FIVE STAR REVIEW for INVADED: The Darkest Day

Invaded: The Darkest Day-Book Five (The Chronicles of Caleath) (Kindle Edition)

This is a fast paced novel trapping the reader in a full-on experience of the power and intensity that dark magic has, especially on the immortal Caleath as he battles with forces of evil.

In his mission to rescue the Kentorian princess, Corrine, and to save the planet Allorn from invaders, Caleath is thrust back into the deadly game. Caleath becomes`Tag' in order to hide his identity. When exposed, he suffers great physical pain from his enemies, but his impossible struggle to contain the vengeful warrior, Wrath, within himself, ignites a bloodlust he abhors and threatens to destroy his last feeble grip on innocence and compassion.

Ms Skinner's beautiful writing and vivid imagination delivers an amazing other world filled with such memorable characters as Merkatt, the dragon Queen; Tallowbrand, the ghost archmarge; and the dreaded dark lord, Cassius, who wears a cloak that absorbs light and power. We also welcome back Caleath's loyal friends, among them Penwryt the wizard; Gwilt; Raul; Etham; Jenna, the young witch bethrothed to Spider with the mismatched eyes; and Joel a young wizard. Ms Skinner skilfully uses violent Nature as the atmospheric backdrop to the violence in this story, so that Nature is almost a character in itself.

Strap yourself in for another exhilarating, fabulous adventure in a fantasy world like no other, teeming with vibrant life. You'll keep coming back for more of this series The Chronicles of Caleath.

Winter weight? Wait? Why not write?

As the weather grows colder and the days shorter it seems like the perfect time to bake. Turning on the oven warms the house. Cakes, baked dinners, soups, bread. Oh, the smell of fresh bread baking.
Winter seems to invite those extra cups of coffee and cookies. Shortbread, snickerdoodles, scones, with jam and cream... of course. It all is so easy and comforting.

But... there is a downside. To the warmth, the enveloping odours of hot food, lashings of gravy, spices and sugary indulgences. How come baking isn't good for the waistline? Is that fair?






So instead of heating the oven I am gathering kindling. Stoking the fire and each time I do it inspires me to write.

How often does my hero light a fire? Does he have the same problems as I do? Damp kindling, wood that refuses to burn? I remember the days of swinging an axe to chop firewood. Even getting the blade caught in the block took an effort to remove. It was hard work, but I enjoyed it. I now blame if for my damaged back, but that's another story. Each flame, each moment when the conflagration takes hold, the spreading warmth the light, smoke, heat and comfort all take me back to my writing. Did I capture the essence of the fire? Did I use all the senses? Did I create the atmosphere a fire brings?



Of course, once I begin wondering my thoughts return to the latest novel up for editing. Seafaring adventure.
The series starts with a shipwreck, and with the two final adventures we return to the ocean.





What's not to love about pirates, sharks, whales, storms, visiting strange harbours, navigating shoals and feeling the salt laden breeze on one's skin?

Not so many fires in this one, but more the ocean spray, the constant motion of wind and wave. The exhilaration and danger.

There is a magical quality to winter. Even without snow and frosts, the cooler weather, the long nights. The clear crisp starlit nights all inspire and invigorate. I even enjoy the chills. Being able to rug up and wear extra layers without overheating. To walk, work and experience the beauty of our environment without needing constant protection from the harsh sun. It is a wonderful time of year.

So, I will head back to pen and paper and away from the kitchen. I will not listen to the call of the choc chip cookies or dream of the succulent scones slathered in strawberry jam and fresh whipped cream. I will return to the adventure and hope I can eliminate all the grammatical nits from the next book before it is released.

If you can't write to while away winter the cooler weather is a great excuse to curl up with a good book!!

Enjoy your season... and the weather... whether it is summer or winter.

A Seafaring Adventure... ADRIFT: In Search of Memory... glimpse

A sneak preview. Unedited..

Chapter One/scene one

Saturated beneath oilskins, Captain Ed Brasheer spluttered through a mouthful of rain. Breathing the salt ridden wind, he braced when his small ship rolled and bucked against the heavy seas. 


Sea water sluiced over the bowsprit. Waves crashed through the scuppers, from bow to stern.

“By Orthcan’s shoal and the tides of Marnain, I’d give anything for a change in luck,” Brasheer shouted, as fate tossed his storm battered vessel on a wild ocean. The deck shuddered before dropping from the crest of another wave.

Above the tumult, the groan of stressed timber alarmed the skipper. The forward mast bowed against the force of the wind and threatened to splinter. Lashed to the helm, Brasheer ground his teeth. 

Rain and wave fought to shred storm-set sails. He lifted tired eyes as a bolt of eldritch lightning speared through dark clouds. 

“Careful what you ask for, captain,” his first mate shouted. Wind stole the words from Toby’s chapped lips. “You never know who’s listening.” 

“If we lose another mast before the season ends, this storm will ruin me.” 

Both men staggered as the ship drove her bow into another wave. The deck tilted. Again the bowsprit dug deep. For a heartbeat, Brasheer’s whole world turned on end as water washed across the vessel’s waist. 

On the forward yard, a sail shredded. A crewman screamed, falling when the sheet whipped across his face. With one foot caught in the rigging, the man swung above black water. Brasheer held his breath, afraid his vessel would spear into bottomless depths. His heart pounded. Another wave broke beneath the hull, thrusting The Petrel’s stern high into the air. 

“Get him down!” He fought to hold the ship straight into the next set of waves. “Look lively. The wind has died a little.”

“No, sir, it’s died a lot!” Even over the creaking hull, driving rain, and raging sea, Brasheer heard a note of anxiety in his first mate’s voice. The storm didn’t seem to frighten Toby as much as the tempest’s sudden demise.

“What have I done?” All around Brasheer, rain eased and furious seas settled. He refused to believe one impulsive plea could change destiny. An eerie light cast unnatural shadows across the sodden deck. “We’ve ridden through the worst, Toby. Bilge and blisters, we survived.”

“You mean our luck changed.” Toby’s words made the captain shiver. “I’ll see to getting Crimp cut down and treated.” The first mate’s face gleamed white in muted light dispersed by heavy clouds. He pointed to a bedraggled body strewn across the forward hatch. Brasheer didn’t remember the figure being there earlier. 

“What ill wind or providence would dump a stranger onto our decks in weather as foul as this?”

Brasheer shuddered. Fear gripped him as he looked into the green underbelly of storm-ridden clouds. Untying his oilskin cap, he shook his head. “I dare say we are about to find out.” 

A rumble deeper than thunder drew his gaze toward the heavens. His eyes widened and his jaw hung agape. 

He pointed a shaking finger toward a silver object floating in the sky, high above the tallest mast. Larger than the fishing boat yet hovering motionless, the glowing hulk struck terror in Brasheer’s heart. “Have you ever seen a creature as strange as that?”

Toby glanced skyward, as intense light engulfed The Petrel and the flying machine vanished from beneath the clouds. “Silt and seaweed, preserve us.” 

* * * *
photos, other than cover image, courtesy of Fotolia.com 

MADELEINE McLAUGHLIN and The Mountain City Bronzes

For a FREE copy of THE MOUNTAIN CITY BRONZES to review, answer the question at the end of this post.

Or grab your copy... it is a real bargain at only 99c. 

BLURB: 
Kevin is so curious about that locked door. But how will he handle it's secrets once the door is open?

EXCERPT: 
I tap my head and wonder how could jail have been so much fun when I was a child? 

Back then, I remember noticing only good things behind the solid stone walls where my dad worked.

Those idyllic times in our small North BC community shine with magic in my mind. Not like the vast, evil prisons I visit in the metropolises I now live in. 

Following Dad's path into prison guarding, I still learn from experience how criminals take advantage of each other's inadequacies and how much violence resounds through the walls.

Yet I'll never forget those years I spent with my dad in his jail, having a ball. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the cool stone walls against my hands...

The jail was a great refuge in June, but even in the winter, I found it pleasant to play in.

There was so much fun imagining the structure when it was full, back in the gold rush. 

I could almost hear the walls and floors resounding to the voices of the thousands of lawless men that lived back then. In the large, empty vastness of our jail, I loved pretending I needed to find escape routes.

One day after tromping through the halls for an hour, I found a locked door.

Why is it shut tight? What is behind that door? 

I pounded and twiddled the lock until my hands turned red, but it was large and solid. I even once tried a bit of lock picking, but ran away when I considered how criminal my actions were.

I just couldn't bring myself to break the law and lose Dad's respect. It wasn't even possible for me to miss a day hanging about, as I just wished to be with him. Every day after school, I rushed to see my dad, the jailer for our community. 

My feet would bang along the path I had beaten down between the school and the jail. I needed to be able to hear his laughter when my breath puffed after landing on those granite legs, as he always let his good boy do.

Even in my struggles over homework, Dad laughed. Especially when he caught me rushing through my loathsome sums. His gentle heart allowed a boy the freedom to be imperfect. 

When all was done, I played as I pleased.

Locked doors... a great hook!

********

Now let's meet Madeleine..
Welcome to my blog today Madeleine. 

Your novel has recently been released through Museitup Publishing. Can you tell us a little about what inspired you to write “Mountain City Bronzes.” The blurb is intriguing… a small town, missing children and locked doors… I must know what happens next.

As a child and teen, I loved to watch horror movies, especially Vincent Price, the king of horror for us older folks. So when I began to write, I wanted to try my hand at a scary story. 

I've always been interested in small communities and one that I've always wanted to visit is Stewart, BC. 

It's off by itself in the mountains of BC and that's what I based the town's location on. It's hard to live up north. 

There are no major hospitals and only one mountie, (Canadian police) so I wanted to make that cloistered atmosphere where if something happens, the people have to manage on what they have and themselves.

I don't know if this will intrigue you further, but there is a sculptor in the story, too. Well, I used to be a sculptor, so I wanted to write one. I'll leave you hanging there, so if you want to find out more, you'll have to read it. Apologies.

Sounds great. Very intriguing!

Having children as characters could be difficult. Do they follow your plot path or do they take on a life of their own? How do you keep them in check?

You have to remember with children that everything is black and white. Kevin worships his father, so I had to get across that Kevin's father is a god to him. 

There's no bad side like an adult would see. This father towers in Kevin's mind and that's what I tried to show.

Writing the story is only half the exercise though, isn’t it? Becoming published is not always easy. Even with self publishing as an option. What do you think is the most important thing a writer needs to face, along the road to publication?

Rejection. You can think you've done something really good and it may be really good but just not the editors cup of tea. 

Get used to, 'this is not our vision.' I've had stories short-listed for one publication but just didn't get in and then the next ezine accepts it. 

So you also have to know that there are ups and downs and not get hung up on one bad feeling. 

You don't go, “Hey, this is crap, I'm quitting.” You just wait until you're feeling better and get going. Never give up.

What was the hardest hurdle for you in getting your story published?

Self doubt and sometimes word count. To be honest, I wanted to send in another story to MuseItUp but The Mountain City Bronzes was the only one with the appropriate word count. It's the simple things that hang you up.

Have you always been a writer?

Yes and no. I wasn't one of those kids who knew at four what they wanted to be. I just didn't want to be a housewife. 

My high school English teachers were all complimentary towards any stories I wrote in class, so I thought I might do that after school. 

I sent out science fiction stories to book publishers but got rejection and as I didn't understand how to work at writing, I stopped. 

I came back to it later when in my thirties and love it better than anything I've ever done.

I know that feeling Madeleine, writing is the best thing!

Thanks for sharing a little about The Mountain City Bronzes.

AMAZON BUY LINK: 
MUSEITUP BUY LINK:
Madeleine's BLOG LINK: 

BIO: 
 I spent my childhood by the sunny beach of White Rock, BC but moved east in 1979. 

Ottawa is where I met David, my room mate. 

We have been together for 34 years now. I began to study writing through correspondence schools in 1980s. I wrote all through the 90's and have many stories (mostly short ones) in my files.

I just celebrated (with dread) my 55th birthday. That's a long time on earth but not long enough and I live in an apartment with David. I like window shopping and walking.

For a FREE copy of The Mountain City Bronzes, to review, answer the question. 

Where did Kevin's father work?

Send your answer to 
Caleaths Quest @gmail.com
 (no spaces) 
and I will forward them to the author.

Introducing PAM KELT

It is my great pleasure to have PAM KELT share a little about what inspires her writing. As a Museitup editor I have been privileged to work with Pam on her upcoming YA Fantasy novel ICE TREKKER. Mark your calendar to watch out of her release date. Pam creates a wonderful world full of incredible creatures, characters and adventure. 

 Pam KELT......

With a background in languages, editing and journalism, Pam now has five ebooks coming out: 
Ice Trekker, Half Life and Dark Interlude (all with Muse); 
The Lost Orchid (Bluewood Publishing) and Tomorrow’s Anecdote (Crooked Cat).
 She lives in Kenilworth, with her husband Rob, a professor of inorganic chemistry, keen pilot and WW2 aviation enthusiast with whom she co-wrote Half Life.

 Her daughter Lauren is doing History of Art at the University of Edinburgh. Pam loves murder mysteries in any form, Victoriana, art galleries, botany, bird-watching and blockbusters. And, of course, walking the dogs.

Scenes to be believed

Chester and Lottie enjoying the January
 snow in our local spinney 

I walk the dogs every day. They need the exercise. I need a screen break. But dog walks make great locations. I can hear the theme tunes of Murder She Wrote or Midsomer Murders every time I pass by an overgrown ditch.

There’s a particular one, near Henry V’s folly a few minutes’ walk from Kenilworth Castle that is begging for a corpse.

My favourite location is a genuine Gothic ruin by the river. Built in 1751 and abandoned in the 1950s (long, long story), its empty windows look out over a picturesque bend of the Avon.

Guy’s Cliffe House in true Gothic mood, 

on 14 February, the day after the snow melted. 

The river has flooded the lower meadows

Guy’s Cliffe House is a hidden gem, not open to the public. To add to its mystique, it’s haunted, so they say. It even sports a hermit’s cave and a medieval love story with a tragic ending.

There’s a path on the other side of the river. You start at the Saxon Mill pub, the site of the original watermill, next to a weir filled with oozing, treacly water. I love the place and its ancient atmosphere.

One day in early summer a few years ago, I was trundling down the path with my two daft hounds. Ahead lay the manor with its glowering façades, overgrown rhododendrons and noisy jackdaws nesting in the chimney pots. I wondered if anyone had ever written a story about the place. It seemed more than likely.

But no. The nearest I found was that Granada TV had filmed a  Sherlock Holmes mystery with Jeremy Brett there in 1992 and managed to set fire to the ruin, causing even more damage. Eerily, the story was called The Last Vampyre. You can still see the scorch marks.

My desk on a rare tidy day when I was
making notes for Dark Interlude.
 Reverting to a fountain pen is
a miracle cure for plotitis.

I mused on what story I would set there, if I had the time to write it. Before I knew it, I’d snowballed all manner of personal interests into a plot. A retired plant collector. Orchids. A spooky mansion with a dark past and a sinister purpose.

Many writers burn to tell a particular story. In my case, the setting came before the story … and seems to be my MO. I stuck to Kenilworth for the book, called The Lost Orchid, set in the 1880s when Britain was orchid-crazy. It was fun creating a historical mystery NOT set in London.

Locations have inspired everything else I’ve written. I’m not sure why: perhaps there are so many stories to write, I needed to narrow down the choices.

Apart from my two dogs, these orchids are my
constant companions.
 The pink one on the left has been flowering
constantly since October 2011 (yes, 2011).

The next book sprang to life after a visit to Tromsö at the very top of Norway. Solid mountains, jetty, weatherboard houses, tundra, islands and lakes … I took hundreds of photographs, especially of its botanical garden, thinking I might do a sequel to the orchid story, but out popped Ice Trekker, a teen fantasy filled with monsters and mayhem. (I’m convinced Phillip Pullman visited a harbourside museum Tromsö before writing Northern Lights. It’s filled with quaint dusty cases full of 19th-century exhibits telling stories of fur-clad explorers in hot-air balloons.)

Exhibit from Tromsö museum 

The Arctic setting also sowed the seed for Half Life, a film noir thriller set in Norway before the Nazi invasion. I roped my husband into that one for his scientific expertise.

A half-term break to Loch Lomond kickstarted Dark Interlude, a romantic adventure set in post-WW1 Scotland.

Tomorrow’s Anecdote is set in the West Country, where I used to work in provincial journalism. Every pub, restaurant, house, flat, bus stop, doctor surgery and office is authentic – this time from memory, topped up by online research.

I can’t wait to finish Machiavelli’s Acolyte, a murderous tale in Bohemia in the 17th century, based in Cesky Krumlov, a dramatic Czech castle with a gruesome past.

It looks like I’ll be visiting Porvoo, a medieval city near Helsinki this summer. I wonder what story will come of that?

Click on the link to follow PAM's website and blog

Thanks for sharing some of your world, Pam, your website and blog are lovely. Well worth a visit and to follow.
Congratulations on the many releases you have this year... 2013 the year of Pam Kelt :)

Accidently Inspired... CRUMPLE ZONE...

It is my pleasure to have Edith Parzefall tell us more about her new release. 
It is time to break open the champagne and celebrate the birth of her latest novel from Museitup, CRUMPLE ZONE.

For free review copies contact the author via
email.

Hi, I'm Edith. Often people forget the 'h' when they address me via email. Edit, that's what I do a lot.

My last name is Parzefall, the name of a famous fictional character since at least the middle ages.

Chrétien de Troyes called him Perceval, Wolfram von Eschenbach Parzival, and Richard Wagner Parsifal. In English he's commonly known as Percival.

Storyline: A simpleton becomes King of the Holy Grail. Sounds quite promising, doesn't it? :-)

Find out more about me at: EDITH PARZEFALL flickr pics and EDITH PARZEFALL's blog

When my partner and I visited Chile in 2008, we actually made the front page in a local newspaper, only they gave my name a new twist: Parceball. Well, the real star of this adventure was my knight, the rented X-Trail.

On a wonderful road trip, we explored this long, narrow country, squeezed between the Andes and the Pacific Ocean, mostly the Atacama Desert. 

If I'd seen our trip in a movie, I'd have commented a few times on the symbols and foreshadowing along the road, as in the face as a blood-red moon rising over a forest where a bunch of college kids just got lost...

  

It started on the return trip from San Pedro de Atacama to Santiago. Symbols of death and danger everywhere. A deserted mining village with a looted cemetery. 

The police stopped us to check our papers, told us to switch on the light and drive safely. 

When we crossed from Region II to III, a giant sandstone hand rising from the desert warned us to go no further. Not to mention the little altars along the road commemorating accident victims.

  

Next, a huge truck transporting mining equipment needed both lines of the highway and forced us onto the dirt shoulder quite unexpectedly at a crest. We saw it just in time to get out of harm's way.  Not for long though...

Unfazed, we drove on toward La Serena, where the most amazing thing happened. We were squashed between a tomato truck and a liquid gas truck. Battered but uninjured, we stepped from the wreck into the open arms of caring Chilenos. 

  

At the hospital, exams and x-rays confirmed that we really were uninjured. Unbelievable. Since we didn't get a replacement car, we found ourselves stranded, but the Carabineros gave us a ride searching for accommodation.

So we stayed the last few days, nurtured our seat belt bruises, lurched about town, picked up a newspaper featuring the accident, and booked a flight straight to Santiago de Chile, arriving just before we had to fly back home. Of course I had to turn these experiences into a novel.

Part of Crumple Zone follows pretty much in our tire tracks, except I needed more interesting characters than me (bookworm) and my partner (math nerd) and I had to invent the trucker causing the accident as well as motivate his lapse in attention. 

The beautifully symbolic model name of the X-Trail made it clear that my main protagonists needed to be at a crossroads in life, taking either the right or wrong turn, but no more going straight ahead and ignoring the important things in life. Okay, no spoilers... the result turned into psychological suspense.

Here's a teaser:

When Chilean trucker Enrique bumps into jobless workaholic Lara, he thwarts her flight from life and his escape from reality.

Back Cover:

Lara, a workaholic from Seattle, loses her job, drowns her frustrations in scotch, and books a trip to Chile. Instead of facing her messed up life, she escapes to South America and hooks up with a backpacker, whose bag of tricks conveniently distracts her.

Hauling freight along the same route, trucker Enrique battles the loneliness of the Atacama Desert, imagining his wife by his side. If only she'd stop urging him to come home. 

With growing unease, he sets off on the return trip. When his path crosses Lara's, the impact knocks them both off their errant tracks to face unpleasant realities.

If you like, check out the book and read an excerpt at MuseItUp Publishing: CRUMPLE ZONE

For a short time you can get 20% off this new release. Be quick the special won't last long.

For free review copies

 contact the author via

email.

So raise your glasses and join us in celebrating the release of Crumple Zone. Congratulations Edith!

RELEASE DAY is here for WIND OVER TROUBLED WATERS...

The collaboration of two talented authors give us a glimpse into the future of CornWorld 2222 after a flood has wiped out civilization.

WIND OVER TROUBLED WATERS to buy this new release.

"This dark, edgy novel forces us to confront human nature in the raw...with eyes wide open."

Wendy Laharnar, author of The Unhewn Stone 

My Review...

From a landslide beginning ‘Wind Over Troubled Waters’ sweeps us along with the perfect mix of misadventure and challenge on Cerridwen and Sasha’s parallel quests.  

Batten down the hatches! Wind Over Troubled Waters sweeps readers into a future world devastated by flood. Surviving a landslide, grief and desolation, Cerridwen’s quest is to fulfill her mother’s dying wish. Sasha’s quest is for freedom, adventure and meaning for her life. 

The world Stanley and Parzefall create is familiar in a frightening way. The journey through a future flood-ravaged world reveals the value of the storyteller, the healer, the quick witted and the strong. Through Cerridwen and Sasha’s parallel quests we rediscover the value of old skills, loyalty, compassion, freedom and the deeper emotion of love. 

A maelstrom of adventures and challenges contrast with the beautiful crafting of characters and settings and sweep Wind Over Troubled Waters straight onto the ‘favourites’ shelf.

Wind Over Troubled Waters.... click to read a sample chapter.