Minotaur Spotlight

Posted on October 5, 2015 by The Page Unbound

We are so excited to be a part of the Minotaur Blog Tour! Be sure to check out an exclusive excerpt and giveaway below!

Minotaur by Phillip W. Simpson
Publication Date: September 29, 2015
Publisher: Month9books

Book Summary:

“Where shall I start?” asked Minotaur.

Ovid made an expansive gesture with both hands. “Where else but the beginning of course.”

Minotaur nodded his huge head. “Yes,” he said. “Yes,” his eyes already glazing over with the weight of thousand year old memories. And then he began.

So begins the story of Asterion, later known as Minotaur, the supposed half bull creature of Greek legend. Recorded by the famous Roman poet, Ovid, Asterion tells of his boyhood in Crete under the cruel hand of his stepfather Minos, his adventures with his friend, Theseus, and his growing love for the beautiful Phaedra.And of course what really happened in the labyrinth.

This is the true story of the Minotaur.

Purchase Links:
Amazon | B&N | BAM | Chapters
Indiebound | Kobo | TBD | Google Play

Click here for the Tour Schedule

Book Excerpt:

When I say love, we were young, and it was largely innocent—kissing, caressing, and the like. Still heady stuff for a young man, so of course I tried to lure Phaedra away from the palace at any opportunity.

Sometimes, we would lie sheltered from the sun amongst the cyprus and oak trees, talking, kissing, and doing what other young couples in love did. They were probably the best times of my life.

On one such occasion, Phaedra and I had taken some food and a little wine I’d stolen from the kitchen and wrapped up in cloth. We set it down in a clearing amongst the trees and ate and drank our fill. I confess I’d probably drunk more wine than was good for me and was feeling more than a little bold.

We kissed. Reluctantly, I broke the embrace to ask a question that had been plaguing me.

“Why do you love me?” I asked.

Phaedra looked at me askance, her head tilting slightly to show the perfection of her jawline. I desperately wanted to kiss her again.

“Do you really need to ask such questions?” she replied, her face serious.

“Of course I do. Look at me. Look at you. Don’t you think we are an odd match?”

“Asterion, you of all people should know I don’t judge based on appearances. To me, you are the most handsome man in the world because of who you are. You are gentle and have a kind soul. That’s more important to me than looks. Besides,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye, “you have big muscles. Every girl likes big muscles.”

“Is that all I am to you? A slab of meat?” I tried to joke, but my tone was all wrong. I knew I half meant what I said. I was only too conscious of my massive size and, like my horns, knew it marked me as an oddity or a strange freak of nature.

Phaedra slapped me playfully. “Most of the time. Sometimes you’re able to string a sentence together that is almost intelligent.”

About the Author:

ABOUT PHILLIP W. SIMPSON:

Phillip W. Simpson is the author of many novels, chapter books and other stories for children. His publishers include Macmillan, Penguin, Pearson, Cengage, Raintree and Oxford University Press. He received both his undergraduate degree in Ancient History and Archaeology and his Masters (Hons) degree in Archaeology from the University of Auckland. Before embarking on his writing career, he joined the army as an officer cadet, owned a comic shop and worked in recruitment in both the UK and Australia. His first young adult novel, Rapture (Rapture Trilogy #1), was shortlisted for the Sir Julius Vogel Awards for best Youth novel in 2012. He is represented by Vicki Marsdon at Wordlink literary agency. When not writing, he works as a school teacher.

Phillip lives and writes in Auckland, New Zealand with his wife Rose, their son, Jack and their two border terriers, Whiskey and Raffles. He loves fishing, reading, movies, football (soccer) and single malt Whiskeys.

Author Links:
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

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Dr. Mutter’s Marvels Promo

Posted on October 4, 2015 by The Page Unbound

DR. MUTTER’S MARVELS

by
Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz

In celebration of the paperback release of Dr. Mutter’s Marvels, Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz will be in-conversation with Mellick T. Sykes, MD, MA (Anat) FACS, the Archivist from the Texas Surgical Society and a Clinical Professor of Surgery, to discuss the life and times of Dr. Thomas Dent Mutter, founder of the (in)famous Mutter Museum of medical oddities in Philadelphia. Their conversation at BookPeople in Austin, Texas on October 12th at 7 pm, will feature surgical instruments from the oftentimes treacherous (and fascinating) world of medicine and surgery during the early 19th century. The talk will be followed by a brief Q&A and signing.

A mesmerizing biography of the brilliant and eccentric medical innovator who revolutionized American surgery and founded the country’s most famous museum of medical oddities Imagine undergoing an operation without anesthesia, performed by a surgeon who refuses to sterilize his tools—or even wash his hands. This was the world of medicine when Thomas Dent Mütter began his trailblazing career as a plastic surgeon in Philadelphia during the mid-nineteenth century.

Although he died at just forty-eight, Mütter was an audacious medical innovator who pioneered the use of ether as anesthesia, the sterilization of surgical tools, and a compassion-based vision for helping the severely deformed, which clashed spectacularly with the sentiments of his time. Brilliant, outspoken, and brazenly handsome, Mütter was flamboyant in every aspect of his life. He wore pink silk suits to perform surgery, added an umlaut to his last name just because he could, and amassed an immense collection of medical oddities that would later form the basis of Philadelphia’s renowned Mütter Museum.

Award-winning writer Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz vividly chronicles how Mütter’s efforts helped establish Philadelphia as a global mecca for medical innovation—despite intense resistance from his numerous rivals. (Foremost among them: Charles D. Meigs, an influential obstetrician who loathed Mütter’s “overly modern” medical opinions.) In the narrative spirit of The Devil in the White City, Dr. Mütter’s Marvels interweaves an eye-opening portrait of nineteenth-century medicine with the riveting biography of a man once described as the “[P. T.] Barnum of the surgery room.”

BUY LINKS

Amazon Penguin

Even in the middle of the ocean, Mütter could not get her out of his mind. He excused himself early from dinner, stopped well- meaning conversationalists mid- sentence, and rushed down to his sleeping

quarters just to hold her face in his hands.

To an American like him, she appeared unquestionably French: high cheekbones, full upturned lips, glittering deep- set eyes. For an older woman, she was impressively well preserved, her temples kissed with only the slightest crush of wrinkles. When she was young, Mütter imagined, she must have been very beautiful, though perhaps girlishly sensitive about the long thin hook of her nose, or the pale mole resting on her lower left cheek. But that would have been decades ago.

Now well past her childbearing years, the woman answered only to “Madame Dimanche”—the Widow Sunday— and all anyone saw when they looked at her was the thick brown horn that sprouted from her pale forehead, continuing down the entire length of her face and stopping bluntly just below her pointy, perfect French chin.

The young Dr. Thomas Dent Mutter had arrived in Paris less than a year earlier, in the fall of 1831. Even for Mutter, who had always relied heavily on his ability to charm a situation to his favor, it had not been an easy trip to arrange. He was just twenty years old when he graduated from the University of Pennsylvania’s storied medical college. To an outsider, he may not have seemed that different from the other students in his class: fresh- faced, eager, hardworking. But he knew he was different— in some ways that were deliberate and in other ways that were utterly out of his control.

Perhaps the most obvious of these was Mutter’s appearance. He was, as anyone could plainly see, extraordinarily handsome. Having studied his parents’ portraits as a child— One of the few things of theirs he still possessed— he knew that he inherited his good looks. He had his father’s strong nose, impishly arched eyebrows, and rare bright blue eyes. He favored his mother’s bright complexion, her round lips, and sweet, open oval face. His chin, like hers, jutted out playfully.

Mutter made sure to keep his thick brown hair cut to a fashionable length, brushed back and swept off his cleanly shaven, charismatic face. His clothing was always clean, current, and fastidiously tailored. From a young age, he understood how important looks were, how vital appearance was to acceptance, especially among certain circles of society. He worked hard to create an aura of ease around him. No one needed to know how much he had struggled, or how much he struggled still. No, rather he made it a habit to stand straight, to make his smile easy and his laugh warm. He was, as a contemporary once described him, the absolute pink of neatness.

The truth was that, financially, he had always been forced to walk a tightrope. Both his parents had died when he was very young. The money they left him was modest, and thanks to complicated legal issues, his access to it was severely limited. Over the years, he grew practiced in the art of finessing opportunities so that he could live something approximate to the life he desired. At boarding school, he was known to charge his clothing bills to the institution and then earn scholarships to pay off the resulting debts. When he wanted to travel, he secured just enough money to get him to his destination and then relied on his wits to get him back home.

And now that Mutter had achieved his long time goal of graduating from one of the country’s best medical schools, he focused on his next goal: Paris.

Paris was the epicenter of medical achievement: the medical mecca. Hundreds of American doctors swarmed to the city every year, knowing that in order to be great, to be truly great, you must study medicine in Paris.

And that had always been Mutter’s plan: to be great. More than that: to be the greatest.

Getting to Paris, however, was not an easy endeavor. He knew— as all gentlemen of limited means did— that sailing as a surgeon’s mate with a U. S. naval ship in exchange for free passage to Europe was an option open to him, but competition was always considerable and fierce. Mutter spent months submitting letters and applications to the secretary of the Navy, trying to use charm, logic, and bravado to secure a position. He even implored his guardian, Colonel Robert W. Carter, to ask prominent men close to President Jackson to write letters on his behalf, explaining, “[I] am afraid that I shall not be able to obtain an order unless I can get my friends to make some exertions for the furtherance of my plan.” Despite all the effort he expended, no position ever materialized.

Mutter could only watch as the wealthier members of his graduating class departed for Europe with financial ease. Others returned to their hometowns with their new degrees, bought houses with their fathers’ money, and started their practices using their families’ connections. Mutter remained in Philadelphia, and his hopes remained fixed on Paris.

Mutter felt his luck about to change when he read about the Kensington in a local Philadelphia paper. For months, the Cramp shipyard had been building a massive warship. The rumor was that it was being built for the Mexican Navy, and that upon seeing its immense size— and cost— they opted to back out of purchasing it. However, the most recent update was that the giant ship had sold after all, to the Imperial Russian Navy.

Mutter saw an opportunity. He went to the Cramp shipyard and asked if the American crew in charge of sailing the Kensington to Russia was in need of a surgeon’s mate. That he was just twenty and only a few months out of medical school was a minor detail. He hoped that being present, able, and willing would be enough. Luckily for Mutter, it was. A few weeks later, he boarded the ship (later to be renamed the Prince of Warsaw by Tsar Nicholas himself ), and left America for the first time.

The ocean was like nothing Mutter had ever experienced: vast and wild and so incredibly loud. He had hoped the enormity of the newly built warship— with its four towering masts and immense spiderweb of rigging— as well as its extensively trained crew would offer him comfort during the weeks at sea, but the experience was more taxing than any book or anecdote portended.

He did not anticipate that whether he was holed up in the bowels of the ship or clinging to the aft railing, his body would be trapped in a relentless cycle of emptying itself. That his stomach would never become accustomed to the rolling blue- black swells of the sea. Nor did he realize how intimate he would become with the ship’s beastly stowaways— bedbugs and fleas,

and rats. He would wake to bugs crawling in his hair and mouth, and fall asleep to sounds of the rats chewing through his clothes, attempting to suss out even the smallest morsel of food. And then there were the storms, the nights when he felt certain the vessel would break in two as mountainous waves crashed over it, the ship itself painfully groaning with each hit. The ocean seemed nothing but a frothing black maw, hungry to devour him.

When the sea was calm and the sky bright and blue, he forced himself to stand on the ship’s deck and look toward what he hoped was Europe. He tried to enjoy these moments, but he didn’t know true relief until the crew pointed out birds appearing in the sky, a sign that they were approaching land, after more than a month at sea.

When Mutter finally arrived in Paris, it immediately reminded him of the ocean; it too was vast and wild and incredibly loud. Unlike at sea, however, in Paris he felt perfectly at home.

Its streets were packed, people and buildings in every direction. His world was suddenly and delightfully filled with new sounds, new scents, new music. There were colorfully dressed women sweeping the streets, and strapping men carrying enormous bundles on their heads. There were strange- looking carriages that seemed like relics of a barbarous age, which were in turn being pulled by enormous and brash horses. Even the food being eaten at street- side cafes seemed strange and exotic to Mutter. The city avenue was a vast museum of wonderful new sights to gawk at, and it seemed that the French wanted it that way. They loved to look, and to be looked at. It was true what Mutter had heard: Those French who could spare the time would flamboyantly promenade every day. And on Sundays, absolutely everyone did.

Once Mutter had secured modest student housing, he set out to promenade himself. He’d been sure to pack his finest clothes for the journey: suits cut close to his slim frame (his natural thinness being perhaps one of the only benefits he’d gained from the illnesses that had plagued him since childhood) and made from the most expensive fabrics he could afford in the brightest colors in stock. Years earlier, a schoolmaster once wrote to Colonel Carter, Mutter’s guardian, that his pupil’s “principal error is rather too much fondness for a style of dress not altogether proper for a boy his age.” Clearly, that schoolmaster had never been to Paris.

Mutter enjoyed the moment, peacocking on Parisian streets for the first time, a master of his fate. The lines between Mutter’s starting points and his destination were not often straight, but he took pride and comfort in knowing that he always got there. And the next morning, he would begin the next phase of his mission, his true goal in Paris: to learn everything he could about modern medicine until his money, or his luck, ran out.

In 1831, over a half million people called Paris their home, and by royal decree, each French citizen was entitled to free medical treatment from any of the dozens of hospitals within the city limits. The hospitals were typically open to any visiting doctors, provided one could show them a medical degree and, when necessary, place the right amount of coins into the right hands.

Studying medicine in Paris became so popular that guidebooks were written just for the visiting American doctors. Nowhere else in the world, one wrote, could “experience be acquired by the attentive student as in the

French capital . . . where exists such a vast and inexhaustible field for observation. . .”

And it was true. Where else but Paris would there be not one but two hospitals devoted entirely to the treatment of syphilis? Afflicted women were sent to the Hôpital Lourcine, a hospital filled with the most frightful instances of venereal ravages. The men were sent to the Hôpital du Midi, which required that all patients be publicly whipped as punishment for contracting the disease, both before and after treatment.

Hôpital des Enfants– Malades was a hospital for ill children, and was nearly always filled to capacity. It had a grim mortality rate— one in every four children who came for treatment died there— but the doctors on staff assured visiting scholars that this was because most of the patients came from the lowest classes of society and thus were frequently brought to the hospital already in a hopeless or dying condition.

Doctors specializing in obstetrics could visit Hôpital de la Maternité. It served laboring women only, and averaged eleven births a day. Some days, however, the numbers rose to twenty- five or thirty women, each wailing in her own bed, as the doctors and midwives (called sages-femmes) rushed among them. New mothers were allowed to stay nine days after giving birth, and the hospital even supplied them with clothing and a small allowance, provided they were willing to take the child with them. Not all of the women were.

So the Hôpital des Enfants– Trouvés for abandoned children was founded. Newborns arrived daily from Hôpital de la Maternité from women unable or unwilling to keep their children, as well as those infants whose mothers died while giving birth, as one in every fifty women who entered Hôpital de la Maternité did.

The Hôpital des Enfants– Trouvés also allowed Parisian citizens to come directly to the hospital and hand over a child of any age. The hospital encouraged families to register and mark the children they were leaving so they might reclaim them at a later date, but the families who chose to do so were few. In fact, the vast majority of the children there had arrived via le tour.

Le tour d’abandon (“the desertion tower”) was merely a box attached to the hospital, constructed with two sliding doors and a small, loud bell. An infant was unceremoniously placed in the box, the door firmly closed behind it, and the bell was rung. Upon hearing the bell, the nurses on duty would go to le tour to remove the infant, replace the box to its original position, and wait. Every night, a dozen or so infants were received in precisely this way.

For a while, it had been in vogue for wealthy, childless individuals to adopt children from the Hôpital des Enfants– Trouvés to bring up as their own, but the practice had long since fallen out of fashion. At the time of

Mutter’s visit, more than sixteen thousand children were considered wards of the Hôpital des Enfants– Trouvés, and of those, only twelve thousand would live to adulthood.

There were hospitals for lunatic women and for idiot men, hospitals for the incurable, for the blind, for the deaf and dumb, and even for ailing elderly married couples who wished to die together— they could stay in the same large room provided that the furniture they used to furnish their room became the property of the hospice upon their deaths.

And perhaps most astonishing to the visiting American doctors, Paris had the École Pratique d’Anatomie, which provided any doctor, for six dollars, access to his own cadaver for dissection. In America, cadaver dissection was largely illegal. Many doctors resorted to grave robbing to have the opportunity to examine the human body fully. In Paris, twenty doctors at a time would whittle a human body down to its bones— provided they could stand the smell and the ultimate method of disposal of the dissected corpses: At day’s end, the decimated remains were fed to a pack of snarling dogs kept tied up in the back.

However, more than any single hospital, what most attracted Mutter to Paris were the surgeons: brilliant and daring men who were to him living gods, redefining medicine and at the zenith of their renown.

Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz is an award-winning non-fiction writer, poet, and touring author. Born and raised in Philadelphia, she first visited the Mütter Museum in the fourth grade. She lives in Austin, Texas.

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Blog Tour Schedule

Oct 3 – Books and Broomsticks promo

Oct 4 – The Page Unbound promo

Oct 5 – Feather Pens, Tartan Dreams promo

Oct 6 – Bookishjessp review

Oct 7 – Blogging for the Love of Authors and Their Books promo

Oct 8 – Texas Book Lover Author Q&A

Oct 9 – My Book Fix review

Oct 10 – Missus Gonzo review

Oct 11 – Because This is My Life Y’all review

Oct 12 – Hall Ways review

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A Vanishing Glow Promo

Posted on October 4, 2015 by The Page Unbound

A Vanishing Glow
by Alexis Radcliff
Publication Date: October 1, 2015
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.

Book Summary:

A Vanishing Glow is the exciting opening to The Mystech Arcanum series, a deep and thrilling blend of steampunk and flintlock fantasy with mature themes.

It is an Age of Revolution, an Age of Industrialism. Constructs, living men who are as much brass and steel as they are flesh, man the factories and wage the wars of a ruling elite who gorge themselves on the fruits of the common man’s labor. Mystech, a brilliant fusion of magic and machine, gives rise to a new class of privileged inventors and merchants even as the country festers with wounds from decades of internal strife.

Only one man holds the promise of a brighter future: Nole Ryon, the crown prince. When his childhood friend Jason Tern answers his call for aid, the two of them set out to fight for the change their country needs in order to survive, even as shadowy foes frustrate their efforts. But soon, Jason and Nole’s idealistic mission of hope becomes a furious manhunt for a political murderer as the nation balances on the precipice of a country-wide civil war. Can they cut through the threads of intrigue to discover their true enemy before everything is lost?

Amazon.com | Goodreads | Read Sample Chapter 1 | Read Sample Chapter 2

Below is the thrilling opening to A Vanishing Glow:

Jason Tern slid his rapier free of its sheath as he crouched in the brush with two other blue-coated soldiers, yards away from the lynching.

One construct already hung from the solitary oak tree in the clearing before them, dead, still twitching like a marionette on the branch, while his companion screamed, fighting for his life. Two burly men in leather work vests held the remaining construct fast, one to each side, while the ringleader tightened a noose under his chin. Sunlight glinted off the brass-and-steel arm restrained behind the construct’s back as he struggled against his captors. The ringleader stooped to gather the end of the rough hempen rope and tossed it into the air. It arced over a thick branch of the tree, beside the first rope, and sailed back down into his calloused hands. He yanked hard, and their captive jerked with a strangled gasp.

“I count five of them,” Jason whispered. He and his Windriders would have the element of surprise if they stepped in now. The workmen looked more like common thugs than real fighters—bullies who’d talk big while they had the upper hand, but would back down quickly from the business end of a sword.

“Five is two more than we have, and they all have clubs,” Albas grumbled. He spit his tobacco into the dirt and pulled his cap low over his eyes. “I don’t like those odds if it comes to a fight. We should wait for our outriders.”

“It won’t come to a fight.” Their grizzled sergeant, Lugan, loosened his sword in his scabbard and drew his flintlock pistol. “Trust an old veteran. Those men are cowards.”

The construct screamed again as the two remaining men joined the ringleader and prepared to hoist him into the air. He kicked and scrabbled at the dirt, jerking from side to side. His captors gritted their teeth and held on. The construct wasn’t a large man—scrawny and pale with a mop of dark hair; Istkherian, judging by the style of his factory-made clothes. He would have been no threat at all to the burly men surrounding him, except for the long, skeletal arm with the joins and pistons visible which protruded from the stump of his shoulder. His construct arm lacked the plated armoring or reinforced leverage of a war model. It was stronger than an average man’s arm, but not strong enough to break free of their grip, and little help against a hanging once they had him strung up.

“I won’t stand by while they kill him,” Jason said. Not unless the council approves it, and this doesn’t look sanctioned.

“Your call, Captain.” Albas drew his own pistol. “Let’s just hope they don’t have friends hanging back. Numbers have a way of curing cowardice.”

Jason plunged through the foliage into the open air of the clearing, sword at the ready, with Lugan and Albas close behind him.

“Stop what you’re doing, in the name of the Council of Ghavarim,” he called out.

Everyone froze, eyes popping wide, and stared at the long iron barrels his men had trained on them. The end of the hemp rope slid out of the ringleader’s fingers and dropped onto the ground with a tiny puff of dust.

Jason gestured toward the construct. “What’s going on here?”

“Who are you?” The ringleader squinted at them suspiciously over the tip of his pinched nose. His workman’s outfit had seen better days, and a thick wooden cudgel swung from a loop attached to his belt. “Those aren’t Crimson Fist uniforms you’re wearing.”

Another of the men with a face like sanded leather and a touch of gray at his temples coughed. “Those jackets—They’re Windriders. Militia-men, from Fen. Windriders haven’t been this far south of the border since the Ordist rebellion. What are you doing here?”

“I believe the Captain asked you the same question… And we have the guns.” Albas cocked his pistol and flashed them a crooked, yellow grin that was anything but warm.

Jason waved him down. They needed to defuse the stand-off; not trade banter. “I’m Captain Jason Tern, Lord of Fen, traveling to Adaron on council business. We heard shouts from the road and came to investigate.”

“These men are from Lagrish,” Lugan said. Jason nodded his agreement. Their southern accents had marked them clearly. Lagrish had never been friendly to constructs, but when had murdering them in broad daylight become acceptable?

“Yes, we are. Honest Lagrishmen.” The pinched-face man stuck his chest out and jerked a thumb at the constructs. “And these men are thieves, my lord. We’re having our justice.”

“I’m not a thief, I’m not!” The construct began to struggle again. “And neither was Peter! These men jumped—” He cut off with a muffled grunt as one of the men holding him cuffed him.

“You must have mislaid your magistrate’s robes.” Lugan turned his pistol toward the man who’d struck the blow. “Touch him again before you’ve explained yourselves and my finger might get itchy.”

“What did he steal?” Jason would eat his belt if the construct had actually taken anything from these thugs, but protocol required hearing both sides. He’d have to make a decision here. They didn’t have the manpower to drag all six of these men into Adaron for a judge to sort out. The ringleader opened his mouth but stopped as Jason held up his hand. “Not you.” He pointed to the youngest of the five men, standing a little back from the others in the clearing. “You.”

The sandy-haired youth’s eyes grew even wider. He licked his lips, throwing a worried glance at his comrades. “Er… well. That is… our jobs, I suppose.”

“He stole your jobs?” Jason wasn’t sure he’d heard him right.

“Our livelihoods!” The pinched-face man broke in again, shooting the boy a dirty look. He shifted nervously. “Pity, lord. You’re an Easterner. You must know how it is back East. We came from the Giltland to find work in Adaron, but it’s just as bad up here as it is down there. The capital is crawling with Western junkers like this claptrap, and they’re soaking up all the jobs because their freakish bits let them work faster. These two Istkherian constructs took our jobs and laughed at us as we were turned out.”

“And you’re killing them for this?” Albas sounded as surprised as Jason felt. Nole’s letters had mentioned that regional tensions were high in the capital, but he’d never expected it would be this bad.

“No one is killing anyone today,” Jason said. “East or west, you’re all citizens of the same Federation. Let him go.” He stared at the pinched-faced man until he nodded to his fellows. The burly men released the Istkherian.

The construct loosened the rope and yanked the noose off his head, throwing it to the ground. A red-and-purple ring of rope-burned flesh ran around his neck. He rubbed at it with his human hand, swallowing and glaring at his former captors. His brass fingers twitched at his side, jointed tips clacking together.

Jason lowered his sword. “Now that that’s set—”

The construct lunged at the pinched-face man with a deep growl and dug his hard brass fingers deep into the man’s head. The ringleader barely had time to let out a strangled scream before his skull split in the construct’s viselike grip, pinkish-gray matter squirting out like an overripe grapefruit. Jason stood in shock while the construct wailed, “You killed him! You killed Peter!”

Jason’s men stood similarly stunned. Then the other workers drew their cudgels and fell upon the construct.

“Hold him down! Hold him down!”

Before anyone could react, the two burly men wrestled the construct to the ground beside the mangle-headed corpse of their former leader, and the leather-faced man snapped open the tiny compartment on the construct’s arm. He yanked out a pale yellow mystech crystal, dropped it to the ground, and stomped on it with his heavy boot, twisting his heel for added crunch. The construct’s arm went dead, and he wailed with his face in the dirt.

“Stop! Stop this now!” Jason shook himself into action and started forward brandishing his sword, but it was too late.

The sandy-haired youth raised his cudgel high and then brought it down onto the construct’s head with a dull thud. Blood and gore spattered across the construct’s vest, and the four remaining men stood silent, chests heaving.

Jason pulled his pistol from his belt and fired it into the air. The workers scattered. They fled into the woods as a cloud of black smoke wafted up over the clearing. Albas lowered his gun. Lugan swept his pistol wildly back and forth, trying to aim at all the fleeing workers at once. Finally he lowered his too.

“What in the hell did you do that for?” Lugan asked.

“I didn’t want to kill anyone else today.” Jason stared at the corpses and the blood soaking into the dirt in front of them. Three too many have died already.

“I doubt they would have come along peacefully,” Albas said with a shrug. “It’s the same thing I’d have done.”

“We should have brought them in. It’s our duty.” Lugan gestured toward the two men lying on the ground. The third corpse still swung from the tree branch, rotating slowly in the breeze of the now-quiet clearing, eyes empty and bulging. “They’re murderers.”

“This is Crimson Fist territory,” Jason said. “We tried to prevent a murder, but we have no more right to exact justice here than these men did, whether we represent the council or not. We’ll give our full report to the watch on the way in to Adaron.”

Lugan stared at him, surprised. Was that a little cold? But what did it matter now? Dead was dead. Jason kept his face carefully controlled, even as he seethed inside. He’d come to prevent the loss of a life. Now three dead men taunted him. It was an ill omen for his first day in the city. I have to try harder. I should have been able to prevent that.

“That was justice? Looked more like plain old hatred.” Albas grimaced at the fallen men.

Jason understood how he felt. They’d all seen death, but it never got any easier. His hands shook as he sheathed his rapier.

“We’ll send for someone to gather up the bodies and notify their families as soon as we arrive.”

“You want to do anything with that?” Albas nodded toward the corpse that still hung from the oak branch, swaying softly in the breeze. “It doesn’t feel right to just leave it there.”

Jason drew his sword again, walked over to the body, hoisted it up, and hacked the rope clean through with a single swipe. The corpse was heavier than he expected, weighted down by the brass limb. He laid the body gently on the ground beside the others. “Better?”

Albas motioned to Lugan. “Do you want to say the words, Sergeant?”

Jason was relieved when Lugan jerked a nod. The old veteran was always better at this than he was. He bowed his head alongside Albas and waited for Lugan to speak.

“Molluth the Maker, Father above. We now consign the souls of these, our brothers, into your hands. May you guide them safely past Ari’s gate and into our Mother Eriam’s loving arms, to rise anew in an image you create for them.”

“And may Chali walk beside them in their next life to give them more luck than the sorry bastards had in this one,” Albas added.

A slight pause, and then all three in unison said, “So let it be granted, so let it be done.”

Lugan glared at Albas. “I don’t recall that addition being a standard part of the prayer.”

“What’s wrong with wishing them a little luck? If that goes on the ‘sins’ side of my entry in the book of Temprus, I’ll take the hit on their behalf.”

Jason grimaced. “Maker. I’d hoped this day would be a joyous reunion. Not a bloodbath.”

“We should go, Captain.” Lugan ran two fingers along each end of his thin moustache and down the length of his short, grey beard. “Lord Ryon will be expecting you.”

The three men made their way out of the thick copse of oaks, stepping over fallen logs and skirting bushes as they pushed toward the tree where they’d left their horses tied. Jason’s eyes strayed back to the clearing even after the woods had obscured the bodies.

“Is it like this throughout the Federation, I wonder?” Albas asked quietly. “They’re killing each other over factory jobs… It reeks of desperation. How can Ghavarim survive if things are this bad with the people? Isn’t anyone on the council paying attention?”

“Nole is,” Jason said. “And the only way forward lies with him.”

Buy it now on Amazon.com to continue reading!

About the Author:

Alexis Radcliff is an author, gamer, unashamed geek, and history junkie who spent the better part of a decade working in tech before dedicating herself to her first love, literature.

Alexis lives and works in the Portland area with her adorable (if surly) cat and her equally adorable fiancé. When not writing, she spends her time reading, running, playing way too many videogames, and thinking too much about everything.

If you enjoyed this post, you should subscribe to her newsletter or follow her on Twitter!

Author Links:
Lexirad.com | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon

Falling For Shakespeare Promo

Posted on September 10, 2015 by The Page Unbound

Falling for Shakespeare by Erin Butler
Publication Date: Sept 8, 2015
Publisher: Swoon Romance
Genre: YA, Contemporary

Book Summary:

Katie thought she knew where her life was going. She was dating the captain of the football team, had a BFF for life, and everyone at school wanted to be her. But then her pregnant teen sister’s pregnancy changes all that. Everyone dumps her, including her friends and boyfriend.

Hey, Katie, welcome to life at the bottom of the high school food chain. This is how the other half lives.

Then there’s Nick. He’s a straight-A student and self-professed geek who’s had a thing for her since middle school. He needs a date for the winter formal, and Katie needs something to keep her busy. Nick’s plight becomes her personal pet project. She will help him get over his insecurities and get a date. Besides, she was popular once. She knows how to get dates.

But Nick has other plans. He’s going to use these “dating” lessons as a way to win Katie’s heart.

Purchase Link:
Amazon

Book Excerpt:

Okay. I could do this. I took a deep breath and imagined me walking right up to her and pulling her to me and kissing the crap right out of her. I imagined her melding into my arms. I imagined everything.

“Nic?”

I turned. Her confused expression tightened the knots in my stomach. I pushed my glasses up on my nose and went in. As soon as my hands clasped behind her head, her face tilted up. A surprise sound made its way from her throat right before our lips met.

Years of longing, of wondering fell away within half a second as my eager lips touched her soft, perfect ones. I kissed her for the sixth grade me, for the eighth and ninth grade me, who’d missed her like crazy, and then I tried to kiss the word friend from her vocabulary.

It must have been working because she kissed me back. In my dreams, I’d fantasized this whole scenario but dreams were nothing compared to the reality of having Katie Ross kiss me back.

Check out the tour schedule here: Falling For Shakespeare Tour Schedule:

About the Author:

Erin Butler is lucky enough to have two jobs she truly loves. As a librarian, she gets to work with books all day long, and as an author, Erin uses her active imagination to write the kinds of books she loves to read. Young Adult and New Adult books are her favorites, but she especially fangirls over a sigh-worthy romance.

She lives in Central New York with her very understanding husband, a stepson, and doggie BFF, Maxie. Preferring to spend her time indoors reading or writing, she’ll only willingly go outside for chocolate and sunshine—in that order.

Erin is the author of BLOOD HEX, a YA paranormal novel, and the forthcoming contemporary romance titles, HOW WE LIVED and FINDING MR. DARCY: HIGH SCHOOL EDITION. You can visit her online at http://www.erinbutlerbooks.com.

Author Links:
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Superstition Book Promo

Posted on September 4, 2015 by The Page Unbound

Superstition
by Lucy Fenton
Release Date: 08/03/15

Summary from Goodreads:

What happens when your childhood nightmares of being bitten by strange creatures in a dark wood aren’t just dreams?

Sixteen-year-old Arden St. John’s life takes a strange turn when she finds an unusual animal injured near her new house on the south east coast of Australia. When she takes it to the local vet, a terrible truth is inadvertently exposed to her.

She discovers a secret underworld, where witches are commonplace and trolls masquerade as queen bees, terrorising the other students with impunity. A world where vampires traffic in the lives of children, draining their bodies once they reach maturity. Where adults auction their own children to extend their lives.

Arden finds out she’s one of those kids, her life traded by the mother she never knew. Now she’s caught up in this ancient and corrupt economy operating just below the surface of modern society. She’s a hot commodity, and it’s only a matter of time before the vampire who bought her comes to claim his prize.

But Arden’s not going down without a fight.

Purchase Links:
Amazon

Book Excerpt:

The further into the bush she went, the more anxious Arden felt. If something happened to me, how long would it be before Dad noticed? I could be dead for days before someone found me, Arden thought, unhappily. The compulsion to turn around and seek out others grew stronger and her footsteps slowed.

And then through the trees, she saw something. Curiosity overcoming her disquiet, at first she thought it was a rocky outcrop and moved towards it, trying to see what was veiled by the leaves of the trees. The flash of sunlight whitened out her vision as she stepped out of the shade into the clearing. Blinded, she waited for her eyes to adjust. Squinting, the blurred shapes gradually resolved into the ruins of a stone building. The roof was gone and the walls stuck up like the blunt teeth of a fallen giant. Arden walked around what had once been a large structure that had been left to crumble back into the earth. It was built on a headland, the view of the ocean clear on the far side. A lone gum tree clung to the edge of the cliff, roots visible where the earth had crumbled away. Dead, its bare branches stood out starkly white against the dark clouds forming over the ocean. There was a storm coming in, but it was still a way out to sea. Catching sight of a marking on the stone, she moved towards it to examine it more closely. It was weathered almost flat, but tracing the rough gritty surface with her finger, she made out the distinctive shape of a convict arrow.

Amazed, she walked in through a doorway, trying to work out what type of building it had been. There had been a large central room with many tiny rooms opening from it. They were small, storerooms perhaps? Exploring deeper into the ruins, there was a room that had been more protected at the rear and the purpose became apparent. The stubbed remains of bars were still embedded in the stone in one section and in the corner of the room were cross hatched markings on the walls, counting off the days. She was standing in a convict gaol.

About the Author

C. Fenton lives in Sydney, Australia with her husband and two children. In addition to her cake- making business, she works as a freelance copywriter and pens occasional articles for various online magazines.

Not being one of those people who had a burning desire to be anything in particular, L. C. worked her way alphabetically backwards through the available degrees at Sydney University. Surprisingly, given the amount of fun she had at school, L.C. finally managed to graduate with a completely unemployable degree in Philosophy. A Law degree soon followed, however, simply to make it possible for some organization to hire her.
After ten soul-destroying years wandering aimlessly in the corporate wilderness, L. C. threw it all in and reassessed. Deciding to bring the “one day I will write a book” idea to the present, she started and hasn’t stopped. As a huge fan of the romance genre, she writes the kinds of books that she enjoys to read.
In her spare time, L. C. Fenton…actually she has no spare time. She sleeps or reads copious amounts of romance novels instead of sleeping.

Author Links:
Website│Goodreads│Twitter│Facebook

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The Deep Beneath (H.A.L.F.) Promo

Posted on September 2, 2015 by The Page Unbound

The Deep Beneath (H.A.L.F) by Natalie Wright
(H.A.L.F #1)
Publication date: January 7th 2015
Genres: Science Fiction, Young Adult

Book Summary:

H.A.L.F. 9 has taken his first breath of desert air and his first steps in the human world. Created to be a weapon, he proved too powerful for his makers and has lived a sedated life hidden from humans. But H.A.L.F. 9 has escaped the underground lab he called home, and the sedation has worn off. He has never been more alive. More powerful. Or more deadly.

Erika Holt longs to ride her motorcycle east until pavement meets shore. She bides her time until graduation when she’ll say adios to the trailer she shares with her alcoholic mother and memories of her dead father. But a typical night in the desert with friends thrusts Erika into a situation more dangerous than she ever imagined.

Circumstances push the two together, and each must make a fateful choice. Will Erika help H.A.L.F. 9 despite her “don’t get involved” rule? And will H.A.L.F. 9 let Erika live even though he was trained to kill?

The two may need to forget their rules and training and if either is to survive the dangers of the deep beneath them.

Purchase Links:

Amazon |B&N

Book Excerpt:
Be Careful What You Wish ForErika didn’t want to see her two best friends killed. She closed her eyes tightly while she prayed for a miracle. She would have closed her ears too if she could. Erika waited to hear the gun blast, but it didn’t come. Instead, there was only a loud thud as if someone had fallen to the earth.She opened her eyes. Ian stood a few feet away, his hair mussed, eyes wide and brows drawn together. Joe still held her tightly, but Nacho lay on the ground. If Jack was down and neither Ian, Erika nor Joe had shot Nacho, then why was he lying in a heap on the desert floor?Joe loosened his grip on her. Erika’s wrists were now free but throbbed where Joe had pinched and twisted them. She spun around and backed away from him. Joe’s hands were at his neck, his eyes bulging. His body jerked and he grasped at his throat as if he were trying to pull at a rope or cord. But there was nothing around his neck.

Is he having a seizure or something?

Ian looked as baffled as she was. No one touched Joe, yet he appeared to battle against someone choking him. Erika didn’t know who or what had a grip on Joe, but there were already two bodies on the ground. She didn’t want to see another.

“Stop!” she screamed. As vile as Joe was, she’d get more satisfaction from seeing him rot in jail than die.

Joe panted for air as he fell to the ground. Though he no longer tore at his neck, he didn’t seem to be able to get up. He strained with an effort to rise, but he stayed down.

“Look, whoever you are, don’t kill him,” Erika said.

“Why the hell not?” Ian screamed. “They shot Jack. He was going to rape you and traffic you across the border. He deserves to die.”

“No one deserves to die.” Erika didn’t wait for Ian to counter argue. She searched the ground for Jack as best she could in the dim light. Ian did the same.

“He’s over here,” Ian yelled.

Erika ran to the place where Ian stood. She knelt beside Jack’s motionless body laying face down. She turned him over and felt his neck. There was a pulse. Thank God, Jack’s alive. Her eyes roved over Jack’s body as her hands felt for a wound. “He was shot in the left shoulder.” Her hands were wet with his blood.

“Is he – ”

“Alive? Yes. But there’s a lot of blood.” Erika held up her hand for Ian to see. The smell of the sticky liquid brought a wave of nausea. “Help me get him up. We’ve got to get him to the car and – ”

A rustling sound in the brush interrupted their conversation. Erika turned in the direction of the noise and a shadowy figure emerged from the weeds. Her hands and legs had almost stopped shaking, but the appearance of yet another stranger, intentions unknown, caused her to quake again.

About the Author:

Natalie is the author of H.A.L.F., a young adult science fiction series, and The Akasha Chronicles, a young adult fantasy trilogy. She lives in the high desert of Tucson, Arizona with her husband, tween daughter, and two young cats.

Natalie spends her time writing, reading, gaming, geeking out over nerd culture and cool science, hanging out on social media, and meeting readers and fans at festivals and comic cons throughout the western United States. She likes to walk in the desert, snorkel in warm waters, travel, and share excellent food and conversation with awesome people. She was raised an Ohio farm girl, lives in the desert Southwest, and dreams of living in a big city high rise

Author links:

Website | Goodreads | Facebook | Twitter

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The Lemorian Crest Book Promo

Posted on August 27, 2015 by The Page Unbound

The Lemorian Crest (Cobbogoth #2)
by Hannah L. Clark
Release Date: July 2015

Summary from Goodreads:

After being raised from infancy in Boston, Mass., Noria (a.k.a Norah Lukens) has no idea what to expect upon entering New Cobbogoth, where she never would have guessed that paths of light can make you vanish; doors can lead to realms both near and far; myths and legends are actual history; a mere kiss can seal two souls as one; and, of course, a stone is never “just a stone.” Her Uncle Jack’s stories never could have prepared her for the magical and dangerous place her native realm is turning out to be.

When the Gihara’s promises begin to crumble, her best friend and soul-mate Jamus (a.k.a. James Riley) is in more danger than ever. Then when his father Lylend abandons her to search for an ancient relic called The Lemorian Crest and she is taken captive by the very people she’s risked everything to save, Noria begins to lose faith in the Cobbogothian gods and the mission they sent her home to accomplish.

Only when a series of new friendships and loyalties are forged in the most peculiar of places, does Noria dare hope again. Hope for Jamus’ safety, for their future together, and for the survival of the entire Cobbogothian race.

Book 1: Uncovering Cobbogoth was published in 2014 by Cedar Fort Publishing.

Book One:

Book Excerpt:

At her wits end where James’ safety is concerned, Noria and two new friends set out to rescue him. Before they can get too far, they are intercepted by an old acquaintance—a figure that Noria’s friends believe to be dead. But Noria soon learns Totherma’s interception is a godsend. She has a much less dangerous way to locate James.

Dark Matter Doors

Totherma waved her hand, and suddenly three circles of light appeared on the ground on either side of us.

“I’ve seen those before!” I said.

“Do you know what they are?” she asked.

“They look like the Venn diagram,” I shook my head. “But I don’t know what they’re called here. They just appeared before one of my visions of James. And then . . . it was like—well, I saw myself over there, but then I was here. It was like I was . . .”

“In two places at once?”

“Exactly!”

Totherma nodded, as though being in two places at once was exactly what she expected me to say. “These,” she said, gesturing to the circles, “are a dark matter door. And yes, they are exactly what their name implies—a door that opens a passage into dark matter.”

“Dark matter?” I breathed. Samir, my old physics tutor, had taught me about dark matter in our lessons. Dark matter was the space between space. Earth’s physicists still weren’t exactly sure what it was or did, but Totherma was most likely about to tell me. After being here a while, I thought I might already know.

“Is dark matter what you call the matter between realms?” I asked.

Totherma beamed down at me, like a proud teacher admiring her favorite pupil. “Yes. That and everything else. There is dark matter all around us right now; we just can’t see it because it’s in a metaphysical sphere.”

“Like a spirit world?” I asked.

“Some in the Olden Realm have called it that. You may have also heard it referred to as the Fairy Paths, or the Underworld, or Ley lines. In a way it’s all of those things. Right now, all you need to understand is that it’s a way to get from one place to another very quickly.”

“Like a hoption hole,” I said.

Totherma nodded slowly. “Similar, but hoption holes can only be used within the sphere of a single realm. Dark matter doors have the ability to take you to different realms entirely.”

“So James is in a different realm?” I asked, alarmed.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But if he was, a dark matter door could take me there?”

“Precisely,” Totherma smiled. “The other difference between a hoption hole and a dark matter door is that you cannot pass through a hoption hole without your body, whereas with a dark matter door you can’t pass through with it.”

I realized what she was saying. “So the other day, when I saw myself in two places at once,” I began, trying to wrap my mind around what she was saying, “it was because my soul had separated itself from my body?”

Totherma nodded.

I shivered in spite of the warm night. It was what I’d suspected that night in my neutralocite cell.

Finally, Totherma moved over to one of the circles of light. “Now watch carefully so I don’t have to do this twice.”

I nodded, keeping my eyes fixed on her.

She floated into the circle. As soon as she was directly over its center, she vanished.

I blinked at the circle. “Totherma? Totherma, where are you?” I called.

Can you hear me, Noria? It was Totherma’s voice. I jumped, spinning around to find her, but no one was there.

I’m in your head, libkin. Traveling through dark matter allows me to speak to your soul.

I turned back to the circles of light. For the first time, I noticed there was a peculiar design inside one of the circles. It was simple, but elegant and something about it reminded me of the crop circles “aliens” left in barley or cornfields back in the Olden Realm.

I’d just completed this thought, when Totherma was back. She floated out of the circle with the design, and hovered in front of me again.

“I apologize for not asking permission first,” she said, “but I find the first time goes easier that way.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Is this how you were able to meet Uncle Jack outside the Caves of Aegissida all those years ago?” A dozen questions flooded my mind. “Is this how you were able to help me stop Cifer from figuring out I had the Haven?”

“Yes. What you see before you—this image of me—it is not really me,” she said. “Or I should say, it is not really my body standing before you. It is my soul, correct?”

I nodded.

“And my body is back in my own rodãor, safe and sound.”

“But why not come in the flesh?” I asked, still confused.

“Because my body cannot pass through the dark matter. Only metaphysical matter can.”

“Like the Dogrils without Cobbogothian bodies?” I asked.

“Yes, and if you still wish to see Jamus,” Totherma explained, “I can take your soul to see him through a dark matter door.”

“Really?” I asked. “You can do that . . . right now?”

“Libkin, I am the Opalian Eye; there is very little I cannot do.” Her proud words hung in contrast to the self-deprecating twist of her mouth.

I smiled up at her. She gave all the appearance of a “Grand Lady” and yet it was refreshing to see that she was able to make light of her power, in spite of her position. I liked her more and more.

“So how does it work?” I finally asked

Totherma paused a moment, as though she was carefully mulling my question over. “Let’s see, I could keep you here for years and years, trying to explain it to you, or, for the sake of what’s at stake, I could just show you.”

I hesitated a moment. I didn’t love the idea of leaving my body here in the open while Totherma took my soul through one of these dark matter doors. But I closed my eyes, picturing James—saw him writhing, broken and burning up as though I was right there in the room with him.

It was all I needed to make up my mind. “Show me,” I said.

Totherma smiled and then reached out, as if to take my chin in her hand. “First, I need permission to help your soul out of your body.”

“Permission?” I asked.

“Yes. Whenever a situation warrants it, I like to ask permission before I enter another’s body. It is your body, after all. Only the Dogrils and Cifer invade others’ minds and bodies so thoughtlessly.”

“You have my permission,” I said, my voice shaking a little. It was one thing for Totherma to randomly show up in my mind, it was quite another to wait, knowing that she would any second.

“Good. Now lie down here,” Totherma pointed to one of the circles without a design in its center. I did as she said and situated myself where she indicated on the ground.

Next she moved into the opposite circle.

A sharp zap zinged through my body.

Then I wasn’t lying on my back anymore. Instead, I stood in the opposite circle with Totherma, staring down at my body still lying in the first.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

I swallowed. “I think so.”

“Good kyndie.” Totherma then drew my attention to the third circle. It overlapped the other two; all were connected, creating a Celtic looking version of Borromean Rings—three circles all linked together in a sort of triangular design.

I tried really hard not to think about how weird it was to see myself lying there. “Am I—am I still breathing?” I asked.

Totherma reached up and smoothed my hair—or my soul’s hair. It was a peculiar sensation, and I was surprised to find it was far more potent than if she’d done it while I was in my body—like I didn’t feel the motion in my head but throughout my entire being.

“You are just sleeping very deeply.”

I nodded, letting out a shaky breath. I wondered how much more of the impossible it would take before I got used to this place.

“Now,” Totherma continued, “do you see the design in these two circles?” She pointed at the two circles with the crop circle designs.

Again, I nodded.

“These designs are maps—maps to particular paths that run through the dark matter. There is a different map for every path.”

“How many paths are there?” I asked.

“Many. You will soon memorize all of them as I have. It is one of the reasons the Gihara gave you an extraordinary memory.”

“Really? I’ve always thought it was just one more reason to consider myself a freak.”

Totherma tut-tutted. “By the time you’re old, libkin, you’ll realize just how much you take it for granted.”

I smiled back at her. “So where does this map lead?” I asked, directing her attention back to the dark matter doors, to the second circle in particular.

“This map is the map to your soul.”

“Is this the map you used when you helped me defeat Cifer in Earth’s realm?” I asked.

“Almost. I had to make a few alterations so I could first pass into Earth’s realm.”

I shook my head. “You can do that—just change the maps when you want?” Samir would’ve loved to experience this.

To demonstrate, Totherma waved her hand over the third circle in the dark matter door. Suddenly, the design in the center changed. This design was different than the first, but still simple.

“This map will take you to your friends over there on the shore,” she said. She waved her hand again, and a slightly more complex map appeared in the circle. “This one will take you back to Resistance headquarters.”

“How do you know where they all lead?” I asked in awe.

“Because I created them all. It’s one of the powers of a Space Shifter. We are the only ones who are permitted by the Gihara to open dark matter doors and the only ones who can create paths through the dark matter.”

Totherma waved her hand a final time, and this time an extremely intricate map appeared. It was different than the others, with several flourishes and spirals leading every which way.

As I looked down at it, I noticed something else that was different from the others. There was a small blue light pulsing at the center of the map.

“What is that?” I asked.

Totherma grew serious now. “In the dark matter you will see the souls of every living thing.” I could feel her eyes on me. “But the souls that you are bound to—the way you’re bound to Jamus—will call to you by shining brighter than the rest.”

I turned to look at her, but she directed my attention back to the circle.

“That pulsing light right there,” she said, “is Jamus’ soul calling you.”

I breathed out, my heart lurching in response to James’ light. “Then he’s still alive?” I whispered.

Totherma smiled gently. “Yes, libkin. He’s alive.”

It was as though her words were electricity, spurring me into motion.

“Wait, Nor—.”

But before I knew what I was doing, I’d rushed for the dark matter door. The next instant, everything went silent and black. I waited, my heart beating with nothing but the thought that James was still alive.

Then the blackness vanished. Soul-shaking noise and neon colors blasted me like icy water. Shapes of light appeared, bleeding against the darkness like smeared chalk on a black canvas. There were outlines of trees, giant fireflies, rocks, grass—water teeming with light and energy and noise.

I stood in wonder, as a path of light—a path very similar to the Drusy Path—flashed out in front of me like car lights racing over a darkened highway.

I moved toward it, ready to find James—ready to rescue him from the torture he’d been enduring for at least two weeks—when a sharp screech to my left stopped me. I turned to see what it was.

I screamed as a frothy fanged Dogril sped for my throat.

About the Author

Hannah L. Clark lives with her husband and two children in the Rocky Mountains. She has always known she would be a storyteller. In 2006 she graduated from Utah Valley University with a bachelor’s degree in English and immediately began writing her first novel.

Uncovering Cobbogoth was Clark’s first book in the seven book Cobbogoth series based on her mythological brain-child, The Legend of the Cobbogothians. It was released in May 2014 through Cedar Fort Publishing. Book 2 in the series, The Lemorian Crest will be released in Summer 2015.

Clark loves running, mythology, singing while playing the guitar, herbal tea, escaping into imaginary worlds, and being with her peeps. Like her heroine Norah, she also kind of believes that trees might have souls, but must clarify that she has never actually hugged a tree. The closest she has ever come to that kind of bizarre behavior was the time she hugged the pillars outside Harry Potter Land. Which, all things considered, is not bizarre at all if you take into account how exquisitely happy she was to finally be there. 😉

Author Links:
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Aurelious Forty: Interview and Giveaway

Posted on August 26, 2015 by The Page Unbound

Dianna Beirne
Aurelious Forty; Volume One Blog Tour
July 6, 2015- July 10, 2015
YA Bound Book Tours

Summary from Goodreads:

Aurelious Forty has led a lonely, troubled life. He stays disconnected from the world around him with no family and no friends. He lives merely to exist…to survive.

Aurelious’ life changes in an instant when an impulsive decision forces him to abandon everything he has ever known. Choosing to follow strangers into a new world, he discovers he was born with a gift so strong, so unique; it could give him the power to change humanity.

But the shadows of his childhood are long and dark and run through every fiber of his soul. Can Aurelious break the chains of his past and use his gift for good? Or will the nightmare of his tormentors set him on a path of revenge so fierce it could destroy us all?

Add to Goodreads

Buy Links:
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Aurelious Forty; Volume One Interview with Dianna Beirne

1. How did you come up with the title, Aurelious Forty?
Aurelious Forty is the name of the main character and it wasn’t the original title for this book. The original title for Volume One was Gypsies (it will make sense to anyone who reads it) but the editor that I was working with at the time thought it was a pretty dull title and wouldn’t catch anyone’s interest. She thought that his name was much more interesting so I deferred to her expertise. I’ve since gotten a lot of positive feedback about the title so that editor was definitely right.

2. Who are you trying to reach with the book?
Everyone. Young adults are the primary audience but this is a story that adults can, and do, enjoy as well. Whether it’s relating to an experience or emotion or just being entertained (hopefully) there is something for everyone. Everyone has known or currently knows at least one of these characters. Not, the gifts that they have, that’s were the fantasy comes into play, but in their personalities or physical characteristics, in the way they react, in the way they talk, in the way they present themselves or how they interact with the world. They’re people that we can recognize.

3. What themes are most relevant for readers of the book?
Aurelious goes through a lot. He changes throughout the course of the story, and in terms of the series he changes many times, but the point is that he changes and often times he struggles with that change. I think readers can relate to change, to growing up and how challenging that can be at times. I hope that they see the importance of interacting with other people and how interaction can impact how they develop. It speaks to the relevance of being surrounded by good people and how, when we do that, we can become better versions of ourselves as well. I also hope that readers recognize the idea that they should find, be proud of, and appreciate the things that makes each of them, and everyone around them, unique and amazing.

4. Can you give us a synopsis of the book (Volume I)?
Volume One introduces the reader to Aurelious Forty with a brief background about his life and how its trials and tribulations have impacted the person he has become. The story is about a young man choosing whom to trust on his path toward discovering who he wants to be. Throughout his journey, he recognizes his own unique talents and gifts, he recognizes his value, and he finds value in others as he forms human connections for the first time.

5. What does the gift Aurelious possesses represent?
All of the gifts are part of the element of Fantasy in the story and, in that sense, they serve the purpose of encouraging us to use our imagination. But they represent individuality; they highlight our differences and celebrate them. They show that, on our own, our uniqueness can be amazing and when we combine our distinct strengths and talents we can be extraordinary and can accomplish great things. But we first have to find, acknowledge, and learn to cherish what makes us different, and find, acknowledge, and cherish that in others. And that isn’t always easy to do.

6. What do the Gypsies represent?
They represent compassion, humanity, the struggle between good and bad, right and wrong. They represent the people that often go unnoticed but can be quite remarkable. They represent the idea that we should be looking around and noticing each other and recognizing how each of us interacts with and impacts the world.

7. Who do you think would most benefit from reading the book?
I think anyone that reads it can benefit from it because everyone is reading it for their own unique purpose and this book serves a lot of purposes. I think a reader will find what they are looking for in this book. If they are looking to be entertained by a Young Adult Fantasy novel, then this will serve that purpose. If they are looking to connect with someone who has struggled but not given up, then this will serve that purpose. If they are looking to relate to someone who just never really fit in until they finally found the group of people they were meant to be with, then this will serve that purpose. If they are looking for hope, for love, for friendship, for adventure, for action, then this will serve that purpose. At least, I hope it will.

A Deeper Look at a Main Character: Aurelious Forty

Aurelious is, at times, a bit of an enigma. He is a very emotional character and while he shares his emotional experiences with the reader, he tries desperately to hide them from the characters that he interacts with on the page. He is typically unsuccessful in masking his own emotions from those around him though he’s generally unaware of how unsuccessful he is because he’s fairly self-absorbed, at least in the beginning of the book. Enigma.

There is a lot to love in Aurelious but he makes you work at loving him, he doesn’t give it right away. There are times when you might think it’s easier to dislike him but then he draws you in and you’re reminded of what he endured as a child and you’re proud of how far he’s come.

Although he is the main character and the one telling us his story, he isn’t the hero. He is really more of a sidekick who has to learn from the hero and finds himself fumbling along the way, a lot. He fumbles so much that he makes the hero a little less heroic for a minute. But, when he starts to look outside of himself, when he starts to connect with and care for the people around him, when he shows us how much he changes and overcomes, then he does become a little bit more of a hero himself. Or at least makes us question how a hero could be defined.

Aurelious Forty struggles. He learns. He grows. He changes. He is an imperfect character, just like the rest of us. And, in his imperfection, he is worthy of being loved, just like the rest of us. As the person who created him, I must confess, I hope people will embrace his flaws and love him.

My Pinterest Board

I’m new to Pinterest. Actually I didn’t even understand what it was until I started using it and I might not be using it as it was intended to be used. There is a possibility that I am modifying it’s original intent to fit a need in my life. Or not, I really don’t know since I’m so new at it.

So as of writing this post, I have three boards, six followers, and 80 pins and I’m feeling pretty accomplished (until I happen upon someone who has 3,700 followers, 29 boards, and 5,500 pins…yeah I’m not too accomplished in terms of Pinterest, but I’m trying). I have the obligatory food board, which everyone seems to have. I have a board entitled ‘Nope…Unacceptable’, upon which I pin things that make me shudder or just generally shake my head. And I have a board called ‘For My Soul’ where I pin things that make me daydream or sigh, they make me wonder or imagine, they evoke a comforting memory or feeling, they warm my soul.

I am sharing the ‘For My Soul’ board here with you. If you’ve read or plan to read Aurelious Forty then you will notice, by some of the pins, how this series is a part of my soul. While other pins are glimpses inside my mind. I hope this board makes you feel warm inside like it does for me. And I’d love for you to follow me!

If I Could Live Anywhere Else…

I live in New York. I was born and raised there and I love living there. I am a 20 minute train ride from the city (Manhattan, we just assume everyone knows what we’re talking about when we say ‘the city’), I’m ten minutes from the beach (Atlantic Ocean or some bay, which ever you prefer), and the closest mountain for skiing or hiking is maybe an hour away. There’s plenty to do where I live and I haven’t found a reason to leave, at least not for more than a vacation. But if I had to live somewhere else (maybe even if I didn’t have to), there is one place that I would go to in a heartbeat.

If I could live anywhere else…I’d live in Narnia. Yeah, yeah Narnia isn’t a real place but that hasn’t stopped me from wanting to live there. How cool would it be to sit in a field talking to your friend, who happens to be a dog, about how hilarious it is when Reepicheep, a mouse, starts battling things 5 times his size with his adorable sword? Okay, he’s a really big, brave mouse but still, he’s a mouse battling a centaur (and usually winning), it would be a fun conversation.

The Dwarves could teach me how to use a bow and arrow and we could make a plan to try to get their old friends back from the clutches of the White Witch. I could have tea and cake with some fawns during our book club that meets during the winter, a winter where just wearing a scarf would keep me warm in the two feet of pure freshly fallen snow. Maybe I’d even go on some interesting dates with a River God, I mean why not, it’s Narnia.

Would I stand at the counter of my quaint little house built into a tree and, while wrapping up a cake in brown paper that I made special for the beaver family that lives just down the river, find myself reminiscing about New York? Would I think things like ‘it would really be easier if I could just go to the supermarket for berries rather than picking my own’ (assuming that I’ve started eating berries on a regular basis)? Would I find myself wondering what was happening on Game of Thrones while I was cavorting with Wood Nymphs? Would Aslan scare the crap out of me? I don’t know, but I’d definitely like to find out!

About the Author

Dianna Beirne lives in a fantasy world. Okay not really, but part of her wishes she did and, since that’s technically impossible, she writes about fantasy worlds instead. Her first Young Adult novel entitled Aurelious Forty; Volume One quickly turned into her first Young Adult series with the addition of Aurelious Forty; Volume Two and, Aurelious Forty; Volume Three.

When not writing, she’s generally daydreaming which morphs into wondering if that last daydream could turn into a book. She has also recently discovered podcasts but doesn’t exactly understand what they are or why they’re different from regular radio shows. So it’s safe to assume that her next book won’t be about a podcast. Instead she’ll just keep listening to the ones that she finds that hilarious because laughing is one of her favorite pastimes and she finds way too many things funny!

Prior to dedicating her time to writing, Dianna taught undergraduate and graduate courses about using literacy in the elementary, middle, and high school classroom. She has a Bachelor’s degree in Elementary Education, a Master’s degree in Literacy and a Doctorate in Education specializing in Curriculum and Teaching.

Dianna lives in New York and is the grateful mother of a son whom she misses terribly when he is away at college.

Author Links:
Website│Goodreads│Twitter│Facebook

GIVEAWAY:
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Friday Reveal: Tantrum Books – 2015 Releases with Giveaway

Posted on August 21, 2015 by The Page Unbound

Welcome to this week’s M9B Friday Reveal!

This week, we are revealing

Tantrum Books – 2015 Releases

presented by Tantrum Books/Month9Books!

Be sure to enter the giveaway found at the end of the post!

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Three brothers born to a powerful fallen king were abandoned at birth and cast out as orphans. By order of the false king, three of the most lethal assassins have been sent to kill the children before they come of age and plot to avenge their father’s throne. No one knows where the children are, and the children have no knowledge of one another. But that all changes when Benjamin, Tommy, and Sebastian join together to face adversity, an unspeakable evil, and the temptations of magical powers. This is the first installment of an exciting children’s fantasy series about the power of family.

About-the-Author

Michael-Gibney-194x300

Born in Belfast, Ireland, in 1982, Michael Gibney is a writer whose interests in world politics, literature and the love of film encouraged him to do his studies at the early age of sixteen within the media and journalism field. Through his studies at college and the BBC, he developed an instant passion for creative writing that exceeded his love for media, art and music. Taking his influences from Irish writers like W. B. Yeats, and Belfast Born writers such as author C.S. Lewis and lyricist and poet Van Morrison, Gibney’s somewhat emotionally-charged storytelling is derived from his personal heroes and experiences in his own childhood having grown up in Belfast during the country’s dark history. Combining these influences with recent testing times of the world we live in today has helped create the world of Abasin that is introduced in The Three Thorns, his debut novel and first story in the epic The Brotherhood and the Shield Series. In addition to having a strong way with words and using descriptive text to captivate readers, (both young and old), Gibney combines fantasy with horror and pure escapism to strive to make his story as original and unique as possible.

He spends most of his time writing and painting within the United States and the United Kingdom. He is currently working on books 4, 5 and 6 of The Brotherhood and the Shield Series.

Connect with the Author: Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

Joshua-Cover

Stay away from the window, don’t go outside when it’s storming and whatever you do, do not touch the orb.

Twelve-year-old Joshua Cooper’s grandpa has always warned him about the dangers of lightning. But Joshua never put much stock in his grandpa’s rumblings as anything more than the ravings of an old man with a vast imagination. Then one night, when Joshua and his best friend are home alone during a frightful storm, Joshua learns his grandpa was right. A bolt of lightning strikes his house and whisks away his best friend—possibly forever.

To get him back, Joshua must travel the Lightning Road to a dark place that steals children for energy. But getting back home and saving his friend won’t be easy, as Joshua must face the terrifying Child Collector and fend off ferocious and unnatural beasts intent on destroying him.

In this world, Joshua possesses powers he never knew he had, and soon, Joshua’s mission becomes more than a search for his friend. He means to send all the stolen children home—and doing so becomes the battle of his life.

About-the-Author

Donna Galanti

Donna is the author of the Joshua and The Lightning Road series and the Element Trilogy. She is a contributing editor to International Thriller Writers the Big Thrill magazine and blogs at www.project-middle-grade-mayhem.blogs…, a cooperative of published middle grade authors. Visit her at www.donnagalanti.com andwww.ElementTrilogy.com. Donna wanted to be a writer ever since she wrote a murder mystery screenplay at seven and acted it out with the neighborhood kids. She attended an English school housed in a magical castle, where her wild imagination was held back only by her itchy uniform (bowler hat and tie included!). There she fell in love with the worlds of C.S. Lewis and Roald Dahl, and wrote her first fantasy about Dodo birds, wizards, and a flying ship (and has been writing fantasy ever since). She’s lived in other exotic locations, including her family-owned campground in New Hampshire and in Hawaii where she served as a U.S. Navy photographer. She now lives with her family and two crazy cats in an old farmhouse and dreams of returning one day to a castle.

Strange-Country-Day-Cover

Alexander Graham Ptuiac, the son of an inventor, wants to play for the school’s football team. During tryouts, and under the watchful eye of the team’s coach, he suddenly manifests mysterious superhuman powers. Alexander makes the team, but not before the some ill-intended adults take notice, putting his life in danger.

Alex struggles to suppress and control his strange new abilities, worried about exposing his secret and being kicked off the football team. Then he befriends Dex, a diminutive classmate who can somehow jump as high as ten feet in the air. Seems Alex isn’t the only one at school with a secret.

As the school year unfolds, Alex will find himself the target of bullies, holding hands with his first crush and discovering the shocking truth about himself and his parents.

Amazon | B&N | BAM | Chapters | Kobo | TBD | iBooks

About-the-Author

Charles Curtis

Charles Curtis is a writer and journalist based in New York City. He has reported and written for publications including NJ.com (where he is currently the site’s sports buzz reporter), The Daily, ESPN.com, ESPN the Magazine, Bleacher Report, TV Guide and Entertainment Weekly. Charles has covered the NFL, MLB, NHL, NBA, golf, tennis and NASCAR. He has also written about television, film and pop culture.

In addition, Curtis has also written, produced and was featured in videos for ESPN.com and The Daily. He has made radio appearances on stations including 92.9 The Ticket in Bangor, Maine, WLIE 540 AM in Long Island and on morning shows across Canada via the CBC.
He can be reached on Twitter: @charlescurtis82.

Connect with the Author: Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram

Super Freak by Vanessa Barger

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Thirteen-year-old Caroline is a freak. Her parents have uprooted her to a town full of Supernaturals. You’d think she’d be thrilled. But, with someone without a magical bone in her body, this daughter of tree sprites feels like even more of an outcast than she has ever before.

To make matters worse, her new home is cursed. But when Caroline takes to investigating the mysterious and strange happenings of Harridan House, her BFF goes missing. Seems someone doesn’t want Caroline sticking her non-magical nose where it most certainly does not belong. Determined to prove herself, Caroline uncovers a plot to destroy her new hometown.

Undeterred, Caroline can’t give up. But what’s a human without magical powers to do? Caroline better figure it out fast, before she loses everything she has ever loved and the whispers she’s heard all her life prove true: Caroline is a useless superfreak.

Coming October 2015

TBD

About-the-Author

Vanessa Barger was born in West Virginia, and through several moves ended up spending the majority of her life in Virginia Beach, Virginia. She is a graduate of George Mason University and Old Dominion University, and has degrees in Graphic Design, a minor in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, and a Masters in Technology Education. She has had articles published in Altered Arts Magazine, has had some artwork displayed in galleries in Ohio and online, and currently teaches engineering, practical physics, drafting and other technological things to high school students in the Hampton Roads area of Virginia. She is a member of the SCBWI (Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators) and the Virginia Writer’s Club. When not writing or teaching, she’s a bookaholic, movie fanatic, and loves to travel. She has one cat, who believes Vanessa lives only to open cat food cans, and can often be found baking when she should be editing.

Giveaway

Complete the Rafflecopter below for a chance to win!

Titles not yet released will be upon its publication.

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Back To Us Book Promo

Posted on August 19, 2015 by The Page Unbound

Title: Back To Us
Author: Teresa Roman
Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance

Book Summary:

Abandoned by her parents at fourteen, Jessica knows what it means to struggle. She’s vowed that getting her degree is the only thing she has time for, until a summer internship brings Justin into her life.

But Justin has scars of his own. A tour of duty in Afghanistan has left him with wounds. A medical discharge from the Navy leaves Justin struggling to make sense of his new reality. Then he meets Jessica; but can the two of them leave their pain in the past and make a future together?

Book Excerpt:

I turned to leave. There were a million things I wanted to say to Justin, but without a guarantee that he’d respond the way I wanted him too, I was too afraid.

“Jess.”

“Yes?” I was almost at the door.

Justin hopped up on the table behind him and rested his feet on a chair. I waited for him to talk. “I’m scared,” he finally said.

“Scared of what?”

“That you’ll break me.”

I walked over to Justin slowly and stood in front of him. “You don’t believe I care about you?”

“I do. But feelings change, people change.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be saying right now. I was the one who asked you out. I was the one who told you I was interested, but you turned me down, twice.”

“Because I’m an idiot.”

“Justin…”

“Just hear me out, okay?”

“Ok.” I took a step closer to him and he reached for my hand.

About the Author:

Teresa Roman is a lover of books, both reading and writing them. She currently resides in Sacramento, CA with her husband, three adorable children and the puppy her son convinced them to adopt. When she isn’t at her day job or running around with her kids, you can find her in front of the computer writing or with her head buried in another book.

Author Links:
Website | Amazon | Facebook | Twitter

GIVEAWAY:
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