Christmas in July? 🎄Well, why not! Especially when it’s a FABULOUS book by @peggy_jaeger #christmas #romcom #novella #romance #comedy

Book spotlights Continue reading

Spotlight… Forever Fredless

A new contemporary romance 
by 
Suzy Turner
Kate Robinson has spent the past two decades yearning to find her soul mate, the boy she found and then lost during a family holiday.

Shortly after her twenty-eighth birthday, however, she inherits a fortune from an old family friend and becomes something of an overnight celebrity. Can her new-found fame lead her to him after all this time?

EXCERPT

Thank God for anti-perspirant, I thought as I sat on the couch and waited for the countdown to begin. I clutched at my hands until they were white and looked across at the two people sitting opposite, both completely at ease in front of the cameras.
Five, four, three, two, one…
‘Welcome back to this morning’s edition of Good Morning GB,’ announced Ireland Rothschild, the blonde-haired, blue eyed darling of morning TV.
‘I’m here with Fergus O’Reilly and we’ve a special guest with us this morning. None other than Britain’s love-struck multi-millionaire, Kate Robinson.
Welcome, Kate,’ she said with a dazzling smile aimed more towards the camera than at me.As my cheeks began to heat up, I was so grateful to the make-up artist, who had insisted on caking on the foundation before the show had started. In fact, I had so much make-up on that I was hoping once I’d removed it, nobody would recognise me when I headed to the airport in my now rather stupidly chosen car. I couldn’t exactly blend in driving a pink Mini could I?
‘Good morning,’ I whispered shyly.
Fergus grinned back at me, tilting his head as if he was about to speak to a child. ‘Now, tell us, Kate dear, how does it feel to never have to worry about money ever again?’ he asked, his toothpaste advert  teeth twinkling beneath the heat of the studio lights.
‘Erm, well, I guess it’s… erm, kind of… erm,’ I felt so bloody stupid. Great time for my brain to stop working. ‘I – erm. Great,’ I nodded. ‘Great, really great.’ Idiot.
Ireland glanced across at her grey-haired colleague and pouted before nodding. ‘Tell us how you knew this man. This,’ she glanced down at the iPad on her lap and continued, ‘Samuel?’
I cleared my throat and lifted my head, feeling like my brain was back in action. ‘He was a very good friend of the family, some years ago,’ I answered.
‘Just a friend? Why did he leave you all his money and his property?’ asked Fergus.
‘He didn’t have any family and I guess you could say that my mother and I were the closest he ever had to a family.’
‘Isn’t that lovely?’ pouted Ireland. ‘You certainly are a lucky woman. But what about your mother? Didn’t she receive any of his inheritance?’
‘No,’ I said before swallowing hard. ‘My mother lives a rather… nomadic lifestyle, in Africa. She doesn’t want any of it. All she asked of me was to donate a sum to charity which, of course, I have done.’
‘She lives in Africa? A nomadic lifestyle? That sounds intriguing. Perhaps we should interview her one of these days,’ laughed Ireland and Fergus together.
‘Have you splashed out on anything since receiving your inheritance back in June?’ they asked, leaning forward eagerly awaiting my answer.
‘Yes I have actually. I bought a car and a new house.’
‘Well good for you, Kate. But now, most of us are curious about this boy you lost. Tell us about him?’Oh no. Why did I agree to this?
Taking a deep breath, I knew I had no choice. Several articles had been printed since the one in Liberty; everyone wanted to know more and nobody was going to leave me alone until I told them everything.
‘He was just a boy who I had a connection with when I was much, much younger. It was at Skegness. At an afternoon disco for kids. I was dancing and I felt someone touch my back and when I turned around there he was.  The most beautiful boy I’d ever seen,’ I said, stopping and smiling as I reminisced. ‘It was one of the happiest memories of my life.’
Sighing, I continued, ‘We just looked at each other and it was like everything else just disappeared into the background. We stood staring, for what seemed like ages. I could barely move. And then, almost as soon as it had begun, my dad appeared and took me away. I couldn’t do anything as we walked to the car. I looked around for the boy but he was gone. And then, just as we were driving away, I turned around in my seat and there he was. He had a daffodil in his hand. I always assumed he’d gone to pick it for me, but that’s just a childish fantasy, I guess. The whole thing is probably nothing but a childish fantasy, really.’Ireland was very carefully dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, pretending to be moved, while Fergus smiled sadly.
‘What a beautiful story, Kate. I don’t believe for one second that this is a childish fantasy. It’s romantic and beautiful,’ Ireland said.
‘Now, tell us, Kate. Why did you call him Fred?’ asked Fergus.
Smiling, I explained about the Right Said Fred song, just as the music began in the background.‘What a wonderful tale. Thank you, Kate, for joining us today. It’s been a pleasure having you with us to share your story,’ said Fergus.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered before the camera moved back to Ireland as she straightened her skirt and looked alluring. ‘Do you remember this moment in time?’ she asked. ‘Are you the elusive Fred? We’d love to hear from you. You can contact us at…’
Before I could hear anything else, I was ushered off the couch and back behind the scenes where Jo stood, waiting patiently for me, with open arms.

For more books by Suzy Turner go to Amazon



Suzy Turner has worked as a journalist, assistant editor,
features editor and magazine editor. Early in 2010 however, she began writing
full time and has since completed six books for young adults (the Raven Saga
and The Morgan Sisters series) and one chick lit novel, Forever Fredless.


Although Suzy is a Yorkshire lass at heart, she left her
home town of Rotherham, UK, to move to Portugal with her family when she was
ten. The Algarve continues to be her home, where she lives with her childhood
sweetheart and husband of 15 years, Michael, and their two neurotic dogs and a
cat who thinks she’s a princess.

Bringing the pain of real-life into fiction

Sad. Scary. Tragic. (But Funny!)
by
Francine LaSala
I got a call from an old friend the other day. We’d fallen out of
touch over the years, but she reached out when she’d heard I’d been through a
significant loss. We spoke for a while, sharing memories and getting caught up.

Then she told me the thing I most needed to hear.
“Francine,” she said, “I know you’re going to come through this.
Your sense of humor always pulls you through.”

77p/99c for ONE week only (ending November 8th) 
I thanked her, as you do when people say seemingly absurd things
to you at times such as these. And then I thought about what she’d said and why
she’d said it.

I have always been in the awkward habit of laughing when I hear
terrible news. Not
all terrible news,
but those things that are so terrible that sorrow somehow doesn’t seem
appropriate. That giggling (yes, crazy), somehow makes more sense. It’s not
schadenfreude. Maybe it is
schadenfreude. But whatever it is, it’s the defense mechanism that gets me through.


I do it in writing, too. All of my books–the two that are
published, and the ones that are in progress and will be published next year–have
all been born from some pain or loss. For Rita
Hayworth’s Shoes
, it was the heartache of a boyfriend’s betrayal. For The Girl, the Gold Tooth & Everything,
it was the fear of financial ruin, dread of the dentist–among other things. No
one would ever call my books “tragic”; they’re all totally screwball
and silly! Yet they center on various plights of the human condition. Laced
with laughs.

I don’t think you need to be sick in the head like me to find the
humor in any given situation, and then weave that humor into your own stories. Sometimes
you can do it with a situation; sometimes with a kooky character you bring in
to the situation to help break the tension. The
Girl, the Gold Tooth & Everything
is peppered with these characters.
There’s Char-a’tee Pryce, who continually mocks protagonist Mina Clark for
allowing the world to roll over her. There’s neighbor Harriet Saunders, who
takes all of Mina’s “bad mother” anxiety and flips it on its ear. (I
wrote a character piece for Louise
Wise
a few months back that will give you a taste of just how kooky Harriet
is.

What I’ve come to learn is that in any horrible situation, there
is the possibility to laugh. To take “Turn that frown upside down” to
the extreme in your life and in your books. It feels good to laugh. It pulls
you (and your characters) out of the gloom and doom; it helps you take a step
back and detach so you can breathe.


Here’s just such an example from The Girl, the Gold Tooth & Everything (which is on sale this
week for 99 cents, BTW!):

  “Girl, you in trouble. You better start watching your ass.”
  “What do you mean?” Mina was more than a little taken aback by Kim’s foreboding tone.
  “Have you made any new friends lately?”
Mina had in the past several days made more new friends than she had in years, but she gave no reply.
  “I’m gonna take that as a yes. Okay, well, here’s how it goes. Don’t trust anyone. You hear me, girl? No one.”
  “What do you mean—”
  “What I mean is, the bank’s watching you. You know this. And they got folks working for them. Out in the field and such. Spies, I guess you could call them. Special agents. Could be anyone—”
  “Kim, are you drinking?”
  “Look, I’m not shitting you here. They’re around to keep tabs on you. They’re gonna tell you all kinds of stories, like they’re looking after you—that kind of thing. So you gotta know this. It’s gonna get much worse for you soon, especially if you keep bouncing your payments. You and your family are gonna be in some serious trouble. You gotta watch your ass—”
  The connection cut out. Mina checked the caller ID and tried to call Kim back. She was greeted by a few shrill siren-like noises and an automated message. “The call you have made cannot be completed. Please check the number—”
  She hung up and dialed again.
  “The call you have made cannot be—”
  Mina hung up again. Now she had to pull herself together. This was not adding up. No phone gets disconnected that quickly.
  Why did she have so many new friends in just a short time? Coincidence? Maybe she had decided to open herself up to having new friends. Although all of them . . .Harriet and the other mothers, Char-a’tee, Alex . . .they’d all seemed to steamroll her into being friends with them, hadn’t they? And what of her old friends?   She hadn’t heard from Esther in days. Was Esther still angry with her? Was she pushing Esther away? And how the hell did she get her car back?
  Mina couldn’t think clearly and she began to fear the worst. That Dr. Barsheed might have been right. That knowing too much too soon could take her mind, and now she was in the midst of losing it completely. Was anything any of these people told her even true?
  Mina found Emma in her room, sitting in the middle of the floor, naked. She had managed to find and open a set of magic markers, and had completely covered the entire surface area of her hands in bright green. She had also drawn a giant green circle around one eye. With a red magic marker, she’d colored in her belly button, spilling over to her tummy. It looked like she’d been stabbed.
  Mina sank against the doorjamb and cried. Emma came over to her, snuggled her mischievously marked-up naked body into her mother’s lap, and said, ever so sweetly,
  “Don’t cry, Monny,” before peeing all over Mina’s pants.
  “What do you mean?” Mina was more than a little taken aback by Kim’s foreboding tone.  “Have you made any new friends lately?”Mina had in the past several days made more new friends than she had in years, but she gave no reply.  “I’m gonna take that as a yes. Okay, well, here’s how it goes. Don’t trust anyone. You hear me, girl? No one.”  “What do you mean—”  “What I mean is, the bank’s watching you. You know this. And they got folks working for them. Out in the field and such. Spies, I guess you could call them. Special agents. Could be anyone—”  “Kim, are you drinking?”  “Look, I’m not shitting you here. They’re around to keep tabs on you. They’re gonna tell you all kinds of stories, like they’re looking after you—that kind of thing. So you gotta know this. It’s gonna get much worse for you soon, especially if you keep bouncing your payments. You and your family are gonna be in some serious trouble. You gotta watch your ass—”  The connection cut out. Mina checked the caller ID and tried to call Kim back. She was greeted by a few shrill siren-like noises and an automated message. “The call you have made cannot be completed. Please check the number—”   She hung up and dialed again.   “The call you have made cannot be—”  Mina hung up again. Now she had to pull herself together. This was not adding up. No phone gets disconnected that quickly.  Why did she have so many new friends in just a short time? Coincidence? Maybe she had decided to open herself up to having new friends. Although all of them . . .Harriet and the other mothers, Char-a’tee, Alex . . .they’d all seemed to steamroll her into being friends with them, hadn’t they? And what of her old friends?   She hadn’t heard from Esther in days. Was Esther still angry with her? Was she pushing Esther away? And how the hell did she get her car back?  Mina couldn’t think clearly and she began to fear the worst. That Dr. Barsheed might have been right. That knowing too much too soon could take her mind, and now she was in the midst of losing it completely. Was anything any of these people told her even true?  Mina found Emma in her room, sitting in the middle of the floor, naked. She had managed to find and open a set of magic markers, and had completely covered the entire surface area of her hands in bright green. She had also drawn a giant green circle around one eye. With a red magic marker, she’d colored in her belly button, spilling over to her tummy. It looked like she’d been stabbed.  Mina sank against the doorjamb and cried. Emma came over to her, snuggled her mischievously marked-up naked body into her mother’s lap, and said, ever so sweetly,   “Don’t cry, Monny,” before peeing all over Mina’s pants.

What’s the craziest thing you ever thought was funny? Please share by leaving me a comment below.

Introducing…
The Girl, the Gold Tooth
and everything

Mina Clark is losing her mind—or maybe it’s already gone. She isn’t quite sure. Feeling displaced in her over-priced McMansion-dotted suburban world, she is grappling not only with deep debt, a mostly absent husband, and her playground-terrorizer 3-year old Emma, but also with a significant amnesia she can’t shake—a “temporary” condition now going on several years, brought on by a traumatic event she cannot remember, and which everyone around her feels is best forgotten. 

A routine trip to the dentist changes everything for Mina, and suddenly she’s not sure if what’s happening is real, or if she’s just now fully losing her mind… especially when she realizes the only person she thought she could trust is the one she fears the most. 


A Goodreadsgiveaway for the paperback copy is running now through November 8! Please feel free to
share the link starting Monday, October 28: https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/70037-the-girl-the-gold-tooth-and-everything-a-novel

To celebrate GIRL turning one, the eBook will be 99 cents for one week only. This is a limited time offer that is perfect for your readers to discover this quirky satire for themselves. Please be sure to spread the word!
FRANCINE
LASALA
has written nonfiction on every topic imaginable, from circus freaks to
sex, and edited bestselling authors of all genres.



She is now actively taking
on clients for manuscript evaluations, editing services, copywriting (covers,
blurbs, taglines, queries, and more), website and blog creation, and developing
kickass social media campaigns. 



The author of novels Rita Hayworth’s Shoes and
The Girl, The Gold Tooth and Everything, and the creator of The “Joy Jar”
Project, she lives with her husband and two daughters in New York.


(function() {var s = document.getElementsByTagName(“script”)[0],rdb
= document.createElement(“script”); rdb.type =
“text/javascript”; rdb.async = true; rdb.src =
document.location.protocol + “//www.readability.com/embed.js”;
s.parentNode.insertBefore(rdb, s); })();

Living the Chick-lit life

by 
Haley Hill 


My other life is perfect. The one I lead in my head.

I know it’s there because I’m always accounting for it. The rows of dresses I own, ideal for weddings I don’t go to, sprayed-on jeans and leopard print stilettos for bars and clubs I no longer frequent. A bejewelled evening gown- because you never know- and a gold sequined bikini, in case I find myself ten years younger and sunbathing on a yacht in Puerto Banus.

On a recent shopping trip, I worked myself into frenzy scooping up inappropriate clothing and then barging into changing rooms. At one point, whilst brandishing an armful of white linen trousers, I imagined a scene at a Chateau in the south of France. Standing on tiptoes in front of the mirror, I pondered whether wedges or kitten heels would be more fitting for a holiday I had no plans to book. Of course, in my parallel life I was sipping Rosè on an 18th century terrace overlooking ancient vines. Sunglasses propped up on my head. Skin slightly flushed from the rays, lips glossed. My hair swept up into a chignon. However, in truth, I’m not entirely sure what a chignon is.

It’s not as though a holiday in France is an impossible endeavour. It’s just that my mind has somehow edited out twin toddlers and a disobedient dog. Throw them into the mix and instead of me personifying effortless chic, I’m wearing a deeply harangued expression, brow furrowed, temples pulsing. Instead of organic white cotton, my trousers are industry spec Kaki green. What they lack in elegance they make up for in their ability to camouflage the inevitable ominous brown smudges. My top might be less military standard, but there’s every chance I’ll have a label sticking out or my bra strap showing while attempting to block determined toddlers from nose-diving into the pool. And my hair won’t be swept into anything, more like plastered down with the cohesive aid of Weetabix.

It was only upon recent reflection that I realised it wasn’t simply that my life was less glamorous since I had acquired dependents. Instead, it dawned on me that my virtual reality had never come to fruition, since it had reared its perfectly groomed head twenty years ago when I was preparing for my first ever date. Following the counsel of Just Seventeen, style bible for any aspiring teenager at the time, I had thoroughly prepared for the occasion, and envisaged strolling hand-in-hand up Bromley high street, the birds tweeting, the sun shining. I would wear my Miss Selfridge paisley dress and platform boots. We never got that far though, because in reality, he didn’t turn up. I later discovered it was because he’d substituted me for a girl called Felicity who was in the year above. She had bigger boobs.

Since then, measured against the chick-lit fantasy that plays through my mind, real life has rarely measured up.

The one thing that remains constant though, in both scenarios as they play out simultaneously, is my hand tightly gripping the stem of a wine glass.

Therefore, I invite a toast: ‘To idealism and reality. Never the twain shall meet.’

And if they do, at least I’ve got the wardrobe covered.

Introducing
It’s Got to Be Perfect
Amazon.com
Amazon.UK
When Ellie Rigby hurls her three-carat engagement ring into the gutter, she is certain of only one thing, that she has yet to know true love.
Following months of disastrous internet dates and conflicting advice from her dysfunctional friends, she decides to take matters into her own hands. Although now, instead of just looking for a man for herself, she’s certain her life’s purpose is to find deep and meaningful love for all the singles in the world.
Five years on, running the UK’s biggest matchmaking agency, and with thousands of engagements to her name, she has all the answers she needs. She knows why eighty-five percent of relationships fail. She knows why twenty-eight is the most eligible age for a woman. She knows that by thirty-five she’ll have only a thirty-percent chance of marriage.
Most of all, she knows that no matter what, it has to be perfect. Or does it?


Haley Hill was born in London in 1977,
with a big heart, big feet and big ideals. In 2005, she set up what turned out
to be the UK’s biggest matchmaking agency. She has since sold it and drunk the
proceeds. 



She lives in Battersea with her husband James, a wine merchant and
consequent enabler of her habit, their twin girls and a scruffy hound called
Rufus. She spends her days chasing her toddlers around the house, trying to
write but mostly just messing about on Twitter.

Step Away from the Cat!

by
Monique McDonell



I’m blogging today about a phenomenon that
I may be guilty of in my own fiction.  You’ll recognise it when I explain. It’s when a main character uses a pet as a
confidant and ally.
Let’s loosely call it ‘the animal as a literary device’.


Take a lonely
single girl who sits around talking to her cat (or dog or hamster) lamenting
her situation because nobody else understands her. Sure she might be a ditz and
she might be a bit flaky, but dammit if she isn’t home every night to feed Fido
or Whiskers and to lament her miserable life!


There’s a reason you see this in books and
that’s because when it’s done well, it works. Here are some very successful
examples that may spring to mind:


Janet Evanovich uses it in a lot of her traditional
romances, and in the Stephanie Plum series it seems Rex the Hamster is almost
the only thing Stephanie can keep track of (how one hamster has survived so
many explosions in one apartment with just a cage to protect him is quite the
mystery, but Stephanie needs Rex and so he has bravely powered on through
nineteen books so far!
Don’t let my cynicism throw you off, I’ve read all nineteen
of those books!).


A great example of this done well in the
chick lit genre is Must
Love dogs
by Claire Cook. I loved this book back in the day because at that
time it was a fresh angle….eight years later, hmm I’m not sure.


Meg Cabot did it in The Princess Diaries
(cat) and in The Boy
Next Door
(dog). If you can add pet-sitting into the story line you get
double points. Well, not that there are points but you get the dog as the
confidant and the fish out of water scenario as well. 
(In my first novel Mr Right and Other
Mongrels the main character has the opposite issue – a crippling dog phobia –
not much sitting around talking to the dogs in that one).

So what is my point you ask? People do have
pets and they do talk to them. People really will race home to feed their cat
rather than have a night of crazy sex
with a new love interest – either because
the cat really does need to eat or because it’s a nice way out when you’re
scared you like him too much or you don’t like him enough –  but either way it does happen. People do walk
their dogs and meet new friends at the dog park, absolutely. It’s real life and
that makes it realistic, sure.


I guess my point is that done well it is
just fine to have animals as confidants in books but done badly it’s just
another cliché. It’s another “here we go” moment for a reader and neither the
author nor the reader wants that.


That’s why I say “Step Away from the Cat”
unless he brings some unique energy or purpose that will have the readers
caring about that animal, not just as a literary device, but as a real life
character that they too would give up a wonderful romantic evening for.
Introducing…

Mr Right and Other Mongrels


Blissfully happy in her own universe Allegra (Ally) Johnson is the sweet best friend everyone wants to have. Quietly and independently wealthy she runs a charming second-hand bookshop in beachside Manly. Heck, sometimes she even goes downstairs from her flat to run the shop in her Chinese silk pyjamas. It sounds like bliss. But is it enough? 

When dog-phobic Allegra is rescued from an exuberant canine by the chivalrous Teddy Green, Australia’s hottest TV celebrity and garden make-over guru, her life begins to change. Dramatically!

Unaware of Teddy’s fame Allegra finds herself falling for him, despite her best attempts to resist his charm. Supported by her eccentric family and her fabulous gay friend Justin, Allegra embarks on an on-again off-again romance with Teddy, complicated by his jealous ex-girlfriend, fashionista Louisa and her own narcissistic hippy mother Moonbeam.

Will Ally be able to overcome her insecurities and find happiness with this possible Mr Right or will Teddy’s celebrity lifestyle prove to be too much?

Mr Right and Other Mongrels is a light-hearted story about how one chance encounter can change your life.


About author Monique McDonell is an Australian author who writes contemporary women’s fiction including chick lit and romance. She lives on Sydney’s Northern Beaches with husband and daughter, and despite her dog phobia, a dog called Skip.

At University she studied Creative Writing as part of of her Communication degree. Afterwards, she was busy working in public relations and didn’t write for pleasure for quite a few years although she wrote many media releases, brochures and newsletters – and still does in her day-job.

When she began to write again she noticed that writing dark unhappy stories made her unhappy, so she made a decision to write a novel with a happy ending, and has been writing happy stories ever since. 

Is chick lit intellectual enough for you?

by
Laura Barnard 

Often, when I tell people I’ve written a
book their face lights up.  



‘What kind of
book is it?’ they ask, surprised that I could write more than a post-it note.



‘Chick-lit.’ 


Then their faces drop.

It grates on me that the minute they hear ‘chick-lit’ they dismiss it as if I’ve written nothing more than a diary entry. I’m proud to be a writer of chick-lit and also proud that I’m an avid reader of it.


It’s
considered to not be intellectual enough for some people.  Unless you’re reading something that is
ridiculously confusing and makes your head hurt you’re not smart enough to be
considered a book-worm.

Author Laura Barnard


I couldn’t disagree more.  Any book, regardless of genre, is good as
long as people enjoy it.  



Why do I read
chick lit?
 L
ike most people I have a busy life, and at the end of the day I enjoy a cup of tea and to indulged in
someone else’s life. I don’t want to
read a horror and be scared someone is out there waiting to
kill me, neither do I want to read a thriller (after a long day I can barely remember my name let alone keep track of a
government agent double crossing another agent!).  



What I want is to read about a group of friends having fun. I want to hear about other women getting into
tricky, hilarious situations
. Most of
all I want to fall in love with a gorgeous man who I can dream about without
the guilt of them being a real person. I’ve
been known to utter a fictional character’s name in my sleep much to the horror
of my husband. I can reassure him he’s
not a real person.


What I’ve decided instead is that these
people who judge are pretentious idiots with nothing better to do with their
lives. But each to their own. I personally judge a book on
how it makes me feel by the end. If I
loved it and can’t get it out of my head it’s a winner.

  
Website | Facebook |Twitter



Introducing…


The Debt and the Doormat





Poppy and Jazz have been best friends from the first week of uni. Whenever these two get together trouble isn’t far away and things haven’t changed much. When Jazz gets herself into financial trouble Poppy, being a good friend, offers to help. She instead ends up being talked into swapping lives, with Jazz insisting it will be good and help her get over her broken heart. 


Poppy is thrown into a new life, full of crazy housemates; there’s fitness freak Izzy, horrendously beautiful bitch Grace and the slightly gorgeous, if not incredibly grumpy Ryan. Quickly, with the help of Jazz, her life is thrown upside down. Madness ensues and her need to please everyone gets her in more trouble than she could ever imagine.


Before she knows it she’s got a fake boyfriend and is hiding so many secrets she’s scared they’ll spill out any minute. With a bullying boss, a sex crazed colleague, a mental mother and three brothers each with their own dramas, life has gotten pretty difficult for Poppy. And all of this would be much easier, if she could just stop falling over. 

Will she get her life back to normal before her brother’s upcoming wedding? And will she want to?

At time of posting this book is FREE!