A supernatural love triangle that tests the bounds of science, truth,
Regent Lela of Asiya is the most powerful person on her planet but she is
powerless to save the life of her beloved soulmate—Zion Grace. For
thirty years they lived as husband and wife, but Zion’s time is at
an end. Lela must go on without him.
“There will never be anyone else for me.”
Despite having died, nothing can keep Zion from his soulmate. He’s back but
not as the man he once was. Zion must help Lela move on with her
life, lest he lose her forever. But how can Zion convince Lela to
accept the love and affections of another man when he still wants her
“I love you, Lela. My heart is forever yours.”
Lela and Zion are bound souls, destined to live eternity together. For
these lovers, death is not an end, but a fateful beginning.
N. D. Jones lives in Maryland with her husband and two children. Having
earned a M.A. in Political Science, she is a dedicated educator. She
taught high school social studies for nine years. Currently, she is a
professional development teacher specialist with a local Maryland
school system, working on increasing student achievement through
teacher and administrator efficacy. N.D. is also a continuing
education student who is pursuing her doctorate in education in
Community College Leadership.
A desire to see more novels with positive, sexy, and three-dimensional
African American characters as soul mates, friends, and lovers,
inspired the author to take on the challenge of penning such romantic
reads. She is the author of two paranormal romance series: Winged
Warriors and Death and Destiny. N.D. likes to read historical and
paranormal romance novels, as well as comics and manga.
Everybody loves unicorns! OK maybe they don’t but for those who do, they will
love this story about a little unicorn who was born into a tribe of
magical, metal horned unicorns. The little guy has no magic and he
has no metal but somehow he must save the tribe from an evil
sorcerer. Read the book to find out if he can do it.
“The metal horned unicorns are doomed!” That’s what Lauda Lead Horn
wailed when she first saw the tribe’s new savior. OK, so his horn
was not metal. . .and he did not have a magic power. . .and he was
really a puny little runt. But doomed? Were things really that bad?
Well, things were pretty bad in the land of MarBryn. Magh, an evil sorcerer
utilized unicorn horns and hooves to create his magical potions and
spells. Those he used, to increase his power and to conquer everyone
in his path. All of the unicorns from the Tribe of the Metal Horn
were now gone . . . except for twelve survivors.
Before the blue unicorn was born, Numen told Alumna, the aluminum-horned
oracle, that he had a plan to bring the tribe back home to Unimaise.
His prophecy was, “Only the blue unicorn can join with the
Moon-Star. Until then, no new unicorns will be born.” Blue was the
last unicorn born. Twenty years later, his horn was still covered
with a plain blue colored hide. There was not a glint of metal to be
seen on it or his hooves. And he still didn’t have any magic. But
he was no longer scrawny and he had his wits. Though no one else in
the tribe thought he had a chance, Blue felt ready to make Magh pay
for his evil deeds. And he went off to do it alone. That was Blue’s
first mistake. If the entire tribe was not standing horn-tip to
horn-tip at the proper time and the exact place to help usher the
Moon-Star Spirit into Blue’s horn, he would die. Then, the rest of
the tribe would really be doomed.
Readers will follow along two journey paths in this book. Blue is joined in
his travels by his mentor Gaiso, the Stag and his friend, Girasol the
Firebird as they try to find their way across a danger-filled MarBryn
to Muzika Woods. The rest of Blue’s tribe is forced to follow
another route due to Nix Nickle Horn’s unfortunate incident with a
Manticore. Nix, the great unicorn defender must safely lead the way
for Ghel, the Golden-Horned unicorn; Silubhra Silver Horn; Cornum the
Brass-Horned unicorn; Steel Horned Style; Cuprum the Copper-Horned
unicorn; Tin-Horned Tinam; Dr. Zinko; Iown the Iron-Horned unicorn
and the others in an action packed adventure to their destination in
Muzika Woods. Both journey paths converge there in the Nebulium
This chapter book is a collector’s dream containing page after page of
lavish artwork. It contains nearly 100 pages of story text by Sybrina
Durant and the same number of pages of magnificent water-color
illustrations by Dasguptarts. This book, written by Sybrina Durant
and illustrated by Dasguptarts, offers readers a visual feast of over
forty beautiful water-color pictures that each span two pages.
Forty-two – easy to digest two-page chapters are chock full of
adventurous and entertaining morsels. This illustrated book will
become a favorite of teen and older fantasy readers. A
companion coloring/ character description book is also available at
any online bookstore.
I’m Sybrina. . .. . .Just one of millions of wannabe
author/singer/songwriters out there but I hope, after reading or
hearing my books and songs, you’ll think my contributions to the
world have as much value as any other famous artist out there today.
Fame is all in being in the right place at the right time but at least
with the internet and venues like this, all of us have opportunities
to share our creativity with the world. I’m so happy that I am able
to share my works with you. That is awesome!
The books I’ve written span a wide range between illustrated picture
books, coloring books and YA novels to technical and how-to books.
Genre: Traditional Mystery Published by: The Mystery Company / Crum Creek Press Publication Date: October 2012 Number of Pages: 194 ISBN: 1932325239 (ISBN13: 9781932325232) Series: Maggie Ryan and Nick O’Connor #2 Purchase Links:Amazon 🔗 | Barnes & Noble 🔗 | Smashwords 🔗 | Goodreads 🔗A finalist for the Anthony Award
Vietnam, assassinations and riots. In the spring semester of 1968, a series of brutal attacks draws campus women together to study self-defense and the psychology of rape. Graduate student Mary Beth Nelson struggles to keep the Lords of Death at bay by immersing herself in researching Mayan languages. Her new housemate, Maggie Ryan, has her own secrets. When murder strikes close to home, Maggie investigates with a little help from her friends.
“MURDER IS ACADEMIC treats violation of truth in tandem with assault and rape true violations of person, mind, and body–– and presents a cogent caesar for the inviolability both of persons and truth.”–– The Armchair Detective
“Murder is Academic” by P.M. Carlson The Maggie Ryan Series #2
Near an upstate New York university, June 1968.
She was dead now, no more threat. The murderer pushed aside the long dark hair and, very carefully, cut the triangle into the young cheek. Done. Now, walk to the car calmly, get in. Back to the highway, driving coolly, back in control again.
* * *
The Christian conquerors teach that days don’t begin until midnight. The Maya know that it takes longer to hand over the burdens of time, and that the influence of the incoming god may begin at sunset. The day known as Monday, June 17, to those who count by the Gregorian calendar was pleasantly breezy, as befitted the Ixil 9 Iiq; but shortly after sunset it became one of the most tragic of Mary Beth’s life. A Mayan traditionalist might have attributed the change to the coming of that doubly unlucky day, 10 Aqbal.
But it had all begun quite cheerfully.
Maggie had borrowed Sue’s backpack in case Nick needed one for the picnic, and had packed her own and Mary Beth’s with the camp stove and the food. She hummed lightheartedly as she worked.
“You’re happy to see him, aren’t you?” Mary Beth had said, tightening the top of the salad dressing jar.
“Yes, but that’s only part of it,” Maggie had confessed. “It’s just good to know that’s behind me. It was a very bad time, and Nick was there. But I can see him now and just enjoy the friendship. The bad memories are there, way in the background, but the good ones are too. It doesn’t hurt anymore. It hurt quite a lot for a while.”
Genre: Traditional Mystery Published by: The Mystery Company / Crum Creek Press Publication Date: May 28th 2013 Number of Pages: 212 ISBN: 9781932325270 Series: Maggie Ryan and Nick O’Connor #3 Purchase Links:Amazon 🔗 | Barnes & Noble 🔗 | Smashwords 🔗 | Goodreads 🔗ogical
It’s 1969, in a brain research lab. The exploding wastebasket is a prank, but slaughtered lab rats have graduate students Maggie Ryan, Monica Bauer and the rest of the lab on edge. Then the custodian is murdered. Maggie’s friend, actor Nick O’Connor, goes undercover to investigate, help that Maggie does not appreciate– or does she? While Nick and Maggie search for the killer, Monica struggles to connect with a Vietnam veteran with a brain injury.
“P.M. Carlson’s energetic and insightful novels are back in print — hallelujah!”–– Sara Paretsky
“Murder is Pathological” by P.M. Carlson Maggie Ryan 1969 #3
Neurology grad student Monica Bauer helps out at nursing home, 1969.
She waited. He could not summon words at will, except for the overpractised early ones–– hello, good-bye, okay. They both waited for the disconnected words to drift through his mind, waited for him to recognize the right one as it happened by.
After a while he said, “Buzzing. In, in, what is it? Not nose, not eyes.”
He couldn’t remember words, but melodies were still easy for him. She had learned to sing “la-la-la” instead of trying to teach him to catch the elusive words. Now they sang together, her alto and his baritone blending pleasantly. It made him happy.
Finally Monica said good-bye, signed out, drove away. Mary and Jock, Bibbsy and Ted never would. Four friends, trapped by their own broken brains. Especially Ted, who still struggled courageously to fuse the bits of his shattered world into coherence. Who still remembered that things had once been different, that he had once been whole.
Maybe she would never discover anything that could help them. But with Dr. Weisen’s help, she meant to give it a damn good try.
Back in Laconia, she parked in front of her square brick house, then paused to wait for Maggie, who was at the corner mailing a letter. “Trying to send a message to the outside world?” called Monica.
“Yeah. My friend Nick.” Maggie, exuberant, sprinted from the corner, ending with a cartwheel. Then she pulled herself up with dignity and asked, “How were your friends today?”
“Soaking up sun.”
“Good for them. Listen, we’re going to the concert tonight. Can you come?”
“No, I’ve got to get back to the lab right after dinner. Have to check on those baby rats I delivered today.”
And so Monica was second on the scene. She unlocked the main door of the lab, and at the sound of her steps Norman erupted from the door of the animal quarters, gaping in terror.
“Miz Bauer! Come quick!” he pleaded. “Something terrible happened!”
Monica ran after him into one of Dr. Weisen’s animal rooms. She said, “Oh, Christ!”
In the center of the room lay a heap of slaughtered rats, their backs broken and mangled, their skulls smashed.
Summer Murray is ready to shake things up. She doesn’t want to work in risk management. She doesn’t want to live in Hartford, Connecticut. So she plans a grand adventure: she’s going to throw out all the stuff she doesn’t want and travel the country in her very own tiny house shaped like a train caboose. Just Summer, her chihuahua-dachshund Shortie, and 220 square feet of freedom.
Then her take-no-prisoners grandmother calls to demand Summer head home to the Pacific Northwest to save the family bakery. Summer has her reasons for not wanting to return home, but she’ll just park her caboose, fix things, and then be on her way. But when she gets to Cat’s Paw, Washington, she’s shocked by her grandmother’s strange behavior and reunited with a few people she’d hoped to avoid. If Summer is going to make a fresh start, she’ll have to face the past she’s been running from all along . . .
Celia Bonaduce has the coolest day job – a field producer on HGTV’s House Hunters. Her credits include other HGTV shows, including Tiny House Hunters, Where Are They Now and ABC’s Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.
If you’re sensing a theme – a love of houses – so did she. After her mother moved into a tiny house of her own, it seemed like a new book series revolving around what it’s like to live in a tiny house was nothing less than providential.
While Celia’s other books – the Venice Beach Romance series and the Fat Chance, Texas trilogy are anchored in particular places, the heroines of the Tiny House Novels are off to discover life’s big mysteries while living tiny!
Ren Garcia is a Science Fiction/Fantasy author and Texas native who grew up in western Ohio. He has been writing since before he could write, often scribbling alien lingo on any available wall or floor with assorted crayons. He attended The Ohio State University and majored in English Literature. Ren has been an avid lover of anything surreal since childhood, he also has a passion for caving, urban archeology and architecture. His highly imaginative “League of Elder” book series is published by Loconeal Publishing
They thought the episode with their cousin to the east, Lady Bloodstein, was over. They thought it was something to laugh about at the grand table in fond nostalgia.
But they were wrong. They were so wrong. And Castle Blanchefort has fallen!
Lord Kabyl has lost everything: his wife, his kin, his family fortune, and his home. Castle Blanchefort, once a safe haven, is overrun with enemies seeking his blood.
In what follows, he must join forces with ancient enemies and with people who do not exist. He must treat with sinister, possibly untrustworthy gods and barter away his soul for urgently needed arcane help or face certain death at the hands of forgotten tyrants and their machinations from a bygone age.
And, how can a strange science known as Mentralysis, practiced in secret in the hidden places of the League, hold the key to ultimate victory?
What should have been obvious to Lord Kabyl from the start at last becomes crystal clear: Foolish is he who dares possess the Ultimate Object, for misery shall be his only reward.
The Apocalypse Games is a state of the art virtual game designed to entertain doomsday preppers, gamers, and cosplayers. But not everyone who enters is there to play the game the way the creators intended. Some players don’t belong at all and some enter the game to escape reality.
Whatever the reason, over 100 people hook up to the mainframe computer with
one goal: survive twenty-four hours of an apocalypse. Instead of game
over at the end, they’re plugged straight into a new game. Then
another. It’s clear to the players the computer has malfunctioned.
What isn’t clear is why.
Jack Minnow grabbed a brochure off the rack and his eyes scanned the back page.
“It says here that rule breakers are ten times more likely to survive an apocalypse. They’re adaptable and they rely on cunning and instinct.”
Jack was five-foot-eight, and the woman behind the counter, called an operator, was easily six-feet tall. Looking at her was like looking at a marble statue atop a pedestal. All white – her hair, her tight-fitting jump suit, her face, neck, and hands, painted to resemble a computer generated character. He allowed himself to imagine that the stage make-up covered places he couldn’t see.
She smiled at him. “It also says that rule breakers are ten times more likely to die within the first hour. They’re reckless and often act without thinking.”
She pushed a plastic tray towards him, the kind handed out at airports to slip under x-ray machines. Jack dropped his wallet, phone, and car keys into the tray.
“So it’s a win/win day for a guy with a superhero complex,” he said.
Superman, his mother had called him after he’d brought home a stray dog for the fifth time. “Can’t help but save things,” she’d told the dog ranger. Even as a boy, Jack knew what happened to the mutts who were handed over to the ranger, but he still brought dogs home for one last night of fun. His superhero complex was the reason he’d entered The Apocalypse Games. Save everyone. Save the world. Nobody dies. Not for real anyway.
The operator removed the tray and he stood there waiting for a voucher. None came. A warning flared up into his brain. What did he really know about this operation?
“Seriously, about those odds,” he said. “Exactly how much testing has gone into the program? I mean this is opening day. There must be kinks to iron out.”
“We use the same technology as they do at NASA,” she said. “The nutrient tubes and mist emitters feeding into the simulation pods are the same as those used in space travel. The structural integrity of the pods was tested by NASA engineers only last week.” She tilted her head to the side. “We’ll take good care of you, Mr Minnow. I’ll see to it personally.”
He didn’t know her name, or anything else about her, but he felt he could trust her. He had to trust her; he was placing his life in her hands.
She stepped out from behind the counter, slipped her arm through his, and guided him toward a set of doors where he caught flashes of shiny surfaces and bright lights. A sign indicated the room was called The Launch Pad.
“How will you see to it personally?” he asked, dragging his gaze back to her dazzling blue eyes. “Will you be in the game with me?”
She shook her head. Pity. He was sure he’d enjoy cyber-sex.
“You’ve got a good crowd here for the opening. How many players you reckon? Eighty? Ninety?”
“There are one hundred and five players taking part in today’s auspicious event.”
Jack’s mood sank a little. “Won’t it get crowded?”
She placed her other hand on his arm. Others might have found the gesture too friendly, but not him. Attention from a beautiful woman – genuine or as part of a customary service – warmed his insides.
“There are many apocalyptic scenarios on offer,” she said. “Some players have chosen to be placed randomly, in which case we’ll load them into scenarios that other players haven’t pre-selected. It’s highly unlikely you’ll all be playing the same game.” She stopped at a machine similar in size to an ATM and ran a laminated pass across the scanner. “I understand you’ll be teaming up with two other players, Reis Anderson and Kelly Lawrence.”
“Kelly’s my sister,” said Jack, not wanting to give the woman the wrong impression. “I’m being a good brother and chaperoning her.”
The operator nodded. “Have you chosen an apocalypse to survive? Or will you opt for the random selection?”
“I don’t mind surprises, but Kelly’s…let’s just say she’s a novice at this. We’ve decided to play—”
Her fingers swiftly landed on his lips. “Don’t tell me. If I don’t know then I can’t reveal any spoilers.”
She slipped the laminated pass around his neck and continued ushering him toward The Launch Pad. At the doorway, she gently pried her arm away and her azure-blue eyes twinkled.
“I assure you, Mr Minnow. You will be in the greatest of care. Please make your way inside and enjoy your complimentary champagne. It won’t be long until you’re taken to the simulation pod.”
The doubt still niggled at him. “So when we die in the game, what happens?”
She looked off to another player signing up at the desk.
At last she turned around and smiled, revealing dazzling white teeth. “You can’t die in the game.”
“But it’ll feel like it. That’s what the brochure says.”
“Yes, it will feel like death,” she said before walking briskly away.
Charmed, Texas, is as warm and welcoming as it sounds. But even in a small
town, when it comes to love, sometimes you’ve got to take the
bitter with the sweet . . .
Carmen Frost hates honey. And bees. And in her hometown of Charmed, Texas,
which practically invented the stuff, that’s a problem. The good news is
that the summer Honey Festival is finally over. Even better, so is
the annual Lucky Hart carnival, a road show that made off with her
dreams years ago—including the boy she loved. Now she’s got a
divorce behind her, and a successful law career in front of her, but
in a tiny town, big memories die hard. Or they don’t die at all—as
Carmen discovers when she runs into an all too familiar pair of
eyes—older, wiser, and just as heart-melting as ever . . .
Sully Hart has had enough of the nomad lifestyle. Travelling with his father’s
carnival gave him adventures, but it cost him much more. Now he’s
home to stay, contracted to create an entertainment complex in
Charmed. He wants roots, a house with a yard and all the mundane
pleasures that go with it. But the girl he loved has become a woman
who still wants freedom. Can she still want him? It seems he and
Carmen are at each other’s throats one minute—and on each other’s
lips the next. Someone’s gotta give . . .
the bestselling, award-winning author of sexy small-town love
stories. Being a Texas girl through and through, she’s proud to say
she lives in Southeast Texas with her retired husband, a tricked-out
golf cart, and two crazy dogs. She is the author of five stand-alone
novels including the bestsellingDon’t Let Go,
the exciting Heart Of The Storm series, and the fun and sexy new
Charmed in Texas series. For more about Sharla’s books,
and keep up with all her new book releases easily by subscribing to
her newsletter. She loves keeping up with her readers, and you can
connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram as @sharlalovelace.
As a professional organizer, Maggie McDonald brings order to messy
situations. But when a good friend becomes a murder suspect,
surviving the chaos is one tall task . . .
Despite a looming deadline, Maggie thinks she has what it takes to help friends Jason
and Stephen unclutter their large Victorian in time for its scheduled
renovation. But before she can fill a single bin with unused junk,
Jason leaves for Texas on an emergency business trip, Stephen’s
injured mastiff limps home—and Stephen himself lands in jail for
murder. Someone killed the owner of a local Chinese restaurant and
stuffed him in the freezer. Stephen, caught at the crime scene
covered in blood, is the number one suspect. Now Maggie must devise a
strategy to sort through secrets and set him free—before she’s
tossed into permanent storage next . . .
“Maggie, we’ve got a crisis,” Jason had said the last time I’d talked to him.
“I know you insist on working with both halves of a couple—”
“But I’m also a problem solver. What’s up?”
“That spate of tornadoes and flooding in Texas, that’s what. I’ve been deployed. I can’t back out or delay our departure. Those people are hurting, and it’s the first test of my new auxiliary law-enforcement team. A group of TV journalists is reporting on our project for some newsmagazine. Our funding and the future of programs like this de- pend on our success.” Jason rattled off the sentences breathlessly, without giving me a chance to comment or interrupt.
I understood his predicament. He’d been working on establishing a rapid-response law enforcement team for as long as I’d known him. The short version of the saga was that the team, with all its supplies, could swoop into a disaster area and support law enforcement efforts under local authority. The idea was to prevent looting, keep people safe, provide skilled guidance to volunteers, and eliminate many of
the problems experienced by civilians, volunteers, and first responders following Hurricane Katrina and other disasters. Jason’s team and others like it hoped to plug gaps between what FEMA and the National Guard could provide and what community resources were designed to accomplish.
“No problem,” I said. “We’ll start after you get back.”
“Stephen’s ready to start, like, yesterday, and the demolition is only two weeks away.”
“Ah . . .” I began, stalling for time. “To be successful, any system we develop will have to include you. If it’s going to work long term—”
“Look, Maggie, I’ve got to go. They’re loading our containers on the cargo plane. Stephen and I talked about priorities and goals last night. We made a list. I gave him parameters for tossing my stuff, and I promised not to divorce him if he gives away my favorite baseball glove. If that works for you, great. If not, take it up with Stephen. Arrange something—”
The phone cut off. I was left with the decision of whether to begin or postpone. I spotted several potential problems with Jason’s plan. Among the stumbling blocks was the fact that they might waste time and money creating a system that would work for Stephen, but not for Jason. When I’d spoken to Stephen, afterward, he considered my advice but ultimately decided to go ahead.
“No matter what Jason says, he’s going to have trouble making time for this project, even once he’s home again,” Stephen said. “Damn the torpedoes . . .”
That was two days ago. I’d decided Stephen was right. With Jason’s full-time job as a police detective he was never in full control of his own hours. Stephen was a retired US Marine who worked unpredictable hours volunteering with veterans and their canine counterparts, creat- ing civilian partnerships. If we were going to have their house ready to start a major remodel, there was no time to waste.
Today, Stephen and I were meeting to start purging their belongings, deciding what to save, and fine-tuning our organizational strategy.
I knocked on the front door of their sprawling Victorian near the Palo Alto border. There was no answer to the bell. No resonant woof from Stephen’s huge mastiff, Munchkin. I peered through the front window, leaving the print of my nose on the glass. Only dust motes moved inside.
Aria Knight has an unusual set of skills: she will hold back the hounds of
Hell so you can fly toward the Pearly Gates, and she will wipe your
slate clean so that you don’t become karma’s bitch…for a price.
A Sin Eater has to make a living in today’s world somehow.
But when she’s called in the dead of night to perform her rite for a
recluse billionaire, she stumbles upon a murder scene, and the
evidence points to her.
In an attempt to clear her name and uncover the true culprit, Aria is
forced to team up with a private investigator who’s possessed by
three spirits, and a handsome wizard who would rather see all Sin
Eaters like Aria go extinct.
Aria knows her job is never easy, but now it’s become downright
SIN EATER is the first book of the Aria Knight Chronicles by USA Today
bestselling author Samantha LaFantasie and Alesha Escobar, author of
the bestselling Gray Tower Trilogy.
If Hessa didn’t unlock her damn door and let her in, that would certainly be the case. Aria’s back stiffened when she heard the faint but distinctive howls from the Hounds of Hell. Their shrieks always struck her as a cross between wolves wailing at the moon and jackals whining into the night.
Hessa finally opened the door and stood at the threshold, sizing her up and taking a long drag from her cigarette. A tear, mingled with ruined mascara, trailed down her cheek. “Thanks for coming, Aria. This was the last thing Mom asked for, so…”
“I understand. May I come in?” Aria nearly knocked her over trying to slip inside. The howling grew louder. They were down the street, and Aria’s time was running out.
“Yeah.” Hessa rolled her eyes at Aria’s terse attitude, but she’d do the same if she could hear what came their way.
“You should place a ward around the house.” Aria speed-walked down the hall.
“Okay…” Hessa’s voice trailed off.
She wished she had been called sooner. If the hellhounds made it to the dead woman before she did, then she’d have to watch them tear the old woman’s soul to shreds before dragging her off to the abyss.
Aria wrinkled her nose at the smell of wet fur and garbage. A small dog somewhere in the house barked a few times. As if drawn like a magnet to metal, she guided herself to the last room, toward the deceased. A short, white-haired woman in a long-sleeved gown lay in repose on a bed. Her arms were crossed just below her chest, with her hands meeting in a clasp.
Aria’s lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t have time for this. She had told Hessa over the phone not to move or position the body. She quickly took the dead woman’s right hand and extended it, placing it to her right side. She did the same for the left hand, so that nothing sat on or near the deceased’s chest. She felt the moment Hessa cast her warding spell around the house. It felt like a stab of tension in her chest, the same type people felt when walking downstairs and missing a step.
“What was her name?” Aria asked, when Hessa joined her in the back room. She needed to know this in case she needed to grab the spirit’s attention.
“Beautiful name. Do you have the bread?” Aria grabbed a rickety stool from the left corner of the room and brought it over. She sat down next to the bed. The hellhounds circled the house, probably salivating over their prey. Aria could hear their gleeful snarls at the prospect of devouring another soul. If she weren’t careful, they would tear into her as well. It wasn’t unheard of for them to go after sin eaters.
I’m a caffeine addict and chocoholic who enjoys reading and writing
engaging stories, loveable (and not-so loveable) characters, and
expressing my creativity daily. I write fantasy with intriguing
characters, action-packed scenes, and always throw in a good dash of
humor and romance.
Science Fiction and Fantasy are
my favorite genres, but I also adore the classics (Shakespeare, Dante
Alighieri, etc.) and I have a soft spot in my heart for Victorian
poetry. You can geek out with me all-day every day over these
Some of my favorite contemporary
fantasy authors are George R.R. Martin, Robert Jordan (rest in
peace), J.K. Rowling, Neil Gaiman, Jim Butcher (Dresden Files made me
love Urban Fantasy), and Ilona Andrews among others. I enjoy movies
and shows like Sleepy Hollow, Supernatural, Arrow, The Flash, The
Avengers…there are too many to name!
I want to read more comics and
graphic novels, please shoot a recommendation or two my way (I LOVE
the Hellblazer comics, by the way).
Please don’t be a stranger–I
want you to kick up your feet, sip your coffee (or tea) and join in
on my weekly rants, discussions, and updates.
Two troubled young adults find themselves key players in a deadly game
that spans the 21st century and the Viking Age.
Amy, finding it difficult to ‘fit in’, becomes increasingly obsessed
with the virtual reality game Erinland. The VR characters and the
mist of Erin begin to invade Amy’s dreams and her waking moments.
She finds herself drawn into Erinland in 9th century Ireland. Amy
becomes part of this mystical world as she joins in the struggle to
defeat the Viking raiders.
Richard has a complicated home life and feels he doesn’t belong anywhere. A
series of events finds him desperate and living on the streets, where
he finds himself dragged into 9th century Norway by a Viking warrior.
Richard finds acceptance with the Vikings and joins them on a
colonisation raid to Ireland.
The wind of the boglands howled, shrieking with the voices of tortured souls entwined with the steaming peat.
‘We must protect the chalice and the sacred writings!’ cried Niamh of the Golden Hair. The sound of her commanding voice reduced the sound of the wailing wind to a frustrated whisper. The woman wheeled her powerful steed around and galloped off towards the distant bog lights, leaving a flurry of mud in her wake.
The sign had come. Tadhg the great warrior knew that Niamh of the Golden Hair would only appear if the sacred relics were in danger of being destroyed and absorbed into the dark culture of the barbarians. He had to go to the Abbey and protect the sacred objects from defilement. A primal howl made him spin around to see the brutish face of his aggressor. Metal clashed against metal, war cries wailed, flesh and bone hacked until Tadhg fell on the battlefield.
‘AAARGH!’ Tadhg gasped, fighting for air as he sank to the ground, choking in the mire of mud and blood. Clasping his cleft sword, his breath came in ragged gasps then finally faded. Tadhg’s face and body contorted, shimmering as he slowly grew fainter and seeped into the boglands. It had been his battlefield and now it was his final resting place. A huge Viking towered over Tadhg, howling triumphantly. The howling continued until the whole scene faded to grey.
Niamh of the Golden Hair’s face popped onto the computer screen. Her serene voice came out of the speaker. ‘Erinland is at risk of disappearing. The chalice and writings have fallen victim to the barbarous Vikings. You have lost another incarnation. Be careful, small one.’
Amy grabbed the sides of the computer screen and shook it savagely. ‘Bloody hell, this virtual reality world is driving me crazy! I’ve lost another incarnation. Useless Irishmen, no wonder the Vikings invaded them. Stupid bloody Vikings, stupid Tadhg! Sacred objects? Yeah right, Niamh of the Golden Hair. What a load of horse crap! Tadhg needs a good kick up his hairy butt.’
‘Amy Bradshaw, stop that language at once! What do you think you’re playing at? I do my best to raise you to be a lady! Why do you think I send you to that expensive private school? Not to learn language like that! You’re a disgrace. When is the last time you brushed your hair? This bedroom is a garbage dump!’ The last word came out as a hiss.
Amy jumped at the sound of her mother’s voice. She thought her mother was in the kitchen washing up after dinner, totally out of earshot.
Amy’s mother continued with the tirade as Amy cringed on the bed. ‘Anyway, you are supposed to be doing your homework, not surfing the net. You’re banned from the computer for a week, it is only to be used for homework. Oh, and I’ll be supervising you, so don’t get any ideas!’ she exclaimed.
Amy had to think of something quickly. ‘But, Mum, this is homework. In History we are learning about Vikings and how they were forced to migrate and invade other lands. It’s really interesting. We have to research their culture, art, and craftsmanship and what influence it had on the places they conquered,’ cried Amy. ‘I was researching,’ she added, trying to sound as indignant as possible.
Amy’s mother looked at her suspiciously. ‘Researching?’ she said a little more calmly. ‘Then why did I hear all that yelling and screaming?’
Amy thought she could sense a crack in her mother’s armour. She decided to weave a bit of truth into the lies—half-truths usually had a ring of plausibility to them.
‘Well … We have to go onto a virtual reality site to give us a hands-on view of life in Viking times. We make a village and even get to design our own Celtic jewellery!
On the virtual reality site, we learn how to simulate Viking warriors sparring with each other. I was yelling at the warriors fighting!’ she said.
‘You know about this, Mum! Mr Lord gave us the website details in our history class today, and I gave you the permission note last week. Remember? Anyway, you can ring him if you don’t believe me.’ Amy uttered these last words in an almost accusing tone.
Her mother’s expression softened, slightly. ‘Oh, I see. Well … I suppose if it’s for school … But you know, I might just contact that Mr Lord. This research seems to be encouraging a bit too much passion in you. Now get to bed before I change my mind, and don’t forget to clean your teeth.’
Amy snapped off the computer and stomped off to the bathroom. At least she had fooled her mother into thinking that she was concentrating on her school work, which couldn’t be further from the truth. And she could still play Erinland without her mum knowing what she was doing. I could even buy one of those VR headsets to make the game more real. I bet Mum wouldn’t even work out that I had it! I wonder … She would probably find out sooner or later but it would be worth it, Amy thought absently as she spat the slimy residue of toothpaste and saliva down the sink.
She rinsed her mouth and splashed her face with cold water, staring hard at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. It wasn’t a bad face. Not too pretty, but not too ugly either. She imagined herself in ancient Erin fighting at Tadhg’s side, away from the bitchy girls at school with their bitchy texting and sniggering behind their hands. School. God, Amy hated school. School, no way! But talking to gods and minor deities? Protecting ancient manuscripts and chalices from the Raiders? She could live with that. She might even be a goddess herself! Niamh of the Golden Hair? No … Amy of the Spotty PJs! Yep, that would be fun. No bullying, no one to nag me to death, and I wouldn’t even have to clean my teeth, she silently told her smiling reflection.