Author Spotlight – Ray Sporne (R Addams)

AuthorSpotlight

Author Spotlight

Please join me in welcoming author Ray Sporne, writing as R Addams

RayAfter a career in the construction industry, which took him to most parts of Australia, the Middle East, Eastern Europe and West Africa, Ray and his wife retired to the picturesque Northern Rivers region of New South Wales, Australia, and he commenced writing.

Their daughter and three grandchildren live closeby while their son and two more grandchildren are in a suburb of Perth, on the opposite side of Australia.

Ray’s travels, for work and for pleasure, have taken him to many parts of the world and, at his latest count, he has visited around fifty countries, with a few more trips currently on the horizon. In May he will return to the island of Bali and in July/August he will visit Alaska, the Canadian Rockies and eastern Canada

Books Published

Chaloaw Stew: (Nothing Ever Happens In Alstonville)Ray’s initial book was Chaloaw Stew, a hard-hitting crime thriller, set mainly in the coastal town of Byron Bay. The abhorrent crimes described in the novel draw on publicised events in various parts of the world, with Byron Bay used as a backdrop only.

Chaloaw Stew introduces Detective Chris Johnson as the protagonist, a straight talking lady who will stop at nothing to trap and catch the gang of criminals involved. A prequel to Chaloaw Stew (I Am Chris!), is underway and should be released later this year.

After some criticism of the gruesome nature of the first book, Ray began writing in more of a Cozy Crime genre, and introduced a character named Poppa Roy Addams, a retired amateur detective who dabbles in spiritualism to help solve cases.

The first novel featuring Poppa Roy is Seeking Skye, set in Lismore, the regional center of the Northern Rivers.

Etropole is the second in the Poppa Roy series, set mainly in Bulgaria and drawing on Ray’s observations and experiences in the three years he lived and worked there.

Echoes of ElMina is set in Ghana, West Africa and has Poppa Roy experiencing the horrors of slavery while learning the targeted spirit writing techniques which he uses in his later adventures.

The last novel Ray published is Nimbin Rocks. This book has Poppa Roy helping to expose a Wiccan cult operating in the small, alternative town of Nimbin, which is approximately forty minutes drive from Lismore.

All books are available as ebooks from Smashwords and its associated companies, and Amazon Kindle, with print on demand copies from Amazon (see highlighted links above).

Author Spotlight – Eva Pasco

AuthorSpotlight

Author Spotlight

This week’s spotlight is on Eva Pasco.

EvaAfter a teaching career in elementary education, midlife restlessness rekindled Eva Pasco’s flair for writing, fueled by her lifelong olfactory obsession with fragrance which propelled her debut novel in the genre of Contemporary Women’s Fiction.

Eva’s “lit with grit” is distinguished for its character-driven plots which feature protagonists who plunge the depths of despair and suffer the consequences in their darkest hours prior to seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

In addition to writing fiction, Eva has published a Non-Fiction memoir collection pertaining to growing up during the Sixties. She has also published numerous Retro Flashbacks pertaining to the Sixties, and essays about her native state of Rhode Island prefaced with “Rhode Reads”. Her weekly blogs relate to writing and social marketing.  All of the author’s works and daily bio updates are featured at her web page on Authors Den.

Take a Look at Her Books

underlyingEva’s debut novel, Underlying Notes, features protagonist, Carla Matteo, who copes with life by “taking to the bottle”–glass goddesses funneling perfume! During a midlife renaissance the “juice” offers incentive for Carla to find her own niche, while the ominous rose note in Paloma Picasso forces her to confront a troubled past, redefine friendships, sort out matters of the heart, and come to terms with the tenets of her life.

Excerpt:

Carla Matteo: Too restless to go back to bed, I closed down the kitchen and clicked off the bedroom lamp. I made my way down the hall in darkness and flipped the switch in the foyer so I could see my way down two landings into the basement. I opened the doors of the cabinet to peruse the bottles of “juice.” My ladies-in-waiting huddled together in various shapes and sizes, some nearly empty, some half-filled, and others hardly touched. Some bottles still languished inside their packaging, the names front and center. The “juice” beckoned with its spectrum of colors: clear as water, pale yellow, rich amber, and even pink or blue. On this cold day in January, I reached for the small amber bottle promising to soothe and impart warmth once I imbibed its spirits.

Underlying Notes is available through Amazon.

cookEva’s multi-award winning Contemporary Women’s Fiction novel, An Enlightening Quiche, took nearly 9 years to rise to the occasion.

An heirloom quiche recipe and baking rivalry turn up the heat in a Rhode Island mill town rife with secrets and scandals. A tragedy precipitated by misdeeds wreaks havoc on those caught in the crossfire.

Excerpt:

Augusta Bergeron: Autumn was indeed a tragic opera when bleeding crimson hearts expired soon after attaining their height of glory.  Sadness engulfed me and mushroomed into a dark cloud hovering over the realization my own peak season had terminated when I turned the Big Four O, beaucoup months ago last November.  Thus far I hadn’t exactly set the world on fire the way Mrs. Blais envisioned I would, subliminally affecting one of her many Freudian slips into Dante’s inferno.

Flirty in your thirties; finished at forty.  Time you settled down, Augusta.

Conjecturing, I wondered if my mother reached the autumn of her life, and depending on whether she attained that milepost, had she succumbed or survived the harshness of winter.

Check out An Enlightening Quiche on Amazon.

mushroomsEva tiptoes through the tulips in 100 Wild Mushrooms: Memoirs of the Sixties–a Nonfiction coming-of-age collection of serious, sentimental, and silly reflections:

Toni Home Perm, Flexible Flyer Snow Sled, Hula Hoop, Mercurochrome, Fishnet Stockings, Beatles, Mohair, Go-Go Boots, Aluminum Christmas Tree…and, the beat goes on.

While the mushroom cloud of the Cold War hovered over us, my sister and I carried on as kids do regardless of world events. Since the daily minutiae of life provides the magic for memories to MUSHROOM WILDLY–feed your head my nostalgic recollections of growing up during the ’60s counterculture.

Serious, sentimental, or silly revelations set aside: you know better than to duck and cover under a school desk for protection against nuclear fallout.

Excerpt from Memoir # 44 – “Once Considered Hip”

By the time I became a high school freshman circling the outer perimeter of hip, girls going steady with upperclassmen showed off rings the size of doorknobs on their dainty fingers. Other crazies not yet linked with anyone, hell-bent with scissors, would sneak up behind boys and cut off the “fruit loop” from the back of their shirt, presumably to covet as a trophy.

I never got the hang of making those silly chains fashioned from discarded chewing gum wrappers. However, I found my niche through another popular fad of threading apple seed necklaces. Creative to the core, I “branched” out by getting strung out on my own hip movement of stringing acorn necklaces!

Purchase 100 Wild Mushrooms through Amazon.

wizardThe novella, Mr. Wizardo, is part of ‘Once Upon a Fabulous Time,’ a co-authored anthology of reimagined fairy tales for grownups.

(Baxter Springs, Kansas) – A twist of fate! Ten years after graduating from Franklin High, four troubled individuals indebted to their guidance counselor, Oscar Wizardo, wend their way back home to attend his funeral.

Excerpt:

Doreen Gale’s ruby-red, pointed-toe, satin stilettos embellished with leaf-like diamantes glittered as she strutted along the slate catwalk. In no time flat, she bridged the short distance from foyer to front desk inside the Rainbow Hotel, her raven-black hair a tangle of windblown tresses.

Literally arriving on the heels of a successful book tour in Manhattan after the publication of her latest romance novel, she hadn’t a moment to spare for shedding glamorous attire. Fretting she’d miss her flight to Kansas, Doreen nabbed a cab soon after congenially signing and personalizing the last recipient’s book.

Forget shopping at Bloomingdale’s! Off to LaGuardia Airport, pulling away from the curb and merging with gridlock in the time it takes for a wicked witch to melt. Scenery in the Big Apple jiggled and joggled as it faded from view on account of the munchkin of a cigar-wielding cabbie abruptly braking and accelerating during rush hour.

She owed it to Mr. Wizardo.

Get your copy of Once Upon a Fabulous Time at Amazon.

once

For more information or to connect with Eva, visit her Authors Den Web Page, Amazon Author Page, Goodreads, Facebook, or her blog @ https://evapasco.com/

 

 

Author Spotlight – Ernie Lee

AuthorSpotlight

Author Spotlight

Welcome to another Author Spotlight, featuring The Bard of the Blanco, Ernie Lee.

SONY DSCErnie Lee is a Texas award-winning poet and novelist from Canyon Lake, Texas. Ernie writes a continuing column in the Hill Country Sun magazine. He is a songwriter (BMI), storyteller, author, and poet of long standing in the region. Ernie is married and lives in Canyon Lake, Texas with his lovely wife Donna.

 

Let’s Take a Look at His Work

Aquasaurus (2017 Suspense Novel of the Year for Texas Authors Association)

aquaA group of college students and their professor are trapped in a cave with a huge crocodile previously thought to be extinct. A fracker takes a shortcut and causes a massive earthquake that traps the cavers and destroys much of San Antonio. Rita Martin, a world-class rock climber is determined to save her boyfriend, Jesse Perine. The problem is Rita is afraid of the dark

Aquasaurus is available through www.Aim-Hi Books.com, and through INGRAM, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other outlets.

Where the Wild Rice Grows is a collectionrice of poems from Ernie’s world travels, and the interesting places and people he has known. The Bard of the Blanco – stories of the Texas Hill Country; The Mesquite Bean War – poems of the Tonkawa tribe who were pushed from the plains by the horse indians, and crushed between Mexico from the south and the encroaching whites from the east; Far Flung Tales – poems from travels around the world; Deep Water Runs Still – philosophy from a south Texas country boy; Life is Funny That Way – there is humor in almost everything; Love and Other Illusions – love stories, real and imagined; Special Forces – rhymes of a soldier boy; The True-badour – songs and ditties from all over; Heroes and Outlaws – sometimes in the same person; Let Me Count the Ways – tender thoughts from a tough old bird.

In 2018, Ernie will publish the sequel to his first novel entitled the Search for Aquasaurus.

All of his books are available on INGRAM, Amazon, and through his website.

You can hear Ernie’s music at www.reverbnation.com. He has published several technical and management books, along with shorter creative works in periodicals and local newspapers. Ernie has published technical professional books and academic guides related to public procurement for the University of Texas at Austin, and UT San Antonio.

Credits:

Columnist, The Hill Country Sun, The Bard of the Blanco, 2014 – present

Columnist, Quest Magazine, Bard of the Blanco, 2002 – 2003

“Road Kill – Texas Horror by Texas Writers” (Anthology), Eakin Press (2017), “Minor Details (page 147) (short story).

“Intertwined – Poetry of Peace as a Shared Endeavor”, McCrady, ed., 2015 Art of Peace Tyler Poetry Anthology, “The Helmet at Duc Lap” (poem)

“Short Stories by Texas Authors, Vol 3” (2017), Texas Authors, Inc, “Heart Over Mind” page 155, (short story)

Awards

2017, Texas Authors Association, Best Fiction Suspense for 2017, (AQUASAURUS)

2014, Greater New Braunfels Arts Council Annual Poetry Contest, Lynne Eliot Award

2000, Greater New Braunfels Arts Council Annual Poetry Contest, Adult division

Contact Information

You can connect with Ernie through Facebook, Twitter, or via email at ernie.lee@live.com

Author Spotlight – Melisa Ruscsak

AuthorSpotlight

Author Spotlight

Welcome to another edition of Author Spotlight. Today, I’d like to introduce you to Melisa Ruscsak.

melissa

 Born In 1982, a native to Lorain Ohio, Melisa grew up living with her grandparents Frances and James Lasure. She attended Clearview High School as well as Lorain County J.V.S. While in J.V.S, she attended the Culinary Arts program, graduating in 2001.

In 2011 near tragedy struck as Melisa’s health began to decline. By summer of 2011, she would need to use a cane to get around. Suffering a stroke, she required a craniotomy where she suffered her second stroke, leaving her with a partial impairment of her speech and weakness on her right side.  After surgery, she would need to learn not only to walk again, but speak as well as recognize the alphabet.

In 2003 she welcomed the addition of her daughter Chyenne, who inspired her to start to put her dreams to paper. A story she wrote after her daughter’s birth, although not published, became the stepping stone to everything else she would eventually write.

Two years later in the fall of 2012, after a divorce, she would meet the man who would push her not only to fight to regain her physical strength but to put her creative mind to work. No longer allowing her to dwell on what she could no longer do but what she could.

In December of 2013 they would marry. With determination, Melisa would walk down the aisle without the need of a cane.

A year later, she would begin to write Of Lite and Darke, dreaming to see this work through to publishing, even if she would need to publish it herself.

In 2016, she would see her dream come true. With her daughter as her editor, Of Lite and Darke was born.

The First Book in the Series is The New Reign

new reign

Prologue

With the seer’s stone resting on the table before him Karnack sat his quill back into the inkwell. For more than three thousand years he had been doing in death what he had done in life… watching history unfold and keeping a detailed account for his queen.

A queen who even he had not seen since the time of the great war.

Still, he watched and waited for the child to be born that his queen had seen so many years before. A child who would be born a creator. A queen who would be able to defeat a threat that was still in the shadows of the great stars.

The rest of the first Fey, who had settled this land, had already given up on ever finding the child. Nicco had changed his name two or three times in the past three centuries. As had Ean.

Of the three of them, none had ever been able to find out what had ever happened to their queen’s only child. A baby known only as Ari. His father had been the cause of their queen’s withdrawal from the realms.

Yet, he held out hope that one day he would find this chosen queen and give her the crown of the dead. A crown that would give her the power to stand and face a threat that only she would be able to defeat.

“Karnack? Are you still watching the stone?”

He barely glanced over his shoulder to a woman who was just as beautiful today as she was the first he had laid eyes on her. “I am the scribe to the queen and I will be the one to see the chosen queen long before any other.”

Pulling a knife from her belt, she leaned on the wall watching him write some mindless dribble that none would ever read. “When you find her, tell me. I’ll make sure no harm ever comes her way.”

“Freya, darling if what I know for fact ever comes to pass then even you will need help in protecting her.”

A soft smile touched her lips, “You let me worry about that.”

 The Second Book is The Fallen

fallen  

You know what has come to be but do you know where it began?

Before Nisha. Before Adrianna. Before the countries even had names, there were the Star Cities. Ruled each in their own way… all answering to one.

Primitiva was born the second daughter of the royal house of Lunaista. She was born for greatness. Born to be the first as her name suggested. If she stayed on her safe little star she would either die without ever knowing her true potential or be forced into marriage. Neither appealed to her.

A vision told her the truth. Death would come for her if she stayed. Leaving her only child under the cover of darkness she did the unthinkable and dove into the abyss. Somewhere out here was her destiny. Somewhere she would find a way to help her sister survive. 

Somehow the child that she saw in her vision would be born. That child would one-day rule Both Pallas and unify the Star Cities. She just had to make sure the bloodlines for that that birth would come forth. Even if it meant turning her back on all that, she had ever known.

Here’s an excerpt:

Part 1

3,000 years before the Great War.

“Those who have the power to create are an abomination that needs to be wiped out before they come into power. They will be the undoing of the Fey.”

-Royal doctrine for the ruler of Pallas

Chapter 1: Primitiva

Frustrated beyond all reasoning, she picked up her crystal brush and plopped down at her vanity. As her brush passed through her fiery red hair she counted. One. Two.” Gritting her teeth, she pulled the brush through her hair as she slowly hissed, “Three.” Taking a deep breath, she opened her dark soulless eyes. Her parents were talking about her… again. Debating if they should make her a tribute to the city of stars or marry her off to one of the other royal star families. Slamming her crystal hairbrush down on her vanity, she shattered both. Upset and pissed off she pushed away from her now destroyed vanity no longer caring if her hair was perfectly smooth or a fiery mess. No longer cared enough to shed the tears that she had so many times before

She no longer cared about much of anything.

Holding the tears back she held in all of her strong emotions. Her hurt. “If you’re going to kill your children why ever have more than one?” She growled to herself. Her parents were not only not in the room but were deep within the depth of the palace. But not deep enough where she could not hear them when she so chose. See them whenever she pleased. There was nowhere in all the Star Cities that she couldn’t reach… couldn’t see.

Not that any ever believed her. Not that any dared to.

Another breath, then she turned to her door. Not much of a door when you could see through it… you could see through everything except a single room in the palace. And that room was off limits to everyone except the queen herself. Frustrated, she turned away from her door. Nothing was private on this miserable star. Nothing.

“Don’t even think about knocking, dear sister.” She snapped, letting her thundering voice rattle the shards of crystal that now lay on her floor.

As the glass door opened, her sister smiled even though her sister turned from her, “Primitiva? You are more agitated than usual. Why?”

Damn her sister. The Crown Princess Starlis. Glaring at her sister, she dared not say what was on her lips. Instead took in her sister’s rare beauty. Golden rays tumbled down her back, shimmering in the light of the room. Silver speckles dancing on her skin. But it was her eyes, the eyes of the galaxy that saw everything. “I will not marry a man who wishes only to have my power for his own.”

“Ah. So, our parents are at it again? Trying to keep you from the tribute and yet you refuse.”

As she turned her fire red hair wrapped around her revealing her wings. Wings that she was warned several times to never let be seen. “The only reason I am still here is because of Avyanna.”

Starlis rushed over to her nearly placing her hand over Primitiva’s mouth. Whispering, she said, “Shhhh. You know better than to speak her name.”

Pushing her sister away and nearly allowing her to tumble, Primitiva hissed, “She is my daughter and I will speak her name whenever it pleases me.”

Regaining her balance and closing the distance between them Starlis whispered, “You will get her killed. Now hush. I cannot protect her if you do not protect yourself.”

Her sister was right, but only partly so. “You’re right. I cannot protect her while I am still in Lunaista.” Then she turned sharply. She needed only, but a moment to decide what to do next. Only a moment to figure out how to bring about the change that the Star Cities needed.

A sigh of relief, then, “Finally, you are seeing reason.”

Another moment to decide, “Which is why I am leaving.”

Closing her eyes Starlis tried again to reason with her impulsive younger sister yet again, “You cannot just leave. There is nowhere in the Star Cities that you could go and not be found. Not that you could get to any other Star City.” She let her eyes slowly open as she took a deep breath and tried to remind her sister, “Only messengers can go between the Star Cities and they have special training and abilities to do so.”

As the second child, her powers… her abilities had been left untrained… even so, there was no one more powerful… no one… not even her dear sister. And certainly not that fool Azia who ruled Pallas. Slowly the room filled in a black mist. Not uncommon since she did this whenever she wished for privacy. Not that their parents allowed her, but then again, even they were powerless to stop her. Even Azia lacked the power required to stop her.

Turning back to her sister, she made sure she didn’t turn away from her gaze… made sure her sister’s eyes met hers. Seeing the fear in Starlis’ face, she smiled a cruel and bitter smile. Hooking invisible hooks into her sister’s mind, she spoke, do not worry dear sister you will not remember much of this I do promise.

What are you doing? How? This… this is…

Forbidden? Yes, I know. But then again, I have never been one for rules. Now hush and you will know what it is you must do.

I… The hooks drove deeper intertwining with the very fabric of Starlis’ mind. Defeated, her body sagged. What must I do?

When asked, you will tell our parents I tried to flee and was swept away in the Void. I in a sense died just as those who were foolish enough to try have done since the beginning of time.

Starlis was mortified of what her sister was proposing. Your powers will never feed the Star City. Our family will have no tribute.

Actually, it will have two. Since our parents are so keen on the idea of keeping the tradition, they can offer themselves. Mother’s power will pass to you as queen… but father’s? Well, he can feed the catacombs of Pallas.

I suppose. I doubt the Azia will check to see who has been offered as tribute.

Primitiva smiled, I know he will not. Now, my daughter. You will raise her as your own. She will be your child.

But…

Your only child. Your powers are weak compared to hers and she is only but days old. None outside our parents know I gave birth. And none will think twice about you having a child with no interest in love.

Because my sister can create life out of nothing. Yes, that is plausible.

So glad you agree since you won’t remember much in a few minutes. Now… She stepped back and called in a single tribute box. Silver but the inlays were not that of melting magma, but of shimmering crystal. This will be passed down in our bloodlines for three generations. That is three thousand years where I am going. This box will only open to the first male child born who is the first-born. From now on… for the next three generations, the father of the child will be the tribute. No excuses. This instruction will be passed down to the children of the crown.

I understand.

Calling the mist back to her, she smiled, “No sister, you do not. You do not have the gift of foresight. But that is ok for I do.” Wrapping her arms around her sister, she gave her one last hug. “Close your eyes, my dear and I will be gone by the time you open them.”

Coming Soon: Secrets, Lies and Betrayal

lies

Life has hills and valleys. Twist and turns that no one can ever really see coming. Before you read, think about this:
            Every story has more than one point of view. It doesn’t matter if you read it, heard it, or saw it with your own eyes. Words lie. Actions can be manipulated. And the truth is whatever people believe. But is that truth? Or is there a bigger picture that you have yet to realize?
            These are the truths that she lives by. These are the truths held with in these pages. 
            Can you find the truth or do you trust everything that you see?
Connect with Melisa through her Amazon author pagewebsite, or Facebook.   

Author Spotlight – Jerry Efobi

AuthorSpotlight

Author Spotlight

Today’s Author Spotlight is on Jerry Efobi, an indie author from Nigeria.

JerryJerry Efobi calls himself a Hypnotic Stylonographer. He once said that he ‘strives to attain a four-squared lifestyle that would encapsulate in: Writing, Playing the Guitar, Playing Chess, and Looking after his Bee Hives’.

 

Let’s Take a Look at His Book, The Soliman Angelo Code

The Soliman Angelo Code by [Efobi, Jerry]In 1782, Soliman Angelo holds a secret summit with the leading astrologers and mathematicians of his time. During this summit, Soliman commissions them to help build his pre-designed astrological instruments capable of telling random future events when used together. Prominent among the Soliman Angelo Set (which is the collection of all the instruments) is a spinner ring known as the Prophetic Ring.

After his death, the Soliman Angelo Set is turned over to the Church, as is clearly stated in his will. Nevertheless, for many generations, the Moorish Clan (a fraternity which Soliman was a member) keeps an eye on the set, even as it lies in a secluded corner of Vatican’s Astrology Library.

In 1978, a Californian godfather goes on a mission to Vatican, determined to acquire the Soliman Angelo Set by any means possible. He succeeds, but the Moorish Clan knows that he has commandeered one of their treasures. While the Californian godfather tries to keep the Prophetic Ring and master it, the Moorish Clan, who never chooses to fight the enemy face-to-face, is trailing the Californian without his knowledge. When the game becomes tough, the Moorish Clan will have to choose between getting discovered and fight, abandon the mission, or destroy one of the astrological instruments in order to keep the rest.

You can purchase The Soliman Angelo Code on Amazon

He has also written Fate, a story of fate; told from the perspective of a former modern-day slave in Libya.

Fate, is currently free on Smashwords. It is also available through Amazon.

For more information or to connect with Jerry, visit his Facebook page.

Author Spotlight – Nancy A. Lopes

AuthorSpotlight

Author Spotlight

nancyWe return for another Author Spotlight. This week, the spotlight is on Nancy A. Lopes.

Nancy is the best selling author of The Chronicles Series. She graduated from George Brown College in April 2016 with a certificate in Novel Writing.

She is currently working on The Nightwalker Chronicles, Date: TBA.

Let’s Take a Look at Her Books

daywalker

The Daywalker Chronicles

26 year old Ronan Adams, born amidst an outbreak of vampires and werewolves always knew that he was different. It wasn’t until one day that he learned how different he really was.

Here’s a peek inside:

Chapter One

It had been a decade. A decade since the king had died and since his son, Ronan and his wife, Alexa had taken over and so much had happened.

Their kids Cole and Clara had grown up so quickly with Clara expecting her third child. She appeared radiant and seemed to take so much after her mother. Cole on the other hand, was as much a troublemaker as he was when he was younger. He didn’t do anything that was too bad, he just talked back to people and got into plenty of fights. Right now, the whole family was having a delicious dinner of potatoes and shrimp.

As they were eating and talking to one another, they were joined by Theo who had a look of dismay on his face. Wondering what was troubling his friend, Ronan climbed to his feet and walked over to him.

“Hey, what happened?” he asked, eyebrows scrunched in worry.

Raising his head, Theo met Ronan’s gaze, his expression, exhausted and his eyes worn out.

“I just got off the phone with some family that I have in Vancouver. They told me that they’re having some issues,” he said.

“What kind of issues?” Ronan asked, his expression equally as concerned.

“They didn’t say which means that I need to go there to see how bad it is and help them in any way that I can.”

“You should,” Ronan replied, “Any ideas on when you’re thinking of going?”

Theo thought for a moment, considering his options. His cousin, Matteo hadn’t really told him the full extent of what happened. Matteo wasn’t really expecting him there to be honest, but family did what they could for one another.

“I was thinking of later this week, hopefully I can talk to Matteo a bit before then. It’ll be nice to see him again,” he said, “We were kids the last time that we saw one another.”

“This should come as a shock to him then, huh?” Ronan asked, amused.

“Yeah, I can imagine it will,” Theo said, with a chuckle.

Shaking his head, they were soon called in for dinner. After they ate, they all turned in for the night.

***************************

The following morning, Theo got up and did what he initially had planned. He called his cousin and told Matteo that he’d be flying in to Vancouver because he wanted to help somehow.

“I’ll be waiting, Theo. I’ll tell the others that you’re coming as well,” said Matteo.

“Okay, cousin.”

Once they had ended their conversation, Theo hung up and decided to call the Beta of his pack to let him know what was going on. He picked up the phone once again, and this time dialled his Beta. He didn’t live with his pack because he had to do his duties as minister and that required him to be constantly at the castle.

“Hello?” Theo’s cousin, Matteo answered.

“Hi Matteo, it’s Theo.”

“Oh! Theo, hey how are you?”

“I’m doing well, I just spoke to Ronan and he told me that he’s willing to let me have some time off.”

“Oh? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I thought, well more so I figured that I’d take a trip to Vancouver and we could catch up?” he said, “I may be bringing someone along with me, if that’s alright?”

“Of course you can, any of your friends and welcome here. You know that.”

“Alright, I’ll be arriving in a few days.”

“Ok, see you then Theo,” Matteo replied.

The two ended their call and Theo turned around to leave. He was surprised to see that Mackenzie had stepped into the room, a concerned expression on their face.

“You’re going to be in Vancouver?” Mackenzie asked him, stepping closer.

“Yeah I am. You know that you’re coming with me?” He replied, raising his hands and gently placing his palms on Mackenzie’s face.

“I am?”

“Of course, you are.”

Theo gently placed a kiss on Mackenzie’s forehead, smiling softly. The two of them had been close ever since Mackenzie had arrived at the camp all these years ago. Ever since then, they’d been like brother and sister.

Smiling, Mackenzie gazed up at Theo, brown eyes glittering vividly.

“So when do we leave?”

“Well, I have to call Orion back and update him, but I was thinking by the end of the week, maybe?”

“Sounds good,” they said, with a smile.

Giving him another hug, Mackenzie then left the room. When they did, Theo picked up the phone once again and dialled Orion’s number. This time, Theo spoke briefly with Orion before he hung up and turned in for the night. Tomorrow was going to be a long and eventful one so Theo needed to be well-rested for it.

****************************

The following morning, Theo got up and dressed. He had packed the night before so thankfully, he didn’t need to face the hassle. Today, Theo chose to wear a graphic blue t-shirt, with a dark blue leather jacket on his torso and dark wash jeans and ankle boots to complete his look. Once was dressed, Theo walked into the kitchen and was met by the adorable sight of Mackenzie dancing around as they cooked breakfast.

“Well, well what do we have here?” he asked, gazing at them in amusement.

Jumping back in surprise, Mackenzie looked at Theo in shock, nearly dropping the pan that was in their hands.

“Theo! I didn’t see you there.”

“I can see that,” he remarked with an amused smile, “So you decided to make us breakfast, then? How thoughtful of you.”

“Of course I did, I figured you were busy with packing and all,” they said, turning back towards the stove and went back to making breakfast.

A few minutes later, once Mackenzie had finished, they put the eggs and bacon that was made on the table.  Feeling hungry, Theo quickly sat down and smiled when Mackenzie pushed his plate towards him.

Bon Appetite, Wolfy.”

Theo chuckled fondly at the nickname that Mackenzie had given him all those years ago, He then grabbed his fork and began to eat the meal that they had made for him.

“This is great, Mac!” he exclaimed.

Smiling softly, and with their hands on their hips Mackenzie replied, “I’m glad you like it.”

Today, Mackenzie chose to wear a green jumper, black leggings and their favourite black tutu over it. On their feet, were their favourite pair of black combat boots with green laces. Taking their seat, Mackenzie placed both arms on the table, folding them.

“So, how’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well, actually,” he replied, “How about you? Slept well?”

“Totally! I can’t wait to get to Vancouver, I’ve heard so much about it. The beauty and everything, I can’t wait to see it all.

“Yeah, and it’ll be good to catch up with Matteo. You’ll like him Mac, I promise.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he’s great,” he said, getting up from the table and putting his dishes in the sink where he proceeded to wash them.

Once ready, Theo said his goodbyes to the others and soon both he and Mackenzie were on their way to the airport to catch their flight. Once they arrived, they boarded their flight and were headed on their way to Vancouver.

The Daywalker Chronicles can be purchased through Amazon and Indigo.

 
lycon

The Lycan Chronicles

Following a year after The Daywalker Chronicles, The Lycan Chronicles finds Theo distraught when he finds out that his cousin, Matteo, is facing some problems back home. Curious, he heads to Vancouver and soon finds out what’s happened and how bad it really is.

The Lycan Chronicles is available through Amazon and Indigo

You can connect with Nancy on Twitter at @nancyalopes, Instagram at @nancyalopes, through Facebook , or her website. She is always eager to hear from fans.

Author Spotlight – Iain Donnelly (Steven W. Palmer)

AuthorSpotlight

Author Spotlight

This week’s Author Spotlight features Iain Donnelly, aka Steven W. Palmer.

iain - stevenIain Donnelly is a Scottish expat currently living in Kampot, Cambodia, and writing under the name, Steven W. Palmer.

He relocated to Asia in 2012 after visiting the region for many years. In his working life he has worked as a social worker and counselor in the drugs field, as a social worker and probation officer in criminal justice, and as a DJ and promoter. In Cambodia, he has worked as a sales and marketing manager, the editor of an arts and entertainments magazine, and then as Managing Editor for three magazines published in Cambodia.

In 2017, he set up Saraswati Publishing, a small boutique publisher which aims to discover new Cambodian literary talent, as well as publishing books by himself and other expats. Saraswati also offer content and digital marketing services to the commercial and corporate sectors.

To date, they have released 4 books: Palmer’s first two installments of the Angkor series,mekong Bob Couttie’s Temple of the Leper King, and Mekong Shadows, an anthology of short stories by expat and Cambodian writers. A competition was also held to identify promising new talent, and the two winners feature in the book. What was particularly exciting was that they were both girls, one aged 15, the other 18!

Saraswati have 4 or 5 books planned for 2018, including the third and final installment in Palmer’s Angkor series, which is due for release in May or June. This installment, Angkor Cloth, Angkor Gold, introduces a new character, Sophie Chang, a returning émigré from the USA who has brought her years of police experience in Boston back to her homeland. Sophie will feature in her own series in 2109.

ankgorPalmer’s first novel, Electric Irn Bru Acid Test was a coming of age story, very loosely based on his own life, and part of a planned trilogy, The Glas Vegas Chronicles. Part 2 will be released sometime in 2019.

His second novel, Angkor Away moved into his favorite genre; crime/thriller, and has been hailed as part of the Asian noir movement that till recently has been centred on Thailand. Its main character is Chamreun, the Cambodian commander of a special forces unit. Angkor Away is a fast-paced tale of drug dealing, murder, and has an unexpected twist.

The sequel, Angkor Tears, tackled the sensitive subjects of human trafficking and childtears sexual abuse. It received praise from readers and child protection professionals for the way Palmer handled the subject.

He has also published two shorter works; Turning the Tables; A Love Story for the Chemical Generation – an alternative love story novella set during the heady days of the 1990s Glasgow rave scene, and In My Sights, a short political thriller.

His next book will be Bangkok Drowning, a dystopian sci-fi noir which pays homage to Dashiell Hammett, and which Palmer describes as “Maltese Falcon meets Bladerunner.” After that, he plans to release a diary of a serial killer book which will be based in the US.

In a complete departure from his usual styles, Iain has written a children’s book (Auntie Meng and the Plastic Dam) which is currently being illustrated. The book will focus on two main subjects, literacy and the environment. The plan is to find funding so 10,000 copies can be given away to children across Cambodia.meg

Outside of writing, Iain still enjoys playing the odd DJ gig, playing an eclectic choice of music from ska to chillout.

His favorite authors are Iain Banks, Alasdair Gray, Ian Rankin, and Dashiell Hammet.

Let’s take a look at his book, Angkor Cloth, Angkor Gold.

clothIn the aftermath of the 1979 Vietnamese liberation of Cambodia and the fall of the Khmer Rouge, an exodus of refugees – and Khmer Rouge soldiers – flees the country and seeks refuge in the many camps that dot the Thai border. For the most part, these camps are chaotic and without any sense of order, and disease and crime are rife.

Amongst the chaos a killer is stalking and murdering young girls they see as having lost their honour by selling their bodies to soldiers and aid workers.

36 years later, and a series of identical crimes hits Phnom Penh, awaking painful memories for the Minister of the Interior, whose sister was one of the victims in the camps so many years ago.

Convinced that it is the same killer, he calls in his trusted troubleshooter, Chamreun, to investigate the current crimes and to discover if it is indeed the same person responsible.

Paired with Sophie Chang, a recently returned émigré with several years’ police experience in Boston, the pair combine their skill sets to try and solve the murders that span decades. As they progress, their investigation comes to the attention of Interpol who link the Asian crimes to a series of unsolved killings in Europe during the 1980s.

And as they work closely together, two very different personalities find themselves getting close in a way that they didn’t expect.

Is it the same killer? And can the pair find justice for the forgotten victims?

The story is told from two perspectives; the diary of the killer from those first days, and the work of Chamreun and Sophie as they race to prevent more deaths.

Here’s an excerpt.

Khao-I-Dang Holding Center, Sa Kaeo Province, Thailand. January, 1980.

I watch my brothers and sisters every day and I despair. There is no light in their eyes, just never-ending shadows and abject surrender. Where is the pride in our history? In our achievements? We pulled ourselves from under the heel of the French and surged into the 1960s in a blaze of creativeness and joy. Yet that joy was soon to evaporate under the searing gaze of poor politics and a bombing campaign by the arrogant Americans. Where are our artists, our musicians, our writers and poets? Dead in some provincial field or killed by Saloth Sar’s mindless followers. What few have survived now hide their talents or have fled for distant lands.

We shall rise again.

I shall rise again.

Yesterday I chose the first piece of cloth that I will cleanse. I have watched her for two weeks now, shamelessly giving her body to anyone who can offer some money or food. My friend tried to defend such actions saying that we must do anything to survive. But without pride, survival is just another word and has no meaning. Without pride we are nothing but empty vessels. Throughout it all I have kept my pride. When I killed the beggar in April of 1975 to disguise my true identity, I felt pride that I would not be discovered and sent to S-21. When I ate whatever I could find in the work camp of Pursat, I was proud that I would survive and help rebuild my nation. When I marched the miles to the border, driven on by the Khmer Rouge dogs as the Vietnamese pressed them harder, I felt pride that I was still alive. And when I cleanse this first piece of cloth, I will feel pride that I am removing a stain from our people.

After a troubled sleep I awake knowing that today I will take another life. That first killing was born out of necessity; the beggar knew who I was and would have given me away to those he saw as liberators and comrades. His death meant I went undiscovered and also gave me a disguise as the Khmer Rouge herded us out of the city in pursuit of their agrarian dream. Dream? More like a nightmare. How can there be any sort of plan when you have killed or exiled all those who knew how to plan? When you are led by a twisted little man who could not pass a simple exam? Whose whole raison d’être came from membership of the pathetic Cercle Marxiste, little boys playing at being revolutionaries. If it had remained a game then how different life would have been, but world events conspired to let the little boy become a man with power, and a man with power is often a very dangerous thing.

You will likely read my words and judge me as much of an animal as Saloth Sar. And if I defended myself by saying that my killing had a purpose and a noble cause at its heart then you would likely reply that Saloth Sar believed this too. But I believe my brothers and sisters will judge me differently. This is the problem with you Westerners in Asia; you try to transpose your belief systems, standards, and philosophy onto an alien land. The difference between East and West is as marked as that between night and day. What separates us is far greater than anything that we have in common. When you finally understand this, then, and only then, will you be close to understanding Asia.

I spend the day much as any other in this small corner of hell. I wait in line to use the pungent latrines. Then I wait in another line to accept the meagre offerings of food that are given out. Then I retire to the small bamboo and thatch hut I share with six other refugees. I have become inured to the smell of my roommates, and indeed the stale sweat aroma of my own body which clings to me like a lover. I retrieve my one true possession here, a much read copy of Nhok Them’s ‘Kulap Pailin’ (The Rose of Pailin). It was one of only two things that I carried with me from Phnom Penh to Pursat and then from Pursat to Khao-I-Dang. The other is this diary that you read just now. And both of these prized possessions I kept carefully hidden on the work farm. If they had been discovered I would have faced at best a beating, at worst death.

My family’s valuables are all buried back in Phnom Penh, waiting for the day I, and any others of my family who may have survived, return to claim what is ours. I have no idea what happened to any of them when the capital fell, so I don’t know which of them are alive or dead. I take solace in the written word to keep the grief at bay, rereading words I know so well, letting the story carry me away from this pitiful existence into a magical tale of courage and integrity, true traits of the Khmer people.

After a small bowl of rice, I again retire to my hut and meditate, preparing myself for the evening’s task. I know what I do is wrong, and I know that I will be consigned to a Naraka once this life term is spent. I think of the words in the Ambalatthika-Rahulovada Sutta:

If you, Rahula, are desirous of doing a deed with the body, you should reflect on the deed with the body, thus: That deed which I am desirous of doing with the body is a deed of the body that might conduce to the harm of self and that might conduce to the harm of others and that might conduce to the harm of both; this deed of body is unskilled, its yield is anguish, its result is anguish.

But why should I fear anguish when anguish is all my people have known these last few years? Will my sacrificing of my karma to an endless time in Naraka not be seen as a worthy sacrifice? Are the needs of my nation not greater than those of this worthless soul? The Saccavibhanga Sutta says;

And what is right action? Abstaining from taking life, from stealing, and from illicit sex. This is called right action.

So my taking a life is no worse than these other worthless souls selling their bodies and soiling the Khmer cloth. If anything, surely my expunging of their sins should be seen as worthy and justified, my actions the erasure of a stain on our futures. I am under no pretence that my actions are innocent, nor that I will escape justice, in this life or the next, but I see what I shall do as a sacred duty, a protection of our very being. One day someone will find this diary and, if no-one has unmasked my crimes by then, a hundred thousand fingers shall point and cry ‘monster’. But what defines a monster? If, as I believe, these soiled pieces of cloth feel shame at their actions when they lie in bed at night, then surely I am giving them some sort of relief. Monsters are defined by our own thoughts, our own moral standards, our own experiences and philosophies. By those parameters I am no monster though I have the intelligence to know that others will not judge me so kindly.

The darkness falls, a lesser darkness than that which has kept our country in shadows these last ten years, and a darkness that will provide me with the mask I need to hide my actions. I know the habits of this creature, how she sleeps much of the day then furtively moves around the camp in the evening, making as many as three rendezvouses before she takes her shameful soul back to her refuge. The first man she meets, a Thai guard, is stationed around 600 metres from my hut, and there are latrines close by. I know that she will go, as she does every night, straight to the latrine to try and exorcise the shame from her body. Tonight I will help her get rid of the shame forever.

I sit in silence, offering prayers for my success and preparing myself for the act to come. Finally, it is time. I leave the hut behind me and move furtively through this great gathering of humanity brought here by inhumanity. In the darkness and flickering shadows of camp fires no-one speaks to you, no-one makes eye contact, every mind is focussed on surviving another day, on marking another day closer returning to our homes. Wrapped around my hand is a length of white cloth I washed and cleaned today. This is the instrument of my cleansing, the instrument of their redemption, the instrument that will herald the rise of Khmer pride once more.

I reach the latrine area and stand motionless in the heavy Thai night, my eyes, now accustomed to the dark, watching for movement coming from the nearby guard station. What seems like hours pass, though I know the reality can be counted in minutes. For a moment I begin to doubt my resolve, to worry that I shall be discovered and my crusade end before it has truly begun. But it is but a moment and my resolve regains control.

Finally, I see movement and a figure makes its way towards where I wait. As it gets closer I realise it is her, the one I have been waiting for, and that the time of her salvation is upon her. I look around me, there is no-one else, everyone having headed to their huts for another night of troubled sleep and tortured dreams. She passes me and looks at me briefly before discounting me as just another exiled soul who is lost in the long night that has lasted since April of 1975.

I begin to breathe deeply, knowing that the act of cleansing is now mere minutes away. It seems as if the night stands still and the camp has become silent, and though I know this is just in my imagination I worry that she will make noise. I must be determined and swift in my actions, I must be finished and gone in a matter of minutes or this ends where it starts.

She exits the latrine and again looks at me, this time with more curiosity as if to wonder if she knew me once. The irony is that she may have known me, may have seen my face in a newspaper or magazine and envied my life. She passes, and now I move with the swiftness of a snake, stepping behind her and unravelling the cloth in one movement. I loop the cloth over her head and pull it tight to muffle any cries of help or despair. She struggles against my grip as anyone would knowing their life is about to end. But even her desperation is no match for the determination I have inside me. Gradually her struggles grow weaker and less violent, and then there is no struggle, her body goes limp under my hold, and I gently lower her to the ground. For a moment I imagine I can see her life-force leave her physical shell but I know this is just in my mind.

Her body lies at my feet, clean once again, and I say a small prayer that she will be reincarnated in a better place and time and that something in her eternal memory remembers her sins in this life and seeks only cleanliness in the next. I lay her hands across her chest and she looks as if she is merely sleeping. To honour what was good in her, I wrap the cloth around her hands and leave her lying there while the night is still empty. Retracing my steps to my hut, I enter, ignoring the snores and dream noises of those people I share with, those people I am so close to in physical terms but so far from in every other way.

I lie in my corner and close my eyes, though it is a long time before sleep finally embraces me. When it does, my dreams are free of violence, free of hate, and I sleep peacefully for the first time in many months.

In the press:

http://www.khmertimeskh.com/65344/new-book-explores-cambodias-noir-side/

http://www.phnompenhpost.com/post-life-arts-culture/short-stories-address-cambodias-social-issues

http://www.nationmultimedia.com/detail/lifestyle/30322844

Websites and social media:

Amazon

WordPress site

saraswati publishing

Saraswati on Twitter:  @IainSaraswati

Author Spotlight – Roxanne Burkey & Charles Breakfield

AuthorSpotlight

Author Spotlight

This week’s author spotlight is on Roxanne Burkey & Charles Breakfield, authors of The Enigma Series.
b&B

Breakfield – A renowned technology solutions architect with 25+ years of experience in security, hybrid data/telecom environments, unified communications, enjoys leveraging his professional skills in contemporary TechnoThriller stories. He enjoys studying World War II history, travel, and cultural exchanges everywhere he can. Even Charles’ love of wine tastings, cooking, and Harley riding has found ways into The Enigma Series. He has commented that being a part of his father’s military career in various outposts, has positively contributed to his many characters and the various character perspectives he explores in the stories. He has accepted the challenge to try to teach Burkey humor and has added this to the stories in an unexpected manner.

Burkey – A renowned customer experience, business architect optimizes customer solutions on their technology foundation. She has been a featured speaker, subject matter expert, interviewer, instructor, and author of technology documents, as well as a part of The Enigma Series. It was revealed a few years ago that writing fiction is a lot more fun than white papers or documentation. As a child she helped to lead the other kids with exciting new adventures built on make believe characters. As a Girl Scout until high school she also contributed to the community in the Head Start program. Rox enjoys family, learning, listening to people, any kind of travel, outdoors, sewing, cooking, and imagining the possibilities.

Breakfield & Burkey – Combining their professional expertise, knowledge of the world from both business and personal travels, many characters whom have crossed their paths and are now a foundation for the characters in their series. They find it interesting to use the aspects of technology people are actually incorporating into their daily lives, which they claim is a perfect way to create good guy/bad guy stories with a series that allows each book to be enjoyed alone or in sequence.

You can invite them to talk about their stories in private or public book readings. Burkey also enjoys interviewing authors through the DEAR Texas programs with dates available on the events page of their website. Many followers can see them at Texas book fairs, Kroger stores, or other family oriented events.

The foundation of the series is on a family organization called the R-Group. Recently, they have spawned a subgroup in the series which contains some of the familiar and loved characters as the Cyber Assassins Technology Services (CATS) team. They have ideas for continuing the series in both of these series tracks. They use over 150 characters with a hidden avenue for the future The Enigma Chronicles tagged in some portions of the stories.

Fan reviews seem to frequently suggest that these would make good television or movie stories, so the possibilities appear endless, just like their ideas for new stories. Those comments have increased with the book trailers available on the Website, Facebook, and YouTube. Check out the evolving website for new interviews, answers to readers’ questions, book trailers, and fun acronyms they’ve used in the stories. Reach out directly at Authors@EnigmaSeries.com.

Here’s an excerpt from The Enigma Dragon: A Cats Tale

enigma PROLOGUE
TRACKING DIGITAL BETRAYAL
TWO YEARS AGO

Beaten as he was, he could barely stand. Trembling fear was the only reason he didn’t collapse in front of them. It was supposed to be a simple drop off, routine like the others, only this wasn’t like the others. It was a trap, and he had walked into it only thinking about where to get his adult male entertainment that evening. It was evening now, but entertainment wasn’t at top of his list at this point, only surviving.

His captor snarled, “You were supposed to bring the package straight here, unopened! Did you think we would not notice, western dog?” The brooding man stalked around the prisoner once then hollered, “Beat him again! I want to see him on his hands and knees whimpering, begging! His betrayal will earn everything we can deliver!”

Several heavy, flexible rubber hoses rained down on his shoulders, back, and arms which did indeed force him to his knees. The blows were designed to cause heavy bruising, swelling, and bleeding just under the skin, but not break any bones. The prisoner felt his strength dissolving under the pummeling.

Finally, through his sobs he cried, “I was phoned to pick up this package and deliver it here. Once delivered I would get a deposit into my account just like the other times. Someone must have gotten there ahead of me and tried to help themselves. I swear that’s the truth!”

The captor demanded, “You think we believe you? How could that be possible when no money was missing?”

The prisoner was bewildered and sobbed as he asked, “What do you mean? If no money is missing, then why…?”

A new confident male voice of authority, outside the circle of punishment, answered, “Because of the tracking device inside the package.

“You are all under arrest. Put down your guns and raise your hands over your heads. We are the…”

The man never finished his sentence as a short burst of an automatic weapon cut across his path. The bullets caught him just below his waist line, filling the area around his body with a blood rain. Gunfire then erupted from both sides. Men dropped to the ground and took cover behind the makeshift shield of those already dead. The body armor of the U.S. security troopers kept most of them from being killed outright, while the cruel captors weren’t so lucky.

The gunfire ceased, almost as quickly as it had begun. One of the U.S. security troopers, after checking on fallen team members, went to see what the captive’s status was. As he turned the captive over, it was obvious he’d been caught by a stray bullet in the fire fight and would never be able to answer any questions.

The trooper, in a fit of disgust, bitterly remarked, “Hell! After all that monitoring and tracking of this weasel, he had to go get himself killed before we could find out who hired him. Bastard! Running guns into my country to outfit a bunch of Muslim extremists! The only good news is that we won’t have to feed and clothe him while he waits for trial.”

A team member hollered, “Rogers, we are missing two insurgents! Looks like they slipped away during the firefight!”

Rogers quickly shouted, “Alright, men, let’s pursue and trap them between the secondary line and us. Watch where you fire, since we have our people on the other side. Move out!”

Rogers continued, “Carl, you and Lee maintain a perimeter here in case they double back. Come on, people! With even two of these guys loose, they get a foothold to rebuild.”

Carl finished dressing the wounds of a downed team member and stood up to check on the fallen suspects. Lee and Carl checked each body for some type of identity papers.

After checking the last body, Carl looked at Lee and spit before he said, “Here they are! Afghan troops who were brought to the U.S. for intensive counter-insurgence training by our Army Special forces. They came in, earned some trust, and then simply vanished. They had planned this all along. Suck up to the U.S. military in Afghanistan, plead for better training to protect themselves from the Muslim extremists and insurgents in their country, and all the while it was a ruse to get their military on our soil. Might have worked too, if we hadn’t intercepted their cell phone calls. They were clumsy, and we got a lucky break, digitally tracking them.”

Lee shook his head and asked, “What I don’t know is how they got all those weapons after leaving the Army compound. There were no weapons missing from the base, so someone must have smuggled them in anticipating this kind of scenario. It always seems like the bad guys have way more friends than we do.”

Carl nodded his head but offered no response.

Lee and Carl both turned their heads in the direction of distant gunfire. They both hoped it meant the end or capture of the missing insurgents, but they couldn’t be sure.

 

Contact Information:

Mailing Address: Enigma Series P.O. Box 380331, Duncanville, Texas 75138 214-244-6752
Email: Authors@EnigmaSeries.com
Website (also includes purchase information)
Blog
RSS
Connect on Social Media:
Google+: cbreakfi@gmail.com
LinkedIn Breakfield:
LinkedIn Burkey:
Twitter: @EnigmaSeries and @1rburkey
Facebook
YouTube

Author Spotlight – Rita Wilcox

AuthorSpotlight

Author Spotlight

Author Spotlight returns with Rita Wilcox.

My first luau in my new island life!Rita Louise Wilcox was the oldest of five Irish Catholic children raised in East Texas. All were parochial school educated, which encouraged prolific writings from an early age. Summers were spent riding bikes through the woods, swimming in the Gulf of Mexico, and generally enjoying the outdoors, sans television. It was a simpler time, without digital devices, where books were the only method to take you to faraway places. Imagination was an essential part of entertainment, so it was a time that encouraged much story telling. This story was not imagined, however, as Rita’s grandmother (aka Mamou) knew the remaining Russian royalty well. She befriended this family, transplanted from such a foreign world, because she was one to seek out the few available foreigners in an effort to broaden her knowledge of the world. As this Russian family learned to trust Mamou and her granddaughter Rita, they shared their amazing tale of escape from a certain death to a warm, welcoming land of hope. You can find out more about the author at her blog, islandwidow, followed by an international audience. She now teaches part-time in the Galveston ISD. Having shared her story with many in the classroom, she found two things important to the desire to read this story. The students loved the romantic story line and the fact that it was based on a true story. While Rita is new to the world of published literature, she has written her entire adult life, from high school newspapers to sailing club newsletters. She enjoys sharing stories collected over a very active lifetime.

Let’s take a look at her book, The Chronicles of Captain Vadim Alevsky: Traitor or Savior?

Have you wondered what life in Russia was before the Bolshevic Revolution? Page Vadim Alevsky takes you to a time where the Tsar reigned supreme, and the military academy was the best path to power and status, in an otherwise impoverished nation. Captain Vadim becomes one of the most successful World War I pilots of the newly-formed Russian Air Corps. More than that, he becomes the only possible savior of the Russian royal family. While this is an epic tale of one of the most savage and heart-wrenching government annihilations, there is an underlying romance that survives the test of separation and time. Those passionate about “against all odds” survival, and all who love a true romance, will find this novel difficult to put down. After thriving in the difficult and competitive military school environment, young Vadim becomes completely enamored with Russia’s Royal Family as their Page, and forms a special bond with the Duchess Anastasia. His journey through the First World War, involves drama and romance that is addictive to all who begin to read it. The story is especially targeting readers interested in adventure, romance, and a story with a moral to be learned from human history. Vadim leads an extraordinarily exciting life of adventure in the battlefield, as well as in the world of political intrigue. While Vadim’s world is different in many ways from the world of today’s youth, he struggles with many of the problems that plague all adolescents throughout the ages. Suffering through the pangs of a first love, bullying by classmates at an early age, and the relentless competition to make the grade in school, all mold a strong and empathetic character in young Vadim. Captain Vadim becomes an inspiration to all who read of his adventures, as he develops into a strong moral character that you will be glad you met. This story is based on a true story told to me by my grandmother many years ago. She met the Russian family who witnessed this account, and they were kind enough to share the truth with her. Considering the potential harm the family would suffer at the hands of the KGB, if found out, they must have had a great deal of trust in my Mamou.

 

The Chronicles of Captain Vadim Alevsky: Traitor or Savior? can be purchased through Amazon.

She is currently working on a sequel book, The Chronicles of Captain Vadim Alevsky: Coming to America.  It should be published toward the end of 2018.

Connect with Rita through her blog at www.islandwidow.wordpress.com

 

Free Radio Promo!

Hi veryone!

I would like to let you know about a radio show that promotes authors for free. There are two shows, one for Texas Authors (DEAR Texas Radio) and one for authors around the world (Indie Beacon Radio). These are great ways to help spread the word about you and your books!

Plus, for a limited time, they are giving away opportunities for you to win a commercial spot on their radio show heard around the world. Here is the link to check out the contest and enter: https://txauthors.com/index.php/pages/radio-contest

I hope you enter so you can get signed up for a radio show or win a commercial spot. Don’t forget to mention me (L.M. Nelson) as the referral.

Good luck.