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SFP Emagazine vol 2

STAFF LIST ASMSG ASMSG FOUNDER AND ADMINISTRATOR: R. Grey Hoover MEMBERSHIP DIRECTOR: R. Grey Hoover ASMSG ELECTORATE COORDINATOR: Melodie Ramone ASMSG ELECTORATE CO-ADMINISTRATOR: Danielle DeVor, Karen Prince TWITTER ACCOUNT COORDINATOR: Christoph Fischer TWITTER ACCOUNT DEPUTIES: Amber Easton, Katherine Logan, Maer Wilson SQUEAKY TWEET TEAM COORDINATOR: Maria Lenartowicz, SQUEAKY TWEET TEAM DEPUT: Christoph Fischer TWEET TEAM: Duncan Whitehead, Maria Lenartowicz, Christoph Fischer ASMSG NEW MEMBER OUTREACH: Katherine Lowry Logan CO-ADMINISTRATORS:Dianne Harman, Kirstin Stein Pulioff YOUTUBE PAGE ADMINISTRATOR: Maer Wilson CO-ADMINISTRATOR: Melodie Ramone PINTEREST ACCOUNT COORDINATOR: Maer Wilson FACEBOOK PAGE COOORDINATOR: Natasha Johnstone W.O.W. EDITOR IN CHIEF: Mike Barnett THRILLER & MYSTERY HUB MODERATOR: Khalid Muhammad SFP INDIE MANAGING EDITOR: Travis Luedke SFP INDIE COVER & LAYOUT: Joseph Murphy. Cover: Original images purchased from Fotalia. Fiction section graphic original images from Cathleen Tarawhiti and Pixabay. Review section graphic uses stock images from Isostock on DeviantArt and Fotalia. SFP HUB MODERATOR: Travis Luedke, Joseph Murphy, Maer Wilson Submission Guidelines Submissions open only to active members of ASMSG. Material must be in fantasy, science fiction, or paranormal genre. Preference will be given to editorial pieces. To ensure you’re inclusion please ensure you only use graphics for which you have legal rights to use. If you cannot find appropriate graphics, contact magazine staff. They MAY be able to assist you in finding graphics.

SFP Emagazine vol 1 Issue 2 Copyright © June 2014

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CONTENTS

ARTICLES PG. 6 Meet Brian Rollins, Voice Actor and Book Narrator 6 Is My Ya Romance Too Creepy 8 3 Mistakes Self-Publishers Make and How To Fix Them 9 The Mexican Mafia of the Nightlife: San Antonio 13 Spotlight On Shane KP O’Neill, Author of The Dracula Chronicles 15 Coffee Chat With Author Erin Moore 19

FICTION PG 21 Sin-Reaper Except by K.N. Lee 22 Perfection Unleashed Excerpt by Jade Kerrion 24 Warm Wishes by A.P. Gilbert 29

REVIEWS PG 31 Triton by Yelle Hughes 32 Dancing With a Dead Horse by Danielle Devor 32 Irradiance by David Bruns 33 The Secret Life of Laszlo, Count Dracula by Roderick Anscombe 33 The Blood Gospel by James Rollins and Rebecca Cantrell 33 The Princess Fables by 34

THE MEXICAN MAFIA OF THE NIGHTLIFE SAN

ANTONIO PG. 13

3 MISTAKES SELF-PUBLISHERS

MAKE AND HOW TO FIX

THEM PG. 9

SPOTLIGHT ON SHANE KP O’NEILL,

AUTHOR OF THE DRACULA

CHRONICLES PG 14

Cover Story Warm Bodies by A.P. Gilbert Pg 29

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Articles

Interview with Brian Rollins: Voice Actor, Book Narrator By Brian Patrick McKinley Tell everyone about yourself. I’m a native Californian that now resides in the Denver area of Colorado. I have two awesome kids and huge Great Dane. I’ve

MEET BRIAN ROLLINS:

Tell everyone about yourself. I’m a native Californian that now resides in the Denver area of Colorado. I have two awesome kids and huge Great Dane. I’ve been married to my high school sweet heart for almost nineteen years. Why did you become interested in voice acting? How did you get into the business? Much like writers do, I just wanted to do it. I was always the goofy kid in school. You know, the one making weird or funny voices. In school plays, I was the one that volunteered to be the narrator. I read stories to my younger siblings. When I had kids of my own, I read them stories. It became a challenge (both from within myself and from my kids) to do more and more voices for the stories. I did theater and improv, but had never thrown my hat into the Voice Acting ring until I discovered podcasts. Specifically, the Escape Artists podcasts (Escape Pod, Pseudopod, and PodCastle). I became an immediate fan and wanted to narrate for them. After a few emails back and forth, I got a couple of stories. It was a blast. I did some other freelance work: A couple of video games and a sales video. But then I discovered ACX, quite by accident.

I filled out a profile, dropped a few demos on it, some of which, quite frankly, now embarrass me with their audio quality and my performance. And there it sat without me giving it much thought. Until a couple of authors found me there. Now here I am, several books later and loving it. What’s a typical work day like? Basically, I settle in to start recording as early as my brain allows. If I’m being good, I warm up my voice with some exercises. If I don’t, I usually have to throw out my first pass at a chapter. Depending on my work load, I’ll record some auditions. After that, I work on the projects I have contracts for. I record a chapter at a time, taking a break for water and stretch my legs between chapters. I’ll record until I run out of material or my voice starts to sound different. After that I either edit what I’ve recorded or I work on highlighting my next project. By highlighting, I go through in MS Word and color code main characters. This way I can see who is talking at the beginning of dialogue. Most authors don’t put the dialogue attribution until the end of the sentence. That’s fine for readers, but it sucks for narrators. Highlighting means I can dive right in without glancing at the end of a sentence before reading.

Interview with Voice Actor, Book Narrator Brian Rollins

By Brian Patrick McKinley

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What projects are you currently working on? I have a book that should be out soon, Glen & Tyler’s Paris Double-Cross by J.B. Sanders. It’s the third in the series (I narrated the other two as well). I am currently narrating Errors & Omissions by Lee James. I hope to have that on Audible in May. Beyond that, I’m still auditioning for projects. J.B. and I hope to start working on the fourth Glen & Tyler book this summer so we can release the Kindle and Audible versions at the same time. You also do theater, right? Do you have a dream role you’ve always wanted to play? I do some theater, but not as much as I used to. Every year my family and I do Magic Moments here in Denver. They create their own unique show every year and it’s a great non-profit that incorporates folks with special needs, amateurs, and professional actors. My dream role has always been Tevye from “Fiddler on the Roof.” A few more years and I’ll be old enough to play him without make-up!

If you’re really curious, Avery was dark blue and Caroline was dark pink. It’s stereotypical, I know, but it’s really easy to read. Did Ancient Blood differ from your usual projects? The book was far more “adult” than much of what I’ve read in the past. I had to strike a balance between Avery’s snarky tone and the dark material. Also there is a much larger cast than a lot of books I’ve done. Most contain one or two main characters and the rest rotate in and out of the story. Ancient Blood has a broad cast of characters that need to be distinct to the listener’s ear. This is also my first first-person novel, which actually made some of the narration easier, more conversational. How did you prepare to take on the wide variety of characters? It starts with that highlighting I mentioned earlier. I make notes and try out some voices as I go, trying to settle on just the right sound for each. A lot of it comes from the dialogue. How they speak often informs a lot about each character. Formal people tend to avoid contractions, whereas casual people use a lot of slang. It’s also important to perform them based on where they are in the story. For instance, Caroline has a different tone throughout the book. In the beginning she’s timid, but grows in strength as the story unfolds. Also, she has a different tone in each of her diary entries, depending on her relationship with Sebastian. Was there a particular character you enjoyed voicing the most? As much as I want to see him die in a fire, Valmont was quite possibly the most interesting character to do. I don’t usually get to do villains like that. His complete immorality made him disturbingly fun to do. Avery was also fun, since his voice and attitude are similar to my own. I’d like to think I’d keep my smart mouth, even in the face of such horrors. Which character was the most difficult for you? Flea and Jade Tiger. There’s a fine line between doing an accent and mocking an ethnicity. Asian accents are very easy for Westerners to butcher and make them sound stupid. You want to get the quality of it without going “me rikey flied lice” on it. I had to spend time wandering though YouTube to listen to clips of people from Asia that learned English as a second language. How do you feel about the possibility of getting more vampire/paranormal jobs because of Ancient Blood? I’d love it. One of my favorite series is The Dresden Files. Sadly, James Marsters seems to have those locked up (and he does a great job of it). I think the subgenre has the chance to break out the “horror” mold and move into other areas (like political thriller).

Brian Rollins’ awesome website can be found here: TheVoicesInMyHead.Com The equally awesome Ancient Blood audiobook can be found here: Ancient Blood on Audible.com

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TTOOOO CCRREEEEPPYY??

Danielle Devor Discusses Her First ya Novel and the Change from Horror Writing Constructing Marcus was my first attempt at a YA Paranormal Romance and since I usually write gritty fantasy/horror, it was an experiment in what I could and could not get away with. In this case, it was the “creep” factor. Firstly, romances aren’t supposed to be scary. Nor are they supposed to have graphic violence. Gritty language, well, that depends on the characters. But, with this being a YA Romance, I had to be even more careful. So, how was I to write a story with danger, evil witches, and a spirit created to be the servant of a witch without graphic violence? I took a note from horror films of the 1960’s Old classics like “13 Ghosts” and did the violence off screen so to speak. That and make sure the “monsters” looked like normal human beings. I did keep some of the creepy- I just couldn’t help myself. Still though, I seem to have two camps with CM. One group finds the scary parts scary enough to be considered horror. Others, seem to not be bothered at all. So, I guess I’ll never know if it is too creepy. One more thing to add about the interesting job of a writer.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Sixteen-year-old ghost hunter, Emma Hoffman thought that moving into an old Victorian was going to be awesome– ghosts galore. Much to her delight, she discovers that the house is haunted—not by a ghost, but by a construct (a spirit created to be a servant). As she gets to know Marcus, the construct, he asks her to help him avenge his maker and find her killer. Emma’s not too sure this is a good idea, she’s a ghost hunter after all, not a detective, but she agrees to help him anyway. While trying to discover more information about the killer, Emma begins to have feelings for Marcus- feelings she isn’t ready to admit. Then the sorcerer who killed Marcus’s maker shows up at Emma’s house with an insane plan to capture Marcus and absorb his power- Emma isn’t having it. Marcus is hers. When the killer performs a spell that begins to steal Marcus’s life force, Emma risks losing him. It’s a race against time for Emma to figure out how to stop the sorcerer and his spell before Marcus fades away and disappears from her life forever.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Danielle DeVor spent her early years fantasizing about vampires and watching “Salem’s Lot” way too many times. After living briefly in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, she moved back to her hometown to write. When not writing and reading about weird things, you will find her hanging out at the nearest coffee shop, enjoying a mocha frappuccino. Danielle has been on a writing roll this year! With the release of Tail of the Devil,Constructing Marcus and Sorrow’s Point she already has three books out. You can find Tail of the Devil and Sorrow’s Point at Amazon. DANIELLES LINKS Danielle’s Website Danielle on Twitter Danielle on Facebook Danielle on Goodreads

Buy Constructing Marcus Amazon Barnes & Noble

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The third book in my paranormal series is with my editor and will be coming out next month. I love this time. I love it for the same reason I love this time of year in my garden. It’s the time when all things are possible. I’ve done my very best whether its making sure my soil has the right ph and enough nutrients or I’ve created the best story I can and honed it until I felt it was as close to perfect as I could get it. Then the rest is up to so many factors it could make your head spin, but that’s also what makes

this time exciting. Once my book is out there, its up to my readers to decide how they feel about it. All I can do is take everything I have learned and give it the best possible chance of success. Farming is the same thing. I use everything I know to get the best possible harvest, but there are still factors beyond my control. When I think back to when I published my first book I blush at how much I didn’t know. The only thing I had going for me back then was I knew I didn’t know a lot and I sought out people who did. I made friends with people who knew so much more than I did. I still can’t believe I had the balls to reach out and ask people for help, but I’m glad I did. When I put out Blood and Loss I made my own cover and I didn’t edit it professionally. I didn’t have a “platform”. I hadn’t even told anyone I was writing a book until it was out. I can’t believe I sold any books. It seems impossible that anyone would be attracted to something so amateurish. The only saving grace was I wasn’t the only one and I learned from my mistakes. I thought I would discuss some of my mistakes so you can either learn from them, feel smug that you never committed the atrocities I did, or feel better about the mistakes you made.

MISTAKE #1: I Didn’t Get a Professional to Edit My Book. I went through it a hundred times. Had others read it and pick things up, but it wasn’t nearly good enough. I almost died of embarrassment when I got Blood and Loss back from my editor. The amount of mistakes she corrected made me think I should go back to Middle School and take grammar all over again. Mr. Rackham, my grade 7 and 9 English teacher, was rolling in his grave. Bottom line, in my opinion if you can’t afford to get your book edited then it might be a good idea to wait until you can afford it.

Mistake #2: I Did the Cover Myself. While not the biggest mistake I made I am much happier with the covers I have now. Despite what your mother always told you not to do, people do judge a book by its cover. Mine wasn’t terrible, but it didn’t look professionally done either. Now all three books have beautiful covers. I couldn’t be happier with them.

Mistake #3: I Published Then Built My Platform I published my book and then I tried to sell it. The savvy smart authors, sell their book and themselves and then they publish. They are ahead of the game. I was just happy back then to have my book out there finally. An indie author has to be a marketer and a writer. It’s a lot of work and it never ends. You will always have to promote your stuff. It’s part of the game.

I made a lot more than these three mistakes, but those are the ones that hurt me the most early on. Despite all that, I did do some really smart things. I’ve made so many great friends. They have given me advice, helped me promote my books and given me encouragement. I can’t say enough about indie authors and readers. I have readers who help me promote my books. People I didn’t know before they read my stuff and now they help me get the word out just because they are sweet people. Then there are my fellow indie authors. What other business would you have so many people who would go out of their way to help you. They don’t get anything in return except my gratitude. I’d love to list everyone here, but I’d miss someone one by mistake and feel horrible, but making new friends and getting to know new people is one of the best things about promoting my books. I only hope they feel I have supported them too. What do I think you need to be successful besides all of the above? Well first take my advice with a grain of salt as I’m not exactly on the NYT bestsellers list, but it does come from observation, research and intuition. So here we go.

If you can’t afford to get your book edited then it might be a good idea to wait until you can afford it.

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ADVICE #1: WRITE Seems like a big fat duh!, but you’ll never have monetary success from one book. You need to keep writing. Write as much as you can. I don’t just mean books. I mean anytime you have a chance to write do so. Having a website or a blog is a must. The only way to get better at writing is to write

The only way to communicate and gain a bigger audience is to write. 1a) listen to criticism. It’s hard and sometimes painful but listen to every critique of your work. It doesn’t mean you have to take their advice, but if you’re open to it, you will improve.

ADVICE #2: ADVERTISE It really is a must if you want to sell to more than family and a few people who stumble onto your book. I was listening to a podcast and there was a woman who worked for KOBO and she said there were 300,000 e-books published last year. Someone coming across your book without advertising is like someone finding your McDonald’s cup at the dump. It could happen but…. I’ve been over 200,000 on Amazon sales rankings. Even if you narrow that down by genre how long would it take someone to cycle through all those books ahead of you? So whether you do a free promo or put your book on sale or even just advertise its existence you need to do so. I won’t go on about what sites are the best, everyone has their favourites. I will say the sites that allow you to advertise to your specific audience are the best. If you write paranormal fantasy you don’t want your advertising in front of WWII buffs. If you write romance you don’t want your advertisement to be reaching out to the horror lover. You wouldn’t advertise adult diapers at a teen dance. Its a waste of money.

ADVICE #3: NETWORK I don’t just mean with other authors. Being an indie allows us to have a closer relationship with our readers. I have become friends with a lot of mine. Some have helped me sell my books. Other authors help you on social media. Writing rarely pays the big bucks. I find this part of the job rewarding and fun. Its a perk that I enjoy. If you dread being on twitter, hate facebook and you don’t even want to talk about google + promoting yourself just got a lot harder. I don’t know of being on these pages can really sell a large number of books, it never has for me. I can say you get to sell yourself and when I stop using these sites my sales go to nil.

ADVICE #4: STICK WITH IT I believe with my whole heart that this is a marathon, not a sprint. You need all these other things, but you also have to stick with it. I sell more books every year. Every time I put out a book or have a promotion more and more of my books are out there. I’m building an audience slowly but surely. Like anything else in life it takes hard work, determination and talent. There are exceptions to all rules, but all the authors I know who are successful have succeeded because they stuck to it and worked hard.

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ADVICE #5: CHANGE Things change all the time. What may have worked last year now won’t get you even one sale. So experiment, research and keep up with

whatever the new thing is when it comes to promoting. Once it was the freebie, now most now most think that’s not the way to go. You have your countdown deals, blog tours etc etc.

ADVICE #6: HAVE FUN If you aren’t enjoying the process, you have to ask yourself, why put yourself through all that work. I sometimes get burnt out from all the promotion, but over all I love every part of being an indie author. May 16th my book comes out. Blood and Reign. I am so excited for everyone to read it. So spread the word if you would be so kind. I forgot about reviews. Love ‘em, hate ‘em, need ‘em. All equally true. If you have read my books or any other indie author please leave them a review. It only takes 20 words on Amazon and it really helps with sales

Purchase Blood and Reign on

Amazon.com, Amazon.ca

Amazon.co.uk

Links for Electa Graham Facebook: authorelectagraham

Twitter: electagraham

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The Mexican Mafia of The Nightlife: San Antonio

Travis Luedke discusses the real-life Mexican Mafia and how it impacted his new novel, The Nightlife San Antonio.

In writing The Nightlife San Antonio, I was inspired by events in

my life from 2005 through 2010, when I lived in Sonora Mexico, on the border of Arizona. At this time the border situation

was red hot. By 2007, every week brought a new headline of the escalating drug war in the border towns that often spilled over onto U.S. soil. Though our small town of Agua Prieta, Sonora didn’t see any major conflict, I noticed the camouflage-painted tanks cruising through the scrub brush in the countryside, patrolling the line.

Yes, tanks, and camouflaged military soldiers with assault rifles. I had never seen this kind of thing in the U.S.,

actual military occupation. This was interesting, but the incident that really brought the border conflicts to my attention was the assassination of the Commandante of Agua Prieta, known as “Tacho.” The Commandante, the chief of police, is like the sheriff of the municipality. I saw the Commandante’s Jeep after the shooting. The windows of Tacho’s vehicle had been reinforced with inch-thick bulletproof glass, and would have saved his life, if he could have closed the door. The bullet holes I saw were in the interior of the door. He’d been standing in the open door of the Jeep when they attacked with automatic assault rifles. Tacho was

killed in the parking lot of the police station, in broad daylight. Rumor was he’d been taking cartel payoffs for years, but, his cooperation wasn’t satisfactory anymore. The cartels had made a bold statement, an example, one of many cartel assassinations in those years. Don’t fuck with the Mexican cartels, not if you value your life, or the lives of your family. About a third of the Agua Prieta police force quit their jobs. New officers were brought in from all over Sonora. Most of the locals were too afraid to take the job. Police in border towns everywhere experienced tremendous pressure and

constant threats. The manhunt for Tacho’s killers went on for months, but the cartel assassins escaped and were never caught. This kind of violence against police and authorities hit both sides of the border, yet it was far worse in Texas and California. Arizona experienced only a fraction of the drug wars that Tijuana/San Diego and Ciudad Juarez/El Paso suffered. The catalyst of this war was the new President of Mexico, Felipe Calderon, who had made the cartels his number one target. Across Mexico and the U.S., joint task forces of DEA and Mexican federal

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military worked in concert to hunt down these powerful cartels. Their efforts may have slowed the flow of drugs, but certainly didn’t stop it. They created a vicious, bloody war that lead to hundreds of prosecutions and incarcerations. The U.S. federal prisons are now filled with Mexican cartel members. These men are trapped for 10-20 years or more, but they’re still deeply entrenched in cartel connections, with powerful family ties in Mexico. Now comes the Mexican Mafia, a gang born on American soil, recruited from the convicts inside the prisons. Cartel members doing a life sentence are out of action, but the other inmates with 1-2-3 years before release are ripe for training. These parolees hit the ground running, drugs, cash and guns handed to them as soon as they set foot on the streets. The cartels found new life and distribution channels through the prison-based Mexican Mafia gang.

In 2010, La Eme – “M” – short for Mexican Mafia, battled with other gangs over control of the streets of San Antonio. Law enforcement joined the battle and took out huge chunks of gang membership with massive conspiracy indictments and arrests. Still, La Eme thrives. As many people as are thrown in prison for gang-drug activity, there’s always a new crop being released, newly trained and ready to go into business. U.S. prisons are the breeding ground

for La Eme gang membership. Members wear distinctive tattoos of a black handprint with the letters E M E, or, something derivative of the Mexican flag, the Eagle and the Snake.

It was years later, 2012, when I moved to San Antonio. I had missed most of the excitement. But, my years spent in living in Mexico stayed with me to this day, vivid memories of things I may never comfortably admit to. As you read my macabre, perverse tales of mafia, corruption, cartel, and vampires, it’s obvious I have some intimate knowledge of these things. Did I learn from jovial conversations with men whose tongues were loosened by tequila and lime, or do I have a story of my own to tell?

I’m not quite prepared to answer that question today. Maybe someday when I’m old and grey, and it just doesn’t matter anymore. For now, enjoy my tales of chaos, mayhem and debauchery, and take it on faith that I know what I’m

talking about.

The Nightlife San Antonio is now available for pre-order at

TWLUEDKE.COM or

NIGHTLIFE SAN ANTONIO

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By Travis Luedke The Dracula Chronicles is a new and exciting series adding a fresh dimension to the Dracula legend, which combines the real historical Vlad Dracula with a new and different version of Dracula the vampire. The series has been released in two arcs, one that follows Dracula the man and the other following Dracula the vampire. It is written in a style that is both literary and cinematic, that places you there in the thick of the action always. The books are historical novels of Gothic horror; religious corruption; political intrigue; tragedy; war; dark paranormal fantasy; and deep romance. The premise is built around Creation and the divide in Heaven that results from Lucifer’s jealousy of the creation of man. This leads to the First Great War of the Angels and Lucifer’s eventual expulsion from Heaven with all those who sided with him. The annihilation of the angels continues, but rather than destroy Lucifer, God agrees to a truce. By its terms, Lucifer can contest the soul of every living being as long as he does not interfere with their free will. Should he control more souls than God at any time, he can ascend again to Heaven and cast God and the angels out. He would then have a free hand to destroy all mankind.

THE VLAD DRACULA ARC. The Vlad Dracula arc.. Books #1 to #5. Set in the 15th Century Balkans, this arc brings to life in its entirety the world in which the real historical Vlad Dracula lived. It follows his loves; his triumphs; his many great tragedies; the betrayals he endures; and his great struggle to survive his many perils and secure the autonomy of his sovereign nation, Wallachia, which is sandwiched between the mighty Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman empires. The books introduce you to all the great players of the period, their political machinations, and their great conflicts set within the battle between Christianity and Islam. They follow Lucifer and his schemes to manipulate the young Vlad Dracula into seeing through his great plan. Replete with references that are Biblical and drawn from the writings of the Kabbalah, The Dracula Chronicles also introduce a new vision of Hell and take you on a journey you will never forget.

THE BOUND BY BLOOD ARC. The Bound By Blood arc.. Books #6 to #10. This arc begins with Dracula’s last great battle at Snagov in 1476. Despite winning yet another great victory, his enemies mortally wound him with arrows. He orders his men to take him to the chapel at the nearby monastery so he can die on holy ground. To his great chagrin, it is Lucifer who comes to claim his soul. The Dark One speaks of his great vision, and of how he has chosen Dracula as his instrument to bring down the Catholic Church. He bites into Dracula’s neck and then gives him his own blood to drink. In doing so, he creates a monster, superhuman and immortal, who can live through the ages and help him win the battle for souls. Into the 16th Century, wherever the Catholic Church is harmed or loses its influence, Dracula is there behind the scenes to propagate it all. He involves himself with Machiavelli; Martin Luther; in the Italian wars between France and Spain; the Borgias; Henry VIII and the Tudor dynasty; and many more. At the same time his brother, Andrei, takes up the fight against him and arms the Church with the knowledge of how to counter him. In resurrecting Dracula’s legitimate brother, Radu, from the dead so as to exact retribution against him, Dracula and Lucifer have unleashed a powerful enemy who has joined the battle against them.

PREQUEL: THE LAMB OF GOD.

This is a prequel to For Whom The Bell Tolls and the entire The Dracula Chronicles series. It offers a taste of what is to come, giving the background of the concept, the Crucifixion, and the night of the births of Vlad and Andrei. If you subscribe to my blog, link below, I will send you a free download of this prequel. You can also hear an audio version, narrated by myself, on my website and on my YouTube channel.

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troy the institution of the Catholic Church to turn man against God. He searches for more than a millennium for the candidate to see his plan through to an end, and finally discovers the one that can cast that final blow. On a cold night in December, 1431 in Sighisoara, an old gypsy woman delivers a prophecy to the great Vlad Dracul. She tells him he is about to sire two sons, one an angel and the other a devil. He returns to his fortress just as his wife bears him a son, whom he names Vlad. In the very same moment across the country on the border between Transylvania and Hungary, a gypsy girl gives birth to another Son, Andrei. The die is cast. The twin souls are born. The young Vlad Dracula becomes

BOOK #1 FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS.

“A war rages on around us every day. The struggle to save all mankind. The ultimate evil.” All is well in Heaven until God creates man. Lucifer’s jealousy leads to the First Great War of the Angels. Hundreds of thousands of years on, the feud simmers beneath the surface. It plots the course of history as we know it today. Both sides manipulate the major players through the centuries to seek an advantage over the other. The battle for souls has raged since the truce that followed the First Great War. God has struck the ultimate blow and sacrifice to gain the advantage, and defeat Lucifer. As Lucifer stands at the foot of the Cross that drains the last ounce of life from Christ and eradicates man’s sins, he realises that his work must begin anew. In time, he comes to understand that his only chance to win this battle will be to des-

the instrument of the forces of Darkness. To balance this, the baby Andrei is blessed by the angels and bestowed with awesome powers. This is their story.

BOOK #2 – THE PATH

TO DECAY

“The path we walk, is the path to decay. The only way to live, is to die.” The great Vlad Dracul is dead, fallen in battle, and his throne gone. His son, the young Vlad Dracula, is consumed with grief and a need for revenge. All alone in the world, he keeps his promise and returns to Anatolia. There, he takes a commission in the Ottoman army. On the fields outside Kosovo Polje in Serbia, he is handed his first opportunity to strike back against the men who killed his father.

He has grown into the ultimate fighting machine, and is feared by one and all. This path to decay, as described by his father, is the one he chooses to follow. Lucifer guides and watches over Dracula, but also deepens his hold over him. As time passes, though, his enemies build in every quarter, and they strive to bring him down. With nowhere left to turn, how will Dracula avenge his family? How can he hope to win back his throne? As he faces one tragedy after another, these events mould him into the man who will be spoken of for centuries to come. A man who lets nothing stand in his way in his pursuit for revenge, and the throne that was his father’s.

Lucifer turns man against God with ease. God responds by sending his prophets one after another to bring man back to the path of righteousness. It seems to be merely delaying the inevitable and in one last effort to thwart Lucifer, God sends his son made man. In giving his life on the Cross, Jesus wipes away man’s sins. This leaves Lucifer back to where he was at the beginning and means he has to start again. The Catholic Church is born on that fateful day in Jerusalem as Christ’s church on the earth. Lucifer then believes if he can destroy this great icon of God, he can turn man against God once more. He searches for over a millennium for the one who can lead his assault on God. The Crusades give him renewed hope, and he is sure the conflict between Christian and Moslem will provide the one he seeks. When this does not materialise, he turns his attention to the Balkan region where this conflict is renewed with Ottoman expansion into eastern Europe. He finally identifies the second son of Vlad Dracul as the one he can manipulate into achieving his ends. God has prepared for this event, and in the very moment that Vlad Dracula draws his first breath, so does another child sired by Dracul, though born to a gypsy woman. This child, Andrei, is blessed by the angels and bestowed with great powers as a balance to the evil about to be unleashed upon the world.

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PREQUEL – BIRTH OF THE MONSTER. This is the prequel to Bound By Blood, and the vampire arc. It takes you to Dracula’s last triumph on the battlefield, and his last moments as a mortal man. While he lies dying in the chapel of the monastery at Snagov, Lucifer comes to claim his soul. The Dark One speaks of his vision in destroying the Catholic Church in his quest to win the battle for souls, and creates Dracula the vampire.

BOOK #6 – BOUND BY BLOOD. A new edition of this and the next book is currently with my copy editors, and will be released and re-launched with new covers in the summer. “A war rages on around us every day. The struggle to save all mankind. The ultimate evil.” As his moment of death looms Dracula suffers the ultimate betrayal. The champion of the Catholic faith in Eastern Europe realises it is Lucifer who is coming to claim him. However, Lucifer does not want his soul. Instead he bites into Dracula’s neck and then offers his own blood to drink. Dracula suffers his mortal death, but he re-awakens. Immortalised with Lucifer’s blood coursing through his veins, the two are bound by blood for eternity. Lucifer has groomed him for this day and lays out the task before him. Dracula is to destroy the institution of that which he has championed for so long. By bringing down the Catholic Church he can undo the Crucifixion and turn man against God once more. If he succeeds then Lucifer will ascend again to Heaven and signal the end for all mankind.

THE AUTHOR. The author developed a fascination with Dracula from an early age. Like many others he was enthralled by Christopher Lee’s portrayal of him on the big screen. It was in his late teens that he discovered Dracula the man and the love affair began from there. An avid lover of history, he studied the period in which the real historical Vlad Dracula lived, 15th Century Balkan, for many years. It followed from there then that with his love of writing he would always choose Dracula as his subject. He built a concept and premise where he could accommodate both Dracula the vampire and Dracula the man. Away from writing, the author has a wide range of interests. He reads a lot of books from a wide variety of authors, though his main interest lies in the horror genre. His love of books is matched only by his love of the countryside and of course, his family. As an added note, he has lived and travelled all over the world. He has a love for all things historical, with a particular fascination for medieval Europe. Anywhere he travels, he likes to search out locations with an historical interest and will always hunt for the ruins of an old castle before heading to the beach.

STALK SHANE HERE: Amazon US – http://ow.ly/qSHx1

UK – http://ow.ly/qSHDH

Website www.draculachronicles.co.uk

Blog www.draculachronicles.co.uk/blog Twitter @ShaneKPONeill Goodreads Shane O'Neill Youtube DraculaChronicles

Facebook: ShaneONeillsDraculaChronicles

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Coffee Chat

with Author

Erin Moore By Ally Shields

Ally: Erin Moore is with us today with her paranormal romance, The Shaman’s Temptation, which sounds like a hot time in the Arizona desert! Erin, do you drink coffee or prefer something else? Erin: Earl Gray with lots of almond milk is my caffeine infusion of choice. Ally: No problem. While I’m getting the tea and coffee for us, you’ll have time to show our readers your bio, including an additional interesting fact.

BIO:

Erin has been writing her entire life, but only recently found her voice in the paranormal romance world. She’s an avowed chocoholic, loves travel and good tea, and finds her inner peace by meditating and writing. Fantasy, historical fiction, and romance are her inspirations. She is so thankful that she is able to do what she loves and have the support of great readers and friends. Ally: Is there anything not in your bio? Erin: I speak fluent German. Ally: Let’s start with a genre question. How did you start writing romances? Did a particular book or author inspire you? Erin: I sort of grew up reading romances in the summers when I could borrow/steal them from aunts and grandmothers, so I can’t really say that it was any one author, except maybe Jude Deveraux (remember those?). Ally: Do you work with a critique partner or critique group? Do you use beta readers? Erin: Two amazing women are my crit partners, and since I’ve been published I’ve also had a few beta readers. It’s probably something that I need to focus on more. In terms of crit partners, I think two is probably my limit; it’s hard to find the time for my writing, others’ writing, and marketing,

and hero in the book you brought today. What is the major conflict in their relationship? Erin: Takshilim Nah-Kah-Yen is training to be a shaman in his small Arizona tribe. Madeleine Greenway is the financial analyst sent to help his tribe get funding for a casino. Their conflict is really generated from their ways of life – Tak thinks that she is sort of a princess, not able to see the needs of the tribe. And Madeleine thinks Tak is a bit arrogant, until she finds out how much he has invested in helping his people and how strong he is beneath the wounded warrior

otherwise! Ally: I know you have a small press publisher, but have you done any self-publishing or would you consider it? Erin: Would definitely consider self-publishing, especially because my next series is going to be a little off the beaten track, and if I am going to have to start from the ground up in terms of building an audience, then it might be worth it. I’m writing what I’m calling “The Origins Series”, and it’s going to be set in the Paleolithic. Not exactly a Regency! Ally: Tell us about the heroine

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toughness. Ally: I confess to loving quick answer questions, so here are yours: a hike in the woods or a day on the beach: Erin: Hike. Ally: Sexy convertible or practical van? Erin: Wow, those are my only choices? I think sexy, but I drive a total mommy car. Ally: favorite flower Erin: Orchids. For obvious reasons.

Blurb: A Shaman’s temptation could be the undoing of his people… Madeleine Greenway, perfectionist and analyst for Surety Bank, has no place in her rigidly organized life for something as unpredictable as a man, much less a Native American shaman. Sent to the White Mountain reservation to help the tribe finance its new casino, she meets Tak, a proud, beautiful Apache, and finds herself surrounded by something magical in the Arizona desert. His touch becomes a passport to otherworldly bliss, and the strange coyote she sees makes her question what’s real. But it’s the amazing sex with Tak that makes Madeleine lose sight of her goal—to guarantee that Surety Bank’s investment in the casino won’t fail. Last in a long line of shaman shape-shifters, Tak Nah-Kah-Yen has sworn a vow of celibacy to his gods. But Madeleine’s lithe body and honeyed lips compel him to forswear his pledge, claiming her for his own. His passion for her overshadows his link to his gods at a time when he most needs their help. Desperate to find funding for the casino and lift his people out of poverty, he’d accepted start-up money from less than savory sources who are willing to kill to guarantee their profit.

Ally: Your next vacation destination Erin: Turkey. Ally: Sexiest actor, tv or movies Erin: I looooove Hugh Jackman and Dwayne (the Rock) Johnson. Yum. Ally: You have good taste in men! But I’m afraid we’re about out of time. Thank you so much for visiting today. But we’d love to see your book before you go…

NOTICE: Content of Erin Moore’s books is 18+ Contact links: (may include 18+ content) Twitter: www.twitter.com/authorErinMoore Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorErinMoore Website: www.AuthorErinMoore.com Amazon Author Page: Erin Moore on Amazon These books are available at most online bookstores and can be accessed through her website or her Amazon Author page

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Fiction – need new graphic

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SIN-REAPER By K.N. Lee

EXCERPT – CHAPTER ONE Originally posted on Kirstin Pullioff's Blog

Set between two rows of buildings that reached as tall as the dark storm clouds above the central market filled the cities square until every inch of free space was filled with either people, creatures, or goods for sale.

A whistling sound made Raina and Allen pause. Everyone turned and looked above as six armored Wind-Walkers flew from the south of the city and stopped in formation above them. With their swords held upwards with the silver blades resting against their shoulders, they hovered in the air. While they seemed to be there only to patrol the market, everyone gradually returned to their business.

“Wonder why they’re here,” Allen whispered. Raina shrugged as she gazed at them from beneath

her gray cloak. Her dark blue eyes contrasted with the bright blue of the people surrounding her. She caught the attention of one of the Wind-Walkers. A fluttering sensation flooded her stomach, and Raina found herself holding her breath in anticipation.

Wes glanced down at her from his position at the head of the troupe. Even in uniform, he stood out from his brethren. While most Wind-Walkers had blonde hair, Wes was one of the rare ones with white hair. It signified that he was Enlightened and of the ruling class. His was long, and braided in a single braid that hung down to his mid-back. He’d never cut it. It was forbidden.

Long hair was just one of the ways the ruling class was separate from the others classes.

Raina’s heart raced when his gray eyes met hers. He gave her a quick smile and nod of acknowledgement. His attention to her didn’t last long enough. He returned to surveying the crowd for any unusual activity.

“Interesting,” Allen murmured. “You didn’t tell me you knew a Wind-Walker.”

Raina grinned despite herself. She was on a mission. She had a plan and must stick to it.

“Who says that I do?” Her smile faded as she began into the crowd once

more. She tripped on a raised stone and felt her face flush with embarrassment. She hoped that Wes hadn’t seen that. She found it hard to walk the wide stone-paved street without tripping or bumping shoulders with someone else.

Her black boots made soft thuds on the stone as her eyes scanned the crowd for anything out of the ordinary.

Allen shrugged and followed behind her. “I saw him look at you is all.”

“Means nothing,” Raina said. “It was just a look.” She pulled her cloak’s hood further down, so that only her blue

eyes were seen. The black cloth that covered her mouth left nothing to decipher her identity.

The lace of her long sleeves brushed just below her wrists, only to be met by black gloves. No one could see her white flesh that set her apart from the people of Jinn’Ah. She looked different because of her complexion, but it was the way her eyes glowed that made the people make a path for her.

She ignored their whispers. She was used to them by now. She pushed her yearning for attention from Wes aside and focused on her plan.

Raina looked for someone. Someone with thoughts of malice. Someone that could feed her soul with enough power to escape her servitude as a Royal Reaper.

Heat filled her body as she searched for sin. She used to think her power was a curse, keeping her up all night with horrible nightmares of things that she didn’t understand as a child. She’d seen too much. She knew the evil in everyone around her. It was enough to drive one insane. And yet, somehow, Raina still had her wits about her.

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She frowned to herself, disgusted with what she saw in the souls of the people around her.

“How can I judge these people?” Raina asked Allen. It was the same question that she asked herself that every day.

“It is who you are. You cannot veer from destiny, Raina. Just like I cannot deny my own path,” Allen said.

She glanced back at him, seeing the hurt in his own eyes and feeling guilty for being so selfish.

He adjusted his glasses and looked away from her gaze.

“But I see nothing but good in you,” Raina whispered. Allen was much taller than her. She reached upward and stroked his soft brown cheek. “It is a rare thing to see such innocence.”

Allen’s blue eyes widened as he looked down at her. “Please stop, Raina. Do not read my soul. I beg you.”

He took her hand and lowered it back to her side. He adjusted his glasses, embarrassed by the thought of her learning his secrets.

Raina nodded silently. “Forgive me.” Allen couldn’t look at her. Raina bit her lip. She knew

what he was hiding. She sighed. She could never give him what he wanted.

Anyone that gained their power from the energy of sinners, bad people, murderers, rapists, and such must surely be bad as well, she thought. Allen deserves better than a girl like me.

“It’s fine,” Allen said under his breath. Raina sniffed the air. The smell was what

overwhelmed her at first. Spices and perfumes, raw fish and sweat. The early hours of dawn were the most popular times for the people to shop or sell their goods.

Fresh fruits, vegetables, raw or smoked meats, exotic smelling salts, carpets, and silks were all spread out over wooden tables draped with cloth and carts that had been

pushed from far below the city’s boundaries. One might not think it due to the emerging storms, but spring had arrived, and the land was bountiful and generous with its gifts.

Raina held Allen’s hand tightly as they weaved into the crowd, afraid that if she let go she’d get swept away. She was afraid that if that happened, she would enjoy being lost and would be happy to never be found again. She had a plan, and running away too soon would ruin it. Raina knew how to be patient. She knew how to fake a smile and bow to the authority.

Something caught her interest, breaking her from her quest for a sinner. Raina smiled in wonder as she watched two twin boys dancing in perfect unison to the tunes of an old man’s drum.

She stopped and watched, captivated by the paint on the boy’s faces. White paint on brown skin and their black hair slicked back. They wore the same outfit. Black trouser pants and red shirts with large silver buttons. They smiled and continued their choreographed dance and bowed.

Raina let go of Allen’s hand and clapped. She fished a large gold coin out of her pocket and before Allen could stop her, she tossed the coin into the basket set beside the old man. The old man looked down at the coin as it glowed beneath the light of the red sun. His dull blue eyes looked up at her and a crocked grin came to his face and then, Raina saw it.

His sin. He knew it as well. He knew what she saw and his

grin faded. Before he could speak, Raina was yanked away by someone strong.

Raina’s eyes widened. She pulled a dagger from the belt beneath her sleeve that was wrapped around her forearm. Her eyes glowed bright with power as she swirled around to slit the throat of whomever had grabbed her.

SIN REAPER WILL BE RELEASED MAY 31, 2014. Follow K.N. Lee for more up to date information about Sin-Reaper and her other books. www.TheChroniclesofKoa.com www.WriteLikeAWizard.com Facebook Twitter

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PERFECTION

UNLEASHED By Jade Kerrion

EXCERPT – CHAPTER ONE

On another Friday night, she might have been out at a Georgetown bar, accepting drinks from attractive men and allowing them to delude themselves into imagining that they might be the lucky one to take her home.

Tonight, she had work to do. The hem of the white lab coat brushed about her legs

as she strode toward the double doors that barred entry to the western wing. No one paid her any attention. Scientists and lab technicians scurried past her, nodding at her with absent-minded politeness. On Friday evening, with the weekend beckoning, no one thought about security.

Where men faltered, technology kept going. The corridor seemed endlessly long, and the security

cameras that pivoted on their ceiling-mounted frames bore into her back. She knew that her image likely featured on one or more of the many monitors at the security desk, but a combination of training and nerves of steel steadied her. She resisted the urge to twitch or to hurry her pace.

Each step brought her closer to an ominously glowing red eye on the security panel beside the door. Undeterred, she waved her badge over the panel. Moments later, the security panel flashed to green and a heavy lock slid back. Another small triumph. It usually took a series of them to make a victory.

She lowered her head, ostensibly to look down at the tablet in her hand. Her long, dark hair fell forward, concealing the lower half of her face from the security camera as she walked through the open door. “Entering the western wing,” she murmured, trusting the concealed microphone to pick up on her whisper.

“Good luck,” Carlos’s voice responded through the tiny earpiece inserted in her right ear. “All’s clear out here.”

“I’m really glad the security pass I programmed for you actually worked,” Xin added, a whimsical tone in her voice.

Zara was glad, too. She had a solid plan. Two of her finest associates backed her up—Carlos Sanchez waiting in the car concealed off road outside Pioneer Labs, and Mu Xin poised in front of a computer in her Alexandria home—but she could come up with a list of a half-dozen things that could still go wrong.

“I’ve finished checking the employee log against the National Mutant Registry,” Xin continued. “You’ve lucked out, Zara. Apparently Pioneer Labs isn’t big into hiring

mutants. You won’t have to contend with any telepaths or telekinetics tonight.”

Good. That was one thing she could strike off her list.

Another long hallway stretched in front of her, but the glass-enclosed research station on the left drew her attention. Two lab technicians huddled around a network of computers, their attention focused on the output pouring from the whirling terminals. Her gaze drifted over the lab technicians and focused on Roland Rakehell and Michael Cochran, the famous co-creators of “Galahad”, the perfect human. The two scientists stood in contemplative discussion in front of a liquid-filled fiberglass chamber.

The man floating within the sensory deprivation tank, his head encased in a metallic hood and his face covered by breathing apparatus, writhed in agony. Wires monitoring heart rate and brain waves trailed from his naked body. Jagged edges leaped hysterically off the computer readouts as mind and body convulsed, shuddering with madness and pain.

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One of the lab technicians spoke up, “Professor, his brain waves indicate that he is waking.”

Roland Rakehell glanced at his watch. “Right on time,” he noted, his voice tinged with disappointment. “I guess the miracles can’t come thick and fast every single day.”

“We made him human, not superhuman,” Michael Cochran said. “Besides, we don’t really have time to record a miracle today.” He glanced at the two technicians. “Roland and I are meeting investors for dinner, and we have to leave now. Take Galahad back to his room. Make sure he gets something to eat.”

Silently she pushed away from the viewing area and continued down the corridor. Her violet eyes betrayed the faintest flicker of confusion and consternation.

Galahad. She would never have imagined it, but apparently the

scientists had no qualms treating their prized creation like a common lab animal.

“Xin?” she murmured quietly. “Right here,” was the immediate response. “Approaching the suite.” “I’m one step ahead of you,” Xin said. “I’ve gotten

through the security system and rerouted all the cameras in the suite to a static video feed. You’re clear to enter.”

The second door opened into a large suite pressed up against the western wall of the laboratory complex. No gentle ambient lighting there, just harsh pools of unforgiving white light blazing over the bed and table, leaving the rest of the large suite in muted shadows.

Was it through deliberate design or neglectful oversight that no attempt had been made to humanize Galahad’s living quarters? Empty shelves lined the wall. The small metal table and matching chair were severe, the narrow bed unwelcoming. She had seen third-world hospital wards offer far more comfort to its occupants.

Footsteps echoed, drawing closer, and then paused outside the door. There was no time to waste. She strode across the room, slipping into the shadows that obscured the far side of the suite moments before the door slid open again.

The two technicians she had seen earlier half-dragged, half-carried Galahad into the room. It staggered with exhaustion, trying to stand on its own. The technicians hauled Galahad up and dumped it unceremoniously in a wet, shivering heap on the bed.

One of the technicians cast a backward glance at the unmoving figure on the bed. “Pete, are you sure he’s going to be okay?” he asked the other.

“Eventually. It usually takes him a while to recover,” Pete assured the younger man. He pulled out two sealed nutrient bars from his pocket and tossed them onto the table. “Let’s go.”

“I think we should at least get him a towel or put him under the sheets.”

Pete snapped. “How many times do I have to say it? Let him be, Jack. He doesn’t want to be helped, though God knows I’ve tried often enough. He wants to be able to do things for himself, at least here, in this room. It’s the only dignity he has left; let’s leave that to him.”

“It was bad today.” The older man inhaled deeply, sparing a quick glance

back. Galahad trembled so hard it seemed as if it would shatter. It curled into a fetal ball, perhaps to protect itself from further violation. “I know. And the best thing we can do for him right now is leave him alone,” Pete said as he stepped out of the room and allowed the door to seal shut behind them.

The impact was thunderous—not audibly—but she felt it nonetheless. It was the sealing of a prison cell.

Zara had wondered what kind of luxuries and privileges the incomparable Galahad—the pinnacle of genetic perfection—enjoyed. Now she knew the answer.

She watched in silence as Galahad stirred, slowly standing and leaning on the wall for support as it staggered toward the bathroom. She had yet to get a good look at its face, but the blazing light did not leave much of its body to imagination. It was slender but well muscled, powerful and graceful, in spite of its obvious exhaustion—the promise of perfection come into fruition.

She waited through the sound of running water. Patience had never been easy for her, but she possessed the instincts of a hunter closing in on its quarry. Her patience was rewarded when it finally returned to the room, dressed simply in loose-fitting white cotton drawstring pants and a tunic of the same material. As it stepped into the blazing circle of light, her eyes narrowed briefly, and then a faint smile of easy appreciation curved her lips.

She had studied the surveillance video feed Xin had hacked from the central computers of Pioneer Labs the day before, but the wide-angle lenses had not captured anything approximating the full impact of Galahad’s beauty. Its rare and lovely color—pale blond hair paired with dark eyes—stood out and attracted immediate attention, but the longer she looked, the more beauty she saw in its exquisitely chiseled features, as flawless as a Michelangelo masterpiece. Galahad was stunningly beautiful—would be stunningly beautiful, whatever the color of its hair or eyes. The scientists had certainly done well; more than well.

Galahad made its way over to a rattan chair, moving with greater ease. It was regaining its strength, though she did not think that it was anywhere near optimal form, not when it had almost collapsed with exhaustion on the way to the bathroom ten minutes earlier. It curled up in the chair and closed its eyes, looking oddly content, despite the fact that it did not fit very well into the chair. Within a minute, she realized from the even rise and fall of its chest with every breath, that it had fallen asleep.

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It was time to get to work. Galahad did not stir as she silently crossed the room.

A*STAR had demanded fresh DNA samples obtained as directly from the source as possible. Hair or skin samples would be acceptable, and both were typically abundant in a bathroom. She pulled test tube and tweezers from the pocket of her lab coat and knelt to examine the bathroom counter.

Something flickered in the corner of her vision. Instinct and trained reflexes took over. In a flash, her

dagger was in her hand. She spun, the black serrated blade slicing outward.

Galahad reacted with uncanny speed. It dove to the side, dropping into a roll and coming up in a battle crouch. Her dagger slashed through the air where Galahad had been standing a moment before. Galahad’s dark eyes narrowed as it assessed her. Its body shifted into motion, preparing to defend itself.

She too reassessed, readjusted. Her attack should not have missed. Galahad’s battle instincts had been trained and polished to perfection. Apparently it was more than a common lab animal.

Her dagger lashed out once again in a graceful, snake-like motion, and Galahad evaded by dodging to one side. The blade sliced harmlessly through the air so close to Galahad that it must have felt the chill breath of the dagger’s passing against its skin.

Galahad’s silent and sinuously graceful movements were driven by so much speed and agility that strength—although abundant—was superfluous. It matched her, step for step, dodging each attack with a grace that made their deadly waltz seem choreographed. There was no doubt that Galahad was good, far better than anyone she had ever contended with. In spite of its obvious fatigue after a long and difficult day, Galahad possessed flawless timing and impeccable spatial precision, allowing it to escape injury by fractions of a second and a hairsbreadth. It had nerves of steel. It taunted her with its proximity and tempted the kiss of her blade, never straying too far as it sought an opening.

She saw the dark eyes glitter dangerously and knew that something in it had shifted, had changed. She thrust her blade at its face.

In less than a heartbeat, it was over. With a swiftness that left her stunned, Galahad

twisted its hand to catch her wrist in an iron grip. It sidestepped, yanked her forward, and drove its knee into her thigh. Her leg weakened and collapsed. Its superior weight drove her to the ground and kept her there without any visible effort.

A perfectly sequenced attack, executed with flawless precision and stunning speed.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she recognized the inevitable outcome as it eased the dagger from between her nerveless fingers. She cursed soundlessly. She had underestimated its skill, perhaps to her folly. It suddenly

released her, pulled her to her feet, and then stepped away from her. Some emotion she could not decipher rippled over its flawless features, and to her amazement, it flipped the dagger over in its hand and held it out, hilt first, to her. “I don’t know why I’m fighting you. You came to kill me; I should thank you for your kindness.”

She reached out and accepted the dagger from Galahad as her mind raced to understand the incomprehensible. Galahad held her gaze only for a moment before it lowered its eyes and looked away. She saw its throat work as it fought an internal battle to suppress its survival instincts, and then it turned its back on her deliberately and walked out of the bathroom.

She could have struck the fatal blow. Galahad was offering her the chance. She could pull Galahad’s head back and apply the faintest pressure to the dagger’s blade across its jugular. She could extract the tissue sample she had been sent to collect, and then leave, her mission completed.

She could not bring herself to do it. Oddly enough, something in her wanted it—wanted him—to live.

“Zara?” she heard Xin’s voice softly inquiring in her ear, her tone concerned.

“I’m all right,” she murmured. “Give me a minute.” She paused by the bathroom door and watched him make his way toward the wide windows. He kept his back to her as he stared out at the manicured lawns around Pioneer Labs. Was he waiting for her to strike?

Well, she could play the waiting game too. She followed him and then turned, casually leaning against the window as she looked up at him, her gaze coolly challenging.

Several moments passed. Finally he broke the silence. “Who sent you?” he

asked quietly without looking at her. She had expected the question, but not the calm,

neutral tone in which it was asked. No anger. No hatred. No fear. Just a simple question, driven more by politeness than by any real need to know. “Does it matter?”

He inhaled deeply and released his breath in a soft sigh as she neatly evaded his inquiry. He tried another question. “Are you from around here?”

“Washington, D.C.” “I’ve seen media clips of that city. It’s beautiful.” She offered a nonchalant shrug as a response to his

statement. “It’s pretty enough, I suppose. I take it you’ve never been there.”

“I don’t get out much, and the last time was a good while ago.” He shrugged, a graceful motion that belied the bitterness in his voice. “I’ve seen media clips endorsed by Purest Humanity and other pro-humanist groups. There is no place for me in your world.”

It was pointless to deny the obvious, but before she could open her mouth to toss out the retort on the edge of her tongue, an animal-like cry resonated through the complex. It was a ghastly sound, starting at a low pitch

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akin to the sound a lost puppy might make and then rising until it was a banshee’s scream. “What was that?”

“It’s an experiment in another part of the building.” “It doesn’t sound like anything I recognize. What is

it?” He tossed her question back at her: “Does it matter?” “Not if you don’t care.” “It’s been going on for as long as I can remember.” His matter-of-fact statement was like fuel to fire. Her

eyes flashed. “And you feel nothing? No anger? No pity? You’re inhuman.”

“I thought you’d already decided that,” was his mild rejoinder. “Isn’t that why the pro-humanist groups want me killed?”

She hesitated. Somewhere along the way—she was not even sure when—she had stopped thinking of Galahad as an “it” and had started relating to it as a “he”. She had attributed to him all the responsibilities of being human, but none of its rights or privileges, in effect placing him in the worst possible no-win situation. She recalled his anguished convulsions in the sensory deprivation chamber. How much pity did she expect him to dredge up for another creature in a position no different from his own? Very little. In fact, none at all.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The anger subsided. “Do they conduct experiments on you too?” she asked softly.

He stiffened. Without meeting her gaze, he answered the question, choosing his words with care. “I…yes, they do, sometimes.”

“What did they do to you today?” He averted his gaze and bit down hard on his lower

lip. He shook his head, said nothing. “You looked like hell when they brought you back. I

want to know, please.” He was silent for so long she thought he was never

going to answer the question, but then he spoke in a measured, neutral tone. “They gave me a highly concentrated sleeping pill and then injected a hallucinogen, to induce nightmares. They wanted to see if I could overcome the effects of the sleeping pill to wake up.”

“Did you?’ Another long pause. His reply was a softly anguished

whisper. “No.” “How long did the experiment last?” “About eight hours, perhaps nine.” He laughed, low

and melodic, but it was a humorless sound. “I slept all day, and I’m exhausted.”

“Why do they do that?” “It’s simple; because they can. Humans and their

derivatives, the clones and in vitros, have rights. I’m considered non-human, in large part because of the successful lobbying of pro-humanist groups, and I don’t have rights.” Galahad released his breath in a soft sigh. Long eyelashes closed over dark, pain-filled orbs as he

inhaled deeply. He opened his eyes and met her gaze directly, holding it for a long, silent moment. The corner of his lips tugged up again in a bittersweet half smile. “I’m tired. I need to lie down. You can do what you need to do whenever you want.”

“Wait!” She grabbed his arm as he turned away from her. “You want me to kill you?”

“Isn’t that what you came to do?” “Do you actually want to die?” He waved his hand to encompass the breadth and

width of the impersonal and deliberately dehumanizing room. “I’m not sure this should count as living.”

“But you’re not human.” “No,” he agreed, his voice even. “No, but I am

alive…just like any other human. This isolation drives me crazy. I know this is not the way others live. This isn’t living.”

He looked away. His pain was real, his anger compelling. In spite of it, she had seen him smile a few times and wondered whether his twisted half-smile could ever be coaxed into becoming something more. In silence, she watched as he turned his back on her and walked to his rattan chair. He seemed tired, emotional weariness draining his physical strength. Slowly he settled into the chair, drawing his legs up and curling into a vaguely comfortable position. Apparently he had chosen to deliberately ignore her. He was tuning her out and was once again trying to find solace in the few things he had left, such as a worn chair and his own company, trying to get through each cheerless day and lonely night.

Outside, a rabbit, safe from predators in the falling dusk, emerged from its burrow and hopped across the small patch of grass in front of the large windows of the suite. Zara watched as a faint smile touched his face, briefly transforming it. His personality seemed wrapped around a core that was equal parts weary indifference and tightly controlled bitterness, but there was still enough left in him to savor the small crumbs that life saw fit to throw his way. If his quiet strength had amazed her, his enduring courage humbled her. As she watched him, she knew he had won the battle he had wanted, so badly, to lose. He had proved his right to live, even though there was no purpose in living in a place like this. He knew that fact intimately, and so did she.

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Zara, we’ve got trouble.” Carlos’s voice cut through

the silence of her thoughts, his habitual calmness edged with tension. “Lots of vehicles incoming. Purest Humanity logos. Could be a protest forming; they look seriously pissed.”

She took a few steps away from Galahad. Annoyance disguised flickers of anxiety in her voice. “They’re about two days too early. They’ve been gathering on Christmas Eve each year.”

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“Well, looks like someone had a change of plans. I’m estimating about forty…fifty cars, at least twice as many people.”

“They won’t get through the gate,” Xin said. “It was designed to keep out APCs.”

“Uh…The gate just opened…Por dios…They’re driving in!”

“What?” “No kidding, I swear to God.” The tension in

Carlos’s voice escalated. “Someone must be screwing around with the security system.”

Zara suppressed a hiss of irritation. “Find that person, Xin, and disable his access. I don’t want to have to fight my way out of here.”

“I’m on it, but I can’t guarantee they won’t get to you. If they’re already through the gate, they’ll be pounding on the front door in seconds. You don’t have time; get moving. And Zara, if you don’t take Galahad with you, he’s as good as dead.”

Zara’s mind raced through the options available to her, the possibilities. She shrugged, dismissing the many logical reasons why she should not do what she was about to do, and took her first step down her path with a terse and coolly decisive order. “He’s coming with me. I’ll get us out of the building. Carlos, stand by for an extraction.”

“Copy that.” She stepped toward Galahad. “You need to change

into something else.” The thin cotton tunic and pants he wore would not provide sufficient protection from the chilly night air. Besides, his clothes looked like something issued to long-term residents of mental hospitals. Something with fewer negative institutional implications would work better at keeping him as inconspicuous as possible.

He blinked in surprise, her voice jerking him back to reality, and he looked up at her. “There is nothing else to wear,” he said. He released his breath in a soft sigh, his gaze drifting away from her to the rabbit outside the window.

Nothing else? A quick search of the suite confirmed his words. The only pieces of clothing in the suite’s large and mostly empty walk-in closet were several pieces of identical white cotton tunics and pants, a subtle but highly effective dehumanizing strategy. “We’re leaving anyway,” she told him as she returned into the living area of the suite. “Get up. We’re going.”

He stared at her in bewilderment. “Going?”

Zara exercised exquisite politeness and reminded herself to be patient with him. “I’m getting you out of here.”

A glimmer of understanding tinged with wary hope swirled through the confusion in his sin-black eyes, but he still did not move from the chair. “I thought you came to kill me.”

Not precisely, but perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing if he kept believing it, especially if it would make him more tractable. Things were complicated enough; an uncooperative captive would heighten the stakes and the danger of their situation. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Changed your mind?” “It’s a woman’s prerogative,” she told him, a wicked

smile curving her lips. Her tone softened slightly. As huge as this step seemed for her, it must seem even larger for him. “I want to help you. Will you come with me?”

He met her gaze, held it for a long moment, and then finally smiled. “Yes.”

The simplicity of his answer staggered her, to say nothing of the heart-stopping power of his smile. It was a smile that could melt iron. “You trust me,” she said, “but you don’t even know my name.”

“It would be ungracious not to trust someone who has already passed up on several opportunities to kill me.” He uncurled from his chair and stood. His manners were at least as exquisite as his looks. He made no mention of the fact that he had beaten her in a fair fight and then refused to follow up on his advantage.

Maybe he considered it irrelevant. The important point was that she did not. The fight she had lost had, after all, been the critical turning point. She smiled up at him, suddenly realizing that his dark, fathomless eyes did not seem nearly as distant and empty as they had several minutes earlier. “I’m Zara Itani.”

He smiled faintly, the warmth from his smile briefly lighting up his eyes. “Zara, I’m Galahad.”

PERFECTION UNLEASHED IS AVAILABLE NOW. Get it here: Amazon: amazon.com/author/jadekerrion

Follow Jade Kerrion at the links below.

Website: www.jadekerrion.com Facebook: www.facebook.com/jadekerrion Twitter: www.twitter.com/jadekerrion

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Warm Wishes A.P. Gilbert

“It’s Christmas,” Andy whispered to his brother, Philip. It was still early and Andy’s bleary eyes tried hard to focus as he looked with happy anticipation at the five year old sitting up in the bed opposite his own.

“Do you think he has been?” “Of course he’s been!” Andy smiled at his brother,

who was four years his junior; he was so naïve it was funny. “Father Christmas comes every year.”

“Can we go downstairs then?” “Okay, but we’ve got to be quiet, Mummy and Daddy

might not be awake yet.” “Okay.” Philip and Andy slowly pulled back the covers of

their beds and stepped softly onto the carpeted floor of the bedroom they shared. By now, both of their eyes had become accustomed to the poor light and they crept to the door, being careful to avoid the toys that they had left on the floor the day before. Philip bent before they reached the door and picked up his favourite bear, Bob Bear, and held it by the paw.

“I’m cold,” Philip said, a little too loudly. Andy put his finger to his lips and made a shushing

sound which sounded louder than Philips small voice. “Put your dressing gown on then.”

Andy took Philips’ Spiderman dressing gown from the hook on the wall and passed it over to his brother before putting his own blue one on. They tiptoed to the door and Andy opened it, being careful not to pull too quickly for fear that the bell decoration that hung on the handle would ring. It didn’t and they walked out to the hall and to the top of the stairs. Looking down, Philip saw that the lights that had been wrapped carefully around the tree still twinkled, sending coloured flashes of red and green onto the wall of the stairway. They began to creep down. There was a breeze coming from somewhere that brushed bare ankles beneath their gowns as they reached the middle of the stairs. The brothers were both too excited to pay much mind to it but Andy did find himself pulling his dressing gown tighter around his small frame.

The two brothers reached the foot of the stairs and Philip grabbed Andy’s hand in excitement at the sight of the treats that had been deposited beneath the tree. Boxes and packages of all shapes and sizes surrounded it, all wrapped in bright coloured paper and shiny ribbons. The fireplace behind the tree still held glowing embers from the night before and four fur rimmed red stockings hung from the mantelpiece above. The stockings were packed full of gifts, nearly spilling over onto the hearth beneath. On top of the mantelpiece, Andy saw, was the plate of cookies and the glass of whisky; half eaten and fully drunk; that he and Philip had left out for Father Christmas the night before.

Philip saw that half of the dog treat that he had left out for the reindeers had fallen on to the cream carpet beneath.

“Where’s Lucky, Andy?” Philip asked realising that the family Labrador had not done his normal friendly attack as soon as the children came downstairs.

“I don’t know,” said Andy, looking around confusedly and walking towards the kitchen. It was then that he noticed that the front door was open. “Mum!” he shouted, “Lucky has run away!”

Tears sprang instantly to Philips eyes and he began to sob quietly. Andy rushed past him and started up the stairs.

“Mum! Dad!” he shouted and Philip followed his lead, calling between small sobs.

“Mummy!” Andy had already reached the top of the stairs before

Philip had climbed half way and he burst in to his parents’ room.

“Mum! Dad! Lucky has run away!” There was no movement from beneath the covers

and Andy rushed around to his mum’s side of the bed as Philip reached the doorway. Andy pulled back the cover expecting to see his mum’s sleeping face, but she wasn’t there. He pulled the cover firmly down, uncovering the side of the bed where his dad always slept.

“Philip, turn the light on,” he said in a shaky voice. “Daddy won’t be happy,” he said, his sobs more

under control now. “TURN THE LIGHT ON!”

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Philip did and they both looked at the empty bed and then at each other. Philip’s moans started up again with more vigour and tears began to well up in Andy’s eyes.

Andy pushed past his brother and checked the bathroom but the light was off and the room was empty.

“Are they outside, Andy?” “How am I supposed to know?” he said, his voice

betraying the fear he now felt, and Philip started to cry harder. So, taking on his big brother role he said, with more courage than he felt, “Let’s go and look.”

They walked downstairs, hand in hand, slower than they had ascended, the dark of the living room seeming more ominous now, despite and perhaps because of the still flickering lights on the tree. They reached the bottom and Andy flicked on the main light, showering the room in a yellow glow and taking away the magical look of Christmas morning that they had loved when they had first come down. They walked through into the kitchen, Philip walking slightly behind his brother but still gripping his hand tightly. They both looked at the open door at the end of the short corridor and into the forbidding darkness outside.

“You stay here,” Andy said to his younger brother, pulling his hand from Philips grip.

“I don’t want too,” Philip said between sobs. “Look, I’ll only be there,” Andy pointed at the door.

He must have sounded braver than he felt because Philip offered a small nod and pulled Bob Bear to his tiny chest.

Andy started walking towards the front door, fear sitting deep in the pit of his stomach, butterflies flapping around uncontrollably. The cold had begun to seep in, causing goose bumps to raise on his skin as a shiver went down his spine.

“Lucky!” Philips happy call made Andy twist round and look.

Philip was down on his knees facing the wall. “Here boy,” he said, pinching his fingers together,

feigning the presence of food. “What’s the matter boy? It’s me, Philip.” Philip turned his head to see Andy looking from the kitchen doorway.

Lucky stood beneath the kitchen table looking at each of the boys in turn, his hackles raised and a low deep growl rumbling from his closed lips.

“What’s the matter boy,” Andy joined in but Lucky did not stop his growl and would not approach them.

Philip started to shuffle along on his knees, edging closer to the dog but Lucky’s lips curled up, baring his teeth. Andy pulled his brother back by his shoulders in alarm.

“There’s something wrong with him,” he said. “What?” Just then, the brothers heard a scream from outside

and they both looked at each other, simultaneously recognising the voice of their Mum somewhere in that horrible sound. Andy ran towards the door as Philip

jumped to his feet and followed, leaving Bob Bear alone on the floor.

They called her name over and over until they reached the black coldness outside and saw her standing on the street, in their Dad’s arms surrounded by people from their road. Mrs Millings from next door was there and Jamie from across the road. There were other people too and Andy recognised them all but he was too preoccupied with his Dad, who was staring at the house, ignoring his brother and him and their increasingly anguished calls.

“Dad!” he screamed and Philip shouted the same but not one person looked towards them.

“Andy, your…” Andy swivelled round and they both screamed as they

saw each other at the same time. Their clothes had gone, just patches left, welded to red and blistering skin. Clumps of hair smouldered on top of their heads. Flames flew out all around them, licking their blackening skin but they felt nothing. Lucky cowered beneath the burning table and shrunk down to his haunches as something upstairs exploded with a furious bang, shaking the ground and sending the ceiling directly above their heads crashing down.

+++ Philip shot up in his bed a scream in his throat and

Andy sat looking at him. “It’s Christmas!” the older boy whispered, looking

slightly shocked at his brothers’ abrupt awakening. Philip looked around the room and then smiled, only

a dream. He shivered slightly before leaning over and pulling a small wrapped gift from beneath his bed, passing it to his big brother who instantly began tearing at the paper.

“Thank you!” he cawed, looking at the action figure he held in front of him.

He leapt out of bed and over to his brother, hugging him, a joyous grin spread across his face but Philip did not return the hug. He was staring too intently at the charred black and twisted figurine which Andy had thrown onto his bed.

Andy pulled away, his face close to Philips. “What’s wrong?”

The smell of smoke was on his breath.

This short story appears in A.P. Gilbert’s upcoming anthology: Driftwood from the Specific. Visit A.P. Gilbert’s Amazon Author Page for purchasing details: A.P. Gilbert Amazon Author Page Use the link below to follow A.P. Gilbert A.P. Gilbert Official Website

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Reviews – need new graphic

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Review of “TRiTon” By Yelle Hughes

I am proud to announce the release of a particularly enjoyable novel – hot from the press: “Triton” by Yelle Hughes is an excellent fun read about Greek Gods in modern times. The plot of this inspired novel is spanning the millenia with a twisted family feud that begins in Ancient Greek, moves through the days of Rome and finds its way to contemporary Ohio. Descendants of the Gods and the Immortals themselves do the name Greek Drama proud. Incestuous lusts, improper longings, love, jealousy and revenge – it is all there for you. The characters themselves are wonderful creations, very much in the way you would like them to be in a novel about Greek mythology, but also some great unexpected additions, such as Poseidon’s aid, George, the dolpin. Ariadne, a young woman in Ohio, discovers some Greek book and read out the writing while clearing out her grandmother’s belongings, an event that is noticed in the Aegaen and draws attention to her. Pursued also by one of her ancestors and an unsuitable ex-boyfriend, the complications add up nicely and make for an inspired and well unfolding plot. Hughes has combined existing myths with fresh ones and historical characters with invented ones, but somehow managed to keep the authentic feel of Greek Mythology. I studied ancient Greek at

school for 5 years and have had my fill of its history, language and mythology. Hughes’s ‘post-modern’ take on it comes together very well and is intelligent as it is hugely enjoyable. I’m a huge fan. Note From Yelle Hughes

Hi guys. I’m Yelle Hughes, mum of three and now a proud grand-parent. I’m an avid reader as well as author. I enjoy canoeing, studying the Greek myths, watching action and western mov-

ies, and also an unpaid movie critic. My work is written from the heart and pays homage to people who have passed through my life, just as the seasons pass each year. I discovered the world of Greek Mythology in Jr. High and the idea of adding the modern and fantasy worlds together, began to take form. Twenty years, a marriage, three rugrats and a trip to Greece finally brought to life my series, the Aegean Chronicles (coming soon). A mixing of cultures, humor, sadness and weird sex takes you on an adventure in finding out that romance can be achieved, no matter who you are. The Book on Your Amazon site: Get Triton on Amazon The Book on Goodreads Yelle on Goodreads Yelle on Amazon website http://yellehughes.com/

NEW RELEASE / REVIEW: Dancing with a Dead Horse by Danielle DeVor

“Dancing with a Dead Horse” by Danielle DeVor is an excellent and enthralling crime story for young adults. 16 year old Jason tries to get on with his teenage life as good as he can. He is pestered by his

mother, a Russian ballet teacher – who I absolutely loved as very colourful and amusing character. Of course, for Jason she is mostly annoying… Jason finds the dead body of a popular girl at school and becomes a suspect (due to some mysterious little horse figure left in his locker). As you can see, there is a lot going on that makes the book a well rounded and interesting book about teenage life. Jason narrates his story himself, which allows for some great observational humour, wit and insight into the perspective of a young person, a perspective that I seriously enjoyed. When the murder turns into one of many things become more involved. I absolutely loved this book for its dialogue and the characters (another favourite of mine was the Russian Mafia uncle). Issues, such as annoying parents and family life from the young perspective are handled with sensitivity and great awareness without distracting from the main crime plot too much. DeVor seems a natural story teller who knows how to engage her audience. Very well done. Get Dancing with a Dead Horse on Amazon

Social Media Links:

Twitter: @sammyig Facebook: danielledevorauthor Website: danielledevor.wordpress.com

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Review of “iRRadiance By david BRuns”

My rating: 5 of 5 stars A wonderful start to a promising series. I love stories that gradually unravel a hard core warning at its centre. I often wonder if an author wrote a story to a theme, or whether the themes evolved out of the writing. For me, Irradiance tells the story of one family discovering utopia is based on a lie. It captures the tipping point where society is no longer compatible with individual freedom, and where the illusion of happiness is found by unquestioning adherence to dogma. A paradigm where political leaders are so chained to their ideology, their quest for perfection, they would rather drag everyone over the cliff than allow a few brave souls to forge a different path. David Bruns has created a world where purity has no room for compassion or love, and where life can be “recycled” the moment it ceases to have value for the greater good. This society is shocking. Brutal. Callous. Right to the end, its citizens, even the protagonists, seemed switched off to the true horror of their culture, the urgency of their situation struggling to break through their learned adherence to society’s diktats. The pace moves steadily forward with vivid and detailed world building at the beginning, picking up as events spiral out

of control towards the end. I loved the gradual awakening of Maribel and Resse to the power of their emotions, that they now had words to legitimise their feelings for each other. Each had their own gifts and I enjoyed the science explored through both characters. Irradiance is the start of a much bigger story where the children will no doubt come into their own. I am very much looking forward to the next in this series. (Disclosure: I was gifted a copy of this book in the hope of a review. I’m delighted to say I enjoyed it!) Add Irradiance to Your "To Read" Pile on Goodreads Click here for more reviews by Ceri London

REVIEW of THE SECRET LIFE OF LASZLO, COUNT DRACULA by RODERICK ANSCOMBE

This was a difficult book to review. I was obviously drawn to the title of this book, but confess it has spent quite a few years on my book shelf gathering dust. There are many pluses and minuses to this piece of work, so I’ll work through them the best I can. Firstly, at face value this was an exciting-looking Gothic horror novel, and I’m sure it was meant to look as such. Gothic it certainly is, which is a plus for me, but a horror it is not. That was an immediate

disappointment that became apparent after only an hour or two of reading. In spite of that, and this book not being what I anticipated it to be, I read on. I loved the 19th Century setting of this book and especially the archaic writing style of Mr Anscombe. That was the real highlight of this work and he has a skill that cannot be disputed. As for the story itself, though I hate to give anything away in a review, I will say this. I did not feel anything positive for the lead character at all. He was dark, and certainly evil, but impossible to like in any way. All I could feel was sympathy for those he came into contact with and by that, I mean all of them. He self-loathed himself throughout and claimed in his journal he wanted to be caught, yet he still allowed one hapless soul after another to take the fall for him. This culminated with the very nasty, but very clever finish to the book where he remained true to form. The biggest disappointment is that he never got what he deserved, but perhaps that is a credit to the author in making me feel that way. There was one fatal error in the story. An entry in his journal for April, 1888 gave mention to a conversation at the dinner table where it was suggested the killer might be another Jack the Ripper. The Whitechapel murders attributed to Jack the Ripper began around four months later. Another real drawback for me was the amount of errors in grammar and spelling. If this were a self-published book, I could accept that, but for a book published by Bloomsbury, to have over twenty such errors, some of them repeated, is very poor indeed. I give this 3 out 5, mainly for the quality of Mr Anscombe’s excellent writing style.

REVIEW FOR THE BLOOD GOSPEL BY JAMES ROLLINS AND REBECCA CANTRELL

My Review. This is a book I had wanted to read for so long. Every ingredient in the synopsis whetted my taste buds – it is so my kind of book. Unfortunately, I spend the majority of my time in Norway and ordered it at my UK address. Okay, I accept I do stupid things on occasion. My embarrassment was compounded when

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one of the authors asked me if I had read it after I had told him/her (I won’t say

which one) that I couldn’t wait. It was well worth waiting for anyway. I could read this book a dozen times. I won’t bore any of you by repeating half of the synopsis as it’s up there in black and white for your perusal. What I will do, is say what I loved about it. I have always loved Rollins’ style and the kind of book he writes. To me, he is akin to Dan Brown, but with a keener edge. Where Brown takes a breather with lengthy descriptions of historical locations (which is okay for a history buff such as myself) Rollins just ploughs on with the story and never relents with his pace. Of course, this is a collaboration with Ms Cantrell and together I feel they are a formidable partnership. A cocktail of ancient mysteries, cults, vampires of both persuasions, secret societies, the Nazis, a host of historical greats, and the Catholic Church. What more could a reader want? I liked also the use of three main protagonists as opposed to the usual ritual of hero plus one(usually female). All three have their intricacies and complexities that keep them interesting, as well as their individual interactions with each other that bring us to identify with and care for them. I loved too the introduction of many great historical figures going back two thousand years. I don’t give spoilers so you will have to read the story for yourselves, but they each add real substance to the book, leading up to the final excellent twist at the end. Blood Gospel is an action-packed, fast-paced, thrilling read that I would recommend to anyone. I’m going straight

to Amazon now to order Innocent Blood. I know it will be money well spent. Five glowing stars from me.

SYNOPSIS

An earthquake in Masada, Israel, kills

hundreds and reveals a tomb buried in the heart of the mountain. A trio of investigators—Sergeant Jordan Stone, a military forensic expert; Father Rhun Korza, a Vatican priest; and Dr. Erin Granger, a brilliant but disillusioned archaeologist—are sent to explore the macabre discovery, a subterranean temple holding the crucified body of a mummified girl. But a brutal attack at the site sets the three on the run, thrusting them into a race to recover what was once preserved in the tomb’s sarcophagus: a book rumored to have been written by Christ’s own hand, a tome that is said to hold the secrets to His divinity. But the enemy who hounds tem is like no other, a force of ancient evil directed by a leader of impossible ambitions and incalculable cunning. From crumbling tombs to splendorous churches, Erin and her two companions must confront a past that traces back thousands of years, to a time when ungodly beasts hunted the dark spaces of the world, to a moment in history when Christ made a miraculous offer, a pact of salvation for those who were damned for eternity. Here is a novel that is explosive in its revelation of a secret history. Why do Catholic priests wear pectoral crosses? Why are they sworn to celibacy? Why do the monks hide their countenances under hoods? And why does Catholicism insist that the consecration of wine during Mass results in its transformation to Christ’s own blood? The answers to all go back to a secret sect within the Vatican, one whispered as rumor but whose very existence was painted for all to see by

Rembrandt himself, a shadowy order known simply as the Sanguines. In the end, be warned: some books should never be found, never opened—until now. These books are available on Amazon in Paperback, Hardback and Kindle The Blood Gospel Innocent Blood

The Princess Fables by Marc clark

Award: The Princess Fables was just awarded an Honorable Mention at the 2014 Los Angeles Book Festival.

Title: The Princess Fables Author: Marc Clark Illustrator: Eric Hosford Publication Date: December 5, 2013 Publisher: Seven C’s Productions Pages: 115 Recommended Ages: 3+ Summary: The Origins of THE PRINCESS FABLES: When the author’s daughter was just beginning the first grade, she was not happy about school. So when he would wake her each morning, whatever she would say to get out of going became the subject for a PRINCESS FABLE. If she’d say, “I don’t want to,” he’d make up a tale about The Princess Who Always Said, “I Don’t Wanna”. If she pulled the covers over her head, he’d tell her the story of The Princess Who Hid Under The Covers. By the end of each Fable he’d have her dressed and ready for school, with her eyes wide open and full of hope… THE

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PRINCESS FABLES are eleven inspirational stories for young girls who may still dream of being a Princess. Each Princess embarks on an adventure of self discovery and along the way, learns about the importance of trust, devotion, courage and the power of love. These classic tales transport little girls to a time and place where they are the heroines and can create their own happy endings. Every delicate pen and ink illustration reflects the classic fairy tale drawings of the late 19th century.

MY REVIEW I had the honor of reading the Princess Fables to my children for bedtime this past week. It was wonderful to share the lessons of not always saying “no,” “I don’t wanna,” “Not today,” and other frequently heard excuses. As a parent, it is

nice to have multiple examples in the arsenal to help teach those lessons. Each story is the perfect length for a bedtime story, or story time, and allows you the opportunity to reflect deeper about the lesson. The illustrations were beautiful and charming, and the narrative gave you the feeling of older fables. 4 solid stars THE BUZZ In a recent review by the Island Waves publication, Trey Seal wrote, “The Princess Fables is a book that brings back the nostalgia of the classic fairytales from our youth and is highly recommended for young children.” Excerpts From Amazon Reviews:

“Marvelously original, soulful, and witty tales! Modern fables with funny and moving twists. I hope these stories make their way to kids everywhere!” “What a beautifully illustrated and well-written book.” “A charming and witty read, with stunning illustrations. The Princess is adorable and the book conveys a very positive image for little girls.” “Great read for the little princess in us all!” Purchase The Princess Fables at the links below.

Amazon (Kindle) | Amazon

(Print)

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FEATURING: DINO’S PAPERS – Alan Hardy

COG – Bryan P. Clark

SHIMMER IN THE DARK: BRIDGE BUILDER – Ceri London

THE LAIR OF THE WITCH QUEEN - Christian W. Freed

SOULMATCH – Drew Avera

SHARPIES AND DULLARDS – Rose Sabin

THE BAD SEED – Erin McDowell

THE CAT WORE ELECTRIC GOGGLES – Ian Hutson

THE SURVIVOR – J.C. Harker

AETERNAE NOCTIS – Jade Kerrion

THE LAST OF THE JINN – K.N. Lee

BOONE’S JOURNEY – Kirstin Pulioff

THE SECRET SIGNAL – Matthew Kadish

EXPECTATION – Michael Barnett

AGE QUEST – Michael K. Eidson

EXCEPT THE DUST – Robert Carter

BITTER PROPHESY – Susan Hawthorne

GUIDING STAR – Teresa Garcia

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