tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40854746991108551482024-02-19T19:47:34.570-05:00Need To Stop ReadingQuality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.comBlogger696125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-64548227528327063172015-03-21T09:00:00.000-04:002015-03-28T00:27:09.997-04:00LUCIFER & THE INDIGO KIDS by Lord Ra Krishna EL @Lord_Ra_Krishna #Poetry #Life #Heritage <i><b>Geronimo... (and the ones with religion) </b></i><br />
<br />
Dear Geronimo...<br />
My Great, Great grand Father<br />
<br />
They took you from us<br />
And our people were slaughtered...<br />
<br />
They didn't break your spirit<br />
You passed it unto me<br />
<br />
And I will spark the movement<br />
As soon as I get free...<br />
<br />
They hunted and chased you<br />
I clearly remember<br />
They would have never caught you<br />
They're lucky you surrendered...<br />
<br />
They tricked you and stole your land<br />
and we even have the audacity to celebrate Thanksgiving...<br />
<br />
They used you for mascots<br />
the Red Skins <br />
and the Chiefs <br />
<br />
Your great land was stolen<br />
By the ones with religion...<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7J2RQ1Gu9jHLRAy1BkSz_jyfZ5MA0PieM9EAWEEUfApSzxuKmjYmmRGrXg9BMGZZRh_wfGlU_Utp7ucH_3uL-4h2D5Zee2k1p_-7q9AEDj_npTy14lT6hTl7SYGfw6-SM_8haQC7Pza6/s1600/10543606_799244456762857_1951121046706555738_n.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7J2RQ1Gu9jHLRAy1BkSz_jyfZ5MA0PieM9EAWEEUfApSzxuKmjYmmRGrXg9BMGZZRh_wfGlU_Utp7ucH_3uL-4h2D5Zee2k1p_-7q9AEDj_npTy14lT6hTl7SYGfw6-SM_8haQC7Pza6/s1600/10543606_799244456762857_1951121046706555738_n.png" height="320" width="225" /></a></div>
<br />
"This
“new age” book of poetry reflects the diverse views and philosophies of
it’s author Ra Krishna EL. It’s an intimate, humorous and thought
provoking group of poems intended to evoke strong emotion. To quote the
German philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche, this style of poetry can be
called “Zukunfts poesie“ which translates into “Poetry of the future”,
where truly original ideas are presented thru poetry. Also known as post
Nietzschean poetry.<br />
<br />
It’s subjects include society, pop
culture, love, religious dogma, God and the new age of Aquarius. This
book was written and published during the false incarceration of its
author in Chicago’s notorious Cook County Jail, the largest jail in the
country."<br />
<br />
Bu<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">y Now @ <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Lucifer-indigo-kids-Last-Prophet-ebook/dp/B00L3VL7E8/ref=sr_1_1_title_1_kin?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1406567843&sr=1-1&keywords=lucifer+and+the+indigo+kids" href="http://www.amazon.com/Lucifer-indigo-kids-Last-Prophet-ebook/dp/B00L3VL7E8/ref=sr_1_1_title_1_kin?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1406567843&sr=1-1&keywords=lucifer+and+the+indigo+kids" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre - Poetry, Philosophy</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="color: #333333; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG-13</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=Lord%20Ra%20Krishna%20EL&search-alias=books&sort=relevancerank" href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=Lord%20Ra%20Krishna%20EL&search-alias=books&sort=relevancerank" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: bold ! important;">Connect</b> with Lord Ra Krishna EL on <a data-mce-href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lord-Ra-Krishna-El/729737850380185?ref=hl" href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lord-Ra-Krishna-El/729737850380185?ref=hl" target="_blank">Facebook</a> & <a data-mce-href="https://twitter.com/Lord_Ra_Krishna" href="https://twitter.com/Lord_Ra_Krishna" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-8067717903810147052015-03-18T07:30:00.000-04:002015-03-20T02:32:07.982-04:00#Excerpt from WHAT FREEDOM SMELLS LIKE by Amy Lewis @AmyLewisAuthor #Memoir #AmReading <div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Why did I stay? I used to yell to the women on Oprah,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Why would you stay?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i>I
had options. I had a family who loved me, who would take care of me if I
left. I wasn’t married to him nor did we have children together. The
only tie we had was the business, and on paper we owned it fifty/fifty.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Why put up with this? What is wrong with you?</i></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
don’t have a good answer. Not a logical one, only emotional answers.
When I fell in love with him, I fell too far to get out on my own. Maybe
this was the “has difficulty functioning in a way society accepts as
normal” part of my borderline personality. I saw the abusive Truth as an
imposter, and the real Truth, the one I loved, was locked somewhere
inside. If I tried hard enough, loved deeply enough, I could find him. I
might even say – rescue him. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As my self-esteem began to shatter, it
became impossible to put me back together, and shattered young women do
not make the best rescuers. When Truth exploded, along with the hitting,
he threatened me with much worse actions if I didn’t stay in line.
“I’ll kill you; I’ll kill your entire family.” The threats felt even
more painful than when he laid hands on me; eventually the physical
abuse came only in spurts – maybe once or twice one month then no flair
ups for a few months. He had learned how to control me without it – just
a look would be enough.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">During
the abuse, I split myself into many different parts. Time stretched and
molded to fit my needs. The tiniest expression of love or moment of joy
– a good night – expanded like a rubber band into a whole month. The
moments of greatest fear and terror collapsed into a blink of the eye. I
became author of my own fictional tale. I used my imagination to create
a portrait of a livable life. If you keep your eyes closed and your
mouth shut, you can exist forever in that state. If you saw me on the
street and asked how I was doing. I would smile and say fine.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>I’m doing just fine.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i>If you weren’t really paying attention, you would believe me.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes
during our worst fights, everything seemed to happen in slow motion,
and an orchestral score played in the background. The strings increased
in intensity as I retreated away from him, the beating of the
percussions as he followed me, the flutes as I tried to calm him, as his
hands met my body, the crescendo hit with symbols clapping together at
the finale of a symphony. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I heard the music we listened to in my dreams
as two cultured, mature adults in love and enjoying the arts. As I
reached up to my face or back or stomach or chest to feel the damage, I
heard the audience applauding, jumping to their feet with a standing
ovation. Bravo! Bravo! Tears started to pour out of me, and the rest of
the audience, inspired by the music. The show had ended, and as the
sophisticated, art-appreciating couples walked to their cars to begin
talking about how the music reminded them of this or that, Truth came to
me and apologized. He didn’t mean for it to go this far. His most
vulnerable expressions to me came directly after his explosions. How
everything felt wrong. How he shouldn’t let stress do this to him. How
it would never happen again.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a data-mce-href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/whatFreedomSmellsLike.jpg" href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/whatFreedomSmellsLike.jpg"><img alt="whatFreedomSmellsLike" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-41176" data-mce-src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/whatFreedomSmellsLike.jpg" src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/whatFreedomSmellsLike.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a></span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="color: #000000; text-align: center;" id="outer_postBodyPS" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div id="postBodyPS">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Diagnosed
with Borderline Personality disorder, Amy struggled with depression and
an addiction to sharp objects. Even hospitalization didn't help to heal
her destructive tendencies. It took a tumultuous relationship with a
man named Truth to bring her back from the depths of her own self-made
hell.Amy's marriage to dark, intriguing Truth was both passionate and
stormy. She was a fair-skinned southern girl from New Orleans. He was a
charming black man with tribal tattoos, piercings, and a mysterious
past. They made an unlikely pair, but something clicked. During their
early marriage, they pulled themselves out of abject poverty into wealth
and financial security practically overnight. Then things began to fall
apart.</span></span></div>
<div id="postBodyPS">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Passionate
and protective, Truth also proved violent and abusive. Amy’s own
self-destructive tendencies created a powerful symmetry. His sudden
death left Amy with an intense and warring set of emotions: grief for
the loss of the man she loved, relief she was no longer a target for his
aggression.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Conflicted
and grieving, Amy found herself at a spiritual and emotional
crossroads, only to receive help from an unlikely source: Truth himself.
Feeling his otherworldly presence in her dreams, Amy seeks help from a
famous medium.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Her
spiritual encounters change Amy forever. Through Truth, she learns her
soul is eternal and indestructible, a knowledge that gives Amy the
courage to pursue her own dreams and transform herself both physically
and emotionally. Her supernatural encounters help Amy resolve the
internal anger and self-destructive tendencies standing between her and
happiness, culminating in a sense of spiritual fulfillment she never
dreamed possible.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">An amazing true story, What Freedom Smells Like is told with courage, honesty, and a devilishly dark sense of humor.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="color: #000000; text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/What-Freedom-Smells-Like-Memoir-ebook/dp/B00JTHDCSC/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=&qid=" href="http://www.amazon.com/What-Freedom-Smells-Like-Memoir-ebook/dp/B00JTHDCSC/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=&qid=" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Memoir</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="color: #000000; text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG-13</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="color: #000000; text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Amy-Lewis/e/B00KERPYYQ/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1" href="http://www.amazon.com/Amy-Lewis/e/B00KERPYYQ/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="color: #000000; text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Connect</b> with Amy Lewis through <a data-mce-href="https://twitter.com/AmyLewisAuthor" href="https://twitter.com/AmyLewisAuthor" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="color: #000000; text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Website <a class="in-cell-link" data-mce-href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.WhatFreedomSmellsLike.com&usd=2&usg=ALhdy2-u-DEq6B2o3ZSLOwj9JWZOYB9gHA" href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.WhatFreedomSmellsLike.com&usd=2&usg=ALhdy2-u-DEq6B2o3ZSLOwj9JWZOYB9gHA" target="_blank">www.WhatFreedomSmellsLike.com</a></b></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-60854594657139289992015-03-13T09:00:00.000-04:002015-04-30T16:33:33.284-04:00THE BEAUTIFUL AMERICAN by Marilyn Holdsworth @M_Holdsworth #Excerpt #Women #Goodreads <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>ELIZABETH VISITS MADAME LA FAYETTE IN PRISON…</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>from <span style="font-family: inherit;">the</span> novel, THE BEAUTIFUL AMERICAN, by Marilyn Holdsworth</b></span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Oh,
no,” she wailed the moment the door opened revealing the two guards.
“The guillotine,” she cried. “It is to be today. Dear God,
dear God, have pity on my soul.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Oh
my dear, my dear,” Elizabeth Monroe soothed, pushing past the two
guards and rushing to Madame LaFayette’s side. She stooped down, took
the trembling woman’s hands in hers, and knelt down beside her. “No,
no; it is nothing like that. I am Elizabeth Monroe. My
husband, James, is the United States minister to France and a longtime
friend of your husband. They fought together in our revolution,” she
explained. “I have come to visit you, assure you how very concerned for
you my husband is. We are going to do all we can to help you.” She
placed her arms around the sobbing, frightened woman’s shoulders,
continuing her reassuring words in soft, flowing French.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
stood watching from the doorway as Mistress Monroe calmed and comforted
Adrienne LaFayette. Disregarding the filthy surroundings, Mistress
Monroe continued to crouch down before the distraught woman, holding her
hands as she spoke. When at last she rose, she drew Madame LaFayette to
her feet and embraced her.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Merci
beaucoup, thank you for coming,” Adrienne LaFayette whispered, wiping
her eyes. “I was sure they had come to take me to the guillotine. I was
so very frightened. My family is all gone. I thought for sure they had
come for me too,” she said, fighting back the tears.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Of
course you did, my dear, but have courage. Be assured that James will
do all he can for you,” Mistress Elizabeth promised, patting her gently
on the shoulder before joining me at the door. “We must go now, Jasmine,
get back to the Folie as soon as possible. We must tell James of this
poor woman’s deplorable state.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She
glided gracefully back down the long dingy, hall, past the guards to
the prison door, where Michael was waiting to escort us safely back to
the carriage.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">You can read more about The Beautiful American, by Marilyn Holdsworth at: <a href="http://marilynholdsworth.com/the-beautiful-american/" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://marilynholdsworth.com/the-beautiful-american/</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/ciu/15/97/44078a95157c0ad8986cb6.L._V393916356_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/ciu/15/97/44078a95157c0ad8986cb6.L._V393916356_.jpg" /></a></span></span> </div>
<div data-mce-style="color: #222222;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="color: #222222;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-mce-style="color: #222222;" style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">As a novelist, I draw on many real life experiences to<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span data-mce-style="color: #222222;" style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">provide
background for my books. After completing studies in Literature and
History at Occidental College, I became a staff writer on a travel
magazine, and throughout my career I have traveled extensively all over
the world. </span><span data-mce-style="color: #222222;" style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Because
I love horses, I owned and trained them. I support horse rescue and
wild mustang preservation. Based on my experience with horses and my
research on abuse issues, I wrote Pegasus.</span></span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="color: #222222;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-mce-style="color: #222222;" style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span data-mce-style="color: #222222;" style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">As
a descendant of James Monroe, I did extensive research at the James
Monroe Museum in Virginia about him and his wife Elizabeth Kortright
Monroe. I also visited their home, Ashlawn/Highland in Albemarle County.
This resulted in my novel, The Beautiful American. </span><span data-mce-style="color: #222222;" style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Making Wishes, was based partly on my experiences as creator, owner and operator of a greeting card company.</span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a data-mce-href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Making-Wishes.jpg" href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Making-Wishes.jpg"><img alt="Making Wishes" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-23817" data-mce-src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Making-Wishes.jpg" src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Making-Wishes.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a></span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Elloree
Prince is an attractive, creative young woman who marries a wealthy
businessman, Tom Randall. After courting his bride with unrelenting
determination, Tom moves her into old-moneyed Oak View, where
generations of Randalls have lived for years. Outwardly, Elloree appears
to settle into raising their two sons within Oak View's stifling social
structure, but inwardly, she yearns for her artistic work. </span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">An
unexpected phone call from Mark Williams, her former employer, offers
her the career opportunity of a lifetime, and she must make a choice.
She is torn between her devotion to her sons and her love for her work.
Her decision to return to Wishes, Inc. brings dramatic life changes to
her and the people she loves.</span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Making-Wishes-Marilyn-Holdsworth/dp/1481707523/ref=sr_1_3_title_2_pap?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1369262924&sr=1-3&keywords=Marilyn.+Holdsworth" href="http://www.amazon.com/Making-Wishes-Marilyn-Holdsworth/dp/1481707523/ref=sr_1_3_title_2_pap?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1369262924&sr=1-3&keywords=Marilyn.+Holdsworth" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre - Women's fiction</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG-13</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a data-mce-href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/beautifulAmerican.jpg" href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/beautifulAmerican.jpg"><img alt="beautifulAmerican" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-40292" data-mce-src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/beautifulAmerican.jpg" src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/beautifulAmerican.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a></span></span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Abby
Long is thrilled when she offers the winning bid for an antique desk at
an auction. With its intricately inlaid woods and elegant style, the
desk is perfect for Abby; it is the gift she promised herself to finally
celebrate her thriving antique business. She has no idea that the
antique desk holds a secret that will lead her on a fascinating,
life-changing journey back in time.</span></span></div>
<div id="postBodyPS">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When
Abby discovers a hidden diary stuffed inside a secret compartment in
the desk, she can hardly wait to read the spidery, faded script. As she
carefully turns the tattered pages, she reads the captivating story of
two remarkable women from opposite backgrounds who somehow manage to
form an unforgettable bond against the backdrop of a fledgling America
struggling to find its place in the world. Elizabeth Kortright Monroe,
the wife of James Monroe, and Jasmine, a young slave girl, develop an
extraordinary relationship as they are united by pivotal historic
events, political intrigues, and personal tragedies.</span></span></div>
<div id="postBodyPS">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> From
a bucolic Virginia plantation to the bloodied, starving streets of
post-revolutionary Paris, this powerful tale follows the lives of two
courageous women from the past as they quietly influence—and inspire—a
woman of today’s world."</span></span></div>
</div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Beautiful-American-Marilyn-Holdsworth-ebook/dp/B0080D41BI/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=1-4&qid=1402430694" href="http://www.amazon.com/Beautiful-American-Marilyn-Holdsworth-ebook/dp/B0080D41BI/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=1-4&qid=1402430694" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre - Historical fiction</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – G</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a data-mce-href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/pegasus.jpg" href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/pegasus.jpg"><img alt="pegasus" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-40293" data-mce-src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/pegasus.jpg" src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/pegasus.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a></span></span></div>
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<div id="postBodyPS">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Widowed
at thirty, Hannah Bradley is a successful journalist focusing on animal
abuse issues. An accidental meeting introduces her to lawyer, Winston
Caughfield III. Drawn to Hannah’s gentle beauty and fierce commitment to
her work, Win joins her in a fight to save wild mustangs from
slaughter. Together they rescue a badly injured horse with a mysterious
background. Hannah’s search to discover the animal’s true identity leads
them into a web of black marketeering and international intrigue. </span></span></div>
<div id="postBodyPS">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Action
packed with crisp colorful dialogue the story propels the reader to a
race against time conclusion. Marilyn Holdsworth delivers a gripping
tale of mystery, adventure and romance guaranteed to hold the interest
and capture the heart. She brings true-life characters together with
real-life issues to create a fast-paced irresistible story.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Pegasus-Marilyn-Holdsworth-ebook/dp/B004S2LVYA/ref=la_B006LTHMZK_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1405682556&sr=1-2" href="http://www.amazon.com/Pegasus-Marilyn-Holdsworth-ebook/dp/B004S2LVYA/ref=la_B006LTHMZK_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1405682556&sr=1-2" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre - Contemporary fiction</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Marilyn-Holdsworth/e/B006LTHMZK/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1" href="http://www.amazon.com/Marilyn-Holdsworth/e/B006LTHMZK/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <b>Connect</b> with Marilyn Holdsworth on <a data-mce-href="https://www.facebook.com/marilyn.holdsworth.7" href="https://www.facebook.com/marilyn.holdsworth.7" target="_blank">Facebook</a> &amp; <a data-mce-href="http://twitter.com/m_holdsworth" href="http://twitter.com/m_holdsworth" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><b>Website </b> </b><a data-mce-href="http://marilynholdsworth.com/" href="http://marilynholdsworth.com/" target="_blank">http://marilynholdsworth.com/</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Blog</b> <a data-mce-href="http://marilynholdsworth.com/blog/" href="http://marilynholdsworth.com/blog/" target="_blank">http://marilynholdsworth.com/blog/</a></span></span></div>
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Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-63660293967615172732015-03-13T08:00:00.000-04:002015-03-15T01:48:08.104-04:00Craig Staufenberg on How Nice Everyone in Publishing Is @YouMakeArtDumb #SelfPub #MGLit <div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Pet Peeves of the Publishing Industry</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m
annoyed by how nice everyone in the publishing is. Really. I’m sure
there are some rude people, but I haven’t encountered them. Only nice
folks, and that makes it hard to dislike the publishing industry as a
whole. It’s much easier when you see “publishing” as this monolithic
beast with a stranglehold on creativity, especially your own creativity.
But that’s just not the case.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Which means there are two realities you have to face about publishing.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One,
that it’s not out to get you. It’s not prejudiced against you. If it
rejects you there are reasons for doing so, and not because the people
are mean, jealous and spiteful.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Two,
the publishing industry is trying to do something very, very difficult.
Namely promote art, entertainment, and creativity, all while still
keeping the lights on. Anyone who has tried to support themselves via
their creative output knows how difficult this is. Now multiply that
difficulty—think about trying to support an entire company, or even an
entire industry, on creative work. It’s insanity, and I’m surprised
publishing companies have been as successful as they have.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Really,
think about it for a second. We’re not talking about selling widgets
here. We aren’t talking about the success of an industry that sells
bathroom cleaner. There’s nothing predictable about books. As long as
the bathroom cleaner works, and as long as you market it, then you’re
going to do alright. The same can’t be said about books. Even if a book
is good, and even if you market it, there’s no guarantee it’s going to
sell enough to warrant its investment. Now consider the fact bathroom
cleaner companies don’t have to reinvent their product hundreds of times
a year, and publishing companies do, and you see it’s sheer madness
this whole industry works at all.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">OK,
it’s not a perfect analogy. The way publishing company’s sell their
back catalogue and the works of established authors operates a lot like
selling widgets. Pretty reliable. But still, publishing is trying to do
something very challenging—balancing the demands of art and commerce,
which have, as Linds Redding noted in his must-read post, always been
strange bedfellows. Especially since publishing companies need <i>hits</i> to
thrive and not merely survive, and these companies are completely
unable to predict what the next hit is going to be. No one predicted
Twilight. No one predicted Fifty Shades of Grey. Or Harry Potter.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In
fact, when it comes to the book trade, the only people who have an even
harder time than publishing companies are the authors themselves. While
publishing companies are able to spread their bets across a large
number of different books a year, even an ultra-prolific author isn’t
going to crank out more than a few. The odds a publishing company will
hit a home run on any given year is much higher than the odds a single
author will.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Which,
I suppose, is my biggest pet peeve of the publishing companies. They
survive, while many, if not most, of their authors who fail. An author
can spend their whole life writing books that don’t do spectacularly
well, and that author could easily live a lower compensated, less
comfortable, and less protected life than the employees and owners
running the publishing companies. Publishers take on much smaller risks
than authors. Publishers make small financial gambles, while authors bet
their lives. Yet publishers have much higher upside than authors.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Bear
in mind, this is an institutional issue. No evil genius thought this
up. It’s how pretty much every large creative industry operates—from
books to movies to music. But we’re not powerless here. And I’d like to
see a publishing industry where the authors themselves are better
rewarded, or at least better protected, than the companies that publish
them, as the authors, always, are putting much more on the line.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/The-Girl-Who-Came-Back-to-Life.jpg" /></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When
you die, your spirit wakes in the north, in the City of the Dead.
There, you wander the cold until one of your living loved ones finds
you, says “Goodbye,” and Sends you to the next world. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After her parents die, 12-year-old
Sophie refuses to release their spirits. Instead, she resolves to travel
to the City of the Dead to bring her mother and father’s spirits back
home with her. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Taking the long pilgrimage north
with her gruff & distant grandmother—by train, by foot, by boat;
over ruined mountains and plains and oceans—Sophie struggles to return
what death stole from her. Yet the journey offers her many hard,
unexpected lessons—what to hold on to, when to let go, and who she must
truly bring back to life.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Girl-Who-Came-Back-Life-ebook/dp/B00JQRR0JM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1402517344&sr=8-1&keywords=craig+staufenberg" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Middle Grade</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG-13</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Craig-Staufenberg/e/B00J4CHMX8/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Connect</b> with Craig Staufenberg through <a href="https://www.facebook.com/YouMakeArtDumb?ref=hl" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/YouMakeArtDumb" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Website <a class="in-cell-link" href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://craigstaufenberg.com/&usd=2&usg=ALhdy2-DrQ3iDj9YlxIz66ffrjCdBEDC8Q" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://craigstaufenberg.com/</a></b></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-87524612536663947272014-12-20T09:00:00.000-05:002014-12-20T09:00:01.156-05:00James Rada Jr. Shares His Thoughts on Writing His First #Historical Novel @JimRada #AmWriting #TBR<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My latest novel,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Lock Ready</i>, is a historical novel set on the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal during the Civil War. It is the third book in the<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Canawler</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>series.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
never started to write historical fiction. However, in 2000, my wife
and I were living in Cumberland, Md., where the canal ended. We decided
to bike the canal towpath one summer and sightsee and camp along the
way. The C&O Canal is a national park that runs from Cumberland to
Georgetown.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We
outfitted our bikes for the long trip and set out for what turned out
to be a five-day trip. The weather was nice and the trip is a pleasant
and scenic one. There are hiker-biker campsites along the way where you
can camp overnight. We took advantage of those a few nights and stayed
in hotels other nights.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As
we traveled, I consulted the towpath guide to check out what might be
nearby to see. I soon realized that a lot of history had happened along
the canal. The Battle of Antietam, the Harpers Ferry revolt and James
Rumsey tested a steamboat along the Potomac. There were also interesting
architectural features like the Paw Paw Tunnel, aqueducts and canal
houses to look over.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Being
a writer, I started trying to figure out what was the best way to tell
the story of the canal in a way that would interest readers.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I started playing with some ideas even while my wife and I were still biking the canal towpath.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My
breakthrough came about when I decided that the most-interesting time
on the canal happened during the Civil War. While the Mason-Dixon Line
is credited with being the border between the North and South, the
C&O Canal was the border between Union and Confederacy.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Not
only did canallers have to deal with the normal issues of living and
working on the canal, but armies were traveling along the towpath. Canal
boats were being burned and confiscated. Saboteurs were trying to blow
up the aqueducts and burn the locks. Loyalties were tested.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">With
my setting decided, I realized I was going to be writing my first
historical novel. I started researching the canal history and canal
life. As I learned more about the people who lived and working on the
canal, I started to get an idea of who I wanted the characters of my
books to be.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">They
took shape and I gave them their individual stories and personalities
that seem to have resonated with readers over the past decade.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/lockready.jpg" /></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
Civil War split the United States and now it has split the Fitzgerald
Family. Although George Fitzgerald has returned from the war, his sister
Elizabeth Fitzgerald has chosen to remain in Washington to volunteer as
a nurse. The ex-Confederate spy, David Windover, has given up on his
dream of being with Alice Fitzgerald and is trying to move on with his
life in Cumberland, Md. Alice and her sons continue to haul coal along
the 184.5-mile-long C&O Canal. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It
is dangerous work, though, during war time because the canal runs along
the Potomac River and between the North and South. Having had to
endured death and loss already, Alice wonders whether remaining on the
canal is worth the cost. She wants her family reunited and safe, but she
can’t reconcile her feelings between David and her dead husband. Her
adopted son, Tony, has his own questions that he is trying to answer. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He
wants to know who he is and if his birth mother ever loved him. As he
tries to find out more about his birth mother and father, he stumbles
onto a plan by Confederate sympathizers to sabotage the canal and burn
dozens of canal boats. He enlists David’s help to try and disrupt the
plot before it endangers his new family, but first they will have find
out who is behind the plot.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lock-Ready-A-Canawlers-Novel/dp/0692211454/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1400758482&sr=8-1&keywords=lock+ready+rada" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Historical Fiction</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG-13</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_book_1?ie=UTF8&field-author=James+Rada+Jr.&search-alias=books&text=James+Rada+Jr.&sort=relevancerank" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Connect</b> with James Rada Jr. on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jim.rada" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a> & <a href="https://twitter.com/jimrada" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Website <a class="in-cell-link" href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://jamesrada.com&usd=2&usg=ALhdy28d4iaix3UBtVx6pNwPpNkw3GcEKA" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">jamesrada.com</a></b></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-26618888435610182542014-12-20T07:00:00.000-05:002015-03-07T23:35:42.247-05:00Late Evenings, Early Mornings & Quiet Times #Writing with Mike Hartner @MHartnerAuthor #HistFic <b>Why Writing is a Form of Personal Therapy</b><br />
<br />
Every
day has stresses. The kid’s not feeling well, the bills need paid,
the doctor’s appointments need taken, yada, yada, yada,… Every life has
its stressors.<br />
<br />
For me, sitting in my office, or on my bed, and pouring out my innermost thoughts onto a Word document is Therapy.<br />
<br />
I
get to concentrate on things that are not my normal life. In the case
of The Eternity Series, I was able to start by concentrating on Walter
Crofter and his life. Walter was the inspiration for I,Walter and would
pour out his life a little at a time so that I could write it down.<br />
<br />
Toward the end, James Crofter jumped up and started to instruct me on his life adventure.<br />
<br />
Both
of these books have been written during late evenings, early mornings,
and quiet times during the day. As a parent, many people know that
quiet times are few and far between. These are the times when the
house is quiet, and when the to-do list can be put off for a few more
hours. These are the quiet times when sitting in the hot tub, or the
recreation room, or the meeting room with the lights off and nobody else
around, can lead to new chapters and more research on the life of the
next main character.<br />
<br />
Writing is resting. It’s the
chance to envelop myself in a world where my role is transcription, and
I’m listening to the life and death decisions, rather than making them.
Writing is the therapy that lowers the blood pressure that stimulates
the mind, and brings a smile to the face.<br />
<br />
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a data-mce-href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/IJames.jpg" href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/IJames.jpg"><img alt="IJames" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-41780" data-mce-src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/IJames.jpg" src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/IJames.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a></span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">James Crofter was ripped from his family at age 11. <br data-mce-style="color: #000000;" />Within a year the prince was a pauper in a foreign land. <br data-mce-style="color: #000000;" />Is nature stronger than nurture? And even if it is, can James find the happiness he so richly desires? </span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/I-James-Eternity-Book-2-ebook/dp/B00MQHIG0Q/ref=la_B009VJQBEA_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1409891856&sr=1-5" href="http://www.amazon.com/I-James-Eternity-Book-2-ebook/dp/B00MQHIG0Q/ref=la_B009VJQBEA_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1409891856&sr=1-5" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre - Historical Fiction, Romance</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Mike-Hartner/e/B009VJQBEA/" href="http://www.amazon.com/Mike-Hartner/e/B009VJQBEA/" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Connect</b> with Mike Hartner on <a data-mce-href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mike-Hartner-Author/368690356556759" href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mike-Hartner-Author/368690356556759" target="_blank">Facebook</a> & <a data-mce-href="https://twitter.com/MHartnerAuthor" href="https://twitter.com/MHartnerAuthor" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-63672937383582607132014-12-11T08:00:00.000-05:002014-12-11T08:00:03.816-05:00Mikey D. B. Shares An Extremely Packed Day in His Life @mikeydbii #Thriller #AmWriting #AmReading<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It
all begins at five in the morning. I wake up, make a protein packed
breakfast and watch parts of documentaries while I eat. I’ve watched
documentaries on Hitler, Bigfoot, social media conspiracies, economics,
magic, and basically anything I can find on Netflix that interests me at
the time. Anyway, after I eat/watch I finish getting ready for my day
and then make the drive to work.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes
these drives to work are the best part of my day. Anytime before six
in the morning, the roads are desolate, the mornings are cool, sun is
usually rising, and it is just a good time to ponder about things.
There’s something about seeing a fresh new day begin that I love. Maybe
it’s because all the angry, muckiness of the world is still asleep. I
don’t know, but early mornings, as hard as they are to get up for, are
some of the best things to experience.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So,
after my morning drive, I head into my day job which consists of a lot
of heavy lifting and calculations of length. I work at a labeling
manufacturing business where I coat and die cut the various labels for
our clients. You’d be amazed at how heavy paper is. In rolls of 10,000
feet and sometimes more, these things can be up to two hundred pounds.
For the most part, I like my job. It’s a keep-to-yourself kind of job
and me being the anti-social one I can be, it gives me the opportunities
to listen to music and podcasts. In fact, a lot of my research for
books happens in my eight hour shifts at work. I download a set of
podcasts I think will be relevant to what I’m trying to write, and then I
listen to them. I really can’t ask for a better time because after I
get off work, my day doesn’t have a lot of wiggle room.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After
my shift, which ends at about two in the afternoon, I bust my way on
over to the gym. My workouts are pretty intense, two mile runs at
least, three to four mile bike rides and then a half hour of heavy
weights. I’m really trying to get ready to compete in a triathlon, so
my workouts have to be pretty frequent or I’ll never train my body the
way it needs to be.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now
this is where it gets kind of crazy. I’m a high school football coach
as well and practice starts at 4:30. So I have just enough time to work
out, rinse off, and get a quick bite before heading over to the school
to yell at kids. I love it! The sport, the atmosphere, the kids, the
other coaches I work with. It’s one of the best opportunities that I’ve
had come across my way. I was hesitant to take on the responsibility
at first, with the craziness of my writing and work as it is, but it’s
seasonal and I couldn’t pass up the chance to get back into the sport.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Practice
lasts until about seven, I get home at about eight, eat, and maybe get
some writing in. Mostly though, I’ll wind down and watch an episode of
the office with my wife or we’ll just talk and read together. The
evenings, like my mornings, are a chance for me to think, process what’s
happened in the day. Maybe write them in my journal if I have enough
to say. After or before the hustle and craziness of the day, it’s in
these times when I’ll turn to my scriptures to get guidance, peace, and
reassurance (or chastisement—it all depends on what my attitude has been
that day).</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After
having wrote this, I realize how packed my day is. I think the
important thing, no matter how busy we are, is we need to make sure we
have our priorities in the right place. For me, it’s: God, Family,
Country. I know if I put God first, that’ll only strengthen my resolve
to take care of my family, and if I know my family is taken care of, I
know I can then make decisions to take care of my country and community.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a data-mce-href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/Saga-of-the-Nine.jpg" href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/Saga-of-the-Nine.jpg"><img alt="Saga of the Nine" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-41059" data-mce-src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/Saga-of-the-Nine.jpg" src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/Saga-of-the-Nine.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a></span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="color: #000000; text-align: center;" id="outer_postBodyPS" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div id="postBodyPS">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Change
affects everyone and it is no different for Jackson. Living in Area 38
for as long as he can remember, he knows of no better way to exist than
under the tyrannical rule of Christopher Stone, son of Stewart Stone
from The Nine of The United Governmental Areas, aka The UGA. This all
takes a dramatic turn when Jackson finds a red, metal box buried in his
yard, filled with illegal artifacts—journals, a Bible, CDs, etc.—that
are from a man of whom he has no recollection of: Mica Rouge.</span></span></div>
<div id="postBodyPS">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> The
year is 2036 and Mica, unlike Jackson, does know of a better way of
life but is torn apart as he sees his country, The United States of
America, crumbling from within by group known as The Political Mafia.
The Mafia has infiltrated levels upon levels of governmental resources
and it is up to Mica and a vigilante group known as The USA Division to
stop them and their dark Utopian vision. To their demise, and at the
country's expense, The Division fails and has no choice but to watch The
Constitution dissolve and transform into The UGA.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In
a final stand, having not given up hope, Mica and what is left of The
Division, give one final fight in Colorado, or better known as Area 38.
However, all is lost as The Division is betrayed by one of their own,
Stewart Stone. Mica is left with no choice but to hide in exile, leaving
what little history he can of himself and the great United States of
America, with his wife, long time friends, and newly born son in hopes
that they will one day finish what he could not.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jackson,
having found this legacy twenty-seven years later, decides to start the
war that will end The Nine, and he with an outcast group known as The
Raiders, begins his fight with Christopher Stone in Area 38. Filled with
betrayal, unity, despair, hope, hate and love Area 38 follows both Mica
and Jackson in their attempts to restore what they believe to be true
freedom, and where one fails, the other rises to the seemingly
impossible challenge.</span></span></div>
</div>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Saga-Nine-Mikey-D-B-ebook/dp/B00I3I8R9W/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1391036693&sr=1-1&keywords=mikey+d.+b." href="http://www.amazon.com/Saga-Nine-Mikey-D-B-ebook/dp/B00I3I8R9W/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1391036693&sr=1-1&keywords=mikey+d.+b." target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="color: #000000; text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Dystopian Thriller</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="color: #000000; text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG13</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="color: #000000; text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=Mikey%20D.%20B.&search-alias=digital-text&sort=relevancerank" href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=Mikey%20D.%20B.&search-alias=digital-text&sort=relevancerank" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="color: #000000; text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Connect</b> with Mikey D. B. on <a data-mce-href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mikey-D-B/193122724228568?ref=hl" href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mikey-D-B/193122724228568?ref=hl" target="_blank">Facebook</a> &<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a data-mce-href="https://twitter.com/mikeydbii" href="https://twitter.com/mikeydbii" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Website <a class="in-cell-link" data-mce-href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.mikeydb.com&usd=2&usg=ALhdy29rFXKoKCy5nHRPTeDOI1JD41dROQ" href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.mikeydb.com&usd=2&usg=ALhdy29rFXKoKCy5nHRPTeDOI1JD41dROQ" target="_blank">www.mikeydb.com</a></b></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-61544832355968829892014-12-04T09:30:00.000-05:002015-01-15T13:00:33.549-05:00Prosperity & Democracies by John E. Wade II from GLIMPSES OF HEAVEN ON EARTH #Inspiration<i><b>From the chapter on prosperity, by co-author John E. Wade II:</b></i><br />
<br />
“In
the long term I am quite optimistic that humankind will learn how,
individually and collectively, to prosper. Unfortunately, most
developed nations have debts and obligations that have gotten beyond
prudent levels for a healthy world economy. Our world leaders and their
electorates must come to terms with this enormous obstacle to our
future. We can and we must address this huge problem in a kind and wise
manner. Once this onerous debt is properly alleviated, nations and
individuals can move forward toward sustainable prosperity.”<br />
<br />
<i><b>From the chapter on democracies, by co-author John E. Wade II:</b></i><br />
<br />
“A
world full of stable, robust, prosperous democracies would be a world
of permanent peace. Democracies almost never make war on each other;
so, if democracies were the only form of government on earth—and they
were stable, robust and prosperous—humankind’s age-old dream of world
peace would be assured. Globalization, with its intricate and intense
connections, helps to guarantee the peaceful planet that humankind has
always sought.”<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a data-mce-href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/Glimpses-of-Heaven-on-Earth.jpg" href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/Glimpses-of-Heaven-on-Earth.jpg"><img alt="Glimpses of Heaven on Earth" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-42087" data-mce-src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/Glimpses-of-Heaven-on-Earth.jpg" src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/Glimpses-of-Heaven-on-Earth.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Editor
and author John E. Wade II has compiled a spiritual guide of invaluable
insight for finding peace and meaning in life while making the world a
better place for all. Along with co-authors Charlotte Livingston
Piotrowski, Daniel Agatino, Michael Nagler, and Martin Rutte, this
collection of enlightening essays and inspirational quotes from renowned
thinkers and leade</span></span>rs throughout history provides the intellectual tools needed to live a more harmonious life.<br />
<br />
Buy <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now @ <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/GLIMPSES-HEAVEN-EARTH-Quotations-Insightful-ebook/dp/B00LOYGN3O/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=8-1&qid=1405439205" href="http://www.amazon.com/GLIMPSES-HEAVEN-EARTH-Quotations-Insightful-ebook/dp/B00LOYGN3O/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=8-1&qid=1405439205" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre - Inspirational</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – G</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=John%20E.%20Wade%20II&search-alias=digital-text&sort=relevancerank" href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=John%20E.%20Wade%20II&search-alias=digital-text&sort=relevancerank" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: bold ! important;">Connect</b> with John E. Wade II on <a data-mce-href="https://www.facebook.com/jwadeii?ref_type=bookmark" href="https://www.facebook.com/jwadeii?ref_type=bookmark" target="_blank">Facebook</a></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-32212276208117687872014-11-28T07:00:00.000-05:002014-12-03T00:18:45.390-05:00@Lord_Ra_Krishna on Psycho Cybernetics by Maxwell Maltz #Poetry #AmReading #NonFiction<br />
<b>Who is your favorite author? </b>That’s impossible,
that’ like choosing a favorite child, however some of my favorites are
Napoleon Hill, Friedrich Nietzsche, Osho, Maya Angelou, Maxwell Maltz,
Robert Green, the Buddha and many others.<br />
<b><br />What book genre of books do you adore? </b>Psychology<br />
<b><br />What book should everybody read at least once? </b>Psycho Cybernetics by Maxwell Maltz<br />
<br />
<b>How did you develop your writing? </b>My writing comes from creating music… it’s all just music to me.<br />
<br />
<b>Where do you get your inspiration from?</b> Everything around me<br />
<b><br />What is hardest – getting published, writing or marketing? </b>Marketing<br />
<br />
<b>What marketing works for you? </b>Social media magazine ads<br />
<b><br />Do you find it hard to share your work?</b> No, I actually enjoy sharing<br />
<br />
<b>Is your family supportive?</b> Do your friends support you? they are all very supportive<br />
<br />
<b>Do you plan to publish more books?</b> Yes, we’re working on Vol. II of Lucifer the indigo kids… last prophet.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7J2RQ1Gu9jHLRAy1BkSz_jyfZ5MA0PieM9EAWEEUfApSzxuKmjYmmRGrXg9BMGZZRh_wfGlU_Utp7ucH_3uL-4h2D5Zee2k1p_-7q9AEDj_npTy14lT6hTl7SYGfw6-SM_8haQC7Pza6/s1600/10543606_799244456762857_1951121046706555738_n.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7J2RQ1Gu9jHLRAy1BkSz_jyfZ5MA0PieM9EAWEEUfApSzxuKmjYmmRGrXg9BMGZZRh_wfGlU_Utp7ucH_3uL-4h2D5Zee2k1p_-7q9AEDj_npTy14lT6hTl7SYGfw6-SM_8haQC7Pza6/s1600/10543606_799244456762857_1951121046706555738_n.png" height="320" width="225" /></a></div>
<br />
"This
“new age” book of poetry reflects the diverse views and philosophies of
it’s author Ra Krishna EL. It’s an intimate, humorous and thought
provoking group of poems intended to evoke strong emotion. To quote the
German philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche, this style of poetry can be
called “Zukunfts poesie“ which translates into “Poetry of the future”,
where truly original ideas are presented thru poetry. Also known as post
Nietzschean poetry.<br />
<br />
It’s subjects include society, pop
culture, love, religious dogma, God and the new age of Aquarius. This
book was written and published during the false incarceration of its
author in Chicago’s notorious Cook County Jail, the largest jail in the
country."<br />
<br />
Bu<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">y Now @ <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Lucifer-indigo-kids-Last-Prophet-ebook/dp/B00L3VL7E8/ref=sr_1_1_title_1_kin?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1406567843&sr=1-1&keywords=lucifer+and+the+indigo+kids" href="http://www.amazon.com/Lucifer-indigo-kids-Last-Prophet-ebook/dp/B00L3VL7E8/ref=sr_1_1_title_1_kin?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1406567843&sr=1-1&keywords=lucifer+and+the+indigo+kids" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="color: #333333; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre - Poetry, Philosophy</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="color: #333333; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG-13</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="color: #333333; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=Lord%20Ra%20Krishna%20EL&search-alias=books&sort=relevancerank" href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=Lord%20Ra%20Krishna%20EL&search-alias=books&sort=relevancerank" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: bold ! important;">Connect</b> with Lord Ra Krishna EL on <a data-mce-href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lord-Ra-Krishna-El/729737850380185?ref=hl" href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lord-Ra-Krishna-El/729737850380185?ref=hl" target="_blank">Facebook</a> & <a data-mce-href="https://twitter.com/Lord_Ra_Krishna" href="https://twitter.com/Lord_Ra_Krishna" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-6621189125918914672014-11-18T07:00:00.000-05:002014-11-19T08:50:57.702-05:00Victoria Bernadine on Inspiration and Growing Up on a Farm @VicBernadine #Goodreads #ChickLit<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What writing are you most proud of?</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m
proud of everything I’ve finished and sent out for public consumption
(whether an original novel into the marketplace, or a fanfic set loose
in the wilds of fandom). A Life Less Ordinary, of course, because it’s
the first one I’ve officially published. For fanfic, I’m extremely proud
of my one and only (so far) Star Trek fic called Clementine
(https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9069138/1/Clementine), because I thought
it was a unique idea, it’s incredibly experimental for me, and I still
tear up over it (and I wrote the thing). I have absolutely no idea where
it came from, but I’m really glad it did.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What are you most proud of in your personal life?</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That I’m good at what I do.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What books did you love growing up?</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
Black Stallion novels were my first loves, I adored them when I
discovered them in Grade Two, I think it was. Mainly, though, science
fiction and fantasy were (and usually are) my go-to reads. Isaac Asimov,
Lloyd Alexander, Robert A. Heinlein (before I started reading his adult
stuff and went ‘WTF?!’), and others. Of course, I also adored Stephen
King, Agatha Christie, Louis L’Amour, and I’m sure there are more
because I read a LOT as a kid.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Who is your favorite author?</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
have many, because I read all different genres. Terry Pratchett is
currently riding in first place; his Discworld novels are a never-ending
joy, and I read Good Omens (his novel with Neil Gaiman) at least once a
year.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What genre of books do you adore?</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">All of them – well, except erotica but that’s mainly because I’ve yet to read one that’s actually my idea of erotic.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What book should everybody read at least once?</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mine?
Ha! Seriously, though, I guess I would say…Good Omens by Terry
Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. It’s a take on the Apocalypse that’s just
hysterically funny, bizarre, scary and touching. I read it at least once
a year.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Are there any books you really don’t enjoy?</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m
not a big fan of erotica, but that’s mainly because I’ve never found
one that I actually found erotic. I can enjoy those old-fashioned,
gritty action-adventure-thriller books that are aimed at a male
audience, but usually only once in a while, because sometimes the
misogyny is just too much. Any book where the main character/point of
view character is completely despicable and I feel slimy for spending
any time at all with him/her (Lolita, I’m looking at you).</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What do you hope your obituary will say about you?</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“She’ll be missed.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Location and life experiences can really influence writing, tell us where you grew up and where you now live?</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
grew up on a farm in southern Saskatchewan, Canada, where trees are few
and far between and there’s an endless expanse of horizon and sky. I
currently live in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, where we now have a million
people and I seldom see the horizon (although there’s still lots of
sky). <img alt=":)" class="wp-smiley" src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_smile.gif" style="border-radius: 2px; border: 0px none; box-shadow: 0px 0px 0px 3px rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.15) inset; height: auto; margin: 0px ! important; max-height: 1em; max-width: 100%; vertical-align: middle;" /></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How did you develop your writing?</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Practice. And lots and lots and lots of reading.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Where do you get your inspiration from?</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Anything
and everything. A Life Less Ordinary was inspired by how I was feeling
at the time. The book I’m working on right now, Along Came Jones, was
inspired by Nathan Fillion (probably to his chagrin, if he ever knew
about it – LOL).</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/ALifeLessOrdinary.jpg" /></span></span></div>
<div id="postBodyPS" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; text-align: center;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">For
the last fifteen years, Rose “Manny” Mankowski has been a very good
girl. She turned her back on her youthful fancies and focused on her
career. But now, at the age of 45, she’s questioning her choices and
feeling more and more disconnected from her own life. When she’s passed
over for promotion and her much younger new boss implies Manny’s life
will never change, something snaps. In the blink of an eye, she’s quit
her job, sold her house and cashed in her pension, and she’s leaving
town on a six month road trip.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After
placing a personal ad for a travelling companion, she’s joined in her
mid-life crisis by Zeke Powell, the cynical, satirical, most-read – and
most controversial – blogger for the e-magazine, What Women Want. Zeke’s
true goal is to expose Manny’s journey as a pitiful and desperate
attempt to reclaim her lost youth – and increase his readership at the
same time. Leaving it all behind for six months is just an added bonus.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now,
armed with a bagful of destinations, a fistful of maps, and an
out-spoken imaginary friend named Harvey, Manny’s on a quest to
rediscover herself – and taking Zeke along for the ride.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AMJBOSQ" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Amazon</a> & <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/299257" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Smashwords</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – ChickLit, Contemporary Fiction</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG-13</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Victoria-Bernadine/e/B00AN2VS5G/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <b>Connect</b> with Victoria Bernadine on <a href="https://twitter.com/VicBernadine" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Blog <a class="in-cell-link" href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://victoriabernadine.wordpress.com&usd=2&usg=ALhdy2_NZu0iup6n2vJwBd--NRvslbSPnw" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">victoriabernadine.wordpress.com</a></b></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-20425844761633568472014-11-11T07:00:00.000-05:002015-03-15T01:42:14.721-04:00Kirsten Mortensen on Her Writing Process & When Characters Become Real @KirstenWriter #Suspense<b>Under Their Skin. When Characters Become Real</b><br />
By Kirsten Mortensen<br />
<br />
I became a novelist so, so slowly!<br />
<br />
It’s
not that I didn’t want to devote myself to fiction. I did. I’ve wanted
to spin stories for peoples’ enjoyment ever since I was about five years
old.<br />
<br />
But when I became an adult, I was deeply confused
about how to go about it. Throughout my 20s and 30s, I started novels
many times. But the process always felt forced. I understand, now, what I
was doing wrong. I was working from my head, not my heart—not my
imagination. But at the time, all I knew was that I felt lost, writing
fiction. And when I read other authors saying things about how their
characters would “come alive” or “take on lives of their own” I thought
they were either telling white lies, or speaking figuratively.<br />
<br />
That changed when someone I respected very much said something to me that, on the surface, was very hard. Cruel, even.<br />
<br />
I
was talking about how much I wished I could make a living as a
novelist, and he looked at me and said: “I don’t believe you. I don’t
believe really want to write a novel.”<br />
<br />
It sounds mean,
doesn’t it? It sounds like he was snatching my most precious dream,
throwing it down onto the pavement and crushing it with his foot.<br />
<br />
But that’s not what he was doing—and I knew it, even as he spoke.<br />
<br />
He
was challenging me to follow through on my so-called dream. He was
challenging me to do more than just start a novel—he was challenging me
to finish one.<br />
<br />
So I did.<br />
<br />
I’ve long since thrown that manuscript away—it was a typical first novel, so full of mistakes that newbie writers make!<br />
<br />
But even though it wasn’t publishable, it served its purpose. It gave me the experience of practicing writing novels.<br />
<br />
And the more I practice, the better I get.<br />
<br />
And then, during novel #3, it happened.<br />
<br />
My characters came alive.<br />
<br />
Because it’s true. It really happens.<br />
<br />
They
begin to assert themselves. They do things you don’t expect. They stop
you from forcing them into decisions that don’t suit them.<br />
<br />
When
I wrote that first novel, my characters were like puppets. I fashioned
them, using words. I gave them physical characteristics. I picked out
their clothes. I came up with plot twists and wrote how my characters
reacted to them.<br />
<br />
Today, when I write, my characters are
no longer puppets. They’re more like entities you meet in
dreams—demigods of my imagination. They awe me, they surprise me. I’m no
longer their master—I’m more an observer, doing my best to transcribe
what they see, think, feel, and do.<br />
<br />
I’d be the last person to call myself a “great” writer. Ha. In my dreams.<br />
<br />
But
I do think that in my latest novel, Dark Chemistry, is the best I’ve
written so far—and one major reason for that is that as I wrote it, my
characters came alive. And judging on how readers are reacting to the
novel, the characters seem alive to them!<br />
<br />
If you’re a writer, have you noticed this happening while you write?<br />
<br />
As a reader, do you notice when characters in novels seem real to you?<br />
<br />
<br />
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a data-mce-href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/darkChemistry.jpg" href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/darkChemistry.jpg"><img alt="darkChemistry" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-41412" data-mce-src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/darkChemistry.jpg" src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/darkChemistry.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a></span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="color: #000000;" id="outer_postBodyPS" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" id="postBodyPS" style="text-align: center;">
<h1>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A woman's worst nightmare</span></span></h1>
<h2 data-mce-style="color: #cc6600;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Drugged by something...that makes her think she's fallen in love.</span></span></h2>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">All Haley Dubose has ever known is beaches and malls, clubs and cocktail dresses.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>But now her father is dead.</b></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And if she wants to inherit her father's fortune, she has to leave sunny Southern California<br />for a backwater little town near Syracuse, New York. She has to run RMB, the multimillion dollar<br />chemical company her father founded. And she has to run it well.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Keep
RMB on track, and she'll be rich. Grow it, and she'll be even richer.
But mess it up, and her inheritance will shrink away before she gets a
chance to spend a dime.</span></span><br />
<h2 data-mce-style="color: #cc6600;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Donavon Todde is her true love. But is it too late?</span></span></h2>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He's RMB's head of sales – and the more Donavon sees of Haley, the more he's smitten.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sure,
she comes across at first as naïve and superficial. But Donavon knew
Haley's father. He can see the man's better qualities stirring to life
in her eyes. And Donavon senses something else: Haley's father left her a
legacy more important than money. He left her the chance to discover
her true self.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Donavon has demons of his own.</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b> </b><br />He's
reeling from a heartbreak that's taking far too long to heal. But he's
captivated by this blond Californian, and not only because of her
beauty.<i> It's chemistry.</i> They're right for each other. But has
Donavon waited too long to woo this woman of his dreams? Because to his
horror, his beautiful Haley falls under another spell.<i> Gerad's spell.</i></span></span><br />
<h2 data-mce-style="color: #cc6600;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A web of evil.</span></span></h2>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Gerad
Picket was second-in-command at RMB when Haley's father was alive. And
with Haley on the scene, he's in charge of her training. But there are
things about RMB that Gerad doesn't want Haley to know.</span></span><br />
<h2 data-mce-style="color: #cc6600;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And he must control her. Any way he can.</span></span></h2>
<h1>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Romantic suspense for your Kindle</span></span></h1>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Will Haley realize that her feelings are not her TRUE feelings?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Does Donavon have the strength left to fight for the woman he loves?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Will the two of them uncover Gerad's plot to use RMB pheromones to enslave the world?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And even if they do – can they stop it?</span></span><br />
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Chemistry-Kirsten-Mortensen-ebook/dp/B00KEYP3QI/" href="http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Chemistry-Kirsten-Mortensen-ebook/dp/B00KEYP3QI/" target="_blank">Amazon</a> &<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a data-mce-href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/422146" href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/422146" target="_blank">Smashwords</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Romantic suspense</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG-13</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Kirsten-Mortensen/e/B001JP7X50/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1" href="http://www.amazon.com/Kirsten-Mortensen/e/B001JP7X50/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Connect</b> with Kirsten Mortensen through<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a data-mce-href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kirsten-Mortensen-Writer/195344590544496?ref=hl" href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kirsten-Mortensen-Writer/195344590544496?ref=hl" target="_blank">Facebook</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>& <a data-mce-href="https://twitter.com/Kirstenwriter" href="https://twitter.com/Kirstenwriter" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Website <a class="in-cell-link" data-mce-href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://kirstenmortensen.com/&usd=2&usg=ALhdy29OlqrTvuWJGs0Xbb3RDK_7VviC8A" href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://kirstenmortensen.com/&usd=2&usg=ALhdy29OlqrTvuWJGs0Xbb3RDK_7VviC8A" target="_blank">http://kirstenmortensen.com/</a></b></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-85574150659940647262014-11-06T09:00:00.000-05:002014-11-06T12:01:20.687-05:00@LeskoLori Shares Her Experience on the Ins and Outs of Indie Publishing #AmWriting #WriteTip <i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>What should aspiring indie writers know?</b></span></span></i><br />
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Indie
writers have arrived and they are scarring the crap out of traditional
publishers because try as they might, they can’t deny indie writers are
taking a piece of the cake. And they weren’t even invited to the party.
I’ve only been doing this for 2 years and it’s grown immensely during
this time. So much so, that there appears to be another division
occurring among the indie community itself. We’ve split into two
parties. One: writers who know how to write great books and market
themselves. Two: writers who know how to write good books and have not a
clue on how to market themselves.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Many
people are benefiting off of each party, the readers, the writers and
the ones who pull the novel all together. The ones who are taking full
advantage of this blooming industry, maybe just a little more advantage
then they should. Yes, I’m talking about editors and proofreaders. I
only bring this up to prepare you in case you are thinking all the hard
work is done once you have your manuscript in hand. Unfortunately,
that’s just step 1 of 5. And the last four steps can be very expensive
and time consuming.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Editors.
Which kind? Most editors charge by word count or page count instead of
by hour. This is a good thing for authors, because it gives them more
upfront pricing and fewer surprises if it takes the editor twice as long
to complete. Also, there are three types of editors and their fees are
different because skill set, time, and dedicated focus/complexity is
much different for each level. Keep in mind, the price of an editor can
also depend on level of education, skill set, experience level, or
geographic location. Don’t always snag the cheapest just to save a buck.
Sometimes another editor who may charge just a tad more may be worth
the money where the other could be like throwing it out the window.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1)
Content Editor (also called structural editor or developmental editor) –
this is someone who looks at the story holistically and makes large
scale (think macro level) changes to plot, content flow, character
development, plot consistency/holes, believability, etc. This is the
first editor you would go to, though most Indie authors can’t afford
both this type of editing and copy editing, so they forego this and rely
solely on beta readers or critique groups of other writers to give them
this type of feedback. If you can afford one, these can be worth their
weight in gold, because they will point things out that you never even
thought of. But, they run anywhere from $1200-$1800 and up.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">2)
Copy editor – this is the person who goes through and does a deep LINE
editing job. This is to look for grammar, punctuation, tense, character
consistencies (ie, she has blond hair in chapter one and mysteriously
has red in chapter four), readability/flow, style, etc. Expect to pay
anywhere from between $350-$1,000. (All depends on book length and level
needed)</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Below
are some ways to find editors of any price range. Most editors will
agree to edit (for free) from a page or two, to a certain number of
words, to a full first chapter. This lets the editor gauge the level of
editing they might need to do on the book, and also gives you a chance
to see if you think the editor is a good fit FOR YOU and your book.
Because it works both ways and you want to make sure it’s a good fit
before hiring someone on. After all, if they are missing basic stuff,
it’s better to know now.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Finding
editors is a tricky business. I suggest word of mouth. Look towards
writers you like and see who they recommend. Vet them! Read novels
they’ve edited for other people. Make sure they don’t have too much on
their own plate, especially editors who are writing a novel as well as
editing yours at the same time. This is a very expensive business guys
and gals, so expect them to be committed to your baby and have a
timeline set as to when it will be done.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/copyright.jpg" /></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Amber
Tyler is living every author’s dream: her books are all best sellers
and she writes full time. She has worked hard and is well-accomplished
in her career, and she has the support and love of her beautiful
children and girlfriend. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But the dream soon turns into a
terrible nightmare when her latest manuscript is stolen. She decides to
fight for what is rightfully hers, only to find that the harder she
tries, the easier it all slips through her fingers, putting her career,
her family, and her life in jeopardy.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a href="http://mybook.to/Copyright_A_Novel" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Thriller</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG-13</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lori-Lesko/e/B009HQ7T98" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Connect</b> with Lori Lesko on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/lori.lesko.7" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a> & <a href="https://twitter.com/LeskoLori" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-15729139757125322382014-11-05T10:00:00.000-05:002014-11-06T12:12:13.270-05:00Richard Parry on Night's Favour & The Cloth Merchant’s Apprentice @TactualRain #Fantasy #Action <div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/61ytgdXjyQL._UX250_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/61ytgdXjyQL._UX250_.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>What writing are you most proud of? </b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Night’s Favour</i> (http://amzn.com/B00EBNA0MU)
is my first “real book” and I’m still very proud of it. I like
re-reading it — sure, I find things I’d have done differently if I wrote
it again, but I also like the dialogue I wrote, the action, and I like
the people in there.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When
I finished that book, I actually got pretty depressed for a while,
because I was so enjoying my time with Val, and John, and Danny, and
Carlisle, that I didn’t want to let them go. There’s another story with
them kicking around in my head, and I’ve started planning it —
tentatively called <i>Night’s Fall</i> — but that’ll be a while away yet.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m hoping that <i>Upgrade</i>, my current work-in-progress, will be better than <i>Night’s Favour</i>.
I’ve been wanting to write it for years, but haven’t quite known how.
There’s a lot of moving parts. It’s a story about Mason and Sadie, Laia
and Zacharies, Harry and Carter, and they need to be able to tell you
their story first.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>What books did you love growing up?</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
gobbled up anything by Eddings and Feist. Man, those guys. I read
Lindholm before she was cool and became Robin Hobb. Really, lots of
epic fantasy, truckloads of the stuff before I acquired some semblance
of taste.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Science
Fiction nabbed me when I found some authors who could do it and tell
great stories rather than shitty science. I was a bit fan of Niven,
especially when he hit the power combo with Barnes and wrote Dreampark —
and his solo Ringworld books were amazing. Julian May.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This is where I admit I also read McAffrey. For the dragons, not the romance, okay?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Steven Barnes.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A little Poul Anderson — it’s hard to keep up with that guy.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My
tastes are (only a little) more diverse these days — I’m in it for the
story and the telling of it. I’ll read supernatural, or crime thriller,
or whatever, as long as it’s good stuff — but I still find that my real
interest lies in more speculative stuff.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Who is your favorite author?</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">You want me to pick one?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Just one?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There are <i>so</i> many
good ones out there. If you put my back up against a wall, I might say
Richard K Morgan. But it’d be hard to choose — I keep a bookshelf or
two at home, full of real books, treasured works. I consume most of my
stuff intravenously via Kindle these days, but if it’s good, I will get
the paper copy. In a non-creepy, totally benign way I like to touch the
physical copies, to smell the paper, and to feel the story in my hands.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So,
next to everything that Morgan’s written you’ll also find the works of
Neal Asher, Glenn Cook, Hugh Cook, Alastair Reynolds, Neal Stephenson
(even though I always feel like I’ve ridden the short bus to work after
reading one of his), Neil Gaiman, and Peter Clines.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There
are more, but that’s a start. I’d like to think that when I grow up
and become a real writer, I’ll be half as good as half of them.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>What book should everybody read at least once?</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>The Cloth Merchant’s Apprentice</i>, by Nigel Suckling (http://www.unicorngarden.com/clothmerchant.htm).</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s
a bit of a rare book today — it’s one of my treasured paper artefacts.
There are still some copies kicking around used online, and I’ve just
checked Amazon — it’s out there
(http://www.amazon.com/Cloth-Merchants-Apprentice-Nigel-Suckling/dp/0905664086/).
It reminds me of Gaiman at his best, a story that’s gentle and
startling, much like Stardust.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This
book taught me that you can have adventures and romance together, and
that the way a story is told is a tremendous amount of the beauty in
it. The book is honest and respectful, fun and soulful in equal
measure.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I will never part with it.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Is there any books you really don’t enjoy?</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Anything that’s “YA.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Wait, don’t go. It’s not like that.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“YA”
is not a genre, not really — it’s a descriptor for a group of people
who are trying to find their way in the world like the rest of us.
They’re people, clever and intelligent, and want to know more about
which way is up. They have the best parts of enthusiasm and the worst
parts of inexperience. Saying you’ve got a genre for “YA” is like
saying you’ve got a genre for Czechoslovakia.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Is
“YA” the best we can do when we’re trying to sell a vapid vampire
romance? I get that a vampire romance can be awesome, so let’s — as
storytellers — respect our audience and encourage the brain over the
beast. Let’s not tell stories that feed on our insecurities and baser
nature.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One
of my favourite quotes here comes from a Master™, Stephen King. Love
or hate the man, but he’s written a lot of stuff about a lot of things.
It’s hard to cite the original source, and maybe it’s urban legend, but
it feels right: “Harry Potter is about confronting fears, finding
inner strength and doing what is right in the face of adversity.
Twilight is about how important it is to have a boyfriend.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Contrast
with King’s example of Rowling, or Le Guinn’s Earthsea series, and you
can see the gap. It’s totally possible to write for a younger audience
and respect them. I’d like to see more of that respect when we’re
telling stories to our next generation. After all, these are the people
who will be our leaders and change the world after our footprints are
gone.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>What do you hope your obituary will say about you?</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That
I lived well, that I did things that were right despite that they were
hard, and that I was a good friend, husband, and human.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And that I had one foot in Heaven before the devil knew I was dead.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s kind of hard, though. There’s a way you’d <i>like</i> your
life to be like, and then there’s how the world around you impacts on
the edges of that. You’ve got people at work, or people in your social
club.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Everyone knows that special person in HR. You know what I mean.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’d
like all those people, and my friends and family too, to think that I
made the world just a little bit better while I was on it. If that was
said at my obituary, that’d be enough.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Location and life experiences can really influence writing, tell us where you grew up and where you now live?</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I was born in the Philippines.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Yeah,
I love whipping that one out. Truth be told I didn’t spend much time
there — my parents yanked me back Stateside when I was about two years
old, give or take, so my memories of the place are just a couple of
scattered images. A garden. A few people, one of whom I was sure was
my nanny. Nothing bad — it’s a place I’d like to go visit again, with
full expectation that I know nothing about it.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Speaking
of Stateside, I spent some of my formative years in the US, largely at
the edges — Los Angeles and New York City. I remember sunny places
where there’d be a jalopy with the roof cut off, and winters so cold
that your face hurt.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I really don’t want to live somewhere where the air makes your face hurt. What the hell is this, Pluto?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After
my folks split up, we drifted across the US for just a little while,
touching down in Connecticut before heading to New Zealand. I’ve spent
most of the rest of my life here in little Aotearoa.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When
I got here, there were only two TV channels. There were only cartoons
on a Saturday morning. That’s bullshit, plain and simple.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Despite
my initial poor reaction to the backwater third world country that I
thought I’d arrived in as a kid, I view New Zealand as my home. I’ve
travelled to a few places, Australia of course, Japan, Italy, America a
few times, and the odd resort location to drink cocktails out of a
coconut.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I don’t like Fiji.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">People
around me still think I have a little bit of an accent, and wonder
where I come from. I sometimes wonder that as well, and I like that I
can lend a few different voices to my writing.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>How did you develop your writing?</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">By abuse, mainly.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When
I wanted to get serious about it, my little brother stepped up and
threw me into a writer’s group — run by a pro, and it was more of a
critique group than anything else.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Here’s
the thing: when you write something, and you put your thoughts on
paper, you think it’s awesome. I mean, it probably doesn’t need any
editing, and can go straight from your brain to the printing press at a
mega publisher. The people who aren’t getting published?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hacks. All of them.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then you join a writer’s group, people who really just want to write good stuff, and <i>wow</i> —
you will begin to understand just how much you suck. It’s not like
these people sit there and tell you that you suck, but the variety of
feedback will show you gaps you never even knew you had.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So yeah. I wrote a lot, about a lot of different things. Sure, I was working on <i>Night’s Favour</i>,
but I also wrote a few short stories, and some radio plays, and the odd
poem or two. All under the watchful gaze of my writer’s group, who
were hard and soft, gentle and stern, but above all else, faithful to
making me a better writer.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Other
than that, I wrote. I wrote around the edges of my life, and thought
about writing when I wasn’t writing. Mostly dialogue, but also about
scenes, and the way things would play out.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And then I wrote some more.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Where do you get your inspiration from?</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s
possible our house was built on an old industrial spill, with some
toxic chemicals that leached up through the loam and into our very
bones. If that’s the case, I’ve been super unlucky with living in
houses built on old spill sites, because I’ve had weird ideas since as
long as I can remember.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It
could have easily have been something baked into the old Crayola crayon
set I had when I was a kid. It’s hard to be sure — was there ever a
recall? How <i>do</i> they make those colours?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
read a lot. I watch a lot of movies. I talk to people who read a lot
and watch a lot of movies. I like taking something that’s a little
familiar to people — say, a nice werewolf legend — and then sprucing it
up with a bit of industrial magic, a virus or two, see where it goes.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ideas are not something I’m short on. How many of them are <i>good</i> ideas
is probably a bit subjective, but I feel like I could sit down and
write books until the end of my days, until the tips of my fingers were
worn away, and not hit the bottom of the barrel.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I just want to do those ideas justice. I want the stories to be fun and insightful — I don’t want to start writing without a <i>good</i> idea about the story that wants to be told. I try and ask myself, <i>what makes this story different</i>?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/NightFavour.jpg" /></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 1.5em;">Valentine’s
an ordinary guy with ordinary problems. His boss is an asshole. He’s an
alcoholic. And he’s getting that middle age spread just a bit too
early. One night — the one night he can’t remember — changes everything.
What happened at the popular downtown bar, The Elephant Blues? Why is
Biomne, the largest pharmaceutical company in the world, so interested
in him — and the virus he carries? How is he getting stronger, faster,
and more fit? And what’s the connection between Valentine and the
criminally insane Russian, Volk?</span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EBNA0MU/ref=cm_sw_su_dp?tag=booaremag-20" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Action, Thriller, Urban Fantasy</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – R16</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Richard-Parry/e/B00EBQJTI8/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <b>Connect</b> with Richard Parry on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/therealrichardparry" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a> & <a href="https://twitter.com/TactualRain" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Website <a href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.rage.net.nz&usd=2&usg=ALhdy298b5_o0TqkCRTGBjb5UB4LozGGHQ" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.rage.net.nz</a></b></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-24241696837603186742014-11-04T07:00:00.000-05:002014-11-06T11:46:21.511-05:00FATAL GREED (Greed Series) by John W. Mefford @JWMefford #AmReading #Thriller #Mystery <div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Tony
paced around the obese body like a vulture circling its wounded prey
waiting for the moment to tear apart the meaty carcass. His steps were
even, his mind aler</span></span>t.<br /><br />Blood oozed along Tony’s forearms where the victim’s fingernails<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">had clawed
through his skin. The desperate scratches were deep, three to five
inches in length, two on one arm and three on the other.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Tony’s
massive hands had functioned like steel vice grips. It invigorated him
to squeeze relentlessly, well beyond the victim’s last breath.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He spat on the rotund corpse,
thinking how this ornery motherfucker dared to rise up and strike him
down. The thickheaded asshole didn’t learn his lesson. He didn’t listen
to the warning. Cooperate, or pay the price.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Chuck would understand.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Tony
had been certain this overweight, self-important black man would give
in to their demands. But his ballooned ego got in his way. The zoning
commission member had threatened that he would print the email and give
it to the authorities.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Obviously,
this man didn’t think straight, agreeing to meet Tony in a remote
location to work out an acceptable arrangement. Jesus Christ! And the
fat fuck brought a gun—to do what, put a bullet in Tony’s chest or
through his head? This fucker redefined poor judgment. He must have had a
drug problem, in addition to his fetish for skanky porn.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Tony
lit a cigarette, one he’d rolled in his apartment. The smoke rose above
the rafters into the dark ceiling. His fury grew while staring at the
overstuffed cadaver. He wanted to stress the finality of the man’s
death, pour gasoline over his body, and light a flame, just in case the
victim’s heart had any remaining beats.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
former Marine searched the abandoned warehouse for the necessary props.
In the back of the building, behind a pair of dilapidated offices, he
located a sturdy crossbeam, maybe seven or eight feet off the dirty
concrete floor.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Perfect</i>. Tony cleaned up his own mess as usual. Chuck would have to understand.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a data-mce-href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/FatalGreed.jpg" href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/FatalGreed.jpg"><img alt="FatalGreed" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-38946" data-mce-src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/FatalGreed.jpg" src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/FatalGreed.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-mce-style="color: #000000;">Behind
the façade of every corporate takeover executives pull levers this way
and that, squeezing the last profitable nickel out of the deal. But no
one knows the true intent of every so-called merger. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-mce-style="color: #000000;" /></span></span>
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-mce-style="color: #000000;">No one knows the secret bonds that exist. </span></span></span></i><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-mce-style="color: #000000;" /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-mce-style="color: #000000;">An
Indian technology giant swallows up another private company that has
deep roots in North Texas. For one unassuming man the thought of
layoffs, of losing his own job to a bunch of arrogant assholes feels
like a kick to the jewels. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-mce-style="color: #000000;" /></span></span>
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-mce-style="color: #000000;">Until the day Michael's life changes forever. </span></span></span></i><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-mce-style="color: #000000;" /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-mce-style="color: #000000;">Perverse
alliances. An affair of the heart. A grisly murder. A spiraling string
of events thrusts Michael into a life-or-death fight to save a tortured
soul and hunt down a brutal killer...one who lurks closer than he ever
imagined. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-mce-style="color: #000000;" /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-mce-style="color: #000000;">Greed knows no boundaries.</span></span></i></span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/FATAL-GREED-Greed-John-Mefford-ebook/dp/B00KP3TUQW/ref=la_B0062PGVP0_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1402330476&sr=1-1" href="http://www.amazon.com/FATAL-GREED-Greed-John-Mefford-ebook/dp/B00KP3TUQW/ref=la_B0062PGVP0_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1402330476&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Suspense, Thriller</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="color: #000000; text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – R</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/John-W.-Mefford/e/B00KPIA8AE/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1" href="http://www.amazon.com/John-W.-Mefford/e/B00KPIA8AE/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Connect</b> with John W. Mefford on <a data-mce-href="https://www.facebook.com/JohnWMeffordAuthor" href="https://www.facebook.com/JohnWMeffordAuthor" target="_blank">Facebook</a> & <a data-mce-href="https://twitter.com/jwmefford" href="https://twitter.com/jwmefford" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Website <a class="in-cell-link" data-mce-href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.johnwmefford.com&usd=2&usg=ALhdy2_KrtKBwV_do8k5j4dKlWUQF6WR9A" href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.johnwmefford.com&usd=2&usg=ALhdy2_KrtKBwV_do8k5j4dKlWUQF6WR9A" target="_blank">http://www.johnwmefford.com</a></b></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-89030448403927907262014-10-29T12:00:00.000-04:002014-10-30T09:28:09.803-04:00Amy Lewis Feels Like She Can Move Energy When She Writes @AmyLewisAuthor #Women #Memoir<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/ciu/ec/cd/e7097384afc40a90048444.L._V336233064_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/ciu/ec/cd/e7097384afc40a90048444.L._V336233064_.jpg" height="320" width="263" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>How do you work through self-doubts and fear?</b><br /><br />When
I’m writing I am very intentional in creating a safe, creative zone to
work from. I come from a theater background, and I remember learning
early on that the stage was a place of safety and creative freedom where
there was no room for self-doubt or judgment. I try to mimic that in my
writing space. I do not think with a critic’s mind when I’m in that
zone. It feels amazing and free – no editing allowed. This helps a great
deal with keeping my fears from creeping into my work. When the work is
ready to go out, well, then I must say I do have to contend with those
fears. I have not found a way to get rid of self-doubt at that stage,
but I think that’s part of being a creative artist. <br /><br /><b>What scares you the most?</b><br /><br />What
scares me most is not leading the life I was meant to live. I do
believe we all have a purpose, certain gifts that we are meant to
express in this life. The universe wants to see our own unique flower
blossom, and while that sounds beautiful, I’m keenly aware of how hard
it can be to allow yourself to bloom. Your flower might not look
anything like what you thought it would, or what you wanted it to look
like, or what your family or town or community wants it to look like.
The courage to first discover and then be who you really are is no small
thing. <br /><b><br />What makes you happiest?</b><br /><br />Stillness makes
me happy. Slowing down makes me happy. Watching my daughter sleep and
hearing her howl with laughter when I tickle her. Sitting under the
stars with my best friend and feeling immense gratitude for his presence
in my life. Dancing makes me insanely happy, Expressing emotions that
have no words but come out in movement. Spending time with people that
get me. Being around boldness and creative energy. <br /><br /><b>What’s your greatest character strength?</b><br /><br />This
one is not so easy and clear as my weakest trait. I’ve been told by
many people that I have a great deal of courage – I’m ballsy. I’m an
Aries so I have that strong, I’ll go first and I’m not afraid of
anything energy. I can definitely see that trait in me, but I can also
be very timid so it almost feels like a toggle switch that is either on
or off. I also have a very strong awareness of my emotions and what I’m
going through at any given moment (thanks to years of therapy, acting
classes and a masters in spiritual psychology). <br /><br /><b>What’s your weakest character trait?</b><br />I
have very little patience. In fact, I don’t even have the patience for
this question. It’s been like this all my life. I blame it on the stars.
Seriously. So many tasks, challenges, and goals I gave up on too soon
because I didn’t see any early success. I would like to say I’m working
on this but I’m not. I don’t know even know where to begin. Perhaps
there’s a support group?<br /><br /><b>Why do you write?</b><br /><br />I write
for many reasons. Pure selfish self-expression is one reason. I write
sometimes to discover where I am at psychologically speaking. I feel
like I can move energy when I write and in doing so heal. I write
stories to perform on stage. I write to tell people’s stories who might
not have been heard. I write because it feels alive to be living in a
story and not know where it will take me. <br /><br /><b>What motivates you to write?</b><br /><br />Creativity
equates to aliveness. It’s where anything is possible. And when I
write, I feel alive. The irony is that my mind is necessary for me to
write but I prefer to write as if I’m out of my mind. And by mind I mean
my inner-critic, the judging, non-life affirming part of me. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a data-mce-href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/whatFreedomSmellsLike.jpg" href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/whatFreedomSmellsLike.jpg"><img alt="whatFreedomSmellsLike" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-41176" data-mce-src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/whatFreedomSmellsLike.jpg" src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/whatFreedomSmellsLike.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Diagnosed
with Borderline Personality disorder, Amy struggled with depression and
an addiction to sharp objects. Even hospitalization didn't help to heal
her destructive tendencies. It took a tumultuous relationship with a
man named Truth to bring her back from the depths of her own self-made
hell.Amy's marriage to dark, intriguing Truth was both passionate and
stormy. She was a fair-skinned southern girl from New Orleans. He was a
charming black man with tribal tattoos, piercings, and a mysterious
past. They made an unlikely pair, but something clicked. </span></span></div>
<div id="postBodyPS">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">During
their early marriage, they pulled themselves out of abject poverty into
wealth and financial security practically overnight. Then things began
to fall apart.Passionate and protective, Truth also proved violent and
abusive. Amy’s own self-destructive tendencies created a powerful
symmetry. His sudden death left Amy with an intense and warring set of
emotions: grief for the loss of the man she loved, relief she was no
longer a target for his aggressi</span></span>on.<br />
<br />
Conflicted and grieving, Amy found herself at a spiritual and emotional crossr<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">oads, only to receive help from an unlikely source: Truth himself.
Feeling his otherworldly presence in her dreams, Amy seeks help from a
famous medium.</span></span></div>
<div id="postBodyPS">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Her
spiritual encounters change Amy forever. Through Truth, she learns her
soul is eternal and indestructible, a knowledge that gives Amy the
courage to pursue her own dreams and transform herself both physically
and emotionally. Her supernatural encounters help Amy resolve the
internal anger and self-destructive tendencies standing between her and
happiness, culminating in a sense of spiritual fulfillment she never
dreamed possible.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">An amazing true story, What Freedom Smells Like is told with courage, honesty, and a devilishly dark sense of h</span></span>umor.<br />
<br />
Buy <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now @ <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/What-Freedom-Smells-Like-Memoir-ebook/dp/B00JTHDCSC/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=&qid=" href="http://www.amazon.com/What-Freedom-Smells-Like-Memoir-ebook/dp/B00JTHDCSC/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=&qid=" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Memoir</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG-13</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Amy-Lewis/e/B00KERPYYQ/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1" href="http://www.amazon.com/Amy-Lewis/e/B00KERPYYQ/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Connect</b> with Amy Lewis through <a data-mce-href="https://twitter.com/AmyLewisAuthor" href="https://twitter.com/AmyLewisAuthor" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Website <a class="in-cell-link" data-mce-href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.WhatFreedomSmellsLike.com&usd=2&usg=ALhdy2-u-DEq6B2o3ZSLOwj9JWZOYB9gHA" href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.WhatFreedomSmellsLike.com&usd=2&usg=ALhdy2-u-DEq6B2o3ZSLOwj9JWZOYB9gHA" target="_blank">www.WhatFreedomSmellsLike.com</a></b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-88230351213804883352014-10-28T10:30:00.000-04:002014-10-29T07:31:26.355-04:00@KimberlyShursen on Being a Role Model for Her Sons #IndieAuthors #AmWriting #Thriller<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/ciu/37/c2/ddb9364ad12b0ad8976fea.L._V352962290_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/ciu/37/c2/ddb9364ad12b0ad8976fea.L._V352962290_.jpg" height="320" width="243" /></a></div>
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How do you work through self-doubts and fear? <b>The
only thing I fear is losing one of my sons or a person I care about.
Failing has never made me fearful. A bigger fear would be to never try
to achieve my goals.</b></div>
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What’s your greatest character strength?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><b>Loyalty. Once I take you in, I’ll never let you go.</b></div>
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What’s your weakest character trait?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><b>Writing for hours, sometimes forgetting about eating or sleeping.</b></div>
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Have you always enjoyed writing?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><b>Always. I am an introverted/extrovert. I enjoy being around people, but value and protect my alone time to write.</b></div>
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What writing are you most proud of? (Add a link if you like)<b><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I
am proud of all three of the books I have written. I cannot write a
book in two or three months. It takes a lot of time for me to research
the cities, neighborhoods and even bars or restaurants where the novel
takes place. Using<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>HUSH</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>as
an example, I wanted the legal facts to be correct and spent hours
talking to friends who are lawyers, and using an online law site where I
paid for answers to legal questions.</b></div>
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What are you most proud of in your personal life? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><b>I
am proud that I am a strong role model for my three sons. We all go
through difficult times in life. They have watched me pick myself up and
dust myself off more times than they’ve wanted.</b></div>
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What book genre of books do you adore?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><b>Thrillers of any kind. I am not into blood and gore, or reading about it, but enjoy being held on the edge of my seat.</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a data-mce-href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/hush.jpg" href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/hush.jpg"><img alt="hush" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-41080" data-mce-src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/hush.jpg" src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/hush.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Soon
after Ann Ferguson and Ben Grable marry, and Ben unseals his adoption
papers, their perfect life together is torn apart, sending the couple to
opposite sides of the courtroom.</span></span></div>
<div id="postBodyPS">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Representing
Ann, lawyer Michael J. McConaughey (Mac) feels this is the case that
could have far-reaching, judicial effects -- the one he's been waiting
for.</span></span></div>
<div id="postBodyPS">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Opposing counsel knows this high profile case happens just once in a lifetime.</span></span></div>
<div id="postBodyPS">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />And
when the silent protest known as HUSH sweeps the nation, making
international news, the CEO of one of the top ten pharmaceutical
companies in the world plots to derail the trial that could cost his
company billions.</span></span></div>
<div id="postBodyPS">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Critically
acclaimed literary thriller HUSH not only questions one of the most
controversial laws that has divided the nation for over four decades,
but captures a story of the far-reaching ties of family that surpasses
time and distance.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>***
Hush does not have political or religious content. The story is bu</b></span></span><b>ilt around the emotions and thoughts of two people who differ in their beliefs.</b><br /><br /> EDITORIAL REVIEW: "Suspenseful and well-researched, this action-pack<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">ed legal
thriller will take readers on a journey through the trials and
tribulations of one of the most controversial subjects in society
today."<span style="font-family: inherit;"> -<i> </i></span><i>Katie French author of "The Breeders," "The Believer's," and "Eyes Ever To The Sky."</i></span></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Hush-Kimberly-Shursen-ebook/dp/B00HZKBGW4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1404820465&sr=1-1&keywords=hush+and+kimberly+shursen" href="http://www.amazon.com/Hush-Kimberly-Shursen-ebook/dp/B00HZKBGW4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1404820465&sr=1-1&keywords=hush+and+kimberly+shursen" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Thriller</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="color: #000000;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG-13</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="color: #000000;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Kimberly-Shursen/e/B00C7ZBTIS/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1" href="http://www.amazon.com/Kimberly-Shursen/e/B00C7ZBTIS/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="color: #000000;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Connect</b> with Kimberly Shursen through <a data-mce-href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kimberly-Shursen-Author/286879094678995" href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kimberly-Shursen-Author/286879094678995" target="_blank">Facebook</a> and <a data-mce-href="https://twitter.com/kimberlyShursen" href="https://twitter.com/kimberlyShursen" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" data-mce-style="color: #000000;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Website <a class="in-cell-link" data-mce-href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.kimberlyshursen.com/&usd=2&usg=ALhdy2-uex70LjIEkr9CbwWbuB4zDHIOKw" href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.kimberlyshursen.com/&usd=2&usg=ALhdy2-uex70LjIEkr9CbwWbuB4zDHIOKw" target="_blank">http://www.kimberlyshursen.com/</a></b></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-54295166190571734542014-10-14T10:30:00.000-04:002014-12-19T02:57:33.354-05:00Sending - The Girl Who Came Back to Life by Craig Staufenberg @YouMakeArtDumb #AmReading<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<u><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><b>SENDING</b></span></i></u></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When
you die, your spirit wakes in the frozen north, in the City of the
Dead, and waits there until someone comes along to Send you to the next
world by telling you a simple and heartfelt “Goodbye.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This
single word, spoken by someone who loves you, releases your soul from
this world and lets you finish your journey to the next life. The City
of the Dead is difficult, dangerous, and expensive to reach. You must
join the steady stream of mourners who pour north at all times to Send
their loved ones, unwilling to let their dead wander forever through the
cold.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/The-Girl-Who-Came-Back-to-Life.jpg" /></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When
you die, your spirit wakes in the north, in the City of the Dead.
There, you wander the cold until one of your living loved ones finds
you, says “Goodbye,” and Sends you to the next world. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After her parents die, 12-year-old
Sophie refuses to release their spirits. Instead, she resolves to travel
to the City of the Dead to bring her mother and father’s spirits back
home with her. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Taking the long pilgrimage north
with her gruff & distant grandmother—by train, by foot, by boat;
over ruined mountains and plains and oceans—Sophie struggles to return
what death stole from her. Yet the journey offers her many hard,
unexpected lessons—what to hold on to, when to let go, and who she must
truly bring back to life.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Girl-Who-Came-Back-Life-ebook/dp/B00JQRR0JM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1402517344&sr=8-1&keywords=craig+staufenberg" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Middle Grade</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG-13</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Craig-Staufenberg/e/B00J4CHMX8/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Connect</b> with Craig Staufenberg through <a href="https://www.facebook.com/YouMakeArtDumb?ref=hl" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/YouMakeArtDumb" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Website <a class="in-cell-link" href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://craigstaufenberg.com/&usd=2&usg=ALhdy2-DrQ3iDj9YlxIz66ffrjCdBEDC8Q" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://craigstaufenberg.com/</a></b></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-1194106712373201162014-10-11T11:30:00.000-04:002014-10-13T12:55:52.040-04:00Scott Moon Shares the Benefits of Organic Writing @ScottMoonWriter #SciFi #Fantasy #WriteTip <div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Welcome to the Organic Writing Jungle</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There is an outstanding book on writing you may have read, or listened to as an audiobook called <i>On Writing: A memoir of the craft</i> by
Stephen King. The book doesn’t read like a manual, but rather engages
with a series of intriguing stories. Go figure, it’s Stephen King we’re
talking about. The key message is that stories are unearthed rather
than invented. King states that he occasionally outlines his stories,
but basically ignores the device.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Like
many writers, I took this advice as validation of my proclivity for
writing by the seat of my pants. Which is why the first thirty-thousand
words of a novel are rollicking good fun. It is also why finishing a
novel and revising a completed manuscript has been a burden—a long
process of cutting scenes, characters, and subplots. Editing a seat of
the pants novel is an exercise in self-flagellation and temptations to
quit.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Benefits of Organic (seat of the pants) Writing</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1) Time: organic writers can dive in and go, no need for characters biographies, months of research, or extensive planning.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">2)
Freshness: striking the page while that early morning inspiration
is hot often leads to vivid scenes, engaging characters, and surprising
plot twists.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">3)
Surprise (and originality): if the writer doesn’t know what is
going to happen next, then neither will the reader (in theory).</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Problems and traps of Organic Writing</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1)
Time wasting: it isn’t uncommon to write several thousand words
and grow cold on what seemed like a good idea or premise.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">2)
Blind alleys: writing into a corner probably happens to everyone,
but there is a difference between being stuck and having to start over.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">3) Disillusionment: nothing is worse than realizing a brilliant, middle of the night inspiration is just another cliche.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Numerous
books on planning and structuring exist. I read several, learned a lot,
but still struggle to stick faithfully to an outline. Now I take the
best of each approach.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Hardcore Novel Planning</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1)
Spend huge amounts of time developing the premise of the story. In
extreme cases, spend an entire lifetime and never start the first page.
(Not recommended)</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">2)
Craft story biographies to the last detail. Know each character’s
favorite color and how many squares of toilet paper they use. Have the
antagonist take away the toilet paper and see what this conflict does to
the plot.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">3)
Using the traditional three act structure (beginning, middle, and
end), write a scene by scene outline. This can be a lot of fun, but
might cause the writing to feel like a series of homework assignments.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Free and easy Organic Novel Planning</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1) Start on page one. Hope for the best.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Organic Writing Plan – The Hybrid of Structure and Inspiration</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1)
Develop your premise and characters in sufficient detail to get
started. Write several passages that you don’t plan to use in the novel.
Explore inspiration.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">2)
Imagine at least five critical points in your story: the inciting
incident (hook), the first plot point, the midpoint, the second plot
point, and the ending. (See <i>Story Engineering</i> by Larry Brooks for more on this. His thoughts on structure are outstanding.)</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">3) Create a scene by scene outline, but deviate as needed. Keep in mind that each section of a novel has a job to do.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">4) Remember the little people (me) when you hit the New York Times Bestseller List.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Super Creepy Sidebar</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Halfway through writing this article, I took a short walk and saw a man who looked exactly like Stephen King. He scowled at me.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Recommended Reading</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">On Writing: A memoir of the Craft (Stephen King)</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Write Great Fiction – Plot & Structure (James Scott Bell)</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Story Engineering (Larry Brooks)</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Writing in Overdrive (Jim Denney)</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The 90 day novel (Alan Watt)</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Elements of Style (William Strunk Jr., E. B. White, Roger Angell)</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Blueprint Your Bestseller: Organize and Revise Any Manuscript with the Book Architecture Method (Stuart Horwitz)</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/enemyOfMan.jpg" /></span></span></div>
<h2 style="background-color: white; line-height: 40px; margin: 10px 0px; text-align: center; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
Lost Hero</span></span></h2>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Changed
by captivity and torture, hunted by the Reapers of Hellsbreach and
wanted by Earth Fleet, Kin Roland hides on a lost planet near an
unstable wormhole.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When a distant space battle propels a
ravaged Earth Fleet Armada through the same wormhole, a Reaper follows,
hunting for the man who burned his home world. Kin fights to save a
mysterious native of Crashdown from the Reaper and learns there are
worse things in the galaxy than the nightmare hunting him. The end is
coming and he is about to pay for a sin that will change the galaxy
forever. </span></span></div>
<h2 style="background-color: white; line-height: 40px; margin: 10px 0px; text-align: center; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
Books</span></span></h2>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Enemy
of Man: Book One in the Chronicles of Kin Roland was written for fans
of military science fiction and science fiction adventure. Readers who
enjoyed Starship Troopers or Space Marines will appreciate this genre
variation. Powered armor only gets a soldier so far. Battlefield
experience, guts, and loyal friends make Armageddon fun. </span></span></div>
<h2 style="background-color: white; line-height: 40px; margin: 10px 0px; text-align: center; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
Movies</span></span></h2>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If
you love movies like Aliens, Predator, The Chronicles of Riddick, or
Serenity, then you might find the heroes and creatures in Enemy of Man
dangerous, determined, and ready to risk it all. It’s all about action
and suspense, with a dash of romance—or perhaps flash romance. </span></span></div>
<h2 style="background-color: white; line-height: 40px; margin: 10px 0px; text-align: center; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
From the Author</span></span></h2>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Thanks for your interest in my novel, Enemy of Man. I hope you chose to read the book and enjoy every page. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you have already read Enemy of Man, how was it? Reviews are appreciated! </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Have a great day and be safe.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Enemy-Man-Chronicles-Kin-Roland-ebook/dp/B00DAIQO9A?tag=booaremag-20" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Science Fiction</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – R</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Scott-Moon/e/B0082VIWL8/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <b>Connect</b> with Scott Moon on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/scottmoonwriter" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a> & <a href="https://twitter.com/Scottmoonwriter" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-79078133034071873992014-09-12T11:30:00.000-04:002014-09-17T21:18:03.879-04:00John Smith: Last Known Survivor of the #Microsoft Wars by Roland Hughes #Dystopian <div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span lang="EN-US">SK: I ask again, what was the truth according to John Smith?</span></b></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US">JS:
Later in life, when people were counting the number of wells and
starting to not buy the “dead Dino” story, scientists made an even more
ludicrous claim. They claimed the jungle and forest, which covered all
of the land during the age of the dinosaur, was also decomposing and
creating large pools of oil.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span lang="EN-US">SK: Why was this so ludicrous?</span></b></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US">JS: Admittedly, plant and animal life will share <i>some</i> mineral content, and all things will create <i>some</i> kind
of goo when they reach that liquefying stage of decomposition.
However, I do find it a stretch that both would end up creating crude
oil, no matter how much heat and time were applied, unless crude is a
very tiny subset of minerals that survive decomposition. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US">Eventually,
scientists started claiming crude was caused by decaying plant and
animal life. I guess fish never played into the formula. Scientists
really had no choice. They had to explain to an increasingly skeptical
public why some crude was yellow and some black. Some crude was
fast-flowing liquid and other crude was a solid brick.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span lang="EN-US">SK: I ask again, what was the truth according to John Smith?</span></b></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US">JS:
Crude oil is decomposing humans from earlier cycles. Each cycle lasts
an unbelievably long time, as far as human life is concerned. Humans,
by and large, have a need to build communities. As the cycle
progresses, these communities become cities of a massive scale. When
the earth shifts and heaves its continents around, these cities are
buried deep in a matter of hours, if not seconds. They are buried deep
without air or the nutrients needed for bacterial decomposition.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US">The
steel eventually reverts back to iron and carbon; the concrete, to
limestone and sand. I’m not certain what happens to the glass other
than the fact it is crushed into pieces so tiny one wouldn’t notice them
coming up with the drilling mud. The humans and their pets,
though—they are crushed and eventually, the heat of the earth cooks them
into crude.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span lang="EN-US">SK:
That is a disgusting thing to say. We have one of those oil sites
oozing stuff out of the ground near our city! People use it for all
kinds of things.</span></b></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US">JS:
Humans are useful in a variety of forms. Have they invented a product
called petroleum jelly yet? It’s kind of greasy, helps cuts heal and
looks a lot like animal fat.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span lang="EN-US">SK: Oh! I cannot believe I’m being forced to sit here and listen to this!</span></b></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US">JS: Do you think I’m the first to point something like this out? I suppose you have never heard of cannibalism either?</span></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span lang="EN-US">SK: Another disgusting tale to frighten children!</span></b></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US">JS:
Oh no. It was real and existed in various forms around the globe.
Even in large cities, where everybody claimed it never happened, you
would see the occasional news report that someone had been arrested with
pieces of humans in their fridge or freezer. There was even a movie
about the earth running out of food and governments taking it upon
themselves to make cannibalism palatable to the masses.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span lang="EN-US">SK: I simply cannot accept the premise anybody would believe such a story.</span></b></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US">JS:
The story became a legend. They would simply herd people to different
areas of each city. One area would be selected for recycling. The
people would be processed and turned into little food squares of
“Soylent Green.” There were lots of different colors of food squares
made from the various forms of food still available but there wasn’t
enough to go around.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="TextBodySingle" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US"><img src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/johnSmith.jpg" /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“John
Smith: Last Known Survivor of the Microsoft Wars” is one big interview.
It is a transcript of a dialogue between “John Smith” (who, as the
title of the book implies is the last known survivor of the Microsoft
wars) and the interviewer for a prominent news organization.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/John-Smith-Known-Survivor-Microsoft/dp/193973200X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=&qid=" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Amazon</a> & <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/john-smith-roland-hughes/1102176003?ean=9781939732002" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">B&N</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Dystopian Fiction</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_book_1?ie=UTF8&field-author=Roland+Hughes&search-alias=books&text=Roland+Hughes&sort=relevancerank" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Website <a class="in-cell-link" href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://johnsmith-book.com/&usd=2&usg=ALhdy2-70oxuHXvWgcvombsi9GJmpfL5eA" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://johnsmith-book.com/</a></b></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-54312902453276837192014-09-05T12:30:00.000-04:002014-10-14T12:29:58.853-04:00#Excerpt from HOST CHRONICLES : The Devil's Offspring (VoL. 1) by D L Cox #Fantasy #Fiction<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Nat
had listened attentively to Sheba’s life story, and then he told her
about his mission and Simon’s true identity. Sheba tried her best to
take Nat seriously, but couldn’t keep from doubling over in laughter.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I’m serious,” Nat told her.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sheba
held her stomach. “So Simon Clash is the devil’s son, and he’s at war
with his sister who crossed over from hell. And a demon told you all of
this?”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Not all of it,” Nat explained. “Just the part about Simon’s sister.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sheba
laughed again. “And you carry a sword that you’re going to give to the
human/angel who’s going to save the world from Simon.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Nat nodded. “Yeah, I’m serious.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sheba looked into his eyes and stopped laughing. “I don’t believe it,” she muttered.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“What?” Nat asked, frustrated.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She touched his cheek. “You really believe what you’re saying.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“That’s because it’s true,” Nat insisted.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Okay,” Sheba said. “Let’s just agree that Simon Clash is a very bad man. What do we do now?”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Nat stood and paced. “If they saw you with me, they probably think we’re working together.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sheba pressed, “Yeah, but what should we do?”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“We wait,” Nat said.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Wait?” Sheba asked with a frown.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Nat
nodded. “They have the tactical advantage out there. We have the
advantage in here. They’ll get restless and storm the place, and we’ll
take them out when they do.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sheba grabbed a gun off the bed and chambered a round. “It makes sense to me.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a data-mce-href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/HostChronicles.jpg" href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/HostChronicles.jpg"><img alt="HostChronicles" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-33287" data-mce-src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/HostChronicles.jpg" src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/HostChronicles.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In
this Urban Fantasy, the devil’s daughter, SALEENA, and her reaper
boyfriend, IZZY, elope to earth and seek to overthrow her estranged
brother, SIMON CLASH, as the devil’s heir apparent on earth, but Simon
is head of a powerful conglomerate, and he’s not going out without a
fight. As the rivalry turns bloody, the warring siblings discover the
devil has been manipulating their feud to advance his secret agenda and
is using them as decoys to draw out a sword-wielding champion of
humanity called the HOST, whom must be slain before the devil can
unleash a reign of terror on earth.</span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Legend
says the Host will emerge when humanity plunges into hopelessness and
despair, and NATHANIEL BRENNER, the young man responsible for delivering
a magic sword to the Host, hopes that is soon. Nathaniel has spent the
last six years searching for the Host to no avail and has recently seen a
drastic rise in demon activity on earth, which he knows could only mean
one thing: humanity is running out of time. Saleena and Simon unite to
save their own hides, but it may be too late—not only for the devil’s
offspring, but for humanity too! The future of humanity hangs in the
balance, and Nathaniel is determined to thwart the devil’s plans and
find the Host.</span></span></div>
<div data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Host-Chronicles-Devils-Offspring-Volume/dp/1490916571?tag=booaremag-20" href="http://www.amazon.com/Host-Chronicles-Devils-Offspring-Volume/dp/1490916571?tag=booaremag-20" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre - Urban Fantasy</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating - PG-13</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 19px; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/D-L-Cox/e/B0081GNVWE/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1" href="http://www.amazon.com/D-L-Cox/e/B0081GNVWE/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Connect</b> with D L Cox on <a data-mce-href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Host-Chronicles/229105260585809?ref=hl" href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Host-Chronicles/229105260585809?ref=hl" target="_blank">Facebook</a> &<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a data-mce-href="iamsalihisrail@gmail.com" href="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-admin/iamsalihisrail@gmail.com" target="_blank">Email</a></span></span></div>
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Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-75653122054406855272014-08-30T08:00:00.000-04:002014-12-08T11:27:22.989-05:00ENEMY OF MAN #Excerpt by Scott Moon @ScottMoonWriter #AmReading #SciFi <h1 style="background-color: white; line-height: 40px; margin: 10px 0px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
CHAPTER ONE</span></span></h1>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">HEROES weren’t sealed in space caskets and launched into the void—not while they were still breathing. Kin shuddered. Memories came at night; they came with regrets, fears, and nightmares only a man buried alive could understand. Heroes destroyed the enemy. Heroes saved the day and died before they could wear medals or explain what it was like to shed the blood of millions.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>This room is too dark</i>.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin needed to go outside and look at the sky, but the wormhole song, the distant groaning of a universe unraveling, reminded him of Hellsbreach—gunfire, plasma bolts, and nuclear explosions on the horizon. Better to dream of Becca, though she was the reason he volunteered for the campaign.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Stop thinking of her,” Laura said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin sat up in bed, dropped his feet to the floor, and watched her drift back to sleep. Her chest rose and fell, a silk sheet accentuating her curves. Her eyes began to move under her eyelids.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“You don’t even know who she is.” He ran a finger behind Laura’s ear and down her neck until she giggled in her sleep. He smiled. “I can share anything with you in moments like these.” He slowly pulled the sheet lower and she didn’t stir.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Laura would like the game—exposing her skin to the night air and staring until she sensed his attention and awoke, but he stopped, reaching to cup the side of her face instead. Lust didn’t mix well with the darkness still in his mind.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I’d fail again, given the same choice. Could you commit genocide, Laura?” he asked.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Hmm?” She struggled to open her eyes, it seemed, but pushed him clumsily away with one hand as she rolled onto her stomach, twisting the sheets as she moved.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I still love her. You know that, right?” Kin said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Motionless on the bed, Laura seemed not to breathe. The wormhole that dipped into the atmosphere quieted. Silence spread across the planet. Sea birds called to each other and waves gently touched the beach.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin pulled on his pants and gun belt, then picked up his boots and go-bag as he crossed the room. Outside, he pressed an ampoule of caffeine against his neck and injected it. Sleep wasn’t a friend. The intramuscular dose was meant to be injected in the gluteus maximus, otherwise known as the place Laura hung on for dear life when they were together, but Kin didn’t want to ruin the feel of her hands by sticking his ass cheek with a needle.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He watched the sky as he did upon awakening morning, noon, or night, hating the way the wormhole that dumped them on the uncharted planet seemed alive and sentient. Lightning flashed through the undulating red, orange, and purple tube of light as it climbed lazily toward the ring of moons around the planet. The moons, by contrast, soothed his spirit when he could stop thinking about the gaping mouth of the wormhole. They climbed vertically from the horizon like the underside of an arch, brilliant at night and hazy during the day.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin steadied his breathing, forcing his shoulders to relax as he studied the anomaly.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The <i>Goliath</i> came through that hole. The enormous exploration vessel had been designed to orbit a planet and send down shuttles, not descend to the surface. No one planned for the uncharted wormhole to catch the ship and drop it inside the atmosphere. Much of the ship broke apart and scattered along the coast. The survivors existed between the sea and the impact site of the main fuselage.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Each year, sand covered the available salvage, making building materials scarce. The thought of leading another scavenger mission bored Kin, though he knew the children looked forward to crawling into holes the adults couldn’t reach. He rubbed his neck and decided he was done with caffeine injections for a while.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin had grown more sensitive to his surroundings since the deadly campaign on Hellsbreach. He heard Laura roll out of bed, though the heavy curtains were drawn over the doorway and she was trying to be stealthy. The floor creaked and Kin guessed she paused to scoop her pants and shirt off the floor. He didn’t hear her tug zippers or take the time to fasten buttons. Their relationship wasn’t that formal.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The ocean breeze and crashing waves soothed his mind, but didn’t mask the sounds Laura made. To Kin, there were simply more sounds, distinct and easily identifiable. She would have been smarter to move when the surf broke, but he still would have heard her. Auditory discrimination was why he hadn’t been slaughtered by Reapers on Hellsbreach. They could sound like men, or wolves, or stalking tigers, but beneath the obvious sounds there was always a clicking in their throats.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Laura moved closer to the doorway but stopped, probably listening for him. He measured the pause and assumed she was peeking through the curtain. She wasn’t incompetent at stealth, but he knew her game.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She moved behind him, wrapping her arms around his trim waist and pressing her body against his. She gripped him hard with no pretense of romance. Perhaps she heard what he said about being in love with Becca. She pretended she wasn’t jealous, but she was. She bit his ear. He continued to lean on the rail, ocean breeze blowing on his face, solid wood under his feet. She bit his neck. He smiled. The bite hurt, but he pretended it didn’t.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“You put your pants on,” she said. “Did I tell you to get dressed and sneak out of my bed?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I would hate for the Fleet to send a rescue mission and find me out of uniform.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“If the Fleet comes to Crashdown, I’ll tell them about you,” she said. Her lips brushed his ear as she spoke and she lingered with a kiss even as one hand went into the front of his pants. Kin smiled and shook his head minutely.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Crashdown is a good name for this place.” He thought the planet was huge and extremely dense, because the gravity was heavy and the ocean horizon to the west was flat as a blade.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Do you think I’m joking?” she asked.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin didn’t answer. He wished she wouldn’t try to provoke him. He had killed for less. She enjoyed rough sex, danger, and power. Kin was bored with two of the three. She released him, patting his ass before she walked away. He knew she kept them all alive. She was a force of nature. He needed to meet a nice girl, someone like Becca.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The wormhole convulsed. Kin let go of the rail and stood straight. His hand went to the pistol hanging on his leg. Objects burst from the hazy opening high in the atmosphere. Most ships that crashed on this huge planet came alone—pioneers, explorers, or pilgrims fleeing persecution. Meteors were more common, but during the last three days, a variety of space junk and wreckage had splashed into the ocean and smashed against the mountains east of Crater Town. Somewhere in the universe, an epic battle raged and the debris drifted through the wormhole.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Pacing, Kin watched the sky until the wormhole began to puke earnestly. Small pops sounded in the distance, but he suspected they were explosive thunderclaps.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Damn</i>.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Objects burst into the air close together, sounding like the chatter of machine gun fire. Pop-pop-pop. Pop-pop. Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>That’s a planetary assault force</i>.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Each cluster of fast-moving smoke trails were troopers in Fleet Single Person Assault Armor units. He had worn an FSPAA unit during his enlistment and recognized the formation. Several larger objects followed, flanked by more troopers in airborne assault mode.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Laura emerged from the doorway, paused to stare at the sky, and hastily buttoned up her shirt. “I’m going to the meeting hall.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Go to a bunker,” Kin said, but she was already running.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Damn!” Kin estimated a division of Fleet troopers were plummeting toward Crater Town. He jumped off the side of the deck and ran to the lighthouse, sprinting up the spiral staircase. When he reached the top, he doused the light and picked up a horn.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A large ship emerged from the mouth of the wormhole, bow elevated twenty degrees too high and drifting sideways. The ship was still under power, laboriously righting itself as the atmosphere burned it. Kin watched pieces break off. He didn’t recognize the ship’s class or if it were built for entry into the atmosphere, but it was shaped like a Fleet vessel.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">An armada of broken ships, huge things never meant to enter the atmosphere even if in one piece, were the last through. Kin sounded the alarm. Horns answered from every corner of Crater Town. Men, women, and children rushed from their homes with survival kits. He saw many running to the well to form a bucket line and parents rushing their children to crude fallout bunkers.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Two companies of assault troopers splashed into the water off shore. Two additional companies veered right while another two veered left of Crater Town as flanking elements. Four came straight at him. The command ship and heavy vehicles—Tanks, Strykers, and reconnaissance vehicles—fought for altitude. They soared over the town, landing near the <i>Goliath</i> half buried in the sand between the coast and mountains.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin picked up binoculars from the railing and tracked the progress of each assault force and the efforts of Crater Town’s people. About the time young men surrendered to Fleet troopers in seven-foot-tall armor, the space debris hit. The noise of the plummeting ship parts had been minimal from a distance, but as they neared, they ripped through the air, vibrating the tower where Kin stood. Troopers and townspeople ran for shelters, threw themselves on the ground, or gaped at the destruction. Earth exploded. Water erupted into steaming clouds of death. Fires rampaged like demons.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin risked a final glance toward the wormhole before descending the tower.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>That’s not a Fleet ship.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He jerked the binoculars up.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>No military emblems. No weapons. And it’s shaped like a blockade runner.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He watched the small craft drift away from the others, seeming to sneak free of the chaos. Kin didn’t like the feeling in his gut. Dread hollowed him out. He thought of Reapers and stolen technology.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The faster Fleet vessels and plummeting debris posed the immediate threat. Kin knew it. He needed to ignore the small civilian ship, but understood Reapers hijacked anything that would take them from their home world. The creatures didn’t build ships and were notoriously bad pilots, but when they left Hellsbreach, they were on a mission of murder.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin forced his gaze toward the ships and troops already on the ground.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Don’t think of Reapers. Don’t think of Hellsbreach. Captivity. Death. I should have died. </i>Kin steadied his breathing, unsure if it calmed him or merely suffocated his panic. <i>Should have killed them all.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sweat beaded on his forehead. He waited for Fleet ships to spot the stranger and destroy it, but nothing happened. The craft disappeared beyond the mountain pass. He wanted to go after it, but Crater Town took priority.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He left the tower and ran down the unpaved street twisting around ramshackle huts near the bay. Laura hurried from a building up the street, wearing a firefighting coat. She paused to tie up her hair, then pulled on heavy gloves. People carrying tools rushed from their shelters to follow her. She accosted a group of men held at gunpoint by Fleet troopers and ordered them to follow her.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The squad leader pointed at Laura and gave an order. <i>Get back. This is Fleet business.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Laura elevated her chin and put both hands on her hips. She said something. <i>I’m sleeping with Kin Roland, a murdering deserter and traitor to the Fleet. He’ll cut your balls off if I even nod your direction. Fleet business my ass. This is my business. These are my people. Kindly mind your manners, you faceless killer.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Fleet trooper spread his hands in frustration and surprise. He yelled and thrust his gauntleted finger near her face. <i>Listen you stupid bitch. You’re lucky I don’t blow your head off.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin couldn’t hear the conversation, but he could imagine it. He wasn’t surprised when the troopers released the people of Crater Town to Laura. The guards followed, seeming a bit dazed.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>What the fuck just happen?</i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Don’t ask me. You’re the squad leader. Take charge.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>I’ll take charge of your face with my boot. Stay sharp. Watch the work crew. I’ll watch the councilwoman.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin ran up the steep hill, knowing planetary assault forces demanded immediate compliance when they made planetfall. They were paid to shoot people. He feared Laura would push too hard. Inflexible and harsh standard operating procedures placed the interests of the Fleet before the welfare of local populations. He needed to warn her about what happened when people resisted. She won this scrimmage and freed her work crew, but needed to consider a softer touch when dealing with officers.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then he realized she had a trump card. He believed he knew Laura. He believed she had been toying with him when she said she would expose him to the Fleet. Being wrong would cost him his life.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“You there, halt and identify,” a Fleet trooper shouted. His amplified voice echoed from the helmet speaker. He held a rifle and a plasma thrower, each connected to the armor by woven metal tubes. Kin ignored the trooper, who moved forward, weapons ready.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He slipped around the corner and ducked through a cloud of smoke, then circled the area until he was behind the trooper who continued in the wrong direction.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Identify yourself,” Kin said, under his breath.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<h1 style="background-color: white; line-height: 40px; margin: 10px 0px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
CHAPTER TWO</span></span></h1>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">FLEET troopers occupied the area. Dozens of squads moved along the next street as Kin cut between several makeshift homes to avoid detention. He could no longer see Laura but thought she was moving away from him toward the most devastated section of Crater Town. She was doing her job. He surveyed the town and started doing his.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The first three houses Kin checked were damaged, but had already been evacuated. The next three were family dwellings, and by Town Protocol, the parents should have moved their children to fallout bunkers at the first sign of a meteor storm. He ducked inside each and looked around. Finding them empty, he hurried to the home of Brian Muldoch.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin didn’t admire the man, because Muldoch had found religion halfway through his mandatory ten-year enlistment as an Earth Fleet trooper and decided he was a conscientious objector. After two years in a labor camp, Muldoch escaped and stowed away on the <i>Goliath</i>. When Fleet troopers found him, he was a dead man. The only thing that remained was how quickly they would identify him and carry out the sentence for deserters.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin told himself to focus on his job, find critically wounded survivors, make sure everyone in Crater Town did their part, and create a list of structures rendered unsafe by meteor strikes. He had no business interfering with the Fleet, especially since his status would earn him death, preceded by torture, yet he hurried toward Muldoch’s home.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Though the man was a deserter, much of his Fleet training remained. He performed every task efficiently and kept his quarters squared away. He had helped Kin fight raiders who came down from the mountains. He had scoured the foothills to find a missing child. Kin often wondered why Muldoch refused to fight for the Fleet. He had shown bravery many times on Crashdown.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Several Fleet troopers surrounded Muldoch in the street near his small house. One shouted, “On your knees. Don’t move.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I must report to the well to help with the bucket line. Can’t you see the fires?” Muldoch asked, desperation in his voice. His eyes darted from one man to the next as color left his face.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The trooper nearest Muldoch had a new helmet, though the rest of his armor was scarred and scorched. “Don’t move and don’t talk.” He pointed his rifle at Muldoch’s neck where a Fleet labor camp tattoo marked him. “This is doing the talking for you, traitor.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Two troopers, a corporal and a lance corporal, stood facing each other, heads bent as they listened inside their helmets to an electronic message Kin couldn’t hear. When they looked up, they nodded. FSPAA helmets didn’t reveal emotion, but Kin could sense the smiles behind the visors by the rhythm of their nods. They returned to the group.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I have confirmation. This man is Brian Muldoch, a deserter and coward,” the corporal said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin watched New Helmet elevate his weapon a few inches and fire one round before Muldoch could beg for mercy. Blood splattered the street and armor of the men standing in a circle. Muldoch’s body fell forward. Nothing above his teeth remained.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Do you have a problem?” The corporal’s tone implied having a problem would be a problem for Kin.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“What did he do?” Kin asked.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Deserter.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“No trial?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“No need.” He stepped close to Kin and looked at his neck and hands.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin focused on the body of Muldoch and exhaled slowly, steadying his anger and fear. His tattoos had been removed. The painful procedure cost a fortune. Muldoch should’ve done the same thing. Kin clenched his fists and hoped the troopers didn’t notice the tension coursing through his arms, shoulders, and neck. Before Hellsbreach, Kin always maintained control over his unit and forbade frontier justice, but he wasn’t their sergeant and they wanted blood.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">New Helmet moved closer. “Does he have a marker?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The corporal looming over Kin hesitated. “No. I thought he would. He walks like he was Fleet.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin stared at Muldoch’s body and said nothing. These troopers were as unprofessional and violent as any Kin had encountered, but he didn’t confuse their sloppy gear and mob mentality for incompetence. Killers who enjoyed killing barely needed a reason to pull the trigger.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I asked you a question.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“No you didn’t,” Kin said. <i>Shouldn’t have said that. Shouldn’t have come here at all</i>.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The trooper stared at him, shifting the weight of his armor from foot to foot several times. Without the armor, he might be Kin’s size, but in full FSPAA gear, he was a giant. “Get out of here.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The lance corporal, the smallest in the group, slid his hand back and forth on the barrel of his rifle with increasing intensity, as though stoking his courage. “Shoot him like you did that Reaper on Hellsbreach.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">New Helmet pushed the lance corporal aside. “He never shot a Reaper. A Reaper wouldn’t hold still like this corpse and if it did, one bullet would only make it angry.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Don’t fucking touch me, Raif.” The lance corporal started to point his rifle at New Helmet, but lowered the weapon and backed away. Raif didn’t even look at him. He watched Kin like a hungry wolf.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The corporal stared at his men until Raif stopped advancing and the lance corporal walked back toward the rest of the platoon. A moment passed before the corporal seemed satisfied. He faced Kin, pointing his rifle at the sky with one hand. His elbow rested on his hip to support the weight of the weapon. “Start walking, dead man.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin walked away, stopping once he neared the crest of the hill where the street twisted toward the center of town. He looked back. The Fleet troopers watched him. He directed his gaze toward Muldoch’s house. Like many homes in this part of town, it was built into the side of the hill, jutting out ten feet. Rough-hewn beams of wood supported the metal siding scavenged from the wreckage of the <i>Goliath</i>. He remembered the day Muldoch had scrubbed the metal clean and painted it, despite Kin’s warning that the paint would never adhere properly. Weather had taken a toll on the surface and the green color was uneven. Mixing touch-up paint from limited resources wasn’t an exact science, yet Kin recognized the effort put into maintaining the home.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The troopers continued to face him. How many were trying to decide if they knew him, wondering if they recognized him from past campaigns or security bulletins? The Fleet had probably buried his scandal deep, erasing every record of their failure—of his failure. That was what Kin hoped for. With his luck, the Fleet had his picture on every security threat alert for the last ten years. What could he do? Flee into the wilderness of Crashdown?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A gust of wind from the sea blew sand, dust, and ash between them. Kin studied the red dragon insignia on each of these troopers and committed it to memory. He rested his hand on his pistol in the leg holster and realized the trooper was waiting for him to draw it. Holding his gun was a habit, unintentional, but now that the familiar grip was in his hand, he wanted to use it.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He never liked Muldoch and told himself they were nothing alike. Their situations were different. Muldoch, despite the fortitude he had displayed since the <i>Goliath</i> crash landed, would’ve died within seconds of landing on Hellsbreach. Muldoch hadn’t been forced to choose between duty and his soul.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Pull that pistol or go away,” the trooper said. The sound of his amplified voice came just as the wind vanished, and Kin heard it clearly. He released his grip and walked away. There were others like Muldoch, none of them deserters, but men and women likely to run afoul of Fleet justice.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin couldn’t protect them.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Making his way toward the town meeting hall, Kin kept an eye on Fleet checkpoints. The people of Crater Town fought fires and moved wounded to the simple hospital. He slowed as he approached the town hall, realizing he was too late.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Fleet troopers escorted the council members, though Laura seemed to treat the troopers as her personal escort rather than her jailers.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Please, Laura, be careful</i>.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Love wasn’t the perfect word to describe his feelings for Laura, but something burned hot and miserable in his chest as he stared after her. The Fleet was a juggernaut of violence—not an organization to be manipulated, not even by a savant of intrigue like Laura.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Strykers blocked the next street. The engines of the eight-wheeled, light armor vehicles chugged. Exhaust fumes, from diesel rather than jet fuel, mingled with the cool evening air. The archaic technology remained a favorite among ground forces because fuel could be foraged or fabricated when resupply wasn’t an option. Diesel, jet fuel, moonshine—it didn’t matter. They ran on anything.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin crept forward until he saw two troopers arguing. Wind blew dust, obscured vision, and concealed him as he lurked in an alley near the conversation.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“We don’t have time for this,” the larger of the two said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Surplus armor stamped with the standard Earth Fleet icon caught Kin’s attention, because the external armaments were expertly placed and easy to access in a fight, not the setup of inexperienced recruits. Elite commandos couldn’t have done better.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Strange. Why are two badasses like you slumming in that junk?</i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Something exploded. The ground rumbled under Kin’s feet. Flames thrust skyward from a building nearby. Townspeople screamed for help, their voices ethereal and broken in the silence following the boom. Kin wanted to know why these troopers were in disguise. Were they saboteurs intent on destroying Earth Fleet, or were they merely high ranking officers spying on their troops?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“If Imperials came through the wormhole after the battle, we’ll find them. We have time. You’re such a pussy,” the smaller trooper said. The voice was familiar and possibly a woman’s, but Kin immediately doubted himself. FSPAA vocal filters were nearly gender neutral by default, though most troopers disabled them.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“You had to go there,” the larger trooper said. “Watch and learn.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Imperials</i>. Whoever they were, Kin had never heard of them. His first impression was of a human, or at least humanoid, adversary. Until now, all enemy races of the Fleet had been monstrous—Reapers, Soul Catchers, Shape Shifters, and Cyborgs. War between human nations was ancient history.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin followed the troopers sprinting toward the burning buildings. They quickly outdistanced him. He’d forgotten how fast a trooper could move in armor. By the time he caught up, both troopers emerged from a building holding armloads of terrified children.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Cassie Davis fell at their feet, wailing for her babies.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin wanted to comfort her. He took a few steps forward, but stopped when the smaller trooper looked at him sharply.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin broke eye contact, though he couldn’t actually see the trooper’s eyes, and yelled. “Cassie! Are you okay?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The trooper watched him a moment longer before pushing free of the Davis family reunion. “Get a support team here on the double! We have collateral damage.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Fleet medics and firemen arrived, helping the townspeople extinguish the flames and triage the wounded. The two mystery troopers took charge of the chaotic scene.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin took the opportunity to leave.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Something changed after the invaders rescued Cassie’s children. The routine protocols of occupying strategic and tactical positions, detaining key people, and requisitioning resources seemed more benevolent. Kin witnessed Fleet troopers using war-fighting technology to rescue people. An FSPAA unit had to burn for a long time before the person inside became uncomfortable. Muldoch’s execution remained vivid in his mind and he wasn’t swept away by the heroics of the Fleet.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin scoured the town for people who needed help or direction. Laura was in the hands of the Fleet. She would either betray him or not betray him, regardless of what he did now. He faced a dangerous choice: flee the city while he had the chance or help the innocent victims of the invasion.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It wasn’t a difficult decision. Who was he? What did his life matter? He had fought for it—lied, killed, robbed people to pay for a new identity—but was his existence worth more than Crater Town?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When the sun came up he was exhausted, but felt good. Crater Town had been a better home to him than he had known before or after the Fleet. He began a final circuit of the town, drinking water from a skin and nodding at people who seemed glad to be alive.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">TIRED men and women wandered the town square, wiping sweat and soot from their faces with rags. Rows of Fleet troopers stood guard, seeming like statues come to life, if only briefly. The younger Crater Town folk played fiddles and pipes near the fountain. Celebration filled the air. Children played as though they would never grow up while the adults laughed and encouraged them.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin walked past guards flanking each intersection—avoiding looking at them when they turned their helmets to follow his progress. He doubted any of these men or women could have been on Hellsbreach, but they might have attended his court-martial. That farce had been held in the bay of a Titan Class Battlecruiser with thousands of soldiers standing at attention. Nine generals and three admirals had presided over the hearing and passed judgment.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One friendly face at his execution cried without wiping tears or moving from her position of attention. She hadn’t dared to look directly at Kin, because discipline demanded all eyes be directed straight ahead. He didn’t like to think of Becca that way. He walked toward the town meeting hall under the stare of soldiers—trained killers with the most advanced weapons known to mankind, men he understood, men who were just like he had been.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The last time Kin had seen Becca before Hellsbreach, she had been running through a wheat field with her hair down. He still saw the girl behind her intelligent eyes, especially when she was off duty and in a playful mood. He remembered her bright-blue dress dancing below her knees, the neck line modest but open, nothing like the high collar of her cadet’s uniform. Her shoulders and arms had been bare. The fabric of her dress fit her hips and body snuggly. He thought he could wrap his hands around her waist and touch his fingertips, but never worked up the courage to try. He smiled, remembering her looking over her shoulder and laughing. He wished he could chase her again and be in love.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">They had hiked all day and sprawled in a meadow overlooking a green valley of Earth VI. Farmers worked terraced fields in small, open-topped tractors. The crops were distributed locally, not to distant colonies or industrial planets with barely enough plant life to photosynthesize oxygen, much less provide their own food. Countless agriculture colonies filled that need. Earth VI was a liberty planet, a place of rest and revitalization for travelers. A day on an Earth Class Planet healed humans with almost magical power.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In his mind, Kin sat next to her. She leaned back on her elbows, wriggling her toes in the grass. He smiled, gazing at her, speaking infrequently, attending her every word as though it were music.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I’ve been thinking of my father and brothers all day, my real brothers, not you, Kin,” Becca said. “I’m trying not to be sad. Trying so hard.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“No one should be sad on a day like this,” Kin said. “So, I’m like a brother?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She leaned toward him, freeing her left arm to swat his leg. “You know you’re beautiful, Kin. I’m going to have a long talk with the girl who thinks she can marry you.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin tied a piece of grass in a knot, staring at each twist he made. “I miss your brothers.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He could have avoided mandatory enlistment, but it seemed wrong to enjoy the safety the Fleet provided without doing his part. He wasn’t from a military family like Becca was. His father had been a smuggler and had taught him two things when he wasn’t in boarding school; how to fight dirty and how to survive. Good lessons for boarding school. Good lessons for storming a hostile planet. Perhaps Becca’s father and brothers wouldn’t have been killed by Reapers if they’d learned the same lessons.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I miss them so much I can barely breathe,” she said. Tears welled in her eyes. She turned them to the horizon, fixing them on something in the distance. “The Reapers tore them apart, Kin. I have nightmares.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin held her and she leaned into him. They were silent for a long time.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I’m going to volunteer for the Hellsbreach Campaign.” He spoke softly into her hair, but his heart raced.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I don’t want you to go, because no one returns from Betaoin. But I want vengeance. You’re the only man in the Fleet who can deliver it,” Becca said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I’m just one man, but only the best are allowed to volunteer for this mission. If the Reapers can be wiped out, we’ll do it,” Kin said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He didn’t want to go. He wasn’t afraid. The reality of the battle to come was too far in the future. The danger seemed abstract. He didn’t hold the same hate as Becca did. All men die. Some die badly. He didn’t need vengeance, but Becca did, so he would deliver it. If he survived, she’d be thirty by the time the Hellsbreach Campaign ended and ships traveled back to Earth Fleet controlled space. She’d be married and barely remember her childhood friend.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Memory was a cruel sorcerer. He held the vision of Becca in his mind, but the spell was destroyed by the fires of Hellsbreach and the sounds of gunfire and plasma bolts. He saw splashes of red, explosions of orange and gold. He smelled smoke from the past and present.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He fled the images in his mind and focused on what needed to be done. Fleet troopers watched as he walked. They towered above him in their assault armor.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin examined the squad’s sergeant from a distance. There was something about the way he moved—arrogant and cruel. He towered over the other troopers, swaggering aggressively. They jumped when he said jump.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin shortened his stride when he saw the etching on the ceramic exoskeleton of the suit. The design differed from what he remembered, but the style was familiar. Sergeant Orlan decorated his armor with etchings despite regulations forbidding it. Many troopers on Hellsbreach had done the same thing, putting notches on armor for every kill, carving pictures of loved ones or enemies or religious symbols to match the tattoos on their skin, or merely decorating the ceramic shell with art. Sergeant Orlan’s talent for ornamentation was impressive, despite his large, thick hands.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin knew he should go around the man, yet he moved closer and saw a lion’s head skillfully engraved on the breastplate. On Hellsbreach it had been a wolf, but Kin recognized Orlan’s handiwork. It was unfair such a brute could create something so magnificent.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin abruptly turned down an alley. A guard noticed him and followed.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“You there, where are you going? Why are you armed? Do you have a permit?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin faced the guard, taking another careful step into the shadow of the building. He glanced down the street, noting Orlan still faced the other direction. The worst danger was over, or so he thought. But then he realized this was the same trooper who saved little Kylee and Samantha Davis from the fire before recognizing him.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>This guy is stalking me.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I have a permit.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The guard accepted the paper, pretending to not recognize Kin. The mechanized gauntlets looked too large to hold such a delicate object, but Kin knew the assault armor was capable of both fine motor skills and feats of incredible strength. He also understood the suits required charging, despite the solar power they gathered to extend battery life. In time, the fierce machines would be men and women, mere mortals without shells of technology. Kin doubted this soldier would follow him into an alley alone without the armor, even if he hoped to collect a reward for capturing the Enemy of Man.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Who wrote this permit?” the trooper asked. The depersonalized voice sounded neutered by the amplifier projecting it. The sound and deception it represented bothered Kin.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“All permits for firearms are approved or denied by the Crater Town Council. Councilwoman Laura Keen signed that particular paper,” Kin said. Prior to the arrival of the Fleet, Kin had been in charge of enforcing the permit laws, but never bothered. Crater Town was a frontier settlement on an uncharted planet. Life was dangerous. People carried weapons when they could find or make them.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“You are Kin Roland? Security officer for Crater Town?” the trooper asked.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I am. Is there a problem?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Most people with that unfortunate name changed it after Hellsbreach,” the trooper said, studying his reaction.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin shrugged.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Commander Westwood wishes to know who doused the lighthouse as we approached.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin nodded. “I’ll ask around.” He turned away from the trooper.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Wait.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin faced the trooper again, who seemed to be listening to a command sequence inside the helmet.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“You are to appear before Commander Westwood and the Crater Town Council in the meeting hall.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin hesitated, but knew he couldn’t delay for long. “I need to check one more person, then I’ll head that way.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The trooper shook his head and stepped closer to Kin, towering over him. “My orders are to bring you without delay.” Another pause. “Who are you looking for?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Sibil Clavender,” Kin said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Who is Sibil Clavender?” the trooper asked.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin pointed at the wormhole, discolored and turbulent from the disturbance of the planetary assault. “She’s the person who soothes the spirit of the wormhole.” Kin couldn’t hear if the soldier snorted without activating the helmet speaker, but he probably did. Kin held the trooper’s gaze until the helmet slowly turned toward the pulsating wormhole.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The trooper faced Kin and waited for what had to be an order from Fleet Command. “You may look for her. I will escort you.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin turned, stepping through the alley to emerge on a street not much wider than the path between buildings. He trudged up the steep dune, navigating twists and turns, avoiding the direct route in order to disorient his guard.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“This is the wrong way,” the trooper said. “Our drones have already mapped this area. What are you doing?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Making a fool of myself, apparently.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Don’t.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin studied the reflective visor and searched for clues in how the trooper stood and how he chose to arrange the accessories on his armor. There were no engravings or unit markings beyond the Earth Fleet emblem. “Do I know you?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Silence. They stared at each other.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Please continue.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin waited a few moments and turned away. He walked slowly, sensing it would annoy the trooper. This type of guard duty was a waste of time. A good soldier would resent it.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I thought you’d be looking for Imperials,” Kin said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Why would you think that?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I heard some troopers talking about them.” Kin waited. He assumed Imperials blasted this Fleet Armada through the wormhole, but had never heard of them. Whoever they were, their presence in Earth Fleet controlled space occurred after Hellsbreach.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The trooper didn’t respond.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin led the unhelpful guard to a cottage set into the side of a dune. Little more than the door betrayed the location of Sibil Clavender’s home. A gaggle of hopper birds loitered near the threshold. Fur grew around the faces and forelegs of the strange creatures. The hopper birds also possessed strong hind legs for running and multicolored wings in perpetual motion.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin squatted, waiting until each hopper bird scrambled to him and pecked his hands. “I am Kin Roland. I mean no harm,” he said several times, making sure they recognized his scent and the sound of his voice.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Why do you do that?” the trooper asked.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“They’re my friends.” Kin stood.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“They’re messenger birds.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“They are.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The trooper stood motionless while receiving an order Kin couldn’t hear, but could remember from a hundred missions.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Secure all forms of communication. You’re the tip of the spear, Trooper. Report success to Command and Control. Do you copy?</i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Roger that.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The trooper looked at Kin. “They will be confiscated.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Good luck.” Kin ducked inside the dwelling, leaving the Fleet trooper to chase birds around the yard.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dimly glowing stones illuminated the surprisingly large room. As his eyes adjusted to muted light, he noted simple items—a pitcher on the low table, a bowl of local fruit, and silver beads in a pattern representing the ring of moons around the planet. Glow stones were set in the walls, like oval windows or portals to unknown worlds.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin moved to the table. He studied a book Clavender never allowed him to open. Something like an angel graced the cover, with multicolored wings, noble beard, and the face of a warrior king. The eyes reminded him of Clavender.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">His fingers grazed the book.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Are you well, Kin Roland?” Sibil Clavender emerged from the shadows in all her alien glory. She wore a silk tunic narrowly covering her small breasts and gathered at the waist by a decorative chain. The fine metal made Kin think he could hook one finger under it and rip it off. Her back, naked all the way down, gave room for white wings tipped in blue and dusted with diamonds. The hem of the tunic reached her ankles—slit up the sides to her hips. Her unruly hair was tied high enough to expose her slender neck. Her eyes, blue-green like a tropical lagoon, welcomed him.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin stepped away from the table and cleared his throat. “As well as might be expected.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She smiled, moved closer, sent his heart racing. The exotic way she walked fascinated him. Her wings dazzled his vision. The silver beads in her hair seemed magical.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Have you been outside?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She nodded, pressing against him. Kin felt the warmth of her body.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Don’t move. She’ll disappear from this dream. </i>He held his breath.<i> Not everything on Crashdown is dangerous. A battle scared veteran like me could be healed in this room</i>.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I have seen the strangers. They wear armor. Are we so dangerous?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I doubt they came here on purpose. Uncharted planets are always assaulted,” Kin said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He forced himself to think. Few people could withstand Clavender’s presence for long without being enthralled. Crater Town people thought of her as some kind of spirit or goddess in communion with the weather and the wormhole. She appeared young. For all he knew she was immortal.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She touched him, gripping him with both hands. His pulse raced with something more powerful than lust or love. Clavender’s touch was like morphine, caffeine, and a childhood memory of spring pressed into a shiver.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I am not so young,” she said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin blushed, which should have been impossible for a genocidal maniac. “I worry about you. Crater Town needs you,” Kin said, shifting uncomfortably.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She smiled dreamily and took his hand. Sensation diffused throughout his body, filling him with peace.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I wish to see the sky. Walk with me,” she said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“There’s a Fleet trooper in your yard chasing the hopper birds.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She turned her face up to him, still smiling like a satisfied lover but also with slyness in her eyes. She led him through a narrow tunnel that forced him to stoop as he walked. Moments later they emerged on the opposite side of the dune, then climbed a goat trail to a place where they watched the frustrated guard below.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Servomotors whirred as the trooper jumped left and right, grabbing at the local birds. Beyond that spectacle, the town spread out to the sea. Cleanup had begun with military precision. Crater Town thrived with activity.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Clavender looked at the sky. “She wants to come home.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin looked at the wormhole and thought the space anomaly seemed masculine rather than feminine, as though it wanted to devour Crashdown. “You understand what that is?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I understand,” Clavender said. “You do not. Perhaps it is correct to call it a wormhole, but it did not come to this planet. It came from this planet. There is only one.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin shook his head. “There are more than a thousand charted wormholes. I’ve been through a hundred of them.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“There is only one,” she said, still gripping his hand firmly and nestling her small body close to his.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin shivered, not because her warm skin electrified his imagination, but because the thought of a single wormhole intruding into every corner of the universe terrified him. He pointed to it. “Look at the colors—red and orange and purple after the lightning flashes. Other wormholes are blue and silver, or green like your eyes.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Or like the reflection of the sea,” she said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin suddenly imagined every wormhole looking down at Crashdown and soaking up color from the ocean. The thought unnerved him, because it felt right. Was he standing in the center of the universe? If he were, who was this young woman next to him who changed the color of the waves and the thrashing of the sea with her moods?</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<h1 style="background-color: white; line-height: 40px; margin: 10px 0px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
CHAPTER THREE</span></span></h1>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">KIN took a knee—a soldier’s pose that came naturally. Clavender stood with one hand on his shoulder. They watched the trooper and the town as a sea breeze spoke softly.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I am glad these soldiers are from your Fleet,” Clavender said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“You might not be if you were in my position,” Kin said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She bent and looked into his eyes.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He waited until she smiled. Knowing she wouldn’t ask the question, he answered. “Fleet Command gave me a mission to kill every last Reaper on Hellsbreach.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She touched his face. “But you could not do it.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin looked away, surprised at his shame. She didn’t seem to judge him. She squatted, wrapping her arms and her wings around him.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“We are not different. I hide from my people so that I do not lead them to war and ruin,” Clavender said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I thought you were the last of your people. I mean, everyone assumed,” Kin said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Clavender laughed. “Have you not seen the migrations toward the wormhole?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I thought those were birds. There must be thousands,” Kin said. He recalled the swarms of flying creatures passing far above Crater Town. The mysterious migrations were considered good luck by everyone on Crashdown.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Not birds, but foolish young men trying to prove themselves. They will never reach it. It is too high and does not open as easily as a door,” Clavender said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“You should go inside. The Fleet has a bad record with aliens,” Kin said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“An odd thing, coming from aliens,” Clavender said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin laughed.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I will stay outside. Do not worry. I have hidden from my people for a long time. I can hide from yours,” she said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin nodded. They stood, holding hands for what seemed like a pleasant lifetime.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The breeze shifted, bringing the smell of burned buildings mixed with the salty air. It stung Kin’s eyes. Wind wouldn’t disperse the odors until the smoldering huts cooled. Clavender probably didn’t appreciate the odors of destroyed machines, but they painted a picture for Kin, bringing back memories. He looked down on the Fleet trooper who gave up on the idea of capturing the hopper birds and stood like a statue. Kin listened for the quiet sound of gears in the assault armor.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He descended the front of the dune. The trooper turned to face him. Kin was glad the trooper was alert, even though they were destined to be adversaries. Fears of interrogation and torture seemed distant, because Clavender touched him. He laughed inwardly. He hadn’t been checking on her, he’d been seeking comfort. The Fleet would learn his identity and he would run, fight, or die. It was simple and unavoidable.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin Roland was a common name and he had taken many steps to hide who he was—a new identification number and plate in his arm, the meticulous and expensive removal of tattoos, and an assignment on a terra-forming mission that should’ve taken him to the very rim of Earth Fleet controlled space. But he couldn’t avoid scrutiny forever.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The false identity plate in his arm would not withstand a close, forensic examination. Someone would remember him. Orlan certainly knew him and this trooper that was so interested in him probably did as well. The question was why the trooper didn’t sound the alarm.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin still didn’t understand how he was able to board the <i>Goliath</i> in the first place. They had checked his finger prints and photograph—a moment he had dreaded but found unavoidable. Nothing. The security screener ran his picture and prints without finding a thing. Either the captain of the <i>Goliath</i> had known who he was and didn’t care, or the system was too big for its own good. Fleet intelligence officers, however, wouldn’t be fooled.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The trooper was shamming ignorance for reasons unfathomable to Kin. He hadn’t imagined the moment this person recognized him, but couldn’t figure why the trooper suddenly pretended ignorance.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Let’s go to the meeting hall,” Kin said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The trooper nodded, walking next to him.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin looked for Orlan, but couldn’t find him. The sergeant was uncommonly large, and since assault armor added a foot to a man or woman’s height, Orlan was seven and a half feet tall when wearing his full kit. Without armor, Orlan was thick chested, hairy, and had a face that looked as though it had once been handsome, but had been stepped on too many times. His eyes were watery and sickly, almost clear. Kin never trusted Orlan’s eyes, even before the man betrayed him. If Orlan recognized him—and he would—he wouldn’t hesitate to kill Kin.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“This isn’t the most direct path to the meeting hall,” the trooper said.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Did your computer tell you that?” Kin asked.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“The computer is correct. Don’t you know your town?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin shrugged. “I know this place like the back of my hand. I also know that if I walk down Main Street, people will see me and want to talk. It’ll take three days to get to the meeting hall.” Kin was impressed with his own bullshit. He picked his course to avoid Orlan, who would be shaking down Crater Town citizens like the thug he was.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hellsbreach memories, ever present, rose to the surface. He took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled slowly. The urge to close his eyes was strong, almost as strong as the desire to return to his bed and sleep the day away. He never yielded to the post-traumatic stress and the melancholy that came with it.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Anxiety could give way to manic euphoria, much as it had when he realized he survived the first Reaper attack, but he didn’t know whether other veterans felt the same. He embraced the supercharged good feelings as often as he could, aware that he had probably lost his mind more than once. He scanned his environment and remained ready for anything, though the cinematic big screen in his head played continually.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin heard his younger voice screaming at his platoon as Reapers charged across sand and rocks. Sergeant Kin Roland, Class IV Weapons Master and unit commander, gathered his men and retreated behind a smoking row of Colossal Class Battle Tanks. The Fleet’s war machines leveled two cities before the Reaper ambush annihilated them.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin glanced at the unit motto stenciled on the side of an armor panel. Unstoppable HOE.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Unstoppable Hell on Earth. Tanker humor.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“First and Third squads, choose your targets. Fire at will.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>How do animals without heavy weapons destroy a CCBT column?</i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Burns tattooed broken hatches. Metal rods jutted from multiple barrels of each tank. Segmented wheel treads stretched across the ground—dead metallic snakes—sad, lost, and betrayed.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Second and Fourth squads, hold right and left flanks.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hundreds of deadly humanoids charged Kin’s unit, armed with fists of lightning that they could throw a hundred meters and swords wreathed in fire. He had never seen Reapers like this. They reminded him of shock troops, aggressive and well-armed. Their leader carried a whip that cut burning arcs in the air, splashing acid in all directions. Weapons were a new development for Reapers but their fearsome ingenuity unnerved Kin.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Reapers roared, voices full of clicks and scraping sounds.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Double perimeter,” he ordered.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">His best troopers moved to fire large caliber rifles and plasma guns, using the damaged tanks as cover. Some climbed on the twisted metal turrets for better advantage. They opened fire. Scores of enemies went down. Few stayed down.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Fall back,” Kin ordered.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The outer line of soldiers ran for cover while the second team opened fire to protect them as they hustled toward new positions. Kin’s unit was being pushed back as far as they could go without fleeing into the desert. No cover or concealment existed beyond the Tanks. The Reapers would drive them beyond any source of water or refuge. One step into the sandy waste was a death sentence.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">His unit fired weapons, but started edging back. They were good soldiers, but every one of them had seen how the Reapers fought. They didn’t kill in battle. That came afterward, when there was time for torture. The beasts liked to eat living meat.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Stand fast! Hold your ground!” he yelled, when his men looked like they were about to break. “Hand to hand. Weapons up.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kin led the way with a sharp bayonet. He fired, charging into the wave of Reapers, never pausing to reload. The fight was close, bloody work, and he received more injuries through his armor than he could count. The rifle was torn from his hands. Without hesitation, he drew his sword—a weapon his superiors didn’t approve of—and thrust it through the mouth of a Reaper.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One of the psychotic beasts fell away from his attack after losing its hands. Another lost its head. The third refused to die even though the sword ran through its body. When he couldn’t free the blade, he abandoned it, hacking with the axe he pulled from the back of his armor. He didn’t see his unit through the enemies surrounding him, but had little time to search for them with Reapers slashing with claws and flaming weapons.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Just keep killing. Take care of business. Regroup later</i>. But Kin knew there would be no time to regroup. <i>Too many. I’m sorry, Becca, there are too many</i>.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mental images tormented him. He couldn’t understand the visions he saw, but felt each thought as a physical pressure in his brain. When he could no longer lift the axe or remain standing, he fell to his knees. Reapers pounced on him. He suddenly understood why he couldn’t see his unit. They had fled—every one of them.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/enemyOfMan.jpg" /></span></span></div>
<h2 style="background-color: white; line-height: 40px; margin: 10px 0px; text-align: center; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
Lost Hero</span></span></h2>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Changed by captivity and torture, hunted by the Reapers of Hellsbreach and wanted by Earth Fleet, Kin Roland hides on a lost planet near an unstable wormhole.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When a distant space battle propels a ravaged Earth Fleet Armada through the same wormhole, a Reaper follows, hunting for the man who burned his home world. Kin fights to save a mysterious native of Crashdown from the Reaper and learns there are worse things in the galaxy than the nightmare hunting him. The end is coming and he is about to pay for a sin that will change the galaxy forever. </span></span></div>
<h2 style="background-color: white; line-height: 40px; margin: 10px 0px; text-align: center; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
Books</span></span></h2>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Enemy of Man: Book One in the Chronicles of Kin Roland was written for fans of military science fiction and science fiction adventure. Readers who enjoyed Starship Troopers or Space Marines will appreciate this genre variation. Powered armor only gets a soldier so far. Battlefield experience, guts, and loyal friends make Armageddon fun. </span></span></div>
<h2 style="background-color: white; line-height: 40px; margin: 10px 0px; text-align: center; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
Movies</span></span></h2>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you love movies like Aliens, Predator, The Chronicles of Riddick, or Serenity, then you might find the heroes and creatures in Enemy of Man dangerous, determined, and ready to risk it all. It’s all about action and suspense, with a dash of romance—or perhaps flash romance. </span></span></div>
<h2 style="background-color: white; line-height: 40px; margin: 10px 0px; text-align: center; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
From the Author</span></span></h2>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Thanks for your interest in my novel, Enemy of Man. I hope you chose to read the book and enjoy every page. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you have already read Enemy of Man, how was it? Reviews are appreciated! </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Have a great day and be safe.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Enemy-Man-Chronicles-Kin-Roland-ebook/dp/B00DAIQO9A?tag=booaremag-20" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Science Fiction</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – R</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Scott-Moon/e/B0082VIWL8/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <b>Connect</b> with Scott Moon on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/scottmoonwriter" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a> & <a href="https://twitter.com/Scottmoonwriter" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
Mickalia Peckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00019698247961366566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-55552435210249792232014-08-28T08:00:00.000-04:002014-09-04T08:54:18.866-04:00@TheobaldSprague on Family, Reading & Writing #AmWriting #AmReading #Memoir <div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrnu05c3qHEXsPu7IrYi4M-AvweUzuqCe9b0_lWh26QjdltB2A-AjaKmy3sKoEpMiqNwRJeN3FM9VhA3T6lstoCZrFmYWS33Zj2B7U9pYsWCo6e56QH_wVZVPM8EtDNWeludS9UeC26gA1/s1600/2e2cb351aec0cb041d5f3fd540ea0502.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrnu05c3qHEXsPu7IrYi4M-AvweUzuqCe9b0_lWh26QjdltB2A-AjaKmy3sKoEpMiqNwRJeN3FM9VhA3T6lstoCZrFmYWS33Zj2B7U9pYsWCo6e56QH_wVZVPM8EtDNWeludS9UeC26gA1/s1600/2e2cb351aec0cb041d5f3fd540ea0502.jpeg" height="320" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>What are you most proud of in your personal life?</b></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">MY SON</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>What books did you love growing up?</b></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A.A.MILNE, ANYTHING ILLUSTRATED BY N. C. WYETH, DOCTOR DOOLITTLE, MR. POPPER’S PENGUINS, E. B. WHITE</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>Who is your favorite author?</b></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">COLUM MCCANN</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>What book genre of books do you adore?</b></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">MEMOIR</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>What book should everybody read at least once?</b></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>Is there any books you really don’t enjoy?</b></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">CELEBRITY AUTOBIOGRAPHIES</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>What do you hope your obituary will day about you?</b></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I JUST HOPE MY NAME IS SPELLED RIGHT</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>Location and life experiences can really influence writing, tell us where you grew up and where you now live?</b></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
GREW UP IN VIRGINIA WHERE THE WINTERS WERE TOUGH, THE SUMMERS LONG, HOT
AND HUMID AND THE PEOPLE RICH IN SPIRIT. I CURRENTLY LIVE IN CT WHERE
THE HISTORY OF OUR COUNTRY IS JUST ABOUT BEHIND EVERY TREE</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>How did you develop your writing?</i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’VE
ALWAYS TRIED TO LISTEN FOR THE DIALOGUE AND STORY LINE RATHER THAN
MANUFACTURE IT. I ALSO TRIED MY HARDEST TO LISTEN TO CONSTRUCTIVE
CRITICISM, “CONSTRUCTIVE” BEING THE OPERATIVE WORD.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>Where do you get your inspiration from?</b></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">THAT WHICH I HEAR AND SEE</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>What is hardest – getting published, writing or marketing?</i></b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">FOR
ME MARKETING IS BY HARD THE HARDEST. I AM NOT A PERSON WHO CAN PROMOTE
HIMSELF EASILY. IN FACT IN THE PAST IN MY MARKETING EFFORTS I’VE USUALLY
DONE MYSELF MORE HARM THAN GOOD!</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/TheOtherSideOfIce.jpg" /></span></span></div>
<div id="postBodyPS" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; text-align: center;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">( <b>TO WATCH THE OFFICIAL HD TEASER FOR “The Other Side of The Ice” [book and documentary] PLEASE GO TO:</b> <i><b>VIMEO.COM/45526226) </b></i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A sailor and his family’s harrowing and inspiring story of their attempt to sail the treacherous Northwest Passage.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sprague
Theobald, an award-winning documentary filmmaker and expert sailor with
over 40,000 offshore miles under his belt, always considered the
Northwest Passage–the sea route connecting the Atlantic to the
Pacific–the ultimate uncharted territory. Since Roald Amundsen completed
the first successful crossing of the fabled Northwest Passage in 1906,
only twenty-four pleasure craft have followed in his wake. Many more
people have gone into space than have traversed the Passage, and a
staggering number have died trying. From his home port of Newport, Rhode
Island, through the Passage and around Alaska to Seattle, it would be
an 8,500-mile trek filled with constant danger from ice, polar bears,
and severe weather.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What
Theobald couldn’t have known was just how life-changing his journey
through the Passage would be. Reuniting his children and stepchildren
after a bad divorce more than fifteen years earlier, the family embarks
with unanswered questions, untold hurts, and unspoken mistrusts hanging
over their heads. Unrelenting cold, hungry polar bears, and a haunting
landscape littered with sobering artifacts from the tragic Franklin
Expedition of 1845, as well as personality clashes that threaten to tear
the crew apart, make The Other Side of the Ice a harrowing story of
survival, adventure, and, ultimately, redemption.</span></span><br />
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: 10px;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Other-Side-Ice-Treacherous-Negotiating-ebook/dp/B008QD8OTC/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=8-1&qid=1396289433" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Memoir, adventure, family, climate</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=Sprague%20Theobald&search-alias=digital-text" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <b>Connect</b> with Sprague Theobald on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/TheOtherSideoftheIce" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a> & <a href="https://twitter.com/TheobaldSprague" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Website <a class="in-cell-link" href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.spraguetheobald.com&usd=2&usg=ALhdy2-hqap-1OaYQfgpmkVVaj6tZwQK7A" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">www.spraguetheobald.com</a></b></span></span></div>
</div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-14297393250250223482014-08-26T08:30:00.000-04:002014-10-18T11:01:53.617-04:00ANNA'S SECRET by @MargaretWestlie #AmReading #Mystery #HistFic<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">Angus
paused at the top of the rise that overlooked Anna’s house. Its setting
was framed by the distant blue of the Northumberland Strait. The
whitewashed house, trimmed in red, nestled in the hollow, flanked by the
two barns and the workshop, also whitewashed. A long row of tall fir
trees grew close behind, protecting the little farmhouse and its
outbuildings from the vicious winter winds that could sweep across
Prince Edward Island burying small houses, such as this, in drifts up to
the eaves, and freezing a person to his very marrow. Angus shivered and
hastened down the track.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">I
helped Ian build the big barn, and my father and my grandfather helped
his father build this house, he thought. Anna planted those chestnut
trees by the front door the day they were married. They’ve grown tall
since then, but they’ve never produced nuts. A strange thing. He rounded
the corner of the house and knocked on the door.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">“Are you home, Ian?” He pushed the door open with the toe of his shoe.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">“I am.” Ian’s voice sounded tired and far away.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">Angus
stepped into the sunlit kitchen, the bloody axe forgotten in his hands.
His friend looked ill, weary-faced and worn, his eyes were red-rimmed
and blood shot. His thick grey beard was still streaked with black and
the hair on his head was grey too, except for the cowlick of black
springing up from the front above his right eyebrow. He seemed rumpled
and unkempt, and a little wild. He hunched his broad shoulders as if to
ward off a blow.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">“Where’s Donald?” asked Angus.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">“Finishing
the chores.” Ian was standing by the unlit stove, his hands busy
shaving kindling off a stick of wood with the kitchen knife. “Have you
found her, then?” He stared hard at the axe in Angus’ hands.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">“We
found her. Neil found her. They’re bringing her soon.” Angus followed
Ian’s gaze, for the first time realizing that he still held the weapon.
He almost dropped it in his haste to conceal it behind his back. “I’m
sorry, I forgot to set this down.” His ruddy cheeks turned a darker
shade of red.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">“She’s dead, is she?” Ian stopped making kindling and stood waiting for the answer.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">“She’s been murdered.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">Ian stood silently taking in the words. “It was bound to happen,” he said at last.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">“Now why would you say that?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">Ian
looked back at his friend, his blue eyes filled with tears. He blinked
hard. “I knew about her from the very first time, and every time after
that.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">“You didn’t…?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">“I
suppose that’s what they’ll all be saying when the word gets around.”
He sighed. “No, it wasn’t I, though I have more reason than anyone. Is
that the weapon?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">“It would seem so.” Angus drew the axe out from behind his back.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">“Whose is it?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">“I
don’t know. I’ve never seen it before. I suppose we’ll have to notify
the constable. This thing’s too big for us. Though what good he’ll be, I
don’t know.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">Ian
stood in silence for some seconds, then said, “I was just making Donald
and me a bite of breakfast. Will you have some?” He turned toward the
stove.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">“I wouldn’t trouble you at a time like this. I should be making you breakfast.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA">Ian shrugged. “We must go on, and to do that we must eat.” He began preparing the meal.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="Bodyparagraph" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-CA"><img src="http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/annasSecret.jpg" /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Anna
Gillis, the midwife and neighbour in Mattie’s Story, has been found
killed. The close-knit community is deeply shaken by this eruption of
violence, and neighbours come together to help one another and to
discover the perpetrator. But the answer lies Anna’s secret, long
guarded by Old Annie, the last of the original Selkirk Settlers, and the
protagonist of An Irregular Marriage. Join the community! Read Anna’s
Secret and other novels by Margaret A. Westlie.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IEEXUMO" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Amazon</a> & <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/418795" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Smashwords</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Fiction, mystery, historical</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – G</i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Margaret-Westlie/e/B00HZRKK10" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <b>Connect</b> with Margaret Westlie on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/margaretwestlienovelist" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a> & <a href="https://twitter.com/MargaretWestlie" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Website <a class="in-cell-link" href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.margaretwestlie.com&usd=2&usg=ALhdy29ilE1Iu2yMnk-3FJ1ZhE-qq3C3Qg" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.margaretwestlie.com</a></b></span></span></div>
Quality Reads UKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216387289293473067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-57807101108760049102014-08-16T08:30:00.000-04:002014-09-02T15:38:21.687-04:00HIGH MAGA by Karin Rita Gastreich @EolynChronicles #AmReading #Fantasy #GoodReads<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Eolyn’s words drifted into silence. She bit her lip and looked away.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“The Queen is with child.” Renate stepped forward, her sharp tone a fine match for that hawkish face. “She is about two months along, my Lord King. This is the primary reason for her indisposition.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Felton clapped his hands in joy. “Praise the Gods!”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Akmael watched Eolyn. She did not return his gaze but instead studied her hands, working restlessly against each other. The memory of their recent nights stirred inside him, like wind through the high branches of an ancient fir, beautiful and poignant. Ephemeral in time, enduring in the imagination.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“We would recommend the Queen return to the King’s City as soon as possible,” continued Renate, shoulders stiff and back as straight as an arrow. “Preferably by litter. She should not mount a horse again, not until the baby comes to term. Do you not agree, Maga Eolyn?”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Eolyn blinked at the sound of her name and nodded. “Yes, of course. She requires a warmer climate and the comfort of her home, if the baby is to come to term successfully.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Akmael turned to Felton. “Have a litter readied by morning, and send a messenger at once to the City to advise High Mage Rezlyn. He is to meet us in Rhiemsaven. We will send her by royal barge from there to Moisehén.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“As you wish, my Lord King.” Felton bowed and started down the hall, muttering his list of tasks and marking them on chubby fingers.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Akmael turned his attention back to Eolyn and Renate. The High Maga had retreated to her own thoughts, while the older woman watched him with arched brows and an unabashed stare.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“It would seem the Queen disposed of the herbs we sent the other day,” Renate said, “an unfortunate decision as they would have been of great help to her now.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“We will gather additional medicines this afternoon and have a fresh bundle sent by evening.” Eolyn spoke as if measuring her words to soften Renate’s accusatory tone. “The Queen must make use of them, otherwise it will be a hard journey from here to Rhiemsaven.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I will see it done,” Akmael replied.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Eolyn nodded. Her hand drifted to her throat and found the silver web at its base, a jewel of magic that he had given to her long ago. “I suppose we are finished here, then. If it pleases you, my Lord King, Renate and I will take our leave.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Maga Renate is dismissed. I would have a word with you alone, Maga Eolyn, before you depart.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Renate set her lips in a firm line, and directed a questioning gaze at her companion.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Eolyn’s shoulders deflated, but she laid a hand on the old maga’s arm and said, “Find Sir Borten and have him prepare the horses, would you, Renate? You can wait for me in the courtyard. I won’t be a moment.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Renate gave a stiff bow and departed.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Akmael drew close to Eolyn and invoked a sound ward about them. She did not retreat, nor did she move to touch him. In her fingers she cradled the jewel woven by his mother, the silver web that had brought them together as children in the South Woods. It seemed a lifetime ago, a world forever lost.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A quiet sob broke on her lips. “I have been such a fool.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I was the one who overstepped my bounds. Forgive me, Eolyn. It was not my intention—”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I am not speaking of these nights, recently passed.” Her hand found his, their fingers intertwined. “I walked away from you, my love. I turned my back on this gift the Gods had given us, because I was frightened—so very terrified—and of what? Of you? All you ever did was love me. ”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I was not so perfect in my affection.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“You were my only Caradoc. I see that now, and it is too late.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Her words felt small inside the growing void of his soul, though they would have filled him with pleasure just a few years before. He touched her cheek and then drew her into his embrace, inhaling the honey-and-wood scent of her hair. A verse came to mind from his childhood days, a song his mother had sung, and he recited it now as he held Eolyn close. “Caradoc waited for his one true love, withstanding the tides of tempest and sun. Caradoc defied the cruel threats of time, and received his Aithne when her journey was done.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Eolyn laughed into his chest, a bright sound that invoked images of the sun-flecked woods. She withdrew and looked at him, a mischievous glint in her brown eyes. “That mage had no crown upon his fair head. A King needs an heir before he is dead.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The improvised verse amused him, but even as he allowed himself a smile the merriment drained from her features.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Her eyes drifted toward Taesara’s room, and she murmured, “I would have born your children with love. Just as she will do, I could have done—that, and so much more.”</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Akmael felt something rupture inside, an old wound he now knew would never heal.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I should leave,” she said, but her lips met his instead.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Lands Ravaged. Dreams destroyed. Demons set loose upon the earth.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">War strikes at the heart of women’s magic in Moisehén. Eolyn’s fledgling community of magas is destroyed; its members killed, captured or scattered.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Devastated yet undaunted, Eolyn seeks to escape the occupied province and deliver to King Akmael a weapon that might secure their victory. But even a High Maga cannot survive this enemy alone. Aided by the enigmatic Mage Corey, Eolyn battles the darkest forces of the Underworld, only to discover she is a mere path to the magic that most ignites their hunger.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What can stop this tide of terror and vengeance? The answer lies in Eolyn’s forgotten love, and in its power to engender seeds of renewed hope.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">HIGH MAGA is the companion novel to EOLYN, also available from Hadley Rille Books.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Now @ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/High-Maga-Karin-Rita-Gastreich-ebook/dp/B00JDZIO5Q/ref=la_B004HU1RGU_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1397323742&sr=1-1&tag=booaremag-20" style="text-decoration: none;">Amazon</a> & <a href="http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/high-maga" style="text-decoration: none;">Kobo</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre – Epic Fantasy</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating – PG-13</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Karin-Rita-Gastreich/e/B004HU1RGU/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Connect</b> with Karin Rita Gastreich on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Eolyn/110814625640244" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a> & <a href="https://twitter.com/EolynChronicles" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Blog <a href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://eolynchronicles.blogspot.com&usd=2&usg=ALhdy2_84aUJu2O6T41SkckWxz594UIHsg" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://eolynchronicles.blogspot.com</a></b></span></span></div>
Mickalia Peckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00019698247961366566noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4085474699110855148.post-29838080897220925462014-08-13T08:30:00.000-04:002014-09-25T05:25:44.294-04:00@GaryTroia on Publishing & Rejections #AmWriting #WriteTip #Authors <div style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>So, you’ve written your book, found an agent, your agent has matched your book with a publisher. What next?</b></span></span></div>
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<li style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>It can take one year before your book is in print. </b>Throughout the year you will receive two or three rounds of edits, then copyedits, then line edits. You’ll be asked to proof the cover copy of your book. A bio and a professional headshot will be created. Blurbs need to be written. At least 3 months before publication your book will be sent to reviews and the press for pre-publication reviews and to bookshops.<span style="line-height: 1.5em;"> </span></span></span></li>
<li style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>You may or may not be lucky enough to have a publicist, either way you still have to market your own book. </b>If you are fortunate enough, you might have a book tour. But touring Authors around the country is expensive, don’t expect any-more travelling by coach! You need to market yourself in any way possible, talk to local papers, radio shows, apply to be a guest at local conferences or speak at libraries, book clubs or schools. And don’t forget social media twitter, Facebook etc…<span style="line-height: 1.5em;"> </span></span></span></li>
<li style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 1.5em;">You get to select your book cover. </b><span style="line-height: 1.5em;">This is very unlikely, the book cover is usually the work of an art department, with the opinions of everyone from the editor, publisher, marketing and PR departments. Everyone has their say but you!</span></span></span></li>
<li style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 1.5em;">You still get rejections</b><span style="line-height: 1.5em;">. It’s true. Just because you have a publisher doesn’t mean that your new manuscripts or proposals won’t be rejected. </span></span></span></li>
<li style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="line-height: 1.5em;">You will still be poor</b><span style="line-height: 1.5em;">. If you are extremely lucky your book will make enough money so you can quit your job, the average book advance is a mere £3,000-£5,000 then you have to wait a year until it is in print-then if you’re fortunate enough to sell tens of thousands of copies you may be in a position to quit your day job.</span></span></span></li>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">For the first time ever, this collection of short stories by Gary Troia brings together, in chronological order stories and memoirs from Spanish Yarns and Beyond, English Yarns and Beyond and A Bricklayer’s Tales into one complete volume.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>“Excellent!</b> A collection of short stories about depression, alcoholism and drug use. Very compelling reading. I read this short story collection all in one go.” (Maria, Goodreads.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>A Bricklayer’s Tales</i> is the ultimate “I hate this job” story, written as a collection of short stories and memoirs, each one revealing a snapshot in the life of Ray. Troia captures the tedium of working in a low paid, menial job and living hand to mouth. This book of short stories is sad and questions the reader to ask questions about their own life. This book achieves clarity without trying.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ray has three expensive hobbies: drinking, drugs, and running away. Without the income that Bricklaying provides, he would not be able to maintain his chosen lifestyle, so he compromises his principles and continues with his trade.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A collection of short stories and memoirs that include:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>The Cuckoo’s Egg.</b> Boyhood antics lead to tragedy.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>My Grandfather’s Shed.</b> The making of an English key</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>No Comb on the Cock.</b> Gypsies, champion fighting cocks, and career choices.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>What I Did In My Summer Holidays In 1000 Words.</b> Could having an idea ever be considered a criminal act?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>My Best Mate’s Head.</b> Did a weekend of boozing save Ray from certain death?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>The Shetland Isles.</b> A trip to sunny Benidorm, a chance meeting with some Glaswegians, and a cold, miserable job in Lerwick.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Pointing a House in Islington.</b> Too much alcohol and cocaine don’t mix well on building sites!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Angel Dust. T</b>he peculiar story of a man whose new life in America leads to conversations with Ancient Greek philosophers</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Peyote.</b> Hippies, LSD and an idyllic refuge</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Return Ticket.</b> Handcuffed and ready for deportation. A sad departure from the States</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>When I Joined a Cult.</b> Sober dating as Ray discovers religion.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Bilbao</b>. How very, very English!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Teaching Other People.</b> The grass is always greener-the escape from bricklaying.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>A Week in the Life of Ray Dennis.</b> With the prospect of no money for food or alcohol this Christmas, Ray has to find work quickly.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Catania. </b>A meeting with a Sicilian fox, some Neapolitans, and a man with a camel haired coat.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Advert In The Art Shop Window. </b>Will a new building job in Spain be the start of a new life?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Gaudi. </b>A flight to Barcelona for a kebab, and a look at the <i>Sagrada Familia.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>The Day My Soul Left Me. </b>“To be or not to be? That is the question”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>How Not to Travel to The Alhambra<i>. </i></b>Hung-over, the wrong fuel, the car breaks down. Will they ever make it to Granada?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>The Road To Ronda. </b>A terrifying drive to Ronda, was it worth it?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Poking A Carob Tree</b>. A new home and new neighbours, just in time for Christmas.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Spain Reborn</b>.No more commuting to London. Lets celebrate!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Home From Home</b><i>. </i>A parallel world where the Spanish have taken over Weymouth.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Three Common Carp</b>.An epic battle with a whale and marlin it is not.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Mrs. McClintock.</b> An absurd farce in which a Glaswegian couple retire to Spain</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Steak, Egg and Intensive Care. </b>A harmless dinner leads to hospitalisation.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>The Unchangeable Chameleon. </b>Can a leopard change it’s spots?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>A Bricklayer’s Tale. </b>The story of a disillusioned, alcoholic bricklayer</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A collection short stories and memoirs of British dark humour.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="line-height: 1.5em;">Buy Now @ </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Complete-Short-Stories-Gary-Troia-ebook/dp/B00IR1F9MI/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1397639934&sr=1-1&keywords=short+stories%2CB00IR1F9MI" style="line-height: 1.5em; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Genre - Fiction, Short Stories</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Rating - PG-16</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>More details about <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gary-Troia/e/B00DXJC2OW/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">the author</a></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Connect</b> with Gary Troia on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/garytroia1" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Facebook</a> & <a href="https://twitter.com/GaryTroia" style="text-decoration: none;">Twitter</a></span></span></div>
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Mickalia Peckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00019698247961366566noreply@blogger.com0