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Wednesday, July 31, 2019

Blog Tour: Pharaoh's Star



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Science Fiction, mystery, fantasy
Date Published: February 6, 2018
Publisher: Chattercreek


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The mystery that unfolds on a dark, eerie back road in upstate New York sends Nick Dowling on a frantic quest to understand his past. What he discovers about himself slowly drives him toward madness. Where does the truth unfold, in mystery or in the dream? Is truth the illusion he can't embrace? Just who is Nick Dowling?











Excerpt

Suddenly he noticed lights, as if coming from a house. Thinking he might finally be off Fox Hollow Road and onto something that would take him into town, he breathed a sigh of relief. 
“Shit,” he said, as he got closer to the house. “Looks like a frigging dead-end.” 
He slapped his hand on the steering wheel. He decided to knock on the door and ask for directions as he stopped the jeep near the driveway. It was quiet, desolate. He took a deep breath and confronted his fear. “Get hold of yourself, man,” he said. 
Nick stared back at the farmhouse. It was familiar, which was not unusual. At every turn in upstate New York there was a farmhouse. 
“A compelling sight,” he said. 
The house was stately and white. Lace curtains moved with the wind, like the porch swing. He could hear the creak. The house stood against the night in shades of grey, like an old postcard photograph picked up at a flea market. Nick could see bicycles lying on the grass. A dog lifted his head from the porch and stared at him. Nick felt strangely nostalgic. 
He’d assumed years ago that he’d been raised in Phoenicia, New York, because that’s what it said on the hotel register when he checked out of the room he’d awoken in, with no memory at all of how he had gotten there. Phoenicia, New York, was another small town within biking distance. He must have been on a lot of country roads in his childhood, staring at houses just like this one. He never went to Phoenicia, though, it was too frightening to confront a past he couldn’t recall, but he’d insisted on buying a second house in New Kingston after finding the town on a Google search for vacation homes. Had he subliminally chosen to be near Phoenicia? 
He didn’t have any answers, perhaps he never would. Perhaps he didn’t want them. As he stared at the house, it drew him in, engulfing him in a black and white fantasy, like an old film. He couldn’t have any connection at all to this farmhouse. New Kingston wasn’t written on the hotel register. 
Nick stared at the house for several more minutes before the image faded, simply drifted off into the night, leaving behind a phantasmal mist. Nick drifted into the ebbing image, falling into a mindless stupor, as if inebriated. 
“God,” he cried out. “What the hell is happening to me?” 
He struggled to escape the blank plateau into which he had fallen, but he couldn’t. It was as if his thoughts were being gripped by a distant hand. He suddenly felt floated right up to a shadowy shape in the sky. 
“Leave me alone!” he shouted. 
His head fell sharply to his shoulder, an action that seemed to come from somewhere else, another person―another body. 
“Stress can cause people to black out,” Jenna once told him. 
“Yes, of course, that’s it―stress,” Nick whispered. He looked back at the house again. The noise returned, overbearingly loud―the drill into concrete…deafening. 
Quickly switching the radio back on to fight the noise, he thought about screaming out for help. The sound hovered above him, precariously close. 
He turned the radio up louder. Nothing but staticDamn. 
The noise continued…threatening to use its power…devour him. It was directly over his head, so very close. He felt lifted by it, lifted up to someplace far, as far as space. 
“This is madness,” he whispered. “This is impossible.” 
He had spent his entire adulthood distracted by the ordinary pressures of survival. He never considered himself particularly introspective, not much caring to delve into the remnants of feelings hidden beneath the debris of inconsequential information―feelings his wife insisted were vital links to his mental well-being. Nick never questioned his life after waking up in a Chelsea hotel with no past. He walked out into the city and survived. Surviving took up all his time, owned his thoughts. He didn’t need to know the rest, the forgotten past. The only choices he needed to make were the ones he faced in his profession as a circulation vice president for a major New York newspaper. It took twenty years, but he finally had an executive’s salary. 
He didn’t want to know his inner life. The dreams he had over the years had been too disturbing to probe―images of violent anger, blood everywhere he looked, murders he could not explain. 
“My inner life is uneventful and average,” he’d told Jenna when they first met. “I can’t devote much time thinking about it.” 
And then, years later, new torment, new dreams…monsters haunted his sleep, metaphors for himself, he surmised. 
No, Nick did not want to find his past or obsess on any uncomfortable emotions, especially not with his dreams, blood on his hands, a dead child at his feet…a battered woman. 
“Am I insane?” He looked out into the night and shook his head. “Am I?” 
He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He switched the radio back off and listened for the quiet stillness of night to return, soft and melodic. He listened until all he heard was the wind. 
As he stared back at the old farmhouse tears came into his eyes. He suddenly wanted to leap from the car and run to the front door, as if he belonged there, behind the majesty of its silent repose. 
I’m home. Mom! I’m home, he wanted to shout. 
His eyes blinked as the lights in the farmhouse flickered. He switched the radio back on. He needed the music to ground him, but the static had returned with an irritating repetition. He tried to find a clear station. He was agitated. He wanted to get the hell out of there. He knew that by now the only general store in town would be closed and he’d have to deal with the supermarket for a 
lousy quart of milk. He hated the supermarket: big, cold places…so why the hell can’t I get off this damn road and make it to the goddamn general store? 
“Shit,” he said, switching off the radio altogether. 
The lights from the house flickered again, as if an electrical storm was passing over, but the night was clear. Nick backed the jeep up, deciding he would leave the way he had come in…no need to ask for directions. As his breathing returned to normal, he was grateful for its steady rhythm. He was making rational decisions like his old self. It had all been imagination, just imagination. 
As Nick backed up the jeep, he noticed a man at the window of the old house peering through a torn shade. 
“What the hell happened to the lace?” He whispered as he stared in awe at the tattered blind. He quickly thought of his wife and the look in her large dark eyes as she gave him that half parted smile and suggested therapy. How the hell would he ever explain any of this to her? 
He sat quietly. His eyes drifted back to the house. He looked quickly for the dog. All he saw was a tired old porch―empty…no porch swing. No dog. 
“Shadows playing tricks,” he said. The oblique shape in the sky expanded and lowered itself closer to the Earth.


About the Author

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Olivia Hardy Ray is the pen name for Vera Jane Cook, who is the author of Dancing Backward in Paradise, 2007 winner of the Indie Excellence Award for notable new fiction and an Eric Hoffer Award for publishing excellence, also in 2007. Dancing Backward in Paradise received a 5 Star Review from ForeWord Clarion. The Story of Sassy Sweetwater was a finalist for the ForeWord Clarion Book of the Year Award and the recipient of a five star review from ForeWord Clarion. Where the Wildflowers Grow was her third southern fiction novel and is receiving 5 star reviews from Amazon.com. Her latest southern fiction novel just released is Pleasant Day. Her woman’s fiction novel is Lies a River Deep and the soon to be released ‘Kismet’. Under her pen name she is also the author of Annabel Horton, Lost Witch of Salem, and Pharaoh's Star. The sequel to Annabel Horton, Lost Witch of Salem is Annabel Horton and the Black Witch of Pau. That novel will be released this summer. Jane, as she is called by friends and family, writes in the genres she loves: southern fiction, women's fiction, mystery and fantasy paranormal fiction. She lives on the Upper West Side of Manhattan with her spouse, her Basenji/Chihuahua mix, Roxie, her Dachshund, Karly, her Chihuahua, Peanut, and her two pussycats, Sassy and Sweetie Pie.


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PROMO: Legend of Song de Light




Guest Post

an inside sensory view of all-time by Kaitlynzq


rhythmic

subtle

nature’s vital heart beats
lyrics of lovecontu
a stream of words

ballads of adoryu
gentle breezes
delicate
emanates from inside
soft, quiet pulses

In the series Lovecontu Song de Light Lovecontu

A series that interweaves interior elements from the stories together like gentle hugs to one’s heart from Ancient Script of Lovecontu audio poem, a vocal surround of unique instrumental notes from Legend of Song de Light audio book, layers of quiet a cappella from inside of Legend of Song de Light audio play, to petal soft pink glows that hum throughout the hours held within Lovecontu Song de Light Lovecontu audio set.

The following links will guide you to the audio streams of the vocal recording of the extended and expanded upon scenes for several of the characters of moments within the sensory imagery in Legend of Song de Light audio book, and Legend of Song de Light audio play.

For the audio version on my audio streams:


And, for the audio streams and text version on my blog:







Reviews for Legend of Song de Light audio book


“...This stunningly original composition is heartbreaking yet uplifting and not to be missed…” by Lynda with Books Direct https://www.booksdirectonline.com


“Kaitlynzq puts together a magnificent "song" with her words of Legend of Song de Light...The music in the background was chosen perfectly as it almost danced around her words…” by Amy with Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews http://writeramyshannon.wixsite.com/bookshelfreviews


“Wonderful imagery and compelling tales!...Kaitlynzq’s storytelling technique in Legend of Song de Light is quite unique. ...There is an artistic take on fiction, heightened by the effects of poetry, photography and ballet expressed in each tale…” by Marie with Writing in the Modern Age http://marielavender.blogspot.com



Available to Purchase at: 







#lovecontusongdelightlovecontu

#kaitlynzq

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Tuesday, July 30, 2019

PROMO: A Divided Mind


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Domestic Thriller
Date Published: July 27, 2019


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What if the only friend you have isn’t real? 

When the voices in his head begin to make sense, high school senior Branson Kovac turns to the one friend he’s still got… only to discover he’s not really there.




Excerpt

I was identifying the other parts of Kermit’s anatomy when tick boy tapped me again on the shoulder.

“What?” I glared at him and he backed away. That sudden jolt of anger triggered the shadow people. I shook my head, but it was still there. I saw a shadow of a person pick up the scalpel and attack tick boy with exact precision, cutting him across the throat. The only color I could see was red.




About the Author:

M. Billiter is the alter ego of contemporary, award-winning romance author, Mary Billliter.

After writing more than a dozen love stories, she is exploring the other side. Best known for her emotional honesty, Mary doesn't write about well-adjusted people, but rather the wounds in life.

M. Billiter writes with clarity and raw emotion to explore difficult subjects and issues close to her heart.



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Saturday, July 27, 2019

New Release: Shoes on the Stairs


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Women's Fiction
Date Published: 7/27/2019
Publisher: Acorn Publishing

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Claire Blackwell can’t find that damn white light. Thanks to a mishap at an intersection, she’s dead and stuck somewhere between Heaven and what seems like Hell as she is forced to watch her husband and children unravel without her. While she struggles to find answers for her limbo state, her family begins to see her, offering what she believes, is a gift of second chances.

As she navigates through this new, untouchable world and the challenges it creates, she is forced to face some sad and potentially dangerous truths. Determined, she works to mend her relationship with her family, but her stubborn teenage son refuses to acknowledge her, and when tensions escalate with his long-time bully, her inability to control the physical world around her leaves her fearing for her family’s safety. With her time running out, she must find a way to save them before the progress she has made is lost and she fades from this world forever.



About the Author:

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Jan Steele grew up in the burbs of Chicago and after thirty-two years of shoveling snow, moved to Southern California with her husband and children. She has taught everything from Kindergarten through high school but found her passion for writing years later while living as an expat in Asia for four years. She’s a contributing author of Chicken Soup for the Soul, Miracles and More (2018), shares a blog with her sister-in-law, and is an MFA student at UC Riverside. In addition to writing, she loves to travel, volunteer, watch college basketball and sunsets. She’s also passionate about shedding light on the lasting effects of bullying.


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Friday, July 26, 2019

New Release: Kill Switch


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Psychological Crime Thriller
Date Published: July 26, 2019 (preorder available now at 99 cents)

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Marco Lumachi is a professional hitman. His name is not Donovan North, and he’s not a detective transferring from New York City to Landstaff Junction, Vermont. But the whole town thinks he is, and if he wants to stay alive, he needs them to keep believing that.

Because the real Donovan North — who happens to look a lot like Marco — was gunned down on the way to his new job, by a rival mob family who thinks they killed the hitman.

Forced to work on the right side of the law, Marco finds himself hunting down a serial killer who’s brutally murdered two women already. Worse, his new “partner” is beautiful, dedicated, and not buying a word of his cover story.

But the man he’s impersonating kept secrets of his own, and what Detective North was hiding could prove deadly … for Marco, and for the innocent women that the killer is still targeting.

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Excerpt

Prologue


New Heights Juvenile Detention Center — Bronx, NY

Seventeen years ago

I was out in the yard after another pathetic excuse for dinner, checking around to see if anyone had gotten a care package from home so I could muscle in on them and get something decent to eat, when I spotted the new guy over by the outside fence. And I couldn’t look away.

There must’ve been a hell of an expression on my face, because Jake Paladino came over and elbowed me, even though I’d punched him for less in the past. “Did you see a ghost, or what?” he wheedled, and then flinched away, clearly remembering too late that I didn’t appreciate being jabbed.

I let it go this time, though. I was too fascinated to be angry.

“Over there,” I told him with a bare nod toward the fence.

Jake followed my gesture, and the perfect bug-eyed jaw-drop that formed on his face almost made me laugh. He looked like a real-life cartoon. Wile E. Coyote, watching the rocket he’d just fired at the Road Runner bounce off a cliff and head back at him full speed.

“You got a brother I don’t know about?” Jake finally blurted.

I shook my head, my gaze not leaving the newcomer. Apparently it was true what they said: everybody has a lookalike somewhere in the world. And here was mine. The new guy was a mirror, a twin, a clone of me.

My doppelganger.

Jake shook off the shock first and started bouncing on the balls of his feet, a lunatic grin on his unfortunate face. The scrawny, twitchy kid who’d followed me around like a stray dog since the day I got locked up in this crap place claimed to be the son of a mobster, and swore he was going to introduce me to his father and bring me into the “family business” when we got out of here. But I only had a week left on my sentence, and Jake had six months on his. Plus, he was probably lying about his mob connections.

I was considering it, though. If nothing better came along before Jake got out of here, maybe I’d give the little weasel a chance to make good on his claims. Considering my talents, the mob might be a decent fit for my future.

Not that any of us in New Heights could have a real future. They called it a youth center, but it was really just a prison with brighter colors — and everybody knew that ex-cons were screwed. Even if they were just kids when they went in.

Nobody who came out of this place would ever be considered a child again.

“Jesus, look at him. Holy shit.” Jake giggled and almost nudged me again, but then he thought better of it at the last minute. “I bet he’s about to piss his pants over there. Hey, let’s fuck with him.” The jagged grin spread. “You know what? You could do anything, even in front of the security cameras, and just blame it on that guy. We should burn this place down or something. Oh, wait, how about we kill a guard?”

“No,” I said sharply. Sometimes Jake had to be corrected like a dog, and it was all I could do not to rub his nose in his own shit. “Leave him alone, for now.”

The new guy — my doppelganger — did look unsettled. But unlike Jake, I didn’t believe he was scared. Reserved, maybe. Hanging back, getting the lay of the land. His posture was guarded and self-protective, as if he was expecting some kind of abuse, and that could’ve been interpreted as fear. But I sensed something dark in him.

Or maybe I was only projecting my own darkness onto the spitting image of myself.

Jake lost interest in the other kid fast once I rebuked him. His face only fell for a few seconds, and then his smile bounced back. “Vince and them are trying to crowd the hoop again,” he said, pointing over at the rundown basketball half-court in the far corner of the yard, where four or five of the younger boys had begun a half-hearted game of Horse. “Want to scare them off?”

“Nah. I’m hungry,” I told him. “Go find somebody with a care package. I want good shit, nothing generic or homemade.”

Always happy to serve, Jake nodded vigorously and scuttled off. I watched him absently for a few seconds before I returned my attention to the new guy.

This time, my doppelganger was looking back. And there was no fear in him at all.

There was nothing in him.

It really was like looking in a mirror.




About the Author

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S.W. Vaughn lives in “scenic” Central New York, with its two glorious seasons -- winter and road construction -- along with her husband and son. An award-winning author, copywriter, and blogger, she's been writing professionally for over 15 years.

Under Sonya Bateman, she is the author of the DeathSpeaker Codex series (urban fantasy) and the Gavyn Donatti series (urban fantasy / Simon & Schuster).


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Teaser: Star Child


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Fantasy Adventure
Date Published: August 8, 2019

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On her world, they call her star struck, but why do the stars beckon her so …

On a mining outpost in the Inner Worlds, a young woman dreams of the stars. When she falls in with a motley crew of bounty hunters seeking to avenge an injustice, Novi believes her dreams have come true. But her journey has just begun.

Led by the only man to bring the mightiest army in the sector to its knees, the crew is engaged in a wily cat and mouse game with the powerful Guild Coalition. With her new shipmates, Novi dodges space outlaws and greedy corporations, mingles with Synths and settlers, jumps the Star Portal Labyrinth and discovers a mysterious legacy bequeathed by the Gods. But each exhilarating adventure raises terrifying questions about her. Can Novi find the answers she seeks before time runs out for her?

Author's Note: This fantasy adventure in the style of a swashbuckling space western is set on far away exotic worlds. Adventure, intrigue and action abound in this tale of a feisty young heroine embarking on the quest of a lifetime.



Excerpt



The murmur of voices heralded her approach. Forewarned, Novi was careful to crouch silently behind the hatch cover.

“We’ve searched Ventini’s cargo” the leader announced, down in the chamber. “Where’s the box?”

Novi’s heart gave a lurch. Could they be searching for Zufon Ventini’s intricately carved box, she wondered. The one with the energy waves that affected her so powerfully. Back in the duct, she was subject to its pernicious effects again. A night’s rest away from it had not dimmed the potency of whatever lay hidden in the strongbox.

In the Rec Chamber, Kidani looked confused by the leader’s question. But Novi sensed the pilot come to the same realization as her.

The leader addressed Kali, his demeanor subtly menacing. “No more games” he warned. “Where’s the strongbox?”

The pilot said nothing and Kidani rushed into speech. “We don’t know anything about a strongbox. Cap’n didn’t tell us about it.”

“I’m the chef and he’s the pilot” she reiterated, pointing at the RimWorlder. “We do our jobs, but we don’t know much about Cap’n’s affairs.”

“With you, I believe it” the leader agreed suavely. “But I know who your Captain is — the hero of the Five Year War. That tells me this RimWorlder here was one of his Renegades. He knows more than he’s telling us.”

The leader seems to know a lot about this Cruiser and the Captain. Who is he?

Kidani opened her mouth to respond but the leader ignored her to signal the man with the flasher. The henchman stepped forward to hold the weapon flush against Kali’s head.

Kidani made a small movement before checking herself.

Novi watched anxiously from behind the panel as the leader asked Kali. “One last time, RimWorlder. Where’s Ventini’s strongbox?”

Kali said nothing, the dark eyes glowering at the leader.

The slinger with the flasher raised it to hit the pilot but the leader stopped him with a raised hand, to direct him to Kidani instead.

Novi watched with her heart in her mouth as the man strode to the flame-haired girl to point his flasher at her, while the leader unstrapped his to hold it on Kali.

“The box or she dies” he said calmly to the RimWorlder.

In the eery blue glow of the emergency lights, Novi could see the terror on Kidani’s face, though the girl stayed still and mute.

“I don’t know where the box is, but occasionally, Cap’n hides certain valuables in the duct” Kali responded, subtly raising his voice. He hoped the stowaway would get the message. The duct was no longer safe for her to hide in.

“The maintenance duct?” the leader inquired.

The pilot nodded once, sharply.

Shyte. I must get out — they’ll be in the duct soon.

The leader reached for his Hailer. “Seto, check out the maintenance duct. There should be an access from the Bay.”

An alarmed Novi scrambled hastily, making for her old hiding place in the passage by the unoccupied chamber. Not a moment too soon, for she could hear voices cursing in the access passage from the Space Bay as the thugs poured into the duct.

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About the Author

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An avid reader all her life, only recently has Petra allowed her own imagination to run riot. She loves to travel and reads everything she can get her hands on. Her idea of a good read is one where the story and characters linger, long after the book has been set aside. She strives to write fantasy with vivid characters and elements of adventure, mystery and romance juxtaposed together, since those are the tales she has enjoyed the most over the years. To share the stories swirling in her imagination is a labor of love and a lifelong dream come true for Petra.



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PROMO: Return to White Catcliff



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Fantasy Fiction
Date Published: May 2019
Publisher: IVX Books

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Return to White Catcliff is Inna Val Helm’s debut novel presented by an unforgettable cast of characters. Fantasy and reality merge amid elements of anthropomorphism, eternal life, and dimensional existence.

It tells the story of thirtysomething Nick Taylor and his black Lab, BD, who stumble upon a convenience store robbery in a suburb of present-day Chicago and are left for dead. They awaken to find themselves in the tranquil village of White Catcliff, where inhabitants faced certain death immediately prior to arrival.

The antagonist is VEIL (Volunteer Eleemosynary Institute and League), which presents as a humanitarian organization, but its true agenda is steeped in pillage and plunder. Nick’s mission is to stop its proliferation. This means he must not only leave his new home, but of greater consequence, he must travel alone, leaving his best friend behind.

Return to White Catcliff is a smartly crafted novel, artfully illustrated, humorous at times, dark at others, and always thought-provoking.





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About the Author


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Inna Val Helm has served as a trial consultant and linguistic translator in various venues, and her resulting familiarity with courtrooms and legal proceedings is evident throughout certain passages and illustrative images of Return to White Catcliff.

The writer’s own vivid out-of-body experience inspired said novel and is largely responsible for its conceptual content. Helm’s creation of the nemesis, VEIL (Volunteer Eleemosynary Institute and League), is loosely based upon the world’s political climate over the past eighty years.

A student of the mind, Inna Val Helm has studied the human and animal psyche and related philosophy across Europe as well as the eastern seaboard of the United States, resulting in a litany of fully developed characters.



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