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Sneak Peek Sunday

2/21/2015

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A peek at my cozy mystery, The Painted Lady Inn Mystery.

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The young officer tying the yellow crime scene tape to the rusty metal railing leading up to the porch reminded Donna of her nephew, who was all of fourteen. Her eyes narrowed as she considered the leaning rickety handrail. Definitely would have to go. Not only an eyesore, but also a legal liability if someone should stumble, grab the railing, which could snap off, and send the would be customer hurtling to the hard cement. Not good. Mental note to self: Unscrew the liability suit waiting to happen. Whenever a banister wasn’t present, she made an effort to be more careful. With any luck, others would do so too.

 The front door swung open, drawing attention. A few of her new neighbors stood bundled up in coats with their pajama legs and slippers peeking out the bottom.  The others she’d bet hid behind lace curtains watching the scene unfold, unwilling to chance the brisk winter morning air or the possibility of looking rude. Politeness served as a prerequisite in the restored Victorian neighborhood. Manners and money, that’s why she had jumped on the foreclosed home.  It would be the perfect place for her dream Bed and Breakfast.

A medic backed out of her front door guiding a gurney, which held a filled black body bag. The second medic handled the back end.  The series of steps leading away from the door made it difficult for the initial medic, a slender male, to handle. A couple of times, he lost his grip. The front end of the gurney bounced down the steps while the muscular woman on the back end chastised him.

“Come on Barney. Grab the bar and lift. Give the man some dignity.”

The medic reached for the metal bar, gaining control over the plummeting stretcher. Her new neighbors now knew a dead man resided under the black covering. Not good. Time to salvage her reputation and The Painted Lady Inn’s also.  Her father’s old pea coat, with obvious pilling across the wool material paired with a promotional drug ball cap some rep had given her on his last visit, made her look more homeless than actual business owner. Suck it up, Donna. Go do what you need to do. Damage control.

Her lips lifted up in a parody of a smile as she crunched across the frosted lawn. An elderly woman glanced up at her husband and took a step back. Seriously, did she look that bad? Okay, no makeup, but her reaction didn’t make sense. “Hello. I bet you’re wondering what’s going on.” She held out her hand to the man since the woman’s pinched mouth and panicked eyes didn’t encourage neighborliness.

The man hesitated for a brief second before taking her hand and giving a brief, firm shake. “Stan Whitaker. Yes, I did wonder what was happening. The sirens interrupted our breakfast.”

Ah yes, a complaint. Somehow she had ruined their breakfast. Finding a dead man in her newly purchased home put her off her cereal too, especially considering there wasn’t one there yesterday when she did the walk through with the realtor. “Um, sorry about that. I came over early to start on the renovations.”

The man’s bushy eyebrows lifted with the word renovation. Yeah, she knew the type. They didn’t think a woman could do anything besides cook and clean. Forever single, she had termed herself after being left at the altar at twenty-two. However, it gave her the opportunity to do many things most would consider man’s work, including renovating the neglected Victorian. Ignoring his attitude, she plowed on. “Wanted to get a rough feel for what I need to do first.”

She nodded her head as if she were considering ripping out walls as opposed to holding up paint chips and looking for mouse droppings. Her brother, Daniel, a construction supervisor, agreed to give his professional opinion and should be arriving any time now.

A car door slammed. “Hey Donna!” Her sibling’s voice cut across the chaos ensuing on her front lawn. Her hand went up to acknowledge the greeting. She wished the man didn’t have to yell everything, but probably the natural result of working with power tools.

“My brother,” she explained, noticing the frightened woman had no trouble peering around her for a look at her brother. Geez seriously. The octogenarian was checking out her brother in front of her husband, causing Donna to roll her eyes. The animated look on the woman’s face demonstrated her brother’s proximity. “I’m Donna, if you couldn’t tell.” She forced out a little chuckle as if commenting on her brother calling her by name was humorous. It wasn’t.

She spoke faster knowing any chance at meaningful conversation disappeared with Daniel’s appearance. Not only did the Universe bless him with the wicked good looks of a fallen angel with blonde hair and dark thick eyelashes all women envied, but he had charisma. Women, men, children, even dogs loved him.  It would be normal for her to hate him, but his constant concern for his older, single sister cancelled out the uncharitable emotion. Well, at least most of the time. Her new neighbor grew more interested, stepping forward, earning a dark look from her husband.

Ignoring the interplay, she spoke Yankee fast. “Anyhow, in the upstairs room, the attic really. Thinking about making that into a parlor. Great view. Went up to check the view again in the winter with all the leaves off the trees and found the dead man.“ A backward glance revealed her brother about two feet away and a man in a sports coat clutching a cellphone to his ear, stolling behind him. Great. Who could that be? Don’t let it be the local news.

“How do you know he was dead?” The woman managed to tear her eyes away from Daniel’s wide shoulders long enough to ask.

She inhaled  deeply. These people don’t know me. Be patient. I need their good will. “I’m a nurse. Have been for the last thirty years.”

The husband and wife looked at each other and smiled. The man met her eyes first.“ A nurse would be handy as a neighbor. My Hilda has spells.”

Oh great, another couple who expected free medical services. It was a common reaction when she announced her profession.  At least it wasn’t as bad as the men who announced they’d like to play doctor. That nonsense ended about the time she turned fifty.

“Glad to help,” she offered, not really meaning it, knowing she’d be saddled with a hypochondriac all hours of the day and night. Give a little to get what you want. Her father’s famous words about getting along with others, but it always seemed like she gave a great deal and got very little in return.

The scent of tobacco rode the air, causing her to pivot, searching the crowd for the offender. The man behind Daniel let out a puff of smoke as he returned her glance. At least he wasn’t polluting her inn with his vile smoke. Her window of opportunity would slam shut in about thirty seconds. “I was wondering if you knew the man. Why he might be in my house?”

They shook their heads in unison, although the man was the one who replied.  “Absentee owner. I heard he resided in another state. No one ever came around the last couple of years except for the realtor and the lawn service. “

Lawn service. A possible lead, but there was little to do in the dead of winter. “Hey,” Daniel called out, turning all attention on him as he usually did. Well, at least she had seven years of having her parents’ sole attention before her baby brother showed up.

“Oh,” she added, knowing the window named Daniel would slam down on her inquiries. “Good looking man with brown hair, expensive haircut. Preppy clothes, oxford shirt, khakis, and one of those club windbreakers. The ones that have the name of the club stenciled on the right side.  Probably in his late thirties.”

Hilda looked away from Daniel briefly, her mouth partly open, ready to answer, when Stan did it for her. “Nope. Don’t know anyone like that.”

Daniel nodded to the couple, giving them an easy smile that had them beaming back as if he’d just told them they were sweepstakes winners. Presenting his hand he shook both theirs. Hilda had no trouble shaking his hand. Donna stepped back, realizing her time was done, but she needed her brother, who engaged in chatter about the weather. 

Mr. Smoky eased up next to her. “I heard what you said about the dead man.”

Her eyes cut to the man beside her whose skin, upon closer examination, appeared weathered and wrinkled, not at all the appearance of a reporter. Too old, too rough, not one of the pretty boys who ended up in front of the camera. His tweed sports coat sported wide lapels, indicating the man was no slave to fashion or he was cheap, or possibly both.

Surreal. Everything had shifted at some point in time to left of normal. It could have happened while she slept. The man puffed away on his cigarette, getting the last drag before he dropped it and ground it underneath his loafer. Good thing they were standing in the neighbor’s yard and not hers. “Yeah, what about it?” She tried for the world-weary voice of a sexy 1940’s silver screen siren. The scratchy tone of her coffee-less voice grated.  Somewhere, between finding a deceased trespasser and calling the police, she’d put down her hazelnut coffee.

Her eyes remained on Daniel as he effortlessly charmed the older couple. Why couldn’t she do that? It would be a useful skill for running a bed and breakfast, but her practical nature saw small talk as a waste. She had considered making her brother a partner, but his wife Shelly quickly put the kibosh on that plan.  The man spoke, reminding him of her presence by her side.

“You have a good eye. You remembered a great deal while only seeing the man briefly before you called the police.”

Yeah. True, she  tended to remember things. Was he complementing her or accusing her? “When a dead stranger shows up in a newly purchased house, it makes a big impression.”

“Understandable.” The man agreed, patting  down his jacket. Finding a box-like bulge, he pulled out his cigarettes. “Do you mind?”

“Yes.” Her quick answer stopped him in the middle of shaking out a new smoke. He pushed it back in with his index finger, and replaced the pack back into his interior jacket pocket. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Need to quit. Nasty habit.”

Her top teeth rested on her bottom lip keeping her from agreeing as much as she wanted to. She didn’t know who the man was. It would be rude behavior anyhow. As an innkeeper, she’d have to learn to hold her tongue. Critical B & B owners probably earned very few return customers.

“Name’s Mark Taber, detective.”

“I’m Donna -” She never got to finish her introduction before the man finished it for her.

“Tollhouse, the owner, I know.”

Her top teeth clamped down on her lip again. While she could use some lessons on the art of small talk and social etiquette, Detective Taber could benefit from an extensive four-year course. At one time, she played with the idea of naming the inn, The Tollhouse Inn. Her best friend, Barb, discouraged her by pointing out most people didn’t associate the words Tollhouse and cookies together. They’d think there would be some hidden charge if the word toll appeared in the name.

The detective reached back into his jacket, despite the significant look she gave him. His fingers withdrew a long narrow tablet instead of the dreaded smokes.  Her gaze dropped to the ground as her cheeks reddened at her bold action. “Ms. Tollhouse, can you run me through your day?”

Naturally, he assumed she was single. Was it the man’s coat she doned, or the ball cap? Did he think she was playing for the other team? Then it hit her. Oh yeah, Ms.. The outdated term identified women whose marital status was uncertain or those who became bristly when asked. Hard to say which one applied to her.

She cleared her throat. “I left my coffee in the house. Could I go get it?” If she was going to do recite her morning of feeding her dog, grabbing the paint chips, and her short wait at Great Awakenings coffee shop, then she need something to soothe her throat.

“No.”

No, really? It was her coffee. She was the one who had overpaid for the meager paper cup of the sweetened brew she used to jumpstart her day. “Why?”

He furrowed his forehead, allowing his eyebrows to meet. Sure, he measured a few inches taller than she did, but definitely not a giant. If he thought to intimidate her, the man needed some work. She had the dubious privilege of working with numerous doctors who considered themselves gods, not to mention dozens of truly arrogant patients. Eyebrows in need of grooming did not do it.

“It’s a crime scene.” He said the words slowly, enunciating them as if she were either deaf or stupid.

“I know that. I called 911 when I found the dead trespasser.” Donna’s nose crinkled in response to his condescending tone. Someone might have considered her tone abrupt also. Her brother glanced at her, turning away from his enraptured audience, and mouthed the words watch it.

“Trespasser?” The detective pushed his jacket aside and placed his hand on his hip, exposing his holstered weapon.

Was the move supposed to scare her? To prove he was a big bad cop who carried a gun? Somehow that made him better, smarter than her. Not happening though. “That’s what you call somebody who is on your property without permission. The fact he’s dead just makes it more mysterious.”

“Dead. Yeah, he’s dead alright. Murdered.”

Hilda gasped and grabbed her husband’s arm at the detective’s overloud words. The tiny woman directed a baleful glance Donna’s way as if she had something to do with the dead man. Home values in the neighborhood immediately plummeted with Tabor’s pronouncement. Everyone looked at her, including her brother.

“Hey, I didn’t know he was murdered.” She held up her hands waist high, but dropped then when she realized it looked too much like she was surrendering. “I checked his pulse and called the police. There wasn’t any blood that I could see.”

“That’s because,“ The detective halted his words, noticing everyone’s intent stares. “Never mind. Forget about it.”
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Five Star Giveaway

2/21/2015

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InD'Tale Review Magazine recently gave The Soul Mate Search five stars to celebrate I'm giving away three signed softback copies of The Soul Mate Search. Make sure to enter by commenting, but you can snag your Ecopy using the code SoulMate40 at SweetCravings

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Read the full review here

WHAT IS A SOUL MATE

Does everyone have a soul mate? Better yet, what is a soul mate? It depends on how you define a soul mate. The Greek philosopher Aristophanes first coined the idea of a race of soul mates. Instead of two individuals who loved each other, his soul mate had four arms, four legs, and two faces. They were two humans united as one. They had one mind, one purpose, and one soul. In each other, they found complete happiness and had no need for anything or anyone else, especially the gods. Zeus, the head god, split the soul mates asunder with a thunderbolt. Devastated, the separated soul mates spent the rest of their lives looking for one another, questioning everyone they met with the single poignant question, “Are you my soul mate?”

If you have a soul mate, would you recognize him or her? Probably not.  Your eyes don’t always meet across the room and you know. Ricardo Montablan, actor best remembered for his Mr. Roarke portrayal, did experience such a connection. He spotted his future wife, Georgiana, across the room at a crowded party. As he made his way toward her, he thought this is my bride. Two weeks later, they married and remained devoted to each other for the rest of their lives. Not too surprising, Ricardo died shortly after Georgiana’s death. One of the components of a soul mate is not imagining life without the other. Wonderful story, exactly the kind you’d expect for a soul mate, but it seldom works that way.

It would be wonderful if we all knew who are soul mates are, but sadly, we don’t. Why aren’t we meeting our soul mates? Most of us have shaped our perception of soul mates via romantic movies. In fact, many women specify on online date sites that they’ll only date men six foot and taller, blue eyes, and dark hair.  That cuts out more than 89 percent of the men. We expect certain packaging and often tolerate shabby treatment from someone who meets our erroneous appearance standard. The second reason is timing. Often people expect a soulmate in their twenties and when it doesn’t happen, settle into a mediocre relationship or grow embittered because of lack of a soul mate. The third reason is opportunity. The old joke is the only person who comes to your door is the UPS man. Lately, he only rings the bell and runs. Finally, the fourth reason is lack of belief. Even though many people believe in soul mates, an equal amount don’t believe. These people grumble that men are jerks and women are users. People tend to get what they expect.

The late Agatha Christie endured a rough first marriage, but eventually divorced to find real happiness and literary success with her second husband. Her second husband’s support and belief in her made the seventy plus novels she wrote a reality.  A soul mate supports your most secret dream.

Soul mates have a tendency to look each other in the eye more than other couples do when speaking. They’re respectful of each other. No talking to the profile because they value what the other has to say. A soul mate makes you feel good about yourself. By his or her side is exactly where you want to be.


No wonder Nina wants to finds hers after being told he exists, even lives in the same town. 

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EXCERPT

Rain started by the time she pulled into the grocery store parking lot. Her planned sprint turned into a walk as dizziness swept over her. Great, all she needed was to pass out. Making it into the store foyer, she shook to rid herself of the excess moisture, no doubt resembling a dog. The store cranked up the air conditioning normally, but today with damp clothing, it was frigid.

She rushed through the store as her arms goose pimpled from the chill. A quick glance down at her wet shirt explained why the man stocking sodas stared at her, well at her chest anyhow. Pulling the wet shirt away from her skin, she headed for the grinder. Pouring the coffee beans into the grinder, she mentally calculated how long it would take her to return to the sanctuary of her house. So far, so good.  No one she knew had seen her. Just as well, she didn’t want to make polite with anyone. Her bed called out to her. She could hear its siren call over the sound of the coffee grinder.

Inhaling the aroma of fresh ground beans deeply, she thought the heavenly scent by itself might heal her. Taking her coffee, ginger ale, and snatching up some yogurt, she headed for the self-check scanner. She was ready to explain to the cashier who monitored the aisles she’d brought the coffee in with her, but the woman never looked up from her perusal of a gossip magazine.

Her purchases bagged, she headed for the car. All she had to do was reach her car without any human interaction, when a man walking in spoke to her.

“Your coffee smells wonderful. Is it a Sumatran blend?”

She looked up into the face of a smiling man with curling damp hair and water spotted glasses. Her brain went dead. The absolute worse time to meet anyone. She managed to mumble her reply. “I think it is.” She walked away hoping he wasn’t watching her. Why couldn’t she run into men like that when she was dressed for work?

Unlocking her car, she slipped on the smooth leather seat since her legs were wet. Could she look any worse? Men didn’t normally try to strike up conversations with her in the grocery store, with the exception of the butcher who tried to convince her to buy a more expensive cut of meat. Twisting the key into the ignition, she drove home. The brief flash of the man who talked to her came to mind. He was taller than she was, a little on the lanky side, curly hair with a few threads of silver, glasses, and brown eyes. Her foot stomped on the brakes. Oh my God, it was her soul mate!



WANT YOUR OWN SIGNED COPY OF THE SOUL MATE SEARCH? COMMENT WITH YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS.

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The Violet Widow Release day

2/17/2015

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Title: The Violet Widow?
By: KE Osborn
Release date: 18th February 2015
Hosted by:Francessca’s Romance Reviews


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Synopsis

What would you do if the life you lived, the life you loved, was ripped from you tragically? How could life possibly go on? The only way to function and to continue living is to become someone else. Someone completely different to who you were.
When life breaks you the only thing you can do is fight back. But at what cost? If you become someone else, the polar opposite to everything you stand for, does becoming The Violet Widow make anything better? Or will it make everything a hundred times worse?
Finding love is something The Violet Widow never thought possible, but when an unknown man shows up on the five-year anniversary of her life changing, how can she resist the handsome stranger?
Her walls are up. She is guarded.
So how can one possibly love again after losing so much?
The answer is simple - choose to live!
What path will she take? The path to fade into the darkness, or the path to live?

The Violet Widow? For you to put on your TBR list in Goodreads:
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TEASERS

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About The Author

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Australian author K E Osborn was born and raised in Adelaide, South Australia. Having worked in the optical industry for some time, K E Osborn decided it was time to leave the optical world behind and start on something new. With a background in graphic design and a flair for all things creative, she tried her hand at writing.
K E Osborn hid the fact that she was writing from her family, as she believed her first story was simply something she had to get on paper first and then judge if it was good enough for others to read. It wasn’t until her mother found a printed version of the manuscript that her secret came out. She was a writer, and she loved it. Writing gives her life purpose. It makes her feel, laugh, cry, and get completely enveloped with the characters and their story lines. She feels at home when writing.

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One More Chance Release Day

2/6/2015

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Blurb:
Dr. Alex Campbell has an agenda—finish his contract to provide medical services in Maine, pay off his medical school debt, and head back to his real life in San Diego. But when he meets Julia, all his carefully laid plans are put in jeopardy.

Julia Stewart, Lobster Cove’s high school principal, swears she’ll never let another man drag her away from the home she loves. Her aging parents need her, and the Cove is where she wants to raise her daughter. When her mother’s illness brings her and the big city doctor closer together, panic sets in. Her marriage taught her men don’t stay.

Can she put aside the heartaches of the past and trust Alex enough to accept the love he’s offering? Or will her fear of abandonment mean she’ll send him away forever?


Excerpt #1: (If you decide to use an excerpt, please choose just one)

“What did the x-ray find?” she asked.

“A spiral fracture of the right arm.” He paused for a moment and took a deep breath as if trying to control his emotions. “I’ve seen this kind of injury before. A fracture like this can be the result of a fall, but it can also be an indication of child abuse. An arm as small as Ava’s will break like a twig if it’s twisted hard enough. I’m obligated to contact the authorities if I suspect abuse.”

Julia stared at him in mute shock, her brain struggling to process his words, as if trying to translate some unintelligible language. The words child abuse rang in her ears. Finally she found her voice.

“You think someone deliberately hurt her?”

“Her injuries are consistent with abuse.”

“I don’t give a damn what they’re consistent with. Ava has not been mistreated. My mother said she fell down the stairs, and if that’s what she said, then that’s what happened.”

“I believe there’s more to the story than a simple fall.”

“If it comes down to believing you or believing my mother, I’m going with my mother.”

“Perhaps you don’t know your mother as well as you think you do.”

Julia sucked in a breath and stared into Dr. Campbell’s dark, accusing eyes. The idea that her mother would hurt Ava was ridiculous. She adored Ava, would do anything for her…

She blinked and looked away, remembering an incident the other day. She’d heard her yelling at Ava about the milk she’d spilled on the kitchen floor, making such a huge deal of it that Ava had cried. It had struck her as strange, since she couldn’t remember her mother yelling at anyone, ever. She wasn’t as patient as she used to be. And how did she explain her strange phone call telling her Ava had been hurt? Of course she’d been upset, but her mother had been nearly incoherent with distress. Was something going on she wasn’t aware of? She was seventy-one now. Maybe looking after a rambunctious five-year-old was too much for her.

No. She shook her head to reject the disloyal thought. Dr. Campbell was the one who was wrong.

“I know my mother. She didn’t do this. It was an accident.”

“We’ll soon find out. Sharon is questioning Ava now.”

Julia stared at the door. “She’ll be scared, all by herself.”

“Sharon’s very good at what she does. She has a way of making kids feel comfortable.”

Julia turned on him, the anger and despair she’d been holding inside spilling out. “And you? Do you enjoy upsetting five-year-olds and turning families’ lives upside down? Does it make you feel powerful to sic the authorities on us?”

“Look, Mrs. Stewart, I take no pleasure in bringing in the authorities. But I’ve seen child abuse, up close and personal, and I can tell you it’s damn ugly. The things parents and caregivers are capable of doing to defenseless children…”

He stopped abruptly, his chest heaving. Closing his eyes, he averted his face and took a deep breath. When he turned back to her, his steely control was back in place. “So yeah, if I have even the smallest suspicion that a child has been abused, I’m going to ask questions. And I’m not going to apologize for it.”
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Bio:
When Jana Richards read her first romance novel, she immediately knew two things: she had to commit the stories running through her head to paper, and they had to end with a happily ever after. She also knew she’d found what she was meant to do. Since then she’s never met a romance genre she didn’t like. She writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and historical romance set in World War Two, in lengths ranging from short story to full length novel. Just for fun, she throws in generous helpings of humor, and the occasional dash of the paranormal. Her paranormal romantic suspense “Seeing Things” was a 2008 EPPIE finalist.

In her life away from writing, Jana is an accountant/admin assistant, a mother to two grown daughters, and a wife to her husband Warren. She enjoys golf, yoga, movies, concerts, travel and reading, not necessarily in that order. She and her husband live in Winnipeg, Canada with their Pug/Terrier cross Lou and several unnamed goldfish. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website at www.janarichards.com

 
Social Media Links:

Website:  http://www.janarichards.com

Blog:  http://janarichards.blogspot.com

Facebook:  http://www.facebook.com/JanaRichardsAuthor

Twitter:  http://www.twitter.com/JanaRichards_

Amazon Author Page:  http://www.amazon.com/author/janarichards

Newsletter Signup: http://www.eepurl.com/m3UnT

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2892274Jana_Richards

Google+ Profile:  https://plus.google.com/100820406211390323245


Pre-order Buy Links:

Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/More-Second-Chance-Lobster-Cove-ebook/dp/B00S46KSX6/ref=sr_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1421199187&sr=1-4&keywords=jana+richards


The Wild Rose Press: http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=195&products_id=6065
 

Kobo:

 http://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/one-more-second-chance

 
Chapters/Indigo:

http://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/one-more-second-chance/9781628307061-item.html?ikwid=Jana+Richards&ikwsec=Books&ikwidx=0

 
ibooks:

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/one-more-second-chance/id959306323?mt=11


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