Naughty Netherworld Press's Blog: Naughty Netherworld Press on Goodreads, page 35
January 26, 2025
New Substack Post + Story Offer Still Active #8Sunday #SnippetSunday
I fell flat on my face this past week. I didn't do a sampler post for my fellow participants in the Snippet Sunday and Weekend Writing Warriors blog hops, and I didn't even share last week's post with Snippet Sunday.
I'm keeping my free story offer active until the end of the month. Here's another excerpt.
“Azathothis a powerful energy that forms other powerful energies,”Nyarlathotep speculated. “The needs of Azathoth are creation anddomination. Like Azathoth, my siblings are powerful beings wieldingpowerful energies. I possess attributes that they do not. I amadaptable, orderly, and reasonable. I am powerful yet peaceful. Ilove the worlds that I assist and the creatures that dwell therein.Yet despite my satisfaction with my accomplishments, I feel anemptiness within. I am lonely. I wish I might find someone who wouldunderstand me.”
You can read the previous snippet here.https://ornerybookemporium.blogspot.com/2025/01/nyarlathoteps-journey-8sunday.htmlFollow this link to read this week's Substack post and learn how to get your free copy of Nyarlathotep's Journey.https://open.substack.com/pub/naughtynetherworldpress/p/ouch?r=26qnv5&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true
If you'd like to read the poem that appears at the beginning of this story, follow the link below.
https://poetryofthenetherworld.blogspot.com/2021/03/sympathy-for-nyarlathotep.html
With Love,
Ornery Owl
https://www.facebook.com/groups/401643826588474
https://wewriwa.blogspot.com
January 25, 2025
The Perfume of War Book Blast #GayBookPromotions
BOOK BLAST
Book Title: The Perfume of War
Author: Garrick Jones
Publisher: Tellwell Publications
Cover Artist: Garrick Jones
Release Date: November 25, 2024
Genres: Crime Thriller, WW2 Spy Thriller
Themes: Historical Crime fiction, WW2; Spies/Action/Thriller
Heat Rating: 2 flames
Length: 134 000 words/420 pages (paperback version)
It is Book #4 in the Seventh of December Series and does not end on a cliffhanger.
Buy Links
Amazon AU | Amazon US | Amazon UK | Smashwords
Blurb
“Please donate generously to Mrs. Roosevelt’s charity. Every penny raised from this series of concerts along the eastern coast of the United States will help with the resettlement and care of child refugees from war-torn continental Europe.”
Over dinner with J Edgar Hoover in Washington, Tommy Haupner is shocked to learn that his forgotten and empty Swiss bank account has been topped up regularly with staggering sums of money … deposits that originate in Nazi Germany. Could this bank account have something to do with anonymous letters posted to him at home in London, their contents a single blank slip of paper on which are written two words: NAZI GOLD?
When he returns to Britain, he soon discovers that not only is his own life in danger but also those of his nearest and dearest who become pawns in a savage game of revenge.
Excerpt
I knew he’d tell me if he knew anything; we’d pledged never to keep secrets after our first foray behind enemy lines in early 1941.
“All right, I’m listening,” I said.
“I’ve been told not to bring anything. No personal items and no documents, not even a toothbrush.”
“Uh-oh,” I said. That sort of deployment, where clothes, right down to underwear, toiletries and everything else would be supplied, indicated that whatever the mission was going to be, it wouldn’t be a local training course. “How long will you be away? Any idea?”
“Minimum three weeks, maybe more. That’s all I know.”
“I know duty calls, but what a shame. I was looking forward to having dinner with you again at Xavier’s. And your parents will be very disappointed; I know they were excited about travelling to Washington for the presentation of your Silver Star.”
“Yeah, I know, babe. Me too. I’ve just finished writing a letter. Will you give it to them?”
He must have seen the sudden change in my face, because he laughed softly then pulled me down on to his lap.
“No, it’s not one of those sorts of letters, Tommy. I just want to let them know how sorry I am not to be able to catch up this trip, but I’m sure there’ll be another opportunity. Who knows: maybe this secret mission might be in the USA.”
We both knew that that was hardly likely to be the case. Reporting for deployment with absolutely no personal items except the clothes you were wearing indicated a place, or a situation, where the threat of capture was a reality. My mind ran quickly through the possibilities: occupied France or Italy were top of my list.
“What about your niece’s birthday party?” I asked. “I know she had something special planned that included both of us.”
“Helene will cope. I’ll put five dollars for her in the letter to Mom and Pop.”
“Money isn’t the same as a present. I’ll see if I can find something from us both when I get there.”
“Tommy …”
“Yes?”
“We knew a day like this would come. I’m not being dramatic or anything, but we’ve been so lucky so far. We’ve talked about what it’s like for everyone else: husbands and wives and lovers separated by the war, families bereft of their sons, wondering where they might be. It’s the life we’re all faced with now and I have to go; I simply don’t have a choice. You understand that, don’t you? And I promise I’m coming back.”
“You’d better, soldier,” I said, willing myself to believe it. Although I was trying to sound calm and collected, inside I felt more than a little anxious. Yes, we’d known a day like this would come, but I’d wished with all my might that it never would. I had no qualms about being sent away myself, but Shorty … well, that was a different thing altogether.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
“Well, the family’s out having dinner with your uncle Otto, so …”
“So what?” I asked.
“I brought ham, cheese and a loaf of fresh white bread home from the embassy—even a slab of butter, believe it or not. Fancy a sandwich, naked, in the dark, mister?”
It was a crazy thing to do, but our relationship had been filled with small madnesses. Wearing just our garters and socks, we sat on the kitchen table eating ham and cheese sandwiches, washing it down with glasses of milk, also purloined from the embassy kitchen. He’d brought home enough for everyone else too, including a spare large bottle of the almost-impossible-to-obtain white stuff.
With a soft burp he wiped the milk moustache from his upper lip; I was about to do the same but he stopped me. “Let me, Tommy,” he whispered low in his throat, and wiped it away with the flat of his tongue.
I knew the family wouldn’t return unexpectedly and catch us in the kitchen, so I pushed him on to his back on the kitchen table. Not wanting to waste our last evening together for another month, I got to work on him, promising my man a good hour at least of looking after him.
“An hour, Tommy?” he said, laughing into my mouth.
“Who says it only has to be once?” I replied as I kissed my way down his body.
About the Author
From the outback to the opera.
After a thirty-year career as a professional opera singer, performing as a soloist in opera houses and in concert halls all over the world, I took up a position as lecturer in music in Australia in 1999, at the Central Queensland Conservatorium of Music, which is now part of CQ University.
Brought up in Australia, between the bush and the beaches of the Eastern suburbs, I retired in 2015 and now live in the tropics, writing, gardening, and finally finding time to enjoy life and to re-establish a connection with who I am after a very busy career on the stage and as an academic.
Author Links
Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram
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January 24, 2025
Friday Book Blogger Hop Special: Brothers of the Sea
Genre:
Action and adventure, Age Gap Romance (older/younger man), European history, gay romance, historical romance, Italian history, m/m romance, military stories, renaissance romance, seafaring stories
Buy Link:
https://amzn.to/40KwsfjPublication Date:
January 7, 2025
Ebook Price:
$6.99
Paperback Price
$22.99
Book Blurb:
Running a gauntlet of raging seas and enemy warships, Nico and Admiral Vettor Pisani race to Constantinople to rescue Venice from Byzantine treachery.
A triple alliance of powerful princes plans to besiege Venice by sea and land and seize the reins of St. Mark’s legendary four horses. With Nico as his right hand, Pisani leads a war fleet to secure the island of Tenedos in the Aegean, fulcrum of the impending war. Amid the mortal dangers of the journey, Nico and Pisani wrestle with their overpowering physical and psychic attraction, knowing that the choices they make will change their lives irrevocably.
Nico first met Pisani and fell under his spell at the age of fourteen. In the decade since, despite great loves and failed loves, Nico never lost his starry-eyed admiration for Venice’s greatest admiral. Pisani, thirty years older and wiser, hesitates to risk everything for a young man’s love until Nico throws open new doors, and their age difference evaporates in the heat of battle.
The enemy triple alliance—Padua, Genoa, and Hungary—outnumbers Venice five to one. Mounted armies blockade the mainland shores and rivers while the enemy fleet breaches the lagoon. Venice can only win on water with Pisani leading her. When he is forced to fight a battle he knows he cannot win, Pisani’s disastrous defeat lands him in prison. Locked behind bars while Venice hovers on the brink of annihilation, Nico and Pisani sketch a bold plan to save the Republic.
"A richly textured picaresque full of adventure, intrigue, and erotic passion. This captivating period saga mixes precise, colorful details with epic sweep."
KIRKUS REVIEWS
READ THE ENTIRE KIRKUS REVIEW OF "THE MAN WITH SAPPHIRE EYES" AT
https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/larry-mellman/the-man-with-sapphire-eyes/
https://www.rosecityreader.com/
https://readingismysuperpower.org/I ALWAYS KNOW when he’s following me.
The Friday 56
http://www.fredasvoice.com/“If you want to know what’s in the pastry,” Steno says, “don’t ask the baker’s wife.”
About the Author
Larry was born in Los Angeles and educated in literature, political science, and life at the University of California, Berkeley. He worked as a typographer and journalist in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Chicago, and St. Paul, Minnesota. Along the way he also worked with Andy Warhol and the Velvet Underground on the Exploding Plastic Inevitable in NY, Provincetown, Los Angeles, and San Francisco, was mentored by Dean Koontz. During five years living in Venice, Larry also taught English, led tours, hosted a B&B, and immersed himself in the history and art of the Venetian Republic. The Ballot Boy Trilogy was born in Venice and completed in St. Paul.
Book Blogger Hop
https://www.coffeeaddictedwriter.com/p/blog-page.html24th-30th - What books do you look to for inspiration at the start of the year or to motivate you to make positive changes in your life? (submitted by Billy @ Coffee Addicted Writer)
I...don't. I'm still recovering from the hell of Fourth Quarter Writing Challenges.
I'm currently trying to create a journal and workbook that might be such a book for somebody, but I've been trying to create this book for years. I tried to get a strong start on my Substack this year, but I've already fallen on my face. Honestly, I don't find the arbitrary start of the year particularly inspiring.
Look for Ornery Owl's review of today's featured book in February.
Follow our Start page to keep up with the latest from the Naughty Netherworld Press crew.
https://naughtynetherworldpress.start.page
Why not start the year right with a new audiobook?
If you don’t already have an Audible subscription, click the link below to get started with your 30-day free trial. You’re welcome.
https://odysee.com/@CCSIntermedia:2/ABBA---Ring-Ring%CC%B2-%28Deluxe-Edition%29-1973-2013-CD:b?r=GTwnGJ4fFBQfzuJgpHVpfKBKaC9b8B16
Who doesn't love Abba? This is what I was listening to while creating this post.
January 23, 2025
Master Version 1.1 Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
Technothriller, sci-fi thriller, war fiction
Date Published: December 16, 2024
Master is a lone soldier, relying on near-future technology and his own creativity to survive in the Gray Zone of the Ukrainian warzone.
The year is 2028. The simmering conflict has transformed into a new kind of battlefield, where military streamers compete for followers and views while carrying out often deadly missions.
Armed with an arsenal of experimental technology—including an advanced computer-brain interface, a multifunctional prosthetic arm, AI, and drones controlled with his mind—Master embarks on a desperate run for his life as he searches for missing fellow streamers.
The book contains 40+ original illustrations and maps. The maps and related action follow actual geographical places down to smallest detail.
About the Author
Master Version 1.1 is my first book. I’ve been writing for most of my life—not books, but code. I’m a software programmer. Together with Martynas Majeris, who translated Master Version 1.1 into English, we run a tiny company—essentially a two-and-a-half-man operation (sans Charlie)—but one that’s extremely successful in its field: amCharts. We estimate that our data visualization libraries are now used by at least half of the Fortune 500 companies and thousands of smaller businesses. Besides this main activity—which, even after nearly two decades, is still fun—I also enjoy long-distance bike travel and participate in competitive sailing events, both fully crewed and double-handed. When it comes to my reading habits, I prefer science fiction. Like most readers, I have my favorite writers, such as Neal Stephenson, and eagerly await their new releases. In between, I enjoy giving new authors a try. Sometimes, they blow me away and become new favorites, like Andy Weir. Unfortunately, there’s also a fair share of disappointment. Every time I felt let down by a new book, I thought, I could do better. On one such occasion, I sat down and wrote my first chapter. Then I wrote another. And a couple more. To make my texts believable, I wrote about things I know well. As a member of the Lithuanian Riflemen Union—an organization of voluntary fighters ready to take up arms and fight Russians if they come this way—and a regular participant in tactical drills and exercises, I’m well-versed in warfare. I know my way around guns and drone combat. You can find me on BlueSky @marcelionis.
Contact Links
Purchase Link
Circumcision Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
How an Ancient Ritual Became a Questionable Surgery — A Complete Analysis
Non-Fiction, Parenting, Health
Date Published: October 14, 2024
Every year, millions of baby boys are circumcised, either for purported health benefits, or for religious reasons. This book provides a comprehensive and clear explanation of the risks and rewards of that practice, which has significant effects on sexuality, psychology, and overall health.
Drawing on 869 research references and firsthand accounts, Dr. Lipman sheds light on the disparity between traditional views and contemporary medical perspectives.
Whether you're a parent contemplating the procedure for your child or an academic in search of an in-depth analysis, Circumcision provides a balanced and factual perspective on this widely performed yet increasingly debated surgery.
In this groundbreaking, meticulously rendered book, you will learn:
• Why routine male circumcision does not improve a baby's health, or reduce the incidence of AIDs or urinary tract infections, as is often claimed
• The secret financial incentives behind the six billion-dollar circumcision industry
• That the pain of circumcision is equivalent to torture, and why anesthesia is rarely used
• Circumcision's significant physical and mental health risks, including death
• Why both men and women enjoy sex more if the man is uncircumcised
• That adherents to Judaism or Islam may not be required to ritually circumcise their child, as is often thought
• Why not one medical association in the world recommends circumcision
About the Author
Kenneth S. Lipman is a scientist with a sense of humor. He has a PhD in Integrative (Holistic) Health, and an MS in psychology. He is a former member of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange, the largest futures exchange in the world. He meditates daily and is a recovering atheist. On weekends, he often plays guitar and piano at music jams. He lives with his dog Joni Mitchell in Berkeley.
Contact Links
Purchase Link
Distinctly Daray Cover Reveal #GayBookPromotions
COVER REVEAL
Book Title: Distinctly Daray (D’Vaire, Book 43)
Author and Publisher: Jessamyn Kingley
Cover Artist: LJ Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations
Release Date: February 6, 2025
Genre: MMM Fantasy/Paranormal Romance
Trope: Fated mates
Themes: Love, overcoming obstacles
Heat Rating: 3 flames
Length: 90 460 words
It is not a standalone story, but does not end on a cliffhanger.
The odds are against them, but they refuse to allow anything to get in their way.
Blurb
Victor Antonov-Daray is a lucky man. Thanks to his impetuous decision to apply for a job he didn’t qualify for, his life changed forever. In the decades since, Victor has gained experience, poise, and a found family. The Darays anchor his world.
Every twelve months, new fallen knights are resurrected. Keegan Hayes considers himself fortunate to be among them. As a recruit, he is eager to train and study. Shortly after classes begin, Keegan discovers there is a shifter sentinel struggling to adjust to his resurrection. Keegan insists on meeting him.
No sentinel likes to stick out, but Phillip Osdraconis has no choice. His dragon will not allow him to rest. It takes sorcery to force the beast into submission. His precarious start means he is not ready for the courses necessary to prepare him for his future duties.
Phillip refuses to accept his fate idly. He is determined to forge a bond with his dragon, read his textbooks, and spar with his brethren. To his surprise, visitors arrive at his dorm door to greet him. One of them is his mate, Keegan.
Although they are pleased to be paired, their relationship is awkward. That is, until Phillip and Keegan are invited to dine with the Darays and they meet the missing part of their soul, Victor.
Now the three men must navigate the perilous road of a triple matebond. They do it willingly and with complete determination. Victor, Keegan, and Phillip soon learn everything is easier with love.
Excerpt
Preoccupied with ensuring drinks were being dispensed and that he’d forgotten nothing, Victor barely noted the shift in the air as a teleportation circle brought six men into the condo. That was until his dick grew hard and the scents of sunflowers and spicy cinnamon overwhelmed his senses. His head whipped to the side. A black-haired sentinel with wide, dark gray eyes stared at him. At his side was a redhead with pretty waves and a stunning brown gaze. The fallen knight’s mouth hung open, but it made him no less handsome.
Mates.
Somehow, Fate had brought Victor the other half—strike that, the other pieces—of his soul. Victor had two mates. He trembled and sweat dripped down his back. Thankfully, due to their large audience, his erection was wilting, but the scents of his mates had barely receded. Their expressions hadn’t changed either. They continued to gawk at him.
To call the moment awkward was an understatement of titanic proportions.
“Victor,” Chander said, moving close to him and laying a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Blinking heavily and nearly smiling at the way his cat purred and pranced through his mind, Victor managed a shake of his head.
“What is going on?” Alaric asked.
The sentinel with the messy dark hair briefly flicked his gaze from Victor to Alaric. “I believe Keegan and I have found a missing piece of ourselves.”
Keegan’s mouth snapped shut, and he glanced at Phillip. “You’re right. This must be at least one of the reasons we’re so weird around each other. We needed a cat shifter.”
Neither Victor nor his Russian Blue liked hearing about any struggle his mates were enduring, and he was sadly reminded that the only reason he was meeting Phillip and Keegan was because the Darays wanted to ease the troubles Phillip had faced since his resurrection.
“Cat shifter?” Baxter asked. “What does that mean?”
Victor raised his hand slightly. “Me. I’m the cat shifter they’re talking about.”
“What do you guys want with Victor?” Baxter demanded.
Knowing that the overprotective men in his family would soon swarm the newcomers with questioning and accusatory stares, Victor pulled himself together and approached the pair he hoped would be part of his future. His concern first went to Phillip.
Victor ignored everyone but his mates.
“Hi, I’m Victor,” he told Phillip and Keegan with a small smile. At five-foot-five, Victor had to glance up. Keegan was probably a handful of inches taller than Victor, and Phillip had a few inches on the fallen knight. “How’s your dragon doing, Phillip?”
“My dragon is handling everything well thus far. I believe he is like me and relieved to know Keegan and I have found you. At my resurrection, the first smell I registered was of coffee. It soothed me. That is what you smell like to me.”
“Same,” Keegan said, a grin lighting up his big brown eyes. “It’s a comforting scent to me too, and I basically can’t live without at least a few cups of it a day. What do we smell like, Victor? Wait, did I say how wonderful it is to meet you?”
“Neither of us did, I am afraid,” Phillip lamented. “This is such a momentous day; words are failing me.”
“That’s okay, my mind is reeling too,” Victor assured them both. With closer proximity and his senses returning somewhat to normal, Victor was finally able to differentiate between the scents of the two men. Phillip smelled like cinnamon, while the floral scent of sunflowers clung to Keegan, which he explained.
“He is a floral scent to me too, but I could not place the flower,” Phillip remarked.
“Will someone please explain to me what is going on right now?” Baxter exclaimed.
“Dude, seriously,” Dra’Kaedan drawled. “They’re mates. How did you not figure that out?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t randomly have conversations about scents,” Baxter retorted. “It didn’t click in mind…wait! Mates. A triple matebond? Another sentinel with two mates? This is incredible.”
“This is, of course, wonderful news,” Alaric stated.
Wondering at the flatness of Alaric’s voice, Victor glanced at him, but his face was an expressionless mask. At his side, Chander’s pewter gaze was filled with wonder. Even the tiny goblins Chander had summoned for Alaric—Rogue and Pizza—were oddly solemn.
Victor bowed his head briefly as he immediately understood the lack of joy. Not only was Phillip currently locked in a struggle with an unruly dragon, but statistically triple matebonds had a less than fifty percent chance of succeeding. That should have frightened Victor or given him pause, but confidence radiated through him. His cat believed in their success.
Victor’s beast was drawn toward Keegan and Phillip equally. It was up to Victor to do his part to honor the bonds Fate had granted him. He wasn’t sure why, but Victor refused to accept a smidgen of doubt. They would succeed. He was sure of it.
About the Author
Jessamyn Kingley has published over thirty titles and refuses to pick a favorite among them. With an extraordinary passion for her characters, she enthusiastically adds tales to her D’Vaire series and avidly re-reads them whenever her schedule allows. After decades living in the Washington, DC area, she now resides in Nevada with her husband and their three spoiled cats. When she is not writing or adding new ideas to her beloved notebooks, she is gaming with family and friends.
Join her Facebook group, Jessamyn's Ruffian's
Facebook Profile | Twitter | Pinterest
Just Call Me Source Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
Paranormal Thriller
Date Published: 4/30/23
In this stunning sequel to Just Call Me Jim, the world has awakened to Jim Vincent’s outside influence on the way things are done.
He and his extraterrestrial partner, the Source, successfully changed the corrupt policies of social media companies and neutralized the nuclear weapons capability of global countries. Now, he has more enemies than he knows.
Despite the risks to Jim and his family; the time has come for him and the Source to venture into the world of drug trafficking, where human life holds little value.
Together they orchestrate attacks destroying the cocaine processing plants in Mexico and Central America, intercepting the flow of cartel cash, and put a stop to the influx of deadly drugs from China.
Mexican drug cartels and their Chinese partners are losing billions of dollars.
They want Jim dead!
About the Author
James Peifer is a retired business-owner from Silicon Valley.
He was an Army Captain and a combat veteran of the Vietnam War.
He lives in Napa, California.
Contact Link
Purchase Link
January 22, 2025
Dear Presti: The Prince's Pen Pal Review
Title: Dear Presti: the Prince's Pen Pal
Author: Karrie Roman
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 12/31/2024
Heat Level: 1 - No Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 65686
Genre: Contemporary, humor, romance, royalty, blue collar, Australia, England, pen pals
Add to Goodreads
DescriptionTwo men. One a royal born and bred, the other…not.
Prince James lives a life of stifling duty behind the walls of Buckingham Palace. He keeps his secrets and his stiff upper lip while dreaming of the day he will be free to find the man of his dreams. It’s a day he believes might never come. Until Prestidigitation Jones, an ethnobotany student from a small town in Australia, bursts into his life.
Prestidigitation marches to his own beat along with his small group of family and friends. He long ago accepted most people found him a little eccentric, but that won’t stop him from living on his own terms. Though happy enough, Presti dreams of finding a man who accepts him as he is and loves him unconditionally.
A fated meeting throws them together. An attraction blooms, and a friendship begins. Distance keeps them apart, but destiny brings them together.
Through a trail of exposed secrets, false starts and unfathomable tragedy, James and Presti’s feelings for each other grow stronger. Does James have the courage to fight for his dream? Can Presti face the public scrutiny of being the plus one of the spare to the throne?
Surely together, they can find their way to happiness/find their happily ever after.ExcerptDear Presti: the Prince’s Pen PalKarrie Roman © 2024All Rights Reserved
Some people have a unique gift bestowed on them at birth. Perhaps one they enjoy bragging about or showing off at parties, performing these oddities like show ponies. The only gift I possessed seemed to be attracting unwanted attention.
Unlike many in these strange days of reality TV and phone cameras, I preferred to remain unnoticed. Anonymous. Out of the spotlight. Thank you very much. My dearest friend, Astrid, delighted in pointing out how I drew attention as if I were a magnet. She blamed the fantastical way I’d entered the world. She claimed that it was simply not possible for me to remain in the background after I’d burst onto the world stage in such a public way at my unusual birth.
I adored my best friend even if she did have an annoying tendency to be correct.
Though I attempted to move wraith-like through my days, I tended to stand out like a rainbow on a grey day. That’s how my mother described me, at any rate.
I did not like this state of affairs one little bit.
On this overcast day, the rainbow hovered just out of sight as I attempted to wade through the press of bodies on the overcrowded bus. I tried to move silently, ghost-like. Moving this way and that, shifting to avoid others so I didn’t so much as graze anybody.
“I beg your pardon. Did you say you’re studying poo, young man?” The woman screeched as I pressed against her legs. She clacked her knitting needles at a prodigious rate of knots, quite heedless of how perilously close they were to poking the large man sitting next to her.
“No, ma’am. I said I’m trying to get through.” All eyes were fixed on our interaction, except those who chose sensibly to travel on public transport using earbuds. Those people remained happily serenaded by Bruce Springsteen or some other artist. Eminently sensible, I thought.
The octogenarian knitter nodded and returned to her stitches, leaving me to smile awkwardly at those around us.
Mentioning poo is not the best place to start my story—and I swear there will be no further scatological mentions—but I must begin this tale somewhere.
Much like life, when we are thrust kicking and screaming into this world, starting at the beginning is the best way to go. So it is at my birth that we must begin.
My fantastical birth, as previously hinted at, is quite the tale. It’s also where some might argue I peaked as a person and had my promised fifteen minutes of fame, all in one ignominious day. All this greatness and celebrity happened to me the day I was born, so I don’t remember it myself, yet I feel pretty scarred by it, nonetheless. For better or worse, I also own plenty of photos and articles to look back on so I can reminisce about my extraordinary birth. It’s not everyone who can claim a naked photo of themselves on just about every worldwide newspaper front page.
You see, my mother, the sweetest and kindest woman I’ve ever known, is also somewhat odd. At least my grandfather always described her as such. I prefer to think of her as one of those people that extraordinary things happen to. I think it was from her that I received my gift.
Her strict, conservative father, Grandpa Joe, never had any flavour to his life that I ever saw—no joy. He fancied himself the keeper of everyone’s soul. He lived miserably while trying to save us all from hellfire and brimstone. To my young eyes, he seemed melancholy. He may have loved stomping about his run-down home—asylum, as I liked to think of it—swearing at the television as if the people he cursed might take the trouble to answer. He apparently never found any happiness in it though. A smile from Grandpa Joe would be like stumbling across a blooming corpse flower.
When I think back on Grandpa Joe, sadness at his misery most often strikes me. More times than I could count, I tried to tell him not to worry about what everybody else was getting up to or with whom and instead enjoy what he had around him. Nine times out of ten, he bit my head off for my trouble. The one time out of ten he spread his arms wide and asked, “Enjoy what exactly?”
Poor Grandpa Joe, whether he loved the curmudgeon life or not, it loved him. Mum liked to say that being such a cranky old fart kept Joe alive until his early eighties when he rightfully should have died much sooner. Grandpa Joe loved his daily whiskies and packs of smokes. A courageous doctor once told him that he had the heart of a ninety-year-old. Of course, Joe was only sixty-eight at the time. But that was Joe.
He wasn’t often proud of Mum and me, but he shone with pride the day I was born, or so I’ve been told.
Getting back to that day, you should know that our queen—bless her—has been on the throne for sixty years this year. But when I was born, it had only been forty glorious years. Her fortieth year of reigning coincided with Australia hosting the Olympic Games. It was a festive year for Australia. Our highest medal tally at the games and our longest reigning monarch all in the same three hundred sixty-five days. Celebrations spilled onto the streets.
That year was a big one for my mum too. First and most importantly—she always says—she got pregnant with me. Around the same time, she successfully applied to be a volunteer at the Games. It was to be her first job, not that she’d be getting paid, but just the same, Grandpa Joe proudly told everyone he met. Mum had never had a job before. Too flighty, Joe had often said. Her head always in the clouds. Mine would have been, too, if I’d had to listen to Grandpa ranting and raving daily.
Anyway, Mum volunteered at the Olympic Games and did quite a good job. People liked her good heart and kindness. Grandpa Joe seemed to be the only one who cared about her flightiness and general lack of ambition. In fact, Mum made the news a few times during the games for being Australia’s best mascot, showing the world the kind of people we were.
Mum became so well known that when the queen went on a Commonwealth tour as part of her ruby jubilee—rubilee as Mum called it—she insisted that my mum and a handful of other volunteers were present at the athletes’ meet and greet. Imagine Grandpa Joe’s face when he discovered his daughter would meet the queen. Well, we don’t know what his face was because he’d kicked Mum out for getting pregnant without a husband by then. I guess it’s self-explanatory that he took her back, but that wasn’t till after I was born.
So, the athletes’ parade happened, and we all ended up at Government House for luncheon with the queen. I say we because, of course, I was there in my mum’s belly—but there just the same. During the luncheon, each athlete and volunteer was presented to the queen with cameras rolling for the poor folk at home to gander at.
The volunteers were to be presented at the end, but Mum told me later she didn’t care; she’d have waited all day to meet Queen Anne. Mum admires the guts out of that older woman. Even to this day, she’ll stand and sing “God Save the Queen” as loud as she can whenever she hears it, no matter where or when. No matter that it hasn’t been our national anthem for decades.
I guess that explains why Mum didn’t let the little fact that she’d been having labour pains all day deter her from her chance to meet Her Majesty.
The doctors told Mum later that I must have been crowning when Mum attempted an ill-advised curtsey before the queen. Rather appropriate term, I always thought—and so too did the newspapers when they reported on the baby who’d been born at the feet of the monarch. “Couldn’t Wait to Meet His Queen,” one newspaper headline had declared. That same article described how I’d shot out of my mum and landed on the royal toes. Mum never liked that article. She hated how common they had made it sound, talking about Her Majesty attempting to catch me like a football punt.
And so, there was my fifteen minutes of fame. Photos of my newly-arrived-into-the-world, utterly naked body lying at the feet of Queen Anne splashed in the worldwide media. A few also showed pictures of the queen’s stunned expression or my mother’s contorted face as she pushed the last of me out.
Queen Anne bore the hubbub well. She’d looked down at me and then at my mother before saying, “Well, that is either the best bit of prestidigitation I’ve ever seen, or you’ve just had a baby, my dear.”
And that was how I got my name.
Prestidigitation Jones.
Image by Creative Canvas from PixabayOrnery Owl's Review
Rating: Four out of Five Stars
The four-star rating stems from quibbly subjective issues rather than from the quality of the writing. This slow-burn contemporary forbidden romance between a royal and a commoner has great pacing to hold the reader's interest as it moves seamlessly between the viewpoints of Prestidigitation Jones, a young working-class Australian man, and Prince James, the spare from an alternate universe British monarchy. The dialogue is clever, and the characters are engaging. If angsty slow burn with plenty of comedic turns is your thing, you will surely enjoy this story.
A scene toward the end of the book made me ugly cry. This is rare because I'm usually a stoic monster with a heart like a cash register. I'm not subtracting a star for this scene. It was well-written and made sense in the context of the book. However, some romantic comedy fans may find it out of place in an otherwise amusing story.
Thankfully, this book did not try to include every identity under the sun. When authors attempt this, it comes off as heavy-handed moralizing and disrupts the flow of the story. It did use the term queer a few times. As I've mentioned before, I dislike this particular label. It has historically been used as an anti-homosexual slur, and I see no reason to embrace it.
I would have preferred Prince James to be from a fictional small monarchy rather than a member of an alternate-universe British monarchy. The AU British monarchy take interrupted the flow of the story because I kept thinking, "Wait! Queen Elizabeth ruled Brittania for seventy-some years! Anne is a princess!"
These issues aside, I enjoyed Dear Presti and would read other books by this author.
PurchaseNineStar Press | Books2Read
Meet the AuthorKarrie lives in Australia’s sunshine state with her husband and two sons, though she hates the sun with a passion. She dreams of one day living in the wettest and coldest habitable place she can find. She has been writing stories in her head for years but has finally managed to pull the words out of her head and share them with others. She spends her days trying to type her stories on the computer without disturbing her beloved cat Lu curled up on the keyboard. She probably reads far too much.Website | XGiveawayOne lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code! a Rafflecopter giveaway
Raincatcher Pre-Order Blitz #rabtbooktours
Sci-Fi Romance, Multicultural & Interracial
Date Published: January 24, 2025
2147: Pollution has poisoned the earth, the seas and the air. Fresh, clean water is as precious as gold.
Rauni’s Mistress (Rain Catcher 1)
In the squalid red light district of Hobart Town, Roxy Talia earns her living as a porn star to make ends meet. Tobin Kane follows the monsoon rains across the ocean, collecting precious fresh water before it falls into the polluted seas. He and his crew have been blackballed within the industry. Tobin is determined to find a way to keep his beloved ship, the Rauni. That involves Roxy, the sexy vixen who holds the key to saving his future and has been the star of his lusty fantasies for years. Tobin will do whatever it takes to keep his ship -- even if he has to kidnap Roxy to do it…
Aqua Vitae (Rain Catcher 2)
When Audrey Purcell’s lover Kirk disappears in the aftermath of a bomb blast, the bittersweet experience transforms the shy, bookish girl into a brazen and reckless risk taker. Each shore leave sees her swimming in alcohol and rejoicing in one-night stands -- her latest fling being Joachim Muller, a navy commander with a body to die for. Her career takes a great leap forward when she’s given command of a derelict rain catcher, the Aqua Vitae -- but her success comes with a price. The echoes of her painful past clash with the promise of the future, threaten her lifelong dream with destruction.
EXCERPT
Excerpt from Rauni's Mistress
With wide eyes and a madly beating heart, Roxy Talia watched the tall, good- looking stranger enter the crowded hotel bar.
He was absolutely perfect.
His crisp uniform proclaimed him to be an officer, non-military, a merchant mariner of some sort. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the street lights, he presented an imposing figure, broad shoulders, trim waist, nicely shaped legs. Once he'd removed his face mask, he'd scanned the dimly lit bar room with barely disguised distaste. His chiseled features wore a sad, resigned expression.
When his dark, intense eyes settled on her where she sat at the bar and the spare stool beside her, Roxy's heart fluttered. Her nipples had hardened the instant his eyes met hers. That warm feeling in her belly she'd thought she'd never feel again washed through her like a spring tide.
He fit her needs exactly, but what was it about him? Her response was as bewildering as it was desired. She'd often thought these last few years that she'd become anesthetized to good-looking men. After all, she had her pick yet here he was, the man she had assumed didn't exist, shattering her jaded expectations.
He strode toward Roxy, fixing her with an unwavering gaze.
Roxy gasped, and her sudden intake of breath surprised her. She was actually nervous at the approach of this man. She took a deep breath to calm herself and tamped down the fear that her disguise was not good enough.
That afternoon, Roxy had taken considerable steps to prepare her deception. She'd dressed in a conservative business suit with a white blouse and knee-length gray skirt. She'd chosen platform stilettos to give her height, a tight bandeau to minimize her bust and a platinum wig to disguise her natural jet hair. For her face, she'd applied ivory foundation and powder to hide her golden skin, blue lipstick to alter the line of her lips and a fake mole on her right cheek. To hide her trademark green eyes, she'd inserted blue contacts and added azure eyeliner and turquoise shadow to alter their shape.
The hodgepodge of styles, business and tart, created a jarring amalgam of looks that would confuse any observer. At least that was what she'd intended. She believed herself to be unrecognizable and the three drunks who had tried to pick her up so far tonight hadn't seen her for who she truly was.
This man, however, was sober. It would be the test of her preparation and acting skills to fool him. He towered above her, his face impassive, his attitude commanding. "This seat taken?"
His voice was like honey. It flowed into her ear like sweet syrup, warming her all the way down to her fluttering belly.
"No," she said. The voice she'd decided on was deeper than her own, husky with a faint European accent to hide the Australasian nasal twang. She'd been practicing all afternoon, intending it to lead any listener to think she was just another environmental refugee trying to fit into Hobart Town and not quite succeeding.
The officer sat down. There hadn't been even a flicker of recognition. If anything, he displayed total indifference.
Roxy relaxed. Surreptitiously she gazed at the stranger in the bar's mirror. In between the bottles of imported and domestic Aqua and Hydra water and the ubiquitous range of Gills Beer, she considered his heavily defined features, trying to get a handle on his personality, as if facial lines told you anything about the inner workings of the mind.
His ebony skin, wearing the sheen of perspiration which was unavoidable in Hobart Town's enervating humidity, glowed in the bar's dim lighting. His short, black hair was closely cropped, exposing a nicely shaped skull. His face was heavily textured and seemed to attract the shadows.
"I'm Tobin," he said and she jumped in surprise.
He was staring back at her reflection. "I'm Su Sha Xie," she said, quickly adopting the name of her worst enemy in kindergarten, a petulant little girl who once had stolen her crayons.
His dark eyes narrowed. "Funny, you don't look Chinese."
"It's a long story."
Tobin signaled to the barman. "I'm not into long stories today. Want another?"
"Why not?"
He fished out his card, scowled and flicked it to the barman. "Wanna sit?"
She followed his gaze to a newly vacated table in the corner. "I thought we were."
"Something more comfortable."
"I'm not a hooker," she said.
"I didn't think you were." He stood up and waited, looking down at her. "Coming?"
Tobin's self-confidence was staggering. Then she figured out what it really was. He didn't care if she came with him or not. She was just a woman to him, one of thousands out on this hot Hobart night. Roxy quelled her momentary annoyance by reminding herself that this was exactly why she was here in disguise. She wanted, for once, to be just an ordinary woman.
"Sure."
The barman returned with two beers. Tobin took his card, picked up the bottles and, weaving through a group of drunken marines, strode over to the table.
Roxy followed. The view of his physique from behind was as impressive as from the front. His broad shoulders gave way to bulging biceps which were barely contained by the short sleeves of his shirt. He sported a trim waist, slim hips and oh so tight buns atop sturdy but shapely legs. The musculature of which screamed both stamina and strength.
Roxy approved. Unlike the men she knew, Tobin's body lacked the artificial contours gained in the gym. He was used to real work, and hard work at that.
Tobin sat down without waiting for her. "I meant it. I'm not a hooker."
"I believe you." He took a swig of his beer, his eyes fixed on hers. "I'm not looking for a hooker."
"What are you looking for?"
He took a swig of beer and motioned to the chair.
She sat.
"So, keeping it short, what's your story?" she asked finally, putting an amused tone in her voice.
He looked into his beer. "No potted histories, please. Let me tell you who you are and then I'll tell you who I am."
Her heart stopped. Damn it, he'd recognized her after all. She'd hoped she could have at least one encounter with someone who didn't know who she was. Her anticipation of the night she'd planned collapsed and the despair in the bottom of her chest stirred.
"We are two of a kind," he said slowly. "You tell me you're not a hooker, I say I believe you. Then you tell me again to make sure. You are balancing on stiletto heels to make you appear taller than you really are. You are wearing an appalling wig and, geeze, to apply all that makeup you must have used a bricklayer's trowel. So, I'm assuming you don't want to be recognized."
His eyes trapped her in an inescapable gaze and she felt like she was falling into their dark depths. Within her chest her heart thudded like a prisoner beating against prison bars and in her ears, her blood roared. She could barely breathe waiting for him to say her name and shatter her desire. She so much wanted this stranger not to recognize her.
"You don't want to be recognized," he repeated. "Well, that's fine by me. I don't want to know who you really are, and I'll believe whatever you tell me."
Confusion roiled inside her mind. What game was he playing? Did he recognize her or not?
Roxy cleared her throat. "You said we are two of a kind."
"Well, you see, Su, I don't want to be me tonight either. So the reason I'm here, in this bar in this dodgy hotel in this stinking rotten town, is to be anyone but me, okay? Like you, I want to be someone else, if just for the night."
About the Author
Aussie Mikala Ash used to be a mild-mannered training & development consultant by day, and a wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by night. Now she is a brazen full-time writer and nature photographer who is concentrating on having among other things, “… bags, and bags of fun!” Mikala can be found on Facebook and on Twitter.
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress
Yay...It's My First Day of School Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
Children's Book
Date Published: April 27, 2023
Publisher: MindStir Media
Another wonderful rhyming story from Mr. B. about the excitement of the first day of school ... Yay. The fourteen rhymes and fun illustrations will bring so much fun and thoughtfulness to that magical first day and all the experiences of a child meeting new friends, teachers, finding their classes and even where they will sit.
Like his first two books Happy Makes Me Happy and Twins With Love x 2, your hearts will smile.
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Naughty Netherworld Press on Goodreads
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