Linda Nightingale presents Four by Moonlight on Barbara Edwards Comments

Please welcome Linda Nightingale with the anthology, ‘Four By Moonlight’. Tell why you wrote this story.

My very favorite poem, and one of my favorite works of literature, is The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes.  It is lyrical enough that it has been recorded many times over. The one I’m thinking of is by

This poem inspired my “Gypsy Ribbons,” which is included in an anthology from Class Act Books, Four by Moonlight.  I wanted to see what the idea of the highwayman, combined with other elements, would become in prose.

Once I read the story on a PodCast.  I had practiced the entire day before the reading, and only stumbled once.  No surprise, I had almost memorized Gypsy Ribbons.  I don’t have a copy of that PodCast or I’d include the link so that you could have a laugh as a South Carolinian with an accent tried to read a story starring British characters.

I often wondered if I could expand the story into a book, but it seemed happy as a short story.  The piece dates back quite a few years, but it has been polished and edited.  I didn’t have to worry about the advent of modern technology.  In the late 1800s, no one had a cell phone!  “Gypsy Ribbons’” setting is the Yorkshire moors, the time period parallel with the American Revolution.

Four by Moonlight also includes a novella, “The Night Before Doomsday,” the tag line to which is “Azazel resisted temptation…until the wrong woman came along.” The story takes a look at the angel Azazel in a different light—not as the demon he is often portrayed.  “Night Before Doomsday” is about the Grigori’s descent to Earth to teach men to survive/thrive after their oust from the Garden of Eden.

One story is very spicy. “The Gate Keeper’s Cottage” bears a warning sign: Enter at your own risk.

The fourth offering is “Star Angel,” a sci-fi romance and is very New Age.  The hero and the heroine are soul mates separated by a dimension.

Come with me on a journey to 1789 with “Gypsy Ribbons.”  Next whistle stop is the Garden of Eden, and on to a plantation outside New Orleans, and finally a rescue in an Idaho potato patch. In Four by Moonlight, no one is exactly what he/she may seem.

Blurb:

An anthology of love in the moonlight…in the paranormal universe.

Gypsy Ribbons – A moonlight ride on the moors and meeting a notorious highwayman will forever change Lady Virginia Darby’s life.

Star Angel – Lucy was stuck in a rut and in an Idaho potato patch. She’d seen him in the corner of her eye—a fleeting glimpse of beauty—now he stood before her in the flesh.

The Night Before Doomsday – All his brothers had succumbed to lust, but Azazel resisted temptation until the wrong woman came along.

The Gate Keeper’s Cottage – Newlywed Meggie Richelieu’s mysterious, phantom lover may be more than anyone, except the plantation housekeeper, suspects.

Excerpt:

Red eyes watched from the grate as she slipped into the cold, empty bed. Simon should have been there to warm her rather than the dying fire. Not pursuing a dangerous dream. Too angry, too miserable to weep, she tossed and turned. The relief of sleep eluded her.

An icy breath whispered through the room. Tory snuggled deeper beneath the goose down covers. Had the weather made up its mind? Was Simon riding in ice and snow? She imagined white flakes in Goliath’s long black mane and on the highwayman’s plush velvet cloak. Poor darling, he would be cold. Tory slowly drifted to sleep unrelated thoughts scrolling in her mind. A soft sound snapped her wide awake. She sat bolt upright, tugging the covers over the breasts.  The room was iceberg cold.  The ghost.

“Not Simon.” She held her breath, ears stained for the horrifying, otherworldly whisper, a warning of imminent death. The sound came again, closer. A slow footstep creeping over the old oaken floor. Tonight, the ghost of Darby Manor wandered its dim corridors.

“No. No.” Tory squeezed her eyes closed and prayed, forgetting she didn’t believe in ghosts.

The footsteps halted. Tory’s heart stopped. She started to cover her ears, refusing to hear. The ghost breathed that heartbreaking sigh at her door.

Shuddering, she slid back under the layers of down. The warmth had no effect on her shivers. She folded into a fetal position.  I’m no longer alone.  Fear chilled her anew.  Though she couldn’t see clearly in the dim light, she knew her breath puffed white clouds in the frigid air. Dread sank its wicked claws into her racing heart.

Buy Links:

Publisher’s website: http://www.classactbooks.com  

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01M3Q9J8B/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1

Find out more about Linda at:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/linda.nightingale.52?hc_ref=SEARCH&fref=nf

Website: http://www.lindanightingale.com

Blog: https://lindanightingale.wordpress.com/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4839311.Linda_Nightingale

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/lbnightingale1/?etslf=10520&eq=LInda%20Nightingale

Twitter: @LNightingale

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Author Paul McDermott presents “Spear of Destiny” from Barbara Edwards

Hello Paul McDermott,

Tell our readers why you wrote “Spear of Destiny.”

My current book. The Spear of Destiny, was inspired by a combination of circumstances which were not ‘typical’ of my “general” creative processes. I lived in Denmark for a number of years and had the privilege of meeting people who had been active members of the Danish Resistance Movement (mødstandsbevægelsen). during WW2. I have attempted to redress the balance a little by raising awareness and offering sincere thanks. I’ve kept close to the recorded facts as we know them, but I’ve altered the names: these patriots have earned the right to have their anonymity preserved.

When the Danish billionaire Carsten Ree had the wreck of U-534 refloated and it was installed as a permanent exhibit in Liverpool’s Maritime Museum, the story almost wrote itself. The basis of the story appeared as my NaNo entry in November 2010, the end result of 30 days of madness and strong coffee! 

The Spear of Destiny was a new departure for me. Although it’s based on real events in the closing days of WW2, and I had to make sure I had facts (names, dates etc.) accurate. I’ve kept very close to the recorded facts of the sinking of U-534 but I decided to add the Spear. I did this because of Hitler’s known weakness, superstition. He believes he has found a powerful secret weapon which he can use to turn the War in Germany’s favour. This light drizzle of fantasy in what is essentially an account of historical events is my way of adding an original slant to the yarn

One of the most satisfying things I took from writing The Spear of Destiny was having the opportunity to honour the memory of a number of real people alongside my fictional characters. One such hero is Captain Johnny Walker. Although he only plays a small role in my story, he was almost entirely responsible for the success of the Allies in the Battle of the Atlantic. General consensus is, he literally worked himself to death in the process.

The research was more extensive than I’d needed for my previous fiction work but it was satisfying.

About the Author:

Born in the Year of the Tiger, Paul’s natural curiosity combined with the deep-seated feline need to roam has meant that over the years he’s never been able to call any one place home. His wanderlust has led him from one town to another, and even from one country to another.

“I can’t remember a time when I didn’t write – my father claims to possess a story I wrote when I was six, which filled 4 standard school exercise books! What I do remember from that time was being told off for doing the Liverpool Echo crossword before he got home from work!” 

While Paul was living in Denmark, he allowed himself to be persuaded to write for a purpose instead of purely for his own amusement. Perhaps it was the catalyst of breathing the same air as Hans Christian Andersen. 

More about Paul at:

www.paulmcdermottbooks.webs.com

www.thewriterschatroom.com

Blurb:

In 1945, U-boat Kapitän Herbert Nollau must deliver a weapon which will turn the war in Germany’s favour. His orders are delivered verbally. There will be no written records… and no witnesses. 

Alone, far from home, hunted by the Danish Resistance and the might of the Allied Forces, he must obey either his final Orders…or the inner voice of his conscience.

Excerpt:

Überlojtnant Herbert Nollau stood with his Zeiss nightglasses glued to his eyes, impervious to the rain whipped across his cheeks by half a gale. This howled almost exactly at ninety degrees to the tide, which had just reached the full but had not yet begun its retreat. His command craft, U-534, sat uneasily at anchor, dipping at bow and stern in the current, yawing appreciably as frequent Force Ten gusts buffeted her broad flanks. Low, heavy rainclouds hunkered closer, seeming to settle on the upper branches of the natural pine forest which spread untamed, unculled, across the low hills of Schleswig-Holstein. 

An identical pair of black Opel staff cars bracketed a canvas bodied Mercedes half-track transport wagon, all three vehicles picking their way carefully along an unmarked country road. The headlights were taped down to the size and shape of a feral cat’s vertical slits, acknowledging the strict rules governing all traffic during the hours of darkness. The road to the harbour just outside Lübeck was neither tarmac’ed nor enhanced with any form of lighting. The drivers were obliged to steer cautiously around every twist, using the gears and brakes more frequently than the accelerator.

“Amateurs!” he thought to himself, as the three sets of headlights crawled slowly closer. 

He blanked the thought as soon as it intruded on his consciousness, forcing himself back into State-approved Wehrmacht thinking, based on purely practical matters directly related to carrying out current instructions, with maximum efficiency, without question. He pulled the collar of his oilskins closer around his throat in a futile attempt to prevent the rain from seeping through, soaking his uniform. Raising his night glasses once more, he cursed the weather, the Wehrmacht and the world in general, feeling more exposed and vulnerable with every minute that passed as he waited for the convoy of lights to crawl closer, carrying the equipment which he had been ordered to collect. It bothered him that he was expected to set sail immediately, and await orders concerning his destination by radio once he had cleared the bay and entered Store Bælt: technically, that section of the North Sea was neutral Danish waters, and if he were to remain on the surface for any length of time in order to receive orders …

As the lights snaked around another pair of curves and began their final descent to the shoreline and the jetty where U534 was waiting, Herbert Nollau realized that he had on board a much more powerful sender/receiver than any other U-boat: in fact, not just one but two radios equipped with the Enigma cryptographic programme had been installed, ostensibly for testing. With a sudden jolt, the deceptively young-looking Überlojtnant realized that this technology was far more sophisticated than that which had previously been regarded as the best in the world: apart from being guaranteed unbreakable as a code, it could also send and receive radio signals without his craft needing to surface.

He shook his head to clear the worst of the pools which had formed in the upturned brim of his sou’wester and made his way down the ladder bolted to the side of the conning tower, aiming to be waiting on the quay before the three vehicles wheezed to a halt. His mechanic’s ear analysed and diagnosed a list of faults he could clearly identify from the laboured chugging of each engine. Furious at this indication of inefficiency, a corner of his mind decided that he would have had the senior officer responsible for each vehicle court-martialled, if the decision had been up to him. In spite of the horrors he had witnessed in three years of naval warfare, he shuddered. His orders, distasteful though they might be, were crystal clear …

Two gaunt, silent shadows slid with simultaneous choreography from the rear seat of each of the Opels: their sleek black trenchcoats almost touched the planks of the jetty, glistening in the starlight as if the officers wearing them had been marching for hours in the rain rather than just stepping out of a warm, dry car. Nollau fired off his most formal salute: the four SS-officers responded with a world-weary, bent-elbow half-salute and pointedly refrained from returning Nollau’s “Heil, Hitler!” One detached himself for a moment and gave a hand-signal to the driver of the canvas-sided truck.  The driver immediately hammered his fist twice on the bulkhead behind his seat. Four soldiers appeared over the tailgate of the wagon and began to manoeuvre something long and heavy out of the cargo space.

Turning to face his command meant that Herbert Nollau had to turn his back on the four staff officers. Somehow he managed to do this with an insolence which stated quite clearly that, as far as he was concerned, they were barely worthy of his contempt.

He placed a small, shrill whistle to his lips and blew, one long (but not overloud) blast. Within ten seconds, the deck was populated by about twenty matelots, standing at ease, who somehow contrived to arrive from nowhere and in total silence. Close to the bows, and just for’ard of ’midships , cables were deployed from two small jib cranes. Within seconds, the submariner crew were on the jetty, taking the unidentified cargo from the shoulders of the four soldiers and hoisting it with ease onto the foredeck, thence by some lightningfast legerdemain out of sight below decks. The crew had followed, leaving Überlojtnant Nollau as the only member of the Senior Service still on the jetty. At a silent gesture from one of the anonymous black trenchcoats the four soldiers climbed back over the tailgate, into the truck. After about four attempts, the driver managed to coax the engine into life and began to back and fill, facing back the way he had come.

As he completed the manoeuvre and gunned the engine to set off up the hill, the four SS officers opened their trenchcoats to reveal the muzzles of rapid fire MP40 machine pistols. With one accord they raised their weapons and sent round after deadly round of ammunition into both the cab and the rear of the vehicle, holding the triggers steady. Before the hail of bullets ceased, the fuel tanks of the wagon exploded, sending flames soaring high into the night sky, setting small fires in the tree tops as they lost their intensity and curled back towards the ground.

Suddenly, Herbert Nollau’s orders seemed fractionally less dishonourable.

Having emptied their weapons, the four executioners appeared to have rediscovered some of their habitual swagger and pride. Crashing the butts of the now-empty weapons against the rough wooden planking of the jetty they raised their right arms to the fullest, and screamed: “Heil, Hitler!” as their heels crashed together in perfect unison.

            Sick to his stomach at the pleasure his countrymen took from the callous murder of fellow Germans, it was all Herbert Nollau could do to raise his arm, bent-elbowed, in the less formal salute he would never under normal circumstances have accepted from others nor used himself.

About the author:

Website: www.PaulMcDermottBooks.webs.com

My Facebook page is https://www.facebook.com/paul.mcdermott.7737

Also: www.whimsicalproductions.com and www.thewriterschatroom.com

The Spear of Destiny is available at:

Paperback exclusively at the Publisher’s website: http://www.classactbooks.com/component/virtuemart/historical-fiction/the-spear-of-destiny-detail?Itemid=0

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06ZZKRH5K/

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/718491

James Austin McCormick talks about Dragon on Barbara Edwards Comments

Please welcome James Austin McCormick, author of Dragon

Although I write in several genres (all speculative fiction) the one I return to most often is science fiction. This is especially true for my Dragon series (Dragon being the name of a sentient space craft). First off, I should say a little about the first novel. The book centres on Sillow, a neurotic and hyperactive elf and Brok, a surly, taciturn and bad-tempered barbarian. They are very much the odd couple in space and are constantly squabbling. I enjoy writing fast paced scenes and action more than anything else, so I structured the book as seven interlinking chapter stories which follows the hapless duo over twenty years, from wanted smugglers to heroes of a peace keeping alliance.

Dragon is a self-contained narrative with a clearly defined ending (one of the favourite endings of all my books) yet I could never get these two characters out of my head. The idea of a sequel never appealed to me, and also wouldn’t have worked. Instead I decided to fill in some of the gaps between the chapter stories. There is a one-year gap for example between the first and second chapters, during which time the two decide to try their hand at smuggling. The second book I wrote covers this period and is titled, Dragon: Smuggler Tales, following the ill-fated duo on a series of bungled missions.

After Smuggler tales I still felt there were more stories left in the universe I’d created, although as far as the dysfunctional partnership went, that had run its course. Between chapters six and seven there is a ten-year gap during which time Brok returns to his home world to marry and take up a role in government whilst Sillow becomes a solo agent of the peace keeping alliance. This was fertile ground. The next two Dragon books, Dragon: The Tower of Tamerlane and Dragon: The Prisoner of Valathia cover Sillow’s first two missions. When I wrote Prisoner, I’d decided it would be the last story, so as well as the usual action and comedy scrapes I always put into these stories, I also took the time to explore Sillow’s character more deeply and bring some pathos to the tale. 

I think I’ve done almost everything I can with this series although one more idea has bubbled up from my unconscious. This would involve an ensemble piece, focusing on Sillow, Brok and a handful of other characters (mostly bad guys) from the various books teaming up in a sort of Magnificent 7 type way, although this particular team would be more like the Farcical 7. Sillow would be the nervy pilot who has recently fallen off the wagon. Just an idea at the moment but I’m sure it will get written one day. 

About the Author:

James Austin McCormick is a college lecturer from Manchester, England and his free time enjoy writing speculative fiction, mostly science fiction, horror and a little sword and sorcery fantasy. He is also a particular fan of classic Gothic and Victorian horror tales and is currently in the process of writing updated versions of these with a science fiction spin.

Find out more about James at:

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

Twitter https://twitter.com/jimbomcc69

Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9860555.James_Austin_McCormick

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/James-McCormick/e/B00F3F9SGY

Class Act Books http://www.classactbooks.com/index.php/our-authors/manufacturers/james-austin-mccormick

Blurb for Dragon:

As worlds conspire against each other, Gax, an insane warlord, stockpiles an arsenal of ancient technology in his attempt to rule known space. Less 

Two ill matched and reluctant heroes stand in his way; Sillow, a neurotic and cowardly Sylvan and Brok, a surly and ill tempered Herkulun warrior. After a chance meeting in a seedy, mobster owned casino the two find their fates interlinked as they are propelled into a series of hair raising adventures that takes them from wanted smugglers to agents of a peace keeping alliance.

Excerpt:

Asmara was a small desert moon orbiting its gas giant parent at a distance just great enough to put it outside the planet’s radioactive reach. It was a cold, dusty little place, barely capable of supporting microbic life. Yet it did have one thing in its favor, its location.Asmara was in the gray zone, an area of space almost central to the six worlds. None dared lay claim to it and consequently it was free of all outside authority. That was why the crime syndicates built their Pleasure Dome there, and in the two decades after the Dark Age Wars it flourished.

It was here, at one of the casino tables, the last three players of a merciless card game studied their hands. Two of them, a human and a reptilian Tuolon, were far from happy, glaring angrily at the third player as he whistled out a tuneless melody. If Sillow had been human, he would have been judged to be no more than fourteen. He wasn’t; he was a Sylvan, and his childlike face and adolescent build were quite normal for his twenty-five years.

As he looked over his cards from beneath a shock of dark green hair, only his large eyes were visible. It was just as well, for his lips moved frantically as he mentally played through the possible scenarios.

Finally he gave a little nod and placed his cards face down. He took his cigar from the ashtray and began puffing heavily on it. The human, a skinny man with pockmarked features, ran a hand over two day’s stubble,

“Make your damn move,” he growled. “If you’ve got the goods, show them.”

Sillow shrugged. “Hey, give me a break Garrick,” he replied in his soft, musical voice. “You can’t rush something like this.”

He looked at his cards again, studying them as he blew smoke rings in the air. His little feet tapped all the while on the hard marble floor.

His fellow players regarded him with extreme irritation, and the human cameto the decision the Sylvan was playing mind games with them. The truth though was far different. Sillow was scared and was trying to decide how best to safely extricate himself and the credits he needed from his present circumstances.

Although he couldn’t say why, he was certain now the Tuolon was a professional assassin here to kill him. His would be killer even blewhis ship up to stop him escaping.

Since then the little Sylvan had been busy at the tables making the money he needed to get a freighter off the Dome. There was a royal summons to answer and he’d delayed too long already. The message was just one word, Suleiman.

“Okay, ready,” he finally announced. “You want to see this hand it’ll cost you…” he paused for effect, “six more credits.”

The human thought hard for a moment, shook his head then threw the chips into the pot in the middle of the table.

Buy Links:

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/674265

Paperback from the publisher’s website: http://www.classactbooks.com/component/virtuemart/science-fiction/dragon-396-detail?Itemid=0

 

Jeremy Higley presents “Son of the Dark,” from Barbara Edwards

Hello Jeremy Higley, author of My Darksome Thorn Series, Son of the Dark:

April 28, 2018

My Darksome Thorn series was originally just a thought experiment. I wanted to take some of the traditional elements of a fantasy world, then twist them until they were uniquely mine. 

A race of goblins whose names are just strings of consonants? I can twist it further. What if they reproduce like clownfish, except in reverse? Just one male, and when he dies one of the females becomes male. How does that biology react with their culture? How does it influence their laws, their population dynamics, their relationships with each other? 

Okay, that’s a good start. 

Now, what if they used to be fairies, but are only goblins now because they’re cursed? That’s not that original of an idea, but if I twist it so that as a fallen race they’re actually holier and closer to the god they once defied than the humans and other races who didn’t rebel… that makes it more interesting. They have something to prove, or at least it started that way. After a couple millennia, they love the god who spared their lives and gave them a chance at redemption. 

When you twist an idea around so far that it starts getting familiar again, that’s an idea you might benefit from exploring. What is this thing you’ve created? An abomination, or an apotheosis? I guess only time will tell.

I took this approach and reworked elves, nymphs, fairies, humans, and a few pet projects I’d always been curious about. Some were unrecognizable after I finished. Some I had to tone down a bit, because the result was too disturbing or too overpowering and threatened to take over the series. 

I might return to those. 

Then I built a world and a history around the different races. I had to develop a cataclysm worthy of a world built out of extremes, something my characters would actually find threatening after all the nightmares I’d worked into the history. I had to create a pantheon that wasn’t just a reworking of Greco-Roman and Egyptian mythologies. I wanted the world’s gods to reflect a bit of that complexity, though, the way that Greek and Egyptian gods and goddesses picked up new powers and domains as time went by and cultures changed.

Then, and only then, was it time to come up with a story. Something that would offer more than just one motive, so that my characters would be in conflict with themselves and not just the world around them. Also, something big enough to take them across the continent, so they could visit more than just a few of the races and cultures I’d dreamed up. It was fine if I missed a few, so long as I touched on the most important ones (read: the ones I liked the most). 

I took my three favorite ideas and meshed them, then threw out the pieces that didn’t fit. I wrote the beginning of the story about five times before I decided on the tone and the approach I liked best. It was hard to balance the story between the need to get characters across my extensive milieu, and the much more pressing need to focus on the characters and their needs and plans. The result was a storyline that would have to save a lot of my favorite locations and races for later, as the plot expanded to take in more characters. 

As it stands with the first book, Tales of the Darksome Thorn is just a thimbleful of the ideas I came up with because I wanted to see where they would take me. It’s been an adventure so far, and I hope it continues to feel like an adventure for my readers as I continue to explore.

About the Author:

Jeremy Higley was born in California but now lives in Arizona. As of 2016 he’s a graduate student working on a master’s degree in English. He’s also an instructional aide at a local elementary school, a novelist, and a contributing editor for a nonprofit student success company called LifeBound.

Find out more about Jeremy at:

Social Media:

Website: www.darksomethorn.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jeremy.higley.3?fref=ts

                   https://www.facebook.com/darksomethorn/

Blurb: 

The Darksome Thorn, meanwhile, has revealed a new prophecy, and the very evil they failed to kill is working to use that prophecy to his advantage. 

Forces of evil run rampant in the land of Duskain. Ancient powers are stirring. A greater darkness is imminent…

…and Skel, the foster son of an elephant herder, finds himself caught in the middle of everything… 

Excerpt: 

Skel was running so fast as he went to warn Mynjar and Talon that the grass whipped at his bare legs like dull knife blades. As the tent loomed closer, he could already feel his movements slowing. His feet were starting to sink into the firm earth as if it were a sludgy bog.

The attack was beginning.

“Dun Ko,” Skel shouted, trying to rouse the Eltar in the circle of tents ahead of him. His voice sounded like a whisper to his own ears, but quickly he heard shouts in return. The tents went abuzz with the yelling of frustrated, terrified men and women struggling to rise from their own beds. Skel saw an Eltar woman leave her tent, scrambling with immense difficulty to get away from the camp with a

small child. Her child disappeared from her arms within moments, dissolving into a cloud of dandelion fluff that blew away on a nonexistent wind.

Skel tried to ignore her screams. There was only one child in any real danger tonight. The Dun Ko were simply trying to distract the rest of them, keep them occupied with nightmares and illusions while they sought out their true target. He spoke a few words to the wind. It pushed him faster with a strong gust, knocking over his foster family’s tent as he approached it and blowing it halfway over to the elephant herd. Mynjar, Talon, and their daughters stared at him in bewilderment as he ran past them to stand between the Dun Ko and their intended victim.

“Dun Ko,” he repeated, struggling to catch his breath.

“What’s going on, boy?” Mynjar shouted. “How would you know if the Dun Ko were coming?”

Lonmar and Konsa screamed as they watched their father’s arms suddenly melt off his body like grease in a fire, gathering in black pools at his feet. Talon ran to grab Pynme from his crib, but sank to her chin in the dirt.

“The Dun Ko want Pynme,” Skel tried to explain, but Mynjar was on his knees sobbing, and Lonmar and Konsa were crowding around him, aghast, trying to comfort him. Talon was screaming hysterically, calling for her baby, but Pynme wouldn’t wake up. Smyra was the only one who

seemed to still have her senses in spite of the Dun Ko’s psychic onslaught.

“Are you going to fight them?” she asked. She seemed surprised, but not impressed. She somehow managed to sound condescending, even now.

“I have to try—” Skel started.

“And fail,” Smyra interrupted, “but I’ll help you anyway.”

Buy Links:

Publishers Website: http://www.classactbooks.com/index.php/component/virtuemart/cat-young-adult/the-son-of-dark-tales-of-the-darksome-thorn-book-1-detail?Itemid=0

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Kindle-eBooks/b?ie=UTF8&node=154606011

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Son-Dark-Darksome-Thorn-Book-ebook/dp/B01IG983XC/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=U

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/650660

Featuring “Harmonic Differential” by Kenneth Gordon hosted by Barbara Edwards

Welcome to my blog, Kenneth Gordon. Please share with our readers what made you write this story.

The genesis for this story was a UFO Hunters episode. This event may or may not have happened. It seems someone built a ship based on Tesla’s theories and was able to have that ship travel harmonically. The skin of the ship would vibrate to the frequency of the destination and the ship would instantly travel there. The only problem is that upon the return trip, he could not remember anything that had happened during the trip. The only proof he had from his maiden voyage was some sticks and sand he had picked up from the ground.

This episode was the catalyst I needed to write again. My mind was off and running. I set my character in California. It took him a long time to build the ship much to the chagrin of his wife and family. Once built, he wondered if he may have dreamed it all or perhaps he was going insane. After several adventures, the reader is brought to the very crux of the story. It seems the character is trapped in a time loop. Each time he tries to save his father from an oncoming truck, he is killed and the loop begins again. Eventually, he is able to break the loop utilizing help from himself in different time periods. Ultimately, he must destroy the machine to prevent the military from getting their hands on it.

This was Harmonic Differential, my first full-length novel. Until then, I had written many short stories, a fan-fic story, and started a novella. It took nearly a year to write and even longer to find a publisher. I am grateful to Class Act Books for taking a chance on me. I continue to write and really enjoy it. I would like to turn this book into a movie and or a pilot for television.

Bout the Author:

Kenneth Gordon lives in Milford, NH. When he isn’t writing SciFi-infused horror novels, he plays PC games, electric and acoustic guitars, and drums. He also holds a brown belt in Kung Fu.

Ken has written five SciFi/Horror novels for Class Act Books: Dark City, Cadre of Vampires, Harmonic Differential, In My Blood, and Dirus Sonus.

Learn more about Ken at:

Web Site: http://kennethgordonnovelist.com/

FB page: https://www.facebook.com/KennethGordonNovelist/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KennethGordon69

Publisher’s website: http://www.classactbooks.com/index.php/our-authors/manufacturers/kenneth-gordon

Blurb for Harmonic Differential:

“I may have made many trips to the future, to the past and points all over the galaxy, but I cannot remember any of them…”

This is how the journey of Andros, an astrophysicist professor at Berkley, CA begins. He is driven mad by dreams of whirling lights he cannot explain. These dreams lead him to build a ship capable of travel to the future, the past, and alternate universes. The only problem is, once he returns, he cannot remember the journey. To overcome this, he uses a video camera attached to his head to record his adventures.

Andros awakes thinking it all was a dream, until a mysterious package arrives in the mail…

Excerpt:

Safe in my own bed, my snoring wife next to me, I came to and realized where I was. I didn’t remember coming the rest of the way home, nor did I recall coming into the house or taking off my wet clothes. I must have done so automatically. There were only two obvious things…the strange dream I just had and ohhhh

My head throbbed as I covered my forehead with my hands, trying in vain to make sense of the dream I’d had. This wasn’t the first time, either. I shoved off the covers and went to get an aspirin. I came back to bed and waited for the pain to subside.

Whirling colors, what could they mean? I’m not talking a disco ball, but it was that kind of disorientation, nearly vertigo-inducing…or maybe it’s just my head. I just needed to sleep. Sleep.

I had been up since four, unable to sleep. Earplugs were no relief from Judy’s snoring, nor could I turn off my brain. In the end, morning dawned, a bitter pill to swallow. I finally gave up about 8:00 and made breakfast. I heard one sneeze, two sneezes, three… I waited… four? Judy always sneezed when she first woke up. Thankfully, they were cute and feminine in nature. She yawned and stretched, walking into the kitchen with slippered feet and her hair in different directions. She never went anywhere around the house without those slippers. Jeremy soon joined her at the table. Bacon, eggs, grits, cereal, doughnuts…our breakfasts ran the gamut encompassing all American cultures and breakfasts without rhyme or reason. It’s just another day in paradise.

“How was your sleep, Daddy?” Jeremy asked.

“It was okay. I was up at four and couldn’t get back to sleep,” I replied.

“I’m sorry, Hunny,” soothed Judy.

“Who’s ready for breakfast?” I asked in my announcer’s voice, turning the frying pan towards the table. I was attempting humor and it was well received. The two at the table giggled as I served.

“What do you want to do today?” Judy asked.

“I think I may want a nap.” I yawned and closed my eyes.

“Ok, Hun, go ahead.”

“But Dad, I wanted to play…” whined Jeremy. Judy quickly chimed in that Daddy will play with you later. He pouted, but reluctantly agreed.

After washing up the dishes, I took a nap. I must have fallen asleep when…

Blue and green lights swirled around me; the air was charged with electricity. All at once, I felt a pulling… a pushing, a—

“Dad! You said you’d play with me.” I felt Jeremy rocking me back and forth, trying to get my attention. As I roused from my dream, I couldn’t help but think it meant something, that I was remembering something important, only to have it slip away from my grasp. The more I reached out for it, the further away it seemed to go.

“Yes, son, I’m up. Um… Let’s play,” I said groggily.

“Yay!” he responded jubilantly.

My mind still latched onto my strange dreams. The intensity of bringing a name and placement of it into my mind became obsessive. The day came to a close with no resolution to anything. The frustration grew. My son and wife seemed a distant memory, my thoughts all-consuming. After another sleepless night, I started to wonder if a solution would ever materialize. Perhaps I was afraid of these dreams? Maybe I was running from their inexplicable truth?

After several more days, maybe a week, possibly two weeks, I was no better off. The dreams had increased in frequency and good, peaceful sleep was elusive. My psyche was continually haunted by the questions the dreams raised.

Judy became increasingly worried about my mental state.

Buy Links:

Paperback from the publisher’s website: http://www.classactbooks.com/component/virtuemart/science-fiction/harmonic-differential-4682014-05-14-01-42-05-detail?Itemid=0

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Harmonic-Differential-Kenneth-Gordon-ebook/dp/B00KCC3BIY/

Presenting Rage: Marcy by Linda Burson from Barbara Edwards

Welcome to my blog, Linda Burson,
Please tell us why you wrote this story.

I love writing. I always have. It’s been my passion since I was a young child. The reason for writing any particular story, for me, is to feel strongly about my characters. The majority of my writing experiences have been attempts at writing nonfiction, but I found I could never finish any of these stories. I wrote a one-act play once when I was a teenager. This was the first story I completed and it was fiction. This should’ve been a sign that fiction was more my forte; however, I continued to try to write nonfiction stories.

A few years ago when I decided to write full-time, I returned to fiction, remembering this was the only work in my life I have completed. My stories, so far, have been character-based. I thought about what I wanted to read. What kind of people I wanted to spend most of my time getting to know…who I wanted to be my friends, to laugh, cry, and talk with every day. After considering different characters, I realized the best way to go was to write about a character with whom I could relate. Thus, a strong, independent, beautiful, but emotionally challenged young woman named Marcy Jenson was born.

The first book I wrote is called Rage. I became so invested in the characters I wrote, I couldn’t stop. I felt strongly about this young, unique woman because she had strengths that I wished I had, but her flaws make her real and I hope relatable. My first attempt at writing fiction, and I had 197,000 words for a first book. Knowing this was way too many words, I had to adjust the story by splitting it into a trilogy. The story wasn’t complete after this, so I continued. Now, over five years later, there are thirteen books in this continuing series. At this point, my continuing story needed a name. Since Marcy was my protagonist and it’s written in first person, the Marcy Series was born. Still, each of the thirteen books has its own individual title.

Author Bio:

Linda Burson, a Connecticut resident for over 27 years, has been writing ever since she was a teenager. She started out writing memoirs and continued writing by attempting several nonfiction pieces.

More on Linda can be found at:

Email: linda.burson@snet.net

Twitter: @lindaburson23

FB Author Page: www.facebook.com/Lbursonbooks

Blurb:

Marcy Jensen finds she is having nightmares that she can’t control. She is frustrated, angry and confused by this sudden change. Her boyfriend and love of her life, Brad Preston, gives her an ultimatum: seek help, or he’s leaving.

One dark, chilly evening after a terrible, emotional day, Marcy finds herself in the middle of a robbery and a gun to her head. After her stressful day, she snaps. Pushed over the edge, she finds herself attacking the gunman.

The same night after this attempted robbery, Marcy meets Liam with whom she feels an inexplicable connection. After talking to Marcy, because she still having the raw edge of the evening with her, Liam convinces her to join him on his quest to find his family’s murderers.

As they delve into the dark world of revenge, Marcy’s life begins to fall apart. Before she realizes it, she falls in love with this mysterious stranger. The two of them become close and gradually allow light and love to envelop them.

Excerpt:

When we arrive at the commuter lot where my car is parked, I remain seated looking at him. My thoughts return to the moment I realized I was in love with him. Was it always there somewhere in the depths of my soul, or was it at the moment when I saw the real person? My heart skips a beat every time I look in his direction and my emotions take over.

“You must think I cry an awful lot,” I impart as the tears come streaming down my face again.

“No, baby. I know you’re in pain right now. I wish I knew how to make things easier for you—for both of us.” Then he adds,

Oh that my head were waters

And my eyes a fountain of tears 

That I might weep day and night.”

I look at him with my tear-filled eyes. “That’s beautiful.”

“Jeremiah, Chapter 9, Verse 1,” he replies.

“You’re a special man, Evan Liam Brooks. I don’t understand why all this happened, but I have to believe there’s a reason. I have to trust in my faith that everything will be fine and will work out as it’s supposed to.”

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Rage-Marcy-Book-Linda-Burson-ebook/dp/B016NBDF7Y/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1485322856&sr=8-1&keywords=Rage+by+Linda+Burson

Publisher’s website: http://www.classactbooks.com/general-fiction/women-s-fiction/results,10-9

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rage-linda-burson/1122801716?ean=2940152411478

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/585163

Thanks for visiting: Please follow, friend or like me. I love to hear from my readers.

Website http://barbaraedwards.net

Facebook  https://www.facebook.com/BarbaraEdwards.Author

Twitter  https://www.twitter.com/Barb_ed

Amazon Author’s Page http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003F6ZK1A

GoodReads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/496095.Barbara_Edwards

 

 

 

In The Blood by Juanita Aydlette featured today by Barbara Edwards

  • Welcome to my blog, Juanita.
    Please tell us about your book.

    My novel It’s in the Blood was not carefully plotted out before I started writing. It was two cars of a run-away train that I boarded a few years back. What I mean by that is, I had so many non-corresponding ideas connecting each other, tangled up and all wanting to go in different directions.
    Since I was a real romantic when I was much younger—and I loved actor Johnny Weissmuller, I finally decided to go that “Me Tarzan, you Jane” route. Going back to the run-away train, I had nearly 182,000 words to decipher through. I knew I wanted a three-book series so my characters started out young.
    Now that I have submitted book two entitled Blood Ties and starting on book three, I’m trying to use what fragments I have left to build a base for the final book. It’s been a fun, frustrating and mind-scrambling journey, but I wouldn’t take anything for the experience.
    Thank you for having me. I really appreciate you giving me this space.
    About the Author:
    Juanita Aydlette is from Shreveport, Louisiana, and now lives in Texas. She’s the only girl in a family of four brothers. She love music, planting flowers and is a dog lover…that’s why she works at an animal clinic.
    What started out as a childhood obsession with magical creatures in storybooks, became a passion in her later years. She created such magic in her first novel It’s in the Blood, and challenged her imagination to bring readers into her world of romance, suspense and fear of the
    unknown. Her upcoming novel Blood Ties continues the saga.
    It’s in the Blood was voted among the Top Ten Young Adult novels of 2016 by Preditors & Editors Readers Choice awards.
    Find out more about Juanita at:
    https://twitter.com/JuanitaAydlette
    https://www.facebook.com/juanita.aydlette
  • http://thesouloffiction.com/
    https://www.facebook.com/ClassAct-Books-279355422086332/?fref=ts
    Twitter: @Juanita Aydlette
    BLURB:
    Never stare at a green-eyed, shirtless hunk. Gabrielle Madsen is drawn in by such a pair of eyes that captures her soul and leaves her a prisoner of an addictive kind of love–not that she’s complaining. But her educational trip turns out to be more than just a fun-filled summer escapade.
    She’s faced with a life-changing decision that could affect the world around her. Her discovery of this ancient, legend-come-to-life proves to be deadly, but her heart can’t break away. She and Josh Van Ness fall in love and must battle the forces that want to keep them apart.
    EXCERPT:
    Away from the open menagerie was a path surrounded by dense trees. It was across a narrow decorative bridge built into the landscape. The thick greenery provided a shady side to the open garden. A spotlight created by the sun beckoned to me from inside and I walked away from the others. My eyes were fixed on the pink and red groundcover that glimmered with a hypnotic seduction. I ventured toward the fragrant breeze, unaware of how far I had strayed.
    After only a few yards inside the cover of the trees, my body was seized again by a rumble and a frightening snarl. A chill blanketed me and I couldn’t move. I didn’t dare look around, forthe back of my blouse had already been saturated by the heated moisture from the breath of the  beast. My first instinct was to scream, but fear had stolen my voice. So I took a deep breath and held it. The scent of horror filled my lungs. It was familiar. Was I being stalked by the animal that lurked outside my hotel grounds?
    Help me please, rang inside my head. My eyes squeezed shut as its sharp fangs pinched my  shoulder. Tears filled my eyes and my hands formed a fist. I waited to feel my bones snap when suddenly, it let go. The leaves crunched. The sound grew fainter by the second, then nothing. My eyes remained closed as I trembled and listened.
  • “Miss?” A woman’s voice severed my nightmare. “I saw you come out here. We’re getting ready to go to another area. You don’t want to be left behind.”
    Without hesitation I ran past her, clutching my throat and sobbing. The other tourists were boarding the van and I made my way to the back. The woman I believed saved me from certain death, came and sat beside me.
    My body trembled as the bus came to stop. I ran from the tourist center to the hotel. Once inside the bathroom, I stripped and examined my shoulder. A painful bruise was both in front and in back. I cried out loud, shook convulsively, and then laughed hysterically. Was I going mad?
    BUY LINKS:
    Publisher’s website: http://www.classactbooks.com/component/virtuemart/catfantasy/its-in-
    theblood-716-detail?Itemid=0
    Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/ItsBlood-JuanitaAydlette
    ebook/dp/B01KEC287G/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1471477043&sr=8-3&keywords=It
    %27s+in+the+Blood
    Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/658257