Month: February 2018

The Haunting of Dove Cote House by Rachel Jordan

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Paranormal
Date Published: 16th February 2018
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Following the death of her father Cat Fletcher returns to the family home where she lived until she was 18.
But Cat’s memories of the past are blurry, despite dreaming regularly about Dove Cote House.
And her home coming is far from perfect, when in the true meaning of the expression, the past comes back to haunt you, does just that.
 Excerpt
“Can you tell me about the house’s history?”
Cat shook her head. “Very little I’m afraid. Only how it got its name and its reputation for being haunted.
It’s something Rob and I had talked about researching.
My parents never got round to doing it for fear of what others would say or think. They felt that it was easier to just let it go.
I had hoped to do it tomorrow, but with my husband arriving it doesn’t seem feasible now.”
“You know Cat it might be better to go to Winford Library”, Rob said.
“They have fantastic research facilities now and there is always the Museum too.”
“Well perhaps we can do that on Saturday,” James said, before adding “It’s something any number of us can do as many hands make light work. But if we can’t all go it doesn’t matter.”
Cat let out a deep sigh. “I’ll be honest I don’t know how Phil is going to react to this. Although he was good enough to tell me about the potential story, and he got suspended because of his actions. Don’t worry I’ll be there on Saturday no matter what. This is my house, where all these things have and still are happening, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it once and for all.”
“That’s the spirit if you’ll forgive my pun. Now one other thing that crossed my mind,” James said. “I’m assuming that once you have completed the research you’ll then start investigating and dealing with the spirit yourself. “
Cat nodded.
“You have some fantastic items to help you with that Cat.”
“Thanks, but it’s all down to Rob. Without his help I wouldn’t have known where to start.”
“Which reminds me,” Rob said. “Any problems if I bring my equipment over, and store it with yours?”
“None what so ever, and if you want to leave it here permanently feel free to do so.”
“Well in that case I’ll go and get it tomorrow. Fancy coming with me James? You can meet my folks.”
Cat grinned to herself as it was obvious neither man felt comfortable being around when Phil arrived.
“Good idea. I’d like to meet them very much.”
“Have you ever done a paranormal investigation like this before? “
“Yes, in fact I have on more than one occasion. I’ve been called in by investigators just in case they were dealing with something demonic.
The Church never approved when I did. I guess that all went against me in the end, but I stand by what I did and always will.
Now back to what I wanted to ask you.
Are we only dealing with the woman here, or is it both spirits? If you are happy to let the child continue residing here you can do so.”
“She’s never caused any trouble, and I guess she has become part of my life. I’m more than happy to let her stay.”
The words had hardly left Cat’s mouth, when every door in the house started opening and slamming uncontrollably.
“Okay,” Cat said loudly. “I don’t think that’s the answer I was meant to give.”
As the doors kept opening and closing, Cat, Rob and James looked on in horror as the table was dragged across the room, but more frighteningly as Cat’s books flew off the shelves and were flung at them by unseen hands. Then the curtains were pulled from their rails and cushions thrown about.
The unending banging of the doors had begun to make the house vibrate and Rob felt as if he was going to develop a violent headache because of the noise.
“For God’s sake stop this at once,” James’ clear voice shouted out.
The front door suddenly opened with a heavy thud: the bolts and locks ripped to pieces.
“Stop it please,” Cat screamed. “In the name of God just stop it.”
All activity in the house suddenly stopped as quickly as it had begun, and to Cat it felt as if she would hear a pin drop any moment it had gone so quiet.
Her eyes opened wide as she saw a dark form looming in the doorway, which slowly turned into the woman.
“Oh this isn’t good.”
James and Rob turned to look at Cat and then followed her gaze.
The spirit, which neither had seen until that moment, was drawing closer to them by the second.
The woman stood in front of James. “Get out of this house, you vile exorcist.”
The next second she was in front of Rob. Her movement that quick no one had seen it. “I’ll warn you a second time. You are to leave.”
Cat stood up tall as the spirit moved in front of her. She was staring at Cat intently, and for a moment, Cat was afraid her legs were going to give out under her. Instead she pulled herself together and stared back at the woman.
“Anything you want to say to me? Or is it only my friend’s you feel like threatening today?”
The woman raised one of her hands in Cat’s direction. “You are the biggest traitor of them all. You openly plan to get rid of me. How could you do that? How can you treat your mother this way?”
She pushed her hand towards Cat, and to everyone’s shock Cat was thrown backward violently, her head narrowly missing hitting against the window ledge.
With a high pitch shriek the spirit disappeared.
Rob and James ran to Cat to help her.
“I’m all right. Nothing feels broken and I’m lucky I didn’t bang my head.”
As she stood with the support of the others, Cat saw Phil standing in the doorway, shock registered on his face.
“Cat, in God’s name what just happened? This place looks like a bomb’s hit it!”
About the Author
Hi there. My name is Rachel Jordan
Two things I have loved from the time I was small are the paranormal and writing.
I like nothing more then curling up with a ghost story that keeps you wondering what will happen next. Or failing that watching one of my favorite paranormal films.
I did some freelance journalism many years ago, but I adore sitting down and writing stories.
Is it any wonder that I have decided to combine the two things I love the most?
“The Haunting of Dove Cote House”, is my debut novel
I live in the United Kingdom.
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Nadia’s Heart a #YAFantasy #YAHorror by WENDY ALTSHULER

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YA Fantasy, Horror
Date Published: 11/11/2017
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In Nadia’s Heart, Part One, amnesiac Nadia knew that something was wrong, so she went in search of her missing heart. What she encountered has only brought more questions: about her origins and her ties to the people of the Land of Silence. She learned that her heart was indeed removed, and that her memory was erased by an evil Voice. But why?
Now Nadia and her glowing-eyed companion, Georgeonus, must help recover the stolen hearts of the children of the Land of Silence. In Part Two, they will do battle against the evil Voice and travel to frightening places. They receive help from a powerful Witch and Wizard, and Nadia gets her heart back—but it’s not at all what she expected. Can they rescue the stolen children’s hearts in time?
Excerpts
From Chapter VII: The Nether Regions:
“Mabel,” said Nadia, “how did you get down here? Did Georgeonus and Holofernes make it? Are they okay?”
Mabel smiled patiently, helping Nadia to step away from the table.
“Oh, I suspect they’re fine now” was her reply.
“But—”
“Come,” she said, turning. She pulled her wand from her pocket, pointed it at the cloth, and the wrap sewed itself into pants and a belted tunic.
“But—”
“We cannot linger here,” Mabel warned, turning to walk briskly.
Nadia caught up to her. “Aren’t we in the canyon?”
“No, Nadia.”
“Then where are we?”
“We are in the Otherworld. We mustn’t linger!”
Nadia did not press the matter, but followed Mabel closely, striving to keep up. She had the feeling that they were neither in the underworld nor in a canyon. She remembered the ice castle constructed by the Voice. It seemed so long ago now. In that castle, when her thoughts perceived that perhaps it was not there at all, it would come into and out of view, disappearing before her. It was the same with this canyon. This time, she perceived her own illusion. When it faded, all she could see was light.
“Take my hand, Nadia!” said Mabel urgently, in a tone which alarmed her, and in a moment Nadia’s hand found Mabel’s, which clutched hers back. Mabel’s other hand came around Nadia’s waist and drew her close, and suddenly they were being sucked through some type of funnel. It was not comfortable; it felt dangerous, and there was great pressure all around penetrating Nadia’s cells.
From Chapter IV: The Silver Witch:
They remembered that her visit had been preceded by a magick dust.
The dust came from above, the air tingled, and miniscule, silver particles glistened as they fell. It was musical, and as they breathed, they smelled fresh air like new spring, and they felt an excitement of imminent magick. She appeared suddenly, and at first no one knew where she had come from or how; she was just there on the road. She came as naturally as if she had approached them from the road. But as the magick dust settled, they realized—remembered—that the Silver Witch had dropped out of the sky.
As she stood there smiling at them, they remembered that they had looked up at the sky at a circling dot which descended. As it approached, it formed the shape of a square, floating quilt. The Witch was soon revealed to be sitting on top in black garb and hat, her silvery skin thick and rubbery. With both hands placed on diagonal corners of the quilt, she jumped off and shook the fabric out like clean laundry and parachuted down to them, the tennis sneakers on her feet ready for the road. Softly she landed, snapping the quilt upward and folding it once, twice, three times, and again and again until it was a small square deposited into one of her pockets.
 
From Chapter III: Fighting Back:
They headed for the road, away from the castle tumbling toward them, hoping the mountain itself would hold until they could get to the bottom. But what awaited them at the bottom was a sheet of ice, and it too could crack and send them down into the frigid deep.
She had never driven a sleigh nor a team of dogs before. The pure instinct of survival now taught her. As they rounded the rough road, more slippery now as they gathered speed, their path looked grim. Giant chunks of the castle came descending down, hitting the mountain’s jagged sides and causing avalanches of huge falling debris. The children screamed, and Nadia wanted to do the same and take refuge closer in toward the mountain, but there was nothing that would shelter them. She kept focused on the dogs in front of her, thinking only of getting to the bottom. Cascading from above came another rock, and the children held onto the sleighs, terrified. Nadia tried to turn the sleigh toward the mountain to avoid it. They swerved dangerously around the edge of the road.
Something also descended from the sky. It was a black figure, but Nadia could not even think about another potential threat as the second sleigh bore down upon them, rushing behind her. They swerved back to a straight course, barely missing the rolling boulder which crashed onto the road.
About the Author

Wendy Altshuler is a writer-producer who explores myth in new media. She writes fantasy novels and creates works in stop motion animation.  Her credits include award-winning screenwriting and WGA-accredited representation. With a degree in psychology and a Master of Arts from Columbia University, Altshuler documented the work of international choreographers and wrote and produced regional programming. Her short plays have been performed at Boston Playwrights’ Theatre, at regional schools and most recently, Puppet Showplace Theatre. Altshuler’s young adult book series has been hailed as “emotionally moving, uplifting and wholesome,” and “spirited and haunting. . .with much symbolism and beauty.”
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SAVING GRACE by Aubrey Wynne

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Genre: Contemporary Romantic Suspense with Historical elements

Narrator: Sara K. Sheckells

A tortured soul meets a shattered heart…

Chloe Hicks’ life consisted of an egocentric ex-husband, a pile of bills, and an equine business in foreclosure until a fire destroys the stable and her beloved ranch horse. What little hope she has left is smashed after the marshal suspects arson. She escapes the accusing eyes of her hometown, but not the memories and melancholy.
Jackson Hahn, Virginia Beach’s local historian, has his eyes on the mysterious new woman in town. When she arrives in Pungo, he is struck by her haunting beauty and the raw pain in her eyes. Her descriptions of the odd events happening in her bungalow pique his curiosity.
The sexy historian distracts Chloe with the legend of a woman wrongly accused of witchcraft. She is drawn to the story and the similarities of events that plagued their lives. Perhaps the past can help heal the present. But danger lurks in the shadows…

 

Chapter 1

January, 2006 


Four Seasons Riding Stable 


Chloe sat straight up, willing the fog in her head to dissipate. The bed sheets were twisted around her ankles. Sweat trickled down her back. The terror froze her limbs while she struggled to calm her thudding heart and listen for the sound all horse owners dread. But it was the smell that made her realize this was not a terrible dream.
Smoke.
Instinct took over and she scrambled from the four-poster, making a beeline for the back door and the barn. Her toe smacked against the corner of a wall as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Oh god, not my babies. Not Bunny. Panic weighed down her legs as her bare feet hit the gravel. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. She tried to run down the long driveway, her eyes riveted to the red-orange flames shooting up into the black sky. Paul emerged from the darkness, his face colored yellow from the fiery glow. He signaled for her to take the front of the building as he disappeared around the back.
The frigid night air slapped her awake, but a horrifying screech from a panicked horse kicked in her adrenaline. Chloe reached the big, sliding doors and tugged them open. Heat smacked her face, and the smoke assaulted her lungs. Coughing, tears running down her cheeks, she slid back the bolts and opened the stall doors. On the other side, Paul’s voice faintly reached her over the crackle that filled her ears.
“Hiya! Move it, move it.”
The fire had consumed the other half of the barn where the arena was located. Above her was the loft, filled with winter hay and the last of her savings, now adding fuel to the already intense blaze. She pushed the thought from her mind as the flames shot through the center of the alleyway and the arena caved in.
Grabbing one of the lead ropes that hung at each door, she smacked the first horse on the rump and sent him flying out of the barn. The first three horses on each side followed their stable mates into safety with little persuasion. But Duchess, her mother’s old mare, wouldn’t budge. Chloe threw the lead rope over her neck and forced a calm tone. “Easy, girl. That’s my girl. Walk on, now. Walk on.”
The old horse snorted and pranced but followed her out of the stall. When they neared the opening, she withdrew the rope and whacked Duchess’ hindquarters. With a leap, the horse disappeared into the gray haze. The acrid odor of scorched hair and burnt wood filled her nostrils. Embers popped and her cheek blistered. She wiped at it with her shoulder as she led two more horses out by hand.
Crack!
Above them, a beam gave way and formed a fiery V. The horses must have sensed it also because they lunged ahead, snapping Chloe’s shoulders forward. She struggled to maintain her balance but fell to the matted floor, her knees striking the hard rubber. A boom behind her sent a spray of sparks, and pain shot along her backside. From the corner of her eye, she saw a strand of her hair spark. Frantically, she beat at it with her bare hand, putting it out on her neck. The heat was sweltering now. Images wavered in the flames that licked at the dry timbers of the remaining stalls and the heavy beams above.
Scrambling to her feet, Chloe ran outside into the frigid night and stumbled down the drive to help Paul. As she reached the other side of the barn, she doubled over as a coughing spasm racked her body. Hands on her knees, gasping to pull air into her tight chest, she heard Paul yelling over the crackle and whinnies.
“Bunny won’t leave the stall, and won’t let me near her foal.”
“What about Jack?”
“He’s good. C’mon, the roof is gonna give.”
His hand tightened around her arm and pulled with such force her feet almost left the ground. Plunging back into the smoking hell, they entered Bunny’s stall and found the foal in the corner.
“Paul, I’ll get the foal then Bunny will follow.”
Another loud snap from above. She grabbed the lead rope dangling from the horse’s halter and handed it to the trainer. Running a palm down her mare’s neck, she spoke soothingly, “Atta girl, Bunny. There’s my girl. Let’s your get your baby out of here.” The mare’s ears perked at her voice and words. Chloe tossed a rope around the foal’s neck and pulled. The baby gave to the pressure and followed Chloe out.
Behind her, a loud, splintering crash was followed by a shrill squeal. Her stomach twisted as she turned to see her trainer pulling at the lead rope. A fiery beam pinned Bunny as she thrashed, her legs flying in the air. One hoof caught the man in the head, and he crumpled to the ground.
Fighting for air, her chest a tight ball of agony, Chloe stumbled back in and grabbed Paul under his arms. She dragged him with the last of her strength and shuffled backwards until her feet tripped on something solid. She fell, his body tangled in her legs as they both landed with a thud. A sob ripped at her raw throat at the sound of a muffled shriek. Tears spilled down her burning cheeks as she shook the lifeless body on top of her. Chloe collapsed hand rested on Paul’s chest, finding hope in the slight rise and fall of his shallow breathing. In the back of her brain, the sound of sirens wailed before the world went black.
Amazon ✯ Audible ✯ iTunes ✯ B&N ✯ Audiobooks
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Bestselling and award-winning author Aubrey Wynne resides in the Midwest with her husband, dogs, horses, mule and barn cats. She is an elementary teacher by trade, champion of children and animals by conscience, and author by night. Obsessions include history, travel, trail riding and all things Christmas.

Her short stories, Merry Christmas, Henry and Pete’s Mighty Purty Privies have won Readers Choice Awards and Dante’s Gift received the 2016 Golden Quill and Heart of Excellence award, as well as being a Maggie and Aspen Gold finalist.
Besides her Chicago Christmas novellas, Aubrey will release “A Vintage Romance” series inspired by tales of her stepfather, who served for the British Air Force in WWII. The stories will be set in the 40s & 50s. Her medieval fantasy series will launch in 2017 with Rolf’s Quest.

 

Goodreads ✯ Twitter ✯ Facebook ✯ Amazon ✯ Website ✯ Instagram
Subscribe to Aubrey’s newsletter for new releases and exclusive excerpts and free stories.
A place of handsome knights, dashing gentlemen, beautiful, sassy women, and romance from the past to the present. You’ll also have some opportunities to help promote Aubrey with her upcoming releases if you feel so inclined. There is fun to be had, prizes to be given, and heroes and heroines to fall in love with. Come join Aubrey’s street team.

 

 

RABT Book Tours & PR’s Featured Romance Novels this Valentine’s Day!

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Click on any of the below book covers to be taken to the page that has more information on the novel as well as the Buy Links!
 
Before you leave, don’t forget to enter the Giveaway!
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HEARTS AND BEAUS

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A Collection of Love Stories
Genre: Clean Contemporary Romance

Continue reading “HEARTS AND BEAUS” →

A Haszard Narrative by Kevin E. Hatt

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A Haszard Narrative

Crime, Mystery
Date Published: January 2018
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After witnessing what transpired to be the murder of a seemingly innocent man, Haszard be-comes yet more intrigued when he hears of a vicar spontaneously combusting in his own church, locked from within. To add fuel to his intrigue, both men were from the same remote country village.
As Haszard begins looking into the matter, he is bombarded with peculiar tales of people connected to the church, and of strange goings-on. Piecing the facts together, Haszard be-comes convinced that he knows what’s been going on, but there is only one choice of action, which is fraught with danger…
Praise for Author Kevin E. Hatt and his Haszard Narratives:
“The recurring detective and his delightful band of cronies lead a sharp, absorbing mystery.” – Kirkus Reviews
 
“. . . a fun and exciting mystery with just the right amount of dry British humor and ludicrous sensationalism.” – New Apple Literary
 
“This is truly a spellbinding, entertaining mystery that will have you reading non-stop until you have reached the end!” – Rabia Tanveer, Readers’ Favorite
 
“Needless to say, there is never a dull moment in a Haszard Narrative.” – Cheryl E. Rodriguez, Readers’ Favorite
 
“Suspense and twists will keep the reader on the edge of their seat, unable to tear their eyes from the page.” – K.J. Simmill, Readers’ Favorite
Other Books in A Haszard Narrative Series
A LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS
Unfortunate in life and unlucky in love, the mysterious Haszard is intrigued by the death of an acquaintance at the local hospital, in which he works. Suspicious about the circumstances, he begins to look into the matter, meeting the woman of his dreams along the way.
After joining forces a local businessman, he speaks to a number of people, discovering irregularities in the life of the murdered woman. As he makes progress, he realises that the key to the matter lies in the dark and murky world of drug dealers, and has to face the possibility that the killer may well be someone he knows . . .
MAPS, LEGENDS AND MISDEMEANOURS
When asked to frame an old map, Haszard discovers that it’s linked to lost valuables from the past. Intrigued, he begins looking into the legend, discovering there to be cryptic clues on the map that must be deciphered. Unfortunately, though, Haszard isn’t the only person interested in the whereabouts of the missing items, and the other contingent resorts to violent tactics, which leads to a chilling climax . . .
 
PHOENIX FROM THE FLAME
When told by a former colleague that she saw her dead husband walking around a quaint market town, Haszard’s curiosity is engaged. As he begins to look into the matter, he unearths a number of facts that lead him to believe that there’s more to the sighting than merely a dead man walking. Also, there are people who are prepared to kill for something that’s worth a lot of money . . .
 
THE HEIRLOOM REPOSITORY
Haszard is asked to look for a family’s missing inheritance. Guided by words provided by a medium, he goes about the case with his typical fervour. Side-tracked by other matters, and spooked by a mysterious man in the woods, Haszard soon comes to realise that he isn’t alone in his quest, and persons unknown are not afraid to kill . . .
 
RACE FOR THE PRIZE
When on holiday with his friends, Haszard sees a girl who went missing a number of weeks previous. Fuelled with his usual determination, he sets about looking into the matter, although all is not as it appears, and it isn’t long before matters become eventful.
Having befriended a local artist, Haszard moves closer to an answer, yet the odds are stacked heavily against him. In order to win through, he must endure his most arduous and perilous challenge yet . . .
 
NO REASON FOR INSANITY
Intrigued by the bizarre events surrounding the murder of a friend, Haszard is asked by the family to look into the matter. Against the advice of his friends, he begins making enquiries, and is disturbed when he realizes that it may well be someone he knows. As progress is made, further events occur, endangering the life of Haszard and his friends, and he is forced to delve into the deepest recesses of his resourcefulness . . .
FULL CIRCLE
When asked to look into the death of a man in a town known for pagan connections, Haszard quickly makes progress, and it isn’t long before matters become dangerous. With little to work with, Haszard makes progress, yet the task is a daunting one, and not everyone he encounters is friendly.
Collating interesting and significant information from various sources along the way, Haszard has to link factors linked with the past, and as he does so, he realizes that in order to save someone from certain death, he is in a race against time.
The Ambiguity of Guilt
Items discovered in the attic of a new house belonging to a friend of Haszard are intriguing to him, and he sets about looking into the family who lived there previously. His efforts, however, are thwarted by the fact that nobody knew them very well, and he soon discovers that they are nowhere to be found. As he progresses, more discoveries point to the possibility that the family members were master criminals who were diverse in their activities, yet Haszard sees things differently. After speaking to a number of people and encountering persons unknown, who are not afraid to use firearms, he feels convinced that he knows where they are, but is uncertain of the reception he will receive . . .
Excerpt
‘Somewhere just outside Upper Bramsdean, on the Dewton Road.’ I tried opening my door, only it wouldn’t budge. I looked out of the window to see a tree beside me. ‘We’ll have to get out your side. Make sure that you leave the headlights on.’ 
            ‘I’ll make the call first.’ I sat motionless while Sabrina called the emergency services, who as ever wanted her life story before actually sending anyone to help. She placed her phone back in her pocket. ‘Let’s get out.’          
            Gingerly, she opened the door, but due to the angle that we were at, it wouldn’t remain open. In an effort to counteract the problem, she shuffled her legs onto the seat, pushing the door forwards whilst resting her foot on the side of my seat. Struggling against the door she crawled forwards, flopping out onto the muddy ground, cursing as she did so. Finally, she worked herself free, standing and holding the door open for me.     
            Repeating the process that Sabrina had performed, I felt shaky, Sabrina taking my hand and helping me out. ‘Your head’s bleeding,’ she said.     
            ‘I’ll be fine,’ I grumbled, turning away from her. I began making my way up the bank, my feet slipping on the mud that was making it nigh impossible to make progress. Conscious of the fact that Sabrina was in flat-soled shoes, I clung onto a tree in order to help her up, grabbing her hand. The rain, meanwhile, came down in torrents, the sound of the raindrops creating a sinister symphony which reverberated malevolently around us.         
            Little by little, we made our way up the bank, struggling like we’d never struggled before, slipping on the odd occasion, our clothes completely drenched and covered in mud by the time we reached the top of the bank, utterly breathless.         
            We stood in the pouring rain, uncertain of what to do. I looked to the direction the other cars had emerged from, noticing a glow from the other side of the road, fifty or so yards from us. Still confused, I glanced down the bank at Sabrina’s stricken cabriolet. A glow… a glow. I looked back across the road.  
            In the other direction, a couple of hundred yards away, I noticed a set of rear lights. The car was stationary. What was he doing? Had he realised what he’d done and was undecided as to what to do? I moved out further into the road, the car moving away as I approached. I shouted for him to come back, but he just kept going. Typical, I thought, just bloody typical! Cause an accident and run away. It didn’t surprise me because it’s the way the world is. I turned my attention back to the glow I’d seen. 
            ‘Sab, what’s that glow coming from?’          
            ‘I don’t know.’ Looking at Sabrina in the eerie light, I noticed that she was shaking.         
            I placed a reassuring arm around Sabrina, hugging her. ‘We’d better go and see.’  
            We walked towards the source of the glow, the rain somehow becoming heavier. Crossing to the other side of the road, I looked up at the sky, cursing the wretched weather. Nearing the source, I could see that the glow was a light—a car headlight. It just didn’t make sense… I thought back. One set of lights moved across. They must have been forced off the road like us. I began running, glancing back at Sabrina, who was struggling.      
            As I reached the vehicle I could see that it was small—old and small. That model must be over twenty years old, I thought. Being as old as that it wouldn’t have all the safety features that Sabrina’s car had. The front of the car was completely crumpled, having hit a large tree head on. It didn’t look good.     
            There was no bank sloping down on that side of the road, which made reaching it considerably easier. Looking through the window I could see someone slumped forwards. I tried opening the door, but it was locked. I ran around to the other side, only to discover that it too was locked, which left me no choice. I would have to smash a window. I looked around for some kind of rock or stone, moving in front of the headlight as I trawled through the grass and broken twigs that littered the ground, finally finding a fist-sized stone.      
            Sabrina approached me. ‘Haszard, what are you doing?’ That’s my name, by the way. Odd, but not something that you’d forget overnight.         
            ‘Breaking the window. The doors are locked and whoever it is doesn’t look good.’ I moved to the passenger side, drawing my arm back and slinging it forward, releasing the projectile. The window shattered. I put my arm through, searching frantically for the door-lock, which I finally found next to the handle. Why can’t manufacturers decide where the lock should be and put it in the same place on all models? After flicking it I tried the handle, the door opening only a matter of inches. I cursed. The impact had bent the structure of the car. I pulled at it violently, the metal screeching its protest as the door opened another few inches. I pulled again, and again, the door opening a little further each time. After one more gargantuan pull, it opened fully, allowing me access. Without delay I slid alongside the unconscious man… but was he unconscious or dead?           
            ‘Are you all right?’ I said, remembering my life-support training. There was no movement. I didn’t wish to shake him or attempt any painful stimuli to his shoulder in case he had a neck injury, so I tried to ascertain whether he was breathing. I cupped my hand around his nose and mouth, holding it there for several seconds. I could feel breath. Good—that was good. 
            ‘How is he?’ Sabrina said, peering in.           
            ‘Not good, but breathing,’ I said, searching for the interior light, activating it. ‘Oh shit!’   
            ‘What is it?’   
            I moved out of the way, showing Sabrina the state of the driver’s leg. The light wasn’t great, but it was just enough for Sabrina to see the damage. The car had hit the tree with such an impact that the engine must have forced the bulkhead back, crushing the man’s legs, bone protruding through the skin on his left lower leg. ‘He’s got an open fracture. He’s going to need a drip fast, and a fire crew to cut him out of here.’     
            ‘I’ll call the emergency services and tell them to send some cutting equipment, and hurry the ambulance up,’ Sabrina said, shuffling alongside me.          
            Whilst Sabrina made her call, I removed my jacket, placing it over the unconscious man, wondering if there was anything else I could do. I was actually a registered operating theatre practitioner, and Sabrina was a Sister in the orthopaedic clinic of our local hospital; however, without any equipment, we were next to useless!           
            ‘They’re sending a fire crew, and the ambulance should only be a few minutes,’ Sabrina informed me. ‘Oh my God… your head!’   
            ‘What about it?’          
            ‘It’s bleeding.’
            ‘So you said, Miss Jensen. It’s only a bloody scratch!’         
            Sabrina moved my head into the light, examining it circumspectly. ‘It’s more than a scratch! You’re going to need to have it seen to! You’re absolutely covered in blood.’        
            I turned away from her, checking the man’s breathing again. It was still the same, which was a good sign. I felt frustrated at not being able to do anything for him, just sitting there as he potentially ebbed away. He was obviously losing blood, only there was nothing that I could do. Nothing!  
            Sabrina and I said nothing whilst awaiting the arrival of the ambulance. Ordinarily, we never stopped talking, but we were both in a state of shock from our accident and concerned for the wellbeing of the other victim that the lunatic had driven off the road.         
            The moment we saw lights approaching we leaped out of the car, only to discover that it was merely a fellow motorist. Watching them pass, I noticed that the rain had eased off somewhat, not that it was of much use now.         
About the Author

Kevin E. Hatt is a registered anaesthetic and recovery practitioner. He commenced his training in 1984, and rose to the dizzy heights of deputy head. In 2000 he left the medical profession to follow his artistic ideals, but made a complete hash of it and returned to the medical world in 2010.In 2014 he released his first Haszard novel, A Light in the Darkness, which received critical acclaim, and then seven more stand-alone books in the series.He likes cricket, running, fine ales and curry. He has never been to Scunthorpe. Or Ipswich.
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DANGEROUS MOVES Dallas After Dark, Book 1 by Karen Rock

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DANGEROUS MOVES

Supremacy’s Shadow by T. Eric Bakutis

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Science Fiction / Thriller
Date Published: February 9, 2018
Publisher: SF Productions
 
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For Hayden Cross, a military investigator in the far future, whether his wife faked her death is the question that is probably going to get him killed. Having lost the only job that kept him sane, he has few resources and fewer leads. Oh, and a sadistic crime lord really wants to kill him.
As he fights through an underworld of fanatical rebels, callous bounty hunters, and corrupt cops, each step takes him closer to the truth about his wife’s fate and the oppressive government he once loyally served. On the way he may even liberate a planet and stop a war … but only if he betrays everyone he loves.
Excerpt
Nathan Pierce was very dead, and Hayden hadn’t killed him.
Pierce lay sprawled on a maintenance walkway beside the maglev track: a tunnel that smelled like plastic and wet biocrete. An oozing red line split his very thick neck. The small pool of blood beneath him was expanding, and Hayden didn’t have to touch it to know it was still warm.
Pierce still clutched his submachine gun, highly illegal on the best of days, but its magazine was missing. The basketball-shaped bomb Pierce had carried into this tunnel hadn’t exploded when he died, which was good, but the red light on top of it was blinking fast, which might be bad. Hayden wasn’t a bomb technician, and though he’d called the people who were — those almighty assholes known as the Supremacy — he wasn’t sure if they were still taking his calls. They had sort of fired him.
Blinking red bomb light aside, the decidedly unlive state of Nathan Pierce changed Hayden’s plans for the night. Braving a hail of bullets to stop a bunch of taxpayers from exploding had seemed acceptable when chasing Pierce was his only option, but getting blown up now, with the threat over, seemed rather unnecessary. He had better things to do tonight than die.
He looked down the walkway in both directions for any sign of Pierce’s killer, but found nothing. Embedded LED lamps lit the narrow metal gantry every twenty meters for as far as he could see, but he didn’t see anyone dumb enough to carry a live bomb out of this tunnel. He had just reached down to pick it up when all the lights went out.
Boots hit the walkway behind him as Hayden drew his pistol and aimed in that direction. He didn’t fire, of course, because he couldn’t see, and also, he was out of bullets. Pierce’s body armor hadn’t come cheap.
The lights flipped on to reveal a woman in a black riding suit and combat boots with knife holsters, but no knives. A hoverbike helmet hid her face. She was shorter than he was, athletic, and absolutely Pierce’s killer, given the blood rorshached all over the front of her suit.
“Easy, Hayden.” The woman raised two blood-stained gloves. “I sent you the intel on Pierce.”
Hayden kept his pistol on her anyway, out of principle. “Thanks?” He pointed at the body with his other hand. “I think you got him.”
“Pierce isn’t the reason I called you.”
“Okay.” He’d heard this woman’s voice somewhere before, though he couldn’t place it at the moment. “Is that bomb going to explode?”
“No. I called you, Hayden, because I have a job for you.” The woman pulled off her helmet to reveal short black hair, pale blue eyes, and a light brown face with soft cheekbones. “You’re free now, right?”
Hayden breathed as five minutes of gunfight tension bled out through his toes. “I have hobbies.” He knew exactly who this woman was, now, and he also knew he’d just been played.
Morna Solace was a trusted informant who had passed him information about the Patriots of Ceto for years. A woman who looked a lot like his dead wife. Even with Dani thirteen years gone, that still tugged at him, but that didn’t excuse her prank call.
“You obviously had this handled before I flew all the way out here,” Hayden said, keeping the fact that he’d just been unnecessarily shot at from his voice, “so why the bait-and-switch?”
Morna dangled her helmet in one hand, not guilty, exactly, but not as confident as she’d been a moment ago. “I couldn’t risk the Patriots or the Supremacy learning we’d met. Luring you here with an anonymous tip was the best way I knew how to do that. I can’t trust this to the Spacenet.”
At least Morna was sufficiently paranoid. “You know the Supremacy is on their way here now, right?”
“I do. I’ll be quick. Three weeks ago, Tyler Ryke abducted my daughter.”
“Well,” Hayden said, as he remembered Morna’s ruthless and wealthy ex-husband. “He is a crime lord.”
“Tyler’s beyond that now. He’s gone as sadistic as I’ve ever seen him, torturing for fun and pleasure, and I’m afraid of what he’ll do to Cassie if she tries to escape again. Last time she tried to sneak away, he caught her. Then he made her boyfriend explode.”
Hayden sympathized, he really did, but custody battles were messy even when both parents weren’t trained killers. “You must know dozens of people who could get Cassie back for you.” Dozens of terrorists, anyway.
“None of them know Star’s Landing like you. None have your experience or contacts. Also, I’m willing to trade a message from your wife.”
Hayden’s mind blanked a moment — just a moment — before snapping into focus. He remembered speeding toward his and Dani’s burning home, rushing into the still smoking wreckage. Tripping over Dani’s severed arm. Anger and guilt twisted his gut as the audacity of Morna’s lie made him want to kick that bomb down the tunnel. “My wife’s dead.”
“I thought so too.”
“The Supremacy verified her DNA. I put a bullet in the man who killed her, and I’ve been hunting his Patriots since.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you about something this important,” Morna said, “and I can prove it to you. Danielle said to ask you about Bucky’s cairn.”
Hayden blinked and backed a step.
“That means something to you, doesn’t it?” Morna’s face lit up. “Who is Bucky? A friend from childhood?”
That name conjured a painful memory of a speeding autotruck and his illegal dog, their illegal dog, the crunch and the yelp. Morna shouldn’t know about that. He and Dani were the only ones who knew about that, about Bucky the big dead dog.
Hayden remembered the little rock pyramid Dani piled on Bucky’s grave fifteen years ago. A cairn, she called it. An old word from old Earth.
“I never planned to blackmail you,” Morna said, “but like you said, I don’t have a lot of options.” Her voice gained just the tiniest of trembles. “I can’t lose Cassie. I couldn’t get past it.”
Her eyes held his, wet and fearless and so much like his wife’s, and Hayden recognized her desperation because he’d felt it himself. When he chased down everyone involved in Dani’s murder. When he sent them into orbit or put them in the ground.
Danielle Cross was dead, and she would always be dead, but she had trusted whoever sent Morna this message. Trusted them enough to tell them about the day her illegal dog jumped in front of a truck. Hayden needed to find out what was in this message.
He needed to find whoever sent it.
“Sure.” Hayden forced his nails out of his palms. “I could get Cassie back for you, but Ryke will come after her. He’ll probably try to kill me too, and that gets real annoying.”
Morna knelt and ran a glove along the tunnel wall. “Once you get Cassie out, Ryke won’t be a problem for anyone.” She pressed something, and a maintenance hatch popped open. “She has the image sync to Ryke’s PBA.”
That impressed him. A Personal Brain Assistant, or PBA, was a brain-mounted computer. Ryke’s PBA was where he stored records related to all his illegal deeds, and if Cassie told the Supremacy how to access it, Ryke would be headed to orbit before he finished screaming at his attorney.
The howl of an approaching maglev train rose in the tunnel behind him, and the light on Pierce’s bomb blinked faster. “Say, uh, Morna?”
“Yes?”
“You’re sure that thing isn’t going to explode?”
She tossed him a tiny metal key as the train grew louder. “The blinking light means the detonation key’s missing!” She opened the maintenance hatch. “That’s the detonation key!”
Hayden pocketed the key and shouted over the train noise. “How do I let you know when I have Cassie? Getting shot at isn’t my favorite approach!”
“I’ll know, and I’ll find you!” Morna wriggled into the narrow vent. “Get my daughter back for me, and I’ll help you find your wife!”
The hatch slammed. Hayden dropped beside Pierce’s body as a sound like a jet engine roared up on him. He knew the maglev’s passage wouldn’t suck him off the walkway — physics didn’t work like that — but knowing and believing were very different. The world howled as a bunch of angry air boots pummeled him in a parade.
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. Then the train was streaking away, leaving him with a healthy ringing in his ears and a new appreciation for public transit. He rolled onto his back and took one painful breath.
Metal footfalls echoed in the tunnel, and Hayden tilted his head up to squint in their direction. He recognized two Supremacy Vindicators approaching at an awkward jog. Powered armor didn’t sprint.
The Supremacy’s elite soldiers wore suits of black nitinol, armor immune to small arms and marked by golden stripes. Their sealed helmets had reflective plates in front, and the last thing you saw, before they shot you, was your own face staring back.
On the upside, they were still taking his calls.
Hayden hauled himself up on the guardrail and stared at another dead terrorist and another homemade bomb. If Morna hadn’t stopped Pierce, there would be a whole lot of people splattered across this tunnel right now. He’d take the win and the credit if it kept her out of the Supremacy’s sights.
“Sir?” a Vindicator asked. “Is this the Patriot you reported?” His voice sounded flat behind his modulator. “Is that his bomb?”
Lying to the Supremacy about a meeting with a Patriot sympathizer was as good as signing his own death warrant. That wouldn’t stop Hayden from lying, of course. He’d just have to be real sneaky about it.
“This man was a thug working for Tyler Ryke.” Hayden pulled the detonation key from his pocket. “Now he’s a terrorist as well, which means you boys will get a medal or something.” He tossed the key at the Vindicator, and they both watched it bounce off his knee. “Also, you’re welcome.”
Hayden was going to Star’s Landing. He was going to save Cassie Ryke from her brutal father. It didn’t matter if Morna was lying to save her daughter, or if the Supremacy executed him for treason.
Either way, he might still get to see his wife.


About the Author

T. Eric Bakutis is an author and game designer based in Maryland. He is happily married and shares his house with a vicious, predatory cat and a sad-faced, cowardly dog. He’s been working as a professional videogame developer for over eight years. His first fantasy trilogy, Tales of the Five Provinces, is now complete, and his first science fiction novel, Supremacy’s Shadow, is due in February 2018.
In his spare time, Eric hikes with his lovely wife, little girl, and crazy dog, spends time in VRChat exploring the metaverse, and participates in local events like the Baltimore Science Fiction Society Critique Circle. His first novel, Glyphbinder, was a finalist for the 2014 Compton Crook Award, and his short fiction has appeared in several magazines and anthologies.
You can read his free cyberpunk police procedural, Loose Circuit, at www.loosecircuit.com
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FOREVER AND ONE DAY by Jacqueline Simon Gunn

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FOREVER AND ONE DAY

Still Missing Beulah: Stories of Blacks and Jews in Mid-Century Miami

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FREE FROM Feb. 12th to the 19th 2018 in honor of black history month.

It’s the 1950s and Miami businessman Tootsie Plotnik counts his Bahamian mistress and his black business associates among his dearest friends. But he also refers to his African American employees using the derogatory Yiddish term, schvartz, and comes within inches of murdering an unarmed black teenager.

Still Missing Beulah uses linked short stories and brief historical accounts to take the reader into the heart and mind of an aging Jewish businessman whose prejudices are challenged by the black people who enter his life. Written in the same vein as The Help, this collection documents the struggles Miami minorities faced during an era when signs prohibiting Jews and blacks in hotels and clubs were as rampant as palm trees and mosquitoes.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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Joan Lipinsky Cochran is a former journalist who now focuses on writing crime-related novels that explore subcultures of American Judaism. Her first book, Still Missing Beulah: Stories of Jews and Blacks in Mid-Century Miami, explores the racism and anti-Semitism that tarnished Miami’s past and informed the relationship between the two minority groups. Three of the short stories in that collection have won literary awards. She is currently working on a novel about a woman whose life is endangered when she discovers her father was a member of the Jewish mafia. It was one of three 2011 Claymore Award finalists and an Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award quarter-finalist. When she’s not working on a novel, Joan is testing recipes and writing food columns and articles, playing classical and Irish violin, sailing, bicycling and reading.