Saturday, October 5, 2013

Harmless by Ernie Lindsey

CHAPTER 1

Here’s how it happened, and most of this is true.

That night, a single pop of gunfire next door interrupted a well-earned scotch. 

Long day.  Feet up.  Tie loosened with the Giants down by two runs in the ninth.  You know how it goes.  You wake up expecting normal things to happen—like a shower without the hot water heater going bust, or fixing your eggs without burning a fat blister, or the judge deciding that you are, indeed, entitled to see your kids every other weekend.  One bang of the gavel and you trip backwards down the stairs of Progress, rolling and tumbling until you land on your rear, dazed, alone, and seriously pissed off.

First floor: defeat, desperation, ladies’ lingerie.

It’s amazing how a thin slingshot of material—a mixture of lace and cotton, a thong, or thongs, plural—can ruin ten years of marriage, a career, and the relationship you’re supposed to have with your children.

The fault lies with me.  I’ve admitted it.  I’ve apologized.  I’ve begged.

I am, and remain, an unforgivable wretch.

At least, according to the court system.

And those who are unfamiliar with me.

I jumped to my feet, drenching a pants leg with sloshing scotch and melting ice, and pulled two blinds apart at the window.

The woman next door, the first time I met her, she initially said her name was Jan.

She said Jan, I know she did, but we’ll get to that later.  The mistakenly delivered mail from Sterling Savings & Loan referred to her as Kerry Parker—do I really look that sketchy?  Sketchy enough for her to lie?  Also, I used this joke on her, an old standby:  “I think I know you from somewhere…maybe from high school…yeah, didn’t we have Chemistry together?  No?  Well, we do now.”

Jan, Kerry.  Kerry, Jan.  I’ll call her Kerry.  It’s easier that way.

She moved in six months ago and lived alone in a modest ranch home with dark, red brick and white shutters.  Her plants died in the summer heat while her yard stayed over-watered and jungle-like.  What kind of person does that?  I was positive that an entomologist could find a number of undiscovered species crawling throughout its vines and lush green canopy.  I’d offered to mow it for her several times while mowing mine (shirtless, of course—the tan stays even, period), but she always declined, said she could use the help but no thanks, and then would scurry inside like she was trying to get away from me.  Cute butt waggling in short shorts, flip-flops slapping against her heels as she climbed the three steps leading up to her porch.

I mention the cute butt because, well, how could you not?  I mean, really, it’s like a bubble.  The one time I got a better look from my office window, as she sunbathed in her backyard—no top and a pink thong, of all things—that was all it took to confirm that yes, “bubble” was the perfect word.  It’s not like I was spying.  I just happened to be on the computer upstairs and looked outside.  Maybe for a little too long—what’s the harm in that?

The difference between a peeping tom and coincidence is timing—and duration.

She was thirty-two, eleven years younger than me.  And I know this because I got a quick look at her driver’s license—Kerry Parker, confirmed—which I found in the front seat of her car.  (A storm was coming.  Her windows were down.  I try to be helpful in such situations.  I do.  Honest.) 

She was separated from her husband, according to the letter from Wellington & Wellington, Attorneys at Law, which, coincidentally, was the same firm handling my case.  So it was a complete accident that I opened the envelope.  I thought it was mine

When I gave it to her, I got the feeling that she was slightly unnerved.  Explaining what happened eased her apprehension, I’m sure of it, but she still gave me the same kind of look you give a car salesman when you know he’s trying to give you the shaft and guaranteeing that you’ll enjoy it.  I should know.  I’ve gotten that look several times peddling metal over at Thrifty’s Used Cars.

Harmless

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Genre - Mystery/Suspense

Rating – PG13

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Connect with Ernie Lindsey on Facebook & Twitter

Blog http://www.ernielindsey.com/

Knights of the Dragon by Albert J. Gallant @Alberttttt

Knights of the Dragon

This novel contains baby dragons and adventure. It also encompasses valorous knights and humor. It’s a tale of magic and mayhem.

Knights of the Dragon is an exciting tale of knights, wizards, romance and dragons. The adventure to save Leeander is on! When an exceptional baby dragon is born will it change everyone’s destiny?

A dragon named Ryxa befriends a boy only to discover that his kingdom will soon be conquered by another and the boy is doomed, and so to save him and his people she hires knights to go on an adventure with her and the boy to find magic.

Leeander’s knight Stone is sent out to capture a wizard in an attempt to defend the kingdom while trying hard to keep his eyes off princess Alexa, who insists on going with them in pursuit of a sorcerer.

Meanwhile, a red dragon named Ella falls for a black dragon, which is taboo, and she tries hard to resist his irresistible charm. She doesn’t want her life to be left in ruins because of bonding with a black dragon.

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Genre - Fantasy

Rating – PG-13

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Connect with Albert J. Gallant on Twitter

Website http://www.independentauthornetwork.com/a-j-gallant.html

The Way Home by Nhys Glover

PROLOGUE

October 1940, Leconfield, Yorkshire, ENGLAND

What it was about the large farmhouse Hawk did not know, but from the first moment he crossed its threshold, he felt at home. Its thick stone walls embraced him; its low beams protected him.

Homesickness or nostalgia couldn’t account for his feelings because the place was very different from its counterparts at home. Nothing in England reminded him of Poland.

‘Come in, come in, don’t stand there like statue,’ the farmer demanded, his gruff Yorkshire accent softened by his friendly tone. He looked to be in his fifties, although there was the fragility of old age about him, too, as if his body had worn out earlier than it should.

‘You do understand me, don’t ye? I know ye’re foreign an’ all…’

Hawk grinned and nodded. Although the man’s accent was strong, he understood it well enough. ‘I speak English. We had to learn before they would let us up in their planes.’

The farmer nodded sagely, still waiting for him to move into the house more fully. Hawk wanted to savour the moment like a fine liqueur, letting the taste remain on his tongue, breathing it in through his nose.

There was mustiness in the air of a damp space kept closed up for too long. He could smell furniture polish and wet dog. There was also the odour of manure that had accompanied them in from the farmyard. None of the individual scents he identified gave him sensations of pleasure, but in combination, they affected him pleasantly.

He’d grown up in the city. Rural life was alien to him. Mostly, it worried him with its isolation, but not here, not in this farmhouse. Here, the rural setting suited him. Here, the isolation felt comfortable, as if he could be wholly himself for the first time without the intrusion of others. The sound of aircraft landing and taking off nearby only added to the feeling of home.

‘Is it shell shock ye’re sufferin’?’ The farmer was staring at him now, his deeply lined brow puckered with concern.

Hawk gave himself a mental shake and smiled at the man again. ‘Sorry, no. It is just this house. I feel like I know it… or it knows me. I sound like a crazy person, I know. Would you prefer I left?’

He didn’t want to leave – not now. Not ever, a little voice in his head said. If the man began to worry about Hawk’s sanity, however, it might be better. They didn’t want to get a bad reputation with the locals. Already, the man might see him as an intruder. After all, Hawk had wandered up his long drive to the farmhouse for no reason other than he wanted to know what was at the end of the road. He hadn’t been invited onto the property until the farmer had seen him and offered him welcome.

‘Nah then, lad, don’t be daft. I invited thee, didn’t I? And our Mildred’ll give me a right say-so if I let thee go before tha’ve had a cup o’ tea. We’ve heard about thee lads, the 303 Squadron?’

The man had turned and had begun walking down the dark hallway, talking all the while. Hawk couldn’t draw the moment out any longer. He had to follow along behind the farmer or be considered rude.

He took several long, striding steps to catch up with the Yorkshireman. ‘Yes. We were rotated out to Leconfield from Northolt for a break. Six weeks we have been in the air.’

‘One hundred and twenty-six kills in six weeks, they’re sayin’. Impressive, and we aren’t impressed by foreigners easy in these parts.’

‘We lost eighteen Hurricanes, seven pilots and we have five more badly wounded. That is not so impressive.’

‘If I told thee the losses we took at the Somme, thee’d think twice about that.’ The man’s voice was hollow, as if it came from a long way away, a lifetime away.

‘You survived the Great War?’

‘Aye. Lucky’s what I was, nowt but lucky. The mustard gas got ta ma lungs, but nowt bad. Now ‘ere’s our Mildred…’

They’d made it to the back of the house by now and entered the big country kitchen with its wooden table in the centre and flagstones on the floor. A big black range burned hot against the far wall. He could feel its heat from where he stood. A small window over the sink was open, as was the back door, probably because it was midday and the sun was shining. The cool air from outside also balanced the heat inside a little.

He could see autumn leaves, golden and beautiful, on the oak tree just outside the window. They seemed to glow in the sunlight.

Mildred was a matronly woman with grey, straggly hair and a friendly smile. Her face was flushed red from the heat of the stove. She wiped a strand of hair away from her face with the back of a floury arm.

‘Ayap, who’s tha wi’ ye then, our Alf? A ‘andsome airman fromt’ looks of ‘im.’

The Way Home

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Genre - Historical  Romance

Rating – PG

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Website http://nhysglover.com/

Friday, October 4, 2013

The Pat O’Malley Historical Steampunk Mystery Trilogy - Jim Musgrave

Chapter 4:  Alcohol and the Black Cat

The next day, I wanted to go back and see if I could get some real information out of Plug Ugly gang leader Walter McKenzie in Hoboken, New Jersey.  He was doing business all along the docks during the time Poe was working in New York.  Today, he was limited to the docks in Jersey.  I was hoping he could supply me with some specific clues about Poe and his relationship with the murdered tobacco shop girl.

The cobblestone streets in the poorer neighborhoods collected refuse and dead animals.  People threw their garbage out of the windows and the dead rats, dogs and cats fell down into big cracks in the road where they would stink to high heaven.  One of our tortures as children would be to force the victim’s face down into one of these cracks until he or she began screaming for release.

I went through the same inspection process as I entered the dockside building where McKenzie had his center of business.  “Watch it with your hands, ladies,” I told them, “don’t touch anything you don’t want to buy,” I added, as they felt all around my legs and up my back.

“He’s clean,” said a ham-fisted gangster wearing a dock worker’s uniform of black gabardines and red suspenders.  He also had a cargo hook hanging from his belt that probably served more as a weapon than as a loading utensil.  The three of them pushed me into the back room and slammed the door.

Today, Walter McKenzie was not in his cups.  Instead, he had two prostitutes, one on each knee, giving him little chucks under his three chins and whispering sweet nothings in his cauliflower ears.  They wore Chinese gowns with gold dragons on the front, and their black stockings could be seen as their legs crossed each other. 

He swiveled his big chair around toward me.  “O’Malley, is it?  Ya ain’t no relation to Father O’Malley, the priest who comes down to the docks to tell us we’re all goin’ to Hades, are ya now?”

“No, I’m just trying to show the world that the Irish aren’t all a bunch of sots and drunkards.  I thought maybe you could answer a few questions for me now that you’re not besotted.  The case I’m working on has to do with events happening in New York City from 1846 to 1849.”

“It depends.  I ain’t no stool pigeon.  And I won’t help the police,” McKenzie said, pushing the girls off his knees and standing up.  “Get back to work on your backs!” he laughed, and the women left the room giggling.

“I won’t ask anything that would put your grand reputation in jeopardy,” I said, “and I am not a flat foot.  I’m a vet who’s trying to make a living in private investigations.”

“A man of the Union, are ya then?”

I nodded.

“That’s a horse of a different color, now ain’t it?  Ask away, O’Malley, me boy-o.  Ya risked your life so’s the likes of me can stay in business, and I’ll give ya my best memory, ‘though there’s been a lot of malt into me bowels and a few whacks on me skull during all these years,” McKenzie laughed, pointing to his head.

“Did you ever work for a gentleman by the name of John Anderson?  He owned a tobacco shop in New York during those years,” I said.

“Anderson.  Let me see now.  That name’s familiar.  It was an Anderson come to me about that Rogers girl.  Mary Rogers was her name.  But it weren’t a Mister Anderson.  It were Missus Anderson who come to me about the woman trouble that Rogers was having.  She was ready with the money, and I told her about the best: Madame Restell, the female doctor with the mansion on Fifth Avenue.”

I tried a different approach on the old blackguard. “All right.  I know about Mary Rogers and her troubles.  What I want to know is if Mister Anderson was mentioned at any point in your conversation with his wife?”

McKenzie furrowed his brow.  “Ya know, she did say that the girl was living with them when she got into trouble.  I thought it were strange, but these rich bastards are always knockin’ up the hired help, if ya know what I mean,” he snickered into his big hand.  “She also asked me if I could send somebody to follow this Mary Rogers around.  Missus Anderson said she was worried that she’d get into more girl trouble.  So’s I sent Bernie Ryan to do it.”

Most of this information, except for the hired goon, verified what the poet William Ross Wallace was telling me about Anderson and his relationship with the Rogers girl.  Ergo, if Anderson got his tobacco shop girl pregnant, and his wife found out about it, then she would certainly want to have the problem taken care of post haste.  Mary Rogers and her mother moved into their own place shortly after that.  She was finally out of temptation’s way.

However, if Anderson did impregnate the girl, it still didn’t prove he wanted to kill Poe.  Poe, in fact, according to Wallace, was hired to write the story that helped keep the police from suspecting the tobacconist millionaire of killing the girl.  Anderson would not have wanted Poe harmed, if he were being helped by the famous writer.  No, there must be another connection between Poe’s death and the death of Mary Rogers, and I needed more information to find out what that connection was.

“Is there any more information you remember about Rogers and the Andersons?  Also, did you ever hear about Edgar Allan Poe having anything to do with the Rogers death?” I asked McKenzie.

“No, all I knew were that Missus Anderson wanted the problem handled by the best.  I never heard no Mister Poe mentioned at all, me boy-o,” said McKenzie.

I got up from my chair and reached out to shake Walter McKenzie’s hand.  His grip was still strong at age sixty-two.  “Thank you.  I’ll be in touch, if you don’t mind, if I can think of anything else,” I said, and I handed him one of my business cards.  “If you remember anything, just send me a message,” I said, and I left the room.

Jim Musgrave

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Genre – Historical Steampunk Mystery

Rating – PG13

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Website http://contempinstruct.com/Forevermore/

$250 Amazon.com gift card giveaway

#AmWatching The Very Long Engagement (starring Audrey Tautou)

A Very Long Engagement (English Subtitled)

4.4 out of 5 stars See all reviews (151 customer reviews) |

7.7/10

Also available in HD
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Near the end of World War I in France, five nearly hopeless men shoot themselves in order to escape the horror of the frontline trenches at the Somme.

  • Starring: Audrey Tautou, Gaspard Ulliel
  • Directed by: Jean-Pierre Jeunet
  • Runtime: 2 hours 14 minutes
  • Release year: 2004
  • Studio: Warner Bros.

 

 

Storyline:

Five desperate French soldiers during The Battle of the Somme shoot themselves, either by accident or with purpose, in order to be invalided back home. Having been "caught" a court-martial convenes and determines punishment to be banishment to No Man's Land with the objective of having the Germans finish them off. In the process of telling this tale each man's life is briefly explored along with their next of kin as Methilde, fiancée to one of the men, tries to determine the circumstances of her lover's death. This task is not made any easier for her due to a bout with polio as a child. Along the way she discovers the heights and depths of the human soul. Written by Liam McBain

This film is inspiring, to follow what you believe and find your loved ones! A very moving film but very true to life! A story of five soldiers being summoned to No Mans Land and left to die. The film shows how these soldiers fought for their lives and how one particular solider, Manech, and his soon to be wife, played by Audrey Tautou, uncovers the truth to find out about his whereabouts. Written by Gem

Five desperate men shoot themselves in order to be relieved from the horrifying frontline at the Somme, in WWI. A court-martial decides to punish them by leaving them alone in no-man's land, to be killed in the crossfire. Then all hell breaks loose and they all die. Or not? One of these men's fiancée, a young girl who can't walk since age 3, receives information that makes her suspect his boyfriend might have gotten away alive. So she embarks in a painful, long and often frustrating ordeal to find out the truth. Written by Erwin van Moll <max404@hotmail.com>

The film is set in France near the end of World War I in the deadly trenches of the Somme, in the gilded Parisian halls of power, and in the modest home of an indomitable provincial girl. It tells the story of this young woman's relentless, moving and sometimes comic search for her fiancé, who has disappeared. He is one of five French soldiers believed to have been court-martialed under mysterious circumstances and pushed out of an allied trench into an almost-certain death in no-man's land. What follows is an investigation into the arbitrary nature of secrecy, the absurdity of war, and the enduring passion, intuition and tenacity of the human heart. Written by bondish

INDIESTRUCTIBLE: INSPIRING STORIES FROM THE PUBLISHING JUNGLE – Jessica Bell

INDIESTRUCTIBLE: INSPIRING STORIES FROM THE PUBLISHING JUNGLE

eBook: $0.99 USD
Publisher: Vine Leaves Press
ISBN 10: 0987593102
ISBN 13: 9780987593108
Language: English

Edited & Compiled: by Jessica Bell

CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE INDIESTRUCTIBLE

100% of proceeds will be donated to BUILDON.org, a movement which breaks the cycle of poverty, illiteracy, and low expectations through service and education.

Need motivation and inspiration to self-publish or sign that contract with an interested small press? Have you done all the research you can, but still feel ambivalent about the idea? Indiestructible: Inspiring Stories from the Publishing Jungle brings you the experiences of 29 indie authors—their passions, their insights, their successes—to help you make the leap into indie publishing.

This is not a how-to guide. This is the best of the indie tradition of experienced authors paying forward what they’ve learned, giving you information to help you on your journey. The personal essays in this book will leave you itching to get your work into the hands of readers and experience, first-hand, all the rewards indie publishing has to offer.

Contributing authors:

Alex J. Cavanaugh <> Angela Brown <> Anne R. Allen <> Briane Pagel <> C.S. Lakin <> Ciara Knight <> Cindy M. Hogan <> D. Robert Pease <> Dawn Ius <> Emily White <> Greg Metcalf <> Jadie Jones <> Jessica Bell <> Karen Bass <> Karen Walker <> Kristie Cook <> Laura Diamond <> Laura Pauling <> Laurel Garver <> Leigh Talbert Moore <> Lori Robinson <> Melissa Foster <> Michael Offutt <> Michelle Davidson Argyle <> Rick Daley <> Roz Morris <> S.R. Johannes <> Stephen Tremp <> Susan Kaye Quinn

indiestructible

Need motivation and inspiration to self-publish, or sign that contract with an interested small press? Have you done all the research you can, but still feel ambivalent about the idea? “Indiestructible: Inspiring Stories from the Publishing Jungle” brings you the experiences of 29 indie authors—their passions, their insights, their successes—to help you make the leap into indie publishing.

This is not a how-to guide. This is the best of the indie tradition of experienced authors paying forward what they’ve learned, giving you information to help you on your journey. The personal essays in this book will leave you itching to get your work into the hands of readers and experience, first-hand, all the rewards indie publishing has to offer.

100% of proceeds from “Indiestructible” purchases will be donated to BUILDON.org

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre –  Non-fiction

Rating – G

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Connect with Jessica Bell on FacebookTwitter

Blog http://thealliterativeallomorph.blogspot.com/

Thursday, October 3, 2013

#Free–Clean Eating - The Benefits of an Eat Clean Diet by Dottie Copps

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Clean Eating: The Benefits of an Eat Clean Diet by Dottie Copps

Amazon Kindle US

Genre – Non Fiction

Rating – G

4.9 (17 reviews)

Free until 3 October 2013

Do you know what clean eating means? Are you aware of all of its benefits? Maybe you wonder just what someone eats when they are on a clean eating diet. If you have wondered what the benefits of this diet are and how you can benefit from them, read “Clean Eating – The Benefits of an Eat Clean Diet.” You will learn how to begin a clean eating diet, how to stay on the diet without having cravings and how to incorporate plenty of different types of food to avoid getting bored with the same meals over and over again.
Whether you simply want to know more about clean eating for beginners or you are ready to dive in head first on this new healthy lifestyle, you will love what you can gain from this book:
• Learn what makes up clean foods and how they qualify
• Learn the effects of excessive sugar and sodium in your body
• Learn how you can lose weight by following the clean eating guidelines
• Understand how to achieve overall wellness
• Learn how to read labels

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

#Free: Accountability Leadership @DiWorrall

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Are You Still Living In Hope That Your Employees Will Follow Through On Expectations?

Ask anyone in charge of managing people to define their number one leadership challenge, and they’re likely to tell you that it’s achieving accountability for performance. CEOs, top executive teams, managers, and line supervisors all struggle to get the right things done, the right way, by the right staff, at the right time. When goals are met or exceeded, everyone’s a hero. But even the very best organisations face unforeseen challenges and sometimes fail to meet their goals. At such times the organisation must quickly be put on the right track, and this cannot be done without a strong culture of accountability.

Many organisations continue to implement traditional systems of accountability in an attempt to drive high performance in the workplace - only to see those efforts fail. The problem is, in many organisations accountability is viewed as something negative that happens to you when things go wrong. This kind of accountability never works over the long term. Real accountability is achieved through a step-by-step process that makes things go right.

Business leaders who employ the new principles of leadership accountability stand to multiply their chances of success and market leadership, reporting high performing characteristics such as:

· Cross-functional teams are the norm and are aligned, flexible, and adaptive to change.

· Delivering on or beyond expectations is the norm rather than the exception.

· Individuals and teams have a sense of ownership, and are focused, disciplined and collaborative, while holding each other accountable for outcomes.

· The din of organisational silence is replaced with communications which are engaging, high trust, and free flowing.

· Instead of entitlement, fear, blame and change resistance - organisational policies are driven by accountability, trust, and continuous improvement.

· Striving for excellence in customer service is embedded as a core business value.

· Company-wide culture embraces learning. It’s fun, friendly, and meaningful, and delivers great results.

The case for improved accountability in leadership has become critical for any leader with pragmatic desires for better business success.

In the #1 Amazon best seller, Accountability Leadership, you will find how great leaders are discovering a previously untapped goldmine of opportunity for personal, team and business transformation using the new science of accountability to build a high performance culture of accountability and responsibility.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre - Business, Leadership, Workplace Behaviour, Human Resources, Executive Coaching

Rating – PG

More details about the author

Connect with Di Worrall on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.diworrall.com.au/

#AmReading - The Ups and Downs of Being Dead @marshacornelius

The Ups and Downs of Being Dead by M.R. Cornelius

Amazon Kindle UK

Print Length: 391 pages

  • Fifty-seven year old Robert Malone is the CEO of a successful clothing store chain and married to a former model. When his doctor tells him he is dying of cancer, he refuses to go quietly. Instead of death, Robert chooses cryonics. He knows it's a long shot. His frozen body will be stored in liquid nitrogen for the next seventy-five years, and then he'll wake up in the future. That is, if technology develops a way to bring him back.
    He's willing to take that gamble.
    What he doesn't realize is that he won't lie in some dreamless state all that time. His soul is very much awake, just like the others who were frozen before him. And like these souls in limbo, Robert begins a new kind of life outside his physical body.
    He discovers that he can ride in the cockpit with the pilots, but he can't turn the page of a magazine. He can sit in the oval office with the president, but he can't prevent a child from dashing in front of a car. He doesn't work, or eat, or sleep. He can't smell, or taste, or touch. These obstacles make it difficult to experience love, and virtually impossible to reconcile with the living.
    Over the next several decades, Robert Malone will have plenty of time to figure out The Ups and Downs of Being Dead.

  • 10 Things You Didn’t Know About Harriet Hodgson – Harriet Hodgson

    10 Things You Didn’t Know About Harriet Hodgson

    1. She has been a freelance writer for 36+ years.
    2. Because she was teaching at the time, her first books were recycling books for young children.
    3. She designed 225 toys and games for young children, all made from safe throw-away items.
    4. A poetry book about the Fourth of July is part of her resume. “I loved writing this book,” she says. “It made me appreciate America even more.”
    5. All of her books come from life experience. After four family members died in 2007 her writing changed from general health and wellness to resources about recovering from grief.
    6. She has given presentations at the Bereaved Parents of the USA national gathering in Tampa, Florida and The Compassionate Friends national conference in Boston.
    7. Harriet serves as a Forum Editor and Contributing Writer for the Open to Hope Foundation website.
    8. She has top status on www.ezinearticles.com and more than 925 of her articles are posted on this website.
    9. Along with her husband, this grandmother was legal guardian of her twin grandkids after their parents died in separate car crashes.
    10. Every day is a miracle for Harriet Hodgson and she lives each day to the fullest.

    happyAgain

    Buy Now @ Amazon

    Genre – Non-fiction

    Rating – G

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    Connect with Harriet W Hodgson on Twitter

    Website http://harriethodgson.com/

    Tuesday, October 1, 2013

    The Howling Heart by April Bostic

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    Paige Donovan is an ambitious college graduate who aspires to reach the top of the corporate ladder. She’s climbing fast when she’s given the promotion of a lifetime at a prestigious fashion magazine in New York City. Her bright future comes to an unexpected halt after news of her father’s death. She inherits his old cabin in the Colorado Rockies, and just when she thinks her luck couldn’t get any worse, she has a car accident in the mountains and awakens in the small, remote community of Black River.

    Soon, she’s engulfed in the mystical world of Varulv–wolves descended from 13th century Scandinavia and blessed by Norse gods with the ability to appear human. Paige is desperate to return home, but she never expects to fall for her rescuer, Riley Gray, a charming young werewolf from England who offers her an alternate future with his pack.

    Now, she must choose between the career she’s always wanted and the love she’s always dreamed.

    Buy Now @ Amazon

    Genre – Paranormal Romance

    Rating – Adult

    More details about the author

    Connect with April Bostic on Goodreads

    Website http://www.aprilbostic.com/

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    The Magistrate (The Prisonworld Trilogy) by Keira Michelle Telford

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    Five years ago …

    An explosion shakes the ground and sends a plume of thick black smoke up into the air, a raging ball of fire beneath it. Debris is thrown up and comes crashing back down to earth: bits of stone and brick, chunks of twisted metal, and scraps of human flesh.

    The entire western elevation of Hamilton House—an imposing Victorian building located on the Victoria Embankment in the EC4 zone of London, right at the edge of the Square Mile—is destroyed, leaving a gaping, fiery hole from which the screams of the injured echo into the deserted Inner Temple Gardens beside it.

    After the blast, and the brief moment of hollow silence following it, the normally tranquil area around Victoria Embankment is flooded with noise.

    Sirens.

    Fire.

    Police.

    Medics.

    In the coming hours, the news will report that the Home Secretary is dead, along with several senior Section Five officers. Many more people—other Section Five officers included—were injured, and the first to be dragged from the wreckage by a couple of passing pedestrians is a forty-odd-year-old man. His shoulder-length light brown hair, which is normally pulled back into a neat ponytail, is bedraggled and scruffy. Dressed like a proper gentleman—in other words, a toff—he’s wearing an expensive suit, complete with waistcoat and silk puff tie.

    His tweed flat cap falls off, getting trampled on as the two conscientious humanitarians pull him across Inner Temple Gardens and lie him down on the soft green grass away from the fire and the smoke, helping him to breathe.

    The Magistrate

    Buy Now @ Amazon

    Genre - Lesbian Romance/ Dystopian/ Neo-Victorian

    Rating – R (18+)

    More details about the author & the book

    Connect with Keira Michelle Telford on Facebook & Twitter

    Website http://www.ellacross.com/

    Anniversary of the Veil by Vanna Smythe

    ***

    At dusk, the other Highers started gathering in the central valley, waiting amid the sand dunes, dark brown now under the purple colored sky. Rhyssa floated above them until she was sure most of them had gathered, then materialized in their midst. Idryl thanked them all for coming then allowed Rhyssa to speak. 

    "I have a proposition to place before you," Rhyssa began, her voice shaky, uncertain. Several of the Highers in the back rows yelled for her to speak up. 

    Rhyssa willed her essence body to grow until she stood twice as tall as the rest. "I wish to call Amorannyn and ask him to explain why he has not yet brought us home. If we all agree, Idryl will call him and pose the question!"

    "Amorannyn speaks to us when he wants to!" a Higher Rhyssa could not see yelled. 

    Several others voiced their agreement. 

    "We have no right to demand anything of him!"

    Rhyssa turned towards the voice. "I do not want to make demands of him. I merely wish to know why he has not yet brought us home as he promised."

    "You always were a feisty one, Rhyssa. It would do you good to learn some patience," an older Higher, Syd, said. "You are not a princess here." 

    Several laughed, but Rhyssa ignored them, her essence body crackling from the effort of remaining calm. "If we all called for him, joined together and pleaded with him to answer, he would. Just to know! It is no imposition to desire knowledge of our future."

    Syd became a purple giant, mimicking Rhyssa's form. "We are all here and all whole and complete. Amorannyn said he would let us return home once that happens and he will. We just have to be patient. You have only been back here a short time, Rhyssa. Calm yourself and wait. Learning more patience will only do you good."

    Rhyssa willed her essence body to separate into two, becoming Issa and her other half. "I am not whole. And I believe this is the reason why Amorannyn has not yet called us home. We must ask him what will be next."

    The air above the gathered Highers crackled and bristled. 

    "We are whole!"

    "And complete!"

    "Girl, do not speak such falsehoods!"

    "I know I am not whole!" Rhyssa retorted. "We have spoken of this before. For some reason, we are never whole right after we return here after a Joining in the Lessers' world." 

    Another of the older Highers, wearing an essence body of pure yellow light rose into the air. "I agree with Rhyssa. My own Joining occurred not long ago. I can be whole, but I can't stay whole. You know of what I speak. Perhaps it is something to do with the crude way in which the Joinings are forced by the Lessers."

    "All that is only conjecture. And we all become whole eventually," another Higher yelled.

    Rhyssa's cousin, a being of pale blue light rose above the crowd. "I too am not whole."

    Several others floated up after her while proclaiming the same. Rhyssa counted fifty of them.

    Sparks crackled on Syd's giant essence body. "Patience! That is all you need. Wait a bit and you will all be whole!"

    Idryl rose up next to Syd. "This discussion is leading nowhere. We cannot know why it takes a little while before you all become truly whole. Amorannyn knows, perhaps, and I second Rhyssa's proposal to ask him. Hers was supposed to be the last Joining before we return home. Yet we are still here." 

    Idryl's voice rained on them like a spring shower. "I cannot force you to make this decision so go now and think on her words, make your own decisions. But I will call another meeting soon, so that we may vote on the matter."

    They dispersed, some muttering and others glaring. Idryl turned to Rhyssa. "You do know that just calling Amorannyn does not mean he will answer?"

    Rhyssa looked up at the darkening sky of their cage. "I do. But what else can we do?"

    She let herself become a river of light and floated into the shimmering darkness above them, blending with the brilliant multicolored dots that appeared as night fell. The dots were her family and friends in the Lands of the Higher. But there wasn't a single red star bright enough to be her Kraytan because her true mate, the one and only, was alone in the Lessers' world. And Rhyssa did not know if he could ever return from there.

    ForeverHusband

    Buy Now @ Amazon

    Genre – Fantasy, Paranormal Romance

    Rating – PG13

    More details about the author

    Connect with Vanna Smythe on Facebook & Twitter

    Website http://vannasmythe.com/

    Honest answers, or something close to it by Brad Cotton

    Honest answers, or something close to it.

    As the author of a few books, I often get asked fairly sensible questions from both interested readers and/or aspiring writers.

    There are very few topics on which I am expert. For example, I can have a respectable conversation about the footwear I own, and, I can recite my address from memory pretty much every time. Beyond that, however, I would consider myself pedestrian, or average, on most things. All I can offer in the way of wisdom and advice, like most people, is experience gathered from a subject group of one.

    Having said that, I do have a lot of experience with writing and publishing, so please accept the answers to the following as close to fact as they will come:

    1. How long does it take to write a book?

    8 months. No more no less. If you write for longer, you’re too slow and should stop and burn what you have. If you write for shorter, you’re too fast. Become a runner.

    2. Where do you get the ideas for your books?

    Funny enough: fortune cookies.

    3. I’ve always wanted to write a book, and I have a great idea for one. I’m pretty sure I could write a worthwhile novel and it’s always been my dream. It’s a very personal story and I think it would help a lot of people if I shared it. I’m a little bit nervous and maybe just need some support or encouragement. It would really make my life complete to see my story in print. Should I do it?

    No.

    4. Can you make money as a writer?

    That depends. If you think eating is pretty cool, then yes, you can make money. If you think cool clothes are the thing, writing may be for you. If you like new cars, jewelry, houses, and private jets, you may already be a writer. Now move along you’re holding up my line and I have a bathroom break in five minutes.

    5.  How long will it take to get an agent?

    About the same amount of time it will take you to write a book: 6 months. (Please do not look back at question 1).

    6. Who’s your favorite author?

    Brad Cotton

    7. Who do you hate?

    Myself.

    8. Is your family supportive of your writing?

    Yes. And of my brothers alcoholism. We’re a close bunch.

    9. How do you get people to read your books?

    Me? Personally? I… ummm, well, I… uhh. Look over there! (Runs away)

    10. Is your book any good?

    Yes, my book is some good.

    11. Did you always want to be a writer?

    The list of things I wanted to do with my life went like this: 1. Superman. 2. Nothing. 3. Writer. 4. Nothing. 5. Make lists.

    12. I hate reading, but I want to write a book.

    This one is more of a great comment than a question. But then again, that was more of a statement than an answer.

    13. I have a completed manuscript. Should I bother hiring an editor?

    Editors are often used as a last resort. If you feel your man script is ready to go, I’m petty sure it is.

    14. Can you recommend a good book?

    Nnnnnnnnnnnnyes!

    Boundless

    Best friends Duncan and Ray run a successful bookie business in Phoenix. Outgrowing the life they began in college, the late twenty-something pair set out on the road with a plan to never return. Their trip takes them cross-country with eventful stops in Las Vegas, Omaha, and Niagara Falls. Along their journey they meet several colorful characters and even agree to bring a pretty young girl named Ruby along with them for the ride. Landing in Boston to run an errand for an old friend, the travelers begin to lay roots in an attempt to forge for themselves the life they’d always hoped for. Easier said than done. As romances begin to burgeon, and one of their lives is put in danger, the group quickly discovers that where they are may indeed have little effect on who they are.

    Buy Now @ Amazon

    Genre – Contemporary Fiction/Literary Fiction

    Rating – R

    More details about the author

    Connect with Brad Cotton on Facebook & Twitter

    Website http://www.bradcotton.com/

    Monday, September 30, 2013

    Free Alert - What Lies Inside by J.L. Myers

    ~
    The remainder of the morning, with constant and at times agonizing restraint, had so far passed without any bloodshed. Every moment around humans, I felt on the precipice of crumbling. Always, the sinister plotting of how to take one of them down without repercussion played at my thoughts. Reprieve seemed unattainable, until my first double art class before lunch.
    The art center was a separate and small building. It was located down a quiet path shrouded by a thicket of sassafras trees, and isolated from the main building. Its seclusion and smaller class headcount disturbed me. There’d be fewer witnesses if I lost it, less mess to clean up. It would take more control than I thought I could muster, to keep my mind from planning someone’s bloody demise.
    Preparing for a doubled forty-five minute game of ‘ignore and don’t kill’, I walked stiffly through the open door into class. A girl with pixie-like features and sleek fiery-red hair bopped in front of me. My mouth clamped shut, holding my breath.
    The girl’s face beamed as she swayed on her much-too-high-for-school stiletto heels. “Hi, you must be Amelia. I’m Vanessa.”
    Her bubbly personality floored me. So far she was the only person—apart from the mysterious and tempting Ty—to introduce herself to me. The memory of him tugged at me from within, our entire interaction imprinted on my mind. I could remember every detail of his appearance and the few words he’d said to me. Still, I was no closer to placing him.
    Now this girl was watching me, waiting on a reply while I stood reminiscing. “Uh, hi,” I said with caution.
    Vanessa motioned to the back of the classroom, where two vacant easels waited. They were the only two left available. “Come on, I saved you a seat.”
    With a smile, she turned and led the way past the other students already seated. A broad beam of warm sunlight streamed through the wall, made entirely of glass panels. The light encompassed the two vacant easels and a single paint rack positioned between them. Not nearly a good enough barrier to separate her from me.
    The sun’s rays cast a distinct line across the polished cement floor. I paused at its edge, staring blankly past Vanessa and into the lush fernery beyond the glass. Sunlight was supposed to burn vampires. Well, all turned vampires, from what I had been told.
    Yesterday I even witnessed it. I had been in the front passenger seat of Mom’s Mercedes SUV, bewildered by the huge mansion before us. The day was overcast, wind-blown clouds sheltering what should have been a pastel-blue sky. Mom slid from the car while Dorian and I stared. Was this monstrous structure really our new home?
    Then the clouds shifted. A sizzling and gag-worthy stink of burning flesh reached us. Mom swore—something she rarely did—and dove into the back seat, tugging the door shut behind her. The UV resistant tint provided refuge from the sun’s escaping rays.
    “Mom!” I cried, twisting in my seat. “Are you okay?”
    Dorian’s arm shot out, collecting her hand and pulling it forward. “Shit!”
    A bubbling welt of scorched flesh covered her forearm. “Language, Dorian,” Mom chastised. “And I’ll be fine.” She pulled her hand from Dorian’s. Instantly the redness began to soothe, the bubbled skin smoothing until her arm was totally unblemished.
    I turned back to the dashboard, dropping my head into my hands. “Tell me again,” I said, hating the quake of my voice. “Tell me how you’re affected by the sun, when we’re not?”
    Mom had gone over this subject many times at the cabin, but I was still unsettled by her explanation. The story just didn’t add up.
    Mom flattened her blouse and sighed. “I was turned as an adult. However, it seems the circumstances in which you were both infected has provided immunity.” She edged forward, her posture straight as she rested a firm hand on each of our shoulders. “Now, this is the last time I will repeat myself.”
    Back in the classroom, Vanessa had taken her spot and was waiting, watching me with a mixture of what looked like impatience and anticipation.
    Shaking the memory from my mind, I stepped into the light. The curve in Vanessa’s smile twitched, her piercing blue eyes blinking.
    “Welcome, Amelia.” The sudden voice caused Vanessa to jump, knocking her knee against the paint rack. A thin woman in paint-spattered overalls and a paintbrush holding her hair back in a bun, stood at the front of the classroom. “I’m Mrs. Ruby.” She looked to Vanessa. “Vanessa, would you please explain the project options to Amelia?”
    Vanessa nodded, shifting her eyes back to me. Her face was painted with a perfect and what I thought was a faked smile. There goes my paranoia, again.
    “So, we have two options,” she said. “Create a portrait of what we see ourselves becoming in ten years, or reveal our hidden selves. The side we keep secret from the world.”
    The image of me devouring a blood-baggie that morning, with greedy drops of crimson escaping the corner of my mouth, intruded on my thoughts. Not pretty. Bile threatened to rise up at the back of my throat. I swallowed in an attempt to push it back down. Then I grasped a tube of paint from the rack to mask my discomfort. “Sounds interesting…”
    Vanessa leaned closer, eyes sparkling. “So, what do you see yourself becoming in ten years?”
    I clung tighter to the paint tube. The lid popped and a squirt of green shot at the ground. A murderer, I thought. Though I doubted ten years would pass before I did finally lose control. “Um…” Needing to evade her watching eyes, I snatched paper towel from the rack to clean up the mess. I searched my mind for a normal response, before hesitating and coming up blank. “I really don’t know.”
    Vanessa crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, what about the second option? Got any deep dark secrets I should know about?”
    Yes. I’m a vampire and drink blood, I thought, but had the better sense to respond with. “Nope… What about you?”
    I attempted to keep my voice level, even though I was lying through my teeth. Teeth? I did a double take, running my tongue over my teeth. They were completely level and human. My fangs aren’t extended? And that’s when it hit me, or should I say, didn’t hit me. I couldn’t scent her blood.
    My eyes shot up to Vanessa, who shrugged. “Well, I am kinda a fashion Nazi, which sucks for me. Unlike almost every kid at this school, I’m on a scholarship. Even with a part-time job I’m reduced to shopping online.”
    “Where do you work?” I looked her over while sniffing the air. Diamanté-studded stretch jeans and a fitted, red-leather jacket. No scent.
    “Nowhere, really. It’s more of an errand-based gig.” As I kept staring, a frown pinched Vanessa’s brow. “What?” A look of horror transformed her expression. “Oh my God, don’t tell me I have body odor!”
    Wiping the primal look from my face, I shook my head. “No. Sorry.” I held up my hand that still clung to the paper towel smeared with green paint. “It’s the paints,” I said, drilling my brain for a normal excuse. “They, uh…smell the same as the ones from our old school. Kind of like toe-jams and toothpaste.”
    “Oh, good,” she said, voice hesitant, “as long as you can’t smell me.”
    Forcing a smile, I began squeezing different paints onto a pallet. I should have been figuring out what I planned on painting. I should have been doing anything and everything to appear normal. But my mind was elsewhere. Yes, I felt relieved to have met someone I didn’t want to drain, to drink from until they were lifeless in my arms. Still I couldn’t get my head around her lack of scent. Who was this girl?
    “Hey,” Vanessa said, breaking my train of thought. “What’s your mobile number?” When I frowned, wondering why on earth she’d want my number, she said, “You do have one, don’t you? I mean next to lip gloss, it’s the one accessory a girl can’t live without.”
    Puzzled, and trying not to stare at her heavily-glossed lips, I pulled my iPhone from my jeans and handed it over. It was personalized with a Three Days Grace case.
    Vanessa snatched the phone and dialed from it. Then she pulled her own mobile, sporting a cover speckled with diamantes, from her jacket pocket. It chimed and her fingers glided over the glass screen. “All done,” she said handing mine back. “I texted you my number too.”
    “Oh, thanks.” The phone chimed and I stuffed it back into my pocket. The interaction left me feeling even more confused. She’s just being friendly, I tried to convince myself. But my suspicion didn’t agree.
    After that I stared at my blank canvas for what felt like forever. I was trying to force myself to think about the project, but my mind kept wondering about the unusual girl sitting beside me. When the bell rang, I realized my efforts had been useless. I had spent the entire class staring at my canvas and tapping a dry paintbrush against my thigh.
    Vanessa rose to her feet and looked down at me. “Got any plans for lunch?”
    “Uh, no,” I replied. Where she was going with this?
    “Great! You can sit with us.”
    Eat in a cafeteria full of humans? Yeah, that’ll end well. “I can’t,” I said quickly, thinking up a lie. “Math quiz tomorrow. I need to study.”

    “Study can wait.” Vanessa strung her arm through mine and yanked me forward. “Besides, I’m not taking no for an answer. Oh and don’t worry, my friends don’t bite,” she said flashing me a wicked grin, “unless provoked.”
    What Lies Inside
    Free until 30 September 2013
    Buy Now @ Amazon
    Genre – YA Paranormal Romance
    Rating – PG-13+
    More details about the author and the book
    Connect with  Jessica Myers on Facebook & Twitter

    Vadim Babenko – Stories behind my books: An Imperceptible Something

    Stories behind my books: An Imperceptible Something

    by Vadim Babenko

    Our American business developed slowly. The first few years we had neither money, nor experience, nor connections. We made many mistakes but still held out until the quantity of our efforts turned into quality. We caught a break, and quick growth followed.

    We hired many new employees. They were divided into two, nearly equal, sections: an American part, engaged in marketing and sales, and the Russians, who developed our technologies. Between these two halves arose an intense, sometimes hostile, opposition.

    Almost the entire Russian part consisted of programmers who had just been taken out of Russia. The whole American side was of sharp, skilled men who had worked in successful hi-tech corporations. These were very polarized communities. The mediator between them was me: I managed all the internal life of the firm, while my partner was responsible for all the external.

    The marketing and sales boys had no love for the programmers because of their “wildness” – a total lack of the communication skills customary within an American company. The programmers disliked our Americans, sensing their contempt and mockery. I must admit, it was also hard for me to deal with the programmers – by this time I had distanced myself quite a bit from Russian habits and manners. Nevertheless, the situation required it, so I tried my best to reconcile these groups with each other.

    When enough programmers had arrived to yield some kind of critical mass, I suddenly sensed that my attitude toward them had shifted. I completely and definitely felt that in the Russian part of our firm something imperceptibly bright and lively was recreated and extended throughout: some sort of particularly Russian spirit from time eternal, which had once been so dear to me. I had been sure it had breathed its last, crushed and destroyed under the years of Perestroika’s “re-structuring.” Almost all the programmers were young people who had grown up in the 90s, the years of a terrible decline in everything intelligent and spiritual. Nevertheless, I understood that some important part of it remained – though it was disguised by the veneer of a new age.

    And then I noticed the two polarized halves were no longer so hostile. An interest arose in each toward the other – on its own; my efforts did not play a noticeable role. As for the programmers, this was natural: having gradually become acclimated, having ceased to hesitate and be frightened, one way or another they began to understand the country in which they now lived. But the Americans also, without having, it would seem, any reason to do so, sought to learn – feeling, as I did, that there indeed was something about the Russian part of the company that was worth getting to know. With increasing frequency they began to ask me questions about Russia, Russian life, culture, and so forth. All the more often, the American and Russian employees conversed together, despite the language barrier. We even started holding Russian parties with plenty of vodka – which became very popular among the Americans…

    I realized my notions of the country where I had grown up and then left were one-sided and not quite accurate. The animal instincts that had been unleashed at the beginning of the 90s could not suffocate an essential inner force, inherent in the earth and its people. Nevertheless, I was still far from going there again – even for a short vacation.

    A Simple Soul

    His crafty plan results in a deadly threat. Her hopes keep her locked in a vicious circle. They parted ways, supposedly forever. But will they be able to live apart?

    Elizaveta, an attractive Muscovite, experiences a series of odd events: she is followed; she receives anonymous calls, flowers, and gifts. The culprit is her former lover, Timofey. He now lives far from Moscow and has a flourishing business, but a serious threat emerges when the daughter of a local mafia boss wants to marry him. Timofey knows his life is at risk if he says no. He creates a cunning scheme to save himself by staging a sham marriage with Elizaveta playing a primary role. Masterfully manipulating her feelings, Timofey persuades her to come visit him in his small town, but things soon take a dramatic turn.

    A seemingly romantic journey becomes a struggle for survival. Timofey and Elizaveta confront real danger when they least expect it. Love and deception reveal their essence when the best of intentions come into conflict with each other. The protagonists try hard to achieve their goals, but, in the end, each of them finds something much different instead. Illusion, ultimately, proves stronger than reality. And coincidences are often not so random after all.

    Buy Now @ Amazon & Amazon UK

    Genre – Literary Fiction

    Rating – PG13

    More details about the author

    Website http://www.vadimbabenko.com/

    Sunday, September 29, 2013

    Pelican Bay–Jesse Giles Christiansen

    Some things are better left alone…
    After Ethan Hodges discovers an undersea cemetery just off the beach of Pelican Bay, South Carolina, he seeks answers from a grandfatherly fisherman named Captain Shelby. The captain wants the past to remain buried, and he warns Ethan to stay away. But Ethan doesn't listen.
    Ethan's best friend and secret love interest, Morgan Olinsworth, joins in the investigation, unearthing intriguing secrets about the mysterious fisherman. When Captain Shelby is suspected of murder and disappears, a manhunt ensues, revealing a truth that unnerves everyone in Pelican Bay.

    Pelican Bay by Jesse Giles Christinsen

    Amazon Kindle US

    Genre – Mystery, Suspense

    Rating – PG13

    4.2 (29 reviews)

    Free until 29 September 2013

    Cleanse Fire by Anastasia V Pergakis

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    Pars IV

    20th day of Solis Moon, 1364

    Derac choked. "What?"

    "He came to speak with me while I was in the bath." The amber swirls in her eyes glowed bright and betrayed her panic, but her voice was calm.

    His eyebrows shot into his hairline. "Did he force himself on you?" He swallowed the bile in his throat.

    "No. He stared at me in a way that made me extremely uncomfortable and," she paused and held her lips between her teeth for a moment. "He kissed my neck. He didn't press any further than that, however."

    Derac's breath rushed out of his lungs. He leaned back against the sofa and forced his muscles to relax. "What did he say?"

    "He told me that he had great power, greater than just being the Mission Commander. He told me I should partner with him."

    Derac's eyebrows shot up again. "What did you say to that?"

    She spoke in hushed tones, but the words tumbled from her lips. "I told him no. I don't care for power. He said I could have my own power if I did partner with him. Then he told me to think about it. To wait until after the mission. He said that the events of the mission would help me to make up my mind. I have the awful feeling that this mission is going to go terribly wrong, and the Commander is behind it." She paused to her catch her breath. "Centurio, I know it sounds outlandish, but my feelings have never let me down before. We have no proof, but I think at the very least we should exercise caution around the Commander until we do find out the truth."

    Derac rested his chin on the tips of his fingers. The elf thought he could barge in on the elfa's bath like he was supposed to be there? He tried to feel shocked at his Commander's possible betrayal and perverted actions, but he failed.

    "What should we do?"

    "I trust your judgment Kie. And you're right, we don't have proof. But I think I know of a way to get it." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "We tell the Commander our plan is to stay together. During the mission however, we split up. Get one group of faeries out of the cells and have two elite lead them back to the cabin. The other four will get the second group."

    "Wait. Wouldn't that make the two vulnerable handling that many faeries on a six hour trip, on foot?"

    "Yes. But, even if the faeries are weak, they could offer some help. There are hundreds of them down there according to the report." He winced. "Then again, you may have a point. What if the intel is wrong, yet again?"

    "Didn't I see a report about sentry rotations at night?" Her eyes roamed over the table.

    "Yes. It's here." He handed her the paper.

    Her amber pools scanned the list. "Let's assume this is incorrect. According to this, they cut the guards in half at night. What if they had less? That would mean less to worry about. And, two of us could easily handle a few sentries."

    "What do we do if they actually double the guards at night?"

    Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Good point."

    He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We can't even rely on our intel. Even if it ended that Palto was not involved, we could still be walking into an ambush. How would we know for sure it was his doing or just bad intel?"

    She put her hands behind her head and glanced up at the ceiling. "I don't know. I have no skill with strategy."

    He snorted. "You read battle strategies for fun."

    "Exactly. I'm trying to learn. Doesn't mean I can make up new ones."

    "All right. Let's go over all our options again. We can enter through the front or through the secret tunnel. With any of those options, we can stay together, split in half, or split four to two. Is there any other way to get into the mines?"

    She shook her head. "I've heard rumors at the very top of the mountain is a shaft that runs all the way down to the lower levels of the mine. But, I don't know for certain and the mountain side is treacherous. We could injure ourselves more just trying to gain entry."

    Derac held his head in his hands and tried to predict the outcome of their mission. Kie mirrored his position as her eyes scanned the intel scattered across the table. Her spine jerked and she sat up straight.

    "What if we split up into three groups of two? Two to lead the first group out like you said before, two to provide protection, the last two get the second group. Done fast enough, all six of us and all the faeries would leave right after each other, or at least within moments of each other."

    "And you say you have no skill with strategy."

    She chuckled. "It's still risky though."

    "What part of any mission isn't?" He sucked in air and held it a few moments before he exhaled. "Again, I don't like the plan, but it'll work."

    They finalized their strategy and detailed every second of their mission. Confidence filled Derac that their idea would work and he ordered Kie to sleep.

    download

    Buy Now @ Amazon

    Genre – Fantasy / Military

    Rating – PG13

    More details about the author & the book

    Connect with Anastasia V Pergakis on Facebook & Twitter

    The Right Way and the Wrong Way To Promote Your Book Online by Linell Jepsen

    There are people out there who are masters of promotion; unfortunately, I am not one of them! I have learned a few things about product recognition, however, since I was first published in 2011.

    There is SO much competition in the marketplace that both you and your product must become recognizable. This means that you need to interact with your readership. Be friendly, helpful, and supportive to them, even as you are promoting your services.

    Join as many web sites as you can- and be sure to choose your sites wisely. There are places on Amazon where a writer is allowed to promote, but there are also places that will rip you to pieces if you dare advertise! Join in chat groups with like- minded people. You might not be able to promote- I mean, how would you like it if your good friend lifted his trumpet every morning and blasted it in YOUR face? You can make friends online, however, and they will do everything in their power to help you get ahead.

    I have a thread on the MOA forum (Amazon) called the SS Wordsmyth. It is one of the most vibrant threads there and is home to many writers of science fiction and fantasy. We cross-promote one another, and give one another a shoulder to cry on when that occasional bad review comes in, or we feel rejected.

    I also belong to a number of groups on Goodreads and Facebook. Another important thing to do is open an author page on Facebook, and get a good picture of yourself. Readers want to know who you are and what you look like! They want to identify with you as a person!

    Most of all, and I mentioned this before, you need to grow a very thick skin. Book promoting is a microcosm of life itself… no matter how hard you try, or how friendly you try to be, not everyone will like you (or your writing style)! Having a lot on on-line friends will help insulate you from the occasional attack, or horrible review!

    Most important of all is having product recognition for your own name. I am gratified to see that more and more people are starting to hit on the name Linell Jeppsen for fantasy and science fiction. With a little good planning and hard work, your name will become a marketable as well!

    Onio

    In this modern world of science and high technology, in secret places deep under the ground and in the forest primeval, legends still walk the earth and what we think of as myth and fairy tale are all too real.

    Driving home late one night, Melody Carver, bereft and grieving after the death of her mother, sees a strange creature standing on the lonely road. This being will change her world-view forever, and open her eyes to a reality beyond her imagination.

    Melody’s chance encounter on that dark and snowy road will mark the beginning of a journey of discovery and wonder that will bring two worlds together in hope and despair.

    Can one person bridge the gap between the ancient and the modern, the mundane and the magical?

    An urban fantasy filled with adventure, romance, war, heartbreak and triumph!

    ONIO! Unlike anything, you have ever read before!

    Buy Now @ Amazon

    Genre – Fantasy/Romance

    Rating – PG13

    More details about the author

    Connect with Linell Jeppsen on Facebook & Twitter

    Website http://neljeppsen.weebly.com/