“Avarice Unleashed” ~A.C. Melody’s~ Relese Blitz!

Release Blitz
Hell hath no fury… 

Saphiel’s gone and it’s all Kami’s fault.

Panicked and riddled with guilt, she turns to the only one who can help, only
to fall into the wrong hands time and again. It seems opportunity has knocked, and not a single enemy is
willing to miss out. Everyone wants their dues and Kami’s the perfect bait.All she wants is to reunite with Saph and she’ll face off with the Devil, himself,
to do it.

Facing herself and the reluctant truths of her heart are a whole other matter,
especially when it could be too late. Will the unforgiving Avarice ever pardon her for endangering them

As the calendar races toward Beltane, sickening plots of
greed and single-minded obsessions continue to unravel all around them, but their greatest challenge awaits in the aftermath
of retribution. Can they find some semblance of redemption in one another at
last, or will the demon within change everything?

…like a Devil unleashed.



Available on Kindle Unlimited
Devils Only.
It was a permanent note-to-self tattooed right above Kameo Kross’s panties, because anything less was a disappointment. Had anyone cared to issue the warning: Be careful what you wish for, she might have thought twice before wording it like an actual invitation.

Kami doesn’t fear pain, death or eternal damnation. She fears only submitting completely. A matter she usually has well in hand… until an unexpected detour into kink and a relentless bastard of a new boss decide to put all of her resistance–and chosen ink–to the trickiest of tests.

Warning: This a work of Dark Erotic fiction with possible triggers. If you are faint of heart, easily squeamish or sensitive to religious/world views and violence, please do not read this book.

Cliffhanger Warning: This is the First of Three books and ends in an abrupt cliffhanger.




That’s Kami’s first instinct when shit gets a little too real for her peace of mind.
Kink was supposed to be an escape, a release, but her mysterious Dom robbed her of that and there’s no going back. Her job was supposed to be an accomplishment, a step forward, but Mr. Kress took that from her and twisted it to his own design.
They want her to submit.
If Kami had her way, they’d both be kissing her ass on her way out the door.
Now, there’s a new threat hanging over her head. An unknown enemy wants to expose all of Kami’s sordid, depraved secrets to the media. Little do they know, that even she has no clue who in the hell she really is…but someone does.
Someone who’s about to reveal an incomprehensible tale. A truth that will unravel Kami’s entire life at the seams. Everything she’s ever believed will be altered as she’s thrust into a world she’d never feared existed, and only one undeniable fact will ring through the loudest:
Running had never been an option.
Trigger/Content Warning: This book contains unorthodox religious views, graphic anal sex, explicit language, dark eroticism, BDSM, violence and references to demonology, paganism and the occult. Intended for mature 18+ audiences only!

A.C. Melody is a quirky, unconventional and often contrary (mostly to her muse) hybrid author, both traditionally and self-published. She has a soft spot for hard ass alphas and the strong women who capture their hearts. Her favorite part of writing, is having the ability to explore her favorite subjects from unique angles. Also, she loves putting her characters through the ringer one way or another, to expose all of the various facets that make them tick. She’s guilty of putting all her money on the underdogs, the anti-heroes and the shameless whores.
Outside of writing, A.C. is a confessed javaholic who loves reading, music, gaming, American Football, ancient civilizations, foreign cultures and everything supernatural. She has an insatiable curiosity that tends to earn her more hobbies than time. You can find her in the beautifully green Pacific Northwest with her two teenage sons and two blue-eyed, Himalayan-Siamese mixes who think they own the joint.

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“The Magician’s Workshop” ~Christoper Hansen and J.R. Fehr~Review



Everyone in the islands of O’Ceea has a magical ability: whatever they imagine can be brought into existence. Whoever becomes a master over these powers is awarded the title of magician and given fame, power, riches, and glory. Journey with a group of kids as they strive to rise to the top and become members of the Magician’s Workshop.

Layauna desperately wants to create beautiful things with her magical powers, but all she can seem to do is make horrible, savage monsters. For years she has tried to hide her creations, but when her power is at last discovered by a great magician, she realizes that what she’s tried to hide might actually be of tremendous value.

Kai just wants to use his powers to have fun and play with his friends. Unfortunately, nearly everyone on his island sees him as a bad influence, so he’s forced to meet them in secret. When one of the creatures they create gets out of control and starts flinging fireballs at their town, Kai is tempted to believe that he is as nefarious as people say. However, his prospects change when two mysterious visitors arrive, praising his ability and making extraordinary promises about his future.

Follow the adventures of Kai, Layauna, and a boatload of other characters as they struggle to grow up well in this fantastical world.


Christopher Hansen
The first glimmering Chris Hansen had that there was far more to reality than he had ever imagined occurred six days after his ninth birthday. “Christopher!” cried a wise, old sage. “Life is full of deep magic. Miraculous things happen all around us.” Chris looked around him and asked, “Where? I don’t see anything spectacular.” The man held out a pair of glasses. “Here, put these on.” The boy placed them over his eyes and–“Whoa!” He was gobsmacked by the Wonder he saw. But it lasted only a moment. The man vanished in a flash of starlight and the lenses melted and trickled down his cheeks.  Then a message was sung into his ear, “Go and seek what you have seen.” Full of expectation and childlike optimism, Chris set out. To his great joy, this quest has led him to discover many more glimmerings of this miraculous Wonder, often in the most unexpected of places.



J.R. Fehr
When J.R. Fehr popped out of the womb, he knew there was more to the world than the four boring hospital walls that he was seeing. “Zango!” his newborn mind exclaimed as he saw people appear and disappear through a mysterious portal in the wall. As a child, he continued to find life whoa-tazzling. But as he grew older, the cold water of reality hit him, and the magic he once knew vanished. After spending some wet and shivering years lost in a joyless marshland, he once again began to see magic in the world. He writes because the Wonder of true life is far grander than anything he ever thought possible.




Do you believe in magic? After reading this book you just might! Wow… this book has a little bit of everything.. a great story, a fascinating new world and characters that are exciting and adventurous! I read through this book in less than a day! Which is always surprising when you have small children! This is such a wonderful book!

This is book one of a two set series. I can’t wait to read book 2!! Seriously, how awesome would it be to have magical powers?!?! All of those that live on the island of O’Ceea can do wondrous things and bring anything they imagine to life. This book reminds me a lot of the Divergent/Hunger Games series, a group of kids that have to survive through things to make it somewhere in life.  If you like those books, you will love this book!

Follow this group of kids through their struggles and adventures to become a part of  the Magician’s Workshop. It is a great story of believing in one’s self and becoming the best person you can be. Sometimes what we think is a fault is often a strength, depending on who you are asking. The authors take you on a great adventure that also has a great underlying life lesson to it! 🙂 So go find it and read it! 🙂 I thoroughly enjoyed this magical story and I cannot wait to be able to dive into the second book!

I received this book in exchange for a fair and honest review.


Find it here on AMAZON!

Review of shelfjoy.com!! Go check it out!



What’s the newest book junkie place to be!?!? It’s shelfjoy.com!!! If you like Goodreads and other book loving sites you definitely need to check this one out!

It’s awesome! Very user friendly and super easy to navigate! Not only can you follow numerous people, just like on Twitter, but you can see what kind of books they like! OR if you don’t want to make an account you can easily search through lists and find lots of goodies!!

It gives you good ideas on what to read next and to see what is popular!!!! It also makes it easy to look for books in a specific genre! Signing up is easy to do! Just sign up with your existing Twitter account and you are good to go!! You can look for your next great read!!!

~~~So go check it out!! Discover it for yourself!!~~~



“An Amish Home” ~Beth Wiseman, Amy Clipston, Ruth Reid, & Kathleen Fuller~




A Cup Half Full by Beth Wiseman—Sarah Lantz always dreamed of the perfect home, the perfect husband, the perfect family. When she married Abram, she knew she was on her way to securing her perfect life. But all of that changes in one moment when an accident leaves her unable to walk and confined to a wheelchair, dashing all of her dreams. As Abram starts to transform their home, Sarah begins a transformation in her spirit, and she begins, once again, to see her cup as half full.

Home Sweet Home by Amy Clipston—Down on their luck and desperate after they are evicted from their small apartment, Chace and Mia O’Conner reluctantly take Chace’s Amish boss up on his offer to rent them the daadihaus located on his property. They are certain they will never feel at home in the rustic cabin without any modern conveniences, and they start to blame each other for their seemingly hopeless situation. But with the help of their new Amish friends, Chace and Mia begin to enjoy their cozy cabin and realize that home really is where the heart is.

A Flicker of Hope by Ruth Reid—Fifteen years ago, Thomas and Noreen King were blissful newlyweds. Young, naive, and in love, life was rosy . . . for a while. Then trials and tribulations rocked their foundation, shattering them emotionally, and soon, their marriage was in shards. All hope for restoring their previously unshakable union seems lost. When fire destroys their home, Thomas and Noreen are left to sift through the rubble. As uncovered items from the remains of the house shake loose memories of the past, Thomas and Noreen begin to draw closer and a flicker of hope—and love—is reignited.

Building Faith by Kathleen Fuller—Faith Miller knows that carpentry is an unlikely hobby for a young Amish woman, but she loves the work and it keeps the memory of her grandfather alive. So when her cousin asks Faith to build the cabinets in her new home, Faith is only too happy to take on the job, even if it is the most ambitious project she has ever taken on. The only catch is that she has to work with her ex-fiance, Silas. As they work to build Martha’s kitchen, can they put the past behind them and start to build faith in one another again?


Beth Wiseman is the award-winning and bestselling author of the Daughters of the Promise, Land of Canaan, and Amish Secrets series. While she is best known for her Amish novels, Beth has also written contemporary novels including Need You Now, The House that Love Built, and The Promise.

Amy Clipston is the award-winning and bestselling author of the Kauffman Amish Bakery series. Her novels have hit multiple bestseller lists including CBD, CBA, and ECPA. Amy holds a degree in communication from Virginia Wesleyan College and works full-time for the City of Charlotte, NC. Amy lives in North Carolina with her husband, two sons, and three spoiled rotten cats. Visit her online at amyclipston.com Facebook: AmyClipstonBooks Twitter: @AmyClipston

Kathleen Fuller is the author of several bestselling novels, including the Hearts of Middlefield novels, the Middlefield Family novels, and the Amish of Birch Creek series, as well as a middle-grade Amish series, the Mysteries of Middlefield. Visit her online at http://www.kathleenfuller.com, Twitter: @TheKatJam, and Facebook: Kathleen Fuller.

Ruth Reid is a CBA and ECPA bestselling author of the Heaven on Earth series. She’s a full-time pharmacist who lives in Florida with her husband and three children. When attending Ferris State University School of Pharmacy in Big Rapids, Michigan, she lived on the outskirts of an Amish community and had several occasions to visit the Amish farms. Her interest grew into love as she saw the beauty in living a simple life. Visit Ruth online at ruthreid.com Facebook: Author-Ruth-Reid Twitter: @authorruthreid



All four stories are full of love, hope and faith! Every single one of them was an amazing story! I always love to read short stories that are like these, they have relatable characters, a solid story line and you are done reading it within 30 mins or an hour depending on how often your kids bug you!

Each story is a wonderful reminder to love one another and to cherish each day with the ones you love! These authors are amazing and really reminds us that sometimes life gets us down, but we have to try our hardest to get back up again. Great authors! Great reads and beautiful stories to uplift your spirits!!!

I truly enjoyed each and everyone of these stories! They are also a great introduction to the Amish lifestyle!! Definitely recommend this set of novellas!! Go check it out!! 🙂


Available at:


Barnes and Noble


Read an Excerpt

An Amish Home

Four Novellas

By Beth Wiseman, Amy Clipston, Ruth Reid, Kathleen Fuller

Thomas Nelson

Copyright © 2016 Elizabeth Wiseman Mackey, Amy Clipston, Ruth Reid, Kathleen Fuller
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-529-11915-5

CHAPTER 1Sarah sat next to Abram in the back seat of the van while their hired driver stowed Sarah’s wheelchair in the rear compartment. Wheelchair. It was a word she would need to get used to, along with the knowledge that she’d never walk again.

“Wait until you see what I’ve done to the house.” Abram latched onto Sarah’s hand and squeezed, as if he’d done a luxurious remodel of their home. Instead, he’d turned it into a handicap-accessible house so that Sarah could get around inside, complete with a wheelchair ramp leading to the porch, he’d told her.

She forced a smile as the driver pulled out of the hospital parking lot, a place she’d called home for the past month.

“Johnny helped me lower the sinks and cabinets, and we have handrails everywhere you might need them.” Abram’s dark eyes shone with an emotion Sarah hadn’t been able to identify over the past few weeks. Was it pity? Empathy? Regret? Guilt? Sarah had assured Abram that the accident hadn’t been his fault. Thankfully, her husband had walked away with only a few scratches and a bump on his head. Sarah’s side of the buggy had taken the hardest hit from the blue car. She didn’t remember much about that day, but she remembered the blue car.

“Your family should be at the house when we get there, to welcome you home.” Abram brushed back a strand of Sarah’s red hair that had fallen from her kapp. She’d spent her entire life getting used to the fact that she was the only one in their district with red hair and freckles. Now she’d be the only person, as far as she knew, in a wheelchair.

Sarah’s brother and parents had come to the hospital most days. They’d all been witness to her tantrums, depression, and anger at her new situation. She’d promised herself that she would tuck away those emotions today and be grateful that God had spared her life, and that He had kept Abram from serious injury.

Abram rattled on about more modifications he’d made to their home. Sarah had heard it all before. Her husband had shared every detail throughout the process, and bragged on Sarah’s eighteen-year-old brother, how Johnny had come every day to lend a hand. Sarah had never been close to her brother. They were five years apart; maybe that was why. But, interestingly, Sarah had been the most comfortable at the hospital when it was just her and Johnny. He didn’t fuss over her, but he was there if she needed anything. Mostly, he just let her be. And that was what she needed. Time to process what had happened to her.

Sarah sat still in the van while Abram paid the driver and retrieved the wheelchair from the back. An intern at the hospital had worked with Sarah, showing her the easiest ways to get in and out of the wheelchair. But despite what she’d learned, Abram insisted on picking her up and putting her in the chair that would be a part of her world forever, like a child being put in a booster seat.

Abram had placed wide panels of plywood in areas of their muddy yard, including a pathway toward the porch that would accommodate a wheelchair following rainy weather. She could see her parents on the porch, both smiling, but she barely gave them a glance. Her focus was on the slowly ascending plank that stretched before her like a bridge between her old life and her new one. A railing wrapped around the porch, upon which were two white wooden rocking chairs. Sarah wondered if she’d ever rock again. Her legs would just rest on the wooden slats with no way to kick herself into motion. It had always been her favorite place to be, sitting on the porch, sipping meadow tea, and watching her husband work in the fields. Especially this time of year, in the spring, with her flowerbeds filled with colorful blooms. She’d usually knit as she rocked. At least she could still do that. Playing volleyball on Sunday afternoons with the young folks wouldn’t be an option ever again. And she was certain that list would grow over time.

“I’ve made a roast, potatoes, and carrots for dinner.” Her mother clasped her hands in front of her, smiling as Abram pushed Sarah’s wheelchair up the ramp. “And a red velvet cake for dessert.”

Sarah suspected there was a much larger display of food awaiting them inside. Mary Stoltzfus believed that food cured all things. But being permanently handicapped wasn’t an ailment that Sarah’s mother could mend.

“Danki,” Sarah said as she looked up at her mother, then her brother, and lastly at her father, who was looking at the ground. He’d visited her in the hospital the least and had very little to say. Unusual for a man who almost always voiced his thoughts. Sometimes when he shouldn’t. “I appreciate everything you’ve all done.”

Sarah’s father opened the door, and Sarah breathed in the aroma of supper. She welcomed the familiarity of her mother’s cooking. But when she crossed the threshold of the front door, she gasped.

“You don’t like it?” Abram stepped in front of her as the lines in his forehead creased. More lines than she remembered. “I can change it.” A muscle quivered at his jaw.

“Nee, nee,” she said before swallowing hard. “It is fine. Very gut.” She’d known this was coming, but seeing the counters a foot shorter shocked her anyway. And all of the cabinets above the counters were gone. A long row of locker-style cupboards on the floor now housed her kitchenware against a wall, which used to have racks for hanging hats and capes.

“I can change anything.” Abram walked to the sink, where he towered over it like a giant who had wandered into the wrong home.

“Nee, it’s fine. Really.” Sarah knew the hours her husband had put in to transform their home. And between working outside and putting in his thirty hours per week at the hardware store, she suspected he had lost a good bit of sleep completing the task. But he’d still found time to visit her daily at the hospital. That added the expense of hiring a driver since it was too far to travel by buggy. Her parents and brother had also incurred that cost. Sarah had become a burden before she’d set one foot inside her house. A knot formed in her throat, knowing she’d never actually set her feet anywhere again.
* * *

Abram told his mother-in-law how wonderful the food was, thanked her for preparing the meal, and thanked Johnny again for all his help. As Sarah stayed quiet and picked at her food, Abram and Sarah’s father settled into a conversation about the bishop. A topic Abram would have chosen to avoid since Saul never had anything nice to say about the man. Especially lately.

“If my roots weren’t firmly grounded in Lancaster County, I’d pick up and move,” Saul said, frowning. “Lloyd Yoder has no business being bishop.”

Mary sighed heavily. “Saul, this is not a conversation for the supper table.” She narrowed her eyebrows at her husband, nodding slightly toward Sarah, whose head was down. “Especially not today.”

Saul raised a bushy gray eyebrow. “I think the Lord made a mistake when He saw fit for Lloyd to become bishop.”

“The Lord doesn’t make mistakes,” Mary said as she shook her head. “Now, eat your supper.” She turned to Sarah. “How’s the roast? I bet you’re glad to have a home-cooked meal, ya?

Sarah nodded, but continued to move her food around on her plate. Mary would faint if she knew about all the fast-food Abram had picked up on the way to see his wife. Halfway into Sarah’s stay at the hospital, their driver — Lucas — would ask, “Where to today?” Sometimes it was burgers and fries. Other times, they’d grab a pizza or deli sandwich to take to Sarah. The expense had added up, but there wasn’t anything Abram wouldn’t do for Sarah. And the only thing that seemed to bring an inkling of joy to her was fast-food, something they hadn’t grown up on and rarely splurged on. His wife was particularly fond of Chick-fil-A and Taco Bell.

“You’ve done a fine job on the haus, Abram.” Saul glanced around the room at Abram and Johnny’s handiwork. Abram’s father-in-law had offered to help, but everyone knew Saul had a bad back. And Abram could only take his father-in-law in small doses. He loved the man for his good heart, but he was opinionated and outspoken. And it had gotten worse since Saul and Bishop Yoder had a heated argument about fertilizer a couple of months ago following a worship service. The bishop was trying to get more folks to grow organically, and Saul wasn’t having any part of it. That conversation had led into another discussion about the proper way to erect a barn, a subject that was argued quite often among the men in the district. And if Saul and Bishop Yoder hadn’t already bumped heads enough, the bishop tried to tell Saul that any renovations to Abram and Sarah’s house needed to be approved by him. Saul had gone bonkers and hadn’t been to church since the argument.

That had been one time that Abram had agreed with his father-in-law. He’d made the modifications to their home without detailing it out for the bishop. Abram had enough problems. Specifically, he wasn’t sure how he was going to pay the bills he’d run up over the past month. He hadn’t mentioned to Sarah or anyone else that he only worked ten hours per week at the hardware store during Sarah’s hospital stay. And the revisions to the house had far exceeded his budget. For the first time in his life, he had credit card debt.

Abram thanked his father-in-law for the compliment, but as he looked upon his wife, there was no mistaking the tears she was holding back as she kept her head down, occasionally taking a small bite of roast. Abram was not going to burden her with anything. His sole purpose was to make a good life for Sarah. He hadn’t had much of a chance since they’d only been married one week prior to the accident.

They had their entire lives ahead of them, they’d made plans and shared dreams. Abram still had those same dreams, but Sarah’s spirit seemed broken. As her husband, it was his job to take care of her, to help her heal, and as such, he needed to carry the weight of his burdens alone for now. It wasn’t just his job. He loved Sarah with his heart and soul. But he’d done this to her, put her in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. Folks could shout his innocence to the moon and back. But Abram knew the truth.

CHAPTER 2Sarah faced off with her new bathtub, a modern contraption that looked like it belonged in the sci-fi movie she’d seen during her rumschpringe. She and Abram had dated longer than most couples in their district, probably pushing the acceptable time for courtship and running around. They’d also watched more movies than the bishop might have approved of, if he’d known. Neither of them had been baptized until they were twenty and twenty-one, and it still took another three years before they got married. They’d justified the long courtship because Abram’s mother was ill and later died.

“Everything okay in there?”

Sarah pulled her eyes from the tub and glanced at the closed bathroom door. “Ya, I’m fine.Just taking my time and being careful.”

The bathtub had a door that opened from the side, and inside was a seat. She’d positioned her wheelchair right next to the entrance and dropped one armrest, hoping she could just scooch into the tub seat, similar to what she’d learned at the hospital about how to get in a vehicle. But after two attempts, she was taking a break. Her legs were like dead weight, baggage that she’d have to heave from one place to another for the rest of her life. Just taking a bath in her new tub was proving to be more troublesome than she’d imagined. She glanced at the shower stall in the corner, where Abram would be showering. Another modern convenience with glass walls. All these new amenities had replaced the claw-foot tub that had been in the house since her grandparents lived here prior to their passing.

Sarah took a deep breath, her body trembling as she lifted herself onto the bathtub seat, then she curled her arms under her legs and brought them in front of her, shutting the bathtub door. Abram had already warned her that she couldn’t fill the tub until the door was shut, which was obvious now that Sarah saw the setup. She sat naked on the seat, cold water pooling at her feet, another downside to her new situation. She would never again climb into a warm, steaming bath. But maybe she should be glad that she trembled from the coldness of the water, that she could even feel it. She used the opportunity to let the flowing water drown out the sobs she’d been holding in all day.
* * *

Abram readied the bed in the same manner he’d seen Sarah do for the first week of their marriage. He folded back the light yellow and blue quilt that covered their full-sized bed, then lay the white sheet back as well, fluffing both their pillows afterward. He’d already opened the window, and a cool spring breeze filled the room as crickets chirped in the distance. The lantern was lit on the nightstand by Sarah’s side of the bed, along with the book she’d been reading before the accident. Abram had offered to take her books in the hospital, particularly the one she’d been in the middle of at the time of the accident, but Sarah hadn’t been interested. He glanced at the book, something he was sure Bishop Yoder wouldn’t approve of. On the cover, a beautiful Englisch woman gazed into a man’s eyes, and the title — For the Love of June — hinted there might be some intimacy within the pages. Something Abram had high hopes for this evening.

“Everything still okay?” He held his breath, hoping he wasn’t being overprotective. Sarah had been irritated when people fussed over her in the hospital. Abram cringed when he recalled Sarah’s reaction to the news that she’d never walk again. It had started out with tears, then angry comments directed at God, and finally … she’d said she wanted to die. The next day, she’d said she didn’t mean any of it, but the first week was especially hard for her. He asked again when she didn’t respond. “Sarah, you okay?”

Ya, Abram. I’m fine.”

It sounded like she was gritting her teeth, so he needed to back off, give her time, and be patient. But as he climbed into bed wearing only a pair of boxers, patience wasn’t on his mind. He was anxious to show his wife how much he loved her, show her that nothing had changed between them, and that making a baby was still part of the plans they’d made. The doctors had assured them both that the accident hadn’t affected Sarah’s ability to conceive and carry a child.

Abram locked his hands behind his head, waiting for the love of his life to join him. As the lantern flickered, shadows danced throughout the room. Earlier he’d lit two lavender-scented candles and placed them on top of their dresser, which not only added to the flickering shadows in the room, but also filled the cool air with the floral fragrance.

It was a perfect night. Sarah was home, and things were going to be okay. Abram wasn’t going to let his financial woes or guilt affect this evening. God would provide, as always. God had forgiven Abram for the accident, but Abram quickly asked the Lord again to help him forgive himself. His shoulders were burdened. He was carrying enough worry. Continuing to haul guilt around would only hurt him and Sarah in the long run.
* * *

Sarah managed to get herself back into the wheelchair, but she’d dripped water all over the floor in the process — t heir new tile floor, which replaced the wood floors that had been original to the house. The tile was modest, a cool-gray color speckled with white. Although, right away, it reminded her of the bathroom floors at the hospital. Once she’d worked her way into her nightclothes, she rolled herself the two feet to the sink, which had also been lowered. After she brushed her teeth, she opened the bathroom door and rolled through the widened doorway. The smell of lavender assaulted her from the bedroom. It was a scent she used to love, but now it reminded her of the intimacy she and Abram had shared on their wedding night and the nights that followed. Before everything changed.

Abram sat up in bed. “Need some help?”

Sarah took a deep breath and reminded herself not to take offense. Abram loved her, and he just wanted to take care of her. But was this how it would be for the rest of her life? Everyone always trying to help her?

Abram slid his legs over the side of the bed and started toward her. She held up a palm. “I’ve got it. I don’t need help.” She’d allowed him to help her in and out of the wheelchair during her stay at the hospital, but Abram would head off to work in the morning, and Sarah needed to learn to get by on her own. As she rolled the wheelchair to the side of the bed — which she noticed was lower now — she positioned herself in the way she’d learned at the hospital, then tried to heave herself onto the bed, her legs not participating in the effort, as they hung lifeless, like they belonged to someone else. All the while, the fragrant lavender made her want to throw up.


“Sandpiper Cove” ~Irene Hannon~ Review



Hope Harbor police chief Lexie Graham has plenty on her plate raising her son alone and dealing with a sudden rash of petty theft and vandalism in her coastal Oregon hometown. As a result, she has zero time for extracurricular activities–including romance. Ex-con Adam Stone isn’t looking for love either–but how ironic is it that the first woman to catch his eye is a police chief? Yet wishing for things that can never be is foolish.

Nevertheless, when Lexie enlists Adam’s help to keep a young man from falling into a life of crime, sparks begin to fly. And as they work together, it soon becomes apparent that God may have a different–and better–future planned for them than either could imagine.

Lauded by Library Journal as “a master at character development,” Irene Hannon welcomes readers back to this charming Oregon seaside village where hearts heal–and love blooms.


Irene Hannon is the best-selling author of more than 35 novels. Her books have been honored with the coveted RITA Award from Romance Writers of America, the HOLT Medallion, the Reviewer’s Choice Award from Romantic Times BOOKreviews magazine and the Daphne du Maurier Award for mystery/suspense. Irene and her husband make their home in Missouri, USA. Irene invites you to visit her at her website, http://www.irenehannon.com


I absolutely love Irene Hannon’s books! She has an amazing way with words and her books are just absolutely fantastic! This is the second book I have read of hers and it did not disappoint! I read another of this series, not necessarily based on the same characters but the books take place in the same location, Hope Harbor. It was nice to read a book that was placed in a familiar town, with brief touches on previous characters. It made for an easy read!

This book offers up a life lesson about doing good things, helping other people and overall not judging people based on what you see on the outside. It is an inspirational tale of redemption and moving on. I loved the characters and both the main characters, Lexie and Adam, are going through things that you can relate to.

Adam doesn’t believe in himself and has a hard time being in the public’s eye given his prison background, yet Lexie sees beyond that and can’t help falling for him! Her son Matt is adorable and reminds me of my own boys! His spunk and tenacity makes you laugh and his love of Clyde (the dog) warms your heart!

Overall this is a love story between two unlikely people that really tugs at the heart strings. I flew through this book in a hurry! I absolutely loved the characters, the story and the town of Hope Harbor. The sea calls to me lol! 🙂

If you are in the mood to laugh and fall in love, this is the book for you. It is definitely a series to check out, not just this one but all of the Hope Harbor novels. Irene Hannon has quickly became one of my favorite authors! I suggest you go see for yourself!


I received this book in exchange for a fair and honest review.


Available at:


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“Letting Go” ~Maria Corley~ Check it out!




Even though she lives hundreds of miles away, when Langston, who dreams of being a chef, meets Cecile, a Juilliard-trained pianist, he is sure that his history of being a sidekick, instead of a love interest, is finally over. Their connection is real and full of potential for a deeper bond, but the obstacles between them turn out to be greater than distance. Can these busy, complicated people be ready for each other at the same time? Does it even matter? Before they can answer these questions, each must do battle with the ultimate demon—fear.

Told in a witty combination of standard prose, letters, emails, and diary entries, LETTING GO, in the tradition of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s AMERICANAH, is a long-distance love story that also examines race, religion, and the difficult choices we make following our passions. From the Great White North to the streets of New York City to the beaches of Bermuda, LETTING GO is a journey of longing, betrayal, self-discovery and hope you will never forget.


Maria Thompson Corley is a Canadian pianist (MM, DMA, The Juilliard School) of Jamaican and Bermudian descent, with experience as a college professor, private piano instructor, composer, arranger and voice actor. She has contributed to Broad Street Review since 2008, and also blogs for Huffington Post. Her first novel,Choices, was published by Kensington.



Check her out on YouTube!





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“The Chamberlain Key” ~Timothy P. Smith with Bob Hostetler, Foreword by Eugene Ulrich PhD~ Review



Imagine you are a young, ambitious, successful appraiser of artifacts and antiquities—your services in demand by many of the most powerful individuals and branches of government in Washington, D. C.  Your future could not seem brighter—except for a troubling dream…with the same mysterious message…on the same exact date…three years in a row…
A True Story…Better Than Fiction

Timothy P. Smith, heir to a renowned family business responsible for construction or renovation of some of America’s most cherished landmarks, struggled to understand the significance of his recurring dream…until he had another dream–one that identified a specific location where it seemed he might find answers to his questions. So Timothy drove to a remote spot in British Columbia. There the adventure–which later led to a startling discovery in the oldest Hebrew text of the Bible–began.

It took the convergence of the sacred text, one man’s life, and modern computer technology to reveal messages that may explain dramatic world events, as well as influence every person alive today.

Welcome to The Chamberlain Key.

“However one wishes to interpret the meaning and significance of the text, they may rest assured that the text on which Timothy Smith bases his interpretation has almost certainly been there for a very long time, since before the birth of Christ.”
—Eugene Ulrich, Ph.D.
Department of Theology, University of Notre Dame
Chief Editor, The Biblical Dead Sea Scrolls

For more than fifteen years I managed to keep the lid on a discovery that will dramatically redirect biblical scholarship, Christian theology, and perhaps even the trajectory of history itself.” –Timothy P. Smith

What You Will Discover in The Chamberlain Key

• An encrypted code in Genesis, in the oldest known Hebrew text of the Old Testament, centuries before predicted the birth and resurrection of Jesus.
•  Scientific evidence that this encrypted code was authored by the divine hand of God.
• Signs that there are more encrypted codes in this same Hebrew text that will lead to additional messages from God to humanity
• Hidden clues that may lead to the location of long-missing sacred artifacts, such as the Ark of the Covenant
• Insights on why Timothy P. Smith was chosen to uncover this encrypted code.
• A dire warning that God wants us to hear—and heed.


TIMOTHY P. SMITH is a noted appraiser and conservator of artifacts and antiquities. He has discovered and recovered many priceless historical items, none of which has amazed and excited him as much as “the chamberlain key.” Timothy and his wife reside in Virginia.

BOB HOSTETLER is the award-winning author of more than thirty books, including American Idols and the historical novel Northkill. His books have sold over three million copies.


I am normally a hard core fiction kind of girl. I get bored easily with non-fiction works. BUT….this was a great book! Once I got started I could not stop! It was a fantastic read! It is a journey of one man that had a vision, a pull towards uncovering long wondered mysteries. Is there something really hidden in the 30th chapter of the book of Genesis? He seems to think so, specifically relating to himself and his family. Could he possibly be born for something greater… We will see…

Timothy goes above and beyond to prove that there is more to the bible than meets the eye. He begins his journey as an appraiser of antiquities, weaving his story of discovery and longing to understand a higher calling for answers. In the 1980’s he discovered there was more to his mother’s heritage than what originally was known. This set him in the direction of curiosity which is how his story begins.

He brings about some great information and some great points in trying to decipher what really is in the 30th chapter of Genesis. He has several people that back up his claim to what he has found, including may scientists and scholars fluent in biblical studies. He believes he has unlocked a key code that can help unlock other codes in the text of the bible. He unlocked very precise geographical locations that pertain to events that are historically pertinent to the bible. His findings have been supported by numerous people. Timothy whole-heartedly believes he has found the answers that many have questioned for years and have never been able to prove. Not saying I agree or disagree with the findings of this book, it is irregardless a good read! I received his book in exchange for a fair and honest review.

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Read an Excerpt


As chief editor of the biblical Dead Sea Scrolls, I have spent my entire career teaching and writing in the areas of the Hebrew Scriptures, the scrolls, and the Septuagint. With regard to the reliability of the Masoretic Hebrew text that is used in the observations made in this book, it is based on the Saint Petersburg Codex (Codex Lenin- gradensis; Firkovich B 19 A), which is the oldest complete manuscript of the Hebrew Bible in the Hebrew language, whose colophon dates it to AD 1008 or 1009. This is the text, in modern printed form (Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia), used by most scholars today.
The Aleppo Codex is almost a century older, but most of the Pentateuch is miss- ing from it. The Dead Sea Scrolls are older by a millennium, but, though fragments from almost thirty manuscripts containing parts of Genesis are preserved, none contains text from Genesis 30.
The antiquity of that Hebrew tradition is safely assured, however, by three different sources. First, the Dead Sea Scrolls in the Genesis fragments that did survive exhibit a text that is virtually identical with the Saint Petersburg Codex. Second, the (pre-Christian) Samaritan Pentateuch is identical with it in its consonantal text. Third, the ancient Greek translation (the Septuagint) of Genesis, most scholars would agree, was translated around 280 BC from a Hebrew source text that was virtually identical with the Hebrew consonantal text of the Leningrad Codex.
However one wishes to interpret the meaning and significance of this book, the reader may rest assured that the text on which Timothy Smith bases his interpretation has almost certainly been there for a very long time, since before the birth of Christ.
—Eugene Ulrich, PhD Chief Editor, Biblical Dead Sea Scrolls
Department of Theology, University of  Notre  Dame

Out of the Shadows

For more than fifteen years I managed to keep the lid on a discovery that will dramatically redirect biblical scholarship, Christian theology, and perhaps even the trajectory of history itself.
What began as a mystery concerning my own family and ancestry has unfolded into perhaps the most astounding revelation of the modern age, as you will see in the pages that follow. It is based on an unexplained phenomenon, an anomaly in four verses of text in the oldest complete manuscript of the Hebrew book of Genesis. I have found messages embedded in those few verses that simply could not be there— but nevertheless they were.
I have pursued every possible explanation in an effort to account for this bizarre finding. One discovery has led to another and then another. I’ve consulted some of the world’s most respected scholars and scientists until only one plausible explanation remains: the original ancient text of the Hebrew Scriptures (parts of which date back to 800 BC, perhaps earlier) is more than a text in the traditional sense—more than a manuscript containing wisdom and prophecy and transcendent truth. It is also a complex communication device with the ability to breach the very boundaries of time itself. By using this tool, a supernatural power has reached across millenniums to make contact with you and me, right here and now.
The text of the Hebrew Bible presents us with a familiar literary structure. Words form sentences and concepts that we recognize. We use accepted rules of translation and interpretation to extract what we believe is the meaning of the narrative. However, the smallest discrete units of the biblical text are Hebrew letters, the quanta of this textual universe, which are capable of organizing themselves into a less obvious form of intelligent communication, one that transcends the ordinary parameters of time and space. This hidden substructure is what holds the ancient He- brew text together.
The key that I’ve found to this hidden language is not some rigid, mechanical cipher code but a means of gaining access to the beautifully unpredictable nature of the universe and life itself, which turns out to possess a level of order that is both intentional and intelligent. A manifestation of divine intelligence—or God, if you will—is functioning in visible ways right alongside us.
And now we have a new way to access it.
It is no easy task to explain how I made this discovery, let alone to help you understand and believe it. After all, I am neither a scholar nor a theologian. Neither am I an expert in ancient languages. In some ways I am a most unlikely candidate to have uncovered signs of a divine hand at work, which sometimes has left me wondering, Why me? and Why now?
I hope the account you are about to read will answer those questions while also serving to strengthen your faith, as it has mine.

Part I

1 Finder of Lost and Hidden Things
Virginia, 2016

The chamberlain key was not my first discovery in a life marked by curiosity and exploration. But it is by far the most important and   consequential.
For more than thirty years I have engaged in the work of evaluating and preserving valuable physical objects from every part of the world and every period in history. I have spent most of my life answering questions and unraveling mysteries, many of which began with something I could touch: a chest, a painting, a tapestry, a scepter, a banner, a coin, a cloak, a sword, or a scroll. As an appraiser, restorer, and conservator of fine art and antiquities, I have discovered priceless items stashed in attic eaves, sealed in long-forgotten vaults, or gone missing from the White House. Many such treasures have impressed me with their astronomical value, dazzled me with their breathtaking beauty, or haunted me with their gruesome history. But like many explorers, historians, and investigators, I have passed much of my time in the unglamorous drudgery of countless details, the disconnected bits of things that must be carefully considered, culled, and reassembled before the destination is reached or the truth uncovered.
My paternal grandfather, Clarence R. Smith, arrived in Washington, DC, in 1938 to begin the construction of the Jefferson Memorial. He also worked on a number of other important building and renovation projects: the National Gallery of Art, the US Capitol, the Carderock Division of the Naval Sea Systems Command, and many others. His youngest son—my father, E. Jay Smith—continued in this tradition, be- ginning with the construction of the official residence of the vice president on the grounds of the US Naval Observatory. When my father retired in the 1990s, his building and architectural firm was credited with designing, building, and renovating many of the Washington area’s most venerated public buildings and private residences.
I was born in 1960 in Langley, Virginia, a tiny community just inside the Washington, DC, Beltway. In 1966 my parents purchased a small horse farm in Great Falls, Virginia, a mere seven miles up the Potomac from Langley. The place was called Windswept, and all the horses had been named accordingly: Gusty, Breezy, Sea Breeze, and so on. The brick ranch house rambled along the side of a steep hill overlooking rolling pastures and a lake fed by a stream known as Colvin Run. The property was adjoined on all sides by other horse farms and small Virginia estates.
Among my favorite activities on a cold, rainy day was to sneak into our home’s spacious attic and pull up the ladder behind me so no one would know I was there. I listened to the muffled sound of voices and footsteps below, delighted by the musty secrecy of the place, as I rummaged through boxes of old photographs, sports equipment, toys, tools, and Christmas decorations. I set up the family nativity scene, placing a small candle in the stable, positioning and repositioning animals and people until I was satisfied that all were in their correct spots.
One stormy day in late winter I could no longer resist the sturdy pine boxes stacked against the eaves in the far corner of the attic. I knew perfectly well they were forbidden, but their lure was overpowering. By the light of a red Christmas candle I carefully slid the top crates onto the attic floor, opened them one by one, and inspected their contents. There were folders full of old handwritten documents, their pages creased and oxidized to a light tobacco brown. One box contained nothing but ornate knobs, handles, and latches—some of rich patinated brass and others of skill- fully handwrought iron, pitted and rusted but still intact. Another was crammed with metal tubes containing rolled-up architectural drawings and wonderful hand- colored maps that I turned in every direction, attempting to decipher their locations in the larger world.
Most curious of all was a large iron star, cast in round relief, its dry soldier-blue paint flaking off onto my hands as I dragged it into the candlelight for a better look. I hefted it above my head and figured it weighed more than half a sack of sweet feed, about thirty-five pounds. I had no idea at the time where it had come from and what its purpose might have been. Only later would I learn that it was originally part of a set of thirteen, one star for each of the original American colonies.
I would also discover that twenty years before, at the end of World War II, my grandfather had begun one of many renovation projects on the US Capitol building, this time to replace the ceilings and roofs of both the House and Senate chambers. The star I’d found in the attic once hung in the Capitol but had since become part of a forgotten treasure trove of historic documents and artifacts in that structure’s attics and catacombs. As the only star among its companions that was ever salvaged and retrieved, in some ways it illuminated the course of my professional life and personal passion. Years later, when I became a professional hunter and finder and restorer of lost and forgotten things, I arranged for the star to be returned to the architect of the Capitol.


On the first day of my summer vacation from school in 1972, my dad came into my bedroom at 5:30 a.m. and placed a leather tool belt, fully equipped, at the foot of my bed and told me it was time to get up and get going. This was not a total surprise, since all three of my older brothers had their summer vacations commandeered in the same way. I spent my first day “on the job” at the equipment and material yard, where I worked in the blazing sun, prying nails out of old lumber so it could be re- claimed for concrete forms, scaffold boards, and gangways. My supervisor, Lonnie, was a tough, weathered African American man who had worked for my father since my father first went into business and with my grandfather before that. Under his watchful eye I hauled bricks, mortar, lumber, and shingles from one spot to another and occasionally swung my hammer at wide-headed roofing nails that Lonnie must have figured were hard to miss.
Toward the end of that summer, a plan began to shape itself in me. I recognized that it wasn’t the buildings themselves that interested me, despite their magnificence; it was the things we often found in them. Some of the workmen, including my older family members, spoke of finding old and curious items in strange places, and I began to wonder if a job existed where a person could be paid to locate lost or hidden objects, a sort of professional finder of things.
By the time I was twenty years old, I owned and operated a thriving antique- restoration operation out of the family-business headquarters in McLean, Virginia. Capitalizing on the reputations of my father and grandfather, I was invited into homes and institutions that were pretty heady for someone my age. I hired the most talented and dependable subcontractors in the area: oil-painting conservationists trained at the Royal Academy of Arts in London, porcelain specialists from China, cabinet and furniture makers moonlighting from their jobs with my father, and a furniture upholsterer who had worked for every First Lady since Bess Truman. I ferried the more common items to a workshop I maintained in the Shenandoah Valley. I plied every- one I encountered for information, techniques, and trade secrets, learning how to handle many projects myself. I trained others from scratch to handle the nuts-and- bolts repair jobs, and I developed protocols and habits that serve me well to this day.
Not long after setting up my own shop, I was invited to perhaps the most historic estate home in the McLean area. Known as Salona, it had been the home of Henry “Light Horse Harry” Lee, the Revolutionary War hero and father of Gen. Robert E. Lee. The current owner was a distinguished elderly woman, matriarch of a prominent Mid-Atlantic political family. We had never met, but she contacted me because she knew my parents socially and because my father’s company had been involved in the architectural renovation of Salona House.
When she greeted me at the door, I got the impression that she mistook me for my oldest brother (I sported a closely trimmed beard at the time and looked older than my twenty years). As she led me on a grand tour of the historic home, it was obvious she had played the docent many times before.
My hostess began by describing a pre-Columbian settlement on the site and showed me a small collection of Native American artifacts that had been unearthed on the property over the years. She led me from room to room, recounting well- rehearsed facts and anecdotes about the furnishings and architectural details of the estate home. Nearly every piece of English and Early American furniture had a story that was interwoven with important events in Virginia history and the many prominent figures in her family. She identified the subject of every portrait on the walls and drew my attention to antique Persian carpets, rare Chinese Imperial and imported porcelains, delicate English Staffordshire pieces, and sturdy mocha-ware pottery. She concluded her private seminar with a romantic (and historically accurate) account of how Dolley Madison fled to the refuge of Salona in 1814 when British troops were burning the White House in order to reunite with her husband, President James Madison, who had arrived the previous day.
Having completed the tour, we reversed our course back through the house as my hostess pointed out various furnishings, artwork, and other items I would be asked to clean, repair, and restore. She never requested a cost estimate, only a time- line for completing the work. Though at the time I was in over my head, I took great pains with those valuable articles and learned all I could about them while they were in my care: the precise materials used in their composition, the methods applied to their construction, individual variations and subtleties of style and proportion, as well as the identity and background of their makers. I consulted with seasoned experts to be sure I didn’t embark on any process that might depreciate the pieces in any way. I was especially keen to note signs of previous restoration and repair, to avoid the less-than-perfect work of my predecessors in the trade, and to emulate their most artful successes.
That was a seminal experience for me. The care and effort I invested in Salona House soon brought more opportunities, and I gave every new assignment as much attention as I had the first, along with the benefit of my growing expertise. I made it my goal to turn up some new tidbit of information that I could offer every client when the job was finished and their precious objects returned. My patrons appreciated my interest and enthusiasm, and they rewarded me with referrals that led to a constant stream of fascinating employment.
By the time I was twenty-six years old, I was operating one of the largest antique and fine-art restoration businesses in North America, with one division devoted to private clients and another to contracts with the federal government.
But the clues to the greatest treasure I would ever discover were still hidden in my dreams.


My life on the surface no doubt looked great to outsiders, but my inside life was a different story. I was experiencing a crisis of faith. Although my family, church, and business responsibilities were expanding and thriving, my spiritual strength seemed to be draining away. Was I buckling under my new responsibilities? Was I burning out? Cracking up?
My dreams were contributing to my stress. On the exact same date for three years in a row—beginning on the night of January 12, 1986—I’d had the same powerful dream. I know because I started keeping a journal the morning after the first one, a practice I have continued ever since.
Each dream began the same way, with a massive dark storm rising ominously on the horizon, but the dream each year extended the story and contributed new details. These dramatic scenes employed distinct symbols, some of which were familiar to me and some of which were entirely new. After each dream I dug into Scripture and history to try to decipher its meaning.
Then one night in April 1989 I had another dream, this one out of sequence and very different from the rest, a dream in which I was looking at a map of North America. I saw a tiny cartoon version of our Ford van driving from east to west across the continent, much like a 1940s newsreel showing a plane flying across a spinning globe. In the dream our van stopped deep in the Canadian Rockies of British Columbia. The location imprinted itself so vividly in my brain that when I awoke I was able to pull out an atlas and mark the spot. I noted the longitude and latitude, wrote them down on a scrap of paper, and put it in my wallet.
I believed, because of the repetitive nature of the dreams and some of the symbolic nature of the content, that I was being guided—and prompted to act—though for what purpose I didn’t have a clue. Thanks to the dream, however, I did have one strikingly specific detail: a place I could locate.
Plunging ahead with the reckless confidence—and often the foolishness —of youth, I decided to go there.


“How To Monitor & Spy On Text Messages Of Your Child Like A CIA Agent” ~KidGuard~ Review



Spying on your child? Thought that would catch your attention. Actually don’t spy on them. Let’s start a healthy conversation between you and your child. – Created Specially For A Parent Like You – This compiled definitive guide on text message monitoring is the ultimate how-to for everything from parental knowledge to technical support.


When asked to review this book I was a bit skeptical. The title of the book made me think it would be about something totally different. Spy on your kids? I mean seriously what is this? Once I received this book and started in, I was thoroughly impressed. It is a great book! Being a parent is so difficult sometimes! I don’t even want to think about my kids being old enough for phones, or cars or anything that relates to them getting older!

This book covers a lot, starting with lots of information and stats.

“In the U.S., 88% of teens aged 13-17 have access to a mobile phone.”

“Over 90% of teenagers have access or are able to communicate through text messaging if you include other devices.”

It breaks down the do’s and don’ts of how to monitor your children and their text messages. While it doesn’t condone being a super spy, it gives you the information needed to be discreet while keeping your child safe.

It’s a very informative read and great for parents of children of all ages. It’s sad that we have to be so overprotective of our children now-a-days but it’s for their own protection and safety.

Great read! Check it out! This book was given to me in exchange fair and honest review.

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They also have an app! If interested check it out here: https://www.kidguard.com/