Author Interview – Moira Katson @moirakatson

Every writer has their own idea of what a successful career in writing is, what does success in writing look like to you?

I have dreams of being able to support myself and my family from my writing, but to be honest, I’m very content right now. I am writing stories I have always wanted to write, and I can choose my cover artist and any other collaborators I wish to have, and I get to interact directly with my fans.

It is vital to get exposure and target the right readers for your writing, tell us about your marketing campaign?

I would caution authors to be very careful about choosing target demographics. I had a set notion that my books would appeal to a very specific group: women between about 20 and 30, who had read books like Tamora Pierce’s Lioness Quartet when they were growing up. Then my first reviews were from young men in Europe, and as the reviews came in, a huge number were from people between 50 and 85 as well! I tend to look for fantasy fans, but beyond that I’ve tried not to narrow it down too much.

Tell us about your new book? What’s it about and why did you write it?

Shadowborn is a fairly classic coming-of-age story, and it includes a lot of standard fantasy and court-intrigue elements, including the character who is a pawn of another. However, the story is told from an unusual perspective—Catwin is a complete nobody, but instead of being only a spy and being in the shadows, she is tied to Miriel, and very involved in Miriel’s world. I started out wanting to tell a story, no more than that, but as the story came into being, it started being more and more about personal agency, and refusing to be defined by the plans others have for you.

Do you have any tips on how writers can relax?

I still find relaxation in reading, but it’s also very calming to look at storytelling in other formats, like video games and movies. Also, personally, I go running, and I have a vegetable garden. An awful lot of thinking gets done while running or working with my hands!

Do you have an organized process or tips for writing well? Do you have a writing schedule?

It boils down to two main things: to make time, and to be ready to write if you find you have free time. One of the best writing tips I got was to abandon the rituals: the cup of tea, the study arranged just so, a four hour block of time. Carry a notebook and be ready to jot down ideas at any time. That said, I do set aside time for writing every night, and I have a planner to keep track of what needs to get written, edited, sent to someone, all of that. Now I sound like a huge dork. But it works!

What do you hope people will take away from your writing? How will your words make them feel?

I want the people who read my books to feel hopeful and empowered. That’s a tall order, but I really do feel like almost every single one of my characters (including side characters and antagonists) is one that has taken control of their life in some way, and carved out the space to make their own decisions.

What movie do you love to watch?

Stardust or Tangled. Both of them make me laugh, and are incredibly sweet stories.

How do you feel about social media websites such as Facebook and Twitter? Are they a good thing?

I think they’re very good. I speak as someone who was able to connect with other readers when I was in my teens, and is now able to connect with friends and fans all over the world! That would not be possible in the same way without those websites. 

What makes you angry?

People who don’t understand the privileges they have, and therefore do not try to give back to the world. I have been so lucky all my life (the fact that I have the time to write is incredible), and I try to keep that in mind all the time. I can trace Shadowborn back to that house full of books when I was a child, to having parents who loved to read, to meeting the right friends in college, to having a day job now that allows me time to write! So much comes down to luck.

Are you a city slicker or a country lover?

I love both, but I think that if I had to choose one, I would go with the country. I am so contented in the countryside, I love greenery. There’s nothing like a gorgeous view of mountains and forest!

What’s your next project?

Right now I am working on a SciFi trilogy tentatively titled “Novum.” It spans about 500 years, and follows a group of humans after the destruction of their homeland, as they are discovering more about themselves and the world around them.

Do you know your neighbors?

Yes, we see quite a lot of them. On one side we have a retired couple, and on the other side, four college students. So it’s very different, but they’re all quite nice.

Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords

Genre - Fantasy

Rating – PG-13

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Website http://www. moirakatson.com

#AmReading – Revenge of the Mad Scientist by Lara Nance @Lara_Nance

Revenge of the Mad Scientist by Lara Nance

Amazon

A steampunk adventure with a hint of romance.
When Lady Arabella Trunkett’s father, the High Lord Minister of Urbannia is kidnapped, all clues point to the mysterious country of Gandiss and the world is thrown into political upheaval.
Arabella is convinced the more sinister nation of Carabarras is to blame, urged on by a mad scientist seeking revenge. So, she sets out on a perilous airship journey across a variety of exotic locales to save him, and halt the potential world war.
But air-pirates, secret assassins and slave traders aren’t her only trials. The fickle hand of fate has made the captain of the only airship available for charter, the man who left her at the altar. For eight years she's wanted nothing more than to see him dead. Now he's her only hope.

Author Interview – Kelly Jackson @MidlifeGals

Why do you write?

I liked writing from the moment that I learned cursive writing in elementary school.  I loved the way the letters looked on a page, and then to know that I could string them all together to express the crazy thoughts in my head.  ShaZA’AM!  Off I went.

What writing are you most proud of?

It never occurred to me that I could actually write a novel, but after surviving a horrible, yet insanely comical month at an ashram to procure my yoga teaching certificate, with journal in hand…I began a story. I had the same thrill as I did when I was a kid learning that cursive writing.  This time it was my computer, but the story and the characters came spilling out of my head onto the page.  I laughed.  Parts of what I wrote scared me, which was the goal of that section, and I cried at the end…just like I was reading a book that I loved written by someone else. I am very proud of my first novel and hope that my second one, An Ear for Mirabel, will continue to amaze me as I write…what a great feeling!

Location and life experiences can really influence writing.  Tell us where you grew up and where you now live?

Growing up the dry, flat, waterless part of west Texas back in the fifties was both such a blessing and such a horrible curse.  Midland, Texas was THE place to go if you were a gambler, a wild-catter or heavy-drinking speculator…for OIL.  It’s where the Bush family came and brought all of their rich, east coast yankee pals.  My Daddy never struck it rich, because he died as a young man, leaving my Mother alone with three precocious daughters out in the middle of nowhere.  My upbringing shaped me, toughened me, forced me to have a sense of humor, and people would laugh at my stories, making everything alright for me again. The stories weren’t on paper as a child, just seared into my brain like chewing gum stuck to the hot tar on an endless highway.

I’m in my early sixties now, and because I like a happy ending in all of my stories, my sister, Sally, and I moved to the paradise that is Honolulu, Hawaii.  I packed my sense of humor, tenacity and blind ambition to ‘suck life through a straw’ (as the Italians would say about me).  It’s a short trip, and we want to live the rest of it in this magical place in the middle of the gloriously blue Pacific Ocean.

Tell us about your new book?  What’s it about and why did you write it?

My book, A Texan Goes to Nirvana, is a comic mystery set in the backwoods of Kentucky at a yoga ashram.  My protagonist, Wendy Tate, is cynical, logical and desperate to earn a yoga teaching certificate to help her start a new life post-divorce.  Her month-long stay at the ashram is filled with miscreants, societal dropouts, bliss ninnies, and those are just the people who live and work there…oh, and the head swami!  Something is not right at this ashram, but it’s not what Wendy thinks.  It’s far removed from what ANYone would suspect might be going on.  And, a very unlikely hero helps Wendy figure out how to make things right, but not before all manner of scary and hilarious events and characters transpire to block her from the truth.

I wrote this book, because I did keep a daily, cynical journal of my nutty experiences at just such an ashram, and because ‘you can’t make this shit up!’  Upon my return home from this place, I found it online at cultbusters.com.

If you could have a dinner party and invite anyone dead or alive, who would you ask?

Nora Ephron, David Sedaris, Gary Cooper, Tom Hanks, Hawkeye and Magua from Last of the Mohicans, Walter White from Breaking Bad, Nurse Jackie in case anyone got hurt or wanted a pill, Isak Dinesen to tell us stories of Africa, Beryl Markham, and last, but certainly not least, my Daddy who died when he was 38 years old.

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Genre – Humor Mystery

Rating – PG

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Constantinopolis by James Shipman @jshipman_author

His father! Mehmet stewed when he thought of him. His father had never shown him any real affection or spent significant time with him. He was not, after all, originally the heir to the Sultanate. He was a second son and only became heir when his older brother died. Mehmet had been forced from then on to endure a frantic and often harsh tutoring process. He was just beginning to grasp his responsibilities when at the age of 12 his father had retired and named him Sultan. He had done the best he could to govern, but in short order Grand Vizier Halil had called his father back to take over the throne. The Sultan felt Halil should have helped him, should have supported him. Instead he had watched and reported Mehmet’s shortcomings to his father, betraying him and leading to his humiliation.

From then on Mehmet had bided his time. He had learned to keep his thoughts and emotions to himself, to trust no one. He had studied everything: military art, languages, administration, and the arts. He had worked tirelessly so that when he next ruled he would not only equal his father but also exceed him. He would be the greatest Sultan in the history of his people, Allah willing.

His chance came when Murad finally died only two years before, as Mehmet turned 19. Mehmet quickly took power, ordering his baby half brother strangled to assure there would be no succession disputes, and set to organizing his empire. He had learned to be cautious and measured, leaving his father’s counselors and even Halil in power to assist him. From there he had slowly built up a group of supporters. They were young and exclusively Christian converts to Islam. These followers, many of whom now held council positions, were not nearly as powerful as the old guard, but they were gaining ground. They were the future, if Halil did not interfere.

Halil. His father’s Grand Vizier and now his own. He had always treated Mehmet with condescending politeness. He was powerful, so powerful that Mehmet could not easily remove him. So powerful it was possible he could remove Mehmet in favor of a cousin or other relative. Mehmet hated him above all people in the world, but he could not simply replace him. He needed Halil, at least for now, and Halil knew it.

This dilemma was the primary reason for Mehmet’s nighttime wanderings. He needed time away from the palace. Time to think and work out a solution to the problem. How could he free himself from Halil without losing power in the process? He could simply order Halil executed, but would the order be followed or would it be his own head sitting on a pole? The elders and religious leaders all respected and listened to Halil. Only the young renegades, the Christian converts who owed their positions to Mehmet were loyal to him. If Halil was able to rally the old guard to him, Mehmet had no doubt that the result would be a life or death dispute.

Mehmet needed to find a cause that could rally the people to him. The conversations he had heard night after night told him this same thing. The people felt that his father was a great leader, and that he was not. If he could gain the people’s confidence, then he would not need Halil, and the other elders would follow his lead.

Mehmet knew the solution. He knew exactly what would bring the people to his side, and what would indeed make him the greatest Sultan in the history of the Ottoman people.

The solution however was a great gamble. His father and father’s fathers had conquered huge tracts of territory in Anatolia and then in Europe, primarily at the expense of the Greeks. Mehmet intended to propose something even more audacious, to conquer the one place that his ancestors had failed to take. If he succeeded he would win the adoration of his people and would be able to deal with Halil and any others who might oppose him. If he failed . . .

The Sultan eventually made his way back near the palace, to the home of his closest friend, Zaganos Pasha. Zaganos, the youngest brother of Mehmet’s father in law, had converted to Islam at age 13, and was Mehmet’s trusted general and friend. He was the most prominent member of the upstart Christian converts that made up the Sultan’s support base.

Zaganos was up, even at this late hour, and embraced his friend, showing him in and ordering apple tea from his servants. Zaganos was shorter and stockier than Mehmet, a powerful middle-aged man in the prime of his life. He had receding dark brown hair. A long scar cut across his forehead and down over his left eye. He looked on Mehmet with smiling eyes extending in to crow’s feet. He smiled like a proud uncle or father.

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Genre – Historical Fiction

Rating – PG

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Website http://james-shipman.com

Nobody Has to Know by Frank Nappi @FrankNappi

Nobody Has To Know, Frank Nappi’s dark and daring new thriller, tells the story of Cameron Baldridge, a popular high school teacher whose relationship with one of his students leads him down an unfortunate and self-destructive path. Stalked through text-messages, Baldridge fights for his life against a terrifying extortion plot and the forces that threaten to expose him. NHTK is a sobering look into a world of secrets, lies, and shocking revelations, and will leave the reader wondering many things, including whether or not you can ever really know the person you love.

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Genre - Thriller

Rating – PG-13

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Website http://www.franknappi.com

The Colors of Friendship by K R Raye @KRRaye

Fortuitous Bumps
Melody flinched as Imani wheeled around fast, her right arm cocked and ready to fight.  Her breath caught in her throat as they both stared at each other in surprise.  Then the giggles hit and Melody burst out laughing.  Unable to stop, she doubled over clutching her stomach.
“You’re so wrong,” Imani said as she landed a big, booty bump on Melody’s hip that almost knocked her over.  Imani wagged her finger in a mock threat and then resumed dancing with Trevor as he cracked up and bopped along.
Still giggling, Melody straightened up and rubbed her hip as she tried to refocus on her cute dance partner.  However, her hip wasn’t the only thing aching.  Each step she took made her wince as her shoes pinched her toes like angry crabs.
Crap, she exhaled through gritted teeth, Imani warned her not to wear the sexy stilettos, but she wanted to look perfect tonight and they went so well with her long-sleeved, little, black jersey knit dress.  Ready to rest her sore feet, she yanked her partner’s sleeve.  “I’ve got to sit down for a while,” she yelled over the music.
Not missing a single beat, he shrugged, spun around, and danced with a group of girls behind him, leaving her gaping at his back.
“I guess you don’t want to join me at the bar for stimulating conversation,” she murmured to herself.   Pivoting on her heel, she headed towards the bar before noticing the crowd.  Great, it would take at least twenty minutes to get the bartender’s attention!  Sighing and unsure of her next steps, she surveyed the dance floor.
Imani and Trevor were just revving up.  And with Imani’s stressful week, it was probably best to let her finally cut loose.  She kept looking, but she couldn’t locate Lance anywhere.
Humph, knowing him, he was already getting personal attention from yet another pretty girl he just met.  Melody frowned.  Why did women constantly throw themselves at Lance?  Granted he was handsome, possessed a drool-worthy body, and now there were mumbles about NFL potential after just his first couple of games playing, but really!  Women needed to demand more respect than a meaningless one-night stand.
Frustrated and tired, she fanned herself, but she began to feel claustrophobic and faint.  All at once the hot, crowded room turned oppressive and the rank air suffocated.  The deafening music cloyed.  As she struggled to squeeze through the mass of bodies to escape, her body tensed and her heart hammered in her ears.  Pain radiated through her feet.  Every breath hitched in ragged spurts as clammy perspiration coated her skin.  In a last ditch effort she retrieved her coat and shot through the doors, not even waiting to pull on the double-breasted, wool trench coat.
The cold, January night made it difficult to catch her breath.  As she scrambled away from the frat house towards her dorm room, she wrestled into her coat and buttoned it up, snuggling in its warmth.  Maybe attending college in frigid, upstate New York wasn’t the smartest move, she thought as a bout of shivers wracked her body.  Snuggling in deeper, she tucked her head down and began barreling against the cold until she slammed into someone.
Books and bodies flew to the ground.

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Genre – New Adult, Contemporary

Rating – R

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Connect with K R Raye on Facebook and Twitter

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

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In Love With My Best Friend by Sheena Binkley

1

Camille

How did my life get so complicated? One minute, I, Camille Anderson, was living a pretty normal life in which nothing ever happened to me, and the next I'm practically being hauled away from the premier wedding venue in Houston, The Corinthian, by security because of my sudden outburst to the groom.

I should have known I was setting myself up for disaster, but I had to do it. I had to tell my best friend that I'd been in love with him since I was thirteen.

I really didn't expect the scene to unfold the way it did, especially while Trevor was getting married, but I couldn't hold my feelings in much longer. I felt he was making a terrible mistake, because he was marrying the wrong woman. He should have been marrying me.

I guess I should backtrack to when Trevor and I first met. It was seventeen years ago, when the Williams family first moved into the house next to ours. I was outside waiting for my friend Tia Simmons to come by when I first noticed Trevor. He was absolutely gorgeous as he stepped out of his family's SUV. He had that "boy next door" look, with wavy black hair and smooth ivory skin. He looked over at me and gave me a huge grin, which I greatly returned.

After that day, not only did we become friends, but our parents became great friends as well. We always went by each other's homes for dinner or for game night (until we were too old to appreciate hanging out with our parents on a Friday night).

We were practically inseparable during our high school years, and many of our friends thought we would eventually get married and have lots of kids. When anyone mentioned that to Trevor, he would shrug it off and say, "We're just friends, and it will stay that way until the day we die." Usually those words would tug at my heartstrings, but being the shy person I am, I never let my feelings show.

As we went to college, Trevor and I went into the same major, public relations. That was when he met Chelsea Parker, who was also my roommate. At first I liked Chelsea because she was basically a sweet person, but when she set her sights on Trevor, I quickly disliked her. Not because she took Trevor away from me, but because she became a different person.

If only I could go back to four weeks ago, or even seventeen years ago, I would be with the man I loved...

~

Four weeks ago....

"I don't know why you dragged me to this," I said as I looked at my friend Tia. The two of us were inside the Aventine Ballroom of Hotel Icon waiting for our friend Trevor and his fiancée, Chelsea, to arrive for their engagement and welcome home party. The two had announced their engagement to everyone a while back when Trevor was visiting his parents before going back to Dallas. Not only did he announce his engagement, but he also said that he had accepted a new position at a prestigious PR firm and was moving back to Houston. Although I was happy that my best friend was moving back, I was not thrilled that he was getting married.

"For once, why can't you be happy for Tre? He and Chelsea are finally getting married."

I gave Tia an evil stare as I looked toward the revolving door to the ballroom.

"You know how I feel about Trevor and Chelsea getting married."

"Oh please, Cam, when are you going to get past the fact that Trevor found someone? I told you to admit your feelings to him, but being the person you are, you decided not to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You felt you would have been rejected if you told Trevor your true feelings."

"If I remember correctly, in high school when Charles asked him why we never hooked up, he said, and I quote, 'We're just friends.'"

Tia rolled her eyes at me and started to stare at the door as well. This was not the first time we'd had this conversation about my feelings for Trevor, so I'm pretty sure Tia was tired of hearing it.

Tia was my other best friend and the complete opposite of me. While I was quiet and reserved, Tia was wild and carefree. She always did what she wanted and didn't care about the consequences. People always thought we were sisters, with our caramel-colored complexion and long, dark-brown hair. But that was where the similarities ended. I looked down at my black sequin dress that went above my knees, wondering if I was dressed appropriately for the occasion; but as I looked at the hot-pink dress Tia was sporting, I figured my outfit was perfect.

"So how are things between you and Eric?"

"Finished; I broke up with him a couple of days ago."

"I'm assuming because he's not Trevor? Cam, you have got to move on."

I sighed as I noticed two figures coming through the door. I started to breathe slowly as I watched my friend walk in with his fiancée. Trevor always was attractive, but tonight he looked really handsome in a dark blue suit, white shirt, and blue and white striped tie. His black, wavy hair was cut short, bringing out his beautiful brown eyes. He walked hand in hand with Chelsea, the woman I wish I'd never met, who was positively glowing in an ivory-colored empire dress. Her reddish brown hair was pulled into a tight ponytail and her makeup was flaw- less. Although I was completely jealous of Chelsea, I had to admit the two made a stunning couple.

Tia gave me a frown.

"You OK?"

"I'm cool. Let's just get this over with."

While the crowd of family and friends were clapping and whistling for the happy couple, all I could do was just stand in my place, looking at Trevor as if he was the only person in the room. He gave me a smile that showed the deep dimples on each of his cheeks. As he went to greet a couple of his family members, I took a deep breath to control any tears from flowing.

I shouldn't have come tonight.

~

Trevor

"Why did we plan a huge engagement party? Everyone knows we're engaged," I asked my fiancée, Chelsea, as we were walking hand in hand down the corridor inside Hotel Icon.

"Sweetie, I just wanted everyone to celebrate in our happiness and what better way than a huge party?"

I sighed as I continued to walk, not realizing how frustrated I was becoming.

Chelsea was the love of my life. I instantly knew I wanted to marry her when I first laid eyes on her in Camille's dorm room. The two were roommates their junior year at University of Houston, which was great for me, considering I was able to see my best friend and my girlfriend at the same time. Although Camille and I were really good friends, I got the sense that something had been bothering her since I'd been dating Chelsea. Call me crazy, but it seemed as if Camille was jealous of our relationship. I hope not, because Chelsea loves Camille and considers her a good friend.

As we walked into the ballroom, everyone from our family and our friends were clapping and cheering for our arrival. We started to wave at everyone as we entered. Once I turned my head toward the center of the room, I had to stop and admire the person staring straight at me. My heart jolted several beats at the beauty who was giving me a dazzling smile. Camille Anderson had always been a beautiful woman, from her caramel-colored skin to her deep chocolate eyes; she definitely stood out in a crowd.

Just looking at her long hair flowing around her face and the black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places made me feel sort of embarrassed, because I shouldn't have been looking at her in that way. I always considered her my best friend and nothing more, so why was I looking at her differently now?

Chelsea turned her attention to me, wondering what was wrong.

"Is everything OK?"

I suddenly realized I was staring a little too long as I turned to Chelsea.

"I'm fine," I said as I squeezed her hand.

I gave Camille a huge grin as I walked over to talk to a nearby guest. I snuck another peek at her; she was talking to our friend Tia near the bar. I don't know what was going on with me, but hopefully this feeling I was having about my best friend would go away soon.

That's if I want it to.

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Genre - Contemporary Fiction

Rating – PG13

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Connect with Sheena Binkley on Twitter

Website http://sheenabinkley.wordpress.com/

Author Interview – Kristen James @writerkristenj

What book should everybody read at least once?

Moloka’a by Alan Brennert. It’s about a young girl in Hawaii that comes down with leprosy (Later called Hansen’s disease) and has to go to a secluded leprosy colony. This sounds depressing, but it was one of the most uplifting, emotional and complex novels I’ve read. I’m in awe that this author took such a heartbreaking and taboo topic and wrote a story that will help people cross over to really see the humanity in everyone.

Location and life experiences can really influence writing, tell us where you grew up and where you now live?

I grew up in a tiny town in Western Oregon. My graduating class had 35 people, and most of those had been there since kindergarten. I moved away for three years, and then moved back to Oregon, first to Portland, then Eugene, then Sutherlin and now where I live. It’s beautiful, wild and rugged here, and I think the scenery and small town life makes a great backdrop for my novels. I set almost all of my novels here; it’s part of my signature.

How did you develop your writing?

The best way to develop your writing is to write! I wrote quite a few practice novels before graduating high school that taught me how to put a story together. I’ve learned a lot from working with different editors and reading books on writing, especially Donald Maass’s books. I also learn by reading great novels.

Do you plan to publish more books?

Yes! I’m just starting my career. I hope to have fifty or even a hundred books out in my lifetime.

What else do you do to make money, other than write?

It is rare today for writers to be full time…

I’ve been a full time author for several years now. I was able to do so because I have quite a few books out now, and I’ve been working toward my dream since childhood.

If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?

Right here! I live on the North Umpqua River. There is a ton of wildlife here from Canadian Geese, quail, turkey, both white tail and black tail deer, eagles, otters, hawks, small birds, squirrels, and many other small animals. We even have a peacock that visits from a neighbor’s house. I live just three miles from a wildlife refuge with great hiking, and I can drive less than an hour up the highway to several waterfalls and hiking trails, and the mountains beyond that. I’m about two hours from the coast on the other side. So there is always somewhere to explore.

Every writer has their own idea of what a successful career in writing is, what does success in writing look like to you?

Success is getting to write and knowing people out there are enjoying my books. I suppose you can measure that through followers, book sales, reader emails and book contracts, but really it boils down to how I feel when I’m writing, and how I feel when I get a message from a reader. While writing Point Hope, I just knew. It was the book I’ve been wanting to write.

It is vital to get exposure and target the right readers for your writing, tell us about your marketing campaign?

I focus on writing more books and connecting with readers, mainly through my Facebook page. (www.facebook.com/WriterKristenJames.) There’s just no comparison to having a list of books. I think readers see there are 5, 10 or 15 books to read and get excited. I know I love finding a new author with a long list of books for me to read. As my book list has grown, I’ve relied less and less on promotions. Early on, however, I did more paid promotions such as Pixel of Ink, Bookbub and Kindle Nation Daily.

How often do you write? And when do you write?

I try to write most work days, although I will take a day off to go fishing, hiking, or out to lunch.  The beauty of being self employed is setting my own hours! I write while my kids are in school and sometimes at night, especially in late fall and winter when it gets dark early. I’m not one of those authors with a set in stone writing time or schedule, nor do I have a daily word count. I want to enjoy life and the writing process.

Do you have an organized process or tips for writing well? Do you have a writing schedule?

I keep things simple: I try to write, and if I’m not feeling it, I do something writing related. I’ll grab one of my writing books or look up articles on writing. I usually get inspired quickly. Sometimes I just push myself into it. At first, the writing is forced, but I get warmed up and suddenly I’m lost in the words.

Are you a city slicker or a country lover?

I’m a country girl! I love exploring the outdoors. I also love traveling, but I like to visit the less touristy spots, see the countryside and experience the culture.

How do you think people perceive writers?

It seems some people want to believe books magically come into being, not that they’re made by people. It’s a weird attitude to encounter, especially for an author. Of course there are other people who love authors and want to know all about the authors they read.

Do you find the time to read?

I read at night, and sometimes I’ll take a work day to read. I figure it’s a part of being an author!

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Genre - Romance (women’s fiction/ family drama)

Rating – PG13

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What I‘ve Learned - H. Peter Alesso

Midshipman Henry Gallant In Space
Guest Blog#2
Thank you for allowing me to discuss some of my ideas about writing my book, Midshipman Henry Gallant In Space.
I’ve learned some interesting lessons through writing a novel. I’ve found that the craft of writing requires the author to become invisible to the reader; a task not as easy as it sounds.
When you read a story by one of your favorite authors, you often find yourself immersed in another place, hopefully undergoing an exciting and thrilling vicarious experience. The characters bring to life the emotions and choices of this exotic situation. If you are too aware of the author’s craftsmanship then the story is broken – like an actor talking to, and looking at, the camera during a movie. It destroys the illusion and spoils the story.
Only the best of authors can truly achieve invisibility. Some of my favorites, I. Asimov, J. Campbell, A. E. Van Vogt, etc. have accomplished this for me. However, when I go back and look for the craftsmanship of their works I can recognize it. I look for clues on how they achieved their special effects. For example, when they ‘set the stage’ at the beginning of a chapter or section, they tend to offer long slow elaborate descriptive prose, rich in adjectives and superlatives. For action scenes however, the sentences are short, crisp and emphatic. When involved in conversation, the individual characters each achieve their own ‘voice’; that is they demonstrate a distinctive characteristic of speech, or language, so that they can be picked out of the dialog. Of course, the arc of the main story must be seamlessly inter-wound with the subplots so that the reader doesn’t trip over the narrative. As a result, the reader is engrossed so completely in the story that he is unaware of his actual reality, he has been transported elsewhere.
I find that there is beauty in expressing your thoughts. So find your words, tell your story.
In Midshipman Henry Gallant, I present a young man’s heroic epic journey. He doesn’t travel it along however; he has friends, mentors, rivals, and enemies, and one more essential element, romance. I hope you enjoy this story while I disappear from view.
Regards,
H. Peter Alesso
www.hpeteralesso.com

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Genre – Science Fiction

Rating – G

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

Vadim Babenko – Stories Behind My Books: Laura

Stories behind my books: Laura

by Vadim Babenko

Many years ago, in Buenos Aires, I made friends with Jorge, a journalist with one of the city’s newspapers. He specialized in articles about cars and was creative – he submitted his reviews as the impressions of a made-up character, twenty-year-old Laura, a tango dancer from Almagro. To the soulless cars she imparted bright and precise characteristics, telling about her trips in the automobiles of her lovers and friends – along with stories of her life full of men, tango, and adventures.

A week prior to my departure, Jorge acquainted me with his girlfriend, Agustina, a beauty from a rich family. “She only loves me for my articles,” he joked as he presented us to each other. “No,” Agustina smiled. “I only love you for Laura.” We laughed a bit at that joke.

A couple of days later I saw Jorge again. He spoke of Agustina and how they had met. She tracked him down herself at the office of that same newspaper, told him she adored his work, then invited him to lunch… “See, she really does love you for Laura,” I jested, but it didn’t come across as a joke. Jorge didn’t even crack a smile.

I returned to Buenos Aires three months later. The city was the same, but Jorge had become a different man. He looked bad and drank heavily. He told me Agustina was exhausting him with her fits. He complained she was forcing him to write about Laura, though he had long since tired of the character and wanted to switch to something new. “I don’t have the strength to fight with Aggie,” he confessed. “Of course, she’s not entirely well…”

The situation was clear, though it was quite strange. Agustina took to the image of Laura like a drug. Laura was everything Agustina was not and could not be. Reading about the girl from Almagro it was as if she lived another life.

Thus the romance was changed to drama. And then to tragedy – in a few weeks. Jorge left Buenos Aires – simply fled, finding work in Mendoza. Agustina tried to commit suicide, and wound up in a hospital for the insane… That was no soap opera, it actually happened. It was a real story that looked like fantasy. A story provoked by fantasies that appeared too real. I could not judge Jorge’s articles – my Spanish was too poor. But it looked like he had genuine talent.

While working on SEMMANT I sent him greetings in my mind. Or rather, my hero sent him greetings while inventing Adele.

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Genre – Literary Fiction

Rating – NC17

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Website http://www.vadimbabenko.com/

Birth of an Assassin by Rik Stone @stone_rik

Otto’s mind takes him back to finding his mother at the Serbsky Institute.

Inmates had jittered and made signs at him as he made his way through the corridors. “Please help me,” he heard from some and, “They have me here because of my political beliefs,” from others. They’d reached out to him as he passed, and his insides had quaked. With the stench of piss and shit everywhere, revulsion filled him. But he’d felt no compassion for these people. He hadn’t given a fuck about them. Only his mother mattered.

“This way,” the nurse had said. “She’s through here.”

He found her in a large open room. She sat on the only piece of furniture in it. The chair was pushed back against the wall and she rocked slightly, staring blankly into nothingness. Spittle leaked from her mouth and she was barely recognizable as the woman he loved. Her long, luxurious, oily-black hair had been shaven to the skin. Her teeth had somehow been removed and her formerly full face had caved in because of it. Like a corpse, she was yellowed and sunken. Only 47 years old and she looked twice that. He’d wished he hadn’t found her and cried bitterly – in front of those sadistic bastards that called themselves nurses.

More like prison guards. And in reality, that’s what they were. Soviet dissidents ended up in places like Serbsky, out of harm’s way. In mental hospitals where they could be abused and broken. Somewhere to extinguish credibility. He’d seen those inmates beaten, teeth punched or kicked from their faces. And if they still didn’t bow to the might of the people, enforced lobotomy wasn’t unheard of as a final step.

With desperation, he’d hoped his mother hadn’t suffered such cruelty.

*

And now, somehow, she’d made it through to 60. Why, oh why had she lasted this long? All those years, and still she rocked on that old wooden chair and stared at nothing. How could life be this cruel?

He remembered the first time he’d visited the asylum in full Spetsnaz uniform. After calling several of the nurses together, he said, “I know you all have military connections. On that basis, I won’t explain this uniform. Each of you has some sort of responsibility to my mother. The good news is you’re about to receive an extra income. The bad news: if you don’t look after my mother properly and see she gets the kind of care and nourishment she needs, I may have to call on my KGB colleagues. I hope we all understand what that could mean.”

Memories dissolved as he entered the large open room. On his instructions, her hair had been left to grow. But now it was too long and no one had shown it a comb. Still she rocked, gazing into nothingness with the expression of a lunatic on her face.

The burly warder turned to leave but Otto grabbed his arm. “We have an agreement. Next time I come here, I expect my mother to be presentable. Look at her, her hair hasn’t had attention for who knows how long. She needs a bath and a change of clothes. She looks like she’s just puked down them.”

“I err…,” the nurse spluttered with a voice too high for his size.

“Fuck you and your errs. Why do I pay you people so much? I’ll say this once. If I’m not satisfied with the way she looks next time I come, I’ll personally see to it that you have teeth to match hers. And each time after that, I’ll take you a step further down that road. Clear enough?”

“Yes, Captain. I’ll see to it myself.”

The nurse left and Otto looked at his mother. His heart brimmed. The only woman he’d ever loved – could ever love. He got down on his honkers, and took her hand. No sign of recognition, but at least she didn’t pull away.

“Hello, Mother, how are you today?”

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Genre – Thriller, Crime, Suspense

Rating – R

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Website http://rik-stone.simdif.com

The Color Pink by Parker Paige

Can wearing the color pink attract true love?

That is the question Summer Jones intends to answer.

In her early thirties, Summer Jones thought that she had found the perfect man, the man she planned to marry until she learned that he still had feelings for his first love. Now, at age thirty-five, Summer is ready to fall in love again. After she hears that wearing the color pink can attract true love, she sets out to do just that–and finds more than just true love.

Follow Summer as she journeys into the world of color magic and find out how she uses that magic to help her choose between one man from her past and another man who is destined to become her future.

This romantic drama serves up something fun and sexy, proving that the road to love can be paved with many painful lessons and memorable moments. It’s a story about paying attention to your past so that you don’t always have to repeat it.

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Genre - Romance

Rating – PG-13

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Website parkerpaige.wordpress.com

Author Interview – Carla Woody @CarlaWoody1

Who designed the cover?

Kim Johansen of Black Dog Design did a wonderful job of capturing the theme of Standing Stark. Her work is professional and prompt. Kim’s website is http://www.blackdogdesign.com.

Who is your book publisher?

I self-publish through my own small press: Kenosis Press.

What articles have you published recently?

My article The Last Spirit Keeper was published in Sacred Fire Magazine in November 2012, Issue 16, about the last Lacandón Maya elder in the rainforest of Chiapas, Mexico still maintaining his traditions against great pressure. My article Acts of Creation was just accepted by Stone Voices, a spiritually-oriented, literary arts journal, no date on publication yet.

What social issues interest you the most?

I’m interested in a number of social issues. But Native traditions that are threatened are my primary focus. Since the mid 1990s I’ve spent a lot of time in Peru, Mexico and Guatemala working with the indigenous spiritual leaders and healers there. In the last six years I’ve been fortunate to make friends with a number of Hopi people as well. From my standpoint, the sacred threads—through ceremonies and lifeways—that traditional indigenous people weave are what holds the world together in a deeper sense. The pressure for them to leave those practices behind is overwhelming. If they do, I believe we all lose.

How do you support your strong beliefs on preserving indigenous traditions?

Through Kenosis Spirit Keepers, the nonprofit I founded, we support community-building projects and programs that bring Native spiritual leaders together to share traditions. You can read about our current and past projects here: http://www.kenosisspiritkeepers.org/support.html.

I donate 10% of profits from my book sales directly to support these projects. If someone joins me on one of my spiritual travel programs to Peru, Mexico or Guatemala, part of their tuition is tax-deductible and helps support the healers and communities we engage with. People should know that if they’re drawn to purchase the book or participate in any of my programs, it helps us fulfill the mission I’ve mentioned here. There’s a statement of this commitment on my Kenosis website: http://www.kenosis.net.

What is a typical day like for you as a writer?

I’m definitely a morning person and have a ritual that sets my day. I usually get up before dawn, feed the cats, have a cup of coffee, and meditate for 20-30 minutes. I’ve been doing it, in that order, for nearly thirty years. Then I start writing if I have a project, or other work. Several years ago I put Joseph Campbell’s writing practice in place: at least three hours a day. It became automatic, and often the time extends itself without me noticing.

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Genre – Nonfiction, Spirituality

Rating – PG

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Birth of an Assassin by Rik Stone @stone_rik

Set against the backdrop of Soviet, post-war Russia, Birth of an Assassin follows the transformation of Jez Kornfeld from wide-eyed recruit to avenging outlaw. Amidst a murky underworld of flesh-trafficking, prostitution and institutionalized corruption, the elite Jewish soldier is thrown into a world where nothing is what it seems, nobody can be trusted, and everything can be violently torn from him.

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Genre - Thriller, Crime, Suspense

Rating – R

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Website http://rik-stone.simdif.com

The Photo Traveler (The Photo Traveler Series) by Arthur J. Gonzalez

CHAPTER ONE

I can’t ask for a better day to be out shooting. Man, what a view. Something about how the sun’s rays press against the faint distant outline of the mountains. Sick! If it can seem so dominating from all the way over here, I can only imagine what it must feel like up close. I don’t know. It just always kind of does something to me.

I know, I know. Lame, right? But trust me, if you lived in the hellhole I live in, anytime alone is sacred. You start to appreciate all these little not-so-particular things. Yeah—even the outline of the mountains.

Carefully, I focus the lens on my Canon 7D to capture the effect of the clouds drifting across the peaks of Mt. Rose and get my shot. A few seconds later, the sunlight dims. I hadn’t realized it was so late. I glance at my watch, wondering what’s taking Melinda so long. She promised to pick me up by five, even though I knew that would mean five-thirty. It’s five-forty-five.

I call her on my cell. It rings four times, then goes to voicemail. “Come on, Mel!” I mutter. “It’s getting late!”

I’ve had a good day so far, probably because I’ve been alone for most of it, and I really don’t want another confrontation with Jet. I can still taste the faint copper tinge of blood at the corner of my mouth where he split my lip the last time around. Two days ago.

I hit redial. Straight to voicemail. “Dammit, Mel!”

I tell myself to breathe, but my anxiety is really starting to kick in. Sweat is beading on my forehead and my heart is jolting in my chest. Why does she always have to be so impossible? I don’t get it.

The moment I hear the loud thrum of an engine roaring up the dirt road, I jump up from the boulder I’ve been perched on. It’s about damn time!

She screeches up to me in her new, cherry-red Mini Cooper and slams on the brakes. I dodge around to the passenger side. Grab the door handle. It’s locked.

“Mel!” I shout. “Open up!”

But she’s sitting behind the wheel pretending not to hear me. Eyes glued to her phone, purple nails tapping out a text message. With a tiny smirk on her glossed-up lips.

I hit the window with my fist. “Stop messing around! Jet’s gonna be pissed!”

She finishes her text, sends it … and adjusts the rearview mirror so she can check out the jet-black curls at her temples. She still hasn’t given me one look. Is she really serious right now?

I pound at the window again, as hard as I can. “Open up, dammit!” My anxiety is turning into rage. And rage is something Jet’s modeled for me only too well over the years, ever since he and his first wife, Leyla, took me in as a foster kid. Mel was just six at the time, but “my sister,” which she became after they finally adopted me, was a full-fledged brat from Day One, and she’s only gotten worse.

My fist hurts. I’m afraid of what Jet will do when we get back, since he ordered me to be home by six so I can start dinner.

But as far as Mel’s concerned, I might as well not be there. I can’t control it any longer. I take a step back, lift my knee, and kick the passenger door with all my strength. The hollow metal frame vibrates against the sole of my shoe. Mel’s prized car now has a six-inch dent right in the middle of the passenger door.

I guess that got her attention. Her mouth is hanging open. For a moment, she’s so astonished that she can’t speak. She swings her door open and charges around to the passenger side.

“MY CAR!” she screams, staring at the dent. “Are you crazy?!”

“Why couldn’t you just open up?” I yell back.

“Gavin, you’re an asshole! I was just messing with you! You’re never gonna learn to use your head, are you?”

“Go to hell!”

She goes still, then raises her eyebrows with an “Oh, really?” expression. Then she hauls off and slams her fist into the right side of my face. All I can feel is the large stone of her ring jabbing into my cheek. She stalks back to the driver’s side with a wicked smirk creasing her lips and snaps, “You can walk home!”

She slides behind the wheel, slams the door, and peels off so hard and fast that the car kicks up a stinging cloud of gravel and asphalt dust all over me.

She can’t be serious. But as the Mini disappears around the first bend in the road, I realize that she is.

* * *

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Genre - Young Adult Science Fiction

Rating – PG

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Website http://www.arthurjgonzalez.com/

The Barber’s Conundrum by Other Stories by John Hartnett @johnjhartnett

*****

Chapter 5: The Only Child Rearing Book You'll Ever Need!

Introducing The Only Child Rearing Book a Parent Will Ever Need!

Are you a parent? Potential parent?  Expecting parent?  Do you ever read parenting books just to celebrate the fact that you aren't a parent and still have your freedom? If so, you're going to love my new book, Kids You Can Count On.

Kids You Can Count On is guaranteed to help you raise perfect children effortlessly.  How can I make such a statement without biting my bottom lip until blood comes out?  Simple! Every technique I used to raise my three beloved kids to become bright, happy, polite, and well-adjusted is not in the book.  Why?  Because none of the techniques worked.  My kids’ behavior had me drinking Maalox out of industrial sized containers -- but the important thing is now I know what went wrong!  Now I get it!  And that's what's in the book.  Why suffer years of frustration raising kids through trial and error, when I've already done the suffering for you? 

Here are some sample insights and real life examples from the book, guaranteed to save you time, reduce stress and most importantly --raise the type of child you'd admit was yours even if you weren't being interrogated by the police!

What I Learned About Teaching Respect for Adults:

Never let your child call an adult by their first name.  Why?  Because right from the beginning a child who refers to you by your first name believes she is your equal, two days later she's convinced she's your superior and four days later, you're convinced she's your superior.  Here's an excerpt from a conversation between my 44-year old babysitter, Katherine, and my three-year old daughter Annie, who had been encouraged to call Katherine by her first name.

Katherine:  Annie, honey, it's time for your nap.

Annie:  I'm not sleepy, Kathy, but thanks for your concern.  Would you be a dear and get me another juice box?

How to fix it so your kid never calls anyone by their first name again?  See page 43!

The Right Way to Communicate with Your Child:

Military philosophy may be "Don't ask.  Don't tell," but for parents and kids it should be "Don't ask.  Tell!"  What happens when you stop giving your kids choices?  You get your life back, that's what!  Here's an excerpt from a school day breakfast discussion between my children and my wife --before we knew any better:

Mother:  What would you like for breakfast?

Annie:  Bacon and eggs.

Jim:  Pancakes with sausage.

Cathy: Oatmeal.

Mother: There's no time.  You all took thirty-minute showers.  How about cereal or toast?

Annie: I want bacon and eggs. 

Jim:  If we're not having pancakes then I don't want anything. 

Cathy:  Cereal and toast!

Mother: Let me see what I can do.

A smart lawyer never asks a question in a courtroom without already knowing the answer. Conversations with children should be handled no differently.  Here's an excerpt from a school day breakfast discussion between my wife and children after she read Chapter 6, How to Say "I'm Only Saying This Once" and Mean It.:

Mother:  What would you like for breakfast this morning?  I'll give you a hint. It's corn flakes and you have ten minutes to finish eating.

Need a handy reference for replacing common open ended questions with time saving imperative sentences?  Look no further than page 119!

Television: Friend or Foe?

For years we let our kids watch television whenever they wanted until one day, my wife and I tripped down a flight of stairs together, sustaining coma-inducing injuries.  While we lay in a tangled heap on the floor, our children watched television until the power company turned off the electricity. Our lifeless bodies were finally discovered by our panic stricken children, who in spite of their harrowing ordeal had the presence of mind to call our neighbors and ask politely if they could watch TV at their house. 

Don't wait for a coma to get the wakeup call that your kids are spending way too much time in front of the television.

TV troubles in your home?  Consult Chapter 9, From Couch Potatoes to Planting Potatoes, includes simple two-step program for turning off the television and turning on your kids …to the simple pleasures of back breaking yard work! 

How to Slay the Birthday Party Goliath

I realized our children's birthday parties were getting out of line when one of the tigers, I can't remember now whether it was Siegfried's or Roy's, pounced on my mother-in-law during our daughter Cathy's first birthday celebration.  Luckily Cathy wasn't traumatized by the event since she didn't wake up from her nap until fifteen minutes after 224 of her closest friends and relatives headed for home.  While there is no such thing as debtor's prison anymore, my wife and I were so deeply in hock from charging our children's birthday bashes that the state legislature briefly discussed opening a local debtor's prison just for us. Kids You Can Count On shows you how to say adios to $10,000 birthday party singalongs with Willie Nelson and hello to $30 pizza parties!

Can't make smores without flying Emeril Lagasse in for the weekend? Turn to Appendix II, Simple Dishes Even You Can Cook.

Testimonials Keep Pouring In!

Here's what parents who've read Kids You Can Count On have to say about my book:

"Since using the techniques outlined in your book, my children's behavior has improved so much friends stop them on the street to ask if they've been adopted." -- Terry K, Orlando, FL.

"My wife and I have adapted your time saving 'Don't ask.  Tell!' philosophy and the resulting peace and quiet has been so rewarding, we've taken the philosophy one step further by requiring our children to submit all questions to us in writing.  Who would believe a home with five children could be more tranquil than a monastery?" -- Eddie Jondo, Lincoln, NE

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Genre –  Humor

Rating – PG

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Website http://monkeybellhop.com/

Why Writing is a Form of Personal Therapy – Tami Urbanek @tamiurbanek

Why Writing is a Form of Personal Therapy

Some people say that writing one’s memoir is a form of therapy. I can see how that can be very true. I can say that, at times, during my writing it was a form of therapy. In the chapter where my daughter runs away and my fear and grief are at their maximum level, I was crying as I was typing. It was a form of emotional release.

However, during most of the writing, it was an awakening of sorts. I was able to look back into my past and see how far I had come since the age of eighteen. I was able to see my daughter’s early teen years in retrospect and feel grateful that we had overcome so much that she was experiencing at that time.

A beneficial part of using writing as a form of therapy is that it’s easier to put emotion into the writing. When I was writing the runaway chapter and I was crying while I was writing, I wanted my readers to cry too. I wanted them to feel the anxiety and sorrow that I was feeling at the time it was happening. So after it was written, edited and edited many more times, then finally published, I asked a few readers if they felt the same fear that I wrote about. They answered yes. Mission accomplished.

If you’re writing a memoir, use it as a form of therapy and put those emotions into the content of your book. Just as long as you do not use it as a way to feel sorry for yourself or try to get others to feel sorry for you. That is a turn-off and a sure way to receive negative reviews.  Write so that the readers feel like they’re in the room with you, feeling your pain and seeing the expressions on your face. Now, that is great writing!

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Genre - Memoir

Rating – PG-13

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#Free–Penalty Clause by Lori Ryan @loriryanauthor

Penalty Clause by Lori Ryan

Amazon Kindle US

Genre – Romantic Suspense

Rating – R

4.5 (42 reviews)

Free until 24 October 2013

To keep her, he'll have to gamble it all!
Andrew Weston and Jill Walsh had to be the two most unlikely people to fall in love. When Jill's first husband's love for her simply fizzled and died, Jill knew she'd never trust that love could last again. After Andrew's first love betrayed him in the most brutal way possible, he knew he might fall in love again someday, but there was no way he'd ever make himself vulnerable again by confessing those feelings if he did.
Fate had a different ending in mind for these two, though, and when Andrew discovers his love for Jill, he knows the only way to get her to stay with him forever is to offer her an iron clad penalty clause in a prenuptial agreement. He stays with her forever or he loses everything he owns. The millions he's worked for, his property, his cars, everything. Now he just needs to hope that's enough to hold onto Jill forever.

5 Things New Writers Should Know – Michele Kimbrough @Madambition

There were so many things that I didn’t know as I ventured into the field of writing. I started professionally as a corporate copywriter then went on to freelancing before novel writing. In all three areas of writing, as a newbie, there were times when I wanted to give up, quit. I didn’t understand that the life of a writer isn’t just roses and ice cream — sometimes there are thorns and lactose intolerance.  Here are a few things new writers can add to their survival kit.

1. Don’t take it personally.  Not everybody is going to like your story (or subject for nonfiction writers).  There will even be some people who’ll give your book a low rating or poor review because they didn’t like the behavior of the characters. Don’t take it personally. It’s not about you. And unless they say so, it’s not about your writing.

2. Talk less, write more.  Talking about your book doesn’t get it written. Sure, sharing ideas or bouncing a situation off of a trusted advisor/friend/co-writer is fine. But the more you’re talking about the story, the less writing you’re doing. Spend more time writing the story than talking about it.

3.  Don’t cave.  At some point, you may be pressured to do something that doesn’t feel right to you. It could be changing a character’s personality or a story outcome. It could be just about anything. If you don’t feel good about doing it, don’t cave into the pressure.

4.  Get a mentor.  There will come a time when you need someone to mentor you, particularly after your first book is on the market. You will be surprised the gamut of emotions and self-doubt you will endure if your book doesn’t sell well or, if it is selling well, the fear of the follow-up (or next) book falling short.  I call that the writer’s obstacle course.  Having a mentor could help grow you through the obstacles.

5.  Enjoy the journey.  Sometimes we get so mired down with “creating” that we forget to enjoy ourselves. Celebrate each accomplishment: fleshing out a character’s conflict, completing a scene, filling a hole in the story, overcoming writer’s block — celebrate all of it. The journey will be that much more enjoyable.

Things aren’t always as they seem.

Attorney, Prudence Payne, seems to have it all: beauty, intelligence, love and a sure path to making partner with her law firm. The reality is her boyfriend, James, is unable to commit. She’s dealing with recently revealed family secrets and lies. And, she’s doing it all without her best friend who died a year ago.

Richard Mayweather is a single father raising two daughters. He’s been in love with Prudence since they were tweens, and now he thinks it’s time that she knows it. But when James decides to finally commit, is it too late for Richard? Or will Prudence realize, at last, that the love she’s always searched for has been right in front of her the whole time?

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Genre - Romance, Interracial

Rating – PG13

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#Free - Night of the Purple Moon by Scott Cramer @cramer_scott

Abby, 13, is looking forward to watching the moon turn purple, unaware that deadly bacteria from a passing comet will soon kill off older teens and adults. She must help her brother and baby sister survive in this new world, but all the while she has a ticking time bomb inside of her--adolescence.

"Cramer creates a picture of our world that's both frightening and inspiring in this heartfelt story that both young adults and adults can enjoy.A heartwarming but not overly sentimental story of survival." KIRKUS REVIEWS

"Outrageous and completely 'out of the box'." MY HOME AWAY FROM HOME review blog
"Three words: Gripping. Palpable. Well-developed." WORD SPELUNKING review blog

Buy Now @ Amazon & B&N & iBooks & Kobo

Genre - Science fiction

Rating – PG-13

More details about the author

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Colony East (The Toucan Trilogy #2) by Scott Cramer @cramer_scott

When the bacteria that killed most of world’s adults undergo a deadly mutation, 15-year-old Abby must make the dangerous journey to Colony East, an enclave of scientists and Navy personnel who are caring for a small group of children. Abby fears that time is running short for the victims, but she’s soon to learn that time is running out for everyone outside Colony East. (Parental discretion advised for readers 13 and under)

Colony East will be specially priced at $2.99, 60 percent off the regular price.

Night of the Purple Moon (Book 1 of the Toucan Trilogy) is free.

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Genre - Science fiction

Rating – PG-13

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#AmReading - Haunted From Within by Ian C.P Irvine @iancpirvine

Haunted From Within by Ian C.P Irvine

Amazon

For some, death is not the end. Thanks to modern medicine, they are given a second chance. A second chance to live, and another chance to kill.
Imagine if Tess Gerritsen, Lee Child, Dan Brown, David Baldacci and Karen Rose all got together and decided to write a fact-based, thought provoking medical thriller that educated, challenged and entertained, helping you see the action unfurl in your mind's eye as if it were a film playing just for you: then this could be that book.
The latest novel from Ian C.P. Irvine 'Haunted From Within' is a fast paced contemporary medical thriller, based upon a true medical mystery that scientists and doctors do not yet understand.
Readers should be warned that the novel contains strong language and scenes of sex and violence.

10 Things You Did Know About Christoph Paul – @ChristophPaul_

10 Things You Did Know About Christoph Paul
I love cats, (not where you think this is going) like real animals. I really do. I have two cats Khadija and Benito who live with my mom because I couldn’t afford to keep them in NYC. I miss them every day. I request my mom to spend me pictures of them on her phone. My mom is, um…slow, when it comes to using technology. But every once in a while she figures it out. I do love dogs and my goal is not find a loving relationship with a women but to be in place of stability where I could have my own wiener dog.
For a male cat lover, I am a really big jock. I am huge Miami Dolphin fan; I get sad or happy by their wins and losses. I am from South Florida and though I never really fit in in there and kind of hate the place I still do and always will love the Dolphins. If I found true love and got married but knew the only way we would win the super bowl is if my wife cuckolded me with Ryan Tannehill…I would let him go to deep so to speak.
I am huge Marilyn Manson fan. Even though I wish he would stop music and just do painting and movies. I still love his early work. I think he is one of the most underrated songwriters of my generation.
I love romantic-comedies. I really do. I know people read my stuff about me having my girlfriend pretend she is dead so I have kinky ‘death sex’ with her but I am a romantic. People will see that in my next book “At Least I Get You In My Art & Other Poems”
I will never teach. People think I should but I really hate school and always will. I rather work at porn store or even the Govt. then teach high schoolers or undergarads….I have done both. Though I would make an exception to teach a class on the book “Sexual Personae”.
I want to do a parody rap album and pretend I am Drake’s evil little brother Rake.
I am a punk rock pop/blues musician and I am in the new band Moses Moses. It is with this dude who might be the best lead guitar player in New York City…just he is playing drums, and I am playing guitar and singing. But we have one song where he does not play drums but plays lead guitar and it is pretty special.
I think the TV show “Homeland” Season 1 was the greatest things to ever be shown on the small screen, but Season 2 and what is going on now is just biggest let down of any piece of art in the history of western civilization.
I am a freelance editor and love helping other writers’ stories. I am a content editor as I am sure this already has many errors in my answers. I am hoping to have The Only Prescription Editing and Social Media Services up and running by 2014.
I have a huge crush on the actress and writer Lake Bell, I just hope when I semi-famous she isn’t taken I get one date with her.

Great White Sharks Attack the White House!

The Federal Government is behind on its loans and Chinese President Xi Jinping wants his money. Having brought members of the China Task Force together in the White House for a meeting, Jinping, with the help of weather control and PETA, unleashes genetically modified great white sharks in an effort to force President Obama and the C.T.F. to make the tough decisions on how to meet the dear communist’s commands.

Can the C.T.F. escape the wrath of Red China and the great white killers, or will Obama be forced to disband the government and bring the country to brink of anarchy?

Paul and Thomas (the writers of G.W.H., not a folk group) have weaved a wicked tale of governments run amuck in this “grindhouse” novella. With elements of “South Park” meets “Sharknado” meets “Olympus has Fallen” meets “White House Down” meets other movies/TV shows featuring charismatic black presidents, G.W.H. illustrates just how far politicians can be pushed as they work to survive the horror of the ocean’s greatest murderers. America has bills to pay and China’s “loan sharks” are ready to collect that debt in blood.

These sharks don’t see Red or Blue—they are equal opportunity eaters.

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Genre – Fiction, Humor

Rating – PG-13

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Guinevere: On the Eve of Legend by Cheryl Carpinello

Chapter 1

The Hunt

Guinevere stared into the shadows along the edge of the forest. She could hear Cedwyn shifting from foot to foot beside her, unable to stand still. She sighed, the bow made of sturdy pine in her hand growing heavier like her heart. Her thirteenth Birth Day was in a few days, but she wasn’t excited. Birth Days were supposed to be fun, but not this year. Not for her, not for a princess.

She frowned as Cedwyn adjusted the leather quiver of arrows on his back again. Sometimes, like today, her patience with the seven-year-old was short.

“Guin’ver?”

“Hush!”

“But ...”

“Hush!”

She stamped her boot on the ground, her displeasure clearly showing.

“Cedwyn,” she snapped. “What is so important that you can’t be quiet?”

“I’m hungry, and the bottoms of my trousers are wet. Can’t we go back to the castle?” His face showed his confusion at her tone.

Guinevere realized that she shouldn’t have directed her anger at Cedwyn. It wasn’t his fault. Glancing down at her own clothes, she saw the bottom of her green ankle-length tunic wet with the morning dew. Her stomach chose that moment to begin grumbling. It started as a low vibration but grew louder as if it hadn’t been fed in days. Cedwyn heard it and started giggling. He tried to smother the sound by covering his mouth with his small hand, but he was too late.

Trying to keep from laughing also, Guinevere shook her head. “How are we ever going to shoot a rabbit with all this noise?” She reached down and tousled his blond hair to let him know that she was not serious and to apologize for her crossness. “Let’s try for just ten minutes longer. Then if we find nothing, we’ll go back. Is that all right?”

Cedwyn shook his head, not wanting to make any further noise. She let her eyes move across the blue sky. The English summer sun had barely reached above the far hills when they had first arrived at the forest. Now, it was well on its way in its climb toward the dinner hour, and they hadn’t even had a proper breakfast yet. Cedwyn’s mum was sure to be upset that they had been gone so long.

“Come on,” he whispered. “The only creatures we’ve seen moving have been badgers and Cornish hens. We could of had five bloody hens by now.”

“I told you, it’s good luck to bag a rabbit on the eve of your thirteenth Birth Day,” Guinevere informed him.

Cedwyn studied her face, unsure if she was telling the truth or not. Then his blue eyes widened, and he grabbed her arm as she turned to continue hunting. “Wait a minute! You promised to help me bag a rabbit on the eve of my tenth Birth Day. You said that was lucky!”

She turned to him, her balled fists on her slim hips. “You need to listen closer when I talk to you. I explained the difference be- tween boys and girls. Boys have to seek luck on the eve of their tenth and fifteenth Birth Days. Since girls are naturally luckier than boys, they only have to seek luck once, on the eve of their thirteenth Birth Day.”

Cedwyn eyed her suspiciously, and then his eyes lit up.

“But I thought that the eve was the night before. Your Birth Day isn’t until the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s true, but the eve of something can also be anytime close to the day.”

“Are you sure?”

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Genre - Arthurian Legend

Rating – G

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Connect with Cheryl Carpinello on Facebook & Twitter & Goodreads

Website http://www.beyondtodayeducator.com/