Search Results for: the wrong words

Unleashing Your Inner Muse by Dan Padavona – Guest Blog and Giveaway

January 11, 2023 By 6 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Dan Padavona 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.

Unleashing Your Inner Muse

Athletes often speak about entering the zone and tapping peak performance when the match is on the line. To reach the zone, these high performers develop strength, endurance, and sport-specific skills. Notice no athlete ever says she trained by sitting in Starbucks, waiting for inspiration to hit.

Unleashing your inner muse is the creative’s version of entering the zone. You won’t get there by waiting for the right words or story arc to strike you lightning from the sky. The muse shows itself when you’re operating at your peak, and you won’t reach your peak without daily vigorous training.
That’s why most writers never complete that novel they’ve been talking about, or if they do, they fail to take the next step and graduate from newbie to accomplished.

Writing is hard work. Just as athletes train their bodies, so too must authors train their minds. If you write a few days a week, or worse yet a few days a month, you’re not putting in enough effort to tap your muse. Would you expect to become an Olympian by running on treadmill twice a month?

Stephen King puts it simply. ”If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot.”

There are no shortcuts. Several studies of the most successful company leaders show CEOs read an average of 60 books a year. Why of all professions would writers not have this prerequisite for success?

If you want to unleash your inner muse, begin reading widely and often, including books outside your genre. Write every day (or at least five days a week) for no less than 45 minutes to establish a healthy habit, and don’t let yourself stray.

The muse won’t show up automatically, but if you put forth consistent effort, she’ll appear when least expected and infuse your chapters with magic.

Every mind holds a secret. Some are more deadly than others.

Nightshade County Sheriff Thomas Shepherd is a successful model for every law enforcement officer with autism. He leads an idyllic life in his uncle’s old home along Wolf Lake and is planning to marry private investigator Chelsey Byrd.

But when a star athlete’s girlfriend disappears while camping, everyone blames the boyfriend. He’s volatile and dangerous. Did he murder the girl and bury her in the woods?

The sheriff’s gut tells him there’s more to the story than the boyfriend is willing to admit. The more he digs into the case, the more he worries someone is hiding a dark secret.

Is the boy a killer? Or is he the next victim?

Enjoy an Excerpt

McKenzie Ossman twirled a length of blond hair around her finger and took in the stars. Here, five miles beyond Kane Grove’s city lights, the sky was a frozen portrait of fireworks. She shivered against the chill and puffed out a condensation cloud, the cold already deep enough to penetrate her bones. By morning, frost would cover the landscape.

She accepted the bottle of Jack Daniels from Marshall and sipped. This was a terrible idea. As much as she wanted to get him away from the pressures of Kane Grove University and the constant attention he received from being a future NFL draft selection, she didn’t like it when he drank. Hazel-skinned, strong, body painted with tattoos, he was a Greek god when he was sober. But lately he’d taken to drinking too often. He changed after the alcohol hit his bloodstream, turning angry and short-fused, a bomb ready to blow.

Then there was the problem of getting back to campus on his motorcycle. She couldn’t trust him to drive buzzed. Sometimes he pushed the motorcycle past eighty in the dark, her arms wrapped around his waist, Marshall one wrong move from disaster.

Marshall Prisco was the proverbial diamond in the rough. Few small college football players attracted professional scouts, yet dozens attended Kane Grove football games for the chance to see him play. A senior wide receiver, he was unstoppable on the field, too fast and strong for the poor fools tasked with covering him.

McKenzie sipped from the bottle and winced when the alcohol burned her throat. Marshall held out his hand, and she wasn’t sure she should give the bottle back to him.

About the Author:Dan Padavona is the author of The Wolf Lake series, The Logan and Scarlett series, Darkwater Cove, The Scarlett Bell thriller series, and The Thomas Shepherd Mysteries. Many of his novels rank in the top-10 in Amazon’s thriller and mystery categories. He is a husband, a parent, and proud member of the International Thriller Writers Organization.

When he’s not writing, Dan enjoys photography, biking, weightlifting, and storm chasing. Dan has videotaped tornadoes from New York to Oklahoma and Texas and was nearly swept up by a strong twister outside Sweetwater, Texas. A self-proclaimed ice cream and gelato lover, Dan admits to spending too much time in the gym, compensating for his questionable nutritional decisions.

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Griffin Days and Pixie Nights by Bailey Bradford – Spotlight and Giveaway

January 5, 2023 By Leave a Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Bailey Bradford, who is celebrating the recent release of Griffin Days and Pixie Nights, the third book in the Fire & Flutter series. Enter the Rafflecopter at the end of the post for the chance to win a $50.00 First for Romance Gift Card! Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

The kingdom’s most focused griffin shifter and its slackest pixie. It’s a match made in what the hell?

Gage is the most dedicated of the kingdom’s powerful griffin shifter Guardians. He’ll do anything to close a case…even if his commander says not to. Now Gage is fuming. Being reassigned to the World Magic Convention is bad enough. Babysitting the keynote speaker is worse. But the absolute pits? He has to work with a good-for-nothing pixie!

Daire the pixie is a lazy ne’er-do-well chancer…one who’s failed to charm his green-eyed, pointed-eared way out of trouble this time and is on his last chance. Being given community service is crap. Doing it as local liaison at some stupid convention is even crappier. But the crappiest of all? He has to work with a stick-up-his-ass griffin!

Sparks blaze, the pair get into a heated fight…and have the hottest sex ever. And that’s just their first meeting. Morning brings not just shock and remorse, but the loss of the VIP they were guarding, kidnapped while they were…busy. Hells! But Gage has never failed on a mission yet, and Daire doesn’t want a prison stretch, so there’s only one thing to do.

Form the unlikeliest partnership ever and solve the case themselves.

And try not to have sex or kill each other along the way…

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of slightly off-page body piercing, med fet, and the use of hypnosis and spells.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“Sir!” The guard on duty outside the two-room suite in the Griffin Guardians HQ sprang to attention at Captain Gage’s approach. He snapped out a smart salute, but his hand fell when Gage didn’t march past but instead stood waiting in the corridor. “Sir…?” he repeated, uncertainly.

“As you were.” Gage jerked his head to one side, illustrating how he wanted the corporal—returned to his position in between the doors and not in front of one of them.

The guard took a quick glance at the sheet of parchment paper pinned to the board on the wall. “Captain, you’re not listed as—”

“Stand aside, Corporal.” Gage added a raised eyebrow to the emphasis he placed on the last word and the junior officer recoiled.

Some officers might have raised their voice, or tapped their uniform badges, drawing the corporal’s attention to the greater number of feathers displayed. That would have reminded the junior who was of a higher rank in the Griffin Guardians, the kingdom’s elite federal law enforcement agency that griffin shifters ran and dedicated their lives to.

Gage never wanted or needed to pull rank, either here inside the HQ or outside. His height and breadth, coupled with his implacable, unflinching manner did it for him. Now was no different—the corporal not only scuttled to one side, but opened the door for him and saluted again. Gage murmured his thanks. While he liked how the junior officer had assessed and regrouped, he didn’t like that a situation demanding such a response existed.

The list displayed outside in the corridor was a symbol of all that was going the wrong way in the Guardians, in Gage’s opinion. This bureaucratic keeping account of which griffin shifter was assigned to which aspect of which case in which room at which time was getting out of claw.

What had Colm said last week? “Pretty soon admin will be assigning us times for bathroom breaks, and probably make us sign in and out of the stall if we take a dump.” It had been a joke, but Gage hadn’t laughed. Not many of them had.

The two first lieutenants on duty in the observation room sprang to their feet, shooting puzzled looks at each other when Gage marched in, but both sat when Gage waved them down.

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to supervise how you’re implementing some new directive that came into force five minutes ago or check if you’re reaching your latest performance targets,” he told them, trying to sound lighter than he felt.

He made straight for the mirror-pane that divided this small room from the equally small but brighter room beyond.

It was a light-mirror, meaning that he couldn’t use it to see his reflection, but he wasn’t there to do that. He knew his uniform would be clean and crisp—Guardians’ uniforms were designed that way—just as his blond hair, short back and sides and longer on top, was regulation length and cut. He bet his face bore the same narrow-eyed, focused look it always did. What he wanted was to look through the light-mirror to its other side.

But what he didn’t expect was that the moment his gaze found the prisoner in the interrogation room, the prisoner would raise his head and stare back at him through the glass.

“The hells?” First Lieutenant Antonin exclaimed. His chair scraped on the floor behind him as he joined Gage. “He can’t see through the glass?”

“He’s a mage,” Gage reminded his fellow officers, spitting the words out. “Who knows what these magic users can do?” His revulsion left a sour taste in his mouth as he continued, “His powers have been dampened, yes?”

“As much as the regs allow, Sir.” First Lieutenant Sandrine joined them at the mirror, giving a choked-off exclamation when the prisoner sent a mocking finger-wave her way.

Gage swore. “This tricky bastard needs neutralizing, stat.”

“I’m afraid we can’t, Sir. Not until the request’s been approved and stamped by two duty officers and the prisoner’s been examined and cleared by the HQ physician.” Antonin tucked his chair back into the table.

“New regulations, Sir,” Sandrine added.

Both Antonin and Sandrine sounded apologetic, but it wasn’t their fault, nor were they telling Gage anything he didn’t know. Neither of those things made the information easier to hear, or the situation any easier to bear, however. Gage’s hand had formed into a fist, and he exhaled as he opened it flat again, wishing he could huff away all the irritation and frustration he was feeling as easily.

Few people could say, their hand on their heart, that they loved their job, and Gage would never say that either, because being a Griffin Guardian was more than a job to him. The corps was his life, and he took pride in the knowledge that he’d given the organization his all since joining the Guardians thirty years ago. That’s good…isn’t it? Laudable? Because lately he’d begun to feel that, well, perhaps it wasn’t.

He hauled in those stray thoughts. If he was feeling that there could perhaps be more to his life, it was because every moon-cycle seemed to bring with it new guidelines and directives, most of them aimed at giving what Gage still thought of as the lesser beings ‘representation’ or ‘a voice’ and making sure the higher beings—sorry, winged beings—didn’t abuse what was becoming increasingly seen as their position of privilege.

Gage wasn’t political or even very aware of interspecies politics. All he knew was that the new social climate made it increasingly hard for him to perform his duties, thanks to the ‘accountability’ and ‘visibility’ and every other hells-be-damned ‘ility’ the Equality Awareness Office dreamed up, and hamstrung the entire corps with, from its five-feathered general down to its lowliest private.

“Rules are one thing,” he muttered. He liked rules. Lived by rules. Wished all the species did, that they followed the same ones as the griffin kingdom did. The griffins’ codes of conduct and honor were revered throughout the plane, as was their ability to impose order, making them the natural choice for a federal law enforcement species. A mission undertaken is a mission accomplished. It was no coincidence that this was the Guardians’ motto. “Rules keep things safe.”

“I’m so sorry about Captain Colm, Sir,” Sandrine said, perhaps catching Gage’s last words.

Gage gave her a brusque nod in acknowledgment. He was sorry too. He’d had Colm as partner for the last ten years of his three decades in the Griffin Guardians, and they worked together well. Colm was as reliable and committed to getting the job done as Gage could want. There were always risks, in the job they did, of course, but to think that that contemptuous bastard sitting there—

“It was an accident. And I have no idea why he was chasing me. Why either of them were, these winged shifter beasts, whatever they were. Dragons, right?”

The mage’s voice held defiance and there was triumph in the gaze he leveled at Gage through the glass as he spoke. But when he added a derisive kiss to the end of his sentence, Gage was out of the observation room and into the one next door almost before he was aware of moving or that he’d had all he could take. He had an assignment and he would do what it took to see it through. That was the way he operated. How he saw the world.

“Out,” he ordered the second lieutenant in the interrogation room before the officer had gotten out the S of Sir. “Now!” he snapped. He rounded on the prisoner the second the door was closed, his eyes narrowed. “So. It’s just you and me now, scum.”

“I’m a mage,” the prisoner snarked. “Which means that I’m—”

“Oh, excuse me. Mage scum,” Gage snapped. “A mage scum con artist who used his ‘magic’ to rob money-vaults and businesses, having found a way around the thief protections. One who I came to question, which, for the record, is why you tried to run, and in your escape, you injured my partner.” He let the fury he felt show.

“What? I did that? Well, that was wrong of me. I made a mistake there.” The mage looked down at the desk in front of him for a few seconds. When he looked up again, his eyes grew darker as he turned his head slowly toward Gage. By the time he stared full force at him, his eyes were completely black, with no white to them at all. The effect was unnerving and the revealed strength of his powers worrying. Gage braced himself.

“Because I was aiming for the both of you.” The mage got to his feet, his movements swift and jerky. Snakelike, almost. “You’re stronger than your partner, though. Colm, wasn’t it? Or isn’t it, if he’s still alive? Pity. A two-for-one hit-and-destroy would have saved me time and effort.”

“Like you’ve saved us time and effort?” Gage kept his voice quiet when he wanted to yell at this piece of troll shit. “By confessing?” He smirked.

“Oh, if only anyone had witnessed it, either visually or audibly.” The mage pulled a pitying face. “If only the mirror-glass hadn’t silvered, and the listening holes hadn’t all blocked.” He gave Gage time to take in his meaning.

What—? Gage took his eyes off the prisoner to throw a glance at the light-mirror and the conduit holes below it.

“Because without a record of this, it’s like I was never here, griffin. And that being the case, I think I’ll be off.” The mage moved.

Instantly, Gage took a step forward to block him. “Oh, we just let you walk out of here, do we?” he scoffed.

The mage shrugged, as if he didn’t care, then brought his hands up at lightning speed and weaved his fingers in a quick, complex pattern. “A state of balance or a lack of motion,” he began, his voice low, and his eyes glowing a molten silver. Before Gage understood or could make him cease, he continued, his volume getting louder with each word, “A slowing or stoppage of a flow.”

He brought his hands together on the last word, the clap loud, and the stasis spell he’d cast hit Gage like a punch to the stomach. It didn’t have him staggering backward or knock him onto his ass like a physical blow would, though. Instead, it trapped him in place, unable to move. With a caw of triumph, the prisoner thumbed his nose at Gage, opened the door and walked out.

No. No no no! We should have neutered him, regulations be damned! Gage heaved in a breath, fighting with all his strength. That troll-dung mage had said Gage was stronger than his partner, which was true, but not true enough. Gage was stronger than any Griffin Guardian currently in the corps or in its records. He trained and honed the strength and resistance in his muscles and sinews and mind and spirit, increasing year-on-year what he could battle—and defeat.

Fighting the spell cast on him was like pulling himself along a too-narrow corridor whose walls were lined with broken glass, but he ignored the jagged shards ripping into him and actually—he saw, glancing down—rending his uniform and cutting his flesh. The pain barely registered and any spots of blood staining the gray tunic and pants vanished, just as rips in the fabric disappeared.

With one final almighty heave Gage was free. Panting, he shook off the remains of the stasis bind to hurl himself to the door. The mage was at the end of the corridor by now, and there was enough of his residual power left dusted on Gage for Gage to see the outline of the shield spell the prisoner had cloaked himself in.

The pull of the magic used snapped from its victim to its caster, the rogue mage who stopped in his tracks and turned around. The drop of the prisoner’s jaw on seeing Gage free was the only amusing thing about the situation. The mage whipped around again and broke into a run.

“Stop!” Gage yelled, and the command in his voice had everyone freezing…everyone except the one he wanted to, the one who was making for the large window at the end of the corridor.

The mage ran faster, gathering speed and power. If that didn’t give a hint about his escape plan, the hissed incantation and his hand outstretched toward the window did. A crack and the glass was gone. It hadn’t shattered, but vanished, leaving the window frame gaping empty. The mage had already demonstrated an affinity with glass, but Gage had no intention of letting the bastard use it as an exit route. He sped up too.

“Captain, you can’t!” Second Lieutenant Ralnd yelled behind him.

Oh, but Gage could. This was his case and he was doing whatever it took to close it.

Whatever it took.

About the Author A native Texan, Bailey spends her days spinning stories around in her head, which has contributed to more than one incident of tripping over her own feet. Evenings are reserved for pounding away at the keyboard, as are early morning hours. Sleep? Doesn’t happen much. Writing is too much fun, and there are too many characters bouncing about, tapping on Bailey’s brain demanding to be let out.

Caffeine and chocolate are permanent fixtures in Bailey’s office and are never far from hand at any given time. Removing either of those necessities from Bailey’s presence can result in what is known as A Very, Very Scary Bailey and is not advised under any circumstances.

First for Romance Author Page | Goodreads

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Winter Blogfest: Megan Slayer

December 29, 2022 By 2 Comments

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win a necklace and earrings made by the author!

Holiday Movies by Megan Slayer

 

I’m a sucker for those cornball holiday movies most people probably don’t like. I love the old guard ones, sure, but there’s something fun about the cornball ones you can find all over cable TV. I thought this year, I’d highlight some of my favorite ones. Why not? I tend to binge them in July and get a tad sick of them by November, but hey, everyone’s got to do what they’ve got to do. These aren’t in any particular order, and I know I’ll miss a few. That’s how this works. So here’s my list in no particular order.

A Christmas Kiss – I don’t know what it is about this one, but it’s corny and sweet, but I love it. Plus, I love seeing the woman who played the kick-butt lawyer on Law and Order having a turn as a baddie. It’s fun.

Christmas in Evergreen – there’s a spirit of anything is possible in this one. I love it.

A Very Merry Mix-Up – traveling doesn’t have to be bad, even if it starts out that way.

The Nine Lives of Christmas – how can you not love a movie with firefighters and cats? I mean, orange cats even! I love it.

A Castle for Christmas – How can you go wrong with Brooke Shields and Carey Elwes? And kilts!

A Christmas Kiss II – because the baddie has to have a happy Christmas, too and there needs to be more kisses!

Naughty or Nice – I love a good struggle between the good guy, the bad boy and everyone learning a lesson. This one hits the spot.

Hats Off to Christmas – she’s got to convince the owner of the Christmas store not to sell and to give her a try with running it. It’s a great can-do story.

Christmas Belle – sort of a twist on Beauty and the Beast but Napa Wine country style. She’s got to get a mansion ready for sale and he’s not sure he wants to let her go. Plus, Christmas.

A Royal Christmas – first, I can’t get enough of his accent and second, her dress is beautiful. Plus, it’s pure cornball romance and wonderful.

A Wish for Christmas – she’s got to stand up for herself and stop letting everyone else take credit. Don’t we all understand that?

I know I called many of these are cornball, but it’s in the most loving fashion. I write romance and I love romance. I love reading about it or watching it. So this list is all out of love. But I know I forgot some. What’ve you got? What are your favorite cheesy Christmas or holiday movies? I want to know!

 

Two men, one kid and the frayed nerves that come with the holidays…can they make it through to Christmas without a blow-up?

Colt Harrison knew when he met Ashley Willis that he’d found the one man for him. He loves Ashley’s son, Wyatt, as if he were his own son. But the stress of living together, compounded with buying a home and adopting pets has worn him down…not to mention the aggravation that comes with the diner he owns. He wants to make Christmas special for his family, but how can they have a great holiday when Colt’s never home?

Ashley’s got a two-week vacation from his job at the elementary school teaching art. All he wants is time with Colt and Wyatt. He loves Colt, but not the long hours spent at the diner, especially around the holidays. Can he be honest about what he wants from Colt and keep the man he loves?
A

nything is possible if they embrace the magic of Christmas.

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the Love Romance Cafe for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

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Winter Blogfest: Laura Moseley

December 27, 2022 By 3 Comments

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win a high quality blank [writing] journal and pen

Winter Wonder: Holidays Without My Mom by Laura Moseley

“A mother is she who can take the place of all others but whose place no one else can take.” – Cardinal Meymillod

 My mother fought ovarian cancer and fought valiantly. She beat Stage IV cancer once, was in remission for over eighteen months…and then I received a phone call I never wanted to hear. My Dad stated, “Your mother’s cancer numbers are not getting better. She’s decided not to continue treatment, babe.”

 “Um,” I said trying to clear my throat instead of sobbing. “So, she’s…dying?”

 “Well, essentially, yes. The doctors give her two to six months, honey. She says if her treatment is not working, and all its doing is making her sick, she doesn’t want to live that way,” he explained.

 I was numb after that phone call. My head knew she was right, but I was having the damnedest time convincing my heart. She was living life on her terms, which I respected, but also living on borrowed time.

 We spent Easter with her, where she got to see all of us and to see and hold her great-grandson for the first and last time. She was small and shrunken and a pale shade of yellow, and yet she was the most beautiful and brave soul I’d ever seen. She was happy we were all together, but she was also unafraid.

 She passed away in June and I am bereft. I mean, I’m nearly fifty years old, but I feel like a small lost child who got separated from her mother at a department store. I simply don’t know where to turn. I could always talk to her about all aspects of being a mother. She never judged me harshly and always had a proposed solution when I was talking out my dilemmas, even concerning mothering a child on the autism spectrum (which she never had to do herself). Now, all my conversations are one-sided. Now, all my questions go unanswered by anyone but me. Now, I am the elder Mom, the grand dame. I am the one who is supposed to have all the answers…

 What are the winter holidays going to be like without her???? She has always been a key role in the holidays, just as prominent as Santa Claus himself. She made things happen: she cooked, she decorated, she wrapped presents, she sang, and she recounted stories of holidays past. What NOW?

 Of course, she will be there. In spirit, in stories, and fellowship. She is a part of everyone in my family, so naturally, she is there with us. It’s definitely not going to be the same and may be very difficult at times. I believe that Thanksgiving, Chanukah, and Christmas — the three most family-oriented holidays allow our loved ones to come and sit amongst us again.

 I just know that it will NEVER be quite the same celebration again…as I feel as though winter has set in on my emotions, but I will carry on because I am now a Nana and with my new grandson, Christmas will regain its magic once more…

 

Battle-Scars: Hated. Isolated. Wronged. Disregarded.

Those WERE some of the challenges faced by the authors of GOD Says I am Battle-Scar Free.

PRIZED! ESTEEMED! CHOSEN! POLISHED!

With a personal relationship with God, that is how those same people feel today.

In this seventh and final installment of the Battle-Scar Free series, testimonies are shared from women and men who have “been there, done that.” They come from various walks of life but share one common story: They are SURVIVORS.

Amid a global pandemic (COVID-19), these contributors sought and found healing of their hearts, minds, and souls. Through the expression of their truths, you will be inspired to fight another day. Despite the obstacles they faced, the power of their words and belief in an Almighty God attributed to their very survival.

A single mother of three and grandmother of one, as well as a Domestic Violence/Sexual Violence survivor of over 23+ years of abuse. She works for a federal social services organization by day and is a certified DV advocate in the rest of her spare time. She is a writer, blogger, future podcaster, activist, and public speaker. She loves getting her story out there, to help show victims and survivors that there is hope and that it is SO much better than ever imagined while in active abuse.

 

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The Lady of the Mirrored Lake by Jennifer Ivy Walker

December 22, 2022 By Leave a Comment


The Lady of the Mirrored Lake by Jennifer Ivy Walker
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Genre: Historical, Romance, Sci-Fi/Fantasy
Rating: 4 stars
Reviewed by Moonflower

Hunted by the Black Widow Queen, Issylte–a healer with the verdant magic of the forest–must flee Avalon with the two finest knights in the Celtic realm, both wrongly accused of treason. The trio travels to Bretagne, where Issylte heals a critically injured wolf and obtains fiercely loyal, shapeshifting allies.

In mystical Brocéliande, Issylte becomes a warrior priestess of the Tribe of Dana and otherworldly mate of the Blue Knight of Cornwall, discovering with Tristan a passion that transcends all bounds. When she becomes the Lady of the Mirrored Lake, sworn to defend the sacred waters of the Goddess, Issylte must undertake a perilous quest to discover what priceless object lies hidden in its murky depths.

As a nascent evil emerges in a fetid cave, Issylte and Tristan must face a diabolical trio that threatens their lives, their love, and their kingdoms.

Enchanted. Enflamed. Entwined. Can their passion and power prevail?

A breath-taking adventure set in a world of chivalry.

The Lady of the Mirrored Lake continues where book one left off and I absolutely recommend you read this as a series rather than a set of standalones. There is a big character list and if you don’t start at the beginning, there is a chance you will get lost.

The story moves on brilliantly, taking the reader along on a breath-taking adventure when chivalry was still a code to live by. Issylte gains more strength every time something is thrown at her. Tristan also has his own trials to contend with, but they always return to each other. I am loving the way the story is taking me to places unknown and yet still recognizable from old tales.

However, I do have to mention a couple of things. Firstly, it can get repetitive in places with repeated words and phrases. The second thing is random words are italicized, which is fine when it’s a French word, but not so good when it’s a regular word and for no apparent reason.

Anyway, if you ignore those couple of things – which really don’t have that much of an impact on the overall story – this is a great addition to the series. I can’t wait for the story to continue and have no hesitation in recommending it.

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A Loud Winter’s Nap by Katy Hudson

December 21, 2022 By Leave a Comment


A Loud Winter’s Nap by Katy Hudson
Publisher: Capstone Young Readers
Genre: Children’s (0 – 6 y.o.), Contemporary
Rating: 3 Stars
Reviewed by Astilbe

Every year Tortoise sleeps through winter. He assumes he isn’t missing much. However, his friends are determined to prove otherwise! Will Tortoise sleep through another winter, or will his friends convince him to stay awake and experience the frosty fun of winter? Best-selling author Katy Hudson’s charming picture book, now in a board book format, will convince even the biggest winter grouch that winter can be magical if you have friends by your side.

Hibernation isn’t supposed to be this difficult.

Tortoise was such a patient little guy. No matter how many times he was woken up or prevented from falling asleep, he calmly explained his needs yet again to the friends who were being noisy. That can be a tricky thing for people of all ages to master, so it was nice to see such a good example of how to do it here.

While many of the interruptions were creative and adorable, I found myself wishing that this picture book would have included a discussion about the importance of respecting other people’s boundaries even if you don’t necessarily understand them. Tortoise made it clear that he needed to sleep through the winter and didn’t want to be disturbed, but his friends refused to listen to him. It’s one thing when this occasionally happens between friends or relatives who feel guilty and learn from their mistakes. Deliberate and repetitive refusals to respect boundaries are quite another. This was something I’d read to the little ones in my life after discussing what healthy relationships look like and why it’s wrong to try to push past people’s limits. If not for that caveat, I would have loved to go for a higher rating as the plot itself was a great deal of fun to read.

I did enjoy all of the sound effects included in this story. They made the dialogue come alive in my imagination and were a great deal of fun to say out loud. It was also interesting to see how including words like tap or thud added a layer of humor to something that was otherwise pretty serious.

A Loud Winter’s Nap was a humorous look at winter life in the forest.

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My Dead True Love by Kim Pierce – Q&A and Giveaway

December 6, 2022 By 7 Comments

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

If you could have one paranormal ability, what would it be?

Clairvoyance. I’d like to be able to peer into the next dimension.

What is one thing your readers would be most surprised to learn about you?

That my degree is in experimental psychology. Otherwise known as rat-running.

When writing descriptions of your hero/ine, what feature do you start with?

Their physical presence – as if I were at a party introducing them to you, which of course means we must look into their eyes. Then I’d also describe any outstanding or unusual physical characteristics: her long delicate fingers, his sad comb-over, a disarming smile.

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

I’m the plotter. I want to know, broadly speaking, where I’m going and hope to end up. My domestic partner, on the other hand, is pure pantser (or plunger, as we say). He sits down at the keyboard and a story comes out.

Did you learn anything from writing this book? If so, what?

Fiction-writing and non-fiction require different skill sets. Don’t assume if you’re good at one you will necessarily be good at the other.

When a newspaper reporter’s fiancé dies abruptly, she questions how he could just cease to be.

Dogged by unbidden thoughts, odd coincidences and unexplained phenomena, Ann Stewart becomes obsessed with finding out what really happens after we die and whether her beloved Gregory is still out there. She finds her answer, which takes her and a close-knit coterie of women to the edge of the cosmos—and the core of their own hearts.

Based on a true story.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“It was definitely Gregory,” Connie declared, forcing herself to return to the vision. “As clear as if he were standing next to me. Smiling.”

“If you saw him”—and I still wasn’t believing—“did he see you? Did he see me?”

It made no sense, but I had to know more.

“I don’t know. I tried to un-see him. I really did,” she said, turning to me, something akin to terror twisting her face. “This ‘seeing’ is a part of me that triggers so much shame—and reactivates the trauma. Like shell shock.” Red mottling crept up Connie’s neck and onto her cheeks.

She saw him. The words slid off my brain as if she were speaking in tongues. What did that mean?

“Could it have been your imagination?” I offered wanly, not wanting that to be the case.

“Yes, I suppose it could.”

Neither of us believed it.

I waited.

“What would it mean for you to ‘see’ him?” I pressed.

Tell me. Even if it makes no sense.

“That there’s something wrong with me,” came her acrid reply. “Deeply, terribly wrong. At least that’s what my father would say. And a lot of other people who make judgments about what I can do.” She slammed the car into park a little too aggressively.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” I said, getting out of the car.

Connie shut down.

“I need to go home for a while,” she said.

Tell. Me. More.

About the Author: Kim Pierce is a former Dallas Morning News writer and editor who completed the Writer’s Path fiction program at Southern Methodist University. My Dead True Love is her first novel, inspired by events surrounding the death of her fiancé in 1998. She lives in Dallas, Texas, with her partner and three cats.

Website

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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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Smuggled by Angela Karanja

October 7, 2022 By Leave a Comment


Smuggled by Angela Karanja
Publisher: Self-Published
Genre: Young Adult (14 – 18 y.o.), Contemporary
Rating: 3 Stars
Reviewed by Astilbe

How a Talent Trip turned into a Trafficking Trip – Whoosh! – just like that she was gone!

Tuliana was 14 and had lived in her home country of Kenya with different people, in different places, at different times, for as long as she could remember. Then, out of the blue, she was ushered onto a plane with a group of teenagers and flown out of Kenya.

At a London airport she was separated from the group and whisked off in a car. Her experiences after this were creepy: she didn’t know where she was, or why.

Firstly, she was delivered to a home where she was grossly mistreated. Then to another where she wasn’t treated badly but she definitely didn’t belong. Finally, to another where she was treated really well – yet enslaved. In all those homes she was a slave – a modern day child slave.

Tuliana’s teen friend, Jonathan, whom she met on the plane during this Talent Trip was painfully worried. On returning to Kenya, Jonathan went to extremes to try find her – literally sacrificed his privileged life as a son of a British diplomat. He was thrown out of his family and the country and shipped back to live with his paternal grandparents in England.

Being kicked out only increased his motivation and efforts to find Tuliana. Jonathan mobilised teenagers from all over the world to join his “Operation Find Tuliana” campaign. The campaign picked momentum fast and began unsettling government systems. Teenagers were asking deep penetrating questions, demonstrating and disrupting status quo and stirred world leaders to STOP and LISTEN as teenagers demanded for ACTION not just TALK.

This campaign ignited bravery and vigilance among regular citizens who raised concerns and reported suspicious cases which led to the discovery of numerous children who were being exploited and abused up and down the country. Some children were living as full-fledged slaves, others as part times slaves – all, modern-day child slaves.

Tuliana was also unearthed having been illegally adopted in a supposedly “good family” but nevertheless a slave- the Cash cow for this family’s business.

Everyone should be aware of the warning signs of human trafficking, including teenagers.

The pacing was strong, exciting, and easy to follow. It had a conversational writing style that could appeal to teens and adults alike. There was never a good place to stop reading which is always something I like to see in what I read. It was fun to anticipate what might happen next to the characters when I needed to step away and take care of other business.

I would have liked to see more character development both in the sense of describing people’s personalities and habits as well as in the sense of showing how they grew and changed as a result of their experiences. Ms. Karanja did a good job of creating backstories, especially when it came to Tuliana, but there wasn’t as much time spent on what Tuliana and the other characters who interacted with her were like as individuals. This makes it hard for me to describe their personalities with specific terms like shy, friendly, silly, intellectual, or any of the many other words that can give a reader a sense of what it would be like to meet that particular character in real life.

Some of my favorite passages were the ones that explored the many ways vulnerable people can be convinced to trust a stranger and travel to unknown places with them. While kids and teenagers are generally more susceptible to this than adults are, the techniques that were used could easily lure older folks into dangerous circumstances, too. I appreciated the way the author presented these scenarios to the audience without interrupting the flow of the plot. She trusted us to pick up on why they could be early signs that something was going terribly wrong without further commentary, and that made her story stronger.

Smuggled discussed an important issue in an accessible and interesting way.

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Small Stories by Rob Roy O’Keefe – Q&A and Giveaway

October 6, 2022 By 1 Comment

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Rob Roy O’Keefe. Leave a comment or ask the author a question for a chance to win a copy of his latest book.

What advice would you give a new writer just starting out?

Whatever advice I gave, I would follow it up with “Don’t pay any attention to anything I said. What do I know? I spend all my time sitting in front of my computer, subsisting on Wheat Thins and sparkling water, and shunning virtually all human contact so I can churn out as many words as I can in a day. Does that sound healthy to you? If you want advice, go talk to your auto mechanic. They’ll give it to you straight: change your oil and rotate your tires. Now those are words to live by.

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

I’ll go with consonants. Don’t get me wrong, vowels are important too. However, you can still make a good guess as to what “wrtng” means without any vowels. But strip away the consonants and all you’re left with is “ii.” What are you supposed to do with that?

On a more macro level, I suppose pages are important, although now that I think about it, we could just revert to scrolls.

So yeah, I’m going to stick with consonants.

How do you develop your plot and characters?

I start with a concept. The plot, characters, tone, and structure all need to support the concept. For example, with my current book, Small Stories: A Perfectly Absurd Novel, the concept is literally outlined in the title. Yes, it’s a story about two characters whose surname is Small, but it’s also constructed in a way that allowed me to share small stories throughout, which, while connected to the plot and character development, could also stand on their own. As for tone, if you have the adjective “absurd” in your title, well, it’s quite apparent what you need to do.
By the way, did you notice I actually answered the question this time? Don’t get used to it.

Tell us something about your newest release that is NOT in the blurb.

One of the supporting characters is a potted fern. His name is Norman. He doesn’t say much, but even so, his presence becomes a catalyst for one of the more dramatic moments in the story.

For those who are wondering why he’s not more of a central character, there’s just not that match precedent for plants as leading figures. Sure, you’ve got your Ents, but other than throwing boulders, catching on fire, and carrying hobbits around, what do they really do? As for triffids, they’re kind of one-dimensional.

Are you working on anything at the present you would like to tell us about?

I’m working on the second novel in what I call the Small World series. The working title is Small Secrets: A Predictably Absurd Sequel. I realize however, that in keeping with my response to the question about plot and characters, being true to the concept means I can’t tell you anything about it.

I’m also considering a couple of children’s books and have the concept for a black comedy about climate change that I’m tentatively titling Oops: A Climate Apocalypse in Three Parts. We’ll see.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

Here’s the scene. Eighth grade English class. We’ve been given an assignment to write a story with no parameters other than it must be four or five pages long and we have to read it in front of the class. It’s exactly the kind of anxiety-fraught situation that every 13-year-old dreads.

I come up with a weird story about a criminal whose conscience comes alive. Despite my shaking so much and stumbling over every word, everyone sems to like it. My two best friends accuse me of stealing the idea from a TV show – I think the Twilight Zone, a show I never watched.

Three takeaways: I can write, I hate standing up in front of a crowd, and Junior High School English teachers are sadists.

What would you say is your most interesting writing quirk?

How much I despise semi-colons. Yes, I said despise. There are two of them in my book, and the only reason they’re there is as a favor to a first reader who really likes them. Semi-colons are the embodiment of indecision. It’s like starting your car and shifting to neutral because you can’t decide what direction you want to go in. It’s like choosing none of the above in a survey. It’s like becoming a competitive speed walker. Stroll or run. For God’s sake, just commit already.

What is the most surprising thing you discovered while writing your book(s)?

How liberating it was. You have to understand that while I’ve always been a professional writer, the vast majority of my experience was with an advertising agency. Don’t get me wrong, it could be challenging and enjoyable, but you were always writing to fulfill someone else’s objective. When I started writing outside of that environment, poetry first and then prose, I felt completely unrestrained. I believe that feeling comes through in my book.

Have you ever eaten a crayon?

What kind of question is that? Who wants to eat a crayon after chewing on a pencil all day? Ow, splinter.

If you were stranded on a desert island and were only allowed to have five modern conveniences with you, what would they be?

If I had five modern conveniences on an island by myself, I wouldn’t consider myself stranded, I’d consider myself on a luxury holiday. Of course, one of the conveniences would have to be a wind or solar powered generator, but after that, it’s all fun in the sun. The only kink would be if the desert island wasn’t tropical. Five conveniences or not, being stranded on one of the smaller Aleutian Islands probably isn’t getting a write-up in Conde Nast.

Let’s round out that list just to drive home my point. Solar-powered generator, sailboat, fishing pole, microwave, and a good sun hat. Yep, I’m all set. Ouch, another splinter.

Tell us about a favorite character from a book.

That’s easy. Walt from my own novel. He runs the local Welcome Wagon and he’s one of the first characters we meet in the story. He’s insecure and riddled with anxiety, but he also has some surprising traits like sneezing in multiple languages (triggered by anxiety of course), he speaks fluent Latin, and is a top-flight debater.

Don’t tell the other characters what I said. I can’t have them getting angry with me as I need them for the next book.

Do you listen to music while writing? If so what?

I listen to Iron Man by Black Sabbath.

What was the scariest moment of your life?

Finding out that William Shatner did a cover version of Iron Man by Black Sabbath.

If you could apologize to someone in your past, who would it be? What makes you happy?

I’m combining these two questions because I know for certain that not having to apologize to anyone in my past would definitely make me happy. Do you know how much time that would take up? Sorry, Grandpa, I shouldn’t have sold your house while you were away on business. Sorry, Town Library Director, I know I promised to return that book after two weeks, but two weeks, two decades, what’s the difference? Yes, Mom, I probably should have told you I moved to Tanzania five years ago. My bad.

See what I mean? Apologizing is exhausting.

What would we find under your bed?

Um, the floor, I hope. When I was a kid, there was a time when I slept on the top of a bunk bed, so if that were still the case, I could say another bed. Absent the presence of a floor or the bottom bunk bed, the only remaining logical response would be a spinning vortex with gravity-defying properties likely generated by the confluence of wormholes and the anti-matter version of Chipotle. We get a lot of that where I live.

You have to be careful when you have a spinning vortex under your bed. It’s so easy to lose your socks. Then there’s the opposite problem: finding sox that aren’t yours. Like the other day, there was three pairs of argyle sox, and I never wear argyle.

Do you write in multiple genres or just one? If just one, do you ever consider straying outside your genre?

I don’t write in multiple genres, but I do write with multiple personalities. No, I don’t. Yes, I do. Are you two arguing again? Hey, keep it down you three. I’m trying to get a nap in here. Ouch, these splinters really hurt!

What is something that you absolutely can’t live without? (Other than family members)

Is this a science question?? Ugh, I thought I was done with High School. Can I be dismissed?

Could you ever co author a book with someone? If so, who would you choose, and what would you write?

Sure, I do it all the time. See my response to the previous question.

If you could spend a day with anyone from history, dead or alive, who would it be, and what would you do? What would you ask them?

Our ability to communicate is exceeded in importance only by our tendency to do it badly, so if I was going to spend a day with someone from history, it would be with whatever proto human started speaking in something other than grunts and gestures, and implore them to please, stop.

For all of the benefits of language, there are just as many, if not more, detriments – misunderstandings, fights, wars. No matter how precisely we attempt to communicate, no matter how many words we have at our disposal, there is always something missing, something that has to be inferred. And when that becomes all convoluted, you get the Jerry Springer Show.

I figure after subjecting the aforementioned proto human to a few hours of daytime television reruns, the whole language idea would disappear, and we’d all be communicating through charades right now.

A little tale of trial and error. Okay, mostly error.

Duncan and Maya Small have just moved to an out-of-the-way town filled with odd characters, quirky customs, and a power-obsessed local official who one day hopes to be declared emperor. Duncan is sharp enough to know something needs to change, and delusional enough to believe he’s the one to make it happen. The only thing standing in his way are feral ponies, radical seniors, common sense, and Duncan’s inability to do anything without a list.

Small Stories: A Perfectly Absurd Novel, is a tale of power, bake sales, manipulation, the Welcome Wagon, and diabolical forces at work in the shadows (mostly because they can’t afford to pay the light bill), although the Smalls soon discover nothing is at it seems. One thing is certain, however – there’s something funny going on.

About the Author: Rob Roy O’Keefe was raised in the Antarctic by a colony of emperor penguins, which explains both his love of fish and his intense anxiety when in the company of sea lions. At the age of 12 he left to go on walkabout, but upon learning that Australia was over 3,000 miles away, he took the more expedient route from Cape Melville, Antarctica to South America’s Cape Horn.

He wandered north through the Andes, accumulated an abundance of practical knowledge, such as how to convince a hungry condor that you are not carrion. He eventually stumbled upon the hut of an Incan shaman who took him on as an apprentice. After a decade of immersion into the mysteries of the unseen world, Rob departed, fully prepared for his eventual success in the fields of talking, commuting, and sitting behind a desk.

Today, Rob resides in New England’s Merrimack Valley, where he lives in a tree house made of Good Humor popsicle sticks held together by the discarded dreams of retired sailors.

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