#BlogTour | #ExtractReveal | THE FINAL TRAIL @LoveBookTours #AAAbbottstories


Family feuds just got bloodier… A gripping thriller, and a great story of death, revenge and vodka.

To save glamorous Kat White’s life, Ben Halloran killed his gangster father. Now his brother wants to even the score.

The gripping Trail series of British crime thrillers reaches its dramatic conclusion in this compelling page-turner.  


This is how “The Final Trail” begins. Glamorous Kat White has climbed from rags to riches. She’s built a successful vodka brand and got engaged to the man of her dreams. Her life should be peachy, but the ghosts of the past still have a grip – and threaten to drag her back down. Read the first page of this compelling thriller, the final story in a saga of vodka makers and villains.

“I opened the door,” Kat said, “and saw a man with a gun.” 

She heard muffled gasps from the public gallery behind her. Shaun Halloran’s inquest had attracted quite an audience. The London gangster had died at his son’s hand over a year before, but Kat’s involvement lent the case a touch of glamour. Media, family, friends and random onlookers were squashed into the oak benches. Despite the unseasonal April heat, barely disturbed by a brass fan whirring overhead, the courtroom’s atmosphere was charged with excitement.

To her right, the jurors’ eyes bored into her. Before, they’d been slouching in their casual outfits, layers gradually removed as the humid air took hold. Now, Kat had their full attention. There was even a slack-jawed stare from the young, bearded man who’d been leering when she took the stand earlier.

She was hardly dressed to thrill. Her plain black shift and jacket was a frumpy choice for a twenty-seven-year-old. It didn’t flatter her curves like the outfits she’d worn for glossy magazine shoots, but it contrasted with her blonde hair and creamy skin. A lapel brooch highlighted her green eyes.

Amy, her best friend, had counselled Kat on her appearance before they packed for the trip to London. Kat was well-known as the face of Starshine vodka, the craft brand that was the trendiest drink this year. There would be media interest. She needed to look smart.

Knowing Amy was sitting behind the witness box, only inches away, gave Kat strength to face the jury. Even so, she was gripping the edge of the wooden witness box to stop her hands shaking. The only way she’d coped with the events of that day was to keep memories buried…

Copyright © 2019 A.A. Abbott

Find out more about the Trail series of psychological thrillers here, and about “The Final Trail” at mybook.to/TheFinalTrail. All five crime thrillers are available in ebook, paperback and LARGE PRINT (link to website), which is also super-easy for dyslexic readers to enjoy.

#BlogBlitz| #BookReview | #IncidentReport | GUILTY….UNTIL PROVEN INNOCENT (DI Braddick #3) by Conrad Jones @ConradJones (September 11th 2018, Bloodhound Books @bloodhoundbook)

Welcome to my stop on this Blog Tour for the release of GUILTY…UNTIL PROVEN INNOCENT (DI Braddick #3) by Conrad Jones.

I would like to say that it is truly my pleasure to be invited onto this blog tour! Particular thanks to Sarah Hardy & Emma Welton, Bloodhound Books and of course Conrad Jones who have arranged this extract of GUILTY…UNTIL PROVEN INNOCENT (DI Braddick #3).


To kick off, we have the “blurb” for the book;

Following a storm, a body is washed up on a beach, intricately wrapped in wire mesh. DS Marcus Braddick is struck by the similarities to a triple murder case from 7 years before – A case that eluded his predecessor, Alec Ramsay.

Across the city, a teacher is accused online by a Predator hunting group. As his life unravels, a killer stalks the hunters.

Braddick and Ramsay have to work out how the two worlds are entwined and discover who are the innocent and who are the guilty before it’s too late…

Now it’s time for an exclusive extract!


He turned down the radio so he could hear the muffled cries for help coming from the boot. The victim’s voice had been strong at first, full of anger. The energy and venom were waning. He was incoherent now, sounding almost demented. A thin smile touched his lips as he listened to the anguish. He would drive around for a while, taking an hour or so to reach his lair; it would feel like an age for his victim. There was fear in his voice and he savoured his fear. Listening to him plead for help excited him. He had no sympathy for him, only hatred and anger. It was his own fault that he was where he was; he had asked for everything that was about to happen to him. Retribution. That’s what it was. He would make him understand what he had done when he was broken, when he was helpless. It wouldn’t take long to break this one. He could tell. Some were stronger than others. At the end, they were always the same: sorry and apologetic, but their apologies were too late. They would beg for mercy at the end but there was none to be had. Where was the mercy when he had needed it? Nowhere, that’s where.

He had realised a long time ago that the world was short on mercy. Mercy and giving the benefit of the doubt were gifts that humans talked about, but rarely delivered. People are fickle. One minute you’re loved and respected, the next you’re a pariah. Given the right circumstances, lifelong friends could become enemies in the blink of an eye. Innocent until proven guilty – that was how it was supposed to be. It was bullshit. Mercy and forgiveness were rare. They were commodities that not many could afford.

He could hear him sobbing again. The anger had dissipated and burnt out – it always did. They always started out angry, shouting abuse and screaming threats. That was when they realised they were in the grip of evil. There was no going back. This was where they would meet their end, screaming, begging for mercy. Yet still they threatened him. He had heard it all. It didn’t matter. Nothing would stop him. That was the point: to show them how it felt to be helpless. They had to feel the total desolation of being helpless and alone, teetering on a knife edge between life and death, the pain so intense that death was the desirable option. Being helpless was all part of the horror they had to suffer so they could understand what they had done. Fear blurred the reality in their minds. When they realised that they couldn’t break the wire that was bound around their wrists and ankles, they would change; they couldn’t stop him hurting them, and they couldn’t talk their way out. Once that was accepted, the threats would subside. They would realise that he wasn’t about to release them, not now, not soon, not ever. Once it had sunk in that this wasn’t a situation with a happy ending, their spirit would weaken, and eventually break. The adrenalin waned from their bloodstream and they would resort to seeking mercy. But there was no mercy.

They had nothing but pain and suffering to look forward to. Pain and suffering and fear. The fear in their eyes was what drove him. It fuelled him. It was the price they paid for what they had done. They would never be found. Their loved ones would never know why they didn’t come home. They would suffer too. They would always wonder where they were and what had happened to them. They would always miss them, always grieve for them. That made him happy. He had suffered and now it was their turn. Every action had a reaction: yin and yang, karma, an eye for an eye, whichever universal power people believed in. This was revenge, and it worked for him. It would be a long night for his victim, a very long night indeed. He lit a cigarette while he listened to the dulcet tones of suffering coming from the boot.

I cannot wait to read this book in full!

I hope you enjoyed this extract and it’s spurring you on to get your hands on a copy 🙂
About Conrad Jones; 


Conrad Jones is a 50-year-old Author, originally from a sleepy green-belt called Tarbock Green, which is situated on the outskirts of Liverpool. He spent a number of years living in Holyhead, Anglesey, which he classes as his home. He worked in management at McDonalds Restaurants Ltd from 1989-2002, working his way up to Business Consultant (area manager) working in the corporate and franchised departments.

On March 20th 1993 he was managing the Restaurant in Warrington`s Bridge St when two Irish Republican Army bombs exploded directly outside the store, resulting in the death of two young boys and many casualties. Along with hundreds of other people there that day he was deeply affected by the attack, which led to a long-term interest in the motivation and mind set of criminal gangs. He began to read anything crime related that he could get his hands on and links this experience with the desire to write books on the subject.

He signed a three book deal with London based publishers, Thames River Press. The Alec Ramsey series is now 7 books long with an average of 4.8 stars from over 2000 reviews. Conrad has also written The Soft Target series, which has received critical acclaim.


You can buy GUILTY…UNTIL PROVEN INNOCENT (DI Braddick #3) from the following booksellers;

Amazon (UK) | Amazon (US)


Be sure to check out the other blogs participating in this Blog Tour. See below for further details and be sure to follow all of the action across Twitter!

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#RisqueReads | #ReleaseBlitz | Night Before by Dani Wyatt @ddwyattauthor (December 16th 2017, Indie Published @ArdentPRose)

NIGHT BEFORE by Dani Wyatt
Published December 16th 2017


Until Malcolm Knight set his eyes upon the curvy cherub of a Christmas elf in his department store’s Santa’s Village, Christmas meant nothing to him except what it did for the bottom line.  Now, his inner Scrooge is melting away.  Replaced by thoughts of her sugar-plums and if they taste as good as they look.

Penny Evergreen lives for Christmas.  When her parents jet off for the holidays, sending her all alone to New York for a month-long training to relieve the piano prodigy of her paralyzing stage fright, she takes one look at the elaborate Christmas Village at the prestigious Knight & Knight department store, and she hatches a holiday plan of her own.

Will these two star-crossed opposites attract?  Or will their deceptions be the end of this holiday fairy tale before it has a chance to take off?

Author’s Note:   Grab your candy canes and sit in front of the fire.  This sugary sweet Christmas story will warm your heart and melt your panties.  This May-December quick holiday romance is sure to have you asking Santa for some Malcolm of your very own.  Complete with insta-everything, safe and always a happy ending. Or two.  Or ten.

Night Before

In anticipation of the release of NIGHT BEFORE – we have been an exclusive excerpt!! Be warned that it does contain some strong language and some rather steamy chemistry! We are looking forward to reading the full story – giving us all our steamy feels right before Christmas!

My vision is filled with a thousand twinkling lights as I glance over my shoulder to see Malcolm’s enormous form to the side of me.  He’s got one arm outstretched behind my back, not touching me—not yet—but I feel where his hand hovers in the air just above my back side.  It’s that chivalrous, gentlemanly motion that nearly buckles my knees.
My vision is drowsy as my eyes fall to the front of his jeans where I see an enormous bulge.

I draw in a sharp breath and jerk my head back up to face forward, embarrassed by my own forwardness but unable to resist the thought: could his erection be because of me?

Do not be a fool, Elf Penny.

Maybe he’s got some crazy elf kink or something.  Because no way a man like him would be interested in a pudgy elf like me.  Still, the thought of his enormous erection leaves me speechless and breathless as he guides us toward a table in the back of the sitting area that surrounds where Randall is already playing happily with another couple of boys about his own age.

“Sit,”  Malcolm orders and his bossy tone causes a shiver of delight wrestling through me.  It feels as if my bones are liquefying as I melt into the chair and wait for whatever comes next.

“Sitting,”  I manage as he takes a seat in front of me.  The same sort of position as yesterday, only this time he’s closer. His legs spread around as my knees nearly bump into his crotch.  I do everything in my power to avert my eyes from the fullness there, but at the same time as he sits, he lets out an uncomfortable chuff in his throat, and I can only imagine it must be difficult to bend something that hard and long.

Heat rises up my legs where they connect to his.  The same heartbeat that is deafening in my ears is also wildly distracting as it thumps between my legs.  My mouth is watering as well and I lick my lips as I try to make sense of what’s happening right now.

Malcolm sits quietly.  There’s a vibration growing in the empty space between us and my heart is thundering in my chest.

“What do you want to talk about?”  I blurt out, unable to stand the silence another moment.

He bites into his bottom lip.  Dark eyes fasten to me.  “Fuck.”  He bows his head then looks up at the ceiling, then back to me.

My belly tightens.  The muscles in my neck feel like metal cords ready to snap.

“What?”  I lean in, compelled—even though he’s a near stranger—to relieve him of whatever the strain is I hear in his voice.  “Whatever it is, you can tell me.  I want to know.”

“Penny.”  He looks at me and I see the tangle of conflict in his eyes. “Just promise me, I won’t scare the shit out of you.”

I raise my eyebrows, wondering what it could be, but still deep in my heart wanting to know.

“Okay.  I promise.  As long as it doesn’t involve you decapitating me, dismembering me, or any other sort of felonious thing regarding me.”

A strained chuckle rumbles from him, and a genuine smile spreads up into his eyes.  Then he nods before he continues.  “My nephew didn’t even want to come here today.”
“Really?”  I blink, wondering what’s coming next.  Because I can feel most definitely something is coming next.

“Really.  I wanted to come.  To see you.”

I sit, silent, as he tightens his legs around mine and sends my nipples into points yet again.

He raises a hand to brush down where my hair rests against the side of my face, raising goosebumps all over my skin.

“That’s not completely true,”  he adds.  “The truth is, I came here to kiss you.  Because that’s all I’ve thought about. Are you ready for that?”

NB 3


Dani Wyatt loves her alpha men; make them military, cowboys, MMA — any uber alpha with a wicked possessive streak and an insatiable libido. Receive a free exclusive unpublished title when you join Dani’s private readers group for updates, free chapters and discounts.


She’s a 40 something regular lady who just happens to love badass alpha males who pull your hair and love their women with a lethal passion.

When she’s not writing (which is not often) she is probably laughing about some irony (like A-1 Steak Sauce is vegan), riding her horse, wondering why The Walking Dead can’t have a new episode every night, or looking cross-eyed at some piece of technology sent to ruin her day.

Author Links; Facebook  Amazon page  Goodreads

You can buy NIGHT BEFORE from the following booksellers;

Amazon (UK) | Amazon | Amazon (AUS)








#BlogTour – #Vengeance by Roger A. Price @RAPriceAuthor (27th February 2017, @EndeavourPress)


I would of course, as every #BlogTour like to thank Roger for letting us feature his new book; VENGEANCE on our blog.

To kick off, we have the “blurb” for the book;

Jack Quintel is a hit man. When a job comes in to kill the Deputy Chief Constable of the Greater Manchester Police Jim Reedly, he contracts it out to a new guy, Charlie Parker…

Watching in the shadows, Quintel sees Parker shoot out Reedly’s windscreen, then drag him into the woods and thinks the job’s been done.

But when Parker tries to pass off a pig’s heart as Reedly’s, things start to go very wrong. Jack’s right hand man Jason kills Charlie, who it turns out is an undercover police officer.

Detective Vinnie Palmer is with the Preston police. He was called in when they received the information about the impending hit.

Now he has to figure out how to clean up the mess.

And he wants whoever killed Parker bad. He finds the man who put Parker in touch with Quintel, a low life hood named Dempter, living in an estate in Preston.

He doesn’t know much, but motivated by money, agrees to be an informant for the police.

Christine Jones is a TV reporter. She and Vinnie had worked together before, chasing a serial killer.

They meet again at the warehouse where Charlie was killed, and realise their relationship could be more than professional.

But first, Christine wants to know what’s happening. Christine is working on a documentary about positive discrimination against non-Catholic officers in Northern Ireland since the peace process. She makes contact with a former police officer in Northern Belfast named Paul Bury, who feeds her some of the information she needs.

Meanwhile, as the bodies start to pile up in Preston, there’s another attempt on Reedly’s life, when a grenade is thrown at him at his brother-in-law’s funeral.

As Vinnie fights to keep Reedly alive, suddenly Christine’s life is in danger.

And they both start to wonder if the contract against Reedly has anything to do with her documentary on Northern Ireland. But how could it?


I am excited to share an exclusive extract from VENGEANCE;

Jack Quintel didn’t need to be here, he’d requested his usual proof of death, but as he

hadn’t used this killer before, he wanted to see it for himself. It took him a while to find a

spot among the trees, and he was conscious of not flattening too many bluebells that were

everywhere at this time of year. He knew the killer Charlie was no mug, nor was the target,

Jim Reedly. If all went well Quintel planned to use Charlie again. The last thing he wanted

was for him to realise he’d been here checking up on him; after all, he’d asked for his normal,

if not unusual, evidence that the job had been done. He just wanted to satisfy himself, and

watch the killer’s craft. Enjoy the show. It was starting to go dusk so that would help; he just

hoped Reedly wasn’t late home and it became too dark – he knew that wouldn’t bother

Charlie, but he was beginning to wish he’d brought a pair of night-vison glasses.

It took a couple of minutes to settle himself as he took in the surroundings. The house was

a fairly new build, but a grand affair nonetheless, detached in its own grounds with a tree-

lined private driveway – the privileges of rank. Its location was handy though, Fulwood was

an established district of Preston and had more than its share of such houses – especially on

the eastern side of the city where a lot of the newer builds were situated. It wasn’t far away

from the industrial unit Quintel had hired, or had had hired for him. That was in a traditional

brown field estate behind a newish built Asda supermarket. Perfect; as it backed onto the M6

motorway. Quintel always liked an emergency egress from anywhere he used; he was

cautious, he had to be.

Quintel passed the time trying to fathom out where Charlie would be. He guessed

somewhere where the car would stop, somewhere near the house-front. He could see a turn-

around in front of the property which would seem to be the obvious place, but he couldn’t see

Charlie, which wasn’t entirely surprising, given the circumstances. He just hoped his

suspicions were ill-founded; it was not that easy finding a good assassin. You couldn’t just

type ‘killer wanted to join enthusiastic team’ into an internet search engine, well, not without

a world of trouble landing on you. It was just that he had learned long ago not to ignore his

hunches; he wouldn’t have reached his forties if he had.

The setting sun was dropping behind him now so he made sure he had good cover behind

the oak trees. A peaceful vista, which was about to be shattered. He couldn’t help but inhale

the spring fragrancies which were all around, in what was soon to become a place of carnage

– he enjoyed both.
About the author;

My name is Roger A. Price a crime fighter turned crime writer. I used to right the wrongs but now I write the wrongs. Ok, enough with the puns, but I do love language and playing with it, I guess all writers do.

I spent over thirty years in the police retiring as a detective inspector in charge of a covert undercover drugs unit which achieved national acclaim. I served on various units and squads and saw service across the UK, Europe and beyond. I can’t write about those events but I can base my crime fiction writing from my many experiences of them. Some of which were good, some not so good.

My first two novels are in the ‘Burrows and Lee’ series; ‘By Their Rules’ and ‘A New Menace’ and chart the adventures of Jane Lee and John Burrows in their work for the secretive ‘Special Projects Unit’ where they take on the bad guys with no rules of engagement.

‘NEMESIS’ is the first in the new ‘Badge and the Pen’ series which follows the fortunes of detective inspector Vinnie Palmer who finds an unlikely ally in TV news reporter Christine Jones, as they chase common threats but from very different agendas. This book was an Amazon Bestseller for a while in Canada and Australia and has received rave reviews in the UK.

‘VENGEANCE’ is the second outing for Vinnie and Christine in the ‘Badge and the Pen’ series where they both face the most unlikely of threats, as they race to save lives.

I have also had a couple of short stories published and am trying to write for TV whilst currently also working on my next Badge and the Pen novel.

VENGEANCE is out now and can be purchased at the following outlets;

Amazon (UK); http://amzn.to/2o6FzTf


Be sure to check out the other blogs participating in this Blog Tour. See below for further details and be sure to follow all of the action across Twitter!

A big thank you to Emma as well for hosting this tour!

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#BlogTour #APresenceofAbsence by Sarah Surgey & Emma Vestrheim @OdenseSeries (March 2017)


I would of course, as every #BlogTour like to thank Sarah & Emma for letting us feature their new book; A PRESENCE OF ABSENCE on our blog.

To kick off, we have the “blurb” for the book;

A Presence of Absence is the first book in The Odense Series. Although this is a solid crime novel, it also begins and ends with grief for many of the characters, personal demons and life decisions.

A gritty murder case gets in the way of the characters’ everyday lives and sends the birthplace of Hans Christian Andersen, the Danish city of Odense, into a panic.

British detective Simon Weller escapes the fallout from the recent suicide of his Danish wife, Vibeke and heads out to her home city of Odense. But once there he is paired up with a local detective, Jonas, who is also about to his rock bottom in his home life, and they must overcome their differences and personal problems to try and catch one of the worst serial killers Odense has ever seen. The case takes them back into past decades as history starts catching up with some of the local inhabitants. When Simon realises that his wife’s suicide may not be all it seems and her name appears in the cas, his integrity within the case is compromised, how far will he go to find out the truth of Vibeke’s past and hide it from his already troubled police partner?

Back home in London Simon’s family are struggling with their own web of lies and deceit and the family is falling apart.

With one family hiding a dark secret, the whole case is just about to reach breaking point.

I am excited to share two exclusive extracts from both the Prologue & Chapter 21 of A PRESENCE OF ABSENCE.

1981, near Faaborg, Denmark

The angel plucks a large handful of flowers, and they carry it with them up to God, where the flowers bloom more brightly than they ever did on earth.
— “
The Angel”

The farm was eerily quiet. The animals were sleeping and recuperating from dealing with the harsh weather which the day had brought. The landscape surrounding the farm painted a very imposing background, and this only added to the desolate position it was perched in. Farms in Denmark were sparse but necessary to the country’s survival, or so it seemed. The isolated spot of this farm had only increased the distance between its inhabitants and the local town. Although they were known, they were not always accepted and this sadly sat well with them.

The barn door slamming open and shut in time with the wind was the only sign that something had been disturbed there. The more the door called for help, the more it became withered until eventually, it started to hang slightly off-centre.

The man inside the farmhouse had just been tending to a stockpot which held the evening’s dinner of stew, made two days before. It would be devoured again tonight, he was sure, through pure hunger rather than enjoyment. Hearing the barn door call its last and loudest scream, he hesitantly put on his boots and decided to head over to the barn to quieten it. With the rain slamming down on him from all angles as the wind picked up speed and direction, he felt like he was being pushed back, away from the barn. He called out suddenly, questioning who was there as it became apparent that the lock was hanging off the barn. Relieved that he had on instinct picked up his rifle as he left the cottage, he pulled it up closer to himself as he slowly made his way to the door.

In a flash the door threw itself open, as though to expose its visitor to what was inside. The man froze in position. The figure before him was still. Surrounded by the haystacks and wooden pallets which sent out a musty smell, the barn was a holding place for surplus requirements.

Heavy breaths were the only sound in this space now, but under the surface, there seemed to be silent cries and a heartbeat which was racing, trying to catch up with itself.

The man stumbled forwards and stood in front of it. Shaking uncontrollably, the man used his hands to feel the figure, following the outline of the face until he had memorised every inch. Not moving, the figure was open to this touch. It didn’t resist the kindness which was being shown, the gentle touch. The dangling figure let the man work through his fear and sadness for some time. Suddenly the man let out a shrieking cry which stirred some of the animals outside who had gathered to watch.

Cutting the figure down from where it was hanging, he pulled the body close to him and fell to the floor with it, making sure he protected it from the fall. Turning the body towards him, he once again slid his fingers down the face, this time closing the bright blue eyes that were looking at him, and tried to turn up the mouth so that it didn’t hint at the fear it had known moments before its passing. As the body lay lifeless in his arms he wiped at the tears which had stained the cheeks of the figure, then cut the rope from his neck.

Running his fingers along the old scars on the body’s wrists, the man was angered at himself for not seeing this before. A previous attempt had obviously been made to erase the hurt, but he had found this too hard.

Sitting in the barn throughout the night was comforting in a way. As the darkness erased the scene of death in front of him, for a few hours the man could sit in his own denial. Now the barn door only gave out a sadness: the shouting had gone. The man had found what he was supposed to find and the barn held this secret with dignity.

Odense, Denmark

They say that scenes in life can leave an imprint on the surroundings, and as soon as Simon arrived at Klosterhaven, although unaware of the tragedy which had taken place the night before, he seemed to have a slight unease about the place.

The leaves were blowing along the ground as if trying to sweep away the incredibly frenzied violence which had taken place on this very soil, and the birds tweeted loudly as though they were trying to convey their version of the horrors they had witnessed. It wasn’t just an imprint: the wind was carrying the smell of death, and the magnificent cathedral that looked down upon the gardens cast a shadow that engulfed everything in darkness.

Simon had visited the Klosterhaven gardens many times with Vibeke; she had said that the locals neglected this beautiful garden, a small piece of wonder surrounded by chaos. The growing popularity of Denmark as a tourist attraction and the strong commitment of the Odense Tourism Board to turn the city centre into a large Hans Christian Andersen memorial had taken its toll on the locals’ love of places such as Klosterhaven; and now it was hard to visit and not be bothered by confused tourists glancing at a map or large groups pushing their way through.

Simon walked through the parklands and was instantly greeted with news station vans. After Elsbet’s high profile murder, it wasn’t surprising that the local news had caught onto the biggest crime to happen in Odense in at least a decade. A reporter noticed Simon and pulled the cameraman along as she approached him, microphone heading straight for his face. Before Simon had the chance to react, Jonas had jumped into the scene.

“We are not taking any questions at this time,” Jonas said, pulling Simon away and under the yellow tape. The two men walked in silence towards the crime scene, and Simon noticed the blood on the concrete path. He didn’t notice the body hanging above it until sometime later.
I cannot wait to read this debut in full and let you know how the story progresses!

A PRESENCE OF ABSENCE is out now and can be purchased at the following outlets;

Amazon (UK); http://amzn.to/2o6FzTf


Be sure to check out the other blogs participating in this Blog Tour. See below for further details and be sure to follow all of the action across Twitter!