May 11, 2015

Release Day Blitz: Excerpt & Giveaway! The Red Roots by Andrea Johnson Beck


Buried secrets never stay hidden. They take root and spread through the soil. In time, the lies breach the surface and the slender stems creep along the earth, climb and entangle with first solid thing it encounters. 

Secrets bind people. 

Constrict logic.

Agitate the mind.

Love is the same.



CHAPTER ONE

The skyline punctured the wide-open sky, not a single cloud drifted above Manhattan. The city bloomed into a fresh season but Isla stood outside and inhaled the whiff of karma. People weaved around her along the sidewalk as she tipped her head back and followed the tower of granite and glass. Straight from the airport, her leather tote was packed for a quick jaunt to Sutton territory.

Isla pushed through the revolving door, entering into a lobby with the modern sophistication of white walls with abstract art and hand blown colored sconces. Behind a stainless steel desk was stationed a uniformed guard. He backed up against an encased wall of cascading vibrant turquoise water. 

She approached the man who looked like a retired bodybuilder. “I’m here to see, Martin Sutton.”

“Name?”

“Really?”

“Name?” 

“Isla Pierce. What happened to Donovan?”

He handed her a small key, ignored her question, and instructed her to enter the elevator on the left then insert the key above the number pad in the elevator. Not her first rodeo, she thought, though the penthouse visit was new. 

“No funny business. I’ll be watching you. Give the key back to Mr. Sutton.” 

Isla winked. “Got it, Mr. T.” 

He scowled. 

“You know, the A-Team…I pity the fool. You have the mohawk, and—and the chains.”

With a grunt he pointed over his shoulder. 

“All right, I’m going.” She turned her back. “Donovan had a sense of humor.” Isla spoke under breath. 

The glass lobby swarmed with suits. A handful of men and women stepped on and off the elevators. In the corner, a tall brunette spit obscenities into her phone while her heel tapped against the marble. 

Midtown was all business, as was she. 

Isla stepped onto the elevator, along with two others. She cleared her throat and inserted the key. A bell chimed but a number never lit up. Isla removed the key, held it tight in her fist, and glanced at the man and lady.

Their eyes adverted hers. Isla gathered her curtain of thick dark golden brown hair and twisted it up on the top of her head. It was lovingly named the “bitch bun” by her friends. She checked out the perfectly put together woman. Isla was never a pencil skirt, silk blouse type of girl. Only when forced would she slip on heels and her mother’s diamond earrings. 

The gears whined and grinded after each floor; the woman was the first to scurry out. The man remained silent and stared at his shoes until the elevator slowed and stopped on his floor. Gripping his briefcase against his chest like a shield, he sidestepped off. The corners of her lips lifted. She punched a guy in the gut for accidentally touching her ass in the elevator and now the entire building was afraid of her. 

Awesome. 

The cables tugged higher, a dash flashed on the panel. Martin had been holed up in his office for weeks, or so he had city officials believe. His family was in shambles, and he was stirring the family pot, upsetting investors and shareholders. Martin—the loose cannon—needed to stop taking pages from his spoiled daughter’s book. 

The elevator dipped and halted. With a loud clang, the doors slid open. Isla cringed and stood transfixed on the row of buck, elk, and wolf heads mounted above a gathering of rich leather club chairs. The soles of her boots left the confines of the elevator and stepped into an urban hunting lodge. The woodsy aroma flowed about the room with notes of patchouli and cedar as the masculine bouquet clung to Isla’s skin.

Typically when she met Martin it was in his office fourteen floors below. It was sparse in contrast. A filing cabinet here and there, it was filled with standard office furniture, dark rugs, and a coffee maker in the corner near the receptionist desk. How many knew of his secret penthouse lodge? Probably not many, including the officials who would love nothing more than to toss him in prison for numerous allegations the State’s attorney couldn’t back up. 

The windows were covered with sliding wood panels. The room of stone and varnish was illuminated by a chandelier of antlers and shaded lamps. Isla stepped closer to his animal trophies; she saw her distorted reflection in their black eyes. 

“Breathtaking, are they not?” 

She whirled around. “Not the word I would choose.”

“I hunted each one of these beauties.”

“Not an honorary member of PETA?”

Martin held out his hand. “No, but I’m sensing you must be.”

Isla laid the key in the palm of his hand and looked over at the stuffed and displayed animals. “I enjoy a juicy rib eye like any other carnivore. I’m just not particular to mounting the cast of The Jungle Book up on my walls.” 

Martin laughed, his tenor deep and hearty. If Isla closed her eyes, she’d envision a man with a heftier waist and trousers nestled just below his man boobs, not the man before her. Well-groomed in a black suit, Martin’s crown of ash was combed to perfection. He flashed his gleaming veneers at her and motioned to the closest chair. Isla sunk into the cool leather cushion and lowered her tote beside her feet. Martin unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down across from her.

“What happened to Donovan?”

“Fired after your little altercation in the elevator. He smashed in Mr. Gibbs’ rear window with a fire extinguisher.”

“Too bad, I liked him.”

“How rude of me. Would you care for coffee or water, Isla?”

“No, thank you. Why are making threats against the families?”

“Skipping the pleasantries? I like that.”

Isla raised her eyebrow. “You aren’t going to like this.”

“I’m not?” 

“No. Why are you stirring up problems?” 

Martin rose from his seat and crossed the room to an alcove of vintage booze and crystal. Ice cubes clanked inside the glass. “I attempted to contact you a few weeks ago but you were nowhere to be found. I don’t even think Reed knew your whereabouts.”

“I didn’t realize you cared. I’m touched.”

Martin poured the liquor into his glass. “I care for my family, especially my daughter, and I found her arrest coincidental. I was struck by curiosity. Would Isla know anything about it and, if so, could she and I come to some type of an agreement?” 

“She pleads the fifth.”

“Is that how we’re going to play this? You started this tit-for-tat game.” 

Fire licked Isla’s veins. “Are you five? Do you need a timeout like Mia?”

Martin’s face flushed red and she didn’t care. His tantrums were annoying and they had been at each other for some time but in the end, Isla would win. “I came here to discuss the territories—” 

“Ellis sent you to do his bidding. How noble. Or perhaps you volunteered to impress your displeased husband. Is that it?” 

She shot up from the chair ignoring his jab. “What do you want with the Jupiter territory?” 

Martin tipped his drink back and lowered the empty glass. “I have every right to a piece. I’m an investor in multiple properties—”

“Properties which were foreclosed. Properties you were unable to unload. Properties you invested in without the vote. Sounds like a personal problem me.” 

“My name is just as important as Ellis’ or any of the families.” He said with a snarl. 

“Maybe a decade ago, but the DA is on a mission to desecrate the Suttons and, at last check, you’re untrustworthy. Zagotta over in Detroit wants you dead as does a few others I’m sure.” Isla stuck her bottom lip out. “Sad for you.”

“You will make Ellis see. You will convince him of my loyalty and my justification. Besides, he’s incorporating a new city. I know the area. I can return to Florida.” 

Martin’s voice shook a bit. Giovanni “Vinny” Zagotta’s name did that people. He wasn’t like the white collars; he was straight on street thug who was a phantom to police. Cross Vinny and a person’s days were numbered. 

Isla barked out a laugh. “Why in the world would I help you? You got in bed with the wrong guy. The drug trade isn’t for everyone, and now your daughter is a coke head spending some quality time with Big Mavis.” 

“I’ll expose you, your clientele, and the millions you’ve stolen. Do you know what torture techniques the Columbians would use on you? I know all about Ellis’ pet.”

Her pulse tightened. “Traipsing down the blackmail road, are we?” Isla knelt to pick up her bag, but was met by polished leather shoes. “Get off.” She yanked on the strap, tipping Martin off balance, and hoisted herself up. He intimidated most of humanity — or those without spines. Isla wasn’t one of them.

“You aren’t some badass hacker chick.”

“You’re right. I’m worse.” Her jaw tensed. “What pisses you off more? Ellis trusting me more than your incarcerated, cocaine-addicted daughter, or the possibility of Reed gaining a controlling interest within the company and being appointed over the Jupiter territory?” 

Martin leaned closer to her with a smirk. “You’re damaged goods. I know it, and you know it. You’re out of your depth little girl. Your time is thinning within the family.”

Isla’s heart roared in her ears. She wanted more than anything to knock Martin’s teeth down his throat, but it wasn’t her purpose for visiting. Not this time, anyway. She walked away and pressed the metallic button. His threats didn’t scare her; they infused her blood with conviction. 

“War and death will come to your city. I am not one to trifle with,” he yelled from behind her.

“Neither am I,” she said through her teeth.

Martin’s cold glare ground a hole into the back of her head, his evil, dark presence hovering around her. It was a presence she knew well. She had escaped Ronan Walker’s sick, radical lunacy with the taste of blood still in her mouth. 
~
In a heap her clothes laid next to his feet. 

Quivered limbs lifted Isla. Satin sheets slipped beneath her, and her elbows and knees sunk into the mattress. The snap of leather stole breath from Isla’s lungs. She squeezed her eyes shut. 

Snap.

His warning reverberated the bedroom. Isla braced for the first lash.

Isla prayed for it to be over. Begged God to make it quick. 

It never was. 

The sting lasted for hours, sometimes days. Ronan preached to her about obedience; choking her with scripture and shouting Delilah as he disciplined her. Isla loathed herself. 

How could she allow her grandmother’s husband to abuse her over and over again? It wasn’t her. She was strong and resilient, but Ronan had a perverse power over her. 

“Lying whore.” 

Leather sliced her flesh. 

She bit down hard on her bottom lip. Tears and saliva dripped onto the sheets. Her punishment carried on. Isla’s muscles weakened with each lashing. Isla smelled blood thick within the air, and she tasted it in the back of her throat. 

Snap.

She screamed. Her spine curved at the new wounds. The mattress dipped. Isla sobbed as he ran his stubble over the gashes. Her fingers dug into the sheets. Death, come to me.


Amazon Best Selling Author
Andrea Johnson Beck was born in Sioux City, Iowa. From a young age, she enjoyed telling stories. Many her dad recorded. Writing was her creative outlet and at 10-years-old, her first poem was published in an anthology. Always curious, Andrea read and watched what was considered risqué in the 80's and early 90's, such as, books by VC Andrews. Dirty Dancing and Top Gun (snuck downstairs) raised questions and were brought to her parents for clarification. Understanding their daughter's need for answers, they always replied truthfully. 
Her curiosity and rebellious disposition has carried on. Andrea credits the strong woman in her life who guided her through difficult times. That and writing. Blogging about her marriage, her quirky son, and homeschooling helped her connect with others around the world. 
Life on Awesome Street is a shared website between Andrea and Logan. Most topics revolve around homeschooling, the autism spectrum, and mom humor. She's a columnist for Home & School Mosaics. In the past she has written for In-Depth Genealogist and Home Educating Family. 
In 2012, Andrea self-published her debut novel, Deadly Deception. A year later, the book was acquired by Montlake Romance and re-released in October of 2013. Deadly Deception hit #4 on the Amazon Best Seller List in overall paid fiction in the Kindle Store, it was right behind the Divergent Trilogy. Her second novel, Deadly Revelation, released April of 2014 and was #1 in Organized Crime and Crime Fiction and continues to hold a spot in those categories. 
Andrea and her son collaborated and released a short story, Hush, Mary in October of 2014. Also, the mom and son duo are writing homeschool and autism spectrum books together. Over the years, Logan has impacted and inspired many with his own personal stories of how he accepted and embraced his quirkiness. 
Andrea lives in North Carolina with her husband Phil, son, and their deaf dog, Bear. Sarcasm is the oxygen they breathe, as is love and humor. 
andreajohnsonbeck.com
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Cover Reveal & Giveaway! Whispered Truths, Truths #1 by Anne Mercier

WT Cover
Release Date: June 11, 2014
goodreads

Myah My life literally changed in the blink of an eye. I was happy, I was whole... and then my father died. Since then I haven't been the same. I've been battling inner demons as well as the ones on the outside--my mother the evilest of them all. It's time to take control of my life and Kyle Cooper makes me believe that I can.

Kyle I've been half in love with Myah Wilks for as long as I can remember. She's short and sassy--or she was until tragedy struck. Changes in her life left an opening for me, the one I've been waiting for and I'm jumping--with both feet. This amazing girl has more fight in her pinky than most people do in their whole body... she just needs to be reminded. She also needs to purge those demons and let her secrets go. Maybe, just maybe, she'll let me in and trust me with her whispered truths.



Anne

I was born and raised in Wisconsin and still live here today with my two sons and puppy. (Though one day soon I hope to move to southern California!)

IÕm an avid reader who gets inspired by reading the stories from my favorite authors as well as listening to various types of music. I am a huge fan of music, chocolate, fruit, desserts, autumn, M. Shadows, Avenged Sevenfold, and Milo Ventimiglia. Through my books, I am proudly creating new Avenged Sevenfold and Milo Ventimiglia fans one reader at a time. I absolutely love interacting with readers and invite you to contact me any time via email: Anne@AnneMercierAuthor.com. ÒThe best part of being an author, to me, is being able to take the reader to that one place they long to go when they need to escape reality. Knowing I can do that, for even one reader, makes what I do worthwhile.Ó ~ Anne Mercier Hugs and love, Anne xoxo


WT full



Happy release Day! Under the Influence by L.B. Simmons

Dalton,

I loved you once. A love I thought irrevocable. A love I mistakenly believed could transcend both time and circumstance. Under the influence of my dimwitted, naïve, traitorous heart, I became intoxicated with what I now know was simply a figment of my self-indulgent imagination. So drunk on the feeling, I couldn’t see what was right in front of my face. So foolishly enamored, I blindly followed my heart into the depths of an emotion that would ravage me. 

Years later, I know now what I wish I knew then. I am stronger. Smarter. Tougher. I will not allow myself to be broken again. 

I loved you.

I raged for you.

I wept for you.

And now, I’m letting you go.

Author’s Note: Under the Influence is the journey of two childhood friends that spans the course of five pivotal years in their lives. It is a story about their discovery of true friendship as it blossoms into first love, their experience of crucial sacrifice and ultimate betrayal, and their endurance of agonizing heartbreak on the way to finding lasting redemption.


Dalton POV:

All that remains is the orange in the sky and the sweet scent of the angel lying next to me. Nothing else.

We watch in silence as we always do until the sun finally sets, then both breathe out a long sigh before I turn to face her. “I have something for you. It’s not much, but I saw it and thought of you.”

Her eyes widen with excitement as an equally joyful smile spreads across her beautiful features. I reach into my pocket and pull out the item I spied just a couple of days ago, buying it as a gift for her birthday, but it turns out I really suck at surprises. Who knew?

Dangling the long strand of black beads in her face, an unexpected rush of anxiety races through my system. I’ve never given anyone anything. Ever. I find it extremely unnerving.

Her grin widens further as she extends her hand, uncurling her fingers and exposing her palm. I lower the bracelet and watch as it coils into her grasp. My eyes rise to meet hers and I swallow deeply, trying to rid the nerves constricting my throat. “It’s uh … They’re onyx—the beads. I read that they offer protection for the person who wears them. I just…” I clear my throat. “I wanted you to be protected even when I’m not around.”

Her smile is hindered as her teeth graze her bottom lip. I fight the urge to take that pouty lip in between mine, breaking my stare from her mouth and bringing it back to the bracelet before glancing back to her sky blue eyes. 

She turns to fully face me, the bracelet still secure in her clenched hand. Her expression timid, she inquires, “Put it on me?” 

I nod and slowly uncurl her grip, allowing my touch to linger on the soft pads of her fingers with each one drawn away. She shivers in response and I breathe a light chuckle through my nose, still amazed each time I elicit those involuntary reactions from her. Once the bracelet is pinched between my fingers, she turns her wrist and waits patiently as I hook the ends together. Releasing it, I watch as it slides gracefully along the skin of her arm to land across the bones of her wrist. My hand instinctively rises and my fingers trace its traveled path, raking over the bracelet as I clench her hand in mine and press a soft kiss in the center of her palm.

Her breath shudders before she whispers, “I love it, Dalton. It’s…perfect. Thank you.”

I feel my face warm with her compliment, so break my eyes away from her to focus on the stars. After a couple of moments of peace-filled silence, I inquire, “If you were a color, what color would you be?”

Taking her eyes away from the bracelet, she giggles and twists to look at me. “What color would I be?”

I nod. “Yeah…” I stall, stunned with my need for honesty. “It’s just, sometimes I feel like a chameleon, you know? Forced to change my colors based on where I am in my life.” 

I release a weighted breath. “Lately it feels as though I change them so often, I’m nothing more than a fucked-up version of an impressionist painting.”

Glancing to the side, my heart lurches as she crinkles her nose in confusion, my absolute favorite of her expressions. My eyes linger the light scattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose before once again seeking comfort in the obscurity of the night sky. “To those far away, I project a solid, recognizable image. But in reality, I’m comprised of nothing but a series of angry, incoherent brush strokes in every color imaginable. Disjointed.” 

I twist my neck and pin her with my stare. “Broken.”

Her mouth dips at the corners before she turns on her side and tucks her hands under her cheek, her blue eyes sincere. “Do you think Renoir and Monet didn’t know what they were doing? That they didn’t purposely place each stroke of their paintbrush in order to create their envisioned masterpiece?”

She tightens her gaze. “You are a work of art, Dalton. Your own masterpiece, regardless if you choose to acknowledge it or not. Every experience that paints your picture is a stroke made just for you. Each one of them is essential in order for you to grow, to learn, and to teach.” 

She shrugs her shoulders. “You ask me what color I would be? Well, I would be every single color I could because to me, those colors are emotions. Feelings. And life would mean absolutely nothing without the many colors that surround us. The many … experiences we live through that propel us forward into the people we are meant to become.”





L.B. Simmons is a graduate of Texas A&M University and holds a degree in Biomedical Science. She has been a practicing Chemist for the last 11 years. She lives with her husband and three daughters in Texas and writes every chance she gets.


May 10, 2015

Book Promo: Excerpt & Giveaway! Getting Lucky, Fortune, Colorado #1 by Jennifer Seasons


Welcome to Fortune, Colorado—where the air is clean, the men are rugged, and the all the good ones… are bachelors.

Born into the infamous Charlemagne equestrian empire, Shannon has been raised to do whatever it takes for the family business. Even if it means going undercover and digging up dirt on a competitor. It's easy enough when she believes he's a bad guy whose success seems too good to be true. In fact, Shannon's excited to put the aggravatingly sexy Irishman in his place and get back in her father's good graces. All she needs is to stay focused on the goal … and out of Sean Muldoon's arms.

From stealing a thoroughbred racehorse from the Irish mob to striking gold in the mountains of Colorado, there's little Sean hasn't experienced. But when it comes to resisting his hot new stable manager, he's out of luck. With the mob hot on his heels, keeping Shannon off their radar is all but impossible, and he's not about to put her in danger too. Sean wants Shannon, but how can he offer her a future … when he can't even guarantee tomorrow?


Shannon glanced at a stand of early June aspens swaying in the gentle breeze and smiled softly. The leaves were such a tender shade of green against the white of the bark; there wasn’t anything like them back home in Saratoga Springs, New York, which was too bad because they were beautiful. The leaves danced on the wind like gypsies around a campfire.

“It’s beautiful here.” She couldn’t help admitting it. Even the sunshine on her face felt amazing. “It’s such a gorgeous day, isn’t it? If this guy doesn’t hire me, I’ll hike back down to the entrance here and meet you. I’ll text you once I know if I got the job.” 

Colleen shifted and crossed her arms, her voice oddly neutral when she replied, “Of course. I was planning to wait.” 

Shannon narrowed her eyes, suddenly suspicious of her sister’s tone. “Did Dad tell you to leave me here anyway?” It would be so like him to force his will on her even from two thousand miles away. No way did she want to be stranded out in the wilds of the Colorado Rockies with no transportation. It was something like seven miles back into town. Not exactly a leisurely afternoon stroll in the park.

“I’m sorry, Shan, but I have to. You know how Dad is. In his mind, you’ll work harder to secure the job if you don’t have any backup waiting for you. He called it ‘added incentive.’ ” Sympathy and understanding shone in her eyes. They both knew all too well what that meant. “I wish I could stay here to make sure it all goes well, but I can’t. My orders are to head straight back to the hotel and call Dad to receive instructions. Before you ask, I have no idea what he has planned for me.” 

Instinctively Shannon’s back went up. Callum Charlemagne was so very fond of his orders. How else best to rule the kingdom, right?

Feeling that old tension settle between her shoulder blades, Shannon began to pace. Some things just never changed, no matter how old she was. His penchant for bullying made her as angry today as it had when she was a teenager.

Colleen placed a hand on her arm, gently stopping her midstride. “He loves us, Shannon. In his way, the best he can. And he legitimately needs your help.” Her fingers gripped tightly for a brief moment and then released, her expression suddenly pensive. “This time we all do.” 

That simple truth took the fire out of Shannon. They all needed her to step up. Her family was the majority shareholder in the company, but for how much longer, no one knew. They’d had to borrow against the stock, and there was no money to repay the loan since they had so few clients generating cash flow.

No income, no majority control of the company—no farm.

Why? Because her family farm was owned by the company. And without the security of owning 51 percent of the stock, they could be booted off the place without a moment’s notice. In every way, they and the business—their very future—would be at the whim of the company.

It still grated, knowing that truth. Not only had the business been in the Charlemagne line for generations, the farm was home. It held all their best memories—like how every Christmas her mother made homemade cinnamon rolls with cream cheese frosting for breakfast and everyone sat in front of the fireplace with their newly opened gifts and chowed down. They all got to eat with their fingers. It was heaven.

And in all actuality, it was the one time of year that her parents really and truly relaxed. They laughed and smiled, and seemed to leave the bad stuff behind—or at least alone. The rest of the year the stress of simply being a Charlemagne and managing everything that entailed wore them down. Christmas was their time to breathe.



Jennifer Seasons has been a lifelong writer and reader. She lives with her husband and four children in the mountains of rural New England. An enormous yet lovable dog and the world's coolest cat keep them company. When she's not writing, she loves spending time with her family outdoors exploring her beautiful new home state, learning the joys of organic gardening, and—if she's lucky—relaxing in her hammock under the trees with a really good book.




May 9, 2015

Book Blitz & Giveaway! Tattered Altered Love, Torn Love #3 by K.d. Ferguson


What if you had the chance to change the future, would you take it regardless of the cost? Could you find the strength to overthrow a corrupt government that filled your life, and the lives of countless others, with lies and sadness?

Krissa Channing seemed to be a Headquarters prodigy, on track for a successful pairing and a lifetime of living by government standards. But her destiny was far more than that which was mapped out for her. Upon the discovery of an underground revolution, Krissa is thrown into a world she never knew existed. The devastating losses she has endured have placed her in the position to help lead the movement.

The glittering future offered by the takeover seems to be bright, but how much of the life she once knew is Krissa willing to sacrifice?

 

Links for Torn True Love:

Links for Tore Divided Love:



I have recently released my first book, Torn-True Love, published by Rebel Ink Press. I am thrilled to be a part of the family!




Book Blitz: Excerpt & Giveaway! All The Pretty Ghosts by Jamie Campbell



One year ago the Event swept through the world and wiped out the entire adult population. Now all the children are alone and fending for themselves.

Everly Hilton can see ghosts. Bridging the gap between the living and the dead, there are so many departed adults she can barely handle her ability.

With winter approaching, Everly can’t fight the dead any longer. She has to listen to the ghosts in order to understand what caused the Event and help keep the children alive.

What she doesn’t realise is that her association with the spirits runs far closer to home than she could ever imagine.


“I ran out of food, I’m only here for supplies.”

The lines around his eyes crinkled with disappointment. I hated doing that to him. He deserved so much more. “I can help you find supplies. But will you stay for a little bit? I want to show you around. You did come all this way, after all.” He smiled hopefully. How many times did I have to knock him down before he remained down?

Obviously once more, at least.

“I don’t want to be gone long. I really just need my stuff and then I’ll leave.”

“How about I do you a deal? You spend one hour with me, doing whatever I want, and I’ll get you food to take back. How does that sound?” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he waited for my answer.




Jamie was born into a big, crazy family of 6 children. Being the youngest, she always got away with anything and would never shut up. Constantly letting her imagination run wild, her teachers were often frustrated when her ‘What I did on the weekend’ stories contained bunyips and princesses.
Growing up, Jamie did the sensible things and obtained a Bachelor of Business degree from Southern Cross University and worked hard to gain her membership with the Institute of Chartered Accountants in Australia.
Yet nothing compared to writing. Quitting the rat race to spend quality time with her laptop named Lily, Jamie has written several novels and screenplays. Spanning a number of genres and mediums, Jamie writes whatever inspires her from ghost stories to teenage love stories to tantalising murder mysteries. Nothing is off limits.
A self-confessed television addict, dog lover, Taylor Swift fan, and ghost hunter, Jamie loves nothing more than the thrill of sharing her stories.