http://amiblackwelder.blospot.com

Shifter Evolutions by Ami Blackwelder

2012-01-28T10:16:00.000-08:00

The Shifter Evolutions Bundle is now available on Kindle for only $8.99

Books 1-5

As a celebration for the upcoming last installment, book 6, The Revolution of 2060, Ami Blackwelder has released a bundle of books 1-5 of this series: The Shifter Evolutions.

Enjoy this exclusively on kindle!

Link will be displayed as soon as it goes live on kindle:

http://www.amazon.com/Evolution-Dystopia-Romantic-Suspense-ebook/dp/B0072YJPDK/ref=sr_1_7?ie=UTF8&qid=1327844640&sr=8-7

Walking with Elephants by Karen Bell

2012-01-26T07:02:00.000-08:00

Suze Hall is at a crossroads. Her nemesis at work, Wanda, has been promoted and now will be her boss. Her husband, Bob, is leaving her and the three kids for a six-month sabbatical down under. To top it off, her best friend, Marcia, is missing in action--playing footsie with some new boyfriend!

Adding to this disaster stew, David, the gorgeous hunk who broke her young-girl's heart has coincidentally popped back into her life and has something she desperately needs to keep her job.

Walking with Elephants, a lighthearted slice-of-life story, brings to the table the serious work/family issues facing women today. It explores the modern dichotomy of a workplace that is filled with homemakers who still must cook, clean, carpool on nights and weekends, shop for prom dresses, and "create" the holidays—such as Suze. But it also is filled with women who have the same drive as men, have no family responsibilities, and will do what ever it takes to get ahead.

So step into the shoes of Suze Hall and commiserate over workplace politics, titillate your sexual fantasies, ride the wave of a working mother, and fall-down laughing.

The cover is a symbol of the message of empowerment of women. The protagonist, Suze, writes and essay at the end of the novel suggesting a paradigm shift from the patriarchal societies that have been in place for centuries to a matriarchy, such as is found in nature. Like elephants, hence the title.

Reviewer said it's like Bridget Jones meets Erma Bombeck

Walking with Elephants is Karen Bell’s first novel, although she is not new to writing. After earning a graduate degree in mass communication she spent 15 years as an editor and writer of business materials. She says, “Inspiration for this novel came from my direct contact with the joys of Corporate America and the balancing act that comes with being a working mother.” Currently, Ms. Bell resides in Ponte Vedra, Fl with her husband and photos of her children, granddaughters, and grandson who live everywhere BUT Ponte Vedra, Fl

Schedule
January 8 - Meet & Greet at VBT Cafe' Blog
January 10 - Interviewed at Writing Innovations
January 13 - Guest Blogging at Ashley's Bookshelf
January 16 - Interviewed at Unnecessary Musings
January 18 - Guest Blogging at AZ Publishing Services
January 21 - Guest Blogging with Cindy Vine
January 24 - Interviewed at BK Media Entertainment 2pm EST
January 25 - Interviewed at Reviews & Interviews
January 27 - Reviewed at E-Reading on the Cheap
January 31 - Interviewed with Louise James

#samplesunday of THE MERS, Mermaid Dystopian

2012-01-22T12:07:00.000-08:00

Shore

The little things always stood out to Mira, like when Edith smiled with her lips yet hated with her eyes, or when Nerin used to say they were friends but always with a hint of mystery in his tone. Mira noticed something now, too. Poseidon moved toward them, a tinge off balance, with hesitant motion on his left side and well aimed direction on his right.

Something about him was different.

As he got closer and closer, Mira gripped onto the edge of the rail with her hands turned behind her. Ethan slid next to her and both shrunk as the man appeared more like a wild animal released from a cage.

“I see my training is earning you both your powers,” The King lifted his chin. “And I hope you understand the importance of using these gifts for your family,” his eyes pierced Mira and then Ethan, “because if you don’t realize it yet, any insubordination will cost you not only your own life but the lives of your friends.”

Nodding, Mira quickly agreed. What turned him so suspicious all of a sudden? Then as Mira asked herself the question, she noticed the chest full of the hidden potions tipped over. Surely from the Greystorm waves. The potions gone, and the chest empty.

Opening up his wrinkled and worn hands, Poseidon caught Mira’s attention with all the bottles. “Explain to me what these were doing in the chest? Poseidon didn’t look forgiving.

Ethan jerked between the King and Mira to answer, “We thought we needed more power to defeat the rebellious Mers.”

“Then why keep it a secret?” Poseidon growled, his wet tunic sticking to his skin.

“It wasn’t a secret...it was...spur of the moment,” Ethan defended them, and Mira nodded, trying not to appear guilty.

Poseidon stood, searching their body language, their expressions, anything to reveal their betrayal. But one thing Mira had gotten used to over this adventure was learning to lie. In fact, she had gotten so good at it, she began to scare herself. With Ethan to uphold their story, all she needed to do was look innocent and sweet. Pouting her lips, batting her lashes, and furrowing her brow to show confusion would secure the deal. “Very well, then,” Poseidon squinted his eyes, which meant he didn’t completely believe them, but would overlook this infraction for now. “One potion each. I’m holding onto the rest.”

“Smoke,” Ethan reached his hands out to his father and grabbed the silver bottle. Mira picked up on the cue and saw her chance to retain at least one magic flask.

“Kaboom,” Mira grabbed the gold bottle from his hands before he had time to disagree.

“Very good children, quick to make decisions,” Poseidon applauded as the bald Pirate grimaced behind the King. He didn’t like the fact the kids held spells in their hands, bad enough they could cast them from their minds.

Resting in the quarters below deck, the two spent the last of their unfettered time washing up and redressing in warm, dry clothing. As the war vessel pushed over the waves, hours passed and the morning sun glistened before the sea water shone like a thousand emeralds. They would arrive soon.

The closer the ship got to Liberty Shore, the more intense Mira’s stare became. She eagerly watched the horizon, her forehead pressed against the bottom-deck window and her nose pressed against the glass; she didn’t even notice when mouth-air fogged her vision.

Someone tapped her from behind. Startled, she jerked her head around. Ethan. His soft eyes fell over her face with inquiry, searching for the tiny flake of land they could both barely see from the window.

“Do you see anything yet?” Ethan questioned. His hand pressed down on her shoulder, but not as a means of comfort, more to help him see out of the window.

“I...I can’t be sure yet. We’re still too far away.”

“Do you think Meredith and the others are safe?” Ethan began to worry. Mira swallowed her fears and decided to be strong.

“Yes, for sure,” She nodded with her words, convicted. She couldn’t bear to imagine any other scenario, one where Nerin might end up...heaven forbid, dead.

“For sure,” Ethan repeated and they glued themselves to the only window, watching as the land came more into view. Neither could be sure, but when they looked at Liberty Shore, they could distinctly see a set of bobbing figures on the docks.

Minutes passed and the vessel drew closer; the shadowy figures became more clear...“Oh, God, are some of them still there!?” Mira hit her hand on the window. “Go! Run!” She shouted to deaf ears.

“They can’t hear you,” Ethan corrected.

“We have to do something!” Mira squealed.

“What?” Ethan raised a brow and then frowned. “If we try something now...we WILL get caught. There are too many people aboard the ship. We have to stick to the plan.”

The plan, right. The plan Ethan and Mira went over at night when they were at the castle. That plan. But Mira couldn’t think rationally, she could only see Nerin standing on the dock and a bullet from the war vessel slamming right into him.

“No! We must protect them!” Mira squirmed out from under Ethan and managed to run through the corridor before Ethan grabbed her and wrapped her in his thick arms.

“No, we stay here. Nerin knew Poseidon would come. He has a plan up his sleeve too, I know it,” Ethan encouraged as Mira struggled out his grip.

“I can’t just let them die,” Mira squirmed under his arms, but Ethan would not release his grip. She couldn’t determine wether Ethan’s action’s resulted because of a care for her, or because a determination to fulfill the plan.

Suddenly, they heard a BANG shoot out from the ship’s bow! Ethan, surprised, loosed his grip and looked around. Mira took the opportunity to escape. She hit her elbow into Ethan’s side, allowing herself to be freed and then rushed up to the front of the ship. Wind pushed her stark red hair back while her blue silk dress billowed.

She stood there staring, almost paralyzed in grief as Ethan bounced up behind her. Too late. Bullets shot out of the canons hitting the docks, crashing them into the ocean below as more metal pellets ricocheted through the small, wet village.

Her entire village, or what was left of it since the last Greystorm, crumbled before her eyes. Nothing remained. “Noooooo!” She screamed, but her sorrow became muffled under the cacophonous firing and sinister laughter of Poseidon. Ethan held onto each shoulder from behind as if he could keep her from falling apart, lashing out, or simply giving up.

After the first set of firing ceased, Poseidon waved his hand as he commanded his troops. “Into the villages and shoot anything that moves!” A merciless warrior, Poseidon left nothing living in the towns he plundered, not even the animals. And he left no stone unturned.

Turning to Mira, Poseidon lied, “Don’t worry I’m sure your friends are fine.”

Practically carrying Mira, Ethan pulled her away from the bow; she didn’t need to see this up close. Dragging her down the flight of stairs leading under the deck, Ethan slid the door to her quarters open and gently laid her on the cot.

“Don’t think about it. Your friends are fine. Your family is fine. When all this is over, we will accomplish our plan and Poseidon will be no more.”

Tears fell from her eyes, turning the usual grey-blue into a midnight blue. Soaking her pillow case, she laid her reddened cheeks over the sheets as she sobbed and Ethan caressed her back.

What felt like hours to Mira, but perhaps had only been twenty minutes, ended when she heard Poseidon in the corridor arguing with the bald Pirate below deck.

“What do you mean they are not there! What were my canons shooting at!” Poseidon growled.

“Sir, the Mers evidently tied up rows of swordfish and clad them with clothing. We hit fish, sir, fish!”

“Damn those Mers! They knew of our arrival...and only two others knew we would come here! MIRA!” he shouted, his rage echoing through the hall, and vibrating through Mira’s veins like poison.

Jumping from the cot, she recomposed herself and Ethan helped to dry her tears. Pinching her cheeks, Ethan finished the disguise.

“Now take a deep breath,” Ethan guided. Mira breathed in heavily and as she let her breath out, Poseidon slid her door open.

“MIRA!”

“Yes, father,” She never called him that, but she had to use all of her tricks now.

“Don’t give me that...father!” He rolled his eyes. “You warned the Mers about our coming here!”

“No, I didn’t,” Mira moved backward to her cot, the King moving toward her, the space between the two of them shrinking.

“They knew we would come! They are not here! In place of their despicable bodies, we have swordfish!” Poseidon fumed.

“I...”

“Don’t lie to me!” Poseidon yelled, clasping his palm around her neck. Mira’s life teetered in the balance of Poseidon’s merciless hands, and she sensed lies might cause him to do it...to kill her.

“OK! I told them,” she gasped out. She felt his intense grip ease and she was able speak. She reasoned a partial truth might hold up against him. “But...but that was before I realized what side I was on, before you revealed to me what I was...a mermaid, and that we are better than them, that we do deserve the waters and lands. We are the next wave of life,” she sounded so convinced that even Ethan had to give her a second look.

Resting his glare on Mira, Poseidon let go of her, causing her to fall on the back. His loud bark was soothed, “So how do you plan on making up for this mishap?” he questioned with a fine, thin stretched lip.

“The Mers knew we would arrive on shore, and so must have left Liberty Shore to head further inward. There are towns built closer inland and more Mers to be found.”

“More enemies...but that means there is more dry land to conquer. Good, I will send the rest of my soldiers inland and be rid of these Mers, once and for all,” Poseidon almost looked proud of Mira’s decision to turn on her friends. Betrayal was a useful trait among the royals.

At the clanging sound of the King’s leather boots fading at his departure of the room, Mira sighed. Ethan helped her stand up straight.

“Close call,” Ethan whispered. “And clever...that will lead his men further away from the ship, giving us the time we need.”

“What if I can’t do it?” Mira stood like a deer in head-lights. For the first time she began to feel as though she was not strong enough. What if she couldn’t save her family or her friends?

“Can’t do it! Mira he could have killed you, would have killed you if you didn’t think fast on your feet,” Ethan fought.

“But but he is still my....father,” Mira looked down to the floor, the truth, however unbearable, was still true.

“He didn’t try to protect you when you were sent away with Meredith. He suspected Edith would try to harm you, but he cared more about watching out for himself. He had no reason to believe you would be useful to him until you turned up at our castle, humming. Then he knew, then we all knew. You had the gift, too!”

“You mean...he only wants my gift.”

“Yes, Mira. He wants to use your gift for his own benefit. Mine too. For a long time, I made myself believe he cared about someone other than himself. But he doesn’t. Never did. Never could. Look at where he put his wife of thirty years, in a cell. He is only using us, and if we don’t stop him, no one will be able to.”

“But...”

“Think of Nerin, Nerissa. Your Mer parents. Do you really think he will spare their lives after he has what he wants?”

Staring at the floor, Mira knew the truth. Poseidon would spare nothing.

“If you want your family and friends to live, we have to stop him.”

“All right,” Mira nodded and stood up straight. Her chin rose and confidence exuded every pore. “Let’s do this.”

Shifters free Jan 21-23 Exclusively on Kindle

2012-01-20T06:20:00.000-08:00

http://www.amazon.com/Shifters-Shifter-Dystopian-Evolutions-ebook/dp/B0049U4WTM/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1327069078&sr=8-2

The Shifters of 2040 is a Shifter Dystopian available for free on kindle Jan 21-23. Please check it out!

The Shifters of 2040 is a Shifter Dystopian available for free on kindle Feb 4-6. Please check it out!

BLOG:

“I’m pregnant. Her eyes peered over the edge of the cloth and confronted her mirrored reflection with that truth. I’m pregnant...by a SHIFTER. Oh, god!”

In “The Shifters of 2040,” Scientist Melissa Marn finds her world swirling on its axis with that one revelation. Shifters — a sentient alien species of light — look to Earth for refuge. In doing so, both shifters and humans are forced to confront prejudice, betrayal, adversity and oppression.

Methodical scientist, Melissa Marn, and her coworker, Dr. Bruce Wilder, conduct experiments on the shifters. Through her pregnancy, she becomes more compassionate and humane and finds herself defending the very species she’s supposed to eradicate. One of the hybrids, Diamond, falls in love with Keenan, a soldier trained to kill her. Between the four, the reader is led from conflict to resolution, from despair to hope, from loneliness to love.

Much of the Shifter Evolutions originality lies in the shifters, common characters in science fiction, but whose origins are rarely explained. In this series, their alien DNA allows them to metamorphose into not just wolves, but a variety of animals. As the plot unfolds, the shifters discover they can have children with humans — hybrids.

Strengths of the novel include the complex characters, its writing style of poetic prose and rich description, and the well developed, thought-provoking, yet highly entertaining plot.

This fast paced book will appeal to the young adult and adult market. It fits nicely into the paranormal romance and science fiction romance genres and would make a great movie, a captivating TV series and an intriguing video game.

Readers will enjoy the fresh approach and original concept of the world thirty years from now, and will find the characters come to life in their minds. This story will stay with them long after they read “The End.

THE IMMORTALIS SERIES by Katie Salidas

2012-01-19T07:24:00.000-08:00

Pandora’s Box

Immortalis Series, Book 3

Primary Genre: Urban Fantasy

Secondary Genre: Paranormal Romance

Adult Content: Some strong language.

Page Count: 238

Word Count: 65,000

Publisher: Rising Sign Books, LLC.

Print Publishing Date: July 12^th 2011

Author: Katie Salidas

Synopsis:

After a few months as a vampire, Alyssa thought she’d learned all she needed to know about the supernatural world. But her confidence is shattered by the delivery of a mysterious package – a Pandora’s Box.

Seemingly innocuous, the box is in reality an ancient prison, generated by a magic more powerful than anyone in her clan has ever known. But what manner of evil could need such force to contain it?

When the box is opened, the sinister creature within is released, and only supernatural blood will satiate its thirst. The clan soon learns how it feels when the hunter becomes the hunted.

Apparently powerless against the ancient evil, the clan flees Las Vegas for Boston, with only a slim hope for salvation. Could Lysander’s old journals hold the key? And what if they don’t?

And how welcome will they be in a city run by a whole different kind of supernatural being?

Werewolves…

Available in print and/or ebook at:

Amazon.com USA

Amazon.co.UK UK

Amazon.co.DE Germany

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

Hunters & Prey

Immortalis Series, Book 2

Primary Genre: Urban Fantasy

Secondary Genre: Paranormal Romance

Adult Content: Some strong language. No sexual content.

Page Count: 263

Word Count: 75,000

Publisher: Rising Sign Books, LLC.

Print Publishing Date: December 10, 2010

Author: Katie Salidas

Synopsis:

Becoming a vampire saved Alyssa from death, but the price was high: the loss of everything and everyone attached to her mortal life. She’s still learning to cope when a surprise confrontation with Santino Vitale, the Acta Sanctorum’s most fearsome hunter, sends her fleeing back to the world she once knew, and Fallon, the friend she’s missed more than anything.

Alyssa breaks vampire law by revealing her new, true self to her old friend, a fact which causes strong division in the group that should support her most: her clan.

Worse yet, her revelation entangles Fallon in the struggle between vampires and hunters and The Acta Sanctorum is ready to attack again, with a new army of hybrid creations: the Frenzy Soldiers.

If Alyssa hopes to survive and keep her mortal friend safe, she’ll have to be willing to make a deal with the enemy, and regain her clan’s support. It will take everyone working together in a precarious truce to fight against the Acta Sanctorum’s new threat.

Available in print and/or ebook at:

Amazon.com USA

Amazon.co.UK UK

Amazon.co.DE Germany

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

Immortalis Carpe Noctem

Immortalis Series, Book 1

Primary Genre: Urban Fantasy

Secondary Genre: Paranormal Romance

Adult Content: Some strong language. No sexual content.

Page Count: 323

Word Count: 85,000

Publisher: Rising Sign Books, LLC.

Print Publishing Date: March 2, 2010

Author: Katie Salidas

Synopsis:

Bleeding to death after brutal mugging on the campus of UNLV, Twenty-five year old Alyssa, is rescued by the cold and aloof, vampire, Lysander. Taking pity on her, he shares the gift-and curse-of immortality. She awakens as a vampire and is soon devastated by harsh realities of her new way of life: the loss of her friends, her independence, and her humanity.

As if having her humanity stripped away was not enough to make life interesting, Alyssa finds out her “turning”, did not go unnoticed by the rest of undead society. Old enemies; an ancient sect of vampire hunters, known as the Acta Sanctorum, as well as a powerful Vampire mistress, each set plans in motion to destroy both Alyssa and Lysander.

Only by accepting her newfound immortality, seizing the night, will Alyssa hope to survive. She and Lysander must fight together against two sets of enemies bent on destroying them both.

Available in print and/or ebook at:

Amazon.com USA

Amazon.co.UK UK

Amazon.co.DE Germany

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

About the Author

Katie Salidas is a Super Woman! Endowed with special powers and abilities, beyond those of mortal women, She can get the munchkin off to gymnastics, cheerleading, Girl Scouts, and swim lessons. She can put hot food on the table for dinner while assisting with homework, baths, and bedtime… And, She still finds the time to keep the hubby happy (nudge nudge wink wink). She can do all of this and still have time to write.

And if you can believe all of those lies, there is some beautiful swamp land in Florida for sale…

Katie Salidas resides in Las Vegas, Nevada. Mother, wife, and author, she does try to do it all, often causing sleep deprivation and many nights passed out at the computer. Writing books is her passion, and she hopes that her passion will bring you hours of entertainment.

http://www.katiesalidas.com/

Facebook

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Katie-Salidas-Author/214780936916

http://www.linkedin.com/profile?viewProfile=&key=58814031&trk=tab_pro

Twitter

http://twitter.com/QuixoticKatie

Joana James

2012-01-16T07:26:00.000-08:00

What inspires your writing, your muse?

My Writing is inspired by the situations I see around me daily. My protagonist tend to be teenagers because for several years I worked with a youth group. I counselled teens going through horrible situations and these have found their way into my books. I write not only to provide entertainment, but to bring to light some of the ills of society. This is especially evident in my first book ‘Alana’.

If you couldn't write, what would you do?

If I can’t write, then I guess the next best thing is computing. They’re my second passion and also my day job.

Who is your favorite author? Book?

My favourite book is Piercing the Darkness by Frank Peretti, he is also my favourite Author

When did you know you wanted to be a writer?

I knew that I wanted to be a writer as a teenager in high school. I loved to read everything I could get my hands on. I would write short stories and dream of one day become a published writer. I tried to get published at age 18 but I never got the opportunity with Traditional publishers. I gave up and got a ‘real’ job. However, I never let go of the dream.

Have you gone the traditional route? Indie route? or both?

I tried the Traditional route, but it didn’t work out. When I got back into writing in 2010, self-publishing seemed like the best route. It was just way too time consuming to get a publisher to take my work seriously, and since I live in the Caribbean, just about everything had to be done online as there are no major publishing houses on my island.

What advice can you give for writers out there looking to promote?

I’d say to be patient; it takes time to build your reputation as a writer. First of all, focus on the quality of your book, present your best error free work to the public. Then, social networking is your friend so use it to your advantage. However, don’t spend the whole day spamming your Facebook friends or your twitter followers with links to your book. I’ve found that striking up a genuine friendly conversation with people yields the best results.

7) Name three places readers can find you?

My blog: http://joanajames.blogspot.com

My Facebook Author page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Joana-James-Author/120342611396920

My Twitter Account: http://twitter.com/joana_james

Tea or coffee?

Tea

Morning or night?

Morning

Cats or dogs?

Cats

Schedule:

January 14 - Meet & Greet at VBT Cafe' Blog
January 15 - Interviewed by Ami Blackwelder touch-of-grace
January 28 - Guest Blogging at Ashley's Bookshelf ashleywintters
February 2 - Review, Guest Blog & Giveaway at Cece's Garden of Reviews gothchiclove95
February 6 - Guest Blogging with Natalie Nicole Bates natalienicolebates
February 6 - Interviewed at BK Media Entertainment Please choose time to call in - 2pm, 4pm, 6pm, 6:30pm EST and let me know
February 8 - Reviewed at All Things Books rockchick531
February 10 - Guest Blogging at Words I Write Crazy lpcoolgirl
February 13 - Interviewed with Louise James louisejames157
February 15 - Guest Blogging with Cindy Vine cinfam
February 17 - Guest Blogging with Louise Wise louisewise

David Knight, I Am I

2012-01-11T07:48:00.000-08:00

David Knights Virtual Tour Packet

Title: I am I: The In-Dweller of Your Heart
52 Inner Dictations

Author: David Knight
Copyright: 11/23/11 by David Knight
Genre: Inspirational/Religion

Amazon Link: http://www.amazon.com/-Dweller-Heart-Inner-Dictations-Knight/dp/1466499354/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1322343692&sr=8-1

Bio:

DAVID KNIGHT was born into his current physical embodiment in 1964. He is married to Caroline and they live with their adopted cats Toby, Treacle, Spiky and Missy in the UK. In growing up he describes himself as a Mr. Average or like a 'Joe Bloggs'. Whilst earning a living in various types of work, (this ranged from HM Forces, Financial Services, a Care Assistant and also self-employment) his search for fulfilment changed from the exterior and without to the interior and within.

Spiritual education gained a greater momentum and at the age of 21 a more urgent sense of dedication as well as a new realization had set in. New evidence of and from God, were soon revealed through his life experiences. With the aid of Spirit guides and beings from the ethereal planes, the foundations were laid for all who wished to develop and experience their Hearts flame of love and light and to embark upon a unique opportunity for all soul's in this lifetime.

Description:

I am I: The In-Dweller of your Heart is a stepping stone for all who embark upon their own quest for 'Spiritual' education and guidance. So, even if you are comfortable with your own faith and religion, you may have decided to explore new interpretations and such issues on a personal or global scale.

The author David Knight has received and transcribed these passages of text in a process known as 'Inner Dictation'. He describes this as writing from within the connection of his heart where peace, bliss, love and light reign supreme.

God's wisdom and teachings are laid out before you so you can simply choose and read whenever or whatever your heart needs or desires. They are guidelines, principles and simple directions for you to now dip your toes or dive headfirst into the waters of you're own Divine essence.

These books will form the very threads of life's new tapestry, each being spun into 52 lessons from, to and through our own hearts and soul's. They are like a father, mother, brother, sister, husband, wife, partner or personal friend who knows you better than you can ever know 'yourself'.

Part 1 is a companion for life which does not judge, condemn or scold, but hopes to encourage, guide, console, teach and remind you of who and what you are, why you live and for what purpose too!

Lisa Jackson Interview:

Interview with Lisa Jackson

Book: I am I: The In-Dweller of your Heart

Please tell us about your current release.

Hi Lisa, I am I: The In- Dweller of your Heart is a book that I hope people can use as a reference and guide to lean upon and utilize throughout their lives. All life and love should actually be simplicity itself and yet we –as human beings- complicate them both so much by listening more to our minds and desires through our senses… rather than our own truth in our hearts.

So, over a period of time I felt humbly blessed to receive 52 Inner-dictations- as such they were lessons and messages containing spiritual guidance and education from my own heart’s connection to God, (the source, Spirit or whichever name feels true to each person) so that all can understand their true purpose and goal of their soul. No matter what color, race or whatever faith or religion one currently follows one can actually realize that Love is everything and everything is love. The book encourages each and every single person to find their own truth through their own heart where bliss, peace love and light reign supreme.

Here is the synopsis Lisa:

I am I: The In-Dweller of your Heart is a stepping stone for all who embark upon their own quest for ‘Spiritual’ education and guidance. Even if you are comfortable with your own faith and religion, it can help you to explore new interpretations and issues on a personal or global scale.

The author David Knight has received and transcribed these passages of text in a process known as ‘Inner Dictation’. He describes this as writing from within the connection of his heart where peace, bliss, love and light reign supreme.

God’s wisdom and teachings are laid out before you so you can simply choose and read whenever or whatever your heart needs or desires. I am I entrusts that you will dip your toes into these guidelines, principles and simple directions, then dive headfirst into the waters of your own Divine essence.

These books will form the threads of life’s new tapestry, each spun into 52 lessons from, to and through our own hearts and souls. They are like a father, mother, brother, sister, husband, wife, partner or personal friend who knows you better than you can ever know ‘yourself’.

Part 1 is a companion for life which does not judge, condemn or scold, but hopes to encourage, guide, console, teach and remind you of who and what you are, why you live and

What inspired you to write this book?

Over the years many strange and wonderful things happened to me both physically and also in dream state and meditation. When I first started to ‘open’ up my heart, a lot of psychic experiences occurred…including many pre-cognitions (foreseeing future events) and proof of life after death. As such and through my own faith, I had the inbuilt need to want to help guide people upon their own journey. Over time, spiritual gifts started to materialize in my life such as healing, clairaudience and the ability to write through channeling and inner dictation. Once I started putting pen to paper I knew that I would eventually put 7 books together…to help guide, heal and shine the light for many others to see their own truth ‘within’

What exciting story are you working on next?

Well, the sequel to I am I: The In-Dweller of the Heart is three quarters complete…after which the may be a third to make it a Trilogy. I also would like to complete a compilation of many poems and inspirational / spiritual text to form a smaller book called – A Pocket full of God. Eventually I’ll put together the collection of my dreams / visions into ‘The Pre-Cognition Files’. So the next few years will be very busy!

Writing life:

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

Do you write full-time? If so, what's your work day like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?

Some may state that you’re not a writer unless you’re being paid for it... as if remuneration somehow confirms the status of being a ‘professional writer’ as such. Others will state too that if one writes a Novella, that it’s not a real book unless it has over 200 / 250 pages. Everything is just opinions and so for me it’s what you feel inside that actually counts. Primarily you must write for yourself…exterior success (or lack of it) is secondary.

Fun:

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

Mmmm…I guess it’s the symbolism in the text. Many people comment about how the description and guidance of say nature, images, scenarios and scenes reflect upon ones own feelings which then mirrors ad shines the truth to each individual.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

Crikey, interesting question. I could put a twist on that and say….Happy! LOL Ha ha

I think when I was really small I wanted to be a pilot. Perhaps that really was a dream as I am not much bigger than a hobbit and am not too great with heights ha ha.

Anything additional you want to share with the readers?

Yes please…just want to say thanks for taking the time to read the interview. A lot of times in life we often judge things and their worth by how much something costs. Again it’s that ‘monkey’ mind of ours dictating and implying that you can only see the future from judging the past. Whether you buy this book or any other, whatever experience comes into your life … if it resonates within your heart let it flow to, through and from you.

Many thanks Lisa.

David is Launching the book on Amazon on January 28th

He has a great contest in the works.

Fulfill Your Threats

2012-01-04T10:23:00.000-08:00

Jonathan Wutawunashe Virtual Book Tour Packet

Title: Fulfill Your Threats

Author: Jonathan Wutawunashe

Available on Amazon in Kindle Format: http://www.amazon.com/Fulfill-Threats-Principles-Succeed-ebook/dp/B00375LJA0/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1322349679&sr=1-1

Blog: http://possibilitypages.blogspot.com/

Bio

Ambassador Jonathan Wutawunashe cut his teeth as a diplomat in Washington, DC and New York during the 1980s. Educated and trained in his native Zimbabwe, in Australia, the United States and Belgium, Wutawunashe played key roles as a top manager and leader in key posts and functions in Zimbabwe, North America, Europe and Asia. One of his more widely publicized accomplishments was his presentation of the case against nuclear weapons at the International Court of Justice in November 1995.

Ambassador Wutawunashe is a sought-after speaker and counselor who has motivated audiences at universities, churches, training seminars, trade symposiums and in other contexts in Africa, Asia, Europe and North America. His personal achievements include writing for magazines and academic journals from an early age, musical compositions and an extensive discography that has caught the attention of researchers and writers on global culture. He has done creative work for television, for which he has received plaudits, and has also established several audio-visual recording and mastering studios. The Ambassador holds post-graduate degrees in literature and social sciences. He is married to Shuvai, and the couple have three children, Tinashe, Tendai and Paidamoyo. You can read more about Wutawunashe on Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jonathan_Wutawunashe.

Description:

This incisive, well-written book shares profound insights into the psychology that drives doers to do what they do, and to do it with confidence, method and persistence. Its energizing claim is that we can all be effective doers if we take simple steps to yank our ambitions from the realm of idle thought and idle talk, and to mobilize those dreams and aspirations into projects that achieve results that can be seen, touched and experienced. Wutawunashe draws from experience and observation to illustrate how business ideas, personal development efforts, social influence and other schemes can be pursued in a manner that assures effective, sustained impact . In an engaging style that melds entertaining anecdotes, humorous turn of phrase and powerful didactic principle in a uniquely seamless manner, Wutawunashe delivers a powerful manual that could well come with a warranty, given the ease with which the reader can apply these lessons and see results.

Sample:

In this my first book, I offer the thesis that success is the outcome of a simple process based on deciding, doing and learning. These activities are locked in a sequential loop that can be linear or non-linear depending on specific circumstances. Whatever the sequence at any point, however, one element is constant, and that element is you. You take the decision, you do the things you have decided, and you learn the lessons that are necessary for you to succeed. I readily admit that this is a blatant truism, but venture that too few people realize how powerful and liberating this obvious fact is. Most failures in life are failures in commonsense.

Our Mother's Recipes virtual book tour

2012-01-02T09:02:00.000-08:00

Armin Feldman and Dorene Sager

Book: Our Mother's Recipe's
Genre: Jewish Cookbook
Video Book Review: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7xqNWhEnZsg and
Amazon.
website: http://www.ourmothersrecipesonline.com
Bio:

Dorene Sager and Armin Feldman are sister and brother. the idea for the cookbook sprang from the discovery of a treasure trove of their mother’s recipes after she passed away. Now Our Mother’s Recipes, Carrying On a Jewish Tradition is a Web site, a cookbook, a TV show and a place to learn about what the best Jewish cuisine has to offer.

Dorene Sager: Dorene represents the best of so many different things. Dorene is a cookbook author, a wife and mother, a commercial real estate broker, a devoted family member, a true friend and so much more. Dorene is a fantastic cook in her own right. She learned a lot about cooking from her mother, Helen Feldman. Dorene is married and has three children and 6 grandchildren. Dorene and her husband just celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. Dorene enjoys reading, movies, playing canasta, and of course cooking.

Dorene says,

“I had so much fun working with my brother putting together all of the different ways to showcase our mother’s recipes.”

Armin Feldman: Armin wears a number of hats too. Armin is a cookbook author, husband, dog lover, supporter of friends and family, medical doctor and a lot more. Armin is also a wonderful cook. From the time they could reach the kitchen counter, their mother taught Dorene and Armin how to make traditional Jewish recipes. If you watch the videos on their website, http://www.ourmothersrecipesonline.com , you can feel the joy these siblings radiate while cooking their mother's recipes. You can also sign up for the recipe of the week sent right to your email address.

Armin says, “What a treat to work with the best sister ever in creating all of these venues to showcase our mother’s remarkable culinary skills.”

Description:

Add a wonderful cuisine to your everyday meals and special gatherings. Traditional Jewish cooking is flavorful, fun and hearty particularly with Our Mother's Recipes, Carrying on a Jewish Tradition. These recipes have been handed down through many generations influenced by Middle Eastern, Mediterranean, Spanish, German and Eastern European styles of cooking. In our family all of these cultural influences were combined, synthesized and affected by local ingredients through the years resulting in sumptuous, rich and wonderfully fulfilling traditional Jewish dishes. Try our mother's farfel instead of noodles. Replace that tired chocolate cake with some really yummy Helen Feldman brownies or warm fruit compote. You will have the secret to Jewish penicillin, chicken soup with matzo balls. There's enough here to keep you going for years of great food, family, friends and memories to enjoy.

There will b a virtual book tour starting on December 15th. see the vtb banner.
The full schedule is on http://www.ourmothersrecipesonline.com

The Book Launch will be on February 1. Anyone who buys the book from Amazon on February 1 will get 10 entries into the Book Launch Contest. There are other ways to get entries. One is to comment on three of the blogs on the tour days. See the schedule.

Contest

To get your entries and to find out how to get more entries visit http://www.ourmothersrecipesonline.com to access the contest form.

The prizes:

$100.00 Amazon Gift Certificate for a Kindle

Two $50.00 Amazon Gift Certifcates

Authors can choose a video book trailer or Facebook Welcome Page instead of the Kindle.

#SampleSunday (The Invasion of 2020)

2011-12-31T08:58:00.000-08:00

CHP 1

Meteors

Fourth of July, 2020

Somewhere in the dense forests of the Kenai Lake in Alaska, strobes of colorful light flashed across the grey fogged skies, one red light descending toward a lone ranger wanting to catch a glimpse of the firework spectacle. Stumbling and then falling, he scraped his knee as his brown cap tumbled to the ground.

“Damn. What the hell was that?!” The strobe etched his skin, burning his arm. Intent on the intrusion, the ranger hawk-eyed the ball of spitting photons as he felt the extreme level of heat emitting from the strayed light...and then as if guided by itself, the light then turned on the man like a rabid animal, darting at his chest.

With a few heavy, quick breaths, the ranger sensed danger. Not the kind of danger he ever experienced confronted by wolves or bears, but a danger unknown and uncertain.

Racing past the dying campfire he had set hours earlier, the last of the embers took a crackling breath. Quiet, the woods offered more than entertainment, they offered sanctuary. But tonight, they only brought fear. Darkness consumed the forest as the fire drew on the last of oxygen and the ranger felt as if he took his last breath too; hyperventilating, he couldn’t see and something was out there. Something that wanted him dead?

The only sound, a light buzz of the strobe and the only thing visible, a splattered flash here and there of red.

“What the hell are you?” he commented under his breath as he felt mesmerized, paralyzed and panicked all at once. Buzzing again, the strobe rushed toward him, scraping against his leg and burning his pants. “Damn it!

Fleeing from the dead campfire, the ranger plodded over thick grass and dashed through heavy foliage, dodging branches and trees with his sense of touch and memory. Several more steps and the red strobe stopped him in his tracks as it descended in front of him before his eyes. Blinking like erratic traffic lights, the strobe began to spin, a whizzing noise emanating from its quickened motion.

Jumping away from the light, the ranger darted up the grassy path leading uphill. The further the ranger climbed, the closer he should be coming to his vehicle. But upon the top of the hill, and in the dark, he noticed he had climbed too early. His jeep sat still many yards away from him.

“Have to get to the next hill.” The man grumbled as the red enemy pushed past the trees, branches, fog, and grass and confronted the man yet again. “What do you want?!” he screamed out of more fear than inquiry. “Stay away from me!”

But the light persisted.

Each movement the strobe took forward, the man moved back...until the man inched his way to the edge of a cliff. Waves from the lake crashed up against the rocky descent and the sound of them breaking on the rocks set a rush of goosebumps up the ranger’s spine.

Fueled by fear, the man teetered on the balance between falling and standing, his boots resting on the ledge like a crazed tight-rope acrobat. “Get away from me! What do you want!” he shouted again, pushing his hands outward in a ‘stop’ position.

But the strobe pressed forward, the heat glazing over the man’s face and body, the buzzing ringing in his ears, the adrenaline pumping his blood. Stepping backward, the ranger felt the balance fall into the enemies favor and his feet slipped out from underneath him.

Plummeting to the abyss below, his body caught the waves and washed out to sea.

* * *

The same night, on the beaches of the Kenai Lake, Uri Petrov and Julia Smart, his girlfriend of two years, sat on the white crystal like sand. Both wore faded blue jeans and sat with legs crossed over each other. Fingers twined, they occasionally exchanged glances as they admired the fireworks in the sky. Students anticipated the Fourth of July firework show, and most drove several hours from Anchorage to get there.

A gray summer evening popped with colors and blared like a loud horn from the crackling and sometimes vibrating acoustics of the fireworks. Yellows, reds, blues, purples, oranges, silvers and more saturated the evening sky like an exploding rainbow.

Turning to Uri, Julia pressed her lips on his rough cheek before speaking. “The show is spectacular; better than I thought.”

“What you think? I take you to boring place?” Uri cracked a joke in his heavy Russian accent and broken English. But nothing about him touched Julia in a rigid, broken way. To her, he was perfect. Rustic. Robust. Usually with stubble on his chin.

Combing her long strands of curly, blonde hair, something he rarely saw in Russia, her icy blue eyes watched his, waiting for him to draw close to her. Like the storm on the ocean, Julia seemed to Uri, crashing in like a wave just to pull back to the sea, a flowing and ebbing of emotions. He hadn’t fallen for any Russian girls as much as with Julia — perhaps it was the hair — but he loved her.

Born in St. Petersburg, his parents determined early on their son would study English in America, and relayed their wishes on his fifteenth birthday. Leaving his friends, his school, his neighborhood, that would be best for him? By his sixteenth birthday he conceded. Dreams of Uri Petrov making something more of himself than the son of a coal miner and seamstress pushed him aboard a ship bound for Anchorage, Alaska when he turned eighteen. Now at twenty-one, in his senior year at university, he couldn’t even remember what all the fuss was about then.

Sliding his right arm behind her, he yanked Julia into his warm, encasing chest and they fell upon the sandy shore. With sand rubbing between their toes, he smothered her with wet kisses and her laughter only encouraged him.

“Uri, Uri...please.” She chuckled, small white teeth showing. “I am trying to watch the firework display.”

“Ah...yes. The fireworks. American freedom and all that.”

She rolled her eyes at him and his accent, as if she didn’t know the real reason he brought her here. And it wasn’t for the firework show.

“I want to watch, because it’s only once a year.”

“Yes...yes.” He felt chided and often did with Julia, but he liked that about her. No nonsense. Pulling a bottle of Chardonnay from his wicker basket, he popped the top and poured a glass for Julia which he kept beside the bottle in the basket.

“Thank you.”

“Ne Za Shto,” Uri finished before sipping his own glass. He used that phrase a lot with her, with his friends. She determined it meant something along the lines of no matter, or don’t worry about it, or it was nothing.

With their eyes fixed on the lights exploding above them, the sheer brilliance radiated on their faces and bodies, making their skin glow. That effect fascinated Julia and she rubbed her fingers over her tanned skin to see the strange colors return when she took her hands away.

Laughing, she responded. “Now isn’t that something?”

Uri joined in the laughter as he caressed her neck. “Da, da.”

To their left and right sat couples and groups of friends. Uri’s good pal Paul Boyette barbecued with a few of his buddies just a few yards downwind. Breezes scattered dead fireworks toward the crowd as peers blew on noise makers. Stacked beer cans waited to be discarded as soon as the show ended, and students whistled through their teeth at the start of each firework explosion. A few chose to dance about and some men ripped their T-shirts off, like gorillas gone mad.

Reggae music permeated the air and rushed over Uri and Julia, basking under the night sky. The firework show ended when the last trail of sparkling color slowly faded. Couples fell into each other’s loving arms, swaying or simply rocking each other. Sweet sounds of smacking lips saturated the air. Even Uri now could appreciate the full magnitude of bringing Julia to Kenai Lake. His friend Paul made the suggestion.

Nestled between his thick neck and shoulder, and with legs propped outward, Julia relaxed her back in the soft sand. Her white tube-top revealed her belly button piercing. She found where she wanted to spend the night. Nothing was more serene than that moment.

Somewhere in the middle of necking, the youthful bodies shook at the loud bang resounding in the sky. More fireworks? Jerking his head skyward, Uri disturbed Julia’s comfort as her head fell backward, but the two set their eyes on the vibrant array of what appeared to be a series of shooting stars. Like cylinders comprised of various spectrums of light, the spectacle crossed the horizon and came towards them. The display marked the sky with as many colors as the firework show.

“What is it?” Julia nudged him with her shoulder.

“Meteor shower?”

“But aren’t stars...meteors...yellow?”

“I...I’m not sure.” A wrinkle broke between Uri’s brows and his left eye twitched as it did when he didn’t quite grasp something.

“Maybe we should take pictures?” Julia jumped up and dusted the grains of sand from her pale jeans. Pulling her miniature camera out from her square silver purse, she snapped photo after photo as the stream of stars...meteors...lights...whatever they were...flooded the skies and shot across Kenai Lake, heading towards the forest.

Placing his hands over her back, he stood behind her. “You get picture you wanted?” Uri asked.

“I think so.” Julia spun toward him on her heel to let her boyfriend see the exuberance in her face. This was exciting, more entertaining than three years of university had been for her.

“Look!” Uri pointed with his right forefinger, leaning toward the uncanny sight in the distance. A glow like neon lights beamed golden and then hovered over the lake for a moment before shooting across Kenai and into the forests, disappearing.

With mesmerized attention on the blaring lights, the two took time to finally pull their focus away from the skies and noticed people standing on the beach with them, watching the lights in stunned awe. To their left and right and behind them, the sandy shores filled with curious spectators, mostly students from the University of Alaska and a few permanent residents of Kenai.

A few couples spoke in the background. “Is this part of the firework show?” a female voice asked.

“No, no,” a male with a deep voice answered. “This is...those are shooting stars.”

“They are not,” another female interjected. “That is a meteor shower.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” the male retorted.

“No.” The female stomped her foot. “They are completely different.”

“I don’t think so,” the male’s voice commented.

Between the man and woman bickering, Uri threw his arm around Julia’s neck and motioned her forward. Wanting to step away from the soon-to-be-argument and hoping to catch a better glimpse of the lights shooting across the skies, Uri strolled with Julia along the shoreline with their bare feet getting wet by the lapping shore.

“Much better,” Uri said.

“Yes.” Julia pinched her lips together in a strange contorted pucker, caught between holding in a laugh and preparing to kiss him. His ability to disengage from the world around him amused her. Forget the crowd, heck, even forget the unique sky lights. Uri only wanted one thing, and that was to spend time with her.

“You warm enough?” Uri asked as he rubbed his hands over her back, leading up to the nape of her neck.

Nodding, she just about rested her head on his shoulder again before another light, a purple-white strobe, flashed across the sky. Hovering for a few seconds several yards above them, the purple-white light then blasted toward the thicket of trees and disappeared behind the web of branches and spruce.

“What do you imagine that was?” Julia lingered, her left foot teetering between moving forward and heading back. A tall man with tousled brunet hair stood to their left, holding the hand of his girlfriend. Overhearing, he felt compelled to answer.

“Aliens. They’ve come.” His scratchy voice made the words more ominous.

Turning his head toward the man, Uri sputtered, “A...aliens? What you smoking?” The Russian accent took a moment to register before the man responded.

“You’ve never seen the little green men?”

“Green men?” Uri guffawed, gripping his belly, unable to control his laughter. Julia smiled at the man as she tried to hold Uri up straight with the brace of her arms.

“This is not a joke.” The man grew defensive, his dark brow arched.

“A joke...a good joke.” Uri nodded with an inviting smile, in the way that said you are a friend. Shaking his head, the man turned to his girlfriend who rubbed her temples.

“Let’s just go home,” she suggested.

“Home, sweetie!? This place is perfect to see them coming!” Both agitation and excitement crossed his face, as if he couldn’t make up his mind which emotion made more sense for him. But leave? He couldn’t leave now. With a sigh from the girlfriend, everyone knew who won that discussion.

Yanking Uri forward with her arm underneath his, Julia guided him away from the couple and farther down the shoreline. The silence didn’t last long before someone jumped up behind Uri and grabbed his shoulder.

“Wait up!” Paul declared. Uri turned, seeing the hopeful eyes of his best friend. The fashion-challenged business major who he met his first year at university sighed.

With his foot sinking in the wet sand, Uri glared at his friend. “Paul?” Uri sounded disgruntled. “What you want?” That was Uri’s way of saying go away. Paul knew this, but these lights were too mysterious to enjoy without his best friend — the guy who did everything bordering illegal with him.

“Isn’t this something!?” Paul raked his thin piano fingers through his dirty blond hair. He frequently played piano when he wasn’t studying for his business classes. Blue eyes fixed on Uri and widened.

Squirming, Uri couldn’t make up his mind what he wanted more, fulfilling his curiosity about the lights or his curiosities about Julia. The latter seemed more relevant to his life and he curled his lip under in answer, like an angry mutt.

“Aura Borealis more bright. Light shows all year round.” Uri waved his hands and began to walk away from Paul.

“No, no...not like this.” Paul gripped his shoulder. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Is this only happening on the Kenai Lake?” Julia inquired to no one in particular.

Uri kicked a pebble on the wet sand. Now, Paul drew his girlfriend into the craziness. The lake already soaked in curious whispers and awe-struck citizens. She didn’t need to be added to the bunch. Up and down the beach, flashes from cameras marked this event permanently. The images were burned forever into the minds of the spectators.

“I’m going to call my sis in Anchorage. Maybe she knows.” Paul flipped his cell open and after a few rings began to talk. “Are you seeing this light show?...No, no, no...not the fireworks...the...the meteor shower?” he asked with a strong question, because he wasn’t sure what kind of lights these were. “Yeah, some kind of shooting stars for the past twenty minutes....all kinds of colors. Purple, silver, gold, red, yellow, blue....Nothing? Turn on your television, anything?” He waited a minute before responding, his eyes searching the skies above him. “Really? I’ve got to show you these pictures. Later.” Click, the phone shut off and he snapped another image before turning to Uri.

“What did she say?” Julia questioned.

“She didn’t know what I was talking about. There is nothing on the news and she hasn’t seen anything but fireworks in Anchorage.”

“But wouldn’t it be rare that a meteor shower would be seen all over the state?” Julia stated.

“I don’t know.” Paul shrugged. “But this sure is interesting.”

Slipping his phone into his back pocket, Paul looked skyward again, as did all eyes on the Kenai Lake. Silence fell over the shore, whispers quieted and then a rush of awe. Even Uri turned away from Julia for a moment to see what brought on such a reaction.

Twenty lights of various colors darted across the evening sky at once, and without a sound. Then all the lights disappeared behind the trees as quickly as they began. The lake sat silent and empty for ten minutes with students and residents just standing, staring, hoping a light would return and spark up the sky again. But nothing. Then ten more minutes passed and the spectators grew restless, packed up their things and headed to their cars.

“Do you think the lights will come back?” Julia asked Uri with puppy dog eyes. And how could he refuse her?

“Certainly.” He squeezed her shoulders. The three turned away from the water and toward the parking lot up the hill.

Earth Angel and Boyfriend from Hell

2011-12-27T08:39:00.000-08:00

Earth Angel

By E Van Lowe

Genre: Paranormal YA

Book 2

Heaven Can Wait!

Just because Megan Barnett recently defeated Satan, has a fantastic new best friend, and has won the love of deliciously handsome, Guy Matson, doesn’t mean her troubles are over. Far from it. For Megan doesn’t realize it, but in her possession is a powerful weapon, a weapon sought after by both angels and demons and everything in between. They will do ANYTHING to get it.

In E. Van Lowe’s humorous, romantic and thrilling sequel to Boyfriend From Hell, Megan winds up in a gripping life or death battle to save herself, the boy she loves, and all of mankind from unthinkable evil.

Megan Barnett has recently defeated Satan, found a fantastic new best friend, and has won the heart of deliciously handsome, Guy Matson. But that doesn’t mean her troubles are over. Far from it. For Megan doesn’t realize that she is in possession of a powerful paranormal weapon, a weapon sought after by both angels, demons and everything in between.

In E. Van Lowe’s romantic yet thrilling sequel to Boyfriend From Hell, Megan finds herself in a gripping life or death battle to save the boy she loves, and all of mankind from unthinkable evil.

Boyfriend from Hell

By E Van Lowe

Genre: Paranormal YA

Book 1

Aww, Hell No!

Fifteen year-old Megan Barnett and her single mom, Suze, have a special relationship—they are friends, close friends, who do almost everything together.

“But come on, guys, she’s my mother… Can I really tell her that while we’re snuggled up on the sofa watching Spider Man Three, I’m secretly undressing James Franco with my eyes? Of course not…”

The special bond takes a turn for the worse when Suze decides to start dating again. She hasn’t had a man in her life since Megan’s father left ten years ago.

Enter two mysterious young men, Megan’s new classmate, sinfully attractive bad boy, Guy Matson, and the dangerously handsome art dealer, Armando. Before long Megan and Suze both wind up in steamy relationships. But neither of the handsome guys is quite what he seems. In fact, one of them is Satan, with his sights set on a new bride. Megan has precious little time to figure out how to stop him. If she doesn’t, either Megan or Suze are quite literally going to HELL.

Boyfriend From Hell is the first book in the Falling Angels Saga from the author of the gruesomely hilarious, Never Slow Dance With A Zombie

www.whitewhiskerbooks.com

YouTube Trailer: http://youtu.be/39hI9rmwI5A

About The Author

E. Van Lowe is an author, television writer, screenwriter, Playwright and Producer who has written and produced such shows as The Cosby Show, Even Stevens, and Homeboys In Outer Space. He has been nominated for both an Emmy and an Academy Award. Van Lowe recently stepped into the young adult fiction genre with his comedic novel, Never Slow Dance With A Zombie. It was a selection of the Scholastic Book Club, and a nominee for an ALA Award. Boyfriend From Hell is Van Lowe’s second YA novel.

www.evanlowe.com

http://vanlowe.blogspot.com/

http://www.facebook.com/pages/E-Van-Lowe/152364748167154

REVIEW:

This series is AWESOME! I loved these books and highly recommend them to anyone looking for a great paranormal or angel series!!!

Next Thing I Knew

2011-12-20T11:03:00.000-08:00

Buy

Product Description

When Lucy Morgan drops dead along with everyone else on Earth she refuses to take death lying down even if, technically, her corpse is.

She drags her ghostly social life back from the grave and enlists her friends to figure out the rules of the afterlife. More importantly, they want to discover who or what killed everyone and why the heck anyone would do such a mean thing.

But what they discover changes everything. And if they can't figure out how to put their newfound ghostly powers to work, humanity will be extinct for good.

CoffeeTime Romance Blogging

2011-12-18T06:55:00.003-08:00

Please join me today!!!

Please join me for a day on CoffeeTime Romance from 12 am-12 am:

http://coffeetimeromance.com/CoffeeThoughts/

I will be blogging about my books, life, publishing, teaching, and more!

Stop by and comment and win copies of my books!!

http://amiblackwelder.blogspot.com

#samplesunday THE MERS (Mermaid Dystopian) Excerpt

2011-12-18T06:35:00.000-08:00

“Come on, Mira,” Nerin yanked her. “This is what you wanted.”

“Right.” She tightened her grip on the knapsack and turned to look at Nerin, “Still dark. We got here quicker than I thought.”

“All this time, everyone’s been scared of Limbo for nothing.”

“I guess Kai is right, we fear what we don’t know,” Mira agreed and began walking, Nerin’s fingers clung to one of her belt loops. Long, tangled grass tugged at her sneakers as she made her way downhill. The further they drew away from what they knew, the brighter, bigger, and more boisterous the life ahead became.

On the border where Limbo ended and the human world began, Nerin and Mira stopped and stared ahead. Radiant yellow and sky-blue eyes met with the world they would soon know very well. Maybe too well. They had never seen such grandeur and opulence.

Pearly white buildings stood high, reaching toward the clouds. Even shorter buildings were made of hard, dark bricks, something rare on Liberty Shore. Mers made the most out of the natural environment and spent little time building with man-made materials.

“Do you see that!?” Nerin asked incredulously. The light from the stars in the sky glowed over the town and made it that much more luminescent.

“I see it! I see it. I don’t believe it, but I see it.” Mira’s eyes were glued to the unforgettable scene like when her eyes met with the horizon line off the shore back home; she had finally found the place to give her her answers.

Gripping her hand, Nerin walked with Mira into the great unknown, both excited and scared. As his thumb caressed her inner palm, she felt comforted and was glad she was not alone.

“I can’t believe how elegant this place looks,” Mira spoke, looking like a wide-eyed doe.

“They’ve taken everything and left us with nothing...for years.” Nerin raked his fingers through his dark hair, shaking his head. The glitter of pearls highlighted his hair and accentuated the frown and lines of anger expressed in his face.

“What do you think they call this place?” Mira asked as they stepped onto the cobblestone road and skirted around the corner of a factory; smoke swirled out from the chimney, and a pounding noise emanated from inside the walls.

Nerin pointed at a white sign with painted black letters, “Remnantville.”

Mira paused at the sign and slowly took in the world around her; she heard a faint footstep from behind and swiveled around, only to lock eyes with a shadow several yards away. Seconds felt like hours between Mira and the unknown guest. Then, stark, canary-yellow pupils peered forward. Mira jumped back, startled as though she had spied a wild tiger. However, Nerin recognized the silhouette, the golden-brown locks and minuscule shape.

“Nerissa?”

“Nerin?”At the sound of the little girl’s subtle tone, Mira relaxed but threw her hands into the air.

“What are you doing here!?” Mira chided, stomping toward the girl, her hands flailing about her.

“I...I followed my brother. I wanted to see where he went,” Nerissa defended.

“Are you happy now?” She eyed Nerissa before turning her glare to Nerin. “Now we’ve endangered your little sis.”

“I...” Nerin didn’t know what to say. He didn’t intend for that to happen.

“You’re going back now! NOW!” Mira demanded, stomping close to Nerissa. Face-to-face, Mira’s words hit the little girl, but Narissa didn’t budge. Instead, she planted her feet firmer into the ground.

“I’m not leaving! I’m staying with you! With Nerin!” Nerissa almost had a fit and balled her hands against her hips. She looked like an angry super-hero.

“Ah, she’ll be all right, “Nerin encouraged, wrapping his arm around Nerissa’s neck. “I’ll keep an eye on her.” Though Nerin sounded sure, he worried. But he knew Nerissa, and she could be more stubborn than even Mira. Still, this world proved violent to his ancestors, and he wondered if his supervision would be enough, but he wouldn’t let that show.

“What do you say? I come with?” Nerissa beamed.

“Not much I can say in the matter now, is there?” Mira placed her hands on her hips, one of her favorite postures. After a thoughtful gaze, she answered, “Come on!” Waving for Nerissa to join her; Nerissa darted like an arrow to Mira’s side, leaving her brother behind her.

“Not without me!” Nerin stopped straggling and caught up to the two girls.

“Why’d you two come here?‘ Nerissa asked.

“I’m looking for my parents,” Mira said; Nerissa gave her an incredulous look. “I mean my REAL parents,” Mira clarified.

“You think you’re going to find them here?” Nerissa commented with doubt.

“Where else? They obviously aren’t on Liberty Shore.” Mira squinted her eyes, like she would burn them through the obtruding girl.

“But...what are we going to do?” Nerissa pestered.

“SHH! Stop asking so many questions, we have to find a place to sleep.” Mira drew close to Nerissa’s face, and the girl quieted with a pout. “Who knows what kind of dangers live in the darkness of the city!”

“We have to find safety before the Pirates find us,” Nerin warned, Nerissa’s expression dropping from curiosity to fear.

“Pirates?” Nerissa swallowed hard. Nerin put his arm around her shoulder.

“If we stick together, we will be fine.” He said those words like he meant them, because he wanted to be brave and needed his little sister calm. But even he worried if they would find shelter in time. Rumors of the human world kept him on edge.

With a sigh from the little girl they hunted for a bed, a cot, anything. Nerin stayed near the city walls because he didn’t want to meander too far into the inner workings of a strange place in the middle of the night. Pushing his way to the front, unnoticed by Mira and Nerissa while they bickered, he became the lead.

Instinctively, the other two followed, giving dirty looks to one another. Though Mira would never admit it, she was elated that Nerissa had joined them. After all, the three had shared many adventures back home. What would this one be without the two of them?

The walls followed the outline of Remnantville and swerved along the shoreline of what was once known as Jersey. Like Ellis Island, the city had a large fishery, which situated comfortably near the ocean. Seagulls squawked as they flew over Mira and the other two sneaking along the cobblestone towards the ocean. Noticing the fish industry, Mira stayed against the wall, her nose, eyes, and ears caught wind of all the familiar smells, sights, and sounds.

The docks sat silent, saturated with baskets reeking of fish and a few fishing poles lying against the wooden bars. Grey-black wisps of fog painted the dark sky as waves crashed against the rocky banks. An untidy, rectangular store room with only one door stood several yards high on the right. The smell of sea life was a sure sign of what the town folk kept behind the locked doors.

“Not so different from home,” Mira commented, and Nerin shrugged.

“I’m sure once the sun comes up we will see how different this place really is.”

“You’re right, but still...it’s nice to see something familiar.” Mira tilted her head in his direction, her lashes fluttering.

“Look! What is that?!” Nerissa interrupted, her forefinger pointing at a strobe light in the distance.

“I don’t know...,” Nerin’s forehead wrinkled and brows pulled together tight, “...But we ought to be careful.”

Intense yellow light beamed, fading in and out in a circular motion up into the sky. Appearing out of a long structure, the lights fascinated Mira. The lights reminded her of the Mers’ eyes. As the three trudged toward the strobes, the mystery came into full view.

A tall, dirty lighthouse sat on the banks, two lights flashing out to sea to help travelers return safely to Remnantville. Though common in Remnantville, Mers had never seen such a formation. Rubbing her fingers over the rough texture of the lighthouse, Nerissa turned to Nerin.

“What is it?”

“We’ve read about these in school,” Mira interjected with a proud expression. “Humans call them lighthouses because the light helps sailors find their way from the sea back to land.”

“And... usually they are unoccupied,” Nerin added with a smirk and glint of mischievousness in his eyes.

“You think we could?” Mira raised a brow, waiting for his answer.

“Could what?” Nerissa questioned with a square of her brows.

“I do,” Nerin said without hesitation. Mira griped Nerissa’s arm, and the three of them headed to the arched opening. Sneaking inside, Mira kept Nerissa close with Nerin watching behind them.

“All clear!” Mira sounded as she took her first step onto the white marble steps.

“All clear from behind too.” Nerin answered.

They followed the narrow, steep stairwell around and up until they reached the top. A cramped room with low ceilings, a cobweb in the corner, and little ventilation, but with a spectacular view, awaited them. Windows replaced concrete walls, and the strobe lights, in combination with the reflections of the moon, elicited an angelic appearance over the panoramic perspective of the town.

“What are we doing here?” Nerissa whined, placing her hands on the windows. The light underneath her continued to shine, in a circular form, upon the sea.

“This, my dear little sis, is where we will be sleeping for the night.” Nerin chuckled at his sister’s disgruntled expression. She looked like a chipmunk with nut-filled cheeks, her face puffed so much.

“But...it’s so small,” Nerissa winced, her eyes searched for a place to nap.

“Only a tad smaller than your own room,” Nerin corrected.

“But with two extra bodies,” Mira added with a wink, hoping to keep Nerin in on the gag meant for Nerissa. The poor girl almost lost her breath when she heard that. If Nerissa just had to join them, she would have to toughen up to survive.

“ARGH!” Nerissa stomped away from the window and curled up on the floor. At least the sounds of sea gulls kept her at ease. Her frame was so tiny that from a birds-eye-view, it looked like a bead on a necklace. Nerin laid on his back with his hands behind his head, gazing out the window while Mira laid with her arms around Nerissa.

“Do you think you’ll find them?” Nerissa whispered into Mira’s ear. Face-to-face, Mira held onto Nerissa, protecting her. “I hope so...I won’t give up till I do.”

“Then, I hope so, too,” Nerissa nestled her head under Mira’s chin and closed her eyes.

In the morning, Mira had been the first to wake. A loud thud startled her,but both Nerin and Nerissa remained asleep. Stretching her body, she stood and tip-toed to the stairwell. Clearly, she heard the padding of feet against the marble floor thirty feet below.

Shaking Nerin awake, his intense yellow eyes met with hers, and immediately, he sensed her nervousness. Springing up onto bare feet, his head swung around as if in search of the danger, “What is it?”

Pointing to the stairwell, she replied. “Someone is down there.”

“Are you sure? I don’t hear anything,” Nerin strained to listen.

“I hear his footsteps. He will come up at any minute!” Mira insisted, and Nerin nodded. Pulling Nerissa to her feet and shaking her, the girl opened her eyes, like the dead come to life.

“Morning?”

“Yes, Nerissa and we have to get going. Now!” Nerin said emphatically.

The young girl’s eyes examined Mira’s tensed expression, and in a quick second, she darted to the wall closest to the stairs and hide. Her back straightened against the cold concrete, hands trembling.

“What are we going to do?” Mira panicked, eyes locked on the stairwell. Each step from the intruder below pounded in her perfect ears, and no one heard but her. “He is coming.” The footsteps grew louder and closer, echoing through the staircase.

Nerin grabbed Mira’s arm, “I hear him now.” Chills ran down their spines; goosebumps climbed up their limbs.

“Stay still, Nerissa.” Mira whispered, her dry breath caught in her throat.

The girl froze.

The steps fell silent.

Then the footsteps grew softer and farther until a creak and clang of the lighthouse door sounded, and the steps disappeared altogether.

Mira let out a deep breath, “He is gone.”

“We have to get out of here before we’re caught!” Nerin ran to his sister and yanked her arm, pulling her down the marble staircase with him. Mira took one last look at the city through the panoramic wall-to-wall window and then followed.

Outside, the three heaved a sigh of relief after the rush downstairs. “That was too close,” Nerin said seriously, eyes piercing Mira. The morning sun blazed the banks and caressed their skin.

“Next time we will have to leave before daylight,” Mira commented, her eyes gazing at the lively morning city that had looked so different last evening.

“Next time?” Nerissa questioned, mouth open.

“We will be fine,” Mira encouraged. “Now we know when the humans come into the lighthouse, and we won’t be there next time when they do, but we still need a place to rest at night.”

“It is a nice spot for sleep,” Nerin agreed hesitantly, his mind still pondering over the pros and cons. Nerissa cringed at the thought of sleeping there again, and Nerin scratched his head, “But I still don’t understand how you heard him...when I could not?”

“Maybe she’s a better listener,” Nerissa said firmly, hinting to her brother.

“I’m not sure...but it looks like the humans are out and about. We will have to find some coverings for your hands and feet if you’re to blend in here,” Mira pointed out.

The two looked over their webbed fingers and toes and sighed. They knew they wouldn’t last long without a disguise.

“What do you suggest?” Nerin cocked a brow.

“Look there.” Mira pointed away from the fishery, away from the fishing nets bundled up on the wet docks. “Looks like a pharmacy. We could wrap both your appendages in bandages. Right?”

“Worth a try, but how do you propose we get into the pharmacy?” Nerin questioned.

“WE are not. I am,” Mira corrected and gripped her friends by the arm. “But first things first.” Walking behind the lighthouse, she left them, “Stay hidden, I’ll right back.”

Blogging on CoffeeTime Romance this Sunday!

2011-12-14T05:24:00.000-08:00

Please join me for a day on CoffeeTime Romance from 12 am-12 am this Sunday 12-18-11:

http://coffeetimeromance.com/CoffeeThoughts/

I will be blogging about my books, life, publishing, teaching, and more!

Stop by and comment and win copies of my books!!

http://amiblackwelder.blogspot.com

The Thief of Sleep and Other Tales, by David D Sharp

2011-12-11T16:29:00.000-08:00

Title: The Thief of Sleep and Other Tales

Author: David D Sharp

The synopsis for the book:

Imagine someone stole from you, the ability to sleep — how far would you go to get it back?
If you could go back in time, what would you do — beat up your childhood bullies?
What if you could talk with the dead, just by using an iPhone app?

This debut collection of short stories from David D Sharp, explores worlds not unlike our own but with different rules. Rules that raise intriguing questions and often uncomfortable answers about the age in which we live.

And it is available for $2.99 from here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005W1BMPO

1) What inspires your writing, your muse?

Ideas come to me in all sorts of places, from driving in the dark to running on the treadmill at the gym. I do find watching documentaries a particular source of intriguing concepts though, our world and its history is full of so much wonder.

2) If you couldn't write, what would you do?

I'd probably go back to making little computer games. To entertain people in one form or another is my ambition.

3) Who is your favorite author? Book?

Picking just one is difficult. I do love Roald Dahl. My one of my favourite books that I've read recently is American Gods by Neil Gaiman, it plays with so many big, fascinating ideas yet also manages to tie them all together into an unexpectedly satisfying conclusion.

4) When did you know you wanted to be a writer?

From a very early age I was tapping Tolkein rip-offs into the green and black screen of my dad's Amstrad PCW. I was too young then to understand that it was something I wanted to take somewhere. It's only been the past few years that I've started taking myself seriously.

5) Have you gone the traditional route? Indie route? or both?

Apart from submitting to a few print anthologies, I haven't gone the traditional route at all, I've never even submitted to an agent. There just seems to be too many hoops to jump through, too much sitting around. ePublishing and blogging is more direct, my work is immediately out there for people to discover and start enjoying, which is ultimately all I'm after. I am of course completely open to traditional publishing, I may go that route with my novel once it's ready.

6) What advice can you give for writers out there looking to promote?

No one's interested in the guy using his Twitter account to spout a constant stream of adverts. Spamming people is a highly effective method of getting yourself ignored. Let people know that your work is out there sure, but then concentrate on producing original, interesting content, be it on a blog, Twitter or forums. If people find you're entertaining or educating them, then they're more likely to seek your work out of their own accord.

7) Name three places readers can find you?

I regularly post short stories and writing advice on my blog: http://www.aweeadventure.co.uk

You can find me lingering suspiciously on Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/aweeadventure

And of course I'm on Amazon as well now:

http://www.amazon.com/David-D-Sharp/e/B005W5J5XQ/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

8) Tea or coffee?

I'm mostly a tea drinker (milk and one sugar please!) but am apt to the occasional vanilla latter as well.

9) Morning or night?

Morning, when the night and day are all still mixed up and the sky looks like an oil painting.

10) Cats or dogs?

Dogs! Dogs don't have a secret, sinister agenda.

So funny kindle pic!

2011-12-07T16:45:00.000-08:00

This pic is so funny, showing I'm in competition with my friend and editor Magnolia Belle on the US historical fiction charts!

2011-12-01T05:57:00.000-08:00

Check out this cool interview with the illustrator of Pretty When She Kills by Rhiannon Frater! Very cool cover! For more go to this link:
http://www.bookish-brunette.com/2011/12/interview-with-claudia-mckinney-from.html

1. How did you get into cover designing?

When my daughter was getting ready to sign with a music label here in Los Angeles - we had done some high end photoshoots and I wanted to try my hand at editing them.

2. What is the first book cover you ever did?

A book called "Light Beneath Ferns" by Anne Spollen for Lwellelyn Publishing

(grabbed cover from Amazon)

3. How, if any, has your style changed since then?

I do more mixed media pieces and abstracts for sure - just following my heart on lighting and color and letting it go where it will. I used to care a lot more about fitting in to what was "hot at the time" - now I don't. Too much already that all looks alike. So I try to do my own thing and have a great time doing it -- it's from that kind of "soulful place" that I feel we get the best art. When we try too hard to be soemthing we really aren't -- it definitely translates into the artwork.

4. Do you have a particular cover that is your favorite? Or that will always stick out in your mind for a specific reason?

My favourite is "Lucia's Walk to Heaven" - a piece depicting how I felt my great-grandmother looked as she was finding her way to Heaven to be with her husband, Angelo. :)

(grabbed from In Focus)

5. After scouring your website, I was absolutely in awe of your talent... Do you digitally create the covers from scratch or paint them??

Thank you so much for the kind words! I'm glad you like my work. I never get tired of hearing that. :)

I use photographs and then paint and add elements - most of them are definitely mixed media pieces - some more heavily painted than others.

6. Are your images a one time deal? Like would I ever see your cover art duplicated on covers of two separate books by different authors?

Yes, they are exclusive - however another artist may use the same stock model on another cover that I'm not related to.... That is why now I'm offering custom photoshoots with models no one else has... . it does so much in the long run to produce a one-of-a-kind piece - however they are more costly because a lot more is involved. I do think however that it's worth the extra time and money.

7. You've created some of my favorite covers EVER! With authors putting out books left and right, is it hard to keep up with the demand? Is your waiting list ten miles long??

Never hard to keep up. I work all day long - and I LOVE my work. Next to being a wife and mother - this is totally my passion in life. I don't know what I would do without it. lol I imagine it is how writers feel if they couldn't write, yeah?

8. Have you ever had someone request something that you couldn't or refused to do?

Yes -- sometimes I get authors who think truly know what looks good - and it doesn't. So I ask - if you come to me - you have to trust me and come with the idea that you already like my style -- I've had one or two covers where authors insisted they wanted something - and hated the outcome -- and asked that my name not be put out there with the cover art. I'm ultra picky!

9. Do you often get get cover requests that are as detail oriented as Pretty When She Kills? Which is gorgeous and freaking BRILLIANT, I must add!

Thank you! Yes, I do get a lot of covers that are that specific - and I love doing them. The most important thing for me is that my work always be emotionally charged -- otherwise there's really not a lot of point for me. Hope that makes sense.

10. I think you captured Amaliya PERFECTLY! I mean, it's seriously amazing how similar the cover art is to the book character! How much preparation and extra time goes into a cover like the one for Pretty When She Kills?

Well because I do so many covers now - and I am humbled every time I'm asked - truly - it doesn't take me so long to get the mockup - but maybe the time spent once we have that in creating the right lighting, setting, details added, etc... but again, every piece is different - so some do take much longer than others. Creating the cover for Rhiannon was so much fun -- I totally got into it and had a blast! I view it as a totally collaborative effort. Rhiannon and I were a definite team - and I love that part of the job. :)

Visit Claudia's Website - Phatpuppy Art

Facebook Fanpage

• • • • • • • • • • • •

And now *deep breath* the COVER REVEAL for Pretty When She Kills!!!!! *SQUEE*

Please make this free!!!

2011-11-30T07:12:00.000-08:00

FRIENDS -Please help make this free!

Go to this link, http://www.amazon.com/Shifters-2040-Shifter-Evolutions-ebook/dp/B0049U4WTM/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1322572926&sr=8-2, and hit the lower price button underneath the book next to rankings and put in this link: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/shifters-of-2040-ami-blackwelder/1101304000?ean=2940011190803&itm=1&usri=shifters+of+2040, that will help make it free for the holidays!

This will really help my sales and visibility and thank you in advance for caring and MERRY CHRISTMAS in advanced!:) I hope you have a wonderful holiday season full of love and joy!!

Earth Angel by E Van Lowe

2011-11-28T06:23:00.000-08:00

E Van Lowe’s Earth Angel Cyber Monday Giveaway

Open to US Shipping Only

The Prize pack contains:

Signed copies of both Boyfriend from Hell and Earth Angel

Bath and Body Works Winter Candy Apple Gift Set

Special Delivery! This adorable striped mini mailbox holds travel-sizes of Shower Gel, Body Lotion and Fragrance Mist (3 oz. each) in Bath and Body Works holiday Winter Candy Apple scent!

BBW exclusive Winter Candy Apple is a mouth watering blend of crisp apple, candied orange and rich cinnamon spice

Includes a gift tag on the mailbox's red flag

Tin mailbox is a fun, reusable container

Over $20 Value

Fuzzy Black Winter Hat

Purple and Black Striped Fuzzy Gloves

Purple and Black Striped Slipper Socks

Bewitching Witch Hat Mini Notebook

Bewitching Book Tours Broom Pen

Jennifer Scales Novel by Mary Janice Davidson

To enter this giveaway fill out the form below or click the link

Visit all the blogs hosting this Blitz-

enter at each stop for more chances to win

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Book Briefs

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Basia's Bookshelf

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Hippies, Beauty, and Books Oh My!

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Michelle's Book Blog –

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Michelle's Cozy YA Blog –

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Livin' Life Through Books

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A Cupcake and a Latte: YA Reviews

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That Bookish Girl

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My Neurotic Book Affair

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Read 2 Review

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SupaGurl Books

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Between Prose

http://btweenprose.blogspot.com

Mad Moose Mama

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Lisa Loves Books

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ReaderGirls

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JeanzBookReadNReview

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BookaLicous Story

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Work a Day Reads

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Fang-tastic Books

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Mother/Gamer/Writer
http://empyreanedge.com/

Books R US
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Earth Angel
By E Van Lowe
Genre: Paranormal YA
Book 2

Heaven Can Wait!

Just because Megan Barnett recently defeated Satan, has a fantastic new best friend, and has won the love of deliciously handsome, Guy Matson, doesn’t mean her troubles are over. Far from it. For Megan doesn’t realize it, but in her possession is a powerful weapon, a weapon sought after by both angels and demons and everything in between. They will do ANYTHING to get it.

In E. Van Lowe’s humorous, romantic and thrilling sequel to Boyfriend From Hell, Megan winds up in a gripping life or death battle to save herself, the boy she loves, and all of mankind from unthinkable evil.

Megan Barnett has recently defeated Satan, found a fantastic new best friend, and has won the heart of deliciously handsome, Guy Matson. But that doesn’t mean her troubles are over. Far from it. For Megan doesn’t realize that she is in possession of a powerful paranormal weapon, a weapon sought after by both angels, demons and everything in between.

In E. Van Lowe’s romantic yet thrilling sequel to Boyfriend From Hell, Megan finds herself in a gripping life or death battle to save the boy she loves, and all of mankind from unthinkable evil.

Boyfriend from Hell
By E Van Lowe
Genre: Paranormal YA
Book 1

Aww, Hell No!

Fifteen year-old Megan Barnett and her single mom, Suze, have a special relationship—they are friends, close friends, who do almost everything together.

“But come on, guys, she’s my mother… Can I really tell her that while we’re snuggled up on the sofa watching Spider Man Three, I’m secretly undressing James Franco with my eyes? Of course not…”

The special bond takes a turn for the worse when Suze decides to start dating again. She hasn’t had a man in her life since Megan’s father left ten years ago.

Boyfriend From Hell is the first book in the Falling Angels Saga from the author of the gruesomely hilarious, Never Slow Dance With A Zombie

www.whitewhiskerbooks.com

#SampleSunday -free excerpt of best selling The Day the Flowers Died

2011-11-26T11:45:00.000-08:00

Friday, January 8, 1932

Eli remembered this day well. The detailed flower print of the pale blue dress Rebecca wore stained his mind as she swung around the banister on her porch. Her dress lifted with the currents of the cold wind still trying to separate from winter and grow to spring. The spring flowers on the lawn began to bloom again, reminding them both a new year was born. He remembered this moment more passionately than others because, on this banister under the changing skies of Munich, he realized he loved her.

He walked like a heavenly string lifted him high off the ground. Her baby blue eyes complimented the blue in her dress and the sky. Her hands clutched the metal bars as she played ballerina on her tiptoes and swirled across the porch in her beige thick snow socks. Eli enjoyed watching her spin like a child on her birthday.

She often played like this, but in this moment, a primal hunger saturated him, and only Rebecca could quench it. He grasped her hands mid-spin and spun her such that her face and his touched nose to nose. Rebecca giggled, lifting her hand to cover her laugh and then Eli took her hand and held her cold fingers inside of his warm hands.

“Rebecca?”

Her eyes glistened at her name on his lips. “Yes?”

“I love you,” he said succinctly and sure. Nothing now could be more certain than he loved her. In this city and country where finances were failing, culture was crumbling, and government was grappling for decision, his love for her would not waver. He wasn’t sure how it happened, how he had fallen in love. He had never loved anyone this deeply. Perhaps it was the way she accepted everything about him, or the way they felt as ease with each other, or perhaps it was the uncommon manner in which she carried herself, courteous, and yet free.

Now his gaze searched her face while his heart waited.

“I love you, too.” Her words filled him with a new sensation. He lifted her into his arms and swung her around the porch for all peering eyes below to see. Rebecca tilted her head back, letting her hair catch the wind and then moved her lips to Eli’s soft mouth.

The passion from their kiss erupted inside both of them with an instant flutter of their bodies from the public porch into the privacy of Rebecca’s apartment. She brushed her cheek over his chin, clad with a hint of stubble. Eli glided her into her room with his hands moving up her legs and under her dress, eyes intense on one another as they fell to the bed like currents on the ocean, crashing into each other.

Into each other’s hair, into each other’s necks, into each other’s lips, into each other’s legs, intertwined and lost so that no one could make out where one body ended and the other began until they journeyed like seamen into each other’s seas and the sounds of sweetest rapture left their bodies sweating on the sheets. Rebecca, in swoon like fashion, leaned her limp body against Eli’s on top of the sheets, legs still interlaced with a sheet tangled between them. They laid there until the sun fell behind the horizon and the Shabbos began. Then in thought, Rebecca rolled on top of Eli and propped her body up with her elbows against his stomach.

“When will I meet your family?” Rebecca implored with more intensity in her eyes than in her voice. “You’ve met mine.” She concluded with a fact as any good lawyer would do. Eli couldn’t help but smile at her persistence, enjoying the affection.

“You will, soon. I’ve told my mama I’m seeing someone and she wants me to invite you to the Pesach, Passover this April at her house. You’ll meet everyone there and even have a taste of some good old-fashioned Jewish cooking.”

Rebecca bounced up, elated at Eli’s words, then leaned over to nibble on his naked naval. He giggled and instinctively pulled back at the tickle before drawing to her.

“Is your family upset you’ve missed synagogue recently because of me?”

“My father’s friends told him I’ve been neglecting Shabbos and he asked me about it. I was honest with him. I told him I was dating someone and sometimes Friday and Saturday are the only times we have together.”

“And he understood?” Rebecca asked. Eli scrunched his face and uttered something slurred between yes and no.

“My mama doesn’t understand why the both of us can’t just go to synagogue together. I told her it is not something you’re accustomed to doing.”

“And she understood?”

“And then my father insisted on asking me a rhetorical question involving something to the effect of what kind of Jew works on Shabbos and then I told him.”

“You told him?” Rebecca’s body tensed, knowing what prisons her own mother had built around her life and knowing Eli’s father did much the same.

“I told him, she isn’t Jewish, and he just stared at me for a few moments with his mouth ajar and then my mama interrupted and told me to invite you to Passover dinner, that way we all could meet you.”

“And then they understood?” Rebecca’s hopes lingered with the words repeated.

“And then they all wanted to meet you,” Eli said with a higher pitch in his tone and tickled her sides. “My oldest sister seemed most excited about the idea.” Rebecca giggled and then the stern expression returned to her face.

“Sounds like an intense conversation.”

“It was, but not to fear. Everything will be fine.”

“What are their names?” Rebecca asked, “Your sisters names, your mother and father’s names?”

“Ah,” Eli’s eyes grew wide, “Sarah is my oldest sister. Miriam is my youngest sister and Leah is in the middle. My mother’s name is Deborah and my father’s name is Ezekiel.” Rebecca’s body shifted off Eli’s chest to his side, plopping comfortably onto the thick sheets. Her face lost its pink shade from the friction they shared and her gaze fixed itself on the ceiling. “Are you alright?” Eli tended to her with his fingers raking through her long hair stretched over the sheets such that it gave the illusion of waves on the ocean.

“I’m fine. I’m just trying to digest it all.”

“It’s really nothing to worry about. They will love you. I know they will. I love you, how could they not?” Eli squished himself close to her and she smiled halfheartedly until he tickled her stomach again and she bellowed out a scream-laugh that could be heard upstairs. The early evening became late evening and the night belonged to only the two of them lying like branches twisted on her bed under the stars of Munich, innocent of the country choking around them.

2011-11-26T06:03:00.000-08:00

Snag your FREE Munich, 1930 historical romance: The Day the Flowers Died. BEST SELLER ! #3 in historical romance!http://www.amazon.com/Day-Flowers-Died-ebook/dp/B00375LKC2/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1322315833&sr=8-2

Farsighted by Emlyn Chand

2011-11-25T05:56:00.000-08:00

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Farsighted

by Emlyn Chand

Genre: Paranormal YA

Short Synopsis:

Alex Kosmitoras may be blind, but he can still “see” things others can’t. When his unwanted visions of the future begin to suggest that the girl he likes could be in danger, he has no choice but to take on destiny and demand it reconsider.

Long Synopsis:

Alex Kosmitoras’s life has never been easy. The only other student who will talk to him is the school bully, his parents are dead-broke and insanely overprotective, and to complicate matters even more, he's blind. Just when he thinks he'll never have a shot at a normal life, a new girl from India moves into town. Simmi is smart, nice, and actually wants to be friends with Alex. Plus she smells like an Almond Joy bar. Yes, sophomore year might not be so bad after all.

Unfortunately, Alex is in store for another new arrival—an unexpected and often embarrassing ability to “see” the future. Try as he may, Alex is unable to ignore his visions, especially when they begin to suggest that Simmi is in danger. With the help of the mysterious psychic next door and new friends who come bearing gifts of their own, Alex must embark on a journey to change his future.

In this enthralling debut novel, Emlyn Chand creates a world in which friendship, perseverance, and a handful of psychic powers come together to fight against what appears to be the inevitable and all-too dangerous future. This is a book you won’t want to put down—even after you finish it!

Excerpt - http://www.emlynchand.com/2011/09/farsighted-chapter-one/

Book trailer - http://youtu.be/tZjskE5zjzM

GoodReads 10-book give-away - http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/12368215-farsighted

Author Bio:

Emlyn Chand has always loved to hear and tell stories, having emerged from the womb with a fountain pen grasped firmly in her left hand (true story). When she's not writing, she runs a large book club in Ann Arbor and is the president of author PR firm, Novel Publicity.

Emlyn loves to connect with readers and is available throughout the social media interweb.

Visit www.emlynchand.com for more info.

Don’t forget to say “hi” to her sun conure Ducky!

EXCERPT:

Today is the last day of summer, but I’m not doing anything even remotely close to fun. I’m just lying here in Mom’s garden, running my hands over the spiky blades of grass—back and forth, back and forth until my fingertips go numb. Until everything goes numb. I sigh, but no one’s around to hear.

“Alex,” Dad yells from the kitchen window. “Dinner.”

Already? How long have I been out here? I spring up from the ground and the grass springs up with me, one blade at a time – boing, boink, boint. The sounds would be imperceptible to any normal person, but they roar inside my ears. I picture an army of earthworms raising the blades as spears in their turf wars and smile to myself.

Dad opens the back door and calls out to me again. “C’mon, Alex. What’s taking you so long?”

Grabbing my cane, I shuffle over to the house, brushing past him as I squeeze inside. The kitchen reeks of fast food restaurants and movie theaters—butter and grease. That means it’s breakfast for dinner. We do this every Sunday night, because Mom goes out to garden club and Dad doesn’t know how to cook anything else. Plus it’s cheap.

Breathing heavily, Dad plunks some food onto both our plates and collapses into his chair. He groans and asks me to pass the butter, or rather the “bud-dah.” He grew up in Boston and every once in a while the accent works itself into his speech.

I slide the tub to dad; he reaches out and stops it before it can glide clear off the table.

“What’s this?” Dad asks.

“Uh, the butter. Obviously.”

Dad’s voice raises an octave. “I know it’s the butter, so don’t get smart. Why’d you give it to me?”

“Uh, because you asked me to.”

“No, I didn’t.” He exhales as if the wind has been knocked out of him by an ill-timed punch to the stomach. “Guess you must’ve read my mind.” He chuckles to himself and slides the cool metal knife into the butter and scrapes it across his toast.

Dad and I don’t usually talk to each other unless Mom is around, asking about our days, chatting on, working hard to create those warm and fuzzy family moments we don’t seem to create naturally. And even though Mom has reassured me a million times, I know that Dad resents me for being born blind.

I can tell he would have much rather had a son like Brady—the same guy who insists on making my high school experience as difficult as possible. Nothing’s worse than knowing that your own father thinks you’re a loser.

Dad and I finish our meal in silence and my mind wanders.

He rises suddenly from his chair, breaking apart my thoughts. “Let’s get this table cleared before your mother comes home,” he says, without pronouncing the r in cleared.

I stand too and pick up my plate and glass. Guess I’ll pass on that fifth biscuit.

“Your mother has a surprise for you.”

I smile for my dad’s benefit. My parents are horrible at keeping secrets. Last night, I overheard them talking in their room. Mom was bragging about how she found some “cute” new shades on Wal-Mart’s clearance rack.

About ten minutes later, the tires of Mom’s van crunch on the gravel in our driveway with lots of little pings and a big cuh-clunk. As usual, she steers directly into the pothole we don’t have the money to repair. Sometimes I wonder if she does it on purpose.

The door creaks open, inviting a comforting floral fragrance into the house. Mom always smells like flowers—today it’s tulips and jasmine. She steps lightly across the floor and places a wet kiss on my cheek. When she turns to greet Dad, I wipe at the left-over moistness with my shirt sleeve. I’m getting too old for this kind of thing—been too old for a while now actually, but this doesn’t seem to matter to her.

“How was your day, my little sapling?” she asks. I really wish she would stop calling me her “little sapling.”

“Hi, Mom.” I hug her, because it makes her happy.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?”

I snap my fingers, which is how I say “yes” without actually saying it, kind of how most people nod their heads. I’m excited to learn, to have something to do other than lie in the grass, to possibly make a friend. More than likely though, things won’t change. I’ll still be an outcast. I’ll still be all by myself, but at least I’ll know where I stand. No more wondering.

“A sophomore already! I hope I can keep up enough to help you with your homework,” Dad says, acting like a completely different person than he was just a few minutes ago. He has this way of being nicer to me whenever Mom is around. I know it’s for show, and it pisses me off.

Ignoring him, I turn toward Mom. “So, Dad told me you’ve got a surprise for me?” I’d rather get this over with quickly before they try too hard to build up the suspense.

“Oh, yes,” she chirps, fluttering over to the other side of the living room, pulling out the drawer of the small table in the corner, and rustling the unpaid bills inside. She comes back over to me and places a small bag in my lap.

“Wait,” Dad says as my hand is about to reach inside the bag. “Before you open that, I just want to say that I know we haven’t been able to give you as many back-to-school supplies as you need this year. Your backpack is starting to tear and your boots are scuffed…”

I had no idea my boots were scuffed, but now that he’s pointed it out, it’s all I can think about.

“And all of this is my fault,” Dad continues as I wonder how badly my boots are scuffed. Where? On the heel? On the toe?

Mom clicks her tongue and rubs Dad’s shoulder sympathetically, dragging her fingernails across his thick shirt. The scratching sound draws my attention back to his melodramatic speech.

“I want to make you a promise, as soon as I get a job we’re going to buy all of those things for you. Okay?”

“It’s okay, Dad. I don’t need anything.” Except for you to be nice to me even when Mom isn’t around, and, oh yeah, a friend or two.

“That’s my brave little oak tree,” Mom says, giving me another hug. I swear, sometimes I think she’s from another planet, or at least another time period. But still, she loves me, even if she’s constantly saying stupid things like that.

When they seem to have nothing more to say, my left hand reaches into the bag and brings a pair of sunglasses up into the palm. I run my right hand over them, trying to make out their shape. They’ve got hard plastic frames and cushiony rubber ends for where they sit on top of the ears. They’re broad in front; the rim goes in a straight line all the way across about a half an inch above the nosepiece. These aren’t the normal bookworm glasses. They’re cool guy glasses.

“We thought you deserved a new pair of cool guy glasses since you’re practically sixteen,” Mom says.

Ugh, I hate when she uses the same words as me. I make a mental note never to say, or think, the words “cool guy glasses” again.

“And they’re even your favorite color!” Mom shouts, unable to contain herself.

Then they’re green. I “see” color through my nose and like green best because so many of the best-smelling things are that hue, like grass and leaves and vegetables and limes. But with green glasses, I’m afraid I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb—a sore green thumb. I smile and reach out my arms. Both my parents come in for a hug. I whisper a quick prayer for tomorrow and head to bed.

The next morning, my alarm starts yelling at six o’clock. Is it excited or trying to give me a warning? Well, time to get this over with, time to see if this year will be any different from all the crappy ones before. I reach over and flip the off-switch and stumble about in a sleepy haze, getting ready for the first day of the new school year.

On the way to the bathroom, I stub my toe on some bulky object that’s just sitting in the middle of the hallway, not even pushed up against the wall. I kick it to the side—clunk, straight into the wall—and continue to the bathroom. I shouldn’t need my cane to get around my own house. That had to be something of Dad’s. What, is he actually trying to kill me now?

I turn the shower knob and wait for the water to get warm. It’s taking forever since I’m the first one up today. Aggravated by the wait, I go back into the hall to find that object again. Stooping down, I attempt to work out the shape. Rectangular, with a handle, made of leather or something leather-like, with little metal clasps. A briefcase, I guess. But Dad’s a contractor, why would he need a briefcase? Why now? I flip the clasp, eager to find out what’s inside. But the case doesn’t open. Brushing my fingers across the top again, I find a twisty-turny thing on either side. A combination lock. If it’s so important, why’s it laying here in the middle of the hall like a discarded sock?

A wall of steam pushes into my back, returning my attention to the running shower. I return the case to its original position in the middle of the hall and go to wash up for school. Afterward, I towel off and put on my favorite shirt, which is soft and made of flannel. I wear my favorite pants too—they’re baggy with big pockets on the sides. As I’m pulling them on, I feel a tickle at my ankles where the hem now rests two full inches above where it should be. I groan, realizing I must’ve grown over the summer. How much taller can I get? I’m really tall now, at least a couple of inches over six feet, but we just don’t have the money to keep buying me new clothes every time I grow another inch.

To add the finishing touch to my first-day-of-school look, I slip my new cool guy glasses—er, sunglasses—on over my nose. The lenses are extra thick. Probably, if I wanted, I could sleep in class and no teacher would ever notice. But I’m not like that; I like to learn.

“Honey?” Mom calls from the end of the hallway. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” I yell back. “Just a sec.” I fiddle with my boots, trying to stuff my pants into them, so no one at school sees they’re too short. I’m sure this makes me look even more like a teenage Paul Bunyan than usual, but I don’t care. The boots are comfortable and help to support my ankles. Anyway I could probably wear nothing but expensive designer clothes and still be considered a freak.

Before standing, I run my hands over my feet. The right boot has a long narrow indentation across the toe. They are scuffed. Great. With a drawn-out sigh, I pick up my backpack and walk over to the kitchen where Mom is waiting. She has way too much energy for this early in the day.

“Yogurt with berries fresh from the garden,” she says, placing a glass in my hand. “You can eat in the car.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I jab a heaping spoonful into my mouth and finish it in five huge bites, then grab my cane from the hook near the front door, loop the cord around my wrist, and follow Mom out to the driveway where the rattly old family van is parked. As she shifts the car into drive, sadness washes over me. I’m almost sixteen, but I’ll never be able to drive. I’ll always be forced to rely on my parents for everything, my entire life.

We drive the twelve minutes to school, while Mom talks non-stop about new beginnings and the “carefree happiness of youth.” When the van stops, I take a deep breath, and wrap my fingers around the door handle, ready to find out what’s in store for me this year at Grandon High.

“Hey, Alex?” Mom stops me just as I’m about to step out onto the curb. I pause and wait. “Have a good day at school.”

“I will.”

“Dad’ll pick you up and bring you to the shop in the afternoon, okay?”

“Okay. Bye, Mom.” The longer we draw this scene out, the higher the chances of her kissing me on the head or calling me her “little sapling.” I just can’t risk starting out the year on such an embarrassing note.

I get out of the car and head straight inside the building. A bunch of kids are hanging around outside, chatting away about their summers, getting back into the swing of things. They don’t notice me as I slink by and make my way to my first hour, English—I memorized the location of all of my classes during the summer, so I wouldn’t embarrass myself by getting lost or arriving after the bell rings.

Entering the classroom, I drop my backpack on the floor, and prop my cane between the seat and the desk; that way it’s near at hand and easy to get later. Nobody else is here yet, not even the teacher. Bored already, I decide to go get a drink of water from the fountain. As I’m rounding the corner of the familiar hall, the air gets heavy like it does after a rainstorm. The aroma of wet grass and asphalt overpowers my senses. This definitely seems out of place for a high school hallway.

“Hey, Alex, how was it today?” Dad asks in a much better mood than usual.

I turn around in shock. What is my Dad doing here? Mom just dropped me off. Dad should be in bed still, not here at school embarrassing me.

“Dad?” I ask tentatively. “Dad, what are you doing here?”

“I’m not your daddy, you no-eyed freak!” comes the voice of Brady Evans, the running-back of the school’s Junior Varsity football team—my biggest enemy.

The air becomes lighter all of a sudden, as if a vacuum cleaner has sucked up all the humidity. The fragrance of sweat and Axe deodorant spray fills my nostrils. I’m totally confused now.

“Brady?”

“No, it’s your daddy. Loser…” Laughter comes from at least six different people, most of them girls.

“Sorry,” I mumble and head back to English class, forgetting to get my drink of water. Brady and his entourage follow me in, making jokes at my expense.

I put my head down on my desk, wishing I was a chameleon, so I could become one with the desk and fade out of view—being a reptile couldn’t be that much worse than having to endure high school.

“Mr. Kosmitoras, could you please come here?” the teacher calls, butchering the pronunciation of my name.

“Um, it’s Caas-me-toe-rh-aas actually,” I respond, getting up and walking over to the teacher’s desk at the front of the room. Brady and his friends are still laughing. I hope they’ve moved onto a new topic.

“Here are your textbooks for the year. We’re starting out with this basic reader,” she says, plopping a thick book into my hands. “Then we’ll be moving on to The Odyssey and finally Romeo and Juliet.” She places these into my outstretched palms as well.

“Thanks,” I mutter and head back to my seat. I begin skimming the basic reader, flipping through several pages at once, randomly trailing my finger over little snippets of text. Since no school around here caters specifically to visually impaired kids, my teachers special-order textbooks in braille for me. That’s all I need to get by, really. With very few exceptions, I can do anything other kids my age do. I’ve been this way my whole life; I know how to make it work.

Bit by bit, the other students trickle into the class. Someone who smells like cherry candy sits down across the room. Then, a series of loud thuds comes from that direction—she must’ve dropped her books.

“Simmi! Simmi, Jeez! Don’t make so much noise!” says some boy, who sounds a bit like Brady, but I don’t think is Brady. I don’t know anybody named Simmi, so this girl must be a new student. Why’s this boy being so mean to her already? Hope rises within me. Maybe she’ll be an outcast too; the two of us could team up.

The bell rings, taking away the cherries. I don’t pay any attention to the teacher as she introduces herself to the class. Instead, I think about the strange things that have been happening today. What was in that briefcase in the hall this morning, and why couldn’t I open it? Why did I think Brady Evans was my dad? Why do we have to read Romeo and Juliet this year in English class? We’re less than five minutes into first period, and my hopes for the new year are pretty much dashed.