Exclusive Excerpt · Tour

Blog Tour and Exclusive Excerpt – The Gathering by Bernadette Giacomazzo



The Gathering
Bernadette Giacomazzo
(The Uprising, #1)
Publication date: March 31st 2018
Genres: Adult, Dystopian

The Uprising Series tells the story of three freedom fighters and their friends in high — and low — places that come together to overthrow a vainglorious Emperor and his militaristic Cabal to restore the city, and the way of life, they once knew and loved.

In The Gathering, Jamie Ryan has defected from the Cabal and has joined his former brothers-in-arms — Basile Perrinault and Kanoa Shinomura — to form a collective known as The Uprising. When an explosion leads to him crossing paths with Evanora Cunningham — a product of Jamie’s past — he discovers that The Uprising is bigger, and more important, than he thought.

Goodreads / Amazon

Author Bio:

With an impressive list of credentials earned over the course of two decades, Bernadette R. Giacomazzo is a multi-hyphenate in the truest sense of the word: an editor, writer, photographer, publicist, and digital marketing specialist who has demonstrated an uncanny ability to thrive in each industry with equal aplomb. Her work has been featured in Teen Vogue, People, Us Weekly, The Los Angeles Times, The New York Post, and many, many more. She served as the news editor of Go! NYC Magazine for nearly a decade, the executive editor of LatinTRENDS Magazine for five years, the eye candy editor of XXL Magazine for two years, and the editor-at-large at iOne/Zona de Sabor for two years. As a publicist, she has worked with the likes of Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson and his G-Unit record label, rapper Kool G. Rap, and various photographers, artists, and models. As a digital marketing specialist, Bernadette is Google Adwords certified, has an advanced knowledge of SEO, PPC, link-building, and other digital marketing techniques, and has worked for a variety of clients in the legal, medical, and real estate industries.

Based in New York City, Bernadette is the co-author of Swimming with Sharks: A Real World, How-To Guide to Success (and Failure) in the Business of Music (for the 21st Century), and the author of the forthcoming dystopian fiction series, The Uprising. She also contributed a story to the upcoming Beyonce Knowles tribute anthology, The King Bey Bible, which will be available in bookstores nationwide in the summer of 2018.

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Exclusive Excerpt

Chapter One

Evanora

I could hear him bloviating, again, from the balcony.

It is entirely too early for this, you cocksucker, I thought, but I did not say as I jammed the pillow over my head and tried, desperately, to sleep.

Of course, it was no use. It never was when this asshole started screaming at the top of his lungs at an ungodly hour of the morning. Every morning. For the past twenty some-odd years. Saying the same thing, at the same time, every day, without changing a single goddamn word.

I know it by heart, by now.  I can say it in my sleep. And sometimes, I do.

So, I did what I normally do in these situations: I pulled out my iPod, flicked the wheel, and stuffed the earbuds into my ears as I listened to Faust’s greatest hits.

Now this is the kind of caterwauling that I can get behind – the sacred, now-forbidden ritual of rock’n’roll.

I always thought Ivan Sapphire – real name, Jamie Ryan – was just so damn cute, though God only knows what he looked like now. If history teaches us anything, it’s that time isn’t kind to rock stars, especially if they regularly blast their body with drinking, drugs, and strange bodily fluids.

It’d be a damn shame if that’s what happened to Jamie Ryan.

But there was one Faust member I wanted to know more about, but never could – and never would.

Him.

My father.

Jordan Barker.

For this, I envied my mother, for she knew him well.

Too well, as it turns out, and I was the product of this unlawful carnal knowledge.

Rose Cunningham never talked about my father.

All I knew of him was what I saw in the rare pictures I could find.

He was tall. He was thin. He had strawberry blonde hair. He could play bass like no one before or since.  He had a pixie nose and almond shaped eyes – both of which I inherited. He loved my mother and me with the intensity of a thousand burning suns. He bore a pain inside him that could only be numbed with a regular shot of pure heroin to his veins. He died when I was still a baby.

And that was the sum totality of all I knew.

I was born Evanora Joy Diaz-Barker, and nicknamed the “First Faust Baby.” My birth heralded much comment amongst the rock glitterati in the old New York – I was the latest, greatest attraction to join the Faust three-ring circus (come one, come all, in more ways than one!), born to 21-year-old Jordan Barker, psycho bassist from Mars, and his consort of sorts, the 19-year-old Puerto-Rican-from-the-Bronx Ramira “Rosie” Diaz, a hip-hop B-girl and sometime dancer/choreographer who only happened upon a Faust show because her best friend, Angelique Denham, was the dearly beloved of one Ivan Sapphire/Jamie Ryan.

Ramira loved to dance, and she did it well.

I never saw Rose dance. Not even once.

My name, of course, is just as unique as Faust’s music, but it had a sense of history, as well.

I was named for the two most important women in my parents’ lives: Eva, for Rosie’s mother, and Nora, for Jordan’s.

And my middle name – Joy – was, according to my mother, in honor of all the joy I brought into their lives, and all the smiles I put on their faces.

I don’t remember Rose smiling. Not even once.

I never doubted for a minute that my mother loved me.

Her love for me is what not only keeps me alive today, but keeps me dressed in the finest clothes, attending the finest schools, and eating the finest food.

In this New York – the new New York – the New York that exists under the tutelage of my demagogue step-father, the man known to the city and to the world as, simply, Emperor, but whom, legally, has the decidedly less-intimidating name of Roger Cunningham, though no one dared to call him that if they wanted to live to see another day – this is the most anyone could ask for.

It’s a form of protection, really.

But for this protection, my mother paid a heavy price.

She was forced to become something she never was – and never would be.

Because Emperor, God forbid, could never – would never – be caught dead with a Puerto-Rican-from-the-Bronx.

Emperor, God forbid, could never – would never – be caught dead with a single mom of a daughter whose father died of a heroin overdose – an overdose he had while he was supposed to be watching me.

He waited until I fell asleep after my feeding – and as I slept peacefully, he filled his needle with four times the lethal dose of the finest China white, plunged it as deep into his veins as it would go, and slept peacefully beside me.

Forever.

My mother found us both an hour later.

My mother and I were those kind of peoplethose kind of people being the nod, the wink, and the dog whistle code word for the “trash” that gave the old New York its unique flavor and charm, but who were second class citizens in the new New York, subjected to psi if they dared to do anything less than toe the line drawn in the sand by Emperor…a line that seems to keep moving further and further back with each perceived infraction.

So, if Ramira wanted to save the life of her daughter, she would have to give up her own.

Oh, she would still be alive – she would be breathing, eating, sleeping. She would be performing all voluntary and involuntary biological functions. Her daughter needed a mother – Emperor needed a wife to at least have the appearance of propriety (“humanizing the dictator,” wrote one journalist who was “mysteriously” found dead not long after he wrote those words) – and Ramira was no good to anyone if she was dead.

Ramira would be alive. She just wouldn’t be living.

So, anything that suggested that she was a Puerto-Rican-from-the-Bronx – one of those kind of people – the fullness of her hips and lips, the curl of her chocolate brown hair, her natural effervescence, a smile that would light up a room, the confident and sexy way she would sway her hips with each step, almost as though she danced her way through life – everything my father loved about her – everything he lusted for in a woman – were obliterated.

Her hair was chemically straightened and dyed a garish white-blonde. I don’t know who told Emperor that this color was a good idea. Because it wasn’t. It still isn’t. She looks fucking ridiculous.

The hair on her face was burned off, unceremoniously, with pulses of light that caused her to flinch and cry with each application. Her olive skin still bears traces of these scars to this day. Of course, she covers it up with the finest makeup – nothing less for Emperor’s wife – but when she takes it off, the marks are still there, as permanent reminders of all she was, and all she was forced to give up so I could stay alive.

Her lips and hips were suctioned, tightened and pulled, and her diet was restricted to the barest of nutrients needed to survive.

Her smile slowly, but surely, disappeared, and would only flash when it was required she be the “good wife” of the “good dictator,” greeting heads of state and other luminaries the way a well-crafted robot would be designed to do. Diva ex machina.

She was sent to what was colloquially called a “finishing school” to complete the transformation. God only knows what they did to her in there, because when she came out, her gait was stilted, her speech was deliberate, and her eyes – once simmering with life – were catatonic, zombified orbs.

And so, it came to pass that when my father died, all traces of him were obliterated, including any memories he may have imprinted on the two women he loved the most in this world.

Ramira Diaz and her daughter, Evanora Joy Diaz-Barker, became Rose and Evanora Joy Cunningham.

My mother insisted that I keep my name. That’s part of the deal, she said, or you may as well kill us both, and fuck what you stand for and what you want to be.

My mother was forged from the fire. Now, she was forced to burn in Hell.

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Coming Soon · Cover Reveal · Exclusive Excerpt

Cover Reveal and Excerpt- Rivers by S. L. Scott

⭐🎸⭐ RIVERS by S.L. SCOTT Cover & Synopsis Reveal ⭐🎸⭐

From New York Times Bestselling Author, S.L. Scott, comes a hot new rock star romance that will sweep you off your feet and leave you with a smile.

This Standalone Second Chance Rock Star Romance by New York Times Bestselling Author, S.L. Scott, will have you falling in love with Rivers Crow while introducing you to his Sexy as Sin brothers and band mates—Jet, Tulsa, and Ridge.

Rivers Crow has everything he could ever need—a rock star life, more money than the devil himself, and worldwide fame. Except he’s still missing the one thing he wants—the girl he left behind.

Stella Fellowes has a life she doesn’t want—an unfulfilling job, debt without a ceiling, and lonely nights. She spends pretending not to miss the one thing she needs—the boy who broke her heart.

Five years later, the guitarist she once loved is back with a hit record, millions of fans, and that look in his eye that still makes her weak in the knees. Only she’s not the same girl he once knew.

When these two star-crossed lovers come together, time starts to heal old wounds. Although she’s compelled to look past his sins, will he be able to look past hers?

🎵Add RIVERS to your TBR: http://bit.ly/RiversGR

➡️LIVE: July 26

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Coming Soon · Exclusive Excerpt

Exclusive Excerpt – The Solution to Unrequited by Len Webster

It’s time for a sneak peek at the solution…

The Solution to Unrequited by Len Webster is coming July 11th!

EXCLUSIVE IBOOKS PREORDER → https://apple.co/2JyoY9h

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ADD TO YOUR TBR → http://bit.ly/2GVRdZB

BLURB:
Atomic number: 33

Name of chemical element: Arsenic

Symbol: As

Every solution has a poisonous flaw … even between best friends.

The agreement: Fall break together.

The struggle: A road trip from North Carolina to Massachusetts.

The reason: To find a way back into each other’s lives.

The issue: AJ’s not ready to let Evan reclaim the parts of her he made his.

The hindrance: Connecticut.

ENJOY THIS EXCERPT:

“I’ll go back home with you, Evan,” AJ said as tears formed, knowing that this was right. In order to live an honest life, she had to face her past.

She needed to free Evan and forgive him.

“You will?”

She nodded. “I realize I haven’t been fair to you. I haven’t been fair to you for a long time. What you did to me hurt, but I shouldn’t have let you go to Vegas and Stanford thinking I’d join you. I shouldn’t have kept Duke a secret.” Tears skimmed her skin. “I have missed you, and I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought you were more than capable of living a life without me. After prom, I didn’t think you’d need me in your life anymore.”

Evan shook his head. “Are you kidding?”

AJ brushed her stupid tears away.

He closed the distance in a matter of breaths, wrapping an arm around her back and digging his fingers into her hair, holding her tight. Protectively. As if he was afraid that if he let her go, it would be the end of them. Just like all the times he held her, AJ’s arms looped around his waist as her tears continued to fall onto his shirt.

She inhaled a deep breath.

The smell of him.

The feel of him.

This was home.

This was right.

“I’ll always need you,” he whispered into her ear. “Always, Alexandra. Even if you don’t need me, I’ll always need you.”

“I need you,” she confessed in a tiny, vulnerable voice. “I’ve tried not to need you, but I do.”

Evan nodded. The side of his face brushing against hers. Then, after a long moment, he pulled back. His hands settled on the sides of her neck as they had done so many times before.

This felt natural.

This felt so familiar.

No one else could hold her like this and make their marks their own on her skin.

His smile was slow to curve. It wasn’t quite full, but it was honest. It was a glimpse of the version of him she loved.

“Are you willing to trust me again?”

Unlike before, AJ nodded. “Yes, if you’re willing to trust me again.”

He let out a relieved sigh. “AJ, I trust you. While I was at Stanford, I trusted that when I finally found you, you’d let me back into your life and we’d get this all worked out.” The sound of a key being inserted into the door had Evan’s hands falling away from her face. And just as the door opened, he whispered, “No matter what happens to us, I’ll always want and need you, Alexandra.” His smile was honest, and she nodded, believing him.

About Len
Len Webster is a romance-loving Melburnian with dreams of finding her version of ‘The One.’ But until that moment happens, she writes. Having just graduated with her BBusCom from Monash University, Len is now busy writing her next romance about how a boy met a girl, and how they fell completely and hopelessly in love.

She is also not a certified explorer, but she’s working on it.

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Exclusive Excerpt · Tour

Blog Tour and Exclusive Excerpt – Wings Of Flesh and Bone by Catarina Constantine

Wings of Flesh and Bones
Cathrina Constantine
Publication date: April 13th 2018
Genres: Fantasy, Paranormal, Young Adult

An Angel. A Witch. A Demon. And A Choice.

Creatures from outer realms suck, as any gatekeeper worth their salt will tell you. Welcome to Rogan’s life, an orphaned seventeen-year-old who lives and trains with other misfits under her uncle’s roof, keeping Earth safe from non-human realm jumpers. Rogan’s biggest issue concerns her uncle’s short leash with her freedom—that is of course, until she’s taken by a notorious witch, and her life begins to unravel. Soon, the supernatural beauty discovers there’s a reason her uncle kept such a tight lock on her whereabouts, and that she has more than angel blood running through her veins.

Eighteen-year-old Max is an angel, and Rogan’s mentor and guardian. He’s well aware of her tenacious inability to obey orders, though he also knows she’s a fierce fighter. When he’s involved in a scheme that ultimately gets Rogan kidnapped, he must battle his way back to her in an attempt to save her from the darkness threatening to possess her.

Goodreads / Amazon

For months now, Max had labored to increase her equilibrium and agility. Making her run, hop, and jump over a balance beam. Then he’d taken her outside and taught her how to scale the bricked fortress in the dead of night—and she was proud to say she was even better than Jenna. Tonight, with the aid of moonlight splashing the facade, it should be a cinch.

Rogan pirouetted on her tippy-toes to begin her descent and bungled her footing. Jetting her arms out to cling onto anything she could, she yelped. “Max!” She caught a glimpse of him on the ledge. He didn’t even twitch a finger to help. Whether it was the moonlight playing tricks or the shading, he appeared jaded, as if her trip to death was boring him.

A flurry of fearful thoughts crossed her mind in a span of seconds. Why won’t Max save me? Will I meet my father in heaven? Will they bury me in this lame outfit?

Author Bio:

Cathrina Constantine is the Best Selling author of Don’t Forget To Breathe. Her book won Readers’ Favorite International Book Award for 2015. New Apple Medalist for 2016. Literary Classics Gold Award. Literary Classics Seal of Approval. Her Paranormal Fantasy, Wickedly They Come has been awarded the 5 Star Seal from Reader’s Favorite. Tallas from her dystopian series received Literary Classics Silver Award and Literary Classics Seal of Approval.

Cathrina resides in Western New York. I am blessed with a loving family and forever friends. My world revolves around them.

I grew up in the small village of Lancaster, NY, where I married my sweetheart. I’m devoted to raising 5 cherished children, and now my grandchildren.

I love to immerse myself in great books of every kind of genre, which helps me to write purely for entertainment, and hopefully to inspire readers. When not stationed at my computer you can find me in the woods taking long walks with my dog.

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