Friday, July 26, 2024

Cargo of Bones by Z. Lindsey



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Pomotions. Z. Lindsey will award a randomly drawn winner a $25 Amazon/BN gift card + a digital copy of the book via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Welcome to It's Raining Books. Why do you write in your genre? What draws you to it?

I’ve loved fantasy since I was little. My mom is a huge fantasy fan also, and when I was little she used to read me pretty advanced books. But she read me science fiction too, and while I like science fiction, I think fantasy has always felt a little more freeing to me as a writer. I get very self-conscious about the creation of aliens. I know that in real life if we ever met aliens, they probably would not be humanoid, and they might even be in a form that our brains can't even comprehend. So when I sit down and try to write sci-fi, all I can think is that my aliens aren't alien enough.

The same is true in historical fiction. I study ancient Maya hieroglyphs, and I'm pretty knowledgeable about some of the royalty of the ancient Maya era. I could probably write a historical fiction about them, and I've considered it, but I get too hung up on the idea of making some kind of small but important mistake. What if I make K’inich Yo’nal Ahk a jerk in my book, and it turns out that in real life he was, like, constantly giving to orphans and stuff?

The minutiae in fantasy can be solved quickly and without research. If I want my goblins to be descended from the shark God for some reason, I don't have to think about the logistics of that. It just is. That allows me to focus more on the story and the characters.

What world-building is required?

I mentioned this a bit in my last answer, but with fantasy, I like to be recursive. I always start my world building from the characters. I think about who the characters are and what will happen to them over the course of the story, and I try to build a world that successfully allows them to have that experience. I'm very interested in how my characters look at my world, and what they think of the people, and the politicians, and the art, and the systems, but I'm not so interested in developing things that exist outside of their understanding. That helps in eliminating info dumps, because I frankly don't know much about my world besides what my characters know. The longer I write in the same world, the more in-depth my understanding of it is. But when it starts off I'm really interested in how the character perceives it and not much else.

Being recursive is a good way of dealing with the issues with this kind of worldbuilding. I use the information I’ve already laid down to flesh out new information in the world. For example, my book has creatures called duendes. They're kind of like goblins, and one thing I say about them in the first book Is that they have multiple rows of teeth. I didn't think about what that meant for them, I just thought it sounded fun to write. I also mentioned that they were created by the god Aro out of pond scum, but the person who says this is... well… a racist. I didn't actually think that was the real way they were created.

As these stories have gone on and when the characters have played certain specific roles, I did have to figure out where they came from. so that's when the recursive thing comes into play. I already had the answer, because I knew there was a god of sharks, I knew duendes tend to be seafarers, and I knew they have lots of teeth. The answer was obvious. They’re the shark god’s babies. He loves them very much. But I only figured that out when my character needed to know it too.

Name one thing you learned from your hero/heroine.

Essie Darkenchyl is based on my wife, so I would say I learned the same things from my hero that I learned from my wife. She's the kind of person who is compelled to do the right thing, and she does not keep her voice silent when she sees injustice.

One thing I really like about Essie is that she never tries to go on an adventure, but she never says no to one either. When I was editing the first book, somebody commented that they struggled with Essie's need. And that’s because I think it’s not a need you see very often in literature, but it’s a real-freaking-life need. Essie’s ‘need’ is to relax on a hammock on a sunny day. She’s not after power, or fame, or glory, or any of that. She’s got a simple need, really--it’s just not one we see much in fiction.

I think we’re too used to heroes who are obsessed with the pursuit of power and glory. I really like that Essie doesn’t crave those things. She’ll always help her friends when she can, and she travels halfway across the world when her family’s in danger. But at her heart, she’s just a simple girl--she wants a freaking nap. And I personally find that to be a very compelling motivation for our time. She needs to rest, and the world won’t let her.

Do you have any odd or interesting writing quirks, habits or superstitions?

I’m going to answer your next question, which was whether I’m a plotter or a pantser, here too because I think it’s relevant. I think one odd quirk that I have when it comes to writing is I love to play around with tropes and methodology. I'm never really happy with, like, a standard hero’s journey style plot. I like to subvert certain tropes and bring new aspects to other tropes. Usually, if I’ve used one trope in a work recently, I try to use something different, even opposite, in the next work.

To keep it fresh for myself, and to try to stay limber enough to do weird stuff like that in a compelling way, I also vary up the way that I approach writing projects. So the question, “Are you a plotter or a pantser?” really depends on the project. I try to write a book for National Novel Writing Month, and when you do that, it's good, in my opinion, to have a well-plotted book. That way, all you have to do is sit down and work on the prose. You don't have to worry about any plot issues coming up. But for the rest of the year, I try to approach every project slightly differently, and usually one of the ways that I do that is by thinking, well I pantsed the last book. Time to plot this one.

Look to your right – what’s sitting there?

A heap of my daughter’s toys. She’s six, so they’re everywhere.

Anything new coming up from you? What?

I’m working on Liars in the House, which is the incredible true story of a Seelie huntress and an Unseelie bard who team up to rob the dragon king. The whole thing is set in a smoggy, industrial hellhole full of kobolds, eel pies, and trash fairies. I like to think of it as A Court of Thorns and Roses meets The Muppets Christmas Carol.

I’m very proud of it so far. It’s definitely the funniest thing I’ve ever written, and the worldbuilding is like nothing I’ve ever tried before. It’s also got a steamy romantasy side, as the Seelie huntress falls for the mysterious and dangerous leader of the House of Lies, a thief’s guild. Enemies to lovers is one of my favorite romance tropes, so expect a lot of aggressive flirting.

Do you have a question for our readers?

If you’re on this page, you’re probably a lover of good fiction. The cool thing about indie fiction is, really, anyone can publish a work if they’ve got a story they really want to tell. So my question is, when are we going to see your book on this site?

Devil bureaucrat Essie Darkenchyl and her friends barely survived the jungle, but now they're going straight to Hell--AKA her hometown!


Read an Excerpt

“You nicked me in the dance, remember? The council might be scandalized if we slept in the same tent.”

She laughed, remembering how embarrassed she’d been as the other girls gasped and the doctors swarmed him. Her dad said, ‘Essie, if you didn’t want Vashon to be eligible to marry you, you just had to poke him! You didn’t have to stab so deep!’ But she did like him. It wasn’t her fault he couldn’t block. And it had been nice to think the one boy she liked couldn’t marry her. There had been more important things than boys. Like Gossen’s Guide to Shipping Law.

“Nicked you?” she asked as she stood and walked for the tent. “Sir, I stabbed so deep they had to use medical magic to get the knife out.”

Vashon touched his shoulder where the knife had been.

“Yeah, like I said, you nicked me. I’ll sleep outside.”

Essie put a hand on her hip.

“It’s too cold, Vashon.” She crouched and crawled into the tent. “It’s not like you’re proposing. If you keep your underwear on, I’m sure the council will forgive us.”

“I’m not wearing underwear,” he said.

“Oh.”

Vashon cleared his throat.

“It’s not part of the cossetter’s ritual outfit.”

Essie bit her lip and looked away.

“Of course.”

“The first cossetters practiced naked to be closer to essential—”

“Okay, I get it!”

“So—I should sleep out here?” he asked.

“Get in here,” she said, then blurted, “but stay on your side.”

About the Author: Zac Lindsey is an anthropologist and a linguist who focuses on the Maya people of Quintana Roo. Since childhood, he's had a not-so-secret love of weird, silly, and well-structured fantasy. When other people's parents were reading them picture books, his mom was reading him Terry Brooks. He typically writes hopeful and character-driven fantasy.

Today, he lives in Quintana Roo, Mexico with his wife, daughter, and various stray cats.

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/z.lindsey_fiction
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61550498257222
Amazon link to the first book: https://www.amazon.com/River-Against-Sea-Z-Lindsey-ebook/dp/B0CH3TW3YD/ref=sr_1_1
B&N link to the first book (for paperback): https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-river-against-the-sea-z-lindsey/1144077772

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Thursday, July 18, 2024

Truth and Dare by Ann M. Trader

 



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Ann M. Trader will award a randomly drawn winner a $20 Amazon/BN GC. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.



A bright and talented environmental engineer, Goldie Vreeland understands facts and figures, but Max Corda, her secret office obsession, remains a puzzle. On the eve of a business trip to a coastal island, fate intervenes, pairing her with her sexy crush. As she thinks about sharing the same space with Max for a week, her world veers dangerously off course.

Fueled by success as engineer and president of his family’s firm, recently divorced Max needs to jumpstart his life. When his father unexpectedly assigns him to Goldie’s project, his closely guarded attraction to her comes front and center. Thoughts of spending a week alone with this beautiful intelligent woman make his internal compass glitch.

Romance stirs with the island breeze, so simple when they’re hundreds of miles away from normal. But as Goldie and Max return to reality, will they discover real love is more than a game?


Read an Excerpt

“Those lips,” I said, the words slipping off my tongue.

“Excuse me?”

His question broke my trance. “Oh, Lord. I’m sorry I—”

“Wait. You feel it, too, don’t you?”

I hesitated then nodded.

Max leaned toward me. “You know, I’ve been trying to get a read on you tonight, but I’m pretty rusty at all this.”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Max. There’s nothing about you that’s rusty.”

A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. “The word means nothing to you because you’re young and beautiful.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “You really think a lot about this age thing, don’t you?”

He sighed. “I’m thirty-one, Goldie.”

“Well, lucky for you my ceiling’s a good thirty-three.”

He bit back a smile, his eyes growing softer, warmer. “I like you, Goldie.”

“I like you, too, Max.”

“I really want to kiss you.”

“So, what’s stopping you?”

“The very real possibility I won’t be able to stop,” he said with a reverent tone.

About the Author


I enjoy spending time with my family and exploring recipes on the lighter side of southern comfort foods. I’m a member of Heart of Carolina Romance Writers, and I love relaxing on my back porch to read and write. These days I take walks around my neighborhood, but when I was sixteen, I hiked the Grand Canyon with a group of friends. I love watching television dramas (in no special order): Palm Royale, The Buccaneers, The Bear, Mary and George, Emily in Paris, Outlander, Shrinking, Shogun, Bridgerton, Outer Banks, Stranger Things, The Crown, and Peaky Blinders and reading a great romance book.

Website: http://www.annmtrader.com
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/annmtrader
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/ann-m-trader
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/annmtraderbooks
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21925238.Ann_M_Trader
Twitter: https://twitter.com/anntrader5

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Truth-Dare-Wonder-Wildflowers-Book-ebook/dp/B0D3JG5KQ8/ref=sr_1_1

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Wednesday, July 17, 2024

The Silvery Path by Dennis Scheel



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Dennis Scheel will award a $15 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Welcome to It's Raining Books. Why do you write in your genre? What draws you to it?

I always loved the sci-fi and fantasy genres. Dark Fantasy is what mine evolved into.

What research is required?

As it is an old idea, I had most things worked out, but I did research to find fitting names for my demon characters, for example. I’ve also looked back across my previous books to make sure events and scenes line up and preserve continuity.

Name one thing you learned from your hero/heroine.

You can defy destiny.

Do you have any odd or interesting writing quirks, habits or superstitions?

Superstitions? Not too many, I did, however, write about gods and goddesses, since I found the concept of perfection intriguing, and saw ways to explore and break it down.

Are you a plotter or pantser?

Pantser mostly, but I do have a baseline of a plot when I begin, even though nothing is set in stone.

Look to your right – what’s sitting there?

A cat, monitoring the sounds outside the garden.

Anything new coming up from you? What?

After The Silvery Path I will make a story in the Paranormal / Sci-fi genre entitled “Mars Warriors.”

Do you have a question for our readers?

Do concepts like divine retribution and the end of the world sound like an intriguing read?


Will it end in peace or a silvery dose of fate?

Henna’s manipulation knows no bounds,
Denida is still the object of her prophecy, while Lucifer, God, and Gabriel remain in her sights.

Having seen her son, Nina is more determined than ever to bring him back from Henna’s world of dead souls. Meanwhile, the Darkness runs rampant across the Underworlds and on Earth as Lucifer’s grief over Heavani’s death overwhelms him.
,br> Everyone has their own goals and ends, but one thing is inescapable: the bright silvery path that Henna willed.

Can these characters escape destiny’s hold on them, or will they become pawns in Henna’s quest for revenge?


Read an Excerpt

Denida knelt behind Nina and rubbed her shoulders.

Nina sipped a drink, while watching her horse, Angel, grazing next to them on the outskirts of the forest near Dynasty. She squinted with a tranquil smile. “More to the left.” She rested the glass on her lap and hunched forward.

Denida focused on her other side.

“Ouch,” she hissed. “Not so hard.”

Crap, she’s not enjoying this. I shouldn’t have tried… Denida retracted his hands. “Sorry.”

Nina glared at him, put the glass on the ground, and rested on her stomach. “Maybe you can try now, unless you’re deliberately trying to disappoint me?”

“Of course not,” Denida insisted.

Nina smiled. “Good.”

Denida resumed rubbing Nina’s back until she turned over, took Denida’s hand, and stroked it. “This is nice.”

Denida leaned in close and kissed her. She folded her arms around him and pulled him close.

Angel moseyed farther away. He grazed until dusk, when Nina whistled for him, and he returned to them.

With Angel close again, Nina rested her head on Denida’s chest, stroking his hair. “We should spend more time together, like this, just us.”

“I always want to. Work has just been extremely busy, lately.”

“Maybe…” Nina’s fingers trailed down Denida’s chest, next to her head, and she fell into a slumber under the sunset’s orange glow.

About the Author:
Wring about myself… oh, the horror!

As a Christmas Child, I believe magic is everywhere, especially during the winter, and I try to weave that magic into my stories. After all, my firm belief in karma and destiny has shaped who I am, so it should guide my stories, as well.

I was born and raised in Denmark, but faced many challenges during my life, one of which was my inability to write my stories in Danish! I’ve had my stories brewing in my head since I was a child and struggled for years to express them properly. After recovering from a diabetic attack that left me hospitalized, I managed to find my writer’s voice in English, and am thrilled to now have the ability to share my tales with you.

Website: https://dennisscheel.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LordDenida
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/denscheel

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Silvery-Path-Underworlds-Dennis-Scheel-ebook/dp/B0CZ4D4KHC/ref=sr_1_3

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Tuesday, July 16, 2024

Prophet's Death by Robert Creekmore



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Robert Creekmore will award a randomly drawn winner a $10 Amazon/BN gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Welcome to It's Raining Books. What was your inspiration for this book?

Prophet’s Death is the third book of a trilogy. The overarching theme is a love story between two women that began when they were teenagers. However, it’s also about the fight to maintain it. Much of book three is an allegory about the rise of Christian Nationalism and the bamboozlement brought within its wake.

What is the best part of being an author? The worst?

The best part: I get to go places and meet other authors and people I never would have otherwise. Some of whom are people I’ve admired since I was a kid.

The worst part: My work is controversial. I get nasty emails and phone calls because of it.

Describe your writing space.

I have a simple wooden writing desk. However. I have two monitors on it, one of which is an ultra-widescreen. Between them, I’m able to view three documents simultaneously.

Which authors have inspired you?
Kurt Vonnegut, Albert Camus, Sylvia Plath

What is your favorite quote?

“One glance at a book and you hear the voice of another person, perhaps someone dead for 1,000 years. To read is to voyage through time.” ― Carl Sagan

Besides writing and reading, what are some of your hobbies?

I spend about twelve hours a week at the gym. Is that a hobby?
I spend a lot of time working on cars.

Any advice for aspiring writers?

Make a schedule and stick to it. Even if you haven’t had ‘inspiration’ sit your ass in the chair and write something anyway.

What are you working on next?

Currently, I’m halfway finished with a literary fiction novel called, Diary of Attrition, which will be published next summer. I’m also outlining a crime thriller that should come out in 2026.

Death-cult leader Joseph Proffit has met his end! Along with him perishes the secret method for manufacturing indigo, the substance that imbued him with godlike abilities.

To the dismay of Naomi’s family, she succumbed to the injuries Joseph dealt her during their final battle atop the abandoned Coast Guard station, Frying Pan Tower, thirty miles off the North Carolina coast.

Both of their bodies were lost at sea when the one-hundred-foot-tall structure crumbled during Tropical Storm Gabriel.

Naomi’s beloved companions escaped aboard her dive boat, along with Joseph’s final victim, who is on the verge of death.

In the aftermath, Naomi’s family has no choice but to rebuild their lives in hiding, fearing reprisal from the handful of remaining Apostle loyalists.

Soon, their secret, dormant conflict will be thrust onto the world stage by a wealthy benefactor who funnels his personal hatred and unfounded grievances into throngs of ignorant followers.

Is this the end of Naomi’s family? Without her, how will they survive?


Read an Excerpt

He guides the boat between the two wooden bunks of the boat lift. Nate fights his way onto the dock through the sheets of rain blasting sideways into his face. He activates the hydraulics. The lift pulls the boat out of the water and level with the dock.

The three of them drag Malcolm off the boat before Nate lifts it higher to avoid the rising water.

Exhausted after moving Malcolm from the dock to the side door, the three can go no further and lie him on his side atop the sofa in front of the picture window.

“We have to call home,” Nate says.

“Telling someone that their spouse is dead isn’t something you do over the phone,” Herschel replies.

“More urgently,” Rebecca interjects, “we have to get electrolytes into Malcolm. He drank plenty of water before passing out, so he’s not in imminent danger of thirsting to death. To regain some level of consciousness, we need to get something like Pedialyte in him.

But, no stores will be open in this storm.” “Would powdered Gatorade work?” Nate asks.

“Yeah,” she responds.

Nate gets up and begins rummaging through Naomi’s kitchen junk drawer. He excavates an old plastic container, half-filled with clumpy orange Gatorade powder. Nate mixes up a batch inside a large plastic cup with a flexible straw. Malcolm mumbles and occasionally opens his eyes. When he does, they encourage him to drink. Within the hour, he’s holding the cup himself. His eyes begin to regain life. He looks around, saying, “Where is the other woman?” “She didn’t make it,” Rebecca answers.

A wave of melancholy washes across his exhausted face.

“The sooner we leave, the better,” Nate says.

“Will he make the week-long boat trip back to Northern Virginia?” Rebecca asks.

“No. That’s why I’m going to take Tiffany’s Corolla.”

“They’ll follow you,” Herschel says to Nate.

About the Author:
Robert Creekmore is from a rural farming community in Eastern North Carolina.

He attended North Carolina State where he studied psychology. While at university, he was active at the student radio station. There, he fell in love with punk rock and its ethos.

Robert acquired several teaching licenses in special education. He was an autism specialist in Raleigh for eight years. He then taught for four years in a small mountain community in western North Carolina.

During his time in the mountains, he lived with his wife Juliana in a remote primitive cabin built in 1875. While there, he grew most of his own food, raised chickens, worked on a cattle farm, as well as participated in subsistence hunting and fishing.

Eventually, the couple moved back to the small farming community where Robert was raised.

Annoyed with the stereotype of the southeastern United States as a monolith of ignorance and hatred, he wanted to bring forth characters from the region who are queer and autistic. They now hold up a disinfecting light to the hatred of the region’s past and to those who still yearn for a return to ways and ideas that should have long ago perished.

Robert’s first traditionally published novel, Prophet’s Debt, was a Manly Wade Wellman Literary Award Finalist.

His second, Prophet’s Lamentation, was a Lambda Literary recommendation for July 2023.

Website: https://www.robertcreekmore.com/
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/AuthorCreekmore
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Prophets-Death-Robert-Creekmore/dp/1962308162/ref=sr_1_1

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Monday, July 8, 2024

Shushan Portal by Gloria Pearson-Vasey



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Gloria Pearson-Vasey is awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.


After her sister dies, Meara Deleaney invites her bereaved nephew, Jackson, to accompany her on a book tour to Canada's Atlantic provinces. Fearful of leaving the security of her apartment, Meara bolsters her courage by recalling the imaginary dragons she and her sister slew as children behind the hollyhock hedge.

As they travel in a motorhome from park to park and bookstore to bookstore, Meara and Jackson are unaware of the manipulating forces intent on preventing their return home. They do, however, realize they are being stalked and therefore welcome the company of another touring author, criminology professor Bartholomew Wolfe.

A long-standing professional relationship between the authors builds to romance and a persuasive invitation to seek shelter at the professor's lodge. However, to reach the lodge, Meara—now accompanied by her nephew, niece and mother—unsuspectingly travels through a portal which exits in a future dimension near a fortress.

From there, the family is escorted under guard through dangerous territory to a lodge where metaphorical dragons lie in wait, and security comes at a price.


Read an Excerpt

Mystified, they grabbed up their bags and followed Gabe (the lodge manager) along the shore toward a solitary balsam fir. At their approach, a baby bird sitting in a sandy hollow at the base of the tree hopped off and disappeared into a clump of wild grasses.

“We’ve reached our end of the portal,” said Gabe. “It’s important we all huddle together in the hollow vacated by the bird so no one gets left behind as we transition from the OD to the FD.”

Feeling rather foolish, his guests exchanged quizzical smiles as they shuffled together into a loose cluster.

“You’re not huddling! Lean into the person beside you!” commanded Gabe.

“Mother needs to sit down soon,” protested Meara.

“Yes, I’m feeling a bit shaky and I can barely breathe,” said Agnes. “Enough of your inane prattle.”

Assuring them they would soon be enjoying comfortable transportation, Gabe asked them to close their eyes and count out loud to ten. They reluctantly complied, and by the count of four, all slipped into an ever-darkening vortex and lost consciousness. When they regained bewildered awareness, they were at the edge of a wooded area overlooking the stark walls of a fortress enclosing a medieval castle.

“The Shushan Citadel,” whispered Gabe, pointing toward the fortress.

“Can we go in?” asked Penny.

Gabe hushed the girl and hastened his charges toward a multi-legged vehicle camouflaged in dull paint splotches. He identified the vehicle as a solar-wind-powered Centipede and assisted them in entering through a door in its transparent dome.

Within moments of seating themselves, the passengers realized the Centipede was moving.

About the Author: Gloria Pearson-Vasey weaves contemporary issues into her novels, and likes a story - be it literary fiction, historical fantasy or science fiction - to be authentic and end on a note of hope.

A member of The Writers' Union of Canada, Pearson-Vasey has also penned non-fiction books on autism and pilgrimage.

The author feels blessed for experiencing the joy and chaos of merging child raising with career, camping, travel and pets.

She lives in a picturesque Ontario town, and enjoys reading, music, country drives and time with family and friends.

https://gloriapearsonvasey.com
https://www.facebook.com/gpvwrites
https://x.com/rvwriter
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6517389.Gloria_Pearson_Vasey

PURCHASE LINKS FOR SHUSHAN PORTAL

https://amazon.com/dp/1779417861
https://amazon.ca/dp/1779417861
https://www.indigo.ca/en-ca/shushan-portal-behind-the-hollyhock-hedge/9781779417862.html
https://www.booktopia.com.au/search.ep?keywords=9781779417862
https://www.waterstones.com/book/9781779417862
https://www.abebooks.com/products/isbn/9781779417862

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Wednesday, June 26, 2024

Playtime Clothes by Kim MacLean




This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Kim MacLean will award a randomly drawn winner a $15 Amazon/BN gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.


The young boy's room is an undeniable mess. Did he actually clean his room, as he is telling his mom? Or do his clothes come to life and play?! They are, after all, playtime clothes. Is he learning a lesson to tell the truth and be accountable, as we all do in life? Or is it a world of make believe? It is for you to enjoy while you decide.





About the Author: Kim MacLean was inspired to be creative while she and her little girls made their own fun inside their home on long, cold winter days. Her girls sat for hours painting and gluing crafts into works of art on paper. Oh, the rows and rows of finished masterpieces drying on the floor while Kim sat and wrote! And there were the hundreds of books that they read and enjoyed together that further inspired creativity and an adult love of children's books!

Tia Bates is an artist, illustrator, and storyteller from London, Ontario. She is inspired by the beautiful illustrations she grew up looking at in children's books just like Playtime Clothes, the first children's book she has illustrated! Currently pursuing a master's degree in fine art, Tia's personal artwork is all about the stories we tell.

Amazon: https://amazon.com/dp/0228883547
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/playtime-clothes-kim-maclean/1143163085
Book Depository: https://www.bookdepository.com/Playtime-Clothes-Kim-Maclean/9780228883548

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Tuesday, June 25, 2024

Dungeon of Horrors by Hawk MacKinney



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. A randomly drawn winner will receive a $20 Amazon/BN GC. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

The bank’s newest Trust Officer Terri Stanley prepares the requested department’s internal audit. Finding puzzling inconsistencies and a jumble of misappropriations and unexplained offshore accounts, she follows protocol and immediately punches in the listed number for the Executor-Trustee, Craige Ingram.

Wealthy land owner/parttime PI Craige Ingram reaches the file back to homicide Lt. Grayson MacGerald after finishing a quick read-through of the preliminary forensic report from Coroner Fred Dinkins on the unexpected death of bank President Royce Sedgewicke. Dinkins’ meticulous autopsy findings verify that a massive apparent heart attack was not from natural causes, confirming what these longtime SEAL buddies suspected.

When Ingram gets a call from Terri Stanley, the bank’s attractive, newly-hired Trust Officer, wanting to discuss in confidence possible account irregularities discovered during her audit, he never imagines the twisted world of money and greed that would involve a psychopath’s trail of bloody body parts strewn along Ingram's river property, or that Terri and her son would disappear.

Confronted by a race against time, Ingram fears that Terri might become one more on the list of dead who crossed a twisted mind bent on thrill-kills and retribution.


Read an Excerpt

Terri had no trouble with Craige’s directions. A half hour later, she turned into Ardochy’s meandering white-graveled drive and spotted Craige waiting on the steps of Ardochy’s columned porte-cochère carriage porch. Terri thought of her father and his brushy-browed scowl at her for breaking his business rule. Once her father learned of her infatuation with a teller at his Napa Valley Bank. “Never mix business with anything else, and never on your own doorstep,” he told her. He never mentioned it again.

As her car pulled up and stopped, Craige hurried down the steps to open her door. “I see you made it.” As she stepped out, his eyes followed every turn of the shapely ankles.

“It was no problem.” Her thoughts cluttered. Feelings surfaced she’d had since that first time they’d met. Now they surged, somehow stronger, with his nearness. Terri would never have believed her good sense could be so altogether rattled, and she tried not to think about what Irene had said. In the private sanctions of her heart, Terri tried to keep her mind on why she came—it wasn’t working.

“Come on in the kitchen.” Craige held open one of the double-carriage porch doors. “I iced a fresh pitcher of tea.” He led her through the butler’s pantry into the sedate library.

“Oh my, all these marvelous books…” Terri murmured.

“It’s my favorite room in Ardochy,” Craige smiled. “All for the enjoyment of reading. Theosia left me several first editions. Sit down, make yourself comfortable.”

The soft leather chairs, Tiffany lamps, and comfy reading niches made the high ceiling expanse of shelves somehow cozy. She looked around the library with its frescos in delicate pastel blushes, intricate friezes and matching tiered chandeliers heavy with Austrian crystal drops. Without seeming out of place or time, she thought he seemed to belong to this refined, patinaed ambience of high ceilings and ornate carvings. He filled the Chippendale chair as though he belonged—male supremacy without being rawboned. Terri sat, recalling private times with her mother, of parlor rites and playing dress up that wasn’t all play-act—learning to sit, stand and walk properly; how to set an afternoon high tea, finger cakes and scones. Terri wished she hadn’t hurried her makeup that morning. Had she used too much perfume? Did he find it pleasant? She’d refreshed her lipstick before she left to come here—what if it was on her front teeth? She found herself acting like a high-school subdeb.

“If you prefer, there’s unsweetened tea.” Craige iced his glass with the tongs from the silver and crystal ice bucket.

“No,” she said. “It’s fine.” His devil-may-care rakish smile, the dark auburn reflections from his hair and the fiery golden flecks in his green eyes kept getting in the way of why she came. “With so little to go on, I’m not sure where to start,” Terri began. She tried to soothe her jitters.

“About what?” Craige asked, picking up on her nervousness.

Terri knew she was taking a risk. He could be part of it, yet some inherent trust told her different. She handed him several folders.

“Perhaps I’m overreacting.” She looked straight at Craige without wavering. “Several of the portfolios don’t quite add up. There're stocks, mutual funds, international oil, precious metals, grain futures, money markets. Some of it’s over my head.”

He jigsawed any number of reasons she might have for coming out here. Her eyes seemed to swallow the room. At least he was lost in them. He wanted her visit to be more than just business. “An audit should take care of that.”

“On that matter there’s been some foot dragging,” she replied. “Enough to leave me somewhat uncomfortable.”

It struck Craige as an odd remark for a bank officer, even more so about her own bank. He studied the bottomless eyes of this wholly female creature, and his gut feeling told him this visit wasn’t a concoction.

About the Author


Internationally acclaimed author and public speaker, Hawk MacKinney began writing mysteries for his school newspapers. Following graduation, he served in the US Navy for over 20 years. While serving as a Navy Commander, he also had a career as a full-time faculty member at several major state medical facilities. He earned two postgraduate degrees with studies in languages and history and has taught postgraduate courses in both the United States and Jerusalem, Israel.

In addition to professional articles and texts on fetal and adult anatomy, Hawk has authored several novels that have received national and international recognition. Moccasin Trace, a historical novel, was nominated for the prestigious Michael Shaara Award for Excellence in Civil War Fiction and the Writers Notes Book Award.

Known for his terrifying suspense and unique “Southron” dialog, Hawk has published five novels in the Moccasin Hollow Mysteries: Hidden Chamber of Death, Westobou Gold, Curse of the Ancients, Dead Gold, and Blood of the Dragonfly.

In a change of direction, Hawk has also published three books in The Cairns of Sainctuarie science fiction series: The Bleikovat Event, Volume I; The Missing Planets, Volume II; and The Inanna Phantom, Volume III.

His latest work is a series called the Moccasin Trace Mysteries. Dungeon of Horrors is the first book in the series, and the second book – Blood in the Shadows – is in development.

Website: https://www.hawkmackinneyauthor.com/
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Dungeon-Horrors-Hawk-MacKinney-ebook/dp/B0D6BP1Y27/ref=sr_1_1

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