Background of the Book by Suzan Zoe Bella – Guest Blog and Giveaway

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Background of the Book

High Point is set in rural Pennsylvania for the first half then Los Angeles California for the second half. The story is fact-based and revolves around a group of characters who start out in their early twenties. Mia is a shy country girl who had a rough life. She’s between jobs when the story begins and suffering from an anxiety disorder. Mackie is a coworker and friend to Mia, but the relationship goes south quickly when Mackie’s obsession with Mia turns toxic.

Jett is a rock star with dreams to become a professional Motocross rider but without family support, he must find a way to fund his true dream. He is introduced to Mia backstage and instant chemistry leaps off the page. Jett is a sweetheart. He’s also gorgeous and loaded with charisma, generous, and everything a girl could want in a guy. I like to make my heroes almost perfect. Jett does have a vulnerable side, which is portrayed in the story, which makes him even more endearing.

Mackie is a lunatic and was a fun character to play with. Her antics come back to bite her, and her one-liners are memorable. High Point is a second-chance romance. Many of the events were pulled from real-life experiences that I’ve wanted to write about for a long time. The romance is inspired by the only man I ever loved, and the ups and downs of Mia and Jett are portrayed realistically. No fantasy here! Mackie’s character was also real, which makes this story truly unique and perhaps not likable to some as Mackie is a lesbian woman. There is no LGBTQ romance in this book, though. Mackie’s desire for Mia is one-sided. Kat is Jett’s sister and she’s quite a witch. So we have the awkward, socially challenged heroine, the hottie sweetheart rockstar, the lesbian villain and the nasty interfering sister. The second half of the story brings in new characters to round out the plot and add even more dimension. I incorporated my love for Motocross into the plot. One thing readers should know, the fact that Mackie is a villain and a lesbian in no way reflects my views on LGBTQ society. I chose to write the story as it really happened. There was no other way to write Mackie’s character than how she really was. Of course, I heavily fictionalized everything and embellished the plot. But the characters’ personalities stayed pretty true to who they were. My goal in writing High Point was to rewrite history and give this story the ending I wanted it to have. I chose to really step out of the box here and write a book that could be offensive to some but is overall a fabulous read that scored four stars from InD’tale Magazine on the first published edition. After the review, I considered the reviewer’s trigger warnings and rewrote the book again to remove them and soften anything potentially disturbing. Even so, you can’t please everyone. I had to be happy with this book. If I’m not happy with it, I won’t publish it.

It’s only rock and roll but I hate it. Groupies, parties, a cheating ex, and a dark night spawned a wake-up call. I’d shifted my focus to work and avoiding social media. Singing lead for a famous band had become nothing more than a steppingstone to my true dream of racing Pro Motocross. I hadn’t dated in years. Then ‘she’ showed up and everything in me longed to be with her. I was stoked she’d agreed to join me at High Point Raceway for the weekend, even if it meant putting up with Mack. Better still, Mia wasn’t a groupie, not even close. She wasn’t even a fan of our music. If love at first sight had a name, it would be Mia Fringe and I had to make her mine. ~ Jett

I’d seen him in passing over the years. He was the neighbor of my best friend. But we’d never officially been introduced until the night Mackie badgered me into meeting him after attending his band’s concert. I tried not to look awestruck, stunned that someone this gorgeous had been within my scope for years but had not caught my attention. He had success written all over him. Girls like me didn’t end up with guys like him. Recently unemployed, still living on the family farm, and recovering from a nervous breakdown, I was a mess. But Jett saw something in me that nobody else ever had…worth. ~ Mia

Action, drama, and chaos kick off right from the start at High Point Raceway when Mackie has second thoughts about playing matchmaker between Mia and Jett. However, when the week of bliss comes to an end, Mia is heartbroken and confused as to why Jett doesn’t keep his promise. She accepts a job as a reporter three thousand miles away to escape the pain.

Ten years later, Mia and Jett cross paths in the most startling way. She’s about to discover the truth of what really happened so long ago. Will she be able to trust Jett again when he pleads for a second chance? Can love and forgiveness conquer a decade of hurt? It all goes down in the dirt during the last race of the season.

Enjoy an Excerpt

A shadow of disappointment prowled through my mind. He’d slammed on the brakes. I could’ve taken it as rejection. But he was no fool. He was bound to uncover the truth before giving too much of himself.

“We forgot to bring lunch,” I pointed out as we entered the cave.

“Oh yeah. I had other things on my mind. Maybe we’ll find some berries.”

“In May?” I giggled. “For that matter, why not root around in logs for honeycombs.”

He laughed. “We could do that.” Then he dipped his brows in a comical expression and said in a deep voice, “I’ll fight off the bears for you, my love.”

Love? He dropped the L-word? I stared at him. Was it a slip? Or a mere casual expression? After all, Europeans used it very casually. My thoughts went into overdrive. I hated when that happened.

“Let’s explore. Maybe the natives left behind some jerky,” he teased with a grin.

“The eternal optimist,” I countered. “I love it.”

We wandered deeper into the cave between moss-covered slate walls. Water trickled down the sides. The cave smelled musty. Something skittered across the rocky floor. I screamed and leaped sideways.

“There are creepy crawlies in here!”

“I saw that,” he said. “No worries. They’re more afraid of us than we are of them.”

“Uh…speak for yourself.” I shrieked again. “Jett!” I had jumped onto a ledge a foot above ground and clung to the wall. “I’m not this much country. Can we go please?”

“Okay, doll.” He smiled apologetically. “There’s nothing to see in here anyway. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Something sticky brushed my face. I swatted frantically but seemingly had entangled myself in a web. The more panicked I became the worse things got. My flailing arms gathered more webbing. I slipped off the ledge in all my thrashing about and tumbled to the ground, scraping my arms and legs on the way down.

“Mia!” He caught my arms. “Stop. Baby, stop moving!”

“Oh no…” I whimpered. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he replied calmly but apprehension snuck into his voice. “Just stay very, very still, doll.”

“Omigosh,” I cried.

He snapped a twig from a branch sticking out of the wall and in my peripheral vision his arm moved painstakingly slowly. I held my breath and didn’t dare twitch. A couple of agonizing minutes later, he tossed the stick aside then swept me into his arms.

“We should get the hell out of here,” he muttered.

I clung to him. “What was it?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Ew. Ew. Did it bite me? Am I okay?”

“Sshh, you’re safe now. It never touched your skin. It saw all that beautiful blonde hair and thought, hm, a perfect place to spell out the word radiant.”

“Omigosh. It was one of those…I can’t even say it. Ew. Ew. Get me out of here.”

He broke into a run with me in his arms. I didn’t take a full breath until we exited the cave.

“I need another bath.” I continued frenetically brushing my arms and head, still in panic mode.

We made our way back to the waterhole and I didn’t hesitate to strip down and dive in. I submerged myself, scrubbing my face and hair furiously. He dove in with me. When I finally calmed down, convinced I’d rid myself of anything that’d hitched a ride, I relaxed and casually swam around.

“Seems I’ve discovered your one fear,” he said upon swimming over to me. “You don’t like bugs.”

“No. I don’t. Especially the kind that makes webs.” I shivered at the thought.

“I’m really sorry.” He began to laugh. “I had no idea. I don’t mean to laugh. Honest. I’m not mocking you. But you were a sight back there.”

“Ha-ha.” I scowled. “Why’d you sound so urgent when telling me to stop moving?”

“I didn’t want it to bite you. Those things typically aren’t aggressive unless they feel threatened. And you, my dear, were definitely in a frenzy.”

“Now I’m cold, hungry, and freaked out. I’m never going into a cave again.”

About the Author: “I am a fan of happily ever after. My novels are too!”

Susan Zoe enjoys creating contemporary, paranormal, fantasy and romantic suspense stories with a gritty flair. Her stories are her own, and she typically writes outside the box. She’s always been a leader not a follower. Writing is her mental filter and how she processes the world around her, a fictional place where she can control the outcome at her comfort level with justice and happy endings. Her imagination is her greatest strength as it carries her away from daily stress.

As a survivor of hardship and chronic disease, she takes one day at a time and treasures the simple things in life. Susan Zoe is a Christian, loves animals, and practices being kind and generous every day. When not immersed in new stories, she enjoys watching movies, Motocross and Supercross, playing Yahtzee with her fiancé, and hanging out with her loyal 24/7 companion and trained service dog. She’s not a fan of sitcoms as they don’t offer enough mental stimulation. Losing herself in an intense story gives her brain the workout it needs to manage OCD, anxiety, depression, and stress.

Her achievements thus far include The Golden Wings Award for her debut novel The Satellite, the UK Nobel Pin and Editor’s Choice Award for her poem The Lonely Man, numerous 5 Star Reviews from Fallen Angels Reviews, Coffee Time Romance, InD’tale Magazine, Goodreads and more for current and retired novels. She was also a RONE Awards Finalist in 2017.

She loves to hear from readers and chat!

In her words, “Writing is the only time I’m truly free.” She’s happiest when her intriguing characters come to life and steal her away into their worlds where anything is possible.

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An Author’s Thoughts on Writing Groups by Kelly Byrd – Guest Blog and Giveaway

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

An Author’s Thoughts on Writing Groups

Writing groups can feel like drinking from a fire hydrant if you’re not careful. I did my first group in early college, and it was incredibly overwhelming. When I was just starting out and terrified of anyone seeing anything I wrote, hearing opinions about it felt like walking naked down Front Street with no bush or shrub to duck behind for cover. To be frank, putting my work out there still feels that way in some aspects, but it has gotten easier the more groups I’ve done.

Writing groups are invaluable for getting multiple opinions and insights into your work all at once. This feedback is often extremely helpful in identifying issues and common places for improvement in your story, especially if you start to notice pain points brought up by everyone in the group. If you’ve been with the same writing group for a long time, and they know your specific voice and style, a writing group can be a great place for edits at any stage. And, as all writers know, edits are honestly the most important part of the process.

In my personal experience, it’s been important to find a writing group that understands my specific genre. I workshopped my first book, City of Lights, in a general group with all kinds of voices and styles. A common note I received was, “I don’t read fantasy.” Sometimes, receiving feedback like this is helpful because you can experience how people who don’t normally interact with your genre perceive your work. This can lead to a deeper understanding of structural issues. On the other hand, everyone’s audience is different, and you don’t want to fully alter what’s great about storytelling—your perspective—to satisfy one or two people. To get the best feedback, seek out a group that is open to your specific genre of work.

Writers are (generally) introverts who spend the majority of their time in dark rooms, pouring out their insides. We are a competitive and sometimes angry bunch. It’s always important to remember that not every single opinion is the right opinion about your work. This was a lesson I had to learn over years of practice. Just because Sally Joe in the group doesn’t like your pages doesn’t mean that they’re bad. They’re just not for Sally Joe.

As I’ve progressed in my work, I now tend to lean on individuals more than I do groups. I think groups are best for new ideas and workshopping something that you’re not sure about. Groups are a great way to get fledging ideas out of the nest and give them some structure. If you’ve completed a work and are moving into hard editing, I find that working with a few trusted advisors one-on-one is often the safest bet.

But, also remember: Writing is an art form. There’s no right or wrong way to go about getting the words on the page. The most important thing is to tell a story. So, find a group. Start getting yourself in front of people. Push that baby bird out of the nest. You won’t regret it.

Book Two of the Far from Home Trilogy

Catch up with Mary Jingo as she trains with her friends in the Great Big Ocean Sky-side city of Festdelm. She may have survived the danger in Luminos, the City of Lights, but new challenges await as she, Teeny, Van Clare, Corb, Mikeala, and WindRunner continue their fight to save the Everything. When a new Shadowlander comes to LeeChee, will Mary be able to trust him—even if he is one of her closest friends?

Join Mary Jingo and her motley crew as they travel to the far ends of the world on their quest to save the Everything.

As more of LeeChee falls under Thrall, Mary must choose wisely. Whom will she trust? What bonds will endure? And… how did a Yorkshire Terrier end up as a part of this crazy experience?

The answers, dear reader, await inside as we set sail on the Great Big Ocean Sky.

Enjoy an Excerpt

WindRunner shot into the air, following the great ‘Dragon through the sky. Peregrina’s wake was strong and fast, and WindRunner put himself in the center of her air stream. Mary looked around, sensing for the other Thoughtdragons that had attacked the Garnet Revenge, but did not feel them.

It doesn’t mean they aren’t nearby, WindRunner said.

Really?

Do not become overconfident with this power, Mary Jingo. The Thoughtdragons are dangerous. Older even than my Kin. While I face the same temptation as you—I am drawn to her great power—remember that Peregrina wanted to be found. Otherwise, we would not have been able to follow her.

That couldn’t be possible, Mary puzzled to herself. She had known where Peregrina was. Mary had made this decision to follow Peregrina, hadn’t she? A stab of doubt hit Mary in the chest. Had they walked into a trap?

Peace, Warrior, WindRunner said soothingly. Peregrina wanted us to follow her. I don’t think she will harm you. I think she wishes to speak with you. Or, that is what Mikeala said to me before we left the boat.

You had a private Mindspan with Mikeala?

Yes. She told me I should take you if you wished to go.

Private Mindspans are rude when they are about someone else. The Father says so.

WindRunner laughed in her mind.

Suddenly, Peregrina stopped in midair and whipped around. WindRunner dove to keep from running straight into her serpentine length, ending their conversation. Peregrina beat her wings softly to stay stationary, and WindRunner flew around until he was face to face with the great Thoughtdragon.

Mary’s stomach sank. The last time she had been face to face in the air with someone like this, it had been the evil Mellie. She had won that battle, but only barely. She was not certain she could win a battle like that again. Peregrina was even more terrifying than Mellie. Her head was twice the size of WindRunner. The Thoughtdragon only needed to barely open her mouth to swallow them both whole.

WindRunner sent courage through their bond, but Mary felt his unease. He was being strong for her, just like she wanted to be strong for him. Peregrina spoke then to them both, her voice rich, gravelly, and musical, like a bass note dropped beneath a perfect melody.

“Well, you followed me out here, Shadowlander. What is it that you want?” She slithered her great head to the side as she said this, and Mary felt and smelled the Thoughtdragon’s untamed power. It blotted out her fear.

“I need your scales. Three of them. We need them in LeeChee. The Everything is shrinking, and I am fighting with the Resistors. We are trying to save it,” Mary said, breathing deeply. She spoke clearly and with confidence. “Please help us, great Peregrina.”

The ‘dragon shook her head and laughed.

“Save it? Save the Everything with my scales? Child, in your tiny mind, I might as well be the Everything. You cannot save the Everything with the Everything. And that world, that island, has been pitiful and beyond saving for many annuals now. Your Keeper is the size of a child. Don’t you see? It is lost. Go home to your dark, dark world and leave us in peace. Your People are causing the problem anyway.”

“My People?” Mary responded, trying to hide the hurt in her voice.

“Yes—you Shadowlanders. The Everything is created in the Shadowlands. It cycles up and up to places like LeeChee to be kept safe. Over time, it drifts back down to the Shadowlands and the cycle continues, with the ebb and flow of time. Do they not teach you anything in school down there?” Peregrina paused and turned her livid golden eyes to WindRunner.

“And you, the Lumon’s son. Bound by oath to protect a girl from the Shadowlands. Why have you done this?”

“She can save us,” WindRunner blasted back.

“Can she?” Peregrina replied with a grin on her giant mouth. “How? It is the greed of her People that has caused the blight in your lands. They don’t go outside anymore. They are trapped in their own heads, in their own tribes. They don’t listen to each other. They hardly interact with anyone who doesn’t think exactly how they do. How does one child heal rifts and tears that are hundreds of years old? This is why the Everything shrinks. Do you not know, WindRunner, son of Spearwing? Or are you all much too blind to see it?”

“Mellie is to blame for the Void. Mellie has been warping the Everything to her own purposes,” Mary said, yelling across the distance.

“Fool! Mellie was once like your precious Mikeala. As tall as a mountain and charged with keeping the Everything and the flow of the Cycles safe. She could no more turn the Everything into the Void than I can. It is against her nature. But to regain her former strength and form, she may have been tempted to help someone corrupt the Everything. The Void is powerful, even if it is unnatural. She may be helping the flow of the Void, but no, no. She did not create it.”

“Her scars,” Mary said to herself and WindRunner, thinking of the marks that marred the woman’s face. “Her scars are from the Void.”

“Yes,” Peregrina said. Her hearing must be excellent to perceive Mary over such a distance. “Yes. She has paid dearly in service to the Void.”

“You must help us,” Mary cried desperately. “Mikeala said you brought me out here to talk to me. Help me. I know you can.”

The giant Thoughtdragon swirled her body in the air in front of Mary. Small flames burst from her mouth when she laughed. Mary could feel their heat as they crackled in the air.

“Why would I help you? As I said, the greed of your people is what is causing LeeChee to die. It will grow dark and cold and fade, and me and my kind will visit it no more. And your land will suffer, Mary Jingo. As we have all suffered.”

“Please—you cannot let this happen.”

“How dare you!” Peregrina boomed. Her jaws opened wide. “How dare you accuse me of letting anything happen. It breaks my very being to know that LeeChee will fall into darkness and the Void, but I cannot intervene. Your People, you Shadowlanders, with your pride and your lack of imagination, your desperation for profit. You will kill LeeChee. I allowed you to follow me here because I wanted to see your face before I send you back to that darkened world of the Shadowlands. You don’t belong in LeeChee, Mary Jingo. You will only make things worse.”

Peregrina dove towards Mary and WindRunner, spinning her long body in the air and flapping her wings hard. WindRunner, always ready for attack, spun out of the way, as Mary gripped the handholds. She cast for Peregrina’s power, but found herself blocked from it.

WindRunner. She has shielded me. I cannot channel or control.

Sensing Mary’s fear, WindRunner burst through the air, the giant ‘dragon following swiftly behind. Peregrina was bigger, which WindRunner used to his advantage, banking and turning quickly through the air, making it hard for the Thoughtdragon to follow. Mary found herself dizzy and out of sorts, casting about for ideas. WindRunner blasted a mighty caw at the Thoughtdragon and watched as a jet of light shot from his beak and hit Peregrina squarely between the eyes. She roared angrily, then continued her wild pursuit.

About the Author:Stories have crept around the halls of Kelly Byrd’s mind since she was a little girl. Not even the combined will of her two loyal pups, her devoted husband, and all her house plants could keep her from putting this story into the world. You’ll find this happy crew in Nashville. Tennessee.

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The Witch Wars by Gail Roughton – Spotlight and Giveaway

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Ariel Anson thinks she has her life in order. She’s young, smart, and beautiful, even if she doesn’t believe the beautiful part. She’s a paralegal with a great career and a fiancé who’s a CPA. You just can’t get any steadier than that.

Then she meets private investigator, bounty hunter, process server Chad Garrett. What does War-N-Wit, Inc. stand for anyway? Warlock and Witch? For real? Oh, yes! For real. Now every day is full of strange powers, secret societies, clandestine agencies, and out-of-this-world adventure. Her life as she knows it is over!

Enjoy an Excerpt

No lightning bolt streaked from the sky the day my life as I knew it began to end. There was no warning at all. Nothing. There I was, sitting at my desk, minding my own business, doing my job. My official job title is “legal assistant.” The more exotic sounding title is paralegal. In the old days when folks called jobs what they actually were, the title was “legal secretary.” Me? I answer to any of the above. Or just to Ariel. That’s my name. Ariel Anson.

Now, I know the general public thinks a law office is an exciting place, full of fascinating cases and esoteric points of law highlighted with flashes of legal genius, something different every day. Not. Trust me on this. You seen one accident case, you seen ‘em all. And corporate law? Business law? Wills and estates? Oh, man, you don’t even want to go there. Domestic law? Right. The only thing worse than a divorce case is an estate fight. At least folks involved in a divorce are supposed to hate each other whereas a fight over Daddy’s will? Oh. My. God.

Anyway, that’s what I was doing. Just minding my own business in the course of my humdrum day and doing my job at the century-old, prestigious central Georgia law firm of Baker, Lawson, Abercrombie & Hunter, where the partners walk around in blissful ignorance of the fact the firm is referred to in legal circles as BLAH. All us legal assistants think that’s a hoot.

I was the only legal gal who worked for three partners. Some of the girls had just one, most had two. Sort of gave me a certain mystique of extreme competence, you know? In all honesty, most of the time the three attorneys I had were cakewalks, though I wasn’t about to announce such to the powers-that-be lest I end up with four attorneys to babysit. It all depended on who the three partners were. And mine were hand-picked, a luxury I had because I was good, good enough after eleven years in the business to pick and choose the attorneys I worked for. Diplomatically, of course. So diplomatically that nobody knew that but me. And my little sister.

About the Author:Gail Roughton is a native of small town Georgia whose Deep South heritage features prominently in most of her work. She’s a paralegal who’s lived in a law office for over forty years, during which time she’s raised three children and quite a few attorneys. She’s tried retirement but it didn’t take. Through it all, she’s kept herself sane by writing novels and tossing them into her closet. Thanks to BWL Publishing, Inc., most of those novels have now emerged in published form. A cross-genre writer, her books range from humor to romance to thriller to horror and she’s never quite sure what to expect when she sits down at the keyboard. She usually has a project or two on the backburner but doesn’t discuss them for fear of jinxing herself. Given her affinity for the supernatural, this should come as no surprise to any reader.

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Character Creation by Chad Hunter – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will award a randomly drawn winner a $10 Amazon/BN gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Character creation is the foundation of any story. I have found that if you know your protagonist, antagonist or even supporting characters well, they will almost write the story for you. These are my essential steps for moving the people in my imagination to paper (or screen!)

1. Knowing the background that the audience knows (and doesn’t) – It is important that I know everything about the character that the audience does and does not. When you know their backstory, you know what drives them and what they fear. When you know a secret about the character, it can help influence their actions in a “show don’t tell” fashion. It is also very important that you never mention their secret or tell it in a story. It doesn’t have to be big but it has to be something untold. I find that this creates a unique bond between you and your creation.

2. Using my senses – What do they look like is an obvious start but what do they sound like? Do they speak loudly and with confidence or do they speak in a soft tone with hints of insecurity? Do they smell like they wear perfume or cologne? When you shake their hand or touch their skin, are they warm or cold? I find that using my senses to fully embrace a character’s traits greatly fleshes them out and makes it easy to give these descriptions to the reader. It also gives me insight into who they are and what they stand for. A character who speaks meekly may have trauma in their backstory. Someone who stomps with every step may be intimidating or overcompensating. A villain with a warm smile may believe he or she is in the right and still be a good person doing terrible things, etc.

3. Having coffee – Lastly, in my imagination, I have coffee with the characters. Regardless if they are a zombie from the future, an alien space captain or a college student hacker, I imagine sitting and having coffee with them. It gives me more input into their nuisances and three dimensionality. How do they interact with not only me but the environment? Do they order a complicated drink or go for something simple? Are they relaxed or impatient about their time and why? Coffee is one of those great equalizers that allows us a chance to lower our guards and connect. This is true for the real and the imaginary and if they’re in your head, who is to say that they’re not kind of real already?

Get creating.
Chad

Without warning, the demonic computing device rose up. Red arcs of crackling electricity snapped out from the server and struck the men and women in the chest. Involuntarily, they each screamed out in dying shrieks. Each worshiper hovered off the floor, transfixed and held for feeding.

DedKode moved forward but James knew it was too late. He placed his hand out and stayed the young, undead hacker.

The worshipers continued to undulate and now fluids ran from their orifices; heavy thick drops collected in puddles beneath each of them.

Faces sunk in.

Eyes rolled back.

Limbs twisted and cracked.

After what seemed like hours, but was only minutes, of watching these men and women sucked dry of their lives, the bodies collapsed to the flooring. Several landed in the pools of their bodily fluids – that which the server did not demand.

The server hovered still, humming like a thousand computer room fans and the singing of a damned chorus. The crimson energy that had drawn life from the worshipers crackled and snapped in oscillating arcs around the device.

The room was still empty as DedKode’s hacks were still running and fooling the security systems.

“What’s the plan now, Devon?” James asked, keeping his eyes on the demonic equipment hovering either obliviously or without care at his presence. “Do we still try to shut this thing down and take it back or—”

Suddenly DedKode held his hooded skeletal head. Palladino’s attention shifted to his teammate.

“What is it?”

There was a feeling that stirred up from a buzzing between where DedKode’s ears once were to a deafening roar he could not ignore. It was an energy, a swelling that circled the room, and DedKode could feel it in part. “Shit, King James, look —”

He pointed a gloved bony finger towards the now pulsating vibration only he could feel. The zombie hacker directed Palladino’s gaze to the dead, robed corpses.

They were rising to their feet.

Their hoods fell away and it was clear that they were once alive and were now resurrected dead. Jaws were sunken in, eyes pulled back into black sockets completely void of life. Mouths hung in slow, smacking moans and patches of hair fell with each step, covering the floor along with tears of desiccate flesh.

Arms lifted up and bony hands reached out in trembling grasps.

A hoarse cry rumbled from within breathless, shrunken lungs.

Enjoy an Excerpt

The street was once Lake Shore Drive.

It had been considered one of the most beautiful stretches of road ever constructed. From nearly any point on the arterial Chicago road, one could stop and see the lake, Museum Campus, and other aspects of sheer magnificence.

Testaments to humanity’s architecture, designs, and vision literally reached up to the sky. Willis Tower was legendary. Floors and floors of beautiful windows that once caught the rising sun were now almost completely shattered. Unimaginable amounts of flesh-cutting shards of shining triangles littered the streets.

The Cloud Gate, lovingly referred to as “The Bean,” was a mind-boggling, visually-stunning stainless-steel sculpture that had once captured the imagination of both locals and visitors. Its mirror-like surface played tricks with reality, reflecting the city’s vibrant life in mesmerizing ways.

Now, the Bean was covered in scarred marks and awash in dark splotches of foul-smelling liquids. Instead of laughing faces and optically-twisted visitors, what reflected in the artistically crafted curves was now a sea of countless reddish white deathly stares of layers and layers of skulls laying under the landmark.

The air was layered with gut-churning rancidity not unlike the reek of meat left exposed atop rank garbage in offensive summer heat.

Even on a chill-bitten fall night, the gore was overpowering to all aspects of human interaction.

Nearby, the Crown Fountain had once captured onlookers with its interactive art, projecting the faces of Chicagoans on towering screens, spouting water from their mouths into the reflecting pool below. Tonight, the fountain did not spray immaculate pristine waters but instead bubbled from time to time, as would a swamp. The fluid within was greenish in color and reeked of acidic bile and vomit. Flies had made the site a place of egg laying and maggot rearing.

The Adler Planetarium once world-renowned for its celestial studies was a broken half-dome. Immense cracks ran atop the once majestic structure that had brought countless visitors from across the globe.

The Field Museum had been a cauldron of the past and the present with future aspirations and wonder. It was once the place where history was held in honored perpetuity. Now, whatever remained of mankind’s history had violated and pulled from the museum’s halls.

Glass cases had been shattered.

Exhibits had been torn out and thrown asunder.

Red, pink and white littered the stairs as intestines, blood and bone made a carpet atop the museum’s walkway.

Chicago was a city known for its sides – its South Side, North Side and West Side. Each was unique from its ethnic communities to its dominant food vendors and carts to its well-known struggles of parking. Yet now, there were no sides anymore.

Now all that was gone. Sides were identical – each area of the city, like each area of other metropolitan sprawls across the globe – were miles and miles of death.

About the Author: Chad Hunter was born in East Chicago, Indiana. Raised by a single mother in the city’s Harbor section, he is the youngest of four. Growing up in the Midwest and a proudly self-proclaimed “Region Rat,” Hunter has written and published several books and novels. He has written for magazines and newspapers throughout North America and has been published in several languages. His writings have been called sophisticated yet humorous, sharp witted and unrelenting.

Most often, Hunter’s writings have been considered so wide and diverse that they span a scale that would include multiple writers with multiple forms. If anything binds his varied styles, it is Hunter’s theme of the human condition, humor and family closeness – all to the backdrop of romantic love, vibrant remembrance and even monsters themselves.

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If I’d Never Heard of Me, Would I Read My Book? by Austin Camacho – Guest Blog and Giveaway

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

If I’d never heard of me would I read my book?

Well let’s see…

I love books that feature a true hero, and Subtle Felonies has one. Hannibal Jones is a private eye in the classic hardboiled mold. He has a clearly defined morality all his own, he’s tough when he needs to be, but tender when that’s called for. He also has a smart mouth and is clever enough to solve a twisty mystery. He may seem familiar, because I’m a fan of Lew Archer, Travis McGee and Phillip Marlowe but being a man of mixed race raised in Germany gives him a unique perspective when dealing with the book’s diverse cast. This is a man I will be happy to get to know.

I like to really feel the setting, and this book explores the DMV (District of Columbia/ Maryland / Virginia) to give me the sights, the tastes, the smells, the sounds, the FEEL of the area.

I love a books that really move and once Hannibal sinks his teeth into the mystery, events move at a breakneck pace. The feeling of urgency to find the missing man never slackens. Almost every chapter ends with a cliffhanger. It seems like there’s no place in the whole book where it will be easy to put it down for the night.

Most of all I love a good mystery. Subtle Felonies has a plot that twists like a corkscrew with clues scattered about the landscape. There ARE enough clues in plain sight to solve this mystery and figure out who the ultimate villain is… but you won’t. and in the meantime, a series of bad men and women appear with their own schemes that only confuse the sleuth trying to sort out the big villain’s plot.

And, even if I had never heard of me, I’d read Subtle Felonies because it’s part of a series of complex mysteries Hannibal Jones has faced. Each of his previous seven adventures is populated by its own cast of fascinating characters, explores parts of the Washington area, moves at its own frenetic pace, and offers opportunities to get to know this knight errant in dark glasses, DC’s professional troubleshooter, Hannibal Jones. I’d want to read it because I’d know there’s more great reading ahead.

Is retired basketball star Xander Brown missing, or kidnapped? His crazy family and dangerous friends draw DC detective Hannibal Jones into a deadly chase to find – or rescue – a complex man. In public, Xander is a husband, father, partner, friend, but who is he in private? Which role took him away? The search moves at breakneck speed across the posh suburbs and angry alleys of the nation’s capital, forcing Hannibal to confront tough truths and deadly risks. Will DC’s troubleshooter save a life or lose his own?

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Charlotte took a deep breath while examining Hannibal. Her eyes scanned him top to bottom. He felt the way he did in the airport when they put him in the chamber and told him to raise his arms overhead. Was she staring into his eyes, or wondering about his dark glasses?

Were his black suit and white shirt inappropriate for the season?

“Ben told me that you were very good at finding people,” Charlotte said. “And that you were trustworthy and above all discreet.”

“Yeah, and he probably figured you’d be more comfortable with a black investigator.”

She grinned. “Yes, there is that. You wear those shades all the time?”

“Unless I’m asked not to.”

“Well then, would you mind?” She leaned in. He removed his sunglasses and slipped them into his suit jacket pocket. She leaned even closer.

“Blue? No, I think hazel eyes,” she said. “Where’d you get them?”

“You’d have to talk to my parents about that.”

About the Author:Austin S. Camacho is the author of eight novels about Washington DC-based private eye Hannibal Jones, five in the Stark and O’Brien international adventure-thriller series, and the detective novel, Beyond Blue. His short stories have been featured in several anthologies and he is featured in the Edgar nominated African American Mystery Writers: A Historical and Thematic Study by Frankie Y. Bailey. He is a past president of the Maryland Writers Association, past Vice President of the Virginia Writers Club, and one of the directors of the Creatures, Crimes & Creativity literary conference – now in its 10th year. The 8th Hannibal Jones mystery, Subtle Felonies, was released September 27.

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The Big Shakeup by Nancy Boyarsky – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post was part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Nancy Boyarsky will be awarding a $20 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Everyone is innocent until proven guilty, or so they say.

P.I. Nicole Graves arrives early at work, just as Los Angeles is hit with “the Big One,” a long-predicted, devastating earthquake. When the building stops shaking, Nicole finds Jerry, her boss, in his office dying of a gunshot wound. It appears to be suicide.

Nicole is shocked to learn that the police have decided Jerry’s death was murder and even more shocked that she’s their only suspect when there’s no shortage of people with motives. And there’s the question of why the detectives are pursuing this one case when all city workers, including the police, are in an all-out search and rescue operation for survivors. All she can do is evade capture long enough to prove her innocence and catch the real culprit.

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The shaking was gathering force. Nicole crawled further into the desk’s knee space, tried to brace herself and grip its legs. Holding on was next to impossible when the desk jumped with every jolt. Even more frightening was the noise. It had started as a rumble but now sounded like the roar of an oncoming train.

Every instinct told her to run, get out of the building. But with so much movement, she knew she’d never be able to stand up, much less run down eight flights of stairs. As the shaking continued to build, all thought disappeared. The whole thing had lasted a mere three-and-a-half minutes. But if Nicole knew anything at that time, it was that shaking would go on until the building caved in and buried her.

About the Author: Nancy’s award-winning Nicole Graves Mysteries have been compared to Mary Higgins Clark and are praised for contributing to the “women-driven mystery field with panache” (Foreword Reviews) as well as for their “hold-onto-the-bar roller coaster” plots (RT Book Reviews). Her debut novel The Swap—book one of the Nicole Graves Mysteries—won the prestigious Eric Hoffer award for Best Micro Press Book of the Year.

Nancy has been a writer and editor for her entire working career. She coauthored Backroom Politics, a New York Times notable book, with her husband Bill Boyarsky. She has written several textbooks on the justice system and contributed to anthologies, including In the Running about women’s political campaigns and The Challenge of California. She has also written for the Los Angeles Times, West magazine, Forbes, McCall’s, Playgirl, Westways, and other publications. She was communications director for political affairs for ARCO.
In addition to writing mysteries, Nancy is producer and director of the “Inside Golden State Politics” podcast.

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The Un-Diet Diet by Dr. Douglas Pooley – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Dr. Douglas Pooley will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

 

The UN-Diet Diet is a health reclamation strategy. It is designed to give the participant simple and effective tools to aid in improving overall health, effectively deal with weight management issues, and to serve as a guide for empowered aging. The program is aimed at those over the age of 55 with existing health compromise. It examines the true genesis of both health and disease through the lens of our evolutionary footprint, drilling down to the essence of what it means to be alive. It is here within the principles which create and maintain life, that we also find the keys to health and longevity.

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One unassailable truth is certain: If you buy into the above negative beliefs about getting older, the likelihood of finding satisfaction in life going forward is slim.

However, if you are genuinely committed to feeling better, the ideas I am about to present in the Un-Diet Diet, may open your mind to a different approach for reclaiming and maintaining health…one that just may potentially help save your life. Proceeding through the book, you are going to be shown a strategy for repair, health maintenance, and creative ageing that is in perfect step with our evolutionary footprint. It is here through man’s continuous adaptation over time that we uncover the roots of health and longevity potential.

The pandemic in 2020 has changed the world forever. It was particularly vicious for those over fifty-five, killing many and leaving even more seriously health compromised. The need for new direction when it comes to the fostering a healthy lifestyle has never been more imperative. I believe that for us to continue to successfully thrive we must reconnect with our inherent health potentials which have continuously adapted and evolved over hundreds of thousands of years.

About the Author:

Dr. Pooley has been in practice over 43 years, and during that time worked with over 20,000 individuals in close to 500,000 clinical encounters. He is married to his soulmate Patti Mugford-Pooley and lives in Lighthouse Cove in Canada. He has served his profession and community in various roles, and lectured nationally and internationally on professionalism as well as the importance of natural approaches to health and wellness. Doug is a former bodybuilding champion and continues to explore new frontiers in health and successful aging.

He is currently in his early seventies going on seventeen.

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Stay Alive by Dr. Min Deng – Spotlight and Giveaway

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In her brave and compassionate non-fiction book “Stay Alive,” Min Deng explores the depths of depression and the ominous specter of suicide. She sheds light on the hidden struggles experienced by those suffering from this silent illness by drawing on personal experiences shaped by childhood mental and emotional abuse.

These pages are filled with moving stories about people battling their own demons, struggling with thoughts of self-destruction, or dealing with the grief of a loved one’s tragic death. Min Deng bravely breaks down the stigmas associated with mental health by exposing the invisible chains that bind.

This succinct yet potent book illuminates the complexities of depression with heartfelt honesty and unwavering empathy, urging readers to understand the silent battles fought behind seemingly unremarkable lives. It serves as a powerful reminder of compassion’s transformative power and that saving lives and healing broken souls requires love, understanding, and empathy.

“Stay Alive” urges us all to work toward cultivating mental health rather than ignoring it. It teaches us that by illuminating the darkness, we can aid in dampening depression’s hold and giving those who are suffering hope.

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Taylor came out as trans to their parents on the Saturday following Thanksgiving in 2019 when they’d just turned fifteen. They wished to take testosterone blockers and estrogen right away, before their next birthday to maximize the chances that their transition would be smooth and successful. Their parents were in complete shock and disbelief.

In one of the angry exchanges my husband and I witnessed between Taylor and their dad when we visited them a few weeks later over Christmas, waving a kitchen knife defiantly in Hector’s face, Taylor screamed in rage and condescension, “You want a son?! Well, I’ll make sure you won’t have one!” The bitterness and resentment in Taylor’s thundering voice scared me.

In the hallway on the fifth floor of the psych ward, I finally released Taylor from my embrace. It was time for me to say goodbye and exit the ward.

“Stay alive, Taylor. Get well! Call me once you get your phone back. Stay alive!” I walked away hurriedly and asked the front desk to buzz me out. Once I stepped out of the hospital, I cried uncontrollably on the sidewalk, crouching next to the brick edge of a flower bed, having a complete mental breakdown on the street in Manhattan, keenly aware of the curious looks of passersby. But I didn’t care.

It would likely be the last time I’d ever see Taylor. The eighteen-year-old teenager whom I’ve known for their entire life, whom I’ve loved as my own child. The five- year-old who clung onto me in terror, their sweaty small hand tightly holding onto mine as their father screamed at them in rage, waving his big hand to threaten to slap them on that hot, humid summer morning in Cozumel Mexico in 2009. I was no longer able to be the mental health advocate I wanted to be for Taylor, to help them get the psychic care they desperately needed.

My heart shattered in pieces; I felt utterly helpless and hopeless.

About the Author: Dr. Min Deng was born and raised in Wuhan, China on September 11th, 1973. She earned a Ph.D. in Developmental Psychology from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in 2008.

As a developmental psychologist, she is interested in parenting, child development, parent-child relationship, marital relationship, domestic abuse, suicide prevention, gender and sexual identity, etc. This book on raising awareness about suicide and its risks is her first of a series on mental health she plans to write.

She is the founder and CEO of Mental Health CPR (MHCPR), a non-profit organization that serves to improve quality of life by increasing the accessibility to mental health resources. MHCPR does this through education, advocacy, and the creation of mental health
resources available to all.

She lives with her husband and their beloved dog Coco in Charleston, South Carolina. In her spare time, she loves walking on the beach, learning to surf, hiking, traveling, listening to audio books, and fashion.

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Phate’s Mate by A.M. Griffin – Spotlight and Giveaway

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

The Peacekeeper. When his shy neighbor knocked on his apartment door, Phate’s mission to stay off the humans’ radar until the rescue team arrived changed in a blink of an eye. He not only wants to tell this delectable human about alien existence, but he also wants to take her back to Thelli with him.

Getting to know her was proving difficult when his new mission involves joining a dating app in an effort to see if humans are compatible enough to join the Intergalactic Dating Agency.

The Workaholic. Tasha worked hard building her small business on Main Street and didn’t have time for distractions. With a fire-cracker best friend and three new mysterious neighbors, Tasha was finding herself thinking of something other than her boutique for a change. But fate? Fate has a way of intervening, and she finds out the hard way that she can’t run or hide from her feelings, especially when distraction as fine as Phate lives right next door.

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“Tell me exactly why you did that?” With his arms crossed, Solgre braced himself against the bathroom door, watching Kien as he tried to smooth the curls in his hair back.

Even from his seat on the ridiculously small armchair, Phate could tell that it wasn’t working. The abundance of water in the atmosphere was doing something strange to the texture of their hair. What use to be short and smooth, was now too long and too wavy.

“Why did I do what, exactly?” Kien asked. “Invite human women to our apartment to cure the boredom that’s been plaguing us since crash landing on this awful, backward planet?”

Phate sighed and leaned back in his chair. “He has a point, Solgre. We’ve been stuck on this planet for four of their Earth months and stuck inside this apartment since we acquired it, only leaving for essentials. Since we couldn’t send the distress beacon via a jump, we don’t know how long it will take for it to reach Thelli.

“We might as well make the best of this situation and meet the locals. At least, we’ll be able to tell the others how first contact went.”

About the Author: A. M. Griffin is a mother of three, dog owner (and sometimes dog owned), a daughter, sister, aunt and friend. She’s a hard worker whose two favorite outlets are reading and writing. She enjoys reading everything from mystery novels to historical romances and of course fantasy romance. She is a believer in the unbelievable, open to all possibilities from mermaids in our oceans and seas, angels in the skies and intelligent life forms in distant galaxies.

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A Lesser God by Don Hackett – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Don Hackett will be awarding a $10 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.

As a young man, Dion Athamas was spiritually summoned to rapture then tenured god status. He had been endowed with all the benedictions to achieve sacredness: a devout flock, the power to heal and a covet for control. He also held a deep desire and ability to influence justice and universal liberty. The setting: the fictional town of Forgedmont, Mississippi, in the 1950s. Against great opposition he strived to become a new-age god; the earth was his oracle. He found faith-based conviction to be lacking in reason and truth. He chose to maintain an instinctive path to holiness. Regrettably for him and his followers, there were a great many roadblocks. He was forced to face off against the church, community, prejudice, family and scheming dreams influenced by fallacious spirits, all set forth to hamper his ascension to divinity.

 

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My name is Dion Athamas, and I’m from the little the town of Forgedmont, Mississippi, U.S.A. Population 2,874. Should you be interested, I have a story to share with you. It’s my story, though tragic, I am quite willing to share it. I think it best you understand that this tale all began with a telling dream.

One night as I slept, I awoke to hear my name being softly spoken by a masculine voice I didn’t recognize. I sat up in bed and scanned the dark void, trying to establish the source of the voice. Without question, I felt an unnatural presence looming somewhere within the walls of my bedroom. I gradually began to recognize that the manifestation was speaking to me as if I were an acquaintance. His manner was quite affable as he appealed to me to stay calm and listen attentively to his message. He requested that I focus my vision straight ahead into the darkness and then close my eyes. When he gave the signal, I needed to slowly reopen my eyes to witness him visually. The signal was perceptually vague, but I received it. When I opened my eyes, I knew someone was sharing my room with me, but I had no idea who. I couldn’t identify the barely-perceptible image of a human form floating buoyantly at the foot of my bed. Then suddenly he was gone as quickly and enigmatically as he’d arrived.

About the Author:I have been writing poems and short stories for most of my life. It was not until I retired from my government position working with Special Needs individuals that I was able to focus on writing full time. The treatment of Special Needs people fostered in me a search for the explanation for the absence of morality in mankind. I have degrees in psychology and sociology from the University of Calgary, Alberta.

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