Bertena Varney's Blog, page 13

Making Tea Blends

 

How to Blend Teas for the Holidays

I drink a lot of tea. I learned the habit from my mom. Recently, one of the things I discovered that I love to do is to blend teas to represent the characters in my books and stories. I've given those tea blends away as holiday presents, so I'll walk you through the process so you can create your own gift teas.

The main character in my As Above, So Below books is Lorelei. She’s a young succubus, who is only several hundred years old when she falls in love with the angel Azaziel. In order to make a tea to represent her, I thought about what teas I like that I could adapt. You could start with the person for whom you're making a present: think about their personality in flavors.

If Lorelei drank tea, it would bea spicy chai. I started my blend with a hearty Masala Chai as a base. In my novels, Lorelei’s signature cocktail is vodka and cranberry juice, so I added dried cranberries to the tea, along with dried apple pieces to symbolize temptation. Then I boosted the ginger in the chai to make it hotter on the tongue. Lorelei’s tea has a wonderful spicy aroma, full of cinnamon and clove. It tastes slightly fruity, with a buzz of ginger at the finish.

Adagio Teas (adagio.com) makes it really easy to blend your own teas. First off, you'll need to make an account, which is free.

Once that's done, click on Blends in the menu bar. One of your options is Create a Blend.

 

Click on that and it opens a page headed Create Your Own Blend. This allows you to name the tea, then pick up to three of Adagio's flavored teas from drop-down menus. You can adjust how much or how little of each flavor you'd like to include using the slider bar. Adagio has a lot of teas to mix and match.

 

You're also allowed to choose up to three "Accents." These range from dried fruit to flower petals to sprinkles or candy pieces. Just remember that the more Accents you mix in, the less tea you'll get in each cup.

 

I use the website Canva.com to create labels for each of my blends. Adagio requests that the label images be 700 x 437-pixel jpegs. They want you to own the copyright for the images you upload, but Canva has a lot of copyright-free templates that you can choose from. I find Canva easier (and cheaper!) to use than Photoshop.

 

Once you've uploaded your label artwork,you are allowed to make your teas private or available for sale. If you sell them, Adagio gives you points that you can spend on tea samples or free shipping or small gifts in a future order.

 

You can make a whole series of related blends, say, one for every member of your family? If you put two blends into a "ship," then anyone who orders both teas will get a discount.

 

I put Lorelei's tea into a 'ship with Azaziel's tea, which is flecked with petals of pink peony, blue lavender, yellow marigold, and red rose, to symbolize the Fields of Heaven. All those flower petals make a really pretty tea. It has a base of Adagio’s Assam Melody tea, to which I added Adagio’s vanilla-flavored Cream Tea to indicate Heaven and purity. Azaziel's tea has a wonderful flavor, friendly and welcoming, and makes a nice contrast to Lorelei’s spicy, fruity tea.

 

Adagio allows you to order a sample tin of each tea or to buy them in 3-ounce pouches or 5-ounce tins. My preference is the handsome reusable 5-ounce tin, the perfect size for holiday presents.

 

If you're curious to see what I've done with my teas, here are the links:

 

Lorelei’s chai: https://www.adagio.com/signature_blend/blend.html?blend=162653

 

Azaziel’s heavenly tea: https://www.adagio.com/signature_blend/blend.html?blend=162654

 

Check out all of my tea blends:  https://www.adagio.com/signature_blend/list.html?userId=566763LR

As Above, So Below Box SetLoren Rhoads
Genre:  paranormal romancePublisher: Automatism PressDate of Publication: November 30, 2021ASIN:  B09KW5HWCCNumber of pages:  477Word Count: 190646Cover Artist: Carmen Masloski
Tagline:  If Romeo had wings and Juliet a barbed tail, could they find love in the City of Angels?
Book Description: 
If Romeo had wings and Juliet a barbed tail, could they find happiness together in the City of Angels?
Combining the books Lost Angels and its sequel Angelus Rose, As Above, So Below tells the whole story, from the moment Lorelei met Azaziel in her master's dance club to the conflagration in the cemetery following the discovery of Azaziel's hoard of unsaved souls.
"Any angel can be tempted, any devil as well." -- Succubus.net

Amazon

Excerpt

Lorelei licked the last traces of soul from her lips, then smoothed the knee-length hobble dress over her thighs. The black Lycra snuggled around her like a living creature. The barbed tip of her tail twitched as she scanned the dance club, seeking more prey.

Her violet eyes locked on the creature seated at the end of the zinc bar, dressed in a rumpled khaki trench coat. Through the smoke and flashing lights of the dance club, she saw him for what he was: an angel of melancholy. Hers. His wings weren’t manifest, but the unmistakable glow of his halo enforced a margin of emptiness around him. Shoulders hunched over his glass, he was doing his best to ignore what was going on around the club. Clearly not having fun, which was a damned shame, considering that fun was what Lost Angels was all about. Lorelei wondered what it would take to put a smile on his face.

She patted hair over the nubs of her horns and adjusted the dress’s zipper to be demure as could be, only the pale white column of her throat revealed. Once she’d made certain that the seams on her stockings were straight and her mortal glamour was flawless, she stepped out of the shadows. Let’s see if this one could be won without a fight.

The angel ignored her when she leaned across the bar at his elbow, straining the lycra dress just so. Lorelei waved the bartender over. “My usual,” she shouted above the music, “and whatever he’s drinking. On my tab.”

When another Crown Royal appeared in front of him, the angel made no move toward it. Lorelei breathed into his ear, “Say thank you.”

Vaguely in the bartender’s direction, the angel repeated, “Thank you.”

Lorelei touched her glass against the angel’s, then downed a good mouthful of her drink. More Absolut than cranberry, just the way she liked it. However, the angel continued to ignore her, tense and miserable, wanting his whiskey but apparently afraid to touch it.

“Thank you, Lorelei,” she prompted. She leaned against the angel, nestling his shoulder between her breasts. She reached around his waist to hold him close. He could escape her, certainly, if he wanted to cause a scene. She licked her lips, so close to his ear that he quivered at the sound. “What’s your name, Angel?”

He sipped his drink before answering, “Aza.”

There should be an ‘el’ on there somewhere. Amused by the dropped honorific, she echoed, “Just Aza?”

“Aza will do.”

The nickname made him sound accessible. Not fallen yet, but unimaginably lonely. Lorelei asked, “Looking for company, Aza?”

The angel put his glass down very precisely on the bar. She was unprepared when his stormy green eyes turned to her. “Maybe I came looking for you, Lorelei.”

The timbre of his voice shivered through her like lightning.

When she was sure of her composure, she purred, “Here I am, Angel.”

About the Author:
Loren Rhoads is the co-author of Lost Angels and Angelus Rose -- the As Above, So Below duology -- with Brian Thomas. Loren's stories about the succubus Lorelei have appeared in the books Sins of the Sirens, Demon Lovers, and Unsafe Words, and most recently online at The Fabulist. 
Check out more of her work at: 
Home: https://lorenrhoads.com/
Blog:  https://lorenrhoads.com/blog/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/morbidloren
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/morbidloren/
Newsletter: https://mailchi.mp/aa9545b2ccf4/lorenrhoads
Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/LorenRhoadsAuthor/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/976431.Loren_Rhoads
Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Loren-Rhoads/e/B002P905PE/





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For Her Bones by Alec Reid

 

For Her BonesAlec Reid
Genre: Ghost/Comic HorrorPublisher: Lilymoore PublishingDate of Publication: 31 October 2021ISBN: 978 – 163972999 -9 Number of pages: 340Word Count: 86,975Cover Artist: Jacqueline Abromeit
Book Description:
Alec Reid’s ghosts of the twenty-first century seldom lurk in old houses or waft across chilly moors.  His dark tales may breathe alongside the supernatural, but they take place in broad daylight, in our daily lives.  
Their themes include dead warriors resurrected via Bluetooth, Rumpelstiltskin in the suburbs, an algorithmic fear of ghosts and the shattered dreams of immortality. 
The world they describe is the same one you inhabit, but you would live in terror were you to recognise it for what it is.  Life would, literally, never be the same again.
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/SVW3P32AqzU
Lilymore Publishing

Excerpt

“The thing is, Tom, I did call him a few months after I left.  It was a bit of a surprise.  I was supposedly embarking on some great adventure, and there I was struck down with what felt like terminal homesickness.  I needed a friend.”

“You could have called me.”

“I know, but it wasn’t you I wanted.  Sorry.  What I never expected was that I would be longing for Frank.  How strange was that?  Anyway, it was late and the foul weather made me feel even more lonely.  I virtually forced him to come to me that night.”

“Do I really need to hear this?”

“He never made it.  Ice on the motorway.  His mother called me a few days later.”

“Jesus, Sally.  No wonder you’re imagining things.  It’s guilt, that’s all.”

“So that’s it, Mr Freud?  I really am just imagining it?  Going mad”

“I wouldn’t say going mad exactly.  I mean it’s understandable.  You had a terrible shock.  You were missing Frank - can’t understand that bit, but there you are – and you called him to you.  And because of that he died.  It doesn’t make it your fault.  Not really.  I can’t imagine he was the greatest driver in the world.”

“He’s here, Tom.  In this restaurant.  I can feel it.  I can almost see him.”

“The flickering?”

“Yes!  Please tell me you’ve seen it too.”

Poor Tom.  I think he’s about to deny it.  A straight ahead, get the job done sort of guy can’t acknowledge the terrors that shimmer on the edge of his vision.  It has to be Sally who is mad, not he.  The truth is, neither of them is mad.  I would show myself if I could, join them at their table, discuss important matters of life and death.  But it doesn’t work that way.  That would be like believing in ghosts.  Foolish.  But the three of us will soon be able to have that discussion face to face.  I’m looking forward to it.  Come along now, Tom, the second bottle has arrived.  Pour her a drink.

“Jesus Christ!”

General consternation sounds like an incompetent military leader, but it is probably the best description for what was happening around Tom and Sally’s table.  Tom had lifted the bottle and begun to pour.  But he didn’t know his own strength.  Or rather he didn’t know mine.  His grip on the bottle tightened like a noose until the bottle shattered, showering the unhappy couple with Pinot Grigio and sending splinters of glass everywhere.  I’m not exactly a poltergeist, they don’t exist by the way, but I made sure some of the glass went where it needed to.  A freak accident is how it was later described by those who were there and therefore must know.  The first shard sliced through Tom’s shirt and severed the carotid artery.  There was more blood than Pinot.  In less than a minute he was what people call dead, although we know better, don’t we?

Sally’s demise was even swifter.  A shiver of glass pierced her eye and came to rest deep in her brain.

About the Author:

Alec has had a number of careers, some of them still ongoing. After a brief spell with the BBC 2 arts programme, "Late Night Line-Up", he moved on to Radios 1 and 2 where he produced "Night Ride", giving Genesis their first national broadcast.

Alec went on to become an award-winning radio drama director and creator of radio documentaries and features, one of which required him to spend a week with the French Foreign Legion!

During that time, he also wrote and directed two musicals for radio, "Misrule", starring Max Wall, and "Gilgamesh", with Ian Holm; the latter was the BBC's entry for the Prix Futura award in Berlin.

After leaving the BBC,Alec was commissioned to write and produce a double CD tribute to Princess Diana. Within days of its release in America it had sold over 100,000 copies. As a result, he won the prestigious international Audi award for best creative work.

Since then, Alec has produced hundreds of audiobooks, adapted TV and movie soundtracks for audio release, and was even commissioned to write two new 'Thomas the Tank Engine' stories! He also wrote book and lyrics for 'Muscles the Musical', which was premiered at The Landor theatre in London where the 'House Full' sign was up most nights. There are hopes for a revival in a larger theatre.

Alec's publications have included two anthologies based on Radio 4’s ‘With Great Pleasure’, poems in ‘The Sunday Times’ newspaper and numerous magazine articles, and poems. 'For Her Bones' is his first fiction book. He is thinking about his next one.

https://alecreidwriter.com/

https://www.facebook.com/alec.reid.73/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20849030.Alec_Reid

Morgan Le Fay: Small Things and Great The Fata Morgana Series Book One by Jo-Anne Blanco

 

Morgan Le Fay: Small Things and GreatThe Fata Morgana SeriesBook OneJo-Anne Blanco
Genre: YA FantasyPublisher: Argante PressDate of Publication: September 2021ISBN:978-1838489304ASIN:B09FQDLSSGNumber of pages:295Word Count: 104,560Cover Artist: Miriam Soriano
Book Description:
THE CHILD FATED TO SHAPE DESTINIES …
Morgan is a little girl who lives in Tintagel Castle by the sea, loved and sheltered by her noble parents, the Duke and Duchess of Belerion. An extraordinarily clever child, extremely sharp-eyed, exceptionally curious. A little girl unlike other children.
One stormy night a ship is wrecked off the coast, bringing with it new friends – Fleur the princess from a far-off land, Safir the stowaway with a secret, and the mysterious twins Merlin and Ganieda. Morgan’s visions of another world awaken her to the realisation that she can see things others cannot. That she has powers other people do not possess.
Not long afterwards, Morgan encounters Diana, the Moon Huntress, who charges her with a dangerous mission that only she can accomplish. With Merlin by her side and unsure if he is friend or foe, Morgan must venture far from home to enter the realms of the Piskies and the Muryans, warring tribes of faeries who vie for the souls of lost children. There she must summon her magic to fight the most ancient powers in the world, to rescue a young soul destined to be reborn …
Amazon US      Amazon UK

Excerpt from Chapter I: The Deluge

Feeling very alone, Morgan hesitated. If she disobeyed Sebile again, she knew she would be in trouble. She looked up again, but there was still no sign of the Horned Man. Whatever was moving towards her in the sea was coming closer. She had to know what it was. Instinctively, she ran towards the shore and felt her way across the rocks that cut through the beach and the water. There she stood upon a rock as the movement came into focus. Her heart began to race once more and time returned to its normal pace as she looked, astounded, upon a sight she had already seen in her mind.

A little dark-haired boy of about her own age was swimming determinedly towards the rocks. On his back, clinging to him was a little girl, who looked almost exactly like him except for her slightly longer dark hair. The little girl’s eyes were pure white with no colour to their centre, wide-open and watery. She was blind.

Morgan watched the two children with fascinated horror, unable to believe what she was seeing. Were they real, this boy and girl from her dream? How could she have dreamed about them without ever knowing them or seeing them before? The boy’s wet hair was plastered to his head and his face was strained with the effort of swimming to shore while carrying the girl. Morgan remembered how he had refused to take her hand in her dream and how, after his refusal, the sky in her nightmare had rained down blood. She recoiled from the memory and for the first time in her life she hesitated whether to help or not. But then the girl raised her head and her sightless eyes seemed to look directly at Morgan. Still clinging to the boy, she pointed at her. The boy, still swimming, followed the girl’s silent signal and saw Morgan. At once he almost imperceptibly changed direction, swimming straight towards her.

As they came closer, the pain and exhaustion on their faces was too much for Morgan to bear.With the strange sense of having entered her dream and done this before, she stepped to the edge of the rock, went down on her knees and held out her hand. This time, however, the boy did not stop. He swam all the way towards the rock until he reached her.

“Help me with my sister,” was all he managed to gasp. Morgan leaned over, grabbed the little blind girl’s arms and pulled. The boy pushed the girl from the water until between the two of them they got her out. The girl lay on the rock, her sightless eyes staring up into the sky. Morgan then held out her hand to the boy. He didn’t hesitate, but took hold of her hand with one hand and the rock with the other. With Morgan pulling his arm the boy hauled himself up onto the rock and collapsed next to her.

“Are you alright?” Morgan asked them both.

The boy, out of breath, did not answer for a few seconds. “I think so,” he eventually replied.

“What about you?” Morgan asked the girl, who was lying immobile but breathing on the rock.

“She can’t answer you,” the boy said, not looking at his sister. “She doesn’t speak.”

Morgan felt a surge of sadness for the little girl. “I’m sorry.”

The boy looked at Morgan. Morgan felt a cold stab when she saw his dark eyes were exactly as she remembered in the dream. Before she could say anything, the boy said, “I know you.”

“What?” Morgan gasped.

The boy didn’t smile, just stated calmly, “I’ve seen you before.”

“Where? How?” Morgan demanded. The boy said nothing, but merely looked at her.

“Morgan!” came Sebile’s outraged voice.

Morgan started up and cried, “Sebile! I’ve found them! I’ve found the lady’s children!”
“You saw our mother?” the boy asked, frowning. He tried to stand up, but his legs gave way.

Morgan grabbed his arm to stop him from falling. The boy reacted with unexpected violence to her touch, almost as if she had wounded him. He pulled his arm away roughly and took a step back from her, almost cringing. Morgan was startled and hurt.

“She’s alive. They’ve taken her to the castle,” Morgan told him warily. The boy stood looking at Morgan, but this time, oddly, did not look into her eyes. “She asked me to find you,” Morgan went on.

“How did you know it was us?” the boy asked.

“I knew as soon as I saw you,” Morgan said. She couldn’t explain how; she had just known. The boy then looked back at her again, appraisingly and interestedly. This time it was Morgan who looked away.

As Sebile came running up from the beach, Morgan negotiated her way back across the rocks. “It’s them, Sebile!” she said breathlessly. “It’s her children!”

The fury on Sebile’s face subsided when she saw Morgan’s earnest, pleading expression. She looked at the boy standing shakily on the rock and Morgan heard her sharp intake of breath. Sebile then saw the girl lying without moving, made her way across the rocks and picked her up. “Follow me,” Sebile commanded Morgan and the boy, and they obeyed her. Together, Morgan and the boy walked the remaining length of the beach, which was now empty save for a few scattered remains of wreckage and clothing. The survivors and the dead alike were being carried up the cliff path towards Tintagel as the light grew brighter and the wind started to blow itself out.

At the foot of the cliff path, Morgan turned to look back once more at the sea. Like the wind, its anger and force were dissipating. The waves were still high, but not as ferocious as before and not as strong. Morgan thought with a shiver that it was as if the monster that was the sea had eaten until it was full and was now happy with the wreck and its passengers that it had taken that night.

“So you’re Morgan,” the boy said. He had stopped with her and was looking out at the sea as well.

“Yes. My father’s the Duke of Belerion,” Morgan told him.

“I know.”

Morgan could not work out if the words were said with hostility or not. Before she could think of a suitable retort, the boy indicated his sister, who was being carried ahead of them by Sebile.

“That’s Ganieda. She’s my twin.”

“And who are you?” Morgan asked coldly.

The boy looked directly at her and this time she held his gaze. At this, the boy smiled for the first time. “I’m Merlin.”

Morgan Le Fay: Children of this WorldThe Fata Morgana SeriesBook TwoJo-Anne Blanco
Genre: YA FantasyPublisher: Argante PressDate of Publication: September 2021ISBN:978-1838489328ASIN:B09FR1Y8BKNumber of pages:543Word Count: 193,406Cover Artist: Miriam Soriano
Book Description:
A STORM IS BREWING …
Brothers Ambrosius and Uther Pendragon have landed in Belerion with an army raised to fight High King Vortigern. Supporters of the High King gather at Tintagel, seat of Morgan’s father the Duke of Belerion, as they prepare for battle. Ominous clouds of war hang over the castle, treachery lurks in the shadows, and rumours abound that Ambrosius is being aided by a powerful dark force from the past …
Since Morgan’s encounter with the Piskies and the Muryans, the faerie tribes have united against her, vowing revenge. Meanwhile, her powers are growing faster and stronger, her dreams and visions more potent. On Samhain night, when the veil between the worlds becomes thin, Morgan resolves to summon Diana the Moon Huntress to her once again, with terrifying and tragic consequences …
Amazon US      Amazon UK

Excerpt from Chapter V: Lights in the Dark

The Jack o’Lantern suddenly went out, plunging them into total darkness. Morgan turned in alarm. A smoke smell trailed into the air. Taliesin had snuffed out the candle.

“What did you do that for?” Morgan hissed.

“Look!”

Down on the beach bobbed another light. It was coming in their direction. Towards Merlin, Morgan thought with a little shiver running down her back.

Adjusting their eyesight to the dark, they gradually saw that behind the light on the beach walked the shadow of a man.

“Myrddin,” Morgan heard Taliesin whisper.

“How did you know he’d be here?” Morgan whispered back.

“I told you. I followed him.”

“But he wasn’t on the path. We couldn’t see him.”

“It’s something Cadwellon’s been teaching me. It’s called sen-sor-y in-vo-ca-tion.” Taliesin enunciated the words carefully, still in a whisper, sounding proud of being able to say such big words. “You focus on someone or something with your mind and you can find it or follow it.

Track it down. That’s how I knew Myrddin had come along the path to this place. I could feel him all along the way.”

Morgan was fascinated and slightly envious, wishing again that she could study with the Druids too. But she didn’t have time to think about that right now.

Taliesin was staring down at the dark cove. “I know this place,” he said. “My father told me about it. He brought me here once. All the fishermen know about it. It’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Why?”

The boy pointed out to the black mass of sea. “There are lots of hidden rocks out there. It looks calm because you can’t see them – they’re just under the water. My father says boats get wrecked here in storms, or they’re caught by the currents and run aground. They smash into rocks they don’t know are there. Lots of people have drowned.”

The memory of the big storm and the wreck of the Sea Queen came rushing back into Morgan’s mind. The screaming, drowning people. The bodies strewn on the beach. The groaning, dying ship.

It was hard to imagine anything like that could happen in this quiet-looking bay, its waves softly swooshing under the cover of darkness. She shivered.

“We have to get closer,” she said, trying to brush off her unease.

Taliesin didn’t answer, but nodded in agreement. The two of them grasped each other’s hands and slowly began climbing down the slope, trying hard not to make any noise. It was by no means easy in the dark, with no lantern and almost no moonlight, but they persevered.

Keeping an eye on her footing as they went down, Morgan watched what was happening on the beach. In the dim, distant light of Myrddin’s lantern, Merlin and his Druid Master approached each other. They talked together briefly. Then Merlin lit a second lantern handed to him by Myrddin.

Now there were two lights on the shore. Merlin and Myrddin parted ways and began walking to opposite ends of the beach, each with their own lantern; Merlin walking back towards the slope he had come from.

Towards the very slope Morgan and Taliesin were climbing down.

“He’s coming back this way!” Morgan hissed urgently. “Quick! Lie down!”

She pulled Taliesin to the ground. The two of them lay there still holding hands, flat on their backs against the slope, trying not to breathe. Morgan felt her heart pounding fast. Don’t see us, she thought fiercely again, watching Merlin walking towards them with the lantern.

He didn’t see them. He seemed to be concentrating on the number of steps he took. Finally, he stopped at a certain point on the beach and turned away towards the ocean.

“Ssssssssss.” Something sounding like a whisper wafted through the air. Morgan heard it, but couldn’t understand it. She turned to Taliesin. “What did you say?”

She gasped.

Taliesin had disappeared. There was nothing and no one beside her. Only the stones and shingle on the slope.

But she could still feel his hand in hers.

“Taliesin!” she exclaimed softly. “Where are you?”

“What do you mean?” she heard Taliesin whisper back. “I’m here… what?”

“What do you mean, here? Where?”

“Morgan, where are you?” she heard Taliesin’s panicked voice over hers in a low tone. “I’ve got your hand … but I can’t see you!”

“I can’t see you, either!”

“What? No! What’s going on?”

Morgan wasn’t sure. She let go of Taliesin's hand. As soon as she did so, the boy reappeared next to her, out of the air, as if by magic. Just as he had said she had done back on the path.

“I can see you now!” Morgan exclaimed.

“Well, I can’t see you!” Taliesin sounded really scared. “Morgan, what are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” But she had an idea. Let Taliesin see me, she thought hard.

Taliesin gave a small cry and quickly covered his mouth. Morgan glanced hastily down at the beach. Merlin still had his back to them. He hadn’t heard.

“Can you see me now?” Morgan asked.

Taliesin nodded. Even through the darkness, Morgan could see the normally pallid fair-haired boy was even whiter than usual.

“You were invisible again. You just appeared out of the air.” Abruptly his voice took on an unfriendly note that didn’t sound like him. “How are you doing that?”

“I don’t know.” Morgan said again. She tried to put what she thought was happening into words.

“It’s like … if I think I don’t want someone to see me, they don’t. I can make myself invisible.” She wondered how long she had been invisible before she had met Taliesin on the path. “But I don’t know how. I don’t try to make it happen. It just does.”

Taliesin let out his breath. “It sounds like what Cadwellon says,” he said soberly. “The way he taught me sensory invocation. He says you can’t force it. He’s always telling me you have to focus on the result, not the act itself.” The friendliness crept back into his voice again. “That sounds like what you’re doing.”

“Ssssssshhhhhhhsssssss.”

It was the whisper again. Louder this time, but she still couldn’t understand it.

“Is that you?” Morgan said.

“Is what me?”

“That whisper. Didn’t you hear it?”

“No.” Taliesin sounded puzzled. And wary again. “I didn’t hear anything … Wait, look!”

Down on the beach something was happening. Merlin and Myrddin both held up their lanterns facing out to the ocean. Myrddin was further away from them, standing on a particular point on the other side of the beach.

Morgan watched Merlin with interest. He had taken off his cloak. He held up the lantern in one hand and with the other he used the cloak to cover and uncover the lantern several times.

“What’s he doing?” Taliesin whispered in bewilderment.

It was darker than ever. They could still just see the white-flecked waves rising and falling on the sand, roaring softly as they washed ashore. The sleepy-eye Moon was completely hidden. Only a few pinprick stars pierced the misty black veil of clouds across the sky.

Suddenly Morgan started. She clutched Taliesin’s arm, making him jump.

“Look! Look out there! Can you see it?”

A light appeared out on the night-darkened sea. It bobbed up and down, then disappeared. Then after a few moments it reappeared again. Then it blinked, going out, then flashed again, went out, then reappeared again.

“It’s getting nearer!” Morgan whispered.

“It’s a boat!” Taliesin whispered back. “It has to be. It’s coming in to land! I told you it was dangerous around here with the hidden rocks. They’re using the lanterns to guide it in!”

Morgan Le Fay: Giants in the EarthThe Fata Morgana SeriesBook Three Jo-Anne Blanco
Genre: YA FantasyPublisher: Argante PressDate of Publication: September 2021ISBN:978-1838489342ASIN:B09FT67S4QNumber of pages:717Word Count: 258,584Cover Artist: Miriam Soriano
Book Description:
WHEN MONSTERS COME TO LIFE …
In the aftermath of Ambrosius’ attack on Tintagel Castle, young Morgan is sent away to the fortress of Dimilioc with her family, friends and tutor. But when bandits ambush their party, Morgan gets lost in the forest with nothing but her wits and her magic powers to rely on.
In her battle for survival, Morgan faces a cruel, hostile world that is suspicious, afraid and jealous of her magic. Silver-tongued faeries who are not what they seem. Vengeful Piskies and Muryans holding her friend Ganieda captive, Angry Giants and Spriggans who have awakened in the earth. And the ever-present threat of Ambrosius and his army, waiting to strike again …
To rescue her friends and outwit her enemies, Morgan must draw upon all her gifts, magic and mortal, in a perilous journey that will test her strength, faith and loyalty to the utmost …
Amazon US      Amazon UK

Excerpt from Chapter XI: The Treasure of Trecobben

The Giant’s foot was moving again. Morgan hoisted herself more tightly into his bootlaces so she could ride on his boot without straining her limbs. Trecobben went back into the courtyard and swung the boulder shut behind him with a crash. He tramped back across the castle entrance and down the ramp, striding across his massive columned hall. Janniper and the other woman were scurrying back and forth like mice on the floor, up and down the ladders, throwing the fleeces into the clay pot. They were soaked and stinking with urine, their faces utterly miserable and desperate.

Trecobben ignored them, left the hall, and strode into an immense granite passageway lit with more bone-fire torches. Riding on Trecobben’s boot near the floor, Morgan saw they were going past a series of huge chambers from which she caught glimpses of more carved rock furniture and enormous, coloured tapestries hanging high.

She almost jumped out of her skin. Terrible, ear-splitting roaring was coming from inside one of the chambers. It was hard to tell if it was angry roaring or roars of pain. She heard Gargamotte’s voice, soothing and kind. Did the Giants have some kind of wild animal in the castle? Or animalia? It sounded like more than one.

But Trecobben went straight past without stopping. Soon he was descending another ramp, even narrower than the one at the entrance. He was going further beneath Trencrom Hill, deeper into the earth. After a while the ramp came to a dead end, blocked by a wide stone slab. Trecobben took one of the wall torches from its sconce and with his other hand grabbed the side of the slab, pulling it outwards. As the slab opened, a rush of freezing cold air escaped. Beyond, a dark, high-ceilinged chamber glittered in the torchlight. For a second, Morgan thought it was another crystal cavern, like the Spar-Stone Grave. But this was a different kind of glitter.

Trecobben lit several torches along the walls and the chamber came to life in an astonishing blaze of light.

Everything shone. Tall-as-trees steel swords with gilded hilts, glistening hill-sized silver cauldrons,radiant golden chalices, shimmering embellished scabbards, lustrous silk cloaks laden with sparkling jewels, gleaming bronze shields emblazoned with glittering gemstones – every single object in the chamber dazzled with opulence and light. Piles and piles of small round pieces of metal – gold, silver and bronze – glimmered invitingly, stacked as high as mountains. Resplendent ornate mirrors in all corners of the chamber multiplied the brilliance of all the treasures a hundredfold.Magnificent beams of light danced upon the high ceilinglike rays of sunshine, making the gloomy chamber as bright as day.

The glare was so blinding, the richness and beauty so overwhelming, it was hard for Morgan to take in. What was all this treasure? Where did it come from? Did it all belong to the Giants? Had they made it all themselves? Had they stolen it?

Trecobben was tramping across the chamber all the way to the other side. Morgan ensconced herself tighter into his bootlaces so she wouldn’t fall off. When the Giant stopped moving she looked upwards. Her mouth fell open.

A single, slender, Giant-sized pole was leaning against the far wall. Taller even than the Giant himself, it stood out from all the other treasures in the chamber. Unlike the others, the light that emanated from the pole wasn’t a reflection of the torches. It had its own light, radiating from within. Such a simple, ordinary object, yet breathtaking, beautiful, incandescent; forged from a lucent silver brighter than clear diamond and smoother than still water. A silver that was almost white, like moonlight captured and made solid form.
Morgan struggled to breathe.

She knew what it was. She’d seen it before. Not in life.In dreams.

It was the silver lance of her nightmare long ago. The silver lance that had pierced an ocean full of screaming angels and drowning people, wounding the very sea of life itself, turning water to blood.

It was the silver spear that had hovered in a stormy sky as lightning flashed and thunder crashed, as blood spilled out from the wounded land into the sea. The silver spear that had floated in the air before her, just out of reach. The silver spear that had driven her in her dream to leave the ground and fly after it, but hadn’t allowed her to catch it.

Artemis’ Spear. Diana’s Spear. The Sacred Spear.

The spearhead of which she carried in her satchel.

She heard Wodan’s voice, remembered what the Dark Huntsman had told her. “The spear was but a small thing when compared to what she stole from me. But now it has been stolen from me in return. I held on to the spearhead but the silver shaft was taken.”

And it was here. The silver shaft was here, in Trecobben Castle.And attached to it was a spearhead of a different, darker metal, not the original, the one that was meant to be.

She heard a strange soft humming, felt a buzzing in the satchel across her body. Looking down in alarm, she saw that she and everything on her were still invisible. Everything except the spearhead. It was shining from inside the satchel, breaking through her magic invisibility, seeming to appear from nowhere at the Giant’s foot. In response, the silver spear shaft itself grew even brighter, even more luminous, as if it were answering a call.

“Eh?” Trecobben muttered under his breath. He’d stretched out his hand to take hold of the spear shaft but pulled back as it grew brighter. In a panic, Morgan tried to hide the shining spearhead, but she couldn’t do it with her invisible hand.

“What’s this?” the Giant grunted to himself. Fortunately, he wasn’t looking down at his feet, so intent was he on the spear shaft. “Never liked this thing. Always something funny about it.”

Cautiously he reached out again and took hold of it. After a few seconds, satisfied that it was safe, he picked it up and went back across the chamber. With his other hand he took a torch and marched out of the doorway, slamming the stone slab shut with a whoosh.

In her mind’s eye, Morgan could see all the torches inside instantly blown out by the sudden draught. All of that fabulous treasure, save for the spear, lay underground in total darkness.

About the Author:
Jo-Anne Blanco was born in Brazil to an English mother and Spanish father. She graduated from the University of Edinburgh with an MA in languages and from the University of Glasgow with an MPhil in media and culture. As a teacher, she has spent much of her life travelling around the world. Her travels, together with her lifelong passions for reading, writing and storytelling, inspired her to embark upon her epic Fata Morgana series, about the life and adventures of Morgan le Fay. Mythology, fairy tales, and Arthurian legends are all major influences on her work, and her ongoing journeys to countries of great landscapes and folklore are never-ending sources of inspiration.
Website: https://www.jo-anneblanco.com/
Blog: https://www.jo-anneblanco.com/blog
Newsletter Sign Up: https://www.jo-anneblanco.com/newsletter
Series Extras: https://www.jo-anneblanco.com/morgan-le-fay-s-world
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/joanneblancoauthor/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JoAnneBlancoBooks
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16928076.Jo_Anne_Blanco




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Conspiracy of Cats by B C Harris

 

Conspiracy of CatsB C Harris
Genre: Contemporary fiction, paranormal, murder mysteryPublisher: Olympia Publishers, LondonDate of Publication: 26th August 2021ISBN: 978-1-80074-032-7ASIN: B09CGHZ7K7Number of pages: 325Word Count: 123,121Cover Artist: Olympia Publishers, London
Tagline: A Beautiful House, A Horrible Death, A Brilliant Revenge
Book Description: 
CONSPIRACY OF CATS… a supernatural murder mystery.
An apprehensive Jos Ferguson travels from Edinburgh to Northern Tanzania to visit the house her Uncle Peter built before he died. But Peter isn’t as dead as he should be… he was murdered, and he wants his niece to help him exact revenge upon his killer. With a little Maasai magic and a conspiracy of cats, Jos sets out to do exactly that.
A beautiful house. A horrible death. A brilliant revenge.
Who knew death could be so lively?
Olympia Publishers     Amazon.uk      Amazon

Excerpt

Looking back, it was as if Peter had known that he was going to die.  

It was as if all of them had known, because the Maasai came prepared for their ritual even though their little brother died only a few hours before they arrived. It was the largest group of Maasai Beola had ever encountered at the white house. At least fifty men, most of them warriors, all carrying their weapons and their shields. Their chests and faces and arms painted as if they were going into battle. She watched them from the master bedroom window, just as she’d watched the police arrive, having gone back up to finish changing the bed so it would be clean and ready when Jude returned. They arrived on foot just before sunset, and it would have taken all day to walk from their village on the western side of Mount Kilimanjaro all the way to the white house.  

Some of the warriors carried armfuls of wood, and immediately began building a large fire in the middle of the lawn. The elders, including their bearded laibon, sat down on the porch steps to rest and, when Beola went out to meet them, they asked only for water. When she offered food they politely refused. When Beola moved to go back inside to fetch the water, a young warrior stopped her. ‘We must leave the white house in peace, little sister,’ he told her, and then he and several of his fellow warriors guided her towards the lodge where they fetched enough water for all. When that was done, the young warrior told her, ‘Word has been sent into the park so your husband and your son will come home soon. When they do, you must be ready to leave.’

‘But why?’  

‘The laibon wishes to cleanse the white house of sorrow.’

Beola knew better than to argue with the wishes of a laibon, and so she nodded, resigned.

‘How long must we stay away?’

‘Moon die and come back again, man die and stay away. Come back with the new moon, sister.’  

Back inside the lodge Beola began to pack, without any clear idea of where her family would go or who they would stay with. By then it was full dark, and the fire was burning so brightly she could see its orange glow above the garage blocking her direct view. Kissi and Ben arrived while she was still packing, in shock at both the death of their friend and the large gathering on the white house lawn. The evening breeze was becoming a wind by then, and the stars were obscured by gathering clouds. The warriors had begun to sing a sorrowful sounding song, their beautiful voices competing with the mounting voice of the wind.  

By the time the Nyerere’s were readying to leave, a storm was in full flow.  

The perimeter of trees bent and swayed in the wind that had initially made their leaves whisper. That wind was howling and shrilling by then, a tempest that thrashed and whipped the leaves and branches. Storm clouds had gathered so close, they were piled on top of one another, grumbling, rumbling, crashing with thunder directly overhead. Lightening split the night over and over. Up on the roof garden, a solitary figure braved the onslaught. The old laibon was yelling into the night, his spells snatched away by the wind that seemed, in turns, to want to blow him away and push him down. Rain pelted down upon him, it blinded his eyes, dripped from his beard, soaked his shuka and chilled his bones. He fought against it, at the same time as he embraced it, arms stretched wide and high. Calling out, over and over, to the spirit of his friend.

As the Nyerere’s were loading up their jeep, another vehicle arrived, lights sweeping across the scene as it circled the lawn. Beola thought that it must be Jude, but it was Henk de Vries, pulling up in his flatbed truck. She assumed he’d heard the news and had come to pay his respects. She ran towards him, but half a dozen warriors barred Beola’s way. They told her to go, to never speak of this night to anyone. Beola struggled against them, and called out to Henk in some distress, but either the wind stole her voice, or the Dutchman chose to ignore her. Kissi was next to her by then and had to impel his wife bodily into the back of his Land Rover as Ben sat quietly weeping in the front. He then got in himself and set off for his father’s home in Arusha, having called ahead to stay there were sanitation issues at their home, so they needed a place to say for a while. As they were moving around the lawn towards the drive, Beola watched Henk lower the tail gate of his truck and saw two warriors lift and carry something towards the fire. Meat for the funeral feast, he told her much later.  

When Kissi’s Land Rover reached the foot of the hill, he turned north towards the main road that would take them to Arusha. They left the storm behind almost immediately. When they reached the top of the escarpment, he stopped and got out. Ben and Beola joined him. Together they stood atop the ridge, watching a small storm rage over the white house.  

About the Author: 
B C Harris is a Scot who, at the time of writing, had just finished renovating a farmhouse in France. A labour of love that began from first sight back in 2016. No sooner had the final length of flooring been laid and the last paintbrush dried, than disaster struck in the form of pandemic. France went into a strict lockdown and, with time to do more than simply daydream about writing books, a new project began to take shape.
Writing began as an escape from the fear and isolation that was soon affecting us all, and quickly flourished to become ‘Conspiracy of Cats'. The global pandemic seems to be receding now, but the passion for writing has taken root. Find out more about B C Harris online.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BCHarris64 
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorBCHarris 
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/beverleycharrisauthor/ 
Interview https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IuiVm2B-_bo 
Second interview https://anchor.fm/donna-morfett/episodes/BC-Harris-e16hvnk 
Facebook book group https://www.facebook.com/groups/2890431834618695
Goodreads Author page https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21921104.B_C_Harris 
Article About Author: https://chrisrobertsmbe.co.uk/scottish-authors-first-novel-could-be-the-next-netflix-film-or-series/




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Beyond Atlantis: An Epic of The Ancient Americas by Lucius Beauchamp

 

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Beyond Atlantis: An Epic of The Ancient AmericasLucius Beauchamp
Genre: Fiction, Fantasy, AdventureISBN: Paperback 978-0-6488929-0-8  ISBN: E-book 978-0-6488929-1-5ASIN: 0648892905 ASIN: B01I4OMBVYNumber of pages: 448Word Count: 158,240 Cover Artist: Flametree Creative
Tagline: Greater Atlantis, where The Guardian Tribe roam
Book Description: 
10,000 years ago, ancient Atlantian Tribes of magicians flourished in the lower Americas and along the Mississippi. 
Galen, an Atlantian magician priest is locked in a relentless power struggle with an envious sorceress who blackmails, lies, and manipulates. A prince of the blood, Galen is determined that nothing will stop his becoming an Archpriest.
Eten, blackest witch and high priestess sees angels and seeks a forbidden treasure. She finds Galen’s curse of having a soulmate particularly helpful. 
Half a millennia ago the Island of Atlantis sank off the Biminis, the 13th Tribe was held responsible for the demise of Atlantis. The surviving Atlantians stripped the 13th of all technology and exiled them. 
Vengeful, the 13th Tribe wishes to return but the 13th’s warlocks fear crossing into Greater Older Atlantis. They do not dare set foot on the Guardian-protected land. The great Guardian Tribe possess a formidable circle of psychics who roam North America keeping constant vigil to keep Greater Older Atlantis safe for all Atlantians. 
Amazon

Excerpt:

    With lightning rushing to greet the barbarians, not only sulphur made their guts wrench. That most feared God, the God of lightning, was among them. Sheets of power forked across the ground, felling dozens of the pure race. Repeatedly, the riverbed exploded and sprayed molten sand. Dripping glass sculptures remained and pressure waves threw barbarians into the glowing glass pools. Where some lay stuck, in death or dying.     The false day reached the refugees, the sky pulsing green. From the Safety of the hillside they saw it all, with deafening thunder rocking them. Dodging lightning bolts, the barbarians ran when they could to slid into super-hot streams of glass where their flesh seared so completely that bare-bones were exposed among living tissue. There was screaming at newly blackened limbs and sizzling holes within a shoulder or thigh, created by actual lightning strikes. And then more astral screams as the black shadows of the underworld chased and fell upon the freshly dead. Only a handful survived. It was another mist-night.
                                                               *
Tancah. Ten ships comprising another fleet had landed. Gold. Mounds of gold was being turned into ingots for shipment to the Far World.     The gangplanks were sunk into the pink sand by the tread of disembarkingwarriors.     The scarred pyramids were towers with large stone tablets standingon top. Not very wide, with ladder-like stairs, each had an almost sheerdrop at the back. Saplings burst forth in unexpected places among the ruins.     The seventh ship to dock was grander than the others. Its occupants always liked to be seventh, from superstition. Rhaim, the commander-in-chief hurried to meet these new arrivals. They were the main reason he’d come back to Tancah. After all, he didn’t want their leader to take offense. In black clothing with wide purple edging, the thirteen glided down the gangplank. Weary soldiers made hasty signs in the group’s direction while dropping their eyes. Even with a close trimmed mustache, the outlines of the first face were a death mask. Udo, the leader. Tall, white-haired and eyes robin’s-egg blue. The whole group was from similar molds.     Not on land yet, Udo glanced at Tancah. A connoisseur, he breatheddeeply of the destruction. Then he put a foot hard on the sand and dogs began to howl. A flock of monarch butterflies, resting on their way to their wintering ground, filled the air. Raising his hand to the sky, Udo cut a swath through the gossamer wings. The lovelies rained down among the pyramids, while the coven roared with laughter.     Invisible to everyone, a watcher hovered over the beach within sight of the ships. As one, the black-garbed group turned to look at him, eyes burning. Languidly, Udo said, ‘Kill.’     Two men vacated their flesh so utterly that their bodies fell to the ground. Their spirits were shadow hounds. Instantly the temple flyer telepathed the sight to his temple, then spirit claws were on him. Dying, screams filled the heads of other flyers.     The murdered watcher’s body, seated in the temple chamber, spasmed and went limp. A high priest wiped the corpse’s brow, ‘Where is the other?’     Simultaneously, Udo’s face was in the room, hanging in mid-space.Gloating, he disappeared. Then he was back at the beachfront. ‘Find the other watched.’     The two dark hounds pounced forward, but Udo’s snarl sent them scurrying into their bodies. He believed in sharing and signaled a fresh pair.  

 

About the Author:
Like Plato, Lucius believed Atlantis existed. Interpreting Plato's description of location, backed up by Edgar Cayce's readings, the Island of Atlantis was off the Biminis. Therefore, for him, the Continent of Atlantis (Greater Older Atlantis) was North America.
https://www.amazon.com/LUCIUS-BEAUCHAMP/e/B01J54XHHO/

Beyond Atlantis: An Epic of The Ancient AmericasLucius B...

 

Beyond Atlantis: An Epic of The Ancient Americas

Lucius Beauchamp

Genre: Fiction, Fantasy, Adventure
ISBN: Paperback 978-0-6488929-0-8  
ISBN: E-book 978-0-6488929-1-5
ASIN: 0648892905 

ASIN: B01I4OMBVY
Number of pages: 448
Word Count: 158,240
Cover Artist: Flametree Creative

Tagline: Greater Atlantis, where The Guardian Tribe roam

Book Description: 

10,000 years ago, ancient Atlantian Tribes of magicians flourished in the lower Americas and along the Mississippi. 

Galen, an Atlantian magician priest is locked in a relentless power struggle with an envious sorceress who blackmails, lies, and manipulates. A prince of the blood, Galen is determined that nothing will stop his becoming an Archpriest.

Eten, blackest witch and high priestess sees angels and seeks a forbidden treasure. She finds Galen’s curse of having a soulmate particularly helpful. 

Half a millennia ago the Island of Atlantis sank off the Biminis, the 13th Tribe was held responsible for the demise of Atlantis. The surviving Atlantians stripped the 13th of all technology and exiled them. 

Vengeful, the 13th Tribe wishes to return but the 13th’s warlocks fear crossing into Greater Older Atlantis. They do not dare set foot on the Guardian-protected land. The great Guardian Tribe possess a formidable circle of psychics who roam North America keeping constant vigil to keep Greater Older Atlantis safe for all Atlantians. 

Amazon

Excerpt:

    With lightning rushing to greet the barbarians, not only sulphur made their guts wrench. That most feared God, the God of lightning, was among them. Sheets of power forked across the ground, felling dozens of the pure race. Repeatedly, the riverbed exploded and sprayed molten sand. Dripping glass sculptures remained and pressure waves threw barbarians into the glowing glass pools. Where some lay stuck, in death or dying.
     The false day reached the refugees, the sky pulsing green. From the Safety of the hillside they saw it all, with deafening thunder rocking them. Dodging lightning bolts, the barbarians ran when they could to slid into super-hot streams of glass where their flesh seared so completely that bare-bones were exposed among living tissue. There was screaming at newly blackened limbs and sizzling holes within a shoulder or thigh, created by actual lightning strikes. And then more astral screams as the black shadows of the underworld chased and fell upon the freshly dead. Only a handful survived. It was another mist-night.

                                                               *

Tancah. Ten ships comprising another fleet had landed. Gold. Mounds of gold was being turned into ingots for shipment to the Far World.
     The gangplanks were sunk into the pink sand by the tread of disembarking
warriors.
     The scarred pyramids were towers with large stone tablets standing
on top. Not very wide, with ladder-like stairs, each had an almost sheer
drop at the back. Saplings burst forth in unexpected places among the ruins.
     The seventh ship to dock was grander than the others. Its occupants always liked to be seventh, from superstition. Rhaim, the commander-in-chief hurried to meet these new arrivals. They were the main reason he’d come back to Tancah. After all, he didn’t want their leader to take offense. In black clothing with wide purple edging, the thirteen glided down the gangplank. Weary soldiers made hasty signs in the group’s direction while dropping their eyes. Even with a close trimmed mustache, the outlines of the first face were a death mask. Udo, the leader. Tall, white-haired and eyes robin’s-egg blue. The whole group was from similar molds.
     Not on land yet, Udo glanced at Tancah. A connoisseur, he breathed
deeply of the destruction. Then he put a foot hard on the sand and dogs began to howl. A flock of monarch butterflies, resting on their way to their wintering ground, filled the air. Raising his hand to the sky, Udo cut a swath through the gossamer wings. The lovelies rained down among the pyramids, while the coven roared with laughter.
     Invisible to everyone, a watcher hovered over the beach within sight of the ships. As one, the black-garbed group turned to look at him, eyes burning. Languidly, Udo said, ‘Kill.’
     Two men vacated their flesh so utterly that their bodies fell to the ground. Their spirits were shadow hounds. Instantly the temple flyer telepathed the sight to his temple, then spirit claws were on him. Dying, screams filled the heads of other flyers.
     The murdered watcher’s body, seated in the temple chamber, spasmed and went limp. A high priest wiped the corpse’s brow, ‘Where is the other?’
     Simultaneously, Udo’s face was in the room, hanging in mid-space.
Gloating, he disappeared. Then he was back at the beachfront. ‘Find the other watched.’
     The two dark hounds pounced forward, but Udo’s snarl sent them scurrying into their bodies. He believed in sharing and signaled a fresh pair.  

About the Author:

The author was inspired to write this book because, like Plato, the author believes Atlantis existed. Interpreting Plato's description of the location of Atlantis, backed up by Edgar Cayce's readings, Lucius feels that the Island of Atlantis was off the Biminis. Therefore, for the author, the Continent of Atlantis (Greater Older Atlantis) was North America, USA. Writing this epic has been Lucius Beauchamp’s means of creating a world in which people can escape from the travails and the, at times, seeming randomness of living for a while. A place where readers can take their ease and be refreshed by imbibing this layered adventure as they would a well-deserved drink at the end of the day.

Lucius writing & research skills were enhanced while obtaining a 4-year Degree in Psychology at the prestigious University of Western Australia. This degree included intensive English studies. Lucius attributes much of his understanding of writing to his time at the University of Western Australia. 

In life the author has followed the maxim that what goes around, comes around. Therefore, he does regular simple volunteering that assists inner-city people who are in crisis and/or temporarily homeless. Earlier in life Lucius did Hospice volunteering, which he feels gave a solid grounding, a balance to his life.

To this same desire for balance, especially in Covid times, the author has turned his backyard into a veritable bird sanctuary. Currently, three birdbaths, tall native shrubs and native trees bring in all the local small birds. Lucius has watched fledglings wander the garden in the first weeks out of the nest and an occasional wind-battered adult shelter daily among the honey-blossoms until well. The author set each of the two shallow and one medium-deep birdbaths at a slope, as he’s observed that smaller birds love to strut around a shallow end before diving into the deep end of their swimming pools. Kookaburras are discouraged from hunting geckos in the backyard, it upsets the little birds, though they’re welcome to bathe and drink. The birds, the Spring bobtail lizards and a type of small marsupial that arrives at tree-berry harvest time aren’t bothered by the Beauchamp family dog or cat, as they have a twilight curfew and or bells.

Other than birdwatching, a main interest of Lucius is building a collection of retro, vintage and, infrequently, antique Matchbox Cars. Crossword puzzles, Lucius saves for lazy Sunday afternoons. Some Lucius’ viewing preferences are the Star Trek movies and series, plus Le Carre’s Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy series and the Smiley’s People series.       

Lucius’ wish list is as follows: To tread the USA Appalachian Trail for as long as his legs hold out. To spend two months in Maine one Fall, hiking and just watching the festival of color until the leaves turn then drop. To walk the week-long trek to Machu Pichu. To fish one of the great North American rivers. To take a long sojourn on a paddle steamer down the Mississippi River.     

The author has included many descriptions of mushrooms in his book, several of them poisonous and many varieties that are difficult to differentiate from look-a-like poisonous fungi. Knowing how many people on seeing a mushroom in the wild will be tempted to pick it, Lucius has included a Warning Note at the bottom of the Acknowledgements Page, in the E-book and in the print version.

The author and partner are equal joint-owners and equal co-publishers of Beyond Atlantis: An Epic Of The Ancient Americas.

Lucius’ heartfelt thanks go to author Dave Luckett who originally critiqued Beyond Atlantis: An Epic Of The Ancient Americas and then tutored Lucius, on a weekly basis, for several months.

Further the author’s profound thanks go to Professor Van Iken, who Lucius was fortunate enough to have critique Beyond Atlantis: An Epic of The Ancient Americas, after it had been redrafted following intensive workshops with Dave. Professor Iken then very generously critiqued the book a second time, once Lucius finished an almost-final draft.

Lastly, the author’s greatest thanks go to his partner for all the patience, advice, editing, critiquing, for improving the story’s momentum and for story/scene/dialogue assistance. Together Lucius and his partner created the book’s first short name and then together added the longer version of the name. It was Lucius’ partner who discovered the book’s hook, that is, who found the book’s current first two paragraphs which Lucius had buried further within the chapter.

https://www.amazon.com/LUCIUS-BEAUCHAMP/e/B01J54XHHO/

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The Golden Hook The Green Sky Series Book Two by Jennae Vale

 

The Golden Hook  The Green Sky SeriesBook Two Jennae Vale
Genre: Time Travel RomanceDate of Publication: October 12, 2021ASIN:B09JB82GG7Number of pages:190Word Count: 57,000Cover Artist: Sheri McGathy
Tagline: Swashbuckling pirates plus time travel equals adventure and romance on the high seas.
Book Description: 
What happens when a swashbuckling pirate meets a time traveling twenty-first century woman? Edward Sutherland has always been a self-assured and confident man of the sea. He’s spent years alongside his friend and captain Jameson Mackall and until now has only ever wanted to find treasure and retire a wealthy man. He wasn’t expecting to travel through time and he certainly wasn’t expecting to meet a woman who would challenge and impress him at every turn. Susanna Cole has lost her best friend in a boating accident. In a deep state of grief she is about to close her once thriving business when a stranger walks through her door with a letter from her friend. A letter dated 1724. Can she believe this man? Or is he playing some cruel joke? Two strangers with one goal, to get back to the year 1724. There are plans to be made, treasure to be found and most importantly they must locate the one woman who can possibly help them in their quest. The feelings they are developing for one another will be put to the test when history, as it is written, comes into play and the life of Edward Sutherland is on the line.
Amazon

Excerpt:

Boxes were piled high around the offices of NYC Party Planning, crowding in on the desk where Susanna Cole sat going through emails and messages from friends and business acquaintances.

This had been one of the hardest times of her life.

Life wasn’t the same without Danielle. She’d lost her best friend and business partner. They worked together and lived together. She was completely alone now and more depressed than she’d ever been in her life.

Her head popped up as there was a knock at the door. “Come in.”

The door opened and the sight in front of her was like a slap in the face. Some idiot had decided it would be a good idea to remind her of her loss by showing up in pirate costume. “Was there a costume party someone forgot to tell me about?” she snapped.

“I’m sorry. Costume party?” the man asked.

“I’m not in the mood right now. What can I do for you?” Maybe if she sounded cranky enough he’d just turn around and leave.

“I need your help,” he said, stepping closer.

“You’ve come to the wrong place. I’m no longer accepting new clients. The business is closing for the foreseeable future.” That should do it. There was nothing more to be said. If he was looking for a party planner he was going to have to go elsewhere.

“But this is the right address. You’re Susanna Cole, am I correct?” He raised his eyebrows and offered a questioning gaze.

His surly English accent was not charming her. The more she looked at him the more irritated she became. Seeing him was like rubbing salt into her wound. “Seriously, what’s with the outfit?” Whoever this guy was, he was definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Reaching into his jacket pocket, the man pulled out an envelope and looked at it. “I was directed here by the people on board the ship. This is NYC Party Planning, Brooklyn, New York, isn’t it?” He straightened his coat and stood at attention.

Susanna noted his height. Easily over six feet tall, very handsome and from the way he stood it seemed he might be in the military. No matter. She’d had enough of being toyed with.  “I don’t know what cruel joke you’re playing, but it is not appreciated. My friend recently drowned on a pirate cruise to Bermuda and I’m, I’m…” She wasn’t going to cry. Not in front of this stranger. She took in a deep breath, held her head high and stood up.

“I know the whole of it. Your friend Danielle fell overboard.” His voice was soft and low, filled with understanding.

Was he purposely trying to upset her? How did he know who Danielle was? “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

He threw his head back in apparent exasperation before inhaling deeply and looking at her.

“Please don’t. I’m sorry. I understand you’re upset, but do let me finish what I have to say.” He paused, gazing at her with what seemed an impatient glare.

She kept silent.

“Thank you. I’ve a letter here for you from Danielle. It will explain everything.” He held the letter out for her to take.

Susanna’s hands shook as she took it from him. She couldn’t help but feel skeptical. She’d seen Danielle go overboard and disappear beneath the waves. They’d searched for her for days, as had the Coast Guard and they found nothing.

“Did she give this to you before we went on the cruise?” She glanced down at the letter. It was Danielle’s handwriting. There was no mistaking it. Everything down to the little heart she used to dot the letter I.

“No. She gave it to me yesterday morning.” He seemed to be watching and waiting for her reaction.

“This better be good,” she said. At this point, she was ready to throw him out the door and lock it behind him. If that didn’t work, she’d call the police, but her curiosity was piqued. She opened the letter and read.

About the Author:
Jennae Vale is a best selling author of romance with a touch of magic.  As a history buff from an early age, Jennae often found herself day-dreaming in history class and wondering what it would be like to live in the places and time periods she was learning about.  Writing time travel romance has given her an opportunity to take those daydreams and turn them into stories to share with readers everywhere.
Originally from the Boston area, Jennae now lives in the San Francisco Bay area, where some of her characters also reside.  When Jennae isn’t writing, she enjoys spending time with her family and her pets, and daydreaming, of course.
Website: https://www.jennaevaleauthor.com
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Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/jennaevale   



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That Magic Mischief by Susanna Allen

 

That Magic Mischief Susanna Allen
Genre: Paranormal contemporary romancePublisher: Ally Press Date of Publication: October 01, 2021ISBN Print: 978-1-953290-12-0 ISBN eBook: 978-1-953290-13-7 ASIN: B09G97RGZFNumber of pages: 326 pagesWord Count: 82,000Cover Artist: Tamara DeStefano
Tagline: A heartbroken amateur witch is in over her head after casting a spell that  actually works—will the handsome Irish artist she fancies come to her rescue?
Book Description: 
What was the point of being a witch if Annabelle Walsh couldn’t manage a spell to fix her broken heart? As a dedicated dabbler in all things esoteric, she figured she could speed up her healing process when she’s dumped out of the blue by her boyfriend... but nothing’s working.
An idle wander into an unfamiliar new age shop adds the bit of magic in her life that she’d been looking for: an interfering, mischievous Pooka called Callie who’s determined to turn Annabelle’s life around— mostly by turning it upside down.
Suddenly, Annabelle’s too busy to brood, and her writing career begins to take off; in fact, it’s during a brainstorming session for an off-off-off-off Broadway theatre production that she meets tall, dark, and handsome Jamie Flynn, an Irishman in New York who seems to be keen at first sight, if not in love quite yet. As Annabelle gets her life back on track, she starts to see the difference between a real life, a real career, and a real man… and all it took was a little magic mischief.
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Excerpt:

Annabelle lit candles and sat down on the floor. She tried deep breathing for a few seconds, and feeling slightly calmer, took her tarot deck out of its wooden box and shuffled the cards. She let her breath flow in and out; it lulled her, cleared her head, calmed her down, and the smell of the burning wax soothed her, as she tried to formulate a mature, non-attached-type question. Not: Will Wilson come back to me, please, please?

Her breathing hitched. Yeah, definitely not that. “Okay. The issue is… Wilson. Um. Do we have a future together?”

She turned over a card. The Knight of Pentacles, reversed.

“Damn it.” Reversed, this Knight meant carelessness, a standstill in affairs. “Okay, so if things are at a standstill, that means they can move forward again, right?” She turned another card.

Three of Swords. Sorrow due to loss. Well, duh, Annabelle thought, and then winced, as if she’d said it out loud. As if the cards could hear.

She turned over the next card. The Wheel of Fortune. Not always a good sign, though, as it could mean an unexpected loss rather than a gain, even when in the upright position as it was now. “I don’t know what any of this means,” Annabelle mumbled, knowing full well what it meant. This was all about the now, and she didn’t like the now.

At moments like these, Annabelle found it was usually a good thing to stop pulling cards.

Queen of Cups. She shivered. That was her court card. Good natured, intuitive, a loving female figure, one whose imagination often outweighed her good sense.

Strength. The beautiful woman grasped the lion by the jaws, symbolizing the power of the human spirit to overcome any obstacle. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

The Sun. “Summertime? Two months from now? I’ll be better in two months?”

Annabelle gathered up the reading and returned the deck to its box.

She continued to sit. She tried to go back to the deep breathing but got bored. She thought about how she’d never had much luck reading Wilson’s cards. Maybe it never worked because it was almost always post-coital, the only time he was ever mellow enough to entertain the idea. She could never make sense of his configurations, none of the images seemed to relate to the others, she’d pull card after card and make a spread that was meaningless, confused. He would lose interest and patience. She would feel as though she’d failed. Ugh.

She’d like to blame it all on him, but she supposed her own muddled thinking got in the way as well; always hoping he was asking about the future of their relationship, whether she would marry him, whether she would like an emerald-cut diamond in a platinum setting, as opposed to a three carat marquis-cut in white gold.

Someday, maybe, she’d find that remotely amusing.

But not today. Rising, she left the candles burning and got some incense going as well.

Lavender: soothing, healing. She wanted healing. She wanted that fistful of pain out of her chest. She wanted all her lessons learned in a six-week correspondence course, she wanted a whole, strong heart, she wanted Wilson back, she wanted all the sadness to leak out of her pores, she wanted her life back. Herself back. Now.

About the Author:
Susanna is a graduate of Pratt Institute with a BFA in Communication Design and counts The Village Voice, New York Magazine, and Entertainment Weekly as past design experiences. Born in New Jersey, she moved to Ireland for twelve months—in 1998. She is the author of the Shapeshifters of the Beau Monde series, published by Sourcebooks: A Wolf in Duke’s Clothing, an Amazon Editor’s Best Book of the Month, is available now; A Most Unusual Duke debuts in December 2021.
Writing as Susan Conley, she is the author of Drama Queen and The Fidelity Project, both published by Headline UK; Many Brave Fools: A Story of Addiction, Dysfunction, Codependency…and Horses is available from Trafalgar Square Books. Susanna is living her life by the three Rs—reading, writing, and horseback riding—and can generally be found on her sofa with her e-reader, gazing out a window and thinking about made-up people, or cantering around in circles. She loves every minute of it.
https://www.susannaallenwriter.com
https://twitter.com/susannaawriter 
https://www.instagram.com/susannaawriter/   https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20487105.Susanna_Allen



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Behind the Veil by E. J. Dawson

 

Behind the VeilE. J. Dawson
Genre: Gothic SuspensePublisher: Literary WanderlustDate of Publication: 1st October 2021ISBN: 9781942856931ASIN: B0981C89JLNumber of pages: 252Word Count: 86kCover Artist: Violeta Nedkova
Tagline: To catch a killer or save her sanity
Book Description: 
Can she keep the secrets of her past to rescue a girl tormented by a ghost?
In 1920s Los Angeles, Letitia Hawking reads the veil between life and death. A scrying bowl allows her to experience the final moments of the deceased. She brings closure to grief-stricken war widows and mourning families.For Letitia, it is a penance. She knows no such peace.
For Alasdair Driscoll, it may be the only way to save his niece, Finola, from her growing night terrors. But when Letitia sees a shadowy figure attached to the household, it rouses old fears of her unspeakable past in England.
When a man comes to her about his missing daughter, the third girl to go missing in as many months, Letitia can’t help him when she can’t see who’s taken them.
As a darkness haunts Letitia’s vision, she may not be given a choice in helping the determined Mr Driscoll, or stop herself falling in love with him. But to do so risks a part of herself she locked away, and to release it may cost Letitia her sanity and her heart.
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/zNYlZ7PatA0 

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Excerpt One:

“My apologies,” Letitia said, hopeful she could put him off with an excuse, “I’ll need a preliminary appointment and then a secondary one for the actual session, and I’m unavailable for another three weeks―”

“I can’t wait that long,” he said, reaching into his suit pocket to pluck out a brown envelope. “If you require a provisional report to better assess the situation, you can come by my office in the morning, where I will have legal paperwork for matters of confidentiality. I believe most of your consultations are in the afternoon, so it should not interfere with your appointment book.”

Letitia snapped the ledger shut. “I have other errands I must attend to tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t asking you, Ms. Hawking.”

She had guessed he’d spoken to one of her patrons, which would explain his presence on her doorstep, but now she was certain. Only during private consultations did she give her name, and only to those who treated what she gave them with due dignity. Each client had to meet her conditions, and each made a substantial payment for her service. It varied on the time passed and the trauma of death, but each one carried a price—for them and for her. Letitia always finished her sessions by asking patrons for their discretion and giving out a card with a telephone number and times to call. She was happy for a client to refer her to others, but rather than call he was here in person, making demands. He was not the kind of clientele she sought, especially one connected to a patron who had broken her request for privacy.

“I don’t appreciate your tone of voice,” she retorted, “or opening my door without invitation like a common thief, never mind you haven’t even bothered to introduce yourself.”

“I believe I’ve already apologized for my error,” he said, and Letitia would have responded in kind, but he was instructing her again. “And under the circumstances of your profession, I’m being more than reasonable in my request as well as reimbursement for your time.”

He attempted to hand her the envelope, and when she didn’t accept, he dropped it where she still held the ledger. It brushed her bare fingers, and a shadow grew behind the stranger.

The captivating dark absorbing her being, Letitia fumbled for the mental defenses against a true apparition, stunned as she was by its vivid form.

A cloud of darkness without face or features hovered over the man’s shoulder, but deep inside it she sensed it staring at her. Broad arms that could have grasped her in its embrace lay still by its side. Letitia couldn’t draw breath to scream at the darkness within the figure, the soul-sucking despair rendering her voiceless at the shadow’s presence. 

About the Author:
Beginning a writing journey with an epic 21 book series, Ejay started her author career in 2014 and has taken on the ups and downs of self-publishing with her fantasy series The Last Prophecy since 2016. At the start of 2019, she put the series on the backburner to write Behind the Veil in 25 days, and signed a publishing contract for the gothic noir novel to independent publisher Literary Wanderlust. Behind the Veil is set for release on the October 1st 2021. She resumed self-publishing a scifi series, Queen of Spades released across 2020 and 2021, as well as signing another contract with Literary Wanderlust for NA fantasy, Echo of the Evercry. Believing in more than one path to a career in publishing, Ejay pursues self-publishing alongside querying traditional publishers with multiple manuscripts.
https://ejdawson.com/

https://www.instagram.com/ejndawson/

https://twitter.com/ejdawsonauthor

https://www.facebook.com/ejdawsonauthor
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14845831.E_J_Dawson



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The Wantland Files

 

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! And, no, I don’t mean Christmas. Halloween is my absolute favorite holiday! I love the spooky shivers that accompany ghosts, graveyards, Jack-o’-lanterns, cobwebs, and haunted houses. As a young girl, I remember clearly how much I looked forward to dressing up in costumes too—and back then we had those horrible plastic masks that covered our entire faces, held on by elastic cord, with slits for eyes and mouth.

One year I recruited my younger sister’s assistance and made a DIY haunted house for my younger brothers. We transformed our bathroom into a terrifying experience (in my young mind anyway). Peeled grapes were “eyeballs” and cooked pasta “intestines.”

Once I had them thoroughly creeped out, my sister, hiding in the bathtub with a flashlight, all in black and with my pretty decent makeup job transforming her into a ghastly entity, lit the flashlight below her face and yelled, “Boo!” My brothers screamed and I got in big trouble. I considered it a huge success.  In middle school, I was allowed to host a party for friends and that remains one of my favorite Halloween memories. I dressed as a Southern belle, complete with a real hoopskirt (from goodness knows where!) and a fancy frock that would have made Scarlet O’Hara’s green eyes flash with envy. I swirled around the house serving witch’s brew and Halloween Jell-O cake (recipes below) while Halloween music played in the background.

Later in high school, my parents had moved, and our new house had a barn in the back. I made invitations and went all out with decorations in the barn, lining the walls with haystacks to sit on. Friends arrived and we primarily sat and chatted and ate snacks I’d put together while listening to music.

My dad crept across the backyard to the barn with his old chainsaw, blade removed, intent on truly scaring us by running through the darkened barn like something out of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Sadly, the chainsaw never fired up, though perhaps this was for the best.
These days, I dress up and enjoy the evening but rarely even see Trick-or-Treaters. I miss the thrill of Halloweens gone by but channel my love of all things supernatural into my book series. Happy Halloween!!

Witch’s Brew Recipe

1 quart of lime sherbet2-liter bottle of 7-Up, Sprite, or Ginger AleOptional: one can of pineapple juice + ¼ cup lime juice
Mix together the lime sherbet and soda of your choice just before serving. Watch the brew froth and foam! You can add juice to your liking and even add some dry ice chips if you really want to set a creepy mood.

Halloween Jell-O Cake Recipe
1 white cake mix1 cup boiling water1 pkg Jell-O gelatin (orange, grape, or both)½ cup cold water1 tub Cool WhipFood coloring and sprinkles if desired

—Bake the cake as directed on the box. Cool for at least 15 minutes. Use a large fork to poke holes throughout the cooled cake.
—Add the boiling water to the gelatin. (My mom used both orange and grape to marble the colors but you can opt for only orange or whatever you prefer.) Stir until dissolved. Add the cold water and pour over the cake. Refrigerate for 3 hours.
—Use food coloring to tint Cool Whip if desired and then spread over cake. Refrigerate another hour and decorate with sprinkles as desired just before serving.

The Wantland FilesBook OneLara Bernhardt
Genre: supernatural suspensePublisher: Admission PressDate of Publication: December 16, 2016ISBN: 978-0998426105ASIN: B081RFTMR5Number of pages: 286Word Count: 73,470Cover Artist: BEAUTeBOOK
Tagline: She sees dead people. He doesn’t believe in ghosts.
Book Description: 
The X-Files meets Ghost Hunters when psychic Kimberly Wantland is forced to collaborate with skeptic Sterling Wakefield as she investigates a ghost terrorizing a young family in the season finale of her hit television series The Wantland Files.
Amazon

Excerpt:

The frigid blast hit her, not a tidal wave crashing over her, but an iceberg, solid and powerful. And furious.

The icy shock took her breath away. She gasped.

The entity dropped from above and sailed past, blowing her hair behind her.
Strong, warm hands grasped her arms, intent on steadying her. She shook free as Drew screamed.

“I told you to stay with the boy!” She crossed the room in three steps and knelt beside the toddler bed.

Drew no longer sat in the corner.

“Kimmy? What’s happening?” Michael called from the door.

“Just keep recording! She’s here. She’s powerful. Keep the cameras rolling.”

Danielle’s voice joined the fray. “What’s wrong? Drew! What’s happening?”

“Stay in your room,” she commanded as forcefully as she could with lungs chilled by the dark entity. “Stay with your baby!”

Her fingers trembled as she searched the bed. Every square inch of the miniature thing. Her chilled hands were not so numb that they would miss a toddler’s body. Where was he?

Frantic and scared, she lost control of her extrasensory perceptions. She stopped running her hands over the bed and held still. Clutching her crystal, she breathed deeply. Where was the entity? Where was the boy?

About the Author: 
Lara Bernhardt is a Pushcart-nominated writer, editor, and audiobook narrator. She is Editor-in-Chief of Balkan Press and also publishes a literary magazine, Conclave. Twice a finalist for the Oklahoma Book Award for Best Fiction, she writes supernatural suspense and women’s fiction. 
You can follow her on all the socials @larawells1 on Twitter and @larabern10 on Facebook, BookBub, and Instagram. 
www.larabernhardt.com 
https://twitter.com/lara_wells1  
https://www.facebook.com/larabern10
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/lara-bernhardt  
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16308048.Lara_Bernhardt 





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