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Organized Crime Fantasy
Date Published: June 2017
Seven organized crime Families, known as the Seven Blessed Families, rule the World of Exodus and its people with the use of their mysterious magical artifacts, called Relics. Relics give powers to the Blessed members of the Families, and they use those powers for corruption and control of everything in Exodus.
Maretto Rose, the patriarch of the Rose Family, celebrates his 50th birthday by attending a performance at the Grand Theater with three of his four sons. The theater is attacked by the heir of the Cicello Family, Zasso Cicello. His mission is to abduct Maretto, but it fails when Maretto's son, Georgiano, fights Zasso to protect his father and family. Georgiano is ultimately slain and Zasso flees and goes into hiding. Now, the Rose Family must find where Zasso is hiding. They want answers. Who gave him the order for the attack, and what do they want with Maretto Rose? And most of all, they want revenge...But who could it be? A leader of a rival Family? Or someone or something else more powerful than they could imagine?
Meanwhile, Maretto's youngest son, Ric, must battle his demons and addictions in order to become a Blessed member of the Family and become the man he was destined to be, before he ends up being another dead junky on the street.
So, sit back and enjoy the ride, because in Exodus, gangsters make the world go round.
Praise for Blood and Roses:
"When I first started reading I thought this was going to be a typical gangster story, and in a lot of ways it was. However, the addition of magical relics, giving the family members magical powers, gives a wonderful twist to the story. The use of modern day technology, including flying cars, adds even more to the unexpected quality of the story. I especially love the scenes where they use magic for a variety of attacks and defences.
The plot, which at first, seemed to be very straight forward, was twisted out of shape by the inclusion of not just one, but several different players. This kept me guessing to the very end of the story about what was happening. Even at the end there are questions left unanswered, leading nicely to the next novel in the series, which I'm dying to read." -Emie Cuevas, OnlineBookClub.com
Excerpt
So far, it had been the perfect birthday for Don Maretto Rose. Well, maybe not perfect. His youngest son was not present for the celebration, and it hurt the powerful man very much on the inside. But it was still as close as it was going to get to being perfect.
But sometimes, when you least expect it, the unexpected happens...And everything goes to hell.
Outside the Grand Theater, two black extended SUVs came flying from around a nearby skyscraper and hovered towards the ground. They landed on the street directly in front of the red-carpeted entranceway. As soon as they were grounded, the doors on each SUV flew open, and gangsters came pouring out like water from a spout. One of the Rose Family guards and two theater security went into immediate action to stop the unwanted guests from entering the theater. An array of other guards and security lined the stairs and main entrance.
Now, a lot of the gangsters spilling out of the cars looked pretty much the same, dressed in regular black suits and fedoras, but there were two in particular that were dressed a little nicer and a little weirder. They both took their good ole time striding towards the main guard as the other gangsters filed behind them. The one in front was tall and lanky, wearing a royal blue suit with a matching necktie and white dress shirt. He bore a blue fedora over his silvery black hair that hung down to his cheeks. His eyes matched his hair, and his face was thin like his body. He was draped in gold jewelry around his neck and had gemmed rings on almost every finger. The pride in his walk signified that he was a man of importance. And he was. The man was none other than Zasso Cicello, son of Don Xanose Cicello.
Walking closely behind, was a shorter man dressed in a shiny silver suit and black dress shirt. His face was round but came to a point at his chin, and he bore a pair of sunglasses that could be mistaken for a couple of round mirrors. His long and thin hair was shoulder length and was black with a bluish tint. He, also, had a certain pride to his walk. And that’s because he was Zasso’s personal protector and assassin, Razo Malvagio.
As Zasso and Razo approached the main guard, he put up a hand to signal them to stop and said, “I’m sorry gentlemen, but this is a private viewing and you need to show credentials to enter the theater.”
In the blink of an eye, Razo came whirling around Zasso, holding a pistol-gripped sawed-off shotgun. It was pointed directly at the guard, and Razo didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. There was a loud burst, and then the guard’s hand exploded clean off his arm, along with half of his face. His limp body collapsed on the red carpet. A puddle of blood formed underneath the other half of his face.
“There are my credentials,” Zasso said to the corpse.
The two theater security guards reached for their firearms, but Zasso was too quick for them. Like a gunslinger, he drew a small pistol from his waist and fired multiple shots. Blood burst out of their chests, and they perished before they even touched their guns. Zasso and Razo continued on, with their entourage following behind.
The Rose Family guards and theater security wasted no time opening fire at the oncoming murderers. They fired numerous times whether it was with a handgun or semiautomatic rifle. But it was to no success. Upon the masquerade of bullet-fire, Zasso raised a hand and magically constructed a transparent yellow force field that deflected the bullets. Then, all hell broke loose.
Zasso’s gangsters came storming around him and returned fire upon the guards and security. Zasso and Razo went on the offensive as well with their short-arm weapons. Blood started spilling, and bodies were falling everywhere. When Zasso reached the bottom of the stairs, he extended his left hand and bolts of electricity spewed from his fingertips in the direction of his targets. And at the same time, he kept on firing shots out of his pistol with his right hand. His targets were electrocuted and blown away by bullets at the same time. Zasso was Blessedwith magical powers by his Family’s Relic, which made him a very dangerous killer.
While a few of his men were taken down, Zasso and Razo came away from the chaotic scene unscathed. The Rose Family guards and theater security were all dead. It was now time for them to enter the premises of the theater and accomplish what they came here to do.
About the Author
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Jordan Petrarca lives in Erie, Pennsylvania with his wife and twin girls. "Blood and Roses" was inspired by his love for fantasy and organized crime stories.
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Inspirational / Self Help
Date Published: 6/26/17
Publisher: Jan-Carol Publishing, Inc.
This book grew out of the first seven years of August Lageman’s practice as a shaman. The book shows how the teachings of the Four Winds Society actually work with clients. In addition, August kept an open mind and integrated tools and insights from other forms of healing such as reiki and Holographic Healing. This book demonstrates how a person with a rocky childhood can heal from early wounds with the help of skilled shamans. August writes from his heart. You will learn how a shaman needs to be ready for the unexpected.
About the Author
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August had a career as a pastor, a college teacher, and a psychotherapist. He served in the military for over twenty-nine years and did enlisted service in the US Marine Corps in the early sixties. Then August was commissioned as an officer in the Army Reserves and National Guard, serving both in the reserves and on active duty. He retired with over twenty-nine years of service as a full colonel in 2003. August trained as a shaman in the Four Winds Society, graduating in 2010.
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Historical Fiction
Date Published: July 2016
Publisher: BalboaPress
On a summer's evening in 1972, while the band plays amid the sizzling heat at the Tampa Yacht Club,Gasparilla pirates and their ladies eagerly await the arrival of their newly crowned king, Daniel Westcott. But to their dismay, Daniel never shows up.
By the wee hours of the next morning, the townspeople are scratching their heads as members of the Westcott family deliberate whether or not to call the police. As the story unfolds, King Daniel has disappeared without a trace.
Praise for King Daniel:
"Nautical twists abound as King Daniel excites with its page-turning thrills and familial revelations...." - Foreword Reviews, 5 Stars
"The disappearance of a Tampa Bay blue blood rattles the skeletons in his family's closet....A gripping tale of a missing patriarch in 1970's Florida; an auspicious debut." - Kirkus Reviews
"In this thriller, Susan Wolf Johnson delivers an ambitious, sprawling melodrama about the bitter end of a Southern patriarch and the damage a family can inflict on itself for generations." - BlueInk Review
"This intriguing novel centers on the disappearance of Daniel,the newly anointed ceremonial king of Gasparilla, a series of pirate-themed festivities similar to Mardi Gras but held in Tampa. The author does a great job with character development for Daniel's family: his distraught and distracted wife, Natalie; his mentally-challenged daughter, Julia; and his pregnant, unwed granddaughter, Becca. The story unfolds slowly, with a huge array of characters and a narrator who speaks directly to the reader rather than fading into the background. The mystery surrounding what happened to Daniel takes a back seat to the internal strife each of the characters battles." - Booklife
About the Author
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Susan Wolf Johnson earned her MFA at Vermont College of Fine Arts. She has taught creative writing and composition at the University of South Florida for fifteen years. Her short stories and book reviews have appeared in the Mississippi Review, the Dallas Review, the Florida Review, The Sun, New Letters, and the Charlotte Poetry Review. She lives in Tampa, Florida with her family. King Daniel is her first novel.
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YA Speculative Fiction
Date Published: March 2018
Ignorance is cheap. And then it costs you everything.
Perth author Rachel Watts' latest release delivers a devastating vision of a post-climate change world in which governments have collapsed and corporations rule with an iron fist. In this world two young women from different backgrounds find themselves unexpectedly aligned in their pursuit for the truth.
The world has suffered economic collapse and multiple environmental crises. In a flooded city, Ava Murasaki is searching for her activist sister Sophia. Meanwhile, Valerie Newlin lives in the secure complex of the Scylla Corporation, the world's only remaining multinational. There, she finds evidence of something horrifying in the Corporation medical research data. Set in a searingly real near-future, Survival is a story of what people will face for those they love.
Survival is accompanied by four of Watts' previously published dystopian and post-apocalyptic stories.
About the Author
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Rachel Watts is an award-winning journalist and a writer of literary and speculative fiction. She holds a Master's Degree in Media and Communication and teaches creative writing to adults and teenagers. Her short stories and non-fiction have been published by Westerly, Island, Kill Your Darlings, Tincture and more.
Rachel Watts lives in Perth, Western Australia.
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Contemporary Romance
Date Published: March 27, 2018
Henry Stanton, newly arrived in the small beach town of Spoonbill Point, Florida, has a five-year plan to establish his business and achieve the security and prosperity he grew up lacking. Daisy Bishop is a sassy single mom with a dream of making her part-time job of dancing in throwback burlesque shows her full-time career. Their first meeting, at one of Daisy’s shows, is a disaster when she winds up fracturing her ankle. The encounter is captured on video by a friend of Henry’s and goes viral online. The unwelcome notoriety causes Daisy to be fired from her day job and brings Henry and her together once again. She and Henry have an undeniable attraction, but his past, her son, and her meddling, crazy ex complicate matters. First in the “Viral Videos” series.
Excerpt
He stood as she wrapped the towel around the ice and applied it to her ankle. "Ahh, sweet Lord. God, that hurts." She squeezed her eyes shut. This pain in her ankle was starting to feel expensive.
He must have read her mind. "I think you need to go to the hospital."
"No thanks." She couldn't afford it, although she be damned if she told him that.
"It'll be my treat."
She opened one eye and stared at him from underneath her false eyelash. His lips crooked in a half-smile. "You sure know how to show a girl a good time, but no thanks." She shot Jonathan a look. "Can you make sure Henry here gets home okay? He's been drinking too much to drive, and I don't think his buddy's much better off."
"Sure." Jonathan waved at Henry. "Come on. I'll get you a Lyft." He turned and then shot a glance back over his shoulder. "You can wait out in the lobby."
It was a dismissal, and Henry had to know it. He looked at her, reluctant to go. "Here." He scrounged around on a nearby table until he found a piece of paper and a stub of a pencil. He wrote something and handed her the paper. "If you need anything, anything at all, give me a call."
She looked at the paper. Henry Stanton. 555-3022. She stuck it in her cleavage, momentarily forgetting her pain when a flush swept over Henry's face. "What? It's not like I have a pocket in this get-up."
About the Author
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Jessica Martyn is the pen name for Amazon bestselling romance writer Linda Morris. Unlike her down-to-earth alter ego, Jessica can eat all the carbs she wants without gaining weight and is best known perhaps for her dazzling sense of style and her witty repartee at cocktail parties.
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![]() The Grown Ups’ Crusade
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Gwen gathered fruit as fast as she could in the dim of the early morning. Mangos and marionberries, peaches and papayas, star fruit and oranges… she shoved the land fruit into her bag, never breaking pace as she trekked weast across the island. She needed to get to the coast and back before any fairies awoke. The entire fairy population had indulged in joyful revelries the night before, celebrating some amorphous holiday unknown to humans. The dawn would find even the most temperate fairies still lolling in drunken dreams and merry slumber. But dawn had not yet arrived and not everyone slept; stars still speckled the bluing sky and certain inhabitants of Neverland were still speaking with them. Tromping over vines and fungi, Gwen bushwhacked her way through the forest-jungle on anxious feet. The mermaids had not been helpful as of late. The new mermaids she’d met wouldn’t even give her their names. Eglantine and Cynara had been snide at best, and contemptuous at worst. Gwen wouldn’t have minded it—she didn’t care what mermaids thought of her—but she felt certain they knew what had happened to Lasiandra and refused to explain. This drowsy morning offered her a chance to tempt them with an overabundance of land fruit without anyone noticing. She would persuade the mermaids to cede their starry secrets and hurry back before any stray fairy or curious child found her at the incriminating lagoon. Gwen reached the wood’s end and hurried down the steps carved into the chalky cliff face. She moved so fast she half-flew toward the slender figures half-submerged in the lagoon. Gwen had not seen Lasiandra since the night she escaped with Jay from Lake Agana. In the chaos, she had never retrieved the scale from Lasiandra, and thus lost her ability to call her friend. She hadn’t worried about it—until days and weeks passed without sight of her at the lagoon. “What business have you with Lasiandra?” Eglantine had demanded last time Gwen visited. “What matter is she to you?” “I’m just worried about her,” Gwen had answered, innocent and truthful. The region’s entire Anomalous Activity Department had been on duty that night, trying to apprehend lost children and capture whatever magic followed them. Lasiandra’s disappearance was ominous, to say the least. A few fairies had not returned from the mission, and there was no question of what fate had befallen them. In response, the mermaids had only mocked her, contorting their melodic voices into cackling imitations of her land-dwelling accent, “I’m just worried about her.” “Worried about her! Concerned about a mermaid?” Cynara had declared, insulted and amused. “We are not of such a feeble nature as you landmaids. Mermaids have more strength in a single scale than you have in all of your heart. You need not worry for a mermaid, girl. We can take care of ourselves.” Gwen had wanted to believe her. ![]()
GIVEAWAY! ![]() The Forest Beyond the Earth
On SALE for a limited time only! -- Are you a book blogger or reviewer? Join the blog tour here! -- EXCERPT: Sheltered among the great moss-dappled trunks, Wisp peered out from her hiding place at the forest of monsters, barely breathing, lest the Tree Walkers hear her. She glanced back over her shoulder at Dad, twenty feet away and closer to the cabin. Distracted by fiddling with his rifle, he hadn’t noticed her wander off toward the little yellow flowers. Being so far away from him tightened a knot in her belly, but she pushed fear aside. Hunger had far more of a hold on her, and besides… the sun filtered down through the pines, strong and warm. Tree Walkers didn’t come out in the day. Or so she hoped. Wisp eased her toes into the soil, on guard for sharp rocks, stinging insects, or other dangers. The leather scraps of her skirt brushed at her legs with each tentative step. Dad recently made it to replace the same tattered dress she’d worn for the past two years. The frayed garment had grown so tight the fabric was ready to come apart if she breathed in too deep. He’d also given her a shirt he’d found on one of his scavenging trips, but she’d been less thrilled it with due to its bright pink color. It made her stand out. Not to mention, it had been torn so short it left her stomach bare. This outfit wouldn’t do well in the colder months, though Dad seldom let her out of the cabin then anyway, so perhaps it wouldn’t matter. While he didn’t make the pink mess, he did fix it for her. The former T-shirt had belonged to a grownup, but he’d added a crisscross of leather cord at the neck to cinch it tighter. Despite the horrid color of her shirt, at least she could move around and not worry about destroying her clothing. She squatted low to the ground, her thighs peeking out from two slits in the front of her skirt. A flap of thicker leather hung down between her legs, almost touching the soil as she brushed her hand back and forth looking for signs of edible insects or plants. Straight blonde hair fell around her, also nearly in contact with the ground. Close to home, they’d harvested everything of value already. To find food, they would have to venture deeper into the woods and risk the Tree Walkers finding them. The thought brought a shiver. “Wisp?” called Dad, worry in his voice. “Where are you going?” Suppressing a gasp of fear, she twisted around to peer back at him. Before she could say a word, a distant snap echoed behind her in the woods. She crouched even lower and whirled back to stare in that direction, fingers and toes digging into the dirt, ready to run like hell for the cabin door. Dad jogged up behind her. “What are you doing so far off? You know you’re not supposed to wander away from me like that.” She lifted one hand to point at the distant forest floor full of tiny yellow flowers. “I found yellowgreens.” ![]()
GIVEAWAY! ![]() Alien Retribution
-- EXCERPT: “No! Get away from her!” She forced herself to her feet, plastering a fierce look on her face, trying to ignore the weakness invading her body. She pointed away from them. “Go! Get away.” “But ssshe tasste ssso good.” Oh no. No way. She took a step closer to the creature. “She does not taste good. She tastes like fresh flooga poop.” And Nassir should know how bad that tasted. “I think I’ve just been insulted.” Nassir made the mistake of moving her gaze off the creature to Zoey as the other woman sat, holding her hand to her head with a groan. “I know you’re just trying to defend me, but really? Flooga poo? God, I have a killer headache. Hope I had an amazing good night to go with this thumping headache. Too much Sola?” Suddenly, Nassir realized that rather than moving on, the creature had decided to try his luck and lick Zoey again while Nassir’s attention was elsewhere. “Eww, gross. Bad lizard, bad!” Zoey smacked her hand against the tongue. “Bad boy! Zoey is not a treat! Zoey is a person and she doesn’t like to be licked. Well, I guess that’s not entirely true, but an Empress isn’t allowed to be crude.” ![]()
GIVEAWAY! ![]() Looking for Dei
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Smashwords Are you a book blogger or reviewer? Join the blog tour here! -- EXCERPT: PROLOGUE Southside Orphanage Fairmont – Capital of the Great Land 652PB (Post-Breshi) The toddler blew at the dandelion bloom until its seeds broke free and floated away on a breeze that gusted past the man watching her from the bushes. His breath hitched as his burdens were lifted and briefly forgotten. It had taken ten years to locate her. A life of study, prayer, and service to Dei in a monastery had not prepared him for so many years on the run, hiding under false names while he searched for the one he feared he might never find. His grizzled, greying goatee and unkempt hair might have labeled him a beggar or a desperate criminal, but the hope in his eyes told a different story. Oblivious to the nearby threat, the girl dropped the crumpled dandelion stem and stumbled clumsily near a pile of stones. No more than two years old, she waddled across the overgrown orphanage courtyard, her cloth diaper askew. She plucked more flowers, her red hair dancing as she hopped after the seeds. She seemed to favor the world as her playmate, ignoring the twenty other children in the courtyard. She bumped into a small boy, fell down, and hopped back up with a baby-tooth grin before trotting off. When she fell, a glimpse of her back jolted the man to his task. It was the blemish that beckoned him here—an ugly red scar stretching from upper back to waist, announcing her identity as the prophetic treasure he had sought for so long. The weight of the manuscript in his backpack grounded his thoughts, and he glanced around the area. There were no fences, plenty of bushes for cover, and a single matron leisurely surveying the yard. The woman sat on the aging building’s back steps, watching the little ones as they ran about. She wore a dress and would be unable to chase him. How long would it take for her to alert the authorities? As he surveyed the grounds to plan his escape, the girl waggled her hand at a passing butterfly and giggled as it flew away. Fortune favored his plans when she ran to a group of dandelions just a few feet from his hiding place. Squatting, she grabbed several stems, preparing to blow and release the seeds. The man looked over to the matron, who had turned away to manage a quarrel between two other children. Knowing this might be his only chance, he burst forward and scooped the babe up in one arm, then raced back through the bushes behind the orphanage. He ran as fast as he could, unable to avoid jostling the child in his arms. She began to cry at the shock of her abduction, still gripping the dandelion stems in one tiny fist. Back at the orphanage, the matron in the dress looked toward the back of the yard. The only evidence of a disturbance was a cloud of dandelion seeds that drifted upon the air, scattering in the light breeze. She turned to the many children she cared for, oblivious to the crime that had just been perpetrated under her watch. ![]()
GIVEAWAY! ![]() Servant of Rage
-- EXCERPT: The other hunters shied from the task, mumbled excuses and accepted easier assignments. Fool’s errands, more like. If ten years of training and two more as a hunter had proved anything, it was that Subei was not one to let an opportunity pass him by. “Let me get this straight,” Kashi said, shaking his head. “The khan marks murderers, horse thieves, and petty smugglers, but we’re assigned to hunt down the longest serving commander in the entire damned khanate?” “Assigned?” Subei said with a laugh. “Ancestors above, brother. We weren’t assigned. We volunteered.” Silence followed. Kashi’s expression, previously one of surprise, descended into a suspicious scowl. “You volunteered, you mean?” “Well, as the foremost, I speak for all of us,” Subei said, clapping Kashi and their older brother, Bataar, on the back. “So in the eyes of the khan, we volunteered.” Subei smiled. There was a significant difference between being ordered to do a thing and volunteering for it. It was the difference between mindless servitude and burning ambition. The difference between being no one and being the khan’s finest hunter. He held tight to his smile even as anger built in his younger brother’s eyes. Looked a river in the summer rains, swelling until it burst its banks. “You’re a damned madman.” “Probably.” “You’re going to get us killed!” “Probably that, too.” “Ancestors damn it, Subei! Can we not just have an easy assignment for once?” “Kashi, little brother.” Subei shook his head. Had he learned nothing after all this time? “Opportunity—” “Opportunity is missed by most because it comes soaked in blood and looks to be suicide. You’ve said it a hundred damned times.” “So what’s the problem?” “The problem is the part where we hunt one of the fiercest men the steppe has ever known, and probably end up dead as a result.” He cursed under his breath and began to pace back and forth. Always had been a bit lacking on the courage side of things, had Kashi. A trait from his parents, perhaps. Subei called him and Bataar brother, though they were not brothers by birth but rather by trade. Hunters, trained together from childhood. Subei didn’t share blood with either of them, but after twelve years and countless hunts together, that counted for very little. Kashi continued to fume for a minute before he finally turned to Bataar. “Oh, so you’re smiling too?” The big man shrugged. “It’d be a fine thing to bring down Commander Jian. Horse thieves and smugglers have gotten a bit, well, boring.” “Boring? Oh, boring is fine. Boring doesn’t end with a spear in my chest.” Bataar hefted his wicker-and-iron shield and patted the horseman’s saber at his hip. “You’re the tracker. You find the bastard, we’ll take care of the rest.” “And after you take care of ‘the rest’ — or it takes care of you — it’ll be my job to drag what’s left of your bodies back to the khan.” “Well, you won’t have to drag us far,” Subei said, savoring the best part of the news for just a moment longer. “The commander just left camp yesterday. Hardly has any lead on us at all.” He nodded to the west, through the great tent city that always followed the khan’s camp and out to the wide, windy steppe beyond. “Oh, wonderful. We can catch up to our deaths that much quicker, then,” Kashi said, shaking his head. “You worry too much, little brother.” Subei smirked and patted him on the shoulder, but Kashi shrugged the gesture away. “Someone has to, seeing as neither of you care to bother.” ![]()
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