Author Nancy Jardine shares The Beltane Choice!

It's the eve of Beltane. Followers of Celtic traditions all over the world will be celebrating. See how Nara and Lorcan in Nancy Jardine's fabulous Celtic romantic adventure, The Beltane Choice, are getting (it) on...

Over to you, Nancy!

Thank you for inviting me here today, Cathie. It’s a very exciting time for me since my historical adventure romance THE BELTANE CHOICE has a very topical title and there’s a fantastic bargain to be had for your readers today.
Do you know the festival of BELTANE is tomorrow!  There’s still time to grab a copy of my historical adventure THE BELTANE CHOICE at a bargain price of 77p /99c on Amazon UK/US.

Crooked Cat Bookstore
And... There's also just enough time to WIN an e-copy of THE BELTANE CHOICE by entering my competition today! How? Check my A to Z blog post of Saturday 20th April HERE  

Find the answer to this question...Which Beltane concept did I know I could definitely use in my novel The Beltane Choice? ...and then email your answer to   

The draw will take place on the 1st May. Good luck! 


The Beltane Choice 

Can the Celtic Tribes repel the Roman army? AD 71
Banished from the nemeton, becoming a priestess is no longer the future for Nara, a princess of the Selgovae tribe. Now charged with choosing a suitable mate before Beltane, her plan is thwarted by Lorcan, an enemy Brigante prince, who captures her and takes her to his hill fort. Despite their tribes fighting each other, Nara feels drawn to her captor, but time runs out for her secret quest.

As armies of the Roman Empire march relentlessly northwards, Lorcan intends to use Nara as a marriage bargain, knowing all Celtic tribes must unite to be strong enough to repel imminent Roman attack. Nara’s father, Callan, agrees to a marriage alliance between Selgovae and Brigante, but has impossible stipulations. Lorcan is torn between loyalty to his tribe and growing love for Nara.  
When danger and death arrive in the form of the mighty Roman forces, will Nara be able to choose her Beltane lover?


“Leave me be, Brigante. By Rhianna, unhand me!” Her order had the effect she requested, though did not expect. Crashing to the ground, her swollen leg jarred a further time on the rough banking.
“You got what you wanted, did you not?” he gibed nastily, her attempt to hide the mutter of pain having been unsuccessful.
Unwilling to guard her tongue, she railed. “How would you know that? Revenge is all you care for.”
“Revenge? Aye, I want revenge, but I desire much more.” 
His tone controlled, Lorcan loomed, his questioning relentless with barely time for a breath in between. Nara’s refusal to answer remained firm, yet her silence fanned the flames for he insisted.
“The warrior riding this fine horse–who was he to have such a prized animal? I know now he cannot have been your husband!”
His gaze strayed to her chest. Again. Nara felt a flare of gratification when he appeared exasperated with himself on realising. Ignoring his hurtful probing, and the tingling at her chest, she rolled to her feet and hobbled to the other side of the filly, favouring her weight on her good leg. 
“Give answer. Was he your husband?”
“Nay, not my husband.” She confronted him, her words beseeching. “What did you do with Cearnach? I see no sign of him.”
Ignoring her plea, Lorcan tugged the horses away, keeping both reins when he agilely mounted the stallion.
He pulled her filly forwards, kicking his heels into Rowan’s flesh. Turning their direction south-eastwards he headed for the flat river’s edge leading to the deep forests far to their left. 
If she escaped, she would be done with the infuriating man. Whirling around, she darted off for the edge of the woods.
Again, a humming spear blocked her path.


I can be reached at the following places: 

Amazon UK author page for all novels author page for all novels 
Twitter @nansjar 

The Beltane Choice is also available 
from Smashwords:

View the YouTube trailer at

Book Blitz: Soul Taker by Karen Michelle Nutt

I'm thrilled to host award-winning author Karen Michelle Nutt on a one day special Book Blitz tour for her new urban fantasy release, Soul Taker. Make sure to check it out!


No soul is safe…

A vampire from the Grim Sith sept is sucking the souls out of young women from the Boston area, but this sinister crime is far worse than a vampire seeking substance. He’s selling the souls to the highest bidder and it seems business is booming.

A vampire, a werewolf and a Necromancer, are a most unlikely team, but Garran, Harrison and Isabella plan on putting a kink in the dubbed Soul Taker’s plans. It’s personal now. One of their friends has fallen victim to the Soul Taker’s charms, but to stop him from hurting anyone else, their efforts may involve raising the dead.


The night awakened everything dark and foreboding, allowing them to walk among the humans. Garran MacLaurin would be considered such a creature, though with practice he learned to control his unusual appetite to destroy everything in his wake. 

From the shadows, Garran watched Isabella Lucci lock her car, the beep of the alarm echoing in the hospital's carport. 

She wore a tan long-sleeve shirt with jeans, which looked tailored to fit her trim figure, and designer boots. She turned to go toward the hospital entrance, but something caught her attention. Her feet stilled. Her gaze turned toward him and apprehension crossed her delicate features. She took a hesitant step in his direction, clutching her purse like a lifeline. She scanned the parking lot, searching… For what? He stood still and waited. Finally, she turned and continued inside the hospital. 

He would have to be careful. Isabella hadn't seen him, but he knew without a doubt she sensed him. Rare for a human to sense the preternatural world, but then again, if Harrison was correct in his assumptions, Miss Lucci could raise the dead. 
Garran waited a respected few minutes so not to run into Miss Lucci. Then he too, entered the hospital.

About the Author:

Karen Michelle Nutt resides in California with her husband, three fascinating children,
and houseful of demanding pets. Jack, her Chorkie, is her writing buddy and sits long hours with her at the computer.

Her Book, Lost in the Mist of Time, was nominated for New Books Review Spotlight Best Fantasy Book of the Year Award 2006. A Twist of Fate was a nominee for Best Time Travel P.E.A.R.L. Award for 2008. Creighton Manor won Honorable Mention P.E.A.R.L. Award 2009.

Her new passion is creating book covers for Western Trail Blazers and Rebecca J. Vickery Publishing. In her spare time, she reviews books for PNR-Paranormal Romance Reviews. 

Whether your reading fancy is paranormal, historical or time travel, all her stories capture the rich array of emotions that accompany the most fabulous human phenomena—falling in love.


Karen's Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads 

Soul Taker on Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Click on the Buy the Book Tours icon to visit the other fabulous tour spots!

Author Ailsa Abraham celebrates Beltaine

Today, I'm hosting fellow Crooked Cat author, Ailsa Abraham. With the feast of Beltaine (or Beltane) upon us, she has looked at modern day celebrations. Fascinating!

Oh, and don't miss out the giveaway on her website - see link below!


Beltaine is coming and there will be a lot of articles explaining what it is and how it started but not many which cast a light on the way modern neo-Pagans celebrate the festival of the Goddess and her Lord's “wedding”. I put that in inverted commas because I am trying to be discreet, in none of the many erudite works I have read to the sacred couple make any vows.

These days, rather like Christmas or Bonfire Night, the celebration of Beltaine can be a huge public affair or a very private one, with all possibilities in-between.

Probably the biggest Beltaine Bash in the UK is in Edinburgh and involves processions, fire dancers, music and the traditional pairing off of couples to go up to the wild on Arthur's Seat, the big hill behind Edinburgh to finish off the night/start the morning with a bang (if you'll pardon the expression). Given the usual weather in Scotland at the beginning of May, good luck to them, I say. If you are willing to expose your nether regions in those temperatures, you deserve all the fun you can get!

Photo courtesy of Edinburgh Festival - Beltane (c)
Photo Wikipedia (c)
I was lucky enough to belong to a Wiccan coven for some years and our festivities, although much smaller than the Edinburgh one, were equally enjoyable. Members of the group would come from all over France to meet up at the house of the High Priestess and Priest (a married couple). As twilight fell we would process in our robes out to the garden and form a circle where the young Horned Lord would chase his Lady until he caught her by trapping her with a silk scarf. Their union was represented by a kiss and the usual ritual with the sharing of the cup and bread followed. After a feast indoors we would pair up to celebrate in our own individual ways – each their own Goddess and Horned Lord. 

For pagan couples who do not belong to a coven, Beltaine is a night of feasting, decorating the house with the May-blossom that has just started to bloom and to celebrate love. Candles will be on the table and specially-baked bread, sometimes in the shape of the Willendorf Venus, one of the earliest representations of a fertility Goddess. This will be shared out during the ritual that takes place around the table before the feast. Some couples dress up in their finest fantasy disguises, others stay in their jeans and t-shirts but the spirit is the same. A fire festival to celebrate love and fertility.


And to celebrate Beltaine, Ailsa is offering a prize of her Pagan novel Shaman's Drum. To enter the contest, go to her web site and answer one simple question: 


About the author:

Ailsa Abraham comes from a long line of Scottish witches although she received no formal training until she came to France, where she has lived for over twenty years.
She shares her chaotic but welcoming household with her husband, usually known as Badger, two spoilt dogs and a woodstove with a mind of its own …
Taking early retirement due to ill-health gave Ailsa the opportunity to write full-time. She now publishes articles, short stories and novellas under two pen-names but keeps Ailsa for her more magic- centred work.

Author Links:  
Crooked Cat author page

Buy Links:
Crooked Cat Books
Amazon UK
Amazon US

Author Pamela Kelt on Anachronisms - and Tomorrow's Anecdote

Today, I'm delighted to welcome journalist and author, Pamela Kelt, who's celebrating the release of her first Crooked Cat Publishing novel, Tomorrow's Anecdote. Many congratulations, Pamela!

Those who were around in the '80s will remember quite a few things, both good and bad. Rock music. Good. Leg warmers. Bad. Shoulder pads. Very bad. Big storms. Ouch!

But first, let's hear it from Pam...

A timely thought about anachronisms

Chronological inconsistencies come in many forms. My personal favourites are the unintentional visual clangers on screen: the pale watch mark on a bronzed Roman Gladiator or a jet crossing the sky while Holmes and Watson wrangle with Bradshaw’s railway timetables.

Fan sites gleefully fill the ether with such gaffes. We all love bloopers.

My first book was set in 1885. I was pretty confident that I could avoid perpetrating any time-based errors. After all, I was a fan of Victoriana and an addict of 19th-century period drama on the telly. How hard could it be? Those set-dressers are spot on, even if some of the scripts are a bit ragged.

The official stuff was fine, but what slowed me down was the domestic detail. How much did you tip a tradesman? How did you clean the stove? How did you cook on the stove? What did the stove even look like?

I started to collect a veritable barrage of Victorian-themed websites, filled with such mundane ephemera. Thank goodness for those reality history shows on the box, too. However, the amount of research often distracted me from my purpose. I spent hours, days, weeks, months digging around contemporary records, wrangling with minor details. 

Next book, I thought. I’ll be smart. I’ll set the story in living memory, but with a retro hint. Then I won’t have to look anything up. 


The next book turned out to be Tomorrow’s Anecdote, based on my personal experiences of a 1980s newsroom. Out it poured in a cathartic rant. Only slowly did I realise the murky waters into which I was plunging without wellies, let alone waders. 

It was pretty straightforward at first. The story begins in the newsroom. I could hear the clunky keyboards, picture the metal in-trays, smell the carpet-tiled floors …

I had to recreate the work of a subeditor in those days, but I could recall the fonts we used (very old hat now). Cooper Bold, Rockwell … Oh, that takes me back. I double-checked, pouncing on some great Daily Mirror spreads from the period in similar fonts. Great.

But when the story took off and characters started to interact, I realised I was hazy about technological details, especially. What computers did we use? All I could recall were beige perspex boxes. No internet, obviously, but when did online page layout come in? I couldn’t even recall what phones were planted on our littered desks. Surely we’d moved onto push-button sets by then? 

We’re so used to contemporary living, I struggled with the details of work before the digital age. Ironically, I’d been so busy and in the thick of it, I simply couldn’t remember. As it’s in living memory, I couldn’t just make anything up. I knew better than to assume and hope for the best.

I began to badger my memory and plague friends and family. What system did you use back in the day? Aha. My husband recalled our old Amstrad; continuous stationery, tiny keyboard, recalcitrant printer … Well, he probably fought with it more than I did. 

More memories crept back. Clunky video cassettes, even clunkier VCRs, including one whose remote was still connected by a flex trailing across the room. Ironically, if I’d left that in, you’d have thought I was exaggerating. I realised one can be too authentic.

If you search for ‘retro’ on the web, which I thought was the correct term, all you get is 1950s and 1960s paraphernalia. That was such a red herring.

As the story progresses, the heroine has to do some research, the old-fashioned way. Without the internet, it was so much more labour intensive – and random. Luck played a greater part. I recalled the paraphernalia: microfiche, microfilm, records offices, manila files, hand-written records. I had to look up how the microfiche readers worked, but I did remember the awful headache one always got from staring at the screen.

As I ferreted around archived material, it struck me that we look at photos differently too, these days. In the past, you might have just one picture, so you had to make it work and glean as much from the image as possible. I suspect the skill of ‘reading a picture’ is waning, for there’s simply so much information now, so many images, that we take them for granted.

I enjoyed working the characters hard, employing all manner of methods to unearth information: telephone, letter, photocopies, drawing timelines with a ruler and biro, typing, asking around, talking to real people, legwork. I think that’s fairly authentic. Today, we’re so glued to Facebook that I wonder if the art of witty banter fade? 

Back to avoiding anachronistic clangers and the research for authenticity. When I was child, the first port of call was a book. Dictionaries, encyclopedias, atlases. I still have them, although they’re pretty much wall furniture these days. But in my hunt for the real 1980s, my typical reference books were useless. 

However, I plugged away and started to dig out some brilliantly geeky sites about the history of computing, with the dates when key product arrived on the market. This in turn gave me the ammunition to quiz friends, family and colleagues. 

It started to come together, but at times I ached to speed the plot along with a quick email. They’re such a great plot device, but a no-no for this book. Anyone working in a university might remember a primitive system called Janet, and were invited to attend workshops on … duh, duh, duhhhh … the world-wide web. Nobody had a clue what it meant. We really didn’t. We didn’t even know that we didn’t know. It dawned on me just how we reliant we were on the TV and newspapers. (I still miss Teletext.) 

In one scene, a young girl goes missing. My main character reaches for her mobile. Oops. Lord, how did we manage without mobile phones? I got quite exercised about that one but managed to get it sorted (by roping in a friend and having lots of change for call boxes).

There’s no artistic licence when it comes to fiction in living memory. Back in 1885, one could rework patent law by inventing a prototype bicycle light or whatever, without too much fallout, as long as it was plausible. This ploy simply wouldn’t work for 1987. 

So, more homework. I dug out footage from the late Eighties. Do you remember the telly? Now that bit was fun to browse, although there’s not as much as you might think. I did locate a recording of the Michael Fish broadcast where he misdiagnosed the severity of the Great Storm of 1987. The hair! The suit! The child-like weather symbols they velcroed onto the chart. This was more like it. Just as well I checked, or my misremembered version of the broadcast would have been far too slick.

One of my favourite finds was a shot of the new Bond, Timothy Dalton, surrounded by fans. The women were wearing contemporary high street gear that was more authentic than any fashion magazine predicting trends. This is how we really looked; big, permed hair, with highlights, padded shoulders, chunky jewellery, knee-length skirts.

Another conundrum. Just as with the book set in 1885, I realised I had no sense of money. How much was a pint of milk? A bottle of wine? A posh meal? I guess I could have written around such things, but I wanted to know. As luck would have it, I was unpacking some old china and found a sheet of classified ads from, you guessed it, 1987. I ironed it flat and filed it away. 

So, anachronisms. Historical? Check. Technical? Check. Social? Almost, but then I had a sudden memory of one the printers blanching at my language. I’d spent two years in Australia and swore like a trooper. Women really didn’t in those days. (Many men still openly sneered at ‘women’s lib’, that I do recall). Sloane Ranger English was in, glamorised by the Princess of Wales. Male journalists did swear, but I had to rack my brain to recall in what way exactly. I started with ‘plonker’, which sounded very 1980s, and worked down from there, with my husband’s help and a few beers. (He’s from Tas-bloody-mania and is curses eloquently in Australian and English, especially when watching sport.) Someone said ‘smeg’ at one point, which I had to ditch when I spotted that Red Dwarf didn’t air until 1988.

When I started on the music scene I knew I’d hit pay dirt. Trying to recapture the mood of the period was critical and now I had it. Half a chord of Tears for Fears and I was flung body and soul back in the Eighties. 

Digging out the lyrics was fascinating, too. Lord, we were all so neurotic and paranoid. Oddly, this came out more in the music than anywhere else, and brought those tense, frenzied days alive. I then realised I also needed to look forward, see what events that happened after 1987, which are just as significant. For example, we didn’t know the Berlin Wall, the most bizarre political anachronism in itself, would be brought down in 1989. I had to picture a world with it still in existence. Now that was odd.

After thinking about all these anachronisms, it struck me in a brain-whirling moment that a book about what didn’t happen in the past is in itself an anachronism. 

Well, at least I didn’t upset the prime directive. Nothing impinged on what happened afterwards. I watched TNG, so I’m an expert (but only from September 1987, of course). Thatcher moved on. Diana died. The wall came down. 

Thinking about it, if anyone found an anachronism in the book and put it on a jokey website, I’d be rather chuffed. I’d take it as a sign of affection.

Thanks very much, Pam. This is something every writer will wrestle with at some stage. I certainly do with each of my novels, even my contemporary 21st century manuscript...  



Just another day in the newsroom? Hardly.

October 1987. Clare Forester is an overworked and under-appreciated features subeditor on a provincial paper in Somerset. She spends her time cheerfully ranting about her teenage daughter, the reclusive lodger, her spiteful mother, the Thatcher government, new technology, grubby journalists, petty union officials, her charming ex - and just about anything else that crosses her path.

If things aren’t turbulent enough, on the night of Thursday, October 15th, the Great Storm sweeps across Britain, cutting a swathe of destruction across the country.

Things turn chaotic. Pushed to breaking point, Clare finally snaps and loses her temper with gale-force fury - with disastrous results.

As she contemplates the chaos that her life has become, Clare soon comes to a bitter conclusion.

Never trust the past. It lies.


About the author:

Pamela Kelt first managed to avoid any semblance of work by taking Spanish at the University of Manchester. On completion of the degree and after a subsequent six brain-fogging months on a local paper, she fled to Oxford photo4_PamKelt_colourand completed her M. Litt. thesis on ‘Comic aspects of satirical 17th-century comic interludes’, which was not only much more fun, but strangely relevant to coping with the vagaries of the 21st century. After becoming a technical translator, she discovered that English was easier, and did copywriting for anyone who would pay. On a stint in Australia, she landed a job as a subeditor and returned to journalism, relishing the chance to come up with funny headlines in a variety of provincial papers. Ah. Once a pun a time. 
As her academic husband became a chemistry professor in something even she can’t spell, Pam moved into the more sensible world of educational magazines and online publishing – for a while, at least. A daughter arrived and reintroduced her to the delights of fiction, which she’d sort of forgotten about. So, one fine day, while walking the dogs at a local beauty spot, thinking ‘to hell with a career’, Pam took the plunge into writing for herself, and is now the author of five books to date (including one co-written with aforementioned prof, with more in the pipeline) ranging from historical drama by way of teen fantasy to retro mystery.
Author Links:

Buy Links:

Amazon UK   Amazon Overseas   Crooked Cat Books

Book Blitz: Truth's Blood by Tyler Roberts

Today, I'm hosting another fantastic Book Blitz Tour from Buy the Book tours. Check out the dark, apocalyptic Truth's Blood by Tyler Roberts!

Truth's Blood:

It hadn't seemed possible that a president whose policies had impoverished millions could be reelected. It was the waning years of the American empire and the liberties represented in the Constitution and the Bill of Rights were a fading memory. The government monitored every aspect of American life, and the drones buzzing overhead served as a constant reminder, but it was the government's reckless spending that brought the nation to its knees. 

Now, the economy is in ruin, and the president's European style welfare state stands at the brink of collapse. The United States is unable to repay its debts. China has come seeking payment in real assets, and they mean business. Chaos reigns; power has been cut; select cities have been decimated by nuclear bombs; and burned out houses occupy neighborhoods like rotting teeth in the mouth of a crack addict. What was new is now old and what was old is now new again. 

Cliffson Lang's son attempts to escape the fires and mobs overrunning the city of Seattle. When Cliffson is called away to help, his other son is kidnapped by occupying forces and placed in a work camp. Truth's Blood is the Lang family's story of survival at a time when government dependency must be replaced by self-reliance. As the United States experiences the disintegration of society and foreign occupation, their challenge verges on the impossible.


About the Author:

Tyler Roberts is trained and educated in the fields of biology and environmental sciences. His hobbies include beekeeping, organic gardening and writing.


Author Links:

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April 16, 2013

Blurb Blitz Tour: The Angry Woman Suite by Lee Fullbright

I'm delighted to host a new fabulous Goddessfish Blurb Blitz Tour - 

The Angry Women Suite by Lee Fullbright

Lee Fullbright

Raised in a crumbling New England mansion by four women with personalities as split as a cracked mirror, young Francis Grayson has an obsessive need to fix them all. There’s his mother, distant and beautiful Magdalene; his disfigured, suffocating Aunt Stella; his odious grandmother; and the bane of his existence, his abusive and delusional Aunt Lothian.

For years, Francis plays a tricky game of duck and cover with the women, turning to music to stay sane. He finds a friend and mentor in Aidan Madsen, schoolmaster, local Revolutionary War historian, musician and keeper of the Grayson women’s darkest secrets. In a skillful move by Fullbright, those secrets are revealed through the viewpoints of three different people–Aidan, Francis and Francis’stepdaughter, Elyse–adding layers of eloquent complexity to a story as powerful as it is troubling.

While Francis realizes his dream of forming his own big band in the 1940s, his success is tempered by the inner monster of his childhood, one that roars to life when he marries Elyse’s mother. Elyse becomes her stepfather’s favorite target, and her bitterness becomes entwined with a desire to know the real Francis Grayson.

For Aidan’s part, his involvement with the Grayson family only deepens, and secrets carried for a lifetime begin to coalesce as he seeks to enlighten Francis–and subsequently Elyse–of why the events of so many years ago matter now. The ugliness of deceit, betrayal and resentment permeates the narrative, yet there are shining moments of hope, especially in the relationship between Elyse and her grandfather.

Ultimately, as more of the past filters into the present, the question becomes: What is the truth, and whose version of the truth is correct? Fullbright never untangles this conundrum, and it only adds to the richness of this exemplary novel.—Kirkus Reviews


It is said that love is comfort, and that comfort comes from recognition of the beloved. Papa was the first to tell me this, and if it’s even a little bit true, then I took my comfort for granted, not realizing that one can’t truly appreciate the beloved until one yearns for the comfort to be returned. Even now, when I can’t sleep at night, when I can’t slow the speeding of my heart, when I can’t stop the replaying of what-if’s in my head, I take myself back to that place where cabbage roses dance on walls and my beloved reigns supreme; where I am queen of his heart and he is my comfort, and then and only then do I feel safe.
You’d think it would be enough, being able to conjure up at least a measure of my old, first love. Yet for a long while it wasn’t. Because I was incapable of stanching the nagging questions about my second, almost greater love. Questioning why Francis hadn’t seen the truth of it like Papa had; that the streak I’d struggled with hadn’t been born of badness; that badness wasn’t an intrinsic part of me like my eyes being blue.
But Francis, unfortunately, hadn’t been able to see through things the way Papa had, and that was because Francis had rarely felt safe. You could see it in the way Francis’s eyes got doubtful taking in a room, and the way he was always biting down on his lower lip. The way it looked as if he was always trying to keep himself from crying.



From Kirkus Reviews

"Secrets and lies suffuse generations of one Pennsylvania family . . . in a skillful move by Fullbright, those secrets are revealed through the viewpoints of three very different people . . . a superb debut that exposes the consequences of the choices we make and legacy's sometimes excruciating embrace."



From Midwest Book Review

"A very human story . . . a fine read focusing on the long lasting dysfunction of family."

"There is something fascinating in labyrinthine plot twists, which is what we have here, and I must applaud Fullbright for her keen and magical ability to pull it off with such aplomb."-Norm Goldman, Montreal Books Examiner and

5 Stars ***** Reviewed by Joana James for Readers Favorite: "The Angry Woman Suite is quite a ride . . . very cleverly written . . . an outstanding novel."

Rating: 5.0 stars Reviewed by Anne B. for Readers Favorite:" Lee Fullbright is master of characterization."

Rating: 5.0 stars Reviewed by Alice D. for Readers Favorite:
"The Angry Woman Suite is a brilliant, complex, complicated story about talented, complicated people . . . this is a story to remember!"


Author Bio:

Lee Fullbright, a medical practice consultant in her non-writing life, lives on San Diego’s beautiful peninsula with her writing partner, Baby Rae, a 12-year-old rescued Australian cattle dog with attitude.         

The Angry Woman Suite, a Kirkus Critics’ pick, 5-starred Readers Favorite, and a Discovery Aware winner, is her first published novel. 



Facebook page:!/fullbrightlee




Lee will be giving away a $50 Amazon gift certificate to 
one randomly drawn commenter at the end of the tour.

Simply comment below and follow the tour (and keep commenting!) 
for your chance to win!