Month: January 2024

A Divas That Care Collection

by Candace Gish

Genre: Women’s Fiction Anthology

 

“Our Mothers, Our Daughters” is an extraordinary collection of inspiring essays 

that illuminates the unique bond between mother and daughter.”

Animals have an incredible ability to become precisely what we need them to be.

 Countless extraordinary stories can be found within “Animal Prints On My Soul.” 

by Dr Eric Bornstein

 

Historical Fiction / Medical Thriller/ Espionage

Date Published: January 1, 2024

 

In the era of legalized marijuana in the United States, the Chinese government has nefarious plans to exploit America’s best and brightest graduate students using synthetic Hallucinogens and THC compounds. To accomplish their goal, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has partnered with a disaffected American CIA agent who was instrumental in the CIA’s domestic hallucinogen experiments on American citizens known as Project MKULTRA during the Korean and Vietnam wars. The CCP have surreptitiously funded upscale cafés in each American city where marijuana has been legalized and there is an American university within walking distance of their café.

In each café, the CCP secretly adds a designer hallucinogen to the coffee. This drug opens the graduate student’s minds to the power of suggestion and allows the baristas (Chinese security agents) to easily question the students for technical information concerning their graduate studies and labs. The methods used are similar to what the disaffected CIA agent learned during his MKULTRA project missions in the 1950s and 1960s. This allows the  Communist Chinese to gain a head start on America’s most crucial security and technological innovations.

But there is a problem. The synthetic hallucinogen is beginning to have strange effects on some students, and these effects are being noticed. A bright Israeli E.R. doctor and his wife (an addiction counselor) living and working in Burlington, Vermont, have encountered some of these students suffering from bizarre psychotic symptoms. They suspect that there is more than meets the eye in these Chinese cafés and have started investigating. If the Chinese plan is discovered, it will open the CCP up to significant charges of international terrorism against the United States. With current congressional committee hearings focused on banning Tik Tok and other Chinese technologies, the CCP will stop at nothing to prevent this from happening.

 

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by Robert Barkley

 

Literary Fiction

Date Published: 01-11-2021

Publisher: Shawline Publishing Group P/L

 

A SWEEPING SAGA OF THREE GENERATIONS OF EXTRAORDINARY WOMEN WHO LIFTED THEIR GAZE BEYOND THEIR TURBULENT HISTORY, EACH TO FULFIL UNIQUE DESTINIES.

 

The first is a proud matriarch who believes honouring family is worth any sacrifice.

The second is born into a revolution and travels the world, still scarred by her childhood demons.

The third soars to breathtaking heights on the world stage, a mother’s selfless love beneath her wings.

 

The Diary of Katy Yehonala brilliantly evokes another time and place, laying bare its drama and beauty in haunting landscapes and vivid portraits of unforgettable women, so exquisitely narrated that they resonate long after the final page is turned.

 

“… an immersive and gripping book that resonates deeply with the reader. Throughout, the characterisation is strong, memorable and nuanced suited to the intricate, powerful, compelling narrative.” 

Rebecca Black, AM

 

About the Author

Robert grew up in a small English village, the repository of 1000 years of history engraved on the tombstones of its Norman Church. Without mobile phones, TV or the Internet, he made up stories.

Later in life, he found himself a clearance diver in the labyrinthine, murky waterways of the Mekong Delta, dismantling booby traps during the Vietnam War and receiving two bravery awards. He spent much time in Asia, and his storytelling is inspired by his life experiences living around the world and from random meetings with strangers.

Robert’s writing paints pictures of remarkable, headstrong women set against backstories of the significant issues of our times. His vivid storytelling combines sharp-witted dialogue and meticulous research to bring our human struggles to life. A citizen of the world, his love of exotic places, their people and their love stories brings readers an evocative sense of time and place.

 

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The Enchanted Garden Series Book 1

Children’s books

Date Published: December 1, 2023

Publisher: Jan-Carol Publishing, Inc.

 

The very contrary fairy sure has a lot to say about what she must do each day. But when she decides to run away, will she make it home in time and stay?

About the Author

When not writing books, hosting the Emmy nominated television series, Selling Knoxville, hosting her podcast, ConnectTheKnox, or Brokering her office, Julia can be found camping with her family, snuggling with her dog Ripp, or cooking a gourmet meal with her best friend and partner for life, Joe. Julia can be contacted via email at julia@justhomesgroup.com.

 

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by Robyn Michaels

 

Literary Fiction

Date Published: Sept.2023

 

 

Dayal Singh is brilliant, quirky, & has Asperger’s. Son of parents trafficked to East Africa from India just before independence, he knows he’s Sikh, African, and calculus is the evidence of God.

He becomes fascinated by a broken piano. and is offered a piano to sell, buys it and learns to play.

Mentored by his older brothers, he follows them to Singapore to further his education, then goes to Switzerland.

He falls in love with the granddaughter of the man who bought his father. She tells him that the situation is impossible, and that he must stay in school as long as his way is paid.

His youth is fraught, being an other. In Switzerland, he is constantly proselytized to, which only defines for him how he wants to live. He’s studying physics and engineering, but finds peace in playing the piano. He meets other students, they jam, and suddenly they are rock stars…which Dayal never imagined could happen.

He agrees to meet Sita, the daughter of a Sikh man his father met, and Dayal thinks they are both in agreement about how they will live and raise children, but things gradually go downhill. When Dayal learns Sita hasn’t been truthful with him, he has to make a decision.

Excerpt

            The song I wrote, “Is This OK?” was a hit. We got it out as a single, and added it to shows. We started in Boston and zigzagged through large cities in Canada, the USA, and Mexico, then to Spain and France. We broadcasted live shows to theaters around the USA, San Jose, Lima, Buenos Aires, Sydney, Perth, and Brasilia, and Japan. I wrote the Glazer girls, but there was no way I could see them.

          At the end of the tour in August, I flew to Dubai for a week. We hadn’t seen each other since December! I couldn’t imagine where Sita got the idea that there was so much to do in Dubai. Was she comparing it to Mumbai? I noticed the town was growing. There were triple the number of buildings, many quite tall. We got out to the desert for camel races, where I saw my first Salukis. I thought they looked like Mara’s dogs. They ran a few races, and were so graceful. We went out to eat, saw movies, strolled the mall, the beach, met her girlfriends (she knew no guys and did not socialize with the girls’ brothers or husbands), had dinner with Baba Makkar’s other family, and we talked more about our expectations. Again, I asked her if she had explored birth control methods, and hit a road block.

          “You know, a lot of women use the rhythm method based on their cycles and it works,” she said to me.

          “Do you know how it works? I will use condoms, but you need to know your options.”

          We had no arguments, but our conversations were never about anything controversial or deep. She wasn’t wearing a lot of makeup anymore, at least not when I saw her. She told me she had started saving her allowance, and was even going through her wardrobe to decide what clothes she would really need, as the weather would be different in Europe.

          We weren’t sleeping together in Dubai, but we could bring each other to orgasm, and I was happy for that.

          I asked Fatima about how the wedding planning was going, and she told me she was thinking of next March.

          Seven months more? “Why are you delaying this?”

           “Your horoscopes… .”

          “This is nonsense. We’ve known each other over a year. I have a school break in November. Make it for then.” I found this irritating, but when I was stressed, and back then, it was almost all the time, everything was irritating.

          I really wanted to see my parents. I was halfway there, being in Dubai, so I asked Fatima and Sita to come with me. Mr. Makkar agreed to pay for their flights if I would pay for a place for them to stay, which was at Mr. Curtis’s hotel. A few other small hotels had been built, but Curtis’ place was still the nicest.

          I surprised my parents (I did send a telegram). I sent Sita and Fatima on several safari runs, suggested they have my tailor create some clothes for themselves, and took them around in the truck to see Alfred. I brought him a solar lantern, a few books on alternative energy, and a football and badminton set for his three children, who were giddy about the gifts.

          Fatima and Sita were surprised at how far out from Arusha Alfred lived. When we pulled into their compound, Fatima asked me, “They speak English?”

          “Alfred was in primary school with me, and he often guides safaris, so I know his English is good. I’m not sure about the rest of his family.” I spoke to his wife and children in Kiswahili.

          Alfred and I discussed putting in a rain catchment system on his house. He had managed to build a burned brick house with a cement floor and tin roof, but still had his rondoval. His wife and daughters still had to fetch water. I told him I’d loan him the money if he agree to pay it forward.

          Sita and Fatima seemed uncomfortable with the goats, chickens and dogs approaching us in their curiosity. Alfred’s mum offered us chai and mandaazi, which is a fried pastry. I saw that Fatima and Sita were hesitant, but I whispered to them, “Everything’s boiled or fried. You won’t get sick.”

          On the way back to town, we stopped at a Maasai encampment. I just wanted to greet them, and I had bought them a few plastic buckets. We didn’t stay long. The flies were too annoying, and there was no place to sit.

          On the drive back to my folks, Sita and Fatima commented how remarkable it was that people could live like they did and be so happy. Sita asked me, “How is it you have a relationship with such primitive people?”

          Her question shocked me. “They aren’t primitive. They’re just poor. You know, they haven’t had the advantages we’ve had.”

          “What do you mean?”

          “The Maasai like living the way they do. They are free. Their children do all the chores. As for Alfred, I had my older brothers to help me learn. Alfred was the eldest child. He had nobody to help him. Also, his father had two wives, so resources for the children were spread thin.”

          My parents were cordial towards Sita and Fatima. However, I knew from the way they were acting, that they weren’t comfortable. There was a real class difference between us and them. Baba pulled me aside and asked, “They knew they were coming to Africa. Why didn’t they dress more simply?”

          I remembered the time Avi and Sodhi came home after guiding safaris one day, and were counting their tips in various foreign currencies. Sodhi remarked that most of the tourists on his lorry were French, and Avi responded, laughing, “Today mine were all Italian. They always dress like they’re going to a photo shoot. The women, always silk shirts unbuttoned to show cleavage and gold necklaces, tight silk pants that look painted on, and stiletto heels. Not just high heels—pointy six inch heels. They tottered and had to be boosted into the lorry. I can’t imagine what they were thinking. That the ground would be hard so they wouldn’t sink in?”

          My future wife and mother-in-law were dressed as if going to a business luncheon, and I wondered if they owned any clothes that didn’t need to be dry cleaned.

          “Baba, these people live in a tall building. They don’t even have a garden. These are their ‘simple’ clothes.” He understood this because he had visited my brothers.

          I had been living in Europe as a European and just accepted that some people never did any real work. This was also why I took time to address expectations with Sita.

Hassan had brought one of his wives to live with him, and she was helping Ama with baking. Fatima expressed surprise that my mother could bake such amazing things over a grill in a covered pot.

 

About the Author

I am a retired dog groomer and have titled dogs in performance and conformation. I didn’t go to college until I was 30 and took CLEP exams to avoid prerequisites. I have a degree in anthropology with concentrations in African & Indian studies and a master’s in urban planning. I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Malawi. I have had several short stories published in literary journals and the pet industry press.

 

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A Misty Falls Series, Book 3 by Martha Wickham

 

Misty Falls, Book 3

 

Contemporary Fantasy Fiction

Date Published: 09-19-2023

 

 

How long can a magic ring last?

Long enough to get Violet through the worst, then send her through it again. When her new husband and his friends go grave robbing, they dig up a legend. They recover a thousand-year-old ring with a curse. When she finds it she uses it to her advantage like the last ring she owned, and her husband confesses to her how he obtained it. The magic flees from the ring after killing the people it sees deserving, but when it attacks her, Violet knows what she must do. It’s go back to grandma’s, then Misty Falls.

When she goes back her curiosity gets the best of her and she goes with a friend to investigate a murder in the haunted forest. Soon the forest is haunting her, and she is met with the killer, who wants more young blood. Though born on Friday the 13th, she believes in herself. Is she able to escape a streak of bad luck?

 

Excerpt

Curtis and his friends split up into three motel rooms ten minutes away from the cemetery they wanted to rob. They couldn’t bring them on the plane, so they had to go to a local store and get a shovel for each of them. The plan was to rob Jessie’s grave first and look for the famous ring that was fashioned in hell. “I want to see this ring,” one of them said. “I hope it doesn’t say made in hell or I will run.” They snickered at his joke except for Curtis. All their rooms were right next to each other. After hitting Jessie’s grave that night they would look through other graves and the mausoleum afterwards because there was no digging with those, then they’d go for the bigger graves, because the families may have had more money to pay for them.

After a quick dinner it was darkening. “Can we go now?” Curtis asked.

“It’s supposed to be late, but we will all take the rental car and be there in about thirty minutes. It’s getting darker at this point. I don’t think anyone will see us.”

“Have you done this before?” Curtis asked.

“No, I’ve stolen but not from a grave and this will probably be the only time.” By the time everyone was in the car it was darker, and they left. They had shovels and gardening tools in the back.

A red glow of light began to come from over the horizon. “I thought the sunset was over,” one of them in a black leathery jacket said.

“It was,” said the dark blond who appeared to be the leader. He had the most experience stealing and did not spend one day in jail for anything.

As they got out the red seemed to get bigger. After opening the trunk, they then got out shovels and began looking for the one grave with the ring. There was a large, rounded tombstone straight ahead with some fresh flowers there half dead. The leader went for that one and it read Jessie the name they were looking for. He had died almost ten years ago and there was a card against the stone. It was about how someone missed him so much and how she loved him but never told him enough and it was signed Tess. It was from his girlfriend. The leader left it open and put it back. His friends began to dig but Curtis wandered around looking for graves to start digging. “Go to the mausoleum,” the leader told him, and Curtis went that way glad Violet had no idea where he was.

As the guys dug Curtis tried opening crypts with the shovel but they didn’t come open. When he found an old one with a big crack he decided to try that one. This person had died in the 1920’s. He hit it hard a few times with the shovel and the right side fell off. Sliding the coffin out and peeking in he could not see well but there wasn’t anything buried with him of value. He put it back and tried to find another one. He kept looking for older graves because if they were buried with anything old it could be valuable.

Curtis stepped out of the crypts and saw that most of the sky had turned red accept a circle of black in the middle. They all stared at it. “What makes the sky like that?” One of them asked. No one responded.

“Guys I don’t like this,” Curtis said.

“We are almost there,” the leader said, and he made deep holes with his shovel. “Go look for crypts to steal from.” Just then he smacked into the coffin with his shovel. They dug it out and opened it. Curtis came to see. “There he is.” Exactly, Here lies Jessie just like the tombstone said. Curtis glanced up and the whole sky was red. It seemed like an omen to him but there were still pretty twinkling stars shining through. The leader pulled the ring of his finger. Examining it the design looked like hell fire and he check on the inside. It said made in Hades. He wanted to throw it but pawning it would be a better idea. He put the ring in his pocket, and they began reburying Jessie.

They kept looking around the graveyard for ghosts and zombies coming to get them for revenge, but they didn’t. If anything, Jessie would have been glad the ring was gone and being the good person that he wouldn’t hurt anyone. They finished covering the grave. “Don’t worry. We’ll pawn it as fast as we can,” he told Curtis.

“If and when we find a pawn shop,” one of them said. Curtis was the only one uneasy and they couldn’t drive away fast enough. He would never do this again and was sorry he broke the man’s crypt marble.

The sky had stayed red for the rest of the night. When morning came it seemed like a dream but they needed to find food and a pawn shop. There were still days left in their stay in Michigan to do as they wished after finding what they needed.

After Curtis called Violet the leader wanted to tell them his decision. “I easily found a pawn shop in the phone book, but it’s not close. So, I have decided we have more to steal, and we can pawn that before we go back to Canada where we won’t get caught. Is that ok?” he asked Curtis.

“That’s fine. It’s only a ring and I’m not even staying with it,” he responded.

“Yes, and it must be worth so much. We can split it just tell your little lady back home your business was doing well.” Curtis nodded in agreement. They spent the day looking for places to rob and eat.

While they ate Chinese food in a motel room the leader made his announcement. “We will rob an old mansion. It’s old but they look like they have money. Tomorrow me and Anthony will go and see if there’s an easy way in and what they leave open or unlocked.” All they could do was nod. “Then we’ll come back when they’re gone and get you Sawyer. Curtis we need someone to drive the car. You can get out, but you need to be ready to drive. Hopefully these people are going on summer vacation. How’s that sound?” he asked Curtis.

“Sounds fine. If we go in through the backyard it’s harder for people to see what we are doing,” he suggested.

“Good idea,” the leader Tristan said. He turned on the TV while they had a beer and relaxed. “It’s funny how rich people like to come out here thinking that it’s nice and peaceful and then get robbed.”

 

About the Author

Martha has studied writing with Writer’s Digest and has an associate’s degree in Social Services. She has also written poems and songs and even studied screen writing and horror. She still writes and likes getting writing prompts. Her favorite author is VC Andrews. If you purchase and read Martha’s books a review on this web site will be greatly appreciated. She can also be found at http://www.marthawickham.com.

 

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