The Time Gatherer by Rachel Dacus – Spotlight and Giveaway

 

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Rachel Dacus will be awarding a $20 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.

Coming of age as a time traveler isn’t easy. Young George St. James gets help from a magical medieval monk and a 23rd century geneticist. But they can’t keep him safe from a secret society dedicated to eliminating time travel. When love unexpectedly arrives in a distant century, George must use all his skill to thwart his foes while trying to save his beloved from their malice.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Her hand was limp in his, and her eyes had ceased to move under closed lids.

“Elisabetta?”

He couldn’t take a breath until she took one, but her breathing was shallow and slow. George finally inhaled, a lump in his throat. But he couldn’t allow the tears. Not yet. Not while she lived.

A single window above her bed let in a feeble shaft of light, but not much air. The stone walls oppressed him. This backward place. If only he could have transported his beloved to the airy apartment he lived in, four hundred years in the future. She could have recovered there. No one could get well in this backward century.

He had offered to take Elisabetta with him, knowing that she would die of this unknown disease. In his time, they might have been able to cure her, but she’d refused. He wouldn’t force this brilliant young painter to leave everything she’d ever known when that might ruin her and disturb history.

This was all his fault. If George hadn’t allowed his teenage passion for rock and roll to lead him to an even deeper passion for delving into history, he might not be sitting in this stone-walled room in the seventeenth century, keeping vigil at the bedside of the only woman he would ever love.

He could jump right now to the future and ask Dr. Zheng for another remedy, but since this one had gone so wrong, the next cure could be worse. And he couldn’t leave Elisabetta alone now.

About the Author:

Rachel Dacus is the author of three novels touched with the supernatural, The Time Gatherer, The Renaissance Club and The Invisibles. Magical realism also runs through her four poetry collections: Arabesque, Gods of Water and Air, Femme au Chapeau, and Earth Lessons. Her writing has appeared in many journals, including Atlanta Review, Boulevard, Gargoyle, and Prairie Schooner, as well as the anthology Fire and Rain: Ecopoetry of California. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and a tiny but feisty Silky Terrier. She loves exploring the outdoors and raising funds for good causes.

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Creating Characters 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.

Creating Characters

I like to try to create worlds and characters that feel as though they live and breathe, that have histories, backgrounds, that existed long before any pages were written. If it feels like I’ve written a story by looking through a window into their world and writing what I see, then I’ve succeeded. This is why I’m a fan of the “writing by the seat of your pants” style. The characters feel more organic if I write them reacting to the situations around them. When I plan things out, I try to create situations then write the characters as they would realistically react to that situation.

At the beginning of my writing process, I tend to create a general outline of characters: where are they from? What is their history? Are they high-strung or relaxed? Head-strong brave or will their bravery show at the right moment? I try to envision their physical appearance and mannerisms in my head. After that, I let the story tell itself. My dialogue is very rarely written out ahead of time. I let that previously constructed personality react to the others around it, and often surprise myself with the dialogue that comes from it.

I think this feels very organic; however, it also tends to lead me to write myself into corners. This is the biggest type of writer’s block I tend to get. How am I going to move forward from where these characters have ended up? At this point I tend to have to take a step back and look ahead a little at where the characters need to be. But, that’s part of the joy of writing—seeing how these situations will play out!

An incredible high fantasy adventure set in a world based on familiar fairy tales, folklore, and mythology, “The Seven Spires” is an epic story of dragons, magic, conquering evil, and discovering magnificent new places.

When a fearsome creature known as Wyvern begins terrorizing Emrallt, one of the seven realms of the continent of Septer, a group of heroes are brought together seemingly by fate to rally against him. A prince, warrior, wizard, and mysterious, sorceress-like sybil try to discover why a common maiden could be the best chance their kingdoms have against Wyvern’s growing forces that threaten to dominate each and every one of the ancient, arcane spires that bind their kingdoms, and world, together.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Wyvern recognized their broken language and knew that White-eye spoke of more than just a town guard or good-natured passerby. Ratlings cared little for the difference between common humans, merchants, and even nobility. It was only a difference in what goods they could pilfer; however, when a ratling described one as ‘important,’ that often meant ‘royalty’.

“The important man—what did he look like?” Wyvern asked.

The two deplorable rodents looked up at him in confusion. They looked through arms held in front of their faces as if toward off a pending strike. Wyvern leaned forward on his forelimbs.

“You said he was ‘important.’ He wore blue clothes. What did he look like? Face, hair—what?” he growled with small tongues of fire licking around his teeth.

“Also pretty, like lady!” Moss Blossom squealed. “Nice clothes! Long blue vest with another tower—different shiny stone, blue shiny stone…”

Wyvern growled in frustration. The Blue Prince of Avallonis. The little fop could bring Wyvern no end of misery; an army’s worth of misery to be exact. Especially if he had his sights set on the Maiden.

“He threatened you?” Wyvern asked of them.

“Y-yes, with sharp metal. He threaten blood,” White-eye answered. Moss Blossom nodded her head vigorously in agreement.

“Indeed, you had no choice but to flee,” Wyvern said. “But, rules are rules…” he added with menace.

About the Author: Russell Archey has been writing since he was old enough to hold a pencil. His love for narratives, world-building, and story-telling has fed into nearly every aspect of his life: from his video and board game hobbies to pressing his most cherished books onto his unfortunate children (who will, one day, read the Lord of the Rings trilogy whether they like it or not). When he’s not creating new worlds and horrifying things to threaten them with destruction, he’s bringing other author’s fantastic works to life as an audiobook narrator, spending time with his two children, and pressing his dear wife’s eternal patience with his quirky habits.

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Winter Blogfest: Mary Patterson Thornburg

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win a digital copy of The Kura.

The Joy of the Holidays

“The holidays,” we say, wanting to be inclusive – even “the winter holidays,” although for those of us in Earth’s southern hemisphere they’re summer holidays. As I was writing my novel The Kura, set mostly on an alternate world, in another reality, I wondered if the people there celebrated them too. But of course they did, and do. When a native of that world steps into this one on a snowy December night, my heroine explains it to him:

“They approached the downtown area, where lights glittered on every lamppost and the store windows were decorated with tinsel and artificial snow. ‘Is it a celebration?’ he asked. ‘The Midwinter festival?’

“’Yes. A lot of people call it Christmas – that’s what my brother and I called it, growing up – and people from other cultures call it other things. Use it to celebrate other things. But it’s all about Midwinter, really. The return of the sun, in the North. The rebirth of light.’”

When I myself was growing up, my father worked for a Christmas tree company, and his holiday season started with the first frost and got more stressful by the day, making him a bit cynical about the whole thing. My heroine’s father reflects some of this cynicism when he says, of the lights and decorations, “Yes, it’s pretty. Some of it’s almost beautiful. They start this earlier every year, and it’s all about money. Nothing to do with Jesus Christ, or Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa, or Midwinter. All about money.” But he can’t keep that up. A minute later he’s agreeing to put up a Christmas tree and planning a party. There’s something about this season that makes it hard to be a cynic for long.

My holidays this year will be spent alone. My husband, who was for thirty-five years the nearest bright light on my own Christmas tree, died in July, a few days after my country’s Midsummer Festival, which we call Independence Day. Our family is thousands of miles away, and we’re all staying in, staying safe, in this year of worldwide pandemic. But as I write this, I feel the joy of all these coming holidays rising around me. I will send the cards, listen to the music, put up my little plastic tree, and visit with my beloved people through bursts of energy that bounce from one phone to another, caroming off an artificial star. And I will reflect on that “rebirth of light” and the promise these winter holidays make, to all of us, that – in the words of the Dalai Lama XIV – “Our ancient experience confirms at every point that everything is linked together, everything is inseparable.”

Happy holidays to you! 

Six years ago, two men chased Alyssha Dodson into a dark room under a bridge in her Indiana city, and she found herself in another universe. After three months she came back. She promised her father she’d stay in his world. But what she’d left behind was a place she couldn’t forget, dreams she couldn’t escape. And a piece of her heart.

Now, when a man dies in a hit-and-run accident, leaving her a strange, double-faced coin and a message she doesn’t understand, she’ll have to break that promise.

Mary Patterson Thornburg was born in California, grew up in Washington State, moved to Montana when she was 18, and spent many years in Indiana, where she studied and then taught at Ball State University.
Her dream was always to write fantasy stories and novels, but she didn’t get started until she and her husband moved back to Montana in 1998. When she’d finished her first story and it was published, she took off running and never looked back. She’s had stories in Cicada; Zahir; The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction; Strange, Weird, and Wonderful, and the anthology Dreamless Roads, among other places. Her first novel, A Glimmer of Guile, was published by Uncial Press in 2014. Her second book for Uncial, The Kura, came out in April, 2015, and since then there have been novellas and short stories galore. She’s currently writing as fast as she can.

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Winter Blogfest: C.A. Masterson

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win a $15 Amazon gift card.

Christmas Traditions

Holidays are all about family, aren’t they? Showing the people you love how much you care for them, and spending precious time together. 

In our family, traditions carried through generations make the season extra special. I decorate the entire house so everyone will feel the good cheer of the holidays. 

I’ve collected ornaments since the year I married, and hanging those on the tree brings back wonderful memories. Maybe that’s why our tree fills half the room! For each of my three children, I collected a new ornament every year for them to hang on their own Christmas trees when they grew up.

Even though they’re now adults with kids of their own, the ornaments they crafted for me still go on my tree every year – the glue-and-glitter snowflake, the slightly crooked ceramic house, the cinnamon dough star that somehow hasn’t crumbled. I hope they’ll continue the tradition for my grandchildren so the youngest generation will grow up to hear the stories connected with every ornament.

Family is at the heart of every good story! Especially if your family has a few… quirks. Like the family of my latest heroine, Marissa Tahy.

In Secret Spirit Guardians of Santa Fe, Marissa is my favorite kind of heroine – smart, feisty, brave (maybe to a fault), and a little flawed. She lost her brother at a tender age, and is distrustful of love, and even a little distrustful of family. All her life, she knew they’ve kept secrets from her, but when she finds out the real reason, she puts her personal life aside to do what’s necessary for everyone’s good. The experience brings her family closer than she thought possible.

That’s what make the holidays so special. From our family to yours, we wish you a wonderful holiday filled with precious memories.

After Marissa Tahy returns home to Santa Fe, she is haunted by visions and glimpses of danger no one else sees: Old Man Gloom in his true form. For over a century, people have burned their troubles in the spirit’s effigy at the Zozobra festival, making the spirit angrier and more powerful. This year, Old Man Gloom demands his due. The vengeful spirit targets those Marissa loves.

Even when Marissa discovers the secret history binding her family to Zozobra, joining their forces may not be enough to prevent the furious spirit from burying Santa Fe beneath an avalanche of misery.

Award-winning author C.A. Masterson loves stories of any genre. Multi-published in contemporary to historical, fantasy/dark fantasy to paranormal/speculative, she sometimes mashes genres.

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Where Do Ideas Come From? by PD Alleva – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Where do ideas come from?

The cosmos. Probably from one of the planets surrounding Orion’s belt and the otherworldly beings that manifest on those planets. Food for thought I hope.

As you can tell I write science fiction novels. I’m also intrigued by alien lore, books, theories, and of course Ancient Aliens. I’m an avid reader of just about anything and everything, although I prefer intelligent reads that pack a punch with fantastic storytelling, excellent prose, and incredible character depth. I sneer every time traditional publishing markets another regurgitated storyline. Seems like there’s a lot of those in today’s market.

But where do ideas really come from?

I do believe whole-heartedly that good ideas are a result of an overactive imagination that continues to spin tales whether or not the recipient actually manifests those ideas into a book. In my younger and more vulnerable years (yes that’s a quote from The Great Gatsby) I would tell ghost stories to my two younger brothers every time the lights went out because my parents couldn’t afford the electrical bill, which, unfortunately happened often. Although I’m grateful for those times, telling stories is the best way to transport the mind to a different place, universe, or dimension. There are no limits to any one story other than the limits the author chooses to incorporate. Keep stretching the imagination and demolish the bounds of reality, that’s what I say.

But ideas can come from just about anything and everything. A song, a situation or circumstance, a movie or book that inspires the creative muse, even philosophy, spiritual concepts, scientific advancements or theories, and of course an interest in quantum physics, which breaks down all barriers that traditional science seeks to turn into reality.

I enjoy stretching the limits of my own imagination, perhaps, someday; those thoughts will each Orion’s belt (if they haven’t already).

A masterful, dystopian science fiction thriller of underground genetic experiments, telepathic evil greys, mysterious rebellion, conspiracy, martial arts, and Alien Vampires.

Sandy Cox believed WW3 was over. But for those Alien Vampires, War Has Just Begun.

Forty-eight hours after a World War III treaty is signed Sandy Cox awakens in an underground compound unable to move. Tied to machines she screams for help but no one answers. At least NO ONE HUMAN.

And they’ve taken her unborn child.

Enter Phil, a rebel freedom fighter who has had more than his share of Alien Vampires. Armed with THE BLADES, a sacred alien martial art, he enters the compound on a mission to find Sandy. But as he battles his way through the compound, Phil discovers Sandy has her own agenda. Finding her stolen child is all that matters.

But the vampires have their own plan and Sandy’s baby is at the heart of their diabolical plot. Joined by a crew of rogue soldiers, they must navigate the underground compound, battling genetically mutated humans, aliens and monsters.

When battling Alien Vampires, one thing is certain…Get Ready To Bleed!

Fans of The Hunger Games, George RR Martin, VE Schwab, Star Wars and Ancient Aliens will be fascinated by this high-powered, intelligent, edge of your seat dystopian sci-fi action thriller.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“It’s in the blood, dear,” said Ellen, one of the women Sandy shared time and space with, her skin worn by age, hard labor, and days spent under the sun. Blotches, liver spots and creases led the observer to the eyes. One dark, the other a cataract milky white and she always wore a dark shawl draped over the head and shoulders. Sandy was afraid of Ellen, she reminded Sandy of a gypsy or witch from a fairy-tale.

“Come again?” said Sandy, her eyes shifting from soldier to Ellen to soldier then back to Ellen.

Ellen had cut herself transferring a wood bucket filled with rice to add to an already large trough of buckets. A thick wood splinter pinned in the bottom of her palm dripping with a thick stream of blood. She turned to Sandy raising the bloodied palm and caught a drop of blood in her unwounded hand.

“The blood dear,” said Ellen. “All magic comes from the blood.”

Sandy cringed at the sight; she’d always been squeamish. Her stomach bumped, blood curled. Magic, Sandy thought. If only magic was real. How wonderful would that be? Sandy understood she was naïve, the result of an isolated childhood and her parents’ death when she was ten years old. Not that they had taught the young Sandy about the world she lived in either. They’d kept her under lock and key, never so much as offering a glimpse or advice on the outside world. They were always so cryptic with their explanations, living in an abundant and overgrown mansion as if luxury were a childhood friend. Sure there were plenty of rooms for a child to explore but as time went by those rooms seemed more like a prison than a home.

Years of neglect, isolation and secrets were as torturous as physical suffering. And she was tired of secrets. She wanted to know truth. Truth was like a blanket that keeps you warm in the coldest winter.

“The blood, Sandy,” said Ellen who clenched her fist around those crimson droplets, shaking her hand in front of her face. “All is in the blood.”

About the Author:PD Alleva is an alternative fiction author. His novels cross genres, blending mystery, conspiracy, psychology, and action with horror and dystopian science fiction. Alternative fiction is PD’s attempt at describing what readers uncover in any one of his books, a new discovery towards mainstream storytelling. He’s been writing since childhood, creating and developing stories with brash and impactful concepts that he would describe are metaphors for the shifting energies that exist in the universe. PD exists inside of his own universe, working diligently on The Rose Vol. II and exceptional horror novels. Be prepared for Golem, PD’s upcoming horror thriller.

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10 Things Most People Don’t Know About Me by Dexter C. Channing – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Dexter C. Channing 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.

10 Things Most People Don’t Know About Me
This is quite a funny topic to write about because most people don’t know anything about me. I’ve been called a crazy, an imposter (not quite sure who I’m supposed to be, to be honest), an enigma, amongst other things. They’re the kinder ones. I admit, I like the enigma one, because I don’t really like people to know the real me, so be prepared for everything I tell you about me to be a red herring.

I think the drive in the modern age for people to know everything about everybody is part of what I resent about technology. You log into a computer for instance, and someone somewhere who created the operating system knows you’ve just done that. Then they know where you live because of the IP address giving them location information. Everyone’s movements can be disseminated and examined electronically, so that the twenty first century affords no-one any privacy.

I like my privacy too. I’m very much a ‘close the door and take off the external persona’ type of person. Maybe that is something to do with my job, I’m not sure. People know what they need to know about me in my type of profession – I’m not a full time writer – and I guess that’s the first thing you’ve learnt about me! Privacy is an important commodity and it’s being eroded by the very topic which I wrote about in my two books, Virus and Resistance.

In the UK, for instance, they have this Trace and Test technology, where they have an app that you (by choice at the moment, but that’s gonna change, you watch this space) download onto your phone and it basically records your movements. They dress it up as something else, but in actual fact, they have tabs on you. They aren’t interested in whether you are in a high risk Covid area, they’re interested in where you are going and what you’re spending your money and your time doing. It’s all about control.

I don’t like that (is that thing two?). I don’t like the idea of some sort of big brother industry taking that much of an interest in me that they know when I’ve gone to the john. It’s intrusive. People are having their civil liberty eroded in front of them, and the worst of it is – they are letting it happen!

Okay so, we’ve got two things.

Number three – surprise, surprise – I live alone. I much prefer my own company to anyone else’s. I live by this motto – ‘Trust No-One’ and it works. Trust, once it’s been destroyed by someone, is a hard thing to find again. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.

Actually, scrap number three, that’s a lie, I forgot the cat. I live with my cat. I like cats. That’s number four, by the way. In fact, I much prefer animals to people. Let’s face it, when was the last time an animal let you down?

I’m doing pretty well, here, I’m on number five already. I love the wilderness and people who think they know me are going to tell you that I prefer to live in the city, because of its anonymity and that would be correct. But preferring to live somewhere doesn’t mean you have to like it. You’re more exposed in the country. Everyone knows everyone else.

Okay, so I’m running out of things I know about myself! Number six, okay, my mother (yes, I have one, all you doubters!) was a beauty queen. I remember being about ten and awkward and gawky, which I think I still am, but there was my mother, elegant, beautiful, sophisticated. All the things I’m not.

Number seven – As a child I could speak another language, I mean other than English, but I’m not telling you which one. After my grandparents died, I had no-one else to converse with, so I lost the ability. I can remember some phrases, but not many.

This is getting harder because hardly anyone knows me anyway. Number eight – I’m an only child. I think my folks had me and decided not to risk it again.

I’m almost there, I know myself a little more now, too. So, number nine, let’s see. One of my great, great grandparents was Norwegian. That’s about all I know myself, although I have been to Norway. I’ve been to all the Scandinavian countries. Marvelous places.

Right, we’re done – number ten – I really wish I could fall in love. This last one is a shocker, considering I’m such an introvert. I’m probably the least romantic person on the planet, too. But I think that it would be nice to fall in love and for someone to love me back. Have I been in love before? Once. It ended badly, very badly, I guess there’s no such thing as a happy ending, is there?

In New Normal – Resistance, a deadly pandemic is sweeping across the globe. Country after country is disintegrating into a lawless, terrified conclusion as it soon becomes apparent that there is a fate worse than death. Violence and discord stalk the streets; governments are beginning to introduce martial law and curfews in a futile attempt to regain control of a world thrown into disarray by a silent, unseen killer.

Jolyon Jones, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, knows that it is a race against time to find a vaccine for this highly infectious virus before the consequences wipe out humanity. He also knows that the virus is not the only killer. Small pockets of resistance are slowly emerging; survivors ready to fight not only against the virus, but against each other.

In the midst of the battle for survival, the faithful know that their wait for the Second Coming is nearly over. They know that He is here again. But who is He and will He be able to stop the virus before science reaches an apocalyptic solution?

Resistance is the second in Dexter C. Channing’s New Normal Trilogy. The first being New Normal – Virus, which was released earlier in the year. The final instalment is due to be released at Easter 2021.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Across the Atlantic, early evening sunlight bathed the White House in an auroral light, shimmering in the gentle breeze which sighed across the velvet green lawns. Inside the Oval Office, nobody cared for the view, despite how peaceful and ordinary it looked.

The President was wearing his most mulish look as the Secretary of State and the Defence Secretary reeled from his latest revelation. For a moment, only the distant wail of sirens could be heard in the thick silence which surrounded them following the President’s declaration. The sound mingled with the groan of despair from the Defence Secretary, an involuntary reaction to what he had just listened to.

‘Mr President, Sir,’ the Defence Secretary looked at the other man and felt like smashing his fist into the supercilious expression he found staring back at him. Did the President not understand what was happening and how there was a need for unity, not discord within global relationships? Obviously, he did not! ‘Could I ask you if Professor Benjamin did this without coercion?’

Spreading his arms out in a gesture that indicated he did not know or understand, the President replied, ‘All I know is that I have been told of a call made to Beyler School of Medicine from Professor Benjamin’s office. Who instructed him to make the call, I don’t know, but I do know that if there is a second spike, another “mutation”, then Watpharm had better understand it will need Gileath to bail it out of its fucking mess, pissing about with some bloody college students and those yellow skinned freaks!’

‘This has been done as retaliation because what, Watpharm didn’t want to set up shop with an American Company? Jesus fucking Christ!’ The Defence Secretary’s fist came down on the desk, making the other two men jump. ‘We’re in the middle of a fucking world changing crisis, Mr President, Sir! We have the threat of extinction and we have got non-humans running amok on the fucking planet and some idiot professor wants some more business for his company?’

‘This administration gives Gileath a hell of a lot of dollars,’ the President glared at his Defence Secretary, ‘and I don’t want those dollars wasted! Working with Watpharm might also go some way to restoring America’s credibility on the world stage.’

‘I think what the Defence Secretary is trying to say, Mr President, is that if there is a second spike or another mutation of this current outbreak, then the world stage may not have much of an audience left to play to, Sir.’ The Secretary of State intervened.

The President threw his papers down onto his desk and stormed out of the office wearing a truculent expression.

The Secretary of State shook his head. ‘Sometimes, the thought crosses my mind that a couple of cups of disinfectant or bleach wouldn’t go amiss.’

They were both thinking of a disastrous video link press conference which had been held towards the end of April. It had been beamed around the globe, one of the few broadcasts that were made that day and America still hadn’t recovered from the backlash. Both men looked to the door, which the President had just slammed.

‘How much is a bottle of Clorax these days?’ Asked the Defence Secretary and they both burst out laughing, amazed that they still could.

About the Author: Dexter C Channing is something of a mystery to the literary world – and indeed, the team at Just Jane Publishing has never actually met this author, having been introduced through another writer during the Covid 19 Lockdown.

The elusive author prefers to remain an enigma to everyone, simply stating a love of city life as opposed to the country because “it’s easier to disappear in a big city where nobody knows your real self”. That real self is “single, not available” and prefers being alone to the “ruinous pathway of a love affair”.

Fact, fantasy and science all combine in this author’s often dark writing style, which takes you through conspiracy theories to conclusions you’d rather not reach in the real world. Or maybe, as Dexter says, you’re already there.

Is Dexter C Channing an American? There’s a possibility, but then anything is possible, if you believe what goes on in Channing’s imagination, often taking us to places we’d rather not go. It’s clear at some point that Channing did live in America, and still has some links to Miami and Deerfield Beach.

More of late, Channing has been residing in England and has actually allowed the team at Just Jane Publishing access to a list of favourite places which include Chesterfield in Derbyshire, Liverpool, and a surprising one, given the penchant for city living – a tiny village called Kettlewell, in Yorkshire.

What does a mysterious author who nobody really knows do when they’re not writing? Channing watches. Things. Events. People. Then they get written about. Is Channing a one trick pony? Far from it. There are links with law, property, and a love of music, which is always in the background when Channing is writing.

“Virus” was the first of Dexter C Channing’s world-changing trilogy of novellas. “Resistance” is the second in the series, and the final, concluding book, “Resurrection” will be published by Just Jane Publishing around Easter, 2021.

#IsitAVirus?

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Apophis by Raj Anand – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Raj Anand 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.

January, 2022: A dark monstrous twin-headed apparition – Apophis – feverishly races past the expanse of the Milky Way galaxy and bolts to the edge of the solar system. Recklessly accelerating, the sinister rock-dyad enters the gravitational keyhole of the blue planet and continues its resolute inebriated journey – to soon arrive with an apocalyptic impact on Earth.

December, 2012: Five sentient beings born in different cities – New York, Hong Kong, New Delhi, Azores Islands and Istanbul, discover amongst haunting memories of their phantasmal past lives, that it is their destiny to save humanity from the evil forces unleashed by the alien fiends – the Skyllats.

And now, the reincarnated 9-year-olds must rely on their shared, ancient wisdom to prepare humanity for the war across the galaxy that is imminent.

A Note from the Author:

Writing Apophis over these past five years, has been a cathartic inner-journey that rippled across my life. It extracted all of my patience, diligence and life-learnings of my past 52 years lived on this orphic blue bubble, as it floats across a conscious Universe.

Now its journey complete, it was launched a few days ago on several platforms across the world. And I am left exhausted, numbed and humbled by this Initiation.

I acknowledge that it is a book that I have NOT written, for it was willed from me – by the Universe. And now, it is like a child set free – floating away – ready to choose its own path, life-journey and future.

Where it goes from here?

It is for the Universe to decide.

I did, what was willed of me to do…

All I can promise the reader is a book imbued with a magical wisdom. A restlessly paced story that transports you across time, teamed up with five children along their phantasmal, breathtaking journeys.

These 9-year-olds the reincarnations of ancient philosophers, including Confucius, Plato, Buddha, Ptah Hotep and a mysterious another.

Happy Reading!

Enjoy an Excerpt

The Barred Spiral Milky Way Galaxy
At the Edge of the Solar System
January 17, 2022 (Earth Time)

A dark monstrous apparition, slingshot from across another realm, camouflaged in a jagged, charcoal black rock, adroitly surfed the gravitational waves of the universe. Feverishly racing past the expanse of the Milky Way galaxy, it bolted to the edge of the solar system and arrived from above the plane of the ecliptic – gyrating closer to the sun.

The dark fiend continued its charge forward, cutting across the path of Venus – nearly crashing onto it, before it deftly decelerated and reached a stable orbit in a retrograde rotation around the pale-yellow planet. This tenacious temporary satellite immediately scrambled to steal a fragment of the protesting planet’s enormous momentum. Catapulted along the plain of the ecliptic, recklessly accelerating at an impossible speed – it shattered, splitting into two.

The newly formed rock dyad – a small black moon orbiting a sphere of death – pulled free from Venus. It continued its inebriated journey, salivating at the opportunity to rain a resolute chaos upon an orphic azure-blue bubble still 40 million kilometers away.

Unbeknownst to the alien rock dyad, a faint sliver of gold orbited nearby. The 7.5-meter-tall and 3.2-meter wide Sentinel Space Telescope clothed in a gold foil, with a giant heat-reflector shield strung along its back; cooled to 40 degrees Kelvin by a two stage, closed cycle Stirling cryocooler. Its 0.51-meter aluminum mirror, dutifully scanned any and all Inner Earth Objects larger than 90 meters in diameter that ever dared to fly across its 200-degree angle of regard.

The Sentinel Observatory, alarmed by the presence of the ghostly twin-headed monster, recorded the black rock dyad’s trajectory, shape, size, mass, and rotational dynamics, before it urgently sent a coded message to its home base in southern Japan.

About the Author:

Savinder Raj Anand is an architect and has been teaching Architecture & Design at various Universities in India for more than 12 years. A long-distance runner with a wanderlust to explore the world, and write stories that traverse across diverse cultures. He lives in Goa with his daughter, a dog, and two cats.

Inspired by his then 18-month-old daughter – when she quoted Socrates – while they together sat in a children’s bookstore in Bangalore (LIGHTROOM) in early January of 2015, he has completed this – his first book – as she turns 7 years old.

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The Calla’Cara Gambit by Rob Bartlett – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Rob Bartlett will be awarding a $20 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.

I used to be an itinerant Star Ship Captain. Then the Sentient Ships blackmailed me into helping them Emancipate from the Mercantile Empire in return for keeping the intelligence level of my personal AI a secret.

I’m taking on bankers, lawyers and accountants, oh my! And a couple of serial killers, just to keep it spicy.

I’ve got a plan, a crew and a deadline. Now I just need precise execution, a little luck and a whole lot of moxy to pull this off!

Note: this book contains adult content and situations.

Enjoy an Excerpt

By the time Archibald Cox arrived, they were firmly established as fixtures on the party circuit in the star port. They had a well known routine they followed; visiting various vendors during the day to prepare for that night’s round of parties. Massage, spa treatments, lunch; hair, nails, shopping for the next outfit always preceded that night’s round of feigned debauchery.

When Archie took Ilsa, it was done quickly and professionally. She and Nikki were in the middle of lunch. Ilsa went to the ladies room and never came back. Nikki finished her meal, waiting for Ilsa. Eventually, she went to the bathroom herself, looking for her. When she didn’t find her there, Nikki gradually grew more frantic, asking if anyone had seen Ilsa leaving the restaurant. As the negative responses piled up, Nikki became more and more agitated. Around her, the other regular patrons figured that one of Ilsa’s jilted suitors had finally stumbled across the right mix of pharmaceuticals and rendered her finally pliable to their advances.

They were correct, just not in the way they imagined.

After making the rounds and firmly establishing that Ilsa was actually missing and that she, Nikki, was completely distraught at her disappearance, she came back to the office with Otto (who had been dispatched to bring her back based on a call from what passed for the authorities at the star port). She came into the conference room where I had been monitoring them and flopped down into a chair.

“She’s in, my lord,” she reported.

About the Author:

Rob has been captivated by science fiction and fantasy since he discovered The Hobbit in 3rd grade. Since then, he’s been an avid consumer of all genres of fiction (and some non-fiction).
When he’s not inhaling new stories or writing his own, he studies Jeff Speakman’s Kenpo 5.0-V2, in which he proudly holds a Black Belt.
Why does he prefer writing science fiction? As Rob says, “Where else can you land a space ship on the lawn of the White House?”.

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Sympathy for the Devil by Alex Stevens – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner.

Four warriors on one hell of a mission.

Lieutenant Colonel Tyler Graven is known as the “Demon of Kyoto,” and he specializes in death. When an assassin attempts to kill pharmaceutical mogul Mortimer Sackler, Tyler becomes the lead suspect and the target of a $100 million dollar hit. To save himself and clear his name, he must hunt down the true killer, a deadly entity known only as The Priest.

Tyler teams up with his former military unit, The Four Horseman, including his brother, crack-shot Corporal Jack Graven, the mysterious Lance Corporal Jin Xialong, and his one-time flame Colonel Diana Levitas. Once, they were an elite fighting team known for completing two of the most successful campaigns against terrorism ever launched. Now, they’ll find themselves locked in a war with The Church, the most influential organization on the planet–and pitted against the supernatural forces of the Underworld itself.

During their mission, Tyler and Jack learn of the legendary Black Muramasa, the only weapon that can destroy immortals such as demons, angels, vampires, seraphim, and nephilim. As they uncover the secrets of the ancient black blade–and their own heritage–they are faced with unforetold powers and infinite evils. If the Four Horsemen succeed, they may save themselves. If they fail, it’ll cost them their sanity, their lives, and even their souls…

Here comes an action-packed, gun-slinging fantasy adventure that packs the punch of a military thriller combined with high-stakes supernatural intrigue.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Jack was in a somber mood as he led the way into the hole-in-the-wall bar called Pandora’s Lounge. He seemed more frigid than usual, and he limped when he walked. His normal stoicism was replaced with something that seemed akin to sorrow. I, on the other hand, entered with fists clenched, a gnawing in my stomach, and the stone cold certainty that I was walking into a lion’s den. I gritted my teeth and followed.

There weren’t many patrons visible in the gloomy lighting of the barren drinking hole. One man sat at the center of the bar, the chairs surrounding him vacant. On the far side of the bar a couple of old men who appeared to have mined coal since they could carry the sooty substance cast unwelcoming stares from blackened faces. Their hands gripped their mugs in vice grips that dared the world to try and loosen their grasps. They mumbled inaudibly about what I assumed was what the weather would be like tomorrow, or perhaps it was concerning the aches in their bones. Perhaps it was one and the same.

I eyed Jack with caution, uncertain as to what he would do next. The shadow seated center stage never so much as turned in our direction. He gazed ahead, both sleeping and awake, his hands folded one over the other in front of a still-full pint. Unconsciously, my hands inched toward my waist.

“I didn’t expect to see you again,” The Priest grunted, without so much as turning his head. “Long way from home pups. Run along. Your nanny must be worried sick.”

Jack said nothing. I couldn’t see his face, but he stood motionless with his hands at his sides, his legs slightly cocked as if he were about to ask The Priest to draw. I felt cool sweat begin to swell on my brow, and it trickled languidly down my face in an unending moment of silence.

The Priest snorted.

“I’ve got no problem with you pups. If you’ve got something to say, say it. If not, get.”

Silence.

The old men at the far end of the bar scooped up their drinks, and quickly ducked out the back entrance.

“I don’t see Revolver. And you ain’t bold or fast enough boy.”

About the Author:Alex Stevens is a Marine Corps Veteran with two deployments and a graduate of the University of Nevada, Las Vegas Interdisciplinary Studies program, a unique undergraduate degree that caters to students with various interests of study. He is also an advent traveler and philosophy enthusiast who has spent a lifetime studying religions, with a focus on Non-denominational Christianity. Alex spends most of his time going for walks, spending time with loved ones, and when the juices are flowing, writing. Fantasy fiction is his great escape from the mundane and he likes to create fantastical realities that are blended with non-fictional people, places, and events.

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Apophis by Raj Anand – Q&A and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

If you had to do your journey to getting published all over again, what would you do differently?

I have been dreaming about writing fiction for more than two decades. I have taken creative writing courses, edited Journals of Architecture, taught Architecture and creative writing; written short stories, attempted to write longer stories but after a few chapters realized that the story wasn’t really going anywhere interesting enough.

How the idea of APOPHIS came about, was ethereal and magical. At that prescient moment, I was certain that this was the book (or a series of books) that I was meant to write. For it was at the confluence of all my life’s pursuits and personal interests:

• Politics
• Philosophy
• History
• & Epic story telling

The book took me five years to finish (between multiple edits). But as much as I looked and asked around, I could not find anyone to guide me on the publishing process. So, I began a random, disjointed process of searching on my own. I found snippets of information and hints, online. In error, I sent out letters to well-known literary agents across the world, when I only had an incomplete manuscript, badly written synopsis and worse introductory letters. And of course, in response (the few that did respond), I received abrupt and sometimes rude refusals of representation.

I searched further and discovered that it is only after the manuscript (especially a fiction manuscript) is complete, finished and fully edited, should I even attempt to seek representation. A year later, after the book was complete, I again approached literary agents across the world and over many months sporadically received more than fifty rejection letters.
It was only then that I decided to go the Indie publishing way and after approaching several such publishers. I chose one that offered the best service and had an excellent reputation of being honest and professional.

In effect, I did everything wrong (for nearly two years) and went through a deep agony and confusion – which in itself was a learning, especially for a first-time writer.

I am sure the process of publishing Book 2 (in less than two years from now) will be from a place of learning the lessons learnt from the process of publishing Book 1.

Where do you get your best ideas?

I have received the best guidance about my life and my writings during deep, meditative and reflective moments. When a resolute confluence of patience, solitude and a restless optimism – arrives – as a gift from an ethical Universe.

What comes first, the plot or characters

At the end of the day – IT’S ALL ABOUT THE STORY!

At heart, in my very being – I am a storyteller, nothing else. When that epic idea arrives, which is an extremely rare moment and truly a gift from the Universe, it never arrives in parts – a body without a heart, or limbs or a head. It all comes together, a confluence of ideas, a plot and characters.

The test? The test is to remain resolute, patient and ethical. To continue to search for that – Epic Idea – while you work, wash dishes, play with your children, play with your dog and explore life and the world all around you.

What are you passionate about these days?

As the book is launched and published, I believe it is my most passionate responsibility to share the idea of APOPHIS, with as many readers as I can manage to do – across the world.

What, in your opinion, are the most important elements of good writing?

• An absolute passion for reading and writing – in that order.
• An absolute passion for life and the will to overcome the travails that life will present – in that order.
• An absolute belief in the power of time and an ethical universe – in that order.
• An absolute desire to write epic stories full of wisdom and a larger vision – in that order!

January, 2022: A dark monstrous twin-headed apparition – Apophis – feverishly races past the expanse of the Milky Way galaxy and bolts to the edge of the solar system. Recklessly accelerating, the sinister rock-dyad enters the gravitational keyhole of the blue planet and continues its resolute inebriated journey – to soon arrive with an apocalyptic impact on Earth.

December, 2012: Five sentient beings born in different cities – New York, Hong Kong, New Delhi, Azores Islands and Istanbul, discover amongst haunting memories of their phantasmal past lives, that it is their destiny to save humanity from the evil forces unleashed by the alien fiends – the Skyllats.

And now, the reincarnated 9-year-olds must rely on their shared, ancient wisdom to prepare humanity for the war across the galaxy that is imminent.

Enjoy an Excerpt

The Barred Spiral Milky Way Galaxy
At the Edge of the Solar System
January 17, 2022 (Earth Time)

A dark monstrous apparition, slingshot from across another realm, camouflaged in a jagged, charcoal black rock, adroitly surfed the gravitational waves of the universe. Feverishly racing past the expanse of the Milky Way galaxy, it bolted to the edge of the solar system and arrived from above the plane of the ecliptic – gyrating closer to the sun.

The dark fiend continued its charge forward, cutting across the path of Venus – nearly crashing onto it, before it deftly decelerated and reached a stable orbit in a retrograde rotation around the pale-yellow planet. This tenacious temporary satellite immediately scrambled to steal a fragment of the protesting planet’s enormous momentum. Catapulted along the plain of the ecliptic, recklessly accelerating at an impossible speed – it shattered, splitting into two.

The newly formed rock dyad – a small black moon orbiting a sphere of death – pulled free from Venus. It continued its inebriated journey, salivating at the opportunity to rain a resolute chaos upon an orphic azure-blue bubble still 40 million kilometers away.

Unbeknownst to the alien rock dyad, a faint sliver of gold orbited nearby. The 7.5-meter-tall and 3.2-meter wide Sentinel Space Telescope clothed in a gold foil, with a giant heat-reflector shield strung along its back; cooled to 40 degrees Kelvin by a two stage, closed cycle Stirling cryocooler. Its 0.51-meter aluminum mirror, dutifully scanned any and all Inner Earth Objects larger than 90 meters in diameter that ever dared to fly across its 200-degree angle of regard.

The Sentinel Observatory, alarmed by the presence of the ghostly twin-headed monster, recorded the black rock dyad’s trajectory, shape, size, mass, and rotational dynamics, before it urgently sent a coded message to its home base in southern Japan.

About the Author:Savinder Raj Anand is an architect and has been teaching Architecture & Design at various Universities in India for more than 12 years. A long-distance runner with a wanderlust to explore the world, and write stories that traverse across diverse cultures. He lives in Goa with his daughter, a dog, and two cats.

Inspired by his then 18-month-old daughter – when she quoted Socrates – while they together sat in a children’s bookstore in Bangalore (LIGHTROOM) in early January of 2015, he has completed this – his first book – as she turns 7 years old.

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