A.L. Butcher's Blog, page 15
January 7, 2025
The Staff of Reckoning Blog Tour #EpicFantasy #Fantasy
When the world is not what it seems, what will Adir do whenhis identity collides with the destiny existence has in store for him?
The Staff of Beckoning
A Symphony of Spheres Book 1
by Praneet Menon
Genre: Epic Fantasy
“Menon’s storytelling is sharp and deliberate,blending high-stakes action with introspective moments … Addictivelyreadable!” —BookView Review
The more we know, the less we understand …
Adir Nathar craved more than what he was born into. And existence obliged.
A mysterious death … an act of revenge! Adir flees Marafel, abandoning friendsand family for safety and a fresh start. But, unbeknownst to him, he is pursuedby the Khasmia Shadow, a secret society charged with a sole divinepurpose—eliminate the destructive venna with the sacred Staff of Beckoning. Theworld of Leakarha itself is undergoing a seismic shift. Rakhor, terribledemonspawn, are emerging farther south from the Precipice than ever before.
Caught in the middle of it all, Adir is driven deeper into his own shadows,forced to face truths he never knew existed.
But this isn’t just Adir’s story.
From Naven to Ostarium to Cayan, this story unfolds through the eyes of atroubled father, a ruler fighting to secure her legacy, an heiress obsessedwith knowledge, a woman torn by love, an archer chasing glory, a man harboringa hidden past, and a noblewoman caught between two worlds—each holding a pieceof a greater truth waiting to be uncovered.
The Staff of Beckoning, the first book inthe series A Symphony of Spheres, is an epic fantasy tale ofidentity, destiny, and purpose. Blending elements from science fiction,mythology, and dark fantasy, this gripping narrative is perfect for readers whoenjoy complex characters, intricate world-building, and expansive sagas. Ifyou’ve enjoyed series like The Wheel of Time, TheKingkiller Chronicle, and The Prince of Nothing, then thisbook is for you.
Amazon ebook * Audiobook* Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads
Born and raised in India, Praneet’s life began immersed in amedley of cultural, linguistic, and spiritual traditions that sparked hispassion for storytelling. Then, he moved to the United States and has now spentmore than half his life there. The two cultural backgrounds have led him toembrace a fusion of Eastern and Western philosophies that deeply influence hiswriting.
Praneet also spent the better part of two decades working asan engineer and flight instructor, which instilled in him a precision that hebrings to his existence-building, pursuing that perfect blend of reality andfantasy. His exploration of philosophy and psychology at an early age allowshim to imbue his stories with age-old themes of identity, purpose, and destiny.These themes play a central role in his debut novel, The Staff of Beckoning,Book 1 of the series A Symphony of Spheres.
Praneet lives in Vermont, embracing a homesteadinglifestyle, community involvement, and writing while pursuing a master’s incounseling.
Website * Facebook * X * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads
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January 5, 2025
Excerpt Sunday – Tears and Crimson Velvet #Phantom #HistoricalFantasy
Tears and Crimson Velvet – A Legacy of the Mask Tale (c) A. L. Butcher
In the autumn after her marriage, a travelling fair arrived in the town and she found herself wandering its colourful stalls. More for idle curiosity than anything else. That is where she had first seen him. The man who would be a ghost, an angel and a murderer.
At the edge of the fair a sizable crowd had gathered, she saw over the top bars of a cage. Some poor creature denied its freedom, forced to perform. She strained for a look, curious despite herself. What she saw on that autumn afternoon would haunt her for many years to come.
In the cage was a slender young man, his face concealed by a bone-white mask. She could see how gaunt his strangely catlike body looked. In many ways, he resembled a skeleton, or one newly dead. Above his cage were the words “Le Mort Vivant” – the living dead. And Lise could believe it.
The man, for such he was despite his disfigurement and skeletal frame, pulled from beneath a robe of tattered, dusty black a golden chain and one audience member, close to the bars cried, “Hey, that’s mine!” With a bow of his head the caged figure tossed the article back and, in its place, a shining coin appeared in his hand. With a movement faster than the onlookers could track he tossed the coin over his head, then another, and another. A whirling sparkle of gold, silver and copper glinted in the light. As his hands spun and eyes watched the man side-stepped as three short knives fell in a perfect triangle at his feet. The coins had vanished. Lise watched, open-mouthed. She had never seen the like of it. People applauded, and some threw coins into the cage.
As people began to move away when the conjuring show ended the man began to sing. In the dull afternoon light, waning to evening, the sound which flew up and around seemed to come from heaven itself. The voice, the music, was so perfect it was unnatural, almost sinister, yet it was then, and to this day the most hauntingly beautiful thing she had ever heard. It was a song that stripped one down to the soul and left one desperate to hear it again, but afraid to do so. Lise was compelled to listen, her feet rooted to the floor and her eyes on the masked face and, as he turned in her direction, she glimpsed amber cat-like eyes of such brilliance and sadness. Lise gasped, that gaze seared her deep and she dragged her eyes away. As the song ended, she saw a shadowy figure prod the young man through the bars with a long, pointed stick. The caged angel paused and then slowly removed the mask from his face. What lay beneath that mask was a terrible sight! A black hole where the nose should be, lips twisted and deformed, the skin was deathly pallid. The crowd fell into horrified silence, someone screamed. The spell was unutterably broken.
Lise remembered, to her credit, she hadn’t screamed or fainted, she stared, perhaps a fraction too long then tore herself away. Walking fast, disorientated from the now baying onlookers, who a moment ago had been celebrating the strange caged man and now cried insult and threw stones. Such a turnabout.
“It’s the devil himself!” a man cried.
“Mary and Jesus have mercy!” another said. The voices ebbed as Lise walked away, more troubled than afraid. That face was awful, dreadful, terrifying; it was tragic and death-like, but she knew then, and always knew that beneath that twisted visage was a creature of passion. A man, a creature with the voice of an angel, and the face of death. “Who are you? What are you?” were the questions in her head.
She wandered around listlessly, in the turmoil of emotion. This man had a strange magnetism, which gave her a fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach. That voice which had pierced her soul and made her want to laugh and cry simultaneously had captured her as surely as she had been in that cage, but she could not shake the sight of those haunted eyes and that terrible face from her mind’s eye.
What lay behind the mask was both fascinating and terrifying, but less so than the utter hatred in those deep amber eyes. She had never seen such complete loathing, as that which burned in those strangely beautiful eyes.
Madame Giry finds herself embroiled in the tragedy unfolding at the Opera house; mystery and murder stalk the corridors and, it is said, a ghost haunts the place. Giry knows the truth, for she recalls the caged man she met so many years ago. This is her story, their story.
When murder and mystery begin at the Opera House one woman knows who is behind it, and what really lies beneath the mask. Secrets, lies and tragedy sing a powerful song in this ‘might have been’ tale.
Winner of the 2020 Best Short Story award on NNLight Book Heaven
A short, tragic tale based on characters from Phantom of the Opera.
A Legacy of the Mask Tale.
https://books2read.com/TearsandCrimson
Amazon UK
Amazon.com
Amazon UK audio https://amzn.to/2S9zpRh
Amazon.com audio https://amzn.to/2R7iwFM
Audible https://adbl.co/2yVVoT1
Audible UK https://adbl.co/2R6Tt5t
Apple https://books.apple.com/gb/book/tears-and-crimson-velvet/id1344489540
Barnes and Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/tears-and-crimson-velvet-a-l-butcher/1127921665
Kobo https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/tears-and-crimson-velvet
January 3, 2025
Review – The Facemaker – Lindsey Fitzharris #Biography #War #History
Wow. Just wow.
I’d heard of the surgeon Sir Harold Gillies, as my family both have army medical core and nursing ties, plus a solid love of history. However, I didn’t know much about the man himself, and how much he and others gave to help the victims of World War 1.
The First World War was the worst, the bloodiest, the most industrialized slaughter of man by man the world had known, and the injuries sustained were horrific. Medicine and surgery simply couldn’t cope – not with the sheer volume of wounded, nor the nature of the wounds themselves. But Gillies, who was a gifted, creative surgeon wanted to help the poor souls whose lives, and faces had been ravaged.
Plastic surgery wasn’t entirely new, but was, still largely experimental – and many of the operations he did had never been done before, and a fair few failed.
The men coming through the doors – well if there’s an argument against war this is it – many of them had taken severe facial and jaw injuries, horrendous burns. Faces had literally been blown off, or mangled – many couldn’t eat, talk, and disfigurement was among the most feared of disabilities. But this man, this doctor, rebuilt them….
He fought with authority, and succeeded in opening a ward to try and save these unfortunate men, and restore their faces and their dignity. He worked tirelessly, with little pay and often awful conditions to help others.
It’s not an easy book to read – there are descriptions of horrific wounds, surgery and the awfulness that was the Great War – but primarily it’s a book about hope, and kindness, of pushing the boundaries of what can be done, and should be done. It’s very well written, and sympathetic, both to the staff of the hospitals, and the soldiers themselves. It doesn’t hold back, but the author doesn’t seek to trivialise the war.
A moving, fascinating book, about a man, and his work that should be read. He is dubbed the father of plastic surgery.
Medicine and War — Sir Harold Gillies: the father of plastic surgery
Learn more about him here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harold_Gillies
https://allthatsinteresting.com/harold-gillies
5 stars – plus a few more.
What is the Secret of Blossom Rise?
When a young nurse takes a job at an old military hospital she finds the answers to an old family question – what is the secret of Blossom Rise Hospital? Who is the long-dead man who walks the grounds?
#Ebook #Audiobook #Paranormal #Ghoststory
December 25, 2024
What is the Secret of Blossom Rise?
When a young nurse takes a job at an old military hospital she finds the answers to an old family question – what is the secret of Blossom Rise Hospital? Who is the long-dead man who walks the grounds?
#Ebook #Audiobook #Paranormal #Ghoststory
December 16, 2024
What is the Secret of Blossom Rise?
When a young nurse takes a job at an old military hospital she finds the answers to an old family question – what is the secret of Blossom Rise Hospital? Who is the long-dead man who walks the grounds?
#Ebook #Audiobook #Paranormal #Ghoststory
December 12, 2024
Book Spotlight and Release Blitz – Daughter of the Veil – Brittany Johnson
OUT NOW—The Daughter of the Veil by Brittany Johnston (@PublishConquest @Liter8ure)
Blurb:
When love is attached to violence, there is nothing but shame until the feeling of love disappears altogether…
A Power
In a land divided between Fae and humans, an ancient wickedness threatens to plunge the world into chaos. Only Erissa Nierling—one blessed with the powers of the Creator and able to see the souls fated to pass into the Veil—will tip the balance. But magic is outlawed in the city of Emberhold, and Erissa knows nothing of her birthright after a lifetime of being locked behind the spelled gates of her father’s keep. When she finally escapes and runs into the blacksmith, Rhazien, he helps her flee the city, triggering a prophecy that reignites a long-dead war between the gods.
A Secret
Now hunted by Fae and humans alike, Erissa and Rhazien must avoid those seeking to claim her magic. But the world is much larger than Erissa thought. A disembodied soul keeps appearing with warnings, and Rhazien is hiding something, testing the bond of their relationship.
A Choice
As an ancient wickedness closes in, the Keeper of the Veil will stop at nothing to claim her magic. With Rhazien’s life on the line, dark truths force Erissa to make a damning choice, for what comes next will redefine realms even if it costs her very soul and the freedom she has always desired.
Available from:
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-daughter-of-the-veil-brittany-johnston/1146352799?ean=9781962739337
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DHV5BVN2
Excerpt:
Nothing prepared Erissa for the pain burning from her back to her legs as Rhazien pushed them along like a man possessed. Her chest burned against the exertion, her ragged breaths puffing in the air. She massaged her chest, kneading the tight skin.
They had doubled back after packing their supplies, taking advantage of the freshwater flowing from the creek and following an old deer trail along the winding path of the bank.
The five days passed quickly. Rhazien refused to rest while light still illuminated the path before them. He told her stories from his childhood to distract her from the brutal pace.
The one-sided conversations were appreciated. Years had passed without constant companionship, and Erissa found herself at a loss for how to contribute when her own stories held such a bleak reality. But there was more to it than that.
Rhazien filled in the quiet moments, which helped the time pass faster, but spending over a decade alone had her nerves on edge. Even if she did want to share her stories, the thought left her exhausted.
When they did stop for the night, she barely kept her eyes open as Rhazien set up camp, having fallen asleep the previous night before the fire had even been lit. She believed traveling would get easier as she became more accustomed to its physicality after years of confinement, but the horses bellied the misconception. Each horse chafed against the brutal pace. It prompted their riders to walk rather than sit astride.
Something about the woods had changed since the morning Erissa spoke with Reeva, turning the haven into something less trustworthy. The palpable difference must have fanned the flames of Rhazien’s unease as he searched for threats around every tree.
Even Rhyn and Crezzi sensed something was different. She expected them to be more relaxed with the break from carrying her and Rhazien. The horses grated against their bits, remaining quiet and tense, with Rhazien leading them both as he stomped ahead.
Erissa’s attention turned from the uncertain wood as her breath came in ragged gasps. “Rhazien… I can’t… keep going.”
About the Author
Brittany Johnston is a writer, editor, and professor living along the North Carolina coastline with her fiancé, two children, and one incredibly spoiled pittie, Hendrick. She considers herself a professional student after getting graduate degrees in English and Creative Writing, and she is currently working on her doctorate in English Literature where she advocates for the agency readers find in dark romance and the need to redefine romance as a genre to encompass all the various and beautiful ways that people experience love.
Brittany’s writing contains plot, spice, and everything morally gray. She writes epic fantasy with romance for readers who want to go on a journey with hauntingly flawed characters and spicy scenes that off a side of magic and darker elements that take readers to places they wouldn’t quite expect. If life has taught her anything, it’s that people are morally gray in the most fascinating ways, herself included. Being able to explore this peels back the layers everyone has and shows all that humanity has to offer.
When she’s not working, Brittany can be found with her family and friends playing Dungeons and Dragons or World of WarCraft, painting mini figurines for their family game nights, reading, or cooking up something in the kitchen.
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/liter8ure
Twitter: https://twitter.com/liter8ure
TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@liter8ure
Threads: https://www.threads.net/@liter8ure
Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services .
December 11, 2024
When Christmas is Cancelled – Blog Tour Lucy Felthouse #Romance
OUT NOW—When Christmas is Cancelled by Lucy Felthouse
When Christmas is Cancelled is the latest release from romance author, Lucy Felthouse. It is available in eBook and paperback from Amazon, and will be in Kindle Unlimited for 90 days only. After then it will come out of Kindle Unlimited and go onto other retailers, so if you wish to read it as part of your KU subscription, add it to your shelf ASAP.
Blurb:
When Rosie does a good deed on Christmas Day, she’s not expecting to come face to face with her very own ghost of Christmas past.
Rosie Kilbride’s festive plans are derailed when her mother calls on Christmas Eve to postpone their family get together due to illness. Left with a surplus of food and no one to eat it with, Rosie contacts Ingrid, a local café owner, to find out if she still needs volunteers for the charity Christmas meal she’s organising. Ingrid jumps at the chance, and on Christmas morning Rosie heads out, anticipating a busy but pleasant day doing something nice for others, followed by a meal of leftovers with her fellow volunteers.
Unfortunately, on being introduced to the café’s kitchen staff, she discovers the head chef is none other than Luke Adams, the man who broke her heart into a million tiny pieces ten years ago. And she’s got to work with him. Despite her inner turmoil, there’s no way she’ll let Ingrid and the diners down, so she’s determined to grin and bear it. It’s just a few hours, after all.
When the day is almost done, tiredness and hunger kick in, and emotions start to run high. Can Rosie get away unscathed, or will she be forced to deal with Luke and all the feelings his presence has dredged up?
When Christmas is Cancelled is a standalone M/F steamy contemporary romance with second chance, age gap and BDSM themes.
Links:
Amazon/KU: https://books2read.com/wcic
Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/218589869-when-christmas-is-cancelled
Add to BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/when-christmas-is-cancelled-a-m-f-steamy-contemporary-second-chance-romance-by-lucy-felthouse
*****
Excerpt:
As was usual for their part of middle England, there was no white Christmas. Just a sky full of gloomy grey clouds, which were letting loose a weak, persistent drizzle. Preferable to p***ing it down, I suppose. She made her way into town, her mood lifting at the sight of the festive lights strung on the homes and businesses, the cheery decorations and Santa Stop Here signs stuck into people’s front lawns and flowerbeds. Excitement would no doubt be reigning in those homes, as young children pounced on their piles of presents and began an unwrapping frenzy, while exhausted, bemused parents clutched mugs of strong coffee and watched on from the sidelines.
Of course, not everyone was so fortunate, which was why Ingrid’s scheme was such a good one. A desperately needed one, in some cases. People ended up by themselves on Christmas Day for a multitude of reasons—she was a testament to that fact. Some might even prefer it. But for those who didn’t, those who would cherish—possibly even be desperate for—the company as much as the food, today’s event might well be the highlight of their festive season. The only bright spot in an otherwise dull, lonely few days.
She smiled. Her own Christmas plans might have gone t*ts up, but being even a tiny cog in a machine that would make a collection of deserving people happy was something to feel good about. She’d also been able to answer her mother’s anxious question about where she was going truthfully: “To Ingrid’s. She’s already got a big group in, so one more wasn’t a problem. Should be a damn good spread.”
She’d scurried off then, hoping if her mother’s virus-addled brain allowed her to actually remember what Ingrid had been doing on Christmas Day for the last few years—and she definitely knew, as she’d donated money each time—it’d be too late to pass comment.
Granted, she’d be helping to serve forty people their meals before getting so much as a crumb of a roast potato herself, but that was a small price to pay.
Conscious she was already a little behind schedule, thanks to her mother’s wittering, she put her right foot down a smidgen harder. Soon, she pulled up outside the front door of the café. The town, unsurprisingly, was completely deserted, so she didn’t worry about anyone complaining about her parking. It was only temporary, while she unloaded all her goodies. She gave a couple of light bips on her car horn before killing the engine, taking off her seatbelt and getting out of the vehicle. She closed the door, then zipped her coat and pulled up the hood against the cold and wet. By the time she was around at the boot, opening it to reveal tinfoil-covered trays and plastic containers galore, Ingrid appeared beside her, looking every inch the festive host, in her sparkling boots, glittery leggings, snowman-festooned knitted jumper, reindeer earrings, and headband with a sprig of mistletoe hanging off it.
“Morning,” Ingrid said with a warm smile, before wrapping her in a hug. “Merry Christmas. I’m really sorry about your mum and dad not being well, but I’m definitely not sorry you’re here. We were already stretched, and now one of my waitresses has phoned, saying she’s poorly and can’t come. So your extra pair of hands is very much needed—and appreciated.”
She returned her friend’s embrace, then let go and stepped back. “Merry Christmas, Ingrid. I’m glad to be here. Sorry I’m a bit late. I’ve just dropped some food parcels off at Mum and Dad’s, along with their presents, so they’re all set for a couple of days. Poor things are still feeling rough as anything. Food wise, whatever was left that I couldn’t safely freeze, or was way too much for me to eat alone over the next few days, I brought. So there’s a lovely joint of beef, potatoes, vegetables, a chocolate roulade, and a bunch of mince pies and jam tarts. The last three are homemade—not shop bought.”
Ingrid narrowed her eyes. “You made chocolate roulade, mince pies and jam tarts? You surely didn’t need all that just for the three of you? I know folks like to stuff their faces at Christmas, but come on…”
“All right, all right,” Rosie said with a laugh, holding her hands up. “You got me. I’d already started on the roulade when I got the call from my parents to say they were ill, and was going to make a batch of mince pies, since they’re my dad’s favourite. But in the disappointment of having my plans derailed, I drowned my sorrows in baking. Happy now?”
Ingrid responded by reaching into the car boot and scooping up two big containers. She licked her lips exaggeratedly and wiggled her eyebrows. “Bl**dy ecstatic. I love mince pies.” With that, she turned neatly on her heel and hurried inside.
Chuckling to herself, Rosie followed suit. The warm, cosy café was already a hive of activity with the tables being set, Christmas crackers added to each place setting, and people whizzing here, there and everywhere. The place had been decorated for the festive season to within an inch of its life since early December, but Rosie spotted at least a handful more decorations she didn’t recognise from when she’d popped in a couple of weeks earlier to drop off hers and her customers’ donations for the very meal she was now helping with—as well as treating herself to coffee and a slice of cake. She was normally a more regular patron, even if it was just a takeaway, but the run up to Christmas had been hectic in the shop, so she hadn’t had the chance to pop in.
“Leave them there, hon,” Ingrid said, pointing to the counter, where she’d already deposited the two boxes she’d carried in. “We’ll get everything in pronto, so you can park your car, then I’ll introduce you to everyone and get you all set up in your role for the day.”
“No worries,” she replied, setting her load down and following Ingrid back out the door to her car.
It wasn’t long before she slammed her boot closed and gave Ingrid a wave as she slid into the driver’s seat and drove to the car park at the end of the road. Her vehicle safely parked and securely locked, she hurried back to the café—picking up her pace and hunching deeper into her coat as the drizzle turned heavier.
She burst through the front door to the sound of Christmas music blaring out. Some of the other helpers were singing and dancing as they worked. It looked as though the party had already started—and the guests weren’t even expected to show up for another couple of hours.
“Ah, there you are,” Ingrid said, appearing from nowhere. “Let’s get your coat and bag hung up out the back. I thought given you enjoy baking, you’d be particularly useful in the kitchen, if that’s all right with you? Unless you’d prefer to be at front of house?”
“No, if you need me in the kitchen, I’m totally fine with that. Use me however you see fit.”
Her belongings stowed, and her own funky headband—a tiny, jaunty elf hat with an even tinier jingle bell affixed to its pointy end—settled in place, she straightened her oversized jumper, a knitted affair with gingerbread men and candy canes all over it, as she followed Ingrid. After being introduced to the wait staff she didn’t know—the others worked in the café normally, so they were already acquainted—she and Ingrid made their way towards the kitchen.
Ingrid pushed open the ‘in’ door to reveal a bunch of people already working hard, despite the fact there weren’t yet any diners. The clatter of trays, the rhythmic tapping of vegetables being chopped, and the whir of food processors filled the air—as did intense heat and the delicious scent of roasting meat.
“I’ve left the organisation in here entirely to my head chef for the day, since he knows what he’s doing. He’s the best there is. He works in some fancy place in the city, but somehow managed to wangle today off to help us out. Let’s go and introduce you, and he can decide where he needs you the most, okay?”
Rosie nodded, then tailed Ingrid as she made a bee-line for a man in a white chef’s jacket, and black and white checkered trousers. Rather than the tall, white hat one would usually expect a head chef to be wearing, he had on a Santa hat. He was tall, dark-haired, and had his broad back to them as he worked away at something on one of the stainless-steel surfaces.
“Hey, Chef,” Ingrid said as they drew close, “got your last pair of hands here. She’s good in the kitchen and ready to work.”
The man stopped what he was doing, wiped his hands on a tea towel and turned to them with a smile, which quickly faded as recognition kicked in.
“Rosie,” Ingrid said, indicating her head chef, “this is—”
“Luke Adams,” she interrupted, staring in disbelief at the man who’d broken her heart into a million pieces a decade ago. The very same heart which was now skipping like a rabbit on speed and sending heat rushing into her cheeks. F**k. Merry f**king Christmas to me.
*****
Author Bio:
Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award), The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight, Curve Appeal, Not That Kind of Witch and The Heiress’s Harem and The Dreadnoughts series. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 175 publications to her name. Find out more about her and her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/linktree
Release blitz organised by
Writer Marketing Services
.
INSTAGRAM CONTENT
OUT NOW—When Christmas is Cancelled by Lucy Felthouse (@lucyfelthouse)
When Christmas is Cancelled is the latest release from romance author, Lucy Felthouse. It is available in eBook and paperback from Amazon, and will be in Kindle Unlimited for 90 days only. After then it will come out of Kindle Unlimited and go onto other retailers, so if you wish to read it as part of your KU subscription, add it to your shelf ASAP. Find it by searching Amazon, or visiting Lucy’s Instagram profile and checking the link in her bio.
Blurb:
When Rosie does a good deed on Christmas Day, she’s not expecting to come face to face with her very own ghost of Christmas past.
Rosie Kilbride’s festive plans are derailed when her mother calls on Christmas Eve to postpone their family get together due to illness. Left with a surplus of food and no one to eat it with, Rosie contacts Ingrid, a local café owner, to find out if she still needs volunteers for the charity Christmas meal she’s organising. Ingrid jumps at the chance, and on Christmas morning Rosie heads out, anticipating a busy but pleasant day doing something nice for others, followed by a meal of leftovers with her fellow volunteers.
Unfortunately, on being introduced to the café’s kitchen staff, she discovers the head chef is none other than Luke Adams, the man who broke her heart into a million tiny pieces ten years ago. And she’s got to work with him. Despite her inner turmoil, there’s no way she’ll let Ingrid and the diners down, so she’s determined to grin and bear it. It’s just a few hours, after all.
When the day is almost done, tiredness and hunger kick in, and emotions start to run high. Can Rosie get away unscathed, or will she be forced to deal with Luke and all the feelings his presence has dredged up?
When Christmas is Cancelled is a standalone M/F steamy contemporary romance with second chance, age gap and BDSM themes.
#SecondChanceRomance #AgeGapRomance #BDSMRomance #ChristmasRomance #ChristmasBooks #ChristmasReads #Reader #Readers #ReadersOfInstagram #Bookstagram #ReadersOfIg #Books #ReaderLife #Bookstagrammer #BookLover #BookNerd #ReadersGonnaRead
December 9, 2024
Release Blitz – The Time Travelling Estate Agent – Dale Bradford
Out Now—The Time-Travelling Estate Agent by Dale Bradford
Dig out your cheesecloth shirts and flares and journey back to the ‘70s with Eric Meek, the time-travelling estate agent…
About the book
It’s December 2019 in a small Welsh town, and 60-year-old estate agent Eric Meek discovers a property which boasts a truly unique garage conversion. Instead of the more customary home office or gym, it contains a hole in space-time that has been developed into a traversable portal.
A by-product of the homeowner’s attempts to emulate the work of pioneering electrical engineer Nikola Tesla, the portal allows movement between 2019 and the day it was first powered up, 3rd July 1976: the best – and worst – day of 16-year-old Eric’s life.
Presented with a chance to right the wrongs of the past, Eric revisits the moment he believes defined his future.
The story alternates between 2019 and 1976 as Eric tries to balance running his business and improving the lives of people he cares about, including his long-dead father. Will Eric change history? Or will history change Eric?
Purchase links
The Time-Travelling Estate Agent is available now on Amazon platforms worldwide in eBook, paperback and hardback, and is free to read on Kindle Unlimited: https://books2read.com/ttea
The first four chapters can also be read online instantly via Amazon’s Read Sample facility.
Bookstores and libraries can also order the title through their distributor.
Excerpt
Saturday 3rd July 1976
There was no internal gents’ toilet in the Old Oak in 1976, and Eric walked around the outside of the building to the small extension. It was just as rustic as he remembered it. He stood at the aluminium trough and pondered on the events of the past few hours. It was certainly a day to remember, even though he’d be the only one doing the remembering once he returned to 2019.
Eric’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by his iPhone alarm going off. It was the default tone, which resembled the emergency siren on a World War II submarine, and the sound really carried in the tranquil country air. Shit. He’d left it in his jacket pocket. He finished his business as quickly as he could and rushed out to the table where Carol was sitting. She was holding his iPhone.
“What’s this?” she cried.
“It’s an alarm clock,” he said. That was true. He had set it to remind himself to call his financial advisor to discuss the property chain. He pressed the home button and turned the alarm off.
One of the drinkers from inside came outside. “Everything alright?”
“Yes, it’s just my alarm clock,” Eric said, snatching the iPhone from Carol and shoving it in his trouser pocket.
“Alarm clock? It sounded like a bloody bomb was going off,” the drinker said. “What do you need an alarm clock for on a Saturday afternoon?”
Eric laughed. “It’s Monday where I come from.”
The man stared at Eric. “What are you on about?”
“I’m so sorry to have disturbed you,” Eric said, taking a five-pound note from his trouser pocket and offering it to the drinker. “Please buy a few drinks for you and your friends.”
Flabbergasted, the drinker agreed to do just that.
“Are you bonkers?” Carol said to Eric. “That’s enough for about 20 pints.”
“It’s only money, right?” Eric shrugged. And it wasn’t even his, it was Big Ben’s.
“Let me see that alarm clock of yours,” Carol said.
“Why?”
“Because it doesn’t look like any alarm clock I’ve ever seen before,” she said.
“I can’t.”
“If you don’t, I’ll go in there and tell them it’s a bomb,” she warned.
“Please don’t do that.”
“Let me see it then.”
“Okay but if I do, you’ve got to promise not to freak out,” Eric said.
She assured him she wouldn’t.
Eric removed the phone from his pocket and pressed the home button. The jet-black screen displayed the time in crisp, white numerals.
“That’s amazing,” Carol said. “How come the numbers are so smooth, and how come they’re white?”
While Eric was holding the phone, Carol pressed the home button and the screen now had 20 little graphics, one of which was an analogue clock with a digitised second hand slowly moving around its face.
“What’s happened now?” Carol squealed.
“It’s basically a computer,” Eric said, deciding it was less hassle to tell her the truth than to make something up. “And all these little pictures are programs that run on it.”
“What programs?”
Eric took the phone back and gave her a quick guided tour of his most-used apps: “This one’s a calculator, this one’s for appointments, this one’s an address book, this one’s a dictionary and thesaurus, this one’s a notebook, this one’s a map with satellite navigation, this one’s my bank account, this one’s a news channel…”
Carol reached across and prodded the phone icon and the screen changed to a numeric keypad.
“Don’t tell me it’s a phone as well.”
“It is.”
“How gullible do you think I am?” she cried. “Where does it plug in?”
“Please, lower your voice,” Eric urged. “It doesn’t need to be plugged in.
“Let me see you make a phone call then,” she challenged him.
“It won’t work,” Eric said. “There’s no service in this… area.”
“How convenient!”
Eric inputted the number for the Barrington Meek showroom and the message ‘You must disable Airplane Mode to make a call’ appeared. “See?” he said.
She looked sceptical.
Eric prodded the camera icon and the screen immediately changed to a view of the table they were sat at. “This works though,” he said, framing Carol’s face in the screen and pressing the white button.
The iPhone clicked like a real camera and a small thumbnail of Carol’s face appeared in the lower left corner of the screen. Eric enlarged it and showed it to Carol.
“Fuck off!” she shrieked.
Eric smirked. He had never heard her use that word before. He returned to the camera screen and slid the menu to video, and the white button changed colour and became red. “What’s your favourite song, Carol?”
She couldn’t think.
“Okay, what’s number one in the charts?”
She thought for a few seconds. “It’s the Real Thing, with ‘You To Me Are Everything’.”
“How does it go? Can you sing it for me?”
“I can’t sing!” she protested.
“Just hum it then,” Eric encouraged, framing her in the screen again.
Although clearly embarrassed, she hummed the first line of the chorus.
“That’s fine,” Eric said, and played it back to her.
Carol was speechless.
Eric played it again. He then switched the camera into selfie mode, holding the phone at arm’s length and leaned his head into hers so they could both see themselves on the screen. “Where are we, Carol?” he asked.
“The Old Oak,” she replied, pointing towards the building behind them.
“And are you having fun?”
“I’m having a day I’ll never forget,” she laughed.
Eric cleared the screen and pressed the music icon. “It’s also got stored on it every song ever recorded by The Beatles, The Kinks, Kate Bush…”
“Who?”
Eric went into his song library and played ‘Wuthering Heights’.
Intrigued at first, a look of horror came over her face as the piano intro gave way to the vocal. “What the hell is that?” she recoiled from the device.
Eric laughed. Carol probably wasn’t ready for Kate Bush yet, not on top of everything else she’d just seen. Quite a few people weren’t ready for her in 1978, after all. He put the phone back in his jacket pocket. “Sorry, I got carried away there,” he said. “It must be the salesman in me.”
“How does it work?” Carol asked.
“I honestly don’t know,” Eric said. “I don’t even know how electricity works. I’m pretty sure microprocessors are involved but don’t ask me to explain what they do.”
“How have you got it?” she asked in awe.
Eric stared at her. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Everyone has them where I come from,” he said.
“And where’s that, Futureland?”
“Yes, in a way,” he said slowly. “I’m from 2019, Carol.”
“Fuck off!” she said again. “You’re pulling my leg.”
“I’m honestly not.”
A look of genuine fear flashed across Carol’s face. She stood up.
“Please, Carol, sit down,” Eric said. “You promised me you wouldn’t freak out.”
“I said I wouldn’t freak out if you showed me your alarm clock,” Carol replied. “This is a bit bloody different.”
About the author
Dale Bradford has been a B2B magazine editor since 1995, initially in the video games sector and he moved into the pleasure products sector in 2003 when he became founding editor of ETO magazine.
The Time-Travelling Estate Agent is his third book. Also available are The Honey Peach Affair, a murder mystery set in the adult entertainment world, and non-fiction title From Sex Shops to Supermarkets: How Adult Toys Became a Multi-Million-Pound Industry.
He lives in south Wales and his reading tastes range from sci-fi (mainly John Wyndham, Douglas Adams, and Philip K Dick) to history, politics, and popular culture. He also enjoys video games and (still) buys far too many DVD box sets.
Links
F: https://www.facebook.com/dale.bradford.7
X: @DaleBradford
Q&A
What inspired the story?
I’ve always been fascinated by the concept of time travel, even though the world’s greatest scientific minds maintain that it’s impossible. Fifty years ago my iPhone was impossible though, and the story grew from the idea of me meeting my teenage self, and the people I knew back then, and demonstrating my iPhone’s capabilities to them.
How long did it take you to write ‘The Time-Travelling Estate Agent’?
The story is set in 2019, which is when I began writing it, and it became fully fleshed out during the following year’s lockdowns. When the world restarted, the demands of my day job slowed its progress and then I set it aside to write a non-fiction title, ‘From Sex Shops to Supermarkets – How Adult Toys Became a Multi-Billion-Pound Industry’.
With that published, I returned to ‘The Time-Travelling Estate Agent’ and spent the next 18 months refining it and polishing it. So its gestation period was a rather lengthy five years.
After all that time, is it a relief to finally hold the finished book in your hands?
It is a relief. I am genuinely proud of ‘The Time-Travelling Estate Agent’ and I have been delighted with the initial feedback it has received. The very first reader – a published author herself – finished her critique with the phrase “So much to enjoy. So funny too, yet so sad,” and in retrospect I wish I’d asked her permission to put her name and that quote on the cover, because it’s a lovely way of summing up the story.
Why should people read this book?
I’ve been told it’s easy to read and it’s a good story. Will they learn anything about the business of selling properties? Actually, they might, because I certainly did when researching it, but the book is pure escapism and offers a few hours respite from the depressing global news cycle.
Its title suggests it’s sci-fi, and there are indeed elements of it, but it also blends a mismatched romance with a murder mystery, while offering gentle nods in the direction of Groundhog Day and 50 First Dates.
Even though it has a male central character, it also has a very strong female character who proved extremely popular with early readers.
We understand that your new book was featured on the front page of a property business magazine website: how did this come about?
Sadly I did not plan the marketing in advance of publication, I’m not that clever, which is why there are currently so few Amazon reviews for the new book, which came into the world in mid-November 2024.
I contacted property trade magazine The Negotiator thinking the book’s release might merit a news snippet. To my surprise, the publication made quite a splash with it (headline: Finally! A novel with an estate agent as its hero!) and also tweeted about it. This was seen by the host of property podcast, The Right Move, who invited me on to talk about the book. The episode drops in December.
The launch of The Time-Travelling Estate Agent has also picked up coverage in the adult sphere, including the German and American trade press, due to them knowing about my previous book.
Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services .
December 8, 2024
Excerpt Sunday – Outside the Walls #Fantasy
Excerpt from Outside the Walls (c) A. L. Butcher and Diana L. Wicker
Carol, the midwife, looked the guard captain up and down and snorted at the posturing men. She had little time for such masculine displays, such foolishness had started this war now banging on the city gates. “Frederick Hilary Ormson! You always were one to be awkward, even as a boy. I see nothing has changed ‘cepting now your sword is real. I brought you into this world, boy, and I smacked your arse when you gave your poor mother trouble. I’ll do it again, don’t you doubt it! Did you not think to fetch me to assist a woman in her need? They pays what they can afford, or they pays in kind. That is the way it is, and always has been. If some fool had thought with his purse and not his heart, you’d not be here now, nor that babe of yours either. Now get you out the way, silly boy!” With that she swept past, as the embarrassed captain stood aside, humbled by the tirade and far more afraid of this woman than the Summoner-Blade. He mumbled something to be rebuked sharply with, “And I ain’t deaf neither.”
In short order, Carol arrived at the appropriate tent, residents of the camp helpfully pointing her along the way as word of her upbraiding of the most feared of the city guards preceded her. Handing the steeping herbs to the midwife, Lynette asked if Eleanor would be needed further, and received an abrupt, but not unkind dismissal. “There are plenty here to tend if you’ve the skill, from what I’ve seen. I will call if I need another pair of hands. You have done what you can for her.”
Lynette nodded, grateful and relieved. She pulled Eleanor away. “Let the midwife do her duty. There are others for you to see, and an apothecary’s apprentice for me to find.”
Outside, Eleanor said with a soft voice filled with anger, “They’ve been on the move for so long with so little. I fear we’ve come too late. There is so much that should have been done, could have been done…”
Universal Link https://books2read.com/Outsidethewalls
