Category Archives: BOOKS

The Third Gambit Blitz

 

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Order’s Last Play, #2

YA Science Fiction

 

Date Published: 11-02-2021

Publisher: 48Fourteen

Lines about ‘prophecy’ and ‘destiny’ are best used in epic fantasies about heroes who like to wear capes. Too bad the living gods rolling the dice in this game forgot to include those characters.

After saving their older brother, Evan, and being forced to leave the lives they knew on Earth, Devon, Lyle, and Lawrence train to become the leaders of Rema—a planet they’ve never even heard of. And if that isn’t enough, they also have to rebuild a relationship with the brother they haven’t seen in over a decade as they struggle to control powers they didn’t hone on Earth. All so they can become the prophesied Four of Rema—whose choices will decide the outcome of an intergalactic war.

Separated and sent on quests to find power-magnifying gifts from a goddess, the Lauduethe brothers uncover devastating truths behind the war that lock the existence of everything they love in a deadly game of divine jeopardy. As they watch entire planets and their populations get eradicated, Devon, Lyle, Lawrence, and Evan must choose to either play the roles assigned to them by Order or be erased from existence with everything else.

About the Author

E. Ardell

E. Ardell spent her childhood in Houston, Texas, obsessed with anything science fiction, fantastic, paranormal or just plain weird. She loves to write stories that feature young people with extraordinary talents thrown into strange and dangerous situations. She took her obsession to the next level, earning a Master of Fine Arts from the University of Southern Maine where she specialized in young adult genre fiction. She’s a big kid at heart and loves her job as a librarian. When she’s not working, she’s reading, writing, running writers critique groups, producing a web-show, and even writing fan fiction as her guilty pleasure. Her first YA science fiction novel, THE FOURTH PIECE, was released by 48fourteen Publishing in July of 2016. THE FOURTH PIECE went on to win the bronze medal for YA Science Fiction in The Readers’ Favorite Book Awards 2017, Most Promising Series in the Red City Review Book Awards 2017, and to be a finalist for the 2017 RONE Awards for YA Science Fiction/Paranormal. The sequel to THE FOURTH PIECE, THE THIRD GAMBIT, will be released by 48fourteen Publishing November 2, 2021.

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Babe in the Woods Virtual Book Tour

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Biography and Memoir, Adventure

 

Date Published: October 26, 2021

Publisher: Pepin Enterprises

At age eighteen, Yvonne set out to build a home from trees on 80 acres she bought on an Oregon mountainside. In 1975, log by log she creates a cabin and heals from an orphaned past, finding a new family in the forest, and with people in a valley named John Day.

Babe in the Woods: Self Portrait is the second in a three-book series. It chronicles a span in Yvonne’s four decades long relationship with her log cabin and the people she meets in the valley. The book continues Yvonne’s story of learning to live in the wilderness within and outside of herself. It is also a story of rogue bears, building a bear-proof log studio, a young artist’s development, and the trials and triumph of finding oneself, alone in the backwoods.

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EXCERPT

Prologue

Bears had never bothered me before I shot one that summer on the mountain. As a borderline vegetarian, I reasoned, since I deliberately killed an animal I had to eat a bit of animal deliberately killed. Not entirely to restore karmic equilibrium, but so I could chew upon the carnal rush of slaughter. 

On that summer day, when hummingbirds drilled air hot enough to bake vanilla smells out of ponderosa pine, I waited, primed to kill, on my log cabin porch. When a black bear parted brush and stopped midway in crossing the creek I grasped a thirty-thirty resting by my thigh. Leveled it on a two-by-four nailed across the railing, aimed, fired. The bear’s eyes blew open in shock before it faltered, staggered upright and bolted in a tilted gait upwind of a bullet so immediately embraced. 

Days after the bear had been found dead, I felt the need to eat meat to restore the cosmic balance knocked off kilter—a mere trigger squeeze is all it took. It had to be wild. Killed in the wild and not from the bear I shot. I bummed a frozen elk steak from a runty hunter. After it thawed I roasted the meat on a green willow stick over a twiggy fire beside the flashing creek, within spitting distance of where, only days before, I’d blown out a black bear’s rib bone with a borrowed rifle at three hundred feet. 

I seared venison until it was as brown as the branch piercing it. Until flames licked away and nearly blackened what cardinal red was left of an animal that like the bear had browsed, a season before, upon pale, green shivery shoots. When it cooled, I bit into that charred chunk and chewed. 

The creek continued to flow. The forest practiced its natural order; every leaf, twig, pine needle, rock and pine cone in forested rapport. But the animal in me got all riled up and I choked up before I could swallow: swallow the fear that had taken us both down. 

Miles above Oregon’s John Day Valley, I felled, bucked, skinned, notched and chinked a log cabin together from trees: Douglas, red and white fir, and tamarack to classify a predominant few. I was a skinny 18 year old, fresh out of orthodontic braces when I began to rebuild the home lost four years before when orphan replaced the name of daughter. 

The road leading to my backwoods home is so rutted and steep, even the most souped-up, air-shocked four-wheel drives lose traction in stretches named for disasters at these places. The Eliminator and Shit and Slide are but two. 

Given the amount of rain or snow it is often swifter and safer to hike than it is to drive this road that ends beneath igneous peaks named after a blushing berry. I live here alone when I am not involved in occupations to bank income so I can buy time to live off the grid and ungirded. This log cabin is the only place I have to call home. It sits as empty as I feel when I am not there. There is no lock on the door. 

John Day is a north-east central city sharing the same name with a valley, river, county and a dead trapper. Most of my close friends here call me Lavon. This mispronunciation twists off tongues conditioned to calling out the likes of women with names like Artice, Nadine, Emmeline, Delia or Octavia. Names solid as the pioneering women who lived up to them, unadorned with luxuries I take for granted in country where Yvonne just sounds too pampered, too proper. 

Sometimes, depending on the work I’m bungling—tasks that involve steely razor-sharp pointy tools, trees and dirt—I will also answer to Dimwit, Addlebrained and Loser. Dumbass or Dumbshit occasionally interweave into my own self-calling. The summer I shot the bear I added Murderer to my list of nicknames despite the fact I was a conscientious objector and abided by Gandhi’s teachings. One of his lessons is: There are many causes that I am prepared to die for but no cause that I am prepared to kill for. 

I’ve convoluted my practice of his philosophy by dispatching an animal I was not prepared to die for. 

A rational impulse. Either a bear was going to get me. Or, I was going to get a bear. Who did who in first abet one’s good fortune. A rifle greatly leveraged my winning odds. 

On a pine-board shelf next to my loft bed, among erudite tomes and decades-outdated encyclopedias, is a hardback copy of The Prophet, the once-shiny cover now scuffed and dog-eared. I keep that book beside me when I sleep in the belief that dreaming beside Gibran’s soulful words generates a token of divine light, like a halo surrounding this solitary life wrestling me to the mat. One passage is underlined and read again and again. 

Your living is determined not so much by what life brings to you as by the attitude you bring to life; not so much by what happens to you as by the way your mind looks at what happens. 

I am twenty-two. My family is dead. What I call home is a stack of logs in the Strawberry Mountains. My best friend is a cat. Out of principle for life, until I ate that venison I didn’t eat furry things. 

This is what I looked at. 

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The Spinster’s Swindle Blitz

 

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Arcane Tales, Book 2

Historical Romance, Victorian Romance

 

Release Date: November 5, 2021

Publisher: Steam Cat Press

Revenge is in her future. But falling for her enemy’s son is one fate this spiritualist could never have envisioned.

Playwright Maxwell Millerson would rather spend his days dreaming up stories than cleaning up his father’s messes. But a trendy renovation has the family’s gaming club on the brink of ruin, and not even Max’s imagination can conjure a way out. Desperate, he turns to the multi-talented—and alluringly audacious—Madame Xyla to help him spin gold from straw.

Lydia Weaver, professionally known as spiritualist Madame Xyla, has long sought revenge on the man responsible for her cousin’s imprisonment. When her enemy’s son visits her seance room seeking advice, Lydia leaps at the opportunity for vengeance—until Max’s easy charm and poetic words threaten to turn her plans upside-down.

As their friendship grows and they give way to their mutual attraction, Lydia and Max must weigh family duty with their hearts’ desires. And only when they confront old wounds and new feelings can a happy ending be in the cards.

Other Books in the Arcane Tales Series:

The Scoundrel's New Con cover

 

The Scoundrel’s New Con

 

Arcane Tales, Book 1

He’s pulling the con of a lifetime. Unless she exposes the naked truth.

Conman Jack Weaver has his eyes on the prize. The arrogant Earl of Bardrick has offered five thousand pounds to anyone who can prove his castle is haunted. With money like that, Jack can ensure he’ll never end up on the streets or in prison again. And his spirit photography skills are just the trick needed to convince all of the earl’s houseguests to believe in something unseen.

Investigative journalist Tess Cochran believes in one thing: the truth. She’s not going to let phony ghosts and trick photographs swindle anyone, even a snobbish aristocrat like Bardrick. And she’s certainly not going to let herself be swayed by Jack Weaver’s charming smile and mischievous antics.

When Jack and Tess stumble upon one of the castle’s many secrets, they realize something nefarious lurks behind the earl’s competition. To solve the mystery, these rivals forge a reluctant partnership. As they strip down the facts, Jack and Tess begin to find that the deepest truths may be concealed in their hearts.

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About the Author

Catherine Stein

Award-winning author Catherine Stein believes that everyone deserves love and that Happily Ever After has the power to help, to heal, and to comfort. She writes sassy, sexy romance set during the Victorian and Edwardian eras. Her books are full of action, adventure, magic, and fantastic technologies.

Catherine lives in Michigan with her husband and three rambunctious kids. She loves steampunk and Oxford commas, and can often be found dressed in Renaissance Festival clothing, drinking copious amounts of tea.

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Wings of Silk Virtual Book Tour

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Historical Fiction

 

Date to be Published: November 2, 2021

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

After surviving a childhood under the oppressive rule of Chairman Mao’s “Cultural Revolution,” a young, courageous teenager abandons her life in China for the freedom of the unknown in America. Arriving at the New York City doorstep of family members she’s never met, Ying-Ying has been promised they’ll help her learn English and accomplish her dream of attaining a college degree. But weeks later, she’s kicked out without explanation. Now a homeless immigrant, Ying-Ying must learn who to trust, how to find work, and how to succeed in a bustling metropolis that looks the other way. Overcoming obstacles of abandonment, heartbreak, and injustice in a foreign land, she remains fiercely determined to become a woman who will impact the world. An incredible story of second chances, Wings of Silk reminds the reader that underneath the fragile form of an individual, a strong and resilient heart is always ready to take flight.

Wings of Silk tablet

EXCERPT

I believe there is not a single soul in this world that understands my disappointments, exhaustion, and hopelessness. I assume both Francis and Kaito are married and have their own children now. I don’t want to burden them, plus they must hate me: I am the one who broke up with them. I even start to think I am a horrible human being, unworthy of any happiness. 

 

Soon I think of suicide, and the negative come without reprieve. Life is too hard. I’m such an imperfect person and I deserve an awful marriage. This overwhelming pain is also impacting my child. I have little happiness in my life, and nothing I’m looking forward to. The American Dream I’ve worked so hard for isn’t enough. I am extremely depressed and my hope is so nonexistent that I just want it all to end. I research methods of suicide and ruminate over which way I should go about it. 

One night, I’m determined to do it. I decide I’ll try to overdose on pills. I scour all of our medicine cabinets, and have my pill cocktail all ready to take before I go to bed. Dylan is working late downstairs in his office, but he’ll be up later, and I want it to be him. I want it to be him who finds me and has to explain this to everyone. When it’s time to go to bed, I burst into tears. I sit on the bathroom floor, my face soaked and my body shaking as I talk myself into the commitment for what I’ve decided is the only answer for my future. There is no other. It’s terrible. I see no way out of the life I’ve buried myself in, and I tell myself that if I do this, everyone else will be better off too. No one wants such an empty and sinful person around. 

Yes, that’s it.

I stand on shaky limbs. I fill up a cup with water that will help me swallow the handfuls of pills I’ve laid out. I watch the cup fill until my eyes are blurry and it begins to overflow in the sink. I never imagined this. I never thought my end would happen in such a manner. I never understood why someone would do this, but now I do. I thought death was the worst thing that could happen to a person, but now I know better. Suffering without any hope of a way out, that is worse.

I take a deep breath, and feel peace that soon this will all be over. I grab the first pill and take it. I grab the second pill and take it. I grab a third pill and take it. I grab the fourth, but hear Isabella. She is crying and calling for me. I can’t ignore her, and it’s probably best I say goodbye, take one last look at her.

I go into her room, and immediately take her into my arms, soothing her and telling her all the words I wish someone would say to me.

“It’s okay, my darling. It’s all going to be okay. You are safe. You are loved. I love you.”

She’s had a nightmare and tears have wet her face like they have mine. I stroke her hair and take in her face as she calms. As her breathing settles and she starts to fall back asleep, a smile creeps out from her lips. The sweetness of the moment makes me smile as well. I watch her sleep, and take in her room. Hanging on the wall is my butterfly kite. I hung it in her room when we moved into this house, but had forgotten it was there. I stare at it, and remember what it feels like to look back and see how far I’ve come. Though I’m ashamed of so much of my life, perhaps it shouldn’t be over yet. Perhaps, I’ll get stronger. Perhaps something more is out there for me. This thought is enough of a pull that when I go back to my room, I throw the rest of the pills away.  For today, I want to be able to see Isabella’s smile tomorrow. I can’t miss that just yet. Deep down, I’m terrified one day I will lose control again to let this episode repeat. 

I cannot do this to my darling Isabella.

About the Author

Li-Ying Lundquist

Li-Ying Lundquist was born and raised in China under the strict regime of Chairman Mao’s “Cultural Revolution.” The daughter of intellectual parents, her life was in constant danger and she grew up believing academic performance and perfectionism were the keys to survival and fulfillment. After high school, following a strong desire to find freedom and get to know family members who lived in the United States, Li-Ying left her life in China to pursue the American dream. Overcoming the plights of a young immigrant who did not speak the language, Li-Ying obtained her master’s in computer science from a prestigious university and became a successful lead engineer. While working for AT&T Bell Labs, she and her team made the world’s first “text message” for mobile phones. Today, she is happily married to a wonderful man and has two darling sons whom she loves with all her heart. An advocate of freedom founded on self-respect and happiness, she hopes readers of Wings of Silk will be inspired by the lessons of forgiveness, grace, and God’s powerful love.

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Prince of the Fallen Virtual Book Tour

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Prince of the Fallen cover

 

Record of the Sentinel Seer: Book One

Adult/Science-Fantasy

 

Date Published: October 21, 2021

Publisher: True North Press

Abandoned in the wilderness as a child, Lekore lives with ghosts and fallen gods. Everything changes when he summons fire to rescue a traveling princess and her entourage. Wounded, he’s brought to a civilization unlike anything he’s ever known.

Caught in a net of silk and secrets, Lekore finds himself ensnared by court intrigue, midnight assassins, and a deviant faction of the Church of the Sun Gods—all hunting his blood and power.

He just wants to find the man who deserted him, until a storm rises out of the north, furious enough to destroy the city and outlying lands. Now Lekore must find the source of its wrath, deep in the wilds of the deadly Lands Beyond, if only he can flee a city that won’t let him escape.

Prince of the Fallen tablet

EXCERPT


“Gods protect me!”

As though in answer to Princess Talanee’s prayer, the flame of the holy torch leapt into a brilliant, churning arc. Intense heat and a deafening roar scored the air near her face. Flames encircled her without touching her skin, then stretched fiery fingers toward the Tawloomez warrior, who cried out as he and his fellows stumbled backward. They turned tail and dashed down the steps as the flames gave chase.

Talanee stood stunned, enthralled by the unending flame shooting up and out from the torch she held in trembling hands. She turned her eyes upward and found nothing but the brilliant sun in its sky to signify divine intervention. Could her prayer have worked? A breeze tugged at her hair, and she glanced down at the battlefield. The arc of fire had reached the bottom of the tower, and all the Tawloomez warriors cowered, corralled within it. 

Talanee started down the steps, gripping the torch in her hands as it poured forth the terrible wrath of her beloved Sun Gods.

At the bottommost step, she stopped. The Kel soldiers had flinched back, even Lord Lieutenant Rez, though he held his sword before him.

A breeze breathed across Talanee’s neck, but the fire of the torch maintained its vigil over the trapped Tawloomez, unerring despite the rising wind that tossed her hair. She resisted the urge to release the blazing torch with even one hand. Her eyes followed the trail of her hair in the sky—and she spotted him.

A figure perched on a ruined wall across from the tower. He was slender, barely a man, with the palest, longest blue hair she’d ever beheld, and eyes of red like all the Kel race, but these eyes blazed as though they held the wreathing fire. A tattered black cloak billowed behind him in the growing windstorm. One arm rose before him, hand splayed.

As she watched, he snapped his fingers into a fist. The fire of the torch died. The wreath of flame wisped into smoke and vanished.

The Tawloomez had seen the young man, too. With a cry, one heathen jabbed his finger toward the stranger. “Akuu! Nu jas Akuu-Ry!”

The Tawloomez stumbled backward, eyes wide, nearly wild, some dropping their weapons. They fled from the young man, racing northwest. One stumbled on grit and struck his knees, then dragged himself upright and sprinted on.

The Kel soldiers, still stunned, didn’t rally to cut off their retreat.

In the ringing silence that followed, Lord Lieutenant Rez dragged long strands of blue hair from his perspiring face as he found his voice. “See to the wounded!”

Talanee released a low breath and let her numb fingers drop the cold torch. Her eyes returned to the young man upon the ruin. His gaze met hers across the wide space. His brow creased, and he threw out his hand as the slap of feet sounded behind her.

She whirled to face a lone, charging Tawloomez, scissor knife in his hand, its several blades glinting under the dazzling sun. Her fingers gripped the torch, prepared to brandish it like her missing sword.

The wind changed direction. The strange young man from the ruin landed on the packed earth beside her, as though he’d taken flight upon the breeze to reach her.

He lifted a narrow, curved sword against the Tawloomez. Metal sang across the air as their weapons struck.

The Tawloomez gritted his teeth and spat out the same foreign phrase, this time like a curse word: “Akuu-Ry!”

The young man took a single step forward, and the Tawloomez’s brown eyes widened, the green paint of his face shimmering as though to reflect his fear.

“Leave, Tauw-Nijar, and I shall not do you harm,” said the young man in lilting tones.

The Tawloomez snarled and threw a long sliver of metal at Talanee. She yelped and tried to dodge as the young man shoved her aside. The tiny, glinting object caught his arm. A hiss was all the noise he made, but he sank to his knees and the sword clattered from his hand.

The Tawloomez sneered and swiped the scissor knife at the boy’s throat, but an arrow pierced his chest before he met his target. He grunted and fell, his swinging arm catching the young man’s shoulder, biting into the flesh in three distinct stripes.

A second arrow sank into the heathen’s chest, and the warrior crashed backward against the white stone stairs. Blood bloomed across his snake-bone necklace and down his front. He offered up a last gurgling breath, then his eyes turned to glass.

Talanee allowed the satisfaction of his passing to shiver across her skin, then she turned to the young man kneeling beside her. He looked up to meet her stare, and for a moment Talanee couldn’t move. His eyes still wielded that strange light like a fire burned within him, yet the clarity there made her feel as though he had stripped her bare to see every thought, every lie, every desire, every fear.

His eyes flicked to the dead Tawloomez. His hand snaked out for his sword near the fallen warrior.

“Don’t touch it. Don’t move.” Rez’s voice rang through the ruins as he raced across the field, red cape flowing behind him, to join Talanee and the strange young man. An archer ran with him, another arrow nocked and aimed at the stranger.

The young man’s fingertips brushed the sword. As Talanee looked on, the weapon vanished. Gone, as though the very air had swallowed it!

The stranger staggered to his feet. His pale hair, long and straight, rippled like water as it settled down his back and against his ankles. He offered a strained smile and raised his arm into the air. The wind howled, drawing his hair into a whirlwind, carrying the scent of wild things. He bounded upward, and the wind lifted him into the sky, above the tower, above the armored soldiers and Sun Priests, above Talanee and the grasslands. He leapt impossibly high and moved away in an arc, as though he could fly.

“Halt!” Rez slowed his pace and came to a stop beside Talanee, eyes lifted heavenward as the archer’s second arrow missed its mark. “By the Sun Gods, what is it we’ve seen?”

Talanee shook her head. “The very will of the Sun Throne, Lord Lieutenant. What else could it be?”

“Was he real?”

Talanee’s eyes lowered as she sought an answer. Blood stained the scissor knife lying beside its dead owner. “I think he was.” She traced a rising sun before her chest. “Sun Gods be praised. I think he was.”

Rez stirred from his watch of the sky. “Should we…try to complete the ceremony again, Your Highness?”

Talanee glanced at the fallen torch. “I don’t think we have to, Lord Lieutenant. The rite was already accepted, or we wouldn’t be alive.” She glanced around for the priests and found several slain, blood staining their white robes, while the rest cowered beneath the carriages. No one protested her assumption. 

Next time, the Holy Hakija had better send his Sun Warriors rather than these cowards.

Rez eyed the priests and nodded. “Then we should return to Inpizal, Your Highness. There are wounded to tend, and we must report all that’s happened.”

“Of course.” Talanee stooped to pick up the torch. “The king needs to know. And we should consult the Hakija.” She picked up her hem and glided toward her carriage, where Keerva and her other handmaids huddled inside, waiting. Talanee glanced back toward the tower. Her gaze drifted north, where the young man had vanished in the air.

Would she ever see him again, or had he traveled from the very Sun Throne to aid her and her people?

About the Author

M H Woodscourt

Writer of fantasy, magic weaver, dragon rider! Having spent the past 20 years devotedly writing fantasy, it’s safe to say M. H. Woodscourt is now more fae than human.

All of her fantasy worlds connect with each other in a broad Universe, forged with great love and no small measure of blood, sweat, and tears. When she’s not writing, she’s napping or reading a book with a mug of hot cocoa close at hand while her quirky cat Wynter nibbles her toes.

Learn more at www.mhwoodscourt.com

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