Sage Nestler's Blog, page 53

We Need New Age Indie Authors

Hello, Everyone!

A friend of mine is running a New Age book subscription, and she is in dire need of any New Age indie authors to feature.  If you are interested in being featured in her box, please feel free to reach out to her on Facebook or through email!

“I know I have a TON of friends & followers who are New Age-type authors or know them. Charmed Bookshelf is on the hunt for indie authors in the New Age & Wiccan/Pagan genre’s. We are looking for non-fiction titles that inform, teach and expand on the many New Age modes & paths.

Our first shipment went out to our founding members on 11/15 and we have gotten some amazing feedback.

Our next shipment goes out 12/15 and is featuring Amy Leigh Mercree in our Enlighten Box. The Enchant box will be receiving Bucklands Complete book of Witchcraft.

You could be next

Author Feature – J. Ray & S. Cushaway

Today’s featured authors are J. Ray and S. Cushaway, authors of Salt in the Water!  Their novel was released on October 27, and it is now available for purchase.

There are a thousand ways to die in the desert—desperate outlaws, deadly predators, murderous elements, and betrayal. . .

Kaitar Besh, a veteran scout as legendary for his cynicism as his skills, is ordered to brave the deadly Shy’war-Anquai desert one last time. Escorting Leigh Enderi—a greenhorn Enforcer with a reputation as shady as his own—he soon realizes the ghosts of his past have come to haunt more than his nightmares.

When the mission breaks down in the wake of bitter hatred and mistrust, even Kaitar’s fabled skills may not be enough to bring them home again. Stranded in the red wasteland without contact, food, or water, they uncover a betrayal that could bring all they hold dear crumbling to the dust. . . and tear down the wall of lies surrounding them.

Author Information

Ray and S. Cushaway reside in the snowy wastes of northern lower Michigan. When not spending time with their daughter and two grumpy old cats, or working on writing-related projects, they enjoy dabbling in music, art, and online RPG gaming.

Purchase Now on Amazon

Author Feature – Asper Blurry

Hell0, Everyone!

Today’s author spotlight is on the brilliant Asper Blurry, author of Train to the Edge of the Moon!  Show her some love and check out her novel on Amazon today

Julia Jones – The Teenage Years by Katrina Kahler (Books 1, 2, & 3)

Title: Julia Jones – The Teenage Years

Author: Katrina Kahler 

Rating: 4/5

Julia is now a typical teenage girl but has abruptly and unexpectedly been thrown into turmoil by the forced relocation of her family back to their old home in the city. She attempts to come to terms with her dilemma by reconnecting with her old friend, Millie Spencer and also the love of her life, Blake Jansen. However, on arrival at her old house, she soon learns that circumstances have changed dramatically during the time she was away and the days that follow seem to unravel in a series of escalating drama and events. Although Julia tries to maintain control, her life seems to snowball towards an all consuming disaster which she appears powerless to prevent.

Julia finds that her choices surrounding love, friends and rebellious teenage behavior tend to result in dire consequences and repercussions of the worst kind. What is the cause of Julia’s misery and how does she deal with the challenges in her path?

This is a book filled with unexpected plot twists and turns that will keep you on the edge of your seat wondering what is going to happen next. Don’t miss out on the suspenseful journey of Julia Jones, complete with romance, drama, friendship issues and much, much more.

This fabulous book for teenage girls contains all the elements of an exciting story that girls of all ages will enjoy.

Review:

Katrina Kahler is excellent at creating children’s and young adult novels that allow readers to fall into the situations that she puts her characters into.  Her writing is aimed towards young girls to help them cope with situations that they might be in, or know what to expect in a situation that might happen to them as they get older.  Kahler’s work connects with young girls from late elementary school – high school, and I enjoyed how she asked the reader to feel as though they are a part of the story, and to consider what they might do if they were in the situations that she discussed.  Her writing is very realistic, and it doesn’t sugarcoat the young female experience.  I connected to Julia Jones even though I am well into my adult life, and I appreciated how Kahler’s writing allowed me to reflect on my own life.

One of the best parts about this three book collection was that the chapters were all very short and easy to read on a short term basis.  All of the books connected to each other seamlessly, and I found myself appalled at the different situations that Julia was put into.  I am not a fan of young adult novels that portray the teenage experience in a way that is too positive or nonchalant, and Kahler broke through that stereotype by showing the reader some of the real events that can occur to a teenager.  Julia’s story was raw and real, and I would gladly suggest it to all teenage or pre-teen girls.  Kahler’s way of teaching and empathizing with her readers is unique and something that I haven’t found in other pre-teen/teenage novels.  Pick up this series for your daughters, nieces, etc. and even read it for yourself to understand what young girls are going through in today’s world.  It is an excellent resource on today’s high school culture.

FOR BOOK REVIEW REQUESTS FILL OUT FORM: Book Review Request Form

IF BOOK REQUEST WEBSITE IS DOWN EMAIL: peachykeenreviews@gmail.com

Behind Broken Glass Walls Teaser #2

Hello Everyone!

The release date of my novel “Behind Broken Glass Walls” has been changed from November to January due to some extra editing that needs to be done.  However, here is the second teaser for the novel, and the Goodreads listing for it is live!

If you would like to review an ARC of Behind Broken Glass Walls, please email me at peachykeenreviews@gmail.com.

SYNOPSIS:

Abuse. A gun. And her daughter.

You never know how strong you are until you are forced into a situation that tests every ounce of strength that you have. This is what one mother learns as she finds out that the person who committed a shooting at her daughter’s high school was indeed her daughter. Her feelings are a mix of every emotion, but what bothers her the most is that even though she knows that her daughter took the lives of many others, she can’t help but love her as much as she ever did. It is this love that she has for her daughter that makes her feel at fault.

Learn what it means to love a child when everyone else sees her as a murderer, and experience what it feels like to love someone who you no longer understand.

What are the limits on your love?

 

NaNoWriMo Inspiration

Hello Everyone!

Unfortunately, this year I am unable to do NaNoWriMo because I am focusing on another project.  But I wanted to give you some personal advice if you are tackling the beast this year.

I have completed NaNoWriMo three times in my life, and the work that I accomplished during those months has now been published into my three different novels.  NaNoWriMo is an extremely important tool for writers, and if this is your first time, I applaud you.

The first time completing NaNoWriMo is always the hardest because you don’t know what to expect, and November does have a lot of holiday issues in it.  However, my biggest tip to you is to use your writing as a form of escape.  The daily page count might seem like a lot, but once you get going it isn’t that bad.  Just make sure that you have some form of outline or notes that you want to abide by when completing your novel so that you don’t hit a block.

And most of all, with the election looming, please don’t give up.  Completing a novel through NaNoWriMo is one of the most rewarding things, and you will never forget it.  Please also know that I am here if any of you need any help at all.

Good luck!

Ashley

A New Book Box on the Horizon

Are you a fan of spiritual books and metaphysical accessories?  Then Charmed Bookshelf is for you!

This new book subscription will deliver you a new age book each month with 2 -3 accessories to match, and you can choose between two different plans.  The “Enlighten” plan sends books on yoga, chakras, crystals, etc., whereas the “Enchant” plan sends books on Wiccan and Pagan subjects.  I am personally subscribed to the Enchant plan, and I can’t wait to get their first box in December!

You Can Purchase the Box Here

On another note, if any of you authors out there have written books on any new age subjects in the non-fiction genre, feel free to drop me a line and I will connect you with the owner of this beautiful box!  She is actively looking for books to include, and self-published/indie authors are some of the authors she is looking for.

I am very excited to finally be able to purchase a New Age book subscription, and I hope you guys will check it out as well!  We all need some enlightenment in our lives.

Much love,

Ashley

FOR BOOK REVIEW REQUESTS FILL OUT FORM: Book Review Request Form

IF BOOK REQUEST WEBSITE IS DOWN EMAIL: peachykeenreviews@gmail.com

Saffire by Sigmund Brouwer

Title: Saffire

Author: Sigmund Brouwer

Rating: 3/5

Purchase Here

Synopsis: 

I reminded myself that once you start to defend someone, it’s difficult to find a place to stop. But I went ahead and took that first step anyway. . .

For President Teddy Roosevelt, controlling the east-west passage between two oceans mattered so much that he orchestrated a revolution to control it. His command was to ‘let the dirt fly’ and for years, the American Zone of the Panama Canal mesmerized the world, working in uneasy co-existence with the Panamanian aristocrats.

It’s in this buffered Zone where, in 1909, James Holt begins to protect a defenseless girl named Saffire, expecting a short and simple search for her mother. Instead it draws him away from safety, into a land haunted by a history of pirates, gold runners, and plantation owners, all leaving behind ghosts of their interwoven desires sins and ambitions, ghosts that create the web of deceit and intrigue of a new generation of revolutionary politics.  It will also bring him together with a woman who will change his course—or bring an end to it.

A love story set within a historical mystery, Saffire brings to life the most impressive-and embattled- engineering achievement of the twentieth-century.

Review:

Saffire is a historical fiction novel that involves romance and mystery, but I found the novel very dry.  The historical aspects to the story were adequate, but it felt more like reading a textbook than a novel.

Sigmund Brouwer chose to write about a time in our history that is forgotten and doesn’t receive much recognition, and for that I applaud him, but the characters in the book came off as one dimensional and I couldn’t get myself into the mystery involved.

I am always a big history fan, and as far as the historical aspects go, I applaud Brouwer.  He clearly understands the time period present in this book, and he did his research to make sure that the story was believable.  If you are a history buff like I am, then you will love this accurate portrayal of American history.  Just don’t expect it to be a thrilling fiction, because that it is not.

FOR BOOK REVIEW REQUESTS FILL OUT FORM: Book Review Request Form

IF BOOK REQUEST WEBSITE IS DOWN EMAIL: peachykeenreviews@gmail.com

Haunted Halloween Tour: Rose

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October is the month of fears, and we’re going on tour with some of our favorite authors to talk about what their main characters are afraid of. What keeps them up at night? What nightmare has them waking in a cold sweat? Each day, we’ll feature a new main character and delve deep into their subconscious to see what they fear. And each day, you’ll have a chance to enter to win some awesome prizes!

It only seems fitting that we’d end on Halloween with a main character pitted against her very own Freddie Kreuger while locked away in an asylum. Nightmares run rampant in Asleep by Krystal Wade, and we’re going to take another look at one of the nightmares torturing young Rose…

Asleep Excerpt

Rose fell asleep that way, smiling, exhilaration making the trip into dreamland take forever. But once she was there, she wanted to crawl back out, back into the land of the waking.

Someone dressed in dark robes grabbed Rose by the wrists and jerked her forward. “Come.”

“No. Please. Not again. Just leave me alone. I just want to sleep.” She glanced back toward the bed and found it wasn’t there. She wasn’t even sure where she was. Her eyes burned, and everything appeared black and fuzzy, like opening her eyes under water at night.

“Come.” The person tugged her along by some invisible force, down dark hallways and stairs, and through cold, drafty rooms where she couldn’t see anything and felt like she was surrounded by ghosts or lunatics—or worse, ghosts of lunatics.

Jingling sounds bounced off the walls—keys? Weapons? Rose didn’t want to find out—and the clang of doors closing vibrated in her chest.

Blackness stretched on forever, only an occasional light swirling by in Rose’s peripheral vision, ramping up her heart even faster than before she’d fallen asleep. “Where are you taking me?”

The person finally stopped next to a big gray door, and Rose ran into his back. His, because he grunted, his, because he was a giant, too tall and too wide and too strong.

Rose tried to apologize, but she couldn’t open her mouth again, her muscles too weak to break through whatever barrier trapped her voice. Panic took hold of her, and she tried to reach up and touch her lips, but she couldn’t. Her hands were secured by the giant before her.

Rose backed away and made it two steps before she was yanked right back, chains jangling.

Chains. She’d been chained.

Why couldn’t she wake up? Why couldn’t she force her way to the surface? Maybe if she hurt herself or found a way to kill herself, she’d wake up. People can’t die in their dreams, supposedly, or so she’d heard on some silly cartoon in the common room the other day.

Yanking harder, planting her feet with all her strength, Rose tried to dislocate her wrists, pulling and twisting and groaning.

“Stop it.” A growl erupted from the man in front of her, which only made her pull harder, struggle more, breathe faster. Breathe, breathe, breathe through her nose. Not enough air. The smell of duct tape overwhelmed Rose.

She’d been chained and duct taped.

“Don’t. Please.”

Phillip? Rose stilled to get her chains to stop banging against each other, listening for his voice. When she didn’t hear anything over her own breathing, she ran at her captor, knocking the hood from his head. His bald, white head was disfigured by thick, raised scars tracing his skull in circular patterns. He turned around as if time was not a concern to him, as if on some mechanical switch flipped to the slowest setting. The man’s expression was blank, but his eyes were as red as blood.

Definitely not Phillip.

She wanted to hide, to cower. Her legs quaked beneath her. Her heart thundered against her ribs. The man reached into his pocket, and Rose’s panicked breaths through her nose and muffled sobs bounced off the walls.

“Don’t,” she heard Phillip say again, but the man’s mouth hadn’t moved. Was Phillip here somewhere? In her nightmare? “Don’t hurt her.”

The man pulled out a skeleton key and inserted it into the cuffs securing Rose’s hands, and she immediately backed away, rubbing at the raw, tender flesh. She ripped the tape from her lips next, crying out as she lost a layer of skin and tasted blood flowing into her mouth. He reached into his pocket again and then held out several charcoal pencils, one of them her pencil. He inclined his head in the direction of the door beside them, which she now saw had 206 and Briar written on it. “Draw.”

Digging his long, witch-like nails into her back, the man shoved her into the room, slammed the door, and slid a bar across it. He locked her in.

Rose was alone, freezing and shaking and alone, holding charcoal. All along the walls were outlines of trees, spindly, leafless trees. Winter trees, white chalk against a concrete canvas.

“No. No, don’t leave! Don’t leave me here . . . .”

She spun around in search of Phillip, for the origination of his voice, for some clue as to what the hell was going on. But she found nothing but the white trees staring back at her.

“Hello?” Rose held her breath and waited for a response. Anything. “Greg? MacGregor?”

“Mom. Mom!” she heard him shout, and then another voice broke through the madness, “You have to save her.”

Rose didn’t recognize the second speaker. He didn’t even sound human, just a bunch of garbled words that found a way to make sense in her dream.

“I can’t. She left me.”

“Not her.” Two lights flashed on, one above Rose, the other above Phillip. He was tied to a chair, bound at the wrists and ankles, naked from the waist up and covered in bruises. A black splotch covered his ribs, big enough for a fist to have made, the same shape as the bruise on his elbow. She took in the others, details about his injuries. A long, bleeding cut above his left nipple. A yellow bruise at his right hip bone. Rose had to memorize this Phillip against the real, breathing, living Phillip so she could differentiate between dream and reality.

But just as quickly as his form appeared, it disappeared before she could finish her appraisal. “Make her draw.”

The reminder that she was here too raised the hairs on Rose’s arms and neck. She waited, sure her heartbeat could be heard by everyone within a three-block radius, but Phillip didn’t respond except with stony silence.

She took a step forward but found her ankle chained to a peg in the middle of the floor. “Phill—?”

Something smacked Rose in the head from behind, and her vision filled with spots. She whirled and threw her hands out, trying to find someone she could fight, someone who deserved her wrath, but her hands didn’t find anyone.

A light blinked on from overhead, and a dark figure rushed up to Rose and punched her in the stomach. She doubled over and gasped, sucking air into her lungs in harsh, wheezing breaths.

“Draw,” the garbled voice demanded.

Rose shook her head, unable to get to her feet and fight, unable to breathe.

A booted foot slammed into her back, flattening Rose to the floor and stealing what little air she was able to recover. She lay there, face pressed to the cool concrete, head spinning, light from above blinding her. Rose wished she could just wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

“Draw,” the voice once again demanded.

Rose couldn’t. Not in her dreams. Not in real life. Not ever. Rose couldn’t draw because she had no inspiration. She couldn’t even remember what her inspiration was, what prompted her fingers to turn her daydreams and creativity into reality, what made them finish something once started.

“Stop,” Phillip shouted, his voice strong and sure. “Just draw, Rose. Draw. You’re like me. They won’t stop. Draw, Rose. Please.”

Wheezing, she lifted her head and looked at the wall full of outlined trees. With sore muscles and no air and feeling like she might die any second, how could she get up and do anything?

The light blinked off again, and the light over dream-Phillip came on. A cloaked figure approached him with a red-hot branding iron aimed right at his chest. Phillip’s eyes went wide and he screamed, loud and feral and absolutely terrifying, pushing against the floor with his bound feet. He turned his head to the side, shaking the chair so much Rose was surprised it hadn’t broken. Screaming. Over and over he screamed, breaking her with his terror.

“Stop,” she muttered, her voice weak and not nearly loud enough to be heard over his. So Rose got to her knees and said it again. The figure still approached Phillip. So she got to her feet and sucked in a ragged breath and shouted through the pain coursing through her chest. “Stop!”

The figure tossed a casual glance her way and shook his finger at her, the iron an inch from Phillip’s chest.

Rose looked in her palm and then up to the wall. Maybe she couldn’t draw, but she could fill in the trees with color. “Okay.”

She made her way to the lifeless trees, legs trembling as she pulled the weight of the chain along with her, back and stomach aching. White chalk rested near her bare toes, so Rose picked it up, placed it on the wall, and set to work.

Phillip stopped screaming. The lights blinked off from over him, but the hot iron remained in the dark. Rose knew it was a threat. If she quit or gave up, Phillip would be injured.

And so she drew and drew and drew, filling in all the empty spaces between the tree outlines with plain colors until her hands felt like they would fall off. Until her legs were too weak to hold her up any longer and she collapsed. And the next moment she blinked her burning eyes open, she was lying face up in bed.

Rose never slept on her back. Ever. She lifted her hands, half-expecting to see residue of chalk on her fingers, but there was nothing. Just a dream.

Just a dream that left every muscle sore, her body trembling with exhaustion, and her brain demanding she sleep at least four more hours. But she hadn’t moved, hadn’t left this room. Reaching beneath the mattress and bed frame, she found her pencil. Right where she’d left it. These meds were really messing with her. Rose hated the way they made her feel, and she planned to tell Dr. Underwood all about the nightmares to see what he could do to fix this.

She hurried to get dressed, marched down the hall and took her meds, then marched along farther to grab breakfast. But Rose stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Phillip sitting at their table, counting his bruises, ignoring the bowl of crap in front of him.

The urge to run to him and ask if he was okay was so strong Rose had to fight to remain rooted in place. She knew what happened last night was just a dream, but she couldn’t seem to balance that with the image of this broken guy sitting at her table. They looked so much the same: dream-Phillip and reality-Phillip.

Ignoring the food line, she took a seat beside him and grabbed his left hand. Rose had to touch him, to see if he was real or an illusion. She didn’t trust herself anymore. Not with nightmares as vivid as she had. And she could hardly ask him to lift his shirt so she could see his bruises.

“Are you in there?” she asked.

Phillip startled and squeezed her fingers in his hands, his warm, trembling hands. “You’re like me, Rose. Like me. They won’t stop. They’ll hurt you.”

about the book

“To cure fear, you must use fear.”

Rose Briar claims no responsibility for the act that led to her imprisonment in an asylum. She wants to escape, until terrifying nightmares make her question her sanity and reach out to her doctor. He’s understanding and caring in ways her parents never have been, but as her walls tumble down and Rose admits fault, a fellow patient warns her to stop the medications. Phillip believes the doctor is evil and they’ll never make it out of the facility alive. Trusting him might be just the thing to save her. Or it might prove the asylum is exactly where she needs to be.

Available Amazon. Add the book to your Goodreads list!

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Haunted Halloween Tour: Vee Delancourt

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October is the month of fears, and we’re going on tour with some of our favorite authors to talk about what their main characters are afraid of. What keeps them up at night? What nightmare has them waking in a cold sweat? Each day, we’ll feature a new main character and delve deep into their subconscious to see what they fear. And each day, you’ll have a chance to enter to win some awesome prizes! We met Vee from our recent dystopian release The Surrendered, but now we’re getting to know her a bit better by finding out what haunts her each night when she closes her eyes…

My name is Vee Delancourt, and my biggest fear is all about failure. In a world where the nation abuses its children in unspeakable ways, losing this fight just isn’t an option. I hope I can prove myself worthy of the trust so many have put in me. I hope I can one day redeem myself for the mistakes that I’ve already made. . .and for the lives that have already been lost.

She’s here, my old friend is. Stalking my sleep again.

Well, not her exactly, but some version of her. While the pale skin is the same, if maybe a shade lighter, the hesitant smiles I once marveled at have disappeared. A twisted scowl now decorates her gray lips. Grayish. Not quite blue; not quite white. The color of death.

“You,” she snarls at me, one thin finger aimed in my direction. “You killed us all.”

I shake my head, backing until I come in contact with something. I don’t have to look to know it’s the big covered truck from Hopkins Farm. I’ve been here before, in these very Mills, on this very day. It’s the day that everything changed. The day I escaped the System and set into motion a chain of events that would forever change the lives of so many people. Not all for the better.

My ethereal pursuer continues to advance on me, and my heart races wildly in my chest. “I didn’t mean to!” I cry, pleading with her to understand. “I didn’t know so many would die!”

“Die, die, die. We’re all dead. We died. We’re done. Dead.” Babbling is her only response.

My chest squeezes. Something’s not right. Isn’t there supposed to be peace in the beyond? A great releasement of all the bad experiences? A big screw you to all who did you wrong? This is unfair.

She hesitates in her advance, her feet floating stationary over the dirt path for one moment. Her head tilts slightly, as though listening to sounds in the distance. She grimaces, shudders, and then moans. “They beckon. They call. . ..” She throws her head back, wailing, “No! I will not go!”

I cover my ears at the thunderous howl, releasing a scream of my own. “Let me help you! Let me fix this!”

Another murderous shriek sounds as I step toward her. “I don’t want to go! Make it stop! I WILL NOT GO!”

I sob, the gasping sounds ripped from my chest as I struggle to stay upright. I feel the blackness trying to take me even now. “Please. Please let me make this right.”

Her head drops forward, drool running from her mouth and over her chin. Colorless eyes swing back to me, and in them I see a sorrow unlike any I have ever witnessed. “You’ve done enough, little rebel. Selfish. Unthinking. Ignorant, rebel. You killed us all.”

“No.” My head continues to deny, but my heart twists at the knowledge that she’s. . .right. She’s dead because of me. Tears overspill my eyes, tracking marks through the grime on my cheeks. I choke. “But I was only trying to help you.”

Her bark of laughter startles me and I jerk in surprise when her finger points again, this time to my left. “Fail. Failing. Failed.” She cackles. And what of them? Will you help them too?”

My head turns.

They’re all there. My dear, sweet friends. Ann and John William. Cason. Matthew. My father. The Overseer. The Master. Asa. All the children. There are so many of them, both known and unknown.

All with the same murderous intent.

To make me pay.

about the book

After a financial collapse devastates the United States, the new government imposes a tax on the nation’s most valuable resource—the children.

Surrendered at age ten—after her parents could no longer afford her exorbitant fees—Vee Delancourt has spent six hard years at the Mills, alongside her twin, Oliver. With just a year to freedom, they do what they can to stay off the Master’s radar. But when Vee discovers unspeakable things happening to the younger girls in service, she has no choice but to take a stand—a decision that lands her on the run and outside the fence for the first time since the System robbed her of her liberty.

Vee knows the Master will stop at nothing to prove he holds ultimate authority over the Surrendered. But when he makes a threat that goes beyond what even she considers possible, she accepts the aid of an unlikely group of allies. Problem is, with opposing factions gunning for the one thing that might save them all, Vee must find a way to turn oppression and desperation into hope and determination—or risk failing all the children and the brother she left behind.

Now available!
Amazon – iBooks – Barnes & Noble – Kobo – Signed Copies – Goodreads

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