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Serial Wives by Yvonne Walus

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Yvonne Walus will be awarding a $20 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Why would a rich girl become a prostitute?

Three years ago Joy refused to sleep with an ex boyfriend. When he committed suicide, her guilt was enormous. To punish herself she opted to serve as a prostitute for three years.

How far would you go to protect your child?

Cora loves her convict husband despite – or because of – his bad boy ways. But now that he’s back in her life, she has their daughter to consider. Is a faulty father better than no father at all?

A serial killer…

A serial killer who murders women and displays their bodies dressed in a white sheet with a fencing mask covering the face. Who will be next?

 

Read an Excerpt:

Zero’s shared office at the police station looked bleaker than usual. Not even nine o’clock and the morning was already too full of coffee and too scant on breakfast. After three hours in bed, Zero had chosen an extra fifteen minutes of snoozing instead of muesli and shower. She was regretting the no-muesli decision.

“So,” Zero said. “I got that list of psycho reasons for wanting to kill prostitutes.”

Kath raised her eyebrows. “Thought you’d get too sucked into the TV to do any work.”

Of course she did.

“Didn’t even switch it on. Used the Internet. According to Dr Google, scenario one is we could be looking at a man who has issues with women as such. He hates women and wants to hurt them, and the prostitute is simply an easy option. We’ll call him Bitter Boy.”

“Right.”

“The second scenario is that he despises prostitutes specifically. The attacks could be his mission to rid the world of women who, in his eyes, are morally unacceptable.”

“The Missionary.” Kath got up, reached for a blue marker and printed the two nicknames on the whiteboard, right below the photos and names of the two victims. Rebecca Mahoney, also known as Raven. Stella Baxter, a.k.a. Sirocco.

Zero wondered if their department would ever get a Smart Board. Unless Smart Boards were so smart they helped the police solve crimes, the official line went, the department would stick to the status quo in technology, thank you very much.

About the Author:

You won’t believe this, but when I’m not a novelist I’m actually a Doctor of Mathematics. A business and data analyst. A wife and a mother. Most of all though – I am a writer (in several languages) hoping to change the world one book at a time.

My heritage is inter-continental. I was born and raised in Poland. When I was twelve, my family and I emigrated to South Africa. Your teenage years are usually your formative years, so it’s no surprise I consider South Africa my second homeland. For the past twenty years, I’ve lived in New Zealand, and people ‘back home’ tell me I’ve become a real Kiwi.

Crime fiction is my passion. My childhood hero was, predictably, Hercule Poirot. I’ve changed my mind several times since, and for a time I was totally into Harlan Coben’s super-rich super-able Win (Windsor Horne Lockwood), but my current favourite is Benedict Timothy Carlton Cumberbatch… I mean, Sherlock Holmes.

My co-ordinates:

https://www.yvonnewalus.com/

https://www.facebook.com/Yvonne-Walus-author-206745219335573

https://twitter.com/hotyve

http://yewalus.blogspot.co.nz/

Here’s a link to the promo video for my latest book: http://stairwaypress.com/book/serialwives/.

Print version: http://stairwaypress.com/book/serialwives/

Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/Serial-Wives-Introducing-Zero-Zimmerman-ebook/dp/B07B2RQHGW

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Edger by David Beem

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. David Beem will be awarding a $50 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

It’s been said every story must start somewhere. Ours begins with a professional dork. The kind who fixes computers and lives in his gran’s basement. The kind tapped by destiny (that saucy minx) to become the world’s first superhero!

And not a moment too soon…

A nano-sized artificial intelligence is on the loose! It got itself dart-gunned into a cow butt by a frog man in a porn store! Two stoners are corrupting it on twitter! And that’s just the first three pages!!

Join our dork of destiny as he channels the collective unconscious—his psychic superpower—in a harrowing tale of high drama, romance, betrayal, revenge, jesus chickens, cocaine, weirdos, magicians, ninjas, nfl spies, and disco ball water torture administered to the tune of rapture, by blondie. My god, man, what does it all mean!?

It means uncorking that next bottle of wine isn’t only a good idea—it’s advisable.

 

Enjoy an Excerpt:

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

I roll onto my side. A bar of honey-golden sunlight is bisecting a bare and definitely female leg in my bed.

Something like a popped clutch hitches in my chest.

I snatch the blankets and try to yank them up to my neck. They won’t come, because Mary—beautiful Mary Thomas—is sitting on the edge of my bed. The blankets are trapped beneath her beautiful butt, which happens to be wearing my favorite boxers. And the rest of her is in my Notre Dame jersey.

“What’re you—how’re you—what’re you—are you wearing my clothes?”

“I got to thinking,” she says, standing and sashaying over to my desk, where she picks up the picture of me and Dad. Her blonde hair is gleaming in the morning sunlight. Her legs are long, toned, and tan. I bite the side of my tongue, and my gaze snaps to eye level just in time; she sets down the picture and faces me.

“I’m going to help you.”

I yank my sheets up to my neck and count to ten. I’ve missed something. Maybe more than one critical something. Probably an entire chapter of critical somethings torn from the story of my life while I was sleeping.

I release the sheets and sit up. “How did you get in here?”

“Through the window.”

“I mean—okay. Not to be rude or anything, but…why are you in my room?”

“I’m glad you asked that, Edger,” she says, like her sitting at my desk and wearing my boxers and jersey is the most normal freaking thing in the history of normal freaking things. “I know we just met yesterday, but I think it’s time we moved in together.”

About the Author:David Beem enjoys superhero movies, taekwondo, and flossing. He lives in Djibouti with his family and crippling self-doubt. Help actualize David’s inner confidence. Visit his website today, and buy all the stuff.

http://www.davidbeem.com

https://www.facebook.com/david.beemauthor

https://twitter.com/davidbeem

Buy the book at Amazon.

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