Category Archives: Author Interviews and Book Reviews

Author Kelly Stone Gamble Has a Question for You

bio shot Kelly Gamble

One of my awesome author friends, Kelly Stone Gamble, has just had her debut fiction, They Call Me Crazy, published by Red Adept Publishing. In honour of the release, and because she’s running around doing the promo thing all of us authors must do, she’s visiting to ask you all an interesting question:

Journaling-Yes or No?

Dear Diary,

Mark is the cutest boy ever! I want to marry him someday.

Kelly + Mark=forever!

These are the words I was taunted with for several months in the fifth grade. Of course, writing them in my diary should have made them private, but when you have an older brother, especially a nosy one that knows exactly where to find your private diary, you aren’t always guaranteed that your inner most thoughts will remain private.

As an adult, I don’t keep a diary, nor do I journal. I tried, but I found myself too worried about what someone might learn about me if they found it, so I held back, or just lied. Lying to your journal kind of defeats the purpose. But I do see the value in writing things down: thoughts, ideas, dreams. But is there a point where you limit yourself? And am I being foolish for caring what others would think?

One of my favorite aspects of writing is the research process, and when I was working on a historical fiction novel set in the 1930’s, I spent a lot of time going through the writings of those that lived during the period. It’s amazing what you can learn about people by reading their thoughts, especially those from a time long ago. So another side of me thinks that if I started journaling, my words may be valuable to a writer in the future, and what a wonderful gift I could share with them.

But every time I try to start again, Mark, (the cutest boy ever) pops into my head, and I can’t write a word. Not. One. Word.

So maybe I should just stick to fiction.

Do you keep a journal? Why or why not?

Thanks for the post Kelly! I hope we get some answers. I don’t keep one, but I used to — it always helped when I was going through ‘stuff’. And if anyone wants to check out her new release, which looks amusing and suspenseful, click on the book cover below and you will be magically whisked away to Amazon. If you like Kelly’s style, you can visit her website too.

They Call me Crazy

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New Fantasy Release from L.L. Hunter

Okay, I admit it: I’ve been slack. I don’t post here nearly as often as I should. Gone are the days of the ranty post or short story to share. I have no time. As many of you are probably aware, most authors have to have a ‘proper’ job to pay for coffee, oh, and food, well more specifically chocolate. This is taking me away from doing more pleasurable things like writing and blogging. But today I have something that will hopefully interest many of you readers. My friend, another Australian author who writes fantasy (not necessarily epic but more urban romance), has kindly offered to share a post on here. So now I will introduce you to L.L. Hunter who has a new book coming out very soon—Crave, and she’s offering it for a bargain on release, but it’s only for a limited time. You can grab it from here.

cravereleaseday99

So what’s it about? Here’s the blurb:

I remember excruciating pain.

I remember unimaginable heat.

I remember an undeniably beautiful young woman.

But I’m not sure whether these things are real.

One year ago, Ash Brandon was framed and sent to an unknown realm where he learnt his fate. A fate where he held the blood of an ancient line of Dragon shifters called Dragon Hearts. The thing is, he can no longer remember. All he knows is that he is a nineteen-year-old guy who wants to study architecture and one day, take over the family business.

Then two beautiful girls show up in his life — one who is sexy as hell and could be the woman of his dreams, while the other claims to have known him from a past he cannot remember. Only there is one thing he can’t wrap his mind around — Why does he crave each of the girls?

A now eighteen-year-old Eva, a powerful Dragon Heart Keeper from the Dragon Realm, is punished by her parents and sent to the earthly realm by her witch maiden. Her memories have all been wiped clean, but why can she still remember Ash, and the undeniable bond they once shared?

Emily is a Siren princess, and she always gets what she wants. When she sets her sights on Ash, all bets are off. She will make him hers — if only his Keeper weren’t in the way.

Will Ash discover who he truly is before its too late? Or will his deadly addiction to both girls get him killed?

Crave Love – Crave Life – Crave Truth

Inspired by the short story,

The Dragon Heart Keeper, also by L.L. Hunter

Add Crave to your Goodreads shelf: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18590749-crave

You can Download The Dragon Heart Keeper FREE from all eBook retailers!

Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00CSCT2R0

Here is an excerpt from the book:

It must have been some time before I regained consciousness because the water had turned cold, and I could no longer feel any pain. I blinked the water from my eyes and sat up. My head throbbed from bashing it against the shower wall. I sat there on the floor of the shower a little while longer, and when I could stand, I turned the water off. When I looked down, I saw absolute carnage. What had happened?

Metal blades clinked and flesh sliced. Blood flew, coating everything in its path. Pointy teeth flashed bright under the streetlight…

I tried to grab onto the wall to steady myself as the sudden vision caused everything to blur and me to feel nauseous. What was happening? Was I having nightmares while I was awake now, too?

I wasn’t crazy. I shook it off and stepped over the broken glass from the shattered shower door. My feet must have gone straight through when I fell. I would clean it up later. I had to get to class.

I cleaned myself up as best I could and downed a quick cup of coffee before dressing and heading out to my car. A light rain was falling steadily outside, which only added to my messed up mood. I only hoped the day would get better.

* * * * *

I pulled into the college campus around ten past eight. Shit, I was late for my first day. This was not a good start. I grabbed my book bag off the passenger seat of my car and rushed toward the building I knew held my first glass. I hoped the Professor was a nice one, because if he or she wasn’t, they were going to eat me alive, both for looking like crap and for turning up late. I barged through the doors and saw the lecture hall to be almost full. There were only a few empty seats scattered here and there. I hurried to find one near the back as quietly as I could to not draw attention to my lateness.

“Mr. Brandon, is it?” said a large booming voice. I froze. I was a goner. I exhaled and slowly turned to face my fate.

“Uh, yes, sir. Sorry I’m late. I…”

“You overslept or partied too hard last night or both. I’ve heard them all before and would rather not hear them again. Take a seat.”

“Yes… yes, sir,” I stuttered. This was not going as well as I had hoped. I swallowed and quickly sat down. I pulled the small table over my lap and dumped my books on top of it. My pen fell out of one of the spiral notepads and fell to the floor. I bent down to grab it, but so did the person next to me. My head collided with theirs, and I only realized it was a girl when she started laughing. And God, her laugh was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard.

“Oops, sorry. Here, let me,” she said. I sat up rubbing my head.

“Sorry. Thank you.” She bent down and picked up my pen and held it out to me.

“I’m Emily. You must be new.”

“I… yes, I am.” God, could I even talk at all? What was wrong with me? It must have been all the knocks to the head I was having lately. Emily giggled again and titled her head to the side taking me in. She had the most amazing leaf green eyes I had ever seen and honey colored locks, which cascaded down to her waist.

Leaf green eyes? Where had I seen that before?

“So, what’s your name, new boy?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s Ashley. Ash for short.”

Emily smiled. And my heart fluttered. Her smile was one of the most beautiful I had ever seen. I knew I would be up all night tonight dreaming about it. God, help me.

“Well, Ash, what’s your favorite myth or mythical creature?”

The question struck me out in left field. It was an odd thing to ask.

“Pardon me?”

“Silly, weren’t you listening? That’s what the Professor just asked. Our first assignment is to do a paper on a myth or mythical creature. So, what is your favorite myth or mythical creature?”

“That’s a good question.” It really was. I had no idea what my favorite myth or mythical creature was. But something about this class called to me. I don’t know, but it was. It was as if a higher power had made me pick this class. Call it fate if you believed in that kind of stuff. As a guy who didn’t believe in anything, it had really struck me as odd.

I realized Emily was talking to me. Where was my head? Oh, yeah, it had been dented several times.

“So, I was thinking of doing my paper on dragons. I have this fascination with them. You don’t know if they actually exist or not.”

I realized Emily was kind of a rambler, but I didn’t care. She was hot, and I was pretty sure I had met her before somewhere. I wasn’t sure how I knew her. I just knew I did.

“Dragons are cool,” I agreed.

She smiled. “Oh, but if you want to do dragons, then I guess I could do mermaids or sirens. They were my second choice.”

I smiled back. She reminded me of a Siren somehow. It was as if her blood called me to her like a song on the wind. I was drawn to her in unexplainable ways. “I think you should do Sirens.”

“Cool. Then it’s decided. I’ll see you later, Ash.”

It was then I noticed it was the end of class. Emily got up and left. I stood and realized I was the last one left in the lecture hall. Well, besides the Professor.

“Mr. Brandon. Will you come see me, please?”

I nodded and looked around one last time for Emily, but she was nowhere to be seen. I made my way down the steps to the stage at the front.

“Daydreaming isn’t going to help you pass my class, Mr. Brandon.”

“I… sorry, sir. I’ve been having a rough time lately. You see…”

“I don’t need to hear it.” He held up his palm toward me and turned away to get something off his desk. It was then I saw his name. Professor Mikhail Elderoy. I had read articles about this man. He was the leading expert to some in the field of myths and legends. To others, he was a kook. He had also been called a witch or warlock in his lifetime. Before I could do anything, I felt cold metal against my skin.

“I know what you are.”

***

Hmm, that looks very interesting, and I’m loving the cover. I’m sure many of you are ready to dive into this awesome book so run and grab it when it’s 99 cents.

Thanks for visiting my blog. Stay tuned because one of these days I’ll actually write another post :).

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A New Must-Read Author—Stacey Roberts

Stacey Roberts is an awesome guy who had a bit of a rotten childhood. He’s made the most of it by growing up to be an intelligent, funny and articulate man who used it to his benefit—he’s written a humorous account of his younger days, which I recommend you grab if you want a laugh. And, in a first for my blog, I have a guest interviewer—author, publisher and podcaster Donna Cavanagh—doing all the hard work. Take it away guys!

trailer trash

1.Tell us about Stacey Roberts: Where were you born and where did you grow up?

I was born in New Jersey, in a little town called Garwood. We lived there for nearly ten years before we moved into the famous Winnebago and traveled the country. We went from New Jersey to San Diego, California, to Lake Tahoe, California (where my stepfather Ted the Drug Dealer began his life of crime) to Hollywood, Florida (where he perfected it).

2. How would you describe your family life growing up?

My mother, my grandmother, and my aunt all lived pretty close to us in New Jersey, so we got to see family all the time. My parents got divorced when I was five, and after that we moved into the basement of our house like we were hiding out from the agents of a totalitarian regime. My mother needed the living space to start a business. For the next ten years, I lived in spaces that weren’t much bigger than my bed. I also remember being very poor; there was never money for anything, but it didn’t stop my mom – we took vacations and things like that, just always on the cheap. We went to Washington, DC once and slept in the car at the Washington Monument. The DC police enjoyed that.

3. A lot of people have “dysfunctional” childhoods and grow up bitter. You went the funny route. How has humor helped you? (not trying to be insulting here but trying to show that it was not all fun and games for you.)

Humor was a surprising side-effect. I had been telling these stories for years to my friends, expecting sympathy, a hug, or maybe some edible food (since my mother can’t cook). I was looking to share my pain. But all my friends just kept laughing. That was my first sign that my dysfunctional childhood was not as tragic as I thought (or hoped). Once people whose opinion I trusted told me that my childhood was hilarious, I started looking for the funny instead of the sad. Perspective is everything.

4. Your book  is funny and poignant.  How did it make you feel writing it?  What about your family?  Did you consult them writing it?

Dysfunctional or not, you only get one childhood. One of the symptoms of growing old is that you forget what it was like to be a kid, with all the wonder and helplessness that comes with it. Writing this book made me remember incidents and even people I had forgotten. The next door neighbor who kind of took my father’s place after the divorce – the guy who could fix my bike or teach me to throw a baseball, the kids my age who I ran around the neighborhood with, etc. Stephen King once wrote that you never have friends as good as the ones you had when you were a kid. I was glad that writing this book made me remember them.

Some of my cousins read these stories in blog form. They were the best sounding board, because they told me that I had nailed the characters of my mother, my brother, Ted the Drug Dealer. They never knew about some of the stories, particularly the ones after we moved into the motor home and left the east coast. The feedback from my cousins could be distilled down to, “Well. That explains a lot.”

My mother hasn’t read them. She doesn’t have Internet. My brother read a couple and took issue with them – he never thought he was the favorite son. It is important for him (and the readers) to know that this book is not a memoir – I took events from my childhood and added a few things for humor’s sake, and exaggerated some of the characters. But the people who know my mother recognize her easily in the book.

Finally, one of the things I gained from writing Trailer Trash is a whole new appreciation for my mother. I may have disagreed with her methods, but she did the best she could after her divorce with two small kids.

5. Besides the humor, what is the one thing you want a reader to take away from this book?

Family matters.

6. Tell us about your writing? You have another career as well, so what made you decide to be a writer as well?

I always wanted to be a writer. I was carrying around a notebook at 11, making up stories.  I went to college to get a history degree – I have a masters in European History, but I started an IT company while in grad school. The career I have now is the side job that’s lasted 20 years. If I could write books and teach full time and still be able to maintain the lifestyle my daughters have become accustomed to, I would do that.

7. What are your future writing plans?  Where would you like to go from here? Would you stay in humor or do you want to try other genres as well.

I have a series of four Trailer Trash stories called The Fall of Ted the Drug Dealer – the story of the cop who pursued him and put an end to his life of crime. After that, Trailer Trash, With a Girl’s Name Book 2. I am also working on a novel called Rain Songs about the Kennedy assassination that is due out this November. Mark Gosson, creator of the Xombee Guy webcomic and I are working on a zombie novel unlike any in the genre that we hope to have out in 2014.

You can grab Trailer Trash With a Girl’s Name at all ebook retailers, and you can follow Stacey on Twitter @SRoberts1971.

stacey roberts

Stacey Roberts

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A Guest with a Gift for Poetry and Verse—Maureen Flynn

Today I have my friend and poet visiting with a guest post. I first met Maureen at the NSW writers centre when I was there to talk about self-publishing. It’s exciting to see that Maureen has very recently self-published her first book of poetry, and what a gorgeous one it is. Even if poetry isn’t  your favourite thing; if you enjoy well-written prose, you will probably enjoy this – I know I did. Welcome, Maureen!

Why Poetry?

I first started writing poetry in high school; a creative form of self expression that my teacher’s never had to see. I mainly used my words for the force of good; exercising inner teen demons. For example, in Year 10 I wrote a poem about my Autistic brother. It is simple and technically awful and yet somehow… oh so accurate.

My Brother

What was that you said again?

Through innocent eyes I watch you, but

Never stare you in the eye.

It hurts, I tell you, it hurts.

You say ‘Hi,’

I sit and stare, because

What do you mean?

I play games by

Myself. Like Halo on xbox

And Zelda on my computer.

I play my gameboy.

I like my xbox, my computer, my gameboy.

I can understand them, but

Not the expression on your face.

I’ll tell you a secret!

I take tablets and I need lots of help.

I don’t like talking to people I don’t know.

But I like my dog.

Why is Mum so tired, why is sis so stressed?

I don’t know the answer so

I do an equation in my head.

I think I am mumbling.

I don’t like talking much.

What was that you said again?

When I wasn’t angsting experience, I exchanged lines of snarky free verse with my friend at the back of the English classroom. That’s how I ended up with a poem titled ‘Ode to Poetry’ (A response to Ode on a Grecian Urn) in the back of a workbook. My favourite part of the poem, aside from the alliteration of, ‘prattling pedagouge’ is the repetition of, ‘leave this picking apart/to the crows.’ How things change. Now I can’t get enough of literary analysis. The joke really backfired on me, Caringbah High.

As I got more comfortable messing around with free verse, I started to like putting word pictures together, and more and more complex ones too. It seemed to me that you could do so much more in free verse; capture something so raw, so human. Capture something ruined by too much laboured prose. I had very little life experience, but what did that matter? I soon discovered that this is what the movies are for!

I have always been a genre fiction lover. I’d rather not read about messy ordinary lives, thanks. Yet I can’t get enough of human mess at the movies. I have never been able to put my finger on just why I love straight drama on film but not in a book. Specifically, British drama. In high school I set the pattern. I love all of the actors who never get the publicity. It’s my own form of personal torture. I have seen almost every single drama film, good, bad and ugly, of the likes of Ralph Fiennes (always quietly burning over something but what?), Bill Nighy (life’s one big joke), Helena Bonham Carter (beautiful, eccentric and a messy powerhouse), Miranda Richardson (tiny and ripped apart by emotions) and Emily Watson (flinty, but somehow still breakable with those damned disconcerting lamp like eyes).

Something in the power of these actors varied performances spoke to me but I could never put it into words. The more poetry I wrote, the harder it was to string words into analytical sentences. It was so much easier, so much truer somehow, to tell stories, to respond to art with art. It was my way of making sense of the frightening, closed off and dangerous adult world that such actors regularly push us into confronting.

I saw Red Dragon. I didn’t write a review. To be honest, I wouldn’t remember the film today at all if it hadn’t been that I’d written a creative response to Watson’s Reba. I go back through my high school notebooks now, and I remember that the poem came about because of Reba, but the poem is not Reba. Reba was a springboard into a world of disability and judgement. A world that I do know and understand far too well. A world that I did know and understand then.

A Lament 

My wide eyes

Furtive, unseeing glances

Tell you what you already know

Even without the guiding stick.

My voice catches

At the sound of yours.

My mouth can’t take

Your awkward pauses.

Do I seem that desperate

To you?

When I cling and kiss your

Shyness away?

I’ve become so alone.

Shuttered away

Locked up with endless thoughts

Of a good day never to come.

All I want is

Someone to hold me

And say…

Someone to mean it and say…

“It’s all right to be different.

It’s all right

For blind women

To love.”

Yeah, I just want you to say

That just because I cannot see

Doesn’t mean that I can’t strive

For all I long to be.

Because oh how it hurts to be branded

With a label not of your choice

To have had the world take away

Both my sight and my voice.

And all because the universe can’t take

Abnormalities.

All because the universe takes

Fake.

Free verse was my curious and secret addiction. I kept writing my short stories and my novels, but I couldn’t stop writing poetry. It was a compulsion. Poetry about my family, about my feelings, about characters in films and books, about love stories and murders. My meta about our cultural stories and products became my hidden art.

And then I got to university and started writing my own poetry stories…

My Heart’s Choir Sings tells the story of a man who loses his fellow creative and partner in tragic circumstances. As he looks at objects that were once hers, he remembers their time together, in all of its pathos and pain and love. It took me two years to write and to get to publication stage. Why? Because I like my poetry to be deceptively simple, full of cultural reference and winding like a labyrinthe. I am a perfectionist, in poetry as with everything else. I want the word choices to be just so; I want you, the reader, to see what I see. I want you to feel and experience the emotional mess that I paint with my words, just as the best actors force you to experience their characters inner tumoil.

Just as drama suits the film medium, so too does poetry. Especially free verse poetry. That first person confessional drags you in, doesn’t let you look away from the impending train wreck. The imagery engages the senses and drowns you in dark and light planes. Emotional failure and carthasis become yours.

Deep down I know, dear readers, that for me, this is why poetry.

heart's choir

Maureen writes young adult speculative fiction novels and short stories and is currently studying to become a teacher. She reviews genre fiction and films, interviews authors and discusses writing at her blog, InkAshlings. She also writes free verse poetry about the human connection. Her verse novella, My Heart’s Choir Sings, is currently on sale for 99c on Smashwords and Amazon.

You can also like the Facebook page.

Otherwise, You can find Maureen at her website or on Goodreads.

 

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For Lovers of Poetry

Today I’m featuring poet and avid reader, Robert Zimmerman. His poetry is intense and honest. If you enjoy poetry, you should run out and grab this one.

From Where I Stand (200X300)

Blurb:

From Robert Zimmermann comes From Where I Stand, an emotional debut poetry collection. Zimmermann explores strained parental relationships, loss of life, and the despair associated with grief. Alongside these darker themes, he delves into the small areas of life that often go unnoticed but become the hope we are searching for.

From Where I Stand is the winner of the Blogger Book Fair Reader’s Choice Award, in the poetry category (Winter 2013)

Book on Goodreadshttps://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16128045-from-where-i-stand

Purchase links:

Amazon – (ebook) http://amzn.to/V8oe6Y (print) http://amzn.to/14LMxPA

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/355054

B&N – (ebook) http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/from-where-i-stand-robert-zimmermann/1114041806

(print) http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/from-where-i-stand-robert-zimmermann/1114041806

iBooks – https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/from-where-i-stand/id710141348

Kobo – http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/from-where-i-stand-2

Createspace – https://www.createspace.com/4433685

Author Bio:

Robert is a writer. Most of the time his thoughts will grace the pages in the form of poetry, but occasionally some short pieces of fiction will show their faces. His work mainly touches on experiences that shape who he is today and are emotionally engaging but easily accessible to those not familiar with much poetry.

When Robert isn’t writing for himself, he’s writing to help others. In his blog, A Life Among The Pages, Robert posts numerous book reviews, interviews, and other book related posts to help out fellow writers in any way he can.

How qualified is Robert for all of this? Well, he holds an A.A. in Humanities and a B.A. in Creative Writing. Basically it boils down to him having a lot of downtime living at home. At least he has a cute puppy to keep him company while he’s busily at work writing his first collection of poems.

Links:

Website – http://alifeamongthepages.wordpress.com/

Twitter – http://twitter.com/miztrebor

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/Robert.Zimmermann.Writer

Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6572860.Robert_Zimmermann

Amazon author page – http://www.amazon.com/Robert-Zimmermann/e/B00A5MRQWI/

Smashwords author page – https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/robzimmermann

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Author Feature — A Visit From Tara Maya

I’ve been getting a bit social lately, and I’d like to introduce my second guest in a week! Fellow fantasy author, Tara Maya is joining us today. Welcome, Tara!

Initiate_cover

The Unfinished Song (Book 1): Initiate by Tara Maya

BLURB

DEADLY INITIATION

A DETERMINED GIRL…

Dindi can’t do anything right, maybe because she spends more time dancing with pixies than doing her chores. Her clan hopes to marry her off and settle her down, but she dreams of becoming a Tavaedi, one of the powerful warrior-dancers whose secret magics are revealed only to those who pass a mysterious Test during the Initiation ceremony. The problem? No-one in Dindi’s clan has ever passed the Test. Her grandmother died trying. But Dindi has a plan.

AN EXILED WARRIOR…

Kavio is the most powerful warrior-dancer in Faearth, but when he is exiled from the tribehold for a crime he didn’t commit, he decides to shed his old life. If roving cannibals and hexers don’t kill him first, this is his chance to escape the shadow of his father’s wars and his mother’s curse. But when he rescues a young Initiate girl, he finds himself drawn into as deadly a plot as any he left behind. He must decide whether to walk away or fight for her… assuming she would even accept the help of an exile.

EXCERPT

Blue-skinned rusalki grappled Dindi under the churning surface of the river. She could feel their claws dig into her arms. Their riverweed-like hair entangled her legs when she tried to kick back to the surface. She only managed to gulp a few breaths of air before they pulled her under again.

She hadn’t appreciated how fast and deep the river was. On her second gasp for air, she saw that the current was already dragging her out of sight of the screaming girls on the bank. A whirlpool of froth and fae roiled between two large rocks in the middle of the river. The rusalka and her sisters tugged Dindi toward it. Other water fae joined the rusalki. Long snouted pookas, turtle-like kappas and hairy-armed gwyllions all swam around her, leading her to the whirlpool, where even more fae swirled in the whitewater.

“Join our circle, Dindi!” the fae voices gurgled under the water. “Dance with us forever!”

“No!” She kicked and swam and stole another gasp for air before they snagged her again. There were so many of them now, all pulling her down, all singing to the tune of the rushing river. She tried to shout, “Dispel!” but swallowed water instead. Her head hit a rock, disorienting her. She sank, this time sure she wouldn’t be coming up again.

“Dispel!” It was a man’s voice.

Strong arms encircled her and lifted her until her arms and head broke the surface. Her rescuer swam with her toward the shore. He overpowered the current, he shrugged aside the hands of the water faeries stroking his hair and arms. When he reached the shallows, he scooped Dindi into his arms and carried her the rest of the way to the grassy bank. He set her down gently.

She coughed out some water while he supported her back.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded. He was young–only a few years older than she. The aura of confidence and competence he radiated made him seem older. Without knowing quite why, she was certain he was a Tavaedi.

“Good.” He had a gorgeous smile. A wisp of his dark bangs dangled over one eye. He brushed his dripping hair back over his head.

Dindi’s hand touched skin–he was not wearing any shirt. Both of them were sopping wet. On him, that meant trickles of water coursed over a bedrock of muscle. As for her, the thin white wrap clung transparently to her body like a wet leaf. She blushed.

“It might have been easier to swim if you had let go of that,” he teased. He touched her hand, which was closed around something. “What were you holding onto so tightly that it mattered more than drowning?”

LINKS

Tara’s blog http://bit.ly/12dFdNy

Tara’s Twitter http://bit.ly/162sCtE

The Unfinished Song on Facebook http://on.fb.me/1400mMq

Amazon http://amzn.to/15ciwYc

Barnes and Noble http://bit.ly/13yM5Dr

Kobo http://bit.ly/1aFhg1P

iTunes http://bit.ly/1baddhN

Smashwords http://bit.ly/17zK8Xn

Initiate is free everywhere except on Barnes and Noble (where it’s $0.99). You can download a free .epub version via Smashwords.

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Say G’day to Author Seumas Gallacher

Today I’m hosting a guest post by best-selling Scottish author, Seumas Gallacher. Please excuse his accent and sorry if you have to listen carefully to understand what he’s saying ;). Have to say, I love the book covers! Now I’ll pass it over to the man himself *claps in welcome*.

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If yeez don’t ask, yeez don’t get… Readers/Book Bloggers of AUSTRALIA, this ol’ Jurassic needs you! … #TBSU…

…in my acne-and-angst-ridden teens, pursuit of members of the fair sex was a lottery… in the Scottish Hebridean Island of Mull, we youths often entertained ourselves at weekends by attending  ceilidhs and dances at the local village halls around the island… despite not yet having reached the age of 20, Dutch Courage was much fortified with the electric soup (whisky…uisge beatha…the water of life… liquid seeds of hangovers)… quarter-bottles of Johnnie Walker/Lang’s/White Horse/whatever-distilled-poison the Scotch-liquor salesmen were then currently peddling to the off-sales shops appeared in rotation from sundry inside-jacket pockets…outside the dance hall area, of course… we Scots do have some decorum in our getting p*ssed… resolve thus strengthened, the ritual began… the asking-some-fair-lassie-if-she’d-like-to-dance routine… yeez may be surprised to learn that frequent refusal to indulge in toe-trampling with drunken youths was the order of the day (evening)… undaunted, yer bold Master Gallacher would go on down the line… asking… asking… asking… trying to appear less desperate than he felt… eventually some charitable wee damsel would consent to risk life and limb to clamber onto the dance floor… the lesson never left me… if yeez don’t ask, yeez don’t get… relevance of all this, Mabel?… fast forward to the present… the Great God Amazon Kindle has recently loosened the strictures on downloading in AUSTRALIAKindle is now live in OZ… another WUNNERFUL new market opens up for the self-publishing eBook brigade… which includes yours truly… time to practice what I’ve been preaching for the past couple of years… BUILDING THE PLATFORM… developing a base of like-minded souls to share with in situ from Brisbane to Perth, Melbourne to Darwin, don’t omit Tasmania… I’m searching for AUSTRALIAN-BASED READERS AND BOOK BLOGGERS willing to carry stuff on this ol’ Jurassic and his books… Guest Posts, Q and A pieces, yeez know the drill… any takers, please? I can be reached on seumasgallacher@yahoo.com  LUV YEEZ … see yeez later…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

seumas picSeumas Gallacher was born in the cradle of the Govan shipyards in Glasgow in the so-called ‘bad old days’, which were really the greatest of days, where everybody was a true character of note.

An early career as a trainee banker led to a spell in London, where his pretence to be a missionary converting the English fell on deaf ears.

Escape to the Far East in 1980 opened up access to cultures and societies on a global scale, eventually bringing the realisation that the world is simply one large, extended village.

The lifelong desire to write resulted in THE VIOLIN MAN’S LEGACY, the first in a planned series. Seumas’ sequel novel, VENGEANCE WEARS BLACK was launched in early July 2012. The third, SAVAGE PAYBACK, was released in late 2013 with at least two other books to follow in the same vein. Ebook downloads on his novels exceed 70,000 to date.

Seumas lives in Abu Dhabi in the United Arab Emirates.

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