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

Guest Post: The Battle for Time by Natalie Rivener

As a stay-at-home mom (of a toddler), it’s really a serious challenge to find the time to write. If my (adorable) little girl isn’t awake and demanding time/food/love/a change of diaper, I need to do the laundry, make dinner, pack away toys and projects, feed the cat, feed myself, prepare my dance classes for the week (I teach), get in some exercise…or at least a little yoga, spend a few minutes with my husband (usually, we just lie semi-comatose in front of the TV) and then catch a few winks before the next day comes around.

You’re probably thinking that it can’t be that bad. You do a lot of these things after a full day at work. But, let me tell you this, trying to do everything on that list in the few moments that your little bundle of love actually takes that one golden nap in the afternoon is no picnic. When your child is awake, you have to stop the little monster from maiming themself, you have to get food into them, get them clean, supervise as they eat some dirt in the garden, keep the cat from mauling them, get in some educational time (learning words and all that), play with them and battle with the little squirt to get them down for a nap.

So, how do I get anything done? It’s all about learning how to use the time you’re already using for something else.

While my little toddling disaster is actually playing on her own, I get out my notepad (no, not a little laptop, I mean old school paper and pen – toddlers just love insisting that typing aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa is much more important than whatever you had in mind). I plot, I plan and I try and think through all the brain-twisting logistics of my stories. If I can concentrate for long enough, I even start full on writing. If you use this time effectively, you’re ready to make some serious progress during nap time.

During the golden (aka silent) hour that toddlekins is napping, I have to decide whether I’m doing what I’m supposed to in order to keep the house functional or whether I’m sneaking off to my computer to type as fast as my fingers can go. Right now, I’m not preparing dinner…or watering my garden or taking out that nappy that’s brewing up a smell storm by the front door or tidying up the living room.

At the end of the day, when I put my little girl down for the night, it’s prioritizing, round two. Do I get in some decent sleep for once? Or do I “quickly” update my various social platform statuses/tweets/posts and try and get my word count over 500 for the day? “Quickly” tends to take around two hours. But you’ve got to keep your fans interested, right?

About the author

Natalie Rivener is a member of the Pretoris Writers' Group. She is taking part in the STORM anthology project. Her fantasy story, BEYOND, will be published as part of STORM Vol I in June 2014.

Twitter @NatalieRivener
Natalie's Facebook Page

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:

Blog   Facebook   Twitter

Fantastic February Blog Tour - Canvas Skies

Remember to enter the give-away! Click here

Find it on Amazon

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.

M is for Murder, Mystery and Mayhem - Coming in March!

Tweet me or tell me on Facebook -

reserve your spot and share your thoughts, reviews and authors of your favourite genre

coming this March on the Broomstick.

♥

Fantasy Books Blog Tour: Enter to Win even more!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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.


Find it on Amazon 

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/

Competition Last 7 days!

There is a STORM coming, and nothing will be the same

Both volumes will also be available as ebooks.

Not a South African resident?

Don't despair, launch week will have loads of ebook

special deals!

♥

Tips, Tricks and Tales: What an Indie Writer Should Know

It is all good and well for me to have Time Management as a theme for my blog this year, but what do I actually want to accomplish? It took me a few moments, a writers’ group meeting and an email from Jeff Goins to realise that while I really do need to manage my time better, there was something else I needed first: goals.

Sure I can write 500 words everyday, in fact I can and often do write well over a thousand words everyday. But what do I want to do with all those words?

Not the fluffy kind that says - finish my next novel, or write five short stories. I work full time and have a hectic year ahead to get my vehicle through a complicated set of tests and firing trials. But those goals are work related.

How do I set personal goals that I can plan towards achieving them, even with a full time job and all its stress?

You might think that as a published author the answer would be more books, but to be honest it is not that simple for me. Yes, I do want to publish more short stories and my next novel this year, but that is not all that I want to do.

I have been threatening to develop an Indie Writer’s Course for the past year or so, and have made a good start on the “manual”. Then I asked myself: but what if my idea of the contents of the course is not what people actually want or need to know?

Should I continue to develop this course only to find out at the end I have wasted my time on insignificant things, or worse not teaching people things that they do need to know?

Should I include writing advice? Plotting and characterization? The answer there is a definite No. You don’t have to be an experienced writer, with loads of books to your name, to know that there are lots of books and courses on fiction and non-fiction writing available.

You have only to type in the words ‘writing tools’, or ‘plotting a book’ and thousands of hits appear on the Google page.

So if I have nothing to add to those good books, what does an indie writer need to know?

What frustrated you? What could have helped you when you started out and yet had to learn the hard way because no one told you about it.

Please leave a comment and help me develop a course that could be of real help to new, and maybe even published, indie authors to help make their lives easier.

February is Fantasy Fan Month

Tweet me (#FEBFANMONTH) or tell me on Facebook -

reserve your spot and share your thoughts, reviews and authors of your favourite genre

this February on the Broomstick.

♥

Tips, Tricks and Tales: Where to Find Advice

The easy answer toward the question of finding the answer is the internet. Yes, we all know that, but it is not an easy answer either. We are pressed for time, and as a writer I am constantly trying to improve my craft.

While I am a good beta reader, I am a terrible editor, and I know that. However,  the more I write I also learn to become better at spotting my mistakes. This kind of learning does not happen by itself and there are several resources available to help me, to become a better writer.
The vastness of the internet is overwhelming to many and while you might be adept at searching for just that fact, why not use what has already been identified as good resources?
I was browsing around on the website where I buy digital magazines and found the 2014 edition of the Writer's Yearbook from Writer's Digest. It was even available at a good price! ☺
Inside the magazine there is also a long list of websites and blogs that have been voted by writers as the best for the kind of information that we need.
Again the list may be a bit overwhelming, but pick three and check them out. Read the advice offered by the host and use that become a better writer/blogger.
Of course you can subscribe to them all, but again where to find the time! I made a copy of the list on my computer. While the host might appreciate it more if I subscribed, I simply don't have the time to read all that email. But keeping the list close, I have an invaluable resource at hand that I can use and share with my fellow writers.

How do you manage your online resources?

New Year's Resolutions and all that

I am not one for new year's resolutions, but for this year I have decided to make an exception to that. While it is not so much something new, or revolutionary in my life, I am resolved to take better care with my time.

Sunday	Monday	Tuesday	Wednesday	Thursday	Friday	Saturday
personal	work	work	work	work	work	write
FB/Twitter	FB/Twitter	FB/Twitter	FB/Twitter	FB/Twitter	FB/Twitter	FB/Twitter
write	write	Blog	write	write	personal	personal

As you can see, I do have a day job and it takes a lot of energy from me, but the time I do have control over, I feel needs to better taken care of.

I went so far as to make a list of the stories that I need to finish/write for 2014 for various projects and they will drive my daily activities list. For now I have to finish the editing on the 3rd book on the Third Gender series, and then I have to finish the second story for the Storm anthology of my writers' group.

Now there rests my problem: I am not writing as I should and the deadline is very close. So I joined the 31 day challenge of writing 500 words each day. It is an easy deadline to make and with the Facebook group support, it should be a snap. After all, I have completed three NaNoWriMo challenges, with a daily word count of three times that!

So if you feel the need to write, or finish your next book, why don't you take the 500 word challenge too and join today.

What are your challenges for 2014?

Competition Extended!

A little Christmas Naughtiness!

EXCERPT

"What are you doing?"


Sighing Accolade opened one eyelid and glared at the elf. 
"Go away, I am busy."


Sandi planted his hands on his hips. "You have to get ready. By the time the sun sets Santa will be ready to leave."


She filled and drained the glass once again. “Damn, I need a bigger glass.”

Shrugging, she laid her head back on the chair. It was too much trouble to go and get a bigger one. "Not going," she replied.


The elf sputtered,stuttered and coughed at the same time. 

Accolade canted her head. "Amazing," she said. "How do you do that?"


For a moment she thought he was going to burst a vein, but he puffed his cheeks and stomped off.


"Alone at last," she uttered, raising the empty glass to his retreating figure.

Since she couldn't get drunk ever; trying to do so was a futile exercise. She would only end up feeling nauseous and itching all over; the mere thought of it made her skin itch.


Bored out of her skull, she contemplated taking a reindeer ride. Then again, that was what had caused the problem in the first place. Not that the reindeer actually pulled the sleigh through the air, it was all pure magic.


"Note to self: take reindeer rides on Christmas Eve off the to-do list."

Enjoy!  ♥ Linzé

FREE @ Smashwords

A Christ-mas Blessing to all

A Christ-mas Blessing

We maybe different in and out;
        but in Christ we are
Minds and thought not similar;
        in Christ we are
Art and renderings in opposite-
        in Christ we are
Words and voice disharmonious;
        but in Christ we are
  
Hearts on a pilgrimage to beat in a loving rhythm,
        because in Christ we unite
Thoughts of purity and restraint we seek-
        for in Christ we believe
Paintings of love and compassion we attempt-
        as in Christ we see
Songs of praise and worship we practice;
        for in Christ we rejoice

For all that we are and strive to be
may this Christmas be a blessed one for thee.

                          ~ Linzé Brandon 2013

Competition - Win a Coffee Morning with Linzé Brandon and Book-ed

Book Launch: The Traveler by Lisa Williamson

Edana is the finest courier in the Six kingdoms. With her black stallion Midnight, she has built a reputation. But a robbery attempt and cursed blade turn her world upside down.
Now fighting for her life, Edana must rely on unexpected friends and kind-hearted strangers who introduce Magic and Prophecy into her life. Tales of elves, dwarfs and elementals are proving true.
Is Edana really who they say she is? Can she really bring closure to an ages old tragedy? Or will events that took place before her birth doom her and all who love her to utter destruction?

Excerpt

Riding through the storm, Edana sighed as the shelter finally came in sight. She had been riding for hours in the massive storm. The crash of the thunder had become just background noise to her. As her horse stumbled to a halt, she pulled her mind together and with great effort looked around. They had stopped in front of the first travel shelter she had seen in days. It was one of a series of small buildings scattered along the old grand highway or should have been. Most had been left to the elements, falling to ruins that had barely a single wall to set a tent against. With an effort of will she unclasped the hand holding the reins, her fingers were white from the cold. She pushed back her heavy, wet hair with a shaking hand and sighed wearily. "This is a good enough place. Time to rest."

With a groan she leaned to the side and slid off the animal's back. Landing in a heap on the ground, she lay panting. "We traveled too long this time, boy."

The horse put his head down and nudged her, whickering. She reached up and grabbed his halter and the horse pulled his head back, helping her stand. "Thanks, boy," she murmured. Leaning against his warm bulk, she surveyed the shelter. From here it looked solid. That was to be hoped for, as the weather outside was abysmal. She slowly put one foot in front of the other and led her horse toward the front door. The stables were off to the side but she did not think she could make it there and back to the shelter, she was so tired. Pushing open the door she headed inside.

The shelter was black as sin inside but she knew that lamps were kept just inside these shelters and she groped around until she felt the cool metal of a traveler's lamp. Picking it up she shook it gently to see if it had any oil inside. There was a satisfying splash, so she fumbled in her pockets and pulled out her striker. It took three tries but she finally got it lit.

The lamp threw out a pool of golden light across half the room. The travel shelter consisted of one great room with a fire pit in the center. She could see a neat pile of firewood to the left and large wooden chests along the right. A smile crossed her weary face as she opened one and saw it was filled with dried goods. Whoever was in charge of this stretch of the old highway was following the rules perfectly.

She turned as her big companion nickered. "What? Oh, sorry, boy. Let's get that saddle off you right now." She worked the water-soaked leather through the buckle and slid the saddle off. She looked about and then saw the saddle stand off to the side. "They really know how to stock a shelter in these parts." She struggled with the heavy saddle and placed it on the stand. Then she turned back to her mount.

He was a beautiful beast, more than a normal saddle horse. He came out of bloodlines that had been specially crafted for endurance and brains. That he was easy on the eye was a surprise. Most of the foals thrown by his dam were of a muddy brown with intelligent eyes and a sturdy body, but the stud that had mounted her had been one of surpassing beauty. It was thought that since he was not of the same breed that the colt would be a cull. She had convinced the owner of the dam to let her take him off his hands, sight unseen. Now she held the ownership of one of the smartest horses ever bred.

He looked at her for a moment and then nickered. He knew that he had worked hard and that his mistress was tired, but he also knew from experience that the human would take care of his needs before her own. He was more intelligent than even she knew, more than could be expected of a four-footed kindred. The stallion that had mounted the mare that was his dam was not really a horse. He was something out of legend and though he had spent all of his life with this young woman he knew just what he was.

Amazon

Author Bio

A writer since an early age, I have been fascinated by stories where the characters go through changes and develop strength from great trials. I prefer the genre fields of fantasy, science fiction and horror over the general fiction. By placing my characters in fantastical settings I can let them grow and develop in ways that you just can't in a real world setting.
Published in the early days of the ebook movement in a CDRom book that saw little movement I have now taken to the digital age with style. I will continue to set my words free and hope that these children of my heart find homes with caring readers who are willing to look beyond the normal to the fantastical.
I can be found writing fantasy, science fiction, light horror and fanfiction.

Don't Call Me Sweetheart - a birthday gift

In celebration of my birthday today, 1 December, you can download a copy of my latest story, Don't Call Me Sweetheart from Smashwords.

Use coupon code PY64N and enjoy a little sci-fi action on me! ♥

NaNoWriMo 2013 - the blood, sweat and almost tears

After my previous (albeit very successful) NaNoWriMo, I decided never to punish myself that way again. What was I thinking? This year was worse!

And the punishment had nothing to do with the word count target of 50k, but everything to do with my attempt to write non-fiction.
For a pantser, planning is the equal of pulling teeth, through the ### (okay, I won't say it, but you get it) and yet non-fiction cannot be written any other way.
Having had some experience with non-fiction writing over the years, academic papers and such, I knew what to do.
Research was in place.
The structure of the document was in place.
The format changed and changed again until I was satisfied with the way it looked.
So I just had to write each chapter and I was set, right? It didn't happen. Sure the research was there, but not complete. So I had to spend several hours finding the info I had missed somehow. Did I mention that was a deadline involved here?
So Plan A was ditched, temporarily, and Plans B, C and D came into effect. And boy, did that help. I still have to do a lot of work on the non-fiction title, but I got three complete short stories written too! And one of them will be submitted for an actual competition in December!
This year I may not have done the 100k like I did last year, but I have three completed projects (the first drafts anyway) and another one well on its way.
Now to go and dig out that internal editor. Where are you hiding, little butterfly?

Follow Me - The Orange River (slightly bent)

We had to entertain ourselves for one day since we couldn't change our booking for our overnight accommodation for the trip back. So we went shopping - if you could call browsing in a co-op shopping. I found some seeds for yellow tomatoes for my vegetable garden. Can't wait to plant those.
And then we decided to visit the Orange river crossing where we parked our two buses and enjoyed the view.

What the Orange River really looked like.

The photographs you see here were taken as panoramas from my Samsung S3. They came out...well, a little bent. But then who needs to see the world in straight lines anyway. Enjoy!
 

The Orange River from a "bent" perspective :)

Then I decided to bend a bridge. Ha, it was a lot of fun doing it my way!

Standing on the white line - 180 degree panorama

Well, that is the end of this tour. Thank you for following me as I travelled my country and allowing me the privilege of sharing a few glimpses of it with you. Until the next time...

Follow Me - The Guys, the Fun and the Rescue

I had mentioned before that I work with a great bunch of people and now you get to meet some of them. While I will remember the trip for the not-so-successful outcome of our tests, I will also remember it for the fun we had together.

Derek explaining something difficult as usual

Mpho bearing his kit while inside the Badger

Eric explaining to Sam what the next test is going to be about

Thato - at least I wasn't the only woman this time!

Hennie, Willem and Tienie wondering if the fishing is any good

Willem and Paul wondering what happened to their hats

Hours of laughing while just sitting around, talking nonsense and reminiscing about previous tests where people did silly things. Some of the people we talked about I knew, others I didn't. What did strike me was the camaraderie that people enjoy, even as colleagues. Many of our test facilities are fairly isolated, making it difficult to just jump into a car to go see a movie. It is either too far away, or there is such entertainment available in the nearest town.

On the last morning of our tests, we came across a group of springbuck running down the road. We frightened them and they were going all over the place, even running into the fences next to the road.
One of the group managed to get itself so tangled up that it couldn't shake itself free.

Springbuck running

Deciding that it was our fault to begin with (the fence), it was our duty to rescue the animal. 

And so three of my colleagues and one member of the SA Army who was with us in the bus, did the honours.
My attempt at a video was unsuccessful, the sun was too bright for me to see the screen of my mobile phone, but I did manage to capture a few photographs.

Springbuck stuck in the fence and the guys on their way

Job done! Back to work now :)

The heroes - all in a day's work!

Follow Me - Harnessing the Power of the Sun

While on the way towards our destination we came across two projects under construction to erect solar panels on several hundreds of hectares on land. The first was between Douglas and Prieska, fairly close to the road (all the photographs you see here). The second was right next to the old Copperton mine. Although we could see the construction work well enough, it was too far away to take good photographs with my mobile phone.

 On our way back home we came across a third such project. While I cannot remember exactly where - somewhere between Kimberley and Wolmaranstad - it too was large and set too far away from the road for a decent picture.
And the Northern Cape is the ideal place with its high number of days of sunshine per year.
What is heartening is seeing these solar farms being constructed to help with the increasing demand on the existing and future supply of power to the national grid.