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Once Upon A Time University by Savannah Ostler

8/27/2015

Dedication:
For the three incredible Steve’s in my life- my brother Stephen,
my husband Steve, and my best friend, “Van” (Steven)

The enchanting sequel to Happily Ever After High School.

After graduating Happily Ever High, eighteen year old Albany French was living the perfect fairy tale. She had her very own fairy godmother, a delightfully eccentric grandmother, and her boyfriend was her dream knight in shining armor.

At first, it seemed like a flawless freshman year for her at Once Upon A Time University. The campus was magical and enchanted, her classes were extraordinary, and she made surprising new friends.

A chain of unsettling events followed by a twist of fate sends Albany spinning. She is forced to make the most difficult decision of her life- one that could potentially break her heart. The perfect happily ever after was still within Albany’s grasp… or so she thought.

PRAISES FOR THE BOOK

“Even better than the first book!” - Gail B, School Teacher

“I was immediately sucked into Savannah’s magical fairy tale world. Even more fun than the first!” - Jamie Marie, Utah Book Club

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Savannah Ostler was born in Alpine, Utah. Since childhood, she has enjoyed many forms of the arts. It was from her love of performing that she decided to attend East Hollywood High, a school in Salt Lake City dedicated to film, television, and writing.

In addition to acting for both stage and film, Savannah is also a singer, having released several original pop singles, and performing at well known venues in Hollywood such as The House Of Blues, and the Roxy theater.

Although Savannah is incredibly diverse with her talents, her first love is, and has always been writing. She has been writing ever since she learned how to read and write. She enjoys many different forms of writing: poetry, lyrics, fiction, and screenplays. To date, Miss Ostler has written hundreds of original poems, six original songs produced and performed by Savannah herself, hundreds of lyrics not yet produced, over a dozen produced short films, five feature film screenplays, two television pilots, and of course, her first novel Happily Ever After High School.

Savannah has always been a day dreamer and a true kid at heart. When she is not buried in her writing projects, she can be found at Disneyland, living out all of her fairy tale dreams.

She lives in Los Angeles, CA with her husband Steve and their two mixed Chihuahua pups.

Savannah Ostler's Blog | Website | Twitter | Facebook

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The Forgotten Ones by Brian McGilloway

8/27/2015

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From the NEW YORK TIMES bestselling author of LITTLE GIRL LOST comes a brand-new thriller featuring Lucy Black - a twisting, gripping story of secrets and lies, perfect for fans of LOUISE PENNY and TANA FRENCH.

The body of an elderly man is hauled out of the rushing water of the River Foyle, cold dead. Detective Lucy Black is called in to investigate when it becomes evident that this was not a suicide: the man’s body was embalmed before it ever entered the water.

Confounded and exhausted, Lucy heads home to review the case in quiet; but there will be no rest for her tonight. She’s barely in the front door when a neighbor knocks because his wife’s sister has been attacked and they need her help.

As a string of strange crimes is unspooled throughout the city, Lucy is pulled in countless different directions… until she realizes there may be something dark and dangerous connecting everything.

Soulful and suspenseful, featuring one of the most appealing characters in suspense fiction, THE FORGOTTEN ONES is a novel to take your breath away.

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EXCERPT

The bruising extended from his temple, around the curve of the eye socket and down almost to where the fold of his laughter line curled round to meet his lip.

Lucy gently touched the purpled skin with the tips of her fingers, afraid that too much pressure might cause him to wake. She moved back slightly and traced down along his neck to where she saw a second shadow on the skin, this time the injury aged and yellowed around the edges, just visible above the collar of his vest. Wisps of gray hair curled over the material, rising and falling lightly with each breath.

She drew back the blanket from him, seeing for the first time the leather strap that encircled the safety bar at the side of his bed, its other end fastened around her father’s wrist.

“Dad?” she whispered, tapping him lightly on the arm in an attempt to rouse him. “Dad, what happened?”

For a moment, his eyelids fluttered, his face inclining toward hers. Then he settled back on the bed again, his head barely denting the pillow. His brow shone with perspiration, despite the presence of a portable fan in the room.

She pushed back from the bed, opened the door, and went out into the corridor. Seeing no staff, she moved up toward the main workstation on the ward. Just as she approached, an orderly came around the corner.

“DS Black? Just the person.”

“What happened to my father?” Lucy demanded. “His face? What happened?”

The man raised his hands in placation. “I’m sorry, Miss Black. I thought you’d been … He became aggressive with some of the other patients and took a fall,” he said.

“He’s chained to the bed,” Lucy said.

“He’s not chain—” he said, seemingly swallowing back his protest at her comment. “We had to restrain him to stop it happening again; he was uncontrollable.”

“He has a bruise on his chest, too.”

“I don’t know—it … it may have been when he was being subdued. Look, I understand you’re annoyed. And I know you’re off duty, but … well, we think there’s a body in the river.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Brian McGilloway was born in Derry, Northern Ireland. After studying English at Queen’s University, Belfast, he took up a teaching position in St Columb’s College in Derry, where he was Head of English. His first novel, Borderlands, published by Macmillan New Writing, was shortlisted for the CWA New Blood Dagger 2007 and was hailed by The Times as “one of (2007’s) most impressive debuts.” The second novel in the series, Gallows Lane, was shortlisted for the 2009 Irish Book Awards/Ireland AM Crime Novel of the Year. The third Devlin, Bleed a River Deep, was selected by Publishers Weekly as one of their Best Books of 2010. He is the author of the New York Times bestselling Lucy Black series, all to be published by Witness. Brian lives near the Irish borderlands with his wife and their four children.

Author's Website

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Dazzled (A Nikki Easton Mystery) by Maxine Nunes

8/26/2015

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Genre: Mystery / Contemporary Noir
Publication Date: June 25, 2015

During a brutal L.A. heatwave, four people are murdered in the Hollywood Hills and Nikki Easton's best friend Darla Ward has disappeared. The police think she might be one of the victims.

In her relentless search for the truth, Nikki discovers the hidden side of her friend's life, laying bare secrets buried before Darla was born, and uncovering widening layers of corruption that reach far beyond Hollywood to the highest levels of government.

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EXCERPT

Chapter 1

What’s real? Darla used to ask me. How do you know what’s real? I never understood the question. But then I didn’t have platinum hair and cheekbones that could cut glass, and no one ever offered to buy me a Rolls if I spent one night naked in his bed. Darla was a brilliant neon sign ﬂashing pure escape. You almost didn’t notice that those lovely green eyes didn’t blaze like the rest of her. She was both main attraction and sad observer at the carnival. Something had damaged her at a very young age. We never talked much about it, but we recognized this in each other from the start. Isn’t that what friendship is?

The week she disappeared was as extreme as she was. Triple-digit heat in late August and wavy layers of smog suffocating the city. By ten in the morning, it was brutal everywhere, and on the sidewalks in front of the homeless shelter, with the sun bouncing off the ﬁlm crew trailers and the odor of unwashed bodies and general decay, it was a very special episode of hell. Beneath an archway, a tall man with a ﬁlthy blanket draped over his head rolled his eyes heavenward like a biblical prophet. Or a Star Trek castaway waiting to be beamed up.

In one of those trailers, where air conditioning brought the temperature down to the high nineties, I was being stuffed into a ﬁtted leather jacket two sizes too small. Perspiration had already ruined my makeup and the dark circles under my eyes were starting to show through.

Heat keeping you up, hon? the makeup girl had asked. I’d nodded. Half the truth.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Maxine Nunes is a New Yorker who's spent most of her life in Los Angeles. She has written and produced for television, and currently writes for several publications including the Los Angeles Times. Her satiric parody of a White House scandal won the Pen USA West International Imitation Hemingway Competition.

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The Magic Chest: Sands of Time by D.G. Thomas

8/20/2015

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Release Date: April 23, 2015

Nine year old Jessie and her seven year old brother Ethan are the new kids to arrive on John's Island in South Carolina. Their family just moved into a 100 year old farmhouse that has a mysterious attic full of old toys and a magical wooden chest! When Jessie and Ethan open the old wooden chest they see five items inside. After Jessie touches a gold pocket watch inside the chest a note written in enchanted words on old parchment paper suddenly appears floating inside the chest. Jessie and Ethan read the magical words on the note and in an instant the children disappear from the attic. Travel through time and space on an adventure with Jessie and Ethan into the 1950's as they meet an exciting and brave new friend and learn the mystery behind the gold pocket watch in book one of The Magic Chest Book Series: Sands of Time.

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BOOK TRAILER

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

D.G. Thomas' first book, The Magic Chest: Sands of Time, grew out of a love for telling bedtime stories to the authors' children. Thomas resides in Kentucky, where the grass isn't really blue, with a daughter and son who also love to go on brother and sister adventures together.

Author Link: Blog

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Mother of Demons by Maynard Sims

8/18/2015

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Supernatural Crime Thriller
Publication Date: August 2015
Publisher: Samhain Publishing

The hunt is on!

Alice Logan has gone missing, and Harry Bailey and Department 18 have been called to help find her. The main suspect is Anton Markos, a satanic cult leader who has a predilection for young women like Alice. Members of Markos’s cult start turning up dead—shredded by what seems to be a wild animal. Is there a madman within the cult? Or is it something far more horrible?

Can Department 18 discover the impossible truth and end the spree of murder, insanity and carnage? Or will they become the prey?

EXCERPT

Chapter One

High above street level in Clerkenwell she climbed up to the balcony’s railing and rested her naked foot on the ice cold metal. A brisk wind was coming in from the east, gusting across the balcony and raising goose bumps on the girl’s pasty white skin. From inside the penthouse the four boys watched her climb.

“Go, girl,” one of the boys – Finbar Clusky – called out. The other three laughed.

“Where’s Erik?’ another of them – Terry Butler – said. “Shouldn’t he be here? This is for his benefit, isn’t it? Hey, Alice. Don’t jump…not yet. Your main audience isn’t here yet.”

The girl glanced back into the room. “I’m not going to jump, silly. I’m going to fly. I’m going to soar, above the clouds, to the heavens. There I will take my rightful place with the other goddesses.”

“Is that what you are, Alice, a goddess?” Davy Coltrane said.

“I am Artemis; goddess of the moon, goddess of the hunt. And once I’ve taken my rightful place in the heavens, I will hunt you all down and make you kneel before me.”

“Not Artemis, my love, but Hecate, the goddess of sorcery and magic.”

All eyes turned to stare at the speaker: a man, older than all of them: handsome, with a chiseled Mediterranean face and piercing coal-black eyes. They all shrank back in their seats and cast their gaze to the floor. All except the girl who, from her perch on the balcony, looked at the man, her eyes clouded with confusion. “But, Erik, you’re here. I thought you had gone away.”

“I’m here, my love. I would never leave you.”

“Erik, I can fly. I want to show you.”

He smiled at her indulgently. “I know,” he said. “I know you can fly. You can soar, as high as a bird, more graceful than an eagle. You don’t have to prove it to me. One day we will fly together.”

She looked uncertain. “Do you promise?”

“On my life.” Erik Strasser bent low and whispered in Finbar Clusky’s ear. “How much did you give her?”

“The usual amount. Nothing excessive.”

“But now she believes she’s a bird,” Strasser said.

“No, a goddess,” Mikey Gibson said, trying to lighten an atmosphere that had suddenly turn to stone.

Strasser silenced him with a look and turned again to the girl. “Come in now, my darling. Come in and get warm. Your skin is turning blue.”

Alice looked at him questioningly for a moment, then down at her naked body. She shrugged, stepped down from the balcony, and took a step inside the penthouse. Strasser reached forward and wrapped his arms around her shivering body. Gently he led her through to the bedroom and laid her down on the bed, covering her with a quilt, waited until her shivering had stopped, and then watched a tear trickle down her cheek.

“Erik, I want to go home,” she said, in a voice so small that he had to lean forward to hear what she was saying.

“And so you will. Tomorrow you can go back and see your mother, just as we discussed.”

“Promise?”

“Of course. I give you my word.” He reached out and stroked her forehead, smoothing her long blonde hair away from her brow.

“Thank you, Erik. You’re so kind to me.”

Her eyes fluttered shut and within a moment her breathing had deepened and she was asleep.

He stared down at her, a frown creasing his forehead, and then he stepped away from the bed and went back into the lounge.

“Who was responsible for that?” he demanded, his accent thickening as his anger increased.

“Just a bit of fun,” Terry said.
“No harm in it.” That from Davy Coltrane.

“And that’s what you would have told the police once they’d scooped her body up off the pavement?”

“They didn’t mean anything by it, Erik,” Finbar said. “You’re over-reacting.”

Erik Strasser spun around to face him, his brow furrowed, his eyes blacker than ever.

Finbar grabbed his midriff and bent double as an icy hand gripped his intestines and started to twist. “Please,” he gasped. “Don’t.”

“Don’t blame Fin. It wasn’t his fault,” Davy said.

“Then whose fault was it? I left Finbar in charge”

“I was only having a laugh,” Davy continued. “I didn’t think the silly bitch would react so badly. I only gave her another shard. How was I to know she would go all goddess on us?”

Strasser turned on him. The skin of his brow had smoothed out, but the eyes burned just as deeply. “Get out,” he said in little more than a whisper. “Get out of here and don’t come back.”

The boy stood up to his full height and thrust out his chin to show he wasn’t going to be intimidated by Strasser. “Suit yourself. I’m going. This was a lousy gig anyway.” He turned to Finbar, who was slowly straightening up, the color gradually returning to his face. “I don’t go much on your choice of friends, Fin. Especially this wanker.’

Finbar gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, but Davy, nostrils flaring in anger, ignored it. “I’m outa here,” he said, stalked to the door and yanked it open, slamming it shut behind him.

“Indeed you are,” Strasser said softly.

Minutes later Davy Coltrane was on the platform of Farringdon underground station, listening to the steady rumble of the approaching train.

The train’s headlamps pierced the gloom as it appeared from around a bend in the track. As the train pulled into the station Davy took a step forward…and then another.

The train hit him before he could fall from the edge of the platform. It carried his body along for a few yards until it slipped down the cold metal and disappeared under the grinding wheels.

Available on Amazon

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Maynard Sims is pen name for authors L.H. Maynard and M.P.N. Sims when they write together. They are the authors of supernatural thrillers, thrillers, and erotic romance. Their first screenplay, Department 18, won British Horror Film festival Best New Screenplay Award 2013. They have several other screenplays in various stages of development, including funding.

All their short stories and novellas were published as a uniform eight volume collection in 2014 as The Maynard Sims Library.

They worked as editors on the nine volumes of Darkness Rising anthologies. They co-edited and published F20 with The British Fantasy Society. As editors/publishers they ran Enigmatic Press in the UK, which produced Enigmatic Tales, and its sister titles. They have written essays. They still do commissioned editing projects, most recently Dead Water, and they are working on an anthology as editors for the ITW. They also do ghost writing commissions.

Author Links: Website | Twitter | Facebook

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House of the Last Man On Earth by Robert B. Marcus Jr. and Ryan B. Marcus

8/17/2015

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Richard Johnson, an average college student, just spent his last dime on food, lost his wealthy girlfriend, and had his bike stolen. To add to his misery, he returns to his apartment where he runs into his strange neighbor, nicknamed The Ghoul. Convinced that this bizarre man is more than he seems, Richard and his land lady's bull dog, Khan, sneak into The Ghoul's apartment where they find a timegate to the future. Along with his set theory teacher and her brother, they embark upon a soaring and treacherous journey through space and time to discover a terrible truth--mankind is being slowly and systematically exterminated.

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EXCERPT

Chapter One

I’ve had better Wednesdays.

On Wednesdays, I’m supposed to awaken with the blaring of my alarm clock at seven. I get up, dress quickly, dash to campus, stare at Mrs. Jacklyn in set theory class, fall asleep in Mechanics 1, eat lunch, and study in the afternoon, before ending the day at band practice. For me, that was enough excitement on Wednesdays.

On the seventh Wednesday of the fall term my alarm clock didn’t go off, probably because I had thrown it across the room the day before in a fit of anger.

I was late to my first class. Ordinarily, being late to set theory would not have posed much of a problem, but when I arrived Mrs. Jacklyn was collecting a pop quiz. I hadn’t done very well on her last quiz and I wasn’t likely to do much better on this one.

I slunk into the class. With nothing important to do for a few seconds after finishing the quiz, everyone had time to turn and gawk at me. I wanted to whirl and run, but somehow I found the courage to shrivel into a seat in the back row. What continually cycled through my mind as I tried to disappear was how embarrassing it would be to flunk math, since it was the class in which I wanted to do well. Not because I liked set theory. I hated it, and it wasn’t even required for my major. No, I was in the class for one reason: I was mesmerized by Mrs. Jacklyn, and I had no trouble explaining why. Since reaching puberty, I had always adored tall women, and Mrs. Jacklyn was tall; she’d played volleyball in college, according to rumor, and was an expert in martial arts and weapons. Her slender body, lithe and graceful as a pine tree, was at least an inch taller than my six feet two inches. Her hair was black, as were her eyes, and every time she looked at me with those bottomless eyes I was captured. All she had to do was ask and I would give her anything. Unfortunately, the only thing she ever asked for were my tests, and I was too intimidated to ever speak to her.

Most of the students in the class were afraid of her, but I was both afraid of and in love with her, at least in a theoretical way. After all, I did have a girlfriend, so my dreams of love were tempered by that and Mrs. Jacklyn’s attitude toward me. She was remote and unapproachable, as difficult a goal to achieve as the set theory she was trying to teach me. The look she gave me when I slid into my seat late was cold enough to freeze fire. The look she gave me when I darted out of the class at the end of the period was even colder.

I had an hour between classes, so I rode my bike home to retrieve my Mechanics 1 textbook, which I had forgotten in my rush to find a clean pair of socks that morning. In times like these I was glad I didn’t have a car, since parking on campus was impossible, and I lived too far away to walk home and back even with an hour off. My bike was an old Schwinn five-speed, but it served me well.

Home was a slightly renovated old house a couple of blocks south of Arapahoe and a few blocks west of Broadway, close to a mile from the University of Colorado campus in Boulder. My landlady, Mrs. Lafferty, who was over ninety, had turned her family home into eight apartments. Only two of the apartments had bathrooms; the rest were just bedrooms that shared a common bath.

Two sizes smaller than the other apartments was my closet of a room. Mrs. Lafferty kept telling me it had been her children’s playroom sixty years before, but I wasn’t convinced. It was too small to be anything but a closet. But it was cheap, and with the discount I received for walking Genghis Khan each day, I could almost afford it.

The mail had already come as I panted by; I snatched it off the foyer table, tripped over Khan, regained my footing, and glanced behind me with some anxiety.

Khan had not moved even one drooping lip. I was grateful. The last thing I needed right now was a spoiled brat of a bulldog wanting his walk. Technically, I was supposed to walk him twice a day. Mrs. Lafferty’s right knee had been replaced the month before, and she was still too sore to walk him herself. Even though in general we didn’t get along too well, Khan and I had quickly come to an understanding—most of the time: I would only walk him in the afternoons and he wouldn’t complain about it to his owner. Not that he wanted to; Khan was a fat, ugly registered purebred bulldog who was over seventeen years old. Mrs. Lafferty’s family tree had primarily grown in Hungary and she’d named him after one of her heroes: Genghis Khan, the invader of Hungary. Khan’s belly bounced along the floor as he waddled (he no longer ran) and his lower lip often dragged the ground as he went. It seemed as though I was always pulling a sandspur out of that lip after one of our walks. Because of cataracts he could barely see where he was going, but there was nothing wrong with his nose: he could smell dead food eight blocks away. The deader the better. Four-day-old-squirrel roadkill (still stuck to the road, of course) was his idea of gourmet dining. It was almost impossible for me to pull him away from it even when a truck was rumbling straight at us. Once I had to scrape the squirrel off the road with my fingers and throw it onto the sidewalk to save our lives.

Still, unless Khan smelled some particularly ripe, tasty feast lying somewhere in the neighborhood, he was no more enthusiastic about his walks than I was. Our unspoken arrangement suited both of us just fine.

I examined my mail. The only mail not an ad was a notice from the campus credit union that the check I had written to The Food Market had bounced, and loudly, I presumed. That was my second bouncing to The Food Market. From now on it would be cash only for me at that store.

No money in the account! I couldn’t believe it! I should have had twenty dollars left over after that check. Now, with the bounced-check fee, I apparently was overdrawn thirty dollars and twenty cents. How could I have fouled up my checkbook so badly? It wasn’t as though I wrote a lot of checks to keep up with. It didn’t make sense.

Food was definitely going to be a problem for the next few days, until my GI Bill check came in. And worst of all, I had a date for lunch with Rosalyn. Sometimes she paid for our lunch; hopefully this would be one of those times. Otherwise I was going to be in trouble.

As it turned out, my money problem was the least of my worries.

Depressed, staring at the ground, afraid to wonder what else could possibly go wrong on this day that had hardly begun, I ran right into the Ghoul from the End of the Hall. It was like hitting a steel I-beam, and I went careening across the hall into the wall. The Ghoul just glared at me and left.

Dreamy Isle Apartments was a three-story building. Mrs. Lafferty lived on the first floor with Genghis Khan; there were four apartments on the second floor and four more on the third, five if you counted mine. While mine was certainly the smallest, the Ghoul’s was the largest, with a sitting room as well as a bedroom and a private bath. I had no proper excuse for knowing this except that I’d been in it chasing Khan. This was one thing Khan and I agreed on. Neither of us liked the Ghoul. If anything, Khan disliked him more than I did. I had no idea why, but whenever the Ghoul was around, Khan continually emitted a low-pitched growl and stayed as far away from him as possible. But when the Ghoul was out of the building, Khan often spent hours trying to break into his apartment. At least one time he was successful and I found him staring into the bathroom, his head slightly cocked to the right, lip and stomach rubbing the floor, a puddle of drool in front of him. Pulling him away from that bathroom was harder than dragging him away from one of his favorite dead squirrels, but I finally extracted him from the Ghoul’s apartment. My first inclination was to leave Khan in the hallway while I wiped up the trail of drool, but ultimately I decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. Let the Ghoul puzzle over the river of spit.

Of course, he really wasn’t a Ghoul, not that I was aware of, anyway. His name was Thaddeus K. Rumpkin. I had some difficulty prying this from Mrs. Lafferty, but kept asking her day after day until it slipped out of her sometimes addled mind. I don’t know why it was so important for me to find this out, but it was.

All the tenants called him the Ghoul because in some indescribable way he reminded us of one. It was hard to say why. He was thick and stubby, at least four inches shorter than me. His face was entirely without wrinkles, yet gave the appearance of being old. His expression was always neutral, never laughing, smiling, frowning, or looking puzzled. Yet a feeling of hostility always emanated from him. And his eyes … they were ancient, deep in knowledge … frightening … inhuman. I couldn’t look at them without a cold sweat breaking out on my back and my knees wobbling.

Once I had tried to be friendly. I offered to help him carry a load of groceries to his apartment since he was struggling with four obviously heavy bags, two in each arm. He stared at me, almost through me, and shook his head.

“Why?” he muttered. “I’m several times stronger than you.”

With that he bounded up the steps faster than I ever could, leaving me to shrug at Mrs. Lafferty in the foyer.

“Strange bird,” she said, staring up at him. “Pays good money, though. Never late with his rent.” With that, she turned and hobbled into her kitchen. It was the only unsolicited comment about him I ever heard from her.

I often asked her what he did for a living. She shook her head. I asked her why he didn’t come to the weekend breakfasts she fixed for all her tenants. She shook her head. I asked her if she knew why we didn’t see him for days at a time. Was he gone or in his apartment? She shook her head. She didn’t know, of course. No more than the rest of us.

As I now staggered around the hallway watching the Ghoul’s back disappear down the stairs I thought about the one time I had followed Khan into the Ghoul’s apartment. My mind couldn’t remember all the details, but what still struck me was that it was virtually bare. There was a desk or table in the sitting room, with a computer on it—at least something that was square and metallic—but the rest of the room was empty, and there was only a pad on the floor in the bedroom. I couldn’t remember anything about the bathroom except for Khan drooling in the doorway, but there was a strange presence coming from the room; perhaps that was the reason I needed so much strength to pull him away. It took me several days to admit it, but I was scared in that apartment. Terrified, actually.

Rushing away from the Ghoul, I made it back to campus for my Mechanics I class. The day had been going so badly that I had temporarily buried deep in my mind the fact that I was facing a midterm here. I had studied at least thirty hours for this test, and felt that I knew the material backwards and forwards, but the moment the test was placed in front of me, my mind went blank. The test questions appeared to be written in Sanskrit. Not one of them made any sense whatsoever.

When I finished the midterm, I was sure I had flunked it.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Robert B. Marcus Jr. is a practicing radiation oncology physician. He has been a Professor at two major medical schools, and is listed in U.S. News and World Reports Best Doctors in America, as well as Castle Connolly's Top Cancer Doctors and Castle Connolly's Top Doctors in America. He has been president of FLASCO, the society of all the oncologists in Florida, and has authored or co-authored almost 200 medical journal articles and chapters. He has been selling fiction since he was in college. Since then he has published a number of novelettes and short stories and three novels, with two forthcoming novels, one a paranormal romance (The Haunting of Scott Remington) and another political thriller novel (Yesterday's Tears). He is a lifetime active member of Science Fiction Writers of America and recently became a member of the International Thriller Writers, Inc.

Author Links: Website | Twitter | Facebook

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The Libelle Papers by E.C. Hibbs

8/14/2015

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Release Date (eBook and Paperback): 13th September 2015

The TRAGIC SILENCE story continues...

Young German nurse Hanna Bernstein has secretly researched vampirism all her life, carrying on her family's 250 year-old legacy. Along with her father, she is the caretaker of Die Gift: a collection of unpublished theses detailing the most secret and mysterious condition in history. But even she is unprepared for the twisted world of demons which threatens to swallow her.

Risking everything to save the life of an old friend, she is forced to abandon all she knows and go into hiding in Switzerland. But with a powerful enemy on her trail, Hanna's decisions will matter more than ever before.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

E. C. Hibbs has lived all her life in Cheshire, north-west England. A lover of stories from an early age, she wrote her first 'book' when she was five, and throughout school was a frequent visitor to the younger classes to read her tales to the children.

Living so near the coast, she loves anything to do with the sea. She studied Animal Behaviour at university and longs to work with marine mammals in the future. As well as nature and animals, she also has a soft spot for history, and loves paying visits to castles, cathedrals and museums. She also runs Elphame Arts; creating unique portraits in both digital fantasy and graphite mediums, as well as book and CD covers.

There are many things she could be without, but writing isn't one of them. She carries a pen everywhere, in case an idea appears, and takes pride in still seeing the world as brimming with magic. Besides writing, she reads obsessively, her favourite genres being the classics and all kinds of fantasy. She also enjoys Disney and horror films, practising Shotokan karate, drawing, archery, hiking up mountains, and playing with her very cheeky cat.

Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Youtube | Elphame Arts

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Nation of Enemies by H.A. Raynes

8/10/2015

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It’s all about the genetics. DNA. Black & white. A decade ago the U.S. government mandated that all citizens be issued biochips containing all of their medical information and an ID number indicating a person’s health. Then they made the information public—the implications of which are wide-spread and devastating.

Now on the eve of the 2032 presidential election, the country is deeply divided and on the brink of civil war. But as the two major political parties face off, innocent Americans are dying at the hands of masked terrorists. When the Liberty Party’s presidential nominee is assassinated in a highly-coordinated, masterful attack, it sets off a chain of events that will change the course of history and leave America’s inalienable rights—life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness—dangling on the precipice of extinction.

EXCERPT

So, this is freedom. No sirens pierce the air. Buildings in the distance are whole. Yet the ground beneath his feet feels no different. Dr. Cole Fitzgerald glances past their docked cruise ship, to the horizon. The sky blends into the ocean, a monochromatic swatch of gray. A chill in the air penetrates him, dampens his coat and makes all the layers underneath heavy. When they left Boston, pink-tinged magnolia petals blanketed the sidewalks, blew across overgrown parks and the burnt remains of brownstones. He’d reached up and touched a blossom, still hanging on a limb. It’s remarkable to see beauty amid war.

The din of discontent is constant. On the vast dock of England’s Southampton Cruise Port, a few thousand passengers stand in line, all on the same quest to flee the United States. He’s heard that three million citizens emigrate annually. But no one documents whether those people are more afraid of the lone wolves and militias, or of their government bent on regaining control. Cole isn’t sure which is worse. But London is a safe place to start again. They have family here, built-in support. No point in dwelling.

Beside him, Lily’s usual grace and composure are visibly in decline. He reaches out and gently strokes the nape of his wife’s neck, where pieces of her dark hair have strayed from her ponytail. The coat she wears can’t hide her belly, now twenty-nine weeks swollen with a baby girl. Cole wishes he could offer her a chair. Instead she rests on one of their enormous suitcases.

Their son Ian sits cross-legged on the asphalt and reads a paperback. Throughout the journey, he’s gone along with few complaints. Ten years ago he was born the night the Planes Fell, the night that changed everything. Living in a constant state of fear is all he’s ever known. The joy and devastation of that night was so complete. To become parents at the same time terrorists took down fifty passenger planes … there were no words. It was impossible to celebrate while so many were mourning.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

H.A. Raynes was inspired to write NATION OF ENEMIES by a family member who was a Titanic survivor and another who escaped Poland in World War II. Combining lessons from the past with a healthy fear of the modern landscape, this novel was born. A longtime member of Boston’s writing community, H.A. Raynes has a history of trying anything once (acting, diving out of a plane, white water rafting, and parenting). Writing and raising children seem to have stuck.

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Wings of Darkness and Flames by Cassandra Stangle

8/8/2015

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There are many dangers in our world, some seen some unseen. You’ve felt them haven’t you? The eyes on your back as you make your way to your car late at night, but when you turn around there’s nothing there, or is there? In the shadows they are watching you, creatures of nothing but shadows and malice. They are the shadow. They are the Salockue. But don’t worry, they will only eat those that can see them, such as the creatures of magic and legend. (Fairies, elves, and dwarfs). You’ve probably seen a member of the western fairy clan. They look just like you and me for the most part, but they are extremely attractive and mysterious. That is the lure of the Fay.

Dark has spent the last four thousand years fighting those monsters of darkness, His clan has lost many during this war and his parents were among them. The only family he has left is his twin brother Krad. Now he is desperately trying to keep his quickly dwindling clan safe when a sudden vision changes his life forever. The woman in his vision makes his heart flutter. Who is she? He has to find out.

Thanks to his gift, Krad practically lived in his brothers’ shadow which was perfectly fine with him. He never truly wanted the attention their status gave them. His gift, of course, made things difficult. But when he met Victoria he wanted to truly know her. What he found was that she also had a special gift, and found that he wasn’t the only one interested in her. Echo covets her “unique” talents. Now they have to keep her safe from the Salockue and that pointed-eared bastard or Echo may actually accomplish his goals.

EXCERPT

"Dark, what is that?" Grace pointed at the dark fog, her eyes wide with fear as the ride began to move again.

"It's the same thing that attacked you the other night. Don't worry; when the ride stops, we run to the gate." He reassured her.

"It's going to be fine. I will protect you." He kissed her quickly and grabbed her hand. When the ride stopped, they ran as fast as they could, dodging the hands and claws that swiped at them when they passed. Dark stopped suddenly when he saw the entrance was blocked by the miasma.

"Jleckem!!" Dark cursed, pulling Grace closer to him.

"Uuma dela, rashwe, ta tuluva a' lle." A happy, yet sinister voice stated. Dark's eyes narrowed when he heard the language of the fairies.

"Who are you?" Dark demanded. The sound of footsteps echoed through the air. A tall, thin man with pale skin, ears that resembled the tips of knives under hair as black as night, stepped out of the darkness. His eyes were as red as rubies. He was dressed in all black, with orange ascents, a sinister grin on his face.

"Ama'inq Fawn, Unguer." He answered happily.

"Fawn, the Hollow one? What do you want?" Dark asked angrily. Fawn shook his finger slowly from side to side.

"Tsk, tsk. Now, now, let's not get hostile. Not yet, anyway. I've come to collect you. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Easy being you come willingly, and hard being you don't and my beasties eat the human.... My, my, do they love human flesh." He laughed evilly.

"Go to Hell, Nadorhuan!" Fawn's laughter ceased, his grin disappearing. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were glowing with madness.

"The hard way, then. I shall enjoy watching as they rip her to shreds." He snapped his fingers and the miasma enveloped them. He began laughing hysterically. Dark pulled Grace in close, telling her, "Close your eyes and don't open them until I say otherwise." He lifted his free hand to the sky and began to summon his flame.

"Mortal flame, I summon thee to defeat thine enemies." A flame swirled up from Dark's feet to create a barrier, keeping the miasma at bay. Fawn's laughter died, as he saw his creatures turning to ash at the mere touch of the flaming barrier. The roar of an engine to his left caught his attention. He looked through the creature's eyes to see a silver-haired man preparing to jump the wall on a motorcycle. If it was a normal man, there would be no worries, but this man was obviously not mortal, as he had rippling wings made of dark light .

"Bah, no time, no time!" Fawn muttered to himself. He turned back to Dark. He thought for a moment, then he pulled out a small, black vulture feather. He ran it through his fingers once, then threw it at Dark. As it came into contact with the fire shield, it began to crackle with dark electricity.

"Ah, ah, ah. None of that now, Your Majesty." he said, as Dark's barrier began to fade. He began to laugh hysterically again as Dark muttered a curse and lowered his hand. Then Dark whispered,

"Father, give me strength. Shadow obeys Darkness; Darkness fades - engulfs all; I summon the darkness of the void to defeat thine enemies!" A deep dark purple liquid poured from below Dark's feet and flowed up into a cocoon, closing over their heads. It formed a tidal wave from his feet, throwing all enemies away from the couple. The roar of the engine grew very loud. Fawn searched, finding the fairy arguing with two others. "My, my, my, the mice come out to play..."

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

"I was born in Arizona in 1988; my father was in the Military so we moved a lot. I had a hard time making friends so in-steed I read a lot, and soon books became my friends. My father was a brilliant unknown writer; his short stories and poems were amazing. After he died, when I was 9 years old, I decided in the 5th grade that I would be a writer, so I could inspire people the way my late father inspired me, I want to show the world what the combination of the written word and my imagination can bring to life."

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Once Upon A Time University by Savannah Ostler

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For the three incredible Steve’s in my life- my brother Stephen,
my husband Steve, and my best friend, “Van” (Steven)

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The Forgotten Ones by Brian McGilloway

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Dazzled (A Nikki Easton Mystery) by Maxine Nunes

Genre: Mystery / Contemporary Noir
Publication Date: June 25, 2015

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The Magic Chest: Sands of Time by D.G. Thomas

Release Date: April 23, 2015

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Mother of Demons by Maynard Sims

Supernatural Crime Thriller
Publication Date: August 2015
Publisher: Samhain Publishing

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House of the Last Man On Earth by Robert B. Marcus Jr. and Ryan B. Marcus

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The Libelle Papers by E.C. Hibbs

Release Date (eBook and Paperback): 13th September 2015

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Nation of Enemies by H.A. Raynes

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Wings of Darkness and Flames by Cassandra Stangle

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The Bookish Ailurophile

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Genre: Mystery / Contemporary Noir Publication Date: June 25, 2015

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Release Date: April 23, 2015

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Supernatural Crime Thriller Publication Date: August 2015 Publisher: Samhain Publishing

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Release Date (eBook and Paperback): 13th September 2015

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About Shin

The Bookish Ailurophile

Dedication:
For the three incredible Steve’s in my life- my brother Stephen,
my husband Steve, and my best friend, “Van” (Steven)

Genre: Mystery / Contemporary Noir
Publication Date: June 25, 2015

Supernatural Crime Thriller
Publication Date: August 2015
Publisher: Samhain Publishing