Sometimes two wrongs are the only way to make it right.
Power-couple Angela and Mitchell Point wanted to build a family. Instead, they got torn apart and pieced together separately. Without warning, their old and new lives collide in a Castaway meets Hope Floats tale of love lost and life recovered.
When every choice breaks a heart, doing the right thing is impossible.
(review request submitted by the author for an honest critique)
The drama that unfolded in The Other Shore by Tracy A. Ball reminded me of storylines that you’d see on a soap opera, and I loved it!
Yacht destroyed.
Crew members dead.
Lives in peril.
Passengers lost, presumed dead.
Miraculous rescues.
And then the real drama kicks in!
Five adults, multiple love triangles —forget daytime tv, I want more of Tracy’s written soap opera. It’s fantastic, and the cover was sensational as well.
Heart Rating System: 1 (lowest) and 5 (highest) Score: ❤❤❤❤❤
Made entirely of rum and snacks—International Bestselling Author, Tracy A. Ball is a native Baltimorean and veteran West Virginian, whose family is a mashup of cultures. She writes real and raw interracial romance with an intensity that burns because she has been busting stereotypes while teaching interracial/generational healing for more than a quarter of a century.
Tracy engages with folks from every twist of fate and all manner of experience. She has hung out with murderers and dined with people who have dined with the Pope, which is why she needs the rum…and a nap.
Sometimes two wrongs are the only way to make it right.
Power-couple Angela and Mitchell Point wanted to build a family. Instead, they got torn apart and pieced together separately. Without warning, their old and new lives collide in a Castaway meets Hope Floats tale of love lost and life recovered.
When every choice breaks a heart, doing the right thing is impossible.
He gave her a tour of his brother’s estate. They raided the refrigerator and hung out in his game room playing table football.
“You’re good at this,” Nolan said after her second straight win.
“Every single group home Deidra and I lived in had at least one.”
From the interviews after the rescue, Nolan knew she had no other relatives, but she hadn’t spoken about it before now. “How many homes did you live in?”
“Six or seven. I don’t remember.” She moved over to Rob’s ping pong table.
He followed her over and served first. “May I ask about your family?”
“You may.” She slammed the ball hard enough to make him stretch. “No clue about our dad, or dads. One day, our mother took us to social service. She sat us in a chair and said she was going to the restroom.” The ball bounced back and forth between them. “Or so we’ve been told. I wasn’t quite a year yet and Deidra was two. We were lucky. They kept us together. We don’t have any hard feelings or psychopathic tendencies I’m aware of. Just one of those unpleasant happenings in life.”
“You seem healthy. Not a psychopathic tendency in sight.” His serve whooshed past her.
She gave a girlish squeal that made him chuckle. “Healthy lungs too.”
“I’ll get you for that!”
The game ended when the last ping pong ball rolled under the sofa. “Do you want to move the couch, or move on to the next game?”
It was a three-piece reclining sectional. “No, thanks.” She laid her paddle down and pointed to the pool table. I have no clue how to play this game, but I’m going to brutalize you.”
“Brutalize me?” The idea wasn’t at all unpleasant to him.
“Oh yeah. I’m dangerous.”
It wasn’t long before he discovered how dangerous. She repeatedly knocked the balls off the table and once lost her grip on the pool stick.
“You’re not dangerous. You’re a menace.”
She laughed, agreeing with his assessment. “Mitch tried to teach me once. You can see how that turned out. That was before we stopped having fun.” She paused. Her wood-brown eyes, glossed over with unshed tears, took on a smoky hue. “I’m sorry. That was ungracious of me.” She laid her pool stick down and turned her back to him. “I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
Likewise, Nolan set his stick aside. He joined Angela on her side of the table, leaning against the rail. “You’re not ungracious. It’s all right to speak the truth.” He touched her shoulder. “Even about the dead.”
Angela glanced at him and then away.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She sighed. “I shouldn’t think negatively about him.”
“You can’t feel guilty about that. He was human and so are you.”
His compelling tone drew her in. “I had a great marriage. That can’t be denied but… but sometimes, it wasn’t good. I don’t remember precisely how I felt at the time, but I…I recall not liking some of it. We had money and jobs and freedom. We bought stuff and did stuff and people were always envious. Mitch loved that. People envying the illusion we created. When I let myself dwell on it, I can see that’s what it was: an illusion. He never forgot my birthday, but he couldn’t remember to stop at the dry cleaners. The big deal things that everyone talked about—no problem. The little things… hanging out in the kitchen while I put away the dishes, teaching me to shoot pool or keeping a dumb promise—that was always missing. Part of me feels stupid and selfish. He did so many great things, why should I care about doing the dishes together? If I wanted one, he’d have gotten me a housekeeper.” She shut up then.
Her rigid stance, the way she hugged herself, and her too-tight control told him she needed to talk. He let her.
“We wanted a baby. I’m not sure why Mitchell did—probably because it fit our success story image. No. I’m being petty. Sorry.”
“Why did you want a baby?”
“Because I love children.”
Nolan sensed there was more. He waited.
“Because a baby would need me and love me for all the little reasons nobody can see. But I’m out of luck there too.” Now, the tears came. A soft trickle, rolling across her cheek. “I have what they call unexplained infertility. There’s no medical reason why I can’t conceive. No one can tell me how to fix it.” She hunched her shoulders. “Mitchell tried to fix it. We redecorated our condo. We bought a new Mercedes. He took me to Cancun. He booked the cruise home to extend our vacation because he was fixing it. But he couldn’t fix me. Half of the time he didn’t recognize me. And now, I can’t recall the few precious moments I did have.” She turned around again, agitated and sad. Very sad.
Nolan digested the information. She was as complicated as she was beautiful. He didn’t have any words of comfort to give her. She wouldn’t receive them anyway. He picked up the pool stick and offered it to her.
She took it on reflex.
Positioning himself behind her, Nolan adjusted the stick properly in her hands. “You put your fingers like this… Hold the back a little higher.”
“Like this?”
“Yes. You want to slide it through easy. Like this…”
His arms were around her, their fingers entwined as he guided her movements. Her tension ebbed away as she relaxed into him.
Made entirely of rum and snacks—International Bestselling Author, Tracy A. Ball is a native Baltimorean and veteran West Virginian, whose family is a mashup of cultures. She writes real and raw interracial romance with an intensity that burns because she has been busting stereotypes while teaching interracial/generational healing for more than a quarter of a century.
Tracy engages with folks from every twist of fate and all manner of experience. She has hung out with murderers and dined with people who have dined with the Pope, which is why she needs the rum…and a nap.
One driven woman. Five passionate paths to the perfect love.
Chloe refuses to compromise when it comes to romance and success. Powering through her sophomore-level college business classes, she’s done with the effort of distance-dating her high-school sweetheart. But when he proposes just as she hits it off with a hunky basketball player, she worries following her heart could send her bright future to the bench.
As Chloe matures becoming a rising star in the fashion industry, love knocks another four times. But while each potential suitor eventually pops the question, only she knows her ultimate happy ending.
Whose arms will embrace Chloe when she chooses her forever man?
Perfect is a standalone clean contemporary romance. If you like tender moments, lighthearted comedy, and endings you choose yourself, then you’ll adore Tricia Copeland’s option-filled tale.
Buy Perfect to pick your ideal walk down the aisle today!
I thought this book was a unique and interesting take on a HEA! The reader meets Chloe and we see the various men in her life. We also get her take on what would make for her happily ever after. I enjoyed the way this story is told and the various relationships Chloe has. They are all very different and have lead her to where she is in life. The reader sees the path she has taken and how things could be different for her. Her story is sweet, tender and has some heartache, just like life. I was lost in her journey and think you should take this ride as well!
Perfect is a fun and thought-provoking book to read because of its varying life paths structure. I’m always intrigued by the thought of how the big choices we make determine the path of our lives. Main character Chloe has to make such choices regarding college and career as well as in her love life. She has a good group of friends and a string of love interests, and her interactions with them are engaging. I especially enjoyed the author’s character development, descriptions of settings, and wit. Also, the ending was “perfect” for this story. I highly recommend this book.
Perfect by Tricia Copeland was a creatively written book. It is written in a new way for Tricia. It was an entertaining story and challenged me to ponder what happens in the book and comparing to what happens in real life relationships. Kudos for Tricia and another great book.
Hawk shifter, Brennon Underhill is on a mission to shut down rogue labs and take down those responsible for experimenting with humans and shifters. A startling connection ignites within him after one look at Mikki, the only survivor of horrific deeds, and he knows he’ll do anything to save her and make her his.
One moment Mikki Babineaux is celebrating with friends, the next she realizes she’s been kidnapped and put through torture. Her savior comes in the hulking form of a gorgeous stranger named Brennon who sparks decadent desires. But learning he’s a shifter, and she may now be one as well, throws her world into a tailspin.
Can they rise above the chaos to find love and balance with one another?
Brennon hooked the radio to his pants. He then raised his hand to the glass and flattened his palm to the window. The glass wasn’t any thin, two-pane panel that might be easily broken. It looked to be solid, nearly the same thickness as the door, at close to two inches. So what had caused the cracking? On the inside, no less. He looked to the woman with wonder, staring, beseeching her with his eyes to approach the glass again.
She looked at his hand, then his eyes, and took a hesitant step forward. Slowly, cautiously, she raised her hand but held it away from the glass.
“Come on, trust me,” Brennon whispered.
Her gaze locked with his as she pressed her palm to the window opposite his hand. When she made contact, Brennon could’ve sworn he felt her heat radiate through the thick barrier. And she must have felt something too because a tiny gasp escaped her mouth, causing the glass to fog with her breath. Her breathing increased, her chest moved rapidly, and her eyes dilated, becoming almost completely black from her wide pupils.
Brennon slung the rifle across his back while continuing to keep his sights on the woman. He began speaking in a normal tone. “I’m not here to harm you. I’m here to help.”
She blinked several times, a beautiful bright gold replacing the black as her eyes returned to normal. Her breathing remained a bit elevated, but at least she was breathing. And upright, as opposed to either passed out, drugged, or dead like the others.
“I want to open the door and get you out of there, but you’ve got to promise to remain with me. Can you do that?”
The woman nodded once as she quickly glanced to the doorknob then back to Brennon.
“I’m Brennon.”
She smiled, showing brilliant white, straight teeth. “M-Mikki.” Her voice cracked, its low tone barely above a whisper as it was muffled by the obstacle between them.
Brennon returned her smile. “Mikki.”
She nodded several more times before attempting to speak again. “The door, locked.”
The raspy sound of her voice shouldn’t have sparked something inside Brennon, but it sure as hell did. Turning his concentration to the door, he did indeed find it locked. With nothing around to bang on the knob, and not wanting to damage the rifle any further, he figured he’d have to bust it open with his body.
“You’re gonna have to step back.” He spoke louder so she’d be sure to hear him. “Can you shield yourself with the mattress? I’m gonna have to bust the door.”
Mikki nodded and scrambled to the bed, easily lifting the pitiful mattress and holding it in front of her as she put herself in the corner.
Brennon lifted the rifle off and set it along with the radio on the floor beyond the door jamb. He backed against the opposite wall, giving himself about four feet of distance before launching his body at the door. It easily burst open from the force, banging against the wall. Brennon stopped it from swinging back at him, and when his hand slid around to the inside, he felt dents on the metal. As he started to look at what he was feeling, Mikki threw down her shield and began running toward him. He had just enough time to react as she jumped into his arms. Her body shook as he easily caught her petite form and held her close. Even with the smell of dirt and sweat coating the gown and her skin, he detected an underlying scent of something sweetly musky. A heady combination.
As one who grew up with a love of reading, I’ve turned that into a love of writing. And one day (soon) I hope to make that my full-time endeavor. I continue to practice dental hygiene – a career I’ve enjoyed for nineteen years.
I’ve been married over twenty-eight years to my stud of a husband, and had the pleasure of raising two sons who make us proud. Recently, we’ve joined the ranks of grandparents, with the addition of a precious grandson.
Growing up on the East Coast in Florida, and after meeting my husband in Georgia while we both served in the U. S. Army, we call the West our home. After living in Idaho for many years, where hubby is from, Washington State is where we now reside. Traveling is a dream for us, as we have passports just waiting for stamps from Canada, Scotland, New Zealand, and Fiji!
Besides reading and writing, I enjoy music and movies, art and tattoos [both admiring as well as personally getting], staying active, watching football [NFL and Boise State], dark chocolate, and stalking my favorite authors on social media…. authors such as Donna Grant, Rachel Grant, Toni Anderson, Anna Durand, and so many more. You can see what I’m reading and recommending at Goodreads and BookBub.
I write what I also enjoy reading; stories that range from heart-warming to body-blushing, filled with emotion, suspense, humor, and contemporary issues.
To be in the “know” about all the latest, click over to my contact page and follow me on my social media sites. I love engaging, so join me for the fun and memorable moments on this journey!
There were things the Sagamores could and could not do:
William defied all social norms.
Georgie could be trusted with any secret.
Georgia Anne did as she pleased.
And, John Richard would kill a man for hurting her.
But,
William could not keep his feelings hidden.
Georgie could not let an innocent man die.
Georgia Anne could not be a slave.
And, despite going to hell, John Richard could not stop loving her.
The hot ice of Eleanor’s voice brought the world back with crashing awareness. The center of the Conrac Ball was not the place to kiss Georgia Anne, to hold her intimately.
Eleanor stood shoulder to shoulder with Augusta Conrac and her husband Jesse Senior. Doctor Will and Uncle John followed them over, and behind them all, Lucy and Jesse Jr. held twin smirks.
“What do you think you are doing, young man?” Jesse Sr. puffed himself up to his full height of five foot seven.
“I will not tolerate this behavior in my home.” Augusta Conrac pointed to Georgia Anne.
“Hasn’t she caused enough scandal?” Although Eleanor was right up on them, she didn’t lower her voice. “You besmirch the Sagamore name.”
“Littlebit, get your wrap. We’re going home.”
Shaking, Georgia Anne turned away.
Lucy dogged her.
Eleanor opened and closed her fan with exaggerated force. “What an outrageous spectacle. This behavior must cease, at once.”
“We’re leaving, Mother.”
“I demand you remove that negro-hussy from my house.” Mrs. Conrac raised her voice to match Eleanor’s.
“Now, ladies,” Uncle John tried to push the sound down with both hands. “Calm down. He said they were leaving.”
“Leaving, I should hope so.” Jesse Sr.’s head bobbed up and down.
“You should never have brought her,” Eleanor said.
“This is a respectable home,” Augusta reminded them.
“Actually, William brought her—”
“Don’t muddle the issue, Will.” Eleanor shooshed him. “John Richard, I demand you apologize for…for…everything.”
“I demand you atone for the sin you’ve brought into my home.” Augusta nodded, agreeing with herself.
Jesse Sr. said, “This party cost me a fortune, young man. You’ve ruined it. I demand reimbursement. Every penny.”
Eleanor added one more requirement to the list. “I demand you get rid of that niggra.”
“Yes,” Augusta said. “It’s the only way.”
A muscle in John Richard’s lip twitched, as if he would smile. “Demand, and be damned.”
Novelist, Reviewer, Content Editor, Blogger, T-shirt Wearer, and Professional Snacker; Tracy A. Ball is a native Baltimorean and a veteran West Virginian whose family is blended from three cultures. She has opened her home to foster children, drug addicts, AIDS victims, and anyone who needed an assist. She knows people who have committed murder and people who have dined with the pope.
Which is why she writes sweet stories about tough love, tough stories about sweet love, and takes long naps.
(review request submitted by the author for an honest critique) 
