A Gripping Modern Day Norse Mythology…

By Kevin D. Miller

Title: AWAKENING: BOOK ONE OF THE BERSERKER CHRONICLES
Author: Kevin D. Miller
Publisher: BiFrost Books
Pages: 336
Genre: High Fantasy / Epic Fantasy / Action and Adventure / Norse Fantasy / Viking Fantasy / Norse Gods and Goddesses

A megalomaniac god is pursuing a millennia-old vendetta, and Leif must learn to wrangle a newly awakened power to either become a hero or a villain. He will leave his old life and run from creatures he believed were reserved for myth and legend. He travels across the realms while struggling to tame the blinding rage that comes with his new demi-god like power. Will Leif survive the intra-realm quest and prevent Ragnarok or will he fail to control his awakening?

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Prologue

Alexander never thought that he would live long enough to enjoy quiet nights like this. He noted it was a particularly cold night as he stepped onto his back porch. His breath sent out a little fog, and he marveled at how peaceful winter could be in the Icelandic forest. The freshly fallen snow sparkled as the Northern lights flashed through the night sky. Alexander never grew tired of watching their fiery dance. He only wished his wife, Helga, was still around to enjoy the peace and quiet. Sighing contentedly, Alexander reached down, grabbed a bundle of firewood, and turned to head back inside. Suddenly he froze. He felt it, a tingling he hadn’t felt in a long time, danger. Scanning the surrounding forest, Alexander couldn’t see anything out of place, but the feeling that something was out there, something that didn’t belong, still pulled at him like the tide. Alexander stared into the darkness for a few more moments, but the forest remained silent, unwilling to give up its secrets. Alexander shrugged and went back into his house. For the first time in years, he locked the door behind him.

As Alexander sat by the fire, the warmth failed to chase away the feeling that someone or something was out there roaming his forest. A familiar howl rang out from deep within the forest, pulling Alexander out of his thoughts. A second later similar howls answered. Alexander could identify each individual wolf by their howl; he had known this pack for years. Settling back in his chair, he envisioned the wolves in full force. The howls continued to ring across the forest. In all his years living in the forest, Alexander had never heard so many wolves at once. They sounded agitated. They must sense it too, he thought.

Alexander groaned as his knees popped and his old bones protested the sudden movement of getting to his feet. It was as if his body knew what he was planning to do and was voicing its discontent. It had been decades since he had been in a fight, but it seemed he was being called out one last time. Hell, Alexander thought, I may see Helga sooner than I thought. Pulling on his thick wool parka, Alexander grabbed the double-bladed ax he used to chop wood. The weight felt comfortable in his hands. The ax had been his weapon of choice from the time he was strong enough to swing one. His mother had pushed him to branch out and learn to use other weapons, but it wasn’t meant to be. The ax was the weapon of his ancestors, and he honored them by using it. The cold hit Alexander like a hammer, clearing his senses and waking him up to the world around him. The Berserker had laid dormant inside of him for decades now, but Alexander could feel the old battle lust stirring within. The forest had gone too quiet, the howls of the wolf pack had died down. Goosebumps speckled Alexander’s body as the tension in the air thickened. Alexander knew why. A predator not of this realm stalked his forest.

Alexander silently crept through the forest. The snow crunched lightly beneath his weight; his senses screamed at him to turn back, but he ignored them and pressed on. It had been decades since he had felt the thrill of a fight, and he relished the feeling.

A bird pierced the silent forest with a loud squawk. He peered through the tangle of trees and branches; he could barely make out a blotch of darkness that seemed to be darker than the surrounding forest. As he moved closer, the air blew warm breaths on his face with each step. Alexander was within ten feet of the odd black blotch when he noticed that the snow had completely melted away. Steam rose from the freshly uncovered earth in a circle around the object. Thick drops of water splashed down from the tree branches above, puffing into steam upon hitting the forest floor.

Alexander continued to move slowly around the dark object but didn’t see anyone or anything. Creeping ever closer, his feeling of unease intensified. As Alexander stepped around the inky darkness, the heat had him sweating through his clothes. He stopped dead in his tracks. His blood ran cold. From the back, the round black object drank in all the available light, but now that Alexander was in front of it, he could see it opened up to a world of fire and lava. Alexander knew what he was looking at; he just couldn’t figure out why it was here. The dark blob was a bridge to another realm. However, it differed from any bridge he had used in his youth. This thing was more like a rip in the fabric of reality. Whoever did this was immensely powerful. Peering into the gateway, memories from a lifetime ago came flooding back to him. Muspelheim, the realm of fire and lava. The home to an unimaginable evil. It was a place he had hoped to never see again.

As if in answer to his thoughts, something rose out of the molten river that lay beyond the bridge. Alexander’s stomach backflipped as he recognized the creature that was steadily stalking towards the bridge. It’s the beginning of the end, Alexander thought. Ragnarok is here.

As the being stepped through the bridge and into Alexander’s world, the frigid forest air hissed and steamed in protest to the fiery monster’s trespass into Midgard. Alexander stared up at the molten giant and thought he looked even taller than he had appeared decades ago. Alexander backed up, making sure he was out of range of the monster’s hulking sword. He knew a fight was inevitable. Alexander closed his eyes and freed the dormant Berserker, embracing the longforgotten thrill of the fight. Icy fire burned along his veins as his muscles grew and strengthened. Alexander knew, even in his enhanced state, that he was no match for the force of nature that stood before him. He only hoped to fend the giant off long enough to create an opening and run for help. Hopefully, with luck, he could lose the creature in the forest.

Alexander opened his eyes, filling his old frame and flooding his veins with the familiar icy burn of the Berserker. Any thoughts of running vanished as a thin red haze of rage colored the edge of his vision. Fear and doubt evaporated and was replaced with excited determination at the chance to cross blades one last time with a worthy foe. Who gives a damn that I’m well into my sixties? Alexander thought. “I am the last of an ancient and powerful Berserker clan, bestowed with the power of Thor, chosen to defend Midgard from invaders such as you. How dare you step into my realm, Surtr,” Alexander growled. “You aren’t welcome here. I will say this one time; return to Muspelheim or face my wrath.”

Surtr’s molten eyes studied Alexander. A voice Alexander had hoped to never hear again thundered in the clearing. The fire giant’s voice washed over Alexander like an oncoming forest fire.

“You arrogant and foolish Midgardian. Do you have any idea who you are speaking too? Face your wrath? Don’t think I don’t remember you. You are one of the few beings who was lucky enough to escape me the first time we fought. You will not be so lucky this time. By Hel’s will, I have been given a second chance to finish the fight you started many years ago.”

“You think I’m afraid of you, giant?” Alexander boasted, “I have faced hundreds of enemies and killed them all. Last time we faced, we were in your realm, but now,” Alexander gestured around. “You are far from Muspelheim. I have the advantage here.”

Surtr laughed and pointed his massive sword at Alexander. “You truly don’t know what I am, do you? I cannot be killed by the likes of you.”

Surtr blurred, moving with a speed no normal human could track. But luckily for Alexander, he wasn’t a normal human. This also wasn’t his first fight. Alexander had been waiting for Surtr to make the first move and was ready for him. Surtr’s burning blade slashed through the air mere centimeters from Alexander’s face as he dodged out of range. A blast of scalding air washed over Alexander as Surtr’s blade sliced through the air. Alexander rushed forward, relishing the speed his Berserker state granted him. Alexander hoped to throw Surtr off by attacking him head on. Slashing upward, Alexander attempted to split open Surtr’s unarmored stomach. Before the ax hit, Surtr lashed out, kicking Alexander square in the chest, causing him to fly backward. He slammed into a tree trunk with a bone crunching crack. Alexander felt the ancient pine sway back and forth from the impact. Snow rained down from the branches above, pelting him in wet kisses. Alexander struggled to catch his breath. Damn, that hurt. I can’t afford to take too many hits like that, Alexander thought. Struggling to his feet, Alexander felt every cell in his body struggle with the pain. He suspected a few of his ribs cracked, but nothing felt permanently damaged or out of place.

Luckily, years of training had taught Alexander to never let go of his weapon in a fight. Even in his old age, he still had the wherewithal to keep hold of it. Alexander used his ax as a crutch and looked up at Surtr. His enemy hadn’t even bothered to follow up his attack; he just stood there studying Alexander.

“You’ve grown old, Berserker. You weren’t a match for me decades ago. You certainly aren’t one now.”

Alexander eyed the giant, “Ha, I’m just warming up, Surtr. Before long I’ll have you running back through that bridge, crying to whoever sent you here,” Alexander boasted. However, deep down he knew he was finished. That kick had hurt him more than he cared to admit. His back was ablaze with pain and his legs felt like wet noodles. I must have damaged my spine when I hit the tree, Alexander thought. “This fight will be over before I get a chance to heal,” Alexander grumbled.

Alexander eyed the fiery giant and quietly thanked the gods he had the foresight to leave a letter to his Berserker heir. He had wished he could have had more time with his daughter and grandson. He’d wanted to introduce them to the idea of realms, gods, and supernatural creatures slowly, but as with all great plans, it fell apart. Alexander could only hope they would find the journals.

There is no way this attack is random, Alexander thought. A being such as Surtr doesn’t leave his realm unless provoked, and for a bridge to open right in his backyard, linking Muspelheim to Midgard - it was too much of a coincidence. The gods were moving against each other; he could feel it.

Wincing in pain, Alexander steeled himself.

Whispering reverently, Alexander breathed into the icy wind, “Odin, Allfather, my time on this mortal plain has come to an end. I, one of Thor’s anointed, choose to die with an ax in hand, and can only hope to be welcomed into the halls of Valhalla.” A raven cawed an answer to Alexander’s prayer somewhere in the trees. Even though Surtr was far stronger than him, Alexander couldn’t just roll over and die. That wasn’t the Berserker way. Taking a deep breath, Alexander took a two-handed grip on his ax, feeling the smooth grip of the handle form perfectly to his weathered and calloused hands. He charged, bellowing a war cry. Surtr moved in as well, sensing the fight was coming to an end. Surtr brought down his massive sword in an attempt to split Alexander in two, but Alexander saw it coming and blocked the attack with his ax. Sparks flew in all directions as the two blades met. Alexander’s ax blade chipped and bent along the edge where it met Surtr’s sword, but that didn’t faze Alexander.

Quick as lightning, Alexander swung for Surtr’s outstretched forearm. Alexander thought he had scored a hit, but it merely bounced off Surtr’s thick hide. Alexander, unwilling to relent, swung a horizontal slash meant to take the giant in the knee, but Surtr’s burning blade materialized and Alexander’s ax slammed edge first into the flat of Surtr’s broadsword with a loud clang. The resulting tremor ran up Alexander’s hand and arm, causing them to momentarily go numb. Dodging to the left, Alexander averted a savage punch aimed for his head.

Alexander ducked and dodged Surtr’s onslaught. He never gave up, always looking for an opening to attack. Spinning the ax between attacks, Alexander continued to duck and dodge, waiting for the giant to make a mistake. Alexander knew he couldn’t keep this up for much longer, but he couldn’t waste his attack either.

Alexander backed away. Overconfident, Surtr grew bolder with each attack and was swinging wildly. Just as he had hoped, Alexander’s opportunity came as he ducked under a slash meant to take his head off at the neck. Ducking under the smoldering blade, he stepped in as Surtr’s blade slammed into an ancient pine tree. The force of Surtr’s blow nearly cut the massive tree in half, but luckily for Alexander, the blade stopped three-fourths of the way through.

It only took him a second, but that was all the time Alexander needed. Alexander knew this was his only chance, and he swung with all his might. His blade hit Surtr in the stomach. Sparks fluttered to life as Alexander’s ax impacted Surtr’s hardened skin. A look of shock crept across Surtr’s face; Alexander’s blade carved out a shallow cut. Surtr blurred, attacking faster than Alexander thought possible. Not knowing where the attack was coming from, Alexander flung himself backward, but it wasn’t fast enough. Surtr’s blade buried itself deep into Alexander’s right shoulder.

Alexander crumbled, falling to his knees as Surtr pulled the blade free in a spray of blood. Alexander’s vision blurred. Through the pain, Alexander focused on a thin trickle of molten orange blood seeping out of the cut chiseled into Surtr. Surtr followed Alexander’s gaze and looked down. He dabbed lightly at the bleeding wound.

In his grave voice, Surtr intoned, “You are the first to injure me in decades. Be proud as you go to your death.” He heaved the sword above his head, “Give my regards to the Aesir. Their rule over the realms has ended. Ragnarok begins.” Reverently, he brought his sword down for the killing blow.

Alexander, broken and bleeding, moved on reflex, brought up his ax in an overhead block, but it wasn’t enough. Knowing that his time had finally come, Alexander hoped he had made his ancestors proud and that his family would be ready for what was to come. The Berserker mantle that he had held for so long would finally pass on.

A flutter of wings and a caw from the onlooking raven were the only sounds in the silent forest as Alexander slumped back, dead. Surtr took a long moment to stare down at his fallen foe before turning and disappearing through the bridge.

 

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Kevin D. Miller is an attorney in Southern California who spends his two hour commute listening to Science Fiction and Fantasy books on Audible or dreaming up plots for future book ideas. When he isn’t working, Kevin can be found spending time with his girlfriend Amy, and their two dogs Pepper and Riley or hiking and kayaking in Big Bear.

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A Shot at Normal
Marisa Reichardt
Published by: Farrar Straus and Giroux (BYR)
Publication date: February 16th 2021
Genres: Contemporary, Young Adult

Marisa Reichardt’s A Shot at Normal is a powerful and timely novel about justice, agency, family, and taking your shot, even when it seems impossible.

Dr. Villapando told me to get a good attorney. He wasn’t serious. But I am. I’m going to sue my parents.

Juniper Jade’s parents are hippies. They didn’t attend the first Woodstock, but they were there for the second one. The Jade family lives an all-organic homeschool lifestyle that means no plastics, no cell phones, and no vaccines. It isn’t exactly normal, but it’s the only thing Juniper has ever known. She doesn’t agree with her parents on everything, but she knows that to be in this family, you’ve got to stick to the rules. That is, until the unthinkable happens.

Juniper contracts the measles and unknowingly passes the disease along, with tragic consequences. She is shell-shocked. Juniper knows she is responsible and feels simultaneously helpless and furious at her parents, and herself.

Now, with the help of Nico, the boy who works at the library and loves movies and may just be more than a friend, Juniper comes to a decision: she is going to get vaccinated. Her parents refuse so Juniper arms herself with a lawyer and prepares for battle. But is waging war for her autonomy worth losing her family? How much is Juniper willing to risk for a shot at normal?

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EXCERPT:

Now that the new school year has started and my parents have reached out to other local homeschoolers to plan field trips, I’m hoping I’ll make some new friends.

Until then, I’ll remain on the outside looking in.

Like this morning, in my room, where I spent from seven forty-fi ve to eight a.m. watching through the window as bright yellow buses pulled up to the curb in front of Playa Bonita High School. The bus doors opened and students spilled onto the sidewalk. Others rode up on bikes and skateboards. The older ones, the juniors and seniors, arrived in cars crammed with passengers, two in the front seat and three in the back. Everyone wore shorts or sundresses, because it’s still the last week of August and the heat of summer hasn’t let go of this town yet.

I could feel that heat in my armpits and the sweat marks collecting along the edges of my tank top when I woke up. I slathered on deodorant from the half- empty mason jar on my dresser like I do every morning. It’s sticky and lumpy and leaves behind a white, oily residue that stains my shirts. I’ve asked my mom for real deodorant. Or at least something from the natural health section at Whole Foods.

“Tapioca starch and coconut oil take care of things fine,” she says. I’m sure that’s not true, because if I notice the stink of my mom’s BO, then surely I have it, too.

The girls at PBHS probably smell like strawberries and freedom. I bet they spent all morning soaking themselves in those scented body washes from that store at the mall that always smells like a fruit stand. I also bet my mom can recite the exact paraben levels in each bottle. Because that store, like the mall itself, is not a place my parents would ever let me spend money.

That’s why those girls across the street are there and I’m here. The chemicals and the toxins and the mercury levels and the melting ozone layer made my parents take a big step back from the real world. Everything from our deodorant to our food to our cleaning products to our furniture is organic. Important things, I know. But there’s such a thing as too much. My parents are rabid in their beliefs.

“Organic isn’t what’s new. It’s what’s old,” my mom says proudly. “We’re original.”

She operates in a rose- colored version of history, which is also why my sister, my brother, and I don’t get vaccinated. This makes us ineligible to enroll in schools in California. Not that I haven’t tried. When we moved, I thought maybe this was finally it. The public high school was right across the street. I’d practically still be at home. I begged to go. But couple the strict California vaccination requirements with the fact that my parents think homeschooling creates lifelong learners as opposed to kids who simply regurgitate multiple- choice information for state tests, and it was easy for them to say no. “We decide what goes into our children’s bodies and minds,” they said. So here I sit at the kitchen table, digging into my putrid pancakes, trying to figure out if selling baled herbs and essential oils this summer made me a better person.

My guess is no.

Author Bio:

Marisa Reichardt is the critically acclaimed author of the YA novels UNDERWATER, AFTERSHOCKS (2020), and A SHOT AT NORMAL (2021). She has a Master of Professional Writing degree from the University of Southern California and dual degrees in English & American Literature and Creative Writing from UC San Diego. Before becoming a published author, Marisa worked in academic publications, tutored high school students in writing, and shucked oysters. These days, you can probably find her huddled over her laptop in a coffeehouse or swimming in the ocean.

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The Life and Times of Angie Bardot
Angela Bardot
Publication date: February 14th 2021
Genres: Comedy, Women’s Fiction

IS THERE LIFE AFTER?

Setting out on her adventures, Angie is best described as endearingly tragic as she gives a truly laugh-out-loud account of what could possibly go wrong when her long-term marriage comes to an end. Extolling the many pitfalls of being single is no laughing matter and being thrown into the dating arena is even worse.

When curiosity to view a certain piece of the male anatomy takes priority, bedlam unfolds. Angie’s journey will leave you in fits of laughter while raising your eyebrows in absolute disdain.

Taking you from “Hell No” to “Hell Yes,” this two-part true story taps into a range of emotions as you travel along with Angie on her voyage of self-discovery. A captivating exposé of courage and raw honesty in finding a new beginning when life takes a nosedive, this compelling portrayal of compassion gives insight into the weakest and strongest moments of what it is to be human.

You will fall in love with Angie and won’t be able to stop turning the pages to see what she will do next. To err on the side of caution is not Angies strong suit. Heart wrenching, yet hilariously funny in the unique style of telling her tale, it’s never a surprise when she ends up on several occasions with her tail between her legs!

Does she ever learn?

This book is one of a kind, and better still, so is Angie Bardot.

“What an inspiring, self-reflecting, self-effacing, honest, eye-opening sex goddess she is – I loved it!” MARY – WHO WANTED TO KNOW MORE

“Uplifting and HILARIOUS, I’ve never, ever laughed so hard. I literally couldn’t stop reading.” VANESSA – WHO ISN’T A READER

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Author Bio:

There is more to Angela Bardot than meets the eye. Abducted at the age of five and as a teenager running away from her abusive childhood, Angela traveled overseas to an idyllic peace-loving commune which later becomes an army base and war zone. With no hope of escape, Angela's endurance from the events of this early part of her life have given her strength. After leaving the commune Angela traveled behind the Iron Curtain where very few westerners dared to go before a year spent in Canada living with her friends loving family which gave Angela an insight into what a family should be. She felt loved for the first time and was ready to return home.
Angela settled down to a somewhat normal life and obtained a Diploma of Copywriting and Advertising and a Certificate in Business, becoming a successful business partner. Angela is proudest of her role as a wife, mother, and grandmother. The importance of her family remains her greatest achievement. Angela traveled to many more countries over the years, but the one she holds dearest was her time spent in Canada, as part of a loving family environment.
Angela Bardot published her first book, Hell No in 2017 which is now incorporated as part one in her new book, The Life and Times of Angie Bardot.

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Jacob Stearne is forced to infiltrate a Neo-Nazi extremists to thwart their plan to kill thousands…

By Seeley James

Title: THE MORPHEUS DECISION: A PIA SABEL MYSTERY
Author: Seeley James
Publisher: Machined Media
Pages: 300
Genre: Murder Mystery

BOOK BLURB:

Who killed Chloe England?

When a friend from her days in international soccer, now a British constable, is murdered, Pia Sabel uncovers an assassination ring catering to the ultra-rich – putting her dead center in their crosshairs.

For most of her life, Pia Sabel worked through the pain of losing her parents, threw herself into her work, and lived with insomnia. Now her doctor warns growing paranoia will soon threaten her mental health. She escapes to rural England to mourn the loss of her friend. On arrival, she is attacked by a mob, dismissed by officials, and ridiculed by high society for inquiring about an English Lord and a British institute. The more people tell her not to ask questions, the more she questions their motives.

Unconquered and unafraid, she investigates the murder and exposes a well-connected web of billionaire suspects. Along the way, she touches a nerve, bringing down an avalanche of killers on top of her. Unable to trust anyone, from the handsome Scot she wants to know better to Britain’s titled class, she must unravel the clues before more victims land in the morgue. Peeling back the layers of deceit, lies and cover-ups, Pia finally discovers the truth about who killed Chloe England. A revelation sure to endanger everyone she loves.

 

CHAPTER ONE

Blood drifted over the curb on its way to the gutter as Chloe England tried to shift her gaze for a better look. Her eyes wouldn’t respond. Not even a blink. Her vision was fixed on the chemist’s across the narrow lane. Closed. And for a long time judging by the dirty windows.

Her arms and legs wouldn’t move either. The blood felt warm on her cheek. Chloe had the strangest feeling it was her blood. After all, she was lying on her side with her face pressed to the cement, but she wasn’t sure why. When she tried to think, all that came to mind was TS Eliot from a boring literature class long ago:

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,

And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker;

And in short, I was afraid.

She’d rather have been on the pitch playing football than stuck in a classroom reading that drivel.

Chloe sensed a presence lean down over her. Maybe it was a good Samaritan who could help her up. Her muscles weren’t responding. Someone reached over her shoulder and plucked the phone out of her hand. The person disconnected her call.

So, not a good Samaritan.

Chloe felt embarrassed. The stalker just cutoff the voicemail to Pia Sabel before she’d finished. What would Sabel think of the poorly worded message? Rambled on like a fool, she did. To top it off, she’d blanked before telling Sabel what she wanted. Such bad form. A throbbing pain came from the back of her head. Along with the throb came a dim memory of the previous few seconds. She’d been chattering on about the woman in the hospital and her ridiculous story about people who could kill your enemies through their dreams. For a fee. Had she told Sabel that part? It’s what she’d intended to say. Now that she thought about it, she’d prattled on about their rivalry on the soccer pitch. Was that all the further she’d got?

Hardly a rivalry, though. Chloe did her best to defend for England in every game—but who could stop Sabel? Chloe remembered their first encounter. The young phenom was sixteen and out to prove herself in a friendly. Chloe had twenty-five caps by then. She’d considered the teenager a trifle. Young Sabel came straight at her, no fear. Charging in like a freight train. But she was ready. She herded the kid to the sidelines, making the only option to go out of bounds. Sabel played into it, dribbling into a rapidly narrowing lane with nowhere to go. Rookie mistake. Then Sabel popped the ball between them, waist high, smacked it with her knee, sending it over Chloe’s head. Using her height advantage, Sabel jumped in the air like a rocket and headed a perfect cross to the American forward flying up the middle. It happened so fast Chloe could only laugh. What the hell was that? Thank god the game didn’t count for anything.

Sabel was a thorn in her side for the next four years. The Mexicans called her La Tigresa—the tigress—for good reason. And the international press adopted the nickname. But in the privacy of England’s locker room, especially among the defenders, she was known as that cunt. When Chloe retired, she rejoiced that her endless nightmares of Sabel hurtling toward her would finally end.

Now they were both out of the beautiful game. Chloe had bounced around until she found her calling: police constable. Who would’ve thought? All those years leaving your blood, sweat, and tears on the pitch for your country and what career options await you? Sportscaster? A crowded field. Coach? Underpaid profession. Talent scout? Too many rows with desperate parents—whose children didn’t know the difference between a football and a cheese loaf—kept Chloe out of that one. Then Dad suggested she follow him into the Greater Manchester Police, the illustrious GMP. It wasn’t the bright lights and big stage she’d hoped for. It had even caused her some embarrassment when dialing Sabel. How you doing, old frenemy? Running a huge company these days, I hear. Chilling with presidents and prime ministers, are we? Me? Oh, you know, constable. Still. Working on becoming a DI like Dad, though. So, what’s new?

Yeah. That was a tough call.

She hoped she hadn’t botched it. It was important. Sabel’s name was on the nutter’s list. Even if La Tigresa had been hell to defend, she did deserve to know someone had her on a list. It might be nothing, but some of the names on the list were dead. And Chloe hoped Sabel would help her figure it out. Reconnect for some laughs. Maybe.

A warm hand touched Chloe’s neck. Not in a kind way. The person who’d taken her phone feeling for a pulse? She tried to check her heartbeat, too. She wasn’t feeling it. Or was she? Not strong, anyway. Was she dying?

Once, she’d run to the scene of a man hit by a car. It was obvious to everyone around him that he was a dead man with a few seconds of life left, yet he had no idea. He kept apologizing for being a bother.

That’s when Chloe remembered the loud crack. The sound of metal connecting with bone. Big bone. Hollow. Like her skull. Is that where the blood was coming from?

She felt it now. Sliding down the back of her head, into her hair, onto the sidewalk. Someone had smacked her a good one with a baton. They could fix that in casualty, right?

The hand withdrew. Chloe heard someone walk away. The street was empty. Thick dark clouds obscured the remnants of twilight. The heavy sky closed in on her. It would rain soon.

It was her own fault, Chloe realized. She’d been so preoccupied with the call to Sabel—trying not to sound like one of those barking-mad fans—that she hadn’t noticed where she was going. It was a mistake. She’d taken the shortcut. A short, dark lane lined with defunct businesses. Now she wouldn’t have a chance to save Pia Sabel’s life. She wouldn’t be the heroic constable who solved the dreamland-assassins mystery.

Worst of all, there would be no security video of who killed Chloe England.

Amazon → https://amzn.to/2LEBCWe

Seeley James’ near-death experiences range from talking a jealous husband into putting the gun down to spinning out on an icy freeway in heavy traffic without touching anything. His resume ranges from washing dishes to global technology management. His personal life ranges from homeless at 17, adopting a 3-year-old at 19, getting married at 37, fathering his last child at 43, hiking the Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim at 59, and taking the occasional nap.

His writing career ranges from humble beginnings with short stories in The Battered Suitcase, to being awarded a Medallion from the Book Readers Appreciation Group. Seeley is best known for his Sabel Security series of thrillers featuring athlete and heiress Pia Sabel and her bodyguard, veteran Jacob Stearne. One of them kicks ass and the other talks to the wrong god.

His love of creativity began at an early age, growing up at Frank Lloyd Wright’s School of Architecture in Arizona and Wisconsin. He carried his imagination first into a successful career in sales and marketing, and then to his real love: fiction.

Website: http://www.seeleyjames.com

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

The Element 42

Death and the Damned

Death & Dark Money

Death and Treason

Death and Conspiracy

Death and Deception

Death and Secrets

Death and Vengeance

Death and Betrayal

The Geneva Decision

Bring It

The Hollow World
Tracy Auerbach
(Fragments, #3)
Publication date: February 2nd 2021
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy

The time has come for Kai and her friends to make a final stand, and as the war begins, everyone must choose a side. But with the lines between good and evil more blurred than ever, Kai has to stick with her convictions and follow her heart. Kai’s first priority is to free Finn from the clutches of Tessa Raven, who has become no better than the evil she once fought against.

As Kai reluctantly turns against the people she once considered her closest friends, she becomes entangled in a struggle with a mysterious new power that threatens to destroy what is left of Finn and change everything she thought she knew about the planet.

Meanwhile, Charlie and Aric remain behind and help Raven breach the underground world of the Science Council. All bets are off as they prepare to cross every line and burn every bridge in an attempt to claim the world that has abused them for too long.

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EXCERPT:

Too many missing coefficients.

Raven ran her ungloved hand over the smooth, cool metal of the missile. She needed it to shatter the barrier—opening the way down so that she could destroy the Science Council. She knew enough about terminal ballistics to be able to calculate its exact impact on the crystal tube that led to the Science Council’s underground lair when it struck. The only problem was that the makeup of the tube was so unique…

“It’s a thing of beauty, Raven,” Sayers commented. He stared at her hungrily from his spot amongst her people, seeking approval.

“Yes, it is,” she offered, and he smiled.

“The only problem is, because the substance we’re striking has never been studied, there’s no way to tell if it will work without testing it. Our likelihood for success is still low.” She glanced around the interior of the Dome of Artifacts, taking in the relics from the original Earth with an appreciative eye. “And I’m not willing to risk destroying all of these artifacts by blowing up the whole place when the chance of it failing to destroy the tube is unacceptably high.”

Her soldiers stood around her, silent, waiting for her suggestions. She’d been trying to puzzle this out for three weeks, and the answer was painfully obvious: a last straw plan. And yet, she hesitated, because there was a small part of her that wanted to try every other possible scenario before resorting to what she knew would work, even though she knew that wasn’t logical.

Damn my weakness.

“We’ll need something softer,” she said at last. “Something that will turn to mush on impact rather than ricocheting off the crystal and taking out this whole place. Also, we’ll need something much bigger… heavier.” She scrutinized the crystal tube housing of the elevator platform that had, thus far, been impossible to penetrate.

“Would you like us to try crafting a hollow missile that’s twice this size?” asked Larson. “We’d have to melt this down first.” He gestured toward the missile they’d taken three weeks to craft and painstakingly calibrated.

“No.”

The time to divulge her last straw plan was now. She knew a missile wouldn’t work. A rain of bullets wouldn’t work. But she happened to have a special tool—a former friend who could run at the speed of a bullet and who was close to two hundred pounds.

A human body hitting the tube at that speed would spread adequate weight over a large enough surface area to crack open the entryway to the Science Council’s underground world like an egg. Also, a body would explode upon impact, resulting in a mostly liquid byproduct, causing minimal damage to the artifacts.

Finn’s sacrifice would save the planet.

Author Bio:

Tracy Auerbach is an author of science fiction and fantasy for teens and adults. As an avid reader with a vivid imagination, she chose to study film, English, and education, and went on to teach and write STEM curriculum for the New York Department of Education. This helped to polish her writing skills and ignite her passion for science fiction and fantasy.

Her first scholarly article, published in Language Magazine, was about the value of active, creative learning in science.
On the fiction side, Tracy’s work has been featured in the online literary journal Micro-horror, The Writing Disorder fiction anthology, and the “(Dis)ability” short story anthology, in addition to her novels.

When she is not teaching or writing, Tracy is usually reading or spending time with her family. She lives in New York with her husband and sons.

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Book Description:

From the acclaimed Author of 'The Butterfly Room' comes a powerful afterlife drama conveying how great gifts can be hidden in death and how they can bear fruit in our lives if we have the faith to let them unfold.

Somewhere between the mountains and the mist in North India, a widower must reconcile himself to the loss and grief that haunts him after the recent death of his wife.

Unhinged by grief, anger, and guilt, John Perera has set off on a journey, a journey to honour the love of his life and to fulfill the promise he made to her to uncover the truth behind the mysterious death of their son. It is a journey of extraordinary self-discovery that will take him to the extremities of his soul and question all he believes about life, death, and faith.

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Capturing Fate
Abbie Roads
(Fatal Truth #2)
Publication date: January 28th 2021
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense, Thriller

Can love untangle a web of lies and expose the truth?

A loner with a mysterious childhood…

FBI agent Dolan Watts is no stranger to pain. From his childhood spent in foster care to his daily grind of hunting down hardened criminals, it’s been the one constant through the years. Pain carved out gut feelings he can trust and instincts able to solve cases in record time. Until now. Confronted by a malicious new enemy who revels in mind games, Dolan begins to doubt his own perceptions. Fearing he’s spiraling into insanity, he seeks help from the one woman who can shine light into the darkness consuming him.

A woman haunted by a secret…

Psychologist Daughter Dawson sabotaged her own safety the moment she accepted Dolan as a client. Still, she felt compelled to help him. Dolan’s past mirrored many of the questions about her own, making his torment achingly familiar. Despite their growing attraction, her career demands she keep an ethical distance. Yet when she makes the mistake of confiding in him, both their lives are thrust into unimaginable danger.

Nightmares come to life…

When gruesome tragedy uncovers a serial killer’s twisted agenda, Daughter and Dolan must cling to each other if they hope to survive. Can they stop the body count from rising? Or will they find their only purpose from the start was to be pawns in a reign of evil?

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

She wanted more. All of it. Hand-holding and kissing and long, lazy lovemaking. She opened her eyes and hoped he could read her feelings in them. The next two years were going to be torture, and it was all her fault.

His face was naked with longing, desire, deep affection. It was beautiful to see this powerful man baring his emotions to her. Emotions that had everything to do with her, with wanting her. It was a heady drug, one she wanted to overdose on. If she never saw him after today, she’d forever remember the way he looked at her right now, like she was his entire universe.

He slid his hand into her hair, the movement causing a rash of goose bumps to break out all over her body. “I’m sorry for breaking the rules. I take all the blame.”

She opened her mouth to ask him what rule he’d broken, just as his lips landed on hers. The world fell out from under her. She grabbed on to him to keep from falling, latching onto his shirt and yanking him closer. His arms clamped around her, holding her even tighter to him, and the raw male strength of his body against hers was a revelation. Heat radiated off him like he was her own personal sun.

And then his tongue was in her mouth—warm and tasting like a wish. The salt of her tears mingled to make this kiss the one that all other kisses would be measured by.

And then it was over and he was pulling away. She wanted to beg him to keep kissing her, and maybe the world and the two years separating them would disappear.

He looked down at her, his face ravaged by the war raging inside him, the same one inside her—the nearly overwhelming need to be together, the rules be damned.

He stared at her for an endless moment, a muscle in his jaw ticking, then turned and walked to his car.

Tears flowed as she watched him drive away. At the end of the parking lot, he stopped before pulling out onto the road. She couldn’t see inside the car, but knew he was watching her in the rearview mirror. A sob choked in her throat. If she cried any harder, he’d turn around and come back for her, but she couldn’t let him.

He drove out of the parking lot and out of her life. She turned to her car and saw the bouquet he’d given her sitting on the roof.

She mashed her face in the pretty flowers and watered them with her tears.

Author Bio:

Seven Things about Abbie Roads:
1. She loves Snicker Parfaits. Gotta start with what's most important, right?
2. She writes dark emotional books featuring damaged characters, but always gives her hero and heroine a happy ending... after torturing them for three hundred pages.
3. By day she's a mental health counselor known for her blunt, honest style of therapy. At night she burns up the keyboard. Well... Burn might be too strong a word. She at least sits with her hands poised over the keyboard, waiting for inspiration to strike. And when it does--the keyboard might get a little warm.
4. She can't stand it when people drive slowly in the passing lane. Just saying. That's major annoying. Right?
5. She loves taking pictures of things she thinks are pretty.
6. She lives in Marion, Ohio with her favorite fellow and two fur babies.
7. Being a published author is a dream come true for her.

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The Haunting of Solomon House
Marnie Vinge
(Blair Graves, #1)
Publication date: January 25th 2021
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy

Blair Graves’ father went missing seven years ago.

The legal death of her paranormal radio host father tilts her world sideways on its axis. When no will can be found, Blair is forced to adapt to a quickly shifting reality. One in which she’s forced to sell her family home.

When a historical fixer-upper catches her eye, she goes all in, hoping to escape her father’s legacy and the long shadow cast by his very public disappearance.

But when the house starts presenting more problems than just the creaks and groans associated with old age, Blair starts questioning what she knows about life, death, and what comes after.

When the very arrogant and handsome Cash Kelly–a ghost-hunting expert–offers his help, Blair is sure he’s the same kind of attention-seeking, conspiracy-promoting, dollar-chasing content creator hack as her father.

As she begins to question his motivations for helping her, the haunting escalates to a dangerous point, forcing Blair to confront the reality of the world her father believed in.

And what it means to be his daughter.

The X-Files meets Supernatural in this urban fantasy series about the strength of a father-daughter bond and how, sometimes, truth really is stranger than fiction.

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

She leads us past the other living room and down the hallway. Another room is nestled off to the side.

“The conservatory, or sunroom,” Diana says, ushering us inside.

Glass walls and a glass ceiling incase the room.

“One of Mr. Solomon’s favorite rooms, I’m told,” Diana says.

“Tell me more about him,” I prod her as we make our way out of the room and upstairs.

The second floor hosts all the bedrooms and two of the bathrooms. She shows me each in turn as she chronicles the life of the former homeowner.

“Oh, there’s not much to tell,” she says. “His wife had a stroke when she was quite young. Died tragically by drowning in the pool one evening during a party. Mr. Solomon was so grief-stricken that he lost his senses, I’m told. He married one of the housekeepers.”

“That’s horrible,” I tell her.

“Oh, quite. He also lost a son that night. The boy was but a toddler. It’s thought that he jumped into the pool after his mother in an attempt to save her. Unfortunately, they both perished. I can’t imagine what that was like for Mr. Solomon.”

“Jesus,” I whisper.

And I thought my old house was marked by tragedy.

“Indeed,” Diana confirms, almost like she’s reading my mind.

She goes on.

“The Solomons sold the house and moved away in the early part of the twentieth century. It belonged to the family who made it a funeral home after that. But when none of Mr. Horn’s boys wanted to take up the mortuary arts, the Horn family sold it as well.”

There’s a mural in the master bathroom and I stop to stare at it when we arrive.

“That was painted for the original Mrs. Solomon,” Diana says. The mural features a nude man and woman standing on either side of a mountain. Above them, a heavenly being seems to be watching over them. They both cast their eyes upward. Roses line the outside edges. “It’s the sixth card of the tarot: the Lovers.”

“Did Mrs. Solomon enjoy tarot?” I ask.

“Oh, she enjoyed a number things she probably shouldn’t have,” Diana assures me. “All of that was quite popular at the time.” She begins to make her way back to the second story landing. I cast a glance back at the mural. Faded and peeling, it’s still beautiful. It could easily be restored.

“She was known for her wild parties. I imagine tarot and the like played a role at times.”

We head up to the third floor.

“This space was mainly used as storage by the Horn family,” Diana says. The giant attic-like room hosts a number of objects, all covered in yellowing white sheets. A musty smell accompanies it. I feel an itch in my nose and promptly sneeze.

“There’s also a basement,” Diana says. “I should note that it was used by the Horns for embalming,” she says hesitantly. I imagine this is the sort of information that served as a deal breaker for other prospective buyers.

There’s a bit of comfort in knowing that the saddest things to ever happen in this house had nothing to do with me, Blake, or my father.

It’s a strange perspective, but I welcome it.

We head back downstairs to the first floor.

“I imagine you have a husband with whom you might discuss the purchase,” Diana says.

“No,” I say. “It’s just me.”

“No children?” she asks with an arched eyebrow.

“None of those either.”

“No husband and no children,” she clucks. “Smart girl.”

Diana winks at me.

I take in the house one more time before we step outside.

As Diana turns to head to her car after giving me her card I call out to her.

“Diana,” I say. “Wait.”

She raises her eyebrows and looks as if she might want to ask me why I’ve stalled her in getting back to the office.

I inhale deeply, look back at the house once more, and I leap.

“I’ll take it.”

Author Bio:

Marnie Vinge is a novelist and storyteller as well as the creator of the podcast, Eerie Okie.

She first started writing at the ripe age of 7, creating a science fiction horror story about a monster that lived in seaweed off the coast of Corpus Christi. Since then, she's stretched her wings by writing urban fantasy, paranormal romance, and horror.

To check out Eerie Okie, search your favorite podcast platform. If you're an Oklahoma ghoul who loves the morbid and macabre, it's the podcast for you.

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Stop Me
Michelle Jester
(Rue the Day Series, #1)
Publication date: February 1st 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary

After moving to a new city with her parents, Jeselle Parsons quickly found friends and a life full of money, power, and privilege. Even though her parents weren’t wealthy like the other kids’ parents, Jeselle felt lucky to be welcomed into the circle of friends, until she learned how costly that type of life could be. A life that would cost her everything.

For fifteen years, Jeselle, with the help of her friend Dennis, worked to ensure nothing would stand in the way of her revenge on the people who played a part in ruining her life.

All the years of planning, all the years of working, have all come down to this.

Her enemies will learn that revenge has never been so cold.

Goodreads / Amazon / Kobo / Google Play

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EXCERPT:

“What the hell is she wearing?” Dennis said with horror. Jeselle looked up to see Rose and Karli approaching the table. Rose had on a flouncy, overly stated, hot pink dress. The sleeves stood much taller than her shoulders in a fog of pink netting and the material jumped as she walked, which delighted Jeselle immensely.

Camilla openly choked on her gulp of wine, “That is awful.”

Dennis patted Camilla on her back, “Sister dear, if you are going to die, please go sit by someone else.”

“This is incredible,” Rose hurried the rest of the way to the table and took a seat.

“I love coming to them, too,” Karli said, leaning toward Rose as she seated herself. “I remember my first time, I thought it was a dream. But Jeselle actually has a purpose for it. They know she wouldn’t invite you if you weren’t important.”

“That’s true,” an older woman sitting next to Jeselle agreed, “but it does make me feel important too.” The woman giggled.

“I am really nervous, like what if I put my fork back in the wrong place or something?” Rose said as she lightly touched the fork on the table in front of her, and it made Jeselle smile.

“Here is a quick lesson for you,” Jeselle said, “My mother–”

“God rest her soul,” the woman sitting next to Jeselle said.

Jeselle looked at the woman and smiled again. Then she lifted a fork and shifted her attention back to Rose, “My mother told me something growing up that I have never forgotten. You won’t either.”

“Dear heavens, couldn’t you have given her this lesson at the office?” Dennis said condescendingly which, Jeselle noticed, caused Rose’s head to fall in embarrassment.

“Pick your head up, Rose,” Jeselle barked. Rose lifted her head. “Do not listen to him,” Jeselle used her calm voice, “He doesn’t know about real people, he’s been spoon fed his entire life. Don’t let people like Dennis, here,” she put a hand on his leg under the table and squeezed, “make you feel any less important than they are. Matter of fact, I’d say you are more important than those people.” Jeselle squeezed harder.

Rose’s eyes widened and she looked from Jeselle to Dennis and back again.

The lady sitting next to Jeselle laughed under her breath. Rose looked over at Karli, who wore a big smile on her face.

“Now, as I was saying, here is a basic lesson you’ll never forget. How many letters in the word left?”

“Fo- four,” Rose replied hesitantly.

“How many letters in fork?” Jeselle lifted the hand that held the fork slightly higher in the air.

“Four,” Rose replied more confidently.

“So, your fork goes to the left of the plate.” Jeselle placed the fork back to the left of her plate. “Now, how many letters in the word right?” Again, she lifted her hand, this time her right one.

“Five.”

“And how many in the word knife?” she lifted the spoon and knife together.

“Five.”

“And how many in spoon?”

“Five.”

Then your knife and spoon go to the right side of the plate. Jeselle set them back down. “In alphabetical order. Fork, knife, spoon.” Jeselle touched each one slightly as she named it. She perceived the moment that Rose grasped the information and she relaxed.

“That’s it? It’s that easy?”

“Well, for the basics, but before long I’ll have you able to set an eighteen-course dinner with ease.” Jeselle looked pointedly at Rose, “Anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, or feel like you don’t fit in, is simply information and that you can learn. The more information you learn, the more you will be tempted to be like Dennis here. Don’t, it’s a trap. If someone is deliberately trying to make you feel like you don’t fit in,” she looked over at Dennis, “Well, that is simply arrogance.” Jeselle turned to Rose again, “And arrogance can be taken down, with only one piece of information. Do you understand, Rose?”

“I do. Thank you.”

The best part of the evening, Jeselle thought, was detecting that Rose really did understand.

Author Bio:

Michelle Jester lives in Greenwell Springs, Louisiana with her husband, high school sweetheart and retired Master Sergeant. Together they have a son and daughter. She is a hopeless romantic and has been writing poems and stories for as long as she can remember.
One of her prize possessions is a bracelet with only a yellow, Rubber Duckie charm on it; which she wears every day to remind her to enjoy the fun and happy things of life!

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