Monday, May 22, 2017

On Tour: The Highlander's Temptation by Eliza Knight






Prequel to the Stolen Bride Series...

Desire tempted them, but love conquered all…

Laird Jamie Montgomery is a warrior with a mission. When he travels to the northern Highlands on the orders of William Wallace, temptation in the form of an alluring lass, could be his undoing.

Lady Lorna Sutherland can’t resist the charms of one irresistible Highlander. Though she’s been forbidden, she breaks every rule for the pleasure of his intoxicating embrace.

When their love is discovered, Jamie is tossed from Sutherland lands under threat of death. But danger can’t keep the two of them apart. No matter what perils may try to separate them—Lorna and Jamie swear they’ll find a way to be together.







Spring, 1282
Highlands, Scotland
THEY galloped through the eerie moonlit night. Warriors cloaked by darkness. Blending in with the forest, only the occasional glint of the moon off their weapons made their presence seem out of place.
’Twas chilly for spring, and yet, they rode hard enough the horses were lathered with sweat and foaming at the mouth. But the Montgomery clan wasn’t going to be pushed out of yet another meeting of the clans, not when their future depended on it. This meeting would put their clan on the map, make them an asset to their king and country. As it was, years before King Alexander III had lost one son and his wife. He’d not remarried and the fate of the country now relied on one son who didn’t feel the need to marry. The prince toyed with his life as though he had a death wish, fighting, drinking, and carrying on without a care in the world. The king’s only other chance at a succession was his daughter who’d married but had not yet shown any signs of a bairn filling her womb. If something were to happen to the king, the country would erupt into chaos. Every precaution needed to be taken.
Young Jamie sat tall and proud upon his horse. Even prouder was he, that his da, the fearsome Montgomery laird, had allowed him to accompany the group of a half dozen seasoned warriors—the men who sat on his own clan council—to the meeting. The fact that his father had involved him in matters of state truly made his chest puff five times its size.
After being fostered out the last seven years, Jamie had just returned to his father’s home. At age fourteen, he was ready to take on the duties of eldest son, for one day he would be laird. This was the perfect opportunity to show his da all he’d learned. To prove he was worthy.
Laird Montgomery held up his hand and all the riders stopped short. Puffs of steam blew out in miniature clouds from the horses’ noses. Jamie’s heart slammed against his chest and he looked from side to side to make sure no one could hear it. He was a man after all, and men shouldn’t be scared of the dark. No matter how frightening the sounds were.
Carried on the wind were the deep tones of men shouting and the shrill of a woman’s screams. Prickles rose on Jamie’s arms and legs. They must have happened upon a robbery or an ambush. When he’d set out to attend his father, he’d not counted on a fight. Nay, Jamie merely thought to stand beside his father and demand a place within the Bruce’s High Council.
Swallowing hard, he glanced at his father, trying to assess his thoughts, but as usual, the man sat stoic, not a hint of emotion on his face.
The laird glanced at his second in command and jutted his chin in silent communication. The second returned the nod. Jamie’s father made a circling motion with his fingers, and several of the men fanned out.
Jamie observed the exchange, his throat near to bursting with questions. What was happening?
Finally, his father motioned Jamie forward. Keeping his emotions at bay, Jamie urged his mount closer. His father bent toward him, indicating for Jamie to do the same, then spoke in a hushed tone.
“We’re nearly to Sutherland lands. Just on the outskirts, son. ’Tis an attack, I’m certain. We mean to help.”
Jamie swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded. The meeting was to take place at Dunrobin Castle. Why that particular castle was chosen, Jamie had not been privy to. Though he speculated ’twas because of how far north it was. Well away from Stirling where the king resided.
“Are ye up to it?” his father asked.
Tightening his grip on the reins, Jamie nodded. Fear cascaded along his spine, but he’d never show any weakness in front of his father, especially now that he’d been invited on this very important journey.
“Good. ’Twill give ye a chance to show me what ye’ve learned.”
Again, Jamie nodded, though he disagreed. Saving people wasn’t a chance to show off what he’d learned. He could never look at protecting another as an opportunity to prove his skill, only as a chance to make a difference. But he kept that to himself. His da would never understand. If making a difference proved something to his father, then so be it.
An owl screeched from somewhere in the distance as it caught onto its prey, almost in unison with the blood curdling scream of a woman.
His father made a few more hand motions and the rest of their party followed him as they crept forward at a quickened pace on their mounts, avoiding making any noise.
The road ended on a clearing, and some thirty horse-lengths away a band of outlaws circled a trio—a lady, one warrior, and a lad close to his own age.
The outlaws caught sight of their approach, shouting and pointing. His father’s men couldn’t seem to move quickly enough and Jamie watched in horror as the man, woman and child were hacked down. All three of them on the ground, the outlaws turned on the Montgomery warriors and rushed forward as though they’d not a care in the world.
Jamie shook. He’d never been so scared in his life. His throat had long since closed up and yet his stomach was threatening to purge everything he’d consumed that day. Even though he felt like vomiting, a sense of urgency, and power flooded his veins. Battle-rush, he’d heard it called by the seasoned warriors. And it was surging through his body, making him tingle all over.
The laird and his men raised their swords in the air, roaring out their battle cries. Jamie raised his sword to do the same, but a flash of gold behind a large lichen-covered boulder caught his attention. He eased his knees on his mount’s middle.
What was that?
Another flash of gold — was that blonde hair? He’d never seen hair like that before.
Jamie turned to his father, intent to point it out, but his sire was several horse-lengths ahead and ready to engage the outlaws, leaving it up to Jamie to investigate.
After all, if there was another threat lying in wait, was it not up to someone in the group to seek them out? The rest of the warriors were intent on the outlaws which left Jamie to discover the identity of the thief.
He veered his horse to the right, galloping toward the boulder. A wee lass darted out, lifting her skirts and running full force in the opposite direction. Jamie loosened his knees on his horse and slowed. That was not what he’d expected. At all. Jamie anticipated a warrior, not a tiny little girl whose legs were no match for his mount. As he neared, despite his slowed pace, he feared he’d trample the little imp.
He leapt from his horse and chased after her on foot. The lass kept turning around, seeing him chasing her. The look of horror on her face nearly broke his heart. Och, he was no one to fear. But how would she know that? She probably thought he was after her like the outlaws had been after the man, woman and lad.
“’Tis all right!” he called. “I will nay harm ye!”
But she kept on running, and then was suddenly flying through the air, landing flat on her face.
Jamie ran toward her, dropping to his knees as he reached her side and she pushed herself up.
Her back shook with cries he was sure she tried hard to keep silent. He gathered her up onto his knees and she pressed her face to his leine shirt, wiping away tears, dirt and snot as she sobbed.
“Momma,” she said. “Da!”
“Hush, now,” Jamie crooned, unsure of what else he could say. She must have just watched her parents and brother get cut to the ground. Och, what an awful sight for any child to witness. Jamie shivered, at a loss for words.
“Blaney!” she wailed, gripping onto his shirt and yanking. “They hurt!”
Jamie dried her tears with the cuff of his sleeve. “Your family?” he asked.
She nodded, her lower lip trembling, green-blue eyes wide with fear and glistening with tears. His chest swelled with emotion for the little imp and he gripped her tighter.
“Do ye know who the men were?”
“Bad people,” she mumbled.



Eliza Knight is a USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author of sizzling historical romance and time-travel erotic romance. Under the name E. Knight, she pens riveting historical fiction. She runs the award-winning blog, History Undressed. When not reading, writing and researching, she likes to cuddle up in front of a warm fire with her own knight in shining armor. 

Connect with her at http://www.elizaknight.com or http://www.historyundressed.com. You can sign up for her newsletter at  http://eepurl.com/CSFFD. Follow her on social media at:











Monday, June 26
Book featured at Books, Dreams, Life
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Tuesday, June 27
Book featured at The Dark Phantom
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Wednesday, June 28
Book reviewed at The Book Junkie Reads
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Thursday, June 29
Book featured at Warrior Woman Winmill
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Friday, June 30
Book featured at Mello and June
Book reviewed at Celtic Dragon Book Reviews
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Sunday, May 21, 2017

On Tour: The Highlander's Sin by Eliza Knight






He stole her away… But she set him free…

They called him The Priest. Maybe because of his billowing black robes and the steel crucifix that hung around his neck. Or perhaps it was because those who met him were compelled to pray. But Duncan Mackay was anything but a saint. He was a sinner—a paid mercenary. Until he met her, and she made him want to change his ways.

Lady Heather Sutherland, has never been compelled to follow rules. And this time, she’s gone too far. Following in the footsteps of her brothers and cousins, she chooses to join the fight for Scottish freedom—and gets herself abducted by a handsome, rogue warrior, whose touch is sweet sin.

Duncan’s duty was clear—steal Heather away from Dunrobin Castle. What he didn’t expect, was to be charmed by her spirit and rocked by her fiery kiss. Now, he doesn’t want deliver her to those who hired him, instead he wants to keep her all to himself.







Dunrobin Castle, Scottish Highlands
Summer, 1300
STONE cobbles were certainly the most uncomfortable place for knees to rest. Lady Heather, youngest sister to the powerful Earl of Sutherland, knelt before the altar in the family’s chapel. Even with the protection of layers of fabric between her bones and the flooring, she could feel bruises forming beneath the calluses on her knees.
The castle’s drafts had yet to reach this corner of space within the towers, and as a result, sweat dripped in unladylike fashion down her temples and spine. What she wouldn’t give to at least be able to fan herself, but she dared not move her hands from their place firmly pressed together in prayer.
Today would prove to be sweltering if the heat before dawn was any indication. And since Heather had an aversion to heat, she was more than likely going to be in a sour mood. The heaviness of the many layers she wore didn’t help the situation. Nor what she was about to do.
The chapel was dark, save the four candles she’d lit. The sun had yet to rise, and the three narrow windows, newly fixed with stained glass, let in none of the moon’s silver light.
Heather came to pray each morning, every morning, before the family rose. Typically because she had a lot more to confess than most. She was the first to admit she was not easy on her older brother, Magnus. Nor her aunts, any of her siblings, cousins and the staff in general. She might even be willing to admit that she single-handedly provided for their chaplain’s wealth, given that she was constantly slipping coins into his purse as penance or to buy an extra blessing.
But today was different.
On this day, she was going to change her future, forever.
The Scottish rebellion still raged on, despite the horrendous loss at the Battle of Falkirk. Heather wanted to be a part of it. Why should her brothers and cousins have all the fun? Before the rest of the household woke to say prayers, Heather planned to be well on her way to finding William Wallace. The man had taken a step back in the war for freedom. After their great loss, the warrior must have felt downtrodden, for he simply handed the reins of battle over to another. She was going to persuade him to rise up once more, to fight for what he thought was right, what she knew was right. 
Robert the Bruce was not yet king—and though he was rumored to have sided with the English, Heather just couldn’t believe it. After all, Bruce and Red Comyn were now overseeing the resistance, but they lacked the heart of Wallace. The way Heather saw it, Wallace could turn a sheepherder into a seasoned warrior, and might even have the power to turn Englishmen into Scots—the latter was a bit of a reach, but just went to prove how much she believed in him.
A scraping to her left jolted Heather from her prayer. She sat back on her heels, hand falling to her hip where a twelve-inch dagger was slipped into its sheath.
“Who’s there?” Her voice echoed through the chapel.
A shadowy figure lurked just beyond the benches in the corner where their chaplain’s chamber was. Looked like a hulk of black. If she’d been more superstitious, she might have thought the devil was coming to pay her a visit like Aunt Fiona always threatened.
“Father Hurley?” She swiped a drip of sweat from her eyes. “Is that ye? Come away from the shadows.”
A shiver of fear skittered over her spine, settling like a solid stone in her belly.
The figure didn’t move.
Heather swallowed her fear and stood up, straightening her shoulders as much as she could, squaring her jaw. “Come into the light at once,” she ordered.
The shadow moved along the wall toward the front of the chapel. Heather followed him with her eyes. ’Twas not the devil but a man. Most definitely not Father Hurley. He was taller by at least a foot—and wide by about the same. His black robes billowed around his form, swishing around his ankles with each step, and sending whispers of fear with every move. The silver chain around his neck swung the large crucifix it held like a pendulum. Back and forth.
A man of the cloth? Her hair prickled. He looked like death come to take her.
Heather stared at the cross, at the man in robes, hypnotized by his stealthy, calculated movements, her eyes wide and immobilized. She finally blinked when they stung with dryness.
“Are ye new to Dunrobin?” she asked, refusing to believe he might be the reaper and wondering why no one had told her there was a new priest.
He stopped a few feet away, just outside the line of light from the candles.
“Nay.” His voice was deep, dark, and slid over her body shamefully, in a way that made her want to hear him speak again.
Lord, help her impetuous nature.
Heather made a sign of the cross. “I’ve not seen ye before now.” The slight quiver in her tone made her angry.
He didn’t answer. A long pause of silence ensued, making her uncomfortable. Her skin prickled.
“Where is Father Hurley? What are ye doing in here?” The questions tumbled from her tongue.
The man pointed toward the chaplain’s chamber. “He is there. Sleeping.”
Again that voice. Why did she like it so much? “And ye? What are ye doing out here? I’m…I’m praying. I want privacy.” She lifted her chin another notch, hoping the odd priest would leave her be, that he hadn’t noticed the slight stutter of her words. When she saw her brother Magnus, she was going to tell him about this odd priest and how uncomfortable he made her. Zounds! She wouldn’t get the chance before she left… The dawn of her new life would begin today. A note then. She would tell Magnus in a note.
“I’m afraid ye won’t be getting any privacy, my lady.” Confidence dripped from his words and slid over her skin in a way that felt wicked.
“Ye are not to talk to me in such a manner.” No matter how hard she tried, she sounded petulant rather than in control.
“And ye need to hold your tongue, ye saucy wench.”
Heather gasped, blanched. Pressed a hand to her chest and took a step back in shock. “What?”
“Ye heard me.” An underlying tone of amusement captured his voice.
Indeed she had, but no one had ever, ever, talked to her like that before.
“How dare ye?” She seethed, gripped her fingers around her dagger, though what she’d do with it, she had no clue. Killing a man of the cloth was a sin she’d never be able to pay her way out of.
“Enough bluster, my lady. I need ye to come with me.”



Eliza Knight is a USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author of sizzling historical romance and time-travel erotic romance. Under the name E. Knight, she pens riveting historical fiction. She runs the award-winning blog, History Undressed. When not reading, writing and researching, she likes to cuddle up in front of a warm fire with her own knight in shining armor. 

Connect with her at http://www.elizaknight.com or http://www.historyundressed.com. You can sign up for her newsletter at  http://eepurl.com/CSFFD. Follow her on social media at:











Monday, June 19
Book featured at Books, Dreams, Life
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Tuesday, June 20
Book featured at The Book Junkie Reads
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Wednesday, June 21
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Thursday, June 22
Book featured at Warrior Woman Winmill
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Friday, June 23
Guest blogging at Hart's Reader Pulse
Book featured at Mello and June
Book reviewed at My Book Addiction and More
Book reviewed at Celtic Dragon Book Reviews

On Tour: The Highlander's Triumph by Eliza Knight






He was a warrior fighting for Scottish freedom.

She was his enemy’s mistress.

Laird Brandon Sinclair has given his life to the Scottish cause. Swearing fealty to Robert the Bruce, he will stop at nothing to see oppression end.

Lady Mariana wants nothing more than to break free of the tyrannical hold the English king has on her. When he sends her to Scotland with a message for the rebels, instead of obeying his orders, she finds herself submitting to her desires. After one sizzling, life-altering night, Brandon and Mariana must part ways. But Mariana has no intention of betraying her heart again.

And Brandon is determined to get her back. Stealing Longshank’s secrets felt like victory, but taking his woman will be this Highlander’s ultimate triumph.







Nearing spring, 1298
Highlands, Scotland
SMOKE filled Laird Brandon Sinclair’s lungs as he rode on horseback with his men toward the north of Kinterloch Village.
High above the wooden wall, flames burst in hungry orange licks. A vengeful fire that would turn everything in its path to ash. The late afternoon sky was already overcast, but the smoke of the blaze made it nearly black.
No villagers ran from the fire. No animals screamed. The chaos that should be erupting with the flames was non-existent—as if deserted. But he knew it couldn’t be. The people, the animals, were either trapped or had managed to get out from a different gate.
The Scottish troops’ fearless leader, William Wallace, had already charged through the front gates into the inferno as if he were a man with a death wish. He’d ordered Brandon and his men to check the north side for survivors. Brandon’s cousin, Ronan Sutherland, had taken his warriors to the west side near the loch.
Far from his castle and lands in the north of the Highlands, Brandon had traveled to Eilean Donan the month prior to help his cousins Daniel Murray and Ronan along with William Wallace and Robert the Bruce in the war against the English. But it seemed now it wasn’t only the English they were fighting—but traitor Scots too.
A loud crash reverberated through the air as another building collapsed behind the wall. A rush of heat surged his way, and a cloud of dark smoke billowed into the sky, in stark contrast to the world around them, a peaceful, beautiful place with lush pine trees and gorse bushes, even in winter. Hell set in the middle of heaven.
Doubt darkened his mood. There would be no survivors. Not in a raging inferno like this—one that rivaled Hades. He shook his head and spurred his horse forward. His chestnut colored warhorse, Checkmate, pounded the earth with his massive hooves.
If only they’d been able to get to the village before Laird Ross—traitor to all Scots and their ancestors. The damned bastard had defected to the English, and since doing so, had laid a path of destruction across the Highlands. There wasn’t a man Brandon knew that hadn’t been affected by Ross’ treachery. Hell, it seemed like the man was on a mission to make enemies with everyone of true Scottish heart.
Brandon’s thoughts were cut midway when they rounded the burning wall on the north side.
“Halt!” he shouted to his men, reining in Checkmate.
A woman burst through the wooden gate, exposing the interior angry flaming village. Hair black as a midnight sky, skin covered in soot. Her dark green gown was covered by a singed, once high-quality, wool cloak. She tripped, falling onto her hands and knees, coughing, yet she did not stop. The lass crawled forward, every move beleaguered in her attempt to escape the flaming village.
Without a thought, Brandon jumped from Checkmate, and ran toward her.



Eliza Knight is a USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author of sizzling historical romance and time-travel erotic romance. Under the name E. Knight, she pens riveting historical fiction. She runs the award-winning blog, History Undressed. When not reading, writing and researching, she likes to cuddle up in front of a warm fire with her own knight in shining armor. 

Connect with her at http://www.elizaknight.com or http://www.historyundressed.com. You can sign up for her newsletter at  http://eepurl.com/CSFFD. Follow her on social media at:











Monday, June 12
Book featured at Books, Dreams, Life
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Tuesday, June 13
Book reviewed at The Book Junkie Reads
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Wednesday, June 14
Book featured at Nicole's Book Musings
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Thursday, June 15
Book featured at Write and Take Flight
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Friday, June 16
Book featured at Warrior Woman Winmill
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Book reviewed at My Book Addiction and More
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On Tour: The Highlander's Warrior Bride by Eliza Knight

 




Their greatest opponent won’t be battled with a sword…

But with their hearts…

Ronan Sutherland is a fierce warrior. Swearing off all else, he thrives on his powerful position within William Wallace’s army. Freedom for the Scots is his mission—until he meets fair Julianna. She captivates him, intoxicates him…makes him want more out of life than what harsh dangers he’s accustomed to.

Lady Julianna is no meek maiden. She’s trained in the art of war, sister to one of Scotland’s most powerful men, and tasked with keeping the future king safe. Until she’s kidnapped by a rivaling clan. Now her only hope is for the one man she trusts—and desires—to save her.

Together, they’ll have to face down one of Scotland’s most treacherous foes… And keep from falling victim to the one thing they’ve both eluded thus far—love.







The tent was dark. Cold. If Lady Julianna had a candle, she’d surely see her breath upon the night air. Puffs of white spilling from her mouth in angry bursts.
Damn the Ross and his ill-fated decisions. Damn the English and their desire to crush the Scots.
If she could go back a few days prior, she would do everything the same way—save maybe tucking more weapons on her person.
At least she wasn’t shackled. Although having free reign of a prison cell made of fabric and surrounded by guards wasn’t really any better. Her numerous attempts at escape had been quickly thwarted. She rubbed her arms furiously against the winter chill. Her cloak was thick and well made, but after a while, layers did not keep a body warm. Oh, what she wouldn’t do for a nice, blazing fire and a dram of Cook’s spiced whisky.
Three days ago, she’d been intent on speaking with Lady Myra at Eilean Donan Castle—an act that landed her here within the camp of her enemy.
Even still, she wouldn’t change a thing. It wasn't Myra's fault they were kidnapped. She and Myra had gotten off on the wrong foot, and Julianna wanted to make up for it by helping her escape. Although she wasn’t sure why Myra would want to leave when she obviously loved Laird Murray, but who was Julianna to judge?
She shrugged in the darkness. Truly, she had no right to pass judgment on anyone. Hadn’t she eschewed her own feelings of desire, of passion—of dare she say it—something emotionally deeper? Not that it mattered. Julianna couldn’t marry until her brother deemed it so, and for the foreseeable future, that didn’t seem to be the case.
She was glad. Marriage would only bind her. Wrap her up in a neat little package and put her on the shelf. That was not the life Julianna wanted. She was a warrior.
Trained in the arts of war. Trained to protect the King of Scotland. Little good that did her now, seeing as how she sat prisoner in this Godforsaken tent, by the devil Laird Ross.
“Humph.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Still, she’d not change a thing.
When she slipped into the passageway leading to Myra’s room and saw her being carried away—gagged and trussed up—she had to save her. That’s what she was trained to do. She had no other choice. Myra had traveled a long way, risked death, all to give Robert the Bruce a message. A message that saved his life.
Following the brutes who dared harm a lady, Julianna thought little of her own safety, only of saving Myra. No one else witnessed her being abducted. As a warrior, Julianna felt it was her duty to see to everyone’s safety.
She’d jumped in front of the men, stopping them in their path and demanded they unhand Myra. They’d laughed at her. Right in her face, their breath foul, spittle flying. Julianna ignored their laughter and offered to take Myra’s place. That made them laugh harder. And harder. They knew who she was, and she recognized them too. Colin and Alisdair. Two relatively new retainers in Robert the Bruce’s army. They knew Julianna was important. But she was sure they didn’t know how significant. She was a kitchen servant, or at least that’s what they thought her to be. It did not go unnoticed that she had the ear of Robert. No one, however, knew just what her role was. They’d kept that a secret. They’d had to. It was the only way to protect themselves.

After all, theirs was an illusion created to distract, to confuse.



Eliza Knight is a USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author of sizzling historical romance and time-travel erotic romance. Under the name E. Knight, she pens riveting historical fiction. She runs the award-winning blog, History Undressed. When not reading, writing and researching, she likes to cuddle up in front of a warm fire with her own knight in shining armor. 

Connect with her at http://www.elizaknight.com or http://www.historyundressed.com. You can sign up for her newsletter at  http://eepurl.com/CSFFD. Follow her on social media at:











Monday, June 5
Book reviewed at My Book Addiction and More
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Tuesday, June 6
Book featured at Nicole's Book Musings
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Wednesday, June 7
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Thursday, June 8
Book featured at Warrior Woman Winmill
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Friday, June 9
Book featured at Mello and June
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