Thursday, April 30, 2015

Saving London by Taylor Dawn

   London is a young woman who finds out very devastating news.  She has cancer and there is nothing they can do for her besides prescribe her some medications for the symptoms that are sure to come.  The doctor gives her a year.  London goes home and makes a bucket list.  She runs across a guy named Adam.  He seems really nice and quickly puts her at ease when she's around him.  This guy who shows up out of nowhere offers to help her with the list as long as she completes it.  Turns out that Adam has connections pretty much everywhere.  London is able to live out her dreams during her last year because of these connections he has and she enjoys having him as a companion.  But Adam is not what he seems.  London keeps finding feathers where he has been and a creepy guy named Caine keeps stalking them, showing up in several places that they travel.  He doesn't seem like a nice person and Adam warns London to stay away from him.  All the while, Adam is trying to convince London that the supernatural is real.  That things like angels really do exist.  Several times she questions whether it's safe to be hanging around him since he seems unstable with the way he acts and talks about angels and all that.  But the farther into her last year that she gets, the more she seems some very strange and unexplained things.  All the while, London is constantly reminded that she's hurtling towards death at an alarming rate.  What she doesn't know is that the world hinges on her.

   I really enjoyed reading this book and at first I honestly thought it was one of those regular stories about someone with cancer.  Well, it's not.  It has angels and fallen angels involved and things get kind of weird when you start learning about who London really is.  In fact, towards the middle of the book slowed down a little and then all of the sudden you're hit with another revelation about her!  It has so much detail in it too.  This book is almost overloaded with it, but most of it is a very nice addition to the story, making it seem so realistic.  And if you find yourself asking why this girl is not exhibiting symptoms of the cancer that's killing her body, don't worry, it's explained.  The ending was really great.  It brought a few tears to my eyes, but it was a perfect ending.  This a really good read!

A solid 4 out of 5 stars!

Book Blurb:

“You have terminal cancer.” 

London Patterson, a seemingly healthy young woman, had her entire life ahead of her. That was until four little words brought everything to a screeching halt. As the shock and grief begin to fade, London decides to map out her last year and embark on an epic journey to complete a bucket list. She wants to do the things she’s been afraid to do in her life, step out of her self-contained box, and see the world. What she didn’t expect was for a mysterious stranger named Adam to breeze into her life like a breath of fresh air. 

Adam offers to help London complete her list on one condition…that she sees it through to the end. Agreeing on those terms, the two set out on an adventure of a lifetime. But London soon realizes that Adam isn’t quite…human. Along their journey odd occurrences happen that cause London to question who or what Adam is and why he’s helping her. 

Follow London as she checks off her bucket list in this inspiring new Urban Fantasy novel from Taylor Dawn.

Amazon Author Page:

Amazon Pre-order link:

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Coming Soon by Susan Fisher-Davis!!!

Coming in late May: Montgomery Bad Boys of Dry River, Wyoming Book 2

FBI Agent Montgomery Bradford is deep undercover as Colt Raines—bad guy. When his convicted murderer boss brings back the wrong target, he must now protect Isabella Lofton while completing his mission but she’s not about to make it easy for him, especially when he finds himself unable to resist her, and she him.
Isabella knows her father’s worst enemy is only keeping her alive until he has her father, and she only has Colt’s word he won’t allow any harm to come to her. But how much should she trust a criminal working with the man who wants to destroy her family? Her heart tells her one thing and her need to escape tells her another yet Colt refuses to help her gain her freedom. When the truth comes out about who Mont really is, will Isabella still want him, or will she hate him?

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Run (Caged Trilogy Book 1) by H.G. Lynch

   Running through the woods one night, Tilly takes a nose dive and ends up in a werewolf camp.  She had been running for her life from the women who had adopted her when she was a young child.  They were witches and they were very cruel to her, making her raise demons and basically torturing her when she didn't do as told.  That had been her life for years until she escaped and then was rescued by Spencer, the black sheep of the werewolf camp.  He was the son of the alpha, but his mother had run off with him and when she died, Spencer was brought back to his father to live.  He had been a small child when he came back and his father didn't treat him as nicely as his half-brothers, taking out his years of anger and frustration of his son instead.  Tilly connects with Spencer like no one else in the camp, but insists that she doesn't care for him.  Spencer's half-brother, Dominic, has been getting very close to her and it makes Spencer jealous.  Realizing he has feelings for Tilly is a fight for him since she is always with Dominic.  To make matters worse, no one knows what Tilly is or what she's running from, but it could put them all in danger.

   I love rooting for the under dog.  Those kind of books suck me in and I couldn't put this one down.  I read it in one day.  It was fascinating to watch the romance between Tilly and Spencer grow even though they keep trying to push the other away.  And things only get more complicated when the past comes out to play, but Spencer never abandons her.  He is always there for her.  It's sweet considering how distant he is to everyone else.  He's a very complicated character.  Tilly, however, is a rather naive girl since she was guarded and put under lock and key for years.  So having boys all over her like that is something new that she must sort out for herself.  Her feelings are confusing and I could see where they would be for someone who's never even had a boyfriend before.  This is a must read!!!

5 out of 5 stars!!!

Book Blurb:

Tilly is a least, she thinks she is. All she really knows is that she
has powers she shouldn't, and that the cruel women she escaped
from - who definitely are witches - will stop at nothing to make her their
prisoner again because of those powers.

But Tilly has fallen in with a strange group - a pack of werewolves. The pack
wants to protect her; none of them more so than Dominic, the alpha's
kind-hearted son. Tilly thinks she might be falling for him, but she can't help
being fascinated by his brooding, mysterious half-brother Spencer.

Caught between the two, Tilly isn't sure anymore what she's most scared of:
the witches hunting her down, or her own heart betraying her.

Friday, April 24, 2015

The Glass Beacon by John Day: Special Sneak Preview of the first chapter!!!

Peenemünde Rabbit.

Mid-day, June 2nd 1943 became the turning point in the complex life of Karl Strom. As a spy, betrayal and brushes with death were ever present, but with Hitler’s new mission and when lust became love, would his carefully laid plans turn into shattered dreams.
Events were triggered when Karl ambled away from the Peenemünde Army Research Centre, thinking about the secret project Adolph Hitler had tasked him with, weeks ago. He was heading towards his regular spot along the lake shore of Cammerer See to eat his sandwiches and review progress.
Karl had been an electronics engineer before the war started and had the gift many engineers have of stripping away the complexity and simplifying, until the result seems so obvious. This was the challenge that faced him now. It was not for his engineering skills alone, that Berlin had selected him, but his extraordinary abilities as a spy and obsessive determination to succeed. They had chosen well, for this was a mission that would tax Karl to his limit.
The small village on the way to the tranquil lake was deserted, families were taking lunch. He was aware of a young woman some way behind him. She worked as a cleaner at the research centre, according to the 22 year old Gestapo agent, Ernst Huber, who was shadowing them both. She had become part of the routine over the last week, but he did not need to worry about such things these days, now that he was no longer an active spy, that was Huber’s job.
The lad had taken a keen interest in spy craft and often consulted Karl on the subject. It was because of such tips that Ernst seldom had the same appearance two days running. As Karl pointed out, most spies can spot the typical Gestapo agent from afar. If the agent is following someone, the spy need only follow the agent, they would all end up at the same destination, but the spy would remain undetected.
Ernst noticed the girl take something from her shopping bag and lob it underhand, high in the air. She instantly ducked up an ally between buildings and vanished.
There was a loud thump of a heavy, fist sized metal object, as it landed on the pavement just behind Karl. It rolled past and smacked into the side of a projecting stone step, just in front of him.
It was a grenade and there was no cover for him, to take the blast.
“Arghhh!” he yelled, as he dived to the shallow roadside gutter. Instinctively he turned his face from the grenade and protected his head with his arms. A couple of nerve wracking seconds of his life, passed like a slice of eternity, before the device exploded. The shockwave flipped the concussed and shrapnel riddled body like a rag doll, out into the road. The stone step had directed shrapnel at Ernst, but he was in shock, his head swam from the explosion, so he never felt the spray of searing fragments.
Fearing the worst, he ran to help Karl. From shoulder to buttock on the blast side was blood drenched clothing, it was torn and smoking. He could only stand and stare at the awful mess, as residents rushed out of their homes to see what had happened.
Someone ran for the Doctor, who arrived minutes later and quickly checked for a pulse. It was strong but irregular; fortunately the victim was still breathing. Examining the wounds overwhelmed him, there were so many. He realised blood loss was the first problem to solve, so he called for clean towels. To some extent, the searing hot fragments had cauterised many blood vessels and the cloths were acting as a crude bandage, all the towels were going to do was hide the gore.
Minutes later, a military ambulance arrived with soldiers and Gestapo agents who ran around questioning everyone. Karl and Ernst were rushed away in the ambulance, back to the medical centre.
Ernst knew he was in big trouble and would become the centre of the investigation into what had happened, after all, it was his responsibility to protect Strom. Why hadn’t he? They would ask.
Ernst decided to seek advice and help from his father, Franz Huber, an SS General. Their relationship was a strained and distant one up till then, but he listened carefully to his son.
“Ernst, there will be a formal enquiry and you need to present your account before they form their own conclusions. Right or wrong, they won’t change their minds. You also need to take the initiative, it is too your credit that you had arranged for the girl to be investigated, two days previous. If there were indications she was a threat, why had they not informed you?
“Another tactic is to present a summation of the situation and a strategy for dealing with it. It has the effect of moving the focus from you to the real issue, the security of the project. Done respectfully, but assertively, I believe you will be exonerated.
“Finally, it is better for you that I do not intervene in any way, because it will work against you on your record.
“I wish you luck and I want you to know I have every confidence in you.” He abruptly ended the call.
Later that afternoon Ernst Huber was called to attend the inquiry, he had just left the medical facility and his face was heavily bandaged. There was nothing they could do though to prevent scars on his face.
Ernst knocked on the door and he was summoned in. The gathering of six high ranking officers, all of whom he knew, looked stern as they sat at the large rectangular table. They were gathered at one end, each side of the chairman SS-Oberführer Wilhelm Keppler who presided over the meeting and he asked Ernst to take a seat. The lonely chair at the far end was a ridiculous distance away from the group and if he sat there, it was them against him. It looked like he was too late; they had most likely made up their minds about blame. He had nothing to lose, everything to gain, by taking the odd seat with the group. There were now three people each side of the chairman, everything was in balance and he was now one of them.
The chairman spoke, “Ernst, we see you got caught in the blast, I hope you will heal quickly. Please tell us, being so close, why didn’t you prevent the woman from throwing the grenade? Surly you could have shot her?”
“I was not close at all, the woman was never aware of me, or she would never have thrown the grenade. The grenade exploded against a stone step and directed some of the blast in my direction. You may be aware that I flagged the woman for investigation two days ago, because she started following Karl Strom three days before that. On every occasion, except today, there were bystanders along the route. Had it not been for them, she would have thrown the grenade then. Have you received any intelligence from the agents investigating the woman?”
The chairman grunted and looked questioningly at the other members, but they looked down and shuffled papers.
“There was no opportunity to shoot the woman and prevent the attack. She had her back to me when she moved the shopping bag in front of her, so I had no way of seeing what she had in her hand. The instant she lobbed the grenade, high in the air, she vanished up an ally. The best I could do was shout a warning to Karl, but by then, it hit the ground and rolled past him, into the step. He dived into the roadside gutter to take cover.
“Now that I have had chance to examine the facts, I believe there is far more to this incident that the killing of one man. With respect Sir, would you all care to hear what I have to say?”
The group nodded their agreement and Ernst continued.
“The attack on Karl Strom was not random, because in exchange for his death, the British lose a valuable asset and the opportunity to learn more about what we do here. That tells me at least two things; first, they are aware of what he is doing here, to some extent, and that they have no idea where exactly to drop bombs to cripple us. The recent bombing runs show clearly they are guessing. The next best thing is to eliminate the key man by killing him and thereby halt development for a while.
“I questioned why they chose to blow him up, and that tells me they only have the woman on the outside, spying on us. Just because she is a woman does not mean she cannot shoot, but even at close range, people do survive being shot. It is better to blow them to pieces and ensure success.
“I have also tried to lob a grenade like she did, and it takes practice to become so accurate. This tells me the attack has been well planned for some time. I also wondered why she lobbed the grenade high in the air, and not just throw it directly. I reasoned that she wanted the explosion to occur the moment it hit the ground so Karl had no time to take cover. If she just pulled the pin and counted off a few seconds before throwing, I or someone like me would have had time to shoot her. Several seconds passed when it was in the air, undetected by Karl.
“This is the sort of thinking that would come from an expert. The same applies for the escape up the ally. I am convinced the woman did not know I was there, or she would have found another way to kill him.
“I respectfully suggest we let the woman believe Karl is dead and she can report this back to SIS in England. This will get them off our back for a while, believing work here is halted. We can also feed misinformation to them through her.”
Ernst could see from their faces, he had their full attention and had impressed them with his presentation. What happened now was up to them.
“Ernst, I want to discuss what you have said with my fellow officers, I will let you know what we decide, if it is relevant to you. I can put your mind at rest however, we see no failing on your part and that will be stated clearly on your record. Thank you for your thoughts.
“You can go back to your duties.”
Ernst saluted and left, greatly relieved the matter was closed.
The following afternoon he joined a small group of officers and staff at the village cemetery for Karl Strom’s funeral, a hasty affair, but understandable under the circumstances.
A week later, he received a telephone call from SS-Oberführer Wilhelm Keppler.
“Kriminalassistent Ernst Huber, I thought you would appreciate taking part in the arrest and interrogation of Ingrid Hine known as Rabbit at her home in Karlshagen for her part in the attack on yourself and Karl Strom. I have informed your superior, so report to him immediately. It will be good experience for you.”
“Thank you Oberführer Keppler, I am honoured.”
“I am sure you are, Huber. Good day.” He laughed and hung up.
That afternoon, Rabbit heard the commotion of many soldiers running in her direction as she cleaned the Sleeping and Living Quarters. This was the block where the menial staff and general labour resided. She hastily removed from a pocket, a piece of hard chewing gum and forced it into the gap of an extracted upper molar.
As the soldiers surrounded her an officer pushed through them and stood up close, face to face. Blood drained from her brain, her guts churned and her bowel contents turned to liquid as adrenalin pumped through her system. Now her mouth and throat went dry, so dry, she could not speak.
“Frau Ingrid Hine, I arrest you for acts of spying and other crimes against the Reich,” announced Kriminaldirektor Georg Koppe.
Then the soldiers firmly grasped her arms and forced her away to be stripped and searched. It was a deliberately dramatic arrest, aimed at instilling terror into everyone who worked at Peenemünde and dissuading them from acts of sabotage and betrayal.
That evening, her husband and five-year-old daughter were brought in for interrogation.
The interrogation room was cramped, and intentionally depressing, with a light grey painted concrete floor and neglected, bare white walls. The picture of the Führer, high up on the wall behind Georg Koppe, glared down at the prisoner. His expression said it all; you decided to go against me, now you pay the price.
Koppe sat behind a simple wooden table with a small sheaf of papers in front of him, illuminated by a basic table lamp. Alongside, in the corner sat Ernst Huber, he was there to learn and where necessary assist and restrain. Both men looked cadaverous and sinister as the single dim light on the ceiling cast dark shadows across their features.
Ingrid Hine noticed the freshly bruised and scabbed face of the man sat in the corner. Although she did not recognise him, she knew it was her handiwork that had done the damage. Under different circumstances, she would have felt sympathy for the lad, such a handsome face, disfigured for life, but at this moment, she felt nothing for him. Instead, her mind was filled with abject terror. Georg Koppe, the interrogator at the table, had a reputation for brutality and he was staring dispassionately at her.
Her British contact, Whisky, had warned her of the risks when he recruited her nine months ago, but she had got away with so much, spying right under their noses, she thought she was too smart for the Germans. What was she going to do now? The British will have abandoned her and covered their tracks, she had a daughter and loving husband to take care of, they knew nothing of her secret. She could hold out for a time, she imagined, but she knew she would tell all in the end. What if they threatened her family? No, she could not bear that, she decided she had only two cards to play.
Ernst Huber tried to imagine what was going on in the woman’s mind as she sat there, so tense. Rabbit, her code name, was very apt just now; this rabbit was caught in the proverbial headlights and had good reason to be tense.
She had permanently disfigured him, and he hated her for that, even though he realised he was just collateral damage. As an interrogator, he knew he had to supress emotion, or he would fail in the task. It calmed him to consider their differences, she had her beliefs and acted on them, and he had his and would do the same. In war, the British kill Germans, and the Germans kill the British.
He wondered what he would do in her present, precarious position. He tried to imaging how she would be feeling. Huber could not comprehend such terror, but he knew what awaited her, so he knew would panic. That must be why she is so still, she has no idea what she will go through before she gives in or dies. She will foolishly be brave and resist, but will she be so brave when she sees it is her husband and child that are taking the pain? I doubt it, he decided.
How would Koppe start the interrogation, it was common knowledge amongst the officers he hated the unpleasantness of torture; he only used it as a last resort, because he had to win.
“Ingrid, you have a husband called Josef, and Sophie, your beautiful daughter aged five. She looks very much like you.” Koppe smiled warmly.
“They are both here and their fate rests in your hands. You are here because you are a British spy who has also attacked my staff. And for that, the penalty is death by firing squad.” Koppe looked deeply saddened.
“The British have used you to gather intelligence about what we do here, but I want you to fully appreciate the word – used, because that’s what they have done to you. Used you, and abandoned you, now that they have all you could give them. They have forgotten you already. I understand all this, and having regard for the young family that needs you, I can help you if you help me.
“I can hold you, until the war is over, a year or so and then you can return to your family. As I said earlier, the alternative is the firing squad.
“In exchange, I want to know everything you told the British, so I can take countermeasures.
“Is that what you want to do?
“If it is, you can make a start and I will bring in Josef and Sophie to see you for a few minutes.”
Georg looked up at her and with the facial expression of a kindly uncle; he reached forward and placed both palms on the table, in a gesture of sincerity.
Tears welled up in Ingrid’s eyes; there was really only the one card that she could play.
In a fit of emotion, she bit hard on the softened gum in her mouth and attempted to swallow. The cyanide loaded saliva tasted like bitter salt for an instant and then her mouth and throat when numb. It took only a few seconds for the poison to be transferred through the mucosa into her blood. Then every cell in contact with it became deprived of oxygen.
She fitted and fell forward onto the floor, gasping and writhing, her visible skin turning pink. The final gasp came fifteen seconds later.
Huber was shocked to the core, rooted to the chair.
Koppe looked surprised, but it quickly turned to fury as he accepted she had thwarted him. He remained seated, noted the time and wrote a brief note in the file.
Two days after her death, there were high level meetings that discussed the relocation of various sections of the Research Centre to different countries.
Sir Peter Stern in MI6 picked up his telephone and called John Caplin.
“Good afternoon John, Sir Peter here, how is Margret? A little one on the way I understand, due in October, is that right?”
“Oh! Hello Sir Peter. I was about to call you, we have officially lost contact with Rabbit now, just as you expected, still, that well was running dry. I have reviewed all she sent us, and everything up to June 2nd seems reliable. I am not convinced one way or the other about the success in killing Karl Strom. If I were Jerry, I would say he was dead, even if he wasn’t, just to keep the other side quiet. The funeral was a simple affair, but nothing we wouldn’t do.
“Operations Whitebait and Hydra will go ahead anyway on August 17th, the maps and sketches Rabbit sent from the two polish Janitors she knew, are authentic, according to IMINT.”
“Spot on my boy, just what I needed to know. Thanks!”

Arrival in Alderney.

The driving rain had only one upside for Karl Strom; it flattened the dark water of Braye Bay, allowing a smoother landing for the Blohm & Voss BV 138 flying boat. He was its only passenger. The freezing cold air on this vile night, December 1st 1943 had even paralysed the wind.
The sudden hiss, jerk and bounce as the hull briefly kissed the sea, roused Strom from his ruminations. Relief swept over him as the sea sprayed loudly against the thin metal and he felt the prolonged deceleration of a perfect water landing. The trimotor Junkers Jumo aircraft diesel engines spluttered lumpily and vibrated the whole aircraft as it taxied up to the floating pontoon.
For Strom, this long flight from Germany was all he could have hoped for. Although his tired body ached, where it still had feeling, his joy came from knowing his top secret equipment was likely to have survived the smooth journey.
The silence as the engines stopped was replaced by the roar in his head from assaulted eardrums. It would be hours before they returned to normal and he could enjoy silence again. He tried to move, but his muscles and joints had seized, it was the equivalent to rigor mortise, for the living. Clicking open his seatbelt, it slip away, rattling as the ends fell against the seat frame. Screwing up his face and forcing himself through the agony, to stand, he walked through the plane. Past injuries had healed, but the lasting damage was done, fortunately only he knew his limitations, but then he was a master at keeping secrets. What was one more?

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Prologue from Frost Burn by Erica Stevens

I have something extra special to share with all of you.....It's the prologue to Erica Stevens's new book called Frost Burn!!  It's not even out for pre-order yet, but here it is!!

Fire and ice licked over her flesh. The fire was due to the pain lancing through her body from the knives driven through the palm of her hands and her stomach. It felt like the fire was consuming her, burying her within its raging depths, devouring her very soul. The ice, well the ice was from the weakness stealing through her and dousing the fire beneath it.
The sensations were so overwhelming and contradictory to each other that they briefly doused the shrill screams of those around her. Her family. Tears slid down her cheeks. She jerked at her hands but the knives had been buried deep into the wood floor beneath her. Blood trickled down from the wound on her right temple, and the slice down the center of her chin. Pinned down, she could only lay helplessly as she listened to the dying sounds of those she loved.
Like some kind of ghoulish painter throwing paint at a canvas, blood splashed across the family pictures hanging on the wall and one of the many screams went abruptly silent. Shock wearing off, she jerked against the blades securing her to the floor. She had to get to her family, had to try and save them somehow. A scream of frustration and agony burned in her throat. The fire licked back over her body as she strained to tear her hands free of the knives. She tried to arch up in an attempt to dislodge the one in her stomach but a wave of blackness washed over her, threatening to bury her within its depths. Panting heavily, she fell back on the floor. She couldn’t pass out; it would be certain death if she did.
A tsking sound from her right caused her to turn her head in that direction. She blinked back the blood, sweat, and tears clogging her lashes and blurring her vision. “Such a shame.” She shrank away from the hand brushing over her forehead. “Such a fighter.”
A man’s face loomed over her. A face she knew she’d remember for the rest of her life, for however long that might be given her present circumstances. “Shh child,” he murmured as he continued to brush her hair back. “It will all be over soon.”
His blue green eyes swirled with malicious glee, his wide nostrils flared as he inhaled the scent of the blood pooling beneath her. The high arch of his cheekbones gave his face a rat-like appearance which she found completely appropriate for this horrible monster. A mole at the corner of his left eye had a long, creepy hair curling from it. His thin lips pulled back to reveal his lengthy, razor sharp fangs. 
A cry of protest escaped her but she could do nothing to stop him from driving his fangs into her throat. More fire lanced over her skin as she fought against the monster pulling her blood from her body, but even as the heat crept in so did the ice. Weakness slipped into her limbs, up through her belly and toward her chest. 
She wasn’t ready to die, she’d finally started to live, but just as she couldn’t escape the knives pinning her body to the floor, she couldn’t escape this monster feeding off of her in greedy, slurping pulls. The ice crept further up, dousing the fire beneath its crushing flow. She wasn’t ready to give in but she had no choice in the matter as her heart began to slow. It gave a dull beat before pausing for endless seconds then pumping again.
The monster above her pulled away and wiped the blood away from his mouth. “Delicious,” he purred before rising to his feet and walking away.
It was only after he’d gone that she realized how quiet the room had become. Her family. She felt the overwhelming need to cry but she didn’t have the energy to muster a single tear. She could only stare at the blood-coated photos across from her as her breathing became shallower and her heartbeats further apart. The distant murmur of voices drifted to her but she couldn’t make them out as the ice slid up to her neck. She heard the click of the door closing and realized the monsters had left but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore as the ice encompassed her, her heart finally stopped beating, and the world went completely black.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

The Hero of Blind Pig Island and Other Island Stories by Jimmy Olsen

This is a collection of short stories by Jimmy Olsen that I received a copy of in exchange for an honest review.  Honestly, I almost never read short stories, but these were rather fascinating tales ranging from missionaries to diving experiences all the way to vengeful school teachers.  Some were rather intriguing and funny while others were kind of sad.  They all center on island life and most of the inhabitants there live much differently than where I live.  Here everyone seems rather uptight and stressed all of the time (this sometimes includes myself).  In these stories though, it's like a whole different world.  The people like to drink, party, and relax.  They take life as it comes and in some ways I am envious of them.  There were a few stories I found particularly interesting.  There was one about a large hurricane coming through and the people riding it out had a party while it was in full swing!  Not something that I would have ever done, but I found this very amusing!  Also, the one about the vengeful school teachers was quite interesting for me.  It had some rather funny parts to it and I couldn't help laughing in some places while during others I was in total agreement that certain people had gotten what they deserved.  It's a really great collection!


This collection of island stories carries the reader from daring adventures beneath the Caribbean Sea to tense conflict on a deserted island near the Canadian border. Love stories and private eyes, a boy living on a lonely salt cay and a girl's dream of freedom at sea, hurricanes and heroes - all told with humor and the insight that comes from firsthand experience.

Amazon Buy Link:

Thursday, April 2, 2015

The Lost City: King's Inheritance by D.L. Colon


In the next book in The Lost City Series, Noryad King has returned home after many many years to claim what is rightfully his; his inheritance.  He is the rightful ruler and king of the island he returned to, but first he must train and go through a number of tests to prove his worth and skill.  When he returns he finds that the dead are already coming to him and that there is much to be learned before he can even begin to look for the sword of King Arthur.  No one knows where the sword is besides the one that watches over it and Merlin, the sorcerer.
   Not too long after arriving back at his castle, Coral, the Goddess of Fate, follows him there and stays at the castle as well.  She and Noryad have feelings for each other that keep developing, but she holds secrets that threaten to destroy their relationship.  And once those secrets come out, it also causes a vengeful war for Noryad, who already has one war coming in the near future.  He must be ready for both so he can protect his kingdom and his people.  More than that, he must help protect the world from Raphael and his Destroyers that are coming.  And make no mistake, the devil's son is out for blood.

  I have now read both books in this series and although the first was a pretty good read, this one was absolutely fantastic!  I was really stuck in this book and couldn't get out until I finished it!  It had loads of action and some drama.  It mixed some angels and demons with old tales of King Arthur and Merlin.  While this would normally not be a great combination, D.L. Colon did a very good job mixing it up!  I very much look forward to the next book in his series!

Book Blurb:

The King family was killed on their throne when Raphael attacked the Caribbean, looking for the location of the boy of the prophecy.

During the battle they sent Noryad, their fourth and strongest son, through a portal to the Guild Never Too Late, but not before he watched how his brothers and sister were killed in front of his eyes. As the portal closed he heard Raphael say to him, “I will look for you when you are older. You cannot hide forever.”

Now 24 years old, Noryad is forced to leave the Guild he dedicated his life to because his powers are getting out of control, but his departure happened for another reason too. His parents left him a mission for when his powers got to be too much to deal with.
Go my son. Reclaim what is yours by right. Look for the Sword of Kings, the one our ancestors used during their leadership. Make our army of the dead comeback to life. Make the King of Camelot kneel before you and recognize you as his descendant.
Noryad, left with no other choice but to return to the place that has many dark memories for him, goes through a portal and into the unknown to look for something he’s never heard of.

He must learn to control his powers as he faces something sinister waiting for him in his Kingdom, and the Demon he hates the most.

Will Noryad be able to control his powers, find the sword his parents were talking about and make them proud of him? Or will he be too consumed by his revenge to claim his inheritance and lose all that he holds dear. 

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