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Winter Blogfest: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment for a chance to win an Ebook or paperback of The Scarred Santa.

 

Sinner, Saint, and Santa by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

​My uncle, Roy Sontheimer, was both sinner and saint, a mailman who often delivered food or other necessary items to family members or anyone in need. He liked his beer and drank vast quantities of it each evening. Like the rest of the family, he could out curse a sailor on shore leave. He could be loud, even boisterous, but he had a generous heart.

​In 1972, he filled Santa’s shoes as well. After the meat packing plant where my dad had worked since high school, with time out for this Army service closed, our lives changed. After a stint driving a candy and tobacco delivery truck through northeast Kansas, my dad used his experience to become a United States Department of Agriculture meat inspector. Problem was that the jobs were not anywhere close to my hometown of St. Joseph, MO so we moved to the far southwest corner of the state.

​Until then, I grew up in a blue-collar neighborhood with family, including grandparents and cousins within a few blocks. We left behind our vintage brick home and exchanged it for a mobile home in a trailer park.

​The first Christmas away from home loomed. We had a small tree in our new location, but we would return to St. Joe for the holiday. We would stay at Granny’s house, and she didn’t put up a Christmas tree. Old school to the core, Granny decorated but no tree and she was adamant her custom wouldn’t change. We could celebrate the birth of Christ without one.

​Disappointed did not begin to describe my emotional state. My parents warned me not to complain so I didn’t, at least not when anyone could hear me. We arrived late one December night, a few days before Christmas. When we carried our bags upstairs to sleep in the room my father and uncle had shared as boys, a Douglas fir waited. The crisp evergreen scent greeted us, and I danced with delight.

​I thanked Granny for relenting, but she shook her head. “It wasn’t me – your Uncle Roy said those children have to have a tree. He’s the one who brought it here.”

​We joyfully decorated it the next day, but my uncle’s Santa role had not yet ended.

​Granny always gave me one article of clothing plus a color book with a fresh box of crayons. It was enough and I had no complaints.

​On Christmas morning, however, there was more. I received a doll, the expected gifts, and a small paperback Merriam Webster dictionary as well as a folder with notebook paper. At eleven years old, I yearned to become a writer so these were ideal gifts. I rose from the mess of discarded wrapping paper and ribbons to hug my grandmother but again, she shook her head.

​“I asked your uncle to my Christmas shopping and told him what to buy,” she told me. “He brought all that.”

​As an adult, as a much-published author and writer, I still wonder how my insightful uncle knew the right gift for me. I loved the dictionary so much I carried it with me to school every day, used it to learn new words, and language. Although the one he gave me is long gone, I have a facsimile of it resting on my desk. Merriam Webster hasn’t changed their basic design in years.

​In the decades of Christmas gifts since, I’ve received many presents I loved and some I didn’t like but the simple gift of a dictionary for a young girl with dreams of becoming a writer still resonates. It rocks as much now as it ever did.

​That gift symbolizes for me the true spirit of holiday giving. Given from a generous, loving heart, my dictionary became one of my best gifts of all time, thanks to my uncle, sinner, saint, and sometimes Santa Claus.

Once handsome Rafe Sullivan is left scarred, injured, and with PTSD from his Marine Corps service in Afghanistan. Returning to civilian life is far from smooth, and the burn scars on his right side are extensive. Although he lives close to family, he lives a solitary life and changes jobs more often than most people change their socks. A temporary job as Santa at the mall is presented, but Rafe first rebels, then relents. His Santa gig affects his PTSD. Then he meets Sheena Dunmore. When she doesn’t run from his scars or issues, she intrigues him. An unmasking by some rowdy children is a test of his stamina and spirit. His greatest fear is fire. Will Rafe conquer the fear so he can move forward into the new life he desires?

 

From an early age, Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy scribbled stories, inspired by the books she read, the family tales she heard, and even the conversations she overheard at the beauty shop where her grandmother had a weekly standing appointment. She was the little girl who sat at the feet of the elders and listened.

She spent her early career in broadcast radio, interviewing everyone from politicians to major league baseball players and writing ad copy. In those radio years she began to write short stories and articles, some of which found publication. In 1994 she married Roy Murphy and they had three children, all now grown-up. Lee Ann spent years in the newspaper field as both a journalist and editor and was widowed in 2019.

In late 2020, she hung up her editor’s hat to return to writing fiction. A native of St. Joseph, Missouri, she lives and works in the rugged, mysterious, and beautiful Missouri Ozarks.

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Dragon Song by Shirley McCoy – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will award a randomly drawn winner a $10 Amazon/BN GC.Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Dragons rule the world. Princess Morgan Talbot of Esterhaven knows one rules her. Rownar, the most powerful dragon of all, forced a magical bond with her at a tender age. He intends to corrupt her soul, then consume her body. Now of age, Morgan knows she must take back her life and defeat Rownar, and all his kind. Connor O’Malley is the greatest dragon slayer alive. He spends one memorable night with Morgan, never thinking to see her again. Until he does. He is deeply shaken to learn the woman he fell for is a princess and determined to conquer Rownar herself. When Connor offers to train her, Morgan reluctantly accepts. Now an epic battle will begin, for a princess’s life, her soul, her kingdom, and the world.

Enjoy an Excerpt

As they cautiously navigated through the hoard, Morgan detected a slight glow in her peripheral vision. It flared up, then subsided. As they stepped forward, she discerned it again, and this time she whipped around quickly enough to see a small magical symbol etched in the floor behind them light up, then dim.

“Oh no,” she murmured.

“What’s wrong?” Connor demanded in a sharp tone.

She paced further and showed him. “I think if Meglos doesn’t already know we are here, he will soon.”

As if on cue, deep within the cave, the sound of an almighty clang of metal meeting metal filled their ears. Then came a roar, the kind which could only be made by a dragon.

Morgan knew her eyes must be wide as saucers, but she couldn’t seem to help it or move at all, in fact. Horror rooted her to the spot, unable even to speak, much less move.

Connor was not so afflicted. “Run!”

When she didn’t twitch so much as an eyelash, he yelled, “Run, Morgan!”

The volume of his words, his manner, and most of all, the use of her name, snapped her out of her panicked shock at last. She went from utter stillness to moving faster than she ever had in her life.

The dragon, shrieking and breathing fire all the while, flew after them.

About the Author:Shirley McCoy grew up in Baton Rouge, LA and started writing at an early age. Always talkative, when she was eleven she began to put her thoughts on paper, writing stories inspired by some of her favorite writers, Laura Ingalls Wilder and Madeline L’Engle. As she grew older, she developed a love of romance and in 2009 she decided to try her hand at paranormal romance. The result was The Smoke and the Flame and its sequel, The Wind and the Fire. The Smoke and the Flame is the first novel she has ever completed, although she has written several unpublished screenplays.

Shirley graduated from Nicholls State University where she majored in History and minored in English. Since graduating (she doesn’t like to think about how long ago that was) she has worked at some of the best libraries in the Baton Rouge area. She makes her home there and enjoys spending time with family members that live in town as well as with those that live out of town. She also loves seeing movies, reading, and going to the park with her niece in her free time.

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Pondering the Muse by Reed Stirling – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Reed Stirling will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

PONDERING THE MUSE

I would like to dwell on Mnemosyne, mother of the nine muses. In doing this, I borrow from Terry Burke, protagonist and narrator in my second novel, Lighting the Lamp, in his attempt to do the muse justice in his act of creative recollection. Mnemosyne is the Goddess of Memory.

The more I engage in this identity search, the more I labour in a chronological arrangement of factual recall, the more I grow aware of static thrumming behind the scenes that I evoke, a subjective electromagnetic radiation, so to say, informing the background of my narrative with a species of tension stretched between past events and my recollection of them. The spectrum thus engendered ranges from humorous self-effacement to guilty self-reproach.

But truthful accounting. What to make of it? Total fabrication, I fear, may result in any effort to animate memory when significant events from decades past hide among the vagaries of time like participants in a game of blindman’s bluff. Memories can fracture and fragment. Misremembering may deflate the import of a specific childhood event, a first confession where guilt now has an incomprehensible context, for instance, or a bee sting, or on your seventh birthday getting your eye blackened by the neighbourhood bully. Then again, misremembering can conflate two or more innocent enough disinclinations on the part of a fair-haired friend into a single blockbuster put-down where the adolescent’s broken heart lies not in halves but in millions of pieces. Putting into words today what happened years ago requires disciplined deliberation. A nuanced articulation is hardly the equivalent of an adrenalin rush. How does one examine with any kind of accuracy the scar tissue of past emotion?

What’s more, can one’s heart beat melodiously? Or nerves shatter? Does disappointment droop or sag? Anger boil more than clench its fists?
Semantic refinement can distract endlessly if veracity is really the object of the exercise. Recollections can roam chimera-like in distant locations where the light of today’s understanding is faint. Narrative truth is a complex matter even with the aid of varying perspectives. How to record in a convincing manner disturbing or contrarian points of view and not be accused of being a hateful bigot?

Memory: acts of the mind aligning imagination, exaggeration, and artifice. You grasp today what eluded you yesterday and call it truth, though in the process you certainly do fabricate, falsify, or lie absolutely.

As sunlight breaks out of the darkness above Mount Tzouhalem, I am reminded of mythical Orpheus emerging from the world of shades, lyre in hand, having ascended through Stygian tracks, where the past follows along at a distance and falls back into oblivion. And after the subterraneous gloom and the loss, the light, of course, the immense light. Orpheus reborn crossing the threshold, Orpheus on the rebound, striding along in contemporary dress and climbing the steps of a temple adorned with life-size friezes of voyage and discovery, and where Jason, his one-time captain, points to the horizon, while Medea looks on having dipped the proffered silver goblet into her Cauldron of Regeneration. Proceeding into the world of intimate connections and transient appearances, Orpheus contemplates, in the web of endless possibilities that his mind weaves, the meaning of finality. His exit is not pretty, but it is poetic, and it is memorable. The lyre he holds against his chest will contribute nightly to the music of the spheres.

Day one: check-in on the Iphigenia, a Boat & Bike home for thirty guests of diverse backgrounds on a one week excursion through Holland and Belgium. Personalities clash, conflicts arise.

Day seven: a body is found in canal waters at the stern of the boat. On the final morning a second body is discovered.

Who among the cyclists and crew is hateful and motivated enough to kill? Twice. How are the two murders related? Why two coins for the ferryman? Is the phoenix jug, both admired and derided, merely symbolic? How does the death mask of Agamemnon lead to resolution?

Determining truth entails travelling from Amsterdam to Bruges to Paris to the ancient site of Mycenae in Greece where what’s past is shown to be prologue.

About the AuthorReed Stirling lives in Cowichan Bay, BC, and writes when not painting landscapes, travelling, or taking coffee at The Drumroaster, a local café where physics and metaphysics clash daily. Before retiring and taking up writing novels, he taught English Literature. Several talented students of his have gone on to become successful award-winning writers.

He and his wife built a log home in the hills of southern Vancouver Island, and survived totally off the grid for twenty-five years during which time the rooms in that house filled up with books, thousands of student essays were graded, and innumerable cords of firewood were split.

Literary output:
Shades Of Persephone, published in 2019, is a literary mystery set in Greece.
Lighting The Lamp, a fictional memoir, was published in March 2020.
Set in Montreal, Séjour Saint-Louis (2021), dramatizes family conflicts.
The Palimpsest Murders, a European travel mystery, is forthcoming.
Shorter work has appeared over the years in a variety of publications including Dis(s)ent, Danforth Review, Fickle Muses, Fieldstone Review, and Humanist Perspectives.

Intrigue is of primary interest, with romantic entanglement an integral part of the action. Greek mythology plays a significant role in underpinning plots. Allusions to art, literature, philosophy, and religion serve a similar function. Reed sits down to write every day and tries to leave the desk having achieved at least a workable page. Frequently what comes of his effort amounts to no more than a serviceable paragraph, a single sentence, or a metaphor that might work in a context yet to be imagined.

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Mind Expressions by Alysha Potente – Exclusive Excerpt and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Alysha Potente will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

This poetry book has a total of over 130 poems, and most feature alongside: beautiful photography art. All of the poems are different from the next, in meaning and technique.

Analytical in nature, each poem dives into various topics. With this are also syllable counts, where the number of syllables per line are counted and arranged. This brings forward a technical side to poetry writing, where it is precise and balanced.

It is a skill that requires practice, where you hear the word for what it is, using mathematics while rhyming words together. All of the poetry features different rhyming forms.

Enjoy an Exclusive Excerpt

THESE MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURES..

In your mind you visualise..
Something you can’t see with your eyes..
Something that’s found in fable pages..
Something that is known throughout the ages..
All are in folklore features..
Named ‘Mythological creatures’..
What do we analyse for a start?..
Maybe their quite unusual body parts..

A half horse and a half man..
Named a ‘Centaur’ that’s in Roman..
He’s also in Greek mythology..
The ‘piercing bull’ in etymology..

With flying wings that breathes fire..
Named a ‘Dragon’ as an entire..
Making a mention in Fairy tales..
Usually with castle’s as the details..

A lion and an eagle..
Named a ‘Griffin’ that looks regal..
In myths of Roman and Egyptian..
Guarding treasures is in description..

With hooves and a single horn..
Named a ‘Unicorn’ since it’s born..
In European literature and art..
It’s a symbol of pure grace and of heart..

Just a few creatures mentioned..
Next time I’ll make the list lengthened..
For there are many popular that’s known..
All of which we have heard of since we’ve grown..

Syllables: 7, 8, 9, 10, 7, 8, 9, 10, 7, 8, 9, 10, 7, 8, 9, 10, 7, 8, 9, 10, 7, 8, 9, 10, 7, 8, 9, 10= patterns.. (7, 8, 9, 10 repeated).
Every two lines rhyme together.

About the Author: Alysha has been a self- taught creative writer, since the age of 16, in her hometown of Perth, Australia. Her passion for it developed on its own, the need to express herself in a different way other than verbally, was what motivated her to keep up this passion. The use of words was captivating for expression and the love of rhymes was also heard by ear.

Alysha’s first poetry book that she read was actually in Primary School and it was called ‘Revolting rhymes’, which was a retake on nursery rhymes but in a humorous way. This book started this creative side in her at a young age, that, and also her love for art in general.

In 2015 she studied a short course at Berklee, where she was introduced to the notion of syllable counts. In fact, though she had actually been doing syllable counts unconsciously with her poetry in general. By using the same measurement of lines going off of sight, had in turn created similar syllable counts/patterns in her work.

Her book ‘Mind Expressions’ is a technical side of poetry writing that’s come to life. It’s the use of mathematics, along with creative writing. She wanted to give the reader a breakdown of each poem within, in order for them to delve into each poem further and analyse it using a different set of eyes. The poems are analytical in nature, along with syllable counts (some perfect) and perfect rhymes. This really showcases poetry at the highest skill.

Alysha is multi-talented in Art itself and is also a perfectionist. For where her passion lies in different artforms, is where she crafts her skills to a perfection standpoint.

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The Museum of Failure: What Can We Learn From It? by Jillian Haslam

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $25 Amazon/BN.com gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

The Museum of Failure: What Can We Learn From it?

The Museum of Failure, as the name suggests, is a museum housing a collection of products and services that fell flat on their face as far as their success with the public goes.

Established in 2017 in Sweden, the concept was the brainchild of Samuel West, an organisational psychologist (not the actor) who was inspired by an even more bizarre concept during his visit to Zagreb, Croatia – the Museum of Broken Relationships.

The Museum of Failure drew international attention and its popularity has seen it make its way in different cities around the world as a pop-up museum.
It provides product flops with the 15 minutes of fame they never got to have in their heyday. The collection includes a fair share of items that were once billed the next big thing, a good deal of them a creation by some of the most recognisable brands in the world.

The Failed Inventions

Anyone remember Google Glass? If you are wondering why it has taken forever to officially be available to the public, well, that’s probably because it got shelved in the Museum of Failure.

Harley Davidson, one of the most iconic motorcycle brands in the world, never thought taking a different turn by launching the Harley Davidson Cologne would be a risk. After all, it’s a famous and well-respected brand so the potential for a company-branded perfume to be a hit among bikers and fans of the brand would be high, right? Wrong.

BiC, the disposable consumer product manufacturer best known for their ball pens and razors, came up with this idea to introduce pink and purple pens for women. They called it BiC for Her. The pen, which you can see on a famous episode on Ellen, proved a marketing faux pas that eventually saw it end up at, yup, the failed museum.

There was also the Rejuvenique Electric Facial Mask, a creepy looking mask that Monat promised would rejuvenate the face by shocking your face to stimulate the muscles. But this belonged more to the Museum of Horror than on dressing tables, so it is no surprise that it has since gone defunct.

There are a myriad items in the collection like these that became major flops. You can find them on the official website which continues to add to the collection with each epic fail.

Green Heinz ketchup, Colgate frozen lasagne, Crystal Pepsi (a clear soda), the BlaK coffee beverage by Coca-Cola, fat-free pringles…the list goes on.

Brilliant Idea

The whole idea behind the creation of the Museum of Failure, according to the website, was to provide insight into the ‘risky business of innovation’, noting that the crazier the idea the better.

Actually when you think about the museum concept, you can’t help but think it was a brilliant idea no matter how you choose to look at it.

The museum not only provides a great reference point for brand marketing and innovation departments, but the products themselves are a paragon of human creativity and ingenuity, their failure notwithstanding.

Some will call it madness. Others see it as creative art. Free thinking.

Whichever side of the divide you stand, one thing that we can all agree on is the fact that the human race has got to the point it is at today through hits and misses.

Never at any one point has it been a smooth curve on the graph. The peaks and troughs are but inevitable, no matter the field, each in all its variants. Science. Medicine. Engineering. Business. Technology. Yada yada yada.
It would be apt at this point to bring up Thomas Edison, but some choice words from Jules Verne, a historical French novelist, would ring true irrespective of field:

‘Science, my lad, is made up of mistakes, but they are mistakes which it is useful to make, because they lead little by little to the truth.’

Indeed. It is only through failure that we learn what works and what doesn’t. And that’s how creations get better.

Just the other day, Samsung, through the relentless quest to be the industry benchmark, released a ground-breaking phone aptly christened the Galaxy Fold. The futuristic smartphone has a design that allows you to fold it vertically through the middle.

But just before it was officially launched, the phone was first released to reviewers. And the feedback was anything but glowing. The phone was found to have embarrassing design quirks, leading to its recall. And back to the drawing board again the company went.

Lessons from the Museum of Failure

While it may seem like a depressing idea where the nostalgic go to hang out in melancholy at twilight, the Museum of Failure can actually teach us important lessons at a personal level.

For one, we learn that we cannot gain anything by not exploring our ideas. You need to be willing to take the plunge and get your ideas out there. It is only through trying that we know for sure if that million-dollar idea had potential or not.

What if the Harley Davidson perfume would have proved a major hit with the masses? Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

When we fail, it is not like all is lost. There is the knowledge that we gain through failing, as Thomas Edison would categorically tell you. We learn what works and what does not, and how we can make adjustments that help us achieve the success we desire, albeit on a more solid foundation.

Anyone who has failed at some point in life and gone on to rise from the ashes will tell you nothing can replace the lessons learned through failure. Just ask around. Failure allows us to look at things from a different prism, gaining an invaluable experience that we otherwise could miss.

It is painful, but at the same time it provides us with an opportunity to reflect, therefore gaining a deeper understanding of life. Experience is the best teacher, they say.

Failure also teaches us that there is always room for improvement. By confronting our mistakes head on, the insightful feedback we glean from them gives us, like Samsung, a platform through which we can go back to the drawing board and make improvements. Failure isn’t the final nail in the coffin for our ideas, goals or dreams.

As Roy T. Bennett says: ‘Failure is a bend in the road, not the end of the road. Learn from failure and keep moving forward.’

In truth, though, this would not be possible without a positive mindset. It is in our nature to beat ourselves up when we make mistakes. But learn to view them as a lesson and things are bound to change for the better.

As well, owning up to our mistakes is never a bad thing. That’s the only way we can improve. Sometimes, we may clutch on straws when we fail, and come up with all sorts of excuses.

But by acknowledging our mistakes and looking at the situation from a glass-half-full perspective, the insightful feedback helps us highlight the faults in neon yellow, setting us up for success in future.

This too, requires that positive attitude.

Life Goes On

Let’s face it, failure is a tough pill to swallow. It can knock the wind right out of your sails, especially if it is something you really, really yearned for. You feel like the world is crumbling around you. You can’t even fathom how you’ll get past this.

But look, there is always a lesson or two to be learned from these situations that leave you on the floor. And it is up to you to glean what you can from them.

The world does not stop turning if things don’t work out the way you imagined them.

Sometimes, it can be hard to pick ourselves up, true, but at one point or another, we really need to. It is only to our detriment if we keep fixated on the failure.

You might need some time out to recollect yourself. But don’t forget that at the end of the day, life moves on. And so should you.

A Special Note from the Author

“Embrace Adversity, Unleash Greatness!



Once upon a time, in the heart of adversity, there lived a young girl named Jillian Haslam. Born into abject poverty in the city of Kolkata, her life seemed destined for despair. But little did the world know that within those hardships lay the seeds of greatness and resilience.


Jillian’s childhood was filled with struggles, facing hunger, homelessness, and the harsh realities of poverty. However, amidst the gloom, she discovered a glimmer of hope – education. Determined to change her fate, Jillian pursued knowledge with fervor, knowing that education was her ticket to a better life.


Through sheer determination and hard work, Jillian excelled in her studies. She didn’t let her circumstances define her, but instead, she let them fuel her dreams. Every challenge she faced became a stepping stone towards her ultimate goal – to break free from the shackles of poverty and create a life of abundance.


As the years passed, Jillian’s unwavering spirit caught the attention of a kind soul who offered her a chance to work for a prestigious organization. This opportunity opened doors she could only dream of before. With dedication and passion, Jillian climbed the ladder of success, proving that her past could not hold her back.


But Jillian’s journey didn’t stop there. Instead of forgetting her roots, she embraced her past and used it as a powerful tool to drive change. She founded initiatives to help underprivileged children like herself, providing them with the gift of education and hope.


Today, Jillian stands tall as a beacon of inspiration and a symbol of turning adversity into golden opportunities. Her voice echoes through her book, “A Voice Out of Poverty,” touching countless hearts and motivating others to rise above their circumstances.


In the face of challenges, lies the key to your transformation. Embrace your struggles, for they hold the power to unlock your true potential. Rise above adversity and let your resilience shine, turning every experience into a golden opportunity for growth and success!


#EmbraceTheJourney #UnleashYourPotential #TurningStrugglesIntoTriumphs #Adversity

A woman’s ascent from devastating poverty and childhood trauma to international standing as a prominent advocate for the poor and helpless.

As a young girl, Jillian Haslam saved a life. Herself tiny and aching from malnutrition, she stood for hours at a tea shop, begging for a ladle of milk to try and prevent her newborn sister from dying of starvation.

From the slums of Calcutta to the executive floors of a global bank, A Voice out of Poverty offers an unflinching look at one woman’s journey from destitution to success.

Throughout, Haslam demonstrates an inexhaustible drive to rise above adversity and find beacons of positivity in impossible circumstances. But her rise doesn’t stop at the top; she returns to her roots again and again to extend a hand to those left in the impoverished communities that she so narrowly escaped.

British by ancestry and born in India after its independence, Haslam and her family suffered degradation and prejudice. They were forced to live on the streets, flee danger in the middle of the night, and face persistent abuse and starvation.

This treacherous environment is the backdrop of an unlikely story of resilience and an unshakable family bond. From squalor and powerlessness, Haslam finds countless moments of grace, community, gratitude, and love.

A Voice out of Poverty is a raw and inspiring memoir that shows how beauty can be found in improbable places, and how “success” is not just the act of making it through. Rather, it is the act of reaching back to bring others with you.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“Oh, come on now Jillu, it’s not that bad!” she said. The brusque tone harkened to how she’d counsel us not to yield to emotion. My mother relentlessly stressed that life could always have been harder. Never make a fuss. Be grateful for what you have, however paltry. Things can be worse.

I wasn’t appeased, and my mother could tell.

“We can get it cleaned up when we get back,” she added, wiping tears from my cheeks with a single thumb. Her other hand was trapped inside the hand of my younger sister, four-year-old Vanessa, who held on as if worried she’d fly away like a released balloon if she let go.

“Anyway, we’re leaving in a few days, and where we’re going is better.” More parental reassurance about greener pastures.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“To Mrs. Brown’s. She’s letting us sleep on the floor in her room for a while. It will be crowded but all of us will be together again.”

“You mean Daddy and Donna can go there too?” I asked, my mood brightening. I saw a ghost of a smile emerging on Vanessa’s face as she took it all in. We often lived apart as a family because of our circumstances.

“Yes, but we can only stay for a few weeks, and then we must find somewhere else again. But don’t worry, you know Daddy and I always find us something.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding.

We resumed shuffling down the streets, navigating mass congestion. I turned my head for a long look back at the old woman and her dogs. I felt a surge of empathy for her, alone in wet and dirty clothes, facing each day with the promise of nothing. Soon we’d have a roof over our heads in a family home while she’d continue to fend for herself in the unsympathetic and unforgiving slum streets. She’d continue to get wet and dirty. She’d continue to try to survive each day with no family to love and care for her; I felt grateful for what I had and prayed that someday she might have the same. As those thoughts flooded me, she gingerly placed sheets of old newspaper on the wet ground to sit on.

The rain fell a little harder.


About the Author:

Jillian Haslam is a remarkable individual with expertise in speaking on adversity and Resilience

With a distinguished 23-year career in banking, she brings a wealth of industry knowledge to her engagements. As an acclaimed author, her books A Voice Out of Poverty and 9 Steps to Overcome Adversity-A Handbook for Life have garnered critical acclaim including the prestigious Kirkus Star Review! Her extraordinary journey has earned her accolades, including the prestigious Mother Teresa Memorial International Award for her humanitarian contributions.

Jillian’s unique perspective and powerful storytelling have made her a sought-after speaker on the topics of adversity and resilience. She has inspired audiences around the world with her transformative message, helping individuals and organizations overcome challenges and achieve remarkable results. Her insights have been featured in major media outlets, including The Times, The Telegraph, The BBC, and The Week. Through her speaking engagements, Jillian empowers individuals and teams to harness the power of resilience, navigate adversity, and unlock their full potential. Her profound impact continues to resonate with audiences from various backgrounds, fostering a culture of strength, growth, and success.

Jillian Haslam’s expertise as a speaker on adversity and resilience, coupled with her extensive banking experience, has made her a trusted voice in the field. Her ability to inspire and guide others through their own journeys of overcoming obstacles sets her apart, making her a valuable asset to any event or organization seeking to cultivate resilience and achieve exceptional success.

Jillian currently lives in London with her husband.

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My Book Cover and How It Came About by Ann Hajdu Hultberg – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Ann Hajdu Hultberg will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

My Book Cover and How It Came About

The premise of my book is what it’s like to be the daughter of an immigrant, one who escaped during the Hungarian Uprising of 1956. Because the focus is on my dad and his escape, I wanted the map of Budapest, his birthplace, in the background. And because of the title, Something to Hold On To, I wanted to include some of the physical things we hold on to as related in my stories found in the first chapter of the book—The things We Touch.

The prayer card is the main focus of the three objects on the cover. In my story about Dad’s escape, titled the same as the book title, that prayer card is the one my dad carried with him as he escaped from communism into Austria. It symbolizes the faith he had as he confronted the communists, which could have resulted in him being captured or killed. He carried the card as he crossed the Atlantic Ocean to freedom in the United States. His group of refuges was sent from New Jersey to Buffalo and eventually to Pennsylvania where he settled and acclimated into the American way of life, fulfilling the American Dream. He kept that card with him always. After Dad died, I became the possessor of this card, which I carry with me to church each Christmas Eve as a reminder of his bravery and fortitude and faith as he was smuggled out of his country, never to return.

The second item showcased on the cover is a rosary bead. This is the center of a story, “The Promise,” I wrote about my mom when she was dying of a very rare blood cancer. My mom was a good Catholic and always prayed her rosary and novenas. It is said that those who devout themselves to the Blessed Mother and rosary will have an easy death. But hers was anything but. I question the promise made to those who devote themselves to daily rosary meditations. Her death was long and painful. Why?

And finally the last object on the cover is a twist tie, such as one that is found securing a loaf of bread. This symbolizes a life style my mother –in-law knew before she was diagnosed with dementia and Alzheimer disease. In my story, “What Gave Her Comfort,” I describe how she was a neat and tidy housekeeper and saved these twist ties to perform different jobs: holding together cords; rewrapping food into saved plastic bags; holding together loose shoe strings. As her disease progressed, and her new home now the nursing home, these twist ties took on new functions and were used as tooth picks, a substitute for a wedding ring, and hair pins. What once was was elusive to her now and this tangible object in her mind had new purposes. But it hopefully reminded her of a life she once knew.

A local graphic artist designed my cover. We went through probably 5 drafts until he designed exactly what I had envisioned. I hope you enjoy the book and can relate some of the stories to your own lives.

In life we hold on to our faith, family, friends, our sense of humor, our memories, and our promises. As a child, it might be a make-believe world. Sometimes it’s something physical like a prayer card or a twist tie, a school bag or a rosary bead. Maybe it’s a photo. Everything we hold dear brings us hope and comfort during both good and bad times.

I write what I and others have held on to; I recount my experiences as a late Baby Boomer raised in rural Pennsylvania, and most importantly, by a Hungarian father, an immigrant, who escaped the Soviet Invasion in 1956.

I hope that you the reader will connect to some of the stories and the things we hold on to.

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from “Mom’s Girdle”

Mom was always losing or fighting with her 18-hour Playtex girdle. It seemed as if this contraption had a mind of its own, wanting to be seen, calling attention to itself, almost like a neon light flashing from a bar window. The trampoline like material sucked in all the fat so clothes appeared smooth and seamless without the ripples of excess pounds. From waist to upper knee, this apparatus was popular with my mom in the 60s and 70s. Her belly was flattened and thighs were made to look slimmer, something she said she needed after birthing four kids. These ghost white undergarments were a staple in mom’s underwear drawer.

The first time Mom lost a hold of her girdle was when she was out shopping, and the elastic, which had been shriveling on the waist band, probably from its years of wear, let loose. Like a broken rubber band snapping off a pony tail, the entire garment fell to her knees. Though in public, with many eyes upon her, mom simply shimmied the girdle down to her ankles, like a girl slinking down a fashion show runway; she peeled it off her ankles, and with a kick, tossed the girdle in the air like a spinning pizza crust. She grabbed at it and stuffed the undergarment in her purse as carefree as she would a wad of Kleenex. She continued on with her shopping.

About the Author Ann Hajdu Hultberg, born in Buffalo, New York, grew up in rural Bradford, Pennsylvania. A graduate of Indiana University of Pennsylvania and St. Bonaventure University, Ann spent 34 years teaching English at Limestone, NY, and Allegany, NY, School Districts; she was also an adjunct college composition instructor and student teacher supervisor at University of Pittsburgh at Bradford for 15 years. She and her husband split their time between Bradford and Naples, Florida, and visiting with their daughter and son-in-law. Something To Hold On To is her debut book.

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Elvia and the Gift of Passion by Ruthy Ballard – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Adventurous ten-year-old Elvia is sick of her dull-as-dishwater existence, suffocating under the stifling watch her overprotective parents. She longs for a different life, with more freedom and fun. But she gets more than she bargains for when she discovers an alarming family secret and is swept away on an adventure 64,000 light years from Earth. Tanzanian witch doctors, child-eating lions, and submarine exploration on a two-mooned planet enliven this science fiction fantasy adventure, the third in Ballard’s award-winning Tales by Moons-light series.

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It was on an otherwise ordinary Friday afternoon in summer, two weeks after her tenth birthday, that Elvia learned, with a thrill, that she was someone else.

Her mother’s carefully tended sunflowers— precisely pruned to four feet, and not a centimeter taller— peeked through the sunny western windows as Elvia eagerly sorted through the stack of mail that had just arrived. Her father’s work papers, organized in neat rows, sat on a desk in a far corner, a symbol of the carefully orchestrated life her parents liked to live. In Elvia’s dull-as-dishwater home, every day was the same—safe and predictable. There were rules: She could study the violin, but not play soccer. She could take a June class in jewelry-making, but not join her friends at Copper Creek Camp, where all the fun was. She could walk around town, but not ride a bike. She didn’t even have a bike! For a child who longed to roam the world, and maybe live on Mars one day, the list of forbidden pleasures was suffocating. There was only one way out of her dilemma, and, as she pawed through the letters, she hoped against hope that she’d find it.

The slender envelope, addressed to her, and her alone, was at the very bottom of the heap. Her hands trembled with excitement as she tore it open, sure it would explain why she had fiery red hair, while her parents both had mousy brown. It would expose how an adventuresome girl like her got saddled with parents who always hugged the safe shore, rarely taking her any further than the local Shop ’n Save for a “great deal” on paper towels.

The letter was from Quick Results, a DNA testing company operating out of somewhere in Kansas. A few weeks back, when she’d seen an ad online, she’d leapt at the chance. For just sixty dollars—her monthly allowance—she’d get confirmation of the truth that, to her, was obvious: She’d been switched at birth. Or perhaps she’d been kidnapped from her cradle and sold to Earl and Sally Hill, her parents, who were desperate for a baby after losing her older sister, Jane, to cancer, many years before. She didn’t ask herself why her orderly, rule-abiding father and mother would swing a heartless deal on the black market. Logic played no role in Elvia’s daydreams. It was the sense of adventure they brought her that mattered: the sweet promise that someone, somewhere, would rescue her from a life of crushing boredom.

About the Author:Children’s book author Dr. Ruth (Ruthy) Ballard is a scientist by trade who never thought she’d be one. Intimidated by science as a kid, she almost gave up on pursuing it as a career though she found it fascinating. Fortunately, a mentor stepped in and showed her the way. Now, she’s passionate about doing the same for the next generation of science shy, but creative, smart and capable kids. Her award-winning science fantasy adventures lure children in with compelling characters and entertaining, twisty plots that incorporate science in fun, accessible ways.

When Ruthy isn’t writing, she is “Dr. Ruth Ballard,” a forensic DNA consultant and a professor at Sacramento State, where she runs a forensic biology research and training program while consulting with attorneys across the country on criminal cases involving DNA evidence. She’s also a folk artist who loves to draw, illustrates her own books, and enjoys hiking and camping with her husband and their four dogs near their home on the Oregon coast.

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My Ideal Writing Space by Barb Jones – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will award a $15 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner and a signed copy of the book to another randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour. Please note that this book is being made into a movie. Filming begins in May 2023.

My Ideal Writing Space

I believe for an author, the ideal writing space should be a space where they can truly be free and creative. I have heard many authors say how much they need peace and quiet, while others may need a room free of distractions. As for me, I can’t write in those settings. I will write anywhere a thought comes to mind – the grocery store, the gym, at home, on a date, you name it.

But what is my ideal writing space? As I write this, I am actually chuckling about all the places where I am most comfortable writing. My ideal space is where I can blast my music loud (without scaring my cat) and with chocolate! With hard rock, I can pump out a lot of chapters in one sitting without needing a break. If I need to take a break, I simply walk over to my indoor gym and lift weights before going back to writing. Some have called me an undisciplined writer because of my ideal environment but the music and being able to lift weights in between several chapters at a time, allows my creativity to flourish.

I’ve wondered about my ideal writing space at times. By talking to friends and of course to my mom (I’m very close to her) about this, I learned that my brain just doesn’t shut off. When I heard that, I realized how true it was. My ideal space for studying for school was always where the loud noises were in the house or where I could do pushups, or anything physical. When I became a homeowner years ago, I always had to make sure I had a place for working out and letting my neighbors know that there will always be loud music because I am just that kind of writer. And it’s where my creativity soars into places imaginable and where I can create characters my readers can relate to.

Birthright. Protector. Heaven. Hell.

A lone demon hunter, his true birthright unknown, roams the streets of Los Angeles while killing demons to prevent atrocities against the world. As the son of Asmodeus, Sully is a hunter feared by both demons and angels. His world was not the same once he walked into a bar and offered to help Mick, a gothic bartender.

Mick worried about her missing friend until the day she met Sully. The minute he walked into her bar and offered his help, her world changed. Secrets of her destiny unlocked, and he was at her side everywhere she turned. Friend. Protector.

Can they live with the secrets that are revealed to them? Will they survive the chase for the truth between Heaven and Hell?

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“Demon hunter.”

“Prick,” was all John had to say before the demon made the first strike.

As the demon punched John in the side of his face, he shook off the initial shock. Tasting a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth, John cocked his head to the left and then to the right while flexing his neck muscles. Before the demon could land a second blow, John pulled out his blade. The blade was black, cut uniquely, and the hilt bore symbols that were not known to many outside the inner circle of Hell. As he angled the blade to hit the light a bit more, the demon’s eyes grew narrow.

John realized the demon was more afraid of the blade than him. He used that fear against the demon. He waved the blade, taunting his enemy. Tossing the blade from hand-to-hand excited John before the kill while he watched the demon’s fear grow.

“You smell of Asteroth. What does he want with me? Do you like my toy? Want to play with it, prick?”

“Too many questions, hunter. Asteroth wants your head; then again, don’t we all?” The demon snickered while shifting in his stance. “This body, do you like it, hunter? I thought it would be capable of killing you. This body is strong, hunter. Strong enough to kill you.” The demon shifted in the body he possessed and then went to move closer to John.

About the AuthorBarb Jones is an author of paranormal romance and horror for adults, including her best selling series Blood Prophecy and her newest series, Heaven and Hell. She was born and raised in Hawaii, where her love for the supernatural began. When not writing, she is not only an IT professional but a mother of two highly gifted young adults, who are her inspiration. She can be found haunting bookstores, enjoying ghost tours, traveling, chatting with her readers, and baking. You can chat with Barb on Instagram at @thebloodprophecy or check out her website at www.thebloodprophecy.com.

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Borderlands by LJ Ross


Borderlands by LJ Ross
Publisher: Dark Skies Publishing
Genre: Contemporary, Mystery/Suspense/Thriller
Rating: 3 stars
Reviewed by Fern

When the gods made man, they made a weapon…

After uncovering a fresh wave of corruption within the ranks of Northumbria CID, Detective Chief Inspector Ryan was looking forward to an uneventful summer. But, when a young woman is shot dead on the remote army ranges of the Northumberland National Park, Ryan is called in to investigate.

Meanwhile, violent crimes are being committed across sites of historic importance in the North East, the perpetrator leaving only a graffitied symbol as their calling card. As the body count rises, Ryan and his team must unravel the mystery behind its meaning – before it’s too late…

Murder and mystery are peppered with romance and humour in this fast-paced crime whodunnit set amidst the spectacular Northumbrian landscape.

DCI Ryan is called out to a tragic accident in the remote army ranges inside the Northumberland National Park. A woman has been shot during the night-time training sessions and they need to work out who she is and how she came to be so far out in the countryside. Meanwhile Jack and the newly promoted Mel remain back in town struggling to discover the group responsible for a series of arson attacks that appear to be motivated only to stir up hatred and fear. Can they solve both these cases before more people are killed?

I found this to be an interesting and well-paced mystery story. While there are two separate main plotlines running, I felt the author did a good job handling them equally and not letting one of the other take over too much of the story. I was also pleased we got a little bit more insight and movement in Ryan and Anna’s personal relationship which I felt was well-needed after the last few books where the plot – and Frank and Denise’s relationship – has taken more of the front seat.

Readers who haven’t read any of the previous book in this series should still be able to enjoy the two main murder plotlines. I feel they might struggle a little more with all the history and friendship between the main characters – as that has been well established over the last 14 books and so there’s that ease and familiarity that exists between them. That said, the plot and mystery is very well explained and unique to this book – so there’s no prior history needed for that. But readers might not have quite the emotional attachment to the characters if this is the first book they’re trying in this series.

Readers looking for an enjoyable British police procedural style of mystery novel should find this hits the spot. While there’s not a super fast plotline – more of a ‘who done it’ type of mystery and not an action or thriller with a fast pace – this is a solid story and I found it enjoyable.

Skull’s Vengeance by Linnea Tanner – Q&A + Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

If you could apologize to someone in your past, who would it be?

There is no one in my past whom I feel the need to apologize. However, I regret that I did not tell my daughter-in-law how much I loved her until she was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Life is precious and we should often tell cherished family members and friends how much we love them.

If you could keep a mythical/ paranormal creature as a pet, what would you have?

Dragons.

How do you keep your writing different from all the others that write in this particular genre?

Every story has a unique perspectives, characters, and plot lines that make them distinct. I don’t consciously consider what makes my stories different from others. I write from the heart. Readers have described my novels as evocative with unexpected twists. A review from Reader’s Favorite describes Skull’s Vengeance as follows: The plot rockets off at a fantastic pace that amps up the tension at every turn, making for a surprisingly quick read filled with passion, bloodshed, and some very cinematic and exciting dark magic to top it all off.

What are the best and worst pieces of writing advice you ever received?

The best piece of writing advice I’ve received is how to firmly place a scene in a character’s point of view instead of head-hopping from one character to another, which can confuse readers. The worst piece of advice is when someone insists that you strictly avoid adverbs, complex words and sentences, descriptions, and semicolons. As long as the prose does not distract from the story, a writer should use all tools of writing that enhance the story.

Are the experiences in this book based on someone you know, or events in your own life?

Whenever I visited London, I was intrigued with the statue of the ancient warrior queen, Boudicca, and her daughters in a horse-drawn chariot. The Roman historian Cassius Dio described her as being, “in appearance most terrifying, in the glance of her eye most fierce, and her voice was harsh: a great mass of the tawniest hair fell to her hips; around her neck was a large golden necklace.” She symbolizes how a single woman can unite divisive factions to rise up against tyranny and seek their freedom.

Statue of Boudicca and her two daughters in a chariot

My primary character, Catrin, is inspired by the legend of Boudicca and her Celtic world, which later inspired Arthurian legend. The characterization is based on the complex archetypes of ancient Celtic goddesses whose functions embrace the entire religious spectrum from healing to warfare, from creation to destruction, and from birth. Catrin is intended to be an inspiration to modern-day women who are seeking to find their place in society.

The legacy of Marcus Antonius (Mark Antony) and his tragic downfall with Cleopatra inspired the primary male character, Marcellus Antonius. Mark Antony’s son (Iullus Antonius) suffered a similar fate as his father. He fell on his sword in disgrace for his scandalous affair with Augustus Caesar’s only daughter, Julia. Little is known about Iullus’s son, Lucius, except that he was exiled to Gaul as a young man, most likely as a condition to escape his father’s fate.

Bust of Mark Antony

During the time period in my series, the Antonius family legacy was cursed by the act of damnatio memoriae (condemnation of memory) that erased public records of Mark Antony and Iullus Antonius. A burning question that I wanted to answer in Skull’s Vengeance is how the tragic family legacy would impact Lucius Antonius. How would he react if his son, Marcellus, went down the same fateful path as his forefathers?

A Celtic warrior queen must do the impossible—defeat her sorcerer half-brother and claim the throne. But to do so, she must learn how to strike vengeance from her father’s skull.

AS FORETOLD BY HER FATHER in a vision, Catrin has become a battle-hardened warrior after her trials in the Roman legion and gladiatorial games. She must return to Britannia and pull the cursed dagger out of the serpent's stone to fulfill her destiny. Only then can she unleash the vengeance from the ancient druids to destroy her evil half-brother, the powerful sorcerer, King Marrock. Always two steps ahead and seemingly unstoppable, Marrock can summon destructive natural forces to crush any rival trying to stop him and has charged his deadliest assassin to bring back Catrin's head.

To have the slightest chance of beating Marrock, Catrin must forge alliances with former enemies, but she needs someone she can trust. Her only option is to seek military aid from Marcellus—her secret Roman husband. They rekindle their burning passion, but he is playing a deadly game in the political firestorm of the Julio-Claudian dynasty to support Catrin's cause.

Ultimately, in order to defeat Marrock, Catrin must align herself with a dark druidess and learn how to summon forces from skulls to exact vengeance. But can she and Marcellus outmaneuver political enemies from Rome and Britannia in their quest to vanquish Marrock?

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PROLOGUE

White Cliffs in Southeast Britannia,
Eve of Samhain, 31 October, 26 AD

Three human skulls hung over King Marrock’s stallion, dangling from a rope like ornaments. Feeling as invincible as a god, he rode to the precipice of the sheer cliffs and listened to the roar of the waves crashing below. Yet, the raven soaring overhead chilled him to the bone—an omen he was but mortal and could plunge to his death.

He embraced the warmth of Boudicca, his younger half sister, who sat astride his horse in front of him. A toddler full of mirth, she was a healer who could connect to the souls of the dead.

Whereas their mother accused him, also known as Blood Wolf, of being a soulless murderer.

On this eve of Samhain, Marrock knew the souls of the dead freely roamed among the living. He spotted his deadliest assassin, Gawain, searching for the wraith on the emerald hilltop. Gawain had a blue, triangular tattoo of a dagger’s blade on his forehead and deadly weapons underneath his black cloak—the royal insignia of the red dragon stitched to the front panel.

For Marrock, the Otherworldly dragon, with its leathery wings and fiery breath, symbolized perpetual power. It was said that where dragons trod, mystic energy flowed. The untamed beast guarded the portal into the Otherworld.

He yearned for the dragon’s mystic power—the power to summon forces from the earth’s molten underbelly to immolate his rivals.

Gawain pointed to a pile of rocks. “The sheepherder saw the wraith over there,” he said in his deep, gravelly voice.

Marrock handed Boudicca to him and then dismounted, pulling the rope of skulls off his horse and draping it over his shoulders. His family’s skulls served as a warning to anyone who threatened his sovereignty.

Until now, he had only been able to summon the deadly powers from the skulls of his stepmother and bastard sister; their souls were encased in the bone crowns. The soul of his father, King Amren, still eluded Marrock, even after he had sliced off his father’s head. If his father’s soul was indeed wandering the hilltop, he would imprison it in the largest empty skull he had.

Then, he would be able to unleash the collective forces from all three souls.

Glancing all around, he could not see his father’s ghostly figure in the thickening fog. Boudicca’s gleeful giggle roused his attention. He watched her waddle toward a mound of stones and place her tiny hands on the stacked rocks.

“Pa. Pa. Am,” she squealed with delight.

Marrock cast a glance at Gawain. “Did the sheepherder see the wraith disappear into those rocks?”

Gawain nodded. “Indeed, I believe so.”

Marrock transferred the roped skulls from his shoulders to the grassy ground and looked at Gawain. “Help me remove the rocks so I can see what is underneath.”

Gawain joined Marrock in the task of removing the white stones one by one. They inspected each rock for any defect before setting it aside.

Boudicca, mimicking the men, picked up flint pebbles and dropped them on the chalky ground.

After a while, they uncovered the gemstone handle of a dagger; its blade was embedded in a coil-shaped serpent stone. Marrock recognized the jewel-studded dagger as once belonging to his father. Intrigued, he gripped the handle with both hands and strained to pull it out, his muscles aching and his face dripping with sweat from the effort.

Suddenly, to his shock, the hilt turned sizzling hot. He jerked his hands away and inspected the blisters that had formed on his reddened palms. Hearing Boudicca’s gleeful babble, he looked down just as she gripped the dagger’s handle.

“Pa. Pa. Am,” she trilled.

To Marrock’s surprise, Boudicca’s hands did not burn.

A prickling sensation noosed around his neck as he recalled the original curse cast by his mother just before his father had executed her.

The gods demand that the scales be balanced for the life you take. If you deny my soul’s journey to the Otherworld by beheading me, I curse you to the same fate as mine. I prophesy your future queen will beget a daughter who will rise as a raven and join your son, Blood Wolf, and a mighty empire will overtake your kingdom and execute my curse.

King Amren had etched the words of the curse on the dagger’s blade using the Roman alphabet with the belief he could thwart the dark prophecy.

Marrock shuddered.

Does my father’s soul live in the dagger? Has he come back to exact vengeance on me?

About the Author Award-winning author, Linnea Tanner, weaves Celtic tales of love, magical adventure, and political intrigue in Ancient Rome and Britannia. Since childhood, she has passionately read about ancient civilizations and mythology. Of particular interest are the enigmatic Celts, who were reputed as fierce warriors and mystical Druids.

Linnea has extensively researched ancient and medieval history, mythology, and archaeology and has traveled to sites described within each of her books in the Curse of Clansmen and Kings series. Books released in her series include “Apollo’s Raven” (Book 1), “Dagger’s Destiny” (Book 2), “Amulet’s Rapture” (Book 3), and “Skull’s Vengeance” (Book 4). She has also released the historical fiction short story, “Two Faces of Janus.”

A Colorado native, Linnea attended the University of Colorado and earned both her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in chemistry. She lives in Fort Collins with her husband and has two children and six grandchildren.

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