InkSlinger PR Presents: Like The Wind Release Blitz

We are thrilled to be bringing you the release of LIKE THE WIND by J. Bengtsson! Previously released as an Audible Original audiobook, LIKE THE WIND is now available in ebook and paperback. Be sure to grab your copy today!

About LIKE THE WIND

Prepare to laugh, cry, and fall in love with this enthralling new romance from J. Bengtsson!

When a letter from his supposedly deceased mother finds its way into his hands, life changes in an instant for international pop star Bodhi Beckett.

Reeling from the deception of those closest to him, Bodhi spirals out of control and is sent to a secluded mansion in the coastal mountains of Southern California for some rest and relaxation. But the retreat proves to be anything but relaxing when a raging wildfire sets the landscape around him ablaze.

While escaping the flames, Bodhi rescues Breeze, a quirky, pet-loving woman, and together the two fight their way to safety. In the aftermath of the fire, Bodhi and Breeze hit the road to uncover the truth about his family. What neither of them expected is to forge a powerful connection that will change their lives forever...but can it survive the real world, or will it disappear like the wind?

Add LIKE THE WIND to your Goodreads TBR!

Get your copy of LIKE THE WIND today! Amazon | Audible

My Thoughts

As far as bad boy Rockstar meet down-home good girl who saves him from himself books go... Author, J. Bengtsson's Like The Wind is a bit confusing. The reason? Well there is plenty of Rockstar, plenty of money, and plenty of ...well glamour. There is a decided lack of bad boy or anything that slightly resembles a bad boy. Or for that matter an adult, mid-20-something, a person who should be allowed to vote. Did I fail to mention adult? To his credit, however. What we did get in Bodhie, was a sweet, sheltered and very sensitive young man. Who had been lied to, manipulated, and used.  And who was now figuring out not only who he was. But also who he wasn't. As for Breeze. As far as leading ladies go she was... Cute, understanding, altruistic, down to earth, convenient, etc...etc...etc... ad nauseam. In short, all of the things that are lost Rockstar needed to make him realize that he was, is, and would always be, the man. (i.e. Someone's knight in shining armor just as himself. Not Rockstar Bodhie.) What Breeze does do very well however is, provide the body with both the chance to and the reason to be a grown-up. The rest of the story is spent mostly having one's heartstrings to death. As both the reader and Bodhie come to learn the true depth of his tragic past. Involving the mysterious woman claiming to be his mother. As well as an even deeper secret involving his father. To tell the truth. The book does have the wherewithal to stand on those two plot twists alone. But the love story offers just the right amount of "happily ever..." to round things out quite nicely. This book seems to make a concerted effort to be that sweeter than cherry pie romance. Even managing to keep the love scenes mild and considerably more brief than this reviewer has seen in quite some time. This is most definitely a romance that can be read in public.

About J. BENGTSSON

A professional stay-at-home-mom for twenty-one years, Jill started her writing career in 2016 after reading a really bad rockstar romance. Although she had no previous writing experience and no desire to become an author, Jill was convinced she could write a better story.
 And so began Cake: A Love Story.

 She wrote the novel for fun and added every single thing she’d ever wanted to read in a romance. Embarrassed by her newfound hobby, Jill kept her writing a secret from her family. When the story was complete, she turned to Amazon to get the feedback she desired. Not thinking the book would ever sell, Jill planned to pull Cake off Amazon once it got a review or two but that never happened because, within a week of its release, Cake began to soar up the bestseller charts.

 Not only was Jill shocked by Cake’s success but now she had a whole new burgeoning career on her hands…and some explaining to do. Needless to say, the news of Jill’s secret book bay came as a complete shock to her husband and three children. Jill is now a full-time writer.

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Wednesday Books Presents: Wicked Saints

                                                                 BUY LINK:

https://static.macmillan.com/static/smp/wicked-saints/

“Prepare for a snow-frosted, blood-drenched fairy tale where the monsters steal your heart and love
ends up being the nightmare.” - Roshani Chokshi, New York Times bestselling author of The Star-
Touched Queen

A girl who can speak to gods must save her people without destroying herself.
A prince in danger must decide who to trust.
A boy with a monstrous secret waits in the wings.
Together, they must assassinate the king and stop the war.
In a centuries-long war where beauty and brutality meet, their three paths entwine in a shadowy world
of spilled blood and mysterious saints, where a forbidden romance threatens to tip the scales between
dark and light. Wicked Saints is the thrilling start to Emily A. Duncan’s devastatingly Gothic Something
Dark and Holy trilogy.

“This book destroyed me and I adored it.”- Stephanie Garber, New York Times bestselling author
of Caraval

4 N A D E Z H D A LAPTEVA Horz stole the stars and the heavens out from underneath Myesta’s control, and for that she has never forgiven him. For where can the moons rest if not the heavens? —Codex of the Divine, 5:26 “It’s certainly not my fault you chose a child who sleeps so deeply. If she dies it will very much be your fault, not mine.” Startled by bickering gods was not Nadya’s preferred method of being woken up. She rolled to her feet in the dark, moving automatically. It took her eyes a few sec- onds to catch up with the rest of her body. Shut up! It wasn’t wise to tell the gods to shut up, but it was too late now. A feeling of amused disdain flowed through her, but neither of the gods spoke again. She realized it was Horz, the god of the heavens and the stars, who had 005-75234_ch01_7P.indd 33 2/4/19 10:11 PM EMILY A. DUNCAN  34  woken her. He had a tendency to be obnoxious but generally left Nadya alone, as a rule. Usually only a single god communed with their chosen cleric. There once had been a cleric named Kseniya Mirokhina who was gifted with unnatural marksmanship by Devonya, the goddess of the hunt. And Veceslav had chosen a cleric of his own, long ago, but their name was lost to history, and he re- fused to talk about them. The recorded histories never spoke of clerics who could hear more than one god. That Nadya com- muned with the entire pantheon was a rarity the priests who trained her could not explain. There was a chance older, more primordial gods existed, ones that had long since given up watch of the world and left it in the care of the others. But no one knew for sure. Of the twenty known gods, however, carvings and paintings depicted their human forms, though no one knew what they actually looked like. No cleric throughout history had ever looked upon the faces of the gods. No saint, nor priest. Each had their own power and magic they could bestow upon Nadya, and while some were forthcoming, others were not. She had never spoken to the goddess of the moons, My- esta. She wasn’t even sure what manner of power the goddess would give, if she so chose. And though she could commune with many gods, it was im- possible to forget just who had chosen her for this fate: Mar- zenya, the goddess of death and magic, who expected complete dedication. Indistinct voices murmured in the dark. She and Anna had found a secluded place within a copse of thick pine trees to set up their tent, but it no longer felt safe. Nadya slid a voryen from underneath her bedroll and nudged Anna awake. She moved to the mouth of the tent, grasping at her beads, 005-75234_ch01_7P.indd 34 2/4/19 10:11 PM WICKED SAINTS  35  a prayer already forming on her lips, smoky symbols trailing from her mouth. She could see the blurry impressions of fig- ures in the darkness, far off in the distance. It was hard to judge the number, two? Five? Ten? Her heart sped at the possibility that a company of Tranavians were already on her trail. Anna drew up beside her. Nadya’s grip on her voryen tight- ened, but she kept still. If they hadn’t seen their tent yet, she could keep them from noticing it entirely. But Anna’s hand clasped her forearm. “Wait,” she whispered, her breath frosting out before her in the cold. She pointed to a dark spot just off to the side of the group. Nadya pressed her thumb against Bozidarka’s bead and her eyesight sharpened until she could see as clearly as if it were day. It took effort to shove aside the immediate, paralyzing fear as her suspicions were confirmed and Tranavian uniforms be- came clear. It wasn’t a full company. In fact, they looked rather ragged. Perhaps they had split off and lost their way. More interesting, though, was the boy with a crossbow si- lently aiming into the heart of the group. “We can get away before they notice,” Anna said. Nadya almost agreed, almost slipped her voryen back into its sheath, but just then, the boy fired and the trees erupted into chaos. Nadya wasn’t willing to use an innocent’s life as a distraction for her own cowardice. Not again. Even as Anna protested, Nadya let a prayer form fully in her mind, hand clutching at Horz’s bead on her necklace and its constellation of stars. Symbols fell from her lips like glow- ing glimmers of smoke and every star in the sky winked out. Well, that was more extreme than I intended, Nadya thought with a wince. I should’ve known better than to ask Horz for any- thing. 005-75234_ch01_7P.indd 35 2/4/19 10:11 PM EMILY A. DUNCAN  36  She could hear cursing as the world plunged into darkness. Anna sighed in exasperation beside her. “Just stay back,” she hissed as she moved confidently through the dark. “Nadya . . .” Anna’s groan was soft. It took more focus to send a third prayer to Bozetjeh. It was hard to catch Bozetjeh on a good day; the god of speed was notoriously slow to answer prayers. But she managed to snag his attention and received a spell allowing her to move as fast as the vicious Kalyazin wind. Her initial count had been wrong; there were six Tranavians now scattering into the forest. The boy dropped his crossbow with a bewildered look up into the sky, startling when Nadya touched his shoulder. There was no way he could see in this darkness, but she could. When he whirled, a curved sword in his hand, Nadya sidestepped. His swing went wide and she shoved him in the direction of a fleeing Tranavian, anticipating their collision. “Find the rest,” Marzenya hissed. “Kill them all.” Complete and total dedication. She caught up to one of the figures, stabbing her voryen into his skull just underneath his ear. Not so difficult this time, she thought. But the knowledge was a distant thing. Blood sprayed, splattering a second Tranavian, who cried out in alarm. Before the second man could figure out what had happened to his companion, she lashed out her heel, catching him squarely on the jaw and knocking him off his feet. She slit his throat. Three more. They couldn’t have moved far. Nadya took up Bozidarka’s bead again. The goddess of vision revealed where 005-75234_ch01_7P.indd 36 2/4/19 10:11 PM WICKED SAINTS  37  the last Tranavians were located. The boy with the sword had managed to kill two in the dark. Nadya couldn’t actually see the last one, just felt him nearby, very much alive. Something slammed into Nadya’s back and suddenly the chilling bite of a blade was pressed against her throat. The boy appeared in front of her, his crossbow back in his hands, thank- fully not pointed at Nadya. It was clear he could only barely see her. He wasn’t Kalyazi, but Akolan. A fair number of Akolans had taken advantage of the war between their neighbors, hiring out their swords for profit on both sides. They were known for favoring Tranavia simply because of the warmer climate. It was rare to find a creature of the desert willingly stumbling through Kalyazin’s snow. He spoke a fluid string of words she didn’t understand. His posture was languid, as if he hadn’t nearly been torn to pieces by blood mages. The blade against Nadya’s throat pressed harder. A colder voice responded to him, the foreign language scratched uncomfortably at her ears. Nadya only knew the three primary languages of Kalyazin and passing Tranavian. If she wasn’t going to be able to com- municate with them . . . The boy said something else and Nadya heard the girl sigh before she felt the blade slip away. “What’s a little Kalyazi as- sassin doing out in the middle of the mountains?” he asked, switching to perfect Kalyazi. Nadya was very aware of the boy’s friend at her back. “I could ask the same of you.” She shifted Bozidarka’s spell, sharpening her vision further. The boy had skin like molten bronze and long hair with gold chains threaded through his loose curls. He grinned. 005-75234_ch01_7P.indd

About Emily
EMILY A. DUNCAN works as a youth services librarian. She received a Master’s degree in library science
from Kent State University, which mostly taught her how to find obscure Slavic folklore texts through
interlibrary loan systems. When not reading or writing, she enjoys playing copious amounts of video
games and dungeons and dragons. Wicked Saints is her first book. She lives in Ohio.

See Her Socially:

SOCIAL LINKS:

Website: https://eaduncan.com/

Twitter: @glitzandshadows

Instagram: @glitzandshadows

Tumblr: http://glitzandshadows.tumblr.com/