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

December 12, 2022 By 5 Comments

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

Lessons I Learned from my Hero

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enjoy an Excerpt

San Francisco, 1865

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

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

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

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

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

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

Milestones:

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

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

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

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

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The Adventures of a Southern (Baptist) Buddhist by Pamela McConnell – Spotlight and Giveaway

December 9, 2022 By 4 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Pamela McConnell will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

This true story is about a girl who is born up north; into a conservative, fundamentalist/evangelical family—but then becomes a Liberal Buddhist.

Her family moves back to their roots in the Appalachian south, where Pam is molested by her grandfather. She later owns her sexuality by becoming promiscuous; beginning a pattern of serial dating, marrying, and divorcing.

She is first married at 18 to another 18-year-old, who gives her a beautiful son—but he is a redneck and they have nothing else in common. Her second husband is a talented musician but turns out to like sex with men. Her third husband speaks five languages and is a Pakistani, but he beats her up. Her fourth husband is a chef who makes delicious meals but turns out to be a felon and a crackhead. Finally, the love of her life neglects to tell Pam for seven years that he is married.

In the meantime, Pam completes two degrees and works as a counselor, and then 20 years as a hospice social worker. She begins her hospice career in Southern California, where she has moved to get away from the DEEP South. That is where she converts to Buddhism. From that point, she begins to look inward for the answers to her questions about life’s meaning.

Pam leaves the country after two failed relationships, some years apart. She spends a year teaching English in South Korea and goes from there to Pakistan with her third husband. In between, her dad dies and Pam reconnects and bonds with her mom, backpacking on the Appalachian Trail. When she leaves the love of her life, she goes on Pilgrimage to India and Nepal. The meaning of her life is coming into focus.

At the end of the book, Pam goes on a trek in the Himalayas, on the Annapurna Circuit. Just over the three-mile high pass is a magical Pure Land in Muktinath, with a Buddhist temple that is dedicated to the female Buddha Vajrayogini. With a new perspective, Pam has the realization that her Enlightenment is ensured; she WILL become a Buddha someday.

Enjoy an Excerpt

I was born on a Sunday and attended my first (of many) church services that Wednesday. My first memory was gazing up at a bright globe of light, mesmerized. It was a church light and I was a babe in mom’s arms.

At the end of many sermons, our beloved pastor would give an altar call. Many would go down to the altar (a bench that one knelt before and prayed). I remember it sounded like a loud beehive: the sounds of many praying out loud; crying, shouting and whispering all over the church.

I would look around, noting the distress and fervor on the parishioner’s faces. At that point, no one was paying any attention to us kids. It seemed endless. Toward the end, someone might ‘feel the spirit’ and start jumping around or even running up and down the aisles, shouting joyfully:

“Hallelujah!”

“Thank you, Jesus!”

After that, folks would be called to stand up and testify about what God had done for them. The standard testimony for us kids was:

“I love Jesus with all my heart and I want to go all the way with him.”

We were ‘saved’ after confessing our sins and letting Jesus into our hearts as our Savior.

There was another, higher level, called being ‘sanctified.’ That was when the Holy Spirit entered you. I was saved at about five years old; sanctified at about nine. I felt full of the love of Jesus and began reading The Bible and praying.

About the Author:

Pamela McConnell, MSW, LCSW was raised in a fundamentalist/ evangelical Christian church and family. At age 34 she converted formally to Buddhism. She has recently completed a Pilgrimage in India and Nepal. Earlier, she spent two years in Asia: a year teaching English in S. Korea and a year in Pakistan with her 3rd husband. She worked as a counselor after earning a B.S. in Psychology. She worked as a hospice social worker for the last 20 years of her career after earning an MSW degree and becoming licensed as an LCSW. She is an avid backpacker and trekker, having done 500 miles on the Appalachian Trail and more than half of the Annapurna Circuit in the Himalayas.

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All Signs Point to Murder by Connie di Marco – Spotlight and Giveaway

December 9, 2022 By 4 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Connie di Marco 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.

Rob Ramer was the perfect husband until he committed the ultimate family faux pas—he shot his sister-in-law to death. Believing himself under attack by an intruder in his home, he fired back. But when evidence is discovered that Rob’s wife, Brooke, was plotting his murder, Brooke is charged with conspiracy in her sister’s death. Geneva, a third sister, is desperate for answers and seeks the help of her friend, San Francisco astrologer Julia Bonatti. Geneva’s lost one sister and now it seems she’ll lose the other. Was this a murder plot or just a terrible accident? Julia vows to find the answer in the stars.

Enjoy an Excerpt

The same headlights stayed behind me for several blocks, remaining about two car lengths behind. I’m very careful about locking my car doors, especially at night. I look over my shoulder when getting into my car too. I clicked the door locks again for good measure. Two cars passed me in the next lane, but the car behind remained at the same distance. When the next light turned green, I accelerated quickly and kept my speed up for the next few blocks, hoping a police cruiser wasn’t waiting in an alleyway speed trap to ticket me. The car following matched my speed. Why would anyone be trailing me, and if so, how long had I been followed?

I cast my mind back, trying to remember if I had noticed anything outside Macao or earlier. No one had been around. I hadn’t seen any cars pulling out behind me. But then, it was the last thing on my mind. I was only intent on meeting Tony.

After the next light, I slowed to a crawl, watching to see if the driver would become impatient and pass me. Again, the car matched my speed. A chill ran down my spine. Someone was definitely following me and they didn’t care if I knew.

I quickly reviewed my options. I had no intention of leading a stranger to my apartment. Of course, after my wallet was left open with my exposed driver’s license that night in Moira’s apartment, my follower, if he were the same person who attacked me, would already know where I lived. I nixed the idea of heading for my grandmother’s house. I didn’t want to bring any trouble to her doorstep, nor to Gale’s. Even so, that would involve driving back toward Russian Hill. I could return to Cheryl’s but didn’t like the thought of being unprotected on a deserted downtown street when I got out of my car. Whoever he, or she, was, I had to lose them. On the off chance they didn’t know where I lived, I had no intention of leading them to my apartment.

When I reached Divisadero, I turned left and headed for a neighborhood that I knew was a warren of intertwining streets. I made a fast turn heading west on Turk and an even faster right on Baker, leading me up Terra Vista. By now I was too frightened to even look in the rear view mirror. I raced up Terra Vista and took the corner on two wheels. I didn’t see car lights behind me as I turned the corner, only the ambient glow of headlights down the hill. I drove halfway down the block and spotted a long driveway leading to a garage at the rear of a house. I pulled down the driveway and parked behind the house. I doused my headlights and turned off the engine. My hands were sweating and my heart was pounding.

I hadn’t imagined the black sedan following me. I had no idea what kind of car it was, only black, late model, could have been a Mercedes, a Cadillac, I honestly wouldn’t know the difference unless I saw an insignia. My engine made small metallic pinging sounds as it cooled. I waited but heard nothing. I carefully rolled down my window and listened. A glow from headlights highlighted the tall tree branches in the next yard. I heard a car moving slowly down the street. The motor was almost silent, but I could hear the crunching of dry leaves under tires. He was searching. I had temporarily lost him, but now I was trapped in a driveway behind a private home. I prayed no one in the house would turn on outside lights or do anything to signal my presence. How long would he cruise the street?

Ten minutes elapsed but it felt like an hour. I twisted in my seat and once again saw the same glow of headlights. Again I heard the crunching of leaves and small branches under tires. The car came to a stop directly in front of the driveway. Its headlights were fixed against the wall of the house next door.

My mouth was dry and I could barely swallow. If the driver found me, what would he do? What could I do? I could lean on the horn and hope to wake the occupants of the house. The arrogance of following me in such an overt manner was more frightening than an attempt to track me covertly. Was someone trying to discover where I lived, or did they already know? Did someone wish me harm or were they only trying to frighten me? If so, they were doing a damn good job of it.

My heart was racing. I closed my eyes and deliberately slowed my breathing and prayed. Then I heard an engine rev and tires squeal. The sedan barreled down the street as if angry to have lost me. I was too afraid to turn the car around and pull out. It could be a trick. He could be waiting at the foot of the hill. I was cold now and shivering. I wanted to be home in my own bed more than anything in the world. I had to take a chance. I turned on my parking lights and saw that the driveway continued on past the garages. A narrow space next to the last garage led to an alley behind the homes. I started the engine but left my headlights off. I followed the concrete path along the side of the garage and through the opening to the alleyway. It led to an intersecting street. At the corner, I hit the brakes and looked around carefully. Nothing moved. I glanced up at the street sign. Fortuna Street. I almost laughed with gratitude at the name. I wiped tears from my eyes and
took a deep breath. Following Fortuna I reached Turk again. No other cars were on the street. I turned west toward the Avenues keeping a lookout, but didn’t spot the black sedan again.

When I reached home, I pulled the car into the garage, made sure the heavy door was properly locked and climbed the back stairs to my kitchen. Wizard padded out to greet me. He tried to make a dash for the yard, but struggling to hold on to my purse and keys, I grabbed him at the last moment. I didn’t want him out this late at night, and I was too tired to have to call him in later. I reached down and closed the hatch on his kitty door before he could get free. He looked at me and uttered a low growl in his throat.

“No. Sorry. It’s been a rough day and a rougher night. You’re in.” I doled out a couple of kitty treats and dropped them in his plate. He attacked them at once. I turned off the kitchen light and in the dark, peeked out the living room windows to the street below. I saw no cars that seemed out of place. Then I walked down the stairway and shoved the bolt across the front door. Wizard eyed me strangely, sensing something was out of kilter. Upstairs, I shed my jacket and poured a glass of wine. The light on the answering machine was blinking. Gale had left a message reminding me of the open house on Sunday. Cheryl hadn’t spoken of it earlier and I suspected she might bail on the whole idea. Then I kicked off my shoes and shed my clothes. I slipped into my flannel pajamas, propped some extra pillows on the bed and settled in.

I thought about the couples I knew. Cheryl dealing with a divorce, Brooke in jail accused of planning her husband’s death, Moira dead, and forced to turn over information on her boyfriend to the police. David and Geneva seemed the only happy people in the world, in spite of their family difficulties. Only Gale was completely content as a single woman. Maybe I was better off in my alone state than I knew.

Wizard climbed onto my lap and started kneading the comforter furiously. Was Cheryl right? Was it was time to consider dating? The thought of it brought no joy. If someone told me to climb Mount Everest with no equipment, it would seem an easier prospect. But if I didn’t take a chance, I’d be a woman alone with her cat forever. I finished the wine, turned off the bedroom lamp and snuggled down under the comforter. I heard the foghorns in the distance as my eyes closed involuntarily.

About the Author:

Connie di Marco is the author of the Zodiac Mysteries featuring Julia Bonatti, a San Francisco astrologer who never thought murder would be part of her practice: The Madness of Mercury, All Signs Point to Murder, Tail of the Dragon, Serpent’s Doom and Enter a Wizard, Stage Left (a prequel e-book novella). Writing as Connie Archer, she is also the author of the national bestselling Soup Lover’s Mysteries from Penguin Random House. You can find her excerpts and recipes in The Cozy Cookbook and The Mystery Writers of America Cookbook. Connie is a member of Mystery Writers of America, International Thriller Writers, Crime Writers Association (UK) and Sisters in Crime.

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

December 8, 2022 By 12 Comments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enjoy an Excerpt

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Sophia Freeman series by T.X. Troan – Spotlight and Giveaway

December 8, 2022 By 6 Comments


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. T.X. Troan will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

EARTH AWAKENED … SEED PLANTED … PATH REVEALED.

What begins as a special trip for eleven-year-old Sophia Freeman and her father, leaves her trapped on a mysterious island with a tree boy and fantastical creatures. Later, she learns she is dying from an eternal curse and the only way to prolong her life is to drink the island’s sacred water. Can Sophia and her companions reach the fountain and defeat the guardian before time runs out?

THEY MUST RISK IT ALL TO REGAIN THEIR FREEDOM … OR BE SEALED AWAY FOREVER.

Sophia Freeman and her best friend, Tim Charnal, must beat all contestants in a three-round Beyond Event organized by the mighty arbiters to free him from the penalty of murder and gain the islanders’ trust. Entering the hologram and surviving environments filled with everything from hammer-throwing cave giants to a slimy tentacled sea monster, they will need all their courage, wits, and skills. But how are they going to win when magic is forbidden?

EVIL RISING … ISLANDERS MISSING … AND FRIENDS BETRAYING.

With the increase in deaths of Pandilone Islanders, the arbiters devise a strategy to free the god demon within five days to lift the Eternal Curse. All goes as planned until iron-masked creatures kidnap magic users, weakening the army. To gain reinforcements, Sophia Freeman, Tim Charnal, and rescued Allen Chan must gather all six items to cast the Dream Spell, connecting them with Sophia’s father and his air force. But how can the trio succeed in time while surrounded by enemies and traitors aiming to stop them at any cost?

 

 
 
 

Enjoy an Excerpt from SOPHIA FREEMAN AND THE GATE OF JADE (book 2 ):

“So, Wondnair, what happened back there?” Tim asked, picking at his food. “Why did the arbiters put our victory on hold?”

Sophia hung her head in silent shame.

“Sophia’s body was taken over by, uh … someone,” said Wondnair.

“You mean … T-Tombermon? Why would he help us win?” Tim shook his head. “No, it can’t be true—”

“Look, no monster of that size would simply drop and let you two pass,” Wondnair continued. “Sophia was like its master back there.”

Holding her bowl tightly, Sophia watched her teardrop fall into her earthy soup.

“So, she broke the rules?” Tim couldn’t eat any more. “It’s over—we’re disqualified.”

Wondnair said, “We don’t know that ye—”

“I am so sorry, Tim,” cried Sophia. “We lost because of m-me.” She wiped her eyes. “You shouldn’t have come with me to fight that fountain guardian. Then this n-never would have h-happened.”

“Sophia.” He slid closer to her on the bench.

“I’m n-not the Ch-Chosen One!” She slammed her fist on the table.

Tim gently placed her head against his shoulder and wrapped his arms around her. “Sophia, listen to me. The fight isn’t over.”

About the Author:

Thuan Doan was born in Indonesia, and grew up in St. Catharines, Ontario, Canada.

Thuan has been fascinated by art from a young age, especially fantasy. He would wake up hours before school, sit outside the classroom, and scribble in his sketch book.

After college, he worked on a series of jobs, including: an advergaming association as a storyboard/concept artist, gaming company as lead concept artist, and graphic designer for various clients.

Thuan conceived his first middle-grade fantasy novel, Sophia Freeman and the Mysterious Fountain, during a trip to Gabriola Island, British Columbia in the summer of 2013. Then he took his work and settled in a small town of Enderby, where it’s peaceful and quiet. 4 years later, the story is complete. While book 1, 2 and 3 are being shared with the world, he’s writing and illustrating book 4 of the Sophia Freeman series.

Thuan is writing under a pen name of T.X. Troan. “X” stands for Xu, his grandmother’s name who passed away. And “Troan” is a combination of his parents’ names.

“No matter how this turns out, I want my family to be a part of this wonderful journey.”

T.X. Troan married Sarah, his original fan and longtime love, in 2016. They live in Enderby with their pack dogs and school of fish!

AWARDS

★ Entrada Publishing Incipere Award, 2020
★ Readers’ Favorite 5 star Badge, 2019, 2021 and 2022
★ Literary Titan Badge, 2020

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Bloodstains and Candy Canes by Marla A. White – Spotlight and Giveaway

December 7, 2022 By 4 Comments

This stop is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Marla A. White will be awarding a $15 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.

Attending a swanky cookie exchange is the last thing on veterinarian Dr. Mandy Brown’s holiday to-do list, but she agrees to help a friend out. The party comes to a screeching halt after a body turns up on the kitchen floor, a carving knife jutting out of his back.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Mandy comes face-to-face with Officer Dylan Shaw, a man she thought she was dating until he ghosted her. Tensions escalate as motives for murder come out of the pantry as fast as guests scarf down the pot-spiked brownies, making everything all the merrier.

Although the case seems open and shut, Mandy doesn’t believe the evidence. Can she and Dylan put their differences aside and find the real killer, or risk one of the bakers getting away with murder?

Enjoy an Excerpt

“Call him.”

Dolores is right. Shaw once told me 911 calls are automatically routed to the Highway Patrol where they get sorted to the appropriate agency. If you know the local police number, you’ll get a faster response by calling them directly. But I also know the last person I want to see right now is Officer Dylan Shaw.

“Who cares?” I ask. “The dead guy isn’t going anywhere.”

Dee narrows her eyes and gives me an icy gaze. “No, but the killer is. The police need to get this place locked down fast if they’re going to have a shot at finding them.”

Well poop, I hadn’t thought of that. My head is too far up my own butt to think past my broken heart. “Fine, I’ll call him.”

She nods, pulling the sobbing Bethany under one arm and uses the other to guide, coerce and otherwise wrangle Agnes, the guests, and caterers alike back to the veranda. Very few people have the strength to refuse Dolores’ will of iron.

When everyone is gone, I slip into the den and grab my phone. Stomach lurching with dread, I hit the button for Shaw and wait the tension-filled five seconds as it rings once before he answers. “Hey Mandy, what’s up?”

His cheerful tone surprises me until irritation sweeps away the pleasure his voice brings. Does he not realize I’m mad at him for ghosting me? “This isn’t a social call, Shaw.”

About the Author: Marla White is a story analysis instructor at UCLA and writing coach who lives in Los Angeles. She graduated from the University of Kentucky where she took her first horseback riding lesson. After dabbling in hunters, barrel racing, and weekly trail rides, she fell hopelessly in love with the sport of eventing. She conquered Novice level before taking a break to pursue novel writing but hopes to return to the saddle some day soon. When she’s not writing, she’s out in the garden, hiking, putting together impossibly difficult puzzles, or (of course!) baking.

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Film Blue by Patricia Leavy – Spotlight and Giveaway

December 7, 2022 By 3 Comments

This is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Patricia Leavy will be awarding a $10 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.

Reminiscent of Sex and the City meets The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Patricia Leavy’s Film Blue is a captivating and inspiring story about the pursuit of dreams and what it truly means to live a “big” life.

A couple of years after finishing college, Tash Daniels has put her love of filmmaking on the back burner. She’s working retail, club-hopping, and scraping by to pay the rent. Usually attracted to the wrong guy, she’s at a loss when she finally falls for the right one. Sexy deejay Aidan is living his life authentically as an artist and encourages her to do the same. Will she open her heart? Will she bet on herself and her dreams? Is a girl with a dream truly on her own in the world? Tash’s friends are along for the journey: Jason Woo, lighthearted model on the rise; Penelope Waters, earnest graduate student with a secret no one suspects; Lu K, fiercely independent hot-girl deejay; and Monroe Preston, the glamorous wife of a Hollywood studio head. Frequently bathed in the glow of the silver screen, the characters show us how the arts can reignite the light within, pushing us to confront our fears so we can choose how to live in the present. Film Blue is a novel about following our passions, the hidden side of our dreams, the power of art, what it means to truly live a “big” life, and finding the people to go with us on our journey. A tribute to 1980s pop culture set against the backdrop of contemporary New York and Los Angeles, Film Blue celebrates how the art we experience and make can shape our stories, frame by frame.

Enjoy an Excerpt

After grabbing a hand basket and making a beeline to the freezer for some ice cream, she started searching for the items on Penelope’s list. As she fumbled for the note, mumbling, “Ah, where is that stupid thing?” she heard a voice say, “Maybe you’d have better luck if you shut your eyes and put your hand in.”

“Huh?” she queried, looking up at the six-foot-tall guy standing before her, dressed from head to toe in black. He had bleached blonde spiky hair, high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a piercing through his right eyebrow that she thought was simultaneously cool and disgusting.

“You know, sometimes if you’re looking too hard, you can’t find anything.”

“Uh, yeah,” she said, staring into his evergreen eyes. Oh my God, he’s seriously hot.

“Here, tell me what you’re looking for and I’ll shut my eyes and stick my hand in for you.”

Raising her eyebrows, she said, “How stupid do you think I am? Maybe I should just go outside and scream, ‘Somebody rob me!’”

He laughed. “Fair enough, but you try it.”

Tash smirked and stuck her hand into her bag without looking. “Uh huh, here it is!” she exclaimed as she pulled out the small, crumpled paper. “That’s uncanny.”

“Sometimes you just have to concentrate less, you know? What’s so important, anyway?”

“Oh, it’s just my roommate’s grocery list. She’s pretty uptight so I can’t screw it up. You wouldn’t believe the things she writes, like ‘two organic red apples and flax seed powder,’ whatever the hell that is. Anyway, I should probably get back to shopping.”

He smiled and waved his arm, to indicate she could pass by. With only a few aisles in the small store, Tash bumped into him again in the produce section.

“Should I even ask what that’s about?” she remarked while giggling, looking at the twenty or more coconuts in his basket.

“Oh, these are for a party I’m deejaying for a couple of friends over at NYU.”

“They’re serving whole coconuts?” she asked, mystified.

He laughed. “People try to get them open. It’s like a drinking game kind of thing. It’s pretty funny.”

“Gotcha. Do you go to NYU?”

“No, I went to school in Chicago and moved to New York after I graduated. I’m a professional deejay. I’m just doing this party as a favor.”

“So, what kinds of clubs do you spin at?” she asked.

“Uh, well, tomorrow I’ll be spinning at the Forever 21 store in Times Square.”

She smiled. “Well, do you get a discount at least?”

He laughed. “Didn’t think to ask for that. So, what’s your name?”

“Natashya, but my friends call me Tash.”

“I’m Aidan. Do you live around here?”

“Just a block away. I share a place with two roommates.”

“Pretty awesome area, good for you.”

“Yeah, well we’re in like the only non-restored building in the neighborhood. Don’t get me wrong, I love living here and it’s pretty close to my work, but we’re not in one of the swanky buildings with a marble entrance. It’s more like splintery wood floors and a scary old-fashioned elevator that makes me want to take the stairs.”

He smiled. “What’s your work?”

“I work at a couple of stores in SoHo.”

“For the discount, right?” he joked.

She laughed. “Well, nice to meet you but I’ve gotta finish up and get going.”

“Sure, me too. Maybe I’ll see you around. If you’re not busy, stop by Forever 21 tomorrow.”

“I have to work.”

“Well, can I maybe get your number?” he asked.

“Why don’t you give me yours instead?”

“Sure, that’s cool.” He put his coconut-filled basket on the ground and held out his hand. “Give me your phone and I’ll put it in.”

“You don’t want me to have to search my bag again. Here,” she said, handing him the note with Penelope’s grocery list. “Do you have a pen?”

He smiled and pulled a red crayon out of his pocket. “Don’t ask,” he said as he wrote his number on the little paper. “Here,” he said handing it to her. “See ya.”

“See ya,” she replied.

When she casually glanced around the store a few minutes later, he was gone. She brought her basket to the checkout. The cashier asked, “Did you find everything you needed?”

“Yeah, yeah I did.”

About the Author: Patricia Leavy, Ph.D., is a bestselling author. She was formerly Associate Professor of Sociology, Chair of Sociology and Criminology, and Founding Director of Gender Studies at Stonehill College in Massachusetts. She has published over forty books, earning commercial and critical success in both fiction and nonfiction, and her work has been translated into many languages. Patricia has received dozens of accolades for her books. Recently, her romance collection Celestial Bodies: The Tess Lee and Jack Miller Novels (https://www.amazon.com/Celestial-Bodies-Tess-Miller-Novels/dp/1737862417) was the 2022 Firebird Awards first-place winner for Romance. The book also received 2022 International Impact Book Awards for Women’s Fiction and Romance, a 2022 NYC Big Book Award for Distinguished Favorite Anthology, and a 2022 Literary Titan Gold Book Award for Fiction. Patricia has also received career awards from the New England Sociological Association, the American Creativity Association, the American Educational Research Association, the International Congress of Qualitative Inquiry, and the National Art Education Association. In 2016 Mogul, a global women’s empowerment network, named her an “Influencer.” In 2018, she was honored by the National Women’s Hall of Fame and SUNY-New Paltz established the “Patricia Leavy Award for Art and Social Justice.” She lives in Maine with her husband, daughter (when she’s not away at college), and her dog. Patricia loves writing, reading, watching films, and traveling.

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My Sherlock Holmes Collection by Liese A Sherwood-Fabre – Spotlight and Giveaway

December 7, 2022 By 14 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Godess Fish Promotions. Liese A Sherwood-Fabre will be awarding a $20 Amazon, Apple 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.

My Sherlock Holmes Collection

One way you can identify a true Sherlockian is if they have a collection. Different Sherlockians are interested in different items. I know one who has collected games based on the great detective (and yes, there are many), one who has assembled the photos and autographs of almost all the actors who have portrayed Holmes over the years (going back to early theatrical productions), and another who recently donated his copies of foreign editions of the cases to Southern Methodist University (SMU) library. In fact, libraries across the world can boast of being recipients of different private collections. One of the most extensive is at the University of Minnesota.

Some have a room—or rooms—dedicated to their collection. More than one has converted a room to a replica of Holmes’ sitting room at 221B. Compared to those enthusiasts, my own collection is quite meager and could be displayed on just a few shelves. I have a plushy Pikachu doll with a deerstalker cap, a phrenology model (almost always in the background in 221B scenes), and the first-day issue of a series of Sherlock Holmes stamps from the UK. I also went on a search (and found) a ceramic figurine and some teapots in a likeness of Sherlock Holmes. This list doesn’t even include the different books on Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and Victorian England I consult for the essays I write each month.

Of all, my favorite, however, is a set of nesting dolls I purchased at a Sherlock Holmes conference. It’s special because it represents the intersection of my professional and writing lives. From 1990-1995 I worked for the US Agency for International Development (USAID) in Moscow. It was a heady time—Russia was moving toward a market economy and democracy. I was involved in assistance to the education and health sectors as innovations were introduced in both. Nesting dolls are an iconic part of Russian culture, and we purchased quite a number while there. When you visit a market, you will find sets range from only a few figures (three-five) to twenty or thirty. They can be simple or quite elaborately painted and decorated. My Sherlock set holds Sherlock, Watson, Lestrade, Moriarty, and the famous hound of the Baskervilles (the smallest).

What causes someone to decide to spend time and money on their collections? Some do so from an investment standpoint. The rarer and more desirable the item, the more likely it is to go up in value. But according to psychologists, most collectors do so for the hunt. Achieving a rare find is bring both satisfaction and joy when completed. My collection seems to fall into the joy of owning. You can’t look at a deerstalker-sporting Pikachu and not smile.

What about you? Has the collecting bug ever bit you? What have you assembled?

Be as smart as Sherlock Holmes!

Arthur Conan Doyle’s original tales include many references to everyday Victorian life that are no longer part of current readers’ world. What Holmes would have eaten from a can while searching for the hound of the Baskervilles, Watson’s enjoyment of a yellow-back novel, or the proper use of a gasogene would have been common knowledge to the Victorian contemporary but compels modern readers to run to the nearest reference book. These twenty-five short essays pull such items from the past and expand on their significance in the story. As an additional bonus, this book contains an essay on the role of scandal in Holmes; cases, originally appearing in a collected volume of essays on feminism and agency. After enjoying these concise treatises on Holmes’ world, readers will have a deeper understanding and appreciation of both the times and the life of the world’s greatest consulting detective.

Enjoy an Excerpt

The Intercontinental Reach of the Law

In two of Holmes’ cases, he meets Pinkerton agents: Edwards in The Valley of Fear and Leverton, who trailed Giuseppe Gorgiano from America in “The Adventure of the Red Circle.” By 1888, during the first encounter, the reputation of the Pinkerton Agency had been firmly established for almost 50 years and had already lost its founder, Allan Pinkerton. The Edwards character is said to have been based on James McFarland, who had garnered fame in the 1870s for infiltrating and testifying against the Molly Maguires, a secret Irish mining society. Leverton’s fame also preceded him as “the hero of the Long Island cave mystery.”

Allan Pinkerton was born in Glasgow, Scotland in 1819 and worked as a barrel maker there until immigrating to the US in 1842. He settled outside of Chicago and continued his trade. In 1847, he fell into his new profession when he was out collecting materials for his barrels. A particular island not far from where he lived had a plentiful supply of poles, and while gathering them one summer day, he came across evidence of someone else using the island. He informed the sheriff, and the officer investigated, capturing a large gang of counterfeiters. Later, local shopkeepers asked Pinkerton to help capture yet another counterfeiter. Based on these efforts, he was appointed as Chicago’s first—and, in the beginning, only—police detective. Shortly, he had five detectives working under him, and his reputation continued to grow.

Beyond his detective work, he was also an abolitionist. He had been involved in radical politics in Scotland, which was why he was forced to emigrate. His shop served as a station along the under‐ ground railroad, and he raised funds to help transport eleven slaves freed by John Brown. In 1850 he left public services to form his agency. Pinkerton’s National Detective Agency advertised “We Never Sleep” with an unblinking eye as its logo. This image lies behind the term “private eye.” The company included Allan’s brother Robert, who was a railroad contractor. The organization specialized in the capture of counterfeiters and train robbers, but also provided private military contractors and security guards. By 1853, Pinkerton Agencies existed in all the major Union cities. The company hired the first female detective (Kate Warne) in 1856, and during an investigation of a railway case, uncovered a plot to assassinate President-elect Abraham Lincoln in 1861. Warned of the threat, Lincoln changed his itinerary and, under a disguise, passed through the area at night unharmed.

About the Author:Liese Sherwood-Fabre knew she was destined to write when she got an A+ in the second grade for her story about Dick, Jane, and Sally’s ruined picnic. After obtaining her PhD, she joined the federal government and worked and lived abroad for more than fifteen years. Returning to the states, she seriously pursued her writing career, garnering such awards as a finalist in RWA’s Golden Heart contest and a Pushcart Prize nomination. A recognized Sherlockian scholar, her essays have appeared in scion newsletters, the Baker Street Journal, and Canadian Holmes. These have been gathered into The Life and Times of Sherlock Holmes essay collection series. She has recently turned this passion into an origin story series on Sherlock Holmes. The Adventure of the Murdered Midwife, the first book in The Early Case Files of Sherlock Holmes series, was the CIBA Mystery and Mayhem 2020 winner.

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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.

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Grady Whill and the Templeton Codex by Carole P. Roman – Spotlight and Giveaway

December 6, 2022 By 6 Comments

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

Templeton Academy- the superhero high school is finally open!

The prestigious academy is recruiting the best of the best to enroll in its student body.

The school is as mysterious as it is exclusive.

Grady Whill thinks there is nothing special about him to make the grade.

However, his best friend, Aarush Patel has been selected and thinks Grady has the right stuff.

Even school bully Elwood Bledsoe is attending.

If Grady is fortunate enough to be picked, his guardian has forbidden him to attend.

Will a family secret prevent Grady from becoming the superhero he was destined to be?

Enjoy an Excerpt

There Whill Be Blood

A barely cooled lump of lava hardened under my feet. One of my sneakers was stuck between two small rocks in the solidifying mess. I stared at my foot in disbelief. Instinct told me I should be a human torch, my legs nothing more than toasted stumps. I glanced up, my heart beating wildly. We were trapped on the side of the mountain facing our school, separated by a burning sea of molten rocks.

The world around me steamed, the lava staining the sky burnt orange. Trees swallowed by molten rock looked like skeletal hands emerging from a grave that glowed beneath the blackened crust. I saw heat waves shimmering from the earth but felt none of its intensity. I pulled fiercely, feeling my ankle twist. Aarush steadied me as I nearly toppled over. He was shirtless, his back slick with sweat and covered with scrapes. His fingers worked feverishly to free my foot.

Overhead two helicopter-sized pterodactyls circled the craggy summit. The wind from their leathery wings buffeted the two of us. I think the air they circulated stopped the patches of lava from cooking us alive, but what do I know?

“We better get moving, Grady. Leave your sneaker. We are risking getting burned by staying too long in one spot.” The ever-practical Aarush reasoned as he pulled the velcro releasing my foot. I wobbled, then fell to one knee.

“Do you think they’re real?” I hollered to my friend over the noise, pointing upward.

About the Author:Carole P. Roman is the award-winning author of over fifty children’s books. Whether it’s pirates, princesses, spies, or discovering the world around us, her books have enchanted educators, parents, and her diverse audience of children of all ages.

Her best-selling book, The Big Book of Silly Jokes for Kids: 800+ Jokes! has reached number one on Amazon in March of 2020 and has remained in the top 200 books since then.

She published Mindfulness for Kids with J. Robin Albertson-Wren.

Carole has co-authored two self-help books. Navigating Indieworld: A Beginners Guide to Self-Publishing and Marketing with Julie A. Gerber, and Marketing Indieworld with both Julie A. Gerber and Angela Hausman.

Roman is the CEO of a global transportation company, as well as a practicing medium.

She also writes adult fiction under the name Brit Lunden and has created an anthology of the mythical town of Bulwark, Georgia with a group of indie authors.

Writing is her passion and one of her favorite pastimes. Roman reinvents herself frequently, and her family calls her the ‘mother of reinvention.’ She resides on Long Island, near her children and grandchildren.

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