Bragging Rites Unleashed

PROMO: Christmas Hope

2011-12-20T03:23:00.000-08:00

Hope Robinson, soon to be Hope Clark again, is freshly separated from her husband. The Christmas Caribbean Cruise that was meant to be their 10th wedding anniversary is now a trial run for their new lives as single people. Hope even has a list of objectives: meet new people, sleep with someone other than her husband. When playboy Giuseppe Moretti offers to buy her a drink and help her enjoy the cruise, Hope has a choice to make….

Excerpt:

His fingers squeezed hers in a warm, comfortable handshake, and a spark of excitement shot up her shoulder.

How long since Josh’s touch elicited anything remotely as exhilarating as this?

“Hope,” she introduced herself. Then, after a tiny hesitation, she added, “Clark. Hope Clark.” There. She’d done it. Used her maiden name again and the world hadn’t collapsed in a tearful heap around her.

“May I buy you a drink, Hope Clark?”

“You may.” With that, she put a big, fat, Giuseppe-shaped tick next to Action Point Two on the list. Action Point Two, Meet Other People.

Action Point One had been Going On This Cruise As A Single Person. Originally, she had booked it as their tenth wedding anniversary celebration, a deluxe stateroom with a huge bed and a balcony, lured by the photo of a couple taking their morning coffee on their private sun-drenched deck. To Hope, the picture represented the very essence of contentment. A lazy day spent with the man she loved….

“Do you like Club Penguin?”

The question brought Hope back from her dreamland. “Pardon?”

“Club Penguin,” Giuseppe repeated. His voice, thick and rich, made Hope think of Christmas eggnog. “The bar on Level Eight. Shall we?”

She nodded. Didn’t care which bar. Tick the box next to Action Point Two, that’s all she wanted.

More here: http://redrosepublishing.com/books/product_info.php?products_id=1150

Coming on Thursday....

2011-04-19T19:03:00.001-07:00

Red Rose Publishing is about to release the second book in the Cruise Ship Adventures Series by Eve Summers. Following on the hot sales of "Dance Like Everyone Is Watching", "Elevator With A View" offers a unique (if spicy) view of cruising.

Eve Summers: Chat this weekend

2011-02-02T13:21:00.000-08:00

Eve Summers: Chat this weekend: "Come join me at Love Romance Cafe this weekend, hear me chat about my books and win a give-away or three.... In the USA, the time of the cha..."

Abandoned Towers Magazine Issue #7 now in print!

2010-11-01T12:14:00.000-07:00

If you'd like to look through the issue before you snag your copy of it, I've created a nice flash flipbook for you. You can find it here:

Abandoned Towers #7 Flash Flipbook

Now what are you going to find inside? Here are a few excerpts:

Observations of Bravery by Chad Weiss
To better understand cattle, I’m going to relate several background stories. Normally, our cows calve on their own in a field around April, unless a spring snow storm strikes. But over the last few years I have been building a purebred herd by buying a couple bred heifers each year. And being purebreds, they’re bred to calve in January, thus the calf will grow enough to be sold as a yearling bull the following year.
Typically these animals are gentle, but last year it was a cold January evening when I was going out to chase the heifer in the barn, and found a wet, slimy calf floundering on the straw. Back to the house I went for re-enforcements; me and my parents returned to get the calf into the barn. Normally a heifer won’t chase, so with a blanket to keep most of the embryonic fluid off of me, I grabbed the calf.
It was near dark and cows can’t see well at night. The heifer had calved and was half-scared of her own calf as she rooted it around, licking and bellowing at it. When I appeared and with a bed sheet flapping, grabbed her calf. Even under all these circumstances a heifer typically won’t chase, but she did.
Her first bunt caught me on the right hip as I carried the eighty pound calf. I flew into the air, landed on my feet and desperately tried to run, but she caught me again. I skidded and flew across the pen with her rooting me while I held her calf. If I’d dropped the new born, she would have charged overtop it while rooting on me. Finally, my mother yelled at dad to do something. He ran in and spooked the heifer past me, letting me run through the gate and to safety.
This aggressive maternal instinct isn’t always a bad thing. When our cows are on their own, they need to protect their calf from predators such as coyotes, and take care of their baby. Unfortunately, this one didn’t recognize the difference between me and a coyote!

Azieran: Creed of the Desert Kings by Christopher Heath
In the scorching, sandblasted lands of the Arubis desert, there walked a hero swathed in white wraps from head to foot, akin to a bandit but undeniably something more. The filigreed shield upon his back gleamed of polished steel, reflecting the sun’s unrelenting kiss as a burning, lidless eye. Several guardsmen within the great walled city Hatarri spied his ghost-like form wavering through the heated air, and choked back their fears at the champion’s approach. The rumors of his coming were true, almost prophetic.
“Emir Mahtta!” cried a messenger, “The one called Kizil’ky is at the front gates.”
The portly but muscular noble choked on a grape, nearly spat it out, before swallowing with instinctive greed. He wiped the juice from his braided beard using the back of a hand, causing minute attached bells to chime in exultation. Mahtta’s cheeks flushed red, showing embarrassment at being unnerved before a score of personal guard, and suddenly his anger flared; he kicked a bowl of fruit from the woven carpet onto the flagstone floor and all shuddered, wondering if his displeasure would soon be directed toward them. The emir stared at the sea of faces blanched by fear, and found comfort.
The aristocrat composed himself, leaning back against the many colorful silk pillows which comprised his throne, and tried to relax among the winds of his fanning girls as the plumb-colored incense smoke swirled wildly about like mercurial gossamer ribbons. Before his third deep breath, the thin-framed vizier, Al Qadif, had crept forward between gold-plated censors and spoke.
“Would you have me send him away, my emir? Perhaps tell him that we do not deal with mere couriers; The Grand Mage should request a proper audience and show himself alongside utmost respect.”

Nessie by Doug Hilton
Day 131: The trip here wasn't easy. The landing was worse. Now we're in big trouble. This is my diary, but I doubt that anyone will read it. Our commo gear is hosed – too bad I didn't upload the other 2 volumes when I had a chance – now it's too late, meaning that bandwidth is too precious to waste on the trivia of a diary. Still, I wish that it would get back home someday.
My lovely Maggie died 2 months ago and I still don't sleep well at nights. There was a small fire while she was sleeping and before the alarm roused her, the toxic chemicals in the air overcame her. The rest of us were able to get our breathing apparatus on, and I tried to get to her, but Maggie was independent and liked to sleep in the escape pod, away from the noise and bustle of non-stop activity. By time I got to her, she was dead and gone. I can't get the picture of her bulging eyes and swollen tongue out of my mind.
Sue, Don, Glenn and I are going to bury Maggie here if we can get the mech-shovel to work, but that's taken a low-priority compared to getting us to the Martian Pole. We have to get there in order to get water. And that's not going to be a cake walk. We landed 100 klicks south of our planned destination and now we will have to make a forced march, dragging along all the gear we can stand to carry. Captain Don keeps reminding us that our chances are "non-zero," but we all know that things can be mighty small and still be non-zero.

The Ghosts of Memories by Timothy A. Sayell
The Instinct led her out here. She tried to convince herself that she was scrounging for the glowing toadstools, but in her heart, she knew the truth. It didn’t stop her from telling herself the comfortable lie. Visha drew her beetle to a halt and dismounted beside a colony of toadstools growing from the cavern floor. Theywere almost as tall as she, and the skins on their caps were smooth.
“Weird, unnatural urgings,” she muttered in sulking tones as she stepped towards the glowing fungi. “Compelling me to journey into the wilderness! Home! Civilization! Two whole days behind me!” Shereached for her skinning knife, and the darkness came alive with a spine-chilling shriek.
A hairy shadow as large as her beetle sprang at her. Its eight spindly legs hit the rocky cavern floor; its hideous body knocked her off of her feet. Her dark face turned upward and she saw shiny, black fangs clicking in the dim light. The monstrous head lunged toward her. She rolled to one side, and then sprang to her feet, drew the katana from its sheath on her back, and leapt at the spider. The spider drew away and Visha landed beside the glowing toadstools. She swung her blade back and forth with all her strength, grunting with the exertion of each pass, and drove the monster back. A loose rock stole her foot from under her and she collapsed to one knee with a pained and panicky, “Oh!”
With a nightmarish hiss, the spider struck her with one of its forelegs. The impact plucked her from the ground and flung her several feet away, knocking the air from her lungs, and the katana from her hand. Her weapon slid across the cave-bottom and came to rest near the feet of her beetle.
Visha’s expression twisted with horror. Sword, she thought, Get the sword. She scrabbled for her feet, but the monster shouldered her back to the ground, its stiff, quill-like hairs digging into her naked arms like darts. The black beast lunged at her with its clicking fangs, and she rolled to one side. It lunged again. She rolled the other way, swung her foot and slammed her heel into one of its eyes. It shrieked in pain and Visha scrambled to her feet, snatched her sword from the floor and plastered her back against her riding beetle.

Eve Summers: Review for "Dance Like Everyone's Watching"

2010-10-06T16:04:00.000-07:00

Eve Summers: Review for "Dance Like Everyone's Watching": "Wow! I'm walking on sunshine, dancing on the ceiling, stars in my eyes, all the usual clichés. Why? My latest Red Rose release, 'Dance..."

The Embraced: Scribal Love: Erotic Romance Writer - Eve Summers

2010-09-23T04:29:00.000-07:00

The Embraced: Scribal Love: Erotic Romance Writer - Eve Summers: "Scribal Love Welcomes Author Eve Summers! Thank you for the opportunity to appear on your blog, Clare. I'm definitely ready to be Embrace..."

What if you were a baby dragon... all alone?

2010-08-15T09:53:00.000-07:00

When WarmthInMorningSunAfterALongWinterNight heard a tattletale pebble go bouncing down the mountainside, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was doomed.

The creatures had been watching her from afar for days, she knew, but Wimsaalwn could not fathom how they had guessed exactly when to come for her. Just hours before she had shed her scaly armor-hard skin so her eggs would not be deformed while she gave birth to them. In a few days her skin would have hardened back up, but the hunters were here now.

So be it, she thought in despairing resolution. I will die, and I will soar the aftersky with Stalatl today. But I cannot come before him and tell him that our children never got to live their lives. I would die again of the shame.....

So begins the journey of a small, orphaned dragon named Tephra. With mother and father dead, unable to fly or breath fire, newly hatched from the single remaining egg of Wimsaalwn's clotch, how will she survive? The world is a big, cold place for any young thing, even baby dragons.

For more information and a special release price, please go here >>>>>> http://bit.ly/babydragon

The Alpha

2010-06-21T01:00:00.000-07:00

BLURB:

Someone is about to get some Spice in his life.

Spice has nothing but the clothes on her back when she returns to Chicago. She's looking for a better life, and that means reuniting with her estranged twin sister, Sugar. She isn't thrilled to find out Sugar's boyfriend is a vampire. But then she meets Eric, once the bottle-cap-glasses wearing nerd next door - now grown into the kind of man she'd love to snuggle with on this cold winter night...and he’s offered her his room in Sugar’s house.

Eric can’t believe Spice has returned. He’d given up hope of ever seeing her again, let alone having her stare at him as if he’s sex on a stick. But now that all of his fantasies for them are coming true, reality rears her ugly head and Eric must tell Spice his intimate secret; he’s actually an Alpha werewolf looking for his mate and he thinks he’s found her.

Buy

Excerpt:

Sugar had everything Spice wanted; a loving man, friends, and a home.

“Daedalus let you cut your hair?” A short man built like a bodybuilder approached her.

The awe in his voice snapped Spice out of her self-pity and the protector inside reared its head. This was the second reference to someone allowing her little sister to do something. “What do you mean ‘let me’?”

What kind of relationship did Sugar have? She needed permission to cut her hair? Maybe destiny brought her back to Chicago to save her little sister from some monster. Again. All those bad things happening to drive her here couldn’t be coincidental.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Where is my sister, and what are you doing in her house?”

They glanced at each other, confusion apparent on their faces. “What?”

The man in the kitchen stuck his head out of the door, chocolate brown eyes wide as he stared at her. “Spice?” The smile he’d given to her when he thought she was Sugar returned but wider.

Her heart skipped a beat. In the light his face seemed familiar as well. “I know you.”

“You should, we were only neighbors forever as kids.”

“Eric!” He had grown. Stupid, of course he’s changed. But she never expected that the skinny, lanky bottle-cap-glasses-wearing nerd would develop into a charming, handsome I-wanna-snuggle-you-on-a-cold-night kind of man. “Hi.” The jobs as a hostess, a bartender, and the most recent, a stripper taught her how to talk to men the way they liked. But with him grinning at her like a happy puppy, her mind went blank.

He swept her into his arms in a bone-cracking hug.

“Wow, I’d forgotten Sugar had a twin.” The redhead scratched his chin. “You look exactly alike, except your hair is short.”

Eric set her back on her feet. “Let me take your coat.” He tugged on the belt and untied it. To her surprise, the small action sparked warmth between her thighs. Not like he took off her clothes but she began to wonder what it would feel like if he did.

Their eyes met. His pupils dilated, the chocolate brown faded to amber, and something feral peeked at her.

She gasped and stepped back.

The pretty oriental girl took her arm and dragged her into the living room. She chattered about making tea, but Spice’s attention riveted on Eric as he stood with the men surrounding him.

What the heck? She’d seen need in men’s eyes before but this was darker, deeper, and so much more alluring.

The redhead tried to take Eric’s arm, but he shook it off and stomped out of sight.

Spice sat on the overstuffed couch. “What did you say your name was?”

“Katrina.”

A dainty, petite girl with long black hair to her knees, yet she gave Spice the impression of great strength. Life in Vegas taught her to be an excellent judge of character. Too bad it had taken her so long to learn.

“I’ll be back in a minute. You stay while I make tea.” Katrina slipped away to the kitchen.

Every flat surface in the living room held a book. Soft cover, hard cover, tattered, or new, Sugar loved her books. The walls were lined with shelves filled with them. Spice picked up the closest one and smelled it. The scent of paper always reminded her of her twin.

The large, square coffee table in front of her held the game Risk. Different colored pieces lay scattered on the thick blue carpet.

Game night at Sugar’s house. She glanced at the hallway. With Eric. Many questions formulated in her head. What happened to her reclusive sister over the past two years? When did she get friends? Probably when her only one, me, left town. Did she hook up with Eric?

Hope sprung in Spice’s heart. Her attraction to him was out of character. She usually loved them tough and bad. Maybe he could be the new beginning she’d come home for.

Annie Nicholas
http://www.annienicholas.com/
http://www.annienicholas.blogspot.com/

A New Birth of Freedom - alternate history and time travel from Robert G. Pielkecy

2010-06-15T09:08:00.000-07:00

Basket of Goodies

2010-06-04T11:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, I promised a contest to launch my young adult historical novel, Caves, Cannons, and Crinolines, so here it is. I’m still working on the details, but the winner will receive a basket of goodies including:
A signed ARC of Caves, Cannons, and Crinolines

A gift certificate to Amazon.
Bookmarks and other stuff I’m thinking about.

So what do you have to do to enter? It’s very simple. Just go to my blog and leave a comment about how you’d feel if you had to live in a cave or wear a crinoline petticoat. Choose either one. Be sure and add your email so I can contact you if you’re the lucky winner.
Thanks for making Lizzie’s launch a good one. Best of luck.

Contest ends June 15. Winner will be announced soon after.

Contests and Blogs

2010-05-31T06:36:00.001-07:00

Discussing the To Be verb and basic formatting at my personal blog this week.

http://annienicholas.blogspot.com/2010/05/to-was-or-not-to-was-and-format-basics.html

Also, Paranormal Romantics is celebrating its one year anniversary this month. Starting tomorrow, June 1, we will be giving away a prize every day. Then to end the party we will be drawing for a grand prize. It begins with Rebecca Royce on Tuesday who is giving away a copy of Her Wolf. For more details see today’s blog:

http://paranormalromantics.blogspot.com/2010/05/one-year-anniversary.html

Annie Nicholas

www.annienicholas.com

New Release: I Want To Know What Love Is

2010-05-27T04:23:00.000-07:00

I WANT TO KNOW WHAT LOVE IS
a contemporary romance by Eve Summers

Amy doesn't know what it feels like to be in love. Which is pretty sad, when you stop to think about it, and Amy stops to think about it - oh, just about every day. Her fantasies are populated by men who look like movie stars and act like heroes from romance books, while her life is full of men who only think about their careers and who wear stress like a medal for bravery.

Or was, until now. Dan is Amy’s scuba diving buddy and the best-looking bloke in the office. Zorro, their Tahitian diving instructor is every woman’s secret fantasy, the kind you blush about in the darkness of your bedroom and never ever discuss with your girlfriends.

Amy doesn't know what it feels like to be in love. Will she choose the right man?

Excerpt (R16):

Amy felt her cheeks roast under his gaze. It was one thing to flirt with him back at the village to the rhythm of the wild drums, quite another to flirt when she’d already accepted his invitation to a night of hot sex.

“You look lovely in pink, Goldilocks.”

He gestured towards her salmon–rose cocktail dress, but she knew he meant the blush that had now spread all the way to her throat.

She needed a diversion.

“Tell me about the boat’s engine.” Men could always be distracted with machine talk.

“Are you asking about the size?”

Damn! The cursed blush was back. Don’t think about it.

“Why don’t you show me the bridge? Or the steering room, whatever it’s called.”

His face was deadpan. “It’s called a cockpit.”

It would be.

Zorro kissed her as soon as they reached the cockpit, a perfect mix of urgency and deliberately slow relishing. His tongue tasted of seawater and fire.

Amy felt her nipples strain against the thin material of her dress. She didn’t care whether it was love or lust she was feeling, she didn’t need labels or perfect definitions of what love was. All she needed was Zorro’s body pressed against hers, like this, and his hands in her hair, like they were now, and–

He broke the kiss and Amy opened her eyes.

Bingo!

There, on a side table, in a silver ice bucket, was a bottle of champagne. Zorro’s words came back to her: Now that I’m no longer your instructor, how about a bottle of champagne on my boat, followed by a sunset dinner and a night of hot lovemaking?

A bottle of champagne? Check.

Boat? Check.

With a bit of luck, they would skip the sunset dinner and…

“Would you like to drive?” she heard Zorro’s whisper, she felt his tickling breath in her ear.

“Huh? Oh, your boat, you mean. Yeah, sure.”

All her senses ablaze, she watched as Zorro awakened the purring machine.

“Here, take the wheel. Gentle movements.”

She looked at the controls for the first time, expecting something the magnitude of an average car’s steering wheel. “Zorro,” she exclaimed, “this is enormous.”

“Yeah,” came the smooth reply. “I get that all the time.”

Buy link: http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/product_info.php?products_id=781

Time in a Bottle, Volume 1 - now in print

2010-05-24T14:49:00.000-07:00

It's been a long, hard road, but we're finally here!

When we put out the call for submissions, we never expected to get flooded with so many entries and we never expected those entries to all be such good pieces of writing. But we did get flooded and they were, which made choosing the stories for volume 1 more than difficult. We're still choosing stories for volume 2 and 3. But volume 1 is now available to purchase. It's not on Amazon yet (and we don't make much money if you buy it there, anyway), but it IS available here <- click that

It's a steal at only $15.00 plus shipping! Here, for your reading pleasure are some excerpts from the anthology:

======================================
From Goblin Lullaby by Jim Hines:
Grell stepped to the edge and studied the woods below.

Goblin blood turned the earth a gruesome shade of blue. Elves wove through the trees, making no noise save the twang of bowstrings and the ripping sound of blades tearing through goblin armor and flesh. "Defended yourselves? Next time, why don't you defend yourselves over in the hobgoblin tunnels rather than sneaking onto our land to do it?"

The archer caught his companion by the arm. "She's an old woman, Jonathan. With a child."

"She's a goblin, Rindar." But he relaxed slightly. He was bulkier than his companion, and the mane of red hair meant he was no elf. Red stubble dotted his chin, though he was too young to grow a proper beard. He wore a heavy mail shirt, with a green tabard depicting a white dragon coiled around a tree. "If we let her live, she'll lead another attack against us."

Grell kicked the corpse of the goblin drummer. "If you let me live, I'll go back to the nursery and get some sleep."

"I won't risk letting you go free," said Jonathan. "Not until my quest is complete."

Grell rolled her eyes. "What is it about you humans and your quests? Last month it was that knight who wanted to hunt a dragon. Before that it was the wizard and those little fellows. But no matter how important these stupid quests are supposed to be, you all have time to stop and kill goblins along the way."

Jonathan glared. "You're lucky honor prevents me from slaying women or children, goblin."

Grell would have to remember that. Next time, they should send an all-female group to ambush the adventurers.

======================================

From The Worth of a Man by Lyn McConchie:
John nodded thoughtfully. "Why not put a secret lock on the forward shift. Just allow the gate to move up a little, maybe a thousand years; add locks to let you move it forward in irregular jumps, as you need the advance. It's the first time we've been able to move forward since you discovered the effect. Surely that'll keep the president quiet?"

I did, and it did-for a while. But I was scared. My father had been a scientist before I was ever conceived. It was some of his own discoveries that had given my family its initial status and money. He'd written papers on time shifts, and it had been his theories on which I'd built. He had been convinced, and often said so to me, that to tamper too far with the past would damage or alter the present.

He'd died before the first gate I'd built had ever worked. But whenever I read his old papers I had that unpleasant feeling at the back of my neck that says you're hearing the truth. In the fifteen years since I'd opened the first time-gate, we'd looted widely.

======================================

From Two Seconds Ahead by Rob Rosen:
"Lightning," Verne cautioned, turning to his friend.

"Huh?" came Merle's distracted reply as he tapped the golf ball into the hole.

"Lightning." The word was repeated and joined with a pudgy finger pointed towards the stormy distance.

"So wha . . ." Merle almost managed to utter.

Almost, but no cigar.

In the time it takes the lips and the teeth and the tongue to form the letter "t", a bolt of lightning can come and go. In fact, in that briefest of instances, it can crack and burst right through your very skull. Well, through Merle's skull, at any rate. As was, of course, the case.

"What the he . . ." Merle also almost managed, but a "ck" isn't any faster than a "t", and not even half as fast coming out of one's mouth as a white-hot shot of lightning is out of the sky. In other words, though the odds were dead set against it, Merle got walloped good and hard by just such a shot. Twice. Back to back.

It was, it seemed, a bad day for odds.

======================================

There's lots more where those came from, too. In fact, here's the entire Table of Contents. So if you don't get a copy of the book, well then, just look what you're gonna miss out on! Buy Now

Goblin Lullaby by Jim C. Hines
The Neverstone by K.C. Shaw
The Worth of a Man by Lyn McConchie
The Seal of Mon' Ta' Set by Christopher Heath
An Honorable Race by Colin P. Davies
What Does Luck Taste Like? by Danny Birt
Dallas Through The Looking Glass by Ken Goldman
The Plot to Kill Claus by Clyde K. Elsie
Two Seconds Ahead by Rob Rosen
The Time Machine by Courtney Burback
Reparations by Merrie Haskell
On The Edge by Bonnie Rockwell
The Second Gift by Seth Skorkowsky
Saving the World from Sleeping in by Rachel Swirsky
Zen and the Art of Time Travel by Robert Neilson
On Camlann Field by Charles Kyffhausen
The Master of Time by James S. Dorr
After Nightfall by Jonathan Shipley
Of Fire and Time by Silvia Moreno-Garcia
The Time Traveler's Happily Ever After by Jordan Lapp

MuseItHOT! Publishing: Tears on a Tranquil Lake now has a cover!

2010-05-13T18:22:00.000-07:00

MuseItHOT! Publishing: Tears on a Tranquil Lake now has a cover!

What if the battle of Gettysburg had never happened?

2010-05-09T22:21:00.000-07:00

Announcing the release of a very special Science Fiction novel:

A New Birth of Freedom by Robert G. Pielke

It has taken centuries to recognize that all humans possess certain unalienable rights. There will come a time when we have to consider whether others deserve those rights as well.

That time will come on July 4rd 1863.

=============================================================
When a stranger carrying a shiny,metallic valise steps aboard a train carrying Abraham Lincoln home from a 2 year stint in Congress, everyone stares, wondering about the stranger's odd clothing and strange footwear with the word Nike emblazoned on them.

When the strange man shows up in Lincoln's office at the White house 14 years later, still wearing the same clothes, carrying the same valise and looking not a day older, the president and his staff know something is odd.

But when Edwin Blair opens his valise and projects a 3d image of the Earth on Lincoln's wall, then proceeds to tell a fanciful tale about time traveling aliens preparing to land at Gettysburg on July 3rd, they are sure they've met a lunatic.

Unfortunately for them, they're wrong.

~*~

Read an excerpt from A New Birth of Freedom

When Blair reappeared precisely ten seconds later, everyone, with the exception of Lincoln, was still staring at where he had been. Lincoln had immediately faced the window, and thus saw him fade back into existence. A faint smile touched the president's face and he cleared his throat. Everyone else whirled around and stared at Blair with eyes wide and mouths agape.

Uh oh. Blair slipped the device off his arm. "Gentlemen, it may seem like I've preformed magic, but I assure you, I have not. The scientists who explained things to me said that every place and time has a unique set of vibrations. They said a lot more than that, in fact. It seems like scientists are never capable of giving simple explanations, but what they said boils down to you just change the settings and it moves you from one place and time, to the other."

"How...," breathed Washburne, "does it do that?

"I can't explain it very well, Mr. Washburne, and certainly not like they explained it to me. My understanding is that it re-situates a person, and anything or any other people that might be connected to that person, from one place and time to another. You can schedule your re-situation for a time or place of your choosing and you can go back to where you began, but you can only take back what you brought with you. It's dangerous to do this, however, so if you don't mind, I won't repeat the demonstration." Dangerous for you, that is, and I don't want this to turn into a circus.

Washburne's face had turned ashen gray and he was shaking, but he managed to stumble over to Blair and touch him on the shoulder, as if to confirm his existence. All the others continued to stand motionless.

Not good. Either they're going into shock or they're on the verge of worshiping me. Let's try this. "Think of it this way," Blair moved over to his valise and replaced the object into its compartment while talking. "Every tick of your pocket watch is unique. All this device does is allow me to pick out the specific tick I want to visit, and go there."

Lincoln raised his brows and observed in a voice that exhibited both calm and awe. "This reminds me of Hamlet when he tried to explain the apparition of his murdered father to his friend. To quote, 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'"

"And so there are, Mr. President," Blair said with a nod. "So there are." He shut and locked the valise.

The others, gradually recovering, found seats, but continued to stare at Blair.

After a few more moments of strained silence, Lincoln drew in a deep breath. "Now, Mr. Blair, what has this marvelous contraption that moves you through time got to do with the problem you mentioned, or the one confronting us? What advice can I possibly offer you? What do you want from me?"

"Let me answer the second part of your question first, Mr. President. I wish to borrow the entire Army of the Potomac for several hours on the third of July. This coming Friday."

Buy books. Mention this post when ordering any book from a Cyberwizard Productions imprint, and receive 10% off your next order.

LRC's Best of 2009 Awards

2010-02-16T05:09:00.000-08:00

To find the nominee list (including the nominated Eve Summers books), please go to the LRC's files section of the lop and scroll down till you see the nominee list. Then make your choices for each category.

Link to LRC is: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/loveromancescafe

NOTE- You must be a member to access the files.

Email dawn_roberto@yahoo.com with "LRC's Best of 2009 Awards" in subject line.this is important - anything else will get deleted.

Voting ends on 22nd with the 23rd as a deadline for those in other time zones/countries to get their votes in. Anything after the 23rd is thrown out unopened so make sure the votes are in before the 23rd of February.

Award winners will be announced on 2/25 at NOON EST on the LRC's yahoo loop from noon-2 PM EST.

Abadoned Towers Magazine issue #5 - look what's coming!

2010-02-04T10:21:00.001-08:00

Issue #5 goes on sale on March 1.

Here's a little taste of what's you'll miss if you don't get a copy:

Table of Contents
Zap Zachary Returns by Stoney M. Setzer
Gold by Arthur Mackeown
Ray Guns by Doug Hilton
Othan, Debtor by Kurt Magnus
The Horrors of War by Chris Silva
Mindforms by Dal Jeanis
Jeffrey’s Story by Guy Belleranti
Final Score by Brad Sinor
Riding to Hounds by Thomas Canfield
Copper-bottom’s Downfall by Arthur Mackeown
The Last True Gunslinger by Y.B. Cats
The Empty Chair by Malcolm Laughton
‘ware the power by Jack Mulcahy
Call of the Northern Seas by Norman A. Rubin
Across the Plains by Lou Antonelli
Hobocop by Kevin Bennett
The Grave of Armond Balosteros by E.W. Bonadio
The Last Saguaro by Doug Hilton
Odds Are by Kevin Brown
Grief, father dead, bathroom adrift with manta rays of green towels by Harry Calhoun 33
Black Bird by Thom Olausson 2009
Searching for my Dream by John William Rice
Proudly Stupid by Christopher D. York.
Night Walk Demise by Carl Scharwath
Dimuendo’s by Thom Olausson
Android Attack coloring pagey by Richard H. Fay
Interview with Poet and author, Alex Ness
The Man-Thing by Eric S Brown
Fantasy Artist Johnney Perkins
Nexus Point Recipes by Jalea Clegg

Artists in this issue
Cover Art -Zap Zacary Returns by Richard Svensson

Illustrations -
T. A. Markitan
Copper Bottoms Downfall
Riding to Hounds
Gold

Aidana Willowraven
Othan Debtor
Last Saguaro

Brad Foster
Deep into the Core
Hobo cop
Black Bird

Hugh Howey
The Horrors of War

Anna Repp
Mindforms

Now here are a few excerpts:

Zap Zachary Returns

By Stoney M. Setzer

Clint Adamson wanted to throw the cell phone across the room. “You can’t drop me!”

“Look, I’ve tried everything,” Phil Jeffers countered. “Movies, TV, reality shows, even commercials, but nobody’s interested. I warned you that you’d get typecast!”

“But you’re my agent! You get paid to find me work!”

“I get a ten percent commission, but only if I find you work. Last time I was in a math class, ten percent of nothing equals nothing. I hate doing this to you, but the standards of my profession dictate that I have to devote my time to clients who can actually make money. I’ve got bills to pay!”

Clint nervously ran his hand through his hair. “But I’ve got bills, too! What am I supposed to do now?”

Phil released a deep sigh on the other end. “Man, I don’t know what to tell you. I just wish you would have listened to me and not done Zap Zachary for five seasons.”

“I kept telling you, that was the role I was born to play!” Clint looked at the décor of the studio apartment, which consisted almost entirely of Zap Zachary memorabilia, from posters and photos to toys and models. He had been a huge fan of the comics as a kid, and once he had been cast to play him on television, the fervor was rekindled anew.

At least, he thought he had been a fan of the comics. He was slightly unsettled to find his childhood recollections were suddenly a bit hazy.

“Even if you had only branched out a little, taken a movie role here or there, we’d both be much better off right now. Look at your old co-stars!”

Ouch. During the show’s five years, the entire cast had taken other acting jobs on the side, and all of them were still working now. At the time, Clint had thought that all of them were disloyal to the roles that were bringing them fame, almost as if they were cheating on their characters. Hindsight being twenty-twenty, he could see Phil’s point only too clearly.

========

The Last True Gunslinger

By Y.B. Cats

Gunslinger Red Bandana stepped into the street, accompanied by the ting-ting from his spurs and a dry desert wind. Sunset orange tinted the town’s storefronts and softened their boxy angles; in this hue the town could deny its bloodlust and dress up in romantic lore, if it wanted. Alas, Rio de Roja did not favor romance, only blood, gore, and glory. No respectable townsperson would admit it, but they lived for a chance to see gunslingers felled by each other’s bullets. Even now, “good” townsfolk hid behind cover that allowed a glimpse into the street.

“I’m gonna make sure everyone sees yer ugly face, Red! I bet under that bandana, you’re so ugly even yer mama won’t stand fer it!” Gummy McGee cawed like a carrion-eater from street’s end. He twirled his pistols – slick, flashy silvers – and dropped them back into their holsters. Red pictured Gummy’s tombstone – Here lies Gummy: who picked a fight with Red Bandana, because he was a dummy. Rio de Roja’s undertaker fancied himself a poet.

The only problem was, Red couldn’t see. Gummy made sure he took the street end where he could stand with his back to the sun. The big orange ball glared as it slipped behind the western horizon, and a squint didn’t help. Here lies Red Bandana: done in because he couldn’t see, the fool before him, Gummy McGee.

“Red,” a water barrel in Red’s peripheral vision tried to get his attention. It wasn’t the water barrel, but someone cowered behind it. “Before you git mad, I just want you to know, I have ’em right here.”

“What, Justus?”

“The bullets,” Justus replied. “The bullets I forgot to put back in yer gun after I cleaned it, like Susanna told me.” Red Bandana didn’t sweat at gunfights. Icy rivers coursed through his veins. He didn’t taunt, he didn’t gloat, he pulled his pistol faster than any man in the west, and everyone knew it. At his brother’s confession, though, a hot itch tickled his armpits.
====

Mindforms

by Dal Jeanis

1. Arrival at Zard

Since they believe they’re all the same, I approach the first Zard I see, a big and squishy lump resting under a volcanic rock formation. His flock scatters at my approach, mostly fat little greenfish and striped zoupies, but then they drift back to hover around us. He extends an eyestalk in my general direction and emits a typically slouchy query.

“Thalen, as Ambassador,” I answer crisply, but I allow the sense of my long journey, curiosity about my predecessor, and my interest in the Ancient ruins to enter the water as well. ‘Ambassador’ is the agreed-upon translation, since these soft cousins wouldn’t understand the scientific term for what I do. The gentle current blows our thoughts downstream to our left, and I see another slug begin to react to the conversation.

The herder’s flaccid posture is difficult to read, but the scent of his amused curiosity washes across me. Apparently he wonders why I am punished this way. He wouldn’t possibly believe I volunteered, unless I told him in full memory. His disbelief heightens my awareness of the supplies and mind pods strapped across my back and between my rear legs, my last links to the sanity of my prior life. I plant all six legs, wide and relaxed, and open my vents to breathe deeply.

“If my presence would be disruptive, I could return later?” I add the obvious sense that the disruptions could be mutual.

“You smell smarter than that, crab. Proceed.” He produces a courier sack from under his body and contorts it into place on the vent between his limp first and second legs. The sack inflates with his memory of the conversation, which he hands to me. “Give it to anyone who asks. He’ll replace it.”

The drag of the sack comforts me as I climb over the formation, picking my way through edible anemones, and approach the oldest buildings in the world.

They loom many bodies high, an artificial ravine in the amazing stiff and square construction that I and my colleagues have not been able to reproduce. The tops fairly glow from the daylight filtering through several meters of clear water, but the bases have a more comfortable level of illumination.

According to the claim of the slugs, their ancestors created this cubic grotto. I can neither accept nor refute the idea. The ancients lived in close proximity to one another, hundreds of individuals, just like the slugs now weeding away plant sprouts and feathery animals from the smooth skin of the buildings.

The constant low smell of slug thoughts lies like silt over the scene. But Zard remembers nothing of methods or means, sciences or symbols. The contradiction will not resolve.

I savor the moment, clarify it, condense it, and put it into a pod for later analysis.

An ancient evil... an immortal warrior. - Michael Ehart's The Tears of Ishtar now availble from Ancient Tomes Press!

2010-01-29T19:30:00.000-08:00

From the sands and cities of the ancient middle-east comes an epic story of bloodshed, love and betrayal. Award-winning fantasy author Michael Ehart spins a tale that echoes with the blood and thunder of the golden age.

Bound by an ancient curse, serving her master in bitter unwillingness, the Servant of the Manthycore must lure the greedy, the unsuspecting and the unwary into the desert to feed the insatiable beast to whom she is bound. Centuries of combat and murder have made her a swordswoman whispered of in the marketplaces, feared in the back-alleys and sung about by the campfires of the caravans. The passing centuries of betrayal and death have stolen her humanity and even her name, leaving only a glimmer of who she once was. Her only hope is to someday meet a greater warrior than she, and so be freed.

Striding across the background of civilization in its youth, in the time of the first great heroes and the cities they built, she becomes more than a woman, and as her legend grows so does her determination to someday be free of the great beast who she serves. Goddesses, bandits, soldiers and kings fall beneath her sword as she fights her way to discover a path to freedom.

Ancient Tomes Press is pleased to announce the release of fantasy author, Michael Ehart's new sword & sorcery epic, The Tears of Ishtar.

Michael Ehart has been at various times all the expected
things: laborer, seminary student, musician, shoe salesman,
political consultant, teacher, diaper truck driver, stand-up
comedian, and the least important guy with an office at a
movie studio. He currently works as a computer security
systems engineer. He made his first sale to a magazine at
age 15, which means he has been writing for nearly 40
years, with the aforementioned occasional breaks for gainful
employment.

Several of the short stories that make up a portion of The
Tears of Ishtar have been nominated for various awards,
including the Million Writers Award and top ten finishes
in the 2007 and 2008 Predators and Editors poll.

Come with us now as we journey with Ninshi in her quest to free the person dearest to her heart from the great and terrible beast that holds him in thralled - the Manthycore! Will she succeed? Will she survive? Only time will tell if love will triumph over evil!

Click here to read a free preview!

Don't wait, Click here to grab your copy today!

First review for Buried Angel

2010-01-25T04:26:00.001-08:00

Don't you love getting reviews? Especially ones that are glowing! This is the first review for my latest release, Buried Angel, a Shannon Wallace Mystery and it received a 4.5 out of 5 !

You can find it here Cafe of Dreams

Blurb :
Shannon Wallace is finding trouble in the most bizarre places these days, but not as bizarre as the ones her sidekick Dwayne Brown is finding. When his friend. Bubba, is found stuffed in a cooler in his flower shop, the hunt is on to find his killer.

Could it be Bubba’s sister who is now his heir, or maybe one of the flower shop guys who works with Bubba? You can be sure the dreadful duo of Shannon and Dwayne won’t rest until they have helped South Lake’s police department, and the Hispanic hottie investigator, Sal Ramirez, find his man. Or was that woman?

Buy it here:
Red Rose Publishing

I am STILL on book tour for Buried Angel and you can still win! Join me by following my stops listed on my The Official Kim Smith site

Looking what you're missing out on!

2010-01-24T20:31:00.000-08:00

When was the last time you visited Abandoned Towers Magazine for a quick snack or a long lunch? I mean emotionally and spiritually of course.

Unless you make a habit of eating at your computer while reading fantastic works of fiction, uplifting bits of poetry, and silly stuff guaranteed to make even the grimmest reaper grin.

Just to give you a taste of what you're missing out on, here's a little excerpt from a brand new story:

The Tower of Dreams

By James Lecky

If there is one thing I learn from a life of magic it is never trust a hobgoblin. Now, this is not a thing I say lightly, because the other thing I learn from a life of magic is to keep the mouth shut as much as possible. An acquaintance of mine, a mage of some great note, was one time heard to utter the immortal phrase ‘Well, I’ll be damned’, only to find that the gentleman in red pyjamas is appearing right at his side to take him to the Hot Place.

But the incident I am telling about happens in that time before I learn that hobgoblins are the least trustworthy of all the short folk. It begins, as do so many of the unfortunate things in my life, with the sound of no coins clinking in my purse and me in the tavern known to one and all as The Jolly Strangler.

I am sitting with a half-empty rather than half-full glass in that little booth mid-way between front and back door; a position which I find conducive to health and well-being as it enables a fellow to watch both doorways at once and make like Wing’d Mercury should unwelcome creditors arrive at either.

And since I am keeping my eyes and amulets peeled for gentlemen of the larger variety I also remain oblivious to otherwise until a hand touches my knee.

My subsequent scream wakes a slumbering ogre by the fire who mutters something about bones into bread before heading back to the arms of Hypnos and his castle in Nod.

==============

You can read the rest of that by visiting Abandoned Towers Magazine at http://cyberwizardproductions.com/AbandonedTowers, clicking on the button labeled Fantasy, and then clicking on the title of the story.

Novel plot pacing

2010-01-03T14:00:00.000-08:00

Hello again on another cold Sunday afternoon.
I've been thinking a lot lately about the pacing of my books. Had a couple of editors complain that my stories do not start out with a bang. I know we're told to begin with a strong hook and I know how to do that.
My problem is, after I start the story I want to carefully weave backstory into current action, and if it takes several pages for the reader to fully know my characters, so be it. I don't know about the rest of you but it really bores me when a writer has the heroine getting all hot and bothered about a love interest even before I have a clue who the irresistible hulk is; much less having him rip her clothes off and ravish her to her delight. If you're writing more than an erotic short story, how do you follow that act?
Speaking of romantic fiction, I can't help thinking the best sensual writing is a bit like an old fashioned striptease . The 'lady' comes out fully dressed and begins a long slow dance, allowing first a wrist, maybe an ankle, to become exposed. Bit by bit, her clothes disappear as she dances her seductive routine. Not until the very end of the number does she appear in the altogether and, even then, only briefly before the lights fade to black for, in truth, the sensuality and not the nudity is what turns men on.
What I'm working for in my writing, romantic or not, is to emulate that level of sensuality that will captivate my reader. I'm not talking here about erotic writing. I am talking about literary artistry. Call me unrealistic if you want but I try to turn every story into one that very well could be considered a literary work of art.
Two members of my ancestral family were considered top drawer writers; Mark Twain (whose lineage carries directly to me through my mother) and Jame Whitcomb Riley (by way of my father's family). I'm sure you all know about Twain but you may not know J.W. Riley. He was poet laureate of the great state of Indiana late in the nineteenth century and the creator of 'little orphant Annie'. I can't say for certain about Riley but I have it on good authority that when Sam Clemens wrote TOM SAWYER he had no idea it would eventually be considered a classic. He was writing what he felt needed to be written to make it successful as a novel.
What do you think? Should we be writing 'what will sell' in order to earn a living in much the same way reporters write the news stories each day? Or should we be aspiring to create works of art that readers will enjoy? Hmmm...

Please vote for my cover

2010-01-03T04:23:00.000-08:00

My publisher is holding a book cover contest. Please go have a look at http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/contest_jan.php - you can win cool stuff! And if you consider voting for my cover, "Danger, Word Games" with that super semi-naked hunk, I'll be much obliged.... :-)

Top Ten: "Like a Virgin"

2009-12-24T13:26:00.000-08:00

"Like a Virgin" was released on December 24, 2009, and is already number 10 on the Red Rose Publishing IR Bestseller List.

Special Deal: buy "Like a Virgin" during December 2009, and then email yve@xtra.co.nz - every purchaser will receive another Eve Summers book of their choice absolutely free.

Buy Link:http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/product_info.php?manufacturers_id=155&products_id=636

I've been interviewed!

2009-12-15T14:12:00.000-08:00

I've been interviewed by Linda Faulkner on http://lindamfaulknertips.blogspot.com/2009/12/interview-with-yvonne-eve-walus.html.

Coming soon from Red Rose Publishing

2009-12-13T14:02:00.000-08:00

I am very happy to report that my next Shannon Wallace Mystery will be coming soon from Red Rose Publishing . January 14, 2010 to be exact!

This time, when Shannon and Dwayne are hired to videotape mysterious goings-on in the local cemetery in South Lake, Mississippi, they find more than just old tombstones, including a “plot” that has nothing to do with the dead!

You can visit the coming soon page for this fun zany new mystery here: BURIED ANGEL and don't forget to mark January on your calendar! I will be on Virtual Book Tour and I hope you will make plans to visit the sites. They will be listed on my website at THE OFFICIAL KIM SMITH

See ya there!

Announcing the release of Poet Burgess Needle's new collection.

2009-12-11T21:57:00.000-08:00

Diminuendo Press is proud to announce the release of a wonderful new book of poetry by Burgess Needle.

Burgess Needle is inspired by the natural wonders of our planet, the virtuosity of contemporary poetry, love, friendship and the two-edged sword of 21st century technology. After earning a degree at the University of Massachusetts, Burgess joined the Peace Corps and taught English in Nangrong, a small village in northeast Thailand. Many of his later poems were based on the people and events that touched his heart during those two years.

After returning to the United States, he worked at a variety of jobs that ranged from manufacturing cans to injecting plastic molds. Eventually, he decided to seek a less dangerous, more stable and ultimately fulfilling livelihood so he became a school librarian.

There may still be some former students who remember Mr. Needle's somewhat scary impersonation of Edgar Allan Poe. Congruent with his years as a librarian Burgess attended writing sessions led by Tucson poet, Will Inman, and read at local venues. For several years, he and Tucson poet Michael Rattee published a poetry quarterly: Prickly Pear/Tucson. Burgess has also been a co-director of The Southern Arizona Writing Project and has had his poems published in a variety of magazines.

Get your copy of Every Crow in the Blue Sky today!

Buy books. Mention this post when ordering any book from a Cyberwizard Productions imprint, and receive 10% off your next order.

Great holiday ebooks, anybody?

2009-11-30T14:31:00.000-08:00

Ready for great holiday ebooks? Join Echelon Shorts between December 1-December 12 as they celebrate 12 Days of Great Reads!

During this celebration, Echelon Shorts will be brining you the best new holiday releases and posts each day from the authors. Find mystery and romance, mainstream and fantasy, thrillers and young adult stories. The release schedule includes short stories from Carl Brookins, Austin Camacho, Mary Cunningham, Lois Carroll, Christine Verstraete, Michelle D. Sonnier, Lance Zarimba, Karen Syed, Yvonne Walus (yes, my own "Hanukkah Time Capsule" is one of the books), Jeffrey Martin, Vonnie Winslow Crist, and Regan Black.

Stop by http://echelonshorts.com to find these posts and stories and for your chance to win free ebooks!

And so it ends...

2009-11-29T18:48:00.001-08:00

2009, that is. Almost to the end and I swear the year just got started!

There's a whole raft of cool stuff for free sitting on the Abandoned Towers website, just waiting for you to come explore

And 4 print issues now!

What are you waiting for? I've got the sale's records, you know. And it pains me to say that there are very few sales of each print issue.

Everyone wants to be IN print, but no one seems to want to BUY the print issues once they're created.

It's not easy, putting a print issue together, you know. It takes a lot of work. A lot of time. A lot of blood, sweat, and tears! (stop humming, I don't mean the old rock band).

So, how about putting your money where your mouth is?

Wander over to the AT website at http://cyberwizardproductions.com/AbandonedTowers and pick up one (or more) of the print issues today. Show the authors that being in print truly isn't a guarantee that their stories won't be read.

Thankfulness Month

2009-11-14T17:17:00.000-08:00

Hi, my name is Ginger Simpson and I've been absent from the blog for quite a while. First, leave it to me to develop something called Parvo B19, a virus that sounds dog-related, but it's not. I got it from my grandson who had "fifth's disease" something else I'd never heard of. Fifth's is also called slapped check disease. Anyhow, the adult virus is horrid and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. It takes anywhere from 6 weeks to a year to recover, and I'm still working on it.

But, this month, on my blog, I'm hosting a wide array of authors from all walks and genres who've come (and will continue to come through the month) and post about the things for which they are most thankful. I would love for you to visit and show them some support, and that you're "thankful" to have them around.

So, Dishin' It Out is full of interesting posts this month. Come see for yourself. Next month, I'll be posting letters to Santa, so if you are writing to the bearded chap and want to share, let me know.

Announcing the Marsh God Graphic Novel

2009-11-08T15:11:00.001-08:00

Before you read this post, you MUST watch Bruce Durham's fantastic trailer

Dalacroy crouched in the reed bed while flies swarmed around his sweat-soaked body. Nauseated by the stench of decaying plants and rotting wildlife, he gnawed his hand, stifled a cough, mumbled, ?I left the northlands for this?

To his knowledge he was the lone survivor of the caravan escort. In their wisdom the caravan masters had hired a local Yakuli guide to lead the merchants through a seldom used and dangerous path.

The guide had betrayed them.

The nomads sprang their ambush, and Dalacroy had seen Captain Nacheev, the escort commander, fall with an arrow through his throat.

The encounter itself was fierce and brutal, Dalacroy spilling his share of blood in the struggle. But it wasn?t long before he?d realized the battle was lost. The mercenary had abandoned his mount and sought refuge along the riverbank, cursing the caravan masters. They had gambled on this dangerous route and lost.

Now Dalacroy hid, watching and waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Marsh God Graphic novel is now available in print. Click here http://www.cyberwizardproductions.com/MarshGod and grab your copy today!

Buy books. Mention this post when ordering any book from a Cyberwizard Productions imprint, and receive 10% off your next order.

Abandoned Towers November Update

2009-11-01T10:15:00.001-08:00

Happy November!

Here in Texas the weather has finally decided that summer is almost over. We've actually had a few cool nights and mild days. Wonder how long that'll last?

Texas is a country of extremes it seems, with weather that stays confused. But at least we don't have earthquakes. Yet.

Abandoned Towers #4 is packed full of all sorts of goodies you don't want to miss. The third print issue of 2009 (and the last one for this year) is now available to purchase. We've created a nice flip book preview for you at http://atprintissues.blogspot.com/

Once you finish looking through it, you can scroll on down the page and find previews of all the other issues as well as the first annual Artist's Challenge Anthology. The second challenge'll kick off in Dec... but more on that when it gets here.

Now, here's a taste of what's waiting for you in issue #4:

Starting with the front cover with is a very cool painting by M.D. Jackson based on the featured story, A Warm Welcome By Rob Mancebo. Here's an excerpt:

Looking down the ugly barrels of that bartender's scattergun sort-of made me reassess my craving for a drink.
"Are you planning on going hunting, ol' hoss?" I inquired politely of the whiskered gent with the cellulite collar at the other end of that twelve gauge.
"Naw, I think I done found what I was looking for," he replied with an irritating amount of smugness in his voice.
I looked around the Number One saloon like some sort of an idiot. It was vacant except for him and me, so it was pretty obvious just who he thought he'd found.
"Say now, you couldn't be hunting me." I wasn't overly articulate because the business end of that sawed-off shotgun looked as big as a pair of stove pipes!
I was sure ready to try to talk my way out of getting my head blown off so I added, "I haven't been in town long enough to bruise nobody's feelings."
"We hang thieves in this country!" he informed me with a wave of that shotgun. "Drop them guns and hoist your hands!"
I hadn't a clue as to what he was talking about. I put my hands up, then remembered he'd told me to drop my guns so I began to lower them again, at which point he objected in the crude vernacular such as a body is liable to hear in saloons.
"Well do you want I should drop these Colts or not?" I demanded.
"I'll get them," he came around the bar in a huff and put those cavernous barrels under my nose while he fumbled at my left-hand gunstock. It was something of a tactical error on his part. When he glanced down to find that gun, I dropped my left hand across the action of his shotgun and took hold.

Other fiction pieces include Recall by Shawn Scarber, The Final Wave by TW Williams, Penderfyn's Goal by David M Pitchford and Central Park by Badley H. Sinor.

In issue #4 you'll also find a nice selection of poems such as Forgotten Friendships: A Voice of Arthur Pendragon by Chad Weiss and Goya’s Painted Faces by John William Rice.

Nonfiction articles include a short piece by Lyn McConchie that discusses the creativity of New Zelanders entitled Number Eight Wire and a scrumptious set of recipies that Jaleta Clegg calls Sherezade's Repast.

Remember you will never find anything that's in one of the print issues online, so if you don't want to miss out on all this coolness you gotta buy the issue.

Don't wait. Don't put things off. Get several copies and give a few as gifts. You can purchase AT #4 at http://www.comixpress.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=1525

The Overman's Folly

2009-10-19T17:52:00.000-07:00

Journeys in time must be exciting, you say? Oh, to have the complete and utter freedom to roam wherever, whenever one wishes. Yet we say that with freedom comes responsibility.
Time is only interesting once the shackles of perspective have been released, and an examiner can float freely. Only then does this most fluid of dimensions become a river of possibilities where a single century can be explored in depth whilst the next is skipped over completely. But time is linear to the human race – linear and elemental.

That is how it is supposed to be.

Larger View Get your copy!

New, from Altered Dimensions Press - Science Fiction you can sink your teeth in to!

Abandoned Towers October update

2009-10-03T12:55:00.001-07:00

It's October, and that means it's time for an update on Abandoned Towers magazine.

Starting this month off, we have a brand new story from Michael McGlasson called The MacDonegan Bear.It's a scottish folktale, written by Michael and here's a small piece of it:

And after all the terrible tales that grandfather had told him, Roddy knew in his heart that the bear, the mighty enemy of his Highland clan, had to be killed someday, a thought that filled him with great sadness and pain. But it had been many, many years, perhaps thirty or more, since the giant bear had lumbered from the Caledonian forest hungry for fresh meat from the bones of a MacDonegan.

One bright autumn day, when he had finished stirring and churning three oak barrels of delicious maple syrup, Roddy sat down on an old tree stump and gazed out upon the land before him. He saw the red of the rowan, the purple bloom of the heather and the gold of the aspen, all wonderful to behold. And far below in the glen, beautiful flowers were everywhere and the violet Rose of Sharon grew lovely in big bunches. And then Roddy smiled because he was happy to live in such a pretty place, but he was also sad because he had no friends, a lonely young laddie in the land of Glenfinnan, all alone on a tree stump with only his thoughts and his Scots heart a-thumping. But then something strange happened, for Roddy heard a small voice coming from somewhere below his knees. He looked down, but saw nothing. And then he felt three hard taps on his shoe -TAP-TAP-TAP- and when he looked down again . . . .

"Top of the day, laddie."

It was a Scottish Brownie, standing almost as tall as the spines of a Highland thistle. His clothes were in tatters, his face was smeared with dirt, and his hair was long and shaggy, just like the tail of a Shetland pony. His eyes were wild and they blinked a lot and in his hand was a walking stick with the bark still on it.

You can read the entire folktale by visiting Abandoned Towers, accessing the General Fiction section, and clicking on Michael McGlasson's name.

We also have a brand new, completely redeisgned site for you to explore. All the pages have been given a face lift and things have been organized a little better. New stuff is still listed under What's new, which is still availble from the home page, so you won't have to chance missing anything.

Along with all the cool stories and articles, we've got several fun features. We've put a children's activity page online. At the moment it's got a couple of mazes and a couple of how to draw items, but we expect to add more to it on a continuous basis. We've also got a household hints page. Unfortunately, it's empty at the moment so if you have any cool tips and tricks for making it easier to do stuff around the house, why not write 'em up and send 'em in?

Also online is a new Oddcube review and a new article by Eric S. Brown.

Rounding things out is a short story by Jelata Clegg called Soul Windows. Have you ever wanted to know what someone else was thinking? Here's a small excerpt:

"The eyes are windows to the soul." Blake's lips twitched in an ironic smile.
"Our philosopher." Talbot lifted his tiny cup of Turkish coffee in the air.
"Just what do you mean by that?" Jim asked, ignoring Talbot as he leaned farther over the tiny table.
Blake shifted his gaze to Jim, an older man studying the folly of youth.
Jim challenged him with his stare, daring him to answer, demanding treatment as an equal.
"Merely something I heard in the bazaar today." Blake turned his bland blue stare to the sinuous dancer weaving magic in the sultry night.
"Blake hears every last odd rumor spoken by the natives," Talbot said flippantly. "His real problem is he believes what they say. Been here too long, old chap." He pointed at Blake, who ignored him.
Jim shot him an annoyed look. "What if you truly could see into someone's soul? Would you?" Jim's intense gaze drew Blake's eyes back to the table.
"Lighten up, Jimmy boy." Talbot nudged the younger man with his elbow. "Have a drink." He poured more of the syrupy coffee into Jim's cup. "Heathens. No alcohol," he muttered with a sigh.
Blake ignored Talbot as he searched Jim's boyish face. "Would you want to see the darkness lurking in your own soul, or have it bared for another?"
"Nothing in my heart I'd be ashamed of." Jim thumped his chest with his fist.
"You're certain of that?"
Jim nodded, although a trickle of unease crept across his neck. It was as if Blake could almost read his mind, see his soul in the hot, heavily scented darkness.
"Load of toff, if you ask me, which neither of you chaps are doing." Talbot finished off his coffee and surged to his feet, his knees popping as he stood. "Sitting on the floor drinking that rubbish is for the birds. I'm off to beddy-bye."
Blake and Jim took little notice of Talbot's departure. The music throbbed around them, weaving a seductive spell, making magic possible in the deep violet night. The cloying smell of tropical blooms hung over the café. The dancer wove between tables, delicate scarves fluttering around her like the moths that swarmed the guttering candles.
"Not everyone hides evil, Blake. There are innocents in this world."
"Are there?" The ironic smile was back, Blake's blue eyes bland and unreadable.
"What of children?" Jim pushed, defensive now for reasons he did not wish to explore. "Or her?" He pointed at the dancer. Her face appeared young through the thin veil, the eyes wide and innocent as a doe's. "She can't be much older than my sister. What dark secrets lurk in her soul? I say none." Jim sat back, chin out in stubborn challenge.
"You would be surprised, I think," Blake said. "If you could look into her soul, would you take that chance?"
"It's all hypothetical, anyway. There is no way to look into someone's soul. Eyes are windows. Hogwash."
Blake merely smiled. One hand dipped into a pocket and produced a strangely worked pendant. It glittered slightly in the candle flame. Blake laid it on the table between them. "A charm from one of the wizards of the bazaar. It supposedly opens the windows of the eyes so that you can see into the soul."
"Rubbish," Jim said, but weakly, a protest of habit. "The wizards are all fakes."
"Then it won't hurt for you to try."
Jim reached out then hesitated. The music pulsed through him, drums beating and voices wailing. Like a heart beating secretly in the darkness, he thought. Strange things had happened since he forsook the boring security of life at home for the intrigue of foreign adventures. Blake had been here much longer. Blake was a believer in the strange. They often ribbed him about it in the barracks. But now, here, under the spell of music and perfumed flowers, in the flickering candlelight, suddenly it seemed not so much rubbish. Magic was suddenly possible and not at all friendly. Jim's hand hovered over the charm.
"Are you afraid?" Blake was gently mocking. "Maybe innocence is much more elusive than you think."
Jim grabbed up the charm, his hand clutching tightly to squeeze away doubt. "There are more innocents than you believe, Blake."
"Maybe, maybe not." Blake shook his head as if it didn't matter. "A word of caution. Once you have used the charm, you can never go back to who you were before."

Want to know more? Just visit Abandoned Towers Magazine, which you can find fairly easy by going to Google and searching on Abandoned Towers Magazine, and visit the General Fiction section. The author is Jaleta Clegg.

One last reminder, our next print issue goes on sale on Nov. 1 and it's packed with all sorts of cool things. But in case you haven't gotten your copy of previous issues, they're all still availble in print. Just go to the Abandoned Towers home page and click on the icon that says "click here to buy print issues" on it in large letters. That'll take you to a page full of virual previews and if you like what you see, just click the "Buy a printed copy" link underneath of the virtual prview and grab a copy for yourself.

Desperately in need of assistance.

2009-09-10T21:08:00.001-07:00

If you're reading this, I need your assistance.

There is only one of me.

There are LOTS of you.

Please, do me the favor of getting websites that you frequent to link to Abandoned Towers. Or blogs. They can link too.

It's not like you have to pay anything to come spend hours reading what I put a massive amount of work into creating for YOUR enjoyment, you know?

But I have only so much energy, so much time and so much brain power.

I really need your help with this.

The link, in case you don't have it is http://www.cyberwizardproductions.com/AbandonedTowers

Thanks in advance.

Visiting Bookland Heights

2009-09-08T04:14:00.000-07:00

I'm visiting Bookland Heights today - check me out!

Spring has Sprung... no, wait. Wrong end of the year.

2009-09-01T18:49:00.001-07:00

It's September, not May. What a shock!

I guess it only feels like spring because of all the housekeeping I just did on the Abandoned Towers website.

A brand new review by Oddcube is up. This month, he review... Dungeon Keeper!

And a new article by Eric S. Brown. This month he delves into The Micronauts.

And there's a brand new site design too. The site was getting a little cluttered so I rearranged things. It should be, I hope, a lot more user friendly.

Now, for those of you that haven't been visiting us regularly, you're missing out on all kinds of goodies. But just to whet your appetite a bit, here's an excerpt from something posted during August:

==============
Three Wishes in the Iraqi Desert

By Stephen Patrick

“Spider Hole, boss,” called out Patruno. He never looked back at Connor, but kept his eyes on the black hole in front of him. They were scouting the cold desolate mountains for signs of an Iraqi stronghold or a cache of weapons.

“Blow it!,” yelled Connors, never taking his eyes from the mountainside.

“Fire in the hole!”

Patruno called out for the others to take cover as he pulled a grenade from his belt. He pulled the pin and dropped the grenade into the small hole. The grenade fell for a few moments before striking bottom with the shrill plink of metal on stone. A second later, the grenade exploded and the ground beneath them shuddered. Smoke billowed from the hole and rose into the sky.

Conner moved over the hole and peered in. His flashlight illuminated the bottom, but he saw no signs of any life or any evidence that the hole had been occupied. Satisfied that it was not a hideout or stronghold, he made a series of hand gestures to his team and they moved on.

They continued this routine for the remainder of their twelve-hour patrol. They had worked the mountainous areas of northern Iraq with this same procedure for weeks, looking for evidence of hidden weapons or small cells of resistance hidden in the rocks. These multi-week missions allowed them to get into the most remote and inaccessible areas of the mountains, the most likely hiding places for an enemy intimately familiar with this terrain.

Late one Thursday in July, the team was making its way home down a steep, rocky face. Karow, their scout, was busy scanning the face of the opposite hill for snipers. His scope never fell on enemy soldiers, but he did find a series of small caves that could conceal an Iraqi stronghold. He radioed to Connor and the team made their way down the craggy mountain, across the sparse valley and up the other hill.

They approached cautiously and then found the caves Karow had spotted. There were three entrances to the caves. One was large and tall enough for a grown man to walk through. The second was a bit smaller and would require a grown man to crouch to enter. The last was so small that a large man would have trouble crawling through it.

Famosa, the demolitions expert, and Connor, the team’s leader, quickly cleared the two larger caves and found nothing. Karow stood guard over the third hole and thought he heard something echoing in the tiny cave. When the others finished their search of the other caves, Connor knelt at the opening to the third cave. The echoing was rhythmic, almost musical. He tossed a flare into the cave. The flare went about six feet into the mountain before striking the back of the cave and dropping out of sight into a deep hole. The flare echoed for some time, bouncing around as it fell down into the hill.
=================

Of course, if you want to read the entire story from Stephen, you'll need to go visit Abandoned Towers magazine. You'll find it in the General Fiction section.

End of August Abandoned Towers update

2009-08-30T07:49:00.001-07:00

Can you believe it’s already the end of August? Man the summer sure flew past!
Over at Abandoned Towers things have been flying pretty fast too. We’ve had all sorts of cool stuff come in during August. New cartoons, new stories, new poems, new odd reviews and new… everything.

The big news now, of course, is that issue #4 is right around the corner. And since we only publish 3 issues a year, guess what that means? We’ve been in business for a year! Issue 4 goes live on Nov. 1, and to give you a taste of what’ll be in it, here’s an excerpt from Timothy McDaniel’s science fiction story “Everyone’s a Critic”

Melton was unsure of what had awakened him. He was still very sleepy; perhaps a truck had rumbled by on the road outside his apartment window. It was 10:42 according to the bedside clock; sunlight was pushing through his window blinds.
Well, he was awake now, and he might as well get that manuscript to the post office. Every moment of delay would be another moment in which he was denied the fame that publication would surely bring.
He threw off his blankets. The room was a bit chilly, and he was in his underwear, so he snagged his fuzzy robe off the floor and pulled it around him. He'd get a quick shower, then off to the post office, and then have a snack before going back to sleep.
Melton was tying his robe as he left his bedroom. He glanced right just before he entered the bathroom, and found that he was not alone in the apartment.
A man sat at his computer, a floppy disk in his hand. He looked up, and seemed as startled as Melton, his eyes wide and his mouth open. He was youngish, tall and thin, no more than twenty or so, with cropped brown hair and a black sweater and jeans.
The man seemed unarmed, and more than that, he seemed scared. This gave Melton a certain measure of bravado. "Who are you?" he croaked -- well, maybe the trace of bravado hadn't quite made it to his voice. He began casting his gaze about the apartment, looking for a possible weapon. The only thing that looked at all useful was the floor lamp, and he began edging that way.
The man stood up, his hands outspread in supplication -- and now Melton saw "Revenge" magic-markered on the label on the floppy the man was holding -- the disk with his latest story!
Given confidence by this surrender, but his throat still dry, his heart still hammering, Melton repeated his question. "Well? Who are you, and what are you doing here?" He seized the floor lamp. Could he cross the room, and get to the phone in the kitchen? He wasn't sure.
The man seemed to search for words, and then said, "Excuse me. I'm a thief." His voice was strangely accented, like he usually spoke German or Japanese or something.
Melton saw the man's eyes flicker towards something on the coffee table -- a small plastic device that looked like a remote control, except that it had little blinking blue lights on it.
The man saw Melton's look, and lunged for the device, but as he snatched it up Melton got a good hold of the floor lamp and swung it like a hockey stick. It connected with the man's hand, sending the device hurtling against a wall where it cracked open, spilling electronic innards onto the carpet.
Melton brought the lamp back up and waved it threateningly at the stranger, but the man, unimpressed, simply stared at the remains of his device. Then he slumped in the chair, cradling his hand.
"Who are you?" said Melton.
The man looked up. "My name is Reginald Jordan," he said.
Jordan -- that was in Syria, Melton thought. Middle Eastern, anyway, though the guy didn't really look it. Probably a terrorist of some kind.
"Who the heck are you?"
Just then there was a cracking noise as the wood around a lock splintered, and the front door flew open. A tall woman strode into the room like an avenging fury. Melton squawked and scrambled away, trying to keep equally distant from each of the strangers. He clutched the lamp close in front of him. The cord popped out of the outlet with a jerk.
The new arrival looked to be about the same age, equally thin, but was much shorter, and with orange -- not red -- hair. In her left hand was a device like the one Melton had demolished.
She threw a string of nonsense syllables at the man, and he responded similarly.
"Hey, hey, English!" said Melton, raising the lamp threateningly. Then he lowered it again. It was heavy. "Who, I mean what, are you? What's going on?" The woman just looked at him. "You'd better talk!" said Melton, raising the lamp again, breathing hard. A cold sweat plastered the sleep-frizzed combover against his forehead.
"We might as well," said the man, in English. "You don't know what a man of his sensibilities might do with that pole. Besides, who'd ever believe him?"
The woman nodded, reluctantly. "I guess you're right."
Melton lowered the lamp again. "So? Who are you?"
"I am Literary Agent Susan Trout." The woman gestured to the man. "Agent Reginald Jordan."
"And..?"
"You are a writer, Mr. Welch," said Agent Jordan.
"Why, yes!" Melton smiled, putting down the lamp. "But I haven't been published yet. If you're an agent, maybe.."
"We know. You've been sending out manuscripts, and they come back with form rejections, or are lost in the mail."
"How could you know that? I don't know you people. Are you from the magazines? You hardly needed to break in here, just to see my work..." Melton's voice trailed off. It had occurred to him that these people were trying to steal his work, not publish it.
"No, Mr. Welch. We are not from the magazines. We're from the year 2434, actually. We're with an organization called the Futurians."
"Stupid name."
"Well, it sounds better in our language."
"It's some local fan club, right? You probably want me to give a talk to your group? But busting in my door…”
"No, Mr. Welch. We're from the future. We've come back in time to make sure that you never get published."

In other news, the Writer’s of the Future and Illustrator’s of the Future awards for 2009 were just held. The Writer’s of the Future contest has been held for 25 years as of this year, and most of the big name science fiction authors were involved in it some way. This year was glittering, and web cast to a global audience. They are important contests, not only because the winners are handed fairly large cash prizes, but because they’re incredibly good stepping stones toward a serious writing career. Here at Abandoned Towers we’re doubly pleased. One of our favorite authors, Jordan Lapp, and one of our artists, A.R., Stone were both winners this year.

If you haven’t heard of Writer’s of the Future, you should really check ‘em out. And get a copy of this year’s anthology too.

That’s all for now. Until next time, have a nice day.

Jack of all Trades, the most enjoyable Fantasy Romance you'll read all year!

2009-08-17T19:55:00.001-07:00

Cyberwizard Productions is thrilled to be able to announce a new fantasy romance by K. C. Shaw.

Jack Bywater is loved by the entire town. Handy with a hammer, able to drive a coach, great at getting wasps out of an orchard, he truly is a Jack of all Trades.
And he's just the man that Helen's been looking for as well. Jack couldn't agree with her more. Their cozy village is the perfect spot and Jack would love nothing better than to settle down, marry Helen and raise a family.
But the Sultan is angry at Jack for having stolen his pet dragon, Pepper, and has sent a nasty curse winging around the world after him. Jack can flee the curse and lose Helen, or marry her and lose his life.
And to make matters worse, something has the local faeries in an uproar, and only Jack can fix it.

Lyn McConchie, co-author of the Beastmaster and Witch World books with Andre Norton had this to say:

"In March 2009 the publisher of this book asked me if I'd like to read it with a view to doing a possible foreword, agreed. It was a very good decision. I don't know the author, I didn't know the book, but I was quickly engrossed in the tale of a Jack of all Trades, his pet dragon, the curse that follows him and a host of interesting minor characters and their everyday doings in a series of small villages.I took my laptop to bed so that I could finish it that evening. And I noted one thing in particular. That I was surprised and sorry when it finished, being left with a feeling of "I was enjoying that book and it should have been longer."
The work came with charming and well-written characters, and an excellent set-up of the major plot. Jack of all Trades is set in a skewed version of early America small towns and villages, with hearsay excursions overseas on the side.
There are mythical creatures, magic, wizards, unpleasant spirits lurking, and curses that really work. Yet this background blends into a seamless and fascinating whole that enhances the story in a setting where it seems natural.
Frankly, I really liked Jack of all Trades. If it was being offered for sale in a bookshop and I picked it up AND flipped through the pages... yes, I'd pay up and buy it and that's the most flattering thing that a reader can say. That they'd pay out hard-earned cash for a book. If you're reading this, either you have paid for it - in which case, smart move. Or you're thinking about it. Stop thinking. Buy the book!"
Lyn McConchie.

Now, what are you waiting for? Head on over to the Cyberwizard Productions website at http://cyberwizardproductions.com, click on the Ancient Tomes press button and grab your copy today!

Midsummer at Abandoned Towers Magazine

2009-07-28T20:33:00.000-07:00

Well, July is almost over. Here in Texas summer's half gone and the new school year is fast approaching. June bugs are still hatching and flying in my back door, too. Someone needs to tell them that June ended several weeks ago, though my cats are certainly enjoying the feast.

Over at Abandoned Towers Magazine we added a nice selection of goodies to the online pages and released issue #3 as well. To recap the month, Here's just some of what came in and is waiting for you to go spend a few minutes reading.

Three Wishes in the Iraqi Desert by Stephen Patrick in the General Fiction Section
Reflections on Time by Ashutosh Ghildiyal in the Poetry Section
The Grey Div by David A. Hardy in the Fantasy Section
Elcano Syndrome by Gustavo Bondoni in the Audio Stories Section
Buy the Sword by Timothy A. Sayell in the Fantasy Section
Buy the Sword parts 1 and 2 by Timothy A. Sayell in the Audio Stories
Zatana vrs. Ms. Marvel by Eric S. Brown under Comics by Eric S. Brown non-series articles
The Goddess of Ganymede under Odd Reviews by Oddcube

And of course we have some great classics hidden around for you to find. Buried treasures and you don't even need a map. Or a shovel. Just a little bit of time.

I thought I'd share a few bits and pieces with it of some of the gems you might not have discovered yet. This excerpt is from a story in the Science Fiction section.Written by Doug Hilton, it's called The Billboard.

The dark blue sign crackled into existence around 4 P.M. on the first Thursday of June, near the westbound lanes of Interstate 565 in Madison Alabama. It was 60 feet by 40 feet, surrounded by a neon red border, but anyone could tell that it wasn't really there - it was clearly some kind of holographic projection, but from where? S

oon, strange characters appeared on the billboard and a few cars pulled off to see what was going on. The rush hour traffic slowed to a crawl at the mile marker, and the sign changed from dancing alien letters to dancing alien beings. Pictures from a faraway place flashed and bounced across the billboard, which now doubled in size. I-565 was stopped by now, and Alabama State Troopers were trying to sort out the mess. Two of them were forcing eastbound traffic to stop, and one was blocking westbound traffic.

A Channel 48 news chopper showed up, and one of the troopers used his bullhorn to tell the news team to stay away, but they couldn't hear him from the chopper. They circled low over the sign. The strange creatures disappeared and things that looked like cans of blue and yellow soup filled the billboard and seemed to spring right out of it. Red lasers shot tracers at the cans from the billboard, and they seemed to open up and spill their contents out onto the gathered masses.

Everyone was taking pictures with their cell phones. By now, traffic was backed up into Decatur, to the west and Huntsville to the east. The Troopers talked to each other by radio, and the crowd swelled. The exploding soup cans turned into strange-looking flowers that grew from microscopic dots into flowers that ate up the entire billboard, and then faded into fireworks of small dots. This went on for 3 hours, and then the billboard went away. Just like that.

If you'd like to read the entire story, just wander on over to the Abandoned Towers website, which you can find easily by going to google and searching on abandoned towers magazine. Once you're on the home page, click on the spot that says "click here to enter" and that'll put you on the table of contents page. Look to your left for the button marked Science Fiction, click on it and then click on Stories. You'll find The Bilboard right at the top of the list.

While you're there, take a few minutes to listen to some of the audio stories we have online, watch a few videos or read the Abandoned Towers blog. You can find those under the drop down menu called Things To Do on the Table of contents page.

And don't forget all the very cool serial stories we have for your enjoyment. Among them are:

Clock Work by Erin Basset
When Esther St. Claire rejoins her sophomore year a semester late she expects a relatively quiet return. But odd things begin to happen even before she can get to campus; starting with a strange encounter with a new student that escalates to an attack on Westin Academy’s student body. An other worldly battle is going on and somehow Esther is the key.

Gas Lantern Shadows by Malcolm Laughton
Gas Lantern Shadows is a series that stems from the short story Vennels and Wynds which appeared in Abandoned Towers print magazine issue 2. In that story the protagonist is looking at a print of a photograph of old Glasgow and is drawn into the past.

And Scion of the Immortals by Jared Evers
Scion tells the story of Razian, a man with uncommon talents and knowledge. The world of the dead holds few secrets for him, yet without a link to one of the five holy Orders there is little explanation for his skills. Few truly count him as a friend, but his protective nature and unique abilities ensure he is rarely forgotten. For better or for worse.

Coming online on August 1 we have a brand new serial as well. Dark InSpectre.
In a near-future society where "normals" fear and mistrust those with telepathic ability, Jack Garrett leads a special police unit of telepaths with the unique talent of contacting the psychic awareness of the dead. Seven years after solving a notorious murder spree that culminated in the killing of his best friend’s daughter, Jack starts receiving visits from the murdered girl. Determined to follow her paranormal clues, Jack uncovers a web of police corruption that threatens to end his career and his life the closer he gets to the truth.

So take a few minutes out of your busy day, wander on over to Abandoned Towers Magazine and spend a few minutes with an enjoyable read. You'll be glad you did.

And until next time, have a nice day.

Virtual Book Tour

2009-07-27T03:52:00.000-07:00

Last week of my monthlong virtual book tour to promote A Will to Love. I hope you have gone out and found my stops at my blog, http://writingspace.blogspot.com -- it isn't too late! Those who follow the most, comment the most, will have a shot at a VBT of their very own, or if that doesn't fit them, a gift certificate!

It has been a very fun time, and I hope you will get on the tour bus today!

Kim Smith
A Will to Love
Red Rose Publishing
http://www.redrosepublishing.com

Fiji on Fire, Fiji on Ice - book trailer

2009-07-19T04:46:00.001-07:00

Check out the book trailer for "Fiji on Fire, Fiji on Ice" and let me know what you think! Personally, I love those beaches and cocktails....

http://www.onetruemedia.com/shared?p=92832902699ce935c618ec&skin_id=701&utm_source=otm&utm_medium=text_url

Contest! Get Free BOOKS!

2009-07-05T18:16:00.001-07:00

To celebrate my latest release, A Will to Love, I am hosting a contest on my website whereby you can get TEN free books! All you have to do is download A Will to Love from Red Rose Publishing and answer the question posted on MY WEBSITE under the contest page. Contest ends July 31!!

Abandoned Towers Magazine now accepting subscriptions

2009-06-27T16:21:00.000-07:00

Okay, I told myself that after AT had been in production for a year, and I felt fairly comfortable with putting it together, that I'd start taking subscription.

It's been a year.

well... a month shy of a year.

so here are the details on how to subscribe. Notice that you are subscribing to a certain number of issues, not a certain number of months.

===============
Subscribe to Abandoned Towers

3 print issues, $25.00 - save $5.00 off the retail price of $30.00 for 3 issues bought separately

4 print issues, $30.00 - save $10.00 off the retail price of $40.00 for 4 issues bought separately

5 print issues, $35.00 - save $15.00 off the retail price of $50.00 for 5 issues bought separately

6 print issues, $40.00 - save $20.00 off the retail price of $60.00 for 6 issues bought separately

We don't accept subscriptions for more than 6 issues.

To subscribe, please send email to abandonedtowers@gmail.com with the subject line of Abandoned Towers Print subscription. Specify in the email how many issues you wish to subscribe for. Do NOT send payment until after you have received a response and been given instructions.

New content added on a regular basis.

Visit Abandoned Towers at
http://cyberwizardproductions.com/AbandonedTowers

Sci-Fi Contest!

2009-06-21T14:42:00.000-07:00

On November 16, 1974 the Arecibo radio telescope sent a coded message toward the globular cluster M13, 25,000 light-ears away. The message was 1,679 bits of data and was a pattern that an alien civilization is supposed to decode. The message contains crude images of numbers 1 to 10, a stick-figure of a man, chemical formulas, including the code for DNA, a sketch of the Solar System, and an image of the radio telescope. If we received a message like that from the stars, could you decode it? Let's find out -- here's the challenge:

It's late at night. You're monitoring shortwave signals on 2380 MHz and you suddenly get some slight frequency shifts. You decide to hit the record button on your data scope, and the message completes in less than 3 minutes. Now what? Have you received a real message from an alien civilization or is it just a hoax? You better be right before you call a press conference! You don't need a deep understanding of mathematics, science or cryptology to solve "The Three Trees Riddle" -- it's just for fun, and you'll know if you're right.

To celebrate the 35th anniversary of the Arecibo Message, Cyberwizard Productions and Abandoned Towers Magazine http://cyberwizardproductions.com/AbandonedTowers are offering a reward to kick off a new puzzle page. Besides receiving "bragging rights", which will include listing your name as the Winner of the First Contest, you'll receive a 1-year subscription to the printed issues of the best web magazine on our planet. The contest begins now, and ends at midnight (UTC) November 16, 2009, as the original signal passes the 210 trillion mile mark, on the interstellar highway to unknown civilizations.

After you decode the "Three Trees Riddle", which was developed by fiction writer Doug Hilton, please send your results to

cwizprod@gmail.com

with the subject line Arecibo Message Contest

One winner will be picked at random from all correct entries, and will be notified by email. Once the winner is notified, the correct solution will be posted on the original contest page.

The contest page can be found by going to Abandoned Towers Magazine and clicking on the button marked Puzzles on the home page, choosing Puzzles from the drop down Things to do menu on the table of contents page or by going to the direct link which is http://www.cyberwizardproductions.com/AbandonedTowers/puzzles/arecibo/

New Release!

2009-06-11T14:19:00.000-07:00

How did A Will to Love come to be?

When I set out to write A Will to Love, the news came to our little hamlet that the bed and breakfast nearby was going out of business. The story surrounding its history was something of a sad story SEE VIDEO HERE and I felt really bad about the man who had lost his wife in a tragic accident, and wanted to capture that sorrow in the person of Benton Jessup. Of course, it turns out HEA, but that was the impetus to write the story.

I love writing and reading romance so this little story was just a natural outcropping of my favorite things, books and love. And who could deny such strong influences?

I think there is a lot of me in the story, and maybe you will find a lot of you too. I hope you enjoy it!

Available TODAY! as an ebook download at RED ROSE PUBLISHING

I am also running a CONTEST! to celebrate A Will to Love's release. You can find out the details at my website CONTEST PAGE and you can win FREE BOOKS!!

Kim is the author of the popular Shannon Wallace Mystery series available at Red Rose Publishing.

Special Scavenger Hunt!

2009-06-04T20:32:00.000-07:00

SHA’DAA SCAVENGER HUNT

Grand Prize: A free copy of “Sha’Daa: Tales of the Apocalypse” personally autographed by the shared-world anthology’s Creator and Co-Writer, Michael H. Hanson.

The Hunt officially kicks off on Saturday, June 6, 2009.

It ends on July 4, 2009.

Winners to be announced during a live broadcast on the “Dark Fiction Show” at http://www.blogtalkradio.com/ on Saturday, July 11, 2009.

Rules: Every “Hunter” is required to access every single website shown in “The Hunting Grounds,” and, using the clues list given in “Hunting Supplies” are required to find some answer, image, name, or fact that will make up your “trophies.” You are not allowed multiple answers for each clue/query. You can only give one answer for each website.

When you have compiled the requested list of trophies, you need to e-mail them all in to Michael H. Hanson at: shadaa1@mac.com along with your name, and your snail-mail address (which will be kept confidential and absolutely not shared with anyone).

All those who have found every single answer will have their names placed into a hat (a black fedora of course), where a Winner of the grand prize will be blindly, and fairly, picked out by Michael H. Hanson himself. If only one person hands in the full compliment of answers they will automatically win the grand prize.

Several folks have offered backup goodies (signed copies of books, etc.) and so we are going to have a nice supply of consolation prizes for several runners-ups!

Hunting Tip: The hunting grounds numbers match up with their hunting supplies counterparts.

The Hunting Grounds:

1) http://www.cyberwizardproductions.com/
2) http://www.shadaa.com/
3) http://www.staticmovement.com/
4) http://www.sonar4ezine.com/
5) http://www.myspace.com/darkfictionspotlight
6) http://www.raelori.com/
7) http://www.liquid-imagination.com/
8) http://www.thefictioneers.com/
9) http://www.silverblade.net/
10) http://www.whortleberrypress.com/
11) http://www.anotherealm.com/
12) http://www.arthursanchez.com/
13) http://dawsondark.com/

Hunting Supplies:

1) Thinking inside the box. What color is Teddy’s scarf?
2) What is the Serjeant’s ID number? Hint: it is chiseled into history.
3) This “Haunted Poet” is fifth in one list, and sixth in another.
4) What is the temperature of bubbles in the month of garnet?
5) How many bottles of sparkling beverage are on ice?
6) One of Rae’s favorite Movie Directors was into cobalt velvet. What is this person’s name? Please don’t string me up for asking…
7) How many Ophidians can Sophia juggle?
8) What superhero promotes the press? Do I smell ammonia?
9) What is the color of the silver pen’s feather?
10) It is not an fruit store. How many items does it sell?
11) It’s not a missing link, and it’s halls are white. What kind of business is it?
12) Excerpted for your approval, in this recent Year of the Monkey, who shall inherit the Earth?
13) This immaterial, incorporeal upper anatomy has ignited. What is it?

2009-05-26T13:50:00.000-07:00

http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/product_info.php?cPath=62_63&products_id=\342

Blurb:

Shannon Wallace is having a bad hair week.

She's been ditched by her job, dumped by her boyfriend, and implicated in his
murder.

When she finds out her very private video collection is missing from the crime
scene, it is all out war to find the disks before the cops do. The problem is,
the killer has them. And he's watched them.

Now Shannon's at the top of his most wanted list.

Excerpt

My Aunt Nancy always told me to dress in my best clothes when I went out,
because I never knew whom I might meet. This time, I hadn't done the best I
could to make myself presentable. Jeans, tee shirt, and a ponytail didn't
qualify for modern chic. When the detective opened the door to the Homicide
Office, I wished I'd worn a skirt and heels. In a moment of clarity, I
understood my aunt's concerns about going out half-ready.

The sexy, Hispanic man who raised an eyebrow and patiently waited for me to
state my business was none other than Salvador Ramirez, formerly of Mississippi
Junior College, the same school I attended back in the day. Of all the eligible
men at college, he was the most highly sought after. Partly because he'd won the
"sexiest legs" contest two years in a row, and partly because he had a bad boy
quality, which made all of the girls want him.

Especially me. And damn the luck, I got a shot at him. When I discovered our
date was based on a dare someone posed, I retaliated by publishing excerpts of
his personal journal in the college's monthly newsletter, The Bugle.

"Mr. Ramirez," I said, trying to look harmless. "Of the award-winning legs."

His expression changed as he looked at me and I knew he remembered our rocky
past. My heart leapt into my throat. This was not the face of a man happy to see
an old chum.

"Shannon Wallace, of the vigilantes for journalism," he said, deadpan. "Mama
said there would be days like this."

Nope. He was not a happy cop.

He waved me into the room. "Come in."

The entire office was a mess, most of it concentrated on two desks littered with
papers.

"What are you doing here? Looking for a few good men to belittle in a new
publication? Should I hide the personal notes on my cases?" he asked.

Sarcasm. I smiled. It was a beginning. He hadn't forgotten, so that meant he
intended on seeing I didn't get a chance to repeat my past mistakes. Dandy by
me. I just wanted to plead my case, and escape a free woman. If I never crossed
the threshold here again, my feelings wouldn't be hurt.

"I think you've held a grudge, but it was all in fun."

"Fun?" He scanned the hallway before shutting the door. "You ruined every chance
I ever had of getting a decent date. I never dreamed you would print my private
journal for Christ's sake."

"It was no journal. It was a freaking scorecard."

He frowned at me and turned away, muttering something in Spanish that sounded
like curses.

Suddenly turning the details of my situation over to him didn't seem like such a
great idea. Had he harbored a desire for revenge all these years?

Dwayne's words came to mind. I couldn't have done it; criminals were innocent
until proven guilty and all that jazz.

Would Sal see that?

"I'm not here to do an exposé on your life, Sal. I'm here about my own troubles.
I need to tell a cop about a man who was murdered. But if you aren't
interested..."

He stopped clearing file folders from a metal folding chair and pinioned me with
his Nestlé's cocoa-colored eyes. "Murdered?"

"Yes. Richard Fine. Is he your case?"

"You know he is. Or have you given up your journalistic aspirations?" He shoved
papers into the files. "Have you graduated from theft to murder, now?"

I sat there for a moment trying to squelch the anger that surfaced. "Would you
stop being so disagreeable about what's past between us and listen? You might
get some information that could help you. I never intended to hurt you. It was a
joke."

"I don't like your jokes."

That was the final straw. "And I don't like being made fun of. How much did they
pay you to take me out on your little `dare date' that night?"

He straightened, gripping the back of a nearby folding chair.

Checkmate.

He carried the chair to where I stood, and I got a better look at him. He was a
good deal taller than me, and even under the yellow Oxford shirt I saw he was
well rippled with muscles, maleness, and menace. Sal seemed quite a different
person from the jeans, golf shirts, and practical jokes days. The cologne was
the same though. Aramis. I took a deep breath in appreciation.

The angry fire I'd stirred showed in his eyes. He skidded the metal chair a few
feet forward. It made a scraping sound as it landed perfectly, facing his desk.

"Sit, Miss Wallace. Tell me why I should hear your story. And keep in mind I'm
due for a meeting in about ten minutes."

I sat and waited while he joined me behind his desk. It felt rather official all
of a sudden. He crossed his hands and leaned forward, ready to hear my story.

"I was at Rick's apartment at midnight. And when forensics finishes checking out
his place, they're going to find my hair and other assorted things."

"Will they find your fingerprints on a knife?"

I thought about his question. We hadn't done much cooking at Rick's apartment,
but there was the off chance that I had handled a steak knife. Or cleaver. I
closed my eyes, and prayed Dwayne was right. I just knew I wouldn't look good in
a state uniform.

"They'll find them on a lot of stuff. Do I need a lawyer present?"

Awards

Mystery Novel Reader's Poll Pick #13, Preditors & Editors Reader's Poll 2008

Book Reviews
"This cozy is a delightful read, full of suspense... Kim Smith's writing voice
pulls you into the book, allows you to connect with each character..." ~ Lea
Shizas, The Muse Book Reviews
"Smith's simple, straightforward, and quite endearing style is what drives
Avenging Angel forward, with hints of colorful Southern dialect and engaging
dialogue. ~ Aaron Lazar, author of the LeGarde Mysteries
"The characters are quirky and the plot is full of twists and turns with a bit
of humor thrown in." ~ Maura, Coffee Time Romance
"...humor, compassion, suspense and a tinge of romance... leaves the reader
wanting more... truly did not want to stop..." ~ Cafe of Dreams

Look What You've Missed

2009-05-24T21:37:00.001-07:00

If you haven't visited Abandoned Towers Magazine in a couple of weeks, look what you've missed!

During the month of May we've added a nice selection of good, online content.

In the audio section you'll find two poems that are a must. Both originally written by Lewis Carroll and performed by Timothy A. Sayell. They are The Panther and the Owl, and The Walrus and the Carpenter.

Next up, slide on over to the Science Fiction section and spend a few minutes reading through some of the great new selections. You'll find The Crystal Egg by H.G. Wells, Hypochondriac by Shaun A. Saunders, How to be an Evil Nazi Genius by Pat Hauldren, Old Crompton's Secret by Harl Viencent, A Prompt Delivery by Edward Rodosek, Into Space by Sterner St. Paul, and Evasion by Gustavo Bondoni.

In the General Fiction section we've added a chilling little tale called Local News written by Shaun A. Saunders. Joining it are Two Hundred Miles the Hard Way by Grady Yandell, Link with the Past by Arthur Newton, and Terminal Illness by Melanie Ress.

Several new piece of poetry are available for your enjoyment as well, among them a short selection by poet Joey Connelly entitled In The Burning Orchard and two pieces from Neila Mezynski: The Ballerina and The Birthday Party.

Eric S. Brown's series on The Flash concludes this month with part 4 and Oddcube provides a marvelous review of Attack of the Retro-clones.

Coming up in June we've got 2 new serials kicking off: The Fetid Horde, a Sword and Sorcery adventure written by A.J. Cooper and Gas Lantern Shadows by Malcolm Laughton as well as new episodes of our already in progress serials Clock Work, Knight Terrors, Scion of the Immortals, and Tales of Coromoor.

Of The Fetid Horde, the author says:
====================
The story takes place in the mythical city of Baradon, a city which the captain of the Tower Guard, Salan, is dedicated to protect. But although the legends say Baradon is invincible and can never fall in siege, the city is about to face its gravest threat since its founding. Because something is approaching out of the desert sands, something powerful and evil.
====================

And Malcolm has this to say about Gas Lantern Shadows:
==========================
Gas Lantern Shadows is a series that stems from the short story Vennels and Wynds which appeared in Abandoned Towers print magazine issue 2. In that story the protagonist is looking at a print of a photograph of old Glasgow and is drawn into the past. That story itself stems from my own past. I really did look at a real photo in real a pub, The Partick Tavern, and think: ‘I could just walk into that.’ The rest was imagination: the only time machine that so far exists.

The series takes up from where the protagonist is trapped back in the past: in an Edwardian Glasgow, where he is pursued by his implacable enemy. But Scotland’s urban heart proves very different from what he expects.

As for me? Well, I’m from Glasgow, Scotland. These days I work, most of my working time, for the MSP Bill Kidd (Member of the Scottish Parliament), but rest easy - there is nothing particularly political about Gas Lantern Shadows. I also write, no surprise there. My most recent publication, outside of Abandoned Towers is Glimpsed Between the Trees in Whispers of Wickedness issue 16 (the very final issue). My stories have also appeared in Quantum Muse and Wild Violet.
========================

While you're wandering around the Abandoned Towers website, be sure to visit the video section (look for the things to do drop down menu) and watch Danny Birt's 2 new videos. Both were shot live at various conventions where Danny, the mild mannered author of the Laurian Pentology. spent far too much time without sleep singing hysterically funny filk songs.

April Showers Brought Free Books in May!

2009-05-23T09:31:00.003-07:00

The sun is shining and I’m coming out of hibernation, feeling great about the coming summer fun! To celebrate May days, I’m hosting a contest on my three websites. The contest is simple. Leave a comment anywhere on the sites and you’ll be entered to win a prize. There are many places to leave comments, such as the Muse or Interview pages on Between the Cracks, on any of my weekly blogs in Chatel Village (Craft, reviews, recipes, news) or at ElizaCrowe.com. There are ebook prizes every week in May and 2 grand prizes at the end of the month.

Here are the websites:

Chatel Village www.kimchatel.com
Between the Cracks Fiction www.kimmcdougall.com
Eliza Crowe Romance from the Shadows www.elizacrowe.com

I've already given away prizes, but there are more to come!

May 24th
1 The Stone Beach ebook
1 Caul Shroud and Veil ebook

May 31st
Grand Prizes

1 Kids Prize pack
Includes 3 signed print books (Rainbow Sheep, A Talent for Quiet and The Stone Beach) 2 book marks, a felt sheep and a signed print from A Talent for Quiet.

I Adult prize pack
Includes 3 signed print books (Barbegazi/Luminari, The Golden Hour, Twisted Tails III) 2 bookmarks, 1 fiber art yeti, 1 Luminari flask necklace and one French milled soap.

New Book Release!

2009-05-11T22:51:00.001-07:00

Today the Diminuendo Press imprint of Cyberwizard Productions has released a brand new collection of marvelous poetry. Written by John Rice, a poet from Canada, the enchanting collection is a must have for anyone that enjoys poetry. It retails for 8 dollars, but is worth far more. You can pick up your copy now by visiting the Cyberwizard Productions website at
http://cyberwizardproductions.com
clicking on the Diminumendo Press button on the side bar, and then clicking on the cover of the book.

As a special treat, we offer you a couple of poems from the collection:

Four Horsemen

High above me, in a cloud filled sky,
Lit dimly by the veiled moon,
Four horsemen gather on death head steeds,
Their faces wear the mask of doom,
Lightning flashes from stone cold eyes,
Thunder echo’s loudly as they ride.

I tremble when I see them,
Though they have passed my way before,
Their names are burned deep with in my soul,
They are greed, pestilence, death and war,
They bring with them the apocalypse,
Their swords drip red with blood.

They laugh, when they see me cower,
Then with out paying further heed,
They drive sharp steel spurs in to bony flanks,
In voices that would cause the dead to quake,
Call loudly to their steeds.

I tremble with fear as I watch them,
Ride through stormy skies once more,
In dread, unable to breathe, I wonder,
What lands do they intend to plunder,
These horsemen of the apocalypse,
Greed, pestilence, death and war
It is we who in our pride have called them,
To ride through our lands once more,
We prefer the sword to the olive branch,
So now the deadly horsemen once more ride,
Greed, pestilence, death and war,

Children Of The Emerald Isle
They chose Diaspora instead of hunger,
Freedom instead of serfdom,
A strange land over a tyrant’s power
They sailed away from beloved homeland,
Proudly bearing their Irish names,
O’Neil, O’Malley, Dougal,
Macauley, Wallace and Keen,
From humble, straw thatched cottages,
In Kerry, Derry and Dublin,
Galway, Limrick and Cork,
To villages in Quebec
To the streets of Muddy York,
They came to till the farmlands,
To plant their roots firm and deep,
They came to escape a famine,
A king’s oppressive hand,
Looking for hope and freedom,
In a strange and distant land,
At first they were unwanted,
But they soon won hearts with warm smile,
Now firmly a part of this country,
Are the proud children of the Emerald Isle,

Something new added to the Abandoned Towers home page!

2009-05-06T18:33:00.001-07:00

If you're in the habit of going to the table of contents page, you won't see the very cool, new thing just added to the home page.

To make sure you don't miss out, go here:
http://cyberwizardproductions.com/AbandonedTowers

It's May!

2009-05-01T16:09:00.000-07:00

Spring has sprung and the May flowers have arrived with a boatload of new goodies over at Abandoned Towers magazine at http://cyberwizardproductions.com/AbandonedTowers.

To start the month off on the right foot, we have a new Odd Review by Oddcube, and boy is it truly odd this time! Calling his review Attack of the Retro-Clones, Oddcube delves deep into a subject near and dear to a lot of folk's heart: Gaming. Real RPG style gaming. The kind with dice, paper, pencils, and late nights sitting around the kitchen table guzzling soda and eating chips and pizza.

Next up we've got the final part of Eric S. Brown's series, The History of Speed. Eric has been investigating The Flash over the last few months and he wraps it all up by discussing Wally West, once known as Kid Flash and then THE Flash.

A whole raft of new cartoons are online for your enjoyment as well. Dragonslayers, Arpy Gee, Whiz, Hannible Tesla's Adventure Magazine, and Wizards without Coats.

We've also added a nice, new What's new button to the table of contents page. Just click on it and you'll see what's been added for the day.

And be sure not to miss these new items:

Call of the Northern Seas retold by Norman A. Rubin in the General Fiction section

The Realm of the Big Sandbox by Michael H. Hanson in Kid Stuff

A Burning Question by A.K. Sykora in the General Fiction section

New poetry by George Moore:

New poetry by Nora Weston:

Several new stories from Doug Hilton in the sci-fi, the fantasy, and the Western catagories.

And we have a special announcement. Starting on May 5th, we have a new serial starting up. Clock Work by Erin Bassett. A mystery that will have you biting your fingernails and sitting on the edge of your seat. What is that mysterious thing Ester keeps seeing? Who is Holon and why is he important? Don't miss a single episode!

New content added almost daily

Safe S-x Incorporated

2009-04-23T06:30:00.000-07:00

"Safe Sex Incorporated" is a new release at Red Rose Publishing!http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/product_info.php?products_id=378

Blurb:

Skyla is a PR officer for a 22nd century company that makes a special kind of condom: one that protects the user from the 21st century disease called love. In her world, love is an obscene word and a banned emotion. As with all prohibitions, the love prohibition has given rise to a pro-love group, a group whose actions may jeopardize Skyla's dream of a promotion.

Jin is a school teacher - or is he something more? Skyla is instantly drawn to him and when they are together, she forgets about Love Condoms....

http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/product_info.php?products_id=378

Excerpt:

“Meet me for cyber-sex tonight,” whispered the teacher.

She raised her eyebrow in a deliberately ambiguous reply. She had never done that before. Played silly games.

The 21st century must be catching up with me, she thought as she listened to the familiar words:“It must have seized the body and the mind like a strong disease. Another plague that science has erased, even from the memories..." (Safe Sex Inc)

http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/product_info.php?products_id=378

Abandoned Towers Middle of April update

2009-04-22T18:49:00.001-07:00

In the ongoing effort to make Abandoned Towers easier to use and easier to find stuff on, I've added a What's New page. I update that page every time I add something to the website (which is just about every day) so check it frequently.

In case you haven't found it yet, and don't know what you've been missing this month, here's a list of new items for April, 2009:

April 22, 2009
"To Innocence" by Ashutosh Ghildiyal in the Poetry section
"To Beauty" by Ashutosh Ghildiyal in the Poetry section
"The Golden Treasury" by Ashutosh Ghildiyal in the Poetry section
"Those Hills" by Ashutosh Ghildiyal in the Poetry section
"Step Lightly" by Ashutosh Ghildiyal in the Poetry section
"Looking for the future that was" by Shaun A. Saunders in the Science Fiction section
"Mike Grell Returns to The Warlord" by Eric S. Brown under Eric S. Brown on Comics
"Marvel Zombies 4" by Eric S. Brown under Eric S. Brown on Comics
April 21, 2009
"After October" by Apryl Fox in the Poetry section
"(his name is j.uan)" by Apryl Fox in the Poetry section

April 17, 2009
"The Biter's Bit" by Arthur Mackeown in the General Fiction section

April 15, 2009
Page 14 of Hannible Tesla's Adventure Magazine is now online

April 14, 2009
"Mirror" by Arthur Mackeown in the General Fiction section
"Say Goodby" by Arthur Mackeown in the General Fiction section

April 13, 2009
"Johnny" by Michael H. Hanson in the General Fiction section

April 8, 2009
"The Eternity Compact" by James Benford in the General Fiction section.
"In Memory of Homo Sapiens" by James Benford in the General Fiction section.
"Frontiers" by James Benford in the General Fiction section.

April 7, 2009
"It's Me" by Arthur Mackeown in the General Fiction section.
"Lawyer Referral Service" by Peter Lukes in the General Fiction section
"A Matter of Sheep" by Katherine McIntyre in the General Fiction section

Special Invite

2009-04-06T18:38:00.000-07:00

I wanted to pop in and offer you a special invite to visit my Book Madness blog and check out the interview I have done with the wonderful Jodi Thomas, and then invite you to listen in to her radio show tomorrow night on Introducing WRITERS! -- I am so thrilled to be hosting her on her book release day!

Anyway, the blog is http://bookmadness.wordpress.com and the radio show is http://blogtalkradio.com/kims

And be sure to let me know what you think by leaving a comment!
Kim

Spring cleaning even comes to websites!

2009-04-04T20:53:00.001-07:00

After almost 24 hours of doing nothing else, the CWP website has been revamped, redesigned and redecorated.

It's my hope that the site will now be much easier to navigate, prettier to look at and hopefully attractive to people who want books.

Speaking of books, we have several new releases:

Michael H. Hanson's Sha'Daa: Tales of the Apocalypse. A shared world anthology featuring 11 different authors all writing about... the end of the world and the brave souls who fight fearlessly to prevent it.

Sarah Ashwood's A Minstrel's Musings. A lovely book of poetry that touches the heart and isn't written in such a way that only beatniks in smoky coffeehouses might understand it. Beautifully illustrated by A.R. Stone, if you like poetry or even THINK you might, you want this book.

Abandoned Towers 1st Annual Challenge Anthology. Yes, I know, Abandoned Towers is a magazine, but CWP is the driving force behind it and the anthology is truly a labor of love. 6 fantastic stories written around the central theme of Johnney Perkin's amazing cover art. An anthology that any lover of adventure, sword and sorcery, or just place good reading needs to have on their bedside table.

Get over to the CWP home page at http://cyberwizardproductions.com and snag some of the fresh, hot goodies before they're all gone!

Beware! The Sha'Daa is coming!

2009-04-01T20:37:00.000-07:00

The Sha'Daa: Tales of the Apocalypse by Michael Hanson is on it's way and scheduled for official release on May 1, 2009 but you can pre-order copies now by visiting this page:

www.cyberwizardproductions.com/altered/shadaa.html

The Sha’Daa has its dark, eerie, terrifying roots anchored deep in the soil of fictional horror and mythic apocrypha. The end-of-days is a concept reinvented multiple times by each generation of writers with every new century, and our own 21st is no exception. We offer up this humble tribute to those who came before us.

A gruesome shout out is given for Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Bloch, H.P. Lovecraft, F. Paul Wilson, Stephen King, Clive Barker, Bram Stoker, Charles Dickens, Brian Lumley, Homer, Arthur Conan Doyle, and all the rest who have given us reason to fear the night.

Be warned. The Sha’Daa is coming.

"Even in a field that prides itself upon being unique, Sha’Daa: Tales of the Apocalypse, is a most unusual book...a world visited by hideous things every ten thousand years...stories ranging from those involving Greek and Norse mythology, to one about video-gaming warriors...it's a hell of a book." - Mike Resnick

From The Dive by Ed McKeown:
As I met Johnney's gaze, the tunnel around me faded and I felt as if I was floating in air. A gray fog enveloped me, then a few seconds later images appeared below. With a shock, I realized I was floating over an immense stone city. A ghastly, greenish light emanated from walls of the buildings, pallid and somehow unclean. A foul odor wafted from it. Foul even by the standards of sewer workers.
I drifted down and then... I saw them. And I frantically prayed to the Virgin that they did not see me. Things shuffled and lurched through the ghost-lit streets, hideous horned-and-tailed things. Some had green, leathery-looking skin, while others walked upright like men, yet had heads like alligators.
“They see you not,” Johnny whispered in my ears, “because you are not. Long ago this place ended. Many of your kind died in its walls as a sacrifice... as food... as entertainment... for these.”
I whipped my head around and searched frantically for him, but he was invisible.
“Dread Falkaya this was,” Johnny’s theatrical whisper continued. “Once linked to your world. Those that lived here feasted on your distant ancestors. Sometimes they did worse, mating with them to produce demonic half-breeds. Some humans they broke the souls of and made them into the Shadalka: servants of demons. The Shadalka seek to outdo their masters in cruelty. Because they are part human, they can cross more easily to your world.”

From The Way of the Warrior by Arthur Sanchez
The General chuckled. "A true warrior is ever vigilant. We've been watching your kind since before you lived in caves. I know about video games. Let us begin!" Shinzo gulped hard.
Two-player games are different than playing the computer. There isn't as much finesse. A player chooses an avatar and tries to use its strengths while protecting against its weaknesses. Shinzo chose a fighter who was fast and precise. That came at the cost of strength and endurance. General Kra'tchaz' chose a fighter with limited mobility but a devastating punch. I guess, Shinzo thought, people stick to what they know.
Shinzo wiped the sweat from his hands on his pants and held his controller pad. General Kra'tchaz' stared at the screen. He looked as immobile as a house. "Let's do it," Shinzo said.

From Talking Heads by Nancy Jackson
Professor Veronica "Ronny" Johns stared at her grandfather’s picture on the wall of her tidy study at Exeter University. He’d been everything to her as a child, after her parents died in a car crash. The resemblance between her tall, elegant grandfather and herself was clear in the reflection from the portrait's glass. The same long, straight nose, brown hair and dark brown eyes, the same gangling body that looked better on him than it did on her.
"But you left me something else, Gramps," she sighed. "You left me a terrible burden that even now I only half believe in. Perhaps we’re both mad." She turned back to her laptop, where she was working on the details of the Exeter University expedition to Easter Island. It was a long way from Devon, UK, to the Pacific.

Shadow Play Entertainment

2009-04-01T10:42:00.000-07:00

Shadow Play Entertainment is pleased to begin the last week of March 2009 with some incredible updates---and believe us: this is all news you will want to share.

1) WEBSITE: The website for The Write Stuff Reality Show has been revamped with some exciting new updates. Make sure to visit it page by page to see how we are changing to best educate and inform our visitors.

2) NEW ENDORSEMENTS: We are excited to say that authors and book lovers all over the country are joining forces with us---and we couldn't be more thriled. Late last week we announce that New York Times Bestselling author Steve Berry had joined forces with The Write Stuff. Now we can tell you that thanks to author and friend Mark Eller (http://www.hellhole tavern.com), we have added yet another New York Times Bestselling author to the mix. His name is Scott Sitzer. Look for all the details on the website. Thanks Mark!

Speaking of endorsements, many of my friends from other reality shows are coming onboard to offer their help as well. So far we have Poprah (VH1's I WANT TO WORK FOR DIDDY), Jon Boy (VH1's EGO TRIP'S THE WHITE RAPPER SHOW), Nikki Shallwani and Derrick Hargrove (MTV's 50 CENT: THE MONEY & THE POWER. I can now tell you that Boris "Can Do" Kuperman from VH1's I WANT TO WORK FOR DIDDY has joined the show as well. We are glad to have him involved, and look forward to his experience as part of a reality show cast being of use to our contestants.

3) MAGAZINES!! There have been several magazines that have reached out to us about featuring the contestants as well as offering opportunities for the winner. I want to personally thank Crunk Magazine, Hype Magazine, our own Conversations Magazine and Industry Standard Magazine for working with The Write Stuff

The June/July 2009 issue of Conversations Magazine will be released in late May 2009. This is going to be a big one that will of course talk about the contestants of The Write Stuff and the judges. Look for more details later.

That's all for now. Make sure to encourage others to become a member of The Write Stuff Reality Show website. It's totally free, and it allows you to get all of the updates FIRST. If you have any questions or comments, contact Cyrus A. Webb at cawebb4@juno. com.
http://thewritestuf ftv.webs. com/

Mark Eller

Apollo's Lyre is Back

2009-04-01T08:44:00.001-07:00

After a brief hiatus, Apollo's Lyre is back -- with a new website and its first blog -- and the first issue of the relaunch will come out this June.

We are still a non-paying market, but we have a large following and have won several industry awards.

If you've never submitted your work to us before -- or even if you have -- be sure to check out our revised submission guidelines.

We also accept flash fiction in two categories: 1-500 words (editor Kimberly Brown) and 501-1000 words (editor Jim Harrington). Lea Schizas is our editor for articles on writing.

General guidelines, as well as category specific ones, are now online at http://apollos-lyre.tripod.com/

To keep up to date on Apollo's Lyre, please add http://apollos-lyre.blogspot.com/ to your blog roll.

Lea Schizas - EIC

Apollo’s Lyre

http://apollos-lyre.tripod.com/

Rebel in Blue Jeans Excerpt

2009-03-23T13:05:00.000-07:00

Hello! Am I in the wrong place? Where are the excerpts? Anyway, here is mine for my latest young-adult novel, Rebel in Blue Jeans.

Twilight Times Books

ISBN: 978-1-933353-49-4

October, 2008

Enjoy

Chapter 1

Rebel Ferguson pulled the currycomb across the mare's broad back. Fine specks of dust floated in the early morning air. A mockingbird sang outside the stable. A lump the size of a barn owl lodged in Rebel's throat. How could the bird be so happy when her life had been shattered into millions of pieces? Don't think about Mom, she told herself. Keep busy.

And she tried. She brushed and brushed Sunrise's coat, until the hair shimmered like a new copper penny. One by one--she counted them--she untangled three sharp burrs from the mare's coarse mane.

The sudden vroom of a car engine rumbling to life made Rebel's chest tighten. Even though the driveway was not visible from the stable, she darted to the stall door anyway and looked out the open top section. Rain lingered like teardrops on the red tile roof of the white stucco house nestled amony mesquite and cottonwood trees a hundred yards away. Last night's storm was past, at least the storm outside. The clouds had drifted east, leaving behind a clear blue sky.

But the storm between her parents was etched on Rebel's heart forever. Oh, they never yelled or fought or said horrible things to each other. They were much too civilized for such childish behavior. Sometimes she wished they would. Anything would be better than the unbearable silence. Except for what had to be said, her parents simply stopped talking to one another. They were polite strangers, and she was caught in the middle, loving them both.

She listened to the hum of her mother's Jaguar until it faded, leaving behind only the chatter of that annoying bird, the swishing sound of the mare's tail as she swatted flies, and Rebel's thoughts. Everyone said she was a carbon copy of her mother. She had the same smoky blue eyes, the same long dark hair, and the same slender build. But outward appearances could be deceiving. Their personalities were complete opposites. Liz Ferguson was a city girl who liked fancy dresses and parties and crowds. Rebel Ferguson was a country girl who preferred jeans, T-shirts, and a few close friends.

End of Excerpt

Rebel can be found at Amazon and at Twilight Times Books

Marsh God story about to finish up - don't miss it!

2009-03-18T21:19:00.001-07:00

Dalacroy crouched in the reed bed while flies swarmed around his sweat-soaked body. Nauseated by the stench of decaying plants and rotting wildlife, he gnawed his hand, stifled a cough, mumbled, “I left the northlands for this?”
To his knowledge he was the lone survivor of the caravan escort. In their wisdom the caravan masters had hired a local Yakuli guide to lead the merchants through a seldom used and dangerous path.
The guide had betrayed them.
The nomads sprang their ambush, and Dalacroy had seen Captain Nacheev, the escort commander, fall with an arrow through his throat.
The encounter itself was fierce and brutal, Dalacroy spilling his share of blood in the struggle. But it wasn’t long before he’d realized the battle was lost. The mercenary had abandoned his mount and sought refuge along the riverbank, cursing the caravan masters. They had gambled on this dangerous route and lost.
Now Dalacroy hid, watching and waiting.

The Marsh God is an award winning story by Bruce Durham, that we have been presenting for the last year, one new page per week, in the form of an electronic graphic novel featuring the stunning illustrations of fantasy artist Michael "Mikos" Mikolajczyk.

However all good things must come to an end and the story is just about over.

Catch it now, online, while you have the chance. And make plans to pick up a printed copy soon.

That's right! Soon after it finishes it's run online, it will be released in printed format. But there's a catch. Once it's in print, it won't be available to read online any more.

So take advantage of the short time left and spend a little time adventuring with Dalacroy in a true Sword and Sorcery tale. To find it, just go to the Abandoned Towers home page, click on the small Marsh God image next to the comics at the top of the page, and then look for a link that says Click Here to read individual pages.

Changes at Abandoned Towers

2009-03-16T16:40:00.000-07:00

We've added several new things to the online pages. A new audio story, some new content in various places, and a brand new look.

Also, in case you missed the announcement, print issue #2 is now available.

Wander on over to our home page at http://cyberwizardproductions.com/AbandonedTowers and take a look.

While you're there, take a few minutes to visit some of the sections you might have been missing.

And for those who have a problem with graphical menus, there's a text menu available. The link is right there in the middle of the home page.

Something for everyone, so don't wait, visit today.

Yvonne Walus talks about her books with Savannah Chase

2009-03-16T04:37:00.000-07:00

Spring's just around the corner!

2009-03-06T15:54:00.000-08:00

Outside my window, there's a tree covered with tiny green leaves. Purple crocus have opened in one flowerbed, while bright yellow daffodils are nodding in the shade nearby. The signs of spring are all over, at least here in Texas. Before long, the highways around Austin will be covered with wildflowers and tourists having their pictures snapped. Such a lovely time of year.
Whether you have lovely spring weather, or your part of the world is currently experiencing another season, here at Abandoned Towers we have some interesting things sprouting to easy your long stressful days.
Issue #2 has just gone live. You can get your copy by visiting the Abandoned Towers home page at http://cyberwizardproductions.com/AbandonedTowers and clicking on the cover. You'll find it on the right side of the page, next to the comics.
We've also kicked off several serials: Scion of the Immortals, Tales of Coromoor, and Knight Terrors - the (mis)adventures of Smoke the Dragon. You'll find links to all of those on the left side of the home page.
We've got new cartoons up, we've added a lot of new stories, poems and other yummy content to the online site and, as always, we'll keep doing so on a regular basis.
And for those of you that didn't get a copy of issue 1 but would like one, just click on the Previous Issues link on the home page menu.
Don't put this off. Life is distracting and emergencies arise to absorbe all available funds. Get your copie of issue #2 right now, while you're thinking about it. Just go to http://cyberwizardproductions.com/AbandonedTowers and click on the issue #2 cover. You'll be glad you did.

My Valentine Gift For You

2009-02-14T05:17:00.000-08:00

It is a long held tradition that Valentine's Day is an opportunity to celebrate romance. As an author, however, I believe that every day presents such an opportunity and that every time a book is published, it is a gift to the reader. But in the tradition of the day, I give to you another gift, a never before seen excerpt from my debut novel, Nora's Soul. I hope you enjoy it.

“You don’t have to walk me home,” she said, peevish, pulling away from him.
“I said…give me your key.”
“I can open my own door.”
“Give me the damn key!”
Reluctant, she handed it over with a muttered, “I’m not drunk, you know.” She didn’t pursue the subject as he shot her a quelling look, but she refused to let his boorish attitude unnerve her. Instead, she said, flippant, “And if this is your sorry attempt to be a gentleman…” She didn’t finish as he sent another dangerous look her way. Maybe it‘d be better if she just held her tongue until she was safely inside her apartment, she decided.
Neither one of them acknowledged the picture of the angel that fluttered to the floor when he pushed open the door.
“Okay, then, you can handle it from here.”
“Oh, good, you’re finally going.” Her tone was dry, devoid of emotion, but her eyes shot bolts of fire in the dark. “I feel so much safer now that you saw me inside.”
“Bitterness doesn’t become you, Nora.”
“I’m not bitter, I’m tired,” she said. “But you’re too pig-headed to see that. See me in a bar with a drink and you automatically think I’m drunk. Well, I’m not! I’m tired. T-I-R-E-D!”
“Are you always this bitchy when you’re tired?”
Nora glared at him, but didn’t snap at his bait; she had to bite down on her lower lip to keep from doing so. Instead, she decided to just get him out of there so she could have some peace in which to deal with the painful noise roaring in her head. “Weren’t you leaving?” she demanded, her voice snapping like a brittle twig. “Well, go, then!”
He was at the door, ready to do just that, when she called, “Wait!” She followed him into the small stream of light cast by her porch lamp. Her eyes narrowed, suspicion clear in their murky depths. “Why’d you go there tonight? Checking up on me?”
“Just wanted a drink.”
“In that bar?”
“Yeah, in that bar. I used to go there all the time…before Denise.”
“Oh.” She nodded again, half-turned away as she struggled out of her jacket; pictures of angels fell from the pockets as she carelessly tossed it over the back of the sofa. “Well, okay, then.”
“Okay,” he echoed softly. Still, he hesitated at the door. He stood pressed against it, arms folded over his chest, just watching her. Why?
Before she realized what he was doing, Kyle was across the room to her, pulling her against him. Clasping a hand to the base of her neck to anchor her for a thorough, passionate kiss. Nora barely had time to react as his lips devoured hers, manipulated hers, forced them open to receive his tongue. When at last he relinquished her lips, she was breathless.
“What’d you do that for?” she managed to whisper, her eyes fluttering open to regard him.
“I don’t know, it just seemed…right. This seems right.” He lowered his head to kiss her again.
Nora just stood there, numb, as Kyle’s lips mapped an assault on her own. With each kiss, she started to respond, her lips following his with each retreat. Her eyes, closing in desire, fluttered open in question when his mouth disappeared from hers. She watched as Kyle shucked out of his jacket and shirt, casually dropping them to the living room floor.
Oh, my God! This was actually happening. She wasn’t imagining it this time. Kyle was going to make love to her! He was actually standing in her living room, bare-chested – oh! What a beautiful chest he had – backing her into the darkness of her apartment. She felt the warmth and strength of his chest pressing against hers and knew it wasn’t a dream. After all these years, he was with her again.
Nora pretended to pull away as they paused in the space between the folding screens that separated her bedroom from the rest of the apartment. Yet, her lips never strayed from Kyle’s. She was afraid to release them; afraid that, if she did, her dream would end and she’d find herself alone in bed. She moved her hips away from Kyle’s. With a growl, he looped an arm about her hips and pulled them close, cradled them in the basin of his pelvic bones.
“You’re making me crazy, Nora.” He pressed her body against the folding screen to his right with a feverish motion; the screen clattered against the wall, barely remaining upright. “You’re making me break all my rules here, and you know what? I don’t care!” He kissed her hungrily. “I just want to kiss you…be with you.” He paused to devour her lips again. “Do you?”

Nora's Soul, by Margay Leah Justice
http://margayleahjustice.com
Available here

Happy Valentines's Day

2009-02-14T04:00:00.000-08:00

Summer's having a great day. She's found her man. Read Summer's Story to find out which one she chose!

Happy Valentine's Day everyone. I hope your day is as special as Summer's!

Nancy

Summer's Story is available from Red Rose Publishing (http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/index.php?manufacturers_id=132)

Sharing Reviews

2009-02-13T08:00:00.000-08:00

Sparta Rose is a great novel to put on anyone’s list. It carries you to a beautiful spot in Tennessee, with characters that grow on you and stay forever. The dialogue is wonderful and the storyline flows smoothly so not to lose the reader. I admire Ellie’s steadfastness in going after what is important in her life. I like how Ty wants to be there for her and make sure no harm comes to her. Ginger Simpson adds just the right elements into this story to keep the reader interested. She has a way of imparting moments that bring on a smile or even a laugh by making characters that lift off the pages and come to life.
Four Cups from Coffee Time Romance

Ginger Simpson’s Sparta Rose, is a delight and just the thing to curl up with in front of the fire on a winter’s night. I promise you will hear the jingle of a bridle and smell wet leather as you read.
A wonderful quote from Historical Novel Review

Ginger has a knack for infusing her stories with enough humor to keep them from growing too intense. Sparta Rose provided plenty of moments that got a laugh out of me. Ellis is a spitfire, with a temper to match her fiery red hair. The verbal sparring that occurs between Ellie and Ty lightens things up quite a bit, when Ellie gets too overwhelmed with her anger and frustration.

I don't read a lot of historical romance, and even fewer Westerns, being quite particular about books in this genre, but I'm glad I read Sparta Rose. I was pulled into the adventures of Ellie and company, thoroughly enjoying my visit to Sparta, TN. I am looking forward to more adventures from the mind of Ginger Simpson.
Four Clovers from Kwips & Krits

Ms. Ginger Simpson is a new author to me. She has a marvelous way of telling the story and explaining the unusual plot...

...It is a great book which I highly recommend to anyone who loves historical or western romances. I guarantee you will be glad you read it.
Five Hearts from The Romance Studio

Blackest Heart excerpt

2009-02-12T12:19:00.000-08:00

Ride Back to Wayback with BLACKEST HEART, the latest story in the Wayback, TX series “Where A Cowboy Falls In Love Every Eight Seconds!”

Title: Blackest Heart
Author: Amber Leigh Williams
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Imprint: Yellow
Length: 116 Pages
Price: $3.00

EXCERPT:
“I love the way the air feels here,” she murmured, watching the fire in the sky take its sweet time burning out. “I love how it tastes.”

Her companion didn’t speak. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tall figure leaning against the fence. She turned her head when he didn’t reply. A stunning zap of electricity surged through her.

Judd had taken his hat off, revealing his thick crop of black hair, and was holding it between his hands draped over the fence line, elbows braced on the rail. His boot was propped on the lowest. His eyes squinted against the bright display, trained on the sun’s showcase. Beside him, sitting dutifully was an adorable mutt.

The man was an enigma. It got to her. That pleasant burning sensation began to swell within her again.

He straightened, catching her stare. She didn’t look away. Remembering how he’d raced with her over the field that afternoon, how he’d ridden that mean bull at the rodeo, she thought he must like challenges. Her admiration for him peaked.

She liked a challenge, too.

His brows rose as she stepped to him. Interest instead of astonishment filled his complex eyes.

She came to a halt with the dog between them. “What’s with you, Judd?” she asked, punching just enough challenge into the question. “Didn’t Apache Jim ever teach you any manners? Didn’t anyone ever tell you how rude it is to stare?”

Something welled beneath the interest.

Amusement.

A sharp breath escaped her as she watched his eyes smile at her, crinkling up at the corners. She was the astonished one. Her body froze up when he reached out with one of those hard, wide-palmed hands. If she could’ve moved, she wouldn’t have stepped back.

His fingertips brushed over her damp hair, from her brow back over her crown. She fought against the urge to close her eyes, sigh and melt. Her scalp tickled under his light touch. His fingers combed through the ends of her tresses and repeated the motion, slower the second time through. She gripped the rail next to her, afraid she’d sway.

The amusement in his eyes had faded. They’d lifted to the scars she’d left exposed by combing her hair back from her face. His thumb traced the smooth, jagged line, tracing it to the corner of her eye.

She tried to read his face. The tender moment between them intensified. The tingles deepened.

Though she wanted to turn his attention away from those imperfections on her face, she drew comfort from his whispering touch. His eyes darkened. There was anger there now. He was angry she’d been hurt. Her heart picked up pace, welcoming his fury.

She allowed her eyes to close. Her blood was singing, warming skin chilled by the nightly breeze.

She could hear him breathing, just barely. Edging closer, she reached up to touch him. Her fingers found the chords of his upper arm. They wrapped around them, gripping them for support.

His fingertips found the scar by her mouth and began to trail down the angled mark. Her eyes popped open, fixed on his and her breath seized when he touched the very corner of her mouth. His fingers lingered, eyes tracing the line of her lips. She wanted his mouth to do the same. She waited breathlessly, heart thudding hard between them.

Available Now from The Wild Rose Press!

2009-02-12T12:00:00.000-08:00

GOLDIE'S BEAR Excerpt

Set-up: Lucy has been around Thom long enough to know she wants to know more. Intimate stuff, like how it feels to be kissed by him. Stuff like that. She invites him home where she's cooked a fine meal. After her dad excuses himself for the evening, Lucy and Thom go into the sittng room. In a moment not unlike two teenagers circling for advantage, the following scene ensues.

Of course, she'd been kissed by a man before. Actually, a boy. She remembered her high school dreamboat who'd taken her on a few dates and then kissed her. Their lips had just met when Geoff Fox bellowed from the door for her to get into the house.

Then in college, a school whose nickname was Grope U, she'd gone on a few dates; enough to know there were more than enough toads to go around for the next millenium. As a freshman, she'd had lots of chances to be groped and slobbered over, but managed to stave off that particular joy. The older she got, the less inclined she'd been to go anywhere other than class with boys. And then her mom had taken ill, terminally, and asked her to see after her dad. She'd agreed. That was the end of boys or men--and her love life.

Until now...

And now, here she was, in close proximity to a man; a real man. One who, from appearances, was ready to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her like nothing she'd ever wanted in her life.

To be held by him, to be kissed by him, to be loved...

Problem was, the innocent child inside her hadn't a clue as to what to do. She'd have to wing it.

"Thom?"

"Yes, Lucy?"

"Would you like to kiss me?" How's that for winging it?

"I've been thinking about that."

"You have?"

"Um-hum. A lot."

"What have you been thinking about it?"

"That I'd like to."

"You'd like to what?"

"Kiss you."

Lucy sighed again, the sound causing a lump in his throat to thicken. Comfy went right over the cliff, but it wasn't a bad kind of discomfort he felt. He sneaked a peek at the adorable lady snuggled against him. Nope. Not bad at all.

He remembered what it had been like with Sherry. Nothing like this. Sherry would have ridiculed this innocent fun. Just thinking of the little tramp about scuttled his desire. But then Lucy took charge of things and negative thoughts evaporated. She turned her face to his and closed her eyes. He couldn't resist the glowing countenance presenting itself. Or those luscious red lips. Cupid bow lips, waiting for his.

Thom kissed her lightly, without opening his lips or demanding anything other than the simple melding of spirits. It lasted for long seconds before both shifted their bodies slightly to allow fuller contact. When her breasts imprinted themselves on him, he groaned into the kiss.

"What's wrong, Thom?"

"Nothing at all. You look good. You smell good. You feel good. And you have the nicest mouth, Lucy. Perfect for kissing. I love your lips."

"You do? I've always thought they were too big."

"Oh, no. They're just right. Kissing you is like kissing an angel."

Her body, already heated beyond her wildest dreams, threatened to go totally out of control. She didn't know what to make of it but she was thrilled by the feel of him against her. And by the feeling inside her, like there was a hungry tigress raging inside, eager to be free.

"Would you like to kiss this angel again?"

"Oh, yeah."

He kissed her with assurance this time, letting his tongue trace the outline of her still closed lips. As he moved the tip of his tongue back and forth, she opened her lips slightly.

Thom couldn't resist the invitation. When his tongue penetrated her mouth, she began to suckle on it, causing him to pull her closer. For long moments their tongues vied for dominance, settling happily on the shared thrill of the moment.

She knew he could feel her nipples, distended and hard, straining against his chest. And she had no doubt he'd risen to the occasion as well. He shifted slightly to avoid embarrassing her. Not that she was actually embarrassed.

Her brain was so scrambled, she couldn't think. Not that she had to analyze this scene, either. Never having experienced this kind of kiss, she thrilled to each wonderful new sensation as it came. Her instinctive response to him had come as a surprise as well.

One thing she knew for sure. Her body was on fire. If this was what (sister) Nat wanted to share, she now understood. Understood, and wanted to understand even more.

When they broke for breath, his eyes were dark and mysterious, with an emerald glow she'd never noticed before.

Gorgeous eyes. Gorgeous man. I love this man.

It was that simple. She didn't know how she knew. She just did. She loved him, pure and simple.

All the waiting had been for this. Every moment of every day of her life had been spent waiting for this wonderful enchanted moment. And it was worth it.

Oh, yes. Well worth it. Her life was about to begin.

Sparta Rose - Excerpt

2009-02-12T08:00:00.000-08:00

Ellie halted Chessie next to the nearest tree, dismounted and secured her reins to a branch low enough to allow the animal to graze. Suddenly, her palms dampened with perspiration. She’d bragged about her abilities, and now she had to deliver. True,her skills had improved, but could she live up to her boasting?

Here again she faced the consequence of using her mouth instead of her brain. She took a deep breath, turned and braced herself.

Ty had already tethered his horse and busied himself setting up a line of cans along a fallen log. Ellie found a stump and sat, her heartbeat sounding in her ears. Ty straightened from his task and glanced over at her.

“You ready?”

She stood on wobbly legs. “I…I guess.”

“You don’t sound too convincing. We can call the whole thing off if you aren’t feeling sure of yourself.”

Oh, that irritating tone in his voice. Call it off? Not a chance. She could do this—she had to do this. Besides, his attitude was downright insulting. “I’m quite confident about my abilities, thank you.” Ellie spoke through clenched teeth.

She brushed by him and walked toward the target area. With a glance over her shoulder, she feigned confidence. “So how are we going to do this?”

Ty came and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her. “We’ll take turns. I’ve set up the first six targets. I’ll go first so you get the idea.”

Ellie stepped to the side to give him room. Ty’s gaze focused on the cans lined atop the log. Beneath the brim of his dusty hat, determination knit his two brows into one. He widened his stance and rested a hand on the butt of his revolver.

As soon as his gun cleared leather, a blaze of gunfire ensued. With lightning precision, Ty masterfully downed five of the six cans, and re-holstered his weapon. With a cocky smile, he turned to Ellie. “Well, I must have been distracted on that last one, but five out of six is pretty good, seeing as how it probably only took ten seconds or so.”

Ellie exhaled. There was no denying he’d done a good job. Her heart really started to pound. What if she wasn’t as skilled as she thought? While watching Ty set up six new cans, she mentally pictured her make-shift target filled with holes made by expertly placed shots. The whole time she fought rising nausea.

Ty strolled back. “It’s your turn.”

Her stomach clenched. “Thanks. I kind of figured that,” she snapped, surprised by her snippiness. This was her idea, not his.

She swallowed hard, determined to mellow her tone. “Could you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Can you please stand back a little ways?” She motioned over her shoulder. “It distracts me to see you out of the corner of my eye.”

“Sure, no problem.” He backed up a few paces.

It didn’t help. He was distracting anywhere, anytime. Oh, if only her mouth didn’t get her into these messes. Ellie swiped at the beads of perspiration on her brow. Despite the brisk air, the pressure of the moment burned beneath her skin. She wiped the offending moisture on her pant leg, broadened the distance between her feet, and readied herself. She briskly rubbed her palms together, and since they were in the perfect position, she took a brief second to mutter a silent prayer. Please God, don’t let me make a fool of myself.

With determination, she eyed the cans and locked her fingers around the rosewood grips. Recalling exactly how she’d riddled the floral material at the old mine, Ellie drew her weapon and fired. One after another the first four bullets found their mark, but the last two dug deep into the earth beyond the log. Two cans remained.

Ellie’s jaw tightened as she shoved her weapon back into its leather restraint.

“Not bad, not bad at all. I’m impressed.” Ty said, with a smug grin.

Perhaps it was his attempt at a compliment, but it sounded more like taunting. She turned and gave him a forced smile. “You don’t have to rub it in. You won, I lost. It’s as simple as that.”

“I’m not rubbing anything in. I thought you did a good job under the circumstances.”

“And what circumstances are those?”

“You-me…a shoot-off for the first time. I didn’t expect you to hit anything.”

“Well, thanks for the confidence. I am only a woman, after all.” Ellie seethed inside.

“Ah, Ellie, don’t get mad. That’s not what I meant. You wanna try again?”

Her mind screamed no, but her mouth overrode the warning. “Sure, set ‘em up. Why not shoot at the same time this round.”

“Really?” He eyed her suspiciously.

“Set ‘em up, I said.” Ellie reloaded her revolver,wondering why he stirred her need for rivalry. When would she learn? She’d seen Pa put a mouthpiece on mares that nipped. Maybe she should wear one to keep her words in check. Her competitive nature was going to be the ruination of her.

Ty fished inside the burlap sack and produced the last ten cans. He spaced them perfectly atop the log, then returned to stand beside her and reloaded his own gun.

Again he assumed his shooting stance. He grasped his gun butt and turned to Ellie. “So, on my go. I’ll take the first five, you take the last. Are you ready?”

Ellie sucked in a cleansing breath and got into position. Her heartbeat pulsed in her temples, but she maintained a steady hand. Her only thought was showing Ty what she was really made of. She tensed, but remained focused.

“Go.” Ty’s body reacted to his own cue.

Ellie’s gun cleared the holster. Her rapid gunfire synchronized with Ty’s, sending one can after another leaping into the air and tumbling to the ground. Her last shot sounded just slightly after his, but when the last bullet was fired, only one can was left upright—one of his.

She holstered her gun and did a little dance. “I got ‘em all, I got ‘em all.”

Suddenly, she stopped, realizing her reaction belied her statements about being an adult. With hands on her hips, and a cocky tilt to her head, she asked, “So, Mr. Bishop, what have you got to say for yourself now?”

Summer's Story -- Excerpt

2009-02-12T07:05:00.000-08:00

"If you think I'll stay in your house after you killed my father, Ned Granger, you're crazy." Summer Langston folded her arms across her chest and glared.

"I think that's a bit of an overstatement." Ned shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and rocked back on the heels of his English leather boots.

"Well, I don't. When you told him he couldn't work with the yearlings anymore, it broke his heart. You might as well have shot him."

"I'm sorry, Summer."

For a long moment the house was still, the ticking of the kitchen clock sounded like a blacksmith's hammer striking a metal shoe. Summer couldn't believe things had gone so wrong. The move to Golden Oaks had seemed like the answer to a prayer. A wonderful old house to live in, top ranked yearlings to train, and a chance to try the breeding experiments Sam had always dreamed of doing.

Ned broke the silence. "I know you blame me, but frankly, Sam's drinking was way out of control. I had to do what I thought was right for the farm. I hoped he'd take it as a sign and get some help."

"He could have gotten treatment and stayed on. He loved those horses. They were his whole life." Summer wanted to grab the tall man in front of her, flail her fists at his broad chest until he felt the same pain she did.

"Be fair, Summer. Candyman got colic and nearly died when he got into the grain bin. Sam left the stall door open. I couldn't put any more horses at risk."

"Maybe Sam didn't leave the door open. Maybe Candyman got it open."

"Summer, face facts, your father may have been the best Standardbred trainer I ever worked with, but he was an alcoholic. He was drunk most of the time this fall. You should know. You were running the stable."

Summer stared at the green fields beyond the farmhouse window dotted with prize winning Standardbred horses. Ned worked hard to make his farm one of the best. She didn't want to believe her father had decided to drink himself to death and put the reputation of the farm at risk. Someone else had to be responsible. Ned was responsible. She was responsible. They could have done more. She felt tears welling behind her eyes.

Ned stepped closer. "I didn't ask him to leave. I did make it clear that he couldn't work with the horses until he got into a treatment program." He lifted his arms as though he might try to comfort her. "I thought you knew."

Summer moved so the oak table separated them. She couldn't bear to have Ned touch her. He'd let Sam down; he'd let her down. "You could have tried harder."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Summer. I did the best I could." Ned reached for the white Stetson he'd tossed on the table.

Outside, an engine roared, a door slammed, and a heavy tromp of boots crossed the wooden porch. The old oak door swung wide and a tall, broad shouldered man with curly, dark brown hair strode into the room. "Thought I might find you here."

Summer fought down the frisson of excitement Davis always generated in her. "Where else would I be? I live here." Sadly she let her eyes drift around the familiar room. "At least I live here for the moment."

"That's good enough." The dark man crossed the floor in two steps and put his arms around her slight figure. "I came as soon as I heard."

Against her better judgment, Summer relaxed into his embrace. It felt good to have someone hold her. "I'm glad you came."

"I know it hurts. I loved the old guy, too."

They stood silently for a moment. Then Davis released her, and said, "So what got your temper up? I could hear you yelling all the way across the yard."

"You couldn't possibly have heard. You just got here."

Davis grinned. "That's better. Well, maybe I only heard you from the porch, but when I see those red cheeks, I know someone's gettin' cussed."

Summer stamped her foot. "I wasn't cussing."

Davis looked at Ned standing stiffly beside the table. "That right?"

"I wouldn't call it cussing exactly."

Summer opened her mouth, but Davis beat her to it. "All right, Irish, just tell me what's going on."

Ned said, "I offered my sympathy and told her she didn't have to rush to move." His brilliant blue gaze rested on Summer. "I'd be happy to help any way I can. I – I'd like to make it up to you in some way."

Davis put a protective arm around her shoulders, but she moved away. "I think Summer's got friends who can take care of her."

"I'm sure she does. Are you planning to have her move in with you?"

"If she wants to."

Summer shook off the heavy arm. "I'm not moving in with anyone. I'll find my own place."

2009-02-11T17:23:00.000-08:00

Hi!
Dale asked me to drop by and say hello to you all. I'm Lucy Fox, uh, I mean Lucy Hillen. Still not quite used to this marriage thing, you know. Thom said to tell you all hi too. I thought he might drop in to chat but his crew is working overtime.
That name thing can get confusing, can't it? I mean, Fox was always so easy for me to use. Then I married Thom Hill and that seemed easy too. But it wasn't. That's because he chose to change his legal name back to honor his dad. Long story, but it's in GOLDIE'S BEAR. Anyway, we're now Lucy and Thom Hillen and we have the most beautiful twins. A boy and a girl, can you believe it?
Life in Sweetcreek is fanatastic. We're only a half hour from all the wonderful shops of Kansas City, but we don't have the crime or congestion of the city out here. That's why Thom and his crew are so busy these days. They've got ten landscape projects going at any given time and even with the economic slow-down, they'll be able to keep busy for years. Fox-Hill Landscapes is solid and well established in this community.
I'll bet you're wondering how I spend my days here in the burbs. Well, I divide my time between the twins and doing the bookwork for the company. Jake and Ellie are darling, though they can be a handfull at times. They both have sunny dispositions but Jakey can get kind of devilish if I let him. And Ellie charms the pants off any man who looks her way. Not at all like her mother. LOL!
Well guys, I've got to get back to the books. Mid-month is coming up and I need to get the payroll ready. With nine men to keep track of, it's a good thing I'm a professional accountant. Have a great evening, everybody.
Lucy

Fox & Hound

2009-02-11T09:40:00.000-08:00

“Smokin’ hot!” –LASR

“Outstanding Read!” –Simply Romance

“Very exciting and a bit unexpected…” –Coffee Time Romance

“A wonderful debut by this promising new author!” – Manic Readers

What have you been missing?

Title: Fox & Hound
Author: Amber Leigh Williams
Publisher: Red Rose Publishing
Cover Art: Red Rose Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-60435-039-5
Length: Novel (81, 512 words)
Price: $5.99

In the world's most romantic city, fates collide in the most unexpected way and two of the world's most elusive jewel thieves are forever changed by a Louvre heist gone wrong.

After three years in prison, Todd goes after the woman who ruined his life, seeking revenge and the diamond she stole from him. He learns that Celestia doesn't have the diamond either. She was used by her partner, master thief Tito Bandero.

Todd and Celestia form an unlikely partnership to take back what is theirs and redeem themselves. Bandero is planning to steal three of the world's most coveted diamonds, but the ones he wronged—Fox and Hound—plot to take them first.

What Todd and Celestia don't count on? The power of attraction. When the quest grows dangerous, which will they choose: payback or each other?

EXCERPT:

The club in downtown Los Angeles was bouncing when they arrived. Celestia was relieved when she saw the reporters hadn’t been tipped. They hit the dance floor immediately. She needed to work off some of the rage from finding Tito’s check in the mailbox.

Bastard. She threw the anger into her movements. She led Diego into a quick, dirty version of the tango. She’d watched her mother do the same dance with her father many times at parties, scandalizing the elder guests. She’d begged her mother to teach her.

As Diego dipped her back, she arched her spine. Her long, red tresses grazed the floor. He pulled her back up, his face breaths from hers, his lips curled into an assured smile. She only wished for a more intriguing partner.

He spun her around and let go of her arm so she whirled freely. She turned back in his direction. Arms encircled her from behind. Strong arms she knew immediately did not belong to Diego. She spun to face him. Her heart stuttered then raced when she looked into a face she now remembered well.

A face she’d seen three years ago over a glass case that had held the object of both their desires. He’d had a beard then. It was gone and the hair hidden by a ski cap was wavy and blond. The strong nose, chin, and cheekbones were perfect frames for the tan, Roman face—a face that should’ve been painted on a Grecian urn.

The teal-hued eyes burned into hers as he backed her up to the time of the music. She spotted Diego over his shoulder. He looked confused and annoyed. She shook her head when he made a move to cut in.

She could handle Todd Orso.

She looked into the hard eyes again. Neither of them said a word throughout the rest of the song.

She was intoxicating. The dress dipped low on her chest, held up by the tie at the nape of her neck. The slit on the front gave teasing glimpses of long, creamy legs. His hand rested on her back against skin as soft as the material of her dress. The silk fabric was almost the same shade as her long hair. Her bangs were swept back with a silver-and-sapphire barrette, leaving her wide, alabaster forehead bare. The red of her dress illuminated the dash of light freckles across her cheekbones. Rubies glittered at her ears, wrist, and neck.

If he’d planned to say something, he wouldn’t have been able to. His throat was dry, his tongue limp and heavy. He kept up with her throughout the quick dance without tripping over his or her feet. Miracle, he decided when the song ended.

Where the hell did you come from? She wanted to ask the question. Before she could gather the gumption to utter a word, he lifted her hand in his, pressed a soft kiss over her palm and turned away. She watched him disappear into the crowd. Her heart was racing. She grasped for control. Diego walked across the dance floor to her. “Do you know him?” he asked, voice sharp with envy.

“No.” The next tune started up. She grabbed his hand. “Come on. Let’s dance.”

Greetings from Janet Delaine

2009-02-11T08:05:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone. My name is Janet Delaine and for a spell I was mentally abused by my longtime boyfriend. There was a period I thought it was my fault for the way he treated me then realized with the help of his best friend, Clifford, that John was responsible for his actions...not me!

Let me backtrack to understand why I felt it all my fault.

I caught him cheating, was horrified and hurt. Couldn't figure out why he would do such a thing to me. Gave him anything he wanted - even lived in MY house.

John had never hurt me before, never gave me a reason to doubt him, and was always gentle until...

here comes the part where I felt it was my fault...

I gave in to his fantasy. Yep, John is a typical man with that all-same dream most men have: to have a threesome. After the cheating I wanted to mend our relationship so asked him to spill what's on his mind, and I would do the same thing. Well, I really wasn't expecting him to come right out and ask for a bloody threesome. I cringed. My head said no, no, no...my mouth whispered "If that's what you want." Thus my adventure and abuse began.

Through all of this, one man helped me, Clifford.

Now my biggest dilemma surfaced:

Do I try to fix my relationship and get it back on track...

or do I jump into Clifford's arms, a man I know has feelings for me.

What a triangle! And to make matters worse, John had a little blackmail surprise waiting for me. No choice - John had to stay at my house.

Want to find out how my story ends? What happened one night while walking home? Why I ended up in the hospital?

My story only costs $2.99 and found here to purchase:

http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/index.php?manufacturers_id=87&osCsid=afe0396d0ecc0bfb5f303d19a81ad01b

Meet Summer and her Men

2009-02-11T06:45:00.000-08:00

Hi, I'm Summer. Nancy asked me to come around today and tell you a little about myself. Since the story is only partly mine, I invited the men in my life, Ned and Davis, to come, too. Let me say right off the top that romance hasn't been easy for me. I grew up in a stable, literally. When the horses weren't winning my father and I often set up housekeeping, such as it was, in the tack room at what every barn we were stabling the horses in. Stables are a good place to find randy grooms, trainers and even owners, so I'm not surprised that my father was over protective. I remember once when he found me in one of the stalls with his second trainer, I thought he'd kill us both, and we hadn't done more that a little petting. I was pretty protective of him too. He was brilliant. He could do anything with a horse, but it was stressful and he drank too much. I thought we'd landed in heaven when he got the job as trainer for Ned Granger and we were living at Golden Oaks, but by then he just couldn't stop drinking. Things just went from bad to worse. When one of the horse colicked and almost died after getting out of his stall and eating a whole bucket of grain, Ned told him he had to get help, or stop working with the horses. It killed him. I hated Ned for that. I decided to train Dad's best horse, Meadow, myself, and Davis Clayton the famous racehorse driver came back into my life. He's so handsome you can't believe he's real. I fell for him hard. I thought, I mean I hoped, it was forever.

I'm Ned. I've been in love with Summer for years. If you want to know the truth, I hired her father because I wanted to have her close to me. Just seeing her around the farm every day was pure pleasure. Then the worst happened, her father drank himself to death. I couldn't let him work with the horses when he was a danger to himself and some pretty valuable animals. Summer blamed me. I blamed myself ,too. When she took her trotter, Meadow and moved out, I thought I'd lost her forever.

Davis here. Okay I've got a reputation with women, and I won't say I didn't deserve it. I like women, they like me. Nobody took it seriously, well, until Summer. I didn't plan to fall in love with her, but she has a way of getting to you with all that wild red hair, long legs, and, yes, her spunky temper. When we got together, I thought it wouldn't last, but then... My past caught up with me. I hurt her. I still wanted her, but I knew I had to get away from her.

Meet Tyler Bishop

2009-02-11T06:00:00.000-08:00

As promised, I've brought back Tyler Bishop from my recent release, Sparta Rose. Without further ado...here he is. He's a charmer:

Interviewer:
We’re very pleased to have Tyler Bishop with us today. Mr. Bishop is the hero in Ginger’s Simpson’s most recent release, Sparta Rose. So, Mr. Bishop, welcome to Bragging Rites Unleashed.

TB – “Ty, please. Mr. Bishop was my father. And thanks for the welcome, but I’m here under duress.”

INT - “Really.”

TB –“I have things waiting to be done. Cows need to be moved to another pasture, fences need mendin’ and the longer I dawdle, the more I stand to lose favor with my boss, Ben.”

Int – “Ben? Would that be Ben Fountain, father of the heroine, Ellie Fountain?”

TB – “Yep, that’d be right. There’s another reason I need to get movin’… Ellie. For some reason, that little filly is out to get me. Seems every time I chew the fat with her pa, she gets her nose out of joint. I never met someone so… so…what’s the word I’m looking for. You know, someone who wants to prove they can do everything better than the next feller?”

INT – “Oh, you mean competitive.”

TB – “That’s her in a nutshell. Just wait till you read the story. She even went out, bought a gun and learned to shoot. She’s says it’s because of the polecats next door, threatening to trespass on Ben’s land, but I say different.”

INT – “Really? Why do you think she bought the gun?”

TB – “To try to show me up. She already thinks she can ride and rope as good as any man, and lord knows, she could stand to dress up a bit. Sometimes it’s hard to tell there’s a girl under that big ol’ hat and the layer of dust.”

INT – “Does she always dress in men’s clothing?”

TB – “Well she did until I invited her to a dance. Ben sort of pushed me into it, but down deep I wanted to go with her. She looked mighty pretty, all fancied up, but instead of the evening turnin’ out like I planned, she went and got herself in trouble again. She should have listened to me about those pesky Bryant boys.”

INT – “What kind of trouble did she get into?”

TB – “I may be greener than most folks you know, but I ain’t about to divulge Ginger’s whole story. Ellie is a real tomboy, and she stays madder than a wet hen at me most times, but I’ll just say, I think she finally realizes there are just times a woman can’t match a man’s strength.”

INT – “Well it sounds like I’ll have to buy my own copy if I want to see how this turns out.”

TB – “You’re right welcome to visit Eternal Press. That’s where Ellie and my story is being offered. I’m not real savvy when it comes to the Internet, but I wrote this down. *fishes in pocket*. Let’s see, http://www.eternalpress.ca Ain’t got no idea what that means, but Ginger said to share it with ya’ll. I thank you for the time, but I best get going. Now that Sparta Rose has made its debut, my life is about to change. I ran into Ellie earlier and she tells me we're having dinner with Sarah and Gray Wolf from another of Ginger's historicals, Sarah's Journey. I'm not much on strangers, but anything to keep her happy.

INT – “Well enjoy, and please come visit us again."

TY - *doffs his hat and exits*

My Heroine from Sparta Rose

2009-02-11T04:00:00.000-08:00

If you haven't figured me out yet, I guess I'll confess that my favorite genre is Western Historical. I'm in love with the old west and it's colorful characters. In order for you to better get acquainted with my cowboy and his lady, I've arranged to have Tyler Bishop and Ellie Fountain interviewed for you. I hope you enjoy meeting them as much as I loved creating them. Here's Miz Ellie, center stage, and I'll be back later to bring you Ty:

RF=Roselle Fountain
INT = Interviewer

Our special guest this evening is Miss Roselle Fountain, the heroine from author, Ginger Simpson’s western historical, Sparta Rose. Welcome, Roselle.

RF – *Fidgeting* Oh please call me Ellie. I’ve never much identified with such a flowery name. You probably can’t tell by the way I’m dressed today, but I’ve always been somewhat of a tomboy.

INT - *Laughing*. So I’ve heard. You look very nice in your flowered print—very much the lady.

RF – That’s Pa’s doing. He insisted if I was going to make an appearance, I needed to dress more high-falutin’. I’d much rather be wearing britches and boots. *Tugs at the neckline of her dress*. These things are too danged uncomfortable at times.

INT – So, Ellie, tell the readers a little about Sparta Rose.

RF – *Smiles* Well, I can’t give away too much. Ginger would skin me alive, but I’m sure she won’t mind me telling you that it’s got a little romance, a lot of western, and even more feistiness than her last historical romance. My problems begin when Pa hires Tyler Bishop as the ranch foreman. I kinda figured Pa always wanted a son, and Ty proves me right. Their relationship gets me pretty riled up. I have a bad temper at times… I think it comes from this red hair. *pulls a strand forward and grins*.

INT – So, besides your jealousy of Ty, is there any adventure involved.

RF – Oh, you bet. *Squares herself in her chair*. The polecats that live on the neighboring ranch are aiming to get Fountainhead away from Pa. Dude Bryant and his twin boys are meaner than snakes… well at least Dude and Jeb are. Joshua comes across as quiet and a follower. But, *balls hands into fists* I’ll be danged if they’re gonna get my legacy. I actually bought a gun and taught myself to shoot it.

INT – A gun? What do you plan to do with it?

RF – Protect Fountainhead of course. I’m aim to show Pa he don’t need Tyler Bishop around when he has me. I just wish Ty wasn’t so dang good lookin’.

INT – I haven’t heard you mention your mother. How does she feel about you owning a gun?

RF - *Lowers her eyes*. My ma died when I was very young. I suppose that’s why I took up with the ranch hands and spend so much time workin’ outdoors. *Raises a steely gaze*. But, now that Ty’s in the picture, Pa wants me to spend more time in the house doing womanly things.

INT – Would that be such a bad thing?

RF – Of course it would. I don’t much care for cookin’ and cleanin’. We have Cook for that. I’d much rather brand a cow as fry one.

INT – So what about the romance part of the story?

RF – *Chews her bottom lip for a moment* Well, I accompany Ty to a dance in Sparta, and as usual, he gets my dander up there, too. I never should have gone, but those eyes of his make my knees weak. My better judgment flew right out the window. *Takes a deep breath* What happens from then on, you’ll have to find out for yourself. I may look young and naïve, but I’m not silly enough to give away the whole story. Miz Ginger is counting on sales to help pay for a trip to something called an EPPIE Convention, and I wouldn’t want to let her down.

INT – I certainly wouldn’t want you to do that either. You’ve given us enough of a teaser to stir some interest. Hopefully we’ll see you on a best seller’s list somewhere.

RF – That would be right nice. It just may happen cause remember, I have a gun. *Slaps hip and fakes a draw*.

INT - Well, here’s hoping you don’t have to use it. *laughs*. Thank you so much, Ellie for being with us today. And good luck in the future.

RF – Oh, yeah. I almost forgot to tell you that Sparta Rose was just released this past Saturday by Eternal Press. You can find them on something called the “Innernet” at, *reaches in pocket and pulls out a slip of paper; reads it* http://www.eternalpress.ca or they tell me that clickin' on the title above will take you there. *scratches her head* I don't understand all this funny lingo.

INT – Thanks again for being our guest, and please come back.

Introducing...My Peeps!

2009-02-10T16:07:00.000-08:00

One of the reasons I must write is my characters. They are assorted and many, and I absolutely love sharing them with the world. While they fascinate me to no end, it does get a little crowded upstairs. The only way to hush all those noisy voices between the ears is to bunker down and write their stories.

First and foremost is Todd Orso from Fox & Hound, a down-on-his-luck, Texan jewel thief with a penchant for faded jeans and Jack Daniels. Don’t let his lazy twang fool you though—he’s quick as a…well, thief and can charm any filly of his picking. Including Celestia Armstrong, a stubborn heiress with suspected illicit extracurricular activities. Something tells Todd from the onset she’s way out of his league, but if his choice of profession doesn’t underscore his daredevil streak what can? He dares to make a partnership work with the woman he once pledged to bring down…while using every ounce of his considerable charm to wrangle her heart as well as the diamonds they seek. Reasons to love Todd: he’s a bad boy with a twist. His daredevil tendencies are sometimes undermined by a vein of integrity. The mix is downright devastating—to Celestia especially.

Celestia has trust issues and rightly so considering the man she and Todd set out to ruin was once her fiancé. What’s to like about Celestia? She’s a real woman. By accepting Todd’s offer to go after the man who used them both, she breaks a long independent streak she never thought she would abandon again. Family dynamics enter the plot with the presence of her straight-laced, disapproving father—who just happens to be head honcho of the CIA. His misunderstanding instigated her rebellion and criminal career. Being a thief puts Celestia on the bad spectrum as well, yet she likes nabbing high-priced jewels not for their market value but for the thrill of the game. This commonality and their thirst for justice bind her and Todd together irrevocably. Add in a boatload of angst-driven head-butting and a loaded arsenal of attraction that’d rival a New Years fireworks finale and you have Fox & Hound, one of the most fun stories I’ve written to date! As I mentioned yesterday, location plays a major role in Fox & Hound, but I believe the characters give this steamy romantic adventure an “Outstanding Read” review from Simply Romance. (Fox & Hound is now available in e and print from Red Rose Publishing)

Intensity is the name of the game for the characters of Denied Origin. The inner fight between good and bad goes even deeper with Mark Welles. A professional bodyguard, he lives for fighting crime on the streets but his superiors have tied him to a desk after failing to catch the bullet that killed his latest client. So nothing’s stopping our restless hero from taking off for Rio de Janeiro when a ghost from a former life asks him to return to his native country to guard another haunting memory, Valentina Tuttora. The journey south brings back not just more painful than comforting memories but all the emotions his life has been empty of for too long. It’s clear all-too-soon that Valentina has grown into a beautiful woman…and a force to be reckoned with. Not only does he realize that he’ll catch a bullet for her—anytime, anyplace—he’ll also kill for her in an instant.

Valentina has no memory of Mark and after the death of her parents and threats from a deadly terrorist organization she trusts no one—not even the man her father trusted with her life. As Mark proves his loyalty as well as his worth, she feels the stunning, natural current between them. She fights the weakness and the strenuous consequences of a life on the run with ingrained defiance. When she realizes Mark could be the next target the terrorists use to get to her, she reaches the breaking point. Valentina’s character shows how much a spirit can endure, how far the sheer will of an individual can be tested, and how far love can go to patch scars too deep to mend. She tries escaping from Mark just as she struggles to escape from those who wish to harm her. He beats on the door of her resolve until she folds. By learning to meld, they not only ignite a passion well worth living for. They have a better chance of surviving against mounting odds. (Denied Origin is now available in e and print from The Wild Rose Press)

As far as black pasts are concerned, Judd Black wins the cake in Blackest Heart. But that’s one the many things that draw actress Stella Ridge to the mysterious silent cowboy of Wayback, Texas. She comes home to her family cattle ranch to heal and finds that nothing is the same. Between the prying townsfolk and the rise of a buried tragedy, there’s nowhere left to run to find peace…until she winds up in the arms of the town’s sexiest loner. What is so compelling about Stella has nothing to do with her fame. In fact, it is the earthy wit she possessed before she left Wayback for acting school that she draws on to get through the demands of Hollywood life and the obstacles to mend her weary soul.

Judd’s complexities are what make him so intriguing. He’s mute but strong. The boy that wandered onto Ridge Range was broken and nameless, but the man he carved out of those unlikely origins is the character I admire above all others…and lust after. Judd’s hot, plain and simple. The fact that he chooses not to speak just makes him more hot. Tying together the man who craved solitude and the woman who has lived in the nation’s spotlight for years might seem like a difficult task, but it worked like a charm given Stella’s desperate scramble for peace and Judd’s deep-down need for light in an all-too-empty existence. Think what you get after rubbing socks over carpet. Voila! Stella and Judd! (Blackest Heart is now available in e and will soon be included in a print anthology from The Wild Rose Press)

To see covers and more book details, visit http://www.amberleighwilliams.com/

2009-02-10T07:06:00.001-08:00

Mowriter again. I'm in here a little earlier today. And, I noticed I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Dale Thompson and I write as Pat Dale.

My latest publication is a romantic comedy named GOLDIE'S BEAR. It was released by Red Rose Press two weeks ago and pairs Lucy Fox, a lateblooming young woman, with Thom Hill, a man who'd been turned every way, including loose, by his ex-wife. Set in and around Kansas City, GB tells the story of how the blonde whom Thom calls Goldielocks feels compelled to do more for him than he wants. But not more than he needs.

My original working title for GB was 'You Drive Me Crazy' because it begins with Thom giving Lucy driving lessons that end up, let's say, crinkled. After learning of the movie with that title, I settled on Goldie. Thom, because he spends much of his time acting like a wounded bear, gave me the inspiration for the rest of the title.

I've often been asked where my characters come from, a common question I know. But it seems there are as many answers as there are authors. Here's mine. While I never met Lucy Fox or Thom Hill, I have met folks like them. I love to take personality characteristics, positive and negative, from real life and translate it into fictional folk who seem so real they could step right off the page and charm you or irritate you. Usually both in some degree.

My target audience is every woman who's ever looked in the mirror and found herself less than the image of perfection our society seems to demand. A false image in my estimation, but it is there and we're all guilty of letting it dictate our self-image to some degree. Lucy is a very pretty lady but she thinks her bosom is inadequate (until Thom convinces her she's perfect), her mouth is too big, and her feet are too long. While some of the women in the stories I've done are truly gorgeous, most of them benefit from an inner beauty. For instance, Red Rose will release the next of my rom-coms soon. For The Love Of Hattie will introduce a five foot stick of red-headed freckle-faced dynamite named Hattie. Physically, she's what I'd call cute. But Hattie is so much more than that, you're going to love her story.

I'm also targeting women who've let time rob them of their youth and begin to feel it's too late for romance. Ladies! It's never too late for romance. And for you men who think you're unworthy after a break-up, Thom should prove that you can love again. Happily ever afters are not just for women.

Meanwhile, happy reading everyone!

Summer's Story

2009-02-10T05:00:00.001-08:00

If you love horses and the excitement of racing, Summer's Story is for you. After breeding, training and racing Standardbreds, (Trotters and pacers who pull little carts when racing.) I wanted to write about the experience. For me, harness racing is exciting and romantic. It's full of stories of how horses and people overcome the odds to reach success, usually translated in getting to the Winner's Circle, but not always.

My husband and I had many wonderful and some heartbreaking experiences raising our foals and getting them to the races. I've always wanted to write, and my background in harness racing seemed tailor made for an exciting romance novel. While we were actively in the business, there wasn't time to write a novel. Once we retired to the Endless Mountains with the remnants of our broodmare band and our stallion, I decided it was time. The result is Summer's Story. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

BLURB:

Summer Langston's alcoholic father dies leaving her a racehorse and a dream. She hopes to rehabilitate her father's reputation by getting Meadow, his trotting filly, to the winner's circle at the Hambletonian Oaks, the world's most prestigious race for three-year-old trotting fillies. Max Shiller also intends to win and will stop at nothing to eliminate Summer from the competition. Ned Granger, owner of Golden Oaks Standardbred Farm, offers help and security, but Summer refuses, blaming Ned for causing her father's death by firing him as trainer. Davis Clayton, a famous race driver, promises passionate love. When Summer rejects his offer to drive Meadow in her first race, her stubbornness results in a tragic accident. Alone in the hospital, Summer must find the courage to realize her dream, learn who to trust in the high stakes world of international harness racing, and most important, who to love.

AVAILABLE FROM: Red Rose Publishing: http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/index.php?manufacturers_id=132

Agony & Ecstasy

2009-02-10T05:00:00.000-08:00

Yep, that's what writing a book is like: Smiling one minute, crying the next. At this level, the rewards don't even begin to cover the time and effort spent, so it's a darn good thing I'm in this for the love of it. I love to write, and I love historical fiction. I've dabbled in several other genres, but I always migrate back to the old west...except I recently took a detour and wrote a short story about World War II. *lol*

I highly doubt that readers know what go into creating a novel. I know I read for years and years and didn't have a clue until I finished my first manuscript. I was so pleased with myself until my first editor informed me that I'd TOLD a beautiful STORY, and now I had to hone it into a NOVEL. You see, the difference between the two is telling versus showing. You want to draw the reader into the character's body and make them see and feel the very same things. There isn't just one trick to it, but many, and you'll find the rules change from publisher to publisher, and what's hot at the moment. Hence the picture of the weather vane with the dual expressions. Sometimes, how the wind of change blows determines how your work is received, and how your moods swing. *smile*

I suspect that the old west doesn't hold the same appeal it did at one time; back when westerns like Bonanza, Gunsmoke, Maverick and Wagon Train were popular. But, I grew up on stories like those, and all the Little House on the Prairie Books, so that's what drives me to write. If you enjoy feisty women and tough cowboys, then you just might like my type of stories.

My two latest releases are:

Sarah's Journey

When Sarah Collins sets her sights on California for a new beginning, she never dreams a war party will attack the wagon train she travels on. She and her friend Molly are the sole survivors, but when Molly succumbs to her injuries, Sarah is left alone to find her way back to civilization. Stampeding buffalo, the black prairie nights and eerie noises…just when she believes she’s facing the worst time of her life, a rattlesnake bite threatens to accomplish where the Indians failed. Is it her time to die or does Sarah have a purpose that is yet to be accomplished?

Sparta Rose

Tomboy, Roselle Fountain can’t quite live up to her flowery name and prefers being called Ellie. She has big plans for running Fountainhead some day… until drifter, Tyler Bishop rides in looking for a job and somehow becomes the son her father always wanted. Ty’s not only a threat to Ellie’s legacy; he poses a bigger risk to her heart.

****
Both of these books are currently available at Eternal Press. The publisher has recently announced a contest in which a lucky winner can receive a new EP title each month for a whole year. To find out more details, you need to subscribe to the EP newsletter. Information is available in this month's copy and everyone subscribing will receiveone. Just send an email to: eternalpresspromotions@gmail.com with the word "newsletter" in the subject line.

2009-02-09T17:32:00.000-08:00

Hi all,
I'm a little late getting here but that seems to be the story of my life lately. I live in mid-Missouri and today's weather was about as typical as you can imagine. Unusually warm and humid early, we had a strong windstorm followed by rain. Then the temp dropped due to a cold front. Three hours later, the sun came out and the temp went right back up to the low sixties. NOT typical of all February weather, I assure you. But the variations here can be pretty much like that.
But we're not here to talk about weather, are we? The early part of my life was dedicated to a career in music; performance (trumpet), composition (yes, I've written symphonies and had my pop arrangements played on national television), and teaching (grade school, high school, and college). My college English professors tried to convince me to become a fiction writer but my joy was playing my trumpet so I put all thoughts of creative writing behind me. Or so I thought.
Years later, after I'd done most of what I thought I wanted to accomplish, I picked up my pen and writing pad one day and began to write onto the paper my imaginings. That first three thousand words led to a continuation the next day and the next. Next thing I knew, I'd written a complete fiction story that measured over one hundred thirty thousand words. And here we are, a few years and fifteen books later. Happy chocolate addiction, all!
Mowriter

Liam Stalls Sends Out Greetings

2009-02-09T09:18:00.000-08:00

I'm excited to be here this week amongst the other guest bloggers. Just finished reading Ginger Simpson's post and had to laugh with the Dr. Phil pic at the end. Although I am not overweight but rather slim and built for a guy of my age, and no, not revealing my age, the picture reminded me of an Uncle Sam poster recruiting members. Nice one, Ginger.

Let's see...

I'm a romance author who loves to add depth to his novels. Love vampires, ghosts, werewolves, and most of the time my own quiet periods place me in a zone that frightens me. Stepping into my characters shoes is, let's say, a bit revealing. No, I don't bite people on the neck. Would I like to? There are a few individuals I'd like to sink my teeth into...agents, publishers. Insert BIG GRIN right here.

Not married, love the freedom to sit and write whenever I want, but I do date.

I only have one book to my credit so far that I'll be talking about later this week. The reason for this is because I'm finishing up several novels at once. You might say I'm one of those rare beasts who can't sit down and write one book.

Looking forward in meeting and reading everyone's posts this week.

Liam Stalls

Meet the Author--Amber Leigh Williams

2009-02-09T08:04:00.000-08:00

Good morning from the muggy Gulf Coast! I should say it always is muggy down here--no matter the season. (I would know; I've lived here half my life.) But this year we've enjoyed a rare cold burst forecasters predict we won't see again for another ten years. Us nostalgic folk are wishing for snow. It hasn't snowed here in my memory since 1996 and even then it was only an inch or so deep and the consistency of a Sno-Cone. No powder or snowmen or snow angels, merely a mild driving irritation and a scramble for winter gear banished to the attic in lieu of tank tops, shorts, and flip-flops.

My hometown of Fairhope was named the second best communnity in Southern Living Magazine and one of our local white beaches ranked high in the Best Southern Beaches poll. Mardi Gras's coming up and with football, my second religion, over I'm jazzed about parades and moonpies. Next to Valentine's Day and Opening Day of college football, Mardi Gras is my favorite holiday. (Little known fact: Mardi Gras was created not in New Orleans as most people would expect, but in the city of Mobile, Alabama which is just across the bay!)

All this talk about locale and culture is important in getting to know me and most other people 'round these parts because it's a part of who we are. In May, the first book in my southern series called A Summer's Hope will be released from The Wild Rose Press. It takes place in Fairhope. I loved taking real places--places I love and want to share with the world--and knitting them into the fabric of a love story. Despite it's small size, Fairhope is well-known not only for the annual Arts & Crafts Festival in March and the Lighting of the Trees celebration in November. It's known for it's creativity as well. Many an artist dwells on the Eastern Shore of Mobile Bay. It's a buffet of authors, most noted of all Sonny Brewer, Fannie Flagg, and Winston Groom (who wrote a little story called Forrest Gump). I believe there's something in the air here that stirs the heart and imagination. I fell in love with the man who is now my husband on the winding bayview highways on the back of his motorcycle nearly five years ago. Fittingly, A Summer's Hope releases on our third wedding anniversary.

Other than A Summer's Hope, my publsihed work has taken me far beyond my hometown. My debut novel published in February 2008 with Red Rose Publishing, Fox & Hound is a steamy romantic adventure about a pair of jewel thieves who must form an unlikely partnership to exact their revenge on a master thief, Tito Bandero. Almost as much as I loved researching the real-life diamonds that play a central part in the story, I enjoyed immersing myself in faraway places important to the setting. The same can be said for my second novel with TWRP, sultry sinister suspense Denied Origin, in which a Brazillian heiress's parents are killed by terrorists and she is running for her life for reasons she does not know. The plot spans across the globe as the heroine and her tall-dark-and-hot bodyguard race to uncover her true identity. In Blackest Heart, my western novella published in November with TWRP, an actress goes home to rural Texas and her family's substantial cattle ranch to recover from a traumatic car crash and meets solace in the name of silent cowboy Judd Black.

Dozens more manuscripts have followed. I recently dabbled in dark paranormal urban fantasy which takes place in the underworld of NYC and plan to write four series installments. The most intriguing part of the writing process for me is the worlds we get to create or recreate in our own eyes. From Paris to Rio to Hollywood to NYC, I'm having the journey of my life...all safely done in the comfort of my own living room with my feet in front of the fire :)

For more info on me and my books, visit http://www.amberleighwilliams.com/.

Meet ME

2009-02-09T08:00:00.000-08:00

Okay, I decided I'd finally share a current picture, although I try to avoid cameras at all cost. What happened to the babe in the picture taken only thirteen years ago? I guess this is what the stress of being an author can do to you. I have no other excuse...I don't really have a tough life.

I live in Tennessee with, Kelly, my husband of thirteen years. Finding him was either the best day or worst day of my life, depending on my mood at the moment. *lol*. Really, he's a great guy and I'm very lucky to have found him. I knew from the moment he told me that he usually didn't date women with thighs as big as mine that we were fated to be together. *rofl*

I retired from a major university in California after twenty-three years to pursue this writing dream. We moved to Tennessee so I could be part of my grandson's life. This is the face that keeps me wanting to wake up each and every day for as long as the Lord allows. My Spencer!

At two, my grandson, was diagnosed with Global Developmental Delays with Autistic tendencies. My aim is to see him mainstreamed as much as possible into a normal and productive life. If I say, "he's the light of my life," that's really an understatement. I'm sure other grandmas out there know what I mean.

It seems like just yesterday I was married to someone else, living a totally different life with two small boys of my own. Now they're grown, the 32-year marriage I expected to last forever, over, and I started all over again at 50. Wow...what a journey it's been, but I wouldn't change a minute of it. Well...maybe a minute here or there, but it's all been a learning and growing experience. If you don't believe me...just look at my hips. *smile*

I look forward to spending the week with you and sharing my work. Each story has been a labor of love, and I say that because finding a publisher and seeing them released is almost as painful as the real labor of birthing a child. I get winded just thinking about it. *grin*.

I'll be back tomorrow with more stunning information. *lol* Oh, I can't leave without one more photo for you. This is the background on my computer:

Meet the Author - Nancy Famolari

2009-02-09T06:00:00.000-08:00

I live in the Endless Mountains of Pennsylvania. In my admittedly prejudiced view, this is one of the most beautiful areas in the world. We have very few people, which suits us. It leaves lots of room for our horses and other wildlife like, deer, wild turkeys, coyotes, squirrels, etc. You name it, we have it. One of my friends claims to have found a black panther living in her forest. Thankfully I haven't seen one of those around my place, although there are bear and mountain lions.

Horses have always played a major role in our lives. My first novel, Summer's Story, is based on our adventures in the world of harness racing. Today we're out of the breeding and racing business and mostly into riding and carriage driving.

In the picture our granddaughter is getting her first ride. These are gaited horses that came to the new world with the conquistadors. They are so smooth you can drink a glass of champagne while riding. I haven't tried it yet, but I plan to! They're also very fast, my favorite mare, Ambrosa de la Pluma can largo at 8 mph. This isn't much when you consider that I drove race horses going about 40 mph, but it's fast enough these days.

We still have the matriarch of our Standardbred brood mare band. She's a 16 hand chestnut. At 25 she's still going strong. Her field partner is Nicky, a Morgan gelding. He's my driving horse. I love carriage driving and have competed in combined driving events. Nicky's getting up there too. He's 20

In addition to our animal family, we have four sons and six grandchildren. These are the three oldest at the family event of last year. Our youngest son married his lady. (I notice that I have a tendency to cut off the adults heads. The kids are cuter!)

Holiday Love Affair Feb 9 - 14

2009-02-07T07:52:00.000-08:00

THEME: Holiday Love Affair

WHEN: February 9 – 14, 2009

WHERE: Bragging Rites Unleashed Blog

DAILY SCHEDULE POSTING TOPICS:

February 9: Meet the Author

February 10: Book Extravaganza

February 11: Meet the Characters

February 12: Book Excerpt

February 13: Reviews of featured books

February 14: Valentine messages

What a week this will be! And stay tuned on February 15 when the winners of our doorprizes will be announced. What are the doorprizes and how can you win the ebooks? Simple. Leave a comment or question to my guests, that's it!

DOORPRIZES:

Fox and Hound by Amber Leigh Williams
Goldie's Bear by Pat Dale
Sparta Rose by Ginger Simpson
Love Across Time by Jane Beckenham
Disoriented Dress (Adult erotica drama) by Liam Stalls
Nora's Soul by Margay Leah Justice
Summer's Story by Nancy Famolari

Seven amazing books to go out to seven lucky winners.

See you on Monday!

2009-02-06T06:09:00.000-08:00

Welcome to day five of my virtual book tour! Today I will be at Book Connection
...come on over and check out the interrogation of Shannon Wallace by another criminal and WIN PRIZES!

Abandoned Towers Issue #2 Sneak Peek

2009-02-05T18:04:00.000-08:00

With March 1 only a few weeks away, I thought it was time post the TOC for our next print issue and give you a little taste of what's coming up.

So, feast your eyes on this.

The Table of Contents for Abandoned Towers Issue #2 is:

The Man in the Feathered Cloak By Jack Mulcahy
The Cat's Scientist By Daniel E. Wilcox
It’s a Superman’s World By Colin P. Davies
When Tomatoes Go Bad by Scott E. Green
The Ultimate Salesman by Dean Grondo
Language Barrier By Deven D Atkinson
As Advertised By Gustavo Bondoni
A Tale of Four Feet By Gerald Warfield
Chance of Rain By Ken Goldman
Hedgehog Blues By Lyn McConchie
The End of the Day By John T. Bien
Nomads of the Lantern Land By Elizabeth Barrette
The Fall of Rome By Bruce Durham
The Upbeat Crosstown Traffic Blues by Paul Wittine
The Tenant By Stuart. J Griffin
Ride the Red Wind By Rie Sheridan
Book of Dimensions by Richard H. Fay
August Memories By Steve James
The Watchmen By Eric S Brown
All the Medals and Trophies By Aurelio Rico Lopez III
The Fall of Rome By Bruce Durham
Haunted by Sinatra By Altis Conners
Interview with Ginger Simpson
Vennels and Wynds Malcolm Laughton
A Quest for Crawfish By Michael D. Griffiths
A Trail of Blood By Michael Pasquale
Sunset at the End of Empire By Jeff Draper
Heroes and Common Sense By Jared Evers

And a special treat:
Redwall Feast Created by Jaleta Clegg
based on the novels by Brian Jacques
serves 6

Bernard Loaf and Butternut Bread with Meadowcream and Peach Berry Squash
Hotroot Soup, Baked Fish and Deeper'n Ever Turnip Pie with Peppercream Gravy; Martin's Salad
Summercream Pudding, Cherry Cordial, and Raspberry Fizz

Real recipes, with real food, for a real feast.

================

Now, as promised, here are some nibbles:

From The Ultimate Salesman by Dean Grondo:
Squeak.
What was that? Patty lifted her head off the couch cushion and looked around. She was stunned to see the front door open again and that salesman standing inside the entryway! Hadn’t she locked it? “Get out of here!” she shouted.
The salesman’s smile was completely oblivious. “Let me introduce you to our new omnikey. Opens any lock, mechanical or chemical.” He was holding something that looked like a can opener and he’d used it to break in!
Patty’s voice was cold with fury, “You’d better get the hell out of here or I’m going to call the police!”
“I'm sorry.” The man blinked innocently. “Were you busy?”
“Get out!”
“I am sorry!” The man stepped back onto the stoop. “I’ll check back with you at a more convenient time.” With that, he smiled and closed the door.

From The End of the Day by John T. Bien:
“Water,” a quavering voice begged.
The plea penetrated the numbness of Banok’s mind, drawing his eyes. He saw a dead man, too stupid to know it; his open gut spilling entrails onto the blood-mud.
“Help me,” the soldier implored, his terror-filled eyes meeting Banok’s.
Banok ignored him. There was no energy left in him to allow a diversion for mercy.
When he raised his eyes from the living corpse, a woman filled his vision; a beautiful woman, drifting toward him through the thickening gloom. The gossamer fabric of her long gown clung to her in sensual wisps of deep red. Her black hair was short, framing a heart-shaped face with a small nose, full lips and wide-spaced dark eyes.

From August Memories by Steve James:
When I think about my days surfing, one day in 1976 stands out above all others. It was mid-August and Sydney had just experienced the mother of all storms. In fact, that little blow was described as the "100 year storm" It caused extensive damage and flooding along the Northern Beaches. The powerful waves had even demolished the 100-year-old Manly Swimming Baths that used to stand alongside the famous wharf. It was reported that six to ten foot waves pounded the structure to pieces, and that was inside the harbour! During the height of the storm, twenty foot walls of white water were rolling over the dunes at North Narrabeen, about five miles north of Manly, and engulfing the bridge that spanned the lagoon.

Book Tour, day two

2009-02-03T06:29:00.000-08:00

Today I am over at

Prose and Musings and I would love for you to join me!

I also found out today that my book is the Reviewer's Choice at Midwest Book Reviews! and it is a very good review, folks!

Here is the link : Midwest Book Reviews

Great day today! Hope you are smiling!

Welcome to February, 2009!

2009-02-02T19:43:00.001-08:00

Welcome to February!

This month, Abandoned Towers Magazine has several new serials just getting underway, all for your reading pleasure.

First up, The Script of Sages by Andrew Cooper. This is a short serial of only 5 chapters, but don't delay. You'll want to read it right from the beginning. To whet your appatite, here's a little nibble:

The streets were dark, even in the light of the flickering lamps. Silence and emptiness reigned. The air was cold in late November, and they expected snow at any time. Throughout the village, once-grassy yards were strewn with colorful leaves. Brown and black squirrels scrambled down trees to harvest acorns, and deer bounded through the colorful forest. Not a single snowflake had fallen yet, though it wouldn’t be that way for long.
Turning south from the village green, Reev thought he saw torchlight in the alleyway. And, to his surprise, the glint of metal.
He turned down Church Road. Constable Goffins appeared right before him with his lantern. The porcine man stamped his foot, his moustache quivering with indignation. “Excuse me! The curfew is on!”
“The bells haven’t rung.”
“Now you listen to me! Don’t question my authority!” Goffins spewed, “A constable’s command is law! I’ve been endorsed by Mayor Coldwater, who’s endorsed by the governor, who’s endorsed from the Zaar-taken, gods-forsaken, son-of-Isdar emperor himself!”
“I know, Mr. Goffins, but—”
“There is no excuse!”
“Excuse for what?”
“That’s enough out of you! I’m going to fine you two pence!”
“What?” Reev cried, “That’s ridiculous!”
Goffins growled.
Then a deep-throated, acidic voice bellowed from behind him. “Listen to the boy, porky!” Eyes gleamed in the torchlight—yellow, inhuman eyes. Steel rang as a sword was drawn from its sheath. A blade plunged straight through Goffins’ chest. The fat old man crumpled over and gasped, but found no breath.
Reev shrieked and took off like a frightened deer.
=============

Next up is Jared Evers with a brand new offering: Scion of the Immortals. Episode 1 commences on Friday, Feb 6. As Jared says in his introduction:
It tells the story of Razian, a man with uncommon talents and knowledge. The world of the dead holds few secrets for him, yet without a link to one of the five holy Orders there is little explanation for his skills. Few truly count him as a friend, but his protective nature and unique abilities ensure he is rarely forgotten. For better or for worse.

A new episode will appear once a week, every friday, rain, shine or zombies!
=============

Right on Jared's heels comes Nick Ozment with Knight Terrors: The (Mis)adventures of Smoke the Dragon. Smoke wandered into Nick's life one day when he had, as he puts it an idle thought: “If a powerful dragon had a phobia, what might it be?” I’m talking a dragon that fears no one and nothing—so, what could possibly give it the creepy-crawlies and put its scales on edge?"

A new episode will arrive every three weeks, and you don't want to miss a single one.

=============

To go along with the crunchy new serials, we also have a fine selection of new poetry, new fiction, a number of wonderful new articles and of course, brand new cartoons every few days.

What are you waiting for? Zoom on over to

http://cyberwizardproductions.com/AbandonedTowers

and feast!

"Danger, Word Games" by Eve Summers

2009-01-30T04:04:00.000-08:00

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Buy here: http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/product_info.php?products_id=351

Avenging Angel, a Shannon Wallace Mystery

2009-01-19T07:00:00.000-08:00

AVENGING ANGEL
A Shannon Wallace Mystery: Book 1
Kim Smith

Mainstream Fiction: Mystery/Suspense
ISBN: 978-1-60435-276-4

Blurb

Shannon Wallace is having a bad hair week.

She’s been ditched by her job, dumped by her boyfriend, and implicated in his murder.

When she finds out her very private video collection is missing from the crime scene, it is all out war to find the disks before the cops do. The problem is, the killer has them. And he’s watched them.

Now Shannon’s at the top of his most wanted list.
_______________________________________________________________________________
Excerpt

My Aunt Nancy always told me to dress in my best clothes when I went out, because I never knew whom I might meet. This time, I hadn’t done the best I could to make myself presentable. Jeans, tee shirt, and a ponytail didn’t qualify for modern chic. When the detective opened the door to the Homicide Office, I wished I’d worn a skirt and heels. In a moment of clarity, I understood my aunt’s concerns about going out half-ready.

The sexy, Hispanic man who raised an eyebrow and patiently waited for me to state my business was none other than Salvador Ramirez, formerly of Mississippi Junior College, the same school I attended back in the day. Of all the eligible men at college, he was the most highly sought after. Partly because he’d won the “sexiest legs” contest two years in a row, and partly because he had a bad boy quality, which made all of the girls want him.

Especially me. And damn the luck, I got a shot at him. When I discovered our date was based on a dare someone posed, I retaliated by publishing excerpts of his personal journal in the college’s monthly newsletter, The Bugle.

“Mr. Ramirez,” I said, trying to look harmless. “Of the award-winning legs.”

His expression changed as he looked at me and I knew he remembered our rocky past. My heart leapt into my throat. This was not the face of a man happy to see an old chum.

“Shannon Wallace, of the vigilantes for journalism,” he said, deadpan. “Mama said there would be days like this.”

Nope. He was not a happy cop.

He waved me into the room. “Come in.”

The entire office was a mess, most of it concentrated on two desks littered with papers.

“What are you doing here? Looking for a few good men to belittle in a new publication? Should I hide the personal notes on my cases?” he asked.

Sarcasm. I smiled. It was a beginning. He hadn’t forgotten, so that meant he intended on seeing I didn’t get a chance to repeat my past mistakes. Dandy by me. I just wanted to plead my case, and escape a free woman. If I never crossed the threshold here again, my feelings wouldn’t be hurt.

“I think you’ve held a grudge, but it was all in fun.”

“Fun?” He scanned the hallway before shutting the door. “You ruined every chance I ever had of getting a decent date. I never dreamed you would print my private journal for Christ’s sake.”

“It was no journal. It was a freaking scorecard.”

He frowned at me and turned away, muttering something in Spanish that sounded like curses.

Suddenly turning the details of my situation over to him didn’t seem like such a great idea. Had he harbored a desire for revenge all these years?

Dwayne’s words came to mind. I couldn’t have done it; criminals were innocent until proven guilty and all that jazz.

Would Sal see that?

“I’m not here to do an exposé on your life, Sal. I’m here about my own troubles. I need to tell a cop about a man who was murdered. But if you aren’t interested...”

He stopped clearing file folders from a metal folding chair and pinioned me with his Nestlé’s cocoa-colored eyes. “Murdered?”

“Yes. Richard Fine. Is he your case?”

“You know he is. Or have you given up your journalistic aspirations?” He shoved papers into the files. “Have you graduated from theft to murder, now?”

I sat there for a moment trying to squelch the anger that surfaced. “Would you stop being so disagreeable about what’s past between us and listen? You might get some information that could help you. I never intended to hurt you. It was a joke.”

“I don’t like your jokes.”

That was the final straw. “And I don’t like being made fun of. How much did they pay you to take me out on your little ‘dare date’ that night?”

He straightened, gripping the back of a nearby folding chair.

Checkmate.

He carried the chair to where I stood, and I got a better look at him. He was a good deal taller than me, and even under the yellow Oxford shirt I saw he was well rippled with muscles, maleness, and menace. Sal seemed quite a different person from the jeans, golf shirts, and practical jokes days. The cologne was the same though. Aramis. I took a deep breath in appreciation.

The angry fire I’d stirred showed in his eyes. He skidded the metal chair a few feet forward. It made a scraping sound as it landed perfectly, facing his desk.

“Sit, Miss Wallace. Tell me why I should hear your story. And keep in mind I’m due for a meeting in about ten minutes.”

I sat and waited while he joined me behind his desk. It felt rather official all of a sudden. He crossed his hands and leaned forward, ready to hear my story.

“I was at Rick’s apartment at midnight. And when forensics finishes checking out his place, they’re going to find my hair and other assorted things.”

“Will they find your fingerprints on a knife?”

I thought about his question. We hadn’t done much cooking at Rick’s apartment, but there was the off chance that I had handled a steak knife. Or cleaver. I closed my eyes, and prayed Dwayne was right. I just knew I wouldn’t look good in a state uniform.

“They’ll find them on a lot of stuff. Do I need a lawyer present?”

_________________________________________________________________________
Book Reviews
"This cozy is a delightful read, full of suspense... Kim Smith’s writing voice pulls you into the book, allows you to connect with each character..."
~ Lea Shizas from The Muse Book Reviews

3 very special books from Cyberwizard Productions

2009-01-15T21:21:00.001-08:00

Cyberwizard Productions is located at http://cyberwizardproductions.com
All books can be purchased on our website or ordered from any bookstore
Or acquired through Amazon.com or Barnes and Noble.

===============
After many months of waiting, the second book in Danny Birt's high fantasy series is now available from the Ancient Tomes imprint of Cyberwizard Productions. Beginning: The Second Book of the Laurian Pentology continues the exploration of the rich, powerful and fantastic world that Ending an Ending began. A highly detailed map by artist A.R. Stone is provided in the front of the book and brings the realm of adventure to life.

Excerpt:
“My Lord Baron will take his knees or will have them taken for him,” announced Baroness Ilear from directly behind the young man.
With a frightened look back – and up – he dropped to his knees so quickly he winced.
“My Lord Baron agrees that Seighn is one whole country?” asked Eiry.
He looked at her as though she was insane. This was not about asking obvious questions, was it? “Yes, my la— your Majesty.”
“My Lord Baron agrees that Seighn is ruled by one person alone?”
The young man was sweating, but already his mind had begun trying to figure out where this questioning was leading. “Yes, my… Majesty.”
“My Lord Baron will agree that Seighn is ruled by a member of the royal family alone?”
He threw himself down face-first on the floor. “Your Majesty, I do not want the throne! My uncle tried to make me take it, but I killed him for that! Please, I had no designs on your throne!”
Eiry looked at Baroness Ilear, who shrugged slightly. It would be dealt with later.
======================

For those that enjoy fantasy, science fiction or poetry, David C. Kopaska-Merkel and Kendall Evans present a collection of speculative poetry. Beautifully illustrated by Richard Svensson, their words will take you on a fantastic journey on the Nightship to Nowhere from the Diminuendo Press imprint of Cyberwizard Productions. Don't delay, the ship is leaving port with the next full moon.

Poet and artist, Richard H. Fay had this to say:
While mainstream poetry may explore the world around us, speculative poetry explores the farthest reaches of human imagination, and beyond. With roots sunk deep in the mythic and folkloric ballads of yore, and branches stretching high into the endless skies of fantasy and science-fiction, speculative poetry possesses a rich heritage and an exciting future. I truly believe that this particular poetic form is entering a golden age, due in no small part to the contributions made to the genre by David C. Kopaska-Merkel and Kendall Evans.
Many talented poets currently practice the craft of speculative verse composition. Kopaska-Merkel and Evans number among the most accomplished of that unique breed of modern bard. Both have had a plethora of poems published in various science fiction, fantasy, and horror venues. Both are award-winning poets; one of their previous collaborative efforts, "The Tin Men", received the Science Fiction Poetry Association's 2006 Rhysling Award for Best Long Poem. Both use verse to ask the eternal speculative question: what if? Whether it be mythology mixed with a dash of paleontology and a heaping spoonful of the bizarre, or astronomy drenched in a hearty helping of planetary personification, their poems satisfy a craving for the fantastic. Their works transport us to a strangely different but faintly familiar universe, a reality consisting of wild worlds and fractured futures. A diverse array of perspectives introduce us to odd characters, weird robots, and wondrous creatures.
So read on, my fellow speculative poetry aficionados. Get carried far, far away by the works within. Discover distant space and time. Let your imaginations soar!

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Also from Diminuendo Press is C.E. Chaffin's book, Unexpected Light. The poems contained within its elegant maroon and silver covers will touch your heart, set your soul on fire and stir your deepest emotions.

The unexpected light in these poems is a certain sort of light: faint, slant, the light of twilight or a fading penlight or a barely discernible sliver of moon. Yet the poems pierce and burn.
—Kate Bernadette Benedict, editor, Umbrella

These poems, at once observational and prophetic, draw on the sometimes harrowing incisiveness of an empirical mind to produce an extraordinary vision. C.E. Chaffin is a poet of the body, but he is also a poet of conscience, a poet who infuses the lyric with a spiritual temperance born of experience. Here are words in service of integrity, poems in service of necessary revelations, and a poet in service of attention at its most elemental and unsettling."
-- Seth Abramson, poet

“These are poems which point both south toward anxiety and north toward hope, keeping the compass needle moving. C. E. Chaffin is a doctor with a physician's keen objective eye. His poems employ a music jazzed and melancholy, with a strong sense of dislocation and a painterly sensibility that resonate in the mind's optic.”
--Lynn Strongin, editor of “Sorrow Psalms” and “Crazed by the Sun”

“Robinson Jeffers said, 'Pleasure is the carrot dangled to lead the ass to market; or the precipice.' The carrots are here. So are the precipices. Clean and spare, absent turgid image, these poems don’t confound or perplex. Frankly they’re too clever for that. The result of Chaffin's pointed observations is not clinical in any sterile sense, rather a dialectical body-lyric beyond, yet still beholden to, mere blood and bones. What we have here is a maturation of the soul.”
--from a review by Norman Ball

The Amazing, Revised, All New, Spiderman?

2009-01-09T14:56:00.000-08:00

What in the world has happened to spiderman? For those who haven't been reading the comic books, but have been reading the comic strip, Jan 1, 2009 came as something of a heavy shock.

What did Marvel do? You can read all about it by visiting Abandoned Towers at http://cyberwizardproductions.com/AbandonedTowers and clicking on Eric S. Brown on Comics from the menu.

We also have new comics available on the website and fresh goodies scattered through all the pages.

And be sure to read the excellent article by Richard Fay in the non-fiction category on the history of Speculative Poetry.

Holiday Love Affair Feb 9 - 14

2009-01-02T19:19:00.000-08:00

Stay tuned February 9 - 14, 2009, when Bragging Rites Unleashed hosts a week of Romance. More details to follow later this month.

2008-12-29T09:29:00.000-08:00

http://liamstalls.tripod.com/

Disoriented Dress by Liam Stalls

What happens when the man you love becomes unrecognizable?

Janet Delaine discovers she made a big mistake granting her long time boyfriend his sexual fantasy. John changes…for the worse. Janet turns for help to John’s childhood buddy, Cliff, only to discover feelings she’s kept suppressed.

Will she stick it out with John or finally allow her heart to rule?

SIMPLY ROMANCE REVIEWS:
“… Disoriented Dress is certainly one of the most well-written; therefore I definitely recommend this book.”
To read the whole review by Mickey, click here:
http://www.simplyromancereviews.com/srrreviews/disorienteddress.aspx

January 1st, Red Rose Publishing is offering a half price sale on all their ebooks, even on new releases. Don't miss your chance to buy some of your favorite authors books.

For more details or to buy Disoriented Dress by Liam Stalls, go here. Reg. price: $2.99

Cheap Reads and PROMO

2008-12-29T09:11:00.000-08:00

Battling wintertime woes? Fighting the flu? Want a great book to keep you thawed out and entertained? Red Rose Publishing is having a half price sale on all ebboks for ONE day only. January 1, 2009 is the sale day and includes book being released that day also.

Why don’t you be daring and try out a mainstream fiction novel, a cozy mystery from me?

Here is a blurb for you and the purchasing info. I hope you will try out my book since it will be at the lowest price ever !!

AVENGING ANGEL
A Shannon Wallace Mystery: Book 1
Kim Smith

Mainstream Fiction: Mystery/Suspense
ISBN: 978-1-60435-276-4
Cover Artist: Shara Azod
Editor: Lea Schizas
Word Count: 73,190
Release Date: December 18, 2008

Shannon Wallace is having a bad hair week.
She’s been ditched by her job, dumped by her boyfriend, and implicated in his murder.
When she finds out her very private video collection is missing from the crime scene, it is all out war to find the disks before the cops do. The problem is, the killer has them. And he’s watched them.
Now Shannon’s at the top of his most wanted list.

Guest blogging

2008-12-27T05:48:00.001-08:00

I am guest blogging over at Nancy Famolari's blog this week. Nancy is the author of Summer's Story, from Red Rose Publishing.

Come learn more about my book, Avenging Angel here:

http://nancyfamolari.wordpress.com

Merry Christmas

2008-12-24T02:44:00.000-08:00

I am offering my readers a free Christmas story as a way of saying thank you for your support of my book, and for being my friend! I was thrilled to see the book was at number 6 on the Red Rose Publishing bestseller list!

You can get your free Christmas story at :
MY WEBSITE

Merry Christmas!