Sunday, December 29, 2013

#Free - Hannah’s Dream by Lenore Butler @ALJambor

Hannah’s Dream by Lenore Butler

Amazon Kindle US

Genre – Historical Romance

Rating – PG

5 (6 reviews)

Free until 30 December 2013

A sweet historical set in 1895
Hannah Dawes is an enchanting strawberry blond who is betrothed to the boy next door.  When his father sends him a hundred miles away to become a doctor, Hannah vows to wait for him.  When he marries another, she's hurt, but she's not down for long.  Hannah has a dream, and the gumption to see it through.  Drawn to the colors in the church's stained glass windows, she abandons the sandcastle sculptures she shared with her former beau and embraces painting with color.  She draws inspiration from the wild Atlantic ocean and when the family fortune is lost and she is forced to move to Colorado, Hannah is heartbroken - until she sees the Rocky Mountains and a cowboy named Adam.
Adam is a shy man who loves horses and thinks he'll spend his life on the range.  But when he
sets eyes on the saucy, red-haired Hannah, he's smitten.  He hasn't known many women, and that Hannah is a strange one.  At first, he retreats when she gets riled up, which seems to be all the time, and she doesn't think he likes her, and when he tries to talk to her, his lack of sophistication frustrates her.  But there is something about the sweet cowboy that stays with her, and even when she meets a handsome and rich doctor, she can't get Adam out of her mind.
While they try to find common ground, Hannah and Adam grow to love one another, but someone from Hannah's past has come to Colorado to steal her away and won't let anyone stand in his way.  Will he keep Hannah and Adam apart?
Settle into an sweet, old-fashioned romance and get lost in Hannah's Dream.

Saturday, December 28, 2013

#AmReading - Orbs by Nicholas Sansbury Smith @greatwaveink

Orbs by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

Amazon

They have come for our most important resource...THE year is 2061, and the planet is dying. Cataclysmic solar storms force leaders from around the world to finally put aside their differences and agree on one thing--to jump ship. The human race is headed to Mars.
When Dr. Sophie Winston is hired by New Tech Corporation to test a Biosphere deep within the heart of Cheyenne Mountain, she believes it's part of the mission to save the world. Their results will help prepare NTC for the three-year flight to the red planet. A flight Dr. Winston has been promised a seat on.
Just days into their six-month assignment, things start to go wrong. When the blast doors hiss open, Winton's team finds a vastly changed world outside. Humans are gone, vanished without a trace, but they aren't the only thing missing. The planet's water appears gone, too.
As the team journeys deeper into Colorado Springs, they find thousands of luminous blue orbs lining the streets. It isn't until they accidentally uncover what's inside that they realize the nightmare that has been unleashed.

The Curse Giver by Dora Machado @DoraMachado

Chapter Five
THE NEXT FEW DAYS WERE LOST to Lusielle. Her life was a jumbled sequence of snippets, blurry images breaking up long periods of dense darkness, triggered by a sudden jostle or a twinge of pain, cold, heat or thirst. She spotted glimpses of a gray sky, spitting out rain, and campfires burning deep in the woods. There was more rain, and a face—his face—hovering just beyond reach.
Occasionally, sound trickled into her muffled world from a distant place. The wind rustled through the trees. The horses’ hooves pounded on dirt, gravel, and mud. Men spoke, snorted, muttered and snored. A low, measured voice—his voice—echoed very near, urging her to drink, eat or sleep, accompanied by the pervasive masculine scent that was her constant companion.
There were times when she came to just enough to realize that she existed in the world in-between, where gods and mortals met in dreams, where dreams and reality were one and the same. In those moments, she realized that she survived only because of someone else’s will, that if she wanted a future, she had to wake up and seize it. She kept trying, even though it required great effort, like swimming against a colossal tide.
“This way,” the voice said.
She felt listless as a corpse, but she grabbed on to that voice and followed it to a semblance of consciousness. Fighting her heavy eyelids, she managed to glimpse the man’s stern face, outlined against a background of pewter clouds.
Brennus.
She rode with him on his horse, wrapped in an oiled mantle, mostly protected from the rain. His strong arms kept her from slipping off the massive beast. His armored chest offered a hard but steady pillow. The beat of his heart echoed through the copper plates, strong, vibrant, and enthralling.
He must have realized that she was awake, because his stare swooped down on her like a hawk on the prowl, even though his voice was gentle. “Hush,” he said. “We won’t be too much longer on the road today.”
His eyes were lined with worry and exhaustion. So were the faces of the other men who rode with him. All of them were wet, tired and miserable, picking their way up a steep mountain track as the relentless rain continued to pelt them. That same rain was dripping from Brennus’s face, drenching his hair and trickling down his neck.
“The rain,” she whispered. “It’s making you wet.” She reached out to dry the water from his face, but the wound on her back protested with a pang of pain.
He caught her hand and tucked it back into the blanket. “It’s no use,” he said. “You can’t keep me dry.”
“One can try,” she said.
And he actually smiled.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“South of nowhere and north of wherever,” he said. “Far from the usual routes. We’re seven days out.”
Seven days was an awful long time to be senseless among strangers.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Riva’s not going to find us.”
She winced when the horse missed a step.
“Hato!” Brennus called.
Why was he barking like that?
There was splashing, the sound of hooves clattering and then, “My lord?”
“We’ve got to stop. The fever’s back and she’s hurting again.”
“No place to stop around here, my lord,” the other man said.
“Send Severo and Cirillo ahead,” he said. “Tell them to find a decent camp and get a fire going. She’s got to rest.”
“My lord,” he said, “we have pressing business. We can’t slow down to accommodate her comfort—”
“Do you want her alive or not?”
The other man sighed. “As you wish, my lord.” He rode away.
She tried to tell him that she was fine, but ended up whimpering instead.
“Shush,” he whispered in her ear. “You need to sleep.”
And by the Thousand Gods, off she went, at his command, into the darkness again, following his heart’s steady rhythm as it sang a lullaby to her heart.
Curse Giver
Award-Winning Finalist in the fantasy category of The 2013 USA Best Book Awards, sponsored by USA Book News
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Genre – Fantasy/Dark Fantasy
Rating – PG-18
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Living The Testimony by Deidre Havrelock @deidrehavrelock

My Personal Testimony

I grew up in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, as a Cree/Irish borderline Catholic girl, meaning this half-breed rarely went to Mass. However, I did pray every night. I absolutely loved God and believed in Him deeply. Being Catholic, I had heard about Jesus. In fact, my favorite song was “Away in a Manger.” Whenever I was scared, which was often, I would sing this song. But I imagined Jesus to be a fairytale—a fantasy about a perfect God coming to save people. He was just for good thoughts. He was in no way a reality.

Despite my vague belief in Jesus, my relationship with God seemed deep. I would have conversations with my invisible God; I would tell God I loved Him. And I certainly did love Him. Although, I was becoming a bit frustrated with Him because of my dreary life circumstance. You see, my dad drank—a lot. And this stress, along with the stress of my quickly emerging spiritual life, was simply too overwhelming.

As a child I lived with a strange secret. I sensed an ominous yet deeply intriguing spiritual force in my home. I simply assumed a ghost lived in my house. To convolute matters even more, when I was just seven, a man with fire for hair appeared to me in a dream, forcing me to marry him in front of an upside-down cross. He told me in the dream, “Don’t worry, you have been chosen.” From this point on, I completely believed I was married to the devil—irrevocably dark and aligned with evil.

Fortunately, this dream did motivate me to dig my heels in and search for God. I figured only God could get me divorced from the devil. But instead my search led me to Fred, a kind spirit I met in grade four through a Ouija board. Being Cree, spirits were nothing new to me. My mom’s family always talked about spirits. Most of my aunts and uncles were scared of the spirits or ghosts they saw in their dreams and in their houses, but my grandmother told me the spirits were there to help and protect us. I wasn’t quite sure what to believe. I was confused. After all, the spirits I sensed around me and the ones I saw in my dreams scared me, too. But then again, Fred seemed different. This spirit was nice. He was funny. Fred told me through the Ouija board that his job was to protect and watch over me. Eventually, I began telling myself that spirits just felt creepy, but once you got to know them they could be nice. Especially, if you were nice to them.

Fred became my constant companion. But one day, in grade six, after my best friend’s dad tried to molest me and just after my uncle Glen (who had sexually molested me as a small child) came to live with us in our home, I had a nervous breakdown. While left home alone with Glen, I grabbed a butcher knife and ran to my room to hide. Once in my bedroom, instead of picking up my Ouija board to call on Fred, I cried out to God, telling Him I wanted to kill myself. Suddenly I heard a voice speak out loud: “When you are big everything will be okay.” It was God; He spoke to me. He was real.3 I told God I’d hang on until I was big, which obviously, to a twelve-year-old mind, meant eighteen.

By age sixteen, things seemed to have miraculously changed for the better. First of all, my dad was now inexplicably healed from alcoholism. Second, I was introduced by my high school teacher to a New Age transcendental meditation and channeling group that met weekly in the back room of a small bookstore.4 I was so excited. I thought for sure—in this extremely spiritual group—I would find God and get my divorce from Satan.

This group also told me spirits were good and helpful. However, a few sessions later, I found myself strangely altered after my spirit guide Fred, along with another extremely violent spirit, entered my body during group meditation and refused to leave. A member of the group did attempt to help me force these spirits from my body, but the endeavor failed. Consequently, I was kicked out of my New Age group for having bad karma. This meant I was the one attracting these evil spirits to the group—because I was evil. I left the group feeling deeply hurt, misunderstood, and very aware of being “chosen” by the devil.5

A school friend of mine named Doug, who had joined the channeling group with me, then suggested, without knowing anything about my spiritual past, that I study Satanism. His brother had a Satanic Bible.6 After flatly declining, I began dreaming I was killing people. I also dreamed of horrible evil creatures. Rats invading my house was a common dream, and the devil with fire for hair began reappearing in my dreams, growing angrier every time I refused to follow him. When I turned eighteen, I gave up on spirituality. I simply wouldn’t choose Satan and God had failed to show up and save me.

When I was twenty-two years old, now bulimic/anorexic, depressed, and suffering from intense back pain, my life took an unexpected turn when at work God surprisingly spoke to me again saying, “This is the man whom you shall marry.” That man was DJ, a young man who worked in the same office as I did. Eventually DJ and I began dating, and even though we seemed to have nothing in common—because I was convinced that God had sent him to help me—on our third date, I opened up to him, describing to him my nightmares and my spirit guide, Fred. Of course, I worried DJ might consider me crazy, but instead he said, “I’m here to help.”7

It was a few weeks later that DJ opened up to me, explaining how he believed in Jesus. He told me he believed Jesus was alive. He told me Jesus could heal me and save me; and because he was God’s actual Son, he was the gateway to knowing and experiencing God. DJ asked me to simply trust Jesus.8

But I was more than a little doubtful. In fact, his Christian beliefs made me furious. It seemed idiotic for anyone to believe that a childhood fairytale could be true, and it seemed positively arrogant that DJ thought he knew and understood God. After all, why couldn’t God just save me Himself? What did He need Jesus for? Why was Jesus so important? I argued with DJ about the relevance of Jesus many times. Then one night, after arguing about Jesus yet again, my back flared up with pain. DJ asked if he could pray for me. I was uncomfortable with this but thought, What will it hurt?

As DJ prayed for me, particularly when he asked me to be healed “in the name of Jesus,” my back pain sharply escalated—then the voices began. It was just like during my channeling days. Spirits stirred inside me wanting to speak. Except this time they were enraged. As DJ continued praying, my body contorted as my muscles tightened; a low growl came from my lips. Within seconds, a thick black mass pulled out from my back and hovered above us. I remember huddling against DJ, whispering, “What is that?”

“It’s evil,” he said.

I was terrified. DJ, however, immediately told the evil spirits to “leave, in the name of Jesus.” Surprisingly, the blackness retreated back down inside me. I was horrified and confused, crying and shaking. I didn’t understand I was possessed. All I knew was that Fred and another spirit were living inside me; they were angry, extremely strong, and they absolutely hated the name Jesus.

DJ, now with clear confirmation that my problem was actually demonic possession, had to find help, but where was he to go? He wasn’t sure if his church leadership would believe him. DJ then met with a Christian girl, Audrey, who also worked in our office.9 She and DJ decided to bring me to her church. They hoped her pastor could pray for me and expel the evil spirits.10

DJ convinced me to attend a service. However, shortly after arriving at the church, I found myself running from the service after voices in my head told me to kill the pastor. I remember this pastor was preaching about Jesus being able to heal. The whole service felt strange and uncomfortable to me, but DJ convinced me to go back to this church two more times. Each time I returned, the strength and rage of the voices grew and my strange back pain returned. Finally, much too terrorized and confused to go on, I refused to go back. I told DJ talking about Jesus aggravated my problems, so the solution was obviously not to talk about him.

Living the testimony

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Genre – Christian Living

Rating – G

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Website www.deidrehavrelock.com

The Colors of Friendship by K. R. Raye @KRRaye

Moving On

Lance flicked his wrist and checked his watch.  Yes, 5:00 p.m. on the dot.  With a smile he knocked on the girls’ dorm room door ready to tackle their English study session.  Even though they each pursued different majors: Melody, Communications; Imani, Chemical Engineering; and he studied Business; they all made a vow at orientation to align their core Freshmen classes and liberal arts electives whenever possible. 

He heard movement behind the door as one of the girls checked through the peephole and then Imani threw open the door.

Lance smiled and landed a peck on her cheek before he strolled inside. 

The phone rang and Imani shoved him towards it.  “Could you get that? It’s my mom,” she said heading towards the bathroom she shared with Melody and the two girls in the connecting room. 

Colors of Friendship

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Genre – New Adult, Contemporary

Rating – R

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Website http://krraye.com/events.html

Author Interview – Fiona Ingram @FionaRobyn

Location and life experiences: where did you grow up and what incluenced you? I grew up in Durban, a once-sleepy seaside town on the east coast of South Africa. We were very poor growing up, but extremely happy. We lived in a shabby wood-and-iron house, next door to my great-grandmother, who owned both properties. What an amazing childhood.

A huge, overgrown garden with umpteen trees for climbing and building tree houses; a wonderful great-grandmother next door who told us amazing stories about her father mining diamonds at Kimberley (in the late 1800s) and driving around in an ox-wagon (no cars back then); four big dogs that loved helping us dig forts; and playing with the family of four children across the path (a dusty track!). My fondest memories are of me and my brothers sitting on my great-grandmother’s porch, looking up at the stars, while she told us astounding tales from her own childhood.

Where do you get your inspiration from? I would like to say I have no idea, because I am not sure where it comes from, but I think my own interests – ancient history, travel, geography, archaeology, myths and legends have strongly influenced my writing. I have always been fascinated by the ancient world, and my earliest books were encyclopaedias that lay around the house.

History is utterly fascinating and far more exciting than modern life. All the great inventions happened centuries, even millennia ago. I love reading about anything to do with ancient discoveries, both in fiction novels and non-fiction books.

Who would you like to acknowledge and thank? My late mother is the reason I have achieved so much and have become a full-time writer. Mom loved reading from early childhood, and I still have many of her original books. Television came very late to South Africa, so either kids read books or went outside and played real games with their friends and neighbors.

If we (my four brothers and I) moaned about being bored, she would tell us to read a book, and most times that’s what we did. Later, my mom was my greatest champion while I was at university. I won scholarships all the way, and studied in London (drama) and Paris (mime). Mom never let me give up, even when I felt I could not go on. My mother took me and my two young nephews to Egypt on an amazing tour, and that was the reason I began my middle grade book series. My mother was my best friend and most loyal fan. I owe her everything.

How many friends does a person need? When I was about ten, I asked my great-grandmother (who lived to an amazing 96!) about friends. She said, very solemnly, “If you can count your good friends on the fingers of one hand, you are very blessed.” I stared at her, thinking, “Poor Gogo (her nickname), she only has five friends.

That’s terrible. I want hundreds of friends.” That was a life lesson. As I grew up, I longed for loads of friends. That is, until I learned that my great-gran was right: having those few loyal, steadfast friends are all you need. I also am reminded of the adage: “When days are dark, friends are few,” or “A friend in need is a friend indeed.” I am grateful for my few wonderful, supportive friends.

What social issues interest you the most? Since my experiences with my adopted daughter and teaching her to read and appreciate books, it has to be child literacy. I loved growing up with books, and would happily read under the blankets with a flashlight until my dad made me turn it off. Books are the windows to wonderful worlds.

Kids that do not read are disadvantaged. Kids need books to learn life skills, to understand life’s situations, and to develop their imaginations. My second great passion is animals. I adore animals and am passionate about animal rights, both domestic and wild. I find cruelty and indifference to animals abhorrent.

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Genre – Juvenile Fiction

Rating – G

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Friday, December 27, 2013

Midshipman Henry Gallant in Space by H. Peter Alesso

CHAPTER 5

The hours in a day were never enough. Each watch, report, and exam seemed like an organized disruption to Gallant’s desire for food and sleep. Each irreverent “Attention Midshipman Gallant” that blared over his head, called him away to some new obligation. A week after re-qualifying, Gallant joined the other midshipmen in an advanced flight training session conducted by Lieutenant Mather.

Mather was going to review the ship’s computer systems in detail in preparation for a mock combat session. While many of the midshipmen were already up to date on the ship’s AI systems, it was an opportunity for Gallant to catch-up.

Mather stood at the head of the compartment at a lectern facing several rows of chairs. He began describing the Repulse’s computer system, “It’s a marvel of Twenty-second Century technology. It provides three levels of operation for each and every important department on board including: navigation, engineering, weapons, environmental, and communications. The first level is the centralized Artificial Intelligence (AI) system. It performs what we call ‘strong-AI.’ Then, the second level includes system operations of individual departments with their own ‘weak-AI.’ They require more human interaction in order to coordinate systems. Finally, the last level is direct human manual control.”

“Officers, this is the strong-AI system nicknamed GridScape.” A three dimensional humanoid holograph form appeared before Mather. ““The avatar image is changeable,” he flipped through a few before settling on a base form. “I prefer this nondescript image for my lectures. GridScape is a wireless grid computer network consisting of over one million parallel central processors performing a billion-billion operations per second. It helps to control operations throughout the ship and its fighter support within a limited range. It coordinates overall control with our technically trained crew. Of course, it has redundant connectivity for reliability; both direct wiring, as well as wireless connections. GridScape is fully capable of independent automatic operation for most routine operations and many emergency responses that the ship may be required to perform.”

Sandy Barrington stood up and asked, “What happens when there’s battle damage, sir?”

“In the event the strong-AI system is damaged, the weak-AI computer systems take over local functional operation. Of course, every device can be switched to manual operation as required. Also, all crew members have their comm pins. They can connect to local resources that in turn can connect to the centralized AI,” said Mather.

midshipman

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Genre – Science Fiction

Rating – G

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Website http://www.hpeteralesso.com/Default.aspx

Thursday, December 26, 2013

Standing Stark: The Willingness to Engage by Carla Woody @CarlaWoody1

Chapter Two:
Beyond Words

I was leading a very mainstream life. While I had some sense of purpose, I additionally had an underlying feeling that something was seriously lacking. Even though there was a recognition of incompletion, I can’t say that it was a conscious realization, more of a sense of things not expressed, blocked or segregated.

The previous year I’d left the large government agency where I’d worked nearly my entire career up to that point. Being out from under bureaucratic constraints lent a certain kind of freedom that I craved, but a large part of my livelihood was still generated through that environment where I returned as a consultant. I felt the rigidity of the organization to the point that it triggered an aversion in me.

What I now know is that whenever we have an unreasonably strong response to something external, something is lurking internally of the same nature. At the time, I recognized what I can only describe as flatness, a lack of real engagement to anything in which I was involved. It’s unlikely that this fact was apparent to anyone but me. I was known for my mind and abilities for pulling people and projects together. To others, my guess is that I appeared actively engaged in my life. After all, I was busy doing what needed to be done, just like most with whom I came in contact.

But I knew something was omitted. Fourteen years earlier, I’d had a major signal identifying my disconnection. Because of a viral infection that attacked my thyroid, I became extremely ill. I was likely within a hair’s breadth of death before I’d had any inkling of the seriousness of the illness. It probably was only through my mother’s mother-bear-like, protective attention and demands to the physician I finally visited that I am even alive today.

A major crisis such as this one is often the impetus that will kick start a revelation—or revolution. After my recovery, I finally comprehended the level of absurdity and danger that the lack of awareness of my own condition brought. I was able to discern that I wasn’t practicing denial in the sense of not wanting to face something. But more so, I was disconnected from my body to the degree that I had been unable to recognize my lack of health. How could I? My life and level of consciousness was weighted in my head, cut off from my physicality and any real experience or attunement other than mental observation.

I heeded a cry from my Core Self, not even knowing of her existence, and sought out meditation. That was an unlikely avenue back then, only because where I was living at the time offered very few opportunities to explore anything even somewhat resembling consciousness studies. With the help of a couple of books, I put together a practice to which I remained faithful.

Over the years, I found myself becoming increasingly calmer and healthier. I knew that the change was due directly to my dedicated focus on meditation. Indeed, I became much more in tune with my body and its messages to me. I began to trust those messages implicitly, telling me when things were right, or not, in my world.

But I knew something was still missing. I remained an observer to a large degree, not a participant. While I’d read of spirituality and various states that told of that realm, I’d had no direct experience. I intellectually knew that Spirit was an aspect of my makeup, but couldn’t quite grasp even the concept of such a reality. And yet there was something underpinning my entire existence that called out for this wholeness. Some part of me deeply desired integration.

When strong intent is present, the means to fulfill it will automatically appear. But I didn’t know this truth at that point in my journey. I only knew that I felt somewhat fragmented, and one day noticed an ad in a professional journal for a retreat with a Peruvian shaman to be held in the Southern Utah desert. Ignoring the fact that my sole idea of camping then was in pensions in large European cities, or that I didn’t even know what the term “shaman” meant, I felt a strong draw in my body to call and register. So, I did.

Four months later, I flew cross-country to Salt Lake City where I was picked up with some other retreat goers and driven some hours south to a remote canyon in the San Rafael Swell. The beauty of the area was incredible and helped to overwhelm my uneasiness of being with people with whom I wasn’t acquainted, and an upcoming event about which I knew absolutely nothing.

When we finally rolled into the makeshift camp, I climbed out of the truck feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension, the two being closely linked anyway. While in this state, I noticed a brown-skinned man making his way toward me. He had dark, wavy hair, a mustachioed, handsome face, and wore a woven poncho. His eyes sparkled. He smiled broadly and wrapped his arms around me in greeting. As he did so, any fear I felt dissipated immediately and was replaced by great warmth swelling from some place inside me, unlike any I’d ever felt. This was the man the sponsors had advertised as a shaman, the person who, in the years ahead, I would come to know not only as a mystic and teacher of the heart, but a cherished friend—Don Américo Yábar. My meeting him was to change the fabric of my entire life. And I had asked for it unknowingly.

Around the campfire that evening, Don Américo introduced the subject of intent through his translator. He encouraged each of us to set our intent that evening for the week that was to follow. I went off on my own to think about what he’d said, the whole idea of intent being a slippery one, at best, that I had a challenge grasping. However, I decided that I must have set my intent, at some level, before I even came. That was what pulled me to the retreat not even knowing what it entailed. I wanted to be joined. I wanted direct engagement. I wanted integration of my mind, body and spirit. I told no one.

The next morning held the usual gorgeous, blue desert sky. The group had hiked some distance from our camp and found a natural rock amphitheatre. We made ourselves comfortable in the shadows of the boulders, out from under the Utah sun which was already getting quite warm. Don Américo began to speak. I don’t remember now exactly what he said. I was being lulled by the lilting rhythms of his and his translator’s vocal patterns that took the meaning of the words to some unconscious level.

Suddenly, he stopped and gazed intensely at me. He motioned for me to come to the middle of the circle where he stood. Under normal circumstances, I would have done so reluctantly, if at all, not being comfortable “exposing” myself to others in that way. In that case, however, I felt completely at ease.

I approached him. He stood directly in front of me only about eighteen inches away, his liquid brown eyes locking onto mine. It was as though he was channeling pure love directly into my being. Both of his hands hovered right outside my body at the chest level.

Making a motion of pulling apart outside the heart center, he said, “The way to see is with the body’s eye.”

I felt what I could only describe as a sweet welling in that energy center that began to undulate, creating a rippling effect.

He moved one hand up to my forehead. Making a wiping motion in my subtle energy field, he proclaimed, “Not the mind’s eye!”

I felt something shut at that level, all the while the heart energy continued to reverberate. I was unaware of anything other than large waves of effervescent warmth that seemed to echo silently, returning from the stones surrounding us, further intensifying the awakening. People seated around us gasped and murmured. I have no idea how long I stood that way. I do not know how I found my feet to return to my seat. I do not recall what occurred the rest of the day.

I was opened. I was filled. I’d had my first direct experience—beyond words.

StandingStark

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Genre – Nonfiction, Spirituality

Rating – PG

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Quality Reads UK Book Club Disclosure: Author interview / guest post has been submitted by the author and previously used on other sites.

Author Interview – J B McCauley @MccauleyJay

Image of J B McCauleyHow do you feel about self-publishing?

Essential!

Do you know your neighbors?

Yes.

How important are friends in your life?

When your extended family is 15,000km away your friends become your family.

How many friends does a person need?

5

What does love mean to you?

Life

What social issues interest you the most?

The fair and equitable distribution of achievable goals for everyone in society

King of Sunday Morning

The King of Sunday Morning is a geezer. Not in the traditional sense of the word as in old man. This geezer is a face, a wannabe, a top notch bloke. He is the greatest DJ that never was. He should have been. Could have been. Would have been. Now becoming a has-been.

Tray McCarthy was born into privilege but with the genetic coding of London’s violent East End. Having broken the underworld’s sacred honour code, it is only his family’s gangland connections that save him. But in return for his life, he must deny that which he has ever known or ever will be and runs to Australia where he is forced to live an inconsequential life.

But trouble never strays far from Tray McCarthy and eventually his past and present collide to put everyone he has ever loved in danger. He must now make a stand and fight against those that are set to destroy him and play their game according to his rules.

Set against the subterfuge and violence of the international drugs trade, The King of Sunday Morning is the tale of what can go wrong when you make bad decisions. Tray McCarthy has made some of the worst. He must now save those he holds dear but in the process gets trapped deeper and deeper into a world where he doesn’t belong.

“I want three pump-action shotguns, about twelve sticks of dynamite and a blowtorch”

THIS BOOK CONTAINS EXPLICIT LANGUAGE, FREQUENT DRUG USE AND SEX SCENES – NOT RECOMMENDED FOR PEOPLE UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE

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Genre – Thriller, Action, Suspense, Gangster, Crime, Music

Rating – PG-18

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Wednesday, December 25, 2013

#AmReading - The Soul Keepers by G. P. Ching @GPChing

The Soul Keepers by G. P. Ching

Amazon

When fifteen-year-old Jacob Lau is pulled from the crumpled remains of his mother's car, no one can explain why he was driving or why the police can't find his mother's body. Made a ward of his uncle and thousands of miles from home, a beautiful and mysterious neighbor, Dr. Abigail Silva, offers to use her unique abilities to help him find his mom. In exchange, she requires Jacob to train as a Soulkeeper, a gifted warrior charged with protecting human souls. He agrees to her demands, desperate for any clue to the mystery of his mother's disappearance. But soon Jacob finds himself trapped in a web of half-truths, and questions Dr. Silva's motives for helping him.

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

#AmReading - Still Life with Murder by P.B. Ryan @Patricia_Ryan_

Still Life with Murder by P.B. Ryan

Amazon

“A beautiful combination of entertaining characters, minute historical research, and a powerful evocation of time and place. I’m very glad there will be more to come.” New York Times bestselling author Barbara Hambly

Loving Conor: A Clairvoyant’s Memoir on Loving, Bonding and Healing by Tami Urbanek @tamiurbanek

Chapter Three: Surviving Life

I woke up to the phone ringing in the middle of the night.

“Tami, you need to pick me up,” I heard Nyle say.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at 7-11,” he said, slurring his words.

He told me the street and packing Bethany into the car, I drove through a light snowstorm to find him.

I located the correct 7-11 and I walked in looking around for Nyle.

“Hey, are you looking for that drunk?” The 7-11 clerk asked as he nodded at me.

“Was a guy here waiting for someone?” I asked.

“Yeah, he wanted booze, I told him to leave.”

“Do you know which way he went?” I asked.

“Have no idea.”

Leaving the store and getting back in my car, my hands clenched the steering wheel. I drove around looking for Nyle, scolding myself for coming out in the snow with Bethany in a car that didn’t have snow tires, to look for a drunken soon-to-be ex-husband.

I found Nyle wandering the sidewalk. Pulling over, I rolled down the passenger window.

“Nyle, what are you doing? Get in the car.”

He just looked at me, obviously drunk, confused, and swaying as he tried to keep his balance.

He crawled into the front passenger seat, laid his head back, and closed his eyes. I drove him back to my apartment. Once I parked the car, I realized I had no idea how to get him from there to inside my apartment. It was too cold to leave him in the car overnight, though I did consider it. I looked over at Nyle, and I wondered what the hell I was doing and how I was going to get him to wake up.

After continually pushing on his arm to wake him up, he finally roused awake enough to stumble into my apartment. He immediately staggered over to the couch and collapsed on it. I gently placed Bethany in her crib, gazing at her as she slept. In that moment, I was grateful I was divorcing Nyle and knowing my daughter was safe and asleep, I immediately fell asleep too.

I was still on maternity leave, so I was home the next morning when someone came to get Nyle for work.

“Hey, you need to wake him up,” Nyle’s friend said. He had figured out that Nyle was here when he didn’t show up at the barracks last night.

“I tried, I can’t get him up. I think he’s still drunk.”

“He’s going be in trouble if he doesn’t show up to formation.” Giving up, the guy left.

Walking over to Nyle and pushing on him hard, I said, “Nyle, wake up! GET UP! You have to get up for work!” I felt like I was yelling at a deaf person.

He finally opened his eyes and looked at me with a confused expression. He seemed to be trying to remember how he got to my apartment. He slowly sat up, keeping his hands on the couch for balance. He mumbled something, but it sounded as if his mouth was full of cotton. He stood up and with a shaky walk he made his way to the phone as I watched him call a friend to come get him.

Later that day, as I sat on the couch, in my apartment, I looked at my bills and felt my ongoing fear starting to rise. I began looking at my past choices. At eighteen, I had made the choice to marry and by nineteen, I had made a choice to be a mother. I had stayed with Nyle for fifteen months even though he was drinking and would be violent when he was drunk. I wasn’t proud that I was working at McDonald’s to meet basic financial needs, and I was fearful on a daily basis.

How was I going to fix this? How was I going to survive? Would things ever change? Would I ever be happy? Would I ever earn more than slightly above minimum wage? I didn’t know.

I walked around the apartment while Bethany was napping in her crib. Without Nyle there, the apartment was cleaner and I didn’t fear the weekends anymore. I still had to deal with the holes in the doors and walls at some point.

Out of desperation, the next day, I took my wedding ring to the pawnshop and I was grateful for the cash. It had a couple of diamonds, so they offered me a decent sum of money.

When my mom called to see how I was doing, I told her I had pawned my wedding ring.

“Why did you pawn your ring?”

“I needed the money,” I said, feeling depressed.

“Well, we’ll give you the money to go and buy it back. You don’t want to pawn your ring.” With my parents’ financial assistance, I bought back my ring before it was sold to someone else. But what about next month, when money would once again be tight?

That week, the manager at McDonald’s called to make sure I was still coming back to work when my maternity leave ended.

I told him I couldn’t wait to get back to work and I meant it. I was looking forward to having at least a few dollars in my wallet.

I spent the next couple of weeks getting on a schedule with Bethany and looking for home daycares. I found one near my apartment.

I returned to work, and I happily started earning money again. I was receiving child support, and life began to take on a more routine state, but I was experiencing a lot of anxieties. I still wanted a man to make me feel better about myself. I didn’t understand that I was not giving myself the credit I deserved in being able to love and take care of myself. As a result, I drew in the same types of people and relationships as before.

Not long after returning to work, I ran into Josh, a guy I had briefly dated when I was seventeen years old. We easily picked up where we left off and we quickly became exclusive in our dating.

Initially, Josh was attentive toward Bethany, and we had fun getting to know each other again, but it didn’t take long before we began to fight. We would get into yelling matches that were reminiscent of my relationship with Nyle, always fighting about something that wasn’t even important. We were young, immature and neither one of us knew how to communicate. Still, I was thankful he was in my life when one day out of the blue, I found Nyle knocking on my door.

“Tami, can we talk?” Nyle asked. Standing there waiting for me to say it was okay for him to come into the apartment. His hands were in his pockets and I noticed the tension he held in his shoulders.

“I guess…”

He walked into my apartment and sat down on the couch.

“Tami, I’m sorry. I screwed up.” He paused and then said, “I know I messed up with you….” Nyle’s voice trailed off and I waited for him to continue, not really knowing where this was heading.

He finally continued, “What do you think. Could we try again?”

I looked at him wondering what to say. Despite our fighting, I had strong feelings for Josh and now, here was Nyle apologizing and proposing we try again. As I paused, not sure what to say to him, I looked around my apartment. It was cleaner, and I immediately noticed the still unpatched holes in the wall and doors. I wasn’t sure I wanted to start again and have the same old result of drunken weekends.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea…” I said.

He left without much hesitation. That was my clue that he wasn’t invested in starting over, but maybe just looking for convenience. I knew he never liked living in the barracks on base. Also, I always wondered if his mother had talked him into trying to get back together or if it was all his idea. I knew she wanted me to take care of him.

I had begun to understand that it was never my job to take care of Nyle. That was his job. Although it took me a few years to fully realize that I needed keep my focus on caring for Bethany and myself. Even then I had begun to understand this and that I didn’t need to feel guilty for leaving Nyle.

LovingConor

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre - Memoir

Rating – PG-13

More details about the author and the book

Connect with Tami Urbanek on Facebook & Twitter

How to Sell Your First Novel – Rik Stone @stone_rik

How to Sell Your First Novel

Every writer needs an author platform and that starts with social networking… it’s important

because readers need to know you exist before they can buy your book. Don’t wait, start now.

Use Twitter; weave into your tweets without labouring the point that you’re working on a novel.

Tell them its title and what it’s about. Make the Tweets interesting and you have a number

of potential customers who might also tell their friends to look out for your work. I mention

Twitter, but there are plenty of other networks out there.

Okay, you’ve built a social group and your book is written. Do you aim at the traditional

publishers or go indie? Well, the traditional hill is a difficult one to climb and I feel agents and

publishing editors might sit back to see which products appeal to the audience, EL James is a

good example. If I’m right a successful indie campaign will give you every chance of getting that

elusive traditional publisher, if that’s what will make you happy.

But is the indie option an easy one? Far from it, going down this route means you have to do

the promotion and marketing yourself, so if you’re not willing to sign over your life completely,

think again… Okay, you’re happy to do it, good, but you’ll soon learn that when you wrote ‘The

End’ it was the biggest piece of fiction in the book; it’s actually the beginning. First base, you

need a publicist. First question, can you afford one? No, go to second base. Yes, then research

the prospective business partners thoroughly, there’s a lot of snake oil out there. Oh, if you do

use a publicist you’ll need to publish in paperback as well as eBook. Second base, virtual tours,

you’re reading this so you’re seeing part of one of them, I hope you’re impressed. Other than

paying out for TV adverts, these tours seem to attract the most eyes.

I won’t go on too much, as I don’t want to take advantage of my kind host, but there is one

statement I must make before you get your book out there: The presentation of text, the cover,

and the quality of the work is of paramount importance to sales. The indie path is a medium

that allows anyone to publish anything, don’t subscribe to ‘that will do’ if you want to gain

public respect and retain their interest, you’d only be letting yourself down. Even if it nips at

your budget give your work every chance by having professionals improve the quality and

presentation. Editing, format of text, creation of cover picture and uploading the work onto your

chosen medium is not overly expensive and you want a book to be proud of.

One final comment, Monty Hall wasn’t a writer, he was a TV celebrity, but his words are

relevant: “Actually, I’m an overnight success, but it took 20 years.” So whatever you learn and

whatever strategies you might want to use, the real secret is to keep at it, and never give up!

Birth of an Assassin

Buy Now @ Amazon, B&N, Kobo & Waterstones

Genre - Thriller, Crime, Suspense

Rating – R

More details about the author

Connect with Rik Stone on Facebook & Twitter

Website

Monday, December 23, 2013

#Mystery - Stark Warning by James Raven @JamesRaven9

Stark Warning by James Raven

Amazon Kindle US

Genre – Thriller

Rating – PG13

4.5 (26 reviews)

“Every time you appear on screen someone will die.”
That’s the stark warning given to Jessica Lee, host of a confessional talk show on network television with millions of fans. But one deranged viewer is out to destroy her career. He demands that her programme be scrapped and tells her to stop appearing on TV. To prove he means business he claims his first victim – a young woman who is found dead with her throat cut. Jessica and her bosses face an agonizing dilemma: take the show off the air or risk more murders. They decide to defy the killer, for fear of setting a dangerous precedent. But there are dire consequences.
James Raven, author of Stark Warning, has worked for over thirty years in the television industry and drew on his experience when writing this novel. He’s also the author of Malicious, After the Execution, Rollover, Urban Myth, Red Blitz, Brutal Revenge and Arctic Blood.

 

Check out the Video trailer for MALICIOUS: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=btPmqY2NOV4

Kim Cresswell – My Top Ten Favourite Novels @kimcresswell

My Top Ten Favourite Novels

by Kim Cresswell

1. Master of the Game by Sidney Sheldon
“She is the symbol of success, the beautiful woman who parlayed her inheritance into an international conglomerate. Winner of a unique position among the wealthy and world-renowned. And she’s a survivor, indomitable as her father, the man who returned from the edge of death to wrench a fortune in diamonds from the bleak South African earth.” Mr. Sheldon was one of the master “story-tellers” of all times.
2. The Immortals by Michael Korda
“Jack Kennedy – the American hero. Marilyn Monroe – the love goddess. Their affair has been whispered about for thirty years. Now, at last, the story we have only been able to imagine is brought to vibrant, stunning life – a passionate, tragic romance played out against a background of deadly intrigue, power politics, and Hollywood glamour on a grand scale.” A fantastic historical and fictional read!
3. Waiting Wives: The Story of Schilling Manor, Home Front to the Vietnam War by Donna Moreau
“In 1964, as the first B-52s took flight in what would become America’s longest combat mission, an old Air Force base on the plains of Kansas became Schilling Manor — the only base ever to be set aside for the wives and children of soldiers assigned to Vietnam.” An incredible read about strength and love!
4. Lucky by Jackie Collins
“With the sensual grace of a panther, Lucky Santangelo prowled her Las Vegas casino, restless, ready, eager for action. That night began a dazzling odyssey, filled with dangerous passion and sun-drenched sex, sadistic vengeance and breathless suspense.” Epic and sexy. A great beach read!
5. This Charming Man by Marian Keyes
“Paddy de Courcy is Ireland’s debonair politician, the “John F. Kennedy Jr. of Dublin.” His charm and charisma have taken hold of the country and the tabloids, not to mention our four heroines: Lola, Grace, Marnie, and Alicia. But though Paddy’s winning smile is fooling Irish minds, the broken hearts he’s left in his past offer a far more truthful look into his character.” One of the most charming and emotional books I have ever read!
6. Black Ice by Anne Stuart
“Living paycheck to paycheck in Paris, American book translator Chloe Underwood would give anything for some excitement and passion–even a little danger. So when she’s offered a lucrative weekend gig translating at a business conference in a remote chateau, she jumps at the chance to shake things up.” Bastien Toussaint from Black Ice is my #1 pick for best hero/anti-hero!
7. Die For Me by Karen Rose
“The first victim is found in a snow-covered Philadelphia field. Detective Vito Ciccotelli enlists the aid of archaeologist Sophie Johannsen to determine exactly what lies beneath the frozen ground.” Suspense at its finest!
8. The Neighbor by Lisa Gardner
“It was a case guaranteed to spark a media feeding frenzy–a young mother, blond and pretty, disappears without a trace from her South Boston home, leaving behind her four-year-old daughter as the only witness and her handsome, secretive husband as the prime suspect.” A scary thrill-ride!
9. Bonnie by Iris Johansen – Eve Ducan Series
“When Eve Duncan gave birth to her daughter, she experienced a love she never knew existed. Nothing would stand in the way of giving Bonnie a wonderful life – until the unthinkable happened and the seven-year-old vanished into thin air. Eve found herself in the throes of a nightmare from which there was no escape.” Must read suspense series!
10. Victims by Jonathan Kellerman
“Unraveling the madness behind L.A.’s most baffling and brutal homicides is what sleuthing psychologist Alex Delaware does best.” Kellerman’s books are like a bad habit. I’m a addict and I’m not giving them up!
Lethal Journey333x500
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Thriller
Rating – PG-18
More details about the author
Connect with Kim Cresswell on Facebook and Twitter

Quality Reads UK Book Club Disclosure: Author interview / guest post has been submitted by the author and previously used on other sites.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

The King of Sunday Morning by J.B. McCauley @MccauleyJay

The Mile End Mambo
1990
He held him in his arms and looked into the glassy eyes. Yellow flecks dotted the cornea. This boy was dead a long time before Roger had run him through. He knew the look. Too much top shelf and not enough down time.
The body from which life dramatically seeped away began to convulse. It would not be a Hollywood death. It would be a harsh demise for this gangster. Unexpected but unavoidable. He had stepped on the wrong toes and nobody touched Roger’s patch.
The big screen had always glamorised death but there was nothing glamorous about having a gaping 12-inch gash where your stomach had once been. Roger’s white shirt was splattered with blood and sputum. He noted to himself with an air of cold detachment that he would have to dispose of it later. The boy soldier’s back arched in agony. A gurgling noise rushed from his throat and then he was gone.
Roger put his arm underneath the boy’s knees and slowly lifted him from the red morass that had filled the doorway. He cradled him in his arms and walked slowly along the pavement. A young couple averted their gaze as he struggled with the limp body. They knew not to look. This was after all the witching hour in the East End. What you don’t see, you can’t tell. He turned the corner and moved into another shop doorway. It was a Dixon’s electrical shop exalting the latest stereos and TV’s.
Roger placed the body carefully on the ground. He took one final look at what 10 minutes ago had been the epitome of arrogance, bravery and youth, then left. He walked quickly to the edge of Walters Street, turned into Burden and darted through a now deserted car park and onto Rially. He saw a red telephone box just up from Dunston Road. He opened the door and tried to ignore the stench of piss and shit. He dialled the number and waited patiently for the connection.
“Rudi?”
His rich baritone West-Indian voice caressed the receiver.
“Yeah, he’s in Dixon’s shopfront on Walters Street.” He paused, digesting the question on the other end of the line.
“Yeah he’s dead. Dead as a door nail. See you at home.”
With that, he hung up the phone and disappeared into the night. His red Rasta beanie swaying as he loped through the shadows. The victim wouldn’t be missed. Roger had nothing to fear. The status quo had been maintained and an example had been made.
Most of all, Rudi would be pleased.
King of Sunday Morning
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Thriller, Action, Suspense, Gangster, Crime, Music
Rating – PG-18
More details about the author and the book
Connect with J.B. McCauley on Facebook & Twitter

Saturday, December 21, 2013

#AmReading - The Park Service by Ryan Winfield @WinfieldRyan

The Park Service by Ryan Winfield

Amazon

What would you do if everything you had been taught turned out to be a lie? That's the question fifteen-year-old Aubrey VanHouten must answer when he stumbles onto a post-apocalyptic paradise where the few remaining humans live on the run from deadly drones controlled by a mysterious Park Service.
Now Aubrey must learn to survive in a world he never dreamed existed while searching for answers to why everything he was taught is a lie.
Destined to become a classic, The Park Service trilogy will inspire and delight readers of all ages.

Author Interview – Sarah Krisch

http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/ciu/59/85/edd32cf78e3b0ad8956e7f.L._V360362629_SX200_.jpg
Every writer has their own idea of what a successful career in writing is, what does success in writing look like to you?
Really, if my characters entertain my readers for a few hours, then I’m doing my job.  It’s hard to predict how many readers I’ll ever have, but I would feel like a success if my readers follow me from one book to the next.
Tell us about your new book? What’s it about and why did you write it?
From the book description:
A failed actress, twenty-something Julia McCarthy begins writing a fictionalized blog as a form of self-therapy. Based on her carefree summers at her grandparents’ farm, she never expects her little experiment to garner a viral following, but it does. Boy, does it ever.
Now, with thousands of loyal blog followers, and a syndication deal with the Chicago Herald, Julia is approached by GreenTV to adapt her blog into a TV show. The producers see her as a “Rachel Ray on the Prairie-type”. She sees herself as a fraud.
In Julia’s fictional world, she’s successful. She can pay her bills on time. Heck, she even has a fictional gorgeous husband and charming little boy. Ready to realize her dreams, Julia returns to her grandparents’ farm to shoot the TV pilot.
Brad Taylor is definitely not her type: he’s rugged, sensible, and oh-so smug about learning that Julia’s blog is a farce. As the manager of her grandparent’s farm, Brad doesn’t have time to deal with whimsical women who don’t even know how to cook.
Julia can’t allow her attraction to Brad to distract her, not when her dreams are about to come true. But are these truly her dreams, her good life?
A fun, fast (150 pages) contemporary romance
What’s your next project?
Right now I’m wrapping up Madi, The Good Life Book Two.  Next up, I’m planning to write a Christmas novella: Trudy, A Good Life Christmas.  That story will focus on Julia’s grandmother when she was a newlywed during the 1950s.
How do you feel about self-publishing?
I find it both liberating and scary.  On the one hand, it has freed so many talented authors from the confines of the traditional publishing model, many of whom never had the chance to get their work published until now.  One the other hand, with few constraints to what gets published there is also a rising tide of bad books on the market.  It makes it confusing for readers.  I would encourage any reader in this new publishing world to read samples before you buy.  Reviews are helpful, but they can only help so much.
I LOVE my Kindle Paperwhite, I just wish it was waterproof so I could relax a bit more when I take it into the bath.  When I find a free half hour I enjoy romance, paranormal romance and new adult books, mostly.
Do you find the time to read?
It’s hard to find the time, but when I do I read mostly romance, paranormal romance and new adult books.
Julia
A failed actress, twenty-something Julia McCarthy begins writing a fictionalized blog as a form of self-therapy. Based on her carefree summers at her grandparents’ farm, she never expects her little experiment to garner a viral following, but it does. Boy, does it ever.
Now, with thousands of loyal blog followers, and a syndication deal with the Chicago Herald, Julia is approached by GreenTV to adapt her blog into a TV show. The producers see her as a “Rachel Ray on the Prairie-type”. She sees herself as a fraud.
In Julia’s fictional world, she’s successful. She can pay her bills on time. Heck, she even has a fictional gorgeous husband and charming little boy. Ready to realize her dreams, Julia returns to her grandparents’ farm to shoot the TV pilot.
Brad Taylor is definitely not her type: he’s rugged, sensible, and oh-so smug about learning that Julia’s blog is a farce. As the manager of her grandparent’s farm, Brad doesn’t have time to deal with whimsical women who don’t even know how to cook.
Julia can’t allow her attraction to Brad to distract her, not when her dreams are about to come true. But are these truly her dreams, her good life?
A fun, fast (150 pages) contemporary romance
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Contemporary Romance
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
Connect with Sarah Krisch on Facebook
Quality Reads UK Book Club Disclosure: Author interview / guest post has been submitted by the author and previously used on other sites.
















Friday, December 20, 2013

Becoming Human (The Exilon 5 Trilogy, Book 1) by Eliza Green @elizagreenbooks

Eliza Green

Two Worlds. Two Species. One Terrifying Secret.

In 2163, a polluted and overcrowded Earth forces humans to search for a new home. But the exoplanet they target, Exilon 5, is occupied. Having already begun a massive relocation programme, Bill Taggart is sent to monitor the Indigenes, the race that lives there. He is a man on the edge. He believes the Indigenes killed his wife, but he doesn’t know why. His surveillance focuses on the Indigene Stephen, who has risked his life to surface during the daytime.

Stephen has every reason to despise the humans and their attempts to colonise his planet. To protect his species from further harm, he must go against his very nature and become human. But one woman holds a secret that threatens Bill’s and Stephen’s plans, an untruth that could rip apart the lives of those on both worlds.

BECOMING HUMAN, part one in the Exilon 5 trilogy, is a science fiction dystopian adventure that you won’t want to put down.

˃˃˃ Thought Provoking SciFi, Dystopian Tale – Compulsion Reads

I would happily recommend this book to fans of dystopia, science fiction and conspiracy lovers. You will be in for an exciting ride.

˃˃˃ Excellent Use of ForeShadowing – Masquerade Crew

This book demonstrates why I read Indie books and have enjoyed doing so immensely. Yes, some self-published books don’t deserve to see the light of day, but this isn’t one of those. Far from it. It was exciting and it had mystery. It sets up the next book while still giving you closure in this one–a difficult task for a book in a series.

˃˃˃”Becoming Human”… a promising first book… 4 1/2 Stars – Top 1000 Amazon Reviewer

A well written and deftly told Sci-Fi tale that got better and better.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Science Fiction

Rating – PG13

More details about the author

Connect withEliza Green on FacebookTwitter

Website http://www.elizagreenbooks.com

Great White House by Christoph Paul @ChristophPaul_

Prologue

Most stories should not start with “it was a dark and stormy night” but this evening in Washington, DC could be described no other way. A great storm was raging, as were key members of Congress and other important figures. The politicians waited in silence staring at a blank satellite screen for the eccentric Chinese President Xi Jinping to appear and discuss the massive debt America owed China.

The group was in the East Room of the White House above the library, where a small window reflected the faces of those who had enough ‘klout’ to sit at the round table with President Obama and Vice President Biden.

It would be any news reporter's dream to sit alongside these political heavyweights, but the “China Task Force” or C.T.F. had made this a closed conference, top-secret event. So secret, even Snowden didn’t know about it.

Even if the White House let the press in, the reporters would not have made it through the heavy downpour in Washington, DC. Visibility in the city was close to zero. Normal traffic ended hours earlier as young and old government employees hunkered down in their favorite bars to weather the storm.

Now, rain poured so hard the echoes of the downpour shot through the White House, giving attention to the awkward silence in the East Room.

As the large teleprompter screen remained blank, an animated Michele Bachmann broke the silence. “I just don’t trust these Chinese, even with their food. My husband ends up having problems with his rectal area after he eats it when I’m away. You should see the fees I pay his proctologist. Thank the good Lord we don’t have ObamaCare or he wouldn’t be able to walk.”

The other members of the C.T.F. remained silent, as most believed Mr. Bachmann to be a closeted homosexual. Being the peacemaker, President Obama wanted to avoid any divisive issues. “Yes. I understand. Chinese food, though delicious, bothers my stomach and Michelle’s as well Congresswoman Bachmann.”

Joe Biden rose from his chair and headed toward the decanter on a table at the side of the room. “Hey, Barry, I thought it was only black guys that were late, not the Chinese. Ha. That's good one.”

The oft-amused Biden smiled and gave a self-satisfactory laugh. President Obama shook his head, grateful the press wasn’t here to catch another ‘JoeGaffee.’ Biden poured himself a glass of scotch as Obama popped a piece of Nicorette in his mouth.

“Since this meeting is 'not official,' I suppose it's all right to have a drink.” Biden cheered the room. He brought another cup over to Wisconsin Representative Paul Ryan and sat back down; the two had become close since their 2012 Vice Presidential debate and would drink over the ‘malarkey’ of the day.

Eric Cantor, next to his also-tanned counterpart Majority Leader Boehner, was fed up with the jokes. “In all seriousness, what the Chinese President is doing is a power move. It’s a psychological display of dominance. You can’t trust a communist.”

Senator Ted Cruz slammed his fist on the table. “Those commies will play mind games. I agree.”

Congresswoman Pelosi raised her hand. “Excuse me, but I’m more worried about this storm. We might be stuck here.” She gestured at the window. “This storm has gotten dangerous. I'm telling you, it's global warming. Only global warming could cause a downpour of this magnitude! My constituents are very worried about this issue and so am I.”

Democrat Senator Harry Reid and Socialist Bernie Sanders agreed but Congresswoman Bachmann and Congressman Tim Scott shook their heads in annoyance and said a silent prayer for the socialists in the room.

Other Republicans rolled their eyes at Pelosi’s statement. Libertarian-leaning Senator Rand Paul responded, “If global warming even exists, the market will fix it. What we need to worry about is the debt. The Chinese have every right to call this emergency meeting and to want their money.”

Ben Bernanke and Tim Geithner (who was called out of retirement to help out the C.T.F.) nodded in approval of Senator Paul’s market solution.

President Obama took a deep breath and offered a fake but serene glance to acknowledge Paul's statement. He put his hand up and quieted the room. “Now, now, let's not have the global warming debate right now, folks. There is talk that the Chinese are very upset about our debt and want us to pay now, which is a surprise to us all. But that is not the only reason for this emergency meeting. The NSA has heard some terrorist chatter about an attack on Annapolis that could dismantle many of our Navy’s resources. They say the Chinese might know about it. We might be in for a long night. Look, if the storm gets worse, you can sleep here; it’s a big house. We can sell to it to the press as a political sleepover. They’ll find that cute and bipartisan.”

New York Senator Schumer rubbed his temples in frustration. “Oi vey, I don’t have my Ambien.”

Senator McCaskill gave him a nice Missouri smile.

“It’s okay, Chuck. You can have some of mine. Senator Rubio, I have some bottled water if you need it, too.”

The group laughed and Senator Rubio inwardly grimaced at the overused joke but mustered a smile that only a man running for President in 2016 could pull off.

Senator McCain put down his unfinished poker game. “You pansies and your sleeping pills. When I was in Vietnam I slept on pure steel and spider shit… President Obama, sir, I’m sick of waiting for these communists. Either you call them or I will.”

President Obama saw an annoyed crowd and felt the temperature in the room rising. On days like this he was sick of being President but he knew this was not a time for self-pity. He looked out at the storm and thought of his Kenyan father herding goats in this type of downpour. His father would not have been deterred by hardships like this. The President sighed with finality. “All right, John, enough is enough. Let’s get President Xi Jinping on screen. We’ve waited long enough.”  

Great White House NEW COVER

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Genre – Fiction, Humor

Rating – PG-13

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Kathleen Shoop – Lessons Learned About Becoming Published

Lessons Learned About Becoming Published

by Kathleen Shoop

1. One of the biggest lessons I learned about becoming a published author was that the “quality” of a book doesn’t guarantee a book deal—quality is not objective. I’m not talking about quality that applies to unedited, unformatted work or books that boast a sloppy cover or where there is little attention to the writing at all. I’m talking about people who think romance is frivolous and therefore the books are junk or that historical fiction is too serious to enjoy with all that realism, so those books stink. That type of sweeping critique is troublesome to me. Yes, I know that professors and agents, editors and even readers will brand one book as great and another as crap and many times there is wide and deep agreement on such an assessment, but really? I’ve read some “fabulous” books that I could barely get through. Crap is subjective, talent, skill, viability in the market—it’s very subjective. So, take this seriously, write the best book possible then sell it.

2. I learned that writing the next book is an author’s best marketing. Quality matters in the sense that you have to pay attention to every single detail a big-time publisher would. You want a great editor, a fabulous, insightful cover artist, a plan to get your work noticed…but when readers begin to see you have a stable of fantastic books, they tend to buy more and spread the word. Write, write, write. It’s central, it’s the key to building a career.

3. With that said, my experience has shown me that I still need to do other types of marketing (than writing the next book). If I don’t have 10 books out to start things rolling, in my opinion, I need to do something to draw attention to my work. Others say no, just write and it will take care of itself. But I needed some validation, I am insecure, I needed readers in order for me to say, okay, this is worth, my mind, my heart, my soul, my sanity every day. So, gently spread the word through social networking, and save up some money for a stronger sell—hard-working marketing plans.  Groups like Fostering Success require a miniscule fee to join and they teach you to market smartly. BUT, I’ve also learned there are many experiences with this…some people don’t market and sell beautifully!

4. I found out that every reader wants quality work—whatever that means for him or her—at a good price, but most don’t give a damn who the publisher is. It takes some time to make the shift from dreaming of a traditional deal to going full force into self-publishing, but once you realize it’s readers you want, you realize it’s the book that matters, it’s getting it to readers that counts.

5. I’m sort of shocked to find I’m satisfied with indie/self-pubbing instead of traditional publishing. Every bit of work I did up until I started writing was accompanied by an institutional hallmark of success…bachelors, masters, PhD…I get the whole validation by “the system” type of thinking…I wanted that so bad! But, I’ve found that being able to call all three of my books bestsellers, to have two of them be multi-award winners, to know that readers do connect with my writing—all of this has soothed my need to tether myself to a big publisher. I’m not totally anti-traditional. I see the value in their work, what they lend to writers. But, when the choice to toil away for years and hope a publishing house sees my novel as its needle in the haystack goes up against the choice to actually get my work in front of readers, I’ll take the readers every time. That was a big lesson for me.

6. Even with all I learned in number 5 up there, I still, at times I feel the old credibility issue creep in. I’m surprised there would be a tiny part of me, a sliver that is affected by the fantasy related to traditional publishing. It rears its head when a fellow writer dismisses my success because it was done the “easy way.” But, I simply sit quietly and reflect on what I’ve done and my goals, meditate a bit and voila! I realize yet again, it’s the readers, dummy, that’s why I write.

7. I can’t believe the networks I’ve formed in the last nineteen months. Being the type of person who keeps to myself in my physical world, I am stunned at the extent to which I’ve found that I work with/support/am supported by such an incredible, and selfless network of writers, that people are so damn savvy and willing to share their knowledge. If I reach out and reach back, there are people willing to lend a hand up and many who need my help as well. It’s an exciting, entrepreneurial time for publishing.

8. The flip-side of that is I’m equally surprised that some people are heartless and will gladly, selfishly harm other writers just because they can. I hate to even think of it. Moving on…

9. I’m irritated and pissed that I’ve had to learn that even I (reserved girl who holes up in her house to write at the expense of real social activities) can be so suddenly distracted by chores unrelated to actual writing. I’ve learned that even I have to actually work at putting my ass back in the seat to write after NEVER having a problem belting out word after word for years! There’s a lure to marketing and networking—the results that come from it. None of that matters if there’s no next book.

10. Publishing is AWESOME if you’re willing to be flexible, exposed, and do all the things you dislike along with the things you love. I think any writer will feel vulnerable to the hurt that comes with the opinions of others no matter which publication path is chosen. And no, we shouldn’t look at reviews…but when you’re indie, you have to monitor your marketing and the sales rank is right there in the same cluster of review numbers, your eyes will stray…and then, well, once you know there’s a new review to read, you can’t quite stop yourself… You can’t write if you don’t put your ego and sense of self at risk of the opinions of others. But, as I’ve said above, all the negatives have taught me about the business and myself. And truly, they pale in comparison to the contentment I feel at being able to put my work into the world. Flexibility, vulnerability, willingness, all play a role. I think that’s what I’ve learned so far…

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Five authors contribute five novellas to this romantic collection set over centuries, in one home on the Albemarle Sound.

Home is where the heart is…

One stately residence on North Carolina’s Albemarle Sound. Five stories of heart-warming romance. Told against the backdrop of the Civil War, the loss of an unsinkable ship, the patriotic zeal of the second world war, the heart-rending conflict of Vietnam, and the thrill of modern day Nascar, Jamie Denton, S. K. McClafferty, Kathleen Shoop, Marcy Waldenville, and J. D. Wylde deliver a variety pack of poignant, sexy, and sweet.

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Genre – Romance

Rating – R

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Wednesday, December 18, 2013

#AmReading - First Ink by Laura Wright @LauraWrightRom

First Ink by Laura Wright

Amazon

Rush
Women in his bed, celebs and rockers in his chair and a killer bank account at his disposal, life is pretty freaking swell. Then she walks back into it again. With her mismatched eyes, perfect pink mouth and a laugh that still haunts him, she gave him nothing but marvelous misery. Now she wants his hands on her again. Not for pleasure, but for pain. For Ink. A bleeding heart to match the one she left him with five years ago.
Addison
She can’t forget him. No matter how hard she’s tried. The pain she caused him in the past eats at her daily, and she can’t move on with her life. But she has a plan, a hope for redemption – a way for him to take his revenge out on her flesh. But it’ll only work if he lets her inside his exclusive world, under his famous artist’s needle and into his bed—and heart-once again.

The Eden Plague (Plague Wars) by David VanDyke @DVanDykeAuthor

New-Eden-Plague-Kindle-Size-187x300-1

A hard-hitting military technothriller, ON SALE for a limited time. Pick it up today before it’s back to its normal $3.98 price.

A Kindle Book Review 2013 Best Indie Award Winner semi-finalist. thekindlebookreview.net/2013-book-awards/ 

Rule #1: Try not to shoot your future wife. When special operations veteran Daniel Markis finds armed invaders in his home and it all goes sideways, he soon finds himself on the run from the shadowy Company and in possession of a genetic engineering breakthrough that might throw nations into chaos. Out of options, Daniel turns to his brothers in arms to fight back and get the answers he needs. Soon he takes possession of a secret that threatens the stability of the world, as he leads a conspiracy to change everything.

Eden Plague leads readers into the exciting and engrossing Plague Wars apocalyptic-thriller series. It borrows from the traditions of Michael Crichton, Dean Koontz, with shades of David Drake, Jerry Pournelle, S. M. Stirling, Vaughn Heppner and B.V. Larson.

Also from David VanDyke:

The Plague Wars Series:
- The Eden Plague
- Reaper’s Run
- The Demon Plagues
- The Reaper Plague
- The Orion Plague
- Cyborg Strike
- Comes the Destroyer

Stellar Conquest Series:
- Planetary Assault – contains First Conquest: Stellar Conquest Book 1
- Desolator: Book 2
- Tactics of Conquest: Book 3 (Winter 2013)

PG-13 for language, violence and adult situations (non-explicit)

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Genre – SciFi, Adventure

Rating – PG13

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Blog https://davidvandyke.wordpress.com/

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

#Free - The Adventures of Crog and Zog by Emily A. Cabot

The Adventures of Crog and Zog by Emily A. Cabot

Amazon Kindle US

Frog Toad adventures will keep your child delighted as this precious frog tale unfolds. In The Adventures of Crog And Zog In The Land Of Frogs And Toads, frog and toad are friends, teaching your children important lessons about getting along with those who are different from them. This story features the frog prince Crog and his friend, Zog, who decide that when frog and toad are friends, everyone's life is better off.
In this delightful book, your child will stay on the edge of his seat while learning of the trouble that frog and toad get into throughout the pages of this book. Your young child will meet the friendly ducks who can make frogs fly,and learn about the thrills of adventure while our young stars visit the place where frog and toad all year live together. Because of the exciting nature of this children's book, like the other book in the frog and toad series, your children will learn that being brave enough to face the unknown can take them to marvelous places that they had only before dreamed of visiting.
Emily A. Cabot goes all out in this frog tale, giving children the opportunity to learn important lessons while remaining safely within the realm of comfort for a children's frog prince story. Since frog and toad are friends in this book, your children are introduced to the always challenging concept that just because you are different from someone else doesn't mean that you can't be friends.
Within this second book featuring the frog prince Crog, your child will be delighted with colorful drawings and playful illustrations that bring the frog and toad drama to life in your hands. Your child will want to read about frog and toad all year long, quickly becoming one of their favorite tales to be told at the bedtime setting
As frog and toad together gives the story a feeling of unity and delight, your child will fall in love with these playful characters from the frog and toad series all over again in this newest adventure.
The time spent with your child reading these tales will create fond bedtime memories that your child will cherish for the rest of their lives. Don't delay, get your copy of this tale of frog toad today, and open your child's mind to the delights and wonders of the imaginative world of Emily A. Cabot's delightful story.