I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A local lawman hoping to put his past behind him finds that past coming back with a vicious campaign of terror in author Linda Thackeray’s “Vendetta”, the fourth book in the Mimosa Tales series.
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The Synopsis
Decades ago, Marshal Kris Jensen brought a man to justice.
Now his past is threatening everyone he holds dear…
Determined to put the tragedies of his life behind him, Kris Jensen tentatively courts community leader Holly Davis in the hopes of settling down. For Kris, Holly is the promise of a settled, peaceful life – something he now very much wants.
But when a hail of bullets unleashed in the night begins a campaign of terror that threatens Kris’s hopes for the future and the lives of everyone around him. As his friends reel from a reputation-damning scandal to a near-fatal shooting and vicious assault, Kris desperately tries to find his secret enemy before everything he loves is taken away.
Can Kris protect his loved ones and lay the tortured ghosts of his past to rest?
The Review
This was definitely the author’s most personal journey yet for the cast of characters. The rich environment and setting the author builds up in this novel and the imagery the writing deploys really bring the town of Mimosa and the surrounding area to life in a wonderful way. The captivating mystery surrounding Kris as a character and what his past truly was has been something hinted at throughout the series, but this book pays off all of the reader’s waiting as twists and turns of his story finally start to reveal themselves.
It was the characters that really drove this narrative home. The genius way in which the author not only delved into Kris’s past but his present, from the loss of his family and the enemies he made during one mission, to the love he found in this new home he helped build made the story shine so brightly. Alex was a welcome addition to the team, as the themes of feminism and social identities were explored with her arrival into town, and she added strength made for some great new character developments for others in the cast.
The Verdict
Gripping, awe-inspiring, and engaging on a very personal level for the characters, author Linda Thackeray’s “Vendetta” is a must-read book and the perfect addition to the Mimosa Tales saga. The twists in this novel will have readers hooked, and the pacing was fast-paced enough to keep readers invested until the final page plays out. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Born in a village in Malaysia and delivered by underpaid midwife, and Ann, an irritable new mother (who wouldn’t be after 48 hours in labour?), X was named by a deranged grandmother with too much creativity for her own good. Once out of her pain-induced stupor, Ann decided to give her new daughter a proper middle name to avoid the risk of being put into a home later in life.
And so, she was called Linda.
Linda was an unremarkable child, save a few notable incidents, the discovery that a pot lid is not a substitute for Wonder Woman’s tiara (five stitches), four-year old don’t need to shave (no stitches but lots of toilet paper) and utility truck drivers are not necessarily qualified operators of their vehicles (seventy stitches).
At eight, Linda received religious enlightenment when she saw Star Wars at the Odeon Theatre and hence began her writing career.
For many years, the cages of various pets in the Thackeray household were littered with pages from Linda’s scribblings. Subjects usually ranged from whatever science fiction show was on television or at the movies. There was lots of Star Wars.
At 17, Linda moved to Sydney, Australia and was disappointed it was not occupied by Paul Hogan types with big knives and croc skin jackets but pot-bellied blokes with zinc cream and terry towel hats. Linda’s father (also known as that bloke who buys me stuff to piss mum off when she’s mad at him) settled in the town of Young, a community of 6000 people with no movie theatre.
Linda survived this period in the wilderness by raising kangaroos and writing original works but eventually got saddled down with the necessities of life and though she continued to write, work came first. Work, HBO, comic books and rent. It’s a kaleidoscope.
Even the kangaroos left out of boredom.
In 2014, Linda decided to start writing seriously again. Mostly because Australia’s strict gun laws make it very difficult to ‘go postal’ in the workplace. Moving to Woy Woy, which is Aboriginal for ‘Big Water’, she’s dipped her toes into the Indie pool and found she needs a pedicure. Her books are labours of love and championed by her friends on Facebook.
Eventually Creativia Publishers, appalled by Linda’s inability to conduct any marketing, offered to publish her books out of sheer exasperation.
Supported by two cats named Newt and Humphrey, she spends her days trying to write novels while having unclean thoughts about Michael Fassbender and Jason Statham, sometimes together.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A ragtag group of heroes finds themselves facing a terror that no one could have seen coming as something awakens deep inside of a series of caverns, with an insatiable hunger, in author Linda Thackeray’s “Owl Canyon”, the third book in The Mimosa Tales.
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The Synopsis
A lone survivor with a monstrous story to tell.
An enemy too monstrous to imagine.
Kris Jensen is sure he has seen it all as a lawman and now as the Marshal of Mimosa. Outlaws, shootouts, stagecoach robberies, and a renegade army, none of it surprises him anymore. Until word reaches him about a convoy of missing homesteaders lost in the Organ Mountains.
Kris and his men are led to Owl Canyon, a place even the fearless Apache avoid. They find six-year-old Heather with a story capable of sending chills through them all. Something is lurking within the catacombs deep beneath the canyon, and it’s hungry.
Joining them to remind him of his grifter past is Adrian’s old friend Calvin Chance who may have an answer to the mystery.
The newest chapter of The Mimosa Tales takes Kris and his friends on their scariest adventure so far. Will they survive, or will they be devoured by the evil secret hidden within Owl Canyon?
The Review
This was a truly captivating and chilling entry into the Mimosa Tales saga. The author did a great job of maintaining the gritty nature of the old west genre while also delving deeper into more horror elements in this narrative. As a fan of mythology and horror, I know that the old west was and still is filled with untold legends and myths that both the Native Americans who once populated the area and settlers alike discovered centuries ago and the author really did an incredible job of capturing the essence of that atmosphere and tone.
I loved the author’s ability to craft memorable characters and highlight the culture and reality of life in the west in this era while also providing an entertaining narrative. The exploration of Kris and Flynn’s friendship in the wake of book 2’s events was engaging to read, and the exploration of cultural identity and how the consequences of a people’s actions could impact another group of people so painfully was richly explored in this narrative.
The Verdict
Haunting, captivating, and entertaining, author Linda Thackeray’s “Owl Canyon” is a must-read western and slightly horror novel in the Mimosa Tales series. The shocking twists and turns the narrative takes and the harsh realities of the Old West made this a truly memorable reading experience. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Born in a village in Malaysia and delivered by underpaid midwife, and Ann, an irritable new mother (who wouldn’t be after 48 hours in labour?), X was named by a deranged grandmother with too much creativity for her own good. Once out of her pain-induced stupor, Ann decided to give her new daughter a proper middle name to avoid the risk of being put into a home later in life.
And so, she was called Linda.
Linda was an unremarkable child, save a few notable incidents, the discovery that a pot lid is not a substitute for Wonder Woman’s tiara (five stitches), four-year old don’t need to shave (no stitches but lots of toilet paper) and utility truck drivers are not necessarily qualified operators of their vehicles (seventy stitches).
At eight, Linda received religious enlightenment when she saw Star Wars at the Odeon Theatre and hence began her writing career.
For many years, the cages of various pets in the Thackeray household were littered with pages from Linda’s scribblings. Subjects usually ranged from whatever science fiction show was on television or at the movies. There was lots of Star Wars.
At 17, Linda moved to Sydney, Australia and was disappointed it was not occupied by Paul Hogan types with big knives and croc skin jackets but pot-bellied blokes with zinc cream and terry towel hats. Linda’s father (also known as that bloke who buys me stuff to piss mum off when she’s mad at him) settled in the town of Young, a community of 6000 people with no movie theatre.
Linda survived this period in the wilderness by raising kangaroos and writing original works but eventually got saddled down with the necessities of life and though she continued to write, work came first. Work, HBO, comic books and rent. It’s a kaleidoscope.
Even the kangaroos left out of boredom.
In 2014, Linda decided to start writing seriously again. Mostly because Australia’s strict gun laws make it very difficult to ‘go postal’ in the workplace. Moving to Woy Woy, which is Aboriginal for ‘Big Water’, she’s dipped her toes into the Indie pool and found she needs a pedicure. Her books are labours of love and championed by her friends on Facebook.
Eventually Creativia Publishers, appalled by Linda’s inability to conduct any marketing, offered to publish her books out of sheer exasperation.
Supported by two cats named Newt and Humphrey, she spends her days trying to write novels while having unclean thoughts about Michael Fassbender and Jason Statham, sometimes together.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
Author Jeff Parsons takes readers on an exhilarating and chilling journey through 22 short stories that explore the moment that everyone in life finds that changes the course of their personal journeys forever in the book, “The Captivating Flames of Madness”.
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The Synopsis
This book’s title comes from the reality that – like a moth to the flame – we’re all just one event, mishap, or decision away from things that could change our lives forever.
What would you do if fate led you astray into a grim world where you encountered vengeful ghosts, homicidal maniacs, ancient gods, apocalyptic nightmares, dark magic, deadly space aliens, and more?
If you dare, why not find out?
Read for yourself the twenty-two gloriously provocative tales that dwell within this book – but be warned, some of my dear readers have experienced lasting nightmares…
The Review
This was a memorable and engaging collection of short horror stories. The author has such a great command of atmosphere and tone, as each story strikes a balance between haunting atmosphere and captivating character growth. The unique structure of these stories and the range of sub-genres that this collection holds gives a wider range of readers a chance to sink their teeth into these amazing stories.
The heart and core of this collection have to be the theme, which the main underlying theme the author delves into is the concept of one key event changing the course of one’s life in an instant. The characters range from shockingly sympathetic and relatable to terrifying, and yet each story delivers a well-rounded narrative that captures the passion and imagination the author delivers consistently while also bringing some depth and thought-provoking material to the horror genre overall.
The Verdict
Haunting, chilling, and entertaining, author Jeff Parsons’s “The Captivating Flames of Madness” is a must-read horror short story collection. The brilliant imagery and thrilling storytelling made this collection just fly by on the page, and readers will be hard-pressed to put down this eclectic and mesmerizing collection. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Jeff is a professional engineer enjoying life in sunny California, USA. He has a long history of technical writing, which oddly enough, often reads like pure fiction. He was inspired to write by two wonderful teachers: William Forstchen and Gary Braver. In addition to his book Algorithm of Nightmares, he is published in SNM Horror Magazine, Bonded by Blood IV/ V, The Horror Zine, Dark Gothic Resurrected Magazine, Chilling Ghost Short Stories, Dystopia Utopia Short Stories, Wax & Wane: A Coven of Witch Tales, The Moving Finger Writes, Golden Prose & Poetry, Our Dance With Words and The Voices Within.
Hi everyone! Thank you for joining me today. I hope you’ll give author M.D. Grimm a warm welcome as we hear some fantastic insight into the development of “Sapphire: Home and Abroad”.
Good day lovely readers! Thank you for joining me. I am M.D. Grimm and I am here to promote my newest release, “Sapphire: Home and Abroad.” This is the latest entry in The Stones of Power. I am overjoyed and relieved to finally release a new book in this series. After re-publishing back titles, I can now work on new projects. So, if you like magic, surly, anti-hero mages (wizards), and a fun setting with quirky supporting characters, this series might be for you!
So… Morgorth. He’s a difficult character, isn’t he? I don’t think I quite knew what I was getting into when I wrote the first book over ten years ago. I have an affinity for dark and/or damaged characters. Their journey and trials as they become better people is something I never grow tired of either writing or reading. One of the worst things in the world is for a writer to be bored with a character and/or a story. And when it comes to series, I strive to have a character(s) that needs to overcome something as they evolve over the course of several books. If I’m not interested in their journey, then why would anyone else be?
“Ruby: Lost and Found” was the third book I ever published. It presented Morgorth in a time of his life where he was bored with being a villain. He’d embraced the label after his peers, fellow mages, decided he simply had to be one because of his birthright: being the seventh son of a seventh son, which they determined meant he was to be the Destroyer of their world. It is said that we often create our own monsters, and in this case, it was true. Morgorth became what his peers already thought he was. However, when Aishe crashes into his life, the desire to be something different awakens within him. In my opinion, he becomes an anti-hero. Or, as he would say, a dark mage. He’s not out to wreak havoc on the world but he’s certainly not going to play by the rules, either.
My initial goal for this series was to challenge myself to write an anti-hero. I’m not quite sure if I succeeded or not, but I can’t argue with the result. Morgorth is wonderfully flawed, his struggles are real, and his desire to be worthy of his mate, Aishe, pushes him into uncomfortable situations and makes his choices harder. What I love most about Morgorth is his refusal to surrender. Despite the abuse he survived as a child, the hatred from most of his peers, and the struggle with his own internal demons, he continues to fight. The closest he came to defeat was in the previous book, “Lapis Lazuli: Forgotten and Remembered,” but even then, even without Aishe kicking his butt into gear, I don’t doubt that after a bit of time in self-pity, he’d roll up his sleeves and start fighting again. It’s one of the things I love most about him: he continues to get up every time he’s knocked down.
Due to the abuse from his father, Morgorth has always carried a deep-seated rage inside him. Unfortunately, it led him to unleashing his pain on innocents until he made a promise to his mentor that he would stop perpetuating the cycle of abuse. Morgorth has grown a lot from book one to book eight, but the core of him hasn’t changed. He still carries the rage, only now he channels it into protecting those he loves. He still has a darkness inside him, a thirst to hurt others, and yet again, he targets it at other villains and in defense. I find that the hardest balance to strike with such a complex character is letting them evolve without changing who they are at their deepest core. I didn’t want Morgorth to lose his edge. I didn’t want it to seem as if he simply flicked off his past trauma and that it no longer affected him. That is unrealistic and an insult to folks who live with trauma. However, he did find the tools and the support to work through his trauma and to use his rage for good instead of evil.
And how did he do that? By finding a mate who accepted all of him. With Aishe, he found the motivation and the reason to work on himself. That’s what I love most about their partnership—they make each other better and stronger.
The Stones of Power 1-8 are available for purchase at Amazon (also in print!) and Smashwords. I have a newsletter that I send out monthly with all the goodies you can expect in the future. That’s the best way to find out about my current and future projects.
For fans of the Saga of the Bold People series, I just finished the first draft of “Resistance,” book 3. I hope to release it October 2022, so keep your eyes peeled for that! I am also booked (pun intended) solid this year, working on the next shifter book, the next Stones of Power book, a couple single titles, and the next On Wings Saga book. Wish me luck!
More information on my catalog can be found at my website.
I hope you stay safe and healthy, and may dragons guard your dreams,
M.D. Grimm
M.D. Grimm has a new MM fantasy book out, Stones of Power book 8: Sapphire: Home and Abroad.
The Dark Mage, Lord Morgorth, and Aishe of the Ravena Tribe, are to become bondmates.
Morgorth is equal parts nervous and excited. He wants to unite with Aishe in the sacred dialen ceremony, to proclaim their devotion to the world, to show everyone that Aishe is his equal and deserving of respect. After all they’ve survived together, why shouldn’t they make the cosmic promise before friends and family? But duty must often come before pleasure. When Morgorth’s estranged mentor, Master Ulezander, comes to him with a time-sensitive mission involving a major stone of power, Morgorth has little choice but to acquiesce.
Aishe knows his mate struggles with the revelation of his true destiny, after a lifetime of defining himself as the future Destroyer of Karishian. All he can do is reassure Morgorth that being the Savior is a far better fate for both of them. But as Morgorth and Aishe leap through worlds and dimensions in pursuit of a stone of power, more pieces to the puzzle of Morgorth’s destiny are revealed. And they form an image of sacrifice and tragedy.
The dark cloud of an ancient enemy looms ever closer, and the path to becoming the Savior might prove more monstrous than that of the Destroyer.
About the Series:
Lord Morgorth is a dark mage on the planet Karishian. His peers consider him a villain, but there is more to him than they choose to understand. Cursed by a dark destiny and tormented by painful memories of the past, Morgorth struggles to find his place in the world. Far from innocent, Morgorth has teetered between embracing his destiny and fighting against it his entire life. A decision that is made easier when Aishe comes into his life. Aishe is a creature of the forest, a warrior and healer. He has the moral compass that Morgorth needs, and Morgorth gives Aishe the companionship he craves. Together, they forge ahead, weathering the storms and fighting the enemies fate puts into their paths.
However, their greatest enemy is not a living being, but gemstones infused with deadly power. They are addictive, seductive, and completely treacherous. Morgorth hates them and is determined to find and imprison all of them. But he soon realizes they are keys to a greater power. He learns his destiny is not all he thought it was. And an even greater enemy stirs in the darkness. Enter the world of “The Stones of Power.”
Morgorth stepped forward and stretched out his arms. He murmured a series of words under his breath and an opaque pinprick of light appeared. I stepped a bit closer, fascinated. The pinprick grew into a swirling, pulsing liquid silver gateway. It was beautiful and ominous. It made no sound, and yet gave off pressure that I felt against my body, and the hair on my arms stood on end.
The few trees bordering the clearing creaked and groaned as they bent away from the portal. I didn’t hear anything—not birds or squirrels, not deer. Nothing was near us, and the poor, stationary trees were doing their best to also get away.
Morgorth fisted his hands and widened his stance, still muttering. His skin glowed, and I silently shifted to his side. His eyes were a burning amber, his expression set in stubborn determination and intense concentration. Sweat slid down his face. The portal pulsed a bit faster, the beat knocking against my ribs. What was he doing?
Then the silver gained a bluish color before darkening to mossy green. Morgorth grunted and lowered his hands, though his magick still glowed.
“Take my hand,” he said in a stiff, strained voice. “And hold on tight, to both me and your bow.”
I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. I clung to my bow as I took his outstretched hand and pressed to his side. His skin was hot to the touch but not burning.
“What can I expect?” I asked.
“Discomfort and weirdness,” he said with a hint of a smile. “Just don’t let go.”
“Never.”
Then Morgorth ran and yanked me with him. We dove into the portal without hesitation, and he was right about the discomfort and weirdness. It wasn’t the emptiness of teleportation nor the whiplash of magickal speed. Morgorth charged through the swirling green, dragging me along. The green slipped over my skin and hair like cold putty and tried to capture my feet in its murk. It seemed to last forever but I was certain it was only a moment or two. Then we were somewhere else.
I caught my breath and stumbled forward, still clinging to Morgorth. He didn’t let go either, his magick still at the surface. He took a cloudy crystal from one of the many pouches at his waist and bent to place it at the base of the portal.
This time, I heard his word of magick.
“Lelleknau.”
Words of magick were supposed to be nonsensical, something each mage created for themselves. It was personal, each new word linked to a spell and used for nothing else. It took both words and hand flourishes for a mage to cast a spell or secure an enchantment. It was different for magick healers like myself. It wasn’t so much magickhealers used, it was our life essence, gifting a part of ourselves to our patients. Give too much and it could kill us. The missing part of our essence would replenish over time, faster if we were happy and balanced.
To open a portal and redirect it was remarkably heavy magick, and my mate never ceased to leave me in awe of his abilities and his continual growth in both strength and intelligence.
“Will the crystal leave the portal open?” I asked.
He nodded. “Only on this side, though. We don’t want anyone or anything following us.”
“I doubt any of Vorgoroth’s creatures want to follow.”
Morgorth shrugged and straightened. “I don’t want to take the chance. And I wasn’t just thinking of my minions.”
He was thinking of our guests. Probably about Lyli.
I sighed. Yes, that girl was fearless and far too curious for her own good. And wherever Lyli went, Olyvre wouldn’t be far behind. Then Elissya would also come.
“This will also prevent any of the creatures here of getting inside. The crystal is also a shield.”
“Clever.”
“Draining,” he said with a sheepish grin. His magick settled into his core, causing his eyes and skin to lose their glow. “It won’t hold for long. In and out, no sightseeing.”
I snorted and glanced at our surroundings. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”
A thick, dense jungle surrounded us, and I was only now noticing the oppressive heat. My skin broke out in sweat and my clothes soon stuck to me in the most uncomfortable way. I exhaled sharply and let go of Morgorth to wipe at my brow.
“Aye, in and out, please.”
Morgorth grimaced as well and readjusted the bag.
“I hope you can track the bloody thing.”
“I don’t sense magick like on Karishian so it shouldn’t be a problem to open my third eye and spot the box. And if for some reason that doesn’t work, I can always try to meditate and find its aura and track it back to its location.”
“Wouldn’t the box shield the stone’s power?”
“Its power but not its signature. According to Melondia, the box doesn’t have enough layers to truly block it. Think about the layers of Geheimnis. A mage could use their third eye but not spot the stones I have in the tower because the barriers are too thick.”
I nodded, and he closed his eyes. This place did feel… empty. Magick was everywhere in Karishian, in the land, the water, in the creatures. In the sky and in the clouds, and in the sun. In the air itself. I didn’t like it here. I shuddered and fingered my bow. The familiar texture of the wood soothed me just enough to unclench my muscles.
I kept an eye on our surroundings as Morgorth once again called to his magick.
Author Bio
M.D. Grimm has wanted to write stories since second grade (kind of young to make life decisions, but whatever) and nothing has changed since then (well, plenty of things actually, but not that!). Thankfully, she has indulgent parents who let her dream, but also made sure she understood she’d need a steady job to pay the bills (they never let her forget it!).
After graduating from the University of Oregon and majoring in English, (let’s be honest: useless degree, what else was she going to do with it?) she started on her writing career and couldn’t be happier.
Working by day and writing by night (or any spare time she can carve out), she enjoys embarking on romantic quests and daring adventures (living vicariously, you could say) and creating characters that always triumph against the villain, (or else what’s the point?) finding their soul mate in the process.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A chilling collection of short stories exploring the darkest depths of humanity takes center stage in author Chad Miller’s “The Void: 15 Creepy Tales”.
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The Synopsis
Welcome to the dark world of Chad Miller. Presented before you are 15 dark, morbid, and sometimes humorous tales that explore the evil, depravity, and sickness that devours the human condition. Goodness and light exist in our world, but sometimes the darkness is inescapable, like a black hole, encompassing us all as we fall into the void.
We see an AI life form trapped in his computer cage, as the world has died around him. He’s in despair, his only eyes staring at his decaying creator as he’s forced to face the reality of eternal isolation.
Meet Ana. On the eve of her first day, living away from home in a college dormitory, she slumbers off to sleep on her first night. Ana receives a mysterious night visitor as he pulls up a chair to her bed, so that he can tell his tale. Ana’s father recounts the story of how he was stolen away from her life in a Nazi concentration camp.
And then poor Jared. He’s a pharmacist, overworked, never receiving a break. His overfilled bladder is ready to burst, but the demands of his job won’t allow even a minute for a bathroom run. See Jared’s horror in excruciating detail when his biggest nightmare comes true when he finally reaches the toilet.
The darkness is unavoidable, so pry your fingers from your eyes and take a peek inside. Enter if you dare…
The Review
This was a fantastic and diverse collection of stories. The author did a wonderful job of developing heart and emotions into a rich dynamic between character growth and narrative in such a short amount of time. The ways in which the stories varied and played out were what added to the diverse narrative the author was sharing. From the painful and horrific experiences of addiction and parenthood to the humorous yet identifiable problem of mother nature’s call to the tragedy of WWII and the horrors the Jewish people faced, each story connected a very relatable yet equally terrifying horror moment to our own lives and experiences.
The thing that stood out to me however was the author’s ability to utilize a strong sense of pacing in the narrative. Not one single story in the author’s collection felt rushed or incomplete somehow, which is quite unique when you consider the number of stories the collection features and how varied the length of each story is. Yet each story hit both the emotional and thrill factors that one would expect from a horror collection, and the author’s ability to transport readers into these stories so effortlessly was incredible to read.
The Verdict
Fast-paced, entertaining, and moving, author Chad Miller’s “The Void: 15 Creepy Tales” is a must-read short story collection that readers won’t be able to put down. The rich variety of characters and the relatable yet equally profound horror moments were an excellent exploration of the human condition and humanity as a whole, and the author’s talent shines so brightly that I cannot wait to read more of the author’s work in the future. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Chad Miller has a B.A. in Psychology from Syracuse University and a Pharm D from the University of the Sciences in Philadelphia. He’s a pharmacist and lives in Delaware with his girlfriend, Natasha and her daughter, Sasha, and his three kids, Killian, Willow, and Halina. His novel, The Prisoner of Fear, is being published by Hear Our Voice and will be out fall of 2022. His collection of short stories, The Void is now available on Amazon. His short story, The Thorn, was published by Sweety Cat Press and is included in the anthology, Beautiful: In the Eye of the Beholder and is out now available on Amazon. His short story, Guilty Pleasure, is published by ILA magazine and is out now. His story, The Nick was published in The World of Myth Magazine and won the story of the month. His story, Diseased, will be included in the anthology, Movement: Bodies in Motion, and will be out 06/01/2022. His story, Last Victory, will be included in the anthology, Year Four and will be out 01/23. Check out other stories on his website, chadmiller-author.com.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A young woman finds her world turned upside down when a handsome stranger enters her life from another time, and together they discover fate’s plans for them when a rogue threat targets her for a power she never knew she had in author Sasha Alsberg’s “Breaking Time”.
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The Synopsis
Romance, Celtic mythology, and adventure swirl together in this time travel fantasy by #1 New York Times bestselling author, booktuber, and popular Outlander social media influencer Sasha Alsberg.
Fate brought them together. Time will tear them apart.
When a mysterious Scotsman suddenly appears in the middle of the road, Klara thinks the biggest problem is whether she hit him with her car. But, as impossible as it sounds, Callum has stepped out of another time, and his arrival marks the beginning of a deadly adventure.
Klara soon learns she is the last Pillar of Time—an anchor point in the timeline of the world. After being unable to protect the previous Pillar, Callum believes he’s fated to protect her. But now a dark force is hunting the Pillars—and Klara and Callum are the only two standing in the way. They’ll have to learn to trust each other and work together…but they’ll need to protect their hearts from one another if they’re going to survive
The Review
This was such a powerful and entertaining new read! The author did such an incredible job of world-building in this narrative. Each scene felt vibrant and alive on the page, thanks to the author’s incredible handle on imagery in her writing and the atmosphere she builds as the narrative progresses. The striking balance the author struck between the rich mythology of the world she created and the intimate and emotional character growth was superb. As a huge fan of mythology in general, I was immediately drawn into this narrative, but what was really fun was being introduced to new mythological figures and stories, and the intricacies of Celtic mythology definitely drew me into the story so much that I’ll be researching the mythos myself, really adding to the author’s ability to draw readers in.
Yet it was the rich character development that really drew me in further and further into the story. The multiple POVs were great to have, as they added depth to both Callum’s and Klara’s stories. Their backstories and the eras from which they hail and the instant chemistry and discoveries they make about themselves along the way were truly inviting to behold on the page. Even the antagonist, who emerges from the shadows and strikes into the heart of these two protagonists, was chilling and haunting to behold and did a great job of becoming the hero’s foil in the narrative.
The Verdict
Captivating, engaging, and brilliantly written, author Sasha Alsberg’s “Breaking Time” is a must-read YA Historical Fantasy meets Time Travel story and one of my top picks for best reads of 2022. The author does a great job of traversing the influences of other series such as Outlander and The Mortal Instruments, and yet feels so original and authentic on its own at the same time, bringing magic back into the Historical Fantasy meets Highland genre. With a twist ending that left this reader eager to read more, you guys won’t want to miss out on this spectacular story. Be sure to pick up your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Sasha Alsberg is the #1 New York Times bestselling coauthor of Zenith, the first book in The Androma Saga. When Sasha is not writing or obsessing over Scotland, she is galavanting across social media with her two dogs, Fraser & Fiona. Sasha lives in London, England.
“Thomas!” Callum yelled as he left the pub. The wall of crisp night air dizzied him, causing him to stumble over cobblestones that seemed to shift beneath his feet. Drunken laughter muff led as the door slammed shut behind him.
“Where the hell are ye?” he shouted. His voice echoed through the deserted streets.
No answer came.
Lanterns flickered along the main road, setting the heavy fog aglow. In a wee town like Rosemere, the slightest whispers could be heard a mile away. They carried farther than that, Callum knew; the windows around him were shuttered, but candles burned low just inside. How many prying eyes watched from behind the slats? How many would speak of his friend, the disgraced fighter, in hushed voices at tomorrow’s market, over bread bought with the coin they’d won betting on him mere weeks earlier?
Callum clenched his fists. The whole pub had shouted and jeered while Thomas got pummeled that night. Sounds still rang in Callum’s ears: the thud of fist and flesh, the sickening crunch of bone. It was the third time this month that Thomas had lost—only the third time, in two years of fighting.
Brice would be angry.
Master, keeper, devil, father. Brice MacDonald was all of these things to Callum and Thomas. Whatever Brice’s wrath tonight, Callum could not let Thomas face it alone. Not when Thomas had looked after Callum for so long, raised him up from a nipper as well as a real older brother would.
But he would not abandon Thomas like his mother had abandoned him.
The thought sobered Callum. He called again, lowering his voice to a taunt.
“Thomas! You owe me three shillings!” Thomas could usually be drawn out with a jab.
Callum paused, straining his ears for a response but was met with unease instead. An owl watched from its perch atop the baker’s roof, golden eyes unblinking against the dark night sky. The shining orbs fixed on him.
He tore his gaze from the bird and walked on, moving away from the firelight and into shadow.
Even more worrisome than Brice was the fact that Thomas had given Callum his most treasured item earlier that night: his notebook, small sheaths of vellum bound in leather. When he first began carrying it around, Thomas claimed to have stolen it from the apothecary when he went in for a poultice.
He had kept it on him, always, and had never let Callum lay eyes on what was inside. Yet he had pressed it into Callum’s hand, just before the match tonight. He said something to Callum when he did, but his words were inaudible within the roar of the pub. Then after, he disappeared from the pub without even a goodbye.
Now Callum was wandering the streets, alone.
It was unlike Thomas to behave so strangely, to lose so badly. The Thomas he knew—boyish and rowdy, tough as leather but never mean—had fallen away with the autumn leaves these past months. Instead of spending evenings at The Black Hart Inn, weaving stories he’d learned as a child of selkies and sailors for red-cheeked barmaids until the sun rose, Thomas began to disappear for days, weeks at a time—stretches too long for Callum to explain to Brice. He took a beating or two for it, too. When Thomas returned, he was sullen, sometimes violent, and consumed by a strangeness Callum had no words to describe. His eyes stared but did not see, as distant as stars burning in his skull. If he spoke at all, he told tales of the demons that terrified them as children: like the Sluagh, spirits of the dead who wandered in flocks, flying around the sky like soaring reapers and stealing souls, flesh hanging off them like blackened rags. Or the bean-nighe, banshees, messengers from the Otherworld and omens of death, who lingered in lonely streams, washing the clothes of doomed men. Normally Callum heard of such dark creatures within the stories of heroes, but Thomas’s stories didn’t end in life…but death. He fixated on that fact, as if it were coming for him.
I saw her, he’d said of the bean-nighe. I refuse to die.
It worried Callum, but just as his worry morphed into confrontation, Thomas would come back to himself. This was enough to comfort Callum as he watched Thomas return to tales of ancient heroes and kings. Maybe he accepted his relief too soon since the nights of those stories were fewer these days, and more often Thomas’s speech would turn dark again. He would speak of strange visions, of men who leaped from one world to the next.
They’re coming, Cal, you’ll see. It’s as simple as stepping through a veil.
Who’s coming, Thomas? What veil? Callum asked, and Thomas would laugh.
It was no tale that Callum knew. He’d warned Thomas not to tell it. He didn’t like the wary looks it earned him. It was one thing to be a bard who told these stories for a living, but it was another thing to speak like a madman of evil spirits and fairies as if they were tangible things away from the lyrics of a song or the pages of a book.
Callum reached the end of the main road—the turn for Kelpie’s Close. If you wanted trouble, you found it in Kelpie’s. The narrow backstreet edged Rosemere like a blade pressed against the town’s throat.
A chill clung to his skin. Here, there were no lanterns to light the way, his only guide sparse slivers of moonlight. The wind picked up suddenly, lifting his hair and reaching under his woolen cloak. He tried to shake off visions of the Sluagh hovering above him, raking their cold fingers down his neck.
“It’s as dark as the Earl of Hell’s waistcoat,” he mumbled.
Callum reached for the dirk tucked under his arm and found the carved handle concealed under layers of wool, feeling a sting of guilt. It was Thomas’s knife. Callum had slipped it away from him before the match, worried about what his friend might do in the crowded pub if he got enough drink in him. He tapped it, drawing enough strength to plunge into the darkness.
“Scunner!” he cursed, meaning it. “Where are you?”
A cry pierced the quiet.
Callum’s heart pounded as he followed the sound farther down the alley. He pulled the dirk from under his arm, certain now that he’d need to use it.
“Thomas?”
Unease, cold and metallic, crept up his spine. The alley appeared empty—strange, for this time of night—but the silence was thick, alive with a feeling Callum couldn’t name. He pushed on, deeper into the gloom. “Thomas?”
Another strangled cry, ahead.
Callum broke into a run.
A single lantern flickered a short distance away, casting a wan glow over a lone figure slumped against the wall. A sweep of red hair, bright even in the dim alley.
“Thomas, ye bastard, do ye ken what—”
The insult lodged in his throat. Thomas lay on the ground, his legs splayed at sickening angles. Blood seeped through his shirt, blooming like ink on paper. Callum rushed to his friend and knelt beside him. He dropped the dirk and pressed his hands against the deep slice that marred his friend’s torso. A knife wound.
“Dinnae fash, Thomas, dinnae fash,” Callum repeated, voice tight and panicked. He glanced up, searching for friend or foe, and found no one. “We’ll be back to the pub before Anderson kens we havna paid our tab.”
Thomas stared up at him with glassy blue eyes. With each shuddering breath, more blood spilled through Callum’s fingers. He ripped the cloth stock from his neck and pressed the fabric onto the wound. It did little to stem the flow of blood. Within a few heartbeats, the cloth was soaked through, red and dripping.
If he pressed any harder, would it be doing more harm than good? Should he call for help, though it might draw the attacker? Callum hadn’t a clue. He wished suddenly, ferociously, that he’d had a proper mother, one whose wisdom he could call upon to calmly guide his hands. However, Thomas was the only family he had.
His only family was dying.
Thomas opened his mouth, but instead of words, a wet cough came out, splattering red across his pale face.
“Dinnae move, Thomas,” Callum shushed him. His uncertainty gave way to desperation, burst from his throat. “Help! Help us!”
His words dissolved into the night air, leaving behind only a tightness at the center of his chest. If he hadn’t taken Thomas’s dirk, he would have been able to defend himself, he wouldn’t be dying in Callum’s arms—
Thomas gasped, but it seemed as if no air reached his lungs.
Lowering his head, Callum gripped Thomas’s hands, though his own were shaking. “I will find the man who did this, I swear—”
Then the world flipped sideways. A blow had hit Callum like a runaway carriage, throwing him against the alley wall opposite Thomas.
Pain exploded along his ribs. Grasping the mossy wall for purchase, he struggled to his feet and wiped blood from his eyes, scouring the darkness for his attacker—and found no one.
“Show your face,” he growled.
A cruel whisper cut through the quiet. “Are you certain?”
The man emerged from the shadows as if he had been one with them. He wore a dark black cloak, in stark contrast to his unkempt, pale hair. Deep set in his face, a pair of amber eyes seemed to emit their own light. Callum’s gaze was drawn to a glinting shape in the man’s hand.
A dagger, dripping with blood.
Thomas’s blood.
Callum’s heart pounded like a war drum in his ears.
The man sighed. “Move along. Unless you’d like to meet the same fate as your compani—”
Callum lunged forward, cutting off the man’s speech with a guttural cry, striking with the speed of a viper.
The man ducked. He whirled around as Callum charged again. He overreached with the arc of his knife, and Callum used the moment to surge upward with a punch. His fist took the assailant in the chin—
And the force knocked Callum back.
He stared. A blow like that would have laid out the toughest fighter, yet the man stood and smiled, rubbing his chin with a gloved hand.
“I’m going to have fun with you,” the stranger whispered. “I like a man with a bit of fight in him. It’s more fun to play with your prey, don’t you think?”
Callum didn’t see the blow coming, only felt the pain searing across his temple as he was thrown to the ground again.
He lifted his head, vision blurring. He blinked it clear, took in his friend’s ashen face. The sight flooded Callum with rage.
Whoever said to never fight with anger fueling your fists was a fool. Thomas’s best fights had been powered by emotion. Callum wasn’t fighting for money now. Or for Brice. He was fighting for Thomas. Because Thomas was—
“Stay down, little man,” the attacker’s voice hissed.
Callum dragged himself to his feet. His body, corded with muscle from a lifetime of training, screamed for him to stop. Instead he stood, swaying.
“I dinnae believe I’m going to Heaven,” Callum said, raising his fists once more, drawing strength from the familiar ache that radiated through his arms. “But I cannae wait to bring you to Hell with me.”
Lunging forward again, Callum poured everything he had into a single strike. He swung, landing the punch more out of luck than skill, half blinded by blood and dirt.
The man merely flinched, then caught Callum easily by the throat. A grin curled over his face.
How could that be possible?
“My, my, you are a feisty one,” he hissed.
The man lashed out, and pain flared along Callum’s torso. He released Callum and stepped back, red-tinged silver shining in his fist.
Callum touched his side, and his fingers came away wet with blood. He watched as crimson spread across his shirt. He tried to take a step, only to crumple to the ground beside Thomas, whose head rested limp against his chest.
Callum had never feared death, but now as he looked into its eyes, terror seized him.
“Many thanks for the entertainment,” the man said.
To Callum’s horror, he bent low, holding a vial to the spreading pool of Thomas’s blood. He was gathering it.
“If you’ll excuse me, there’s one last Pillar I must find.”
Pillar?
The unearthly amber eyes melted into darkness as his opponent backed away and turned, disappearing into the shadows once more. Softly hissed words echoed in the alley. Àiteachan dìomhair, fosgailte dhomh, Àiteachan dìomhair, fosgailte dhomh…
The words the man spoke were Gaelic, but Callum’s fading mind couldn’t make out their meaning. A dark, mist-like substance rose from the ground and curled around the man’s feet, nearly indistinguishable from the dim of night. Like a sudden fog had rolled in.
Callum sputtered a curse, lacking the strength to spit. He tried to lift himself, but with each breath, pain flared in his side like a web of fire.
“I’m sorry, Thomas,” he croaked. Tears fell freely down his face, mingling with blood and sweat. He pressed his forehead against his friend’s. Grief washed over him at the still-warm press of his skin.
Thomas was gone, and Callum would soon follow.
A shiver raked his body. His eyes drifted shut.
Take me already, he pleaded to the darkness.
And the darkness answered.
No, not the darkness—Thomas’s voice, a memory now, though it was solid as stone.
“Get up, scunner.”
The warmth of the words turned electric, spreading through Callum’s body like wildfire. His eyes shot open and he gasped, breathing in a shock of cold air still sharp with the smell of blood. His fingers found the dirk he’d dropped earlier.
Grief and agony and pain and rage lifted Callum onto his feet, thrumming in him as he charged after Thomas’s murderer, knife raised and eager for flesh. He grabbed blindly, finally grasping a handful of fabric—the man’s cloak. Turning, the man’s eyes widened, making two white rings of surprise in the dark. Callum’s hand grabbed the man’s neck and aimed his dirk at the pale slash of his throat.
Suddenly, they froze. Callum could not move. His hand remained around the man’s neck, the tip of the dirk pressed against his vein. Light flowed around them. It’s not time for sunrise, he thought. Dimly, he noticed markings along the man’s collarbone. Knots carved into his skin.
The man cried out—not in pain, but in anger—but then, the cry was stifled by a rush of silence, so thick Callum thought he might drown in it. His stomach turned violently as the ground seemed to drop out from under him, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut. He was falling, flying, falling.
I must be dead in the alley. The man must have killed me. This must be death.
A bright glow burned against his lids. He closed his eyes tighter and welcomed whatever might follow, only hoping he’d find Thomas there. A wall of light had formed above, descending as if the sun were pulling him through the sky. His body rose into its searing embrace.
He waited for the long drop to the ground, but it never came.
Callum kept soaring.
Not just through the street.
Not to death’s embrace.
But somewhere else.
Leaping to another world, like the man in Thomas’s story, Callum thought.
Tell us a little bit about yourself. How did you get into writing?
Fame and fortune haha. In my spare time, I started writing stories and creating comic strips around the age of ten or eleven. When life wasn’t fun, creative writing was my escape as a child. It was a great outlet for my imagination and a way to express myself untethered from the restriction of my English teachers because not only did I come up with some wild stories, I was also a very creative speller which drove them crazy.
As a teen, I became an avid reader. Believe it or not, I read all of Charles Dickens’s works while riding on a bus to my after-school/weekend job in a restaurant kitchen. But I think it was Hemmingway’s books that really inspired me to write longer stories. I wanted to be that storyteller. It wasn’t however, until the author of the series of books that I was reading to my children died that I began writing. The kids were upset there would be no more books, so I took it upon myself to write something similar for them as a Christmas present. The only problem was that the short story turned into a novel and with my busy schedule as a doctor, it took two years to complete. By then, my older son was “too old” for it. I decided after my youngest grew up, that although I enjoyed writing my children, I really wanted to write for adults.
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What inspired you to write your book?
My family and I experienced the panic and chaos created by the enormous North East blackout of 2003. We were sitting by a campfire completely oblivious until a neighbor approached carrying a shotgun telling us that most of North America was dark. He said it was a Russian cyberattack. My twelve-year-old son couldn’t sleep that night as he was frightened that we were under attack and that enemy soldiers were breaking into the house. That feeling of being in the dark, not knowing the truth was truly terrifying. For the next five days, our part of the world was not functioning – no credit cards – no cash – no ATMs working – the gas pump wouldn’t pump – store shelves were empty – the experience still haunts me and played a large part in motivating me to write Lethal Keystrokes.
In addition, I have always had an interest in technology and computers. In fact, before medical school, I worked as a programmer for IBM. As a physician, I became concerned about the impact of technology on children i.e., too much screen time. But with the intrusion of social media and the ‘internet of everything,’ I feel there is too much connectiveness without true human contact. My biggest concern outside the medical/social sphere is our security – individually and collectively as a nation. There are too many electronic eyes and ears out there. Are they helping and protecting us or making us vulnerable to those who wish harm upon us?
What theme or message do you hope readers will take away from your book?
I hope that this book causes people, companies, and governments to think about their digital security. We also need to be aware that the voids, created by Western nations in places like Somalia, where there was intervention and then complete withdrawal, are filled by groups that could become terrorist organizations.
What drew you into this particular genre?
To be honest, I was attempting to write a very emotionally charged true-life novel about some of my experiences in cancer and palliative care. It was tough. I needed to step back and ‘reset’. Previously, out of a more academic interest I had researched some of the key political and technological issues key to Lethal Keystrokes. I took that information and started writing something that was pure entertainment, so fast-paced and exciting that you can’t put it down and a total escape from the trials of day-to-day life. Writing it worked wonders for me and I hope that everyone that reads Lethal Keystrokes enjoys immersing themselves in the action.
If you could sit down with any character in your book, what would you ask them and why?
That is an interesting question. I’m somewhat surprised by my answer. It is not the main antagonist but his sister that I found the most fascinating and challenging character to write, and from the reaction of a few earlier readers, they agree with this choice. She starts out with the same vitriol as her older brother but as she spends more time in Western society, she stops focusing on all its flaws and begins to appreciate the positives, including the opportunities for women. She has to battle through the conflicts between her traditional role that involves support for her brother and her own journey to personal freedom. How does she bridge the chiasm between Islamic culture and her growing acceptance of America’s ideals?
What social media site has been the most helpful in developing your readership?
Marketing has changed so much. If you aren’t good with social media, you’re doomed so I embraced it despite my misgivings about technology. I do not profess to be an expert but Instagram has been quite useful as well as Twitter. Still, I really don’t like the feeling of anarchy – everyone has their own truth – that exists out there in the digital world. Bottom line: technology is a tool, not a lifestyle.
What advice would you give to aspiring or just starting authors out there?
Write a one-page, beginning-to-end, synopsis of your plot. Stream of consciousness writing is unlikely to be successful. Writing toward a known conclusion ends up moving you farther, faster and easier than just sitting down and pecking away, hoping that it will all fall into place. If you can’t come up with the ending you don’t have an idea worthy of your time and energy. And work it is. A novel is much harder than a short story. Keeping an audience engaged for 300 pages is no easy task. So have a complete idea and be disciplined by writing something every day when possible.
What does the future hold in store for you? Any new books/projects on the horizon?
I’m still writing the book about my medical experiences. I have also started a second book featuring the heroes from ‘Lethal Keystrokes’ as they combat a threat to America of a different nature. Hint: It will use more of my medical knowledge.
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About the Author
John D. May was born in London, Ontario. He has balanced multiple passions over his life, including his work as a biologist, his career as a physician, his volunteer service at medical outreach clinics in Guatemala, singer-songwriting, and storytelling. He has written several songs for well-known Canadian artists and released two CDs, available on iTunes and Spotify under the name Johnny May. His time is divided between his rural farm property near Toronto and the south of France.
1) Tell us a little bit about yourself. How did you get into writing?
I grew up and went to college in Maryland, then shortly after moved to Raleigh, NC. I started in real estate sales and investing in 2002 and really enjoyed the investment side, along with renovating projects. After about a decade of working with clients and investors alike, I realized there was a lack of direct, easy to comprehend and in-person training for novice investors to learn the ropes without being upsold into future programs. I started teaching to give people a trusted, reliable source for investing advice. My teaching progressed into various courses and in doing so, I started writing the content. That was really my first foray into writing.
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2) What inspired you to write your book?
As I was teaching, I noticed that everyone learns at different rates and it would be great if I could take all my teachings and turn them into one clean source, such as a book. Over the years, I’ve seen thousands of books written on the subject, so for my book to stand out, or at least be relevant, I knew it had to be something that the novice investor could not only understand, but feel confident in performing my lessons on their own. I was inspired to help the average person build wealth and secure their financial future. I wasn’t interested in selling an unrealistic goal of owning 100 homes or a large apartment complex, but rather simply a few homes owned over the course of a decade or two that could really change the long term trajectory of someone’s finances.
3) What theme or message do you hope readers will take away from your book?
There are 2 things I want the reader to get. The first is motivation. Anytime you try something new, especially when it involves using your hard earned money, you have to be motivated. The second is a feeling that investing in real estate really isn’t that tough or complicated. When broken down into smaller, realistic steps, I think people will realize that truly anyone can do this. I want the reader to walk away motivated and then take action!
4) What drew you into this particular genre?
This is all I know, lol! As a real estate broker, investor and teacher, I wouldn’t be able to write a book on anything else!
5) What social media site has been the most helpful in developing your readership?
I’m not a huge social media person, however I do realize it’s place in the marketing world. Facebook has been helpful just because it’s a place where people know me and thus, trust that if I wrote a book, it may be worth a glance. We do marketing on platforms such as Amazon and reaching out to national bloggers and book reviewers, but the book has gained most traction via word of mouth and positive reviews about the book. At the end of the day, if the writing is solid, people will find it; or at least I hope so 🙂
6) What advice would you give to aspiring or just starting authors out there?
Make a plan and understand the self-publishing process. I had to create a pretty solid plan for the flow and content of my book or else I would just be aimlessly writing with no direction. I think that was absolutely critical for me to actually complete the book in an effective way. The other item is understand the self-publishing process. Just like real estate investing, it’s not super complicated and anyone can do it, but you really have to take the time to understand the process or you may burn a lot of money and time unnecessarily.
7) What does the future hold in store for you? Any new books/projects on the horizon?
No new books currently in the works; this one kind of mentally exhausted me. It took 20 years to gather enough information and confidence to write this one, so I may be a few years out before I follow up with another one. In the meantime, I’m continuing my real estate career and continuing to invest in real estate and teach as many people as I can that they can do it too!
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About the Author
Jason started his real estate career over two decades ago as a real estate sales broker and since then has grown his real estate team to the top ranks in North Carolina. He also manages his own real estate portfolio and has had tremendous success with building his rental portfolio, along with ‘fix and flip’ properties along the way.
In addition to real estate, Jason has a passion for teaching, so he combined his extensive real estate and investing knowledge to pursue another chapter in his career. Jason teaches and coaches real estate brokers, novice & intermediate investors, as well as works alongside large individual investors to help scale their portfolios.
1) Tell us a little bit about yourself. How did you get into writing?
This is a story about my life. Initially, it was not my plan to write and publish this book. I simply began journaling to aid in my healing and recovery process and upon doing so; it occurred to me the potential benefits of sharing my story with others.
2) What inspired you to write your book?
I wanted to bring awareness to the taboo subject of child-to-parent abuse and possibly making a difference and offering hope to fellow survivors and others.
3) What theme or message do you hope readers will take away from your book?
I have two important messages: (1) It is never too late to make changes in your life; and (2) Unconditional love is not always possible if one’s safety and well-being are at risk.
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4) What social media site has been the most helpful in developing your readership?
Popular book review sites such as this one, have been very positive and helpful in providing exposure to my book.
5) What advice would you give to aspiring or just starting authors out there?
Do not give up on your dream of writing. For some it take 6 months and for others it takes 6 years. Either way, once you have completed and published your book, it is an extremely satisfying experience.
6) What does the future hold in store for you? Any new books/projects on the horizon?
I am actually thinking of writing some children’s books- quite the opposite from this book! I am looking forward to continuing with my publishing career and writing under my own name.
