Bob and the Polka-Dot Highway

BOB AND THE POLKA-DOT HIGHWAY

Book 3 of The Bob Books

by R. Murphy

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Soul Mate Publishing

Poor Roz…once again stuck on the horns of a dilemma. Does she accept the great offer for a job that’s hundreds of miles from Crooked Lake? Or does she pick David, the great guy who grows grapes half a mile from her house? And either way—assuming our crabby woman-of-a-certain-age manages to make a decision—what about her ghost, Bob?

Granted, Bob and Roz have never had a … ummmm… ‘traditional’ relationship but still, martini-loving ghosts don’t toddle along every day of the week. What happens to the wit, the sparkle, the laughter?

So many questions…(sigh).

Join Roz, David—and Bob—as they spend a beautiful, but confusing, summer on Crooked Lake. And oh, by the way, watch out for drips…

My ghostly guest, Bob, swirled his drink while the late afternoon sun streamed across the kitchen, lighting the martinis on the table with an otherworldly glow.

Outside the kitchen’s picture window, Crooked Lake nestled into dusk. Even though it was only early May, a determined fly fisherman drifted in the center of the lake, casting for dusk-feeding trout. Gentle waves splashed against the rock wall I’d struggled to build only a couple of months before. Enough water had drained off after the spring floods that I once again had an actual beach and I planned to spend the summer shoveling shale to enhance and deepen it.

I glanced at Bob, my ghostly companion of many months, as he sipped his drink. I’d gotten to the point where Bob didn’t intimidate or scare me at all. In fact, if it came to being crabby, unpleasant, and maybe even a little scary, I had him beaten by a mile. (I’m not proud of this, mind you. But I do try to call a spade a spade. It’s one way to simplify what seems to have become an awfully complicated life.)

Despite the small spare tire Bob sported around his middle and hair that, in the right light, might be characterized by some as thinning, Bob prided himself on being a suave and debonair ghostly figure. He had nothing but disdain for those immature spectral bullies who throw furniture around and make their hauntee’s lives miserable. I don’t think, now that I focus on it, that I’ve ever even heard Bob raise his voice. (He would not be able to say the same about me, I’m afraid. Not that I have anger management issues. I mostly have crabby management issues.)

Lately Bob has spent his time wandering around the house in a gentle alcoholic fog, babbling about whatever topic he’s fixated on that day. Sometimes it’s the value of 5000 hedgehogs; other days, he’ll get obsessed with his bird phobia or government conspiracies to wear out shoes, or he’ll fret about wearing a white suit. I’ve become used to it. In our early days, we’d only get together at dinnertime. Now that David’s not spending any time at my house, Bob stops by much (MUCH!!!) more often.

Although the soul of ghostly gentility himself, Bob tends to hang out with what I might diplomatically call a challenging sort of crowd, the Algonquin Round Table in Manhattan. I’d visited his friends at The Algonquin hotel a couple of times and the word ‘surreal’ pops into my mind every time I try to describe the experience. Fortunately, though, his ghostly buddies hadn’t found their way from midtown Manhattan out to my isolated lake house in western New York. I planned to keep it that way.

Bob at the Lake

What would happen if Roz, a crabby woman of a certain age, moved to the wintry shores of a New York lake—and got a ghost? And not just any ghost, mind you. Bob’s a ghost from 1920’s Manhattan, full of quips and over fond of his martinis, who swans around in a silk smoking jacket and makes Roz’s life very . . . well, let’s just say ‘complicated.’

Especially after Roz meets David, the good-looking grape grower who lives up the hill. Join Roz, David—and Bob—as they navigate blizzards, cookie mazes, holiday shopping sprees, and the occasional power outage. (You know, all of those delightful challenges of a good, old-fashioned Northern winter . . .)

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Bob at the Plaza

Bob, our favorite martini-loving ghost, has vanished. Now Roz faces a miserable snowbound Crooked Lake winter alone. Well, almost alone. Thank goodness for David, the practical, kind grape grower who lives up the hill.

What a winter it is! Record-breaking snows followed months later by record-setting rains. Ah, the joys of living on a lake shore when the spring floods arrive.

High water, anyone?

Undeterred by mice, sociopathic relatives, Carnegie Hall disasters, and spring floods, Roz searches for her MIA ghost. In the process she goes toe-to-toe with the hyper-verbal crowd at the Algonquin Round Table. Can Roz best smarty-pants Dorothy Parker in a game of wits? Will Harpo Marx finally speak out and help Bob return to Crooked Lake?

For the answers to these and many other spirited questions, read BOB AT THE PLAZA!

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Roz Murphy is the pseudonym of a long-time Finger Lakes resident who lives with ghosts and doesn’t want to confirm in her neighbors’ minds how nutty she really is. (They already have their suspicions.) After decades of writing in Manhattan and throughout the country, Roz settled on the shores of New York’s Keuka Lake, some of the most beautiful country ever created. She’s an ardent fan of the Finger Lakes wine industry, especially the local dry Rieslings.

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The Frenemy Series

The Frenemy Series
by Kate Benson
Romantic Comedy

 

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Kate Benson was raised in Texas and currently resides in central Florida with her husband and their growing army of fur minions.
She learned to read at the age of four and has been hooked ever since. She credits her passion for literature to her mother, her love of story-telling to her father and her unwavering faith in happily-ever-after’s to her husband, Sean.
Some of her favorite things include rainy days, loud music, superhero movies, hot tea and of course, lazy afternoons with a great book.
To find out more about Kate, her work or to just say hello, she loves hearing from her readers and can be found on social media.
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**This book contains adult content intended for mature readers**

Dash
Evie King.
God, even her name leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
I’ve put up with her for years for my best friend, her overprotective older brother, Mason.
I’d grown comfortable in my distaste, reliant on my hatred. But when a favor goes too far and I wake up naked next to my sworn nemesis in a hotel room in Dallas?
That’s when my life begins spiraling out of control.
We swore we’d keep it between us. We vowed to never let it happen again.
Until…
Can you crave and loathe someone at the same time?
I’m about to find out.
It only takes one snowflake to start an avalanche.
Welcome to the avalanche.

Evie
Have you ever met one of those people who just dry humps your last nerve?
Enter Dash Hunter. Humper of my nerves.
Leave it to this jackass to ruin my life.
I’d had it all, but one drunken mistake with this asshole has it all crashing down.
They say everything happens for a reason, but I see no rhyme or reason to this disaster.
This was never what we wanted, not at all what we planned.
We were supposed to do our respective walks of shame and move on, but then…
We were blindsided. We never saw it coming.
All we want is to go back to what made sense, back to hating each other, but there’s a problem.
How do you defeat your enemy when you’re no longer frigid?

 

 

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***This book contains content intended for mature readers***

 

Evie
Boy meets girl, they spend a decade at each other’s throats, seething with hatred until fate lands them wasted together in an airport hotel, waking naked and hungover to find they’d done the unthinkable.
Tale as old as time, right?
Dash and I both thought that’d be the happy ending of our dysfunctional fairy tale, but months of bad decisions have somehow led us to where we are now-crazy in love, despite how hard we fought it.
I guess we’d be alright if we hadn’t forgotten one minor detail: We still had to tell my insanely overprotective brother and Dash’s best friend, Mason, the truth about us.
We thought the feelings we had for each other would fade out as quickly as the alcohol, that we could fight fate.
We were wrong.

Dash
Secrets, lies, deception… we should have known from the jump we weren’t smart enough to pull any of it off.
I’m not sure what me and Evie were thinking. Hell, we were so blindsided by all of this, I think it’s safe to say we weren’t thinking at all.
If we had been, we would have moved on before everything went to hell. I should have turned around and ran before I fell for her wicked vagina voodoo, but I didn’t.
What started as the most awkward walk of shame in history with my nemesis shifted into something neither of us saw coming.
We were powerless… hooked… it came for us, slamming into us like a cinder block.
By the time we looked up and saw what was happening, it was too late.
We were already sprung.

 

 

 

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Wild Whispers

WILD WHISPERS

by Ryan Jo Summers

Genre: Romantic Mystical Mystery with horse racing element

Set against the exciting backdrop in the chase for the Triple Crown and filled with mystical surprises. Season is not a witch, but she can make a horse run and Ty’s heart race.

Season Moriarty is part fey and part druid. She can see the future and alter it. She welds control over the natural elements of earth, wind, fire, and water as well as manipulating life and death. She is an accomplished racehorse trainer, able to get any horse to run like the wind. Now Season has landed the dream job that will test all of her skills and abilities.

Ty Masters runs his horse racing business with an iron fist. No one dares to question him. He hires Season based on her reputation. Then they meet. Immediately, she questions him, challenges him, infuriates him, intrigues him, captivates him, and even intimidates him. Then she spellbinds him. But can she make a Triple Crown winner out of his willful colt?

Mysterious threats to Ty’s racehorses bring him and Season together in a race against the clock. As the stakes for the Triple Crown rise, and the mystery of who wants to destroy Ty deepens, so does the undeniable interest and fiery sparks between them.

The house was empty, a few lamps lit along the hallways. Ty dropped his coat in the foyer, ignoring the hook on the wall, wordlessly heading for the kitchen, his back straight and tension radiating from him like steam from a radiator.

Season quietly pulled out two coffee mugs and reheated leftover coffee. Pouring it, she tried to think how best to explain. Clearly, he was still thinking the worse and after what he had just witnessed, she couldn’t blame him. Would he even go so far as to fire her for what he witnessed? She kind of doubted it. But if he did not particularly trust her before, this wasn’t going to help. Okay, here goes nothing.

Setting the mugs on the table, she sat down opposite him, hair behind her, arms folded in front of her. Ty cradled the warm mug in his palms, steam rising from the top, the fragrant scent filling the air between them. He eyed her warily. Waiting. She searched for the best answer.

“Are you a witch?” he finally asked, breaking the ice.

“No, again.” she said. “I’m more of a druid.”

He blinked. “A who?”

“Druid. An ancient Celtic religion. I’m kind of like a fae or faerie.”

He shook his head. “What?”

She sighed. She really was terrible at these explanations. Another good reason not to tell anyone about her skills. “Okay, I inherited it from my folks, who inherited it from their folks and so on down their respective lines. Mom was a seer, she could see into the future, she’d have images or visions. Like a fae. And Dad communicated with animals and other things. It was almost magical how he could know what they were thinking or feeling. It sure helped his and Granddaddy’s successes as trainers. They were druids in that they could give life. Just like you saw now.” She gave him with a shrug. “So I inherited the Sight from my mom and the Gift from my Dad. Lucky me,” she finished with a lop-sided smile.

He never moved or blinked. He just stared at her, hands curled around the mug, not drinking, as if it offered some protection between him and her. “So you aren’t a witch?” he finally asked.

Shaking her head, she stilled a laugh at the comparison. It was so typical she supposed. “No. Witches are more into black arts and stuff, learning their craft from anywhere. Faes and druids inherit it from their family, learning how to hone it from their parents. Plus I can’t use my Gifts for personal gain. Only for good services.” She gave him another tentative smile. “Otherwise, if I were a witch, I would have turned you into a toad last night.”

That made him blink. “Pardon me?”

“When you broke into the bathroom and tried that little stunt of yours, I really wanted to turn you into a toad. But I decided not to. A witch probably would have anyway.”

He shook his head, baffled. “Guess I’m glad for that,” he said slowly. “Why didn’t you … er … do that?”

She shrugged, amused at his faltering question. “Misuse of the Gift. Unpardonable sin.” She grinned.

“Why? Would thunderbolts from heaven strike you dead if you had?”

“No.” She laughed outright at his suggestion. “No, it’s just I learned it’s not acceptable to do that kind of stuff. No real harm would come to me, but I know it’s not right.”

“Again, glad to know that. I think,” he said, uncurling his hands from the mug and pushing it away. “So I thank you that I’m not a toad now. Could you warn me if you ever decided to do that? Turn me into something?” He grimaced at the request.

“Sure, what do you prefer? A toad or maybe a mammal?” she asked lightly.

“I prefer to be a man.” He jabbed a finger to his chest. “This man. Me.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He stared at her, questions burning in his eyes. “So what else can you do?

Other than turn men into toads and bring dead foals to life?” He paused, inhaling a sharp breath. “You made that foal come out, didn’t you?” He paled at her silent nod, swallowing hard. “What else can you do?”

“Oh, lots of stuff.” Thinking, she pushed her mug away and started listing items on her fingers. “I am attuned to nature so I’m one with the animals. How do you really think I won the mastiffs over so easily? And Sky Hunter? With the Sight of the fae, I can sometimes get visions of things about to happen or images of things that are happening now. Even from a distance. It’s kind of cool, actually.

“And with the Gift of the druids, I can cure, heal, and weld powers over the elements and nature. I can make the sun shine for a little while or maybe work up a small thunderstorm. Light a campfire with two snaps of the fingers,” she added, winking, snapping two fingers. A flame sparked to life from her fingertips.

Ty blinked, astonished. “So you can see Sky Hunter winning the Triple Crown? Is that how you are so sure he can? Or will you just snap your fingers and make him win? Or burst into flames?”

“No, I can’t just make him win. I can only train him to run and win like any other trainer and horse. But I sense he has the potential to go that far. The day he jumped the fence he told me he was ready for an all-out run. I sensed there was no danger and saw no danger ahead so I let him go.”

“Uh huh.” He frowned at her words. Casting his eyes around the room he searched for answers, as if they were written on the walls. Finding none, he returned his gaze to Season. “So now what?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, finally taking a sip of the tepid coffee, then pushing it away with a grimace.

“Where do we go from here?”

“Where do you want to go?”

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Ryan Jo Summers is a North Carolina writer who pens romances with a twist. They may contain any number of elements: Christian, humor, mystery, paranormal, sweet, shape-shifting, or time travel. Her dad is a songwriter and his aunt wrote poetry so writing must be in the family genes.

She makes her home in a century-old mountain cottage, with a menagerie of adopted pets. In her spare time, she likes to gather with family and friends, paint ceramics or canvas, potter in the yard, bird-watching, or read, play chess, Mahjongg or work word-find puzzles. She might take her dog and head deep into the forests and rivers near her home to plot the next big scene or story. Like her dad’s aunt, she writes poetry as a means to cope with life’s pains.

She collects lighthouses, shells, driftwood, and anything to remind her of the shore.

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Shattered Souls


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Blog Tour: Shattered Souls
by Alison Mello
 
Genre: Military Romance
Series: To Love and Serve, Book OneAvailable Now & on Kindle Unlimited
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Lexi …
 
I left home a proud, strong woman, determined and eager to support my country. But I came back a completely different person.
 
I’m wounded, scarred, and nothing more than an empty shell. I’ve lost my ability to open up to those closest to me. Why? Because no one understands. No one knows the hell I’ve been through.
 
Every time I close my eyes the nightmares are there, waiting, lurking in the shadows, ready to torment me further. My only escape is the sting of alcohol, the burn that numbs my pain. Everyone sees it as a weakness, calls it a coping mechanism. I call it survival.
 
I’m a lost cause … until I meet him – a Boston cop with demons of his own, who knows what it’s like to be haunted by his past. He understands my pain, knows all about the nightmares, and makes me feel less … alone.
 
But we are both broken, tainted by our pasts. How can we heal each other when we’re both shattered souls?

 

About the Author


Alison has been writing for over a year now. Her debut book Finding Love (October 2015) was published by Siren Publishing. Her following books Needing Your Love (November 2015), Found My Love (December 2015), and Fighting for Love (January 2016) were also published with Siren to finish the Learning to Love Series.


Her desire to see her books on shelves led to her next work Chasing Dreams (April 2015) she submitted it for publication with Limitless Publishing and was thrilled that it was quickly accepted. Excited to reach that goal, she moved on to the next series she had in mind and wrote Saved By a Soldier (June 2016), My Broken Soldier (July 2016), Forever My Soldier (August 2016), and A Soldier for Bella (September 2016).


Alison enjoyed reading as a child and found her passion for it again in 2011 when E.L. James’ Fifty Shades of Grey was released. Her love of reading was re-ignited and she continued reading other books in the same genre. In the summer of 2015, she decided to give writing a try and two weeks later Finding Love was born. As soon as she finished the first book, she began writing the second book in the series. Her third book was finished by the time Finding Love had been accepted for publication. Alison discovered she has a passion for writing and has spent the last year meeting new readers and sharing the love she has for writing.


Married to her own real life hero, Alison lives with her amazing family in Massachusetts where she was born and raised. She loves having her own personal inspiration right at home and when she’s not writing she enjoys playing soccer, basketball, and football with her son. 


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Wrestlin’ Christmas

Title: Wrestlin’ Christmas
Author: Shanna Hatfield
Genre: Rodeo Romance, Holiday Romance
Blurb:
He’s wrestling against the future
She’s trying to forget her past…
Sidelined with a major injury, steer wrestler Cort McGraw struggles to come to terms with the end of his career. Shanghaied by his sister and best friend, he finds himself on a run-down ranch with a worrisome, albeit gorgeous widow, and her silent, solemn son.
Five minutes after Cort McGraw lands on her doorstep, K.C. Peters fights to keep a promise she made to herself to stay away from single, eligible men. When her neighbor said he knew just the person to help work her ranch for the winter, she never expected the handsome, brawny former rodeo star to fill the position.
Ready to send him packing, her little boy has other plans…

USA Today Bestselling Author Shanna Hatfield writes character-driven romances with relatable heroes and heroines. Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”
Convinced everyone deserves a happy ending, this hopeless romantic is out to make it happen one story at a time. When she isn’t writing or indulging in chocolate (dark and decadent, please), Shanna hangs out with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller.
Shanna is a member of Western Writers of America, Women Writing the West, Romance Writers of America, Sweet Romance Reads, Cowboy Kisses, and Pioneer Hearts.
Author Links:
Buy Link:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2j46WzS

Tall and brawny, Cort McGraw happened to be one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. From his silvery-gray eyes rimmed with black eyelashes to the dimple in his all-too-attractive chin, she wished Kenzie had given her some warning. If she’d known what he looked like, that he was so young, rugged, and hunky, she would have told Tate not to bother sending Cort to her place.

Mercy, he smelled good, too. Even now, his manly, musky fragrance filled her senses. Annoyed with herself for savoring his heady scent, she brushed at her nose, hoping to chase away the lingering aroma of his aftershave.

Webley and the World Machine

Title: Webley and the World Machine
Author: Zachary Paul Chopchinski
Genre: Steampunk
Cover Designer: Deranged Doctor Designs
Publisher: Books & Bow Ties Publishing
Editor: plot2published
Release Date: January 11th, 2018
Blurb:
A world beneath our world.
An army of mechanical monsters.
A war to end all wars.
When Adalwolf Stein and Arija Rapp discover a mechanical world hidden deep within the earth, the result is life changing. Webley and the creators of The World Machine work to keep the Earth turning. But when Arija and Adalwolf discover a growing conflict that will destroy the Earth, they find themselves forced to fight.
Will they be able to stop the war in time or will they regret ever having set foot in The World Machine?

Zachary is a bow tie wearing, formal vest rocking, pocket watch using, sarcastic monster of a writer. Currently residing in Orlando, Florida, he spends his days working, writing and procrastinating.
Zach has multiple college degrees, in the fields of criminal justice and criminology…because he wanted to catch ALL the bad guys. Now, coupled with being an author of young adult fiction he spends his days yelling at people for breaking regulatory laws.
Zach is the author of the Gabrielle series, a young adult fantasy with a paranormal-historical-time traveling twist (try saying that five times fast)
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The Dolan Girls

THE DOLAN GIRLS

by S.R. Mallery

Genre: Western Romance

The Dolan Girls by S. R. Mallery has it all. Set in Nebraska during the 1800s, whorehouse madams, ladies of the night, a schoolmarm, a Pinkerton detective, a Shakespeare-quoting old coot, brutal outlaws, and a horse-wrangler fill out the cast of characters. Added to the mix are colorful descriptions of an 1856 land rush, Buffalo Bill and his Wild West Show, Annie Oakley, bank/train robberies, small town local politics, and of course, romance. Two, in fact!

…The two sisters shifted into their usual standoff poses: Cora annoyed, self-righteous, her hands on her hips; Minnie, wiry, know-it-all, breathing hard.

Just then, one of their ladies entered. “Mrs. Cora, Miss Minnie, there’s a problem out on the floor.”

Cora sighed. “What now, Marlena?”

The soiled dove gulped before answering. “One of our customers, the old geezer one, is having a fit. Gettin’ real ornery, too.”

In recognition of a regular happenstance, the two sisters looked at each other and grimaced.

“Need any help?” Minnie asked Cora as she stood up.

“Nope, I have it under control. Thanks, Sis,” Cora replied and headed out the door, Ellie and her homecoming temporarily forgotten.

Out in the main parlor, the girls had already formed a wide circle around old Pete. Corsets, bustles, crinolines, pantaloons, and camisoles intermingled with a whiskey-stained suit, a grimy vest, and mud-caked boots. He was no match for them. As they gleefully shoved and tickled him, his fury rose with each breath, while his face ripened into the color of raw meat. Finally, when he could take it no longer, he sputtered, “She-devils!” which produced gales of laughter.

“Ladies, ladies. Enough. Leave the man alone,” Cora said, placing a concerned arm around the smelly habitué. “There, there, Pete. They meant you no harm.”

As Mercutio proclaimed in Romeo and Juliet, …’tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but ‘tis enough, ‘twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow and you shall find me a grave man. All I wanted was a little love, Cora. I swear it!” He sniffled pathetically as the girls giggled.

With a dirty glance aimed at the group’s ringleader, Charity, Cora turned back to Pete. “You did produce some money, right, love?”

He looked down.

“Now, Pete, you know the rules.”

“I just wanted a little love. As Henry David Thoreau said, There is no remedy for love but to love more. He also said…”

“Now, Pete, enough about Thoreau,” she interrupted, gently angling him toward the door. As soon as he left with a snort and an “After all we’ve been through together,” Cora shook her head and turned back to face her employees.

“Ladies, she said, “some women in this town may look down on us, but I do have my standards. Gentility is most important, above all else. I thought I had made myself perfectly clear.”

A few head nods and corset scratching was all she got before Marlena stepped forward. “Ah, Mrs. Cora?”

Placing one hand on her hip, Cora sighed. “Now what?”

“He was full as a tick, that one was. He almost fell down twice.”

Cora squinted her eyes, assessing her new employee. “I don’t care how drunk he was. He, Miss Minnie, and I go way back.”

“But you tossed out a feller from Fanny’s bed just the other night. I reckon he wasn’t half as likkered up as that ol’ coot.”

Cora frowned. “I could tell the man with Fanny was going to be big trouble.”

“Yes, zat one very, very scared me,” Suzette, the resident French girl affirmed. “I zink Mrs. Cora maybe saved Fanny’s life.”

“Trust Mrs. Cora,” Rosie interjected. “She’ll always watch your back, or at least your backside!” There was an explosion of laughter.

“All right, all right. Get a wiggle on, ladies,” Cora continued, her eyes sweeping over them. “I heard a group of cowboys are ridin’ through town, maybe even this afternoon. Now, go, go!”

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1) “At times rollicking, at times poignant, but always authentic, well- researched and a beautifully told story.”

2)“A compelling read, perfect amount of romance, with a wonderful ending. With Mallery’s warm writing style, you will be immersed in cast, time, and place.”

3)“S.R. Mallery’s words thunder off the page like a cattle stampede… her sharply written characters demonstrate that truly it was WOMEN who tamed the American West.”

4)“It’s a rip-roaring, nail-biting, heart-throbbing ride…my Stetson is off to S.R. Mallery, five stars all the way.”

5)”What a marvellous story… A well-researched book of historical value for this reader–entertaining and very warmly written. Highly recommended.”

6)“Mallery has done it again. THE DOLAN GIRLS leads you on a trip that is sometimes painful and sometimes loving. You are taken from innocence to womanhood. From love to heartbreak… Definitely 5-stars!”

7) “As a history buff, I just loved this whoppin’ good tale set in the old west…From the first word to the last, the pages couldn’t fly fast enough. Highly recommended!”

8)“S. R. Mallery gives us a colourful view of America’s wild west of the 1800’s… The characters are endearing and the action is fast paced … Looking forward to more from this talented writer.”

9)“If you’re a fan of the old west, strong women, and enjoy a great read, this book is for you. Recommend highly!”

10)“The Dolan Girls is simply a wonderful book. It brings the West alive in a way that is not only historically interesting, but one can’t help but become fascinated with how the story is going to play out.”

11) “S.R. Mallery knows how to write historical fiction in a way that hooks the reader…”

12) “I loved The Dolan Girls. It was easy to get interested in from the start. I recommend that anyone wanting a good read of a clean historical western romance give this book a try.”

Let’s face it. S. R. Mallery is as eclectic as her characters. Starting out as a classical/pop singer/composer, she next explored the fast-paced world of advertising as a production artist while she simultaneously dipped her toe into the Zen biosphere as a calligrapher. Having started a family and wanting to work from the home, she moved on to having a long career as an award-winning quilt artist and an ESL/Reading instructor before settling on her true love––writing. Her short stories have been published in descant 2008, Snowy Egret, Transcendent Visions, The Storyteller, and Down In the Dirt. Her quilt articles have appeared in Quilt World and Traditional Quilt Works.

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Let’s face it. S. R. Mallery is as eclectic as her characters. Starting out as a classical/pop singer/composer, she next explored the fast-paced world of advertising as a production artist while she simultaneously dipped her toe into the Zen biosphere as a calligrapher. Having started a family and wanting to work from the home, she moved on to having a long career as an award-winning quilt artist and an ESL/Reading instructor before settling on her true love––writing. Her short stories have been published in descant 2008, Snowy Egret, Transcendent Visions, The Storyteller, and Down In the Dirt. Her quilt articles have appeared in Quilt World and Traditional Quilt Works.

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