Book Feature: Once Upon a Scandal by Shilpa Suraj

 

A moment of passion, a devastating scandal and a marriage between sworn enemies...

Aakash Thakkar knows his path. Family, duty, responsibility, tradition. His path does not lead to madness, chaos, wild passionate steamy nights, and her. Or so he tells himself.

Kanak Shourie lives for the present. Friends, fun, work, life. Her present does not include the weight of other people's judgement, stuffy societal mores, discovering desire with uptight businessmen, and him. She refuses to believe otherwise.

What happens when the one you hate is the only one you want? What happens when you try to right a wrong but end up in something that feels more right than anything ever has?

Can Aakash and Kanak bury a lifetime of distrust and forge a life together? Or will the reasons that had them battling each other for years bury their tentative new beginning?

Book Links:

Goodreads * Amazon.in * Amazon.com

Read an Excerpt from Once Upon a Scandal

Kanak gasped as his lips trailed a slow, sensual line of kisses down her neck. Her eyes closed and her head fell back giving him better access. 

He growled in approval, the sound thrumming through her. She fumbled with the buttons of his white shirt, her hand slipping through the gap and finding hard, firm, muscled skin. Her fingernails did a slow circle around his flat nipple making him nip her on her shoulder.

Her dazed eyes met his stormy ones, disbelieving, intense and confused. He lowered his head and took her lips in a kiss that solved her confusion, once and for all. 

She wanted this man, more than she’d ever wanted another. And she couldn’t deny it anymore. She fisted her hands in the thick, rough silk of his hair and pulled him impossibly closer. 

Their tongues met, dueled, and stroked making her moan, the breath of sound disappearing between his lips. He ground his hips against her, the movement making her legs fall apart, the better to cradle him with. 

The rough concrete behind her back scraped her skin but she couldn’t have cared less. But his hands slipped between the wall and her and flipped her over so his back was against it. She landed against the hard length of him, her hips doing an unconscious roll that had his head falling back.

She unzipped his pants, her fingers slipping in, searching and finding the hot silken steel of him. He cursed brokenly, his hips arching into her touch. She smiled, the heady rush of power over such a powerful man spooling through her. 

Until his hands cupped her breasts and her eyes rolled back in her head, pleasure swamping her and making it hard to focus. He dipped his head and took her breast in his mouth, the material of her flimsy dress damp in seconds from his attentions. His other hand pinched, fondled and stroked the other breast until her legs quivered. 

Kanak stroked harder, desperate for him to not stop what he was doing. He didn’t seem to want to anyway. He pulled her dress up, above her hips, the cool night breeze caressing her thighs and making her shiver. 

Kanak shoved frantically at his pants, pushing until she got what she wanted. It sprang free and she wrapped her hands around it, fisting it. 

The flash when it came lit up the darkness around them. Their small corner suddenly blindingly bright. He reacted with startling swiftness, spinning her so she was covered by the bulk of his body, unseen by whoever was out there. 

“Get the fuck out of here,” he growled over his shoulder, his furious laser like gaze sending a shiver down Kanak’s spine even though it wasn’t directed at her. 

Nervous laughter was the only answer. And then, another bright flash. 

“I am going to kill you,” he said conversationally to the person behind him.

In a matter of seconds, he tucked himself back into his pants and straightened Kanak’s dress with a deceptive calm. When he turned, still keeping Kanak hidden behind him, she heard the photographer squeak. 

“Give me your camera.” The words were soft, calm and deadly. The tone usually what you heard before you died. 

“No.” The man with the death wish giggled and moved back, out of his reach. “This is going to make me rich. And not just the photographs man. I got video too and it’s not on this camera. It’s with my friend who is already gone. You can’t catch him.” Another giggle. 

And before either of them could react, he disappeared into the dark. 

Ice slid through Kanak’s veins. What had she done? What had she allowed to happen? A sex tape of her on the internet, splashed across the tabloids, a sex tape with him…

“I will fix this,” he said, the same ice in his voice except his was directed at the mystery photographer. “I promise you.” 

She wanted to believe him. She almost did but Kanak knew that some things were out of even his control. 

A sex tape. Her head spun at the enormity of this fiasco. A sex tape with Aakash Thakkar, big shot industrialist, rising political power, and her number one enemy. 

She was screwed and she knew it. 

About the Author:

Shilpa Suraj wears many hats - corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.

An avid reader with an overactive imagination, Shilpa has weaved stories in her head since she was a child. Her previous stints at Google, in an ad agency and as an entrepreneur provide colour to her present day stories, both fiction and non-fiction.

Contact the Author:
Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Newsletter

Book Feature: I HAVE ASKED TO BE WHERE NO STORMS COME by Gwendolyn N. Nix

I HAVE ASKED TO BE WHERE NO STORMS COME by Gwendolyn N. Nix

The facts of Domino Bluepoint’s afterlife are simple: he’s a half-breed witch from a people without a name, and no one wants to be stuck in Hell with witch blood. When a demon bounty-hunter comes calling, Domino pairs up with his mother, who died too young and carries the witch lineage in her veins, to survive. Soon the two of them are Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid running from whatever torture awaits them and whoever wants to harvest their magic. Yet, Domino doesn’t know that his brother, Wicasah, is behind this and is desperate to resurrect Domino out of long-lasting guilt and a sensation of belonging to no place and no one.

As Wicasah dives deeper into darker magic that ends in an ill-made deal, Domino must overcome addiction, depression, and hone his own brand of witch-magic to help save his brother—and the world—from an ancient god of lighting and thunder.

GET THE BOOK @ AMAZON

SYNOPSIS

The facts of Domino Bluepoint's life are simple: he's a half-breed witch from a people without a name, living out a cursed Butch Cassidy afterlife, and no one wants to be stuck in Hell with witch blood. When he discovers bounty hunters are on his trail, he dodges monsters until caught… and learns his own brother, who wields insurmountable power, is behind it all.

Revenge and guilt have eaten at Wicasah Bluepoint ever since he murdered his father at a young age and ushered in powerful magic linked to his lineage. Yet, when he learns his brother, Domino, has been killed by his enemies and now resides in hell, he is determined to resurrect him. But doing so means rolling the dice and rubbing shoulders with monsters and demons full of ulterior motives, ultimately leaving him crafting an ill-fated deal with his sanity at stake.

Bound to an ancient entity of thunder and lightning, he finds himself enslaved and transforming hell in ways unimagined.

As the two fight through hell to find each other again, they discover an even darker power behind their cursed lineage, one that lies deep under the earth and who will use Wicasah’s power to seek freedom.

Desperate to escape their own dark destiny, the two must decide if they will save the world… or let it burn.

😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱

PART I: HELL

CHAPTER 1

I have desired to go
Where springs not fail,
To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail,
And a few lilies blow.

And I have asked to be
Where no storms come,
Where the green swell is in the havens dumb,
And out of the swing of the sea.

"Heaven-Haven" by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Domino learned he had to be adaptable. 

He may have died sometime in the twentieth century, but the world still spun on above. New-fangled ideas, technology, and culture leaked into Hell’s subterranean world. He’d noticed it before: the women sporting blue jeans, the short leather jackets, the abandoned pickit signs with painted mantras calling to burn the bra alongsidefrack the Bloody, but it didn’t truly hit him until he found a contained black box of glass. Something from the Brightside—the East-side. Nothing so fancy would be found in the West, on his side of the Dark and Bloody, no matter how much time passed.

That was the problem with adaptability. If you didn’t do it, refused to, you ended up stranded in your own time. Locked in a whirlwind of denial, because life had moved on without you and you weren’t ready to be forgotten.

It fractured his heart when he found people like that, like the young thing before him, sitting crossed-legged in the desert with her fleshless fingers curled in boned zen. His throat cracked as he called out to her, too long silent on this never-ending peregrination. Her long bleached hair swept across a face blistered and peeling from the sun. He snapped his fingers bare inches from her nose, but she didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Returned to dust.

He eyed her ripped jeans, her canvas tennis shoes worn through the soles, and the square black metal brick balanced on her bent knee. He took it, steadily working through the mechanics of a touch screen. Hellish burble cooed through the earpiece, but he ignored it. This was damnation, after all. What did you expect? This was how you survived in Hell. Stealing, hijacking, and fast-talking just to get what you needed.

His face remained passive as applications opened up bright colored hieroglyphic bubbles. He sat, hoping this wasn’t a laid trap, and mimicked her crossed legs. Their kneecaps brushed. 

It might’ve been minutes or a whole year that he sat next to her, figuring out the black box. Time had conditioned him to approach things with childish glee, instead of like a frustrated fogey. Puzzles kept him sane. Taught him to accept new appliances that were only science fiction pulp in his time. 

He tapped the glass with his fingernail and scrolled through her pictures: three smiling friends, a chocolate colored puppy, and a rainbow cutting through the gray from far away. He stared at the picture until the screen blacked out. He thought about centuries of black skies full of peace, like the good book said. He thought about a horizon that wasn’t red-lit with hellfire. He looked up. No rainbows here.

Pocketing the device, he patted the girl gently on her shoulder and wished her well on her journey.

😱  😱  😱  😱  😱  😱  😱  😱  😱  😱  😱  😱  😱  😱

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Gwendolyn N. Nix is a professional editor and author, penning the Celestial Scripts series (The Falling Dawn, and Seams of Shadow), Sharks of the Wasteland (Cataclysm Cycle), and the new release from Crystal Lake Publishing, I Have Asked To Be Where No Storms Come.

She is also the editor of the Marvel Xavier's Institute: School of X anthology. A member of SFWA and Horror Writer's Association, her short fiction has appeared in a variety of anthologies, such as Pileaus Symphony No. 1, Where the Veil Is Thin, and Apex: Worlds of Dinosaurs.

She lives in Montana with her husband, young son, and wild gray Labrador.

Find her online at gwendolynnix.com, on Twitter at @gwendolynnix or Instagram at @gwendolyn.nix.

Book Review: Verissimus by Donald Robertson and Zé Nuno Fraga

 
FIND the book at you favourite book seller << click

Linzé's rating: 🦋🦋🦋🦋 - read on to find out what I liked about this graphic novel

   I have been a student of Stoicism for a few years now, so when the opportunity presented itself to review this book, I jumped to volunteer.

   It is not a book about Stoicism, but rather a mix of history, Stoicism practice and the life of the emperor Marcus Aurelius. The graphic novel format worked quite well to keep the reader's attention in mixing these three elements successfully, without being overly educational.

   I liked the illustrations. They were composed with a pleasing colour scheme and well done to enhance the story elements, as well as the historical setting of the novel. The artist was successful in bringing to life the difficulties and life experiences that Marcus faced in his life with the way the characters are portrayed. Evaluating each illustration as a painting would not be possible, but overall the story was a cohesive with both text and art contributing equally.

   While the story, and the additional text, engages the reader the historical facts and Stoic philosophy is brought to life in an entertaining way.

   I have never read or reviewed a graphic novel before, and was quite impressed with the execution on especially such a subject matter.

   I recommend this graphic novel for people interested in the life and history of Marcus Aurelius (or Verissimus as he was also known), but it is not a book to learn the philosophy or daily practice of Stoicism. It does not claim to be such a teaching aid, but rather to entertain and inform.

If you are interested to learn more about Marcus Aurelius and Stoicism, click here for a free copy of a guide written by Donald Robertson.

Link https://donaldrobertson.name/2022/06/25/get-our-guide-to-marcus-aurelius-and-stoicism/

Until next time!

💜 Linzé

BOOK FEATURE: Once Upon a Mistake (Il Cuore #1) by Shilpa Suraj

 

There are no second chances, only missed ones...

Five years ago, an accident changed Maya's life forever. From an engaged, MBA graduate with her entire life in front of her, she'd ended up dumped, bedridden, and in enough debt to drown her and her family.
Five years ago, Yash had been looking forward to marrying the woman of his dreams. Then his father died, he lost his job and his fiancee dumped him over a text.
Neither have forgiven each other and neither has forgotten the other. When their paths cross at Il Couer, a vineyard owned by common friends, sparks fly, past hurts are stoked and present dreams are destroyed.
And that is just the beginning. As their lives get entangled, both professionally and personally, they find themselves fighting familial disapproval, professional jealousy, and a mutual attraction that threatens to burn them down.
Can Maya and Yash ever unravel their tangled past? And will the truth of their past define or destroy them? Can you build a future on a posioned past? They're about to find out...

Book Links:
Goodreads * Amazon.in * Amazon.com

Read an Excerpt from Once Upon A Mistake

The door slammed behind her and he heaved a sigh of relief. Peace and quiet at last. He put on his reading glasses, opened up the book and started to read.

And then he heard her laugh. He shouldn’t, he told himself. He really shouldn’t stand up and try to see where she was or what she was doing. Maya Patgaonkar was not someone he should be looking at or looking for or any other type of looking. 

He got to his feet and walked to the balcony railing, peering out through the dusky light of early evening. He was definitely looking.

She was walking down the endlessly sloping green lawn with the guy she’d arrived with and another guy and girl. All four of them seemed to be talking at the same time, practically talking over each other. 

Her hair was loose and hung in waves down her back. She wore a loose, floral skirt with a billowing white shirt that gave her a distinctly free, bohemian look. And she still limped. 

Not a temporary thing then, this limp. Had she gotten it in the accident that had killed Vikram? Aakash’s bitter recounting of their wild night of debauchery that had ended in his brother’s death had been both sordid and distasteful. 

It had also been deeply disturbing. That had not been the girl he’d thought he was marrying. Maybe her dumping him for being a penniless loser had been a true blessing in disguise. And yet, Yash continued to stand and watch her and her friends meander along in what was clearly an aimless walk. 

Maya. The name resonated in his head. Almost as if she heard him, she turned, her gaze drawn to the house. He saw her scanning the side of the house facing them and was about to step back and out of sight when her gaze snagged on him. 

The guy who’d arrived with her, Ved, said something to her and she responded but she didn’t look away. 

The moment between them stretched into an eternity that should never have existed. His heart was thudding, a drumbeat that he didn’t want to hear but one that thrummed through his veins nevertheless. 

She took a step toward him, a miniscule movement that nobody caught but him. It broke the spell. Yash stepped back and away from the railing, consciously turning away from her. 

The few months they’d known each other had been a lasting lesson. Maya wouldn’t get another chance to play him for a fool again. 

About the Author:

Shilpa Suraj wears many hats - corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.

An avid reader with an overactive imagination, Shilpa has weaved stories in her head since she was a child. Her previous stints at Google, in an ad agency and as an entrepreneur provide colour to her present day stories, both fiction and non-fiction.

Contact the Author:
Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Newsletter

Book Feature: NEW ERA by Tommy B. Smith

 Synopsis

Insomnia. Headaches. Fear.

It drove Marjorie down, cost her a career, and almost destroyed her marriage. When she and her husband Terry escaped to the quiet green countryside west of the Mississippi River, their new home, it seemed too good to last.

The snake-ridden adjoining property, bordered by a row of maple trees, hosts a deadly secret. There the blood of fiends and innocents stain the crumbling ruins of an old farmhouse, a decaying testament to a web of treachery and murder stretching back to distant times.

The horror in the ruins watches in wait. Marjorie fears the end, and the end is coming.

Buy links: AMAZON

Add to your to-read list and leave a review: GOODREADS

Behind the Story:

In early 2019, I made a trip into the heart of Louisiana, photographing the urban art prevalent in downtown Alexandria, as well as various angles of the Red River, assorted historic locations, and cemeteries. My course stretched eastward from there, through Monterey and surrounding areas to the destination of Natchez, overlooking the Mississippi River.

New Era is an unincorporated community deep in rural eastern Louisiana. This lends the book its title, in part. The Black River is a prominent fixture of the area, once serving as a landing for steamboats in the early nineteenth century.

With New Era, history was an influence, objects and locations linking past to present in a substantial way. The region of central-eastern Louisiana provided an immersive experience conducive to the story’s authenticity—its relics, stories, and the conversations I had with some of those who consider it home. Amusing little details found their way into their story at times. Fact and fiction blend to create New Era, a tale of two time periods and the dark secrets that bind them.

For the book’s characters, the course of events presents a new era of sorts. Fighting to salvage their marriage in the aftermath of an unfortunate and traumatic event, Terry and Marjorie seek a new beginning here. The book marks the first entry in the Black Carmenia series.

What is the black carmenia, you might ask? It’s a flower. And my advice to you, if you should stumble upon this rare specimen, is to never, ever touch the black carmenia.

That caution aside, I hope you’ll join me for a new journey, readers, a brand-new tale of murder, treachery, and horrors which transcend time—a New Era.

About the author

Tommy B. Smith is a writer of dark fiction, award-winning author of The Mourner’s Cradle, Poisonous, the short story collection Pieces of Chaos, and the coming of age novel, Anybody Want to Play WAR?

His presence currently infests Fort Smith, Arkansas, where he resides with his wife and cats.

Author Website

Facebook

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Cost effective storage solution #1: Oil pastels and Gelatos

 One thing I love about my journey as an artist is experimenting with new materials. Good quality art materials are expensive, so I usually start with a small set and then expand if I like the medium. This means that keeping the materials in their original packaging becomes a pain.

Every time I am in the mood to play with the medium, I have to take them out, “unbox” them, sort the colours, and only then will they be ready to play with. Trust me by this time, I am either bored, frustrated, or found something else to draw or paint with instead.

I am also of the opinion that I would rather spend my money on the materials, and not the means to store them to make it more easily accessible.

So finding a supplier (actually the manufacturer) of these wooden boxes made my life much easier.

I didn't buy all the boxes at the same time, so I can safely say that their quality is consistent and that is good thing of you need to expand your storage space.

Wooden box with Faber-Castell Gelatos

As you can see my Faber-Castell Gelatos found a prefect home outside their original packaging. I have two of these boxes for my Gelatos. Since each box is sub-divided into four sections, it works well for storing the colours. You can comfortably fit 12 Gelato sticks in each section (3 layers of 4).

I sort my colours into 8 groups: 1) blue, 2) green, 3) yellow, 4) orange, 5) red and pink, 6) purple, 7) brown, and 8) the neutrals (white, grey, black), so two boxes do the job.

Wooden box with oil pastels from 3 brands

Since the oil pastels are a bit shorter than the Gelatos, they fit the box's sections the other way.

A few months after I bought the boxes for the Gelatos, I started an oil pastel project and the struggle happened all over again. This time it was worse because I have many more oil pastel sticks that I had to sort in separate containers before I could work on the painting.

The Gelato boxes were close at hand, and I decided to see if they could also be used for the oil pastels.

To my happy surprise the oil pastels fit perfectly too, so I ordered some more.

I have oil pastels from 3 different brands: Faber-Castell, Mungyo, and Mont Marte. They are all the same length although differ slightly in width.

I used the same colour grouping mentioned above, and could fit 24 oil pastel sticks in each section. (3 layers of 8 sticks)

If you need more space, the dividers inside the boxes can be removed to make halves in either direction.

The boxes are made from MDF, so if you are concerned about water exposure, I suggest that you varnish them inside and out before stocking your materials. They can also be decorated if you prefer a more colourful look to a plain wooden box.

The boxes are available from BidorBuy.co.za or directly from the manufacturer's website, BuzzCreations.co.za - I don't know if they ship internationally, but I suggest you contact them to ask. Right now they are closed for the festive season so no orders will ship until next year.

Keep an eye out for more useful product reviews and suggestions from this supplier in future blog posts.

Book Release Day! 🖤 SARAH KILLIAN: THE MARCHING TIDES by Mark Sheldon 🖤

 

Book 3 in a trilogy of dark humor novels, this hilarious series follows the bloody journey of Sarah Killian, a strong female…serial killer for hire.

Hi there! Sarah Killian, your friendly neighbourhood serial killer, back again for more bloody, violent fun.

For my final mission, I (begrudgingly) team up with my good for nothing, S.O.B. assassin ex, Jason. Why would I do such a crazy thing? Well, aside from the obvious answer that I am crazy, we are fleeing from the mysterious organization known only as the Marching Tides—a collective hell-bent on bringing down the Trusted Hierarchy of Everyday Murderers (T.H.E.M.) and exposing their shady dealings to the world at large.

As Jason and I try—often unsuccessfully—to stay one step ahead of the Marching Tides and their nefarious associates, we draw ever closer to the shocking truth of who the mastermind behind the Marching Tides really is.

Something tells me I’ll regret learning the answers at the end of my journey.

Buy @ AMAZON

Excerpt from Chapter 1

My name is Sarah, and I work for a super-secret organization called the Trusted Hierarchy of Everyday Murderers (T.H.E.M.) that employs Professional Serial Killers (P.S.K.’s), and assassins. I hate, hate, hate assassins – so I find it particularly appropriate that their title starts with two asses.

T.H.E.M. is contracted by various entities—a few wealthy private citizens and corporations who can afford us, but most of our work comes from the government. Completely off the books, of course.

Assassins’ work is pretty boring and straightforward, so I won’t waste my time on them. The P.S.K.’s is where T.H.E.M. gets innovative. As a P.S.K., when on a project I get sent to a location, usually for several months—if not years—at a time, where I integrate myself into the community under a pseudonymous ‘Dupe’ personality. My Dupe personality is the everyday person who just goes to work and lives their life and is my cover for being in the area of the murders.

Meanwhile, I also have to create the persona of the killer—the ‘Herring.’ The Herring for each project has to have a unique M.O. and set of characteristics that distinguish itself from other projects I may have worked on, to avoid anyone being able to connect the dots from one project to another. I also have to make sure no one connects the dots between my Dupe personality and my Herring personality.

Fortunately, seeing as I mentioned the government is one of our biggest contractors, we have a certain amount of immunity from the F.B.I., but there are enough Private Dicks in the world that it’s not a bad idea to take the extra precaution.

As you can imagine, the fact that many serial killers suffer from multiple personality disorders lends itself well to developing these dual personas when on a project.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mark Sheldon is the author of The Noricin Chronicles and the Sarah Killian: The Joy of Killing series. He lives in Southern California with his wife Betsy.

Follow Mark on FACEBOOK and AMAZON