Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Earth’s Imagined Corners by @TamaraLinse

Earth’s Imagined Corners

The Round Earth Series

Book 1

Tamara Linse

Genre: Historical Fiction

Publisher: Willow Words

Date of Publication: January 31, 2015

ISBN: 978-0-9909533-1-9

ASIN: B00T18RRNK

Number of pages: 472

Word Count: 130,000

Book Description:

In 1885 Iowa, Sara Moore is a dutiful daughter, but when her father tries to force her to marry his younger partner, she must choose between the partner—a man who treats her like property—and James Youngblood—a kind man she hardly knows who has a troubled past.

When she confronts her father, he beats her and turns her out of the house, breaking all ties, so she decides to elope with James to Kansas City with hardly a penny to their names.

In the tradition of Willa Cather’s O Pioneers! and Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God, Earth’s Imagined Corners is a novel that comprehends the great kindnesses and violences we do to each other.

Available at Amazon

Anamosa, Iowa, 1885

Sara Moore should have nothing to fear this week. She had been meticulous in her entering into the ledger the amounts that Minnie the cook requested she spend on groceries. She had remembered, just, to include her brother Ed’s purchase of materials to mend sister Maisie’s doll house and to subtract the pickling salt that she had purchased for sister Esther but for which Esther’s husband Gerald had reimbursed her. She stood at her father’s shoulder as he went over the weekly household accounts, and even though her father owned Moore Grocer & Sundries from which she ordered the family’s groceries, he still insisted she account for the full price in the ledger. “No daughter of mine,” he often said, though sometimes he would finish the thought and sometimes his neatly trimmed eyebrows would merely bristle.

Despite the buttressing of her corset, Sara hunched forward, somewhat reducing her tall frame. She intertwined her fingers so that she would not fiddle with the gathers of soft navy wool in her overskirt, and she tried not to breathe too loudly, so as not to bother him, nor to breathe too deeply, in order to take in little of the cigar smoke curling up from his elephant-ivory ashtray on the hulking plantation desk.

As always, the heavy brocade curtains armored Colonel Moore’s study against the Iowa day, so the coal oil lamps flickered in their brackets. Per instructions, Sipsy the maid lit them early every morning, snuffed them when he left for the grocery, lit them again in anticipation of his return at seven, and then snuffed them again after he retired. It was an expense, surely, but one that Sara knew better than to question. The walls of the study were lined with volumes of military history and maps of Virginia and Georgia covered in lines, symbols, and labels carefully inked in Colonel Moore’s hand. In its glass case on the bureau rested Colonel Moore’s 1851, an intricately engraved pistol awarded to him during the War of Northern Aggression. Sipsy dusted daily, under stern directive that not a speck should gather upon any surface in the room.

Sara’s father let out a sound between an outlet of breath and a groan. This was not good. He was not pleased. Sara straightened her shoulders and took a breath and held it but let her shoulders slump forward once more.

“My dear,” he said, his drawl at a minimum, “your figures, once again, are disproportionate top to bottom. And there is too much slant, as always, in their curvatures. I urge you to practice your penmanship.” His tone was one of indulgence.

Inaudibly, Sara let out her breath. If he was criticizing her chirography, then he had found nothing amiss in the numbers. The accounts were sound for another week. Later, when he checked the numbers against the accounts at the grocery, there was less of a chance that she had missed something.

He closed the ledger, turned his chair, and with both hands held the ledger out to her. She received it palms up and said, “I will do better, Father.”

“You would not want to disappoint to your mother.” His drawl was more pronounced.

So he had regretted his indulgence and was not satisfied to let her go unchecked. His wife, Sara’s mother, had been dead these five years, and since then Sara had grown to take her place, running the household, directing the servants, and caring for six year-old Maisie. Ed needed little looking after, as he was older than Sara, though unmarried, and Esther, the oldest, was married with two daughters and farm of her own.

Sara straightened her shoulders again and hugged the ledger to her chest. “Yes, Father,” she said and turned and left the room, trying to keep her pace tranquil and unhurried. She went to the kitchen, where Minnie had a cup of coffee doused with cream and sugar awaiting her. Minnie gave her an encouraging smile, and though Sara did not acknowledge what went unsaid between them—one must shun familiarity with the servants—she lifted her shoulders slightly and said, “Thank you, Minnie.” Minnie, with the round figure and dark eyes of a Bohemian, understood English well, though she still talked with a pronounced accent, and Sara had only heard her speak the round vowels and chipped consonants of her native tongue once, when a delivery man indigenous to her country of origin walked into the kitchen with mud on his boots. Sara tucked the ledger in its place on a high shelf and then allowed herself five minutes of sipping coffee amid the wonderful smells of Minnie’s pompion tart. Then she rose, rinsed her cup, and applied herself to her day.

The driver had Father’s horse and gig waiting, as always, at twenty minutes to nine. As Father stretched his fingers into his gloves, pulling them tight by the wrist leather, he told Sara, “When you come at noon, I have something unusual to show you.”

“Yes, Father,” she said.

It seemed odd that he would concern her with anything to do with business. He left her to the household. He had long tried to coerce Ed into the business, but Ed’s abilities trended more toward the physical. He was a skilled carpenter, though Father kept a close rein on where he took jobs and whom he worked for. All talk of renaming the business Moore & Son had been dropped when Father had recently promoted the young man who was his assistant, Chester O’Hanlin, to partner. Mr. O’Hanlin had droopy red muttonchops and a body so long and thin he looked a hand-span taller than he really was, which was actually a bit shorter than Sara. Mr. O’Hanlin didn’t talk much, either, and he seemed always to be listening. He held himself oddly, cocking his head to one side, first one way and then the other, his small dark eyes focusing off to the left or right of the speaker. His nose, long and wedge-shaped, seemed to take up half his face. “Chester, the Chinaman,” Maisie called him outside of his presence because of the way he stooped and bobbed whenever their father entered the room.

Character Name:

Sara Moore, who becomes Sara Youngblood

Character Bio:

Sara is in her early 20s, a tall woman and a dutiful daughter in 1885 Iowa.  Her father was a Colonel for the South in the Civil War.  Here’s how the other protagonist James thinks of her when he first sees her:

At first, the woman loomed large, and James blinked to clear his vision, but then she shrank to human proportion. James’s heart gave a leap: it was his mother, there in the street! For that split second, a feeling welled up inside him and closed his throat. It was a conflicted feeling, one of love and relief and joy but also of constriction and gravity and panic. It was the feeling his mother invariably brought forth during their long association, moving about from place to place, just scraping by, never knowing if the next day brought light-headed soul-wrenching hunger or the sting of a step-father’s hand. But, no, this wasn’t his mother. That was not possible—his mother was two months’ dead, brought down by consumption. Physically, this woman was dissimilar. She was much taller, almost as tall at James. Her dress with its lush green skirts was richly laced and gusseted and tucked, and her heavily embroidered riding cape was of deep brown wool—more expensive than anything his mother had ever worn. This woman’s black hair was swept back in the more modern style, with the curls cascading from the back crown of the head instead of around the ears like his mother’s. She had a long nose with an ess curve in profile, well-proportioned gray eyes, a small mouth, and a narrow jaw that at present she had set in concentration. Instead of a large bonnet, this woman’s hat was small and perched somewhat to the side, and her stride was different than his mother’s. His mother’s walk had been both proud and sensual, and even as she aged men noticed her entering a room, for which James invariably felt apprehension for what that might bring. This woman, however, even in stride, seemed to be tucking in on herself, her head bobbing low, as if she wanted to make herself smaller. James understood that feeling.

These questions are answered by Sara at the beginning of Earth’s Imagined Corners.

Before we start, I must offer my sincerest gratitude to the proprietors of this lovely bibliographic establishment. Thank you, Miss … I apologize, as I did not get your family name? I would not presume familiarity and call you by your given name.

Describe yourself what is your worst and best quality?

Me? There’s nothing very special about me. I do my best, and I hope I would have made my mother proud.  My faults are many, too numerous to name here. 

What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?

I don’t wish to be known in the public sphere, though I hope the women who are dear to my heart know the heights to which I hold them in my esteem. 

What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?

I have no secrets, and if I were to have secrets, it would be unseemly to divulge them in public, would it not?

What are you most afraid of?

That I will not fulfill my duties to the satisfaction of my father.

What do you want more than anything?

What do I want? I want for nothing. I am well kept by the generosity of my father.

What is your relationship status?

I am single, though some might call me a spinster at my age.  I have been busy caring for the needs of my family. Is that not honorable?

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

Modest, as it should be. But with taste.

How much of a rebel are you?

I can’t imagine. Women who rebel come to bad ends.  Why would any woman in her right mind rebel?

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?

Keeping a well-run household.

What is your idea of happiness?

Looking back on the day with the satisfaction of a job well done.

What is your current state of mind?

Contented.

What is your most treasured possession?

A pocket watch bestowed upon me by my dear departed mother.

What is your most marked characteristic?

I would like to say it’s my unrelenting efforts on behalf of my family, but it would be wrong of me to say. I think my father would say it was a shortcoming of mine.

What is it that you, most dislike?

Dislike? I bend my will to that of my father.

Which living person do you, most despise?

I do not dispise anyone.

What is your greatest regret?

The death of my dear departed mother.

What is the quality you most like in a man?

I believe I value kindness and solicitude and hard work.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?

I would have to say the qualities most desireable in a woman is bending her head to her task, as that is her place in the world.

Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

Are you speaking of a heroine? I must say, many of the novels that are read by women are romantic and silly and wrong-headed.  The Brontes, for example, are often about women who shirk their duties, though Jane Eyre is a steadfast and level-headed one. I have to say, though, that I have always admired the lovely Jane in Pride and Prejudice.

Which living person do you most admire?

My father. He is a successful and contributing member of the community.

If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

Oh, this is a subject on which I have pondered long and hard. There is so much to change, so many faults, but I blush to name them.

What is your motto?

Filial piety and obedience.

I’m afraid this interview gives a rather narrow view of poor Sara. She is caught in a circumscribed world. If you asked these questions at the end of the book, she would have altogether different answers. Filial piety would be low on her list of reverances. She would also value action and obeying one’s conscience much more highly. Circumstances beyond her control thoroughly test her mettle, and she no longer blindly trusts the men in her life. Just wait for the next book when James chases her with an ax!

 

 

 

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Tamara Linse jokes that she was raised in the 1880s, and so it was natural for her to set a book there. She is the author of the short story collection How to Be a Man and the novel Deep Down Things and earned her master’s in English from the University of Wyoming, where she taught writing. Her work appears in the Georgetown Review, South Dakota Review, and Talking River, among others, and she was a finalist for an Arts & Letters and Glimmer Train contests, as well as the Black Lawrence Press Hudson Prize for a book of short stories. She works as an editor for a foundation and a freelancer.

Find her online at www.tamaralinse.com and her blog Writer, Cogitator, Recovering Ranch Girl at www.tamara-linse.blogspot.com

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/tlinse

Twitter https://twitter.com/TamaraLinse

Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/+TamaraLinse/posts

Book Blast: Passed the Moments by @A_Creative_Mind

BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – Passed the Moments, Through the Tears, Out of Concrete AUTHOR – Me’Shon La’Kair GENRE – Poetry PUBLICATION DATE –September 30, 2014 LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 87 Pages PUBLISHER – Upland Avenue Publishing COVER ARTIST – Upland Avenue Publishing

BOOK SYNOPSIS

Me’Shon La’Kair’s experiences have been captivated through words that flow effortlessly on these pages, which have been brought to life so vividly. Professing the struggles of a fatherless childhood to the illnesses of Epilepsy and Type 2 Diabetes that proclaim thousands of lives every day. While being a Christian trying to hold strong to her faith in a world of curiosities. Still recognizing God’s beauty through its purest form and sharing her testimony with the world.

Her work embodies a truth that many can relate to and learn from. It possess her views on love, life, politics, religion, and the harsh realities of this world past and present. Sharing life’s obstacles and breakthroughs is what makes this book a profound read. Her poetry uplifts, edifies, and encourages the masses. Ranging from the importance of education to a mother’s love Passed the Moments, Through the Tears, Out of Concrete is a must read.

BUY & TBR LINKS

AMAZON KINDLE US – BARNES & NOBLES NOOK

EXCERPT

My Outlet Exclusively written for the ones who understand That what I’m saying comes and doesn’t demand Anything more or less But is written to make one visualize my creativeness It’s not just words on a page, but an abundance of thoughts That were trapped and caged Now freed beyond the finite walls which we possess Written and shown so the world can have a look at its uniqueness Gifted and blessed to have been given God’s best Which is my outlet to express Its job is to uplift and relate to others with the same situation on their plate Freedom of speech or expression has no room for others to debate Because it survives in a world where others can appreciate

AUTHOR BIO

Me'Shon La'Kair is an up and coming author who is a native of Baton Rouge, LA she has been writing since the age of 14. She has received her Bachelor of Arts in English and Creative Writing from Southeastern Louisiana University. She has recently published her first book called Passed the Moments, Through the Tears, Out of Concrete.

She is a member of Omega Phi Alpha which is a National Community Service Organization. She writes poetry, fiction, and short stories but her favorite form of writing is poetry. In her spare time she enjoys spending time with her family and friends, and she also likes traveling, sports, and reading.

AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKS

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE – FACEBOOK – TWITTER – GOOGLE+ – TUMBLR – GOODREADS

Blitz Organized & Hosted By

Book Blast - Great Expectations by @GECupid

BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – Greater Expectations
AUTHOR – Alexander McCabe
GENRE – Romantic Comedy
PUBLICATION DATE – August 5th 2014
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 257 pages / approx. 90,000 words
PUBLISHER – Self published ebook
COVER ARTIST – Kirsty C. Maclauchlan

BOOK SYNOPSIS

It is said that the course of true love never runs smooth - even for us men. Yet it has never been easier to find love than in this modern digital era where the mighty computer has all but rendered Cupid redundant. Love is now to be found, quite literally, at your fingertips. Although love also seems to have changed with the times. This new love is deceitful and manipulative, cunning and untrustworthy. Love has gotten ugly. Thankfully, not all the answers to life’s mysteries are to be found in the computer and Cupid - battered and bruised as he may be - proves that he still has some game and a few tricks up his sleeve…

BUY & TBR LINKS

AMAZON KINDLE US – AMAZON KINDLE CA – AMAZON KINDLE UK – GOODREADS – SHELFARI

EXCERPT

When first I met my now estranged wife during our Master’s year at university, I was seeing someone else too. In the main, this defines me as a “bastard”, although I preferred to think of myself as a “player”. Indeed I would argue that it falls under the guise of “sowing wild oats”. That’s the phrase that makes the practice somehow acceptable, and mothers the world over tell their sons that this is what they need to do before they settle down. The rite of passage into manhood as it were. At least, it’s what my mother told me. Women may argue this point - sorry, women will argue this point - but then they become mothers.

Naturally, they just don’t want those “wild oats” sown with their own daughters.

However, it is a fallacy to think that we men are completely heartless. I realised that I actually liked the girl that I eventually married so quickly ended all contact with the third party. In actual fact, she was a girl that I had been seeing first but only by a matter of a few weeks. I got the usual tirade of “bastard” texts, emails, and drunken voicemails. “I thought you were different” being the obligatory phrase that she just had to use during every one of these “opportunities”. In one particular instance, during which she also branded me a “coward”, I foolishly responded. I explained to her that I was merely being cruel to be kind as it was blatantly obvious to me that there we had no future together. Furthermore, after everything that had been said and done – more on her part now than mine - she would surely realise and accept that there was no going back as any trust and respect that had been built was now completely shattered.

I got the following reply:

“See, I knew you were different. That was lovely, you thinking of me and my feelings and us and our future. Why can’t we make this work? We can, you just have to trust yourself to trust me. Call me.”

It took another six weeks of ignoring and blocking her before she finally gave up. We had only been dating, if it could ever have been called that, for three weeks.

It takes true courage and bravery to finish any relationship. As my marital separation was only a week old, I understood that there may be some element of hope that we could fix it and move on. Yet I knew there was no way I could, or would, allow myself to stoop to such a level of indignity. My sense of pride has taken a pounding and is undoubtedly battered and bruised, but it is still there, standing tall and intact, however weakly. It is also getting stronger with every passing day.

All thanks to “Hope”.

“Hope” is a very strange feeling that displaces others such as “confidence”, “faith”, and “trust” and one that I have naturally gravitated towards my entire life. We are old friends, hope and I. Never have I dared to have “confidence” in my academic or sporting abilities, rather I always “hoped” that I would perform at my best as necessitated in any particular circumstance. When things had gone better than I had even dared “hope”, then I defaulted to the notion that is was merely my “good luck”, and vice versa. “Luck” has always provided me an excuse for all of life’s highs and lows and everything in between. Now I wanted to change all that. Now I wanted to control my existence.

Now I wanted to stir the stagnant pool that is my life proactively to feel like I am living again.

So that may well explain why I am now sat in only my boxer shorts in front of my computer, as the rain batters the window behind my curtains, and trying to focus on completing an online dating profile that includes a “personal statement” section. Apparently, its purpose is to allow me to describe myself in as broadly generic terms as possible in order to seem “normal” and “average” - and so maximising my appeal - whilst also trying to ensure that I am unique enough as to stand out. The logic of the concept is irrefutable and yet fantastically ridiculous.

It is also proving so challenging to the point of being quite impossible.

As a truck driver, I work most weekends and so this job commitment removes the more conventional ways of meeting women. Using a dating site makes far more sense in this new age of technology as it allows for an immediate connection without the need to wait for the weekend, or the demand of a decent chat up line. It cuts to the chase, so to speak. The site has posted a statistic that states over 28% of couples now “meet” online, so I am still happily in the minority. However, it is utterly galling to me that I should ever try to be “normal” or “average” to anyone as I have never considered myself as such.

It seems to me to be morally fraudulent. 

Online dating. It really is quite an absurd concept yet totally in concert with the modern era where people are too busy with work and life to take the time and make the effort for actually dating. Yet where is the romance of it? You will never hear a love song that refers to such sites. Can you imagine Rod Stewart singing “The Algorithm of my Heart”, or some such like?

No? Me neither.

AUTHOR BIO

After graduating with a couple of useless degrees in law, I left my Scottish homeland and wandered nomadically around the globe to experience the rich diversity of culture that the world has to offer.

On my travels, I met my Canadian wife in New Zealand, we were married in Scotland and now live in Canada with our newborn son. Although we currently call Toronto home, this is not yet a permanent arrangement and, rather alarmingly, we are perfectly happy about that…

AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKS

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE – WEBSITE / BLOG – FACEBOOK – TWITTER

Tour Organized & Hosted by

#99c Sale !! Legally Undead by @MargoBondCollin

A reluctant vampire hunter, stalking New York City as only a scorned bride can.

Elle Dupree has her life all figured out: first a wedding, then her Ph.D., then swank faculty parties where she’ll serve wine and cheese and introduce people to her husband the lawyer.

But those plans disintegrate when she walks in on a vampire draining the blood from her fiancé Greg. Horrified, she screams and runs--not away from the vampire, but toward it, brandishing a wooden letter opener.

As she slams the improvised stake into the vampire’s heart, a team of black-clad men bursts into the apartment. Turning around to face them, Elle discovers that Greg’s body is gone—and her perfect life falls apart.

$.99 for One Week Only

A Top-10 Preditors and Editors Readers' Poll Best Science Fiction and Fantasy Novel

Excerpt

The worst thing about vampires is that they're dead. That whole wanting to suck your blood business runs a close second, but for sheer creepiness, it's the dead bit that gets me every time. They're up and walking around and talking and sucking blood, but they're dead. And then there's the whole terminology problem--how can you kill something that's already dead? It's just wrong.

I was twenty-four the first time I . . . destroyed? dispatched? . . . a vampire. That's when I found out that all the books and movies are wrong. When you stick a wooden stake into their hearts, vampires don't disintegrate into dust. They don't explode. They don't spew blood everywhere. They just look surprised, groan, and collapse into a pile of corpse. But at least they lie still then, like corpses are supposed to.

Since that first kill (I might as well use the word--there really isn’t a better one), I've discovered that only if you're lucky do vampires look surprised before they groan and fall down. If you're unlucky and miss the heart, they look angry. And then they fight.

There are the other usual ways to kill vampires, of course, but these other ways can get a bit complicated. Vampires are notoriously difficult to trick into sunlight. They have an uncanny ability to sense when there's any sunlight within miles of them, and they're awfully good at hiding from it. Holy water doesn't kill them; it just distracts them for a while, and then they get that angry look again. And it takes a pretty big blade to cut off someone's head--even an already dead someone--and carrying a great big knife around New York City, even the Bronx, is a sure way to get arrested. Nope, pointy sticks are the best way to go, all the way around.

My own pointy stick is actually more of a little knife with wood inlay on the blade--the metal makes it slide in easier. I had the knife specially made by an old Italian guy in just about the only ratty part of Westchester, north of the city. I tried to order one off the internet, but it turns out that while it’s easy to find wood-inlay handles, the blades themselves tend to be metal. Fat lot those people know.

But I wasn’t thinking any of this when I pulled the knife out of the body on the ground. I was thinking something more along the lines of “Oh, bloody hell. Not again.”

_____________________________________________

99-cent Sale Links

Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Legally-Undead-Vampirarchy-Margo-Collins-ebook/dp/B00KKV44BK/

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/legally-undead-margo-bond-collins/1119607989?ean=2940149615803

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/legally-undead

Universal Kindle Link: http://bookShow.me/B00KKV44BK

_____________________________________________

About the Author

Margo Bond Collins is the author of urban fantasy, contemporary romance, and paranormal mysteries. She has published a number of novels, including Sanguinary, Taming the Country Star, Legally Undead, Waking Up Dead, and Fairy, Texas. She lives in Texas with her husband, their daughter, and several spoiled pets. Although writing fiction is her first love, she also teaches college-level English courses online. She enjoys reading romance and paranormal fiction of any genre and spends most of her free time daydreaming about heroes, monsters, cowboys, and villains, and the strong women who love them—and sometimes fight them.

_____________________________________________

Connect with Margo

Newsletter: https://confirmsubscription.com/h/d/03A21E5E161401F0

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/margocollins

Email: MargoBondCollins@gmail.com

Website: http://www.MargoBondCollins.net

Blog: http://www.MargoBondCollins.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MargoBondCollin  @MargoBondCollin

Google+: https://plus.google.com/116484555448104519902

Goodreads Author Page: http://www.goodreads.com/vampirarchy

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/MargoBondCollins

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/mbondcollins/

Tsu: http://www.tsu.co/MargoBondCollins

Book Blast & Interview: Remember The Maelstrom by @JRSinason

 

Remember The Maelstrom

Josh Sinason

Genre: Sci-fi Romance

Publisher: TWB Press

Number of pages: 40

Word Count: 10,000

Book Description:

A botched investigation into the past triggers a domino effect, thrusting T.I. Agent Amanda West into a race to get home to the man she loves in a future that may no longer exist.

Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/q7SzyIivKXk

Available at Amazon Smashwords TWB Press

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Let’s go, rookie.” I set my blaster on stun. “I want to be home in time for dinner.”

Corporal Winger nodded and drew his gun.

I noticed his hand shake. That should have been my first cue something was wrong. He clutched his gun so tense his knuckles turned white. This was his first op, and it already went way far south way too soon. This was just supposed to be a routine run: bring back a fugitive who had bolted through an unauthorized time portal. We were the closest ship to it. He was just one guy, but he had a gun. Who would have thought things could’ve gone so wrong?

I kissed the scar on my right hand before we chased him through Central Park in the year 2014. It was a silly ritual, but when I found myself far from home, I started to get superstitious. On cold nights, when time, space, and a universe kept me away, I’d look at that scar and think about Parker.

Winger was a hair faster than me catching up with our time jumper. Maybe if I’d been there a second or two sooner I could have stopped him, but I arrived just in time to watch him aim his gun. I was just within view when our jumper pulled in a hostage, a little girl, something that would’ve made any experienced agent hold his fire.

Winger was just reacting on instinct. He didn’t pull back in time, and the guy held the kid in front of him. The scene played out in slow motion. Maybe Winger thought he could make a head-shot on the perp, or maybe he just fired in the heat of the moment; we were both tired. All I knew was, as the girl and our jumper fell to the ground, the look of horror on Winger’s face didn’t last long.

I’d never seen a person fade from existence before, not until that moment. The theory, according to Temporal Investigations, was that one dies before actually disappearing completely. Sheer shock and horror was the killer, like falling off a tall building. But Winger looked me in the eyes the entire time, silently pleading for help as he faded right in front of me. I reached out to grab his hand, but it vanished, and that’s when I noticed my scar begin to ghost.

I didn’t know who that little girl was. Maybe she had invented something that made the Galactic Conferences possible, or maybe she was the grandmother of the grandmother of someone who assigned cores in the Academy, and because she no longer existed in the future, Parker and I may have ended up in different course plans. Or maybe she did something at just the right moment, a move in one direction or another, a decade from now, and things just fell into place for us. It was impossible to tell what could happen without her influence, but I feared something was wrong. I could have lost Parker already without even knowing it.

When I saw that scar on my hand ghost, I knew it was a sign that the time stream was starting to realign. We were briefed on ghosting at the Academy. They told us to run; they said always run back to the ship, flat out as fast as we could. But we all knew the truth. We couldn’t outrun a time realignment. It would be like outrunning the hand of the universe.

The moment I saw that scar flicker, I took off in a dead sprint back to the ship and leaped into the captain’s chair. As the controls came on around me I felt the hum of the hyperspace time bubble curling around the ship like a warm blanket. Then, when I tried to catch my breath, I felt a hot sting in my gut. Our jumper had managed to get off a shot, and as luck would have it, his blaster charge went straight through Winger’s ghosting body and hit me in the stomach. I did my best to breathe slowly, but each inhale felt like razor blades slicing through my chest. I winced and put pressure on the singed and bloody wound then throttled up the engines.

“Well today just sucked, didn’t it.” I looked at the picture of Parker I kept on my dashboard. We had our pictures taken when we were assigned to The Bartlett. Knowing this meant I hadn’t forgotten about him...at least not yet. Then I looked to make sure the hyperspace time bubble had restored the scar on my hand. Yes. I gave it another kiss for luck. Just lifting my arm sent shooting pains through my stomach, but I figured I needed a fair amount of luck right about then, so the pain was worth the effort.

“Just make it home for dinner.” I clutched the steering yoke tightly. “Just one more trip.” I forced a breath. “Let me see that everything is all right with Parker. Then let whatever changes I’ve made to the future do what they will to me.”

“Some time cop I turned out to be.”

I slammed on the thrusters hard and gunned the engine boosters through the time jump, but the inertia field didn’t have time to boot up, so I felt my ribs crack as my chest slammed against the crash belt and the back of my head bounced off the top of my chair.

I screamed in pain.

In flight school I had experienced what happened without an inertia field. Senior cadets would watch Parker and I train in the flight deck sim. We’d shoot to hyperspace without any problems. But every once in a while the cadets would program in an inertia field glitch just to see how we’d respond to the stress, at least that’s what they told the instructors. It was really a rite of passage made worse by the fact that the simulator didn’t have crash belts, so the only way to go was flying backwards. If it wasn’t for the crash helmets, our brains would’ve splattered against the cold metal exit door.

“Stupid prank,” I said, spitting blood. I was bleeding internally. The scar on my hand ghosted again. The time bubble was weakening already, so I started going over my past, wondering just how much of it I would forget.

I decide to listen to my personal logs and make sure everything was just as I remembered. Hopefully that last ghosting wasn’t a sign that I was too late. The computer accessed my files, starting with my first week studying for the Academy mid-terms.

I remembered that day by the lake on the Academy grounds, fresh in my mind no matter what time jump I was in. The lake was clear blue enough that I could see the incoming spaceships reflected in the surface. I had sat there so often over that first month I could tell how low the ships were flying by the ripples their wakes made in the water.

I sat near a tree, hoping to keep my mind on my introductory engineering midterm studies. Sometimes the Academy felt like a monster looking to swallow cadets whole, but out there, under the shuttles flying by and the transport ships jumping to hyperspace like little daylight shooting stars, the Academy grounds felt peaceful. That day the transports lit up the clouds like purple and red lightning. I listened to the low rumble of the shuttles as I skipped a rock across the water. Then I cracked open a book.

 

Character Name:

Amanda West and Parker West.  I liked “West” as surname because it sounds vaguely like the name of an explorer to me and a big plot point in the story is exploring the great unknown vs answering a greater calling.

Character Bio:

                Amanda is an agent for the Temporal Investigations Unit of the United Fleet in a future where space and time exploration are at our fingertips.  She’s a driven young woman who refuses to let anyone see her scared.  Of course that doesn’t matter to Parker.  Parker is a natural explorer and leader with the bravado of Captain Kirk and a sense of ambition that mystifies Amanda.

  

Describe yourself what is your worst and best quality?

As a writer or as a human being?  I’ll stick with as a writer and save the other for therapy.  I tend to overthink things a bit.  I’m working on just letting things happen a bit and trusting the readers to put things together on their own without getting so far in the characters heads I’m telegraphing things like character turns.  My best quality as a writer?  Is there a way to answer that without seeming cocky?  People tell me I am a little already so maybe I’ll leave this one blank but I

 

What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?

I learned how to tell a good story from reading Marvel Comics as a kid…I also probably learned how to tell a bad story too but mostly the good.

 

What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?

I talk too much to keep any secrets…but something I don’t tell people right away…I’m a huge pro wrestling fan.

 

What are you most afraid of?

I have a weird thing with bridges.  I tense up when driving over really whinedy ones sometimes. I looked up what a phobia of brides is recently so I guess I have one of those….and bears…and probably dying alone…but yeah let’s go with bears.

 

What do you want more than anything?

Probably something I can’t have, (what else is there to want) but I’d love to go into space or learn to fly a plane.

 

What is your relationship status?

Single

 

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

I don’t leave the house in something without a collar and I only wear t-shirts to the gym.  Those are really my only two rules of fashion everything else is whatever is clean…most of the time.

How much of a rebel are you?

10%

 

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?

I preformed stand up comedy regularly for about six months, getting that first check for performing was pretty great.  I hope the greatest is still ahead though.

 

What is your idea of happiness?

I root beer on a hot day at the beach and a girl laying next to me.

 

What is your current state of mind?

Wrestles, maybe on the way to being happy but I don’t necessarily believe in happiness as a state of mind.

 

What is your most treasured possession?

Stan Lee’s autograph

 

What is your most marked characteristic?

People tell me I smile too much…but that can’t be a bad thing really.

 

What is it that you, most dislike?

Which living person do you, most despise?

 

What is your greatest regret?

Probably some girl I said high to at a bar and never went back to.

 

What is the quality you most like in a man?

Loyalty

 

What is the quality you most like in a woman?

A willingness to try things outside of their comfort zone.

 

Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

Spider-Man

 

Which living person do you most admire?

Dad

 

If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

I’d be less of a procrastinator.  If someone stole my tv I’d get so much more work done…in those thirty minutes till I ran out and bought a new tv.

What is your motto?

“If you’re going to walk into walls run at them full speed.”  Leo Mcgarry

 

Josh Sinason grew up in DeKalb, Illinois, and has been featured in the Two With Water reading series and at DIY-Film.com.

In addition he has won the Creativity in Media award for his work on www.stairwellblog.com

His work has been recently featured in Burroughs Publishing Lunchbox Romance Line and Eternal Press’ young adult fiction line.

https://twitter.com/JRSinason

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8094737.Josh_Sinason/blog

Book Blast: Stitches by Jeremy L Blunt @stitchesforlife

BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – Stitches- Because Some Wounds Need More Than a Band-Aid Cure AUTHOR – Jeremy L Blunt PUBLICATION DATE – February 10, 2015 LENGTH (Pages/# Words) - 184 PUBLISHER – Upland Avenue Publishing Group COVER ARTIST – Daniela Frongia

BOOK SYNOPSIS

Have you ever found yourself at a loss when trying to figure out why relating to the very people you feel you have to or should be able to communicate well with just doesn’t work? Have you ever had that feeling after you come out of something which gave you the blues while in it, was actually not as bad as you made it if only you had paid attention to the signs and lessons from previous events? If either of these things sound like you then “STITCHES” are what you need. We look for answers from everywhere in the world, our friends, church members, parents, celebrities and sometimes even our enemies but never inside ourselves.

STITCHES are the tools we need to address the issues we have. If you’re tired of putting a Band-Aid on wounds that seem to just keep resurfacing and don’t seem to go away, then I encourage you to start using stitches instead. AS you read “STITCHES”, allow it to broaden your perspective and increase your confidence that you are not as lost as you may have believed.

BUY & TBR LINKS

AMAZON KINDLE US – AMAZON PAPERBACK

EXCERPT

The problem with most relationships is not the baggage that people knowingly bring into them, it is with the baggage that they have, know they have but act like it is not there. Now let's be honest. We all have baggage. Baggage is what we pick up from life's experiences that affect how we react to things, how we deal with people, and how we carry ourselves. All baggage is not bad baggage. For instance, it is only after you deal with someone who is independent that you determine if moving forward, you want someone else who is also independent or if you would rather have someone who just has independency. Either way, the baggage we carry from situation to situation affects us differently.

Ideally when we met someone we would like for their baggage to be displayed and scanned as it would be going through check in at an airport. First giving them an opportunity to dispose of anything that would be hazardous to anyone else around and then going through a thermo scan. The problem with baggage does not come when we are dealing with someone who is upfront with baggage that is not necessarily healthy but rather when things pop up that they claim to know nothing about. On my last trip to the airport, I remember hearing several announcements about baggage not being left unattended or taking packages from people that you do not know. We should treat the people we deal with every day with the same level of security and caution. Until we know what at least pops up during their initial scan, we should not pursue them past the outer lobby of our life. In other words, they should remain associates. They should not get VIP treatment or otherwise they may feel and act like they are entitled to more than they are. Then you will feel guilty and try and fast track them to the exclusive area prematurely. To catch a plane now, they tell you to be at the airport at least two hours before your flight so you can go through all of the proper checks and still make your flight on time. We should treat everyone we meet with the same expectation. If they are not willing to show up early, stand in a line or two for a few minutes, and undergo pre checks, then they may as well be labeled as a terrorist and should be treated hostile. I mean let's face it, what is the point of blood, sweat, and tears if you are not going to use the lessons it has taught you to better yourself. Would you knowingly let a terrorist come on a plane that you are boarding? Of course not! Then why do we let people in our lives without proper clearance. You need to know something about the people you deal with. Where they are from? Who have they been with? Who they people are? Have they picked up any habits, I mean packages, from strangers along the way?

Even after going through baggage check, people still can have extra stuff that can threaten your life. An example of this is insecurities. Let us say you have met this guy and he seems to have it pretty much together. He is a dream come true. You open up and allow him to board your life. Once in the air you realize he has tendencies. He always wants to know about the names of people from a previous manifest. He also asked repeatedly about current passengers who are just temporary passengers until the next stop or two. You understand his concerns but point out that none of these issues surfaced or questions were asked during initial boarding. You pacify him by giving him everything it seems that he would need but nothing is helping. He wants to dig deeper and ask more questions. This is a classic example of what I call “unauthorized baggage”. Unauthorized baggage can have you off balance with very little to no clue as to why. When a partner is overly aggressive or possessive, it can weigh you down to the point where you are ready to start throwing things off. When nothing you do seems to be working, you will start eliminating things that are actually in your life to help you; like fuel, food or even extra oxygen (friends who give you life). Again, those closest to you will give you warning signs when this happens. Your body will also be a good sign of indicators. Do not ignore the signs. Pay attention, life has a way of getting your attention. If you are not careful you will find yourself starting to become distant with friends and even point the figure at others as the reason to why things are the way they are.

BOOK SOUNDTRACK

Life and Favor – John P. Kee and New Life feat. James Fortune Her Heart – Anthony Hamilton My Favorite Thing – Ronald Isley featuring Kem Rise and Fall – Craig David feat Sting All of Me – John Legend Sweat – Toni Braxton & Babyface

AUTHORS PLAYLIST

Medelssohn: Octet in E flat, Op. 20-1 Van Cliburn Tchaikovsky: Concerto No. 1 & Rachmaninoff: Concerto No. 2 Michael Meets Mozart More Than Anything – Lamar Campbell & Spirit of Praise Grateful – Hezekiah Walker, Love Fellowship Choir

AUTHOR BIO

Jeremy L. Blunt is a capitol city native of Louisiana and a graduate of the East Baton Rouge Public School System. He is a proud Husband, Father, and Mentor. He is married to the former LaTrisha Earline Milton, also of Baton Rouge. He has two daughters, Kaylie and Amerie Blunt. His hobbies include traveling, reading, exercising, and interacting with people. He is honorably retired from the Louisiana National Guard. While also defending his country, Jeremy has and continues to be very active in his community. He serves as a Minister to young people and serves and advises several boards in his community. Jeremy attended Louisiana State University and attends HOPE Bible Institute for Theology and Religious Studies.

Jeremy is a motivated speaker and teacher who delivers a message of self empowerment and change to audiences of all demographics. He continues to work with “at-risk” youth and considers it as one of the most rewarding experiences of his life. He is an advocate for service and continued education.

Jeremy lives by the motto: “Change comes from those willing to do things differently”.

AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKS

WEBSITE / BLOG – FACEBOOK – TWITTER – PINTEREST – LINKEDIN

INSTAGRAM – stitches4life

Tour Organized & Hosted by

Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: The Enchanted Rose by @nadia_nader

 

The Enchanted Rose

Misty Hills

Book One

Nadia Nader

Genre: YA Paranormal

ASIN: B00S99Y4I8

Number of pages: 135

Word Count: Roughly 45,000

Cover Artist: Consuelo Parra

Book Description:

When Vivian’s mother dies in a tragic accident, Vivian’s world is turned upside down. Her life, as she knows it, is over. A new life, full of her mother’s secrets, begins…

Sent away by her father to live with two eccentric aunts on the mysterious Tremaine Estate, Vivian comes to learn that a powerful curse lurks over her family – one that only she may have the power to break. With each day she spends in Misty Hills, Vivian uncovers more unsettling discoveries about the town, her reclusive family, and herself.

Can Vivian let go of every truth she’s ever believed and discover who she really is, before the dark secrets hidden within the supernatural town threaten to consume her and those she loves?

Available at Amazon BN and Kobo

“Actually, I lived abroad. I just moved back to the US. My dad sent me to live with my aunts when my…” My breath hitched. I couldn’t say the words aloud. The bus driver gave me a sympathetic look in the mirror. I realized he must have noticed me carrying the urn. I sank lower in my seat, staring out the window at the dreary landscape. Grey clouds covered the sun and bleached the color out of our surroundings. The only familiar thing at the moment was the fog rolling over the hills. It reminded me of San Francisco, where I'd lived the last few months. I had been so excited to move there. How could I have known it would end in such tragedy?

“Well, Misty Hills may not be the most exciting place to live, but there are plenty of stories about it.”

“What kind of stories?” I had tried googling it, but the search engine hadn't yielded much information. It was as if that one town in Colorado were cut off from all technology.

“All sorts of things. There are rumors that the original founders of the town were runaway witches from Salem. You know, from the Salem witch hunts back in the day?”

“Really?” I felt pretty skeptical. “So, they’re superstitious?”

“A little. I’ve heard all kinds of wild tales about the goings-on in Misty Hills. Too many crazy stories, but I guess the sources aren’t the most reputable. Try to take in as much as you can right now because we’re arriving around the time the sun sets.”

I hadn't believed my father was serious about sending me away until he instructed me to get on the bus. I begged to stay with him, but he was adamant. I got angry and threatened to run away as soon as I arrived at my aunts' house. He asked me to come to terms with what had happened. What about me? I thought. Don’t I get to have some time to get used to having lost my mother? Do I have to lose my father too?

When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?

It wasn’t until I had gotten my first review from my first reader that I realized that I had done it, I was a writer. Every time I get a new review, the idea is reinforced. And that’s why I love getting reviews!

How long did it take to get your first book published?

It took about a year, roughly three months to write it and the rest of the time working on edits and other things. I have to admit, I took my time and still feel it could have used more time but I reached a point where I was like, “If I don’t publish this now, I never will.” I could have easily taken another year or two over it.

What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?

The Enchanted Rose. It’s a paranormal mystery set in contemporary times with a  dash of magic.

Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?

I self-publish.

What can we expect from you in the future?  ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?

I’m working on the sequel to The Enchanted Rose and I have another book that’s a fantasy set in an alternate world. I’m excited for those two to come out in the next few months.

What genre would you place your books into?

Fantasy/Paranormal

What made you decide to write that genre of book?

It’s what I love to read. I enjoy escaping into different worlds full of magic and mystery.

Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?

I don’t like saying I have a favorite character but I must admit, I’m partial to Jaxon. He’s a big tough guy with a soft side. It doesn’t hurt that he’s hot ;)

How long have you been writing?, and who or what inspired you to write?

I’ve been writing all my life, whether it’s in journals or on a blog but this is the first year that I attempt being a “real” writer.

Do you read all the reviews of your book/books?

Yes, I do! I don’t respond to all of them but I appreciate each and every one. The fact that someone took the time to read my book blows me away. It’s such a thrilling feeling.

Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?

I wrote the book first and then chose the title.

How do you come up with characters names and place names in your books?

I actually had different names for the guys in my book. My editor convinced me to change them. In the beginning it was difficult to think of them as anything but the original names but I’ve gotten used to it now and feel they’ve really come into their own.

Do you decide on character traits (ie shy, quiet, tomboy girl) before writing the whole book or as you go along?

I decide as I go along. I allow the voice of the character to come out and feel it out to see what feels right.

Are there any hidden messages or morals contained in your books? (Morals as in like Aesops Fables type of "The moral of this story is..")

I believe in The Enchanted Rose it is to have hope. Nothing is impossible. Keep trying and be hopeful.

Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?

Paperback & ebooks are my favorite

Your favorite singer/group is?

I actually don’t have a favorite singer/group. I love music but love so many different genres, my taste is constantly changing.

Your favorite color is?

Blue

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Nadia Nader lives in Kuwait with her family.

You can contact Nadia on her blog http://www.nadianader.com

www.twitter.com/nadia_nader

www.goodreads.com/nadianader

www.facebook.com/nadianaderwriter

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/zo7Sn

Cover Reveal: Savannah Sins by @jennafoxrox

BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – Savannah Sins

SERIES – N/A

AUTHOR – Jenna Fox

GENRE – erotic/horror

PUBLICATION DATE – March 3rd 2015

LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 15,300 words

PUBLISHER –Dark Hollows Press

COVER ARTIST – 3 Rusted Spoons

BOOK SYNOPSIS

Her prison became his hell.

The only thing standing between Beverly Price and a prison cell is her well connected attorney, Jackson McNabb. Jackson pulls some legal strings, getting Beverly sent to his family’s plantation to work out her sentence at an isolated setting- the perfect place for sexual escapades. When Jack and Beverly act on the pent-up lust burning between them, their passion rouses an angry spirit, setting off a series of frightening paranormal events and sending Beverly fleeing the arms of her lover, leaving Jack to fight for both of their lives.

Where will you run when your sins come back to haunt you?

EXCERPT

Beverly’s libido was assailed at being around a man she wasn’t totally immune to and she shivered when Jack got behind her, bracketing her sides with his arms. She stood still as her scantily clothed skin absorbed his body heat, trapping it between them. She took the cutting knife, and he covered her hand with his, directing the chopping mechanisms. The close proximity was pressing on her, making her question everything she thought she knew about herself. He was teaching, but she wasn’t listening, only slipping into feelings she’d never meant to feel with him.

They were nearly meshed together when Jack’s hands wrapped her waist and he guided her toward the sink. He washed and she dried while a play-by-play reverie of Jack stripping her down and bending her over the counter projected in her head like a movie screen. Beverly’s breath caught in her throat when the bulge in his pants skipped across the back of her thigh.

AUTHOR BIO

Jenna Fox is a civilized hillbilly, mother, wife and multi-published author of erotic romance residing in Eastern Tennessee. Besides juggling a busy family life, Fox reviews and critiques for other authors and crafts her own dark erotic tales. Stories always feature a mysterious alpha male with unexpected twists to shock the reader. She believes in HFN and HEA endings, although not always in a romantic or conventional way.

Her work is born from real life experiences, an overactive imagination and a consuming caffeine addiction. Fox is a listener of bad-ass music and a watcher of classic slasher films. In short, she’s a multi-tasker – a writer, a storyteller, able to make a boo-boo all better with just one kiss and a proud, world class expert at screwing up recipes and scaring away closet monsters. She believes in ghosts and God and is absolutely convinced chocolate soothes the savage beast.

AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKS

Blog - Facebook - Facebook Fan Page - Pinterest - Twitter: @jennafoxrox - Goodreads - Amazon Author Page

Tour Organized & Hosted by: