Cosmic Horror and Fantasy by Russell Archey – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Russell Archey will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Cosmic Horror and Fantasy

One of the biggest appeals of cosmic horror is humanity facing the fact that, in the face of the universe and the eons-old things that are out there, our existence is less than inconsequential. Either impossible, mind-numbing, deity-like beings roam between space and time and don’t even know we exist until we beckon to them too much and they destroy our world, or similar beings have more sinister agendas that will eventually come to pass and they destroy our world. The most a protagonist(s) can hope for is to delay this somehow.

In fantasy, our hero(es) often evil humans or humanoids, monsters of all sizes, or even very powerful beings bent on domination and destruction. Seeing strange things or ugly gribblies is common-place in a fantasy setting. Seeing something like Cthulhu or the King in Yellow may seem like old hat to a human wearing armor made by a dwarf and sword that lights on fire and telepathically communicates with them.

In Ashes of Aldyr and its subsequent books, I want to make the elements of cosmic horror still affect the residents of a fantasy world in the same way it would affect us. This led me to the idea of having these fantasy-dwelling peoples be invaded by unimaginable, madness-inducing being and creatures after an apocalyptic event. This trauma would increase the impact of the eldritch creatures’ arrival and make the humans, elves, and dwarves of Alda long for the simple monsters of past ages.

By putting the cosmic horror beings surrounding The Obscured Throne on a different level, I hope to make them seem like they are truly beyond nightmarish. If someone who’s used to dealing with goblins, dragons, and trolls is freaking out over the hunchbacked, blood-spewing toddler-monster with too many joints in its spine, then surely you should be, too, right?

The world of Alda is broken, destroyed by an event the survivors call “The Rupture.” The aldyrs, magical trees connected to the soul of the world and once grew in breathtaking groves, are dead. Elf-kind, who shared a close bond with these trees, are dying off due to shortened life-spans as a result. The dwarves have retreated into their mountain homes. Humans gather in crumbling settlements. Sinister, god-like beings, each uniquely horrific, exert their influences over the world. Each story is a different thread forming a larger tapestry that shows the scope of the horror and insanity brought by the elusive and mind-numbing entity known as the Obscured Throne. The world was once saved from this threat and Alda was hidden and sealed away. Now, an ancient and shadowy cult called the Black Gnarl have broken enough seals to expose Alda to the Obscured Throne…and It’s coming.

Enjoy an Excerpt

He looked over his shoulder, and his mouth fell agape in a silent scream. A face, a dark-as-midnight face with soulless, shark-black eyes and no mouth stared back at him. The smooth skin had a wet gleam; the limbs were too long for the shoulders they were attached to. The fingers ended in sharp, vicious claws and Edwin began to feel their sting as they flexed against his skin. The creature gripped effortlessly onto his ankle. Another one of them appeared from the roiling edge of the tear in reality and grabbed him with its hooked, elongated fingers. Edwin howled in pain and terror as they dragged him up into the inky blackness with the strange, out-of-sight glow.

About the Author: Fantasy and horror have always been Russell’s preferred genres. Some of his favorite stories often combine them–and the grittier the better. His eclectic tastes in this genre originated when he discovered Lovecraft’s stories of beings so vast and incomprehensible that just thinking about them will melt your brain. Later, he would discover the more sinister but equally unfathomable creations of Laird Barron and, combined, these two influences would create Russell’s desire to fashion his own story of cosmic horrors, but with a fantasy flair. Fantasy often holds many horrific aspects of its own, but Russell enjoys finding ways to take those facets and run with them.

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A Dead End Job by Justin Alcala – Spotlight and Giveaway

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Fans of Terry Pratchett and Shane Kuhn’s THE INTERN’S HANDBOOK will love this noir supernatural thriller.

Death needs a vacation. Badly. But there’s a catch: There are people who cheat the system, always falling through the cracks and not dying like they’re supposed to. Who’s going to take care of them while Death’s sipping on sangria?

The answer is simple: Death needs an intern, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that one prospect, Buck Palasinski,-a bankrupt hitman with a roleplaying addiction-might have what it takes. While scoping out his next target, Buck gets drilled in the forehead by a bullet and falls right into Death’s lap.

If they shove him back into his body, he’ll have a few weeks to prove that he has what it takes to be Death’s right-hand.

All he has to do is take out Public Enemy No. 1, John Dillinger, and quit smoking.

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CHICAGO’S CHIEF PUBLIC HEALTH INSPECTOR FOUND DEAD IN HOME

“Damn it,” Death spat, scratching another name onto his legal pad. The list was growing longer. Death picked up his steaming mug that read “I drink coffee for your safety” and sipped it before clicking the “next story” tab. He’d only been in his apartment’s kitchen turned home office for ten minutes and already he was at wits’ end, the top of his stylus pen half-chewed. Death, The Grim Reaper, Charon, whatever you wanted to call him, the title demanded respect. Afterall, he had held his position before men wore pants. Yet never in his career had someone been so tenacious as to start killing mortals before their expiration date. Death doesn’t even know how it could happen. He picked up his smart phone, using his stylus to dial the numbers on the touch interface.

“Yeah, Jumbo, it’s Death. How long until you get into the office?” Death leaned back in his chair and took another sip from his cup. “Well, I can assure you that you’ll get here safely.” Death sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a tough morning already. Whoever this person is, they’re still getting past our system. None of these names from last night were in the program.” Death slung his boney feet on an empty duct taped kitchen chair. “Alright,” he groaned into the receiver. “I’ll reboot while I wait. See you soon.”

About the Author:

Justin Alcala is a novelist, nerdologist and Speculative Literature Foundation Award Finalist. He’s author of the novels Consumed, (BLK Dog Publishing) The Devil in the Wide City (Solstice Publishing) and Dim Fairytales (AllThingsThatMatterPress). His dozens of short stories have been featured in magazines and anthologies, including It Dances Now (Crimson Street Magazine),The Offering (Rogue Planet Press) and The Lantern Quietly Screams (Castabout Literature). When he’s not burning out his retinas in front of a computer, Justin is an adventuresome tabletop gamer. He’s also a blogger, folklore enthusiast and time traveler. He is an avid quester of anything righteous, from fighting dragons to acquiring magical breakfast eggs from the impregnable grocery fortress.

Most of Justin’s tales and characters take place in The Plenty Dreadful universe, a deranged supernatural version of the modern world. When writing, Justin immerses himself in whatever subject he’s working on, from research to overseas travel. Much to the dismay of his family, he often locks himself away in his office-dungeon while playing themed videos and music over, and over, and over again. Justin currently resides with his dark queen, Mallory, their malevolent daughter, Lily, and their hellcat, Misery. Where his mind might be though is anyone’s guess.

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Truth and Reconciliation by Anand Purohit – Guest Blog and Giveaway

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Truth and Reconciliation

Two very controversial and emotional words in Canada today: Truth and Reconciliation.

Canadians have not suffered the same trauma over the word ‘racist’ as our southern friends, possibly because systemic racism never took hold as deeply in our past. However, reconciliation with Native Canadians has endured with the same emotional charge and unresolved issues as slavery. Pursuit of truth, likewise, is fraught with unending differences of opinion; lots of opinions and fewer agreed upon facts.

Like most people, I have tried over many years to follow the media accounts and positions put forward on complex land rights and obligation issues. I’m also fortunate to have personal experiences to juxtaposition against the cacophony of shouting. One experience from 54 years ago stands out. My father grew up in backwoods Manitoba. A Polish immigrant at a young age, his closest friends were Native children. His family were second class ‘bohunks’, poor immigrants not welcomed by the children from more established, ‘proper English speaking’, families.

My dad liked to fish, a lot! It brought out the child in him. We would drive from homes in suburban Ontario to the North Country at least two times a year. It was heaven for him.

On one trip, as we were driving through a Native Reserve on Manitoulin Island, I was appalled as an innocent teen at the level of poverty, mile after mile. Finally, I ask my dad, “how could this situation exist?” It was one of the few times I saw my hardened, WWII veteran father tear up. He replied, ‘son, it was like this when I was a child and it’ll be like this long after you’re my age.”

He was right. Not much has changed for many Native people despite many billions of dollars being spent by our government. Dad opened up more during that trip and told me of different times the government during his years tried to advance the state of Native housing and infrastructure and how it always ended in misused resources and unmaintained structures.

Part of the reason I wrote my first book, XNOR, was to explore some of the roots for the seemingly unending legal challenges by Native tribes and our Quebecois brothers and sisters. Neither group has fully embraced being equal Canadians with the same legal rights and privileges and only the same ones as other Canadians. How did this start? Was there a certain historical period where legal precedents were set, and each challenge and ‘settlement’ thereafter only complicated the problem without any reconciliation being achieved?

My research led me to the period of 1759 to 1763. I was astounded by the brutality of that era. All parties exercised a meanness and viciousness that is hard to appreciate 260 years later. There were few good actors. Another discovery in my quest was the large turnover of land usage and claims between various Native tribes beginning long before Europeans arrived. Their culture lacked the complex legal structure of the Europeans. The winning tribes did not ‘compensate’ the former occupants of a conquered area. There was no idea of land ownership in the sense that we understand it.

Slavery amongst Natives was as blatant and common as any seen throughout the world. Eighteen-century Native stories of one particularly grotesque takeover had the victors eating parts of their captured men while they were still alive, a fear inducing tactic meant to end any hopes of retaliation from the vanquished tribe. Scalping and torture were ubiquitous.

In this setting, British people claimed ownership of the land we call Canada. They were less than civilized by our standards and certainly made a lot of mistakes, many due to greed and arrogance. Yet, I’m in awe of how they managed to cobble together an increasingly prosperous and egalitarian society from a ragtag set of infighting groups.

These early governors and entrepreneurs are often portrayed as having a large, superior force capability and using it to bring the other groups to heel. My research indicates they were much less powerful and constantly prone to losing their governing control. I imagine it must have been very frustrating, constantly trying to bring disparate people together with limited resources available to appease their needs and demands. Canada was still a poor land compared to Europe and even the States until only three generations ago.

Today, we find the same conflicted groups demanding special treatment. Truth and reconciliation demand past sins be absolved, somehow. Truth must be brought forward!

Unfortunately, there will not be any truth agreed upon. My dad was right, this will go on for possibly a few more generations. I believe this is mostly because we lack the ability or interest to put ourselves into the shoes of those who came before us. They were flawed but probably did the best they could with the hand they were dealt. Could we have done better in the same situation?

I don’t have a solution. Instead, I imagined an historical fantasy where a group of scientists, engineers, teachers and medical people suddenly found themselves transported to Atlantic Canada in 1759. I tried to make the story as real as possible. It undoubtedly has many flaws, but the intent is to generate ideas and discussion that might shed some light on our current problems and how to improve them.

I hope you will join the discussion.

1759 was a defining year for the colonies that became Canada. It was also the year the British Empire rose to preeminence over other European nations and empires. All that changes when technology deployed in 2047 to shield Canadians from an escalating world conflict inadvertently teleports a group of scientists, engineers, teachers and medical people back to Nova Scotia, 1759. Despite their technological superiority, they, like many new settlers, struggle to establish a homestead, feed their community and deal with the constant threat from a violent world. Established empires with their large populations are not about to let a small group of upstarts interfere in their lucrative slave trade and subjugation of whomever they please.

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May 15, 2046
Halifax, Nova Scotia

Chan Wei is skeptical anything important will happen. I’ve been here before. Scientists and engineers are always excited about their latest project or idea. I’m willing to take risks. Sometimes it pays off immensely, but I must avoid the duds no matter how enthusiastic the supporters are.

Peggy Doyle meets him as he walks to the AI & Physics lab. “Hi, Peggy. I hear we’re in for a really big show.”

“So says Neil!” she laughs. “In all my years, I’ve never met a more erratic yet brilliant individual. You’ve given him a long leash. I hope he hasn’t strangled himself with it.”

“Thanks to your sales team, we’re having our best year. We can afford a misstep. What will our revenue be this quarter?”

Peggy smiles broadly. “I predict we’ll pass the billion mark for the first time! Our laser and AI divisions are steady thanks to our military sales. Graphene power storage has really taken off. We’re the world leaders.”

“Fantastic! When we go public, we’ll all be very rich,” Chan boasts.

“I’m thankful for the share options. The salary and bonuses go down well too,” she replies as they enter the lab.

Neil Gargano is bouncing around in his usual style. His project partner, Dr. Wu, is seated, smiling, and displaying more emotion than usual.

Chan asserts a challenge as only a company owner can: “Gentlemen, I’m prepared to be amazed or issue a pink slip. What will you be showing us today?”

Neil can’t contain himself. “Space is alive! We’ll show you proof. Space is alive!”

Chan is amused. “Peggy, is this something you can sell?”

Peggy takes the cue. “Let me see. I don’t see a fit with our laser division. Maybe we can sell the military some Alive Space. They buy some of the darndest stuff and pay well for it.”

Dr. Wu surprisingly backs Neil up, somewhat. “if this demo goes as planned, I think you’ll be recalibrating your expectations.”

“Great!” Chan enthuses. “Blow us away!”

About the Author ANAND PUROHIT was born and raised in a Caucasian, Christian family. After several years of inexplicable experiences, he travelled as young man to India for insight. The shocking immersion, alone in a chaotic and foreign culture, forever changed him. Wandering among the slums, always on the edge of death and disease, his perception was shattered. He returned to Canada with a new name and legalized it to cement his commitment to a life of mindfulness.

While enlightenment proved elusive, the quest for greater understanding remained strong. Forty years of software design and business ownership did not quell the thirst. Constant study of history, logistics, physics and metaphysics watered the desire to weld a nexus between analyst and mystic.

The days of designing complex software systems have passed. A new door has opened.

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Day Unto Night by TammyJo Eckhart – Q&A and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. TammyJo Eckhart will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

What inspired you to write this book?

I’ve always loved vampires, ever since I was a child. At the same time, I’m a very picky fan of vampires. While I give it all a try, I don’t love the angst or the whininess of some vampires that have become popular over the decades. An outright monster, though, is also unappealing. I wanted to do something unique, so I looked farther and farther back in time and discovered a potential vampire-like entity that the ancient Sumerians mentioned, though not much information is given. That allowed me freedom to expand and develop a new mythos while meeting some current expectations for what vampires are and can do.

What exciting story are you working on next?

My next book is due at my publisher at the end of this month. It will be the first in a science fiction series that is a mixture of social science fiction and reverse harem, think old fashion feminist science fiction that’s been updated with dark romance edginess. It is a series I’ve been working on for most of my life. I’m thrilled that the world will finally get to see some of it, I hope all of it eventually.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

That’s a good question because it comes down to do I consider from a paid professional angle or a driven to write angle. I’ve always been driven to tell stories. My fifth-grade teacher sent a story I’d written to the University of Iowa Writer’s workshop back in the 1970s. They sent it back saying that it was good but not a short story (that is what turned into the series I mentioned above). I don’t think they knew how old I was because they didn’t speak down to me in any way in their response. I would say that was when I knew others considered me a writer so I should consider myself one, too.

Do you write full-time? If so, what’s your work day like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?

I have a quarter-time job that I’ve only had for four years. Primarily I’m a full-time author who balances that with taking care of her family, her house, and doing social and educational outreach programs. I schedule every morning, Monday through Friday, from 9am to Noon to focus on writing for publication in some way, whether it is editing, social promotion, or writing something new.

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

I write in my dreams. I will dream of the same scene or sequence of scenes from whatever project I’m working on (or which my muses think I should be working on) over and over again. When I sit down to write, I write fast, usually 1500 to 2500 words in 90 minutes or so. I have a word limit per day that I can type because of an army injury, so typing fast is important for me to be able to do.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

I always wanted to be a writer, because my mother wrote stories though she was never traditionally published. I also wanted to be a historian and professor or a psychologist. I would say that I use history, psychology, and sociology in my fiction and non-fiction, so it all works out.

Anything additional you want to share with the readers?

I don’t pull my punches in terms of sex or violence. Both are part of human life. However, I also don’t put sex or violence into my work merely to turn on or shock someone. It can be jarring to read some of what I write because I want to make you think, I want to make you uncomfortable at times, but there is always a reason. I hope if you get that uncomfortable feel when you read my work, you pause to go back and reread or sit for a moment with that feeling. Then continue. It will be worth it.

A Sumerian child named Ningai survives the murder of her entire family and cries out to her people’s gods, who answer her prayer in an unexpected way. Now, as the first of the Akhkharu, the living dead, Ningai embarks on a journey across the millennia to rebuild what she lost. The best of her offspring must maintain some shred of goodness to prove worthy to their Child-Mother while fighting the deadly impulses of their kind. Join their journeys across time in a series of interconnected stories from the earliest cities to a brutal future where humans are mere pawns in the hands of near gods. Like all of us, Ningai and the best of her children will stop at nothing to protect her family. Can they succeed before they lose what’s left of their humanity, or will all of humanity become enslaved to the Akhkharu forever?

Enjoy an Excerpt

I remember running.

I remember their screams.

Father’s, as they came to the farm. Father’s, as they pushed him aside. Father’s, as they stabbed him while I watched in horror from the window.

I remember their screams.

Brother’s, telling them to get off our land, then crying out for father, then crying for us all to run, but then was nothing but a gurgle.

I remember their screams.

Mother’s, ordering them out, then silence until she yelled for us to hide, then her cries to the goddesses to protect her until there was only a slapping sound, their laughter, and a gurgle.

I remember their screams.

Sister’s, as she was pulled by her hair from beneath the bed, the sound of cloth being ripped, and her cries of anguish and pleas for mercy, then her command to me: “Run!”

I remember running.

I ran between their bodies as they did things to her that I didn’t even have words for. I ran over the cold stone floor, slipping on the cooling sticky substance that dripped from my mother’s still body. I ran over the door and my brother’s cold mass trying to block it. I ran over the earth and grass, matted from my father’s slaughter.

I remember running.

I ran until I fell into the Great Water, what you call the Euphrates but we only called Puranum, and was carried until I could grasp a branch with my hands, tearing it until my blood also covered the ground as I pulled myself up.

I remember my pain.

My stomach gave up the wonderful dinner Mother and Sister had made for us that night, as all I could see was blood and bodies in my mind. I retched until I was as hollow in my stomach as I was in my heart.

I remember my pain.

My hands were torn; my blood was dripping down my arms to soak my nightshirt. My feet were pitted by rocks and twigs that I had dashed through in my haste to obey. My legs were aching from the run, my lungs were still gasping from the water, and my fingers felt like they were turning to ice in the black night.

I remember my pain.

My mouth opening and letting out a scream that was primal and raw, that tore itself from my very depths. My throat burning until only a squeak came forth and I collapsed on the ground, shivering.

I remember them coming.

About the Author: TammyJo Eckhart, PhD, is the published author of science fiction, fantasy, contemporary, horror, and historical fiction. Her non-fiction works covering subjects ranging from history to alternative sexuality to relationship advice and the challenges of trauma recovery. She holds a PhD in Ancient History with doctoral minors in Gender & Sexuality and Folklore. Her blog, The Chocolate Cult, has been the go-to guide for chocolate lovers since 2009. She loves visiting conventions as well as organizations to read, sell books, or share her experiences and insights on various topics in the form of lectures or workshops.

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If the Light Escapes by Brenda Marie Smith – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Brenda Marie Smith will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

A solar electromagnetic pulse fried the U.S. grid. Now northern lights are in Texas—3,000 miles farther south than where they belong. The universe won’t stop screwing with 18-year-old Keno Simms. All that’s left for him and his broken family is farming their Austin subdivision, trying to eke out a living on poor soil in the scorching heat.

Keno’s one solace is his love for Alma, who has her own secret sorrows. When he gets her pregnant, he vows to keep her alive no matter what. Yet armed marauders and nature itself collude against him, forcing him to make choices that rip at his conscience. IF THE LIGHT ESCAPES is post-apocalyptic science fiction set in a near-future reality, a coming-of-age story told in the voice of a heroic teen who’s forced into manhood too soon.

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Bright green lights stream and pulse across the northern sky all night now, growing from thin and wispy to bold and fat, expanding, contracting, sending out bands of yellow streamers like they’re partying on ecstasy at some cosmic rave. The lights are pretty, and they’re hypnotic, and they creep me out to the core.

Northern lights every night for two solid weeks in Texas. Halfway to the equator from where they belong. They’re supposed to be a phenomenon tied to the magnetic poles—it’s a scientific fact.

Nothing is right about this. The only explanation I can think of is that the north and south poles are shifting. I don’t know what that means for the planet and the future of its creatures. We don’t have TVs or talking-head scientists to tell us…

The universe just won’t stop f**king with us.

Today, I’m hoeing corn in our front yard, sweat stinging my eyes. It’s blistering hot out here—early December in what used to be high-tech Austin, until the … sun zapped us with an electromagnetic pulse and took our power, our cars, the damned running water. It stopped pretty much everything—everything modern, that is.

It’s been fourteen months, and all the front yards in our subdivision are mini-cornfields now. We grow beans and veggies in the backyards. It’s a desperate attempt to keep us alive when our food stockpiles run out. Don’t know if it will work, but I’m doing my damnedest to make sure it does.

About the Author:

2018-10-18_Brenda Marie Smith

Brenda Marie Smith lived off the grid for many years in a farming collective where her sons were delivered by midwives. She’s been a community activist, managed student housing co-ops, produced concerts to raise money for causes, done massive quantities of bookkeeping, and raised a small herd of teenage boys.

Brenda is attracted to stories where everyday characters transcend their limitations to find their inner heroism. She and her husband reside in a grid-connected, solar-powered home in South Austin, Texas. They have more grown kids and grandkids than they can count.

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She’s the One Who Doesn’t Say Much by S.R. Cronin – Exclusive Excerpt and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. S. R. Cronin will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Do you know what your problem is?

Olivine knows hers. This quiet thirteenth-century artist has been hiding a secret as she travels to K’ba to meet her friends. Others assume she’s fallen in love with another artist, but it’s much worse than that. For on the way to K’ba is the dirt poor nichna of Scrud, a place scorned by other Ilarians. And in Scrud is the one man who understands her.

However, Bohdan recognizes the dangers posed by an impending Mongol invasion. When he learns of Olivine’s unusual visual powers, he convinces her to pick up her bow and start practicing.

She does, though she’s more concerned with moving to K’ba where she can paint all day and see Bohdan whenever she wants. If only her sister hadn’t decided Olivine and her fellow long eyes held one key to defending the realm.

Then, as if life wasn’t complicated enough, Olivine learns the artist community she yearns to be part of has developed a different take on the invasion. They’re sure the only way to survive is to capitulate completely to the Mongols’ demands. Artists who feel otherwise are no longer welcome.

Where does her future lie? The invasion is coming soon and Olivine doesn’t have much time to decide.

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I let my mother know I’d be celebrating Noruz in K’ba. She said nothing; I think she expected it.

“I’ll be back after the holiday. Then I’ll probably be around here a lot more. I hope that’s okay.”

She smiled. “Problems with your young artist?”

“Something like that.” At least the lie sliding out of my mouth was partly true. “We’re going to take a bit of a break from each other after the holiday.”

“That’s so wise, dear. Make time to get out there and socialize. Consider those other options.” She reached out and took both of my hands in hers and looked into my eyes. “Remember. It’s just as easy to fall in love with a prince.”

The best I could manage was a slight nod as I disengaged my hands and walked outside.

I found my father in the barn and asked him if he had any objection to my conducting archery practices on the farm with a few boys from Gruen.

“Of course you can practice here. We’ve plenty of room.” He gave me a questioning look. “Are all you girls involved in this thing Ryalgar is doing?”

“Probably. I don’t know how the others see it, but I can’t imagine life without this farm, or without Vinx to always come home to.”

He turned away as I said the last part, but when he turned back to face me, I saw the tear in his eye.

“Neither can I. I’m proud of every one of you.” He said it fast, in a quiet tone, so I wasn’t sure I heard him right. I started to say something back, but he walked out of the barn before I could.

About the Author: Sherrie Cronin is the author of a collection of six speculative fiction novels known as 46. Ascending and is now in the process of publishing a historical fantasy series called The War Stories of the Seven Troublesome Sisters. A quick look at the synopses of her books makes it obvious she is fascinated by people achieving the astonishing by developing abilities they barely knew they had.

She’s made a lot of stops along the way to writing these novels. She’s lived in seven cities, visited forty-six countries, and worked as a waitress, technical writer, and geophysicist. Now she answers a hot-line. Along the way, she’s lost several cats but acquired a husband who still loves her and three kids who’ve grown up just fine, both despite how odd she is.

All her life she has wanted to either tell these kinds of stories or be Chief Science Officer on the Starship Enterprise. She now lives and writes in the mountains of Western North Carolina, where she admits to occasionally checking her phone for a message from Captain Picard, just in case.

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Woman Suffrage by David McCracken – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. David McCracken will be awarding a $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

*****

Woman suffrage—wasn’t that just about women in long skirts getting the vote years ago? Didn’t the 19th Amendment settle that in 1920? No, the “Prices of the Vote” in my subtitle alludes to that ongoing struggle. The first price was to exclude non-white women from the discussion, and it is still being paid, even by Native Americans. The fact that a major political party in the United States is actively working to curtail voting, especially by non-whites and, yes, women, indicates the struggle is not won. As my novelette makes plain, by the 20th century, the resistance to woman suffrage was intimately bound up in resistance to black woman and black man suffrage. And look where the resistance is focused now. It is even using the filibuster that was the center of the South’s resistance to civil rights. Now the “party of Lincoln” is leading the repression, though it previously led the civil rights fight.

The struggle for woman suffrage was one of the great dramas of our time. Imagine, throughout most of the world, half the human race, men, held the other half, women, in bondage. Yes, even white women were chattel, limited in their right to education, occupation, and property, even in their rights to their children. I choke up, still, when I read my account of the conclusive fight in the Tennessee House. I hope that by humanizing the struggle through a fictitious heroine with her hopes and feelings, the drama will come through for you and thus bring the necessary historical background alive. It is more current than we (men) would like to think. I am gratified that many reviewers have felt it.

I will continue the story in coming volumes. I hope to have the next one, Far Beyond Woman Suffrage: Testing the Limits, ready by 2/2/22. You can see how I’m coming on that through my website for all my books, DoFancifulFlights.com. In addition, I’m working on a couple of other books to fill out the promise of that title. Stay tuned in.

And VOTE!

Far Beyond Woman Suffrage: The Prices of the Vote

It isn’t just about women in long skirts finally voting. The racists and the rich know that, and the politicians worry.

Mercy Martin has an inside view as the battle for woman suffrage nears a climax, but she encounters many puzzles:

• So many women and Southern states oppose votes for women;
• So many people are afraid it would bring on free love, abandonment of family, economic catastrophe, or communism.
• So many suffragists are willing to abandon black women voters.

From an innocent teen to a young adult, Mercy has a central role in the campaign. She advances from confinement in a suffragist jail cell to the national campaign for the suffrage amendment. She campaigns around Tennessee, ending at the capitol for the explosive climax in the last state that might ratify the amendment and grant the vote to women.

Why should something so clearly right be so hard, and why were some bitter compromises made? Mercy is right in the middle, relied on by key players. Along the way, she acquires a husband, a baby, and better parents than she was born with.

This is an intimate view via alternative historical fiction, as accurate as it can be and as thoughtful and moving as it must be. In this first novella of a series, Mercy jumps into the campaign for woman suffrage and prepares for a vital role in the coming decades. She’ll continue on into the wider civil rights struggle growing out of woman suffrage.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Progress? 1/12/1918

I excitedly wait before my shift on the line to discuss with Miss Sue news I heard about, that the House approved the woman suffrage amendment 274 to 136 two days ago! “So, we’re almost there?” I ask her when she’s passing by, checking how we pickets she’d assigned for the day are doing.

Her mouth tightens: “Sweety, we’ve just begun. That’s just over the required 2/3, and I understand the Senate will refuse even to debate it until October. “

“How can that be? Don’t they know it’s right … and important?”

“They’re afraid of the heat they’ll get from both sides and probably can’t line up the votes to pass it. In Southern states, a vote for woman suffrage is political suicide because negro women there would be able to combine their votes with Northern liberals.”

I look down: “Then it’s hopeless?”

“No, an election is coming. If they postpone a vote until after the election, we might win the few more seats we need.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry. We’re not letting any of them off the hook, especially not Woodrow Wilson. It’s his Democratic party, his responsibility. No excuses. He’s got to produce the votes.”

About the Author David McCracken became a political activist when the Supreme Court ruled against school segregation. Fellow students joined him in urging the school board in Winchester, KY, to integrate immediately. He campaigned for a Democratic governor and joined the ACLU before he graduated from the University of Kentucky. After debating at U.K., he got a degree in economics and a job with the U.S. Department of Commerce.

When his daughters approached school age, he became increasingly concerned with how he wanted them schooled. Researching that, he decided teaching was what he really wanted to do. He got a master’s degree in elementary education at Murray State University. He taught for several years, until the fact that his girls qualified for reduced-price lunches based on his salary got to him. Ronald Reagan’s anti-government policies prevented him from returning to government work, so he took programming courses and shifted careers again. Programming was like being paid to solve puzzles all day, but teaching eventually drew him back until retirement.

For many years of this time, he was working intermittently at a novel that became Fly Twice Backward: Fresh Starts in Times of Troubles. This concerned his waking on his twelfth birthday, trying to figure out what had happened, following his new opportunities, and ultimately outliving an evil president resembling Donald Trump. After thirty-six years, David finally published it as an interactive alt-history Kindle novel. He soon started, Far Beyond Woman Suffrage: The Prices of the Vote, an alt-history novelette dealing with the campaign for woman suffrage. He finished this piece in just ten months. At 81, he is bold(?) enough to plan this as the first of a six-volume set dealing with the far-reaching results and implications of woman suffrage. His completed novels and another in the works are presented for discussion on a new website, DoFancifulFlights.com

David now lives with his third wife, stepdaughter, and step-grandson near Winchester, VA. He has a son from his second marriage, six grandchildren, and two stepchildren. And a wonderful black dog with four white feet.

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The Cairns of Sainctuarie series by Hawk MacKinney – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Hawk MacKinney will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

The Cairns of Sainctuarie
Volume I – The Bleikovat Event
Volume II – The Missing Planets
Volume III – Inanna Phantom

From a rocky outcrop a battle-widowed Etkaa, gazed down at the death and upheaval. Rancid green Murian blood stanched the dusklit breezes from the haze-dimmed river marshlands. Nothing has been spared by the Green Dragon forces of Bleikovia. In skirmishes along the Feldon River, Etkaaâ’s mate is fatally wounded with deadly selvon poison. Through a gruesome mountain trek of icy blizzards, they elude the Green Dragon. The battered starving Feldovats reach the coast at Eedov City only to be confronted by their implacable enemy determined to destroy the remaining Klarvkon rabble. Taking passage on crowded Maalon freighters, the refugees escape toward a new life among their Maalon hosts. Enraged Bleikovats move against the Klarvkons, bringing indiscriminate bloodshed. War once again surfaces, as it did in the muddy filth along the Feldon River of Malfesov, and becomes a different kind of war.

Generations after the great Murian upheaval of the Malfesian War against the Bleikovats, the Accords between planets Terato and Myr are signed.

Provisional Outpost Terato is under construction near a farm where Teratoan orphan Eklam a’Qoc lives with his uncle and cousin. Inquisitive strong-minded Eklam, Ek to everyone in the village, is captivated by the off-worlders technology, and becomes an apprentice to the Outpost Terato’s Murian commander, Grand Duke Korvo. Uncle a’Qoc disapproves; wants nothing to do with these outlanders, wants their shimmering doorway portals-of-travel banned from Terato. As Outpost Terato becomes operational it seems to become a harbinger stirring ageless secrets of The Old Ones and their frightful weapons, of ancient Teratoan ruins, mysterious glowing lights, unexplained killings, a sacred book in a language no Teratoan can read, a moon that doesn’t behave like a moon in its wobbly orbit.

From cosmic reaches beyond space and time the ominous secrets of Terato’s ancient ruins become more threatening. Ek and Korvo realize both their worlds face extinction with any hope buried somewhere in unknown galaxies far beyond a pastoral Terato or the sophisticated star-empire of the Murians; of missing planets in a star system with its single star in a galaxy far-removed unknown to Terato or Myr. They travel across the universe to a place long forgotten to fight this unknown foe with weapons only dreamed of. Together they face the beast that wishes to consume the entire universe.

The threat of rift invasions seems long passed. Plentiful harvests abound. The Murian first-contact Terato Outpost has grown into the sprawling Terato-Murian Terminus Terato with a hub of relay portals reaching across the vast uncharted galactic expanses and connecting with its eon-extinct Lantaraan prehistory. An exploratory Terato-Murian Jupiterr outpost is established on the gas giant seventh planet, and its quantum and gravitational energies are used to power outpost portals for an archeological survey of the fourth planet, Eorthe. The Lantaraan database aboard Terato’s ancient Downday moon shows that one or more planets of the Solaris planets have apparently been lost. Expanded archeological records on other Lantaraan orbital bodies in the Solaris system show the fourth planet from the star—Eorthe—to be a sterile wasteland. Except it is not. Eorthe’s civilization is not to the level of the Murian Empire, but it is far advanced to those of a pastoral Terato. Terato and Eorthe form the confederated United Terran League under the nominal figurehead leader of League High Judikarr Eklam a’Qoc. Jupiterr outpost expands into a major League stronghold, Jupiterr Base, when civil unrest erupts in the League, the unexpected return of rift intrusions threatens, and the Murian Emperor Klarvko Celo is assassinated. As they prepare for confrontations with an unknown ancient enemy, the internal tensions on Myr and Eorthe push Murians and Teratoans to dangerous discords.

Enjoy an Excerpt from BOOK ONE: THE BLEIKOVAT EVENT

The catafalque of the old Dowager Queen rested on the high rostrum of the Temple of the Goddess Myraa. There was little ceremony to the cremation of dead. Yet, all that had passed made this requiem for the Dowager Queen Klarvkaa Etkaa Bremanova Celovaa Bremanova symbol of the changes which had swept so many lives. Long annuals before the ascendancy of The Klarvkon Dynasty, the massive wood and granite Temple to the Goddess Myraa had been destroyed in the firestorm which laid waste Eedov City. After the close of the Malfesian War the temple was rebuilt, but not the city. On the ashes of the old temple, immense columns rose above the sanctuary and vaults. Iridescent alabaster and polished marbles greeted pilgrim supplicants who had come to the shoreline plains washed by the Green Sea.

Dowager Etkaa Klarvkaa…wife, myäat, founding matriarch of the Klarvkon Dynasty, gave hope from a time without hope. As was her wish, she would be cremated on the soil of her birth, her ashes to mingle with those of her consort, Klarvko Celo. Their son, His Imperial Majesty Klarvko Celo the Second, decreed it would be. At the enormous base of the great temple…a spectacle never seen before and seldom since those times, came an undulating ocean of banners. Some of clans which no longer existed, even the once-hated Green Dragon of Bleikovia. Murians had taken her to their hearts…and never relinquished her. Her shadow would reach across the centuries, and measure all who followed.

About the Author:

With postgraduate degrees and faculty positions in several medical universities, Hawk MacKinney has taught graduate courses in both the United States and Jerusalem. His professional writing includes articles on chordate neuroembryology, and aerospace research on muscle metabolic behavior in multi-orbital environments.

In addition, Hawk has authored several works of fiction including a historical romance Moccasin Trace which was nominated for both the prestigious Michael Shaara Award for Excellence in Civil War Fiction and the Writers Notes Book Award. His Cairns of Sainctuarie Science Fiction Series and his Moccasin Hollow Mystery Series have received national and international attention.

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3 Self-Care Tips for Writers by Zhanna Hamilton – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Zhanna Hamilton will be awarding a $75 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

3 Self-Care Tips for Writers

As a writer, self-care is just as important as improving your craft. Here, I list three essential tips for taking care of yourself while on your writing journey.

Don’t Compare

Someone might be an award-winning author with a large fanbase. Another might be writing their seventh novel. A different writer could have just sold their first screenplay.

None of these writers have anything to do with you.

Their success does not take away from your future success. In fact, every time a writer wins, they show what’s possible for you, too. There’s no need to compare your journey to others since they are on a different path. Trust the divine timing of your life.

Move Your Body

As writers, we sit around a lot. We sit at our desks. We sit in cafes. We sit whenever we are ready to write.

That’s a lot of sitting, isn’t it?

While exercise takes us away from our work, it will help us become better in the long run. Don’t skip it!

Healthy body + healthy mind = better writing.

Focus On the Craft

It’s not about you. The faster you realize this, the faster you can take the ego out of the process and concentrate on perfecting your craft. Get curious about how good you can get at writing and then put in the work. With a focus on mastering the craft instead of questioning if you’re good enough, you’ll naturally advance over time.

I hope these tips help you improve and enjoy the writing process a bit more.

A former human turned military spy bot escapes the oppressive Solar Government, leaving behind a secret that turns order into chaos. Now, she’s being hunted.

Blank: Madam Doesn’t Like That (Short Story 4 of The Blank Series):

An unexpected visit from sex bots turns into a secret mission with deadly consequences

Enjoy an Excerpt

Arlo read a large sign passing by on the boulevard.

KILL ALL BOTS!

“What the hell is Razor doing?”

“She’ll be fine. She does it all the time.”

“Does what all the time? Never mind. Don’t tell me. We have to stop her.”

Zen crossed her legs, tapped the console with long, golden nails and stared past the protest.

“You stop her.”

He watched Razor lift a helmet off the ground and put it on, pumping her fist as she walked into the chanting crowd.

“I can’t be in a protest, Zen. I have a career to protect.”

“Sounds inconvenient.”

“Don’t we have somewhere to be?”

“And we’ll get there.”

“This is ridiculous,” he said, stepping out of the pod. He tried to spot her. Nothing but angry strangers. Walking towards the crowd, he felt the electric energy of frustration.

“PEOPLE OVER BOTS! PEOPLE OVER BOTS!”

He stood at the edge of the moving spectacle and scanned for Razor.

Against the grain of the crowd, he spotted the oversized biker’s helmet with flowing blonde locks extending beyond the edges. She grabbed a bat off the ground near a closed psychedelics store.

“Razor, no!” he yelled, his voice drowned by the raging chorus.

About the Author: Zhanna Hamilton is a science fiction writer and the creator of The Blank Series. In May 2019, she released the first installment of the scifi series on Wattpad, “Blank: Begin Again,” which has been named in the top 100 list of femme fatale stories and chosen as an “Undiscovered Stories” Wattpad Pick on the independent storytelling platform–home to 90 million readers worldwide. Readers and future readers can follow Hamilton on Twitter.

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Read “Blank: Begin Again (Short Story 1 of The Blank Series)” on Wattpad

Read “Blank: Where Do Machines Go When They Die? (Short Story 2 of The Blank Series)” on Wattpad:

Read “Blank: You Heard Me (Short Story 3 of The Blank Series)” on Wattpad

Read “Blank: Madam Doesn’t Like That (Short Story 4 of The Blank Series)” on Wattpad

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Pixies in the Mist by Rasta Musick – Guest Blog and Giveaways

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Rasta Musick will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Jake had drifted to Japan without any serious intent, and it was going… okay. He had made friends in the local Salsa community, his Japanese was improving, but for Jake the familiar feeling that had dogged him most of his life—that something special should be happening—had struck again.

Kenneth had been assigned to Japan by the pixie queen years ago, which is just enough time for a pixie to get bored and complacent while keeping tabs on the local talent. Most humans had no magic, and most magical humans didn’t know it was their power that made their food taste better, their paintings more vibrant, or people like them more.

When the two met, the spark in Jake gave Kenneth’s role a new urgency. Jake didn’t just have magic, he had a wild and unpredictable kind seen only once in a generation. How could Kenneth keep Jake’s magic from falling into enemy hands? Kill him? Recruit him? Somehow keep him ignorant?

Jake’s magic had quietly led him to Japan, subtly influencing every choice in his life. That something special Jake had been waiting for was about to happen, ensuring his and Kenneth’s lives would never be boring again.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Jake stood up and walked into his shower room to get ready for a night of dancing. It was only recently that the separation of his toilet and shower didn’t make him uncomfortable. To someone else, it might have been strange that he felt pride from having gotten used to such a minor aspect of his life in Japan, but it was part of his life that he had to deal with daily. Every small comfort mattered when adjusting to a new country, as Jake had quickly found out. Things were different than visiting on vacation. It had already been a few months since he had moved to Japan on a student visa. The five-day-a-week Japanese course he was taking filled up his mornings and some of his afternoons. Jake once again wondered why he had signed up for morning classes when he hated waking up early. Thankfully, he had studied Japanese before coming. He couldn’t imagine being as lost as some of the people he met during class. The thought made him shudder as he started the water.

About the Author:

Rasta Musick spent the first 12 years of his life in California before moving to Japan with his family. After graduating from college with a Bachelor’s in economics at the age of 16, he spent the years after learning Japanese and working. Having spent more than half his life in Japan, he’s confident that it’s his home.

With many different hobbies, chief of them being Latin dance, he keeps himself physically active as well as mentally active as much as he can. The Latin dance community in Japan is alive and, surprisingly, quite large.

Rasta has lupus and hereditary coproporphyria. Given their complicated nature, he’s had to learn a lot to adapt and manage them. The process also taught him a lot about managing other aspects of his life, and all of this influences his writing.

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