Robyn can’t help but notice the handsome new guy at her school. She ignores, however, the arrival of another being at Brookfield Central High School—a demon assigned to destroy her…
Robyn loves her friends, enjoys her youth group, and looks forward to meeting cute Caleb Montague. But when a caustic news reporter challenges her school’s prayer team, Robyn must choose: defend their right to meet on campus and pray for whomever they wish or back down at the principal’s request.
Now she must learn what God wants her to do. And she had better learn fast, because there’s a supernatural enemy in town whose sole mission is to stop her—no matter the cost.
Read an excerpt!
From a comfortable height above the trees, Sebastian circled the abandoned paper mill, drinking in the atmosphere of dereliction and decay surrounding the property. This place has more character than most of the humans I know. Half broken windows winked like the evil eyes of wayward souls, while snow drifts gathered in the corners. The wind toyed with the snow, whipping trails that could chill his feet and ankles. If he had feet and ankles, that is.
Slipping through a second-story window, Sebastian watched a rat scurry across the dusty floor in a dash for the shadows. Like an angry cloud—black as asphalt, thick as cigar smoke—Sebastian floated after the rodent, watching with mild interest as it raced for another shadow and nearly collided with an old tom cat whose eyes glowed bright with hunger. The tom sprang, but Sebastian turned away. He didn’t have time for these cat and mouse games today, no matter how much he enjoyed them. He had bigger game to consider, and as he moved over the room, he thought about the girl he’d come to destroy.
Sebastian peered through the panel of small rectangular windows overlooking the town of Brookfield, fifty in all, though most were broken, and he yawned as he watched the town stretch with morning life. Humans filtered in and out of the corner diner, scampered about in their shiny cars, and huddled against the wind in mindless oblivion. Sebastian’s mouth curled into a sneer.
Read the reviews!
Driven is a breathtaking book of tension, intrigue, and heartwarming emotion. From the moment I began to read until the very last word, I couldn't put it aside. It held me enthralled!
--Lindsay Below, author of Head Over Hand-Bought Heels
Driven by Shellie Neumeier will leave every teen wanting to know what happens next in the lives of these prayer warriors. Shellie creates realistic characters, angels, and demons. A must have for every teen struggling through real life adventures. Shellie spins an amazing story that helps show the reader the path in finding Jesus and asking him into your life under any circumstance.
—Cheryl Ecklund, creator of Our Wisdom Shared; Parents of Chronically Ill Children, Sharing.
Oily creatures of the night are seeking to destroy a group of teens at Brookfield Central High School. Their primary target? A resilient teenage girl who refuses to question her calling. But how much guilt, how much pain, and how much accusation can one human take? Laced with other-worldly plot threads akin to Frank Peretti’s This Present Darkness, Shellie Neumeier’s debut novel inspires followers of Christ to stand strong in God’s calling regardless of tragic circumstances. Along the way she explores tragedy in friendships and the beauty of redemption.
—Caleb Jennings Breakey, Refining Teen Writers into Rockstars http://www.calebbreakey.com/
Shellie Neumeier holds a degree in Secondary Education from the University of Wisconsin, Madison, with a minor in Psychology, Sociology and Social Studies. A devoted mother of four, Shellie previously worked on staff with Northbrook Church as the King’s Kids ministry assistant (serving children in grades 2nd through 5th). Shellie’s YA novel, Driven, is available from Risen Fiction and her middle grade chapter book The Wishing Ring will release February 2012. She is an active member of SCBWI and ACFW as well as a contributing author for various blogs. Shellie is located in southeastern Wisconsin.
Visit Shellie online at:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001729933656
Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/shellie_c
Website: http://shellieneumeier.com
Friday, October 7, 2011
Thursday, October 6, 2011
COMING SOON! IN SESSION BY M.J. ROSE
International bestselling author M.J. Rose, a publishing pioneer who wrote the first e-book to be published by a mainstream New York publishing house, is once again thrilling the book world with another innovation – the first ever e-fan fiction written by an accomplished author called, In Session
Fan fiction stories, usually written by fans of an original work, rather than by the author, are rarely commissioned or authorized by the author and almost never published professionally. This is the first time a well-known published author like Rose has sought and received permission to include popular characters of bestselling writers from the thriller genre, in three short stories tied together through one of her most popular heroines.
How do you get a stoic drifter, a former covert agent and an international assassin to see a sex therapist? That was the challenge faced by international bestselling author M.J. Rose when she proposed setting up appointments for Jack Reacher, Cotton Malone and John Rain with Dr. Morgan Snow of the Butterfield Institute in her new e-book IN SESSION (October 17, 2011, Kindle e-book, $1.99).
The protagonists’ of New York Times bestselling authors – Lee Child, Steve Berry and Barry Eisler – swore that their men of mystery would never agree to therapy – unless Rose found a way to get them there. By slipping Dr. Snow out of her office, Rose delivered some of America’s favorite male characters to a place they’ve never been before – in therapy.
IN SESSION contains three racy and revealing short stories by M.J. Rose:
• KNOWING YOU’RE ALIVE with Lee Child’s Jack Reacher results in revelations for the injured Dr. Snow and her unexpected savior/patient. What secrets from the past are contained in an unexpected gift?
• EXTENUATING CIRCUMSTANCES with Steve Berry’s Cotton Malone features a woman who seeks help for her lover, and sends Dr. Snow overseas on a most unusual house call. Can a rare book in a plain brown wrapper be the medicine her patient needs?
• DECISIONS, DECISIONS with Barry Eisler’s John Rain forces Dr. Snow out of her own comfort zone, and into the world of a former patient’s worst nightmare. Does protecting what she loves most require a dance with darkness?
The audio version, narrated by award winners Phil Gigante and Natalie Ross will feature Dick Hill, Scott Brick and Barry Eisler reprising their roles Reacher, Malone and Rain.
M.J. ROSE (http://www.mjrose.com/) is an internationally bestselling author of eleven novels including The Halo Effect, The Venus Fix and The Delilah Complex all featuring Dr. Morgan Snow. Her next novel, The Book of Lost Fragrances will be published in March, 2012 by Atria Books (S&S). Rose is a founding board member of International Thriller Writers and founder of the first marketing company for authors, AuthorBuzz.com. Proceeds of the audio book and a share of the proceeds of the ebook will be donated to David Baldacci’s Wish You Well Foundation, supporting family literacy. (http://wishyouwellfoundation.org/)
PRE-ORDER FROM AMAZON
NOW!
Book Spotlight: Bears With Us by Marilyn Meredith
A burglar turns out to be a bear and Deputy Tempe Crabtree and her pastor husband, Hutch, chase the bear out of the house. This is their first encounter with a bear and the occupants of the home, an elderly couple and their daughter—and it isn’t the last.
A bear turns up at the school, at a restaurant, an apple orchard and two more homes. That is only part of what Tempe is called to handle. A teenager’s suicide, a mother who doesn’t like her daughter’s boyfriend, a wandering senior with a strange form of Alzheimer’s, and a long ago love affair keep Tempe hopping.
Read an excerpt!
The highway twisted more and more the higher into the mountains they drove. Tempe slowed to turn onto one of the few roads that left the highway. Also two lane and much narrower, it wound around even more. “Watch for the mailbox with their name on it. I think it’s a shaped like a house with a shingle roof.”
“I will…”
Tempe switched off the emergency lights. No need in alerting a burglar of her approach.
“There it is,” Hutch said.
She pulled into the lane, pine trees bracketing either side. The lane climbed a bit before widening into a flat spot. A silver Scion sat off to the side of a three car garage. A wide porch ran around the front and sides of the two-story cedar structure. All the windows were dark.
Tempe grabbed the shotgun from its holder under the dash. “Don’t shut the doors. Be as quiet as possible.”
Chimney smoke scented the pine and cedar laden fall air. Holding her flashlight in her other hand, she kept the beam low as they climbed the three steps leading to the front door. It stood open. Unfortunately, many people living in the mountains didn’t think it necessary to lock doors.
The minute Tempe stepped inside, she knew what was happening.
The tell-tale snorts and slurping sounds told the tale. It was no longer necessary to be quiet. “Bear.” Bears had gotten smart over the years, learning how to open trash cans and open doors. Sometimes just leaning their heavy bodies on the barrier popped the latch. If a window was left open, a screen never stopped a bear.
Hutch grimaced and peered toward the area where the noise came from. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. Run upstairs and let the residents know what’s going on. Ask to use their phone and call Fish and Game. I know my cell won’t work up here. We might need some help. Then come back down and help me chase it or them out.”
Read the reviews!
"I just love curling up with a Marilyn Meredith novel. Bears With Us didn't disappoint. Marilyn's writing is as usual, crisp and sharp--and her story interesting,touching timely issues in a lot of folks lives, and connected to Native American traditions."
--M.M. Gornell, Amazon reviewer
"A strong female lead, Native American mysticism, and well-drawn characters fill Bears With Us. It can definitely be read as a stand-alone novel, but I suggest you read all the Deputy Tempe Crabtree novels."
--The Book Connection
Visit Marilyn online at http://fictionforyou.com/ and her blog at http://marilynmeredith.blogspot.com/.
CONTEST DETAILS: Would you like to be immortalized in print? Marilyn Meredith is running a contest during her BEARS WITH US virtual book tour. Whoever leaves a comment on the most blog sites during the tour, will have his or her name used for a character in Marilyn’s next book. Please visit http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/2011/08/11/bears-with-us-virtual-book-tour-october-2011/ for her entire schedule. Good luck!
A bear turns up at the school, at a restaurant, an apple orchard and two more homes. That is only part of what Tempe is called to handle. A teenager’s suicide, a mother who doesn’t like her daughter’s boyfriend, a wandering senior with a strange form of Alzheimer’s, and a long ago love affair keep Tempe hopping.
Read an excerpt!
The highway twisted more and more the higher into the mountains they drove. Tempe slowed to turn onto one of the few roads that left the highway. Also two lane and much narrower, it wound around even more. “Watch for the mailbox with their name on it. I think it’s a shaped like a house with a shingle roof.”
“I will…”
Tempe switched off the emergency lights. No need in alerting a burglar of her approach.
“There it is,” Hutch said.
She pulled into the lane, pine trees bracketing either side. The lane climbed a bit before widening into a flat spot. A silver Scion sat off to the side of a three car garage. A wide porch ran around the front and sides of the two-story cedar structure. All the windows were dark.
Tempe grabbed the shotgun from its holder under the dash. “Don’t shut the doors. Be as quiet as possible.”
Chimney smoke scented the pine and cedar laden fall air. Holding her flashlight in her other hand, she kept the beam low as they climbed the three steps leading to the front door. It stood open. Unfortunately, many people living in the mountains didn’t think it necessary to lock doors.
The minute Tempe stepped inside, she knew what was happening.
The tell-tale snorts and slurping sounds told the tale. It was no longer necessary to be quiet. “Bear.” Bears had gotten smart over the years, learning how to open trash cans and open doors. Sometimes just leaning their heavy bodies on the barrier popped the latch. If a window was left open, a screen never stopped a bear.
Hutch grimaced and peered toward the area where the noise came from. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. Run upstairs and let the residents know what’s going on. Ask to use their phone and call Fish and Game. I know my cell won’t work up here. We might need some help. Then come back down and help me chase it or them out.”
Read the reviews!
"I just love curling up with a Marilyn Meredith novel. Bears With Us didn't disappoint. Marilyn's writing is as usual, crisp and sharp--and her story interesting,touching timely issues in a lot of folks lives, and connected to Native American traditions."
--M.M. Gornell, Amazon reviewer
"A strong female lead, Native American mysticism, and well-drawn characters fill Bears With Us. It can definitely be read as a stand-alone novel, but I suggest you read all the Deputy Tempe Crabtree novels."
--The Book Connection
PURCHASE BEARS WITH US FROM MUNDANIA PRESS OR AMAZON
!
Marilyn Meredith is the author of over thirty published novels, many award winning, including the Deputy Tempe Crabtree mystery series. Bears With Us is the latest release. Writing as F. M. Meredith, her latest Rocky Bluff P.D. crime novel is Angel Lost, the third from Oak Tree Press. Marilyn is a member of EPIC, Four chapters of Sisters in Crime, including the Central Coast chapter, Mystery Writers of America, and on the board of the Public Safety Writers of America. She’s also a been an instructor at many writing conferences including the Maui Writers Retreat, Central Coast Writing Conference and many others.
Visit Marilyn online at http://fictionforyou.com/ and her blog at http://marilynmeredith.blogspot.com/.
CONTEST DETAILS: Would you like to be immortalized in print? Marilyn Meredith is running a contest during her BEARS WITH US virtual book tour. Whoever leaves a comment on the most blog sites during the tour, will have his or her name used for a character in Marilyn’s next book. Please visit http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/2011/08/11/bears-with-us-virtual-book-tour-october-2011/ for her entire schedule. Good luck!
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Horror Novel Month: Sunshine Boulevard by J. Q. Rose
Mysterious deaths upset the Florida retirement community interfering with their seasonal activities and turning up more than dead bodies.
Who or what is killing the seniors on Sunshine Boulevard? Follow Jim and Gloria Hart, snowbirds who annually migrate to Florida for warm sunshine, fun, and games in snow-free winters. However this season, Jim Hart, a volunteer First Responder in his retirement community of Citrus Ridge, is drawn into the investigation of the mysterious deaths. Even in the midst of the unfortunate demise of the residents on Sunshine Boulevard, the Harts try to enjoy the winter with friends. They don't realize that their friends are getting together for their own kinds of affairs with each other. The neighbors are in a dither over the deaths, but perhaps more intrigued by the gossip about the affairs and why the naked lady was found lying in the geranium bed.
Read an excerpt!
“Hi, Gloria,” Pamela yelled waving to her from across the large room. As usual, Pamela’s make-up was perfect, and today she wore a matching pink outfit with coordinating tennis shoes and socks. Pamela took off her jacket revealing a slim, tanned figure to match her perfect make-up.
Pamela gave Gloria a big hug as if she hadn’t seen her all season when they actually spent game night together the evening before last. Her big smile flashed her perfect teeth…all her own…and she stepped back to include Gloria in her conversation with four other women.
At her age, Gloria thought she was done with role models, but Gloria admired Pamela as if she were the head of her high school clique. Not only was Pamela beautiful, but she was also gracious and self-confident, friendly and kind. Gloria wanted to be just like her.
“Did you hear about George McDonnell? Did Jim hear anything yet?” Pamela’s best friend, Rosemary, asked. Joining the group took Gloria back to eighth grade memories of best friends, gossip, and popularity contests.
“Is he sick?”
“No, he’s dead.” Rosemary waited a beat, watching Gloria before going on. “I thought since Jim is one of the First Responders for the park, he may have been called to the scene.”
Gloria looked at each of the women. It took her a minute to process the news. Many of the residents mistakenly assumed Jim attended every call because he was the volunteer co-captain of the First Responders Unit, but Jim wasn’t on call yesterday. They had shopped most of the day at the flea market and ate dinner at their favorite restaurant in the evening.
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. George has been ill for a while. I know after his wife passed, he didn’t want to live any longer.” Gloria dumped her car keys in her bag setting it along the wall. She unrolled her mat next to Pamela’s on the floor, and placed the dreaded barbells nearby with a quick prayer that the instructor wouldn’t make use of them today. She didn’t mind stretching and moving, but the bar bells were just too much.
“Oh, no, it wasn’t his heart that killed him, Gloria,” Bonnie, another woman in the group, announced. Gloria was puzzled as she saw the looks exchanged by her friends.
“What happened?” Gloria widened her eyes with concern.
Bonnie puffed up her chest and pulled her elbows back as she leaned forward to deliver the big news. “His neighbor, Lottie Carpenter found him. She smelled him rotting in his house.”
Read the reviews!
"This story blends humor with mystery and death very cleverly, making it a book I had to keep reading. Even after I found out the answer to the above question, I was still hooked and had to read on to find out what happened next.
I would like to compliment Ms Rose for writing a book which is extremely pleasant to read, but grabs the attention at the same time."
--Sue's Book Reviews
"What a page turner and full of surprises! I couldn't put this book down."
--Roseanne Dowell, author Stranger on the Shore
"J.Q. Rose creates a suspense-filled story that keeps you reading to find out what is claiming the lives of people in Citrus Ridge. I won't give away any secrets, but I will reiterate my review title: I'm NOT moving to Florida...ever ever ever."
--Ginger Simpson, author of Hurricane Warning
PURCHASE A COPY OF SUNSHINE BOULEVARD AT MUSEITUPPUBLISHING.COM AND AT THESE ONLINE RETAILERS:
Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Sunshine-Boulevard-ebook/dp/B004PYDI9C
Barnes and Noble - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sunshine-boulevard-jq-rose/1030490355
Smashwords - http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/46612
OmniLit - http://www.omnilit.com/product-sunshineboulevard-513486-241.html
J Q Rose, author of Sunshine Boulevard, is an avid reader and photographer. She is addicted to Facebook and enjoys blogging about growing a vegetable garden and writing. Janet and her husband are snow birds spending winters in Florida. Summer finds her up north camping and hunting toads, frogs, and salamanders with her grandsons. She spends time with her two year old granddaughter reading a book and having pretend tea parties together.
Visit J.Q. online at http://www.jqrose.webs.com/ and her blog at http://www.jqroseauthor.blogspot.com.
Who or what is killing the seniors on Sunshine Boulevard? Follow Jim and Gloria Hart, snowbirds who annually migrate to Florida for warm sunshine, fun, and games in snow-free winters. However this season, Jim Hart, a volunteer First Responder in his retirement community of Citrus Ridge, is drawn into the investigation of the mysterious deaths. Even in the midst of the unfortunate demise of the residents on Sunshine Boulevard, the Harts try to enjoy the winter with friends. They don't realize that their friends are getting together for their own kinds of affairs with each other. The neighbors are in a dither over the deaths, but perhaps more intrigued by the gossip about the affairs and why the naked lady was found lying in the geranium bed.
Read an excerpt!
“Hi, Gloria,” Pamela yelled waving to her from across the large room. As usual, Pamela’s make-up was perfect, and today she wore a matching pink outfit with coordinating tennis shoes and socks. Pamela took off her jacket revealing a slim, tanned figure to match her perfect make-up.
Pamela gave Gloria a big hug as if she hadn’t seen her all season when they actually spent game night together the evening before last. Her big smile flashed her perfect teeth…all her own…and she stepped back to include Gloria in her conversation with four other women.
At her age, Gloria thought she was done with role models, but Gloria admired Pamela as if she were the head of her high school clique. Not only was Pamela beautiful, but she was also gracious and self-confident, friendly and kind. Gloria wanted to be just like her.
“Did you hear about George McDonnell? Did Jim hear anything yet?” Pamela’s best friend, Rosemary, asked. Joining the group took Gloria back to eighth grade memories of best friends, gossip, and popularity contests.
“Is he sick?”
“No, he’s dead.” Rosemary waited a beat, watching Gloria before going on. “I thought since Jim is one of the First Responders for the park, he may have been called to the scene.”
Gloria looked at each of the women. It took her a minute to process the news. Many of the residents mistakenly assumed Jim attended every call because he was the volunteer co-captain of the First Responders Unit, but Jim wasn’t on call yesterday. They had shopped most of the day at the flea market and ate dinner at their favorite restaurant in the evening.
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. George has been ill for a while. I know after his wife passed, he didn’t want to live any longer.” Gloria dumped her car keys in her bag setting it along the wall. She unrolled her mat next to Pamela’s on the floor, and placed the dreaded barbells nearby with a quick prayer that the instructor wouldn’t make use of them today. She didn’t mind stretching and moving, but the bar bells were just too much.
“Oh, no, it wasn’t his heart that killed him, Gloria,” Bonnie, another woman in the group, announced. Gloria was puzzled as she saw the looks exchanged by her friends.
“What happened?” Gloria widened her eyes with concern.
Bonnie puffed up her chest and pulled her elbows back as she leaned forward to deliver the big news. “His neighbor, Lottie Carpenter found him. She smelled him rotting in his house.”
Read the reviews!
"This story blends humor with mystery and death very cleverly, making it a book I had to keep reading. Even after I found out the answer to the above question, I was still hooked and had to read on to find out what happened next.
I would like to compliment Ms Rose for writing a book which is extremely pleasant to read, but grabs the attention at the same time."
--Sue's Book Reviews
"What a page turner and full of surprises! I couldn't put this book down."
--Roseanne Dowell, author Stranger on the Shore
"J.Q. Rose creates a suspense-filled story that keeps you reading to find out what is claiming the lives of people in Citrus Ridge. I won't give away any secrets, but I will reiterate my review title: I'm NOT moving to Florida...ever ever ever."
--Ginger Simpson, author of Hurricane Warning
PURCHASE A COPY OF SUNSHINE BOULEVARD AT MUSEITUPPUBLISHING.COM AND AT THESE ONLINE RETAILERS:
Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Sunshine-Boulevard-ebook/dp/B004PYDI9C
Barnes and Noble - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sunshine-boulevard-jq-rose/1030490355
Smashwords - http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/46612
OmniLit - http://www.omnilit.com/product-sunshineboulevard-513486-241.html
J Q Rose, author of Sunshine Boulevard, is an avid reader and photographer. She is addicted to Facebook and enjoys blogging about growing a vegetable garden and writing. Janet and her husband are snow birds spending winters in Florida. Summer finds her up north camping and hunting toads, frogs, and salamanders with her grandsons. She spends time with her two year old granddaughter reading a book and having pretend tea parties together.
Visit J.Q. online at http://www.jqrose.webs.com/ and her blog at http://www.jqroseauthor.blogspot.com.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Horror Novel Month: It by Stephen King
If there was ever a book to make you scared of clowns, that book was It
by Stephen King.
An unspeakable evil comes to Derry, Maine. A group of seven outcasts band together and form their own group, the "Losers Club." They soon discover they have encountered It in various forms. Eventually they are forced to face their fears and defeat It.
Years later, a series of brutal killings, calls the "Losers Club" back to Derry, where they are forced to meet It all over again.
In 1990, Stephen King's It was made into a movie starring: Richard Thomas, Harry Anderson, Dennis Christopher, Annette O'Toole, Tim Reid, Richard Masur, and the late John Ritter.
Tim Curry played Pennywise the clown, one of the forms It takes when he kills Georgie Denbrough, Bill (Richard Thomas) Denbrough's little brother when they are just boys. Even though it's been years since I've seen this movie, recalling Pennywise's face still gives me shivers.
I definitely couldn't hold Horror Novel Month without mentioning some of the books from the King of Horror. Feel free to share your favorite King novel.
An unspeakable evil comes to Derry, Maine. A group of seven outcasts band together and form their own group, the "Losers Club." They soon discover they have encountered It in various forms. Eventually they are forced to face their fears and defeat It.
Years later, a series of brutal killings, calls the "Losers Club" back to Derry, where they are forced to meet It all over again.
In 1990, Stephen King's It was made into a movie starring: Richard Thomas, Harry Anderson, Dennis Christopher, Annette O'Toole, Tim Reid, Richard Masur, and the late John Ritter.
Tim Curry played Pennywise the clown, one of the forms It takes when he kills Georgie Denbrough, Bill (Richard Thomas) Denbrough's little brother when they are just boys. Even though it's been years since I've seen this movie, recalling Pennywise's face still gives me shivers.
I definitely couldn't hold Horror Novel Month without mentioning some of the books from the King of Horror. Feel free to share your favorite King novel.
Book Spotlight: Secret Lives by Barbara Ardinger
Secret Lives
Each chapter is a standalone story, although there are two arcs that comprise two stories and three stories. The bulleted notes that follow the barebones outlines and show how the stories are braided together and explain many of the allusions. An event may be foreshadowed in early chapters, for example, be the major plot of another chapter, and be resolved or echoed in later chapters. Likewise, people who appear as minor characters in some chapters become major actors in other chapters.
Read an excerpt!
Now the four spoke in chorus, their voices growing with the force that was moving around the circle.
Watchers above, we summon you to our work. From the starry paths upon which you dance, lend us your far-seeing wisdom. Quicken our magic tonight.
Watchers below, we summon you to our work. From the dark and hidden worlds that wait beneath, lend us your powers of fertility and rebirth. Quicken our magic tonight.
The air was tingling now and a palpable energy was moving around the room.
Time is present. Power is here.
As the invocations echoed back from beyond the walls of Herta’s ordinary living room, four of the women lit the indigo candles, their flames dancing and redoubling in the gathering energies. Herta folded her hands at her heart and nodded her head in an ancient gesture of greeting.
She looks like one of the Sibyls, Brooke thought, and she looked again at the women she’d known and worked with for fifteen years. Our familiar friends, but tonight they’re the Erinyes. The Holy Furies. The avengers of the ancient world are present in this room. These women look perfectly capable of pursuing any criminal to his death. And probably beyond.
Eyes closed, Herta spoke again. “Terrible and invisible powers now present, justice is our intent. The cleansing of this neighborhood is our intent. A seed planted here to carry order throughout the city is our intent. Protection for all who live in fear, no matter where—this is our intent.”
* * *
And softly and slowly, with gradually increasing volume, the thirteen women began their chant, wordless at first, simple humming. Then drawn-out vowels were added, and some women added Names, and others added Words and Calls in languages little used in modern times. Accompanied by Julia and Margaretta on doumbeks, the women chanted, and soon the energies they were drawing up began to coalesce in their circle. The force of the chant grew, the sounds whirling, snaking, rushing in a shimmering vortex in the center of the modest living room.
As the chanting and drumming grew to their howling, screeching climax, Herta stood up. She reached out with both hands as if to grasp the power, and she focused it on the covered basket on the teacart before her.
The chant peaked, an orgasmic release of energy skirring around the circle, an incandescent elemental energy—
There! Herta caught the almost visible power in her hands and flung it into the basket with all the force she and the circle now embodied.
“It is done.”
Silence now.
Breathing heavily, some of them still swaying, the women sat for many moments with their eyes closed. Herta sat with closed eyes, too, feeling the energy return to ground, feeling it flow back to its source.
“Girls,” she said at last, “we’ve done it. We have empowered our guardian.”
The women looked at her, then at the teacart. They were about to be shown what Herta had drawn from her mother’s second old book, the book they had opened only a few times before. The last time—twenty years earlier, in the days of an undeclared war across the Pacific—they had created a different kind of protection. They had built a shield that would bring their sons and daughters home from Vietnam, safe and whole. One who had come home was Milly’s husband.
“As you all know, under the full moon in Cancer, I prepared a small nest in a box. I built it upon agate and jasper for strength and protection, upon petrified wood for transformation and great age, upon obsidian for grounded fire. I lined this small nest with the molted skin of a snake for rebirth, with bears’ claws and sharks’ teeth for ferocity, with owls’ feathers for swift and silent flight. I prepared this nest for three fresh eggs, laid on the day of the dark moon. One egg I painted white, one red, the third, black. Now we will see which egg hatches. And what hatches. We have birthed our avenger.”
She gestured toward the teacart. “Listen.”
They heard pecking and scratching, the splintering of an eggshell, the familiar sounds of hatching. And then unfamiliar sounds … a harsh bark, a cough, a rough hiss.
Herta lifted the large oval basket that covered the nest. “Look.”
There it lay, a box lined with gold cloth that cradled a bed of stones and a nest lined with snakeskin and claws and teeth and feathers. Two of the eggs lay intact, unfertilized, unhatched. But the black shell lay in pieces.
And sitting on the edge of the nest was a tiny, green, four-footed animal, its pale golden wings still plastered damply against its scaly sides. Its golden eyes were barely open.
“Our guardian. A creature as old as the heavens, as fierce as the fiery powers of earth.”
Watchers above, we summon you to our work. From the starry paths upon which you dance, lend us your far-seeing wisdom. Quicken our magic tonight.
Watchers below, we summon you to our work. From the dark and hidden worlds that wait beneath, lend us your powers of fertility and rebirth. Quicken our magic tonight.
The air was tingling now and a palpable energy was moving around the room.
Time is present. Power is here.
As the invocations echoed back from beyond the walls of Herta’s ordinary living room, four of the women lit the indigo candles, their flames dancing and redoubling in the gathering energies. Herta folded her hands at her heart and nodded her head in an ancient gesture of greeting.
She looks like one of the Sibyls, Brooke thought, and she looked again at the women she’d known and worked with for fifteen years. Our familiar friends, but tonight they’re the Erinyes. The Holy Furies. The avengers of the ancient world are present in this room. These women look perfectly capable of pursuing any criminal to his death. And probably beyond.
Eyes closed, Herta spoke again. “Terrible and invisible powers now present, justice is our intent. The cleansing of this neighborhood is our intent. A seed planted here to carry order throughout the city is our intent. Protection for all who live in fear, no matter where—this is our intent.”
* * *
And softly and slowly, with gradually increasing volume, the thirteen women began their chant, wordless at first, simple humming. Then drawn-out vowels were added, and some women added Names, and others added Words and Calls in languages little used in modern times. Accompanied by Julia and Margaretta on doumbeks, the women chanted, and soon the energies they were drawing up began to coalesce in their circle. The force of the chant grew, the sounds whirling, snaking, rushing in a shimmering vortex in the center of the modest living room.
As the chanting and drumming grew to their howling, screeching climax, Herta stood up. She reached out with both hands as if to grasp the power, and she focused it on the covered basket on the teacart before her.
The chant peaked, an orgasmic release of energy skirring around the circle, an incandescent elemental energy—
There! Herta caught the almost visible power in her hands and flung it into the basket with all the force she and the circle now embodied.
“It is done.”
Silence now.
Breathing heavily, some of them still swaying, the women sat for many moments with their eyes closed. Herta sat with closed eyes, too, feeling the energy return to ground, feeling it flow back to its source.
“Girls,” she said at last, “we’ve done it. We have empowered our guardian.”
The women looked at her, then at the teacart. They were about to be shown what Herta had drawn from her mother’s second old book, the book they had opened only a few times before. The last time—twenty years earlier, in the days of an undeclared war across the Pacific—they had created a different kind of protection. They had built a shield that would bring their sons and daughters home from Vietnam, safe and whole. One who had come home was Milly’s husband.
“As you all know, under the full moon in Cancer, I prepared a small nest in a box. I built it upon agate and jasper for strength and protection, upon petrified wood for transformation and great age, upon obsidian for grounded fire. I lined this small nest with the molted skin of a snake for rebirth, with bears’ claws and sharks’ teeth for ferocity, with owls’ feathers for swift and silent flight. I prepared this nest for three fresh eggs, laid on the day of the dark moon. One egg I painted white, one red, the third, black. Now we will see which egg hatches. And what hatches. We have birthed our avenger.”
She gestured toward the teacart. “Listen.”
They heard pecking and scratching, the splintering of an eggshell, the familiar sounds of hatching. And then unfamiliar sounds … a harsh bark, a cough, a rough hiss.
Herta lifted the large oval basket that covered the nest. “Look.”
There it lay, a box lined with gold cloth that cradled a bed of stones and a nest lined with snakeskin and claws and teeth and feathers. Two of the eggs lay intact, unfertilized, unhatched. But the black shell lay in pieces.
And sitting on the edge of the nest was a tiny, green, four-footed animal, its pale golden wings still plastered damply against its scaly sides. Its golden eyes were barely open.
“Our guardian. A creature as old as the heavens, as fierce as the fiery powers of earth.”
Read the reviews!
"This is not a light novel, although it has plenty of wit. In her beautiful prose, Barbara Ardinger tells a magical story of wisdom, both ancient and modern, celebrating life, death (and beyond), and the life phases in between, from menarche to menopause. Along the way, we experience the escapades of enlivened chairs and cartoon characters, and the antics of the circle’s familiar, a cat named Madame Blavatsky, as the Cheshire Cat. The heroines of this story, bound by a spiritual sisterhood, demonstrate what may be accomplished when people work with power to achieve the greatest good."
--Miriam Robbins Dexter, author of Whence the Goddesses and Sacred Display (with Victor H. Mair), editor of The Living Goddesses by Marija Gimbutas
"I love novels in which groups of women take on the patriarchy in some of its many manifestations, and in this one I also get the rare treat of Barbara Ardinger’s writing, always excellent, dealing with the topic of ageing with humour and occasional bawdy moments. What more could I want? I’m not telling you any more—you’ll have to buy the book!"
—Geraldine Charles, Editor, Goddess Pages, UK
"In Barbara Ardinger’s compelling new novel Secret Lives, I met a cast of fascinating characters, including Bertha Mutspell, a woman who delights in dressing and behaving outrageously; Maude Lincoln, a blind widow who glides through life without white cane or guide dog and who plays a mean game of cards; Herta Melos, the keeper of the ancient texts; and Madame Blavatsky, a talking calico cat who is the coven’s familiar. They and the other coven members charmed me from first sight with their quirks and idiosyncrasies. Though these women come from very different backgrounds and traditions, they play beautifully off each other, often bringing me to laughter with their wit and confident good humor.
However, this is not a mere feel-good book. These women are old, the eldest, being Emma Clare Culbertson, who is 97. They’ve seen and experienced the cruelties that our patriarchal culture inflicts on us all but particularly on women–the rape and intimidation of women and girls, the overmedication the old, the insistence that menstruation and all things sexual are shameful. For these women, the Kurgan invasion of Neolithic Old Europe are not just lessons they learned in history class. These women understand that they live with the legacies of those invasions every day. And they feel an urgent need to correct those wrongs.
As a coven they create a sacred space in which women can be free–where girls can celebrate their menarche, where sexual love can be honored, where people can die drug free and on their own terms. Accepting the physical limitations that age has imposed on them, they nonetheless cast powerful magic, drawing on the easy intimacy they’ve developed over decades of working together. And all the while they’re careful to keep their magic secret, knowing that to allow it to be broadcast would put the coven in danger.
Without writing a polemic, this brilliant story teller has successfully created a comprehensive tale about life as a woman in our patriarchal culture where dominance is the prime goal. Ardinger shows that we can, even in old age, create a different, more respectful, way to live. While this tale is full of humor and some very clever wit, this is not a work to read without thought. This book deserves a thinking reader. It offers much to digest. However, the rewards for the person who thinks are enormous, maybe even life-changing."
—Vila SpiderHawk, author of Hidden Passages: Tales to Honor the Crones, Short Stories and the Forest Song series
BUY SECRET LIVES AT AMAZON.COM!
Barbara Ardinger is the author of seven books: Pagan Every Day: Finding the Extraordinary in Our Ordinary Lives (Weiser, 2006); Quicksilver Moon, a novel (Three Moons Media, 2003); Finding New Goddesses: Reclaiming Playfulness in Our Spiritual Lives (ECW Press, 2003); Practicing the Presence of the Goddess (New World Library, 2000); Goddess Meditations (Llewellyn, 1998); A Woman’s Book of Rituals & Celebrations (New World Library, 1992; revised edition, 1995); and Seeing Solutions (Signet New Age Book, 1989).
Barbara’s day job is freelance book editing for print-on-demand and traditional publishers, the American Holistic Health Association, and beginning authors (on five continents) who have good ideas but don’t want to embarrass themselves in print. She has edited more than 250 books—novels and memoirs, nonfiction books on many topics (New Age, business, health, religion, etc.), academic theses and dissertations, screenplays, and poetry. (See http://www.barbaraardinger.com/straighttalk for her comments about working with on-demand and vanity presses.) As a technical editor, she has edited research proposals written by scientists whose first language is not English as well as documents for aerospace, construction management, hazmat, and manufacturing companies. She has also written both user-friendly and user-hostile computer manuals.
Barbara’s anthologized short nonfiction includes a brief historical description of Isis in The Return of the Great Goddess, edited by Burleigh Mutén (Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 1997), and “Caloria, Found Goddess of Potluck” in Soul Stirrings: The SageWoman Cookbook, edited by Lunaea Weatherstone (Blessed Bee Media, 1999). Her anthologized short fiction includes an anti-war story (set in ancient Delphi) in a Wiccan deployment pamphlet published at McGuire Air Force Base; an autobiographical story, “Inanna on the Rocks,” in Celebrating the Pagan Soul (Citadel, 2005), edited by Laura Wildman; “A Vision of Sacred Fire” in Sacred Fire, edited by Maril Crabtree (Adams Media, 2006); and “Seeking What Is Lost: An Isian Meditation,” in Waters of Life: A Devotional Anthology for Isis and Serapis, published by the Bibliotheca Alexandrina (September, 2009).
A decade ago, she self-published a small book of revisionist fairy tales, for which she also drew the cover art. Although her son (a published poet) refers to her as a “guerrilla poet” who has to put her poetry in her own books because no one else will publish it, Barbara’s poetry has, in fact, been published, initially in Science of Mind Magazine (1980), later in The Isis Papers (1995), Oxymoron (1997), and on a Web site called Pegasus Dreaming. Three of her poems also appear in The Pagan’s Muse, edited by Jane Raeburn (Kensington, 2003).
Visit Barbara online at www.barbaraardinger.com/.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Horror Novel Month: Angela's Coven by Bruce Jenvey
We start off our Horror Novel Month with Angela's Coven, which will be released by MuseItUp Publishing on October 21st.
Reggie Sinclair is an aging British rock star living in New York City who has just found out he is terminally ill. He also has a very dark secret: When he was still an undiscovered teenager, he sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for his great fame and success. Now, as his life draws to an end, he prepares to face the inevitable until he stumbles upon a very enchanting, modern-day witch named Angela, and her extremely untraditional coven.
Angela gradually introduces Reggie to her world of old school Witchcraft with its roots in alchemy and ‘natural chemistry’ dating to the Dark Ages. As their relationship grows, they devise a plan to break Reggie’s contract and save his soul.
This is a story of the struggle between good and evil with a cast of characters that ranges widely from guardian angels to young witches-in-training. Together, they have to come to terms with love, loss, life decisions and uncertainty to save Reggie from an unbearable eternity. It will also cast an entirely different light on anything you may have ever considered as faith. Here is a plot filled with unexpected twists and surprises to the very last page!
Read an excerpt from one of the chapters!
ANGELA'S COVEN - COMING SOON FROM MUSEITUP PUBLISHING!
Bruce Jenvey was raised in rural Michigan with a great interest in history, popular culture and the paranormal. After earning a B.A. in Psychology from Michigan State University, he migrated to the Detroit area and began a career in advertising. For twenty years he worked in agency creative departments on such national accounts as Pontiac, Cadillac, Mr. Goodwrench, FTD, Budweiser and more. And then one day… he was downsized.
Taking inventory of his skills as well as his love of sailing and history, Bruce founded “Great Lakes Cruiser Magazine.” He and his wife, Christine, spent the next ten years traveling the region as he and his staff recorded the local history and told their readers about some of the most wonderful places to visit along the shores of America’s Inland Seas.
Along the way, Bruce had unique access to untold incidents and documentation of the unexplained. He collected and chronicled these experiences in every place he found them, from the shores of Lake Michigan to Upstate New York. As he did so, he was struck by how consistent and similar these accounts were from region to region leading him to the conclusion that all we see may not be all there is to know...
Today, Bruce is pleased to share with you so very many of these real-world experiences and accounts, all pulled together and retold here, in the fictionalized saga of his Cabbottown Witches.
Visit Bruce online at www.covenbooks.com and pn Facebook at
Reggie Sinclair is an aging British rock star living in New York City who has just found out he is terminally ill. He also has a very dark secret: When he was still an undiscovered teenager, he sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for his great fame and success. Now, as his life draws to an end, he prepares to face the inevitable until he stumbles upon a very enchanting, modern-day witch named Angela, and her extremely untraditional coven.
Angela gradually introduces Reggie to her world of old school Witchcraft with its roots in alchemy and ‘natural chemistry’ dating to the Dark Ages. As their relationship grows, they devise a plan to break Reggie’s contract and save his soul.
This is a story of the struggle between good and evil with a cast of characters that ranges widely from guardian angels to young witches-in-training. Together, they have to come to terms with love, loss, life decisions and uncertainty to save Reggie from an unbearable eternity. It will also cast an entirely different light on anything you may have ever considered as faith. Here is a plot filled with unexpected twists and surprises to the very last page!
Read an excerpt from one of the chapters!
How fortunate they were to have yet another bright, warm autumn day… he thought to himself as he sat on the bench in Greenwich Village. Across the street, he could see the flow of customers come and go from Angela’s shop. Perhaps it was another good night’s sleep that was contributing to his take on the situation, but whatever the reason, he felt buoyant, eager and filled with curiosity.
He was here to ask questions that he hadn’t even yet formed in his mind. How do you ask someone if they were involved in the unexplainable? Especially when they weren’t even there when it happened? Maybe he didn’t really know why he was here. But here he was, in his hoodie and his sunglasses, sitting on the bench in the mid-afternoon light, anxiously waiting for the ‘Potterheads and the Wannabes’ to thin out before he ventured across the street.
He must have lost track of those coming and going from the little shop among the other happenings and distractions on the street. He suddenly heard the shop bell ring and looked up to see her, standing in the open doorway with her hands on her hips. She stared directly at him as if to say, ‘are you coming in or not!’ He picked himself up off the bench, made his way across the street and followed her through the front door. He entered the shop and seeing they were alone, he removed his hood and shoved his sunglasses into the sweatshirt pocket.
“See, I knew you’d be back…” she started as she took her place behind the counter.
“Well… I’m surprised to say you were right…”
“And you look well-rested, too.”
“Actually, I am. I’ve slept pretty well these past two nights.”
“The Dream Catcher hang in your window OK?”
“How do you know I hung it in my window?” he playfully challenged.
“…Because you did. And because you’re well-rested.”
“Sure of that, are you?”
“Did the pounding wake you up?” The fact that she knew about the pounding in the middle of the night suddenly unsettled him.
“Yes… But how do you know—”
“I said my customers were all Potterheads and Wannabes… I never said I was…”
“Then, just what are you?” he asked with great interest.
“Me? I’m the ‘real deal,’ as they say…”
“Now, come on! Do you really expect me to believe—”
“I don’t care what you believe, I’m just glad to see it all worked out for you…” And then she paused, as if lost in thought and her expression changed to one of more concern. “OK, back here!” She reached across the counter and lightly grabbed his sweatshirt. “Someone’s coming…” she said as she led him around the counter and back into the kitchen.
It was Reggie’s first opportunity to take in this behind-the-scenes glimpse into Angela’s life. Much as he had seen two days before, it was a very dated kitchen with aging appliances and fixtures, yet spotlessly clean. The twin stoves were still covered in various pots and pans all slowly simmering away on a low heat making the kitchen feel cozy, even on this warm, autumn day.
But to his left, along the wall, was a small breakfast table with two chairs completely out of sight from the shop floor. They were old, once painted white, but well-worn with decades of use. She guided him down into the far chair as it groaned slightly in protest under his weight. From here, he was looking towards the shop, but he was concealed from view by the wall behind the counter and on his side, a refrigerator and what he assumed was a closet door.
“I thought you didn’t care who found out I was here?” he asked with mild curiosity. “‘Good for business’ I think you said…”
“That doesn’t mean you want to be discovered. After all, you’re the one with the hood and the sunglasses. Besides, right now I want them buying things, not distracted by the great Reggie Sinclair! So, sit!”
“And what makes you think I’ll obey?” There was a good natured taunting in his voice. She looked at him with a great confidence.
“Because I’m going to give you a potion that immobilizes men…” she said as she reached into the refrigerator behind her and pulled out a long-necked bottle of beer. She twisted off the cap and set it in front of him. “It will also make you very susceptible to suggestion. Now, stay!”
“You are so full of it—” he said starting to laugh. But she snatched up the bottle by its long neck and with her thumb over the opening, she gave it a quick, single shake. As she set it back down, she released the pressure in his direction spraying him in the face. “—OK!” He instantly surrendered and picked up a dish towel off the table top, wiping the beer foam from his face.
“I’m sure they won’t be long, Reggie Sinclair!” she said with a smile as she hesitated in the doorway that led back to her counter.
“What do you say, we just make it… ‘Reggie’. I don’t go around calling you by your full name.”
“That’s because you don’t know it!”
“Even if I did…” he started now realizing what a disadvantage he was at with her.
“Bradbury...” she interrupted. “Angela Bradbury… But Angela will be just fine… Reggie…” and she smiled softly at him. And then, on cue, the bell over the shop door jangled as new customers entered. He could tell by their voices and footsteps on the wooden floor, there were at least three that had come in together. “There’s more potion in the fridge if that one starts to wear off…”
He was here to ask questions that he hadn’t even yet formed in his mind. How do you ask someone if they were involved in the unexplainable? Especially when they weren’t even there when it happened? Maybe he didn’t really know why he was here. But here he was, in his hoodie and his sunglasses, sitting on the bench in the mid-afternoon light, anxiously waiting for the ‘Potterheads and the Wannabes’ to thin out before he ventured across the street.
He must have lost track of those coming and going from the little shop among the other happenings and distractions on the street. He suddenly heard the shop bell ring and looked up to see her, standing in the open doorway with her hands on her hips. She stared directly at him as if to say, ‘are you coming in or not!’ He picked himself up off the bench, made his way across the street and followed her through the front door. He entered the shop and seeing they were alone, he removed his hood and shoved his sunglasses into the sweatshirt pocket.
“See, I knew you’d be back…” she started as she took her place behind the counter.
“Well… I’m surprised to say you were right…”
“And you look well-rested, too.”
“Actually, I am. I’ve slept pretty well these past two nights.”
“The Dream Catcher hang in your window OK?”
“How do you know I hung it in my window?” he playfully challenged.
“…Because you did. And because you’re well-rested.”
“Sure of that, are you?”
“Did the pounding wake you up?” The fact that she knew about the pounding in the middle of the night suddenly unsettled him.
“Yes… But how do you know—”
“I said my customers were all Potterheads and Wannabes… I never said I was…”
“Then, just what are you?” he asked with great interest.
“Me? I’m the ‘real deal,’ as they say…”
“Now, come on! Do you really expect me to believe—”
“I don’t care what you believe, I’m just glad to see it all worked out for you…” And then she paused, as if lost in thought and her expression changed to one of more concern. “OK, back here!” She reached across the counter and lightly grabbed his sweatshirt. “Someone’s coming…” she said as she led him around the counter and back into the kitchen.
It was Reggie’s first opportunity to take in this behind-the-scenes glimpse into Angela’s life. Much as he had seen two days before, it was a very dated kitchen with aging appliances and fixtures, yet spotlessly clean. The twin stoves were still covered in various pots and pans all slowly simmering away on a low heat making the kitchen feel cozy, even on this warm, autumn day.
But to his left, along the wall, was a small breakfast table with two chairs completely out of sight from the shop floor. They were old, once painted white, but well-worn with decades of use. She guided him down into the far chair as it groaned slightly in protest under his weight. From here, he was looking towards the shop, but he was concealed from view by the wall behind the counter and on his side, a refrigerator and what he assumed was a closet door.
“I thought you didn’t care who found out I was here?” he asked with mild curiosity. “‘Good for business’ I think you said…”
“That doesn’t mean you want to be discovered. After all, you’re the one with the hood and the sunglasses. Besides, right now I want them buying things, not distracted by the great Reggie Sinclair! So, sit!”
“And what makes you think I’ll obey?” There was a good natured taunting in his voice. She looked at him with a great confidence.
“Because I’m going to give you a potion that immobilizes men…” she said as she reached into the refrigerator behind her and pulled out a long-necked bottle of beer. She twisted off the cap and set it in front of him. “It will also make you very susceptible to suggestion. Now, stay!”
“You are so full of it—” he said starting to laugh. But she snatched up the bottle by its long neck and with her thumb over the opening, she gave it a quick, single shake. As she set it back down, she released the pressure in his direction spraying him in the face. “—OK!” He instantly surrendered and picked up a dish towel off the table top, wiping the beer foam from his face.
“I’m sure they won’t be long, Reggie Sinclair!” she said with a smile as she hesitated in the doorway that led back to her counter.
“What do you say, we just make it… ‘Reggie’. I don’t go around calling you by your full name.”
“That’s because you don’t know it!”
“Even if I did…” he started now realizing what a disadvantage he was at with her.
“Bradbury...” she interrupted. “Angela Bradbury… But Angela will be just fine… Reggie…” and she smiled softly at him. And then, on cue, the bell over the shop door jangled as new customers entered. He could tell by their voices and footsteps on the wooden floor, there were at least three that had come in together. “There’s more potion in the fridge if that one starts to wear off…”
ANGELA'S COVEN - COMING SOON FROM MUSEITUP PUBLISHING!
Bruce Jenvey was raised in rural Michigan with a great interest in history, popular culture and the paranormal. After earning a B.A. in Psychology from Michigan State University, he migrated to the Detroit area and began a career in advertising. For twenty years he worked in agency creative departments on such national accounts as Pontiac, Cadillac, Mr. Goodwrench, FTD, Budweiser and more. And then one day… he was downsized.
Taking inventory of his skills as well as his love of sailing and history, Bruce founded “Great Lakes Cruiser Magazine.” He and his wife, Christine, spent the next ten years traveling the region as he and his staff recorded the local history and told their readers about some of the most wonderful places to visit along the shores of America’s Inland Seas.
Along the way, Bruce had unique access to untold incidents and documentation of the unexplained. He collected and chronicled these experiences in every place he found them, from the shores of Lake Michigan to Upstate New York. As he did so, he was struck by how consistent and similar these accounts were from region to region leading him to the conclusion that all we see may not be all there is to know...
Today, Bruce is pleased to share with you so very many of these real-world experiences and accounts, all pulled together and retold here, in the fictionalized saga of his Cabbottown Witches.
Visit Bruce online at www.covenbooks.com and pn Facebook at
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