Thursday, February 7, 2019
Silver Tears Series by Daniel J. Strait
Tears Book 1
Daniel J. Strait
SciFi Fantasy Adventure
in a deadly art and able to become...completely invisible
prophecy written over a millennium ago. A baby girl is born with a
birthmark matching the one described in the prophecy. Her parents
feared the worst so they fled from the elders. They found solace in
the small village of Jin, where Nakiata would be trained by the
greatest SOT Master ever known. After years of intense training,
Nakiata must face her Final Test. A test that would send her out into
a world of danger, mystery, and death. Nakiata would have to use
every skill she knew in order to survive the dangers and wonders of
...Trouganda.
99 cents!!**
Tears Book 2
New World Full of New Dangers and Wonders
and Dravone have found themselves on a strange new world. The moment
they arrive they are pitted against danger and have no choice but to
fight their way out of the castle of The Prowess. Caution and
concealment will be a must as they search for any help they can find
if any help is to be found as they venture across...Zondura.
99 cents!!**
Tears Book 3
of the five members of The Prophecy have been found. Nakiata who is a
Shadow of Thought or S.O.T. master along with Dravone, a Morphan
which is like a werewolf, and Ka'tia, the newest member who is a
princess from Zondura and a fierce warrior. They had just walked
through the Black Door on Zondura and find themselves lost in the
dark. Eventually the three of them loosely ally themselves with the
Roarrgs who send them on a mission in exchange for knowledge about
The Prophecy. Before long they face enemies more powerful than before
and the fights become epic. Soon they begin to realize the road to
knowledge has more danger than they bargained for and they must use
all of their skills and tap into some they didn't know they had to
endure the reality that is Vazdrag.
J Strait lives and works in Indiana. He spends lots of his free time
with his family and whenever he gets the chance he continues to write
the Silver Tears series of books.
the tour HERE
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The Geisha Who Ran Away series by India Millar
Song of the Wild Geese
Geisha Who Ran Away Book 1
India Millar
Historical Romance
The girl who was plucked from obscurity to become the most sought
after geisha in Edo’s Floating World. The geisha who was so
beautiful and talented that one of the richest nobles in Japan
desired her as his wife.
Terue wanted more from life, and was willing to risk everything to
get it. Pregnant with her lover’s child and knowing that the
disgrace would mean certain death for both her and her unborn child,
Terue makes the devastating choice to flee Japan on the day her
daughter – Kazhua, The Geisha with the Green Eyes – was born and
changes both their destinies forever.
Red Thread of Fate
Geisha Who Ran Away Book 2
Japan, it is widely believed that everyone’s life is bound by the
red thread of their fate. The thread connects to all those we come in
contact with throughout our lives. Thus, each path in life is
predestined.
knows this. Just as she knows that one day her red thread will guide
her to Kazhua, the daughter she was forced to abandon on the day of
her birth in Edo’s Floating World. But before she can find Kazhua,
fate has much in store for Terue.
her new husband, Lord Kyle, from the Highlands of Scotland to fight
in the Crimea, Terue serves as a nurse, witnessing the horrors of the
battlefield.
kidnapped, and assumed dead, Terue must face the possibility that she
might never see her beloved daughter or husband again…
World Is Ours
Geisha Who Ran Away Book 3
war in the Crimea is over. Delighted to be reunited with her husband,
Lord Kyle, Terue thinks she will soon be home again in her beloved
Scottish Highlands.
fate is not finished with her yet.
learns that her daughter is a geisha in Edo. Overjoyed at the chance
to be reunited with her child again, she and her husband set out to
find Kazhua, returning to where Terue’s life began in the Floating
World.
old dangers and new foes abound.
to live in hiding, finding Kazhua without revealing Terue’s true
identity proves more difficult than they expected. Terue is so close
to finding her daughter, she can feel the red thread that binds them
together pulling taught. But reaching out to Kazhua could put all
their lives at risk.
started my career in the heavy industry of British Gas and ended it
in the rarefied atmosphere of the British Library. Now, I share a
blissful early retirement on the wonderful Costa Blanca, living in a
male dominated household with my long suffering husband, a cat and a
dog.
the tour HERE
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Rune’s Folly by Garen Glazier blitz
Rune’s Folly
Garen Glazier
Publication date: February 5th 2019
Genres: Adventure, Fantasy, Young Adult
By day, Tansy McCoy is a florist making charmed bouquets for the citizens of Junonia, capital of the Kingdom of Terranmar. By night, she’s an assassin and the keeper of the Dangerous Garden where deadly blooms grow. Together with the town tailor, butcher, baker, and metalsmith (just don’t call her a candlestick maker), she is part of the Guild, a secret group of spell-wielding thieves and mercenaries. Their task: consolidate all that remains of the realm’s fading magic under the ruthless King Zeno’s control.
Impetuous loner Tansy chafes under her Guild demands. She longs to quit her town and trade and head for the hills. Unfortunately, King Zeno has other plans. He wants to marry off his daughter to Terranmar’s famously reclusive wizard, Rune Hallows, and he’s willing to have the Guild kidnap him to make it happen. Fail to deliver the wizard and the consequences will be swift and deadly.
Reluctant but determined, Tansy sets out on the long journey to faraway Wentletrap and Rune’s desolate tower by the sea. To get there she must cross a swamp full of sinister surprises, battle a werewolf, and outrace a bloodthirsty band of revenants, while she wrestles with her own magical powers that seem to be expanding in unpredictable ways.
But reaching Rune’s tower is only the beginning. When Tansy learns the real reason behind the king’s contest, she’ll need to decide whether to give in to the growing forces of magic ready to reclaim Terranmar or embrace her newfound powers to save the kingdom.
—
EXCERPT:
The tower was his retreat, the night his refuge.
During the day he was the subject of ridicule. The children stared. The old women whispered, shaking their heads as he passed by. He would curse them under his breath and pull his hood down.
Rune’s days were harsh, soured by the small minds and cruel tongues of the villagers that called Wentletrap home.
But the nights were his.
And most nights, by candlelight, he would shape with knowing fingers a crude little figure, a man, out of the red clay he gathered from the rolling hills just beyond the shore. He would thrust two arched sticks into the clay man’s back, and to these he carefully attached feathers. Albatross, gull, and osprey.
His ancient books kept him company, and they had taught him the right words. Whispering them into the sour-salt air, the wings of his creation would beat once, twice, and then the clay man, his homunculus, would fly. It would soar over the moonlit ocean until the morning came and the cruel sun cracked the clay, wilted the wings, and stole the magic away.
But before the blasted rays of daylight destroyed them, the homunculi would return to Rune’s tower bringing back ingredients from their journeys. Leaves, hair, teeth, sand, among other things. Most common enough, some rarer than rare. Occasionally, if Rune was lucky, clutched in one of the creatures’ tiny fists would be a shell. Always white, but of different sizes, shapes, and textures.
When the shells came back to the tower, Rune’s stern face would soften just a touch, and the barest hint of a smile would play across his lips.
Last night had been one of those delicious evenings.
And so, from his day amongst the rabble, he had recalled the particularly hateful sneer of Old Lady Turnbull, the baker’s wife. He hadn’t forgotten that brat Bilga and the mud she’d kicked across his shoes either.
With his lips nearly pressed against the chest of his little winged man, he’d given it one last set of instructions, breathing mischief into its heart. Then, as the homunculus zipped not east out to the sea but west into the village, Rune had walked down the spiral steps that ran along the curved wall of his tower.
At the bottom he repeated his route, but this time slowly. His fingers bumped along the shells that covered every inch of the wall, the intricate patterns glowing softly at first and then more brightly the further up his keep he went. From floor to floor he climbed until he stood once again on the uppermost story.
To the casual observer it would appear that here, too, the wall was carpeted with shells, but just above the casement of the large window overlooking the dark sea, a space no longer than a finger remained.
He held the shell to the wall and spoke the words he knew so well. When he took his hand away the shell stayed put, glowing so brightly along with the others that Rune could hardly bear to look.
The shells’ light reached its zenith and then dimmed, but an afterimage of the swirls and whorls Rune had so carefully rendered on his tower walls remained, dancing across his vision and filling the rest of his night with reveries of years past and lost love.
Now, as the first tepid rays of sun slid through the perpetual fug that surrounded his tower and the sorry little village nearby, he crossed to the western facing window and opened it wide.
Directly below him the curve of his tower plummeted to a rocky piece of land. As the tide was in, the sharp rocks and weather-beaten keep formed a tiny island half a mile or so from the shore.
High tide was Rune’s favorite time of day. He could rest peacefully knowing that none of Wentletrap’s citizens would disturb him. During low tide the swirling eddies of the black ocean would recede, revealing a greasy spit of land just wide enough for a single footpath. More often than not a shucker or fisherman or some other human flotsam would shuffle out of the godsforsaken village to cross the spit and stand at the bottom of his tower, shouting out in graceless tones for assistance, occasionally, or retribution, more commonly.
He expected Old Lady Turnbull or Bilga’s father would be paying him a visit later, dirty and grey and cursing his existence. Although it might be difficult for Old Lady Turnbull to make the trip herself, what with the swelling and the stink, not to mention the boils, so perhaps it’d be the baker himself. Rune might even give him the antidote if he came bearing a conciliatory basket of scones. Bilga’s father, on the other hand, was on a fool’s errand, for while baked goods might temporarily melt Rune’s cold heart, nothing could move him to offer a cure for the terminally obnoxious teen.
Smiling now, Rune stepped away from his territorial view of Wentletrap and its miserable environs. He was about to descend the stairs for a well-deserved cup of tea and early morning nap when a strange movement caught his attention out the opposite window. Quickly crossing the floor he tore open the casement and leaned out, certain he was seeing things. But no, there it was, flapping its smoking wings erratically as pieces of its legs and torso began to break off and plummet into the sea below.
It was a homunculus he’d sent out a few days prior. It hadn’t returned, which happened occasionally, and he’d given it up for lost. It should have been ashes by now, turned to dust beneath the sun’s merciless rays. Rune’s face hardened with concern.
As he watched, the little creature gave one last flutter of its wings and disintegrated, red dust and feathers blowing out to sea, but not before Rune reached out and caught the bundle the homunculus had been clutching in its tiny hands.
Wrapped with a black ribbon was a nosegay of purple flowers. Examining the sweet-smelling bouquet at a safe distance he saw the dusty spears of lavender, the dark hoods of wolf’s bane, and the round petals of oleander.
“Troubling,” Rune muttered to himself. “Quite troubling.” Then, “I wonder.”
He turned from the window and crossed to the stairs, holding onto the ominous flowers with just his finger and thumb pinched around the ribbon.
Leaving the uppermost floor, Rune circled round the stairs to his library. He quickly bypassed seven of the eight tall, double-sided bookcases that bisected the circular floor at regular intervals. Stopping in front of the last, he crouched down and used his index finger to pry a slim volume covered in red velvet from the bottom shelf.
Carefully he cracked open the cover of A Compendium of Flowers and flipped the pages, coming first to lavender. When Rune saw its traditional meaning his brows furrowed. When he got to the symbolism of oleander he gritted his teeth. And when he turned with dread to the page describing wolf’s bane he snapped the book shut, strode up one flight of the curving stairs to the kitchen and tossed the nosegay into the fire smoldering under a crusty pot of stew or potion. He couldn’t remember which.
As he watched the blooms crackle and blacken, his mind buzzed with the message his homunculus had delivered. Caution, beware. Future misfortune. All in the color purple for royalty.
Had the king discovered his plan? Rune was sure he’d been discreet, but Zeno had eyes everywhere, the suspicious bastard. Then again, the message was rather oblique, and subtlety was definitely not his majesty’s strong suit. As a rule, he skipped warnings altogether and went straight for punishment, harsh and swift.
No, this didn’t seem like the king’s doing. Maybe the color was just a coincidence, but something told him that whoever decided sending a message via flower would be the best means of communication would certainly never ignore their shade in terms of conveying intent or meaning.
Rune went through the names of the king’s various associates in his head, dismissing all of them as either too brutish or too dull to be the origin of the troubling flowers. He was still pondering the odd dispatch when a harsh voice calling his name blew in on the dank ocean breeze filtering down from the still-open window upstairs.
“Rune! You bloody mongrel! Show yourself!”
Ah, Bilga’s father. Was the tide out already?
Rune tossed A Compendium onto the podium that stood near the base of the stairs before vaulting them two at a time. Never one to back down from a colorful exchange, he didn’t want to keep the man waiting.
“What do you want?” Rune bellowed on his way up. “I hope it’s to apologize for afflicting the world with your brutish progeny.”
Mysterious messages would have to wait; verbal abuse heavily peppered with colorful insults was what passed for entertainment around here. Besides, he was almost done with his shells. One more and he could leave everything behind: the tower, Wentletrap, the whole stinking kingdom along with any and all parties dealing in floral threats.
Author Bio:
I have always called Seattle home and find the perpetual gloom to be a wonderful writing ally. I like coffee shops, bookstores, dancing in my living room and singing in my car. The opening scene of Up makes me cry. Three Amigos makes me laugh. Fashion magazines, croissants, and long, long baths are my guilty pleasures. They might occur separately or together. I prefer boxing classes to yoga, and I get some of my best ideas when I'm running. I loved school and spent more time than one really should getting a business degree in marketing and a master's in art history. In an ideal world I'd go to bed at 2am and wake up at 10am. I've never been an early bird, and I feel strongly that alarm clocks kill dreams.
Learn more at garenglazier.com.
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Book II Mistress of Desire & The Orchid Lover ~ The Quest! by J. A. Jackson
The Orchid Lover ~ The Quest!
Neither Tiara Blake or Delmar Devereaux has a past to be proud of. With a joint history packed with dishonesty, blackmail—and a juicy, torrid love affair—the pair didn’t expect their paths would cross again.
Can a quest to break an ancient curse give two former lovers a second chance?
After a torrid love affair, shady businessman Delmar Devereaux disappeared from Tiara Blake’s life, leaving her to raise their twin sons on her own. So, when he shows up unannounced one day, her first instinct is to kick him to the curb.
But Delmar has discovered a centuries-old curse placed on the pair by their ancestors—and he needs Tiara’s help to break it. Ending the curse means they will have to learn to trust each other, which won’t be easy when their explosive secrets are revealed.
Once again torn between lust and duty, can Delmar and Tiara discover the true meaning of love in order to break the curse before it’s too late? Or will their complicated past doom them forever?
Join Delmar and Tiara in Book II of the Mistress of Desire and the Orchid Lover on their sensually sizzling action-packed adventure!
Read an Excerpt:
Glenda cleared her throat. “Ladies, now that we’re all here now. Let’s begin.”
Nona put her hand boldly on her hip. “Begin what? Consuelo and I have no idea why you summoned us here, with Halloween just around the corner we all have things to do. Why are we here?”
“Didn’t I tell you? We are here because of Delmar Devereaux.”
“You called us here because of that asshole?” Nona inquired. “You have got to be kidding me. Everyone knows, Delmar carries a truckload of bullshit wherever he goes.”
Consuelo fixed Glenda with a stern look and interrupted her, pounding her with questions in rapid Spanish. “And you want us to help him? What has he done? Mother Mary, I pray, please tell me he hasn’t killed someone?”
Nona turned to Consuelo and Glenda. “If he did, I say let him rot in jail. He deserves too.”
“I righteously agree!” Consuelo added, rolling her “r’s.”
Glenda stood and glance back at Nona and Consuelo and sighed, “Ah, ya ya ya ya!” She shook her head. “Ladies you have no compassion for a fallen man. Didn’t you hear me. I said, Delmar Devereaux, has come to us for help.”
“Help?” Nona and Consuelo said in Unisom.
“Yes, Ladies, he has.”
“Well, where is he?” Consuelo asked.
“He had to leave early, but no worries. I have captured a memory of his visit with me today. We can all talk to Delmar in just a few seconds,” she said, walking over to the huge cauldron pot sitting on an open fire. The pot bubbled as steamed escaped and evaporated into the air.
Glenda D’Goodwrench, reached into her pocket and pulled out a small clear glass vial, that contained a bluish liquid.
“Ladies, please come closer,” she said softly, as she slowly opened the vial and gently poured the contents into the cauldron.
A heavy primeval smell filled the air as the bluish liquid ascended into the air and circled until a frisson… Then slowly the face of Delmar Devereaux, appeared.
“Check him out,” Nona stated.
After a moment of hesitation, Delmar spoke. “I am so sorry I had to leave early, ladies. I meant no disrespect.”
“None taken, right ladies?” Glenda asked.
Consuelo and Nona nodded their heads and muttered agreement.
About the Author:
She spent over ten years working in the non-profit sector where she wrote grants, press releases and contributed many stories to their newsletter. She was their Newsletter editor for over ten years. She loves growing roses, a good pot of hot tea, chocolate, magical stories, suspense stories, ghost stories, and reading Jane Austen again and again in her past time.
https://www.amazon.com/author/jajackson
http://jerreeceannjackson.blogspot.com
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jerreece-Ann-Jackson/204377496289139
https://twitter.com/jerreece
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B01ISNR0B2
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07HR1KSHN
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A New World – Contact by MD Neu
A New World – Contact
MD Neu
Publication date: February 4th 2019
Genres: LGBTQ+, Science Fiction
A little blue world, the third planet from the sun. It’s home to 7 billion people with all manner of faiths, beliefs and customs, divided by bigotry and misunderstanding, who will soon be told they are not alone in the universe. Anyone watching from the outside would pass by this fractured and tumultuous world, unless they had no other choice. Todd Landon is one of these people, living and working in a section of the world called the United States of America. His life is similar to those around him: home, family, work, friends and a husband.On the cusp of the greatest announcement humankind has ever witnessed, Todd’s personal world is thrown into turmoil when his estranged brother shows up on his front porch with news of ships heading for Earth’s orbit. The ships are holding the Nentraee, a humanoid race who have come to Earth in need of help after fleeing the destruction of their homeworld. How will one man bridge the gap for both the Humans and Nentraee, amongst mistrust, terrorist attacks and personal loss? Will this be the start of a new age of man or will bigotry and miscommunication bring this small world to its knees and final end?
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EXCERPT:
The scene is a nightmare the main character, Todd, has after finding out that aliens are coming to Earth from his brother. The global announcement hasn’t been made yet, so Todd and his husband, Jerry, have had to keep what they know quiet:
Todd hurried along the devastated street, his clothes torn and burned. Around him, a thick blanket of gray filled the air with a putrid smell of rot. He recognized the overturned cart and the woman’s hand grasping out at him.
What happened?
He was at the store.
There was panic. People grabbed and fought over everything in reach. People argued over cans of soup and packages of chips. Pure anarchy. There was so little left when he arrived.
It was every man for himself.
He remembered spotting the bodies of an old couple next to the now emptied-out produce area. They hadn’t stood a chance in the panic. All around him, hysteria, a frenzy that he’d taken part in. He didn’t recognize faces or know names. He remembered stepping over the body of a child. Holding what? Something purple. A woman dead next to him. Her purse’s spewed contents of cellphone, keys, wallet, and change around her. He tried to get what he needed before…before what? He couldn’t remember.
Rushing down the street, Todd no longer comprehended where he was. Finally, he found a familiar house through the endless sheets of gray. Everything burned: trees, cars, homes, and people. All gray, everything covered in an unholy layer of ash.
Slowly, he made his way home. As he walked, he glanced at what remained of a stroller with a burned body kneeling before it protecting a baby. He steadied himself and hurried over to the remains, reaching out his hand in terror.
God in heaven.
His stomach lurched as he fell back, tears streaking his face. It was Steve holding his infant daughter, failing to protect her. Failing to save her. They were dead, everyone dead, all dead. He was distraught as a haze fell over his mind.
He tried to cry out for help but found he had no voice. His throat scorched and voice obliterated. Gone. Was it the rancid smoke around him, or was it the reality of what had happened? Either way, no sounds slipped off his tongue. A deafening quiet surrounded him. A menacing emptiness mocked him with everything he had once held dear. There were no planes, no cars, no dogs, nothing. All gone. Whatever happened long since finished.
Running past the crumbling world and into the remains of his front entry, Todd gasped at the devastation. He didn’t know where else to go.
The burned remains of his once comfortable home taunted him. Home was supposed to be safe. He was supposed to walk through the door and feel happy. He called out Jerry’s name. His voice faltered. The harder he tried, the more ear-piercing the silence became.
Todd rushed to what had once been their living room, he searched desperately for Jerry. How could he not be here? When he went to the store, Jerry was still there, but that had been—how long had it been? He couldn’t remember. When he ran to the den, he found it, too, was in ruins. The large window had blown out, and the heavy curtains were shredded, laying on the floor. Where had Jerry gone? Wrecked room after wrecked room, and there was no sign of Jerry. The house abandoned, except for the layer of gray.
Slowly, it sank in. The aliens hadn’t come in peace. They’d destroyed it all and killed everyone. There was nothing left. He was alone. Finally, he moved to the back door and looked through the shattered window.
A figure hovered over something small in the yard. The figure was covered in filth and torn clothing. Jerry. It had to be. If there was a God, the man there in the yard would be Jerry.
Todd could survive anything, even this, as long as he had Jerry.
He ran to Jerry and reached out to touch his shoulder. His husband turned and gave him a sickening, bloody smile. Todd stopped dead in his tracks, his soul ripped from his body.
Jerry chewed on something, something small, his mouth covered in bright-red blood and white fur. Todd recognized the first thing devoid of the color gray—Bianca’s white fur. Todd heard the words “Mmm, kitty stew.” Jerry’s features were splattered in white fur and blood.
Author Bio:
M.D. Neu is a LGBTQA Fiction Writer with a love for writing and travel. Living in the heart of Silicon Valley (San Jose, California) and growing up around technology, he's always been fascinated with what could be. Specifically drawn to Science Fiction and Paranormal television and novels, M.D. Neu was inspired by the great Gene Roddenberry, George Lucas, Stephen King, Alice Walker, Alfred Hitchcock, Harvey Fierstein, Anne Rice, and Kim Stanley Robinson. An odd combination, but one that has influenced his writing.
Growing up in an accepting family as a gay man he always wondered why there were never stories reflecting who he was. Constantly surrounded by characters that only reflected heterosexual society, M.D. Neu decided he wanted to change that. So, he took to writing, wanting to tell good stories that reflected our diverse world.
When M.D. Neu isn't writing, he works for a non-profit and travels with his biggest supporter and his harshest critic, Eric his husband of eighteen plus years.
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Well Below Heaven by Idyllwild Eliot
About the Author
After adolescence survived in the Midwest and a few obligatory years at the university, Idyllwild Eliot embarked on a journey of internal and external exploration. With stints in Houston, Louisiana, and even Thailand, where she studied yoga, Ms. Eliot has become a semi-professional vagabond. Most recently (at the time of publication) she has been experiencing the North American west. If not sipping a cocktail on a deck in the northern Rockies, she might be found bodysurfing in Southern California, watching Bald Eagles in Montana, or in some other picturesque town hiking, meditating, or sitting with her laptop open and, at its side, a stout mug of black coffee. Well Below Heaven is her debut.
