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Choose Me


I’ve always run away from labels. 

Now there’s one I cannot run away from.

Father.


Choose Me

The Ballerina Series Book 4

by Ursula Sinclair

Genre: Contemporary New Adult Romantic Suspense



I refused to be placed in anyone’s box.

Vin
I’ve always been the best friend, the one nightstand, the groomsmen never the groom. Then I go and become that ‘F’ word. Yeah, I become a Father before I am even part of a couple. I’ve never been one to live a normal life. Whatever that is. It’s never been for me. But then a woman and my child change everything. They become everything. I will become whatever they need. Because that will be who I am.

Samantha
My husband and I always wanted a child, but it was not meant to be. Until one day, one came into our lives, and she became my everything. But the man that should have protected us didn’t, he betrayed us. Exposed us to men who threatened the safety of my child and me. Then someone came into our lives amidst the chaos, but who was he there to save, me or his child?

 

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Future

Vin

 

“Vin!”

“What!” Something about the way she said my name had me blinking and trying to focus my sleep fogged mind. A shudder traveled through my body. What the hell time is it? The connections in my brain were still a bit fuzzy, but I recognized the pitch of that voice. I’d heard it enough times. Something was wrong.

“Christie?” I spoke into my phone.

“I’m at the hospital, Vin. The baby…” Terror laced her tone.

“What? Isn’t it too early?” I questioned. Christie wasn’t quite eight months pregnant, since that was the last time we’d hooked up. “Is something wrong?”

“You’ve got to come now!”  Fear rippled in her voice.

I’d never heard her sound like this before. My heart pressed against my chest. “Okay, okay on my way.”

I glanced at the time on my phone. Since my head hit the pillow, I’d gotten less than three hours of sleep. Rolling out of bed, I downed some aspirin I kept on the nightstand. Staggering to the bathroom, I washed my face with cold water. It helped a little. My eyesight was no longer quite so blurry. When I glanced at the mirror, I could at least make out my blood shot eyes from too little sleep. But my mind was clear.

Quickly, I tossed on some clean clothes then caught a taxi to the hospital, Christie had scheduled her delivery in. I hoped like hell she would be there. This woman prepared for everything.

Except for an unplanned pregnancy.

I pulled out my phone to shoot a group text to my best friends, Maze and Dante. To let them know Christie was in the hospital and to meet me there but stopped myself before pressing send. First, it was three fucking o’clock in the morning and secondly, I had no idea what the hell was going on, other than I could hear the panic in Christie’s voice. I’d wait until I knew more.

At this hour, it only took about fifteen minutes for me to get to the hospital in midtown. Still, by the time I got there—it was the right hospital—they’d already taken Christie into surgery. I wasn’t family, just the father of the child we’d both agreed to put up for a private adoption. Which meant no one would tell me anything, other than to have a seat and wait for the doctor. Or the lawyer, for the couple adopting the baby. But I wasn’t sure if the hospital or Christie had notified the lawyer, or the couple, and I wasn’t going to remind anyone. At this point, I also didn’t give a rat’s ass. Christie might have been a one or two night hook up, but I still cared about her and the baby we created.

“Mr. Tinsdale?” A pretty young woman in plain purple colored scrubs stood in front of me.

I stood up. “Yes, that’s me. How’s Christie and the baby?”

“Christie signed a form before they took her in, allowing us to talk to you as the biological father of the baby. The baby is in distress, the doctor is performing an emergency C-section, as soon as he knows more, he’ll come out to speak to you.”

“Thank you.” Even if her words did little to relieve my anxiety. I plopped my ass back down onto the seat. It wasn’t until the nurse disappeared through the double doors, I questioned what she’d said. Or rather the way she said it, know more about what? Shouldn’t it only be to tell me if it was a boy or a girl? Oh, God! Did distress mean the baby might die? Was Christie going to be, okay?

I ran my fingers through my shorthair as these thoughts played table tennis in my mind. I’d made a bit of an ass of myself earlier at the nurses’ station, demanding someone come out to tell me something. All I could do now was sit and wait for the doctor.

I sat there alone, my hands rested on my knees, head down, eyes staring at the floor, seeing nothing but my f’ing life rolling away from me. Tied to someone I didn’t even like—for life. One who would be the mother of my child. All because some shitty piece of latex malfunctioned. Fuck of a malfunction. Still, I prayed to a supreme being or beings somewhere out there that Christie and the baby would be okay. Even if I’d agreed to the adoption, the thought of my child dying sent fear zinging through me.

I took a deep breath. Single mother, single father, nothing single about it. Not when an innocent life was involved. A life who apparently wanted to make an early appearance. Way early. A preemie. My child would be a preemie. Labels—fucking labels. All my life I’d dealt with them. But I refused to be placed in anyone’s box.




Don’t miss the rest of The Ballerina series!

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Ursula Sinclair is a USA Today Bestselling Author and the alter ego for LaVerne Thompson, a USA Today Bestselling, award winning, multi-published author. An avid reader and a writer of fantasy, paranormal, contemporary, and sci/fi sensual romances. She loves creating worlds within and without our world. She enjoys good action scenes. Most of her books under either name, also have a touch of violence and a few more than that. She writes romantic suspense and new adult romance under her alter ego.

She is a certified chocoholic and is currently working on several projects. Some might even involve chocolate. But writing helps maintain her sanity.

 

Sign up for her newsletter for sneak peeks and advance information on new releases as well as a few freebies to subscribers. http://bit.ly/1hA7C9W

 

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I’m a Mom, a Grandmom, and a Veteran. Nothing scares me! That’s the saying on my favorite T Shirt. I’m enjoying life too much to let the little things slow me down. If you can’t tell from my Avatar, I live in Florida where I enjoy the sunshine and endure the hurricanes with good grace. Sometimes you have to take the bad with the good!

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Posted in #BookTours

Sins of the Fire: Purgatorio

Sins of the Fire: Purgatorio
Phoenix Ward
(Sins of the Fire, )
Publication date: December 18th 2025
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Young Adult

The Church of New Haven extends its reach to those in need, however there are some lost souls that require more direct guidance, as their sins must be met with strong redirection. Thus, Jonah was created. Originally a man named M█████ ████, he contains over two-hundred thousand sinners. Until they reconcile with their offense to God, they are to fast and pray for their salvation for as long as it takes them to realize their folly, and call upon us.

The boy will be saved from the Dragon, even if he must waste away to understand their danger.

Kickstarter / Amazon

Sequel to:

Check out the Kickstarter here!!

EXCERPT:

This morning was a reminder that not only was sleep important, but so was waking up before 10am.

Between the heads of bed hair, scruffy clothes and flip-flops, there were black suits, floral dresses and sweet smelling perfume clouding the entrance of the store. Conversations were held in front of the doorway, carts were being pushed around like they were going out of style, and somehow that wasn’t the thing that made us second guess our trip to getting our travel items here. No, that all paled in comparison to the white van-bus with the words “Destiny Baptist Church”, written in Times New Roman on the side.

It wasn’t the church we had a problem with— it was the fact that it was Destiny, a local mega church that made their way through the doors. The same Destiny that would play on my grandmother’s radio, from preaching almost twelve hours of gospel to choirs capable of going seven octaves without any pause for breath. For whatever reason, they were here. Maybe it was some food-based event, or some donation cause, or maybe someone felt the ‘Holy Spirit’ invade them to help out a few families with groceries— either way, it was crowded. Worse yet, the congregants brought their kids too. One wrong turn with a cart and we’d be anointed with oil and made to play the burning bush. Imani and I both shared wary gazed with one another as the chatting church folk mingled with folks that just wanted to get their groceries.

I was the first one to take the initiative, but Imani was quick to hold me back from going too far.

“Hang on, no plan?” She asked, “We’re just going to go in?”

I shrugged, scooting aside as a family of three slipped past us. “Yeah. We just gotta make it through the doors. We’ll probably just grab baskets and split. When we’re done, we’ll meet right by the self-checkout, next to the gift cards.”

Her eyebrows looked like they’d fly away. She released her gentle hold of my arm. “I guess I shoulda known you’d know how to handle yourself, considering the stuff you dealt with.”

“Is it weird to admit that the cult shenanigans actually wilder compared to this?”

Imani sped ahead of me, playfully pushing me out of the way. “Just pray you don’t get lost in here!”

“Ah, pray! Good one.”

The doors opened, our opportunity for a clear entry inside revealed itself. With clergy folk standing by the door, we said our ‘Good mornings’ and kept it moving. Basket procured, we both split up and went our separate ways. I immediately made a beeline to the deli. Three pre-packaged sandwiches were perfect carry-on for the long trip. From there, I shot for the snacks aisle. Chips, protein bars, and those salty peanut butter cracker packages were all loaded up in the basket with haste. I said my ‘hello’s, and my ‘excuse me’s to any passerby, some people greet me, others regard me with a nod.

I wanted to be away from the churchgoers. They didn’t take up the store, but they were too permeated— too mixed in.

Too indistinguishable.

I wanted to pretend that everything was back to normal. That after all of the conflict, the fears, the crying, the fighting, things were safe again. Two months of nothing should have been enough to convince me, but I knew better. Every aisle I walked down, there was a body dressed in black or white—formal clothing or just plain clothes. Without touching Mysherra, I couldn’t tell which was a Havenite and which wasn’t. Even outside of the store, regular people, clerks, judges, beggars, anyone could be a Remnant out to get me, or one to watch me.

I put my hand in my pocket and stood in front of the line of power-drinks. My fingers grazed over the surface of the pen.

The hairs on my neck stood up. Goosebumps bristled along my arms. Piercing spheres of heat sandwiched both sides of my sides.

I didn’t dare turn my head—Peripherals attuned to the presence of two white-robed Remnants on opposite sides of the aisle.

“Kane.”

“I know.”

Slowly, I inched my arm out of my pocket, pen wedged between my fingers. They wouldn’t be able to fight me, not with eyes watching them from the ceiling. They didn’t want their secret to be discovered just as I didn’t.

“Do not acknowledge their presence,” Mysherra spoke to me, “Walk with me down the aisle.”

My legs walked me sideways. I didn’t want my back turned to either one of these things. The power drinks transitioned to the flavored powders. Flavored powders to sparkling sodas. Neither one of the beings made a move.

“Once you get close, fire me.”

Senses were screaming at me to run or fight the closer I got to the remnant. My heart was thudding against my ribs.

“Just a little closer.”

Light conjured at the tip of the pen. The burning spread along my entire right side.

“Okay, the fires should be quiet enough to—”

“Excuse me.”

Someone bumped against my back, cutting off my focus. “Ah, sorry about th—”

All I did was turn my head. I had seconds, milliseconds, microseconds to process the burgeoning man unlatching his jaw in front of me. Ropes of saliva separated a hollow light at the back of his throat. Flesh, wet, and acrid already surrounded me, sounds of the outside muffled by the remnant’s mouth closing behind me. I must have fired four times— twice to the ribcage roof of the mouth and twice towards the light. Footing vanished, the dark closed in, and the door to the outside slammed shut behind stone teeth.

And I fell.

Author Bio:

Phoenix Ward is an indie black writer, and educator from Philadelphia. He has worked in the field of education for over five years, teaching all grades Mathematics and English. When he’s not writing, he is composing music using Logic Pro X, or tutoring children on subjects they struggle in. Currently, he lives in Philadelphia with his dog and cat.

An avid world-builder, Phoenix has created many stories from youth to adulthood, but none have captivated him as much as his latest work Sins of the Fire, which combines his passion for storytelling with his deep understanding of human nature. He draws inspiration from the vibrant city life of Philadelphia and his own experiences as an educator, infusing his narratives with authenticity and depth.

In addition to his work as a writer and educator, Phoenix is committed to supporting young creatives in their journeys. He actively encourages students and adults alike to seek a way to create their own stories. Everyone has a message to share, and doing so in story is the best way to do so.

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I’m a Mom, a Grandmom, and a Veteran. Nothing scares me! That’s the saying on my favorite T Shirt. I’m enjoying life too much to let the little things slow me down. If you can’t tell from my Avatar, I live in Florida where I enjoy the sunshine and endure the hurricanes with good grace. Sometimes you have to take the bad with the good!

88 posts
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Posted in #BookTours

Battle Beyond the Veil


Two worlds.

One forbidden relic.

A battle for survival or ruin.


Battle Beyond the Veil

by Cassie Sanchez

Genre: Urban Fantasy


The Celestial War shattered the Heavens; after millennia, the battle still rages.

On the most important day of Zahra’s career at the Gallery of Time Museum, everything unravels. A mysterious package arrives from her estranged father, and the Atar’zul, a relic that could secure her promotion goes missing. While betrayal festers within the museum, a long lost love returns, throwing Zahra’s world into chaos.

Kyden, a warrior angel and demon slayer, has guarded the spiritual realm for centuries. When a famous archaeologist and forbidden artifact vanish, Kyden is forced to protect a human, a job he vowed long ago to never do again.

Together, Zahra and Kyden must face rising demon threats and the cursed magic of the Atar’zul. As darkness closes in, they join forces to defend both realms and find that ending the battle beans trusting each other. Sacrifices must be made—the cost of which might be their very souls.

Welcome to the battle for humanity’s future—a story of loyalty, temptation, and the fragile line between light and shadow.

 

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Cassie Sanchez is the award-winning author behind the Darkness trilogy—a whirlwind of fast-paced fantasy romance where danger dances with desire and magic always has a price. Based in the enchanting Southwest, she lives with her husband and two crazy labs named Bullet and Scout. When she’s not writing happily-ever-afters, she can be found wielding a Pickleball paddle or cuddling with her nogs for an afternoon nap.

 At the heart of Cassie’s stories are characters who stumble, fall, and rise again—wrestling with forgiveness and searching for redemption. Step into her world, where every story casts a spell and love conquers all, even the shadows.

 

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I’m a Mom, a Grandmom, and a Veteran. Nothing scares me! That’s the saying on my favorite T Shirt. I’m enjoying life too much to let the little things slow me down. If you can’t tell from my Avatar, I live in Florida where I enjoy the sunshine and endure the hurricanes with good grace. Sometimes you have to take the bad with the good!

88 posts
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Posted in Cozy Mysteries

Santa, Sunrises, & Suspicions

(A Camper & Criminals Cozy Mystery Series Book 23)

SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY WITH A SMIDGEN OF HOMICIDE

USA Today Bestselling author Tonya Kappes brings you southern and quirky characters in her mystery series. Her stories are charged with humor, friendship, family and life in small southern towns.

Around here we say BLESS HER HEART and sometimes it’s just not in a good way.
Take Neva Hudson for instance, bless her heart, she’s the town gossip, not to mention someone who likes to toot her own horn.

Two toots too many ’cause bless her heart, someone has strangled Neva and left her for dead in of all places…the church’s Christmas play.

Trust me when I say there’s no shortage of suspects since her tongue lashed a few too many lies about people.

More importantly, my dear friend Dottie Swaggert has been on the tall tale end of Neva’s lies and she’s got the most motive. Thank goodness me, Mae West, and our group of friends, the Laundry Club Ladies have traded our Christmas play elf hats into sleuthing caps because Santa’s bringing Dottie a big ole present of FREEDOM when we find the real killer.

’Tis the season for murder in the small town of Normal, Kentucky. When the town gossip is found strangled to death in a church, there’s no shortage of suspects.

 #Contemporary, , #Romance, ,

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I’m a Mom, a Grandmom, and a Veteran. Nothing scares me! That’s the saying on my favorite T Shirt. I’m enjoying life too much to let the little things slow me down. If you can’t tell from my Avatar, I live in Florida where I enjoy the sunshine and endure the hurricanes with good grace. Sometimes you have to take the bad with the good!

88 posts
3 followers
Posted in #BookTours

Adverse Reactions


When your mind makes you the enemy, either your mind must die, or you will. 

Unless yours is the mind they can’t break.


Adverse Reactions

by Deborah J. Lightfoot

Genre: Dystopian Paranormal Suspense



Purity demands a bullet. Devin brings a reckoning.

Since she was six years old, Devin Perridin has been locked behind the walls of the family home to keep her hidden from those who would kill her. But at sixteen, she is exposed as a “Syke,” one of an outlawed minority who possess extraordinary powers of mind over matter. Snatched from hiding, she escapes the firing squad, but only to be imprisoned in a house of horrors: the Peaceful Hills Sanatorium and Rehabilitation Center for the Treatment of Persistent Mental Disorders. After an unknown time of torture and “behavior modification,” brutally designed to destroy her psychokinetic reflexes, she emerges from the asylum severely damaged in mind and spirit. Her salvation may lie in the series of crimes triggered by her release: first kidnapping, then attempted murder, and then a mustering of forbidden forces to assault the remote pseudo-psychiatric facility where she had been tortured into near-mindlessness.

Drawing upon a strength she had always known was hers but had never before been able to consciously control, Devin defies the authoritarian society with its unjust laws that demand her death. She pushes through pain, isolation, and moral quandaries to seek justice for not only herself, but all members of a maligned and cruelly persecuted minority. A post-apocalyptic, paranormal allegory for the times in which we live.

When your mind makes you the enemy, either your mind must die, or you will. Unless yours is the mind they can’t break.

 

“This novel is immediately immersive, with an opening scene that sucks readers in with vivid sensory detail and a great sense of suspense.” —The Black List

“What a story! I was picked up from the first page and you never let me go thereafter. The premise is original … compelling … convincing.” —ARC Reader

“A very enjoyable read. Excellent pacing. Immersive language. Polished, effortless writing. I’d love to see a prequel (or three)!” —ARC Reader

“Relevant to the current situation in the world. Ostracizing others who are different out of fear and ignorance. Cruelty and inhumanity.” —ARC Reader

“Believable and relatable.” —The Black List

“Thematically rich, as Devin faces constant self-doubt but eventually comes to find empowerment in the unique abilities that have made her an outcast.” —The Black List

 

**Get it #OnSale for only $1.99 4/21 – 4/24!**

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Chapter 1

 

VAPORS BILLOWED INTO the chamber in thick masses of orange. Devin choked on the sickly sweet odor.

“Don’t fight it, child,” came the voice—equally cloying—from the darkness beyond the floodlit, glass-walled chamber. “Give yourself up to it.”

The gas surged into Devin’s face, blinding, gagging her. She made it go away. By force of will, a moment’s mental reflex, she flung it back.

Fresh air flooded her nostrils and drove out the syrupy stink. She sucked in a cool, clean breath.

“No!” snapped the voice, crackling with amplified static. “You must not.”

The therapist dropped her with two thousand volts. Devin collapsed to the chamber’s floor, her body jerking, her nerves on fire. The pain was beyond enduring. A pain this intense must be lethal. But she did not die. As she convulsed, her muscles knotted in spasms, she could not scream. No part of her, not even her voice, was under her voluntary control.

“Try it again, child.” Smooth and saccharine once more, her unseen therapist spoke from the concealing shadows as the shock ended and Devin’s pain faded. “Stand up,” the torturer ordered. “And this time, do not fight it. Or your punishment will be the same: swift, sure, and severe.”

Devin struggled upright. She had to brace against the curved glass wall of the gas chamber to keep on her feet. Her muscles had melted from knots into jelly.

An orange cloud flooded the chamber and filled her nose with the stink of rotting fruit.

“Breathe it,” her therapist instructed. “You must.”

But again, Devin reacted by instinct alone. No conscious thought interposed between stimulus and response. The cloud approached; she pushed it away. Pure reflex, action of mind: act of self-preservation. The gas held back, suspended in midair, blocked by the power of her impulse.

On the instant, thousands of volts knocked her to the floor. Pain engulfed Devin, such a pain as must be lethal but wouldn’t do her the service of killing her. She writhed, silent and barely conscious.

Her therapist withdrew the punishment. Devin remained on the floor of the isolation chamber, curled in the fetal position, her long brown hair covering her face. Her body was hers to command once more, but her muscles had no strength to obey.

“You give new meaning to the word persistent, don’t you, girl?” muttered the disembodied voice. Then, more forcefully: “The first step toward healing is to admit you are diseased, Miss Perridin. You have an illness. A mental disorder. I am offering you the cure—in a pleasant aerosol spray that you need only breathe. Once inhaled, the drug acts quickly, and its effects are lasting. But you must take the first step and acknowledge that you want to be cured.”

The voice grew soft, sugary. “Child, for as long as you hold to the notion—the mistaken notion—that your disorder is in some way a strength or a benefit to you, you will continue to fail. And you will suffer the consequences of that failure. We can’t have that, can we?”

Devin gathered the remnants of her strength and rolled onto her back. To stand was impossible; she could barely shape a word.

“No,” she whispered.

She wasn’t speaking to her tormentor.

But: “That’s the spirit!” the therapist responded, sounding genuinely enthused. “Now we try again. Take your medicine like a good girl.”

The orange stink flowed in at the top of the chamber. Devin, lying face up, watched through the curtain of her hair as the cloud descended. She had time to ward it off, to make it go away. But in the soul of her being, nothing sparked. Her reflexes, her instincts, failed to respond. What had been a spontaneous force of mind over matter could offer no resistance.

Devin’s mouth filled with the sickening taste of defeat. The orange cloud enveloped her, a sticky weight, and she choked down lungfuls.

“Wonderful!” her therapist exclaimed. “My dear, I couldn’t be more pleased. This is the tipping point. Your recovery will be much easier from now on, I promise.”

Devin breathed the sickly sweet drug and felt the core of her mind go dead.

Then came the retching. Her body contorted in gut-shredding paroxysms as the drug made her vomit—or attempt to vomit. Her keepers had starved her for so long, her stomach had nothing to bring up. The dry heaves racked her with such violence that she could not breathe. After long moments, unconsciousness brought relief.





Castles in the cornfield provided the setting for Deborah J. Lightfoot’s earliest flights of fancy. On her father’s farm in Texas, she grew up reading tales of adventure and reenacting them behind ramparts of sun-drenched grain. She left the farm to earn a degree in journalism and write award-winning books of history and biography. High on her bucket list was the desire to try her hand at the genre she most admired. The result is Waterspell, a multi-layered fantasy series about a girl and the wizard who suspects her of being so dangerous to his world, he believes he’ll have to kill her … which troubles him, since he’s fallen in love with her.

 

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I’m a Mom, a Grandmom, and a Veteran. Nothing scares me! That’s the saying on my favorite T Shirt. I’m enjoying life too much to let the little things slow me down. If you can’t tell from my Avatar, I live in Florida where I enjoy the sunshine and endure the hurricanes with good grace. Sometimes you have to take the bad with the good!

88 posts
3 followers