Book Blitz & Excerpt: Designed by Destiny + Giveaway

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Designed by Destiny
by Maya Tyler
(Fairy Godmothers Incorporated, #1)
Publication date: November 15th 2022
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

After a painful break-up in university, Bethany Clarke has sworn off love to focus on her career. From her humble South Side beginnings to her position as an architect intern at a prestigious Chicago firm, she’s proven to be a hard worker and is proud of her accomplishments. In three years, she’ll be a fully licensed architect which is more important to her than anything else.

Confirmed bachelor Nicholas Grey is more than the playboy perpetrated by the tabloids. Now his position as CEO of the architecture firm Grey & Company is on the line, and his mother’s interference is making things more difficult. Nick’s serious about his work, but, in order to be taken seriously, he needs to land a huge project. A stable personal life will help guarantee the contract.

Fairy Godmother Faye Delmore hears Nick’s plea and steps in to help. Posing as a publicist, she suggests a strategy to polish his public image, which includes convincing Beth to play his wife. Faye knows Nick needs the huge project to save his job, but she also knows he needs Beth in his life.

What happens when you add a fairy godmother who loves playing matchmaker into the equation? A future designed by destiny.

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“Where do you see your team, and indeed your company, in five years?”

Nick relaxed his stance, reverting into his trademark ability to think on his feet. Like a typical job interview, he sensed Kingsbury taking his measure not only through his words but by his demeanor. Kingsbury wasn’t just looking to hire Grey & Company, he was evaluating Nicholas Grey, the man. “We have interest in expanding our historic restoration department. Work completed on the Blackstone is just a fraction of what we can offer—”

Kingsbury held up his hand, halting Nick’s sales pitch. “You don’t need to sell me on your work. I’m interested in your vision.”

Nick faltered slightly, furrowing his eyebrows. Wasn’t it all synonymous—direction, vision? What angle was Kingsbury working?

“What will be your legacy, Nicholas? If I may call you Nicholas.”

Nick nodded. “An appreciation for varied architectural styles drew me to this industry, but I’m interested in more than making new contributions. Our role in preserving history is just as critical. And, if allowed the creative license, I see incorporating modernization with historical elements in our designs, like an architectural fusion.”

Kingsbury smiled approvingly. “Your vision sounds very innovative.”

“Would you have interest in working with us? I can meet—”

“Your work is impressive, but our majority shareholders are old-fashioned, expressing concern about your future.”

“Grey & Company is solvent, a financial position supported by multi-year pro forma statements which I can provide—”

“The shareholders have concerns about you, Nicholas. They want to invest in your company, but they would prefer more stability in your private life.” Kingsbury averted his gaze, looking uncomfortable for the first time during their conversation.

He placed his now empty glass on a strategically positioned cocktail table. “I can assure you, much of that reputation—” he made the air quotes gesture for further emphasis, “—is the result of bored tabloids looking for quick profit by any means necessary.” He scrambled for a semblance of a logical explanation that would satisfy Jamison Kingsbury’s old-fashioned shareholders without seeming contrite. Then, like the answer to an unspoken prayer, he spotted the beauty from earlier. “As a result, a precaution if you will, I am quite private. Enough of my life is misconstrued by the media, I don’t intend to hand them additional fodder.” He tilted his head, offering a conspiratorial smile. “In actuality, my fiancée is in attendance this evening.” He stepped toward the woman, took a fortifying breath—here goes nothing—and called out. “There you are, darling.”

The young woman looked up, peered around, but didn’t seem to notice him. He doubled his strides, needing every second to solidify his potentially disastrous scheme before Kingsbury caught on to his desperate deception. Fiancée? God, what was he thinking? Clearly, there was no thinking involved. Get yourself together, man. There would be plenty of time to berate himself later. Right now, he needed to save the game. He arrived at her side and whispered in her ear. “Just play along.” She stiffened and started to pull away. He caught her deer-in-the-headlights expression and knew it would surely tip Kingsbury off to his deception. He did the only thing he could. He cupped the back of her neck and captured her lips. Now, if she happened to look starry-eyed, there was a plausible cause. Her full lips were as soft as they looked. She even melted into his embrace like she’d been born to fit in his arms. He pulled away, breaking off the kiss before he could get carried away. He tucked her neatly against his side as a precaution, just to keep her from darting off.

“Well, well. I never thought I’d live to see the day the proverbial playboy settled down. And to this lovely creature, no less.” Kingsbury smiled, leaning over to kiss her hand. “Are you going to properly introduce us?”

“Maybe later.” Not knowing her name was problematic, but having her trembling like a leaf beside him was even more concerning. They needed to make a quick exit. It was always better to leave your audience wanting, right? He gave her a reassuring squeeze around her slender waist. She gave him a doe-eyed sideways glance, allowing him his first close-up of her brilliant blue eyes. “Right now, I need to steal my Blue Eyes away.” He offered Kingsbury an apologetic look—he hoped—before looping his arm in hers and leading them toward the exit.


Author Bio:

Maya Tyler is a multi-published author of paranormal romance novels and blogger at Maya’s Musings. An avid reader, Maya writes the books she loves to read—romances! Her paranormal romances come with complex plot twists and happily-ever-afters.

When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, listening to music (alternative rock, especially from the 1990s), practicing yoga, and watching movies and TV.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Pinterest / Instagram

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Book Blitz: The Light After the Orange, by Beverley J. Hall

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The Light After the Orange

The Tundra Stone Series, Book 1

by Beverley J. Hall

Fantasy, Contemporary Fantasy, Post-Apocalytic Fantasy, Dystopian

Date Published: July 19, 2022

Publisher: Leirsinn Publishing

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Eighteen-year-old Alex Chegasa, one of the first generation to be raised on post-apocalyptic Earth, was taught to embrace her magical gifts.

After the Orange, as the planet burned, magic trickled in. The bombs that had wiped out most life ripped open the barrier between worlds. Can the next generation, connected to the magic, be the solution to mankind’s problems or are they destined to repeat the mistakes of their ancestors?

Did the Orange, the very thing that ravaged the planet, also provide the solution? Or is magic more than a coincidence?

While Alex searches for somewhere to belong, in Massachusetts, she questions if survival is enough when she comes to understand that magic, used by the wrong people, could be more dangerous than the power of the generations before her.

Meanwhile, in a parallel story, we meet eight-hundred-year-old Fae, Billey NicNevin. With a past she doesn’t remember, she struggles to fit into Nuadh Caled (New Scotland) as it rebuilds itself. When she meets a woman whose soul calls to her, will she find her missing piece or tumble into insanity?

Are their destinies connected?


Purchase Links


Amazon UK




Other Books in The Tundra Stone Series


The Light of the Crann

The Tundra Stone Series Book 2

Coming October 18, 2022

Alex Chegasa’s new life as a princess is soon derailed and she is forced to hide on the Bassett moon. Here, her romance with Iggy blossoms but doubts haunt her, as she realizes the magical universe of Spirismus may not be as perfect as it appears.

Meanwhile, as Alex as she learns about her new home in the collection of planets and moons that form the magical universe of Spirismus, Billey NicNevin has reunited with her love, Geilis. Having regained her memory, she sets out to guide Alex on their joint destiny. But, knowing the price she must pay for her connection to the Crann, she must decide if love is worth more than destiny.

Hiding in the shadows, one person is determined to stop Alex’s destiny. Do Alex’s secrets threaten everybody around her?

Can they stop somebody who can’t be found?






About the Author

Beverley J. Hall was born in Kent, England, although her family returned to Scotland before her second birthday, which explains her accent. She grew up in North Lanarkshire, surrounded by rolling Scottish hills with her nose in a book.

She returned to South East England to study Art and Design at both Winchester School of Art and Central St Martins, in London. It was here she discovered her love of story-telling, as she realized that, no matter the medium, it was something her ADHD brain could thrive in.

After teaching for many years, she was diagnosed with a chronic illness and found her voice. She finally took the massive leap and returned to study an M.A. in Creative Writing to develop her skill and embraced her love of books, both reading and writing.

Contact Links








RABT Book Tours & PR

Spotlight & Excerpt: Fractured Path + Giveaway


I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the FRACTURED PATH by J.C. Cervantes Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!


Title: FRACTURED PATH (The Mirror #3)

Author: J.C. Cervantes

Pub. Date: July 19, 2022

Publisher: Disney-Hyperion

Formats: Hardcover, eBook, audiobook

Pages: 384

Find it: GoodreadsAmazon, B&N TBD,


Can dreams come true when you’re living with a family curse?

1965—San Francisco, California

The 1960s are bursting with music and movement and love in San Francisco, perfect for a budding artist like Blake. Unfortunately, the art world is not welcoming to people of her gender or her multi-racial heritage, making it tough to land an internship that could put her on the map. That, plus the fact that Blake’s family has been notoriously riddled with bad luck, makes her feel like she can’t catch a break. Things only get worse when Blake starts to have ominous, confusing visions that grow stronger and more frequent, prompting Blake’s aunt and uncle to tell her about a long-lost family heirloom that could be the key to everything

Fueled by the ambiguous clues in her visions, Blake sets out on a journey through the city to retrieve her ancestors’ legendary mirror. But Blake is not the only one looking for it. Soon she must attempt to unleash her own dormant powers . . . or else risk all she holds dear.


“While the beasts of prey, come from caverns deep, viewed the maid asleep.” –William Blake.

Tuesday, March 9, 1965
San Francisco

The rain was a soft pattering outside the classroom window.
A smooth rhythmic dance so unlike Blake’s rebellious paintbrush hovering over the  canvas.
The other Mission High students sat in front of their easels, painting and creating. Some  were pensive and focused; others were gabbing with their neighbors. Blake, on the other hand,  was bleary-eyed and entirely unfocused. She had only managed four hours of sleep last night.  Again.
She blamed it on the strange recurrent dream she’d been having for the last couple of  weeks. A dream that was hell bent on consuming her sleep. Maybe her sanity. Mr. Brown walked around the lively classroom, stopping at each student to offer  suggestions, words of encouragement, things like excellent layering or what does this represent?  He wore a thick wool sweater with plain gray slacks that were an inch too long. The  teacher was young, private, and forever distracted unless he was talking about art.  His hands were clasped behind his back while an overly zealous operatic tune crooned from the little record player in the corner. And while Blake questioned his choice of music, this  was her favorite place to be with its woody aroma of charcoal pencils, the intoxicating scent of  oil paint on over-used palletes, and the pungent smell of brush cleaner. For her, this classroom  smelled of dreams and possibilities.
In the gray afternoon light, Blake stared at her half-finished painting of a girl sleeping in  the same Willow tree Blake had been dreaming about. She tapped her paint brush across the  palm of her hand as if she could loosen the bristles into creative servitude.
Mr. Brown lifted the needle off the record and clapped his hands together loudly, to get  everyone’s attention. “Okay, class I think we need some quiet, contemplative, centering time.” A few groans rose up. Blake, on the other hand, was more than happy to fall under the  spell of one of her teacher’s meditations, close her tired eyes, and crash.
The rain fell steadily as Mr. Brown flicked off the lights, making the room a cool gray  oasis. “Fold your arms on the tables and put your heads down.” His voice was soothing, velvety.  Blake relaxed, inhaled, exhaled. Her eyelids grew heavier with every breath. Her limbs  weightless.
“Now, imagine a calm quiet peaceful place,” Mr. Brown went on. “Let yourself go.” “Where to?” some smart alec asked, but Blake was already drifting.
She began to imagine a stroll along the bay when…
A shadowy darkness unfolds.
Mist rises.
The Willow stands tall, its branches heavy with the weight of untold secrets. With a  resounding crack, the dark trunk splits down the middle.
To reveal a moonlit scene of sweeping trees draped across a stately brick home.  An imposing iron gate adorned with the name Devereux creaks open slowly as if a  phantom is urging Blake inside.
On top of one of the gate’s spires floats a pale blue heart, transparent as glass. At its  center is the drawing of a single brown eye, half closed eyelid, long lashes. One inch lower, Blake thinks, and the iron will shatter the heart. Another appears on a different spire. And  another. Large flakes of snow begin to tumble from the sky and then a woman’s voice comes  from inside the house, muffled and distant.
Blake’s limbs are heavy. An unseen force is pinning her in place, forcing her to see the  heart, forcing her to listen to the whispering wind.
Look. See. Remember.
Startled awake by her teacher’s voice, Blake shot up, banging her knee on the table. A  chorus of laughter rose up as the guy next to her, Bruce, said, “Sleeping beauty not getting  enough rest?”
She threw him a glare before Mr. Brown quirked a brow and said, “Seems you’re wanted  in the office.”
Half awake, Blake rose, adjusted her cardigan and smoothed her dark hair with all the  dignity she could muster.
She took the pink slip from Mr. Brown and headed into the corridor where she found  Olivia, the sixth period monitor. And her best friend.
“You won’t believe what I just heard,” Olivia squealed.
Blake, still a little light headed from her sadly short lived nap said, “You called me out of  class for gossip?”
“Well, yeah,” Olivia said nonchalantly leading Blake down the hall and out of Mr.  Brown’s sight. “Because it involves you.”
“Me? What did I do?”
Olivia tucked a shiny blonde hair behind her ear and rolled her wide set, curious eyes.  She had been Blake’s first friend when Blake moved to San Francisco to live with her aunt Remi  and uncle Cole after her parents’ deaths ten years ago. Their friendship was cemented in second  grade over snails. Willie Johnson had planted one in Blake’s peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  Olivia had been the one to save her from the impending doom of crunch and slime. Blake had  been the one to clean the poor sticky snail before setting it free on lush piece of lawn outside.  The two girls were immediately inseparable after that.
“You didn’t do anything, but…” Olivia stopped, leaned closer. “You know Carl, the fink  from P.E.? Well, he’s friends with Richie and Richie is going to, or at least he wants to ask you  to the prom!”
Richie Bannister. The boy with sharp blue eyes and a Beach Boy grin. The truth was that  Blake hardly knew him —she had only sort of admired him from the baseball bleachers and in  between locker stops for the last several months. He was quiet, barely speaking a few hellos, a  couple of heys, and a single apology for knocking into her accidentally in the hall.
“Richie?” Blake tried to make room for a plausible explanation. “He doesn’t even talk to  me. Why would he want—”
“—because you’re Blake Estancia. That’s why. You’re beautiful and talented and  mysterious. Boys love mystery.”
Blake disagreed with her friend’s assessment. She was not mysterious. She was just busy.  Still, her heartbeats grew into hard anxious thumps. “Liv, please tell me you didn’t do this.” It  would be just like her to play matchmaker, and the thought of that was both endearing and  humiliating.
Olivia released an annoyed sigh. “Of course not.” Then she grabbed Blake’s hands and  smiled. “I thought you’d be happy.”
Happy. Terrified. Stunned. Was there a difference?
“I just wasn’t expecting—” Blake inhaled slowly. “Just give me a minute to absorb it.  And you’re sure?” Her heart started to race again. “We can trust Carl the fink? l?” Liv rolled her eyes. “You think I would even mention it if I wasn’t sure?” Prom.
Blake knew it was a right of passage, but she had given it little thought. She had been  completely consumed by her art since she had applied, at Mr. Brown’s urging, for the most  competitive internship in the city with the amazing artist T.K. Grayson. He had been a child  prodigy, had been compared to Picasso by the time he was fifteen, had shown his work in  premier galleries all over the world by the time he was twenty. Had married and divorced two  actresses and three models by the time he was fifty. Not exactly a role model, but getting the  opportunity to learn from his artistic brilliance, to be his student, sort of overrode all that.
“Richie would definitely make for a nice prom picture,” Blake teased. “But it’s only  March. The prom is two months away. There’s still spring break, exams…” The internship.  “Maybe he’s an early planner. Or maybe he wants to clear the field.”
A tingle of excitement ran up Blake’s legs. “And you?”
“What about me?”
“Who are you planning on taking?” Blake knew Olivia would have her choice of who to  go with.
“I’m keeping my options open. I’m kind of scared that Dean is going to ask me.” “Big burly football Dean?”

“The one and only.”
“Well he has liked you since ninth grade and he’s really nice and…”
“…nice is such a drag. And speaking of.” She reached into her pant pocket and pulled out  a half used pencil with teeth marks and a ChapStick. She glanced over her shoulder then handed  Blake the items, “Can you do your thing with these?”
“Who do they belong to?”
“A couple of guys I’m trying to choose between. I figured you might get a glimpse— good or bad and it would help me decide. So how about it?” She gave a coy expression. “Use  your magic for your best friend?”
Magic . . . ha. She wouldn’t exactly call what she could do that. Magic was the thing that  always felt out of reach.
When Blake was a child, she had wanted to possess her mother’s power. She would  climb her backyard tree, raise her hands like a little sorceress and try to call the magic to her. To  make it bend the branches, incinerate the leaves, blow a gust of wind. Blake’s longing grew to a  size she couldn’t contain—year after year it stretched and pulled, tearing apart her ribs and  clawing up her throat. But her mother’s magic never came.
And even though magic had run in both sides of her family, the greatest powers seemed  to have been held by Blake’s grandmother Zora, a woman she only knew through stories.  According to Remi, Zora had the astonishing ability to create any disguise she desired and move  things with her mind. And then there was her extraordinary music and how she could use it to  channel her powers. That was useful magic. Significant magic that changes the world and your  place in it.
Sadly, Blake had barely-there magic. The rules were simple: She could sense things  when she touched objects—a flash of the sea, or a single note of music, or the taste of lavender  tea, or the fleeting feeling of regret. Nothing more. But the true power was in the object’s  memories, not in Blake. If the object chose to speak to her through any one of her five senses,  she could get a small sense of its history, which could be interesting, sure . . . just not earth  shattering.
Blake’s inheritance occupied an in-between space—not as powerful as her mother and  grandmother’s telekinesis, but not as slight as her aunt Remi’s ability, which consisted of  sending a waft of air to anyone anywhere in the world. The truth was, Blake was just a bits and  pieces girl.
“Nothing on ChapStick,” she said, handing it back to Olivia. “And the chewed up pencil?  I saw a puddle of blood.”
Liv’s eyes went wide with terror. “Seriously?”
Blake laughed. “No, but it sounds more interesting than the soda fizzing I heard.” “Well, that’s not at all helpful,” she sighed.
“I better get back.”
Olivia inched closer, studying Blake’s face. “Hold on…you look terrible.” “What happened to beautiful and mysterious?”
Ignoring Blake’s attempt at humor, Olivia said, “Beautiful and mysterious but with  serious bags. What’s the deal?”
“Just some weird dreams lately,” she admitted.
“About what?”
Blake thought about the dream she had just had in class with the spinning heart and an  eye at its center.
“Just weird symbols and a tree and stuff.”
Olivia pressed her lips into a thin line. “Jung says that dreams are the psyche’s way of  trying to communicate important stuff, so we should try to interpret them.” “Fine, but right now my psyche better get back to class.” Blake started to turn when  Olivia caught her arm.
“I bet I could help you interpret them.”
Blake was about to argue.
“Look,” Olivia said, “you’d be helping me. I’m supposed to find a research project—” “—Liv. I am not going to be your project. And really,” Blake urged, “they’re nothing.” Blake headed back to the art room, where everyone was back to work on their freestyle
projects. Thirty minutes later, Blake set her unfinished painting in her cubby and packed up her  supplies as the bell rang.
“Blake, can you hang back a minute?” Mr. Brown asked.
Shouldering her bookbag, she waited for the other students to file out before she headed  to Mr. Brown’s desk. Maybe he had some kind of technique advice. Maybe he wanted to check  in with how obviously distracted she’d been today. But instead he handed her an envelope.
The paper was crisp, cool against Blake’s fingertips. And then came the image of a shiny  white floor just as Mr. Brown said four magical words:
“You got the interview.”

Fractured Path is the third book in the YA fairy-tale quartet, following one family—and the curse that plagues it—over several generations.

Haven’t read the first 2 book in THE MIRROR QUARTET? Get them now!


About J. C. Cervantes:

J. C. Cervantes ( is the New York Times best-selling author of The Storm Runner, which Booklist called “a rip-roaring adventure” in a starred review. Her first novel, Tortilla Sun, was a 2010 New Voices pick by the American Booksellers Association and was named to Bank Street’s 2011 Best Book List. Jen grew up in San Diego and was fascinated by stories about Maya gods and magic. Follow her on Facebook, Twitter: @jencerv, and Instagram: @authorjcervantes.

Website | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads | Bookbub

Giveaway Details:

1 winner will receive a finished copy of FRACTURED PATH, US Only.

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Tour Schedule:

Week One:


Ya Books Central

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Sadie’s Spotlight

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Week Two:


BookHounds YA

Excerpt/IG Post


#BRVL Book Review Virginia Lee Blog



Two Chicks on Books




IG Post


Lady Hawkeye

Excerpt/IG Post


Rajiv’s Reviews

Review/IG Post


The Moon Phoenix

Review/IG Post

Week Three:



Review/IG Post


Fire and Ice




IG Review


Lifestyle of Me



Books a Plenty Book Reviews



Eye-Rolling Demigod’s Book Blog

Review/IG Post


More Books Please blog

Review/IG Post

Week Four:


Kait Plus Books

Review/IG Post/TikTok Post



Review/IG Post


The Chatty Bookworm

TikTok Review/IG Post



Review/IG Post/TikTok Post


History from a Woman’s Perspective



A Backwards Story

Review/IG Post


The Momma Spot

Review/IG Post

Week Five:


A Bookish Dream

Review/IG Post



IG Review



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Books and Zebras

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Two Points of Interest


Week Six:



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