The Tour Stop
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Grinded
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Four hours later, I raced out of customs at the Florence airport and into Pia’s waiting arms. My heart raced as I touched her warm, opened her lips with my tongue, and the rest of the world went silent. There were no more birds singing, no sounds of the traffic that surrounded us. Even the wind stilled as I focused solely on the way her body shuddered as I brushed soft kisses from her mouth, down her neck, to the smattering of freckles on her bare shoulder. “Tell me there’s somewhere we can be alone.” “Sì,” she said, leading me outside to where a car sat waiting. “Do you want to know where we’re going?” I shook my head. “I don’t care.” When the driver opened the back door and we got in, I pulled her into my arms and devoured her mouth like a starving man. We spent the next hour with our lips fused together in one long kiss. The driver pulled up to what looked like a resort. I got out and waited for Pia to put her hand in mine. I pulled her close and kissed her again. “I can’t get enough of you.” “Come,” she said as I grabbed our bags from the driver and followed her down a walkway to a villa that looked like a miniature of the one at Valentini. Once inside, she put her hands on the hem of my shirt; I grabbed the back and pulled it over my head. “Santa Madre di Dio.” She rested her hand on my bare torso, leaned up, and kissed me. “Pia,” I breathed. “If you want me to stop…tell me now.” She wound her fingers in my hair and pulled me closer. My blood throbbed, and my heart beat frantically in my chest. All at once, I felt like we were melting into each other, our two bodies dissolving into one. She reached up and slid her dress off her shoulders. It floated to the wood floor, landing in a heap at our feet and leaving her naked but for her pale pink knickers. “Touch me,” she demanded, bringing my hand to her breast. I couldn’t resist a taste. My mouth covered her nipple, and we both groaned. Her skin tasted like the sweetest honey; I wanted to lick her everywhere. 
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Infinite Us
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: “This thing we got… I told you, it won’t be easy.” “Nothing good is ever easy, Isaac.” There was a pause as unasked questions hovered around us. I considered what life would be like with Isaac, that no matter how committed we might be to our relationship, we could not exist in a vacuum. Struggles would follow us wherever we went, and would spill out to our families, our loved ones, our friends. He waited. Although Isaac was the one who moved with caution, the one who refused to assume that the easy road would be ours to travel, he waited for me to come to a decision. He wanted me to say yes, but wouldn’t ask the question. He would not lead me anywhere, but would be waiting for me when I arrived—if I didn’t turn back. “Isaac?” He nodded again and brought me closer. His cheeks were wide, his features strong and he closed his eyes, as though he relished the feel of my fingertips over his face. “Will you love me? No matter what happens?” Isaac pulled me around him, holding me against his large body, his hand around my waist. His voice was quiet, but filled with strength, with conviction. “Always.” No one had touched me like Isaac. He had a way about him, something real and honest that was assured by his long, perfect fingers down my back and the slip of his tongue inside my mouth. There was no fear, not when those fingers gripped me tighter, when he slowly lowered my zipper and held my hand as I stepped out of my dress. He watched me then, and even though a different Riley might have been shy, I liked the way his stare felt against my bare skin. It was me he wanted, only me; only I could sate his hunger, redeem that desperate look that had caught him in a silent pause. Isaac still held my hand, arm extended with that hard, greedy gaze working over me. He made me feel needed, wanted, he made me feel necessary. And when he pulled my hand to rest it against his heart, I held my breath, waiting to hear what he thought, hoping he wanted me as much as I wanted him. “My sweet… my beautiful Riley.” He stepped back, my fingers trailing away from his chest, and tugged off his shirt, dropping it to the floor, instantly forgotten. Isaac picked me up and carried me to the bed, divesting me of everything that kept me covered, and everything that kept him hidden from me. I had never seen a naked man before. I’d never been naked with a man before. But there I lay on Isaac’s large bed covered by his long legs and muscular thighs, my small frame underneath him, open to him as he took control and showed me what it meant to be loved. “You and me, Riley, there’s nothing but this. Nothing else but this, how we are right now.” Isaac never spoke much of his feelings, the things that rocked his soul, the many worries that kept him up at night. Maybe he didn’t know how to say he loved me, but just then, with Isaac’s warm, solid body right against mine, skin to skin, touching me like no one ever had before, I decided words weren’t all that important. “Nothing else, my love. Nothing else at all.”
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The Run Around
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: A sensible woman would’ve been delighted to be her future sister-in-law’s maid of honor, as it implied cordial relationships or some sort of bullshit like that. I knew better. I made an excellent scapegoat. As the wedding party’s weakest link, everyone expected me to trip on my dress, maybe break an ankle along with my neck, or spill the entire wine fountain onto the floor. My brother claimed he loved me, but I believed he’d been the one to spread the rumor I was the world’s clumsiest woman. When I secured my revenge, it would be sweet. But first, I needed to survive my brother’s wedding without being responsible for a single hiccup. Playing to my brother’s misconceptions, I’d spent months tripping over nothing on purpose so I could transform myself into the image of traditional beauty and grace. I’d even lost twenty pounds so my dress would fit. The wedding would be a disaster, but I would emerge from the chaos smelling like roses, red wine, and garlic bread. Honestly, I doubted the wedding would make it to the reception. Some weddings had bridezillas. We had a thoroughbride, and if she got it into her head to run, I wished my brother the best of luck catching her before she fled from the church. My proposal to have the wedding on a yacht, where my brother’s thoroughbride couldn’t escape, hadn’t earned me points with anyone. The bride hated the ocean. My brother was smart enough to catch onto my implication. It wasn’t my fault Amy wasn’t exactly the most reliable woman in the world when it came to marriage. Once was a fluke. Twice was a trend. Five incidents of running from the wedding was evidence the thoroughbride would strike again, and my dear old brother would be saddled with the fifty thousand dollar bill, as he refused to believe Amy would run out on him. Oh, no. Amy would never run out on him. 
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Title: HWY 550 (Rock Point #3)
Author: Freya Barker
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.
 
Special Agent Luna Roosberg lives and breathes her job. Who needs a personal life when work is so rewarding? When a new case sends her to investigate a local motorcycle club, covering as the president’s new flavor of the week, the lines between professional and personal quickly start to blur. Although the Arrow’s Edge MC stays mostly on the right side of the law since Ouray took the gavel, the appearance of the feds at their gate can still rattle his cage. When a string of robberies points squarely in Ouray's direction, he’s forced to cooperate and put the blonde, prim and proper half-pint on the back of his bike. With pressure mounting both in—and outside—the club, Ouray no longer knows who he can trust, except the woman who is shaking up his life—and stirring his blood.
AUDIBLE
https://youtu.be/v5yWwtpcEEs
USA Today bestselling author Freya Barker loves writing about ordinary people with extraordinary stories.
Driven to make her books about 'real' people; she creates characters who are perhaps less than perfect, each struggling to find their own slice of happy, but just as deserving of romance, thrills and chills in their lives.
Recipient of the ReadFREE.ly 2019 Best Book We've Read All Year Award for "Covering Ollie, the 2015 RomCon “Reader’s Choice” Award for Best First Book, “Slim To None”, and Finalist for the 2017 Kindle Book Award with “From Dust”, Freya continues to add to her rapidly growing collection of published novels as she spins story after story with an endless supply of bruised and dented characters, vying for attention!
     
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Hooked On Youby Cathryn Fox Publication Date: April 27, 2020 Genres: Entangled: Amara, Contemporary, Romantic Comedy
Amazon: https://amzn.to/
iBooks: https://apple.co/
Kobo: https://bit.ly/2VUKXKY
Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/3f0h2dc
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2yIzmGW
Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2KxxoMh
 SYNOPSIS“Hooked on You is a sweet treat read that will give you all the good feels!” – USA Today and WSJ bestselling author Avery Flynn I’m a bookworm, a mathematician, not the kind of girl a hot lobster fisherman would notice. Until he did. I’m not in small town Nova Scotia to hook up. I’m here to settle my grandmother’s estate and sell the B&B, which I soon discover has been overrun with seasonal fisherman and operated on the honor system. The hard-core fishing folks become an instant family––the one I never had. Then there’s the blind pet cow, who has a crush on my hot fisherman, Nate. Okay, technically he’s not mine. I have no desire to get reeled in. Until I do. Soon, the little town grows on me, and the fisherman? It’s not long until I take the bait and we’re playing house at the B&B. Things are looking up. Until they aren’t. Rumors about a new plant and jobs being in jeopardy start swirling around town like a nor’easter, and all the signs point to my guy being behind the scandal. Should I give him enough line to play it out and learn his true intentions, or cut and run before I’m hooked?
ABOUT CATHRYN FOX
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Cathryn Fox is a wife, mom, sister, daughter, and friend. She loves dogs, sunny weather, anything chocolate (she never says no to a brownie) pizza and red wine. She has two teenagers who keep her busy with their never ending activities, and a husband who is convinced he can turn her into a mixed martial arts fan. Cathryn can never find balance in her life, is always trying to find time to go to the gym, can never keep up with emails, Facebook or Twitter and tries to write page-turning books that her readers will love. Cathryn also writes New Adult Paranormal under Cat Kalen. Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Pinterest | Bookbub | Newsletter | Amazon Author Profile | Entangled Publishing
The Best Mistake
-- EXCERPT: A sudden feeling drew my attention to the other side of the room. I couldn’t really explain it. It was hot like electricity, something magnetic. My eyes searched for the source of that strange pull—and clashed with gray. My breath caught. It was like looking into the heart of a storm, intense, powerful. I hadn’t gone up in flames for any of the others, but this guy… Well, this O’Brien who was staring at me—devouring me—with those unusual gray eyes, wearing a frown like he never smiled, a stare so focused I thought he might be memorizing every move I made? Or reading my mind? “Wow,” I said, voice nothing but a shaky exhale. This guy caused a slow burn inside me. I wanted to run. Either to him or away, I wasn’t sure. But as his eyes traveled the length of my body, all the way down to my shoes, and back up again to meet my gaze, everything inside me turned to wildfire. I licked my lips, thighs clenching together instinctively. His frown deepened, jaw tight. And that made him seem even sexier. 
GIVEAWAY!
Meet the Author: Charlene Sands is a USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary and western romance. She's been honored with the National Readers Choice Award, twice recipient of the Booksellers Best Award and RT Magazine's Best Harlequin Desire of 2014! Charlene knows a little something about romance. After daydreaming about the cute boy with the long blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes two lockers down from her in high school, to her amazement he asked her out on a date. And he's been continually amazing her for the past forty years. Charlene's perfect day includes reading, drinking mocha Cappuccinos over ice, walking the Pacific beaches with her hubby or playing with her four adorable granddaughters. She loves hearing from her readers. You can reach her at www.charlenesands.com or at www.facebook.com/charlenesandsbooks or Twitter.
About the Book:
Giveaway:
This is my stop during the book blitz for Flaca by Leslie DJ. This book blitz is organized by Lola's Blog Tours. The book blitz runs from 20 April till 3 May. See the tour schedule here.  Flaca: an honest account of a Latina with an eating disorderBy Leslie DJ Genre: Non-fiction/ memoir Release Date: 20 February 2020 Blurb: You can find Flaca on Goodreads You can buy Flaca here on Amazon  About the Author:Leslie DJ was born to write, photographs of her holding pen to paper can be found within the confines of this book. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from the New School of New York and is an on-air talent at 94.3 FM WBMB Baruch College radio. She is the host of two podcasts including Sinister Girlz a female-centric music podcast that promotes local talents in music and could be found on Stitcher and Apple Podcast. She is a native New York and resides with her pet Chihuahua, Joey and precocious parrots Perry and Cocoa. You can find and contact Leslie DJ here: - Website - Goodreads Giveaway There is a tour wide giveaway for the book blitz of Flaca. One winner will win a signed copy of both "That Girl" and "Luz" by Leslie DJ (US and Canada only). For a chance to win, enter the rafflecopter below: a Rafflecopter giveaway 
We're thrilled to kick off the virtual book tour for WHISPERS ON A STRING by contemporary lit author Kathleen Stone. Scroll down to find out how you can pick up your copy!
By Kathleen Stone Contemporary Lit What happens when your soul is bound to another before you were ever born? Lonny and Roo have been best friends since they met in high school in 1975 at the age of fourteen. Same last name, same birthdate, they were attached at the hip; rarely was one seen without the other. Together they navigate through their emotional high school years, but nothing prepares the naive teenagers for the real world ahead of them. Now on the cusp of their fiftieth birthday, Lonny finds Roo broke and alone and convinces her to leave with him on a cross country road trip from New York to Las Vegas, hoping to set her on a new path in life. Told exclusively by Roo, follow the friends back and forth through their unique relationship — experience the loss of innocence, career and life choices that separate and unite them, and unspeakable events that nearly destroy them. It’s a love only they understand, as well as the unbreakable bond that forever ties them together. Is it possible they are only capable of loving each other? 
Amazon → https://amzn.to/329vHMV
2011
It was the kind of headache you get when you've been out in the sun all day... the heat emanating off your skull and the dull throbbing of drums that causes your stomach to go all queasy. I could hear the buzzer for my apartment going off, then my phone started ringing. I could barely focus my eyes as I poked my head out from under the covers to see it was my friend Lonny trying to video chat with me. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, so I ignored it. Then the buzzing from outside and my phone ringing started all over again. I decided that whoever was buzzing my apartment could only be bad news, so I answered my phone instead. “Hey Rooster,” Lonny said with his crooked toothed smile, his eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses. “Lonny,” I groaned, barely opening my eyes. “What time is it?” “Seven o’clock.” I wanted to strangle him. He rarely woke up before nine in the morning… why was he calling me at seven? I could hear the buzzing to my apartment door continuing in the background and knew it was bad news. Everything was bad news lately. “Come on Rooster, wake up. I have a surprise for you.” I opened one eye to look at Lonny smiling at me from my phone. “Oh yeah? What’s that?” “I’m standing outside your door. Don’t you hear me buzzing to get in?” I jumped out of bed and grabbed my head, the throbbing so intense it was as if someone hit me with a hammer. I stumbled to the door and buzzed Lonny into the building, then began searching blindly for some clothes. I managed to throw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before he tapped on my apartment door. I opened the door to see my best friend standing in front of me, wondering how he managed to get to New York from California without telling me. I put on a smile and pulled him into my arms, hugging him as tightly as I could. “What are you doing here?” I asked as I finally pulled away. “I’m picking up a car for my daughter,” he chuckled, sitting on a kitchen chair. “And driving it back to Vegas for her.” “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” “I wanted to surprise you. Surprise!” I searched in the cabinet over the kitchen sink for a bottle of aspirin, dumping four into my hand and swallowing them down with water from the tap. I wasn’t in the frame of mind to explain things to Lonny, and I could already see he was quickly figuring out that I hadn’t been completely honest with him the last couple months. “What’s going on, Roo? The shop downstairs is closed up, your apartment is nearly empty—” “Lonny please,” I begged. “I can’t do this right now.” “You look like shit,” he said, standing. He opened the door to the refrigerator, but made no comment about seeing that it was practically empty. Instead he smiled and said, “Let’s get some breakfast. I’m starving.” 1975 I met Lonny Winter when we were both fourteen and just starting high school. We seemed to be shoved together at every opportunity, not only having the same last name, but the same birthdate as well. Our names were bound together, attached at the hip, from the day we met, standing in line to get our yearbook photos taken. I giggled as his name was called when it was his turn… Leonard Winter! He turned and glared at me; I was so painfully shy I immediately regretted it. I could feel my face burning as the redness took over. He was the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen. Lonny was still in the room when they called my name… Ruby Winter! I could hear him cackling like a kid who just heard the funniest joke of his lifetime. I deserved it, I knew, but it was hard to ignore him. I was so embarrassed, I wanted to run home and crawl into my bed. Instead I joined my friend Molly and some of her girlfriends, and we walked uptown to get something to eat when we were finished. When we walked into McDonald’s, Lonny was already there with a group of his friends. I wanted to die. I told my friends I needed to head home and walked out. They were used to my odd, shy disappearances so never questioned me. I didn’t realize Lonny was right behind me on his bicycle. “Where you going?” he asked. “Home.” “Why?” “I have to.” I was so embarrassed by this cute boy that I just wanted him to go away. I almost started to cry. My heart thundered in my chest as I wondered if that’s what it felt like to be in love. I was fourteen… what did I know about love? “Ruby.” He continued to speak as he rode his bicycle slowly beside me. “Sounds like an old lady name.” I stopped walking and glared at him with my eyes burning. “Leonard!” I hissed. “That’s my grandpa’s name!” He stopped riding his bike and put his feet on the sidewalk. We stared at each other silently for what seemed like hours to me. All of a sudden we both started giggling, which turned into hysterical laughter. It was that moment the spirits aligned to bring us together. The moment we became the Winter twins; looking nothing alike but having everyone convinced we were siblings living in different houses. The very moment I became Roo… but only to him. He was the only one I ever allowed to call me that; the only one who would ever get away with it. When he was feeling particularly funny he called me Rooster, which he knew I hated. He claimed it was a combination of my name and my auburn hair, and it became a term of endearment between us. 2011 I plopped myself into the booth across from Lonny in the diner a couple blocks away from my apartment. I never understood why he loved it so much; to me it was just another greasy spoon, but I obliged him whenever he was in town. He smiled as the waitress came to our table, ordering coffee for both of us. I stared at my menu, not really reading anything, all the words just a jumble of letters taunting me. The waitress brought our coffee and I was still staring blankly at my menu. I could hear Lonny speaking; he knew me better than anyone and ordered my breakfast for me — two eggs sunny side up, english muffin, a side of bacon, hash browns, and a small orange juice. He gave the menus back to the waitress and after she walked away, I finally looked up at him. He was grinning at me. I couldn’t help but smile back. “Come on, Roo,” he said, poking my hand with his finger. “What’s going on?” “Billy left me,” I managed to croak. “Left? When?” “Two months ago. The divorce was final yesterday.” I could tell he wanted to scold me for not telling him, but he didn’t. “We talk twice a week… why wouldn’t you tell me?” The throbbing in my head continued as I tried to answer my friend without bursting into tears. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples, hoping for some relief, but none came. “I was too ashamed.” “Rooster,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.” I went on to explain how my husband of nearly 30 years was having an affair with one of the young tattoo artists in our shop, right under my nose. Eight weeks earlier he closed up the shop, left me, and took her to Arizona to start a new life. “I’m behind on the rent. I’ve been selling everything he left behind, everything I own, hoping to go back home.” I spoke just above a whisper. “I have nothing left.” The waitress deposited our food plates in front of us and I dug in, unable to remember the last time I had a decent meal. I tried not to look like a homeless person Lonny had pulled in off the street, but I was so hungry. 1979 Lonny was on the short side for a teenage boy when I met him, but had a growth spurt between sophomore and junior year that brought him to about five foot eight. I always seemed to be two inches shorter than Lonny at any given time. He was always skinny, always funny, always pretty quiet and shy. Most of the girls at school thought he was a silly twerp, but he wasn’t too keen on high school girls anyway. He despised their giggling and screeching, and he really hated the way they seemed to stab each other in the back at the flip of a coin. Lonny preferred music over anything. He was a genius on the guitar and would rather spend his time away from school playing or writing music. He was never comfortable playing in front of anyone, so he never joined a band or played for an audience. He was perfectly happy playing in his room or for his friends and mother, but that was it. Until senior year, when Billy Downey transferred to our school. Billy and I hit it off immediately when we met in English class his first day, and started dating that weekend. Lonny let me know right away that there was something about Billy he didn’t trust. I knew Billy loved to embellish the truth a bit, but didn’t see that as a reason not to date him. Right before graduation there was a student talent show put on by the seniors, and Billy, who claimed to be the greatest guitar player our school would ever see, signed up to perform. Lonny and I snuck into the theater after school one day when they were having rehearsals and Billy’s guitar playing was abysmal at best. As we tried to sneak back out of the theater, Ms. Cooke, the choir director, caught us and threatened to assign us detention the following day. Lonny stared at the ground, kicking at imaginary rocks with his foot as I tried to think of something to say. He finally looked up at her and asked, “Got any open spots for the talent show?” Ms. Cooke’s face lit up like a neon sign, a smile spreading over her face so large it was almost clownish. “I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow, Mr. Winter,” she replied. “Nope. Tell me what time I’m going on. I’ll be there.” Ms. Cooke wrinkled her nose, but for some reason, chose not to argue with him. Word spread quickly that Lonny was going to be doing something in the talent show. Rumors ranged from magic to gymnastics to juggling bowling pins set on fire. I sat in the theater’s front row watching the different talent acts perform, impressed by what our student body could do. Even Billy sounded better during his actual performance than he did at rehearsal, but he had no idea what was to come. Ms. Cooke added Lonny at the very end of the show, and introduced him as the last act of the evening. I held my breath. Lonny walked onstage carrying his electric guitar and a small amp. He looked directly at me and winked, then closed his eyes and let his fingers do the talking. He played that guitar like a man who had been doing it for three lifetimes. He played a medley of genres covering blues, pop and rock. The intensity on his face as he played brought tears to my eyes. I could hear the gasps all around me as people were realizing what a talent goofy Lonny really was. It was because of his unexpected performance that evening I eventually lost him. 2011 I looked up at Lonny when I finished eating every morsel on my plate, and he was holding a piece of toast with butter and grape jelly close to his lips. He hadn’t even taken a bite of his breakfast, but I was already finished with mine. He grinned, the mischievous grin I knew so well. His grin quickly turned into his famous crooked-toothed smile that I adored our entire existence together. I wiped my mouth with a napkin and leaned back, crossing my arms in front of me. It had been almost a year since I saw him last, on our forty-ninth birthday. Even though we talked at least twice a week, we only saw each other once a year on our birthday. It was something we had always promised we would continue, no matter what the circumstances were in our lives. Even though he hated people gawking at him, Lonny was good at the staring game. I watched his face intently as he ate his breakfast, not a word spoken between us. He never broke eye contact; it was a game he always liked to play with me, ever since we met. Whoever laughed first, lost. Lonny had beautiful brown eyes that were more copper than anything else, but when the sun hit them, they almost looked gold. He had the kind of eyes that drooped on the outside edges and when he laughed, his eyes almost completely disappeared. I loved it when he laughed. He had dimples in both cheeks and his teeth were far from perfect, but they were perfect for him. The day I met Lonny, he had short brown hair with awesomely crooked bangs that rested about an inch above his eyebrows — something he blamed on his mother, who insisted on cutting his hair. She agreed, however, once he got into high school she would leave his hair alone and I don’t think he had it cut once while we were there. He was one of those guys who grew into his look when he let his hair grow; he fancied the shaggy look with the feathered layers that went off to the side, his bangs long enough that he could have them or not, depending on his mood. I sat staring at Lonny and he stared right back at me, never flinching. At that moment I just wanted to see his eyes light up the way they did when he was about to laugh. For a guy so close to his fiftieth birthday, he didn’t look a day over thirty. The only telltale signs were a few laugh lines by his eyes and a few strands of gray hair, but even that was barely noticeable. People had said the same about me, but I never believed them. And this day, sitting in the diner playing the staring game with Lonny, I felt about eighty. I opened my mouth to speak but Lonny wagged his finger at me. I had forgotten the staring game rules… no talking. He winked, continuing to eat his breakfast. I knew I would win this round, as I was so depressed and without hope that I couldn’t imagine breaking into laughter. I was suddenly overwhelmed by feelings of dread, my chest getting tight and my head about to explode. I don’t know what I looked like, but it was severe enough to get Lonny to break his own staring game rules. “Hey,” he whispered, “it’s going to be all right.” He put down his fork and wiped his hands, then slid into the booth next to me, pulling me into his arms and letting me sob against his chest.  
Kathleen Stone has been a freelance writer since 1999 and now writes full time. Her work has appeared in Doll World Magazine, Apolloslyre.com, The Lake County Journals, Trails.com; USA Today (travel), Livestrong.com (lifestyle), Essortment, eHow, Answerbag, Examiner.com, Suite101 and YahooVoices. She is the author of Whispers On A String and the Head Case Rock Novel Series, which includes Head Case and its sequels, Whiplash and Haven. She also has short stories published in the Secrets: Fact or Fiction I & II anthologies.
WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:Website: http://www.kathleenstone.orgTwitter: www.twitter.com/kstonewriter Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/kathleenstonewriter |
