Poetry
Date Published: January 2018
Evocative, deceptively straightforward and wry poetry that delivers a shock to the system.
Poet Mark S. Osaki covers a number of poignant topics in Best Evidence. Each poem in the four sections gives you a glimpse of a formative moment in Osaki’s life or expands your viewpoint on conflicts in the world. Some poems, like the powerful “Chinese Camp, California,” speak of a larger cultural experience and the nuances of navigating identity as an Asian American. Others still, like “Gun Song,” show the psychological and cultural impact of war. In each new work, Osaki captures powerful moments of longing and loss.
Praise for Best Evidence:
“Mark Osaki has shown himself to be one of the best poets of his generation.” -- David Rains Wallace, Author, The Klamath Knot: Explorations of Myth and Evolution
“I have found the poetic voices of Asian Americans to be among the strongest and most original in contemporary English literature. Among those writers, none impress me more than does Mark Osaki.” -- Joseph Bruchac, The Greenfield Review Press
“Mark Osaki belongs to no school, follows no master, and has stayed on the far margin of the business part of poetry. His spare style is a vehicle for an outsider’s view of our world. His poetic toughness is not for those who regard poetry as comfort. He is paring his experiences closer to a powerful reporting, as only poetry can report.” -- Leonard Nathan
"Mark S Osaki undertakes to illuminate the difficulty of establishing one's home in a nation not one's own. These often soulful poems speak to us as members of families, as lovers, as travelers, journeys a reader is rewarded for taking. -- Carole L. Glickfeld, Author, Swimming Toward the Ocean
“Mark Osaki brings a rich poetic voice to his collection of poems in his recent book "Best Evidence". He captures past and present moments, expressing hope through pain and personal loss. His work is subtle in nuances, yet possesses a keen clarity of vision and ultimately celebrates life itself.” -- Elizabeth Hack, Artist and Editor, San Francisco Peace and Hope
“Thoughtful, timely writing that demands further attention.” -- Kirkus Review
“A well done collection of poems seen from an Asian perspective of being an American. Interesting and enlightening.” -- Goodreads
“Mark Osaki’s mastery of language and his ability to elicit in his reader introspective thoughts/emotions is evident in his poetry. If you are looking to learn more about racial prejudice, war, and its resultant psychological aftereffects, this is definitely the book for you.” -- Online Book Club
About the Author
Mark S. Osaki was born in Sacramento, California. He attended the University of California, Berkeley as an Alumni Scholar and went on to do graduate work in International Relations and Security Studies.
His work has appeared in various journals and anthologies, including: The Georgia Review, Carrying the Darkness—The Poetry of the Vietnam War (Avon, Texas Tech University Press), South Carolina Review, Men of Our Time—An Anthology of Male Poetry in Contemporary America (University of Georgia Press), Breaking Silence—An Anthology of Contemporary Asian American Poets (Greenfield Review Press), Onset Review and Báo Giấy—Vietnamese Poetry.
Mark has received awards for his poetry from the Academy of American Poets, University of California at Berkeley, San Francisco Arts Commission, Seattle Arts Council and the National Endowment for the Arts.
Contact Links
Purchase Links
0 Comments
Book Title: The Mind's Eye by Perry Prete Category: Adult Fiction; 243 pages Genre: Thriller Publisher: Sands Press Release date: March 7, 2018 Tour dates: Sept 3 to 21, 2018 Content Rating: R (Violence towards women based on real life events, language, graphic violence) Book Description: Nicole Baker is a quiet girl - the type of person who is seldom noticed by anyone. That is until one day she discovers she has the unique ability to see images move on photographs. At first, she uses her ability to entertain friends at parties and work. Then senior detective Paul Hammond learns of her ability and enlists her help in a case of unsolved murders that he has not been able to make any headway on. Carl Kadner, a rookie reporter with the local paper is investigating the murders as well. And he learns what it takes to be the kind of reporter he wants to be when he puts himself in danger for the sake of the story. It is only when Carl, Nicole and Detective Hammond pool their resources that things start making sense. To read reviews please visit Perry Prete's page on iRead Book Tours.
Buy the Book:
Meet the Author:
Perry continues to work full-time as a paramedic and uses his thirty plus years of life changing and sometimes dramatic experiences to bring realism to his gripping medical novels. His other works include, The Things That Matter Most and All Good Things. He is also a business owner, specializing in the pre-hospital care field. His company sells medical equipment across North America, primarily to EMS agencies. A native of Sudbury, Ontario, Perry, graduated from Fanshawe College in London but now lives and works in Brockville, Ontario. Connect with the author: Website ~ Twitter ~ Facebook
Enter the Giveaway!
Ends Sept 29, 2018
Science Fiction
Date Published: January 2018
Alliance fleet officer Robert Sheppard and his crew aboard the Phoenix have a sworn duty to uphold order in the universe. Even when that duty means they have to put their lives on the line, each individual is ready to make the ultimate sacrifice for the Alliance of Worlds. In his latest adventure, Sheppard may have to do just that. He is facing dangerous new enemies with advanced technology, weaponry, and intelligence. It may just be his most deadly adventure yet!
When Sheppard is asked for help by his new allies, the Talcon, he can hardly refuse. From their planet-sized spaceship, the Talcon Starcity, the alien race is looking to establish colonies in the Milky Way. Their impressive technology forces most other planets and organizations to play nicely.
The Talcon have a problem that they think Sheppard can solve. Animals from Starcity are going missing. It seems like such a simple mystery, but the solution to the puzzle will take Sheppard across space and into the hands of a strange new entity. Despite his many years working for the Alliance of Worlds, there is still much Sheppard doesn’t know about the universe and its many species. He’ll soon discover some hard truths!
About the Author
Gary Caplan was born in Philadelphia and earned three bachelor’s degrees from the University of Pittsburgh, later earning M.D. and M.P.H. degrees. He serves as a Colonel and preventive medicine officer in the reserves and has published articles in medical journals. Caplan became interested in reading science fiction and fantasy books as a young man and, after practicing medicine for several years, began to write his own fiction. At first strictly a hobby, his writing flourished and he decided to publish both a science fiction and sword and sorcery novels in his spare time.
Contact Links
Purchase Links
Chicago Outlaws, Book 2
Sports Romance
Date Published: August 2018
Publisher: Hearts Afire Publishing
From USA Today Bestselling Author Magda Alexander comes a sensuous tale of love, betrayal, and second chances.
Most Valuable Party Boy
After a wild party brings the wrong kind of notoriety to quarterback Brock Parker, his team trades him to the Chicago Outlaws--as backup. At this point, he’ll never make the hall of fame. Brock’s one consolation is beautiful, hot Ellie Adams. His new sports agent, his high school tutor. The girl who got away.
Most Straitlaced Stick in the Mud
As a teenager, whip smart Eleanor Adams had fallen for Brock with disastrous consequences. But she’d picked herself up, dusted him off, and moved on. Now a sports agent, she won’t risk her chance at success. Least of all, to the playboy jock who almost ruined her life.
Most Notorious Scandal
But when another scandal threatens Brock’s spot on the team, Ellie moves in with him to save his career. Big mistake. Because she still has the hots for him. And the league’s most notorious bad boy hasn't lost the knack of getting under her skirt.
A smokin’ hot, STANDALONE, FULL-LENGTH novel with a guaranteed HEA.
Other Books in the Chicago Outlaws Sports Romance Series:
Dirty Filthy Boy
Chicago Outlaws, Book 1
Publisher: Hearts Afire Publishing
Published: January 2017
Bad boy quarterback Ty Mathews has it all--money, women, fame. On the gridiron, he vanquishes defenses with his golden arm. Off the field, it's another part of his anatomy that gets the glory. Legend has it, he only needs to crook a finger, and women come running.
Until he meets MacKenna Perkins.
The rookie reporter wants nothing to do with him. After all, she was hired to cover women's and social issues for her local Chicago newspaper, not deal with a cocky football player. But when the sports reporter falls ill, she's asked to interview a wide receiver. Knowing next to nothing about football, she fails miserably at it.
Until Ty Mathews proposes she write about him instead.
Eager to impress her boss, she accepts his offer. Too late, she realizes her heart's not listening to her head. In no time at all, she's in his bed doing all those dirty things he likes to do. A big mistake because if her editor ever found out? He'd fire her.
A smokin' hot, STANDALONE, FULL-LENGTH novel with a guaranteed HEA.
About the Author
USA Today bestseller Magda Alexander is the author of eleven books, ranging from steamy contemporary romance, to intriguing romantic suspense, to smokin' hot sports romance. A native of Cuba, she now resides in western Maryland in a city whose history dates back to colonial times. She loves to cook yummy food in her Instant Pot and spend time with her family, especially her beautiful granddaughter. Magda is a member of the Romance Writers of America and the Maryland Romance Writers. For more information on Magda's books, please visit her website at https://www.magdaalexander.com.
Contact Links
Purchase Link
The McNally Series, Book 1
Contemporary Romance
Date Published: September 4, 2018
Publisher: Readscape Publishing
Meet the McNallys, an Irish family who learn to move on from their individual personal tragedies to fall in love.
Eager for a fresh start, Jazz McNally throws herself into renovating her grandparents’ mansion in time for the grand opening of the McNally Bed and Breakfast. When vandals strike, she accepts help from drifter Dalton O’Brien. Dalton is willing to lend a hand, until it’s time to move on. But when danger escalates, Dalton soon realizes that protecting Jazz is a threat—to his heart.
About the Author
A nurse by day and an author by night, Laura Scott has written 50 books for Harlequin. To Love is the launch book in her new family series, The McNallys releasing on Sept. 4, 2018.
Contact Links
Purchase Links
Psychological Suspense
Date Published: 10/06/18
"Lock the doors and windows...don't talk to anyone...keep the kids with you."
Jenna Bradley knows she needs to be afraid, she just doesn't know what she should be afraid of. An evening phone call from her husband, Eric, rattles her to the core. "I'm coming to get you and the kids. We have to go away for a while."
No explanation, just a few orders laced in panic.
Jenna can only assume that as a reporter, Eric has exposed the wrong people. It’s only a guess. The distance between them grows every day, Eric living his life, Jenna living hers. She doesn’t know what he’s been working on any more than she knows where he went that morning. If only the gunmen holding her and her children hostage believed that.
Eric has the answers Jenna seeks, but when the engine of his private plane stalls over Lake Michigan, his desperation to get home and whisk his family to safety takes a back seat to a seemingly futile struggle to survive.
Federal inmate, Kurt McElroy has answers too, but heavy prison monitoring prevents him from sending a clear warning, not to mention getting the help he needs. The private prison he’s been contracted to is as corrupt as they come, but that corruption reaches beyond the prison walls to officials with everything to lose.
Jenna fears it's her family that will lose, namely their lives. The clock is ticking. The gunmen are growing restless. Can she find an escape before it's too late?
Excerpt
Chapter One
August 5, 7:00 p.m.
My husband didn’t even greet me when I answered the phone. “I’m coming to get you and the kids.” He sounded rushed, almost panicked, and his deep voice squeaked as if puberty had returned.
My three-year-old son sat on the kitchen floor in front of me, banging on a stainless steel pot with a wooden spoon. I pulled my cell from my mouth and cupped it with my hand. “Please be quiet, Jack. Mommy is on the phone.”
He kept beating the pot, his head jerking from side to side as he belted out a made-up song. “I want to play all da-a-ay, I want to play all day…”
Cute as could be with big chocolate eyes, smooth cherubic cheeks, and dark hair the shade of his eyes. Picture perfect, actually, the kind of child on television and in magazines. But if he had been my first, I probably wouldn’t have had Emma, so quiet and poised, the exact opposite of her brother. Thank goodness. As much as I love the little guy, I never could have kept up with two of him.
I plugged a finger in my ear, paced to the French doors, pulled them open, and stepped onto the cobblestone patio off the kitchen. “Eric? Sorry, Jack is…”
“Jenna, just listen.” Prickles stung my skin, tiny pins jabbing my flesh. “We need to go away. For a while.” His words were clipped, the steadiness in his voice forced.
“What? Why? What is wrong?”
Eric paused. “I need you to pack everything we’re going to need for the next couple weeks or so. Whatever you can fit into four suitcases. No more.”
“A couple weeks? I can’t. Lucy…” Even though I quit my job as a speech pathologist a few years ago, I continued to work with Lucy a few times a week. She needed me in so many ways. I couldn’t just leave her, especially without having a chance to talk to her about it first. She’d be heartbroken, has already suffered through more than any child should know.
“I’m sorry. We have to.” He didn’t sound sorry. If anything, he sounded like the Eric I’ve come to know lately. To the point. Distracted. Disinterested. A far cry from the man I married.
I could hear my own breath huffing over the line. “Why?”
Another pause, short this time. “Lock the doors and the windows. Turn on the security system. Stay in the house and keep the kids with you. Don’t talk to anyone. Do you understand?”
Why wouldn’t he answer my question? “Eric, you have to tell me what’s going on. You can’t just…”
“I’m sorry. Really. Lock up, turn the security system on, and pack.”
“But…”
“I’m in the Lance, getting ready for take-off.”
His plane? Had we grown so far apart that I didn’t know my own husband left in an airplane that morning?
Then again, he hadn’t known where I’d gone either.
I tried to think, picture the morning, but it blurred with every other day, the goodbyes ranging from a half-hearted kiss on the cheek to the distant click of a door. I didn’t allow myself to think too far back, remember the long, warm kisses, loving embraces, and playful touches.
“I’ll be home in a couple hours. Be ready. Stay inside until I get there. Don’t even come out to the hangar.”
The hangar was so close, right across the street. “Eric…”
He hung up.
I stood on the cobblestone with the phone still pressed to my ear. My heart pulsed in my throat, constricting it, allowing only wisps of oxygen through. I stared past the patio, the potted geraniums, and the fire pit into the forest.
Lock the doors and windows…don’t talk to anyone.
A violent shudder rattled my body. I scanned the forest twice. Was someone lurking in the shelter of the trees? I didn’t know who or what to be afraid of - or why I should be afraid at all - yet I felt cold despite the sticky August air.
Eric, should’ve given me an explanation, a clue, anything.
With a silent gasp, I jerked the phone from my ear and examined it as if I expected a rabid creature to slither from beneath the screen. Maybe Eric didn’t explain because he couldn’t. Maybe he feared our phones were bugged.
The phone felt like fire in my hands, scorching my skin, driving me to toss it across the yard and get the device and whoever may have been listening as far away as possible. I didn’t do it, though, tried to calm my mind, think logically, breathe.
My cell was always with me. Except for Eric and the kids, no one could’ve done anything to it. I allowed my arm to relax at my side, the phone still in my hand. If anyone’s phone was bugged, it was Eric’s.
I checked the forest again. I didn’t see anything, just the soft shadows of evening settling over the foliage. If anyone was out there, they couldn’t be too far. The wooded land only ran so deep before butting up to the Newman’s property. It gave us enough privacy and distance, but they were close enough that I never felt alone. Until now. Miles seemed to stretch between my home and the nearest soul. I swallowed hard, looked to the ground but even the yard took on a life of its own, breathing in hushed tones.
I shot my gaze next door. Greg Callaghan, an old friend of my father’s, lived beyond a row of Arborvitaes and through a patch of mature maples. At night I could see bits of light poking through the branches, but it was still too bright out. Was he home? Could I call out if I needed him?
Don’t talk to anyone.
But why?
I stood alone on my corner lot, a row of green to my left and forested outcroppings to my right. Prime property for Chicago’s North Shore, but it suddenly felt like an island, its natives on the hunt for me.
I chewed on my lip, the deep green of the forest fading, images blurring together like a Monet. Think…
Realization pulsed through me, an electric zing through my veins.
Eric had mentioned that he was onto a major story that would give his career a boost. He bragged that it would take him from suburban reporter to the Chicago Tribune. Had he uncovered something that put him in danger? More specifically, had he uncovered something that put the kids and me in danger?
I glanced behind me, through the French doors that led to the kitchen. I could still hear the muffled banging of wood on steel, Jack’s squeaky voice filling the void between strikes.
Jack and Emma. Why was I standing out here staring into the woods?
I strode toward the glass, catching my reflection. Just those few minutes in the humid air had managed to wilt my hair, the brown mass lifeless. I pulled the door open, stepped inside, locked the door behind me, and set my phone on the counter.
“I want to play all da-a-ay…” Jack sang at the top his lungs, accompanied by his makeshift drum. I walked over to him and squatted beside him onto the Brazilian cherry flooring, my legs weak and my hands trembling.
It didn’t matter that I knelt right in front of him, he bellowed as if he needed the volume for me to hear. The banging of the pot throbbed behind my eyes. I reached for the wooden spoon and lifted it from his chubby hand. “Okay, that’s enough for now, buddy.”
His mouth puffed into a frown, his dark hair slightly disheveled from swinging his head about. I ran my hand over it to smooth it. “But I want to play all day.” He crossed his arms.
I cleared my throat, hoping to steady my voice. “I need you to help me with something, okay?”
“Help with what, Mama?” He looked down at the pot still propped between his legs.
I slid the spoon across the floor behind me, pulled my hands together in a shaky steeple, and forced a wide smile. “We’re going to go on a trip!” I didn’t mean for my voice to slip, but it did.
Jack didn’t seem to notice. He cocked his head. “A trip?”
“Yes, a vacation. Daddy is on his way home to pick us up in his plane. We’re going to leave tonight.”
Jack smiled widely and pushed himself to his feet, kicking the pot aside. “Tonight?”
“Yep, tonight!”
He jumped up and down and clapped his hands. He tugged on my hand as if to pull me from the floor. “We tell Emma?”
My fake smile started to hurt my cheeks and the deep breaths did little to calm my heart rate. I didn’t want the kids to sense a problem. There was no point in causing them panic. “Sure.”
Jack tipped his head to the side, his deep brown eyes studying me, so warm and caring despite his young age. He inherited that compassionate gaze from Eric. I could only hope that it wouldn’t fade from my son like it had my husband.
Jack’s smile straightened. “Mama sad?”
I blinked. My eyes stung and a tear slipped onto my cheek. I hadn’t even noticed it there, had been too busy avoiding hyperventilation. I squeezed Jack. “Of course not. We’re going on a trip!”
Jack smiled and jumped. “Tell Emma!”
I got up off the floor. “Yes, let’s go tell Emma. I just have to check a few things first.” I picked up the pot and spoon, absently setting them on the counter beside a vase full of yellow roses. The kind of flowers Eric used to bring me. The flowers I now bought myself.
I allowed myself a precious second to take in the cheerful petals, relish in the peace of the sight. Yellow roses had been my favorite as far back as I could remember, symbolizing everything beautiful and right about the world. That’s how I saw them, what the brilliant petals and deep perfume aroma meant to me.
It also meant something else to me, something entirely opposite of peace. Sadness. Loss. Grief. Yellow roses had been mom’s favorite, too.
"I could really use you now, Mom," I muttered under my breath. How I longed for her calm manner, comforting smile, and encouraging words.
But all I had right then was my three-year-old, his precious face staring up at me, trusting me to take care of him, keep him safe. I held my hand out to him. “Come with me.”
Jack grabbed on tightly and toddled beside me in more of a dance than a walk. “I’m going on a tri-i-ip. I’m going on a trip.” His voice boomed as loudly as before.
I moved as quickly as I could with Jack bopping beside me. I checked the window over the kitchen sink. Locked. I stepped past the cherry cabinets to the sliding patio door at the other end of the kitchen. Not locked. I flipped the lock, tested it, and made my way to the family room, past a family portrait taken just after Emma’s birth. Eric had insisted on that photo. He'd been so excited to have a family started and wanted the moment preserved.
I steadied my hands to flip the lock on the family room window, Jack’s song still bouncing between the walls, piercing my temples. I suspected a story at the root of Eric’s call, but I wasn’t sure if he told me what he’d been working on. He could’ve shared every detail and I would’ve simply nodded, my eyes not meeting his, too many other things rushing through my mind. He brought it on himself when he didn’t put his family first. He said I didn’t get it, but it was Eric who would never understand.
Jack drifted from my side, pulling my arm as we approached the living room window. His song stopped as he looked from the television to the couch. I tugged him, hoping the motion would be enough to get his focus back.
I checked the latches on the windows, and moved toward the dining room. With a jerk, Jack pulled his hand from mine, his bare feet pattering over the carpeting, carrying him back to the window. “Jack…come on.” I walked over to him, reached for his hand. “We have to pack.”
He pressed his nose against the window, his finger pointing. “I want my ball.”
I looked out the window. On the opposite side of the sidewalk, Jack’s large red ball sat beneath the branch of a bush.
“Not now. We have to hurry.”
He wiggled away from me, his feet stomping, cheeks reddening. “I want it!”
I didn’t have time for a tantrum. Lock the doors and windows. Turn on the security system. My heart pulsed with urgency. “Daddy is going to be here soon. We have to pack your things.”
“I wanna pack my ball!”
“It won’t fit in your suitcase, but if you’re good, maybe we can grab it on the way out.” I reached for Jack, but he squirmed away and ran toward the foyer. “Jack!” I called, taking off after him. My heart beat faster, harder. I didn’t know what lurked around each corner, yet alone beyond the doors.
At the front door, Jack twisted the knob with both hands. I scooped him up and propped him on my hip, despite his kicking feet and blood curdling shriek. “Do you want to go on the trip?” My words rattled as they escaped my throat.
Jack nodded back at me, his arms crossed, eyebrows knit. Another expression of Eric’s, this one much too recently familiar.
“Then you need to stay with me. Do you understand?”
He surrendered with a grumpy nod.
I bounced him slightly. “Okay, good. Let’s finish up down here so we can go tell Emma.”
I backtracked to the library and then made my way through the dining room, the television room, back to the foyer… Still three more rooms to go, and it was only the first floor. I loved this big house. It had been a second home to my dad before he signed it over to us because of lack of use. I loved it so much that I kept it over his mansion after he died. Suddenly it seemed too big, as if there was no way I’d make it to every room in time.
But in time for what?
I moved faster, hefting Jack higher on my hip as I headed for the staircase. He started singing again, his mouth much too close to my ear. Song or no song, I was not going to set him down again. I grasped the banister and headed up the stairs. My feet moved in a labored jog, my memory attempting the same. What had Eric been working on?
The danger could be over something else, though. It didn’t have to be a story. My pace slowed, my legs heavy, rubbery. Could Eric have been involved in… What? Eric was as straight-laced as me, maybe more. But he had been gone a lot lately. I wouldn’t have known where he was. I didn’t even know he’d left in his plane this morning.
Thoughts buzzed through my mind like a swarm of bees in a shaken hive. I thought of an angered mistress’ spouse, a vengeful reader who thought Eric portrayed them in bad light, even possible involvement in a drug ring.
I continued up the stairs, Jack’s feet bouncing against my thigh, his weight burning my arms. Nothing criminal fit Eric, but I couldn’t be so sure he wasn’t having an affair. The thought made me cringe, betrayal, loss, and even guilt colliding in my heart. It wasn’t the first time it crossed my mind.
I bit my lip, didn’t want to think about it. I doubted it had anything to do with the danger we faced, anyhow. That was what I needed answers to.
I paused and shifted Jack to my other hip. It had to be a story and it angered me to even think about it. Eric didn’t need to work. We had the inheritance from my high-profile, defense attorney father to live off of. He could’ve spent his days doing the things he loved, actually living like I tried to do. Instead he insisted on working.
“I need to make my own way, Jen.”
Whatever.
I understood the need to do something worthwhile. I did that too, continued as a speech pathologist in a very part time, volunteer capacity. I had satisfaction and freedom, a balanced life that Eric was suddenly jerking me away from as if I had no responsibilities at all. Lucy needed me. I couldn’t just disappear.
I really needed to focus, get up the stairs.
“I’m going on a tri-i-ip.”
At the top of the stairs, I gently turned Jack’s face to mine and put my finger to my lips. “Shh, you’re going to ruin the surprise for Emma.”
Jack threw his hand over his mouth and nodded dramatically, his eyes wide.
I rounded the balcony and headed to the master bedroom. I’d finish locking the windows upstairs before I went to Emma’s room. At seven-years-old, my examination of the house would cause her to suspect something that Jack wouldn’t. The French doors in my bedroom leading to a small balcony had been left unlocked, so I flipped the lock into place.
I moved quickly through each bedroom, but in the guest room I stopped so suddenly it caused Jack to tense. The window hung all the way open. I know I hadn’t opened it. The air conditioning had been on for the past week and there was no way I’d have given the excessive humidity an inlet. Jack couldn’t have opened it. The window was over the bed. He would’ve had to have climbed onto it to reach the window and the comforter sat undisturbed. Emma couldn’t reach either.
I glanced over my shoulder, shifted my eyes fast enough to make me dizzy. Had someone slipped into the house?
Jack started singing again, sending my heart into my throat. I held my free hand to my chest. “Jack, the surprise,” I reminded him, once again raising my finger to my lips.
“Oops!” He slapped his hand over his mouth.
I stepped closer to the bed, hefting Jack higher on my hip as I examined the cream colored carpeting and nightstand near the window. Nothing seemed out of place and the carpet still looked freshly vacuumed. I squinted, inspecting the window. The screen was locked in place. I reached up, slapped the window shut and secured the latch. No one could’ve come in. If they had, I’d at least have seen a footprint. Maybe Eric had opened it before I last vacuumed and I didn’t notice.
The logic did nothing to calm me.
I stepped into the hallway and made my way to Emma’s room, wishing my hands would steady before I got to her. Surely, she’d notice.
I tapped on Emma’s bedroom door and then slowly pushed it open. She rested against a pillow on her bed, her fingers sliding over a tablet. Princess, the white Persian kitten we’d given her for her birthday, snuggled on her lap. Emma looked at me as we stepped inside.
I set Jack down and he ran over to her and jumped on the bed. “Emma, we’re going on a trip! Daddy’s coming to pick us up right now!” Startled, Princess hissed and then jumped to the floor.
Emma started to reach for the cat, but turned to me, her smile wide and eyes shining. “Really, Mom?”
I tried to act excited and hoped the red had faded from my eyes. “Yes, really!”
Emma sat up straight and held her hands together, her shoulder-length blonde hair bobbing. “Where are we going?”
Good question. Just play the game, Jenna. “I have no idea. Daddy said it was a surprise!”
Emma squealed. “Maybe Disney World?” She’d wanted to return to the happiest place on earth since we left there two years earlier. Jack would have no memory of the trip, having been just a year old and spending the week in a stroller. We’d planned to return there someday, but I doubted Eric was whisking us off to any such place now. By the way he sounded on the phone, I pictured a secret hideaway in the middle of nowhere.
I cocked my head. “Well, I don’t know about that. Wherever it is, I’m sure we’ll have fun.”
“Can Princess come?”
Another good question. If I couldn’t talk to anyone, how could I arrange for someone to take care of the cat? We couldn’t just leave her here for two weeks. I nodded to Emma. “I don’t see why not.” Eric wouldn’t be pleased, but I didn’t care.
“Yay!” Emma slipped from her bed to the floor, straightened her pink flowered t-shirt, and gingerly limped toward the kitten. “Did you hear that, Princess? We’re going on a trip and you get to come, too!” It triggered another round of song from Jack.
“Okay, Jack. Enough. We know.”
He smirked at me.
Emma ambled toward me, dragging her left leg. Her hip always bothered her most after she’d been still for a while. So many tests and Irritable Hip was the only diagnosis the doctors could come up with. Nothing seemed to be wrong with her. They said she’d outgrow it. I hoped it would happen soon. She’d been dealing with it for five years now.
“Okay,” I said, holding my hands up to get their attention. “I need both of you to listen carefully. Daddy is planning on being here in just a couple hours. We need to pack fast.”
Jack ran for the door. “Where are you going, buddy?”
“To pack my stuff.”
Keep the kids with you.
I waved my hand, motioning for him to come back. “Let’s make this fun. Why don’t we take turns helping each other pack?”
“I wanna go first!” Jack squealed.
I glanced at Emma. She rolled her eyes, more hazel than brown like mine. “Just let him, Mom.” She leaned into me, held her hand next to her mouth as she whispered, “Maybe then he’ll shut up.”
I nodded and winked at her. “Okay, Jack gets to go first.” I still needed the luggage from the basement storage room. I also had to flip on the security system from the panel in the master bedroom, but I couldn’t do that until I knew that everything was locked in the basement. I should’ve thought to check that before coming up here.
“Before we can help Jack pack, we need to go downstairs to get our suitcases. Why don’t you both come help me.” I turned to Emma and took a glimpse at her leg. She might not be ready for a trip down the stairs.
I glanced to the window and then back to my daughter. “Do you think your hip is okay or should we wait a minute?”
Emma walked back and forth across her room a few times. “I’m okay.”
“You must have been up recently?” She never moved quickly this soon. It could take up to an hour before she felt capable of taking the stairs.
Emma nodded, squeezing Princess in her arms. She followed behind me with Jack marching behind both of us. I moved slowly in case Emma had problems. She gripped the railing, taking each step slowly, favoring her hip while hugging Princess to her chest.
I paused. I could’ve left her in her room, let her walk it off for a bit while I checked the basement. Jack could have stayed with her, too. I’d be able to move faster on my own, make sure the house was as secure as I could make it. We weren’t too far down to turn back.
But, I thought of the open guest bedroom window. It was better that they stayed with me. Just in case.
I moved slowly down the stairs, allowing Emma time to recover after each step. We made our way to the main floor and then down a second flight of stairs to the finished basement. We passed through the recreation room, past the air hockey table, and to the storage room. I flipped the light and quickly retrieved our bags.
Jack took his own suitcase, and Emma reached for hers with her free hand. Princess dangled from her other arm, seemingly oblivious to her position. I closed the door to the storage room, both kids behind me. “I just need to check the locks down here. Gotta make sure everything is locked up tight before we leave.”
When I felt confident that every lock was latched, we made our way back up to Jack’s room. “Okay, Jack, pick out your favorite clothes. As many as you can fit into your bag.”
I paused, looking at my kids. The security system still had to be turned on, but I couldn’t let Emma see that. She’d know something wasn’t right. I normally only turned it on before I went to bed or when we left the house, if I remembered to turn it on at all.
There was a panel in my bedroom at the other end of the hallway. I’d be fast. I’d been through the whole house and no one was here. “I just have to check on something, okay?”
Jack didn’t answer. He scrambled to his dresser, tossing aside different shirts in search of his favorites, his song beginning again.
Emma plugged her ears. “Mom, can you tell him to stop?” She dropped onto the bed with her kitten.
“Jack,” I held a finger over my lips. “Let’s do this quietly, okay?”
“Okay,” he whispered loudly. In the same loud whisper, he resumed singing.
Emma rolled her eyes. At least it was a little less annoying. I stepped across the hall toward my bedroom. I’d move fast. I knew I had to. Despite my rush, I welcomed the break from the kids, the moment to stop my fake smile and excited words.
As I stepped into my room, the anxiety bled from me. My heart pounded as if I’d just run a marathon and my breathing returned to quick gasps. My arms hurt from my efforts to keep them from shaking in front of the kids so for the moment, I let them go, watched them tremble at my sides.
That moment was all I would have. I stepped to the wall beside my closet, searched the security panel, selected the right setting, and punched in the code. Now I just had to keep Jack and Emma away from the windows and doors. Easier said than done, especially without scaring them.
Despite the four windows in my bedroom, it began to darken in the eerie orange sunset. An amber glow highlighted the down comforter on my bed. Just that morning, I’d woken beneath it with Eric by my side, each of us in a hurry to get away from the other. At least, I assumed he couldn’t wait to get away from me. If that wasn’t the case, whoever called him at the crack of dawn must have convinced him otherwise.
It took little to separate us, so unlike when we first met in a creative writing course at Northwestern. Back then, we looked for every excuse to spend our free time together.
“Do you have some time to help me with a stanza tonight?” I’d ask him, really just wanting to be with him, but also enjoying the inspiration for my poetry.
He never declined and it wasn’t like I had to ask often. Eric usually beat me to it. “Coffee tonight? My plot is weak and it would really help to bounce it off you.”
We fell for each other fast and hard, each of us no longer needing an excuse to spend time with the other. Now, it felt as if nothing could keep us together. I looked away from the bed. It was time to get back to the kids and play calm again.
I paused. Silence. Jack was never quiet for long.
The next sound I heard was my heart pulsing in my ears.
I sprang for the door to get to my kids, but stopped with a start.
A rumble.
And then a shrilling scream. “Mama!”
Jack.
About the Author
Christine Barfknecht has a passion or weaving the darkest bits of the human psyche into page-turning fiction. She is the author of Apple of My Eye and the upcoming The Man I Knew. She lives in rural Wisconsin with her husband, children, and pets.
Contact Links
Purchase Links
Twilight Siege
-- EXCERPT: On the other side of the bed from where I sat the air shimmered with magic as a man materialized. Merlin stood opposite me, his features wrought with concern. Each time I saw him he looked exactly the same, whether it was as a vendor in a Belfast market twenty years ago, or a patron in the museum on my first day of work a month ago. White-blond hair neatly styled and sharp ice blue eyes softened by a few wrinkles in the corners. He looked sophisticated and worldly, but at that moment he also wore compassion and grief. Our eyes held each other for a long pregnant moment, long enough to further thaw my ravaged emotions. I had thought I would have nothing to say to this man who had set the events in motion that led me to the absolute lowest point in my life. However, seeing him stand before me, I had questions that needed to be asked. “Why have you done this? Why me?” My voice was no more than a whisper. “I spent years in that market, watching and interacting, knowing I had to find just the right child. Someone who was receptive to the magic, someone who lived far away where Morgan would not find them. When you approached my booth and were drawn instantly to the necklace, I knew you were the one.” “Did you know it would make me Fae?” “I wasn’t entirely sure, but I had my suspicions.” “Did you think about the other impacts on my life, the effect it would have on my loved ones?” “Nothing I could say or do will ever ease the burden of what I have forced upon you. There are some of us who bear a disproportionate degree of hardship in life, whether owed to circumstances of our birth or a course of events during our lifetime. There is never a reason adequate enough to justify our struggles sufficient to ease the burden. The only balm that will help you is that which comes from the acceptance of your circumstances. Once you let go of how you got to your current situation and look toward how you can improve your future station, then you will be enlightened in a way that is truly empowering.”
GIVEAWAY!
Historical fiction
Date Published: 9/1/2018
Norway is a destroyed country at the end of World War II. After a relentless German occupation, Norwegians have lost more than imports and exports, everyday goods and services, communications and social events. Norway lost more than 10,000 men and women in the resistance as well as in slave labor and concentration camps scattered throughout Europe. Norway lost hundreds of teachers and religious leaders who died resisting Vidkun Quisling, the head of the Norwegian Nazi Party. Quisling’s demands for Nazi indoctrination to be taught in schools and churches forced teachers and pastors to quit their posts and work underground. Perhaps worst of all, Norwegian children were deprived of their childhoods, a most precious commodity.
It seems a horrendous assignment for Phyllis Bowden, a young woman in military intelligence assigned to the Office of the Military Attache in the American Embassy in Oslo. Her official tasks include intelligence duties and finding families of lost loved ones. These duties, as tough as they may be, pale when she’s faced with something that occurs outside the office. One night Phyllis finds a runaway child in a café bathroom one night, a little girl labeled a quisling because her Norwegian mother married a German officer. A contentious purge has overtaken the country and quislings are not to be tolerated. But the girl has been tortured and abused by the time Phyllis finds her. She's faced with the conflict of doing the right thing or doing what the government dictates. Either way could have international complications.
Meanwhile the love of her life, Joe Schneider, an Mi5 agent, has disappeared in Romania while on assignment and it's a race to find out what's happened to him. Between nerve-wracking tasks in her job, trying to decide the fate of the little girl and being heartbroken over Joe’s disappearance, Phyllis is in for the struggle of her young life and intelligence career.
About the Author
SJ SLAGLE started her writing career as a language arts teacher. Her initial interest was children’s stories, but moved on to western romance, mysteries and historical fiction. She has published 24 novels, both independent and contract. SJ contributes regularly to guest blogs and has her own blog called anauthorsworld.com in which she discusses the research involved in the books she writes. SJ has established Twitter and Facebook fan bases, a quarterly author newsletter and a website under her pseudonym: JEANNE HARRELL at jeanneharrell.com.
Her first historical fiction novel, LONDON SPIES, was awarded a B.R.A.G. Medallion in 2018 and Slagle was a finalist in the 2017 UK Independent Book Awards. She was given the Silver Award with the International Independent Film Awards for her screenplay called REDEMPTION. SJ conducts writing/publishing symposiums in her local area. OSLO SPIES, her second historical fiction novel will be published in September. She lives and works in Reno, Nevada.
Contact Links
Purchase Links
The Warrior Princess
-- EXCERPT: Cooper I come to, groaning as several of my senses are assaulted at once. A putrid, decaying smell tickles my nostrils, and I’d probably puke if I was human and capable of vomiting. Moans, cries, and screams filter into the room from somewhere outside. Shivers tiptoe up my spine as a blast of cold air sweeps over me, and my arms ache like a bitch. A dull pounding in my head and pain burning at the back of my eyes make seeing difficult, but I push through my discomfort, forcing myself back to consciousness. Slowly, my vision clears, and my surroundings come into focus. “Mad Dog and Beck are still unconscious,” Dane says into my mind. “Where are we, and how the fuck did we get here?” The last thing I remember is being ambushed by Alandra and a bunch of goons outside Kylie’s house. I put up the mother of all fights, but I was outnumbered, and they had the element of surprise. It’s embarrassing how easily they overpowered me after that. My head spins around, my eyes scanning the small cell. The walls are exposed stone, and the floors are coarse black slate. It’s dirty, cold, and unforgiving under my butt. There is little natural light in the room, the only glimmer of brightness trickling in through a small, open window above my head. Beck, Maddox, and Dane are all stripped to their boxers, arms elevated, and wrists bound together, chained to the stone wall. I look down at myself, confirming I’m in the same predicament. “Where’s Alinthia?” The connection that bonds my brothers and I to our girl thrashes anxiously about, trying and failing to locate our missing piece. “Where is she, Dane?” “It’s not good, Coop, and it’s all my fault.” Copyright © Siobhan Davis 2018
GIVEAWAY!
|
Archives
February 2023
|