Book Blitz! Excerpt & Giveaway: Too Many Rock Stars, Access All Areas #1 by Candy J. Starr

I don’t date rockers. Don’t sleep with them. Don’t even swap spit. I’ve been working as a band booker at Trouble — the coolest indie rock club in town — long enough to know what a bunch of screwed up, egotistical jerks they are. Some of them might seem okay at first but that’s just because they’ve learnt to hide it better than others.

That would be fine if Razer didn’t keep popping into my office, making himself so annoyingly attractive. And he only gets more insistent when the leather-clad Alex hits town.

While they compete for both rock glory and my affection, I get stuck in the middle but all I really want to do is save my job and the club.

That’s the trouble with my life: too many rock stars.

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He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket.

"You have a car?" I asked.

"Not a car," he replied, leading me around the corner where some kind of motorbike was parked. I knew nothing about bikes, nothing at all, but that was no regular bike. It was all black and shiny and huge. Like the kind of bike Satan would ride out of Hell.

"I'm not getting on that thing."

"Don't be chicken." He handed me a helmet.

"I am a chicken. This helmet is all that would be coming between me and scrambled brains." I checked my outfit. Short skirt, bare legs, bare arms. I had far too much flesh exposed. Flesh that could be grazed, bones that could be broken. 

"Just a short ride. I'll take it slow."

I screwed up my face, trying to decide if I trusted him. "You promise?"

"Pinkie promise," he said.

"Kinda convenient of you to have a spare helmet. Were you planning this?"

"It pays to be prepared," he said and flashed me the kind of smile that hit me all the way down to my knickers. A smile that caressed my body and made my hairs stand on end. A dimply smile that won my trust.

I put on the helmet.

He started up the bike and within 30 seconds, the panic set in.

"Razer, I'm going to kiiiiiiiiiiiiiillll you," I screamed. But he couldn't hear. He'd go slow, he'd said. Just a short ride, he'd said.

I'd never trust that guy again. He drove through the streets like a maniac. We were going to die. I knew it. I'd end up as road kill, so mangled no one would be able to recognise my body.

Actually, I didn't even want to think about my body. About the way my legs were wrapped around Razer and how I had to press myself tight against him to hold on. Bikes, they were just dirty and wrong. They filled your mind with thoughts of sex and death.

We cut through traffic, narrowly missing a truck and running through a traffic light as it was about to change. My grip on Razer tightened. If I hugged him any tighter, he'd end up with broken ribs and that would serve him right. Except that it might make him crash.

He headed out of the city, picking up speed as we hit the open road. Then he one of the roads going uphill. If I'd thought the city streets were bad, seeing that steep drop down to instant death so close had me white knuckled. I ground my teeth down to bare gums and my body ached from muscle tension.

Killing was too good for him. I'd torture him first. I'd tie him in a room and make him listen to Justin Bieber on repeat. I'd feed him on my cooking. I'd get Carlie to serve him warm beer.

Even though, intellectually, I knew I’d be okay with Razer driving, it felt like he was out of control. He pushed me to the edge of my fear but pulled back to let me know I was safe as soon it got too bad.

When I thought I couldn't stand it any more, he pulled over, skidding and kicking up gravel.

As soon as I could, I jumped off that bike and pulled off my helmet.

"I'm calling a taxi," I yelled. "I am NOT going back down that road on that bike."

He just grinned.

"You said you'd go slowly. You said you wouldn't go far."

"But it was fun, wasn't it?" That cheeky grin on his face just made me want to punch him.

"No. No it wasn't fun. It was horrible. It was the worst." I stomped around, wondering how the hell I'd get out of this place without getting back on that bike. We were in the middle of nowhere, on top of a hill, with nothing but trees around us.

"You just don't want to admit it."

I was about to yell at him some more but, as I turned, I noticed the view below us, the coast line with the sun starting to set over the dazzlingly blue ocean. It took my breath away.

"Amazing, isn't it?"

I leaned against the bike, taking it all in. The helmet dangled in my hand until Razer took it from me and put it away. Nature could be okay sometimes. I spend far too many hours in that dingy club. Carlie had been right. I needed to get out in the sun. I'd forgotten things like that existed. The sun, the beach, the birds flying in the air. Life wasn't just about bands and planning rosters. 

Razer stood beside me with that annoying grin. I bet my hair was an absolute mess from the helmet and my clothes were all over the place. I pulled down my skirt because it had ridden up. God knows how much I'd been flashing while I was on that bike.

"I didn't know you had a bike."

"It's not mine. I couldn't afford something like that. It's my cousin's and he loaned it to me in return for teaching him guitar. You've been so looking so stressed lately, Violet. I wanted to get you out of the club for a while to have some fun."

To be honest, if he wanted me to have some fun, he could've thought of something less dangerous. How was I supposed to be less stressed when he tried to kill me?

Our bodies almost touched. I waited for him to try to kiss me again. I prepared to fight. I didn't want to kiss him. I didn't want him to make those kinds of moves. I didn’t want him to make me feel those kinds of feelings.

Our breathing fell into time with each other. My heart still beat so hard. I wanted to move away from him but my legs had turned to jelly. From that ride, of course. I'd been clenching my muscles so hard they no longer worked.

A bird squawked in the distance somewhere. The wind blew through the trees. The smell of eucalyptus filled the summer air. I stayed perfectly still.

The moment drew out and he didn't move. He just stood beside me until my anticipation turned to disappointment.

I didn't want him to kiss me but he could at least try. Maybe he'd lost interest in me and only saw me as a friend. That's what I wanted. That's the only thing I wanted. So why did my heart feel like a big, heavy stone weighing me down. I couldn't handle this tension and walked away from the bike, my footsteps crunching on the gravel.

"It sure is pretty here," I said. Anything to break the silence. 

"Yeah, I came up here the other day when I needed to sort some stuff out in my head. It really helps to just sit and watch the sea."

I nodded. I'd thought he had all kinds of ulterior motives but he was just being kind. He'd not even mentioned that bloody competition, thankfully.

"I guess we should get back," he said. "If you want to be back at work on time. Of course, we could linger and I could actually drive fast on the way back."

He winked at me. I gulped.

"Let's go." 

Candy J. Starr used to be a band manager until she realised that the band she managed was so lacking in charisma that they actually sucked the charisma out of any room they played. "Screw you," she said, leaving them to wallow in obscurity - totally forgetting that they owed her big bucks for video equipment hire.

Candy has filmed and interviewed some big names in the rock business, and a lot of small ones. She's seen the dirty little secrets that go on in the back rooms of band venues. She's seen the ugly side of rock and the very pretty one.

But, of course, everything she writes is fiction. 

Want to know about new releases and secret fan only offers? Join her mailing list - http://bit.ly/160V44m

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Excerpt & Giveaway! The Fall Up by Aly Martinez

I wanted to jump. 

He made me fall. 

As a celebrity, I lived in the public eye, but somewhere along the way, I’d lost myself in the spotlight. 

Until he found me.

Sam Rivers was a gorgeous, tattooed stranger who saved my life with nothing more than a simple conversation. 

But we were both standing on that bridge for a reason the night we met. The secrets of our pasts brought us together—and then tore us apart.

Could we find a reason to hold on as life constantly pulled us down? 

Or maybe there’s only one direction to go when two people fall in love at rock bottom—up.

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“You’re overdoing it, Lev. I know this job isn’t exactly nine-to-five, but it’s not twenty-four-seven, either. You have to stop being Levee Williams all the time and just be you.”

“I know,” I responded.

I didn’t though. I felt like a robot parading around in a lost woman’s body.

Smile.

Pose.

Turn.

Toss in the occasional song.

Repeat.

What little time I did manage to carve out for myself was spent at various children’s hospitals across the country.

Smile.

Pose.

Turn.

Watch a child die.

Repeat. 

With every day that passed, the smile became less and less genuine, the pose more and more forced, and the turn took me further and further away from who I really was. 

My career was soaring while, personally, I was plummeting. Every single day felt like a terrifying free fall in no particular direction. I was stuck in the middle with no way up—or down.

“You remember that girl, right?” Henry asked, tucking a hair behind my ear.

I nodded.

I did remember her. She was fun and carefree. She loved going out and dancing at nightclubs until the very last song played. She slept until noon if she could. Then, fueled by coffee alone, she’d spend the day with a guitar strapped around her neck and a notepad at her side. She had a huge heart, but she knew her limitations.

Oh, I remembered that girl. I just couldn’t figure out how to get back to her.

Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.

After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. Five books later, she shows no signs of slowing. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.

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Excerpt & Giveaway! Behr Facts Part 1 by Pat Henshaw

Big, burly CEO Abe Behr is dismayed to discover someone—possibly a family member—is stealing from Behr Construction, which primarily employs Behr relatives. Abe takes the unprecedented step of hiring an outsider, likeable CPA Jeff Mason, to go over the books and help find the culprit. They are drawn to each other as they talk to workers, including Abe’s two younger brothers and their shifty cousin.

Since he has sacrificed romance all his life to build the business, Abe’s surprised by his feelings for the handsome Jeff. He’s even more shocked when they are confronted by bigotry in the Sierra Nevada foothills community, which is being inundated by gays moving from the San Francisco area. As he and Jeff get closer, Abe must come to grips with coming out to a family and community that aren’t very tolerant. Fortunately, being the head Behr helps him find his footing and grab onto love when it bites him.

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“You ever come up the bank to sit under my tree? Looks like a much more comfortable place to fish. Not as rocky at any rate.” Jeff took a drink of his beer as I again scrambled to keep up. “My dad called it the Fishing Tree. He seemed to think fish congregated off the shore there.”

We sat in silence. It was my turn to talk. I’m pretty good in business situations. Not so much in social ones. At social events, mostly I hold up walls. Shake hands. Grunt a lot. Let others carry the conversational load.

Lorraine set our meals in front of us. The full burger with everything for him. The grilled mountain trout and steamed vegetables for me.

“You do a lot of fishing?” I managed after a long silence.

“Not really.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “My dad said fishing couldn’t be taught. He said it was something intuitive. I never had any idea what I was doing. So I never saw any use in fishing. I never saw any fish either.”

Again, silence as I processed and caught up. “It’s not rocket science. You figure out what kind of fish you want. Where it lives. Lure it to you. Then catch it.”

He looked skeptical and almost self-conscious. “It can’t be so easy,” he said with a little laugh. 

“Why not?”

“What about the different rods, lures, tackle, stuff?” He looked so serious, as if I were missing the point. As if I didn’t understand. He was right. I didn’t.

“Look. You can catch fish with your bare hands. If you want to. The extra stuff is just extra stuff.”

“If you say so.” He shook his head, a smile still on his lips. “Have you ever caught a fish with your bare hands?”

I lifted my hands and looked down at the mess that were my paws. Calluses, nicks, cuts, punctures, blunt fingers, the bandage now off the one with the splinter. These were the hands of a man who’d framed houses as a tall, rangy preteen and had lived in construction ever since. Could I catch a fish with my bare hands?

“Yeah. All it takes is absolute stillness and patience.” I sighed. “Not a whole lot of people have both together. Somebody once told me it’s all about Zen.” Somebody else said the only reason I could do it was because I was too stupid to know it was impossible.

“Zen.” His tone said he was surprised I knew such a word.

“You know, like the Eastern religion,” I answered. “Though why we still call it Eastern is beyond me. It’s really Far West, not Far East to us.” I was grumbling and rambling. Avoiding for some reason.

He rattled me. Nobody ever rattled me. I’m Abe Behr, the big Behr.

He was studying me as intently as I was him. He appeared too beautiful, too perfect, too unscarred. I just hoped his accountant skills were as perfect as he looked.

“What kind of fish you want to catch?” I asked. Staring at him wasted our time.

He pointed his fork to my plate. “How about that? It’s good, right?”

“Trout,” I agreed. “Lots of different kinds of trout.”

He looked like he’d never eaten any in his life.

“This is trout from our lake. Have a bite.”

He’d finished his burger but didn’t make a move on my fish. His expression was split between wanting to dig in and reluctance to do so.

“Just taste it,” I growled. “It won’t bite.”

His eyes snapped up to meet mine. His puzzled stare asked if the stupid bear had deliberately made a joke or not. Then he gave a happy, hearty laugh, and his fork raided my fish.

“So? What do you think?” I asked after he swallowed.

“I think you made a great joke,” he said with twinkling eyes. “And the trout is delicious. Is this why you threw your catch back? Did you know you’d get it cooked perfectly here at the cafe?”

“Naw. I was stalking the pie. Fish was a bonus.”

“They have good pie here?”

“Wait and see.”

Abe 

What do you consider your greatest achievement?

Keeping the company going through the recession without having to fire anybody. My brothers Ben and Connor said that I should answer this one by saying raising them, but I don’t see that as an achievement. They’re good guys. I didn’t have to do much beside make sure they ate and had a roof over their heads.

 If you could have any job or profession, what would it be?

Anything using my hands and being outdoors. Since I like building things, probably stone mason or bridge builder. If I had to pick something totally out of my line of work, then outdoor guide, working for a place like Max Greene’s sports equipment company.

What is your biggest regret?

That I never knew my mother and why she left my father. Sometimes I think about what a different childhood me and my brothers would have had if she’d stuck around. I just wish I knew what’d been going through her head to abandon us.

What is your favorite food?

Ask anyone who knows me, and they’ll tell you I’m a dessert slut. As long as it has sugar in it, desserts and I are friends. I’m particularly partial to Bud’s berry pies at the Rock Bottom Cafe. But now that Connor is studying to be a baker, I’ve been spoiled since I get his practice pieces. Gotta tell ya, it's a good life.

 Who is your hero?

Superman, but not Clark Kent, since I was a kid. He’s been the odd man out since he landed on Earth and is totally committed to protecting his friends and family. Some people think that kryptonite is his weakness. I think it’s that he’s straight. If he’d been gay, he’d’ve been invincible.

Pat Henshaw, author of the Foothills Pride Stories, was born and raised in Nebraska and promptly left the cold and snow after college, living at various times in Texas, Colorado, Northern Virginia, and Northern California. Pat enjoys travel, having visited Mexico, Canada, Europe, Nicaragua, Thailand, and Egypt, and Europe, including a cruise down the Danube.

Now retired, Pat has spent her life surrounded by words: Teaching English composition at the junior college level; writing book reviews for newspapers, magazines, and websites; helping students find information as a librarian; and promoting PBS television programs.

Her triumphs are raising two incredible daughters who daily amaze her with their power and compassion. Fortunately, her supportive husband keeps her grounded in reality when she threatens to drift away while writing fiction.

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Release Day Blitz! Excerpt & Giveaway: Surviving Ice, Burying Water #4 by K.A. Tucker

SURVIVING ICE Synopsis: The USA TODAY bestselling author of the Ten Tiny Breaths series and Burying Water—which Kirkus Reviews called “a sexy, romantic, gangster-tinged page-turner”—returns with a new novel packed with romance, plot twists, and psychological suspense. Ivy Lee, a talented tattoo artist who spent the early part of her twenties on the move, is looking for a place to call home. She thinks she might have finally found it working in her uncle’s tattoo shop in San Francisco. But all that changes when a robbery turns deadly, compelling her to pack up her things yet again. When they need the best, they call him. That’s why Sebastian Riker is back in California, cleaning up the mess made after a tattoo shop owner with a penchant for blackmail got himself shot. But it’s impossible to get the answers he needs from a dead body, leaving him to look elsewhere. Namely, to the twenty-something-year-old niece who believes this was a random attack. Who needs to keep believing that until Sebastian finds what he’s searching for. Ivy has one foot out of San Francisco when a chance encounter with a stranger stalls her departure. She’s always been drawn to intense men, so it’s no wonder that she now finds a reason to stay after all, quickly intoxicated by his dark smile, his intimidating strength, and his quiet control. That is, until Ivy discovers that their encounter was no accident—and that their attraction could be her undoing.

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It’s just a regular ringtone. For me, though, it’s the wail of a war siren, and I’m immediately alert. There is only one person who has this number, and I didn’t expect him to use it again so soon.

The tile is cool against my bare feet as I roll out of bed. I collect the phone from the nightstand with one fluid movement, unhindered by sheets or the morning sluggishness that an average person might face. Stepping through the propped-open patio doors and onto the balcony, I answer with a low, curt “Yeah.” The sky is just beginning to lighten over the quiet bay. Dozens of boats sit moored below, their passengers lulled into deep sleep by the ocean air and rhythmic waves. I’m high enough up that I’m not likely to offend anyone with my lack of clothing, especially at this hour. Not that I’m truly concerned by it.

“Ice.”

The code name is a sharp contrast to the warm breeze skating across my bare skin. My adrenaline begins to spike, all the same. Hearing it means that I will be forced to leave this haven soon. Sooner than I had hoped.

“How is recovery going?”

I instinctively peer down at the angry red scar on the outside of my thigh, where a bullet drilled into my flesh and muscle just three weeks ago, outside of Kabul. I nearly bled out before I made it to the doc. He patched me up on a makeshift operating table, buried deep in a maze of rooms, and charged me a hefty price.

“Like new,” I lie.

“Good.” Bentley’s voice is rich and smooth, a welcome sound in a sea of strangers. “Where are you now?”

I peer out over the beautiful vista of crystal blue water and whitewashed stone buildings, the volcanic rock cliffs in the distance, reluctant to divulge my location. I sank a good chunk of my last payout on renting this one-bedroom villa for the month. It’s my private sanctuary, where I can revel in anonymity and peace for a while, before finding somewhere else to drift to.

Bentley has never asked before.

But he also has the technical capabilities to trace this call. If he really wants to find out, then he will. In fact, the second I picked up, he probably already had his answer. “Where do I need to be?” I say instead.

“San Francisco.”

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Born in small-town Ontario, K.A. Tucker published her first book at the age of six with the help of her elementary school librarian and a box of crayons. She currently resides in a quaint town outside of Toronto with her husband, two beautiful girls, and an exhausting brood of four-legged creatures.           

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Release Day Review! Darkest Before Dawn, KGI #10 by Maya Banks

THE ALL-NEW KGI NOVEL from the “incredibly awesome" (Jaci Burton) #1 New York Times bestselling author of When Day Breaks.

The Kelly Group International (KGI): A super-elite, top secret, family-run business.

Qualifications: High intelligence, rock-hard body, military background.

Mission: Hostage/kidnap victim recovery. Intelligence gathering. Handling jobs the U.S. government can’t...

The enigmatic Hancock has been both opponent and ally to the KGI teams for as long as they've known him. Always working a deep game, Hancock's true allegiance has never been apparent, but one thing is for certain—he never lets anything get in the way of duty.

But now, his absolute belief in the primacy of his ultimate goal is challenged by a captive he's been ordered to guard, no matter how much she suffers in her prison. She's the only woman who's ever managed to penetrate the rigid walls surrounding his icy heart, but will he allow his perplexing feelings for the beautiful victim to destroy a mission he's spent years working to complete or will he be forced to sacrifice her for “the greater good.”

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Another captivating story delivered by the very talented Maya Banks.

If you’re read the previous KGI books then you’re probably familiar with Hancock’s story and his determination to find his foster mother’s murderer.

Now, he might have found the perfect way to lure him in, in the person of a young woman he’s been hired to guard.

Honor has survived the bombing of her clinic and found herself bound to a man who exudes danger from every pore. 

But there’s so much more to him than that hard exterior he always displays and they’ll have to learn to trust each other in order to survive the dangers and obstacles they face at every turn.

It was interesting to see how Hancock changes and opens his heart to the woman who he might have to sacrifice in the end so he can finally get the revenge he’s been after for so long.

Just when I thought this series couldn’t get any better, Maya managed to come up with a new book full of suspense, mystery, intrigue and just the right amount of romance to keep me glued to my chair from beginning to end.

The KGI series has been my favorite among Maya’s books and I highly recommend it. There’s a little bit of everything to make it enjoyable to everyone.

Looking forward to read the next novel.

Happy Reading!!

Maya Banks is the #1 New York Times, #1 USA Today and international bestselling author of over 50 novels. A wife and mother of three, she lives in Texas.

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Release Day Blitz! Excerpt & Giveaway: Wishes For Christmas by Fern Michaels

New York Times bestselling author Fern Michaels brings together the beloved heroines from two celebrated series—the Sisterhood and the Godmothers—for a holiday to remember…

This Christmas, instead of finding and punishing bad guys, all Maggie Spritzer wants is to bring a little more joy to the world—especially to a beloved teacher from her past. And as the Sisterhood unites to find her, they learn that no holiday treat is as fulfilling as giving to others…

Meanwhile, with a little help from the other Godmothers, Toots Loudenberry is preparing for Charleston’s annual holiday showcase of historic homes. But when the Godmothers sense trouble with one of the decorators, they must tackle a mystery and hope for a happy ending…

When Sisters and Godmothers unite, the result is a warm and wonderful holiday—with a special touch of magic…

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This year, for some reason, I want . . . no, I need to make the angels sing. I want to hear them sing. Does that make sense?” Maggie asked fretfully.

“Of course it makes sense. I think it’s a wonderful idea. Count me in,” Annie said. “Now, you know if you include the boys, the fund would grow substantially higher,” she said slyly. The others agreed as they all started to eat.

“Not so fast,” Myra said. “Dear,” she said, addressing Maggie, “did you forget we have an organization that Abner is in charge of that donates yearly, very generously and very heavily, during the holidays? Any new charity or person is always welcome. I thought we all had agreed to that. Last year alone, we donated—anonymously, of course—over one billion dollars, which we confiscated from that monster, Angus Spyder. So, I’m not quite sure what it is you want us to contribute to, and while I have no problem with that at all, I guess I just don’t understand the end result here.”

The women stopped eating long enough to stare at Maggie, waiting to see how she would respond.

“I guess I didn’t fully explain, because I’m not clear in my own mind. Sometimes late at night, when I can’t sleep, I think about my life, my childhood, my family and wonder, as I think most people wonder, if I could do things over, what would I do differently? Is there some wrong in my past life that I never made right, for whatever reason? Just think about that for a minute. I have an instance, and I’ve never forgotten it. I don’t know if money can or will right that situation, but I want to look into it and try. It’s not the same as what Abner is doing with Spyder’s money and all those other people’s money we helped ourselves to. This is personal. That’s the best way I can explain it to you all. Does it make more sense now?”

“Well, yes, dear, it certainly does,” Myra said. “I think you might be on to something. Let’s run this up the flagpole. Now that I understand where you’re going with this, I think we should include the boys in this.”

“I agree,” Isabelle said. The others were quick to agree.

“We can’t call them now. It’s too late,” Yoko said. “They’ll be miffed that they weren’t included in this luncheon.”

“Then we’ll do a repeat tomorrow at my house,” Nikki said. “That’s when we’ll run it up the flagpole, and they’ll never know this was a rehearsal for tomorrow. How about that for sneaky? Do you all agree?”

“What are you going to serve?” Kathryn asked, her mind jumping ahead to the menu.

“How about a little of everything that is takeout?” Nikki laughed.

“Works for me.” Alexis giggled. Not surprisingly, it worked for everyone.

“So, let’s get to the dessert, Maggie,” Annie said.

The women talked nonstop as they devoured the peach cobbler, the main topic being that memories, for the most part, were a wonderful thing, be they sad or happy.

“How much money are we talking about?” Yoko asked. “The reason I ask is that Harry and I are going to China next month, and that always puts a big dent in our budget.”

“It doesn’t matter how much, Yoko. If it’s fifty dollars, that’s fine. If it’s two hundred fifty thousand dollars, that’s fine, too. The point is it has to be our own personal money, whatever we can afford. Gus’s insurance money is just the cherry on top. I’ll be putting my own money in, too. It will all go into one fund, and then, when we’re ready to distribute it to whoever needs it, we’ll vote on it. I think that’s fair. If you all want to keep your amounts secret, that’s okay, too. We should vote on that tomorrow. In the end, it might not even come down to money. Maybe there is someone out there from our past who needs something other than money. Something we can provide for them that no one else can. That kind of thing.”

“I think this is a wonderful idea,” Myra said. “I can’t wait for tomorrow. Thank you so much, Maggie, for bringing this up. Sometimes I think we forget that it’s better to give than to receive. Oh, this is going to be such a wonderful Christmas. The true meaning of it. Truly, truly.”

Annie swiped at her eyes. “Myra’s right. This is just what we all need. We’ve been getting complacent. I agree with Myra. I can’t wait till tomorrow.”

Twelve minutes later, right on schedule, Maggie’s kitchen and dining room were back to normal, with just the autumn centerpiece in the middle of the table. A second round of fresh coffee was served as the girls talked nonstop about what was going to transpire the following day.

“It’s going to take a lot of research to track down people from our past,” Isabelle said.

“And who better to do that than our four in- trepid reporters, meaning Ted, Dennis, Maggie, and Espinosa?” Nikki chortled.

“We need a name for this project,” Alexis said.

The group threw out names and titles, but it was Yoko who came up with the one they finally agreed to. Bright Star.

The Sisters all clapped, making their newest project official.

FERN MICHAELS is the USA Today and New York Times bestselling author of the Sisterhood and Godmothers series, and dozens of other novels and novellas. There are over seventy-five million copies of her books in print. Fern Michaels has built and funded several large day-care centers in her hometown, and is a passionate animal lover who has outfitted police dogs across the country with special bulletproof vests. She shares her home in South Carolina with her four dogs and a resident ghost named Mary Margaret. Visit her website at www.fernmichaels.com

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