New Adult Sci-Fi
Date Published: May 14, 2018
A science Fiction novel tangled in the psychology of being human and the vulnerability of an unconventional Love story
Grace was born a storyteller with a beautifully brilliant mind. Trauma twisted her reality into its own tale of darkness. Now, at eighteen, Grace has found herself on the shores of a shadow world created to heal a generation. A world whose purpose is to release our emotions from the bonds of youth.
But she is not alone. It's a world inhabited by others, those working on their own hearts and one other like herself. An amazing and yet afflicted empath and musician by the name of Kai that Grace feels inexplicably drawn to.
Will she be able to handle the suppressed memories of her youth? Accept the vulnerability necessary to explore her own heart and that of another? Fulfill the true purpose it seems she is destined to serve?
Come along with Grace as she learns to uncover her past, harness her gift, open her heart to love and embrace her future.
About the Author
Jocelyn Bates is a homeschooling mama to three and an arts therapist. She lives in NJ and writes in the elusive quiet that settles in the earliest of hours.
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Urban Fantasy / Paranormal
Date Published: April 1, 2018
Publisher: War Fighter Books
Everyone knows Elves don’t exist. Or do they? Daniel Thomas spent years making a career of turning his imagination into the reality of best selling fantasy novels. But times are tough. No one wants to read about elves and dragons anymore. Daniel learns this firsthand when his agent flatly says no to his latest and, what he deems, to be greatest novel yet. Dissatisfied with the turn to zombies and vampire lovers, he takes his manuscript and heads out to confront his agent.
His world changes when he finds his agent dying on the floor of her office. Too late to help, he watches as her dead body disintegrates into a pile of ash and dust. Daniel doesn’t have time to ponder what just happened as a band of assassins breaks in, forcing him to flee to the Citadel and the home of the king of the high elves in order to survive. Daniel soon discovers that all of the creatures he once thought he imagined actually exist and are living among us. His revelation comes at a price however, as he is drawn into a murder-mystery that will push him to the edge of sanity and show him things no human has witnessed in centuries
About the Author
Christian W. Freed was born in Buffalo, N.Y. more years ago than he would like to remember. After spending more than 20 years in the active duty US Army he has turned his talents to writing. Since retiring, he has gone on to publish 17 military fantasy and science fiction novels, as well as his memoirs from his time in Iraq and Afghanistan. His first published book (Hammers in the Wind) has been the #1 free book on Kindle 4 times and he holds a fancy certificate from the L Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest.
Passionate about history, he combines his knowledge of the past with modern military tactics to create an engaging, quasi-realistic world for the readers. He graduated from Campbell University with a degree in history and is pursuing a Masters of Arts degree in Military History from Norwich University. He currently lives outside of Raleigh, N.C. and devotes his time to writing, his family, and their two Bernese Mountain Dogs. If you drive by you might just find him on the porch with a cigar in one hand and a pen in the other. You can find out more about his work by following him @ https://www.facebook.com/ChristianFreed or on Twitter @christianwfreed.
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Death Logs Out By E.J. Simon GRIPPING, PAGE-TURNING THRILLER RAISES QUESTIONS ABOUT HUMANITY, THE AFTERLIFE AND WHAT IT ALL MEANS Hot on the heels of 2014’s critically-acclaimed Death Logs In, author E.J. Simon returns with the latest installment in his technological thriller series, Death Logs Out [Endeavour Media, July 2018]. In this new thought-provoking thrill-ride, Simon presents a fascinating thesis exploring humanity’s relation to technology and how it could shape the future of our world. Death Logs Out will raise new questions about everything we thought we knew about the very foundations of life – from religion, to science and technology – even the meaning of life itself. It’s been two years since Alex Nicholas was gunned down in a Queens restaurant and when his brother Michael had discovered that Alex duplicated himself on a computer using breakthrough artificial intelligence software. Since that time, only Michael and a handful of close confidants were aware of Alex's existence. Over this period, Alex has grown intellectually, emotionally…and technologically. But Alex will not remain a secret much longer. Organized crime, a sexy female assassin, and Nazi-linked scheming at the highest levels of the Vatican conspire to bring Michael’s – and Alex’s – biggest secret to light. As Michael and his brother Alex become closer in death than they had ever been in life, the book raises several questions. Is Alex really Dead? What if we could live forever, albeit in a different form? Can this new question challenge the very foundations of life - from science and religion to our everyday beliefs? Questions are soon to be answered as a murder unravels itself and takes the reader from the streets of New York to the beautiful south of France and finally threatening the Church of the highest order - the Vatican. “I wanted to write a compelling thriller that brought themes of family, religious intrigue, and how technology is changing our lives – and afterlives? – together in a way that kept the reader enthralled from page to page,” says Simon. “The book is filled with travel, food and the things that give life color.” “It’s also about family - brothers - people that live secret lives, and the deception that comes with that,” says Simon. “At heart, I love writing stories full of interesting characters that have a unique twist in the plot or premise.” Certain to cement Simon’s status as one of this generation’s most exciting suspense writers, Death Logs Out is both a philosophical exploration of the implications of modern technology and humanity, as well as a thrilling page-turner written to appeal to all audiences – technophiles and novices alike! About the Author: E. J. Simon is the author of three commercial fiction thrillers, Death Never Sleeps, Death Logs In and Death Logs Out. He is currently completing the fourth book in this series, Death in the Cloud. He is a member of the Authors Guild and the North Carolina Writer’s Network. He holds an M.A. in Corporate & Political Communications from Fairfield University and a B.A. in Journalism from the University of South Carolina. He lives with his family in Cary, North Carolina. Learn more about E.J. Simon by visiting www.ejsimon.com. Connect with Simon @jimejsimon on Facebook and Twitter and @e.j.simon on Instagram. Death Logs Out [Endeavour Media] will be available in paperback and e-book formats wherever books are sold in July 2018.
Psychological Suspense
Date Published: 08-04-2018
Laurie Brandon isn’t crazy. It’s a bout of panic that has her muttering indecipherable sounds and crying out like a mad woman, an attack brought on by her infant daughter’s sudden disappearance from the town’s annual Apple Festival. Not insanity. She needs help to save Emily. Someone has to see that, do something.
But her recent history of psychosis coupled with witness claims that Emily was never at the festival with Laurie isn’t helping her credibility. Neither is recent suspension from her job as a school teacher over stability concerns. Perhaps most damaging, though, is Laurie’s insistence that her ex-husband, Jake, had something to do with the child’s disappearance. Any sane person knows a dead man can’t run off with a baby.
The town sheriff believes Laurie is, at best, unreliable and possibly something much worse. But Laurie knows what she saw. She knows other things, too, details too hard to believe and even harder to accept. Now, she needs to convince someone – anyone – that Emily is in danger before the sheriff locks Laurie away permanently.
EXCERPT
Chapter One
Laurie
September 18, 2018
I’m not crazy. I know what I saw.
With a wave of dizziness, I hunch forward, my head hanging low, my palms pressing against a cool, hard surface. The evening sky blackens before my eyes and the chill in the air raises goosebumps on my arms despite my fleece lined sweatshirt. I can’t think straight, can barely breathe.
The silhouette in the darkness…that posture, poised to take action…
I didn’t need to see a face. I’d know that stance anywhere. But it isn’t possible.
I chew on my lip, try to gnaw the panic away. It has to be possible. I saw with my own eyes.
I can’t just stand here and wait, need to do something, find help. No one will believe me, though. It’s hard enough for me to believe me. It won’t help that everyone seems to think I’m out of my mind.
A tingling sensation shoots through my head like a strike of lightning and heat spreads through my body, starting in my head and washing through my chest. My heart beats so fast I fear it will burst. I remind myself to breathe. It’s just a panic attack. I’ve had plenty before and right now, it’s no wonder. Soon it will be over. I’ll be back to normal, get help, make someone believe me. Someone will help. They have to.
Breathe in, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three.
A fog settles in my head, sprinkling over my mind like chalk dust. I find myself gasping, my heart racing faster and harder. This symptom is new. I blink, trying to focus on the brick surface of the street but it’s a blur. The dust is growing thicker, an eraser materializing, brushing over my mind and randomly choosing which memories to wipe away.
Not my memory. I must remember.
My palms slide farther over the surface of…a table, counter…I’m not sure, but it’s rough like a sheet of unfinished wood. I lean hunched over it, struggling to breathe as I peer beneath my arm to look behind me.
Emily. My sweet baby girl.
She sits in her stroller, kicking her feet and cooing at the plush doll in her chubby fist. Cold flushes her cheeks pink, but the fleece bonnet tied beneath her chin keeps her head warm.
She’s here. She’s safe. I think. I’m not entirely sure. The fog is getting thicker, her image waving in and out as if it may not be real. I have no way of knowing. In this state, I can’t trust my eyes.
Maybe I can’t trust what I saw before either.
No. That was different. Not panic induced. Real.
A high-pitched shrill slices my skull, piercing my eardrums before fading to a crackle. Light flashes, then dozens of white stars appear.
“Laurie?” A voice slices through the static.
I force myself to stand up straight and blink. Lights swim before a backdrop of blackness and voices echo around me. Screaming. But in a happy way. The scent of grease lingers in the air, mingling with a sweet and spicy smell, like sugared cinnamon.
The lights twirl and I blink again. A Tilt-a-Whirl spins, masses of people passing in front of it. My eyes are drawn to one man, not because I know him but because he looks like a marionette, his arms outstretched, pulled by strings. My gaze follows the threads to four little dogs, Teacup Pomeranians, the kind Jake would never let me have.
“Ankle biters. Useless yippers.” I hear the rage in his voice, the unwarranted anger I’d become accustomed to. “Food for real dogs, that’s what they are.” That’s my translation, the clean version with every other word removed.
“Laurie, are you okay?” That voice again, soft and feminine, though drowning in background music.
I bring my vision in, notice a woman standing on the opposite side of a counter before me. I know her, Rochelle, a good friend of my mother’s. Two pies sit on the counter between us and she holds a wad of bills in her hand. A cool breeze brushes my skin, whisking the aroma of the pies toward me. Apple.
A memory washes over me, replacing Rochelle’s current image with one of her in my mother’s kitchen from many years ago. I see Rochelle pressing dough into pie tins, hear my mother counting with me as I measure sugar and sprinkle it over a huge bowl of sliced apples. “One…two…”
I’m five years old and wearing my favorite apron. Mom made it for me, complete with an embroidered apple on the chest. In front of me mom’s apple shaped clock ticks on the wall. Except for Christmas it’s my favorite time of year, being with mom in the kitchen and baking pies for the festival.
I blink, focus on Rochelle. Present day Rochelle. I remember. The Apple Festival. I’m in a booth selling pies to support the school. I brought Emily. My friend, Josie, came too. I look beside me, but Josie isn’t there. She must have stepped away.
Rochelle is still staring at me, her eyes wrinkled with concern. I force a smile and straighten my back, pulling myself off the countertop. “I’m fine,” I tell her. “Just getting a migraine.” I can’t tell her the truth. Everything I love is already in jeopardy; Emily, my job. Thanks to Jake, rumors of my supposed insanity spread over town as quickly as softened butter over a slice of bread.
I’m fine. I am. Postpartum psychosis, the doctor called it. My-wife’s-an-effing-nut-case, Jake called it.
Ex-wife. Almost. He forgets that part.
As I blink my thoughts away and hone in on Rochelle, I can’t help wondering what she thinks of me. Does she believe I have a migraine or is she waiting for the right moment to make an emergency call to the mental hospital?
“You scared me for a minute there,” Rochelle says, handing me the bills in her hand. “Keep the change. For the school.”
I force another smile and take the bills from her, my hands trembling with the aftereffects of my attack. I’m still trying to get my bearings, breathe in and out, slow the hammering of my heart.
Rochelle hoists her purse on her shoulder, a huge tan bag that causes my shoulder to ache just looking at it. “You sure you’re all right?”
I nod and force my mind to focus. My name is Laurie Brandon. I’m a second grade teacher. I’m in Jackson, Ohio at the Apple Festival. My hometown. I glance at the surface of the street where the booth sits, the brick street confirming my location. A few blocks away, lights illuminate the water tower hovering over the town, painted red to resemble an apple and embellished in a green leaf with a pipe protruding from the top as the stem.
I live on Mountain Valley Road. My parents are Gary and Paula Barreau. Emily is nine months old.
My heart rate slows and my body relaxes, the routine stabilizing me. I take a deep, long breath. I’m okay. Everything is fine. I’ll call the doctor in the morning. The medication she gave me has been working well. It’s just the extreme stress, my psychopath-almost-ex-husband worsening my psychosis, if that makes sense.
I remember. There’s more. I let out a gasp.
“I can tend the booth for you if you want to head home to lie down,” Rochelle offers.
I don’t hear Emily behind me. It shouldn’t surprise me. I can barely hear Rochelle over the crooning country band a block down the street. Still, I spin on my heels to check on my daughter.
She isn’t there.
My eyes shoot left to right so fast the plywood walls of the booth seem to flail. Emily… She was there just a moment ago in her stroller, wasn’t she? I saw her. I looked behind me, under my arm… I thought she was there.
My heart races again, my stomach turns, fog swirls in my brain. I can’t help questioning myself, replaying the day through my mind to make certain I brought Emily with me. I picture Josie in the booth and Emily right behind us in her stroller, just like I saw her earlier.
It was today, wasn’t it? My breathing grows faster, intensifying the dizziness. I’m not sure. The fog needs more time to clear. I force a deep breath. In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three.
“Laurie?” Rochelle’s voice jumbles with my thoughts.
I just need a moment to get through this and then everything will make sense. Maybe I’m remembering another day. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.
In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three.
But I spot something on the street. I lean in, force myself to study it, make sure of what I see.
There is no mistaking; it’s Emily’s soft pink doll. If she wasn’t here, where did the doll come from?
The next scream I hear rolling over the crowd is my own.
About the Author
Christine Barfknecht has a passion for weaving the darkest bits of the human psyche into page-turning fiction. She’s been crafting stories since before she printed her first word and credits her overactive imagination to a lifelong love of reading. She seeks out books that keep her hiding beneath the covers at night or turning pages long after her eyes begin to cross, and strives for those qualities in her own writing.
Christine lives in rural Wisconsin with her husband, children, and pets where she is also a virtual bookkeeping entrepreneur. In addition to reading and writing, she enjoys gardening, crafts, time with family, and traveling. APPLE OF MY EYE is her debut novel.
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Book Title: Signs in the Rearview Mirror: Leaving a Toxic Relationship Behind Author: Kelly Smith Category: Adult Non-Fiction, 214 pages Genre: Self-help, Relationships Publisher: Sunny Day Publishing Release date: April 2018 Tour dates: June 18 to July 7, 2018 Content Rating: PG-13 (This book contains real-life violence, but also meant for young people who are old enough to date) Book Description: What kind of person ends up in toxic relationship? And why does she stay? This searingly honest novel answers both those questions head on. Coming-out of a failing marriage, Kelly turns to Gabe out of fear offing alone. Her gradual slide into danger is at once terrifying and inevitable, and the steps she takes to get out of it will both inspire and offer help. Buy the Book:
Meet the Author:
Boston born and raised, Kelly now makes her home in Austin with her three sons and one amazing Giant Schnauzer Bullseye. Kelly has written for the Huffington Post, blogs at Thoughts Becoming Words, and hosts a podcast Let's Get Wicked Deep.
Connect with the author: Website ~ Twitter ~ Facebook ~ Instagram
Enter the Giveaway!
Ends July 14, 2018
Rival
-- EXCERPT: Staring out of the tinted bulletproof windows of the limo, I can’t tell for sure how gray the clouds are that gather above us. I hope it doesn’t rain again. It’s unsettling to come back here. To see the complete destruction of the California ocean side town that I once called home—Avilene Beach. It’s a ghost-like cemetery of charred, crumbling homes and palm trees turned askew and broken apart. Just like me. This is the direct result of my decisions. Wind skitters across the surface of black puddles racing by, reminding me of the oily blood of the Ma’tiok. It’s been just one week since my old life, my human life, ended and this new one exploded into existence. Acid rises in the back of my throat, burning hot, and I crush my jaw together hard until my lips press into a thin line. Why did Eenoki pick me? “Priestess, do you understand what I said?” Katok’s sharp telepathic tone startles me out of my immersive guilt. “Stick to the speech the High Priestess provided. Yes. I got it.” I swallow hard against the rising bile being pressed there by the trembling in my gut. What if this press conference makes things worse? “Allison, don’t worry so much. You’ll be safe.” Stephen reaches out to me and Katok snatches his hand midair, crushing it in his huge taloned palm. “Ow! Dammit, Katok!” Stephen clutches his wounded limb. I swear, that’s almost a smirk on the massive Vongjar commander’s leopard-like face. Katok’s lips curl back menacingly to reveal his white fangs and piercing resolve. Stephen knows better than to try and touch me. I sigh, and can’t help but glare at Stephen who sits across from me. His dark muscular arms are crossed hard against his white Navy button up shirt. Even with the blotchy purple and yellow bruises healing across his tense neck and face, he’s still handsome. But his haircut, shaved in military style, makes me miss his longer tawny surfer hair. “Stephen, if I can’t be the bridge between the Alliance and Earth, our world won’t survive the Ma’tiok. You understand that, right?” His angry blue eyes lock on me, softening, and he smiles. I look away and clench my fists on the cold, empty, black leather seats beside me. We can never make it work. He’ll never understand what I am, or what I have to do. I have to serve the Alliance to have any chance of getting them to fight the Ma’tiok on the ground, instead of glassing the Earth like they have so many other infected worlds. The blue tint to the air thickens as we get closer to our destination. What if I had just gone with Z’iram and left Earth behind? Maybe he would have spared those who died here. No. If we left, there would be no hope of the Alliance helping this world fight back. Any other choice would have meant the total destruction of Earth without any chance of survival. I know Eenoki is right, but the truth still hurts. The High Priestess will arrive soon, aboard the planet killer Star Fire, to judge and test me. This speech is another test, one that I can’t afford to mess up. If Kiobaan doesn’t publicly declare me a Priestess, of Earth, then there will be no ambassador to the Alliance or protection for our world. I take a deep breath and straighten the pale gown Tarem made me wear, irritated at how ridiculous I look. Not that I own any clothes besides what the Alliance has provided me. Before we left, my reflection shocked me. The way they pinned up my long auburn waves under a small crystalline hairpiece that stands a few inches high, reminded me of my vision of Aakina. The memory Eenoki shared with me from her last day alive, before she and her world were wiped out by the Ma’tiok. “How much longer Katok, until there are too many Ma’tiok for your troops to handle” His golden eyes widen. “They multiply too quick. The ground troops struggle to do more than contain them. Our current calculations project ten Earth days at most. We need Alliance support to do any more.” Katok shakes his head. Ten days left? It’s only been twenty one since the Ma’tiok arrived! Stephen leans closer. “He’s not telling you the whole story. Admiral Hurst says that there are over ten thousand Ma’tiok and infected humans on the ground, and that combined kills between Katok’s troops and the US military don’t even equal the rate that they’re multiplying at. We are losing every day.”
GIVEAWAY!
What If Series, Book #1
Romance Comedy / British satire
Clean and Wholesome
Release Date: May 8, 2018
Publisher: Pink Ink Press
Small-town girl, Katie O’Connor has always dreamed of seeing her name in lights. Check the box for fame, a movie deal, the perfect leading role that comes with a gorgeous leading man! Katie moved to Hollywood, elbows her way into auditions, lives on a shoestring budget—whatever is required to land a deal, she throws her heart into… until she’s involved in a royal kidnapping.
As the future king, Prince Alexander refuses to rule from an ivory tower. Duty-bound, he intends to relate to his future subjects, regardless of their walk of life. Before his coronation, he needs a foolproof plan to outrun his security team and go temporarily AWOL. While visiting L.A., all it takes is a sound stage collision and Alex is blindsided by a headstrong woman who is simply irresistible. So much so, he calls in a favor in order to secure her help … as his pretend girlfriend.
Their worlds are oceans apart, but their immediate attraction is impossible to put aside, especially their nonstop banter. Miffed at being wrangled into a situation that might blow up in her face, Katie comes up with her own plan. If The Prince is serious about walking the walk of the common folk, she’s only too happy to oblige as his pretend girlfriend. Through an ice storm, a road trip, kitchen duty, and a Texas pig race, Alex captures the hearts of the locals as well as Ms. O’Connor’s.
What starts out as a deal Katie can’t refuse becomes the acting role of a lifetime… letting Prince Alexander go without a fight.
A delightfully funny retelling of The Prince and The Pauper that romance readers of all ages will enjoy. On a two-week 1,500-mile road trip, Katie and Alex discover the end of the road might just be the beginning of their ‘Happy Ever After’ together.
About the Author
Southern gal at heart. Alina is a librarian who adores her job. She has a degree in anthropology from Vanderbilt and loves writing offbeat romance comedy. To refuel, Alina sings karaoke, bakes sweet treats, and can be found at the Y, kickboxing. She lives in Knoxville with her husband and Callie, their doxie mix.
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Read An Excerpt:
The fire she imagined she’d have to walk through as a royal guide, cough babysitter, might be harder than eating nails. Impressed, Katie was not. Like any good actor, she wanted to ascertain the parameters of this role, so she cut to the chase. “Exactly what is it that you expect from me, Your Royal Highness?” The Prince’s smile deepened, as if her challenge were a source of amusement. Jeffrey huffed, sliding onto the leather seat. He slammed the door shut as if to punctuate her inquiry. “Something people routinely do all over the world,” Prince Alexander supplied, not giving her an answer. It was a subtle move. What her dad classified as a perp’s first line of defense, a deflection of an interrogation question. If Sam preached once, he had preached a thousand times: do not ask open-ended questions. Slowly but surely, move the conversation in a specific direction by controlled, structured planning. Katie took a minute to consider what to say, how to frame the next question. She could hear her father’s voice. Don’t allow anyone to rush you. You own the show. She’d grown up with this type of guidance. That’s what law enforcement officers did, she suspected, all over the world as parents. They lectured. They policed. They yakked about the good old days as police. She studied The Prince while asking, “How far away are we traveling?” Alex chuckled as if that were the funniest repartee he’d heard in a while. “I’m not kidnapping you, Ms. O’Connor.” Katie eased back against the leather seat and crossed her legs. She wore skinny jeans, rolled at the cuffs above her ankles, and ripped at the knee. She lightly tapped the toe of her trainer and noticed the direction of The Prince’s gaze at her foot. A nervous habit. Stilling, she inquired, “May I have a copy of your schedule?” “Jeffrey, send a copy of our diary to Ms. O’Connor, straightaway.” “Do you decide on the events that occur each and every day?” She thought she knew the answer but waited expectantly on his reply. His Highness arched a brow. “Rarely. If there’s latitude, Lord Sizemore deals with the particulars.” “Our schedule changes, sometimes moment by moment,” Jeffrey explained “At times, we have events listed that we have no intention on attending. It’s for security purposes.” “Then how will I know what to plan, when it comes to routes and finding places to park? If I’m in the dark, it’ll prevent me from doing my job to the best of my ability,” Katie said, then added, “Besides being a colossal waste of time. Yours and mine.” For the briefest second, Prince Alexander’s eyes clouded. Then his gaze locked with hers. “It might save your life, Ms. O’Connor.” How could she be so blatantly thick? The man had lost his mother and brother because security had unwittingly been lax. She dialed down her frustration. Clearly, The Prince’s security was not a trivial matter. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Sometimes, I speak before my brain has time to decide to pull the plug.” |
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