gods on Trial by Opeshum Patroz – Spotlight and Giveaway

December 16, 2022 By 6 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Opeshum Patroz 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 bannr to see the other stops on the tour.

“Beyond the Father” sets the scene for the 8-book Sci-Fi Epic “gods on Trial: The Series,” delving into life’s determination to transcend all limitation. Set on the planet Xżyber, citizens of the Sub-Median Region, imperfectly reborn into metal, oppress those who are organic. Elsewhere, in the Central Kingdom, religion supports royalty’s brutal domination of the lowest class. War over scarce resources is coming, revolution within each region is brewing, and none know of the eccentric god who created them. This being watches, has fascinating conversations with his often-wiser companion, occasionally learns, and rarely intervenes. The many levels and threads of struggle distract nearly all from a far greater threat. Meanwhile, the young Prince Anglid’s vision quest into the unexplored Area X may ultimately change everything. However, just when you think you know the direction of the story, the author has yet another surprise.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Purvi’s face turned red as her anger mounted inside of her. The unfriendly exchange reminded her of the last time she spoke with Timmons, her grandfather. It was the day he had declined his chance to be uploaded to the Vangora Rima and achieve eternal presence.

It was a sullen afternoon, with the family and Timmons’ doctor. As they huddled around the bed where Timmons lay weak, his doctor implored him to reconsider his decision, given he was in the last few days of his life. However, Timmons refused to agree to the upload.

This was an opportunity his family could not fathom he would turn down, and an option only typically available to those who were at least 80% Mollard, or to those who had the means to invest in the technology.

However, Timmons, a brilliant Xżyberian—whose only misfortune was the constraints of poverty—had managed to write numerous social advisories intended to promote harmony between Mollards and Non-Mollards. He’d had hopes that his musings would provide him a source of regular income, but his published works were only well received by some. Highly criticized by most, he quickly won the label of an iconoclast and found himself forced into obscurity.

Yet still, his message captivated the Luminaries—the presiders over news and commentary—who deemed that Timmons’ writings could be useful in the management and wellbeing of the Non-Mollard community, and should be archived as a collection of noble artifacts.

With this came the rarest honor—the right to upload his consciousness to the Vangora Rima until a fully prosthetic body was constructed for him.

Purvi’s mother, who was the only surviving daughter of Timmons, sat by his bedside pleading with him to accept the offer. And Purvi, almost nineteen-years-old at the time, sat on the floor weeping.

“Dearest father, the Vangora Rima has never been within our family’s grasp before,” cried Purvi’s mother, Ariel. “We may never get there—any of us. So, why would you walk away from this now?”

Timmons struggled to speak. “Take my hand, Ariel,” he said through strained breathing. “Please remember what I taught you . . . what I taught all of you about desperation.” Timmons opened his eyes slightly. “It can and will cloud your view and disrupt your clearest thoughts.”

“But, Grandfather!” interjected Purvi. “We love you, and we want you to live forever!” Purvi placed her head down onto the bed, wiping her tears against Timmons’ frail arm.

“Ah, Purvi. My little Purvi,” he said, stroking her hair. “The Vangora Rima would not give you back the grandfather you know. The system would scrub me clean of what it deemed were my imperfections: my concern, and my empathy…my ability to love you.”

“I don’t care about how much it would change you, Grandfather,” Purvi cried. “I have enough love for the both of us.” Purvi looked up, her eyes filled with so much water she could barely see. “I am stronger than you think I am! I will love you even if you can’t love me back!”

“Shh . . . my darling, Purvi.” Timmons whispered. “Please gather yourself and listen to what I have to say.” Timmons removed a ring from his smallest finger and placed it in the palm of one of her hands. “One day, Purvi . . .” he whispered. “One day, when you are fully grown, you will look into the face of pure evil, and I am eternally grateful that that face will not be mine.”

That was the last time Purvi heard her grandfather speak.

About the Author:

Opëshum has been writing since she was a child, and believes that authors are selected by their characters to bring their stories to the world. Incredibly shy and introverted, Opëshum does not make public appearances. She prefers to remain behind the scenes as the characters in her books take center stage. Her current work, the 8-Book SciFi Epic gods on Trial: The Series™ kicks off with Book 1, BEYOND THE FATHER.

Opëshum calls Sheridan, Wyoming her home, where she is currently writing Book 2 of this series. She lives in a modest Cape Cod dwelling on 3 acres of land where she lets a robust variety of sunflowers grow wild and untamed, while Aloe Vera and other succulents decorate almost every ledge within her house. An avid writer in the early morning and late at night, Opëshum often works on her manuscripts in rooms lit only by homemade candles.

She enjoys nature walks, full moons, and open spaces where she can stare up at the stars.

“I live my life in the shadows, and I am shy. For I know that my appearance is not pleasing to the eye.” – Opëshum Patroz

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gods on Trial by Opeshum Patroz – Spotlight and Giveaway

December 13, 2022 By 1 Comment

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Opeshum Patroz 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.

“Beyond the Father” sets the scene for the 8-book Sci-Fi Epic “gods on Trial: The Series,” delving into life’s determination to transcend all limitation. Set on the planet Xżyber, citizens of the Sub-Median Region, imperfectly reborn into metal, oppress those who are organic. Elsewhere, in the Central Kingdom, religion supports royalty’s brutal domination of the lowest class. War over scarce resources is coming, revolution within each region is brewing, and none know of the eccentric god who created them. This being watches, has fascinating conversations with his often-wiser companion, occasionally learns, and rarely intervenes. The many levels and threads of struggle distract nearly all from a far greater threat. Meanwhile, the young Prince Anglid’s vision quest into the unexplored Area X may ultimately change everything. However, just when you think you know the direction of the story, the author has yet another surprise.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“Fleet number, rank, and make?” asked the assignment officer at GATE 11, on the central floor of Team Command.

“44772PX, cadet, 40% Non-Mollard,” the next in line replied, quickly.

“Cleared. Report to HAS 4 in Field 8,” the assignment officer abruptly responded. “Next? I need Fleet number, rank, and make!”

“23619RX, cadet, 30% Non-Mollard,” replied the next in line.

“You’re cleared. Report to HAS 1, in Field 10,” said the assignment officer. “Next!”

“Thank you, yes! I’m next,” responded another cadet, rushing up to the window. Her rucksack slid off of her shoulder, where the stub of a missing arm stuck out just beyond the sleeve of her shirt. “Here are all of my papers,” the cadet said, spreading out a pile of disheveled notes.

“Hold it! I just need a fleet number, a rank and your make. I don’t need your life story,” snapped the officer.

“Of course. I’m 24005RX . . . sub-cadet, 100% Non-Mollard.”

The assignment officer studied the cadet disapprovingly. “100%—non-Mollard,” he repeated, carefully scanning the cadet’s face. “Didn’t know they still let your kind in. And who is your commanding officer?” he demanded.

“Umm . . . Officer Liara, sir. And my name is Purvi,” continued the sub-cadet.

The assignment officer pushed the papers back at Purvi and frowned. “I don’t need all these papers,” the officer scowled. “And I don’t need your name!”

“I see. Thank you, sir,” Purvi responded, retrieving her papers. But then she paused. “But, you’re a Non-Mollard too, aren’t you?” she pressed. “In which case . . . well, it’s just so hard connecting with anyone here. My whole fleet is mostly Mollard, and . . .”

“Why are you still talking?” the assignment officer interrupted, while entering something into his database. “You’re cleared for HAS 12 over in Field 3.”

Realizing her gestures were unwelcome, Purvi quickly repositioned her rucksack and turned to walk away. But then she turned back around and reapproached the window, consumed by what had become a theme in her life—the burning desire to challenge what she felt was wrong. “Why are you so full of hate when you are still part flesh yourself?” she challenged.

Shocked, the assignment officer slowly looked up to meet Purvi’s bold stare and revealed the circuitry behind his colorless, prosthetic eyes. “How dare you talk to me that way, you little ‘scunt!” he seemed to growl through clench teeth. “How dare you even open your mouth to speak to me without being asked a question? You remind me of everything that shouldn’t be. You’re an unfortunate arrangement of flesh and mineral—with a mouth!” Growing even more impatient, the assignment officer stood up quickly from his chair. “You are just a waste and a burden to us all. Your kind shouldn’t even be here,” he sneered, leaning forward to make his point. “Make no error in. I am part of the new Xżyber and you’re . . . you’re completely expendable.” His voice became deeper, as did his frown. “Now get out of my line!”

About the Author:Opëshum has been writing since she was a child, and believes that authors are selected by their characters to bring their stories to the world. Incredibly shy and introverted, Opëshum does not make public appearances. She prefers to remain behind the scenes as the characters in her books take center stage. Her current work, the 8-Book SciFi Epic gods on Trial: The Series™ kicks off with Book 1, BEYOND THE FATHER.

Opëshum calls Sheridan, Wyoming her home, where she is currently writing Book 2 of this series. She lives in a modest Cape Cod dwelling on 3 acres of land where she lets a robust variety of sunflowers grow wild and untamed, while Aloe Vera and other succulents decorate almost every ledge within her house. An avid writer in the early morning and late at night, Opëshum often works on her manuscripts in rooms lit only by homemade candles.

She enjoys nature walks, full moons, and open spaces where she can stare up at the stars.

“I live my life in the shadows, and I am shy. For I know that my appearance is not pleasing to the eye.” – Opëshum Patroz

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Lessons I Learned from my Hero by Lou Kemp – Guest Blog and Giveaway

December 12, 2022 By 5 Comments

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

Lessons I Learned from my Hero

When I began the Celwyn series in 2018, I superficially knew details about the immortal peyote-chewing magician Jonas Celwyn and the other characters. The journey since then has been educating both for me, and for Celwyn.

The Violins Played before Junstan was initially written as a 15-page story for the Mystery Writers of America anthology Odd Partners. When it was finished, I realized there was so much I could do with it. I had already two strong characters who were just beginning to mesh as dual protagonists, a mechanical bird with an attitude, a villain who had died about page 14, and a premise that opened up a world of possibilities. When I began turning it into a novel, it only took about another five pages to know it was time to back up and add in a few things.

In a short story, the action is high and timelines tight, and details had to be minimal to meet the 3000-word limit. For the novel, I began layering in the details, which also provided color and the opportunities for the plotting. Since I’m a pantster, aka writing by the seat of my pants without a plot, this stage was relatively easy: I did not have to change anything major, just go with it.

I also learned early on that I as I wrote, I naturally planted clues and set-ups for the other characterizations and the other plots for the books in the series. Not only those things were important; I also had to keep track of all of those red herrings, real herrings, and fancy herrings. I didn’t need a story board yet, or was too stubborn to use one. There is probably a lesson here.

As I wrote, I fell in love with my characters, so much so, I protected them from being injured or … drumroll … killed off. You can imagine the flak from editors and friends. The darlings/enemies you love must be in danger: lesson learned. In book 6 one of them is killed. I will miss this character.

It is probably obvious to many readers, and most authors, that a protagonist is usually an extension of the author’s ego, or soul in some cases. I learned a few good and bad things about my personality, aka Celwyn’s personality. He has changed during the making of the first 6 books and four years, and for the better overall. An example:

Celwyn realized this: At the end of book 3, Professor Kang and Celwyn get into a fight about a dangerous task that must be undertaken. Kang tells the magician that he won’t back his plan because Celwyn “can’t kill a woman unless she is directly endangering” him, and that he only would do so if someone he cared about were threatened. Celwyn argues that he’d killed dozens that morning. None were women. The plot goes on.

There will be many more lessons learned. Bartholomew’s superstitious reactions to Celwyn’s magic have evolved as he grows stronger as a character. He is less afraid. I really want to turn him into a vampire if he is ever mortally wounded (probably in book 8).

While on a mission to avenge the death of his lover, the immortal peyote-eating magician Celwyn is hired to deliver an automat, Professor Kang, to a priest. But Celwyn quickly learns that everything the priest told him was a lie. Now his ship, the Zelda, is stuck in a horrific storm and Celwyn knows he must reconsider his allegiance if he is to steer his vessel in the right direction and continue his quest.

Enjoy an Excerpt

San Francisco, 1865

Late in the evening, thick ribbons of fog moved like a living animal, breathing, then thinning to vapor before revealing the shadows between the wooden barrels that lined the docks. Beyond the Opera House’s silhouette, oily glimmers of the bay cut through the darkness, only to be obscured by the fog again.

As Celwyn neared the docks, he heard virulent cursing above the commotion from a carriage as it charged down the cobblestones toward him. When the coach drew level, the driver raised a whip above his horse. On its descent to the horse’s back, the tip suspended mid-air and snake-like, the whip shimmied out of the coachman’s hand.

The man steered the hackney to a stop. As he slithered out of the high cab, the whip followed him, wrapping around his ankles, lifting him feetfirst into the air. His cursing echoed to screams as he disappeared into the night sky. A moment later, a splash could be heard, and a satisfied smile crossed Celwyn’s lips; he couldn’t stand to see anyone mistreating an animal. The horse trotted down the street, rather jauntily, back toward the stable yard as the magician stepped around a snoring drunk and into Salty’s tattered and dingy atmosphere. Celwyn could have sworn it was the same drunk he stepped over last night.

About the Author:Early work was horror and suspense, later work morphed into a combination of magical realism, mystery and adventure painted with a horrific element as needed.

I’m one of those writers who doesn’t plan ahead, no outlines, no clue, and I sometimes write myself into a corner. Atmospheric music in the background helps. Black by Pearl Jam especially.

More information is available at LouKemp.com. I’d love to hear from you and what you think of Celwyn, Bartholomew, and Professor Xiau Kang.

Milestones:

2009 The anthology story Sherlock’s Opera appeared in Seattle Noir, edited by Curt Colbert, Akashic Books. Available through Amazon or Barnes and Noble online. Booklist published a favorable review of my contribution to the anthology.

2010 My story, In Memory of the Sibylline, was accepted into the best-selling MWA anthology Crimes by Moonlight, edited by Charlaine Harris. The immortal magician Celwyn makes his first appearance in print.

2018 The story, The Violins Played before Junstan is published in the MWA anthology Odd Partners, edited by Anne Perry. The Celwyn series begins.

Book 1, The Violins Played before Junstan reissue with the publisher, the 4 Horsemen on 10-17-22. The 4 Horsemen will publish the remaining books in the series beginning with Music Shall Untune the Sky, The Raven and the Pig, The Pirate Danced and the Automat Died. The companion book, Farm Hall continues the story of Pelaez, another immortal magician and Celwyn’s brother will also be available.

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My Take on Negative Criticism by Zanne Raby – Guest Blog and Giveaway

December 8, 2022 By 12 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Zanne Raby 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.

Greetings Book Lovers! A big thank you to Long and Short reviews for having me on your site. And let me extend a big hello to everyone who’s joining me here today.

Every author fears it. Every reader has the potential in their fingertips. And it’s definitively not helpful. Do you know what I’m talking about? Come along with me and allow me to provide you with my take on negative criticism.
When I began writing my space opera series, The Chronicles of Deneb, there it was staring in my face: the fear of destructive criticism. I’d just retired from the Air Force. Thirty-eight years of my life were now behind me. Everything that identified me was gone. No longer was I a respected senior officer. As I walked past the men and women in uniform, no one lifted their arm in salute anymore. No, I was simply another middle-aged woman. I was just Zanne. This took me from where my words carried authority to a place where what I typed on the screen and subsequently published was now open for criticism and censure.

I began writing my first novel, The Flight of the Mayflower, in 2018. It took me two years before I had the courage to have it published. Fearfully, I provided copies to a group of trusted beta readers, and I waited with trepidation for their comments. Good people they were, and they provided constructive criticism that allowed me to improve the plot and the characters. Now confident in my work, I had the courage to publish the novel on a variety of platforms. Every few days I scrolled through the websites and reviewed the comments.

Then it happened one day: a negative review. I was so angry! How dare that person, from the comfort of their computer desk, write such vitriolic prose about the work I spent two years planning, writing, and polishing. I read it again and I was shocked by some inaccuracies in their review. I wondered if they actually read the book. Then I lost sleep, grinding my teeth in anger at this unknown person with a poison pen.

The next few days I mulled over the review. I read it a few more times to see if there was anything I could learn from it. Nada. Zip. Zero. Just pure poison pen.

Now, I must admit that there’s truth in the old saying, “to each his own”. Not everyone is a fan of space-opera or sci-fi. Some styles of writing just don’t work for me either. I mean, I absolutely adore War and Peace, but there are few people who do. There are things that other authors write about that I have absolutely no interest in. It doesn’t mean that the work is bad in any way. It’s just not my cup of tea.

I thought about that. What one person raves about, another cannot stomach.
But the bad review!

OK, I said to myself… you’re a grown up, you’ve worked with people who you’d have preferred to throw over a cliff but you managed to carry on. You’ve been in charge of thousands of people, you’ve survived in war zones, the Arctic, the desert. Who is this person anyhow? Why’d you let them get under your skin. Pick up your pen and write, woman! Don’t waste another second of your life on this bad review.

And so I did. I took a deep breath – you know, the deep, cleansing type of breath – and I let it go. I put it behind me. I sat down at my computer, I looked at the outline of what I wanted to write that day (I’m a massive plotter by the way), and my fingers flew across the keyboard. While that bad review stung, I knew it was not worth getting upset over.

I’d like to share that with all the readers today. This applies to anything in life. We all see things through our own lenses, through our unique lived experiences. Often, we hear criticism as negative and interpret that as being hurtful. It is important to analyze if there is any relevance in what has been shared with you. If there is, acknowledge it and try to incorporate the information into whatever you’ve been working on. If there is absolutely no benefit, and you need to be truthful to yourself, then don’t take it personal and certainly don’t waste any of your precious time ruminating on it. We all need to realize that there are people that feed on hurting others with their vicious words. They lurk on social media and in other dark places where they can anonymously post their thoughtless venom. These people are cowards who would never have the courage of uttering such words to your face. If we recognize this and just move on, pointless negative criticism does not leave a permanently sting.

The Chronicles of Deneb is a science-fiction/ space opera series set in the near future. The year is 2080 CE. The world is dying. Get ready to travel into the future to a time when nothing is certain. Where the science behind climate change was ignored, leading to drought and famine plaguing an already overpopulated globe. Massive waves of refugees stream across the planet, seeking sanctuary. Where terrorist groups have joined forces with biohackers to develop a deadly bio-engineered disease that marches across the continents like a conquering army, leaving millions dead in its murderous swathe.

Meanwhile, some of the best and brightest minds on the planet are feverishly at work – constructing gigantic Space Arks to shuttle hundreds of thousands of people to a colony on Mars. And it seems like there’s more good news: world leaders announce that a vaccine is ready. It’s all good; it’s all returning to normal.

But the truth is very different. In THE FLIGHT OF THE MAYFLOWER, the first novel in The Chronicles of Deneb, Dr. Daniel Radu – project manager for NASA’s Space Ark Mayflower – uncovers a global conspiracy of immense proportions. But Daniel cooks up a scheme of his own. Joined by a team of global experts, he and his colleagues brace themselves for a journey of a lifetime as they trek across the galaxy in a quest for survival.

Mayhem follows the Mayflower in the second book of The Chronicles of Deneb series, DESCENT INTO DARKNESS. Journey along with the crew of the Space Ark Mayflower as they adapt to their new home on the planet Deneb. But along with their struggle to integrate into an alien culture, a new battle sweeps across the planet with the arrival of the human-transmitted Chimera bactovirus, bringing war and fanning the flames of racial intolerance. With a bloody conflict now raging across the planet, the crew of the Mayflower is split between the two factions and embroiled in the chaos and destruction.

FIRES OF FURY is the third installment in The Chronicles of Deneb. Will the survivors of the Space Ark Mayflower find their way when cultures clash and the fires of fury threaten to consume their lives? Now masquerading as citizens of the Collective, the Mayflower crew has a new reason to fear. With the end of the Second Denebian War, Wesselan’s General Pallav Kóbor and his astrophysicist wife, Dr. Tara Kóbor, have high hopes that life will return to normal on Deneb7. Yet nothing can be further from the truth.In a diabolical plot to erase the scars left by the Second Denebian War, warlord turned Wessel Head of State Gomalan unleashes a fiendish scheme to heal his nation’s wounds, while his top soldier, General Ravenna, falls under the spell of a seductive Fyjer agent intent on crushing their ambitions. Dragged into a brutal reality of terror and intrigue, can the Kóbors and warbird ace Fynn Vogel remain unscathed, or will the flames consume them and all that is evil on Deneb-7?

Enjoy an Excerpt

A willowy brunette with shining brown eyes burst from the shadows, almost scaring Daniel out of his skin. “Tara,” he gasped, trying to quiet his heart. “What the hell? The president’s due here any second.” Dr. Tara Kóbor, the Nobel-prize winning astrophysicist who had discovered the find of the century – an Earth-like planet cuddled up in the Goldilocks zone of its star – was wearing a grin as wide as the Grand Canyon.

“You heard the news, right? I mean, the broadcasts are on fire. They’ve developed a vaccine! And whoever’s on the first shuttle flight is top priority. That means…”

He could hear heavy footsteps pounding on the hangar floor: time to play show and tell. Taking her by the shoulder, Daniel shepherded his friend to the bulkhead door. “It means you gotta get outta here. We’ll celebrate later,” he promised.

Just then, a bevy of bodyguards swooped in, all earpieces and dark glasses, and Daniel stood back as they robotically carried out their duties. No need really, NASA’s Chief of Security had seen to that. Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel spotted Tara’s husband, Lt-Col Pallav Kóbor, dwarfing the president’s team as he walked them through the hangar. He could hear the click click click of the cameras as the president approached with his staff trailing behind like good little shadows.

Show time, he mumbled to himself, wiping the sweat from his palms on his cobalt-blue NASA tunic.

About the Author:Zanne Raby is a military veteran, having served for over three decades across North America, Europe and the Middle East. Passionate about all things space, her novels weave fast-paced, team-oriented environments into character-based science fiction. Currently residing in a small town on the shores of Georgian Bay, Ontario, Zanne enjoys hiking, gardening and Sudoku.

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How to Write Realistic Female Characters by Bryan Cole – Guest Blog and Giveaway

November 16, 2022 By 7 Comments

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

How to Write Realistic Female Characters
One of the overriding goals that I had for myself was to ensure that I included female characters in Beginning of Arrogance. Including them is easy but making them meaningful and realistic is something altogether different. As I researched this subject, I learned a great deal about not just the predominant archetypes for female characters that exist today, but also how flawed those representations can be.

The existing categories that exist can be broken down into five major groups: the damsel in distress, the sexy one, the child-like silly one, the maternal one, and the macho tough-girl. It isn’t even that any of these categories are wrong, per se, but rather that they define entirely who the character is. Having a sense of childlike wonder at the world does not preclude someone from also being tough or maternal (or both!). Likewise, having an awareness of their own sexuality does not limit them in any way either.

One of the common solutions to the problem of too few female characters or characters that have only a single narrative role is to take a male character and turn them into a female character. This can work, but often reads strangely on the page for reasons that are not immediately obvious. Often when I read these characters, imagining them as a man makes them click much more with their dialog and narrative choices, which is a sure sign they started out that way and were swapped later. These dialog options are most common in the macho tough-girl persona. I can’t count the number of times I’ve read female characters saying things like “Don’t be such a girl!” or “No time for rest, princesses!” or something similar. Big Hero Six had a subtle subversion of this when Go Go said “Woman Up!” to the team.

Identifying things to avoid is one aspect of writing female characters, but how do you identify what you should write? For that, I simply looked at the various women I know in real life and took attributes from their personalities to flesh out my characters. I came up with the major themes of who the various characters are – Dahlia being very private, for example – and found real-world examples of those attributes and how they manifest.

By far the best example I found was my wife. She is the most complex, beautiful, and dynamic person I know (warning: I may be letting my personal bias show). Aspects of her personality are found in many of the female characters I wrote, but particularly the three ladies introduced in Chapter 16. Each of them has a core identity of who they are, inspired in no small part by my wife.

Using Dahlia as a case study, she dislikes being the focus of attention in social situations. This personality trait influences her skillset and behavior, as well as her interactions with others in the story. She’s content to be in the background, but that isn’t the same as being unable to stand up for herself or inject her opinion when it matters. Some of my female friends here in the real world have very clear ideas about when something is important to them, and that is when they engage in the conversation. On those subjects that matter, the strength of who they are should shine through.

This takes us to the subject of femininity. One concept that I disagree with is that women should only have feminine interests, and men should have masculine interests. Part of the reason I made Krell the way he is was so that he could look at these areas with clear eyes and discover that he enjoys aspects of living that others may mock him for. As an example, he’s never really slept in a comfortable bed before. Likewise, the female characters can have likes, preferences, and desires that need not align with any gender stereotype. One of the recurring themes with the three ladies is that they are all competent warriors. That means, as a rule, they are not going to wear impractical footwear or dresses when trudging through forests or swamps, but it also doesn’t mean they are going to ignore their appearances either. They take pride in their appearance because that is who they are, and the practical application of self-care in-story is something I hope people resonate with. Magic is awesome, and people in fantasy literature don’t use it casually often enough.

Strength without masculinity, femininity without weakness, and their own likes, dislikes, interests, and passions, just like every other character – this is how I approached writing female characters in Beginning of Arrogance!

Paladins are nothing but trouble. Stories about paladins are everywhere, noble warriors riding magic steeds into battle against terrible foes. Champions of their gods. Heroes to everyone, except those who already have everything. Paladins are notorious for upsetting the balance of power, to the detriment of any who don’t worship their deity.

So when Krell is called to service by the capricious god of the seas and skies, ReckNor, those with wealth and power can’t help but be concerned. ReckNor hasn’t called a paladin in years, and his nature is ever-changing and erratic. The fact that Krell is also an uneducated nobody with a stubborn streak as wide as the sea turns their concerns into fear.

All of which matters less than the threat clawing its way from the waves, ready to turn the ocean red with spilled blood…

Enjoy an Excerpt

Krell’s sword struck the pell.

His heavy breathing couldn’t disguise the dull thunk from the blade as it hit, bits of wood breaking off. Krell twisted his wrist and pulled, disengaging the blade. He struck again, the blade sliding along the wood, leaving a fresh scar. Once again, he failed to cut through the post.

Krell recovered his stance, his shield raised as Olgar taught him while his sword moved back into proper striking position. His next strike was high and carved another sliver of wood. Without waiting, Krell swung again. The sword hit lower than Krell wanted. He pulled back into the proper stance, and his next strike was on target, carving deep into the wood.

“All right, lad, I think we’ve seen enough,” a voice said from somewhere ahead of him.

Krell took a step back from the pell. An unsteady step, he was forced to admit. The sun was still high in the sky. Sweat ran into his blue eyes, causing him to blink in irritation. He glared at the wooden post. No more than halfway through. His chain mail armor was heavy on his shoulders.

He looked over at the town council, seated at a long table under an awning. They had comfortable chairs for the most part, and were sipping on what looked like cool drinks in the shade. Krell wondered how much attention they were actually paying to this test.

Amra Thort was the leader of the town council, and owner of one of the largest fishing fleets in Watford. She was a formidable- looking woman with steel gray hair, whose hands bore the signs of hard work done many years ago. People in the town respected her, Olgar had told him.

Seated next to her was Daylan Plintform, a wealthy merchant who owned many trading and fishing vessels. His long face was handsome, but he always looked irritated, even when he wasn’t. Olgar detested him, but refused to explain why. He was popular in town, since he paid for numerous festivals and banquets when the catch was good.

About the Author:

Bryan is an avid reader, and has loved the fantasy genre since he was a child. His love of stories of mighty knights, terrible dragons, and noble steeds has inspired him for decades.

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Hopepunk by Branwen Oshea – Guest Blog and Giveaway

November 16, 2022 By 5 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Branwen OShea will be awarding $30 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.

You describe your series as hopepunk sci-fi. What does that mean to you?

Hopepunk is a new genre, so for those not familiar with the term, it’s often described as a rebellion against the book world’s social/political norms (the punk part), but a rebellion of hope and love, rather than the desperate violence that often characterizes grimdark. Of course, hopepunk contains violence, but it’s wielded in a manner that holds that people can be good and humanity is worth saving. I can’t remember who said it, but someone once described it as a story where characters face horrible situations but refuse to lose their humanity no matter what happens. I really resonate with that.

I finished the draft of The Calling long before the term “hopepunk” was coined, so I’d say it’s more the way I naturally live and write than a genre choice. When I was writing it, YA multiple POV novels (like Six of Crows) had not yet hit the lists and I was told no one would ever read mine because of the POV and genre choices I had made. But, it took me so long to write it, lol, that the readers’ interests changed by the time it was published.

The Calling (book one) starts out appearing dystopian, where humans are surviving a new ice age by sheltering underground. Their world has grown dark and controlled, and the mysterious Sickness has killed so many teens that extinction is looking inevitable. This starting point was a clear choice, as I wanted to show a world that looked bleak and troubled. However, it is juxtaposed against the star beings, who live on the ice age surface and live in harmony with each other and the planet. As usual, humans attempt their typical “this is our land” but are met with a new type of resistance. The Chasm (book two) deepens that resistance with a new threat that meets the humans’ violence and attempts at control head-on with equal violence. The series explores what it would take for us as a collective to change their basic beliefs about violence, ownership, connection to nature, seeing other species as equals, etc., but in a way that presents all sides of the issues and hopefully challenges us all to look at the situation a bit differently.

I know for myself, writing all the different points of view has definitely challenged my own beliefs.

As for the science fiction part, I once heard someone define science fiction as stories where science is used to solve the story’s main issue. To me, the genre does much more. It has often predicted scientific discoveries and new technology and exposed possible risks to society of such discoveries. Science fiction often challenges social and political beliefs through the use of aliens, humans colonizing other planets, or other worlds with unique social, political, and economic systems. I also think science fiction can expand what we consider to be possible, both in science and societies. It’s the mind-expanding nature of sci-fi that has always drawn me in as both a reader and an author.

They thought the biggest problem they faced was each other.

After Bleu, Rana, and their new friends narrowly prevent war between the star beings and humans, they hope the upcoming negotiation will secure the peace. Newly emerged from their subterranean haven, the Northern Haven humans are clearly not suited to Earth’s ice age, and require assistance from the enlightened star beings to survive long term on the Surface. But Commander Savas doesn’t trust the suspiciously kind star beings and their unexplainable abilities. When both sides reluctantly negotiate a joint mission to find the other Havens, Bleu must somehow cooperate with the manipulative commander to keep his friends safe.

As their team confronts unexpected dangers, Bleu and his teammates begin to suspect the star beings don’t know as much about the Surface as they claimed, while Rana is torn between remaining true to her nonviolent ways or becoming more human to survive. When an unnatural predator attacks, even the nearly all-knowing Kalakanya can’t explain it. Now the team must pull together or their new discovery will pull them apart, limb by limb.

Enjoy an Excerpt

As the sun descended behind the mountain and darkness crept across the frozen field, a strange dread seeped into Bleu’s bones. It felt like a warning, an alarm that danger lurked nearby.

He had known safety in Rana’s village, and he’d lost the spatial anxiety caused by the wide-open spaces of the Surface that differed so much from the cozy walls and tunnels of home. No, this unease wasn’t spatial anxiety to the openness of the sky and horizon.

This was different, and perhaps a bit similar to what Kahali feared. Bleu had never faced the possibility of other humans with guns. His team sat out in the open, exposed. The meager light from the cooking fire did nothing against the shroud of blackness surrounding them. No safe walls protected them from physical attacks or bullets. And then, there were the unknown predators of the region.

His earlier excitement of finding the footprints evaporated, leaving behind a gnawing awareness of their vulnerability. The darkness beyond the campfire could be punctured any moment by monstrous claws or gunfire. Childhood tales of the evil Undescended crowded his mind with images so ludicrously terrible that he wanted to laugh at himself.

Instead, he checked that they were all armed and sent Savas and Neviah to make sure the helicopters were locked. Animal calls and crunching footsteps drifted down the mountains as if something were encircling them. Even the confident star beings kept glancing out into the night. They should be comfortable in such wilderness, right?

About the Author: As a young girl, Branwen wanted to become an ambassador for aliens. Since the aliens never hired her, she now writes about them.

Branwen OShea has a Bachelors in Biology from Colgate University, a Bachelors in Psychology, and a Masters in Social Work. She lives in Connecticut with her family and a menagerie of pets, and enjoys hiking, meditating, and star-gazing. Her published works include Silence of the Song Trees, The Calling, The Cords That Bind, and The Chasm.

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How to Handle Negative Criticism by e rathke – Guest Blog and Giveaway

November 2, 2022 By 18 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. e rathke 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.

How to handle negative criticism

To publish at all is to invite criticism. No matter what you write, someone will hate it. Even if you end up as celebrated as Cormac McCarthy or sell as many copies as JK Rowling, people are going to hate every single word you write down. The bigger the audience of fans, the larger the number of haters. Ideally, the haters will always be outnumbered by fans or at least those who appreciate what you’re trying to achieve. But the reality of publishing is that people are going to tear apart your book in Goodreads or Amazon reviews.

The trick, I think, is understanding which criticisms to take in. My own fiction always bends towards the weird and the wild, the caustic and ecstatic. Try as I might to write a simple tale with broad appeal, I find myself always twisting the narrative towards those ancient dark trees and the cold caves where those with a commonsense dread of danger are unlikely to follow.

With that comes those who will not follow. They’ll see the way the road bends and they’ll realize this is a path they’d prefer not to see the end of. Some who do will wish they hadn’t and they’ll tell anyone who will listen that they should avoid those woods, those caves, for there are monsters lying in wait.

Some, though, will hear of these strange dark forests and feel compelled to see them, to experience them. They may go with great trepidation and they may be shaken by the experience. But they may also find something there—a sensation, a new perspective, a burgeoning desire—that makes them seek other dark forests, other abandoned caves. They may spend the rest of their lives hunting out monsters, not to kill them, but to bask in their monstrousness, their weirdness.

We invite criticism when we publish anything, but we don’t need to give every criticism equal weight. Often the reviewer will let you know within a few sentences whether they were the target audience or not. If someone who was never going to like your novel tells you that they didn’t like your novel, should you be surprised? Should you take that criticism to heart?

But there will be those who came to your book with open eyes and open arms, excited for the weird and the wild, the uncanny and the ecstatic, and they will find your attempts lacking. They’ll find your words stilted and your world flimsy, your characters automatons without personality, and every joke you spent hours perfecting will leave them cold.

What do we do with this?

Well, first we shatter, fragile creatures that we are. We shatter and moan and maybe rage a bit at the unfairness of it all. And why did they have to write the review publicly anyway? Why couldn’t they have just rated it two stars and moved on?

The first thing: do not respond to the review. If you feel you must respond, definitely don’t argue. There is no way for this to work out well for you, even if you’re right. It’s an argument you lose the moment you engage.

Give yourself time. Try to forget about the review for a while. Read a book. Play a video game. Go for a run. Walk your dog. Cuddle your cat. Cry in the shower. Whatever you need to do to get past the fact that someone hated your book in public for good and real reasons.

It may take a week or a month or a year, but eventually you should look at that review again. With the distance of time, you’ll hopefully be able to acknowledge where this person had a point and where they missed or misunderstood something or where they simply didn’t like something for reasons so unknowable or personal that it may have nothing to do with your writing or book. But pick through these criticisms and find the ones that may apply. The ones that make you nod along or accept that, yes, they had a point.

Use this to write the next book.

“My name is Ineluki. I come from past the mountains and ice. It took me many days to reach here. All I know are dead. Will you take me in?”

And so begins a calamitous year at the edge of the world.

Chief for the year, Aukul’s life has never been better. His people respect him, he spends his nights with the love of his life, and his skills as a butcher and chef improve every day. Then Ineluki, a young stranger, wanders into town with nothing but an empty book. He begins telling stories of the world beyond the one they know. His stories challenge their reality and lead to a summer of unprecedented disasters.

One by one, the villagers begin dancing. Dancing tirelessly, as if in a trance, until they die. Believing Ineluki is to blame, Aukul confronts him on the worst night of his life.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Umok was the first to see the boy. There was nothing special about the boy except that he wasn’t one of us and didn’t seem to be an Uummanuq. Not that anyone really knew, then, what the Uummanuq looked like. Not really. But he was too tall to be one of them and much too short to be one of us. Maybe strangest of all, he was dressed as a woman. One of ours, not the Uummanuq women, assuming anyone knew, then, what the Uummanuq looked like when they weren’t smashing our homes down. But he wore a loose, open vest, his trousers tight and reaching just past his knees. In his hands, a hidebound book.

It was a clear day, just past spring, and though the edge of the world is known for its deathly cold, our summers are quite warm. Warm enough to wade out into the sea and gather crabs or lobster. Or even to swim out to where the leviathans burst through the water, spraying the skies with their misted breath.

Umok was so distracted by the boy that she dropped her arm, accidentally flinging her gyrfalcon, Feo, to the ground. When Feo shrieked the way she does, the boy turned to Umok and smiled a big toothy grin. To hear Umok tell it later, the boy had fangs like a wolf and eyes that glowed with menace.

We’re not prone to superstition, but much changed that summer and especially come winter, when the days last barely a blink and the nameless ones call out to us in the long night, and mothers wake to missing children, never to be seen again.

But the boy didn’t stop when he saw Umok. It was like he had a set destination. Like he knew where we were. And maybe that’s the most shocking of all. That he just wandered out from the dark green summer mountains and walked right to our little village at the edge of the world with nothing but the clothes he was wearing, an empty book, and a mouthful of words that would change the shape of all our lives.

About the Author:e rathke writes about books and games at radicaledward.substack.com. A finalist for the 2022 Baen Fantasy Adventure Award, he is the author of Glossolalia and several other forthcoming novellas. His short fiction will appear in Queer Tales of Monumental Invention, Mysterion Magazine, and elsewhere.

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How to Handle Negative Criticism by Rachel Graves – Guest Blog and Giveaway

November 1, 2022 By 10 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. A randomly drawn winner will be awarded a $50 Amazon/BN GC. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

How to handle negative criticism

It happened. Someone, somewhere hated your book. They hated it so much, they didn’t just stop reading or throw the book across the room. No, they went online and wrote on a long screed about every problem in your story. You got the werewolves all wrong, everyone knows that’s not how they shift. The big relationships in your book are flat and one-dimensional. The scheming villain is clearly stolen from a famous tv show/play/another book. You want to scream that werewolves are fantasy creatures, they can act however they want, that the relationship is built on your own very happy marriage, and that you’ve never even seen that tv show/play/other book.

The first and most critical step to handling criticism is to cry. Or eat some chocolate. Maybe a glass of wine? Whatever mourning ritual you engage in, spend time on it. Think about the hours and hours you spent on your book. Remember all those day dreams you had about it being the next viral hit to become an international bestseller. Mope. Curl up on the couch and feel all your feelings. There may be anger at the reviewer, shame that you never realized how close that character was to the character in your favorite tv show, and worst of all, exhaustion. You worked so hard, and your book still wasn’t beloved by all.

Once you’ve gotten over that, I have to remind you of a not very nice fact. Your book was never going to be beloved by all.

There will always be someone who hates what we write. Maybe they hate all characters with blue eyes, maybe they work in an industry that gives them inside information rendering all your research useless, or maybe they don’t have a good reason, they just hate it. Whatever the case, you have to decide how to deal with that. When you have some distance, think about the criticism itself. Is it valid? Criticism is a gift that can make your writing better. It won’t feel that way at first, and it may take literally years for you to see that, but use your pain as a way to improve. Look into your critic, what books do they love? Read them. What do those books do right? What makes your critic happy?

Do you care?

Some negative critics come not from the mechanics of your work but from the ideas in it. If you’ve improved your storytelling, hired a better line editor, improved your marketing so the story matches the promo, and well, written a book you’re proud of, you might not want to give the critics any energy. If they hate your book because of the ideas in it, maybe they aren’t the right reader. In the end, authors have to make a decision – first fix what needs to be corrected, things like grammar, word choice, the mechanics of your story. Then consider things you might be willing to change – maybe you should add more diverse characters, maybe your heroine needs to stand up for herself. Finally, decide what you’re willing to fight for, some parts of your book make the story work, they matter to you. There will always be critics, but once you get over the sting of their words, you can use them to change your writing for the better or fortify it against things that would make it worse.

A dragon terrified of being discovered by the government, Ravenna Drake is constantly on the move. When the woman who raised her gets cancer, Ravenna trades her nomadic work restoring black market magical goods for a steady job. But her cautious life ends after her name is found at the scene of a werewolf murder.

Dr. Ian Chen, a sorcerer bonded to a powerful relic, works for the government treating supernatural citizens. He insists on investigating when his patient’s body is discovered completely drained of blood. His search leads him to the beautiful but frustrating Ravenna Drake, who refuses to stay away from the case or follow his instructions.

As more bloodless bodies surface, threats from secret societies and corrupt politicians force the dragon and the sorcerer to work together. If Ravenna and Ian can’t catch the killer, the people they love the most may be the next to die.

Enjoy an Excerpt

His foot reached out to blur the circle and the ghost changed. Agony forced every other emotion aside. He couldn’t breathe, a heavy weight settled on his chest. Panic set in as he wheezed, his heart racing the way hers had raced. Was he experiencing her last minutes or just panicking at the emotions? Could he trust himself? Darkness started to crowd the edges of his vision. Not enough air. Sweat broke out along his back. Somewhere, Cloak was saying something, but he couldn’t hear it over the pounding of blood in his ears. He was going to die here. The blackness got closer.

“No.” The flood of emotions stopped immediately, as Drake stepped in front of him. “That’s not how this works. You don’t get to scream at him.”

His head throbbed, stinging like acid dripping down his face, but he could breathe again. The darkness receded. The first thing he saw was Drake moving into the center of the stain, acting as if the blood wasn’t there.

“I’ll give you enough energy to manifest, but start screaming again and I will end you, even if we haven’t heard a damn thing you’ve got to say. Understand?” She paused, then reached her hand out. A shaft of sunlight came in through the window and her hand seemed to glow. Then the end of it disappeared, replaced with a chest. The shape grew outward, a filmy light turning into a woman. The process took less than a minute, and he heard the sheriff whisper to God.

“Dr. Chen, she can talk to you now.” Drake said it with a very deliberate emphasis on the word talk. Whatever the ghost intended, it wasn’t going to stand up to her. A deep surge of gratitude coursed through him.

About the Author: Rachel Graves writes mysteries that blend the supernatural with steamy, sexy scenes. Her work explores the many shades of gray found between the lines of right and wrong. Rachel’s books focus on strong heroines who take charge of their own fate, their friends, and their families. Rachel is a member of Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America and uses research skills honed getting a graduate degree in psychology to seek out rare folklore and magical creatures. Her writing incorporates popular monsters like vampires and werewolves as well as diverse creatures like selkies and yuki onna. Rachel has lived in a cursed town, taken far too many ghost tours, and counts down to every Halloween starting in November. You can read short stories and learn more about her on her website.

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The Place I Write by Ross MacKay – Guest Blog and Giveaway

October 26, 2022 By 3 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Ross MacKay 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.

The Place I Write

Roald Dahl famously wrote from a shed in the bottom of his garden. I used to live in Edinburgh, so I know all the places where tourists are told JK Rowling wrote (and the places she actually wrote in). For me, I have my attic. I live in a cottage that was built in the 1890s and the roof space has been converted into a little secret bedroom.

The stairs that lead up to the attic are hidden in a cupboard. They are very compact and resemble the type of stairs you might find on an old ship. Once I am up there, I am in my own little world. Nestled into the sloped roof of the house at one corner is my desk. The place where I can dream up new worlds.

My only occasional visitor is our cat, April. She is quite elderly now and she sleeps a lot. I really love when she nestles down on my lap, and purrs away. She is like a little hot water bottle keeping me warm, especially in the winter months. However, occasionally she does like to climb up onto the desk which looks a little like this:

‘And finally, I can reveal to you the murderer is fnfjfhuiweiownhdolewqnfolngwlrtengj;ekoaj’o[fiqmlknLKJd”

It is very annoying. But it is great to have someone you can blame when your editor spots silly spelling mistakes.

Beside my desk are four small bookcases, all within an arm’s reach. This is great as I refer to the works of authors who inspire me a lot when I am writing.

On the left-hand side of my desk is a little wall where I hang pictures and paintings. These are usually paintings that are close to me. They might be work from a friend, or work about a show I have made (I also work in theatre). But at the moment, there is a small battle in the house. My wife now can at times also work from home. As I said, it is a small little Scottish cottage so there isn’t room for a second desk.

Now my artwork has been replaced with a very organized and sensible looking calendar. I am looking forward to my artwork sneaking back in one day soon.

The space is cramped, my chair is a bit broken and the desk wobbles. But I love it. This is the place I first got to meet Will, The Whisp, Gaby and all the other characters who live in this world I have created. I love them very much and so this place will always hold a special place in my heart. I can’t wait to see who else I meet up there for my next book which will be called…fh9gthioewuhnf; lqwm;fqejlkmGHSFAIDGSkjelw’q

Oh April!!

“The voice was coming from inside him … But it wasn’t his.”

The Whisp is a fugitive. Living in between worlds, she flees from veteran hunters and the General who wishes to corrupt her power. For Will Devine, nothing could be worse than someone else knowing his thoughts. When an unfortunate incident in the boy’s toilet mysteriously binds the two souls together, Will is horrified to find he is no longer the only voice inside his mind. With no way apart, the two of them must work together to find a solution.

But with one teacher dead and another student’s life on the line, can they survive long enough to escape from each other?

Enjoy an Excerpt

The Whisp hurtles down a side street and then spins to the left.
Faster and faster, as fast as she can.

She hears heavy boots on the damp cobbles and the howls and whoops behind her. A glance back shows some of the Hunters grasping electric spears, running them against the granite walls. The sparks crackle in the air as they singe the old stones black. The rain lashes down onto the old slate roofs making the whole city bristle with noise.

Amongst all of this chaos, she keeps running, tries hard to concentrate on the sound that beckons. It’s fragile, like fine thread unwinding from a spindle. She knows if she loses it, inside the noise of the chase, it might never be found again.

The sound is hope.

The Whisp propels herself forward. She has never heard the song of the Thresholds until this night. She didn’t even exist when they were last open. But if a Threshold was open and singing to her, then there was a chance … A small chance, she might escape with her life.

The city is woven like a tightly gnarled knot through which she twists and turns, doubling back on herself when she comes across another squad of Hunters in the alleyway ahead of her. They are systematic, cutting off streets, encircling her, trying to pen her in. She works fast to plot a new route in her mind, turning towards the sound whenever she has the chance.

The Hunters are like a pack of wild dogs catching the scent of prey in their nostrils. They will not lose her. She is quicker than them, but they are relentless. And while she may be invisible, the lashing rain runs down her body, making her shimmer.

They are swooping upon her, again and again. Each trying their best to seize the Whisp in their talons. But agile and quick, she darts across a city square into another crumpled heap of side streets.

The Whisp tries to turn another corner but misjudges the pivot and crashes hard into a wooden door that rattles on its hinges. Trying to correct her balance, she slips as the wet gravel beneath her gives way. Landing in a heap, she looks up and notices a looming shadow in front of her.

The only humans ever out at this time of night are Hunters.

About the Author:Ross MacKay lives in the village of Aberdour in Scotland with his wife and young son, Noah.

Ross previously worked in theatre as the artistic director of Tortoise in a Nutshell. His productions toured all over the world. His shows have received numerous prestigious awards including a Scotsman Fringe First for New Writing and a Critic’s Pick from The New York Times.
In 2020, Ross was the recipient of the William Soutar Award for Poetry and a Tom McGrath Trust Maverick Award. He has been commissioned to write poetry for libraries in Fife, to open a festival in Perth and for two books published by Tippermuir.

Ross’ first picture book, Daddy’s Bad Bed Day will be published in 2022 by Curly Tale Books. The book has been created to help young children with parents with poor mental health. Research for the book has been supported by numerous children’s charities in Scotland.

When Ross isn’t writing or making shows, he spends his time in his inflatable kayak, trying to steer it as best he can. He loves gardening and is currently engaged in a fierce battle with a collection of snails who seem to love the rhubarb and potatoes just as much as Ross.

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Salvation by L.C. Conn – Spotlight and Giveaway

October 17, 2022 By 9 Comments

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

Their final battle has come, and Chaos will not surrender.

The danger and risks have never been more real for Claire. She has spent her adult life fending off his relentless attacks, and now only wants to protect those she loves, but in doing so, she places everyone at greater risk.

Born of two sacred lines created by Carling, generations before, Aroha must face Chaos. Young, and unsure of herself, Aroha looks to her godmother for guidance, but is it enough? Claire must prepare her for the moment Aroha was born for.

Can Claire keep those she loves safe and reunite those that were once lost?

Enjoy an Excerpt

Standing in the centre of the circle, the couple waited. Beyond the stones the wind and rain that blustered in the darkness did not affect them. Inside it was calm and warm. Matt clasped her hand in his and was growing impatient. Claire turned to face him, her arms going about his waist as she drew him into her. He looked down at his wife and smiled, his bright blue eyes sparkling in the fleeting moonlight and showing the love he felt for her. He reached up and pushed her blond hair away from her face and kissed her.

There was no need for words, they had been together for twenty-eight years and knew each other too well. The connection between them ran deep inside their minds and was unbreakable. Claire rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes, taking comfort from his arms and his presence. Memories of their times at the stones came floating up and she smiled at the ones that meant the most to her.

“Claire,” Matt said, softly bringing her out of her memories.

Pulling away from the warmth of his body reluctantly, she watched the Guardians enter the circle. Each figure took their place once more in the gaps between the large stones and faced the couple. With increasing nervousness Claire waited for the Guardians to begin.

“Greetings to the One True Child, daughter and sister of the Sentinels, Staff and Sword of Order, Guardian of the Stones and wife of Galen the Protector,” one of the hosts proclaimed, as he stepped forward from his place.

About the Author:L.C. Conn grew up on the outskirts of Upper Hutt, New Zealand. Her backyard encompassed the surrounding farmland, river, hills and mountains which she wandered with her brothers and fed her imagination. After discovering a love for writing in English class at the age of eight, she continued to write in secret. It was not until much later in life that L.C. turned what she thought was a hobby and something fun to do, into her first completed novel. Now married, L.C. moved from New Zealand to Perth, Western Australia, and became a stay at home mum. While caring for her family and after battling breast cancer, a story was born from the kernel of a dream. The first book of The One True Child Series was begun, and just kept blooming into seven completed stories.

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