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Friday, November 30, 2018

PROMO: Temptation Trials Rebellion


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Adult, Dystopian Romance & Urban Fantasy
Date Published: 11/30/2018

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Can love defeat the greatest temptation ... lust?

In a post-apocalyptic nation where the land of the free is now run under a dictatorship, there is one factor that holds the key to keeping world order—love. The new Regime controls the emotions of the heart. It’s their most vital law. At the age of twenty-one, every citizen is forced into an arranged marriage. The only way to escape the arrangement is to enter the Temptation Trials—a government-sponsored reality TV show where the loyalties of the contestants are tested by Tempters and Temptresses who are impossible to resist.

Catalina enters the Trials as a Temptress in hopes that she can win the funds to save her brother. Sahara’s been ridiculed in the eyes of the public. By being a Temptress, she’ll be able to have a fresh start. The Regime promises that if she fulfills her role on the show they will wipe her slate clean.

The problem is that the Trials are rigged for failure. In all the prior seasons, love’s rival, lust, has proven to be more powerful. No contestant has ever won the Temptation Trials and be allowed to stay with their chosen partner. Lutheran Eminence, the world’s dictator, has shown that he’s the ultimate matchmaker.

As the Temptation Ball approaches, conflict is at an all-time high. Most couples are too hurt by betrayal to reconcile. With the odds stacked against them, Kincade and Tobias try to mend their relationships, hoping that the greater good will prevail.

Attempting to uncover the true meaning of love may cost the contestants more than they bargained for—it may cost their souls.


Excerpt



Sahara tossed and turned. When she finally fell asleep a reoccurring nightmare consumed her….



            Sahara had been in a funk all day. The last month had been horrible, not talking to Calvin. He’d tried numerous times to reach out to her. Sahara’s only response through text had been, I just think it’s best if we don’t see each other anymore.
            Slowly, his texts and calls lessened, but today Calvin had texted, begging to see her because he would be in town this weekend. Sahara was struggling with giving in, wanting to see him desperately.
            She handed a customer their latte, and then greeted the next in line—a male and female enforcer approached the counter.
            “Hello, what can I get for you guys?” Sahara greeted.
             “Are you Sahara Fenty?” the female officer asked with a stern expression.
            “I am.”
            Sahara’s co-worker, Caren, raised her eyebrows.
            “What is this about?” Sahara asked, her stomach clenching.
            “Sahara Fenty, you’re under arrest for the Floozy charge,” the female enforcer announced, loud enough for the entire cafe to hear.
            A few customers gasped, and her co-worker’s eyes were about to pop from their sockets. She wanted the floor to just suck her up. “What is the meaning of this?” Sahara questioned, having a damn good idea. She would bet money it involved her first love.
            “Calvin Bush’s wife, Bonnie, is pressing charges against you. She has proof that you and her husband are having an affair.”
            More gasps from the cafe. Sahara wanted to die. “What proof does she have?”
            “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be, Ms. Fenty,” the male enforcer intervened, wiping out his hand-cuffs.
            This was the most humiliating moment of Sahara’s life. Not wanting to cause herself further embarrassment, she cooperated and went with them willingly.


About the Author

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B. Truly has wanted to be an author since she was fifteen years old and is grateful to have accomplished this dream. She has very vivid dreams and a wild imagination. She likes to read, watch tons of TV shows, and movies. She’s addicted to romance and gets a thrill out of action and sci-fi. She writes New Adult and Adult, Romance. Sci-fi, Dystopian, and Paranormal genres.


B. Truly likes to explore different elements of sci-fi romance, and create various realms of reality. She also loves creating impossible situations for her characters to grow from and try to overcome.

B. Truly has three wonderful children and a husband who defines the person that she is today. She works full-time as an Ultrasound technologist in Houston, Texas.


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Thursday, November 29, 2018

Blog Tour: Citadel


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Women’s literary fiction
Publisher: Quartet Global Books

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Irven DeVore, an evolutionary biologist, writes that "Males are a breeding experiment run by females."  What if, in fact, women ran everything?  What if women rejected the culture of rape and violence to take control of their lives in the safety of the Citadels? What if women could exist without males? CITADEL is a metafictional, apocalyptic story braided into a contemporary post-lesbian novel built on genetics.




Advance Praise

"I loved the book and I'm suggesting it to all the writers, editors and women I know as a must read. You blew me away... the book drew me in completely... great experience! 
 I'm not sure how you managed to come up with this... let alone research it... a story usually follows one or two Characters... I found myself following the writer, the editor, the publisher, not to mention the Characters in the book... and never got lost, never ended up wondering who someone was or why they did that? I read the book in short spurts and longer chunks depending on opportunity... but never had a problem of falling back into the story... you had me from page one to the end. Great job"  -- Wally Lane, filmmaker, screenwriter.





Review

Superb writing from Jack Remick and a action packed story. I loved how unique and different it was! 
There were a lot of moving a parts to this one and I really liked the originality that Remick brought.  

This novel was very vivid in the descriptions, the writing really jumped off the pages and into my head. Suspense and Mystery laced throughout. 

I felt like I got a solid understanding of the characters in the story. There was definitely a lot of action going on that will have readers flipping pages furiously. 



About the Author


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Jack Remick is the author of twenty books—novels, poetry, short stories, screenplays. He co-authored The Weekend Novelist Writes a Mystery with Robert J. Ray. His novel Gabriela and The Widow was a finalist for the Montaigne Medal as well as a finalist in Foreword Magazine’s Book of the Year Award. He reviews for the New York Journal of Books. He is a frequent guest and co-host on Michigan Avenue Media with Marsha Casper Cook. His novel Citadel, was featured in the July issue of the Australian magazine eYs.


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Tuesday, November 27, 2018

PROMO: Death By Poison


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Thriller
Date Published: Spring 2018

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Beautiful assassin Genevieve Wangen continues to work on her deadly concoctions from her secret lab in the woods, far from the prying eyes of the law. But just as soon as she has love and a new life in her sights, Genevieve is pulled into a far more dangerous high-stakes game of cat and mouse. She already upended her life and identity once. How far will she need to go this time to stay alive?


Reviews

"Make sure you set aside extra time, cancel any appointments and don't plan on sleeping! Once you start reading this book you will not want to put it down until you have finished it. Gary definitely has a way with words. His writing flows and is filled with great lines and an even greater story. He is a natural storyteller. This second book in the series is even better than the first." - Shelley Olsen, Owner, Paperbacks and Pieces Bookstore

"A major eureka page-turner, Evans has spun an original web of intrigue . . . that will be eagerly shared by murder mystery readers!" - Rollie Wussow has Midwest roots and is a semi-retired healthcare executive in sunny New Mexico

“As a journalist and author (and especially over a glass of wine), Gary has always been a master storyteller with a rich eye for the humorous and the ridiculous. Death by Poison features wonderful characters, rich dialogue, and a compelling tale. Like Gary, it’s great fun.” —Rusty Cunningham, Executive Editor, La Crosse Tribune


Previous in the Series


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Thriller
Date Published: July 2017

When Shawn Sorenson drowned in 1987, no one in La Crosse, Wisconsin, took much notice. They thought it was simply another drunken accident. When another student, Tad Schwartz, drowned a year later, the residents began to suspect foul play. Why else would a healthy young man drown? Even so, the police had no leads or clues to suggest anything other than a tragic accident. Were these truly accidental deaths? Suspicion became reality one fateful morning in 2011 when Police Detective Allan Rouse, Sheriff's Deputy Charlie Berzinski, and pathologist Rick Olson pulled the 15th victim from the river. The body had a tale to tell.

Dr. Olson, physician Patricia Grebin, and researcher Sarah Giles discover an obscure piece of evidence. It leads Berzinski and Rouse down a tangled trail of clues before reaching a mind-boggling conclusion. Will Berzinski and Rouse catch the killer before it's too late? Filled with intrigue, betrayal, and gut-twisting suspense, Death by Drowning will draw readers into a Midwestern town full of secrets and clues as breathtaking as the Mississippi River.





Coming Soon in the Series


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November 2018


After confessing to killing fourteen young men in La Crosse,Wisconsin, sultry serial killer Genevieve Wangen escapes custody for the second time. Aided by her Mafia contacts, she settles in at a remote cabin in the Bitterroot Mountains of Montana. Now, safely hidden behind her new identity as Samantha Walters, she happily continues her deadly work for the Carbones. But Detective Al Rouse and Deputy Charlie Berzinski are bent on locking her away for good. When they finally catch up to her, as she is about to wed her latest debonair lover, Genevieve finds that she must escape more than just the law!



About the Author

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Gary Evans has turned his passion for novel writing into a post-retirement career, with book four soon to be released, and book five already in the works. Evans spent 30 years in Midwest newsrooms as an award-winning writer, editor, and publisher. He spent 12 years as vice president at Winona State University. He ended his career as the president and CEO of Hiawatha Broadband Communication, one of the nation’s first alternative entrant telecommunications firms, after 15 years. Married to Ellen, they have two grown children, Gregory and Natalie.




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Friday, November 23, 2018

Review: Grow With Your Man For "Real" Women

Grow With Your Man
Non-Fiction

"Grow with Your Man For "Real" Women" is based on men women relationships and about women living independently. It is a must-read book for all women, either you are married or unmarried; either you are working or non-working. It will change your mentality and style of living with your partner and i am sure you will start loving yourself and your life. It's not only a book, but a guide that will help you to be realistic in life and will also teach you how to respect yourself and your partner.
In today's time it is very important to get a man with matching work ethic with less of a co-dependent relationship. In this book you will learn:
How to step out of your comfort zone and find someone truly compatible with you.
How to stop attracting men who take from you. Find a man who gives to you.
How to choose a man who will love you, cherish you and respect you.
How to be the one who beat the odds, not a statistic.
How to measure your range in relationships.
How to open yourself up to the man who is not damaged and will in turn damage you out of spite.



Review


This was an eye-opening read for me. I wasn't sure how much I would agree with and how much I would disagree with. Let's be honest, in this world, having your own opinions is a good thing. That doesn't mean you should discount the opinions and thoughts of others, I think that opening our minds to others way of thinking really helps us in the long run. I found several things in this story that really helped open my eyes to certain aspects of my relationship.




Blog Tour: Death O Death


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Horror
Date Published: 31st October



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A collection of ten horror short stories, everything from the macabre to the down right disgusting.



Short Stories Include:

Why aren’t you scared

Infest

Don’t look under the bed

Trick or Treat.

Bogeyman

Siphon

Junkyard

Grounders

Can you Imagine

Point of no return



Each of the stories are unique and filled with terrifying, gruesome tales that are sure to rise your blood pressure. Lovers of monsters, the unexplained, serial killing maniacs and much more. Sink your teeth in and be in for a treat this Halloween.


Excerpt

One of Many
“Are you sure you don’t want me to give you a lift home?” Mandy asked Rebecca
while fumbling for her car keys.
“That bottomless purse of yours will be the death of you one day. And yes, I’m sure. I only live a few blocks down the damn road. I can walk it. I want to walk it,” Rebecca cooed softly.
“Okay, I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
“Don’t remind me, there is nothing more exciting than university.”
“Your sarcasm is on fire tonight.’ Mandy said, as she waved her car keys in the air in a show of a ‘triumphant, I-found-them way.
“See ya, Becs.” Mandy slipped into the seat of her car.
Rebecca waved goodbye. The night was unusually busy with more cars as she travelled down the partially lit street. Her mind was fixated on Ryker. His milky white skin accented by his dark blonde hair. His pearl shaped pale blue eyes and rosy lips. She felt a pang in her stomach as she reminisced a chorus of erotic interludes. She couldn’t believe they’d only been on eight dates. She was hooked from the very moment she set eyes on him. A smile grew on her tiny face, and her eyes lit up when a blue commodore pulled alongside her.
Ryker called out from the driver’s window. “Get in babe.”
Rebecca eagerly crawled into the passenger side, leaned over and planted a kiss on
Ryker’s cheek.
“I didn’t think you were gonna get away from Mandy. Happy to see you did.” “You were watching?”
“No, Mandy wasn’t with you, so I put two and two together.”
“Oh, well she almost was. She kept on insisting on driving me home. I had to do a bit of persuading, but I always win.” She placed her hand on his thigh. “You should know that about me, Smartass!”
Ryker smiled, as he shifted in his seat and pulled the car out. His eyes left the road to steal a glance at Rebecca. He instantly smiled. Her skirt had slightly risen above her knees exposing her tanned and well-toned thighs. Ryker licked his lips and turned his eyes back toward the road.
“Where are we going tonight?” “It’s a surprise.”
“Come on! I hate surprises.” Rebecca gruffed as she gently pinched Ryker’s thigh.
He gave off a slight moan that caused Rebecca to squirm.
“You’ll love this surprise.”
“Why are you groaning?” She asked while squeezing his thigh a little higher. “I’m not groaning. I’m excited.”
“About what?” She tried her best to act dumb.
Ryker let his eyes meet her dark brown orbs. He searched Rebecca’s face.. She was trying to stifle laughter. With a forced breath it sounded like a pig’s snort. She was such a tease. Ryker quickly glanced back toward the road and laughed at her effort to contain her amusement at his expense.
“You love playing the dumb-chick don’t you?”
“Yes… yes I do. Especially with you. I know it makes you wonder if I’m serious or not. I find it amusing. It makes me giggle. .”
“You won’t be giggling for much longer!” He said while removing her hand almost roughly off of his thigh. He gave her a quick look, enough to see her fold her hands across her lap and pout.
“You really don’t play the cold and cynical type well. I know better.”
Ryker didn’t answer, instead he concentrated on the road ahead. He didn’t have to look at his prize to know she still sat securely in the seat beside him. He attempted small talk with his trophy, but his mind was fixated on the event he had planned. The small talk did as he intended however, giving the illusion time. He checked the rearview mirror, and with no cars in sight he turned into a dirt driveway. He had already ensured long ago that there were no CCTV camera’s in the area leading up to the road. There were no street lights and the driveway was lined with a white twelve-foot concrete wall that acted like a giant fortress.
Rebecca cast her eyes on the digital clock on the dash and compared it to her gold wrist watch.
“What the hell, we’ve been on the road for an hour?” She shook her head. “It sure
didn’t feel like that long. Where on earth are you taking me?”
Rebecca looked out the window to her right and could only see the concrete wall. She looked ahead as the headlights from the car shone the way. She couldn’t see anything until before her appeared an abandoned old mansion.




About the Author

Born and raised in New Zealand, a mother and wife who donates what spare time she has into volunteer work with Autistic children.

Ellie Douglas is addicted to horror, everything about it she loves. She enjoys creating strong characters that rise to the top from ordinary lives.

Her love affair with horror has seen her produce three award winning horror books.

Ellie is creative in all aspects with several adult coloring books and an online casino slot game under her belt. She is constantly striving to do more. Ellie also makes professional book covers for authors and has helped people with making them a websites, banners, and logos.

Ellie’s ultimate aim is to give back, paying it forward and to constantly better herself. To give the audience amazing entertaining stories that she herself would read.

She would love to scare you…


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Wednesday, November 21, 2018

Review: Remembering Thomas


Middle Grade Fantasy

Jennifer and James and their two friends, Kaytlyn and Sleepy, step through a time portal in the vicinity of modern-day Kips Bay and find themselves caught in the middle of a Revolutionary War battle. Their purpose is to stop the evil Malman, who wants to change the course of history by altering an event that occurred at the Battle of Harlem Heights. Their task is complicated by a man, Arthur Whitehair, who was turned into a pigeon by the misreading of a spell many years before.

During the course of twenty-four hours, the foursome meets the genteel Mary Murray and her daughter, Susannah, credited with delaying the British and allowing the rebels to escape. They share the camp of Margaret Corbin, who fought with the rebels and was injured. Their lives are saved by swashbuckling Major Aaron Burr. They encounter Thomas Knowlton, the hero of Bunker Hill, who died at the battle of Harlem Heights. And, finally, Jennifer discovers the joys and pain of first love with Frederick Knowlton, the sixteen-year-old son of Thomas.

Remembering Thomas is a sequel to Things Are Not What They Seem. As in that novel, the four friends learn lessons about love, friendship, and self-sacrifice. 



Review

I loved the eclectic group of friends we get to follow in this story. They each had very distinct personalities and I liked the way that they interacted with each other. The way they were written really helped to highlight each one. 

What a wonderful historical ride we get to take. It's valid in its representation of history, but also written in a way that is easily enjoyable for those who attention spans may be a little be shorter. The younger generation isn't always interested in historical events of their own free will, but I think stories like this really help to grow their curiosity of the past. 

Tuesday, November 20, 2018

PROMO: Queen of Zazzau


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Historical Fantasy/Mythical Realism
Date Published: November 20, 2018
Publisher: Afrocentric Books | Mugwump Press

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Amina is heir apparent to the throne of Zazzau and must prove she is worthy of the crown. As foreign invaders close in on them, she is all that stands between her people and destruction. Caught in a web of prophecies, she must defend Zazzau, but cannot do so if she wants to prevent the future that was foretold. She did not seek war yet it finds her. Unwilling to be the plaything of gods or men and determined to take control of her own destiny, she tracks down the god of war himself. But has her destiny already been written? Can she choose her own fate? And can she protect her kingdom, no matter what price she must ultimately pay? Because, gods always want something in return.

Queen of Zazzau is an Historical Fantasy that takes place in precolonial West Africa.  It chronicles the life of one of the most famous W. African queens, Amina of Zazzau (or Zaria). At 139,000 words, the novel features several W. African historical figures and a pantheon of W. African gods. The story is told in first-person and gives the reader an intimate look at some of the lifestyles and cultures--many of which are still alive today--of medieval W. Africa.

Excerpt

I dreamed. Not a dream of laughing brooks and water spirits; I dreamed of an empty plain. I stood in the field, yellow-green savanna grass swaying in the wind. As its soft whistle grew to a roar, the grass whipped my legs violently. But it wasn’t the wind roaring; it was men. Hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands suddenly surrounded me. Each man fought the other with murder in his eyes.

My uncle was among them. Sword in hand, he lunged at the nearest half-naked man and brought down his blade, cutting into the other man’s shoulder. His enemy howled in pain but did not fall. The soldier rushed forward, still howling, pushing the sword deeper into his own flesh, and stabbed at Karama with a long-knife. Karama swept the knife away with a braceleted wrist. Then his wrist came down on the howling man’s head, burying the raised, serrated edge of a war bracelet in his skull.

Dislodging his bracelet, my uncle pushed the corpse off his blade. He turned and saw me. Our eyes locked for only a moment before a spear sprouted from his chest. Screaming, I ran to him but was buffeted by a sea of men. The faster I tried to run, the farther away my uncle was.

“Uncle,” I cried. “No!” But the wave of men pushed me to the ground. Curling into a ball, I tucked my head under my arms, closed my eyes, and screamed as the men stampeded over me.

Silence.

I opened my eyes, confused, sweat slick on my brow, tears still damp on my cheeks. The men were gone, but I could hear their cries. Climbing to my feet, I scanned the vast savanna ocean. A mud altar that hadn’t been there before now stood beside me. Blood spilled from the edges of the altar like melting wax. The men’s cries came from the structure. From the thousands of tiny figures piled upon it. At first, I thought they were living dolls, but they were the miniaturized bodies of men suffering myriad violent deaths. These were the casualties of war.

I stared at the mangled bodies, some of which were writhing in pain, and somehow knew these men had died—were dying—in the battle many leagues away. Frantic and nearly petrified by what I might find, I searched for my uncle among the bodies. There were so many Zazzagawa and Kwararafa mingled in the pile; I couldn’t tell one fallen soldier from another.

Wringing my hands, I backed away and reminded myself not to let fear subdue me, but terror pounded in my chest. The stink of death hung over the altar like a horrible fog that choked my lungs. Retreating from it, I came up against something hot and solid.

I froze.

The thing behind me shifted. It spoke.

“Look upon Death, Beloved. And know it for what it is.”

I spun around, stumbling backward, to find myself staring at the chest of a very tall man. Still trying but failing to fully master my fear, I took another backward step and looked up at who stood before me.

Towering over seven feet, the man had skin like polished ebony. He wore a vivid red and gold kilt that hung to just above his knees and a black cloak so long it brushed the ground. Black leather bracers with gold clasps covered his forearms. The open cloak was slung back over his shoulders, exposing a lean, powerful torso that rippled with muscle under smooth, dark skin.

I followed the contours of his chest, his long neck, a proud jawline. Save for the pointed tuft of hair on his chin and the thick, black eyebrows, his face and head were bald. His gaze was not upon me, his chin raised, so I could not see his eyes. I didn’t need to see them. I knew that once he looked at me, I’d be staring into the roiling red eyes of War.

About the Author

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J.S. Emuakpor was born and raised in West Africa. She is a married mother of four, a scientist, and owner of Afrocentric Books. She currently lives in North Carolina and is very much allergic to it. Most of her writing draws upon the spiritual beliefs of the ancestors who frequently whisper in her ear and on the superstitions that she refuses to relinquish.




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Wednesday, November 14, 2018

Blog Tour: Gap-Toothed Girl by Ray Harvey #excerpt #giveaway


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Contemporary Fiction
Date Published: August 2018
Publisher: Pearl Button Press

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“Tournament night in a sweltering Las Vegas stadium, and the girl with the gap-toothed smile stood bleeding in her ballet slippers.”

Thus begins Gap-Toothed Girl, the story of Dusty May, a Lakota orphan with an iron will, who runs away from the horrific circumstances of her foster home and her foster father — a man of beast-like brilliance and power — to pursue her dream of lightness and ballet, even as her foster father unleashes an army to bring her down.

Part literary fiction, part thriller, part dance story, Gap-Toothed Girl is at its core a tale of human joy and freedom of will — a “relentlessly paced novel” combining “the surreal imagery of Nabokov with the psychological complexity of Dostoevsky” (Fort Collins Forum) to investigate the depths of the human psyche and the indomitable will to succeed, ultimately plumbing the very nature of human happiness and the human soul.


Excerpt

Chapter 1

Tournament night in a sweltering Las Vegas stadium, and the girl with the gap-toothed smile stood bleeding in her ballet slippers. The sodium lights of the arena lay upcast on the low-hanging sky above. An electrical charge hummed through the air: a crackling undercurrent that came neither from the lights nor from the distant heat lightning, but from the galvanized excitement of the crowd.
Before her, some twenty feet away and elevated four feet off the ground, there stretched a long green balance beam, atop which, at the southernmost end, stood eight empty whiskey bottles. The bottles were perfectly upright and in single file. A small springboard crouched in front.
High above her floated a long banner which said, in  shimmering red letters:
A CONTEST OF MOTION
She closed her eyes and inhaled. The air was dry. She stood alone upon the stage. She was dusky-limbed, Lakota. She held her breath a moment and then she released it.
When she opened her eyes, her gaze settled on the objects before her: the springboard, the balance beam, the whiskey bottles. The heat hung heavy. A rill of sweat slid between her breasts. She didn’t see the tiny camera-flash explosions igniting everywhere around her from within the darkness of the stadium. She forgot that there were thousands of eyes fixed upon her. She forgot also the pain in her toes and was unaware of the bleed-through and the blood leaking like ink across the entire top part of her slipper.
Offstage in the shadows, a lanky youth in a baseball cap gave a thumbs-up, but it wasn’t directed toward her.
A man with a microphone emerged on stage. He was thin and well-dressed and darkly complexioned.
A hush came over the crowd. The man held the microphone to his mouth. His voice came booming through the speakers with great clarity.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “ladies and gentleman. May I have your attention, please. Thank you. We are finally at the end of the night, and — my Lord — what a night it’s been. What a competition.”
The crowd erupted.
“We have seen — excuse me, please — we have seen tonight some of the very best dancers in the world, and I’m sure you know this is not an exaggeration. We have only one more to go. Did we save the best for last? Need I remind you that there’s fifty thousand dollars at stake here?”
He paused.
“Now,” he said, “now, then. Do you see this young woman up on the stage with me? I’m told she’s about to do something that only one other person in human history is known to have done, and that was Ms. Bianca Passarge, of Hamburg, Germany, in 1958 — except Ms. Passarge, I am told, was not mounting a balance beam when she did her routine. Can this little girl — all 115 pounds of her — I say, can she do it? Can she steal the money from these big city boys and girls, the Bronx break dancers and West Coast B-Boys and all the others who have astounded us here tonight with their strength and agility and their grace of motion? Folks, we are about to find out.”
The crowd erupted again. The MC turned and looked at the girl on stage behind him.
He winked.
He lowered the microphone and said in an unamplified voice that sounded peculiar to her:
“Are you ready?”
He smiled kindly.
She nodded.
He gave her the A-OK sign with his fingers and nodded back. Then her lips broke open in return, disclosing, very slightly, her endearing gap-toothed smile.
He brought the microphone back to his mouth and turned again to the audience.
“Here we go!” he said.
The crowd went dead-silent in anticipation.
“Okay, okay!” she thought. All ten of her fingers wiggled unconsciously and in unison.
Abruptly, then, the lights above her darkened while simultaneously the lights behind her brightened, and then the music began: fast-paced and throbbing and happy.
She bolted forward.
She sprinted toward the balance beam and with astonishing speed executed a back handspring onto the springboard, vaulting into a full fluid backflip on one foot upon the beam — which in the very same motion turned into another back handspring, and then another, all to within inches of the bottles at the far end of the beam. This entire process took no more than five seconds. Here she paused for a fraction and then performed a half turn. From there she leapt lightly onto the first upright whiskey bottle, which wobbled only slightly under her weight. She placed her other toe catlike upon the next whiskey bottle, and then she raised herself en point to great heights….


About the Author

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Ray A. Harvey, novelist, essayist, published poet, athlete, and editor, son of Firman Charles Harvey (RIP) and his wife Cecilia, youngest of thirteen half brothers and half sisters, was born and raised in the San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado. He’s worked as a short-order cook, copyeditor, construction laborer, crab fisherman, janitor, pedi-cab driver, bartender, and more. He’s also written and ghostwritten a number of published books, poems, and essays, but no matter where he’s gone or what he’s done to earn a living, literature and learning have always existed at the core of his life.


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