, to really know it.
That’s how I feel when I look at Shannon. Every single time my eyes find her. Shannon’s smile is warm and sweet, yet better every time she flashes it at me.

Her honey-colored hair shines in the sunlight but looks richer when it’s tangled, in bed, highlighted by the moon and messed by me. Those warm eyes see only me when we’re together. That luscious body craves my touch. My hands. My...all of it.
When I’m with her, the world is more nuanced. Deeper. Authentic. Real.
She’s a work of art, one of a kind. And one I get to hold next to my body, tuck away in my heart, and...grow old with.
I have planned the perfect proposal. No footlongs and sauerkraut, unfortunately, but plenty of lobster, caviar, champagne and—her favorite—tiramisu. (What is it with women and tiramisu? It’s cream, cheese, sugar, cake and rum, not some magic potion that generates mouth orgasms. 

My Y chromosome scratches its head in confusion, but hey, if it’s her favorite...I give my woman what she wants.)
Dad gave me Mom’s engagement ring, platinum and diamonds galore, a monstrosity he’d bought for her nearly four decades ago as his business took off. The ring is designed to impress. I doubt Shannon would care if I slid a giant hard-candy ring on her finger instead of a three-carat diamond.
And, frankly, I don’t care, either. But the thought of my Shannon sharing such an important part of my mother’s life makes my chest swell. Only Shannon—and my mom—can do that. Only love can do that.
Plus, Marie will pass out when she sets eyes on that rock, and that will give us two minutes of blessed silence. That woman talks more than Kim Kardashian flashes her naked ass on the internet.
“It’s not as if your brothers are planning to tie themselves down to one woman any time soon, if ever,” Dad had said when he gave it to me. He’s about as sentimental as a pet rock. After having it resized to fit my future fiancée, it was ready to rest on yet another McCormick woman’s finger.
It was going to be calculatedly perfect, down to the color of the tablecloth and the freshness of the roses.
And it was perfect.
Until Shannon swallowed the ring.

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Beauty meets the Beast

A Beauty Dark and Deadly
Heather C. Myers
Genres: New Adult, Romance

Emmy Neal needs a job. Desperately. Her grandfather, the only family she has, is in and out of the hospital due to various illnesses and the medical bills are stacking up. It’s difficult to find a steady job in South Haven – everything is either taken or seasonal, except one.
Jason Marshall needs a maid. His cabin and his eating habits have been declining recently, though, to be fair, they have always been in a slippery slope. 

Being out of the public’s eye for the past five years has given him time to remember why he started rapping in the first place and work on his fourth studio album. 

The problem is, everyone still believes he killed his wife and her lover even though he was legally acquitted on a technicality, which makes the prospect of a comeback difficult to come by. If he can get one person to give him a chance, he knows others will, too.
In this modern retelling of a classic fairytale, Emmy will learn that beasts can be beautiful, love can be dark, and attraction can be deadly.
Add to Goodreads
Heather’s books are being published in a fun, non-traditional way: you sign up for a newsletter after which you’ll receive roughly a chapter per week (~1,000 words). Subscribe for A Beauty Dark and Deadly here! For Heather’s other books:
  • Love in Neverland – the sequel to Death in Neverland (which is free here, so if you’re interested in this, please download your copy!) **Clean YA
  • The Art of Persuasion – A young woman falls through time and into a naked pirate’s bedroom. In the Eighteenth Century. *Romantic Comedy (possible swear words, sensuality, but no graphic sex)
  • Inheriting Starlight – Two sisters with claims to the throne of their galaxy. Both our lost, waiting to be found and waiting to find themselves. **Romantic Sci-Fi.

Read Chapter 1:

The first thought Emmy Atler had upon seeing him was how someone so beautiful could kill his wife and her lover.

Because Jason Marshall was beautiful; any woman (and even some men) who could see (and anyone who could not see most certainly could feel) his beauty. While he was relatively short for a male, standing at five foot ten, he had incredibly angular features. His face was heart-shaped, with high cheekbones. His eyes were dark, deep, and soulful, hidden behind thick-rimmed glasses. 

Emmy made sure to note not to stare into those eyes in fear that she might lose a piece of her in them. His lips looked soft and shapely, his top lip only slightly smaller than his bottom lip. Oddly enough, it was Mr. Marshall’s nose that Emmy was fascinated with the most; it was pointed and defined, the nostrils flaring out almost like the wings of a bird. 

His hair was dark and shaggy, constantly falling into his face on its own accord. It was longer than normal, coming down to about his chin. His shoulders were broad, hidden by an old, tattered robe. Emmy noticed that for a man of thirty-eight, his body was still in good shape as evidenced by his clinging muscle shirt and loose pajama pants.
“I’m here to answer the ad,” she said, mentally scolding herself for how small her voice sounded. Emmy was usually more forthcoming; she wasn’t used to being intimidated by anybody.
However, Emmy was beginning to expect that Jason Marshall was a different man entirely. He had begun to develop a well-known reputation as an esteemed author after he published his first book. 

The man was talented, and because of that, he started making money. As always, however, night did accompany day. Jason began holing up in his home office, plagued with deadlines, appearances, and writer’s block. The papers interpreted his isolation as a strain on his marriage and even managed to uncover his wife’s secret, seven-month affair. 

Jason had to discover it in the papers. Next thing he knew, his wife and her lover ended up dead in a Motel 6 and he was being accused of committing the act. 

Two years later and after clearing his name, he took residence in his old cabin in Lake Tahoe. He was also a rapper, something Emmy was much less familiar with, publishing three platinum albums on top of his writing career. He did not tour, and performed only rarely. From what she knew of his music career – which wasn’t much to begin with – he was an amazing rapper.
He smiled at her, causing Emmy to look away. The sun seemed to shine differently when he smiled.
“You seem to be the only one to do so,” he told her in a soft-spoken voice. Emmy had seen Jason being interviewed on television a few months back, and she found it rather baffling that the man had a voice that sounded articulate and mumbled at the same time. It was a low tenor and gave her chills; she hoped it was because she was intimidated by him.
“I guess that means that you’re hired,” he continued, opening the door wider – a silent invitation to come in.
She hesitated, and glanced at her two suitcases idly on the cement porch on either side of her. It had been rather presumptuous of her to assume that she would get this job, but she highly doubted that anyone else would be applying, and upon seeing his surprised look when he first saw her, she assumed that he felt the same way.
As Emmy stepped over the threshold that would mark the beginning of the end for her, she began to reflect on why she had decided to take the cleared murderer up on his job offer. Her grandfather was a wounded war veteran who barely managed to make ends meet with merely his disability check. 

He was the only thing Emmy had in the world and she loved him more than anything. She was currently a senior in college, about to graduate, but instead of finishing at the moment, she saw this opportunity to help him out and decided to take it. This, of course, was against her grandfather’s strictest wishes. It broke her heart that she had to leave him, but the pay was good, and they needed it.
“Well, I assume you want the tour then,” he said, glancing at the ground as he scratched the back of his neck.
“Actually, could you just show me to my room?” she asked. Even Emmy could admit that she sounded rather forceful and she quickly looked away to avoid that penetrating stare of his.
Jason paused for a beat as he stared at her intensely, before he nodded once. This caused his hair to fall in his face and his hand reached up, his long fingers pushing the locks out of his face; a chain of events that Emmy expected to happen quite often.
“Uh… yeah,” he said, and then began to lead her through the unkempt living room up to the base of the stairs.
Emmy watched his movements with interested curiosity. They were swift and fluid, however somewhat ungraceful as well. She noticed a rather large hole in the train of his robe, which was flittering behind the man in hopes to keep up with him. 

To be honest, Emmy was somewhat surprised that she was carrying both of her suitcases. She had been raised by a man who had lived in the time where chivalry was an unwritten rule, and expected the men of today to have some form of familiarity with etiquette, despite it being practically extinct.
As though Jason Marshall could read her mind, he stopped abruptly and spun around, causing his hair to curtain his face once again. Emmy had to strain her muscles to stop so that she would not run into him.
“I apologize,” he said, after brushing his hair back. “I seem to have forgotten my manners.” He looked at her bags before meeting her eyes. “May I?” he asked, raising his firm brow.
Emmy’s face betrayed her thoughts by turning an unattractive shade of red. Deciding not to trust her voice, she nodded and handed him her bags. 

Emmy made it a point to avoid accidentally touching him, and once the two bags were in his hands, she mumbled a meek word of thanks. The corner of his lips curled up in response and again, he nodded, before turning and finally ascending the narrow staircase.

Author Bio:
Full disclosure: I am an acquired taste. I'm a typical blonde Orange County suburbanite who says 'like' more than necessary, laughs loud and probably obnoxiously, and loves to dance in the rain.

I'm a 23 year old college graduate with more than a few tricks up my sleeve, and I also happen to be a pretty big Ducks fan. Oh, and I'm a writer. Like, for real.

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A ferry = a fairy = a ferry. Or does it?

 

A ferry = a fairy = a ferry. Or does it?
Do you remember Chinese Whispers? The game we played at children’s parties whereby we all sat in a line and the first person was told a word by an adult, and they whispered that word to the next child, then we all, in turn, whispered that word to the next in line until we reached the end of the line. The last person then announced the word to the others. Inevitably it was very different from the original word.
When I was teaching information management to undergrads, I played the same game with them to demonstrate the way that rumours are so often a distortion of the truth or the original occurrence. To show how very easy it is for information to become nonsense as it travels around the human sphere of communication. They, being an international cohort, told me that they had played the same game but under different names.
In the US it is called Telephone; or Russian Scandal; Whisper Down the Lane; Broken Telephone; Operator; Grapevine; Don’t drink the Milk (odd  one that one!); Secret Message; The Messenger Game; pass the Message.
There is a variant called Rumours. Where there is a short message and each time the message is passed on the player deliberately changes one or two words.
Now this brings me to the second thing I taught my UGs. I shwed them a short film about a small organisation which was headquartered in a building on one side of the quadrangle,. All te buildings were owned by the company. One long building was the general office and the other, opposite, was empty. No linger used.
The quadrangle was a favourite place to catch the sun during the workers’ breaks and one day as they were sitting outside chatting they noticed some people walking around the empty building with clipboards and measuring tapes. Lasers and so on. So the talked amongst themselves and asked what could be happening and then speculated.
When they went back to their desks they chatted about what they had seen and the speculation grrw.
The story eventually reached the ears of the union representatives who ‘heard’ the variant that said that people measuring up were doing so in preparation for the sale of all the buildings as the company closed down. They called an immediate strike.
The reality was very different.
The building was being measured for a new workers’ club.
Now when gossip is repeated, the person speaking will often add a personal twist to the story, for good or ill, and thus we can get nastiness appearing.
In this book we have a small town called Bonner’s Ferry but we do also have portals into Fairyland and trees that grow rubies as fruit and mysterious disappearances, often of children – they may have fallen through one of these portals and may not have escaped the portal’s guardians? And then of course we have Fairy and Ferry and the whisper that changes the name.
I found the whole idea of trees that bore jewels as fruit and were guarded by giants so child-like – my 4 year-old grand-daughter might have made it up, that I couldn’t take this part of the story seriously. I wanted to read on and find out just what the fairies were so concerned about but really – rubies n trees? And then bringing them back and actually managing to sell them and use the money to found a fortune? If you or I went around trying to sell a ruby let alone lots of them, we would get into serious trouble immediately, especially from the criminal element of society who really would be the only people we could go to - to sell jewels. They would want to know – in a rather determined way – where the jewels had come from and would not believe fairyland. I also think that neighbours would want to know more about how the sudden wealth was obtained and the rumours would have increased and got bigger over time and surely the law might have investigated?
So this is where I stopped reading.  There are 2 more books in the series: A New kind of Battle, and Mischief and Mayhem.  I understand that the book series was not written for me but for children (tweenagers) but  I really think that they are more sophisticated than that these days. I think that this book falls between two audiences – some of the story suits the tweenager – especially as the main modern characters are 15 (but too naive for that age by far); and the fairyworld element  would suit a younger child such as one aged six. I am surprised that the editor/publisher did not work further on this element to make it more exciting and more fantastic.fantasymiddlegradeya

 

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