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Tuesday, December 31, 2013

#AmReading - Ever-Flowing Streams by Dana Taylor @SupernalDana

Ever-Flowing Streams by Dana Taylor

Amazon

What is “energy healing” and how can it change your life? “Ever-Flowing Streams: Tapping into Healing Energy” follows the path of one woman on a journey from middle class mom to Reiki Master. A lifelong medical mystery leads to studying alternative medicine traditions including Chinese herbs, essential oils, Eastern medicine, and past life therapy. In 2005 an encounter with a Reiki energy worker becomes a life changing healing experience. Ultimately, the book encourages readers to discover their own healing capabilities and take charge of their own physical and mental well-being.

Sunday, December 29, 2013

#Free - Hannah’s Dream by Lenore Butler @ALJambor

Hannah’s Dream by Lenore Butler

Amazon Kindle US

Genre – Historical Romance

Rating – PG

5 (6 reviews)

Free until 30 December 2013

A sweet historical set in 1895
Hannah Dawes is an enchanting strawberry blond who is betrothed to the boy next door.  When his father sends him a hundred miles away to become a doctor, Hannah vows to wait for him.  When he marries another, she's hurt, but she's not down for long.  Hannah has a dream, and the gumption to see it through.  Drawn to the colors in the church's stained glass windows, she abandons the sandcastle sculptures she shared with her former beau and embraces painting with color.  She draws inspiration from the wild Atlantic ocean and when the family fortune is lost and she is forced to move to Colorado, Hannah is heartbroken - until she sees the Rocky Mountains and a cowboy named Adam.
Adam is a shy man who loves horses and thinks he'll spend his life on the range.  But when he
sets eyes on the saucy, red-haired Hannah, he's smitten.  He hasn't known many women, and that Hannah is a strange one.  At first, he retreats when she gets riled up, which seems to be all the time, and she doesn't think he likes her, and when he tries to talk to her, his lack of sophistication frustrates her.  But there is something about the sweet cowboy that stays with her, and even when she meets a handsome and rich doctor, she can't get Adam out of her mind.
While they try to find common ground, Hannah and Adam grow to love one another, but someone from Hannah's past has come to Colorado to steal her away and won't let anyone stand in his way.  Will he keep Hannah and Adam apart?
Settle into an sweet, old-fashioned romance and get lost in Hannah's Dream.

Fool for Love by Merry Farmer @MerryFarmer20

FoolForLove

Eric Quinlan was born a cowboy and a rancher and intends to die a cowboy and a rancher. But when his ranch is in danger of failing, he travels to the wilds of London looking for a business deal to save it. What he finds there are stuffed shirts, odd manners, and a damsel in distress.

Amelia Elphick’s life is over. She may have been born a lady, but when she finds herself jilted by a lover who leaves her pregnant and refuses to marry her, she seems destined for a life on the streets. When her employer’s rough but handsome houseguest, Eric, offers to rescue her from ruin, she has no choice but to say yes, even if it means moving halfway around the world.

But Amelia finds herself saying yes to more than a ticket west. What starts with a harmless lie tangles Amelia and Eric in a web of desire and deceit that exposes passions and turns their worlds upside-down. Eric believes Amelia holds the key to saving his beloved ranch and giving him the family he always wanted, but can he save her from the demons of her past without losing himself in the process?

People do foolish things when they’re in love….

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre - Western Historical Romance

Rating – R

More details about the author

Connect with Merry Farmer on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://merryfarmer.net

Saturday, December 28, 2013

#AmReading - Picture Perfect by Janice Thompson @booksbyjanice

Picture Perfect by Janice Thompson

Amazon

Feisty wedding photographer Hannah McDermott has dealt with her share of difficult brides. But none can compare to the ultimate Bridezilla she's dealing with now. Still, she's trying desperately to impress Bella Neeley, Galveston Island's most sought-after wedding planner, so she can take the top spot in Bella's list of recommended photographers--a spot currently occupied by her arch-rival, Drew Kincaid. What she doesn't count on, however, is falling head over heels for the competition.
With her contagious humor and cast of quirky characters, Janice Thompson gives readers more of the bridal business drama they want in a brand-new series all about those long-suffering people who make beautiful weddings happen. Readers are desperately waiting for more of Bella and this new series brings her back in a big way, while introducing new characters fans will love. Fans will laugh out loud as they experience this breezy and entertaining novel from a great storyteller.

The Curse Giver by Dora Machado @DoraMachado

Chapter Five
THE NEXT FEW DAYS WERE LOST to Lusielle. Her life was a jumbled sequence of snippets, blurry images breaking up long periods of dense darkness, triggered by a sudden jostle or a twinge of pain, cold, heat or thirst. She spotted glimpses of a gray sky, spitting out rain, and campfires burning deep in the woods. There was more rain, and a face—his face—hovering just beyond reach.
Occasionally, sound trickled into her muffled world from a distant place. The wind rustled through the trees. The horses’ hooves pounded on dirt, gravel, and mud. Men spoke, snorted, muttered and snored. A low, measured voice—his voice—echoed very near, urging her to drink, eat or sleep, accompanied by the pervasive masculine scent that was her constant companion.
There were times when she came to just enough to realize that she existed in the world in-between, where gods and mortals met in dreams, where dreams and reality were one and the same. In those moments, she realized that she survived only because of someone else’s will, that if she wanted a future, she had to wake up and seize it. She kept trying, even though it required great effort, like swimming against a colossal tide.
“This way,” the voice said.
She felt listless as a corpse, but she grabbed on to that voice and followed it to a semblance of consciousness. Fighting her heavy eyelids, she managed to glimpse the man’s stern face, outlined against a background of pewter clouds.
Brennus.
She rode with him on his horse, wrapped in an oiled mantle, mostly protected from the rain. His strong arms kept her from slipping off the massive beast. His armored chest offered a hard but steady pillow. The beat of his heart echoed through the copper plates, strong, vibrant, and enthralling.
He must have realized that she was awake, because his stare swooped down on her like a hawk on the prowl, even though his voice was gentle. “Hush,” he said. “We won’t be too much longer on the road today.”
His eyes were lined with worry and exhaustion. So were the faces of the other men who rode with him. All of them were wet, tired and miserable, picking their way up a steep mountain track as the relentless rain continued to pelt them. That same rain was dripping from Brennus’s face, drenching his hair and trickling down his neck.
“The rain,” she whispered. “It’s making you wet.” She reached out to dry the water from his face, but the wound on her back protested with a pang of pain.
He caught her hand and tucked it back into the blanket. “It’s no use,” he said. “You can’t keep me dry.”
“One can try,” she said.
And he actually smiled.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“South of nowhere and north of wherever,” he said. “Far from the usual routes. We’re seven days out.”
Seven days was an awful long time to be senseless among strangers.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Riva’s not going to find us.”
She winced when the horse missed a step.
“Hato!” Brennus called.
Why was he barking like that?
There was splashing, the sound of hooves clattering and then, “My lord?”
“We’ve got to stop. The fever’s back and she’s hurting again.”
“No place to stop around here, my lord,” the other man said.
“Send Severo and Cirillo ahead,” he said. “Tell them to find a decent camp and get a fire going. She’s got to rest.”
“My lord,” he said, “we have pressing business. We can’t slow down to accommodate her comfort—”
“Do you want her alive or not?”
The other man sighed. “As you wish, my lord.” He rode away.
She tried to tell him that she was fine, but ended up whimpering instead.
“Shush,” he whispered in her ear. “You need to sleep.”
And by the Thousand Gods, off she went, at his command, into the darkness again, following his heart’s steady rhythm as it sang a lullaby to her heart.
Curse Giver
Award-Winning Finalist in the fantasy category of The 2013 USA Best Book Awards, sponsored by USA Book News
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Fantasy/Dark Fantasy
Rating – PG-18
More details about the author and the book
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Living The Testimony by Deidre Havrelock @deidrehavrelock

My Personal Testimony

I grew up in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, as a Cree/Irish borderline Catholic girl, meaning this half-breed rarely went to Mass. However, I did pray every night. I absolutely loved God and believed in Him deeply. Being Catholic, I had heard about Jesus. In fact, my favorite song was “Away in a Manger.” Whenever I was scared, which was often, I would sing this song. But I imagined Jesus to be a fairytale—a fantasy about a perfect God coming to save people. He was just for good thoughts. He was in no way a reality.

Despite my vague belief in Jesus, my relationship with God seemed deep. I would have conversations with my invisible God; I would tell God I loved Him. And I certainly did love Him. Although, I was becoming a bit frustrated with Him because of my dreary life circumstance. You see, my dad drank—a lot. And this stress, along with the stress of my quickly emerging spiritual life, was simply too overwhelming.

As a child I lived with a strange secret. I sensed an ominous yet deeply intriguing spiritual force in my home. I simply assumed a ghost lived in my house. To convolute matters even more, when I was just seven, a man with fire for hair appeared to me in a dream, forcing me to marry him in front of an upside-down cross. He told me in the dream, “Don’t worry, you have been chosen.” From this point on, I completely believed I was married to the devil—irrevocably dark and aligned with evil.

Fortunately, this dream did motivate me to dig my heels in and search for God. I figured only God could get me divorced from the devil. But instead my search led me to Fred, a kind spirit I met in grade four through a Ouija board. Being Cree, spirits were nothing new to me. My mom’s family always talked about spirits. Most of my aunts and uncles were scared of the spirits or ghosts they saw in their dreams and in their houses, but my grandmother told me the spirits were there to help and protect us. I wasn’t quite sure what to believe. I was confused. After all, the spirits I sensed around me and the ones I saw in my dreams scared me, too. But then again, Fred seemed different. This spirit was nice. He was funny. Fred told me through the Ouija board that his job was to protect and watch over me. Eventually, I began telling myself that spirits just felt creepy, but once you got to know them they could be nice. Especially, if you were nice to them.

Fred became my constant companion. But one day, in grade six, after my best friend’s dad tried to molest me and just after my uncle Glen (who had sexually molested me as a small child) came to live with us in our home, I had a nervous breakdown. While left home alone with Glen, I grabbed a butcher knife and ran to my room to hide. Once in my bedroom, instead of picking up my Ouija board to call on Fred, I cried out to God, telling Him I wanted to kill myself. Suddenly I heard a voice speak out loud: “When you are big everything will be okay.” It was God; He spoke to me. He was real.3 I told God I’d hang on until I was big, which obviously, to a twelve-year-old mind, meant eighteen.

By age sixteen, things seemed to have miraculously changed for the better. First of all, my dad was now inexplicably healed from alcoholism. Second, I was introduced by my high school teacher to a New Age transcendental meditation and channeling group that met weekly in the back room of a small bookstore.4 I was so excited. I thought for sure—in this extremely spiritual group—I would find God and get my divorce from Satan.

This group also told me spirits were good and helpful. However, a few sessions later, I found myself strangely altered after my spirit guide Fred, along with another extremely violent spirit, entered my body during group meditation and refused to leave. A member of the group did attempt to help me force these spirits from my body, but the endeavor failed. Consequently, I was kicked out of my New Age group for having bad karma. This meant I was the one attracting these evil spirits to the group—because I was evil. I left the group feeling deeply hurt, misunderstood, and very aware of being “chosen” by the devil.5

A school friend of mine named Doug, who had joined the channeling group with me, then suggested, without knowing anything about my spiritual past, that I study Satanism. His brother had a Satanic Bible.6 After flatly declining, I began dreaming I was killing people. I also dreamed of horrible evil creatures. Rats invading my house was a common dream, and the devil with fire for hair began reappearing in my dreams, growing angrier every time I refused to follow him. When I turned eighteen, I gave up on spirituality. I simply wouldn’t choose Satan and God had failed to show up and save me.

When I was twenty-two years old, now bulimic/anorexic, depressed, and suffering from intense back pain, my life took an unexpected turn when at work God surprisingly spoke to me again saying, “This is the man whom you shall marry.” That man was DJ, a young man who worked in the same office as I did. Eventually DJ and I began dating, and even though we seemed to have nothing in common—because I was convinced that God had sent him to help me—on our third date, I opened up to him, describing to him my nightmares and my spirit guide, Fred. Of course, I worried DJ might consider me crazy, but instead he said, “I’m here to help.”7

It was a few weeks later that DJ opened up to me, explaining how he believed in Jesus. He told me he believed Jesus was alive. He told me Jesus could heal me and save me; and because he was God’s actual Son, he was the gateway to knowing and experiencing God. DJ asked me to simply trust Jesus.8

But I was more than a little doubtful. In fact, his Christian beliefs made me furious. It seemed idiotic for anyone to believe that a childhood fairytale could be true, and it seemed positively arrogant that DJ thought he knew and understood God. After all, why couldn’t God just save me Himself? What did He need Jesus for? Why was Jesus so important? I argued with DJ about the relevance of Jesus many times. Then one night, after arguing about Jesus yet again, my back flared up with pain. DJ asked if he could pray for me. I was uncomfortable with this but thought, What will it hurt?

As DJ prayed for me, particularly when he asked me to be healed “in the name of Jesus,” my back pain sharply escalated—then the voices began. It was just like during my channeling days. Spirits stirred inside me wanting to speak. Except this time they were enraged. As DJ continued praying, my body contorted as my muscles tightened; a low growl came from my lips. Within seconds, a thick black mass pulled out from my back and hovered above us. I remember huddling against DJ, whispering, “What is that?”

“It’s evil,” he said.

I was terrified. DJ, however, immediately told the evil spirits to “leave, in the name of Jesus.” Surprisingly, the blackness retreated back down inside me. I was horrified and confused, crying and shaking. I didn’t understand I was possessed. All I knew was that Fred and another spirit were living inside me; they were angry, extremely strong, and they absolutely hated the name Jesus.

DJ, now with clear confirmation that my problem was actually demonic possession, had to find help, but where was he to go? He wasn’t sure if his church leadership would believe him. DJ then met with a Christian girl, Audrey, who also worked in our office.9 She and DJ decided to bring me to her church. They hoped her pastor could pray for me and expel the evil spirits.10

DJ convinced me to attend a service. However, shortly after arriving at the church, I found myself running from the service after voices in my head told me to kill the pastor. I remember this pastor was preaching about Jesus being able to heal. The whole service felt strange and uncomfortable to me, but DJ convinced me to go back to this church two more times. Each time I returned, the strength and rage of the voices grew and my strange back pain returned. Finally, much too terrorized and confused to go on, I refused to go back. I told DJ talking about Jesus aggravated my problems, so the solution was obviously not to talk about him.

Living the testimony

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Christian Living

Rating – G

More details about the author

Connect with Deidre Havrelock on Twitter

Website www.deidrehavrelock.com

The Colors of Friendship by K. R. Raye @KRRaye

Moving On

Lance flicked his wrist and checked his watch.  Yes, 5:00 p.m. on the dot.  With a smile he knocked on the girls’ dorm room door ready to tackle their English study session.  Even though they each pursued different majors: Melody, Communications; Imani, Chemical Engineering; and he studied Business; they all made a vow at orientation to align their core Freshmen classes and liberal arts electives whenever possible. 

He heard movement behind the door as one of the girls checked through the peephole and then Imani threw open the door.

Lance smiled and landed a peck on her cheek before he strolled inside. 

The phone rang and Imani shoved him towards it.  “Could you get that? It’s my mom,” she said heading towards the bathroom she shared with Melody and the two girls in the connecting room. 

Colors of Friendship

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – New Adult, Contemporary

Rating – R

More details about the author

Connect with K R Raye on Facebook and Twitter

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

The King of Sunday Morning by J.B. McCauley @MccauleyJay

King of Sunday Morning

The King of Sunday Morning is a geezer. Not in the traditional sense of the word as in old man. This geezer is a face, a wannabe, a top notch bloke. He is the greatest DJ that never was. He should have been. Could have been. Would have been. Now becoming a has-been.

Tray McCarthy was born into privilege but with the genetic coding of London’s violent East End. Having broken the underworld’s sacred honour code, it is only his family’s gangland connections that save him. But in return for his life, he must deny that which he has ever known or ever will be and runs to Australia where he is forced to live an inconsequential life.

But trouble never strays far from Tray McCarthy and eventually his past and present collide to put everyone he has ever loved in danger. He must now make a stand and fight against those that are set to destroy him and play their game according to his rules.

Set against the subterfuge and violence of the international drugs trade, The King of Sunday Morning is the tale of what can go wrong when you make bad decisions. Tray McCarthy has made some of the worst. He must now save those he holds dear but in the process gets trapped deeper and deeper into a world where he doesn’t belong.

“I want three pump-action shotguns, about twelve sticks of dynamite and a blowtorch”

THIS BOOK CONTAINS EXPLICIT LANGUAGE, FREQUENT DRUG USE AND SEX SCENES – NOT RECOMMENDED FOR PEOPLE UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE

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Genre – Thriller, Action, Suspense, Gangster, Crime, Music

Rating – PG-18

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Friday, December 27, 2013

Author Interview - A. Wrighton @a_wrighton

What’s your favorite meal?

Sushi. Anything sushi…. drats, now I want some!

What movie do you love to watch?

Pride & Prejudice or the newer Alice and Wonderland. I could watch those movies over, and over, and over. In fact, I used to fall asleep to Johnny Depp’s Mad Hatter. Don’t ask me why that worked, but it just did. And Pride and Prejudice? Doesn’t matter which version it is, I’ll watch it. There’s something divine about that story – especially Mr. Darcy!

What’s your most embarrassing moment of your life?

I don’t really get embarrassed… I find the things in life that might embarrass are much better off as laughing material. You can’t take yourself too seriously, you know? But, the stupidest and funniest thing I’ve ever done is when I asked a celebrity how to spell their name. Why, you might ask? Well, I was so “in the zone” that I didn’t realize who I was talking to until they started to (shocked and stunned) spell their oh-so-simple-and-well-known last name. My entire office got a laugh and, after I facepalmed myself to death, I did too.

What’s your next project?

I am finishing off the Dragonics & Runics series with the third and fourth installment and then I will be releasing a dark retelling of the Little Mermaid as well as – at my readers’ request – a prequel to the Dragonics & Runics series. After that, I have quite a few story ideas laying about. Which one I’ll choose, I haven’t decided.

How long have you been writing?

So, it might sound a bit cliche, but I’ve been writing since before I could write sentences properly. I even have my first “story” saved thanks to my pack-rat mother (I say that with absolute adoration). It had two almost-sentences and lots of horribly drawn animals. It was about a giraffe — although it could’ve been a horse…

When did you first know you could be a writer?

I’ve been writing and sharing stories all my life, but I never thought, “This is your calling!” until my undergrad English professor pulled me aside and threatened to fail me if I didn’t change majors. I was a history/international relations double major at the time, and I was just taking that English class on creative writing to pass requirements. I never thought it would turn into anything more. But, she threatened me (I know she wasn’t serious) and she got her point across. I don’t think I’d have had the inkling to switch majors without that graceful shove.

What inspires you to write and why?

It sounds silly to say everything, but I find inspiration everywhere. I find it in the child playing in the cart at the Target checkout line; in the homeless man by the downtown L.A. train station; in the gusts of wind rustling the old oaks on the mountains; and in the playfulness of two idiot dogs running amuck. Anything that inspires can make me write that idea down, and eventually, I’ll put that idea into a full story. What makes me pick ideas before others, I’m not sure – but they usually just speak to me in a sort of, “Woman! You have GOT to tell this story – right now!” sort of way.

What do you consider the most challenging about writing a novel, or about writing in general?

Fake critics. And, no, I don’t mean real critics with solid criticism. It is well known that not everyone is going to like everything ever written, and a writer cannot advance and grow without strong criticism to improve off of — but, what I consider the most challenging about writing is dealing with fake critics. They’re the ones who put writers down without ever offering an explanation or basis. Their comments are not constructive or helpful. Their criticism offers no course of growth or redemption. And, they scream the loudest. They are the ones that terrify good writers with strong potential into a cave never to be seen from again – all because it makes them feel better to deconstruct someone’s creative work maliciously because they cannot offer anything to better it. It’s a shame – a lot of the fake critics have destroyed careers of potentially amazing writers. It’s also a shame because a lot of those fake critics could have really helped build those careers – or careers of their own.

Have you developed a specific writing style?

I do, though I couldn’t tell you exactly what it is. I am known for being very descriptive and using all the senses to engage a reader. I am known for uniquely developed characters with intricate pasts and interactions. And, I am known for my weird (I call it weird) “voice” that is a mix of a friend telling you the story over coffee and a voyeur showing the story to you like a movie. Oh, and my professors and grad school colleagues always said that they’d be able to pick out my dialogue anywhere, as they enjoyed the realistic zippiness it tends to have (thanks you guys!).

Have you ever had writer’s block? If so, what do you do about it?

I personally do not subscribe to writer’s block. I write in spurts and scenes, so I am constantly jumping around my story, just writing what comes to me as it comes to me. That means I’m not a linear writer, which I think helps me avoid getting stuck. I’ve never had a moment where I couldn’t think of SOMETHING useful that my story needs to write – it might not be where I was writing a few minutes before, but there is always something. And, if I’m not sure what that something is, I just start freewriting and word associating. I fill up an entire page of random words until I get what I am looking for – then, I move forward. My characters don’t have time for writer’s block, so I don’t either.

Alliegance

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre - Fantasy

Rating – PG-13

More details about the author and the book

Connect with A. Wrighton on Facebook & Twitter

Author Interview - Sheena Binkley @ChevonBink

How do you write- lap top, pen, paper, in bed, at a desk?

I have to use a computer when writing. I feel lost without one. When I have ideas, I usually jot them down on my iPad, but I have to use a computer for the final project.

When you are not writing, how do you like to relax?

Usually I will read, watch TV, hang out with my family and friends, or just sleep. Sleep is always good!

What is your favorite meal?

Pizza, but I also love potato skins or Texas Cheese Fries from Chili’s. I know it’s not considered a meal, but I love them!

What movie do you love to watch?

I have a lot of favorite movies, but I l really like the recent version of Footloose. I can watch that movie all day and not be tired of it.

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

I think social media is a great thing, especially for individuals looking to market and promote their business. It’s also a great way to connect with friends and family you haven’t spoken to in a long time; but I don’t let it consume my life. Although I have pages, I don’t frequently be on them, but I try to make an effort when possible.

OurLove

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Genre - Fiction

Rating – R

More details about the author and the book

Connect with Sheena Binkley on Twitter

Website http://sheenabinkley.wordpress.com/

Midshipman Henry Gallant in Space by H. Peter Alesso

CHAPTER 5

The hours in a day were never enough. Each watch, report, and exam seemed like an organized disruption to Gallant’s desire for food and sleep. Each irreverent “Attention Midshipman Gallant” that blared over his head, called him away to some new obligation. A week after re-qualifying, Gallant joined the other midshipmen in an advanced flight training session conducted by Lieutenant Mather.

Mather was going to review the ship’s computer systems in detail in preparation for a mock combat session. While many of the midshipmen were already up to date on the ship’s AI systems, it was an opportunity for Gallant to catch-up.

Mather stood at the head of the compartment at a lectern facing several rows of chairs. He began describing the Repulse’s computer system, “It’s a marvel of Twenty-second Century technology. It provides three levels of operation for each and every important department on board including: navigation, engineering, weapons, environmental, and communications. The first level is the centralized Artificial Intelligence (AI) system. It performs what we call ‘strong-AI.’ Then, the second level includes system operations of individual departments with their own ‘weak-AI.’ They require more human interaction in order to coordinate systems. Finally, the last level is direct human manual control.”

“Officers, this is the strong-AI system nicknamed GridScape.” A three dimensional humanoid holograph form appeared before Mather. ““The avatar image is changeable,” he flipped through a few before settling on a base form. “I prefer this nondescript image for my lectures. GridScape is a wireless grid computer network consisting of over one million parallel central processors performing a billion-billion operations per second. It helps to control operations throughout the ship and its fighter support within a limited range. It coordinates overall control with our technically trained crew. Of course, it has redundant connectivity for reliability; both direct wiring, as well as wireless connections. GridScape is fully capable of independent automatic operation for most routine operations and many emergency responses that the ship may be required to perform.”

Sandy Barrington stood up and asked, “What happens when there’s battle damage, sir?”

“In the event the strong-AI system is damaged, the weak-AI computer systems take over local functional operation. Of course, every device can be switched to manual operation as required. Also, all crew members have their comm pins. They can connect to local resources that in turn can connect to the centralized AI,” said Mather.

midshipman

Buy Now @ Amazon and Smashwords

Genre – Science Fiction

Rating – G

More details about the author and the book

Connect with H. Peter Alesso on Facebook

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

10 Things You Didn’t Know About Allegiance: Dragonics & Runics Part II – A. Wrighton @a_wrighton

I’ve always been one to keep a few secrets up my sleeves, but I’d love to share a few of them with you! Here are a few well-kept secrets about Allegiance: Dragonics & Runics Part II:

  1. Many of Callon McKafrey’s mannerisms and quirks were inspired by actor Nathan Fillion of Firefly and Castle fame.
  2. Almost every character name has a hidden meaning that is usually in Old English, Old French, Norse, or Latin vernacular. For example, Vylain is taken from Old French’s villain – not the bad guy type, but where the meaning of the word meant “base or low-born rustic.”
  3. To keep the Dragon names and abilities straight, A. Wrighton keeps a logbook of them that is always present when she is writing.
  4. Bleskis are based on the Danish spherical pancake called an æbleskiver, which A. Wrighton was first introduced to in Solvang, California on a fourth grade field trip. To this day, they’re one of her favorite treats and she is a proud owner of an æbleskiver pan and recipe book.
  5. To get into the mentality of Mouse on her return home, A. Wrighton had Imagine Dragon’s song “Radioactive” playing on a loop while she was writing.
  6. Callon McKafrey’s last name is a tribute to one of the greatest Dragon-based literature writer – Anne McCaffrey.
  7. A. Wrighton has a love-hate affair with writing Kalyna’s character as sometimes her character traits annoy A.W. immensely.
  8. If A. Wrighton were able to cast actors to portray the movie version of Allegiance, she would insist upon Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter as Lord and Lady Tryn.
  9. Neeva Grayn’s appearance is based on an old childhood friend of A.W.’s who was one of the first people to introduce her to fantasy books.
  10. Pettzia, the Soleran board game, is a hodgepodge of Stern-Halma (Chinese Checkers) and Chess. But, don’t let A.W. hear you mention regular checkers in part of the mix – she can’t stand that board game!

Alliegance

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Genre - Fantasy

Rating – PG-13

More details about the author and the book

Connect with A. Wrighton on Facebook & Twitter

Thursday, December 26, 2013

Standing Stark: The Willingness to Engage by Carla Woody @CarlaWoody1

Chapter Two:
Beyond Words

I was leading a very mainstream life. While I had some sense of purpose, I additionally had an underlying feeling that something was seriously lacking. Even though there was a recognition of incompletion, I can’t say that it was a conscious realization, more of a sense of things not expressed, blocked or segregated.

The previous year I’d left the large government agency where I’d worked nearly my entire career up to that point. Being out from under bureaucratic constraints lent a certain kind of freedom that I craved, but a large part of my livelihood was still generated through that environment where I returned as a consultant. I felt the rigidity of the organization to the point that it triggered an aversion in me.

What I now know is that whenever we have an unreasonably strong response to something external, something is lurking internally of the same nature. At the time, I recognized what I can only describe as flatness, a lack of real engagement to anything in which I was involved. It’s unlikely that this fact was apparent to anyone but me. I was known for my mind and abilities for pulling people and projects together. To others, my guess is that I appeared actively engaged in my life. After all, I was busy doing what needed to be done, just like most with whom I came in contact.

But I knew something was omitted. Fourteen years earlier, I’d had a major signal identifying my disconnection. Because of a viral infection that attacked my thyroid, I became extremely ill. I was likely within a hair’s breadth of death before I’d had any inkling of the seriousness of the illness. It probably was only through my mother’s mother-bear-like, protective attention and demands to the physician I finally visited that I am even alive today.

A major crisis such as this one is often the impetus that will kick start a revelation—or revolution. After my recovery, I finally comprehended the level of absurdity and danger that the lack of awareness of my own condition brought. I was able to discern that I wasn’t practicing denial in the sense of not wanting to face something. But more so, I was disconnected from my body to the degree that I had been unable to recognize my lack of health. How could I? My life and level of consciousness was weighted in my head, cut off from my physicality and any real experience or attunement other than mental observation.

I heeded a cry from my Core Self, not even knowing of her existence, and sought out meditation. That was an unlikely avenue back then, only because where I was living at the time offered very few opportunities to explore anything even somewhat resembling consciousness studies. With the help of a couple of books, I put together a practice to which I remained faithful.

Over the years, I found myself becoming increasingly calmer and healthier. I knew that the change was due directly to my dedicated focus on meditation. Indeed, I became much more in tune with my body and its messages to me. I began to trust those messages implicitly, telling me when things were right, or not, in my world.

But I knew something was still missing. I remained an observer to a large degree, not a participant. While I’d read of spirituality and various states that told of that realm, I’d had no direct experience. I intellectually knew that Spirit was an aspect of my makeup, but couldn’t quite grasp even the concept of such a reality. And yet there was something underpinning my entire existence that called out for this wholeness. Some part of me deeply desired integration.

When strong intent is present, the means to fulfill it will automatically appear. But I didn’t know this truth at that point in my journey. I only knew that I felt somewhat fragmented, and one day noticed an ad in a professional journal for a retreat with a Peruvian shaman to be held in the Southern Utah desert. Ignoring the fact that my sole idea of camping then was in pensions in large European cities, or that I didn’t even know what the term “shaman” meant, I felt a strong draw in my body to call and register. So, I did.

Four months later, I flew cross-country to Salt Lake City where I was picked up with some other retreat goers and driven some hours south to a remote canyon in the San Rafael Swell. The beauty of the area was incredible and helped to overwhelm my uneasiness of being with people with whom I wasn’t acquainted, and an upcoming event about which I knew absolutely nothing.

When we finally rolled into the makeshift camp, I climbed out of the truck feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension, the two being closely linked anyway. While in this state, I noticed a brown-skinned man making his way toward me. He had dark, wavy hair, a mustachioed, handsome face, and wore a woven poncho. His eyes sparkled. He smiled broadly and wrapped his arms around me in greeting. As he did so, any fear I felt dissipated immediately and was replaced by great warmth swelling from some place inside me, unlike any I’d ever felt. This was the man the sponsors had advertised as a shaman, the person who, in the years ahead, I would come to know not only as a mystic and teacher of the heart, but a cherished friend—Don Américo Yábar. My meeting him was to change the fabric of my entire life. And I had asked for it unknowingly.

Around the campfire that evening, Don Américo introduced the subject of intent through his translator. He encouraged each of us to set our intent that evening for the week that was to follow. I went off on my own to think about what he’d said, the whole idea of intent being a slippery one, at best, that I had a challenge grasping. However, I decided that I must have set my intent, at some level, before I even came. That was what pulled me to the retreat not even knowing what it entailed. I wanted to be joined. I wanted direct engagement. I wanted integration of my mind, body and spirit. I told no one.

The next morning held the usual gorgeous, blue desert sky. The group had hiked some distance from our camp and found a natural rock amphitheatre. We made ourselves comfortable in the shadows of the boulders, out from under the Utah sun which was already getting quite warm. Don Américo began to speak. I don’t remember now exactly what he said. I was being lulled by the lilting rhythms of his and his translator’s vocal patterns that took the meaning of the words to some unconscious level.

Suddenly, he stopped and gazed intensely at me. He motioned for me to come to the middle of the circle where he stood. Under normal circumstances, I would have done so reluctantly, if at all, not being comfortable “exposing” myself to others in that way. In that case, however, I felt completely at ease.

I approached him. He stood directly in front of me only about eighteen inches away, his liquid brown eyes locking onto mine. It was as though he was channeling pure love directly into my being. Both of his hands hovered right outside my body at the chest level.

Making a motion of pulling apart outside the heart center, he said, “The way to see is with the body’s eye.”

I felt what I could only describe as a sweet welling in that energy center that began to undulate, creating a rippling effect.

He moved one hand up to my forehead. Making a wiping motion in my subtle energy field, he proclaimed, “Not the mind’s eye!”

I felt something shut at that level, all the while the heart energy continued to reverberate. I was unaware of anything other than large waves of effervescent warmth that seemed to echo silently, returning from the stones surrounding us, further intensifying the awakening. People seated around us gasped and murmured. I have no idea how long I stood that way. I do not know how I found my feet to return to my seat. I do not recall what occurred the rest of the day.

I was opened. I was filled. I’d had my first direct experience—beyond words.

StandingStark

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Genre – Nonfiction, Spirituality

Rating – PG

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Quality Reads UK Book Club Disclosure: Author interview / guest post has been submitted by the author and previously used on other sites.

Wednesday, December 25, 2013

#AmReading - My Cheeky Angel by Mimi Barbour @MimiBarbour

My Cheeky Angel by Mimi Barbour

Amazon

Woman-hater, tomboy and a Cheeky Angel! Sparks fly when the tomboy grows
up and decides to make drastic changes to her boring life, and thanks to her
helpful angel she's goes all out. Instead of being a playmate for her bachelor
buddy, she's turned into a real dazzler. Now what's a guy to do?

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Loving Conor: A Clairvoyant’s Memoir on Loving, Bonding and Healing by Tami Urbanek @tamiurbanek

Chapter Three: Surviving Life

I woke up to the phone ringing in the middle of the night.

“Tami, you need to pick me up,” I heard Nyle say.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at 7-11,” he said, slurring his words.

He told me the street and packing Bethany into the car, I drove through a light snowstorm to find him.

I located the correct 7-11 and I walked in looking around for Nyle.

“Hey, are you looking for that drunk?” The 7-11 clerk asked as he nodded at me.

“Was a guy here waiting for someone?” I asked.

“Yeah, he wanted booze, I told him to leave.”

“Do you know which way he went?” I asked.

“Have no idea.”

Leaving the store and getting back in my car, my hands clenched the steering wheel. I drove around looking for Nyle, scolding myself for coming out in the snow with Bethany in a car that didn’t have snow tires, to look for a drunken soon-to-be ex-husband.

I found Nyle wandering the sidewalk. Pulling over, I rolled down the passenger window.

“Nyle, what are you doing? Get in the car.”

He just looked at me, obviously drunk, confused, and swaying as he tried to keep his balance.

He crawled into the front passenger seat, laid his head back, and closed his eyes. I drove him back to my apartment. Once I parked the car, I realized I had no idea how to get him from there to inside my apartment. It was too cold to leave him in the car overnight, though I did consider it. I looked over at Nyle, and I wondered what the hell I was doing and how I was going to get him to wake up.

After continually pushing on his arm to wake him up, he finally roused awake enough to stumble into my apartment. He immediately staggered over to the couch and collapsed on it. I gently placed Bethany in her crib, gazing at her as she slept. In that moment, I was grateful I was divorcing Nyle and knowing my daughter was safe and asleep, I immediately fell asleep too.

I was still on maternity leave, so I was home the next morning when someone came to get Nyle for work.

“Hey, you need to wake him up,” Nyle’s friend said. He had figured out that Nyle was here when he didn’t show up at the barracks last night.

“I tried, I can’t get him up. I think he’s still drunk.”

“He’s going be in trouble if he doesn’t show up to formation.” Giving up, the guy left.

Walking over to Nyle and pushing on him hard, I said, “Nyle, wake up! GET UP! You have to get up for work!” I felt like I was yelling at a deaf person.

He finally opened his eyes and looked at me with a confused expression. He seemed to be trying to remember how he got to my apartment. He slowly sat up, keeping his hands on the couch for balance. He mumbled something, but it sounded as if his mouth was full of cotton. He stood up and with a shaky walk he made his way to the phone as I watched him call a friend to come get him.

Later that day, as I sat on the couch, in my apartment, I looked at my bills and felt my ongoing fear starting to rise. I began looking at my past choices. At eighteen, I had made the choice to marry and by nineteen, I had made a choice to be a mother. I had stayed with Nyle for fifteen months even though he was drinking and would be violent when he was drunk. I wasn’t proud that I was working at McDonald’s to meet basic financial needs, and I was fearful on a daily basis.

How was I going to fix this? How was I going to survive? Would things ever change? Would I ever be happy? Would I ever earn more than slightly above minimum wage? I didn’t know.

I walked around the apartment while Bethany was napping in her crib. Without Nyle there, the apartment was cleaner and I didn’t fear the weekends anymore. I still had to deal with the holes in the doors and walls at some point.

Out of desperation, the next day, I took my wedding ring to the pawnshop and I was grateful for the cash. It had a couple of diamonds, so they offered me a decent sum of money.

When my mom called to see how I was doing, I told her I had pawned my wedding ring.

“Why did you pawn your ring?”

“I needed the money,” I said, feeling depressed.

“Well, we’ll give you the money to go and buy it back. You don’t want to pawn your ring.” With my parents’ financial assistance, I bought back my ring before it was sold to someone else. But what about next month, when money would once again be tight?

That week, the manager at McDonald’s called to make sure I was still coming back to work when my maternity leave ended.

I told him I couldn’t wait to get back to work and I meant it. I was looking forward to having at least a few dollars in my wallet.

I spent the next couple of weeks getting on a schedule with Bethany and looking for home daycares. I found one near my apartment.

I returned to work, and I happily started earning money again. I was receiving child support, and life began to take on a more routine state, but I was experiencing a lot of anxieties. I still wanted a man to make me feel better about myself. I didn’t understand that I was not giving myself the credit I deserved in being able to love and take care of myself. As a result, I drew in the same types of people and relationships as before.

Not long after returning to work, I ran into Josh, a guy I had briefly dated when I was seventeen years old. We easily picked up where we left off and we quickly became exclusive in our dating.

Initially, Josh was attentive toward Bethany, and we had fun getting to know each other again, but it didn’t take long before we began to fight. We would get into yelling matches that were reminiscent of my relationship with Nyle, always fighting about something that wasn’t even important. We were young, immature and neither one of us knew how to communicate. Still, I was thankful he was in my life when one day out of the blue, I found Nyle knocking on my door.

“Tami, can we talk?” Nyle asked. Standing there waiting for me to say it was okay for him to come into the apartment. His hands were in his pockets and I noticed the tension he held in his shoulders.

“I guess…”

He walked into my apartment and sat down on the couch.

“Tami, I’m sorry. I screwed up.” He paused and then said, “I know I messed up with you….” Nyle’s voice trailed off and I waited for him to continue, not really knowing where this was heading.

He finally continued, “What do you think. Could we try again?”

I looked at him wondering what to say. Despite our fighting, I had strong feelings for Josh and now, here was Nyle apologizing and proposing we try again. As I paused, not sure what to say to him, I looked around my apartment. It was cleaner, and I immediately noticed the still unpatched holes in the wall and doors. I wasn’t sure I wanted to start again and have the same old result of drunken weekends.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea…” I said.

He left without much hesitation. That was my clue that he wasn’t invested in starting over, but maybe just looking for convenience. I knew he never liked living in the barracks on base. Also, I always wondered if his mother had talked him into trying to get back together or if it was all his idea. I knew she wanted me to take care of him.

I had begun to understand that it was never my job to take care of Nyle. That was his job. Although it took me a few years to fully realize that I needed keep my focus on caring for Bethany and myself. Even then I had begun to understand this and that I didn’t need to feel guilty for leaving Nyle.

LovingConor

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Genre - Memoir

Rating – PG-13

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Monday, December 23, 2013

Julia (The Good Life series) by Sarah Krisch

Julia

A failed actress, twenty-something Julia McCarthy begins writing a fictionalized blog as a form of self-therapy. Based on her carefree summers at her grandparents’ farm, she never expects her little experiment to garner a viral following, but it does. Boy, does it ever.

Now, with thousands of loyal blog followers, and a syndication deal with the Chicago Herald, Julia is approached by GreenTV to adapt her blog into a TV show. The producers see her as a “Rachel Ray on the Prairie-type”. She sees herself as a fraud.

In Julia’s fictional world, she’s successful. She can pay her bills on time. Heck, she even has a fictional gorgeous husband and charming little boy. Ready to realize her dreams, Julia returns to her grandparents’ farm to shoot the TV pilot.

Brad Taylor is definitely not her type: he’s rugged, sensible, and oh-so smug about learning that Julia’s blog is a farce. As the manager of her grandparent’s farm, Brad doesn’t have time to deal with whimsical women who don’t even know how to cook.

Julia can’t allow her attraction to Brad to distract her, not when her dreams are about to come true. But are these truly her dreams, her good life?

A fun, fast (150 pages) contemporary romance

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Genre – Contemporary Romance

Rating – PG-13

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Quality Reads UK Book Club Disclosure: Author interview / guest post has been submitted by the author and previously used on other sites.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

#AmReading - A Time to Love by Angelina Rose @RoseRomanceBook

A Time to Love by Angelina Rose

Amazon

Gracie Tillman is well known in Mill Creek Crossing as the sassy waitress at Stella's diner. But what many people don't know is that she has virtually no family left, and the one person she should have in her life is her sister, Eva. Unfortunately, Eva did some rotten things to her sister years ago, and Gracie says she'll never forgive her.
As Eva's life starts to fall apart in Atlanta, she finds out that the only way to survive is to depend on her sister and crawl back to Mill Creek Crossing. Keeping a major secret, she shows back up in town and tries to convince her sister to forgive her. At the same time, Eva starts to change when she meets an interesting biker named Brice.
Will the sisters be able to mend their relationship? Will love bloom between high class Eva and biker Brice?

#Thriller - Stark Warning by James Raven @JamesRaven9

Stark Warning by James Raven

Amazon Kindle US

Genre – Thriller

Rating – PG13

4.5 (26 reviews)

“Every time you appear on screen someone will die.”
That’s the stark warning given to Jessica Lee, host of a confessional talk show on network television with millions of fans. But one deranged viewer is out to destroy her career. He demands that her programme be scrapped and tells her to stop appearing on TV. To prove he means business he claims his first victim – a young woman who is found dead with her throat cut. Jessica and her bosses face an agonizing dilemma: take the show off the air or risk more murders. They decide to defy the killer, for fear of setting a dangerous precedent. But there are dire consequences.
James Raven, author of Stark Warning, has worked for over thirty years in the television industry and drew on his experience when writing this novel. He’s also the author of Malicious, After the Execution, Rollover, Urban Myth, Red Blitz, Brutal Revenge and Arctic Blood.

 

Check out the Video trailer for MALICIOUS: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=btPmqY2NOV4

The King of Sunday Morning by J.B. McCauley @MccauleyJay

The Mile End Mambo
1990
He held him in his arms and looked into the glassy eyes. Yellow flecks dotted the cornea. This boy was dead a long time before Roger had run him through. He knew the look. Too much top shelf and not enough down time.
The body from which life dramatically seeped away began to convulse. It would not be a Hollywood death. It would be a harsh demise for this gangster. Unexpected but unavoidable. He had stepped on the wrong toes and nobody touched Roger’s patch.
The big screen had always glamorised death but there was nothing glamorous about having a gaping 12-inch gash where your stomach had once been. Roger’s white shirt was splattered with blood and sputum. He noted to himself with an air of cold detachment that he would have to dispose of it later. The boy soldier’s back arched in agony. A gurgling noise rushed from his throat and then he was gone.
Roger put his arm underneath the boy’s knees and slowly lifted him from the red morass that had filled the doorway. He cradled him in his arms and walked slowly along the pavement. A young couple averted their gaze as he struggled with the limp body. They knew not to look. This was after all the witching hour in the East End. What you don’t see, you can’t tell. He turned the corner and moved into another shop doorway. It was a Dixon’s electrical shop exalting the latest stereos and TV’s.
Roger placed the body carefully on the ground. He took one final look at what 10 minutes ago had been the epitome of arrogance, bravery and youth, then left. He walked quickly to the edge of Walters Street, turned into Burden and darted through a now deserted car park and onto Rially. He saw a red telephone box just up from Dunston Road. He opened the door and tried to ignore the stench of piss and shit. He dialled the number and waited patiently for the connection.
“Rudi?”
His rich baritone West-Indian voice caressed the receiver.
“Yeah, he’s in Dixon’s shopfront on Walters Street.” He paused, digesting the question on the other end of the line.
“Yeah he’s dead. Dead as a door nail. See you at home.”
With that, he hung up the phone and disappeared into the night. His red Rasta beanie swaying as he loped through the shadows. The victim wouldn’t be missed. Roger had nothing to fear. The status quo had been maintained and an example had been made.
Most of all, Rudi would be pleased.
King of Sunday Morning
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Genre – Thriller, Action, Suspense, Gangster, Crime, Music
Rating – PG-18
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Friday, December 20, 2013

Becoming Human (The Exilon 5 Trilogy, Book 1) by Eliza Green @elizagreenbooks

Eliza Green

Two Worlds. Two Species. One Terrifying Secret.

In 2163, a polluted and overcrowded Earth forces humans to search for a new home. But the exoplanet they target, Exilon 5, is occupied. Having already begun a massive relocation programme, Bill Taggart is sent to monitor the Indigenes, the race that lives there. He is a man on the edge. He believes the Indigenes killed his wife, but he doesn’t know why. His surveillance focuses on the Indigene Stephen, who has risked his life to surface during the daytime.

Stephen has every reason to despise the humans and their attempts to colonise his planet. To protect his species from further harm, he must go against his very nature and become human. But one woman holds a secret that threatens Bill’s and Stephen’s plans, an untruth that could rip apart the lives of those on both worlds.

BECOMING HUMAN, part one in the Exilon 5 trilogy, is a science fiction dystopian adventure that you won’t want to put down.

˃˃˃ Thought Provoking SciFi, Dystopian Tale – Compulsion Reads

I would happily recommend this book to fans of dystopia, science fiction and conspiracy lovers. You will be in for an exciting ride.

˃˃˃ Excellent Use of ForeShadowing – Masquerade Crew

This book demonstrates why I read Indie books and have enjoyed doing so immensely. Yes, some self-published books don’t deserve to see the light of day, but this isn’t one of those. Far from it. It was exciting and it had mystery. It sets up the next book while still giving you closure in this one–a difficult task for a book in a series.

˃˃˃”Becoming Human”… a promising first book… 4 1/2 Stars – Top 1000 Amazon Reviewer

A well written and deftly told Sci-Fi tale that got better and better.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Science Fiction

Rating – PG13

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Website http://www.elizagreenbooks.com

Terri-Lynne Smiles - Book signing Tips to Sell That Book @TLSmiles #Foreseen

Book signing Tips to Sell That Book
I love book festivals and signing events. I’ve even held a book signing in a local bar – a glass of wine complemented the experience nicely! But success at these events doesn’t happen automatically. Here are a few rules to remember:
· Be pleasant. No matter how many snot-nosed kids are placed beside you or if an onion and cheese sandwich gets slapped beside the pristine stack of books on your table don’t let your annoyance show. You are providing entertainment and those potential readers are your audience. Smile and be grateful to them for being there.
· Be reasonable. Don’t accost people to buy your book. One author grabbed the arms of passersby, insisting that they would like her book. Guess what? They hurried away as soon as she let go. People don’t want authors to act like used car salesmen or carnival barkers.
· Be helpful. If it’s a book fair with a variety of books, ask the reader what type of books he enjoys and steer him to the right authors. If you write high fantasy and he likes historical non-fiction, don’t try to convince him otherwise. He will probably ask about your book out of courtesy, either now or when they stop back to thank you for your help, and if someone in his family would like your book, he will get it for them!
· Be sociable. As a corollary, meet the other authors as the event begins. Find out about their books and they will ask about yours. Now you can be helpful in directing readers to them, and I assure you, they will do the same – at the event and afterwards.
· Be prepared. Regardless of what the organizers or bookstore has said will be waiting, have everything you need. This includes:
o A folding table. At one event, the tables did show up. As a result, I was one of two authors who were prepared to set up.
o At least three Sharpies to sign books. You can lose one, have another run dry, and still keep signing books.
o A signup sheet for your mailing list.
o A table cloth so that your area looks nice. Make sure the color doesn’t clash with your book cover.
o Eye-catching signs about your book and clips from reviews. These should be freestanding.
o BOOKS! Even if the organizer is providing the books, have extras handy. I would have been finished signing books at 1:30 at an event that ran until 4 if I hadn’t had more books in my car.
o Scotch tape, duct tape, and a pair of scissors. Just because.
Providing a great experience to readers at book signings creates buzz toward the viral recommendations you need for your novel. Now, relax and enjoy yourself. A book signing is your time to shine!
Terri-Lynne Smiles’ is the author of the debut novel Foreseen, book 1 of the Rothston series. The first two books of the series are available through most online retailers.

Foreseen
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Genre - Science, Fantasy, Thriller
Rating – PG-13
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Great White House by Christoph Paul @ChristophPaul_

Prologue

Most stories should not start with “it was a dark and stormy night” but this evening in Washington, DC could be described no other way. A great storm was raging, as were key members of Congress and other important figures. The politicians waited in silence staring at a blank satellite screen for the eccentric Chinese President Xi Jinping to appear and discuss the massive debt America owed China.

The group was in the East Room of the White House above the library, where a small window reflected the faces of those who had enough ‘klout’ to sit at the round table with President Obama and Vice President Biden.

It would be any news reporter's dream to sit alongside these political heavyweights, but the “China Task Force” or C.T.F. had made this a closed conference, top-secret event. So secret, even Snowden didn’t know about it.

Even if the White House let the press in, the reporters would not have made it through the heavy downpour in Washington, DC. Visibility in the city was close to zero. Normal traffic ended hours earlier as young and old government employees hunkered down in their favorite bars to weather the storm.

Now, rain poured so hard the echoes of the downpour shot through the White House, giving attention to the awkward silence in the East Room.

As the large teleprompter screen remained blank, an animated Michele Bachmann broke the silence. “I just don’t trust these Chinese, even with their food. My husband ends up having problems with his rectal area after he eats it when I’m away. You should see the fees I pay his proctologist. Thank the good Lord we don’t have ObamaCare or he wouldn’t be able to walk.”

The other members of the C.T.F. remained silent, as most believed Mr. Bachmann to be a closeted homosexual. Being the peacemaker, President Obama wanted to avoid any divisive issues. “Yes. I understand. Chinese food, though delicious, bothers my stomach and Michelle’s as well Congresswoman Bachmann.”

Joe Biden rose from his chair and headed toward the decanter on a table at the side of the room. “Hey, Barry, I thought it was only black guys that were late, not the Chinese. Ha. That's good one.”

The oft-amused Biden smiled and gave a self-satisfactory laugh. President Obama shook his head, grateful the press wasn’t here to catch another ‘JoeGaffee.’ Biden poured himself a glass of scotch as Obama popped a piece of Nicorette in his mouth.

“Since this meeting is 'not official,' I suppose it's all right to have a drink.” Biden cheered the room. He brought another cup over to Wisconsin Representative Paul Ryan and sat back down; the two had become close since their 2012 Vice Presidential debate and would drink over the ‘malarkey’ of the day.

Eric Cantor, next to his also-tanned counterpart Majority Leader Boehner, was fed up with the jokes. “In all seriousness, what the Chinese President is doing is a power move. It’s a psychological display of dominance. You can’t trust a communist.”

Senator Ted Cruz slammed his fist on the table. “Those commies will play mind games. I agree.”

Congresswoman Pelosi raised her hand. “Excuse me, but I’m more worried about this storm. We might be stuck here.” She gestured at the window. “This storm has gotten dangerous. I'm telling you, it's global warming. Only global warming could cause a downpour of this magnitude! My constituents are very worried about this issue and so am I.”

Democrat Senator Harry Reid and Socialist Bernie Sanders agreed but Congresswoman Bachmann and Congressman Tim Scott shook their heads in annoyance and said a silent prayer for the socialists in the room.

Other Republicans rolled their eyes at Pelosi’s statement. Libertarian-leaning Senator Rand Paul responded, “If global warming even exists, the market will fix it. What we need to worry about is the debt. The Chinese have every right to call this emergency meeting and to want their money.”

Ben Bernanke and Tim Geithner (who was called out of retirement to help out the C.T.F.) nodded in approval of Senator Paul’s market solution.

President Obama took a deep breath and offered a fake but serene glance to acknowledge Paul's statement. He put his hand up and quieted the room. “Now, now, let's not have the global warming debate right now, folks. There is talk that the Chinese are very upset about our debt and want us to pay now, which is a surprise to us all. But that is not the only reason for this emergency meeting. The NSA has heard some terrorist chatter about an attack on Annapolis that could dismantle many of our Navy’s resources. They say the Chinese might know about it. We might be in for a long night. Look, if the storm gets worse, you can sleep here; it’s a big house. We can sell to it to the press as a political sleepover. They’ll find that cute and bipartisan.”

New York Senator Schumer rubbed his temples in frustration. “Oi vey, I don’t have my Ambien.”

Senator McCaskill gave him a nice Missouri smile.

“It’s okay, Chuck. You can have some of mine. Senator Rubio, I have some bottled water if you need it, too.”

The group laughed and Senator Rubio inwardly grimaced at the overused joke but mustered a smile that only a man running for President in 2016 could pull off.

Senator McCain put down his unfinished poker game. “You pansies and your sleeping pills. When I was in Vietnam I slept on pure steel and spider shit… President Obama, sir, I’m sick of waiting for these communists. Either you call them or I will.”

President Obama saw an annoyed crowd and felt the temperature in the room rising. On days like this he was sick of being President but he knew this was not a time for self-pity. He looked out at the storm and thought of his Kenyan father herding goats in this type of downpour. His father would not have been deterred by hardships like this. The President sighed with finality. “All right, John, enough is enough. Let’s get President Xi Jinping on screen. We’ve waited long enough.”  

Great White House NEW COVER

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Genre – Fiction, Humor

Rating – PG-13

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Author Interview - Terri-Lynne Smiles @TLSmiles #Foreseen

Image of Terri-Lynne Smiles
Do you have an organized process or tips for writing well? Do you have a writing schedule?
I am a big believer in plotting out the book chapter by chapter before writing. If I don’t do this, the characters tend to take over which makes the story wander like real life, lacking tension. Of course, when completed, the novel doesn’t follow the outline all that closely. As for when I write, I begin just after breakfast in the morning and keep going until I can’t do anymore – usually around 3 or 4 in the afternoon. The schedule is important me, but very personal. Each writer needs to figure out what is more productive and creative for them.

Sometimes it’s so hard to keep at it - What keeps you going?
There was a time shortly after Foreseen was released that I was ready to give up and never write again, I wrote a letter to the fabulously successful cross-genre author Dean Koontz. He personally wrote back to me to encourage me to stick with it. I keep his note next to my desk. Maybe that sounds silly, but it keeps me going during the hard times.
What do you hope people will take away from your writing? How will your words make them feel?
I hope they turn the last page of Foreseen exhilarated from the thrill of the ride. Many readers are intrigued by the underlying ideas in the series as well which I find very satisfying.
What color represents your personality the most?
A vibrant blue. It energizes me.

What movie do you love to watch?
Raiders of the Lost Ark and Total Recall – good action movies for when I don’t want to think at all. Otherwise, Shrek, Beauty and the Beast – good blends of character plots embedded in action-packed stories. Iron Man has a pretty good balance as well.
If you could do any job in the world what would you do?
I’m doing it. For me, there is nothing better than writing novels.
What makes you angry?
Lying. I can deal with about anything except for lying. It destroys any basis for having any sort of relationship with the person.

What’s your most embarrassing moment of your life?
In sixth grade, my best friend convinced me to run for student body president and I had to give a five minute speech to the entire student body. I practiced it over and over. During the assembly, the candidates sat in a row, each waiting for our turn to speak. I felt confident. The candidate before me finished and I walked halfway to the podium before noticing the sniggers coming from the crowd. The school principal looked at me and said, “It’s not your turn, Terri.” I looked back, stunned to find that there were still two more candidates ahead of me. I turned bright red and some kids burst out laughing. That was the one moment in my life I truly wanted to sink into the ground. Or there’s the time my wedding dress nearly fell off as I walked down the aisle…

Are you a city slicker or a country lover?
If I had to choose one or the other, the country is definitely for me. Nature and open space calms me, but I also love the arts and restaurants of a big city. Right now, I have the best of both worlds: a house backing up to a hundred acres of farm and woods in the middle of a metro area of 1.8 million people.

What’s your next project?
I am working on Origins and Common Ground, the last two books in the Rothston Series. The second in the series, Choices, was released in November. Plus, I have a handful of other novels bumping around in my head, impatiently awaiting their turn.

What’s the reason for your life? Have you figured out your reason for being here yet?
I am humble enough to say that I don’t know the reason for my life other than to do my best to affect others in a positive way. An author knows how every movement and thought intertwines with others to change her characters and their situations. But we mere humans can’t see the big picture to ever know the extent of our impact on others. We get glimpses of small pieces, but never enough to say “Aha!  That is the reason I exist.”Foreseen
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Genre - Science, Fantasy, Thriller
Rating – PG-13
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Sebastiana Randone – Lost In The Nostalgic Haze Of Idealism @sebasti29567440

LOST IN THE NOSTALGIC HAZE OF IDEALISM

Dancing wildly to the tempestuous bellow of nature and swooning to the dulcet strains of sirens is how the romantic floats through life. They sail in ships fashioned with goddesses at the masthead to guide and seduce. They have danced in silky full circled gowns until dawn with lithesome soldiers, and fraternised with poets and writers, getting drunk on discourse and philosophy.

Afflicted by melancholia, the romantic is soothed by idealism, an elusive lover. These fragile souls are often invisible in the harsh light of day, only visible in the shadowy night, as they wander the earth in a nostalgic haze, searching for beauty and meaning, often from distant lands and times past.

In this fast moving world where most are pressed by the urgency of accomplishment and aspiration, it is no wonder that many perceive as indulgent and purposeless, the romantic in her vestment of idealism. Upon the face of it, materially, little is produced when time is invested in the guilty pleasure of fantasizing. For the creative spirit however, reverie is what ink is to a pen.

The time traveller in The House is such a hopeless romantic, that from the outset, it is easy to suppose that her presence in this mysterious setting is due to an overactive imagination. Although her origins are not revealed, we know that prior to this unplanned journey, she exists on romancing the past. By reading classic 18th&19th century literature, she forms an emotional relationship with these rose coloured glass worlds.

This sentiment of ‘the grasser was greener then’ suddenly has cold water thrown upon it, when, one afternoon in an ancient wood, she finds herself facing a menacing looking house in the distance. The dreamer suddenly awakens, only to find herself in a nightmare.

House

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Genre - Historical, Fantasy, Romance

Rating - PG-16

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Thursday, December 19, 2013

#AmReading - Frail Blood by Jo Robertson @jorobertson29

Frail Blood by Jo Robertson

Amazon

"Frail Blood" is an historical romantic thriller.
California, 1909. A woman straps a pistol to her ankle, walks to her lover’s home, and shoots him. Her motive? After an affair of four months, he jilted her for another woman.
How would an attorney defend the woman in light of her outright confession? Would an all-male jury view her actions with repulsion or pity?
The climate of California in the early twentieth century when women couldn’t vote and men held the real power, where immense wealth rested alongside poverty, held a paradox of contradictions.
The bare bones of this true California court case sparked the idea for the fictional story of Alma Bentley, attorney Malachi Rivers, and Emma Knight, the woman who helps him investigate the case.
When jaded lawyer Malachi Rivers engages newspaper editor Emma Knight to aid him in the case of Alma Bentley, he has no idea they'll eventually unmask a vile web of family deceit, wickedness, and treachery. Constantly putting herself in harm's way, the feckless Emma uncovers dark secrets that lie behind the wealthy facade of the Joseph Machado clan.
With her strong opinions, Emma tests Malachi's patience even while he's strongly attracted to her. She disagrees with every aspect of his trial strategy, but he defends his client the only way he can – by insisting that a woman, a naturally frail creature, is incapable of committing such a heinous crime.
Emma wants to experience true passion and detests the false notion that women are inferior to men in any way. Even while she confronts Malachi at every turn, she falls ridiculously in love with him.
Readers of historical fiction and mystery/suspense, as well as historical romance, will enjoy the elements at play in this slice of life, fictionalized story of California.