Hedon by Jason Werbeloff – Spotlight and Giveaway

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Jason will be awarding a $15 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.

What if happiness were compulsory?
What if your thoughts were not your own?
Plunge into HEDON for soul-twisting sci-fi.

In 2051, the Bhutanese Empire rules post-apocalyptic Shangri with iron-fisted Buddhist compassion. Happiness is compulsory, but making everyone happy isn’t easy in an overpopulated world. Breeders are ghettoed, homosexuality is mandatory, and Shangrians’ happiness levels are strictly monitored by hedometers implanted in their heads. Become depressed, or feel too happy without helping others feel the same, and The Tax Man will get angry. Very angry.

Gemini and Cyan, winners of the pregnancy lottery, are on the run. Cyan can’t fall pregnant, and Gemini is addicted to the Experience Machine. Will they evade The Tax Man, and find a way to end the brutal pleasures of Shangri?

The lovechild of Brave New World and The Handmaid’s Tale, HEDON is gritty satire on a dystopia drunk with bigotry and positive thinking.

“A one of a kind dystopian novel.”
“As politically depraved as anyone could desire.”
“This is storytelling at its best”.
– ReadersFavorite.com 5 star review of HEDON

Enjoy an excerpt:

The day before his father died, Gemini had carried the old, old man to the summit of the district heap. Cardboard boxes, plastic packets, clothes hangers, rags, and a thousand other remnants of the past had sagged, crunched and scratched beneath Gemini’s bare feet. By the time he’d reached the top, he was out of breath. But it wasn’t the weight of his father in his arms, clinging to his neck. His father weighed less than a memory. No, it was the thought that this would be the last time they would share the view together.

The heap was higher than the ghetto Wall, higher than the Devas. From the top, they could see it all. Rows and rows, and rows, of tin shacks stretched behind them. And before them, a mile away, was the great Wall, brown as the earth. Beyond was the city, its brown-white spires shrouded in fog. Brown fog.

His father had looked at Gemini then. Really looked. Looked at him, his son, not as a war veteran. Not as someone from the past. “Boy,” his father’s voice was hollow, soaked up by the heap, “are you happy?”

The breath in Gemini had caught. Of course he was happy. Everyone was happy. It was Shangri. But his lips formed a different reply. “No,” he said, and stared out beyond the Wall. His cheeks burned.

“That’s okay, boy. They say they’re happy. But they’re not. Nobody is.”

Gemini swung his head to study his father’s eyes. The blasphemy. Sure, there was unrest here, in the ghetto. Sure, there was discontent. But few spoke such … such blatant heresy. Such negativity.

“Find a girl,” his father said, placing a veined hand on his son’s. “Be happy with her, but not too much. Never forget …” His head twitched. “Never forget that there is more.”

His father fell silent. Gemini scooped together a pillow of detritus so the dying man could lie comfortably as he stared out at the city. The city the old man had fought for, and lost.

About the Author:

Human. Male. From an obscure planet in the Milky Way Galaxy. Sci-fi novelist with a PhD in philosophy. Likes chocolates, Labradors, and zombies (not necessarily in that order). Werbeloff spends his days constructing thought experiments, while trying to muster enough guilt to go to the gym.

He’s written two novels, Hedon and The Solace Pill, and the short story anthology, Obsidian Worlds. His books will make your brain hurt. And you’ll come back for more.

Amazon Author Page | Subscribe to get ‘The Solace Pill’ free, as well as VIP access to Werbeloff’s latest fiction | Goodreads | Facebook | Twitter ~ Website
 

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The Dirt on Ninth Grave by Darynda Jones – Spotlight and Giveaway

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dirt on ninth grave book coverIn a small village in New York Charley Davidson is living as Jane Doe, a girl with no memory of who she is or where she came from. So when she is working at a diner and slowly begins to realize she can see dead people, she’s more than a little taken aback. Stranger still are the people entering her life. They seem to know things about her. Things they hide with lies and half-truths. Soon, she senses something far darker. A force that wants to cause her harm, she is sure of it. Her saving grace comes in the form of a new friend she feels she can confide in and the fry cook, a devastatingly handsome man whose smile is breathtaking and touch is scalding. He stays close, and she almost feels safe with him around.

But no one can outrun their past, and the more lies that swirl around her-even from her new and trusted friends-the more disoriented she becomes, until she is confronted by a man who claims to have been sent to kill her. Sent by the darkest force in the universe. A force that absolutely will not stop until she is dead. Thankfully, she has a Rottweiler. But that doesn’t help in her quest to find her identity and recover what she’s lost. That will take all her courage and a touch of the power she feels flowing like electricity through her veins. She almost feels sorry for him. The devil in blue jeans. The disarming fry cook who lies with every breath he takes. She will get to the bottom of what he knows if it kills her. Or him. Either way.

Enjoy an excerpt.
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About the Author:dirt on ninth grave author photo
NYTimes and USA Today Bestselling Author Darynda Jones has won numerous awards for her work, including a prestigious RITA, a Golden Heart, and a Daphne du Maurier. As a born storyteller, she grew up spinning tales of dashing damsels and heroes in distress for any unfortunate soul who happened by, annoying man and beast alike. She currently has two series with St. Martin’s Press, the Charley Davidson Series and the Darklight Trilogy. Darynda lives in the Land of Enchantment, also known as New Mexico, with her husband of more than 25 years and two beautiful sons, the Mighty, Mighty Jones Boys.

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Mayhem in the Air by Untethered Realms Authors – Exclusive Excerpt and Giveaway

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From Amazon bestselling and popular science fiction and fantasy authors comes Mayhem in the Air, a supernatural anthology of ten thrilling tales. Meet hot robots, hungry winds and the goddess of chaos. Explore alien planets, purgatorial realms, and a shocking place where people bury the living with their dead. Mayhem in the Air is the second, long-awaited story collection from the dynamic and inventive Untethered Realms group.

Read an exclusive excerpt from “Saving Scrooge” by Gwen Gardner:

“It is I, Ebenezer, and I’ve come with a warning.” Marley rattled his chains and lockboxes. Everybody knew spirits shook chains. He wasn’t sure exactly why. But he thought it prudent to make the haunting realistic, so he brought them tucked inside his overcoat.

Ebenezer Scrooge stood behind his chair and stared. A frown scrunched his eyebrows together, and he squinted, to peer more closely. Then he said, “What’s that on your head?”

Marley reached up and felt his head, immediately realizing what Scrooge had noticed. Drat it all! He yanked the icepack off that he’d tied to his head earlier, as if Ebenezer might unsee it if he did it quickly enough. He mentally abused himself, calling himself all manner of epithetic names. Why hadn’t those numbskull helpers reminded him to remove it? His usual hangover remedies hadn’t worked, but the ice had alleviated his aching head a bit. Dash it all! He may have just ruined his whole plan.

He hid the item behind his back and improvised. “It’s awfully hot where I am, Ebenezer, which you will soon find.” And to change the subject, he added, “And what’s that on your head? A nightcap, Eb? That is so 1854.”

A flush crept up Ebeneezer’s neck. He reached up self-consciously and tugged the cap over his ears. “It keeps my head warm. And what do you mean, I’ll soon find out?”

“Come now,” said Marley, pacing and dragging his chains for effect. Clank, clank, clank accompanied each labored step. “This is me, remember? I know all your secrets. Aye, we share quite a few, don’t we?”

Heat rose up Scrooge’s cheeks in indignation. “I’ve done nothing illegal. All my business transactions are contracted and followed to the letter.”

“Technically, yes. Legally, yes. But morally?” Marley shook his head. Clank, step, clank, step.

About the Authors:

River Fairchild is somewhat odd, brandishes a dry sense of humor, owned by several cats. Lives in a fantasy world. A fabricator of magic. Makes stuff up and spins tales about it. Believes in Faerie crossings and never staying in one place for very long. Speculative Fiction wordsmith. The secret to her stories? Spread lies, blend in truths, add a pinch of snark and a dash of tears. Escape into her world. She left the porch light on so you can find your way down the rabbit hole. For more information, please visit her website at http://riverfairchild.blogspot.com.

Gwen Gardner is a native Californian living in sunny San Diego, where her love of reading and writing led to a BA in English literature. Life is now complete with her husband, two dogs and a daily call from her daughter. Since ghosts feature prominently in her young adult Indigo Eady Paranormal “Cozy” Mystery series, she has a secret desire to meet one face to face—but will run screaming for the hills if she ever does. Gwen adores travel and experiencing the cultures and foods of different countries. She is always up for an adventure and anything involving chocolate—not necessarily in that order. For more information, please visit her website at http://gwengardner.blogspot.com.

Misha Gerrick lives in the scenic Western Cape, South Africa, where she’s currently working on some more books. Her Epic Fantasy Series, The War of Six Crowns, is out now. For more information on what she’s writing and reading, visit her website at http://mishagerrick.tumblr.com.

Graeme Ing engineers original fantasy worlds, both YA and adult, but hang around, and you’ll likely read tales of romance, sci-fi, paranormal, cyberpunk, steampunk or any blend of the above. Born in England in 1965, Graeme moved to San Diego, California in 1996 and lives there still. His career as a software engineer and development manager spans thirty years, mostly in the computer games industry. He is also an armchair mountaineer, astronomer, mapmaker, pilot and general geek. He and his wife, Tamara, share their house with more cats than he can count. Please visit his website at http://www.graemeing.com.

Fantasy, science fiction, and the weird beckon to M. Pax, and she blames Oregon, a source of endless inspiration. She docents at Pine Mountain Observatory in the summers, and one of her cats has a crush on Mr. Spock. You can find out more by visiting her website http://www.mpaxauthor.com.

Christine Rains is a writer, blogger, and geek mom. She has four degrees which help nothing with motherhood but make her a great Jeopardy player. She has one novel and several novellas and short stories published. Her paranormal romance series, The 13th Floor, has been met with rave reviews. Her newest geeky romances were released by Ellora’s Cave early 2015. Please visit her website at http://christinerains.net.

Cherie Reich has more books than she can ever read and more ideas than she can ever write, but that doesn’t stop this bookworm from trying, even if it means trying to curb her TV addiction. She is a speculative fiction writer and library assistant living in Virginia. Her short stories have appeared in magazines and anthologies, and her books include the paranormal horror collection Once upon a Nightmare and the fantasy series The Foxwick Chronicles and The Fate Challenges. Reborn is her debut novel. She is a member of the Virginia Writers Club, Valley Writers, and Untethered Realms. For more information, please visit her website at http://smarturl.it/CReichWebsite.

Catherine Stine’s fiction spans the range from contemporary to dark fantasy to sci-fi. Her futuristic companion thrillers Fireseed One and Ruby’s Fire are Amazon bestsellers and indie award-winners. Dorianna, her YA paranormal won Best Horror Novel in the Kindle Hub Awards. Her work is included in the boxed sets Future Tense and Secret Worlds as well as in the Untethered Realms anthologies Twisted Earths, Mayhem in the Air and Fantasy Uprising. In addition, Catherine writes new adult fiction as Kitsy Clare. She suspects her love of dark fantasy came from her father reading Edgar Allen Poe to her when she was a child. She teaches creative writing workshops and is a member of SFWA, RWA and SCBWI. Visit her at http://www.catherinestine.com.

Untethered Realms Website: http://untetheredrealms.blogspot.com.

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Pet Peeves about Fantasy Writing by KJ Taylor – Guest Blog and Giveaway

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. KJ will be awarding an eCopy of Wind to 3 randomly drawn winners via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Pet Peeves

I’m a very opinionated person, and tend to get a bit steamed up over certain topics – this one included. But I thought I would pick it anyway because at least I’ll have plenty to say.

I tend to be very critical toward a lot of fantasy writing, and I may as well say so openly because it’s not exactly a secret among the people who know me. In fact people I’ve spoken to at cons find it pretty amusing when I go off on a rant about a lousy book I’ve read, or a stupid mistake I’m sick of seeing.

One thing that annoys me in a lot of books is failed attempts at grandiose or archaic language – especially when it’s blindingly obvious that the author is trying (and failing) to sound like Tolkien (it doesn’t help that I dislike Tolkien to begin with). Using “ever” instead of “always” is guaranteed to put my teeth on edge every time. Using fancy words in general that don’t fit and aren’t necessary is very aggravating to me; I once encountered a particularly overblown example in the form of a book in which the author could never say “shiny” – it had to be “opalescent”. And a thing could never be red – no, it always had to be “ruby”. This sort of thing leads to painful purple prose very quickly indeed, and is just plain distracting to read.

The thing is, archaic language and fancy words can be used, but not everyone has the talent needed to pull it off. Tolkein, gods bless him, had the skill to make archaic prose and dialect work. H.P.Lovecraft wrote incredibly purple prose but somehow managed to make it work.

But you, mid-level fantasy author, are not Tolkein or Lovecraft and you don’t live in the same age as they did. Use the words that work for you, and write in your own voice. Trying to make yourself sound like someone else is not going to work, and it’s going to make your prose clunky. And it will probably make you look like you’re trying too hard.

Lest I come across as arrogant here, I consider myself to be a mid-level fantasy author and I take this approach myself. In the foreword of one of my own books I said that I took my inspiration from George R R Martin, and some people took this to mean that I was an conceited twerp with the stones to suggest she was on his level. My answer to that is absolutely not – he inspired me but I have no interest in trying to write like him, and nor do I believe I have anywhere near his level of skill. The world already has one GRRM, and it doesn’t need another one. Likewise it only has one K.J.Taylor, and intent to write like K.J.Taylor – no-one else.

MediaKit_BookCover_WindWendland is a land of dragons, and of magic. The mysterious Drachengott grants magic to his worshippers – but is he truly a god? Rutger von Gothendorf is only a simple furrier, but he has become his village’s local eccentric, thanks to his obsession with the murder of his brother by the Drachengott’s servants. He holds onto the vague hope that he will one day have the chance to fight back against them – until one day a mysterious and beautiful woman named Swanhild comes into his life. Rutger is instantly smitten – but Swanhild knows more than she says, and a web of lies and deceit threatens to sour the love beginning to grow between them.

And all the while, the Drachengott waits …

Enjoy an excerpt:

The wind whistled through the darkness, shaking the branches all about and putting a chill into the air. It carried a scent with it, straight to Rutger’s nose. He took it in and immediately tensed.

‘Did you smell that, Horst?’ he hissed, snatching his older brother by the arm.

Horst shook him off. ‘Not now, Rut — we’re in enough trouble without worrying about funny smells.’

‘But it smells like rotting meat!’ Rutger insisted. He paused, ignoring Horst’s impatient look, and breathed in deeply. The smell hit him again — worse, this time. He retched slightly. ‘Can’t you smell it?’

Horst, big and muscular, turned his head in the gloom and sniffed. A moment later, he grimaced. ‘You’re right: something’s dead out there. Come on, let’s move on before we find out what.’

He strode off, Rutger hurrying after him. ‘You don’t think it’s spiders, do you?’

‘Could be,’ Horst said shortly. ‘Keep your eyes open.’

Rutger swallowed and put a hand on the hilt of the long dagger looped through his belt. He had never seen a giant spider before, and he wanted to keep it that way. Silently, he wished he had never asked to come out here into the forest with Horst. But it had all seemed so harmless — just a quick stroll through the forest to check Horst’s mink traps. But then they hadn’t been able to find the last trap, and now they were lost.

I really am the unlucky seventh son, he thought glumly.

If Horst was as worried as his brother, he didn’t show it. He walked slightly ahead, dead mink swinging from his belt. A big old woodaxe hung on his back, brought along for protection. Night was falling now, and the sooner they got out of here the better.

The forest all around was dense and looked threatening, its spiky pine needles sighing in the relentless wind. Night always seemed to come early here. But at least the putrid smell had gone away.

‘How close do you think we are now?’ Rutger asked in a low voice.

Horst shook his head. ‘Not sure — I think there’s a clearing up ahead, though.’

Rutger came to his brother’s side, and the two of them climbed a small rise into the clearing. The instant Rutger left the shelter of the trees, it hit him again: the hideous stench of rotting meat slamming into his nose, so powerfully that his eyes watered. Beside him, Horst had stopped. Rutger heard him swear softly. He looked up, intending to tell his brother that they should go — and then he saw it.

Ahead, in the clearing, a faint light began to glow. It shone on the dark, lumpy shapes which hung from the trees at the far side. Some could have been animal corpses, but the rest . . .

Horst wrenched the axe down off his back. ‘Get behind me, Rut,’ he said sharply. ‘Get out of here. Now.’

‘What—?’ Rutger started to say — but too late.

As the light brightened, two of the hanging shapes dropped to the ground and stepped forward. They wore rough leather tunics with hoods which covered their heads, but on each of their chests was a pair of red gemstones, set into an amulet. They glowed faintly in the light, making a halo over each of the two men, like a pair of glowering eyes.

‘Jüngen!’ Rutger heard himself say.

One of the pair pointed accusingly at them. ‘How dare you enter this sacred grove?’

Horst started to back away, axe raised.

The two Jüngen joined hands, and the light around them intensified as their linked hands rose. An instant later, a great flash blinded Rutger. He cried out as he fell back, but his voice was drowned out by a screeching roar from above.

A pitch-black dragon was hovering over the Jüngen’s heads, its eyes glowing red. Light crackled over its wings, and it roared again.

The Jüngen let go of each other, and the second of the two spoke to the dragon. His words were a short, cold command.

‘Kill them.’

About the Author:MediaKit_AuthorPhoto_WindK.J.Taylor was born in Australia in 1986 and plans to stay alive for as long as possible. She went to Radford College and achieved a Bachelor’s Degree in Communications at the University of Canberra, where she is currently studying for a Master’s Degree in Information Studies.

She published her first work, The Land of Bad Fantasy through Scholastic when she was just 18, and went on to publish The Dark Griffin in Australia and New Zealand five years later. The Griffin’s Flight and The Griffin’s War followed in the same year, and were released in America and Canada in 2011. At the moment, she is working on the third set of books in the series, while publishing the second.

K.J.Taylor’s real first name is Katie, but not many people know what the J stands for. She collects movie soundtracks and keeps pet rats, and isn’t quite as angst-ridden as her books might suggest.

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Machines of the Little People by Tegon Maus – Spotlight and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Tegon Maus 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 rest of the stops on the tour.

When Ben Harris’ sister passes away, her husband, Roger Keswick, is mysteriously absent from her funeral. It’s not until 6 months later that Ben is pulled back in to Roger’s life, only to find that he’s moved on. His new wife may be called Jessica, but she’s the spitting image of Ben’s sister. Things escalate when Roger claims there’s a factory under his house run by little people called the Katoy.

Enjoy an excerpt:

“What was the problem, Roger? Why are they here?” I asked, still trying to figure out what had happened to make him call the cops.

The officer shifted uncomfortably, staring at the ground but said nothing.

“Roger? Why are they here?” I asked, pulling him by the arm, turning him to face me.

“I heard voices under the house,” he said flatly. It was clear his mind was struggling with it.

“What?” I couldn’t believe my ears.

“I heard voices under the house,” he repeated, giving me a stern look.

The officer kicked at the ground as if waiting for me to give him permission to leave.

“Roger,” I began…

“They were talking about me. Three of them. I could hear them shushing each other. But, Ben… I heard them.” His voice held a level of desperation. His face twisted, his eyes begging me to believe him. “Benjamin. I swear to you… I heard them.” His voice, little more than a whisper, quivered.

Before I could react the harsh crackle of the officers walkie-talkie burst to life.

“Ten four,” he said into his shoulder. His eyes, clearly serious, shot to me.

“Thank you, Officer.” I barely got the words out of my mouth and he was marching toward the gate.

I turned to follow him but Roger made a beeline in the opposite direction.

“Benjamin, come over here. They’ve just begun working. Come on. I don’t know how long it will last. Hurry,” he called excitedly, running back and forth.

About the Author:

I was raised pretty much the same as everyone else… devoted mother, strict father and all the imaginary friends I could conjure. Not that I wasn’t friendly, I just wasn’t “people orientated”. Maybe I lived in my head way more than I should have, maybe not. I liked machines more than people, at least I did until I met my wife.

The first thing I can remember writing was for her. For the life of me I can’t remember what it was about… something about dust bunnies under the bed and monsters in my closet. It must have been pretty good because she married me shortly after that. I spent a good number of years after inventing games and prototypes for a variety of ideas before I got back to writing.

It wasn’t a deliberate conscious thought it was more of a stepping stone. My wife and I had joined a dream interpret group and we were encouraged to write down our dreams as they occurred. “Be as detailed as you can,” we were told.

I was thrilled. If there is one thing I enjoy it’s making people believe me and I like to exaggerate. Not a big exaggeration or an outright lie mine you, just a little step out of sync, just enough so you couldn’t be sure if it were true or not. When I write, I always write with the effort of “it could happen” very much in mind and nothing, I guarantee you, nothing, makes me happier.

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Lessons I Learned from Captain Eri by Perrin Pring – Guest Blog and Giveaway



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Lessons I learned from Captain Eri

When I started writing The Ryo Myths, I had no idea that Captain Eri would become the character I would aspire to be. The Ryo Myths takes place in space. There are aliens, gods with unlimited powers, people with super human strength, and then there is Captain Eri. She’s a ringer, a human with wings, but her wings are damaged, and she can’t fly. Out of all of the characters in The Ryo Myths, Captain Eri is technically the one with the greatest disadvantage. She is the most human of everyone.

Which is why I like her. She can’t rely on magic or godly powers to get herself out of the mess she’s in. On top of that, she’s suffered terribly at the hands of someone she once loved. In other circles she’d be called a victim, but I didn’t want her to be that. I wanted her to be a survivor.

Right now, ‘strong female characters’ are in – the Katniss Everdeen. Don’t get me wrong, I love The Hunger Games, but what people misconstrue from Katniss is that in order to be a ‘strong female’ one has to be constantly kicking physical ass. This is great, and I have no problem reading and watching things about women who are just out there dominating (River Tam, anyone?), but being a strong woman doesn’t mean simply laying waste to the competitors. It means dealing with the emotional baggage.

Captain Eri has moments where she breaks down. Things get messy. She has the opportunity to make some really bad decisions which one wouldn’t blame her for making, but instead of collapsing into hysterics or puffing her chest out and tough guying her way through an emotional battle field, she slows down and allows herself to fail.

And I love that. Captain Eri fails, and from those failures, she succeeds. She’s not perfect. She’s not impervious to tears. She’s not afraid to f*#! people up when they need it. She takes in the wreck that is her life and pulls herself back to her feet. She falls at times, but she never gives up, and I can only hope that when I need that kind of strength in my own life, I can do as well as Captain Eri.

Filion felt safe in his role as a Dream Searcher. He was paid to venture into other’s dreams and exert influence over individuals whom he would never meet in the flesh.

But that was until he received The Summoning. Filion has been called to track down and protect Ryo, the last of the Chozen. She is the only hope of preventing a tide of evil driven by the Afortiori and the prospect of universal slavery if they aren’t stopped.

Time is ticking and Filion has no idea of how to find Ryo let alone how to protect her, yet destinies of planets rest in her hands. Enlisting the help of a rag-tag band of mercenaries, Filion will set out to search the wastes for Ryo. Together they will confront an evil whose power they just might have fatally underestimated.

I was a natural flier, I could take a punch, and I was smarter than most. Within five years I was a full-fledged pilot. On my last assignment, I was Master Pilot Eri Everfar, commanding pilot of a class B Federal war ship, the Seeker, and that’s where I met him, Drakier Lu…

Filion and his new friends have escaped Bok and are stuck in an asteroid field that isn’t supposed to exist. They’ve almost run out of fuel, their water supply is seriously depleted, all of their food has been destroyed, and the girl they’d just risked everything to save, Ryo, is dead.

Captain Eri’s former lover, Drakier Lu, has been promoted to Master Commander of the entire Federal Fleet, and his assignment is to find and capture the Dark Horse. Captain Eri has been identified as a Tiori, and she and her associates have just become the Federation’s most wanted. Things aren’t what they seem though, and the line between good and evil blurs as the players’ true motivations come to light.

Filion and the crew return, traveling the galaxy and dodging the Federation and the Tioris, all the while searching for a rogue planet that may or may not be harboring the one person who can save them all…

When I was on Lamu, I inhaled an Afortiori’s vileness. That blackness will be what allows me to win. I will use their own evil against them. Because of this I am tainted. I am but a degree different from what I fight, but in that degree, hangs the balance between universal slavery and Free Will.

Having fled from Lamu only moments before its destruction, Filion and his friends find themselves hiding in the shadows as the Federation and the Afortiori mobilize against their worst enemy, The Etulosba and its crew. The Etulosba, Ryo, plans for her final battle. She was engineered to fight for Free Will, but to win that war, she will have to become what no Chozen was meant to be – an Afortiori. Caught in Ryo’s wake, Captain Eri is torn between leading her crew and confronting Drakier Lu, her former lover and torturer. Will she be able to overcome what he did to her, or will she fail, thereby becoming what he made her and letting down Ryo, her crew, and ultimately, the universe? Filion and the crew return in the final installment of The Ryo Myths. Join them as they begin a journey that not all of them will survive.

Enjoy an excerpt from The Degrees of Destiny:

Initially, she’d thought the energy transfer had been temporary. Then she’d tortured Teeive instead of killing him, and now she realized the true cost of what she’d done. Some of his energy lived on inside of her. She hadn’t foreseen that. Inhaling Teeive’s energy had been like filling a suitcase with sand. She’d dumped out most of the sand, but grains of it remained, and they were expanding. She could feel the cold, calculating, psychopathic tendrils of Afortiori vile spreading and threatening to overtake her body. It wasn’t a battle she was sure she could win, but it might be what won her the war.

“I held that evil inside of me,” Ryo continued. “It powered me. I became high on its force. Then it left but not all of it. Some of it still lives within me.” She stood and faced Wiq. “I cannot fight this war without it.” She stood and faced Wiq. “I cannot fight this war without it. That blackness will be what allows me to win. I will use their own evil against them. Because of this I am tainted. I am but a degree different from what I fight, but in that degree, hangs the balance between universal slavery and Free Will. You and I, we have fought over Free Will, we have fought for Free Will, but we have never had Free Will. Captain Eri must exercise her Free Will because to me, she is everything that those words mean. If she does that, I can stay on the side of the right. I can fight this blackness and use it to save her. If she denies it though, or if she dies…”

Ryo looked at her hands. They flashed and became translucent. Wiq could see Ryo’s veins. As Wiq watched, a shadow spread through Ryo’s blood, darkening it to black.

“This vileness inside of me is not static. It pushes. It grows. I fight it, but I’m fighting on all fronts. She is my hope. She is my faith. She is what keeps this blackness at bay. She must not fail, or we all die.”

About the Author:

Perrin is the author of The Ryo Myths, a sci-fi/fantasy trilogy that has been heralded to engage both nerds and non-nerds alike. Check out her books on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. When not writing, Perrin enjoys drinking coffee and swimming, although usually not at the same time.

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#LASR_Anniv Machines of the Little People by Tegon Maus

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Machines of the Little PeopleBen Harris’s sister died of cervical cancer more than three years ago… his best friend and her husband, Roger Keswick, disappeared the day before the funeral. For the next six months everyone from the local police to the Department of Defense searched for him but to no avail… it was as if he had simply fallen off the face of the planet only to reappear at work as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

Then by the purest of coincidences Ben finds himself pulled back into Roger’s life only to discover he has remarried… to Jessica… a woman the looks, sounds and acts just like his dead sister. To complicate things Roger is insistent his home, his car, his life is infested with tiny elf like creatures he calls the Katoy. He claims they run massive machines under his house and watch his every move… every move that is until Jessica is found bludgeoned to death in his living room and Roger is nowhere to found . . . again.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: I was raised pretty much the same as everyone else… devoted mother, strict father and all the imaginary friends I could conjure. Not that I wasn’t friendly, I just wasn’t ʺpeople orientatedʺ. Maybe I lived in my head way more than I should have, maybe not. I liked machines more than people, at least I did until I met my wife.

The first thing I can remember writing was for her. For the life of me I can’t remember what it was about… something about dust bunnies under the bed and monsters in my closet. It must have been pretty good because she married me shortly after that. I spent a good number of years after inventing games and prototypes for a variety of ideas before I got back to writing.

It wasn’t a deliberate conscious thought it was more of a stepping stone. My wife and I had joined a dream interpret group and we were encouraged to write down our dreams as they occurred. ʺBe as detailed as you can,ʺ we were told.

I was thrilled. If there is one thing I enjoy it’s making people believe me and I like to exaggerate. Not a big exaggeration or an outright lie mine you, just a little step out of sync, just enough so you couldn’t be sure if it were true or not. When I write, I always write with the effort of ʺit could happenʺ very much in mind and nothing, I guarantee you, nothing, makes me happier.

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BMW’s Excellent Adventure by Brett Matthew Williams – Guest Blog and Giveaway

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Brett Matthew Williams will be awarding a $50 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.

BMW’s Excellent Adventure

Time travel is a double edged sword of awesomeness and disaster. The idea of stepping outside of it, while tempting on the outside, would be nothing but a miserably (if not gooey) inside of bad decisions and wrong turns. Much like life, the notion presents its good and its bad, the yin and the yang, of how to prioritize the responsibility and wants of such a vast undertaking. I have often dreamed of taming a pair of velociraptors to keep as pets, but the actual idea of doing that is so ridiculous it isn’t even workable. Call me a skeptic but until recently I have always thought of time travel as best left to fiction authors. But then I started doing this tour, and when (inevitably) every interview question ended up being ‘What time would YOU travel to?’ I actually gave the matter some thought to surprising results.

It has always bothered me that we as a civilization lost what came before written recorded history. Scientists estimate that human beings in our current form have been walking the Earth for near 100,000 years, yet we have but 6,000 years of recorded history to our wall of fame. Notice any discrepancy here? Most historians will give you the dull, dry answer that before written history, we as human beings were nomadic, or simply told stories and lessons via oral traditions. This leaves a wide berth for speculation.

How many empires were built, to what extend did they reach, and how did they each fall? Were there legendary heroes, long forgotten to time due to the passing of all whom whispered their names? What of villains, or warlords, or conspiring kings, queens, or whatever the leadership called themselves; how did they solve issues that we as a species still struggle with in the 21st century, like monogamy, crime, or religion. And speaking of religion, how many have been lost to the ages? Gilgamesh gave scholars so much to dote upon that few have bothered to ask what possibly could have been its competition. It’s been suggested to me that I’m not writing correctly unless at least ten percent of those who read it absolutely hate what I create. So, by that theory ten percent of ancient Sumerians were looking elsewhere for entertainment than the Epic of Gilgamesh. But where?!

I have received my share of correspondence with those who disagree with my quest on religious grounds. While I respect your right to practice your religion in its own space, I will fight tooth and nail to deter the ignorant, fear based culture that certain individuals champion behind the banner of ‘religion’. Too often the price of progress is paid with the suffrage of those who go against the grain of widely held, yet little verified public thought.

That being said, it would be amazing to walk, all alone, within the confines of a time before mankind inhabited the Earth, or visit the Library of Alexandria before it burnt down. Regardless of the when, the ultimate dream for any historian is to catalogue the unknown in an attempt to make amends with the fragmented pieces of mankind’s past so that it may better understand its shared history moving forward. It’s not always pleasant, but it is necessary, and I fear in our 21st century world of science and technology taking precedent above all else, an often overlooked subject.

MediaKit_BookCover_TimeIsRelativeForAKnightOfTime Meet Rolland Wright – a seventeen year old orphan living out of his car in rural Woodland Hills, California. Aside from grappling with the fact of being abandoned by his drunken father two years previous following his mothers mysterious murder, his life mostly revolves around finding a warm place to sleep at night. When one day he is attacked by men claiming to have killed his father, Rolland discovers a strange ability to slow the flow of time around him, beginning a journey that takes him to places outside of time, space, and eventually to the early 19th century to fight the sinister General Andrew Jackson. With the help of a rag-tag group of historical and mythical figures with various supernatural abilities of their own (Joan of Arc, Jesse James, etc) known as the Knights of Time, Rolland solves the mystery behind his mother’s murder, falls in love, battles the evil Edward Vilthe – reaper of souls, and finds a home of his own in the paradise known as Eden.

The Time is Relative series chronicles the origin story of the mythical figure Father Time, beginning with the award winning first novel, Time is Relative for a Knight of Time. All dates and events are historically accurate. The participants… maybe not.

Enjoy an excerpt:

It was a muggy, humid morning when U.S. General Andrew Jackson woke to the sound of tribal horns. Immediately identifying their purpose, he quickly gathered both his wits and his pants, grabbing his sword and sidearm as he left his tent.

Known to be tough as hickory, Andrew Jackson was a moderately tall man for his time, standing at six feet, one inch. In this and in his military rank he was often compared to George Washington among elite society in Boston, Washington, and New York, despite his humble beginnings.

Jackson’s rigid demeanor was only matched by his sharp attention to detail. His crisply, pressed uniform was such that it demanded the attention of all the company’s men. Each stood at full attention, showing perfect respect for their commanding officer as Jackson made his way through the columns slowly, careful to catch each and every pair of eyes.

“Today we fight like dogs, and live like kings!” Jackson roared to his men, who cheered loudly in response. Their gusto and appreciation for their General’s bravery in the face of danger was not unnoticed by his adversaries on and off the battlefield.

A slave, brought directly from Africa on Jackson’s orders, walked Jackson’s horse to him around the hustle and bustle of preparing for the day’s campaign. A light rain began to fall on the heads and shoulders of every soul under the barely visible sun, uniting them in nature. They all felt the soft droplets as they landed on both white and brown skin alike. Lightning struck diagonally across the gray sky, followed shortly by an attention-stealing clap of thunder that rocked the previously dry Florida landscape.

About the Author: Brett Matthew grew up with a passion for both film and history. He began his career fresh out of high school as a Production Assistant/ football player on NBC Universal’s television series Friday Night Lights (of which he can often be seen in the first two seasons as a member of the championship team – Go Panthers!). He quickly moved on to serve as an Original Series intern with the USA Network in Studio City, California. Following work on shows like Monk, Psych, and Burn Notice, Brett returned home to Texas to continue his education, graduating with his degree in History from Texas State University. A proud Master Freemason, Brett thoroughly enjoys fantasy fiction, watching Netflix, running, baseball, Shakespeare, and spending time with his family and critters.

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EMP by Wilson Harp – Spotlight and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Wilson Harp will award a randomly drawn winner a $25 Amazon/BN GC via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

In a flash of searing light, the world changed. A massive solar flare has crippled the modern world and brought chaos and destruction. David Hartsman is stuck in the remote farm town of his youth on what was expected to be a short visit to check on his ailing parents. While his wife and his daughter are hundreds of miles away at home in Chicago, David must face the dangers associated with his own survival and the pressures of not being with his family. In a worldwide catastrophe, every struggle is personal.

Enjoy an excerpt:

The days had turned warmer and the rains had come to a stop. The fields were planted with the food that would allow us to survive, and everyone anxiously awaited the first harvest of lettuce and beans. Anything other than radish and turnip soup seasoned with a little green onion and boiled squirrel.

I walked past one of the fields and waved at the boys. Two of them carried rifles and several others had sharp spades. Those with the rifles were scanning the edges of the field making sure no rabbits came in to eat the precious crops. Those with spades walked along each row, making sure no moles or other burrowing varmint was making itself at home.

The boys waved back and went back to their vigilant sentry work.

I shook my head as I thought about what Lexi would say if she had seen this. She was afraid of guns. She never grew up around them and did not like them. I didn’t care one way or another. To me, they were just another tool. One I grew up with, but found no particular joy in using. It was like a hammer. Lexi was afraid of them and didn’t want one in the house, so I acquiesced to her demand.

But now they were needful things. The right tool for the right job. At night, the dogs were set free in the field and the snares were set along the edges. But in the daytime, a stray rabbit taken with a .22 meant not only saving our crops, but more meat in our stew.

About the Author:

Wilson Harp is a writer based out of the American Midwest. As a military brat, he traveled and met people from many cultures and backgrounds. Exposure to so many different views has led him to an appreciation of an eclectic collection of music, film and literature.

His sense of wonder at stories and folklore started young and continues to this day, often affecting the themes and ideas in his writing. In his works you will find the old fashioned ideas of virtue and honor as the lifeline that pulls many of his characters through the situations they often find themselves.

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Character Interview with Keshlik from STORM BRIDE by JS Bangs

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When Saotse rode across the treacherous ocean on an orca at the bidding of Oarsa, Power of the Sea, the blind maiden believed she had been chosen for a great destiny. But she hasn’t heard Oarsa’s voice in decades. Aged now, she has found her place among a peaceful, long-lived people, though her adoptive sister, Uya, still blossoms with youth. Then, pregnant Uya is kidnapped, and the rest of her family is slaughtered when an army of mounted warriors strikes the defenseless capital, leaving Saotse grief stricken and alone.

After Saotse finds refuge with strangers in a distant village, a new Power makes contact. Saotse embraces the opportunity to bury her bloodthirsty enemies in vengeance, but wielding the Power’s bitter magic could cost her everything she is.

As war escalates and allies flock to her side, Saotse believes she finally understands Oarsa’s purpose for her. But the Powers may have set events in motion that even they cannot control, and the fates of gods and men alike hang in the balance.

Reporter: Hello, I’m reporting for Prasa Evening News, here talking with Keshlik, war leader of the Yakhat. Please don’t kill me.

Keshlik: Oh, I never kill reporters. Some of my best friends are journalists.

Reporter: That’s reassuring. So, Keshlik, will you introduce yourself to our readers?

Keshlik: Hello, everyone! I’m Keshlik son of Keishul, leader of the war bands of the Yakhat, and I’m really excited to be here today. This is going to be a big year for me and the Yakhat warriors, and I think that things are looking up for us.

Reporter: As I understand, you’ve had a tough winter but have big plans for this spring.

Keshlik: Oh, yeah, BIG plans. Lots of pillaging—but I’m getting ahead of myself. This winter was a little difficult for us here in the Yakhat tribes: we have to slaughter all of the people living in the mountain passes in order to have room for our herds, and we weren’t sure where we were going when the snows melted. Most of the people living on the east side of the mountains were prepared to fight us off, and weren’t happy to have us as neighbors—

Reporter: Is that a problem you face a lot?

Keshlik: Call it an occupational hazard of the nomad warrior lifestyle. It was gonna be tough for us to go back east, but the west side of the mountains was virgin territory for us, so we’re moving that way. It’s a special opportunity for us.

Reporter: Do you have specific plans now that you’re coming down the west slope of the mountains?

Keshlik: In the short term we’re going to do the usual, plundering the small villages and farms that we find, and trying to get a feel for the geography. Supposedly there’s a big city further on south. It’s been a while since we’ve done urban warfare, and I think our younger warriors will find it a nice change of pace.

Reporter: I’m from Prasa, you know.

Keshlik: Is it nice there? I hear you have good beaches.

Reporter: If I tell you, will you refrain from plundering us?

Keshlik: Probably not. I guess I’ll have to find out about your beaches when I get there.

Reporter: Right… maybe I should take this information back to Prasa.

Keshlik: Don’t make me take back what I said about not killing reporters.

Reporter: So, enough about Keshlik the warlord. What can you tell us about Keshlik the man?

Keshlik: . Well, I got married a few years ago, which was a big change for me. My wife, Tuulo, is just fantastic. I don’t know what I would do without her. And I’m happy to announce that she’s pregnant.

Reporter: Congratulations! When is the baby due?

Keshlik: In about three months. Ironically, the baby will be born right in the middle of fighting season. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to take some time off for the birth.

Reporter: Has the new baby been a big change for you?

Keshlik: There’s all the taboos for pregnant women, the isolation, the sacred salt, the blessed circles of the goddess Khou, etc. And our midwife is a terrible ball-breaker. But Tuulo has done pretty good so far. As for me… becoming a father has changed my perspectives a little bit.

Reporter: How so?

Keshlik: A lifetime of slaughter and pillaging is nice and all, but eventually a man does want to settle down. I’ve been thinking about retiring after this next campaign, maybe spending some more time with my wife and kids. My brother should be ready to lead the Yakhat soon…

Reporter: Are you worried about what this means for the future of your people?

Keshlik: My brother is a little green, but hopefully that won’t be a problem. And as for me, with a baby and a retirement on the way, what could possibly go wrong? Wrong for me, I mean. Obviously things will go wrong for our enemies.

Indeed, what could possibly go wrong? In “Storm Bride”, two womens’ lives are changed by Keshlik’s invasion, and all three of their fates become entangled in strange and dangerous ways.

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