STORM Vol I and Vol II - the Pretoria Writers' Group Presents

This anthology has taken the world by STORM! As part of the pre-launch period you can now buy the two volumes at 50% of the normal price. The official launch will be 1 June 2014, after which the prices will be raised.

You can find out more about each Volume at the ANTHOLOGIES tab on top of this blog page, or click for Volume I or Volume II on Smashwords.

Reviews from our advance readers can be found on Goodreads (Volume I and Volume II). If you enjoyed our stories, as much as we did writing them, please take the time to leave us your review.

 Thank you for your support.

Author Blog Hop

1) What am I working on?
Having just, as in recent days, published our writers' group's anthology, STORM (Volume I and Volume II), I have to check out the projects that I have scheduled myself to complete this year. I made a list to keep myself accountable. The first one is to do my editing on the third book in my Third Gender Series, and then get it to a professional editor to make it perfect. The story is called Obsession and I hope to have it ready for publication by July this year.
The second project is to finish my third novel, titled Michael's Mystery. I estimate it to be about 70% complete, so there is still a lot of work to be done.

2) How does my work differ from others of its genre?
I write in whatever genre my story needs to be written, so it is hard to pin it down. However, Obsession can be considered sci-fi romance and Michael's Mystery is a fantasy romance novel. So, yeah, I am a romantic at heart and will try to get my happily-ever-afters, in whatever genre happens to be on the cards.
I doubt if there is really a unique plot out there, so I cannot claim to be the next big thing in writing. I tell stories. Stories of people who want to find love, or not. Characters who get into situations where they have to make difficult choices, sometimes big sacrifices, and to my mind we as people often have to do the same. Maybe not using magic fireballs, or dragon swords, but the choices may be just as difficult.

3) Why do I write what I do?
I write what I read. I love paranormal/fantasy romance and I also read a lot of erotic romance books. As you can probably guess by now, I am a sucker for romance!
While I also read historical romances, love murder mysteries and have been known to read extreme sci-fi, I do not write in these genres. Why not, you may ask? I have no idea. I just don't I suppose :)

4) How does my writing process work?
This is the simple answer - I apply butt to chair and I write. Planning in any detail doesn't work for me, ie I am a pantser. That doesn't mean that I don't do any research, on the contrary. I have tried it both ways - planning and pantsing - and decided to stick to the way I am doing it now. As a project manager in the military industry by day, I write in the evenings. And I try to do it for two hours uninterrupted every day. I try to do more on weekends, but it is not always possible - I do have a life after all :)

Thank you, Nomanono for tagging me in this blog hop :)

Author Blog Hop: Nomanono Isaacs

Nomanono Isaacs is a South African born published author of Escaping Apartheid: A Letter to My Mother.  She is a grandmother to two lovely Beings. A seven year old granddaughter, and a two year old grandson. She is mother to two wonderful daughters: an actress and a singer songwriter. 

She is currently putting together a plan for working with six children in schools on what she calls ‘A Love Project.’

She has been writing poetry for many years and would be putting these together for publication in due course. She currently has one poem on YouTube called ‘Never Succumb’ and plans on having more poems there! She is also currently working on her first novel!

She loves travelling, especially cruising, and intends on travelling to many more places!

When she left South Africa she lived in Swaziland, Botswana and Uganda before settling in England, in the UK, where she currently lives. 

You can learn more about Nomanono at:

Website: http://nomanono.com/

FB Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/nomanonoisaacsauthor

Book reviews on: http://tinyurl.com/ppm92kr  and http://t.co/SGqVSGt8CY 

Requesting Hosts for Blog Tour of STORM anthology

The Pretoria Writers' Group is requesting hosts for a blog tour of the STORM anthology.
It is an anthology to be published in two volumes (I for fantasy/scifi/dystopia and II for contemporary stories) intended for an adult audience (no erotica).

The tour will be from 11 to 24 May 2014.

If you are interested please email your preference for hosting to blog.tour.info@gmail.com

Notes:
1. This is NOT my personal email and only messages with STORM HOST in the subject line will be attended to.
2. Please indicate which Volume of STORM you would like to host (or both)
3. Please indicate if you would like to review (either or both) of the Volumes (a limited number of ARCs in PDF will be provided before the tour commences)
4. Please indicate if you would like to interview any of the authors on your blog (please provide the name(s) of the author and your questions in the email)
5. The authors are: Linzé Brandon, Vanessa von Mollendorf, Natalie Myburgh, Carmen Botman, Charmain Lines and Richard Wheeler.
6. The covers, buy links to both volumes, short excerpts of the stories in the relevant anthology (I = 6, II = 4) and the Smashwords author profile links for all the authors will be provided by 7 May 2014.

If you have any questions please include them in the email - thank you.

Mayhem in March: Agency Rules by Khalid Muhammad

Find it on  Amazon  Smashwords  Kobo  Barnes and Noble 

Synopsis
Celebrated as a ragtag force that defeated and broke the Soviet Union, no one predicted the

Mujahideen would bring with them a plague that would spread like wildfire through Pakistan in the years to follow. When the battle-worn fighters returned with no enemy or war to fight, they turned their sights on the country that had been their creator and benefactor.
From the same battlegrounds that birthed the Mujahideen, a young Kamal Khan emerges as a different breed of warrior. Discarding his wealthy family comforts, Kamal becomes a precision sniper, an invincible commando and a clandestine operative bringing intimidation, dominance and death with him to the battlefield. Ending the plague is his prime directive.
Shrouded in political expediency, hampered by internal power struggles, international espionage and doublespeak that makes Washington’s spin doctors proud, Kamal’s mission is a nightmare of rampant militant fundamentalism that threatens to choke and take Pakistan hostage. For him, the fight is not just for freedom, but the survival of a nation.

Excerpt
Nine months ago, the Muslim League government had won a surprising mandate across Pakistan on a manifesto that was full of promises that would be difficult, if not impossible, to deliver. One of their core promises was returning Karachi, Pakistan’s largest metropolis and economic hub, back to a peaceful existence.
Since his party’s election victory, Prime Minister Azam Shah had struggled with difficult questions on the actual implementation of his manifesto that had gotten them elected, but had never seemed to provide any clear or direct answers. One thing he had clearly demonstrated was his intense love for the cameras and media spotlight during his political events. As the opposition leader in the previous government, he had taken great pleasure in highlighting the failings and bad decisions of the sitting government. Today, however, was a different story as his government was now in power and he was regularly in the hot seat. During a tour of a children’s hospital in his native Multan, the Prime Minister was again posturing for the media. As the visit drew to a close, the newly minted Prime Minister sauntered to the podium as if he had won an award, unserious and jovial, until a staunch critic of the government posed a difficult question.
“Prime Minister, you have occupied the most powerful seat in the country for almost nine months now. Do you not see it as a failure that your government has not drafted any policy to address the violence in Karachi?”
It was not the first time it has been asked, but it was the first time the word ‘failure’ had been introduced into the public debate. As he looked around the gaggle of journalists, each thrusting forward to capture his next words on their recorders, he knew this would be the lead headline for the rest of the day, opening the door for opposition and coalition parties to criticize his inaction.
He measured his response, almost rehearsing the words in his mind before speaking. “I think it’s too early to use words like failure. When we were not the ruling party, our information was limited to what the previous government wanted us to know. Now, we have more intelligence about the situation, and I am briefed daily.”
Journalists started firing follow-up questions at him before he could complete his response. He held up his hands to try to bring the situation back under control.
“Just a minute, may I finish my response before you start your follow-ups?” he asked, trying to assert his position, but even he knew he had less than thirty seconds to finish and get away before he was cornered by the wolves stalking their prey.
“The government has had several meetings with all the stakeholders, both collectively and individually, over the past few months to ascertain the best course of action,” he continued hesitantly, knowing he had been repeating this for months now. He knew he wouldn’t win any favors by repeating himself. Just then, he felt a hand on his side and saw a note placed before him on the podium. Quickly scanning the note, he flashed a semi-smile. “Next week, we will bring everyone together to decide the final course of action.”

About the Author

When people talk about Khalid Muhammad, they talk about an entrepreneur who has helped others build their dreams and businesses. They talk about a teacher, who is dedicated to his students, both inside and outside the classroom, and they return the dedication tenfold.
Now, they talk about the author, who has written a fast-paced, action-packed spy thriller
about Pakistan, the politics, the Army and terrorism.
Born in Pakistan's troubled Swat Valley, educated and raised in the United States, Khalid returned to Pakistan almost 17 years ago and fell in love with his country. His debut novel, Agency Rules - Never an Easy Day at the Office, is a journey behind the headlines about Pakistan, the world's most dangerous place, to deliver an intense story that will challenge the reader to question what they have been told. 



 
Connect with Khalid online 
Website - http://agencyrules.com
Facebook http://facebook.com/AgencyRulesPK
Twitter http://twitter.com/AgencyRulesPK

A note from Linzé:  Come back tomorrow for a guest post from Khalid on the story behind Agency Rules.

Mayhem in March: Twisted by Vanessa Wright

Find it on Smashwords

Synopsis

A collection of 22 short stories from the bizarre to the truly chilling as the author takes you along for a roller coaster ride, welcoming you to the darker side of humanity. She delves into the shadowy world of obsessions, addictions, death and the loss of innocence and imagination. She takes an

honest, in depth look at things that happen all around us, yet we tend to ignore.

Here we are forced to look at the pain of what it means to be human in all its various facets and to truly explore the face that looks back at us in the mirror. No one is truly good or truly evil; nothing is exclusively beautiful or ugly, we are a sublime mix of the two, walking the tightrope median between the two opposites. The author expects the reader to think about what he has just read and to question the so called normalcy of everyday life. She peels back the layers to reveal the hidden skeletons in the closet. Fear, doubt, depression, loneliness, bulimia are only some of the elements which are open for discussion.

As a society we have shied away from the darker aspects that are certainly part and parcel of who we are. Surely the path to true wisdom and resolution of these issues is in the enlightenment thereof, the dusting off of the cobwebs in the cupboard.

Excerpt:

2. Bright Lines

The pain was so excruciating that the primitive, instinctual mind swept in and strangled her hold on the cold, metal object in her hand; survival being paramount. She endured a few agonizing seconds before euphoria washed her away and out to a sea of peace.

She could feel her mind escaping the confines of her body; the binding chains were thrown off, liberating her imprisoned soul. With a sigh of relief she became a light, downy feather abreast the rising air currents. She bobbed rhythmically to the deep internal breathing of the earth. She held her own breath, afraid of disturbing the feeling of inner peace and warmth that suffused her body. It broke through barriers and walls that were cemented into her soul by time; shattered her strongholds and allayed age old fears of insecurity and worthlessness. In this second, now, she was more than worthy.

Colours appeared brighter as if life had been washed back into them. The bleach had leeched out and leaves on the elm trees outside ran green with the sap of life. The sky seemed to bleed blue into the day. She exhaled slowly, carefully and watched her breath become kaleidoscopic reds, greens, yellows and shiny purples. Tentatively she reached out and touched the brittle clouds of vapour and dissipated them into slithering ribbons of light. Their beautiful reflections made her eyes hurt and her heart contract with sadness and loss.

Her body became weightless, tethered to the earth by a gossamer spider’s thread. Threadbare she had come into this earth and threadbare she would escape its confines. Her thoughts scattered and twisted, undulating lazily around the idea of living and surviving. Perhaps and perhaps not she thought, giggling giddily. Control was hers to keep or to release. How easy it would be to allow her life to slip silently away. Allow it to be carried away on sea breezes and on the white feathers of barn owls.

Her outer shell could then become one with the earth, decomposed and nutrient rich. Her bits and pieces gnawed at, secreted away by chipmunks and field mice; becoming part of a shelter here and the lining of a cosy nest there. Scattered and mindlessly free she would roam the earth, and her life’s circle would close, ending where it had begun…..dust to dust. At this thought a lazy self-indulgent smile curled at the corners of her wide mouth.

Author Bio

46 year old visual artist and home body, suddenly decides to pick up her writing again and just

couldn’t stop. I have been published in two anthologies: My kort vir jou sop  as well as Write for light 

Currently in the process of putting the finishing chapters to a crime thriller called Artifacts.

Find me on Twitter: @Artysoul1966

My blog where you can enjoy various short stories: http://iread1966.wordpress.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/VanessaWright.Auth

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/artysoul1966/boards/

Story board for Artifacts: http://pinterest.com/artysoul1966/artifacts-crime-novel-coming-soon/

February Fantasy Fan Month - One more Time!

Sometimes we miss the good stuff because real life interrupted. In case you did miss out on the blog tour, the books are still here and the links to find them still live. Here they are again, specially for you, a selection of fine fantasy writing!

Just click the title and there you go!

Cassidy Jones and the Secret Formula by Elise Stokes

Canvas Skies by SL Wallace

Velvet Rain by David C Cassidy

Tolomay's World and the Pool of Light by ME Lorde

Tempest by RK Ryals

The Hunt for Xanadu by Elyse Salpeter 

The Rise of the Red Shadow by Joseph Lallo

Shadow Path by BL Blair

Thank you to these wonderful authors for taking a tour on my blog in support of the Fantasy Fan Month. Take a moment and find out more about them, you won't be sorry :)

See you in March for Murder, Mystery and Mayhem!

Fantastic February Blog Tour - Shadow Path

Amazon

Magic and crime. Agatha Christie meets J.R.R. Tolkien in “Shadow Path,” the first book in the new Portals series by author P.L. Blair.

An Ogre murdered with a rune-inscribed sword is just the beginning as Kat Morales, a very human detective on the Corpus Christi, Texas, police force, and her Elf partner Tevis McLeod follow a blood trail that leads to Pixies, necromancy and Magic of the Blackest kind ... to its climax in a stronghold Between worlds, where Tevis must duel spell for spell with a former lover who wants to see her old flame extinguished permanently.

Fantastic February Blog Tour - The Rise of the Red Shadow

Amazon

Excerpt 

In his shack, Ben woke to the sound of rain. He was pleased to discover that, though they may have 

cared little about the wind, the owners of the plantation knew enough to keep the rain off of their tools. The roof was perhaps the only fully intact part of the entire structure. At least he would be dry. For the most part, anyway. Here and there a gust of wind forced itself through the drafty walls and brought a spritz of water with it. Rather than wake up with a damp blanket, and no doubt catch his death of cold, the old man reluctantly climbed from his cot to shuffle it a bit farther from the wall.

“First thing in the morning, I see where the wind is getting in, and see what I can do to fix it,” he muttered to himself.

Once he was satisfied that he was out of reach of even the most motivated leaks, he rolled himself onto the canvas of the cot and lay his head upon the bundle of cloth that served as a pillow. The instant sleep began to claim him though, a scratch at his door shook him from his doze. For a moment, he dismissed the noise, assuming it was a bit of bramble or an errant tree branch broken free by the wind. When it turned to an insistent hammering on the door, Ben groggily hoisted himself to his feet again.

“What is it? Whoever it is, haven’t you got the sense to stay out of the rain?” he grumbled, removing the brace from the door and easing it open a crack.

Even the whisper of an opening brought a veritable stream of water spattering to the ground by the door. It also brought a sudden pressure as something heaved itself desperately at the opening and scrabbled to get through.

“What in blazes?”

“In! In!” the malthrope squealed, trying his very best to wedge his head through the tiny opening.

“No, no, no! Out you go!” Ben growled, nudging the thing’s nose with his foot as he forced the door shut.

“In you go! In you go!” the creature whined from the other side of the door, ramming against the solid planks with all of the force his spindly frame could muster.

The creature may not have been very large, but he was determined. The rattling had dislodged the brace from where Ben had left it, and as the blind man leaned low to reach for it, one last clash shook the door just enough to rob him of his balance. The old man tumbled down, the door flew open, and the malthrope exploded into the shed. By the time Ben managed to get the door shut and braced again, he was soaked and muttering a fresh batch of profanities from his seemingly bottomless supply of them.

“Where are you, you little devil!?” he hissed.

Author Bio

A native of Bayonne, NJ - the fabled birthplace of George R. R. Martin - Joseph Lallo is an unlikely entry into the world of literature. After a childhood spent daydreaming and reading, he fully intended to pursue a career in the tech sector. He received a Master's Degree in Computer Engineering from NJIT, and subsequently got a job working IT for a large healthcare corporation. Things changed when, in January 2010, his friends finally convinced him to publish the story that had accumulated over the course of a decade of spare time. That story, now known as the Book of Deacon Trilogy, was a surprise hit, and once he got a taste of the world of indie writing, he was hooked. Now he splits his time between crunching numbers at his day job, writing novels at night, and writing articles and reviews for BrainLazy.com, a group blog he helps run. His latest novels are Bypass Gemini and Unstable Prototypes, the first two books of a science fiction series.

Fantastic February Blog Tour - The Hunt for Xanadu

Amazon

Twenty-two year old Kelsey Porter has dedicated her life to avenging the death of her parents,murdered in their quest to find the mystical land of Xanadu.

Before she can locate the murderers,she has to discover their motives for the brutal crime and finds herself at the epicenter of a Buddhistmystery as old as time.

With the help of her companion, Detective Desmond Gisborne, she hunts the killers across the globe and discovers a darkness in her spiritual past that tests the very limits of her soul.

Soon she realizes that it is not she who is doing the hunting, but the one being hunted. Kelsey must find a way to survive, while ancient demons attempt to destroy her.

Fantastic February Blog Tour - Tempest

Amazon

We must overcome and prevail ...

King Raemon of Medeisia is slaughtering tattooed scribes and mages, forcing them into hiding. All marked and those associated with them are destroyed. The people are desperate. Months after challenging Raemon, the marked rebels of Medeisia must rise against their bloodthirsty king or chance being annihilated.

Sixteen year-old Drastona Consta-Mayria is the prophesied  phoenix of peace, desperate to be a leader for her people despite her reservations. Following the lead of a scarred and forgotten prince, Drastona will embark on a journey with an unlikely band of rebels and a dragon across a cursed desert to bring down a king and save a kingdom.

Fantastic February Blog Tour - Tolomay's World and The Pool of Light

NEW ADULT/FANTASY/ROMANCE FANTASY 17+

Amazon links:

Tolomay's World and the Pool of Light 

Tolomay's world and the Mountain of Tegi 

Tolomay's world and the Splitting of the Trunk

Excerpt

“Peace of life,” said the chideman as he poured the blue water from the glass urn into the pool. It was surreal.

“Peace of life.” My response was automatic.

My heart pounded. For thirteen years I’d trained for this. Still I was not ready. The machine’s copper pipes gave off a warm smell that drifted to my nostrils as if precious biscuits were baking in the eating room. The calming scent only made it worse. I was leaving.

On display before every citizen in the community, my bare feet stepped the few inches further to the edge of the pool. Fear haunted my mind. Shivering from head to toe caused my short golden dress to tickle at the tops of my thighs. I brushed away the itch. Goose bumps peppered my arms and legs. I was freezing. For a moment, the massive musics and sounds on the stage overwhelmed me. I was small in comparison to everything here, all present and to this wondrous event.

Through dazed thoughts, my focus returned and I remembered to count to three before placing my foot in the shallow liquid.

With eyes watering, my every heartbeat echoed in my ears. Never again would my father’s eyes look upon me.

Never again would I feel his warm embrace. I would so miss his gentle, loving voice. How would I bear it? I fought my great desire to turn and dart to him, or steal a look as he sat in his chair upon the stage. Instead, I kept my step.

There would not be another last goodbye. We already said it, and he wanted just the one. It would be my greatest honor to him to leave with the dignity, respect, and position he bestowed upon me, to act older than my meager thirteen years. I had to be brave and pave the way for the others, as he had instructed.

The tears nearly choked me as I quietly sniffed them back. I could scarcely see, but chose not to rub the wet away. Everyone would notice. More would only follow and my eyes would be closed soon enough. The time had arrived. This was no longer wholly my choice. I was being led by my duty and so had to control my emotions for these last few seconds.

The immaculate stage held static, causing the miniscule hairs on my head to stand on end. They reached toward the beautiful colored glass of the cathedral roof in the pod community’s grandest room, as if they too wanted to stay. The urge to run, to escape, consumed me, yet I betrayed my heart, followed my learned directions, and kept my course.

No matter the logic and knowledge in my head, nothing had prepared me for this feeling of claws tearing me apart from the inside out. I fought off the nausea.I could not be ill, not in front of the community while representing my father.

The crystal and copper Pool of Light lay before the five of us, with solar panels running from floor to ceiling as the toner’s chorus continued to sing behind us. The brilliant round majesty beneath my feet, only six inches deep, held the key to our futures and to what would become the whole of humanity.We were taking these steps for everyone. Once we left, we could never return home.

Tarron had ordered that we space ourselves just two paces separated, one behind the next. The four older candidates followed behind me, the taste of anticipation mingling with the hum of energy that filled the great room. My mind whirled.

‘Keep walking forward… do not turn around,’ father’s words echoed in my head.

I was horrified. Chills took residence up and down my spine, causing me to shake further. How would my days unfold without him by my side? How could I leave him alone? My heart was dying.

Author Bio

Author M.E. Lorde grew up in the rural community of Victor, NY, surrounded by farms, orchards, vineyards in neighboring towns, and beautiful scenic views of lakes, mountains and canyons. Her great grandmother was Iroquois Indian, whose family was deeply rooted in the Great Seneca Nation, upstate New York. The author’s great-great grandfather, whose family was from Great Britain, was a major contributor toward the ‘Statue of Liberty’s’ pedestal in New York City. A man and a woman from two different worlds met, fell in love and married and a family was torn apart. But alas, life goes on. M.E.’s great grandmother and great grandfather married. An interesting tidbit- at one point they became great friends with and then great friends and confidants with author Zane Grey, who from the early to mid 1900’s wrote dozens of books, many Historical and Western. Rumor has it that you will find the author’s great grandmother in at least one.

An avid reader since childhood (as well as an artist), M.E. has been writing since she could hold a pencil. She wrote and bound her own book by hand at the age of ten. Though books have always been a passion, Lorde put writing on hold to raise four children while working in other fields which include a career in law enforcement as well as a director position at a technical college. With much encouragement from friends and family, she finally decided to follow her real passion and pursue writing full-time. With her newest release of the Tolomay’s World series, she has found her audience, hitting Amazon’s best sellers list in adventure/romance and adventure/fantasy in December of 2013 as #1 Action & Adventure/Romanceand #3 Action & Adventure/Fantasy(Tolomay’s World and The Pool of Light- the first novel in the seven Novel series).

Her time is currently divided between quality time with her daughter, writing, and activities with Indie authors, artists and a civic theatre. She loves to travel and has seen thirty nine states up close and personal, and lived in four. While M.E. enjoys the excitement and bustle of city life, she remains a country girl at heart.

twitter @MichaelLorde
facebook at https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMichaelLorde.
Tolomay's World Website: http://paperairplanespublis.wix.com/tolomaysworld
Author website: http://paperairplanespublis.wix.com/authormelorde
Blog: http://michaelordeauthor.blogspot.com/
Author central: https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/profile
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/6929833-michael-lorde
Publishers website: www.paperairplanespublishing.com

Fantastic February Blog Tour - Velvet Rain

Remember to enter the give-away! Click here

HE WAS BORN A MIRACLE. IT WILL TAKE ONE TO SAVE THE WORLD.

Velvet Rain is a dark thriller of suspense, horror, and drama.
[Contains graphic violence and profanity.]

Amazon

Kain Richards is the last of his kind--and a man on the run. So when this mysterious drifter falls for a

beautiful and sensible Iowa farmwoman, he knows full well the perils of getting too close. And yet, for the first time in his miserable existence, life feels normal ... feels real. But as those around him soon realize, reality is not what it seems. For when a tragic accident forces Kain's hand, his astonishing secret--and godlike power--changes their lives, and the world, forever.

Excerpt

Now the cheating prick had drawn a knife.

Probably shouldn’t have kicked him in the balls, the drifter thought. Especially since his large friend here had him tied up in the stranglehold of a full nelson. It hurt like hell, but it was nothing compared to that spike of static driving right through that splitting headache he had. It felt as if it were cutting into his brain like some impossible electric blade.

“Hold him, Cal.”

It wasn’t the fat man. One of Cal’s buddies had piped up. All of a sudden, the place was just crawling with rats.

The fat man met him squarely, still wincing from the throb in his jewels. The heady mix of bar smoke and brew had him swaying a little, and just when you thought he might rethink this madness, he returned the favor with one solid shot from his steel-toed boot. Pain rippled through the drifter’s groin and into his skull. Still, he’d endured far worse than these boys could dish out, and he wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction. He swallowed the agony. His lips slid into a cockeyed grin.

Outside the packed roadhouse—this stinking pisshole that stank like all the others—the thunderstorm raged. Somewhere down that cold and lonely road that had brought them here, lightning struck a power line, and the lights flickered.

“No more tricks,” the trucker told him, uncertain as the lamps. Clearly he was rethinking this; trying to get a grip on just what the hell had happened here tonight. Trying not to lose that grip.

An attractive redhead, sculpted nicely in a white top and a flirty black skirt, sat in a booth beside the coin-op pool table. All by her lonesome, the forty-something was ashen, her head down, a hand cupped to her abdomen. She’d been drinking heavily, and while it was possible her bouts of nausea were a result of overindulgence, the drifter knew better; how well he did. She’d fought the good fight twice in the last thirty minutes, first throwing up in the ladies’ room, only to go down in the second round, right here at the edge of her seat. A waitress was on her knees cleaning the mess. The fat man had slipped in it, his cue almost, but not quite, breaking his fall, and when he had hit the floor in that little spiral the way he had, looking like some overweight stripper round a pole, half the place had exploded in drunken laughter. His big butt was slick with vomit. He was ripe.

Sweat beaded the man’s forehead. One tiny bead broke rank and slipped along his sunburned skin. Skin that had, until tonight, been utterly pasty. His puzzled eyes—yellowed and bloodshot, like so many of the others now—lingered on the strange thin scars on the drifter’s temples. You could almost hear the wheels of confusion spinning in his head.

“Cut him,” someone said. It wasn’t Cal, but what did it matter.

The fat man hesitated. He didn’t want to do it, that much was clear. Some guys had it in them. This one didn’t. Returning serve on that swift kick to the nuts was one thing. Any one of these fine gents would have reacted that way. But this? This was lunacy. If Cal hadn’t egged him to pull it, the knife would still be tucked away in his back pocket. No, the poor bastard wasn’t thinking about cutting him. He was all messed up, wondering how things had gotten so crazy, so quickly. Wondering what was real anymore. What was real.

“Do it,” Cal said.

Despite the nelson driving his head down at an insufferable angle, the drifter could see Cal’s bulging forearms plainly enough. Sunburned. Like the fat man’s face; like the fat man’s hands. Like most of the others. He supposed he should have been thankful for dim lights and drink. Either no one noticed, or no one cared.

Still, he should have known better. The bitch of it was, he did.

The fat man looked to Cal and considered his play. Cal, a man of few grunts, drove him to the edge with another Do it. It would take but a nudge to push him over.

The man drew closer. Close enough to suffer the fist of his stale beer-breath. He was breathing laboriously. Trembling. He looked like he might have a heart attack.

Slowly, most unwillingly, he brought the tip of the blade to the drifter’s chin.

The fat man swallowed. “. . . I want what’s mine, sir.”

Author Bio

David C. Cassidy--author, photographer, half-decent juggler--spends his writing life creating dark and touching stories where Bad Things Happen To Good People. Raised by wolves, he grew up with a love of nature, music, science, and history, with thrillers and horror novels feeding the dark side of his seriously disturbed imagination. He talks to his characters, talks often, and most times they listen. But the real fun starts when they tell him to take a hike, and they Open That Door anyway. Idiots.

David lives in Ontario, Canada. From Mozart to Vivaldi, classic jazz to classic rock, he feels naked without his iPod. Suffering from MAD--Multiple Activity Disorder--he divides his time between writing and blogging, photography and photoshop, reading and rollerblading. An avid amateur astronomer, he loves the night sky, chasing the stars with his telescope. Sometimes he eats.

To learn more and connect with David, you can follow him on Twitter and Facebook, or visit his blog:

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Fantastic February Blog Tour - Canvas Skies

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Greed. Power. Class division. Resistance.

The Terenian government has worked hard to divide the haves from the have-nots. Guy Bensen, Elite

bachelor of the year, wants a better life for everyone. Thief/hired killer, Keira Maddock, hungers for equality.
Together, they might be able to change society.
Meanwhile, due to tragic events caused by the Divide, Keira's younger sister, April, has left her baby in the realm across the sea. Now she returns to Terene. With the arrival of two very different men, her life becomes complicated. In order to be safe, April must hide her identity. In order to live, she must open her heart.
In book two of the Reliance on Citizens trilogy, S.L. Wallace delves deeper into political intrigue as we examine the bonds that make us human, blending the genres of action, sci-fi, romance and political

The Hunt for Xanadu recommended for readers 17+

Excerpt
As Eberhardt maneuvered back into traffic, Keira's stomach grumbled loudly.
“Thunderstorm's approaching,” Eberhardt said. He caught my eye in the rear view mirror. I'd returned to the backseat when we dropped off Brody.
I smiled and draped my arm around Keira's shoulders. “Anyone still care for dessert?”
The Coffee Shoppe no longer looked overly crowded, but I was relieved when Keira said, “Can't we take it home?” Eberhardt graciously offered to run in. Keira sighed and leaned against me. I shifted so she could rest her head on my shoulder. It brought back a memory of the night we'd first met; she'd leaned against me in just this way.
“What's on your mind?” I asked.
“Just wondering.”
“About what?”
“Are they after me or us?”
“We're back to that?”
“The last time we thought they were trying to bring down the Resistance, we were wrong. What if we're wrong again?”
I sighed. “Well, we know someone is after you, and we know many oppose the Resistance. We would have to be naive to assume otherwise.”
“Paranoia, what a way to live!” she said as Eberhardt climbed back into the car.
The glow from a streetlamp briefly illuminated the scar on his left cheek. Then it was gone, hidden in shadows.
“Paranoia, I can tell you a thing or two about that,” he said.
Since his wife's death a couple of months ago, Eberhardt had thrown himself into his work. Training sessions for various groups of Raiders now took place on a daily basis, and as a result, Eberhardt got two, and sometimes three, workouts a day.
Back at the apartment, I balanced the box of tiramisu with one hand and unlocked the front door with the other. Using my right foot and shoulder, I held the door open for Keira. She hurried inside and entered the security code. Eberhardt had already returned to his own smaller apartment downstairs. I set the tiramisu on the dining table while Keira retrieved dessert plates and forks from the kitchen. I watched as she took her first bite.
Keira closed her eyes. “Mmm, this is delicious!”
I smiled. “Happy anniversary.”
She opened her eyes and smiled too. Then she took another bite.
“You did really well tonight.”
She didn't respond. I took her cue, and we ate in silence, enjoying the creamy decadence. When she'd finished her last bite and had pushed her plate away, Keira was finally ready to talk.

About the Author
S.L. Wallace is a teacher and life long writer who is a descendant of the famous William Wallace. Like him, she believes in freedom and independence. Unlike him, she fights her battles with the pen. In addition to being a writer, Wallace is an upper elementary Montessori teacher. She believes in guiding each student toward his or her full potential and in respecting people for the unique individuals they are.

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Fantastic February Blog Tour - Cassidy Jones and the Secret Formula

Recommended for readers 12+

One Girl. One Accident. One Incredible Superhero.
Cassidy Jones is your typical fourteen-year-old-- that is, until a seemingly harmless accident in the laboratory of a world-renowned geneticist turns her world upside down.
Discovering incredible strength, speed, and enhanced physical senses that defy logic, Cassidy embarks on an action-packed adventure that has her fighting for answers...and for her very life.


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Excerpt
We sat on opposite benches, our knees a foot apart. Emery watched me curiously while I considered how to start. I resorted to small talk.
“Uh, Emery, so where do you live?”
“We rent a condo near Wallingford,” he answered patiently, making no attempt to elaborate.
“Oh.” I touched my forehead. “Were you born in Seattle?”
“No, Washington, D.C.” Placing his forearms on his knees, he leaned forward. “How did you hurt your forehead?”
I dropped my hand. “Funny. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
Intently looking at my face, he waited for me to continue.
I touched my nose. “Before yesterday, I had freckles. They were light, but they were there.”
Narrowing his eyes on my nose, he attempted to decipher.
Taking a deep breath, I continued, “Sorry, that didn’t make any sense. Let me put it this way—I had freckles when I went to your mom’s lab with my dad.”
His expression became so intense, frightening almost, that I hesitated. My feelings about him were conflicted. He made me uneasy. Everything about him was so foreign.
Emery’s voice took on a soothing tone. “I understand that you injured your head in my mom’s lab. Please, tell me how. You can trust me. I want to help you.”
I searched his eyes. It was difficult to penetrate through the blackness, adding to my unease. “I don’t think you can.”
Impulsively, or maybe intentionally, he grabbed my hand, holding it between his. “Please, tell me,” he repeated.

Other books in the Top Rated Superhero series for young adults, Cassidy Jones Adventures:
Cassidy Jones and Vulcan's Gift, Book Two
Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant, Book Three
Cassidy Jones and the Luminous, Book Four (Coming 2014)

Please note that the books in the Cassidy Jones Adventures series are Superhero Fiction and not graphic novels or comic books.
Suited for YA and up

Author Bio
Elise Stokes lives with her husband and four children. She was an elementary school teacher before becoming a full-time mom. With a daughter in middle school and two in high school, Elise's understanding of the challenges facing girls in that age range inspired her to create a series that will motivate girls to value individualism, courage, integrity, and intelligence. The stories in Cassidy Jones Adventures are fun and relatable, and a bit edgy without taking the reader uncomfortably out of bounds. Cassidy Jones and the Secret Formula, Cassidy Jones and Vulcan's Gift, and Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant are the first three books in the series. Book Four, Cassidy Jones and the Luminous, will be released in 2014.

Contact the Author:
Facebook: http://on.fb.me/LGpLhM
Facebook: http://on.fb.me/LyQ71E
Twitter @CassidyJonesAdv
Website: http://cassidyjonesadventures.com/

Spotlight: Secrets of the Moon by Kristy Centeno

Publisher: Inkspell Publishing
Date of Publication: July 1, 2013

Teenager Marjorie Emery eluded death. As she struggles to get her life back on track, she believes her efforts are paying off. Yet, when a black dressing, unfriendly, and incredibly handsome hottie walks into her classroom, she’s forced into a tailspin. Marjorie has no idea how much his presence is going to shatter what little tranquility she’s achieved.
Kyran Rousseau’s gloomy nature has a name, one that is potentially fatal under the right circumstances. His family harbors secrets and does everything to protect Kyran. While, he doesn’t want to ruin Marjorie’s normal life, love has a way of changing his plans.
Falling for Kyran is the least of Marjorie’s worries. With a faceless threat hunting her and a boyfriend who's as dangerous as he is good looking—how can Marjorie and Kyran keep all hell from breaking loose before it’s too late?

Goodreads

Purchase links: Amazon | B&N

EXCERPT

Minutes later we arrived, and just in time for our eight a.m. classes. Claire, Tracy, and I dispersed to our respective classrooms upon entering the building, agreeing to meet later on for lunch.
Usually, I’d sit in one of the chairs at the first row of tables, since I barely made it in time for class; but today the only available seats were at the back—where no one likes to sit because it’s too far away from the writing board. No one paid attention to me as I scooted by to the back of the classroom and grabbed one of the empty seats at the last row of tables. The seat to the left of me was empty and everyone else had chosen their seats, so I was a little relieved that I wouldn’t be sharing the table with anyone. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, so sitting alone came as a bonus.
When a few moments had gone by and no one else showed up, the teacher began his lecture for the day. With book, notebook, and pen in hand, I began to take notes of what the teacher was either saying or writing on the board, when the door opened and someone stepped inside. I was too busy going over what I wrote so I didn’t bother to look up to see who’d entered the classroom. I automatically assumed it was probably a student running late. However, the sound of loud gasps rushing through the otherwise silent room caused me to look up to see what the commotion was all about.
That was the first time I saw him. My gaze automatically drifted toward the silver-colored orbs he had for eyes. Never in my life had I seen eyes like those. It wasn’t just the color of them that was strange and incredibly alluring but the way he looked around the room also, as if searching for prey. Where that thought came from I had no idea, but I did agree that the description match him to a T.
The instructor spoke softly to him, but the boy only nodded several times, not even bothering to look at him. I thought that rude until I noticed he was too busy looking at…me.
My cheeks started to burn as he kept staring at me with those dangerously sensual eyes. No one had ever observed me that way before and it made me slightly uneasy. His quiet stare made me feel hot and uncomfortable all at once. After a silent staring contest, I turned my eyes away from him and decided to stare at the notes in front of me instead.
His eyes were intense, too much for me to handle without feeling as if I was going to be burned alive right on the spot. Good grief, no one ever had this mammoth effect on me before.
He was so different from the young men from around here. His demeanor held a hint of arrogance, boldness, and indifference unlike anything I’d perceived. Sure, some guys tended to act that way, but he took it up a notch. I took note of his dress code too: all-black casual wear—black hoodie, black shirt, black pants, black boots. Even his backpack was black. I could have easily accused him of being some kind of rock and roll groupie or maybe even a Goth-loving fan, but he didn’t appear to fit into either category.
However, the dark clothing only made his look more mysterious and it definitely brought out the color of his eyes even more. He was tall, too, very tall. If I had to guess what his height was, I would say six-foot-one or something close to that. His chestnut-colored hair was long, down to his shoulders, and he wore it lose. Something about him clearly screamed bad boy.

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About Kristy Centeno

As a child, she used to lose herself in an imaginary world by the means of a good book. Now that she’s all grown up, Kristy gets to create her own fictional realms and make them come to life in ways that most readers might not expect.

She’s always had a passion for writing but never had the opportunity do so until now. After trying out numerous options, she realized that writing was what she loved the most so when she found herself with some free time on her hands, she decided to pursue her passion. As it turned out, her very active imagination helped her achieve her goals of creating believable plots with some ordinary, and some not so ordinary characters that helped the stories move along in one way or another.

As she keeps moving along in achieving her dreams of becoming a published author, she divides her time in between her four children and her very understanding husband.

http://www.kristycenteno.net

http://booksbycenteno.com

http://www.facebook.com/KristyCenteno

http://www.twitter.com/KrissyGirl122

http://www.goodreads.com/KristyCenteno

http://therightbook4u.blogspot.com

http://www.amazon.com/author/kristycenteno