Check out the newest book by Gail Roughton, The Witch Wars, and make sure to enter the tour wide giveaway as well in the post. The author is awarding a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner. The tour is sponsored by Goddess Fish Promotions and you can find all the tour stops HERE.
THE WITCH WARS
by Gail
Roughton
GENRE: paranormal romance
Ariel
Anson thinks she has her life in order.
She’s young, smart, and beautiful, even if she doesn’t believe the
beautiful part. She’s a paralegal with a great career and a fiancé who’s a CPA.
You just can’t get any steadier than that.
Then
she meets private investigator, bounty hunter, process server Chad Garrett.
What does War-N-Wit, Inc. stand for anyway? Warlock and Witch? For real? Oh,
yes! For real. Now every day is full of strange powers, secret societies,
clandestine agencies, and out-of-this-world adventure. Her life as she knows it
is over!
Excerpt
Three:
Mom paused for the fourth time in front of a shop window and
stared at her reflection. She reached up and fluffed her hair. No more
middle-age chin length pageboy. The layers ruffled in the wind. The new golden
brown blush thrust her cheekbones into prominence and the golden brown
eye-shadow magnified the amber in her eyes.
Stacy tugged at her arm to get her moving. “C’mon, awakened
sleeping beauty! We still have to get you a dress for the clubs tonight. My
bachelorette party, remember?”
“Oh, but dear! I brought an outfit—”
“No! You’re not goin’ out in a two-piece tailored suit! Get
over it!”
“But y’all have spent so much money already—”
I sighed. “Mom, you ever total the money you’ve spent
raisin’ us?”
“That’s different! That’s what parents do!”
“Well, this is what grateful daughters do! Now hush!” She
was getting better at reading facial expressions. One look at ours and she
hushed.
“Oh, look!” Stacy pointed at a long champagne colored sheath
in the boutique window. Simple, elegant. Boat neckline. Discretely sparkly.
Definitely Mom’s color, especially with the new make-up. “Perfect!”
“Oh, my God! That dress in that store has to cost—”
“Mom. You’re worth it.”
Stacy opened the door and shooed her inside. She turned back
to me in silent exchange.
You do know there’s a black cat following us, right?
Two of ‘em, actually.
And I’m sure you’re sure one of ‘em’s Micah?
Oh, yeah.
The other one?
Not a clue.
Double the trouble?
Distinct possibility. And I got an idea it might concern a
phone call Chad and I got on the way to the airport. Talk to you later this
afternoon.
Just. Great.
* * *
Mom’s classy new champagne sheath safely tissued and bagged
in the trunk, Stacy turned off Las Vegas Boulevard and headed toward the
outskirts of Vegas.
“Last stop!” she announced.
“Oh, I can’t wait!” Mom pulled down the passenger visor to
access the mirror and fluffed her hair again.
“Mom! It looks the same way it looked when you got out of
the stylist’s chair!”
“I can’t embarrass you at your club, darlin’! Just
checking.”
Stacy slowed, turned onto a state highway, rounded a curve
and pulled into a drive sporting a large “Private Property – No Trespassing”
sign.
“Voila!” She spread her hands in a flourish.
Mom’s eyes rounded like an owl’s.
“Uh—dear?”
“Ma’am?”
“This—uh—doesn’t look like a—uh—country club, somehow.”
It damn sure didn’t. The low cinderblock building, built for
utility and not aesthetics, sat back off the dusty parking lot. Ten or twelve
big motorcycles were parked in front, mostly Harleys but peppered with a few
Hondas. Underneath the front row of windows stretched a billboard type sign.
“Desert Troopers – Ride the Wind, Brothers!”
“I’m sorry, Mom, I didn’t realize you thought it was a
country club!”
Like hell you didn’t! I projected out. God’s gonna get you
for that one, little sister!
Look on her face is worth it, though, huh?
Oh, yeah!
“Oh, look!” I got out of the car quickly and pointed over to
the line of parked bikes. Time to get Mom moving before she went into full
shock. “Jackster and Moondog are here!”
And so was Micah and his new little friend. Over there,
disappearing around a corner of the clubhouse.
On cue, the door opened. A big grin lit the face of the
middle-aged guy in Desert Trooper colors standing in the doorway. He spread his
arms and came toward us.
“Well, well, both my little Rambo girls! Ari, honey, good to
see you!” He swept me up in a bear hug and swung me around.
“Jackster!” I hugged back as good as I got. “Good to see you,
too!”
Stacy got her bear hug. “Mom, this is our good friend, Jack
Hudlin. Affectionately known as the Jackster. Jackster, this is our mom, Grace
Anson.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Gail
Roughton is a native of small town Georgia whose Deep South heritage features
prominently in most of her work. She’s a
paralegal who’s lived in a law office for over forty years, during which time
she’s raised three children and quite a few attorneys. She’s tried retirement but it didn’t take.
Through it all, she’s kept herself sane by writing novels and tossing them into
her closet. Thanks to BWL Publishing,
Inc., most of those novels have now emerged in published form. A cross-genre writer, her books range from
humor to romance to thriller to horror and she’s never quite sure what to
expect when she sits down at the keyboard.
She usually has a project or two on the backburner but doesn’t discuss
them for fear of jinxing herself. Given
her affinity for the supernatural, this should come as no surprise to any
reader.
https://bookswelove.net/roughton-gail/
1 comment:
Thanks so much for hosting!
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