I just learned that Sinners’ Opera is in the semi-finals of the Raven Awards. I’d certainly like for the book of my heart to win. Please, please vote at http://uncagedbooks.com/raven-awards-voting-1/
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Professor W. W. Marplot will be awarding a $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
For Arty to miss a day of school, either he is very, very sick or a fairytale-character turf-war has begun in his backyard — such as what begins this particular Wednesday. First, he finds an ax-swinging, bearded, sweaty warrior Dwarf scaring his dogs. Soon enough, Emma, Cry and other middle-school friends also find fairy creatures — Elves, Spriggans, Pixies, and a hoped-for Dragon — crashing into their normal homework-doing, backpack-carrying, phone-charging schooldays.
Why are these magical beings here? What should be done? Is that axe sharp? Can Pixies be given aspirin?
Arty with his friends — and spying jerks, and questionable strangers with long names — follow the clues and try to find out, even as things turn dark and dangerous.
The mythical beings are taking sides. The Gwyllion, that legendary Old Woman of the Mountains, has a sinister plan, turning the neighborhood into a fantasy battleground. One that awaits young heroes.
Read an Excerpt
Some can picture the battle in their mind’s eye, or in others’ eyes, or by using magic to help them see. For the rest, I can tell them what I know.
The Old Woman of the Mountains, a Gwyllion of great and strange powers, made herself stronger by taking one of each kind of fairy: to start a new kingdom in heaven, to steal the ancient place of rest, and to make new creatures and rule over all them and their world. And then, perhaps, ours.
More folktale legends joined the war, and on both sides. Some came to rescue their friends from the foul Gwyllion and her armies of Wights, Trolls, and dark spirits.
All who fight have their own special energies and enchanted abilities; some humans believe in them, most do not. But that does not always matter.
Now the battle rages, using nature, and the earth, and the sky.
In and out of the fight, many struggle to find their way back to Eastward Manor, knowing it as the path home. Some captives that can escape the Old Woman seek and find children and hide. This is a strange occurrence, the strangest of the whole story, for me. The fairies’ connection to these young people, all friends, can only be guessed, and is personal, so should not be guessed.
All the rest, of the living fairy creatures, struggle in the War. The dead only the earth can help.
To conquer the Gwyllion, I will use the spells, and counter-spells, and the ancient symbols that secretly kept the story alive for hundreds of years, waiting for this part of the tale. They complete a mystical alchemy of words and magic. I am here, I was born to be here, to help the armies of folkies, as Arty and Emma and the adopted human children call them: the Spriggans and the Dwarves and the Elves, with any birds and trees who have taken sides.
It was those human children that the Gwyllion did not count on. When Arty sent the counters-spell out to his friends of friends, as he says, the words were read, and spoken out loud, and contemplated. And passed to others, to friends, and to friends of friends, along and along. That is turning the tide—help unlooked for!
And Ted doesn’t know it yet, but our side has a dragon. My dragon.
About the Author: Professor Welkin Westicotter Marplot, of Coillemuir, Scotland, is a collector of esoteric tales of global wisdom and curator of ancient manuscripts. He is a recluse and, as he claims, has been collecting and collating adventure and fantasy stories for over a century.
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Trisha Ridinger McKee will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other tours on the stop.
Ella is a middle-aged woman with a stagnant career, an exasperated teenage daughter, and a husband that has left to make a new life with another woman. Her first attempt at dating is a disaster, and in an attempt to refocus her life and rediscover her joy, Ella goes fishing. It is here that she meets Dennis, the older, captivating man that ends up saving her life and stealing her heart. But Dennis has a history, and Ella might just be in for the biggest heartbreak of her life if she can not get her emotions under control and face the demons from her own past.
Enjoy an Excerpt
“Dennis-”
“Tell me one thing, Ella. When I messed up, and I pushed you away… did you feel just a little bit victorious because that was what you’d been expecting? You wanted me to mess up to prove your point that you couldn’t trust any man. You wanted me to mess up, so you didn’t have to take that chance on falling in love.” She started to shake her head and speak, but he interrupted, “Before you tell me that I’m being ridiculous, just stop and think. Okay? I’m not looking for assurances, I’m looking for the truth. You were waiting for me to mess up. Right?”
There were a few seconds of silence, before Ella sighed through her tears. “Fine. I was. I was waiting.”
“Right. We were both just waiting for that other shoe to drop. For a reason to push away before we were pushed. So, we were doomed from day one. I can’t do this, Ella. I can’t keep chasing after a woman that doesn’t want a relationship with me.” He paused and in a softer tone, added, “I went through that once already, and once is enough in a lifetime.” Then he got into his car and was gone, even as the tears streamed down her face. Even as she struggled to call him back. Even as she realized that she might have made a mistake in chasing away the best man she had ever known.
About the Author:
Trisha Ridinger McKee resides in a small town in Pennsylvania where there is not much to do … except write. When she is not twisting words into stories, she enjoys fishing, reading, binge-watching true crime or cheesy horror, hanging out with her bulldogs, and finding new hobbies. She shares her world with a patient hubby and an amazing daughter. She finally gained enough courage to send out her writing in April 2019. Since then, her work has appeared or is forthcoming in over 50 publications, including Tablet Magazine, The Oddville Press, Crab Fat Magazine, Kzine, Commuterlit, J.J. Outre Review, ParABnormal Magazine, 4Star Stories, Black Hare Press, Thirteen Press, and more. She won Story of the Month from 50-Word Stories. Her short story Where We Meet has been nominated for Best of the Net Anthology 2019. Her debut novel Beyond the Surface is now available on Amazon.
The Highwayman, along with The White Cliffs of Dover by Alice Duer Miller, are my favorite poems. I’ve included the entirety of the poem. I wrote a story in humble homage to this epic, and have sent it to my editor for a new anthology of the unearthly. My story Gypsy Ribbons is a ghost story about a lady and a highwayman.
Here is a bit of Gypsy Ribbons:
Hooves clattered in the darkened courtyard. Sparks shot from the stallion’s iron shoes as he slid to a halt, climbing the air in a full rear. Aidan leapt from the saddle, his red velvet cloak billowing in a bitter gust. The flamboyant cape was a slap in the face of the authorities. His smile faded as a dark premonition crawled down his backbone. He squared his jaw, ignoring superstition and the chilling call of his Irish blood. Silence ebbed and flowed like the tide of clouds washing over the moon.
Darby Manor was shuttered and barred, but Aidan knew who waited alone in a big, soft bed. His heart quickened as a bolt of desire shot through him. His love would be in her pristine white nightdress, often sacrificed to their passion along with his clothes. The thought heated him, but he had an assignation with a royal coach before dawn. Excitement glazed his skin as the scent of heather blew on him. Bloody cold night. Yet he was glad clouds hid the moon. Darkness made his job easier. He rested his whip on the cobbles and leaned on the hilt. Wind screamed around the corner of the house, whistling a lament. He hated this place. The house itself seemed to resent any intrusion.
Even the recent return of Lady Victoria Darby.
A month ago, she’d arrived in a handsome carriage on a sunny November Sunday. Since the house had been deserted for some time, Aidan was in the parkland grazing his horse before returning to the inn that was his home. He robbed the King’s Highway and lived with other brigands, but he didn’t liken himself to those cutthroats and thieves. Still, when he glanced at Darby Manor, even in daylight, shivers chased down his spine. The beautiful Lady Darby disembarked in all her finery. A blue satin dress caught the golden afternoon sun, flashing a myriad of iridescent colors. She turned, and his breath caught, but his heart leapt into a gallop. Why was there no battery of servants? Had she hurried to the country unaccompanied except for the woman bustling along in front of her?
He’d heard rumors that Lady Darby was willful and reckless. Perhaps, she’d given society the slip and escaped to the Manor with only her lady’s maid for company. The servants summoned from the village were long gone by nightfall. Darby Manor had a reputation for being haunted. Most locals believed that when the ghost sighed at the door, someone close to you was going to die. Personally, he didn’t hold with these old wives’ tales, but he had to admit the manor was a forbidding place.
A light snow began to fall, snapping Aidan’s attention back to the present. He turned up his collar against the silken mist and dusted a few flakes off his red velvet shoulders. As Lady Luck would have it, Virginia Darby had escaped the London Season and her husband. She was reckless and willful, and here he was on a winter’s night whistling a whippoorwill call beneath the Lady’s window If he were William Darby, he wouldn’t let his wife run wild on the wilder Yorkshire moors.
Goliath snorted, dancing on the slick stones. Gooseflesh prickled Aidan’s arms. The hair at his nape quivered. He tensed, his hand on his sword. I’m being watched. The feeling shuddered over him so hard he felt his insides shake. Whipping his weapon from the scabbard, he whirled. Naught but shadows fleeing from a shaft of moonlight. He shrugged deeper in his cloak and whispered a laugh.
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Paula Quinene will award a randomly drawn winner a $15 Amazon/BN GC. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
A medical doctor educated in the United States, passionate and fierce Liz Taimanglo must now fulfill her promise and return to her island home. Liz makes the long flight across the US and the North Pacific Ocean to Guam, uncertain of what her future holds. Heading into the epicenter of her family and prime typhoon season for the Mariana Islands chain, the disquiet of her heart threatens to do more damage than any typhoon might inflict on Guam. Little does Liz know, the man featured in the newspaper would indeed unleash delicious torment rivaling even a Category 5 super typhoon.
Manny Artero is adamant about fighting for his island, his culture, and the rights of Guam’s Chamorro people, after having been fired from his teaching job. That is, until Liz walks up to him with her machete-wielding eyes and her undying respect for the American military. Manny had vowed never to risk his heart again and to become a more vocal activist, but this woman threatens to challenge all his intentions about love and life on Guam. Brushing off the safer choice, he plots a series of surprises to change her mind.
For Liz, becoming a doctor of medicine was supposed to be the right path, but her universe imploded when her training failed to save the life of the most important person in her world. Though a former US Marine, Manny could no longer accept the loss of land, rights, and freedom that Chamorros continue to suffer in their own homeland. Helpless against the strengthening attraction between them, Liz and Manny must face not only their opposing political views, but the storms stirring in their hearts and the very land upon which they stand.
Read an Excerpt
Liz stood still, blindfolded. Rearranging furniture? We haven’t gone in the house yet. Water tumbled against rock perhaps, not too far from her. The striking of a match. A whiff of smoke brushed by her nose. Soft music filled the air, but Liz couldn’t make out the words because she was on edge. His surprise must be out here.
“Almost done.”
She bit her lip and swayed side to side. I might regurgitate my lunch if he doesn’t hurry up. The sun had already set so whatever he was planning, he needed to be quick. “You have about killed me with all this secrecy.” After another minute, Liz felt Manny standing behind her.
“I hope you’ll think it was worth it. Ready?”
“Very.” Liz bit her bottom lip.
“Ai, nangga hit. Wait sa’ I need to close the light.”
Oh my God I’m going to burst. It took a moment for Manny to return to her side. Liz shivered even though it wasn’t cold. It was warmer where she stood. Wood crackled. A stronger scent of burning tångantångan wood filled the air. If she bit her bottom lip any harder her teeth would puncture the gum.
The blindfold fell away. She opened her eyes and her jaw hung open; not a word came out. Liz looked at Manny then back at the firepit in front of her, a low orange flame dancing. The sound of cascading water caught her attention again. A small statue of Sirena, Guam’s mermaid, sat atop a rock. It was set off to the far-right corner with water flowing around her in a waterscape. Liz looked up. Only dusk hung over them.
About the Author:
Born and raised on Guam, Paula Quinene continues to take pride in her Chamorro heritage. The Chamorros are the native people of Guam and the Mariana Islands. Paula, like many of her fellow islanders, left home to pursue a higher education. A resident of North Carolina since 2000, Paula’s homesickness has resulted in her Guam cookbooks, A Taste of Guam and Remember Guam, and her Guam romance novels, Conquered and Stormed.
Follow Paula’s Guam food and romance novel antics here:
Welcome to my 15-week book tour which starts on April 14th and concludes on July 30th.
This tour was planned before the onset of this terrible covid-19 virus which has invaded our world. I want to extend my deepest sympathy to everyone, especially those who have lost loved ones.
A donation from me will be going out immediately to the charity I have listed below and I will also be donating 25% of any royalties from the book which is featured on this tour, to the covid-19 Response Fund. This fund gives support to preparedness, containment, response and recovery activities. The 25% of royalties will be donated when I receive the final notification of number of books sold. I am also encouraging all authors to make some sort of donation to help with the recovery efforts. WE ARE ALL IN THIS FIGHT TOGETHER!
We all are wondering what the long-term impact this covid-19 virus will be to our communities and our livelihoods, Every American, as well as the companies that have worked very hard for every author have been affected, but I have faith that we will recover from this terrible pandemic if we all stick together and we all do our part – no matter how small.
I will also be donating, (over and above what Goddess Fish is offering):
$100 Amazon Gift certificate to one randomly drawn commentator
This drawings will be done via Rafflecopter, created by Goddess Fish Promotions at the end of the tour. To all of my fellow-authors – please don’t forget our marketing representatives, book agents, reviewers,commentator’s, hosts,etc..who are probably working from home and trying to help us.
I will be posting all pertinent information on my web site www.gapainter.com
once the tour is over. The Gift Certificates will be mailed immediately after the tour is completed and the 25% will be posted once I receive Royalties resulting in the sale of all electronic and print versions of WIRED By The FBI.
I wish that I could do more, however, with every-one’s support, WE WILL BEAT THIS TERRIBLE SETBACK.
Thank you, god bless all of you and the United States of America.
Glenn Painter
INTERVIEW
Q / What is something you’ve lied about:
Can’t think of anything right now
Q/Who is the last person you hugged/
My Mother
Q/What are you reading now?
Who has time to read?????
Q/How do you come up with the titles to your book?
Mostly from the content of the story, except the one I am now working on is original. RAILROADED
By a small-town Judge and Jury
Q/Share your dream cast for your book
or title character, Leonardo DiCaprio
For his mail Girl, Jennifer Lopez
For the nympho Jail guard, Bebe Rexha, she reminds me of a younger version of Heather Locklear
For Scott Mason, Duane Johnson
~*~
WIRED BY THE FBI:-
GENRE: Suspense, Thriller
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BLURB:
Christian Romano lives his life as a con-artist, burglar, drug dealer, and a ladies’ man, using his good looks to con wealthy women out of jewels and money. When he is arrested and jailed in one of the most violent jails in the U.S. (Cook County in Chicago), a steamy affair begins with a nympho female jail guard. When he loses control of the romance, Christian must end the affair by reporting her to Internal Affairs. It turns out that she is already under suspicion for supplying drugs to various gang members inside the jail. He has to decide if he is “”rogue”” enough to help set her up for arrest. Meanwhile, the FBI wants to recruit Christian to gather information against a sadist ex-cop, Scott Mason, who has been arrested for murder. The risk? Christian must wear a wire and testify. The reward? Witness protection for Christian and his girlfriend and a modification of his prison sentence. Will Christian risk his life for a chance at freedom? Will the female sheriff “”get even”” with him? Or will his life end at the hands of the jail’s drug lords or a lunatic former cop?
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Excerpt
Something’s wrong, my intuition told me, as I stepped out of the stairwell and into the chaotic frenzy of the main hallway running under Division One of the Cook County jail.
Sergeant Ricky Walsh opened the heavy, rusted steel door leading to the death trap—that is A-B stairwell—then turned to me. “Romano, take the stairs down four flights to the bottom, I will meet you there.”
There are four sets of stairs that lead to the main boulevard on the first floor. They are legendary for the infamous men who have been butchered there, the bloodstained walls are a testament to the violence that is the norm in this building. As I begin my descent down the narrow and poorly lit stairwell, the thought hits me: At least half a dozen men have been stabbed in this exact place. The words taunt me as I step slowly down the stairs so that Walsh will have time to beat me to the first floor in the old, decrepit elevator.
When I finally make it down, I breathe a sigh of relief. But it is not Walsh waiting at the huge, steel door I am to exit. Instead of the old mick—who looked and walked like a bulldog with his perfectly groomed hair and mustache—it was one of the lackey guards. They would often hang out on the main floor waiting to proposition some poor woman coming to visit her man. I open the door and step through quickly, not wanting to arouse suspicion. But my heart hangs in my throat.
During my trip down the stairwell, the heavy steel recorder slid down my pant leg, stopping on top of my right foot. The ACE bandage, meant to hold it in place, was also dangling and ready to pop out for everyone to see. Panic set in as my mind processed a million thoughts, but I couldn’t break my stride.
It was common knowledge that this is where inmates often came out stabbing when sent to attack a guard by one of the gang bosses. Looking past the guard, I saw Sergeant Walsh bearing down on us as fast as his stubby legs would carry him.
“Hey Walsh,” I said, “the food poisoning is getting worse, I’m gonna puke all over this guy.”ng around to see what was going on. These guards tolerated zero bull, especially from a smart-ass like me.
I decided that it was quicker and easier to shove the recorder under the waistband of my jail pants and pray it would stay. After splashing water on my face, I poked my head out.
Walsh fell right in line with my cover. “We’re going to the hospital, come with me!” he bellowed.
I exited the closet, pushing the recorder into my torso as we walked past another guard. We traveled down the long hallway. Once we were far enough out of earshot, Walsh found an unoccupied attorney visiting room. As he opened the door, I scurried to the far corner.
“The hallway is clear!” Walsh yelled.
I pulled the recorder from my waistband and looked at it with disdain. Then I wrapped it tight with the ACE bandage. Although the long recording wires had to be reconnected and it only took a few moments, it felt like forever.
Then it hit me: I’m wearing a wire against one of the most violent hitmen Chicago has ever known, and this prick had been a Chicago cop. He probably knows every person who works in this jail. Getting whacked in a place like this costs less than a carton of cigarettes. What the hell have I gotten myself into? But there was no backing out, and I still had to get back to my tier.
Walsh looked at me, his brow furrowed. He quietly asked, “You alright, kid?”
“I better be. I signed a deal with the devil, and it’s time to pay up.”
I drew in a deep breath as we headed to the hospital, so we could sign in and make it look legit.
How did my life get to this point? I wondered as I followed Walsh. Growing up in Chicago, I was exposed to police corruption, murder, drugs, gangsters, and sex, oh yes, lots and lots of sex.
I had no clue of what awaited me, but my unsavory legacy was about to go down in history like crap down a toilet.
BOOK VIDEO:
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Glenn Painter is single and lives in Central Florida. He became interested in writing at an early age but did not make it his career until 2014 when he published his first book, Beyond the Sentence.
Glenn has written this story from the notes by the man who actually lived it. However, extensive research was also require in order to make the story factual.
Glenn has also founded a company, ‘Prisoner Civil Right Services.’ He is an advocate for incarcerated individuals who have had their rights violated. He is in constant contact with these individuals, their families and the council. Most of his stories are inspired by ‘factual events’ that have happened to these individuals. This makes his stories both fiction and non-fiction.
Glenn says that writing is very challenging, and you must love the trials and tribulations that come with it. He believes that patience, perseverance and determination are required essentials to see a book through to being published. The journey is just as important as the destination.
The eBook will be on sale for $2.99 and the print book will be discounted 40% on Amazon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE
One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card. The author has added some significant prizes to his tour — including an additional $100 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn commenter (in addition to the current $50 prize)
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will award a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner and a digital copy of the book to 3 randomly drawn winners via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Two strangers on the same path.
Survivors. Companions.
They will be each other’s salvation.
On a rainy, winter night, a mysterious woman in a red dress seeking shelter comes inside the restaurant Kabir was busy working in —primarily the bar— and night after night, drink after drink, she comes back to the same spot. That is where he sees her for the first time.
Hundreds of patrons around her try to speak with her daily, but she dismisses them. It appears she wants to remain in a blissful peace alone with her booze and books. After seeing the mysterious woman reading a book, and because of his shy nature, Kabir gains entrance into her life by anonymously leaving books with notes for her.
The Name of Red is the story of two strangers, two different personalities who meet on a winter, rainy night who challenge each other. They have a connection which blossoms into a friendship due to their fondness of books. But they both have secrets that can bind them together or threaten their newfound relationship forever.
Read an Excerpt
The bartender placed her drink, in front of her.
She eyed the amber liquid and the golden glow of the glass-like cubes in her cocktail. Sometimes, she ordered whiskey mixed with vodka because she liked the amber color, otherwise she preferred vodka. The bartender called it New York Whisk. She was entranced by the mini icebergs in the glass. She reached for her drink with her slim, long fingers.
Alcohol.
The elixir of her life.
The strong tonic was the only cure to her life. She lifted the drink to her lips, and the taste burned her tongue and throat.
About the Author:
Beena Khan lives in a suburb in Queens, New York in her apartment. She is 27 years old from Azad Kashmir, Pakistan. She is an immigrant who moved to New York when she was five years old. She currently holds a Masters Degree in Developmental Psychology from Cuny School of Professional Sciences. She enjoys reading, writing, and netflixing. This is her debut novel.
Website: http://www.beenakhan.com Sign up for her newsletter where you can subscribe for book news, writing tips, upcoming releases, and exclusive content!