Monthly Archives: May 2019
Book Blast – Murder by Munchausen
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.
A police procedural sci fi thriller ripped from future headlines!
After Jake shoots and kills a murder suspect who turns out to be the son of a powerful city councilman, he finds himself demoted to the Artificial Crimes Unit, tracking down androids hacked and programmed to be hit men.
When his case of an “extra-judicial” divorce settlement takes a nasty turn with DNA from a hundred-year-old murder in Boston and a signature that harkens back to the very first serial killer ever in London, Jake finds himself tangled up in the brutal slayings of prostitutes being investigated by his former Robbery/Homicide partner, Maddie–who is now his lover.
But a madman, The Baron, is just getting started with his AI recreations of Jack the Ripper’s brutal crimes. And Maddie and Jake are teamed up again to stop the carnage as the Baron’s army of human replicants imitate history’s most notorious serial killers.
“It might not make sense, but the beloved Media tags it ‘Murder by Munchausen.’ For a price, there are hackers out there who will reprogram a synthoid to do your dirty work. The bad news: no fingerprints or DNA left at the crime scene. The good news—at least for us—is that they’re like missiles: once they hit their target, they’re usually as harmless as empty brass. The trick is to get them before they melt down their core OS data, so you can get the unit into forensics for analysis and, hopefully, an arrest.” [excerpt from Murder by Munchausen]
Artificial Intelligence? Fuhgeddaboudit!
Artificial Evil has a name…Munchausen.
Read an Excerpt
From The Invisible Mind (#3)
It sat on a bench outside the dormitory of nursing students, waiting with its kind’s infinite patience. Originally acquired and programmed for landscaping at the Cleveland Clinic, the synthoid was one of a brigade of units which had been hacked and Munchausened, then returned to their menial daily services to mankind to await the Baron’s call.
There was no adrenalin surge behind the extremely life-like facade of humanity when that call came. Data packets, sent scatter-shot through the Atlas Grid, coalesced at the location outside the Cole Eye Institute, where it methodically trimmed and shaped the immaculate shrubbery around the building. To avoid Q’s metadata sniffing algorithms from detecting a download spike in the grid, the information came in digital sprinkles over the course of its human handler’s work shift, slowly building a malevolent intent to be executed that night. In the middle of the afternoon, it left the topiary unfinished to melt into the hospital shift change and disappeared.
Personality modules were a Gen-3 feature upgrade, which is why the earlier models were initially preferred. Swapping out a few IC chips and uploading hacked firmware was a relatively easy way to turn a quick buck with an automated contract killing. But evil innovates, too, and the same features that made synthoids even more human-like in their behavior also helped create robotic assassins which could better camouflage their malicious intents and evade the reach of the Artificial Crimes Unit by melting into and moving undetected through the humanity that surrounded them. For the Baron, it allowed for a greater measure of artistic expression in programming the synthoid’s behavior to not only recreate infamous crimes of the past, but to mimic the behavior of their perpetrators, which intensified the thrill of watching the video feed through the eyes of Jack the Ripper, Ted Bundy or, this particular evening, Richard Speck. Jake wasn’t the only history buff and it amused Jamal that London police had photographed the eyes of Jack the Ripper’s victims, hoping to capture the last thing they ever saw: their killer’s face. If only Scotland Yard could have imagined the future.
The Gen-3 personality modules also supported the ANSI Adaptive Artificial Intelligence Protocol #9 to enhance the artificial human experience of real men and women who interacted with synthoids. The constant writing and rewriting of code in the personality/experience loop formed unique individual synthoid consciousnesses, which manufacturers uploaded to their servers for product improvement teams to study. In Munchausened units, that feed was hijacked and routed to another portal in the Darknet to build a collective id of evil.
At eleven PM, it rose from the bench and entered the dormitory. The bodies of nine women would be found the next day, having been strangled and stabbed to death. Unlike 1966, no eyewitness was left alive, though the phrase “Born to Raise Hell” was written on the wall in blood.
About the Author:
M.T. Bass is a scribbler of fiction who holds fast to the notion that while victors may get to write history, novelists get to write/right reality. He lives, writes, flies and makes music in Mudcat Falls, USA.
Born in Athens, Ohio, M.T. Bass grew up in St. Louis, Missouri. He graduated from Ohio Wesleyan University, majoring in English and Philosophy, then worked in the private sector (where they expect “results”) mainly in the Aerospace & Defense manufacturing market. During those years, Bass continued to write fiction. He is the author of eight novels: My Brother’s Keeper, Crossroads, In the Black, Somethin’ for Nothin’, Murder by Munchausen, The Darknet (Murder by Munchausen Mystery #2), The Invisible Mind (Murder by Munchausen Mystery #3) and Article 15. His writing spans various genres, including Mystery, Adventure, Romance, Black Comedy and TechnoThrillers. A Commercial Pilot and Certified Flight Instructor, airplanes and pilots are featured in many of his stories. Bass currently lives on the shores of Lake Erie near Lorain, Ohio.
Website: https://www.mtbass.net
Blog: https://www.owl-works.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/owlworks/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Owlworks
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/mtbass
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5270962.M_T_Bass
Murder by Munchausen Trilogy Purchase Links
https://www.amazon.com/Murder-Munchausen-Trilogy-Future-Mystery-ebook/dp/B07QDGHYZ6
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/murder-by-munchausen-trilogy-books-1-3/id1458934052?mt=11
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1131145794?ean=2940156040681
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/murder-by-munchausen-trilogy
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/932579
THE AUTHOR WILL BE GIVING AWAY: $25 Amazon/BN GC
VBT – THE BECOMING
The Becoming
by Lilith Thorn
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GENRE: Paranormal Romance Erotica
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
Niamh is a good wife. She learned early on that crossing her husband had consequences. Living quietly in the shadowed cage he has formed around her, Niamh suffers his secrets and bares the scars they leave behind.
On the night of her biggest humiliation Caleb enters the ballroom changing Niamh’s course forever. He brings safety to her dark world and introduces her to the possibility of escape. Will Niamh’s love for Caleb be the key to her freedom or will it be her undoing?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EXCERPT
Chapter One – Pg. 1
He is the man I would have noticed first, had he been in the room when I arrived. As it was, he arrived “fashionably late”, as we’d say now. Men and women alike stole glances as he strode through the doors; we were too polite a society to stare.
He is the kind of creature that draws all eyes to himself without doing much to deserve it. Though this was not his home, he was the king of the castle. Even in my distracted state, I soaked in his energy, felt him before I saw him and, like a magnet pulling me, my body turned toward him.
Had I been anyone but my demure self, my jaw may have hung open or I may have walked toward him to embarrass myself with a bumbled, unasked for introduction. Instead, as his eyes met mine, I quickly glanced away and blushed. Later – much later – he would tell me it was the blood rushing to my cheeks that drew him to me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links
Born in Dundas, ON, Lilith Thorn is a restless wanderer. Her first move was to St. Catharines where she earned a Theatre degree at Brock University. Despite her parents’ wish that she would return home and work at McDonalds after graduating, Lilith refused and instead moved to Toronto to give acting the ‘Old College Try.’ After years of sacrificing her other passions for the stage and an empty bank account, she put away those dreams to say “Yes” to a different adventure. This took her to Dublin, Ireland for a few years where she met, fell in love with, and married another Canadian who took her to the one place she said she’d never live: Yellowknife. After nearly a decade in Canada’s Great White North, Lilith looks forward to further adventures with her husband and two children, just about anywhere.
Lilith Thorn is a pen name, the pseudonym used to protect the innocent; that is, so she hopefully never has to explain to her mother-in-law over dinner that she has written an erotic novel.
Amazon:
Chapters/Indigo – https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/home/search/?keywords=The%20becoming%20by%20Lilith%20thorn#internal=1
Book Depository: https://www.bookdepository.com/search?searchTerm=The+Becoming+by+Lilith+Thorn&search=Find+book
Boutique 130 – https://www.boutique130.com/product-page/the-becoming-by-lilith-thorn
Foyles – https://www.foyles.co.uk/witem/fiction-poetry/the-becoming,lilith-thorn-9781773706481
Waterstones – https://www.waterstones.com/book/the-becoming/lilith-thorn/9781773706467
Ebooks
Kindle – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-becoming-11
Smash Words – https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/LilithThorn
Bol – https://www.bol.com/nl/p/the-becoming/9200000092712559/
Social Media:
Twitter – @liliththorn
Instagram – @byliliththorn
Facebook Page – @liliththornwrites
Good Reads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/39675321-the-becoming
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RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY
One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.
Please use this rafflecopter code on your post:
Enter to win a $50 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway
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INTERVIEW ….
What are your favorite TV shows?
I like period shows, dark, quirky and steeped in what if. Something I can escape into. I’m currently watching Jessica Jones. On the list of previously binge watched shows is Outlander, Ozark, Good Girls Revolt, Breaking Bad, Good Girls, The OA, Lost in Space and more.
What is your favorite meal?
You can’t go wrong with a good pizza for me, but I like something a little different from the traditional. There is a blue cheese and pear pizza I crave here in town and down south a place that has a pizza with oven roasted brussels sprouts, gorgonzola cheese, dates, walnuts and honey.
If you were to write a series of novels, what would it be about?
I’m doing that now. I’d write about a woman who’s whole world crashes down around her and she rebuilds her life into something magnificent. A phoenix rising from the ashes.
Is there a writer you idolize? If so who?
I admire both Kelly Armstrong and Diana Gabaldon. They both have great characters, worlds I can escape into and a strong sense of fantasy.
How did you come up for the title of this book?
The Becoming naturally lifted itself from the first pages of the story. It felt like the perfect fit for a story about a woman who transforms in the way that Niamh does. It was never called anything else.
Spotlight – Little Yellow Magnet by Jamieson Wolf
Little Yellow Magnet – A Memoir
Life can change in an instant. Jamieson learns this the hard way.
Waking one morning to find he has little-to-no motor control, Jamieson only wants the world to return to how it had been before. After a diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis, he thinks his life is over. What he doesn’t know is that it’s only just begun.
Trying to navigate through the world in a body he no longer understands, Jamieson must travel through the dark forest of depression while waging a constant battle against himself. Over time, he learns what he’s truly capable of, and what it actually means to be courageous.
Follow Jamieson as he loses himself…then discovers who he is really meant to be.
Buy Links:
Jamieson has been writing since a young age when he realized he could be writing instead of paying attention in school. Since then, he has created many worlds in which to live his fantasies and live out his dreams.
He is a number-one bestselling author—he likes to tell people that a lot—and writes in many different genres. Jamieson is also an accomplished artist. He works in mixed media, charcoal, acrylic and oil pants. He is also something of an amateur photographer, a poet, and a graphic designer.
He currently lives in Ottawa Ontario Canada with his husband Michael and their cat, Tula, who is fearless.
You can find him at www.jamiesonwolf.com Facebook Twitter Instagram
The world was falling around me.
Then again, I always fell. The ground would reach up to meet me, but I would get up and keep going. Having been born with spastic cerebral palsy, this was nothing new. But lately it happened with increasing regularity and without explanation.
Normally, if I were about to fall, there’d be a warning: a tightness in the muscles, a spasm, or a vibration running up my legs or down my back as if someone were playing an internal instrument, causing my muscles to gyrate.
Now there was none of that. I’d be walking one moment, then down I went the next. The ground wouldn’t welcome me in its embrace; it would pummel me, demanding a kiss. I wouldn’t even remember falling.
I also began having problems speaking. Just odd little turns of phrase of sentences I couldn’t get out properly. I’d want to say cup and ended up saying cuppy. I would try to say computer and instead said something like commuter.
This worried me more than the falling. I am a writer and words are my trade. I had always been able to turn out a quick phrase, public speaking never a hardship for me. I constantly had more words than the allotted time to speak—there had never seemed to be enough time to say all of them.
These days I was constantly tripping over my tongue. The words didn’t come out the right way. I was concerned but put off going to the doctor. I don’t like doctors; I’d seen too many of them as a child. I usually waited until the last possible moment to see one. I had narrowly avoided pneumonia a few times that way.
Then my mother called me. “Your brother has been diagnosed.”
I knew he’d been having health issues. As I didn’t speak to him, I got second-hand updates from my mother. He had been losing feeling in his feet and the numbness had moved up to his knees. He was having his own kind of difficulties.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
“He’s been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis,” she said softly. I could tell from the sound of her voice that she had been crying. “They said it was progressive MS. You should get checked to make sure you don’t have it.”
“Is that likely?”
“You’re his brother, Jamieson, his twin. It’s very likely.”
I begrudgingly agreed that I would go. I had postponed it for as long as I could, but after a fall at work and another fall in my apartment, I gave in to the inevitable. I made an appointment to see my doctor. He’d been my family physician for a while now and while he wasn’t great, at least there was someone I could see when I needed to.
I explained everything: how I was falling more often and losing control of my body. How I was having difficulty speaking and getting the words out that I wanted to say. I told him about my brother’s diagnosis and my mother’s concerns.
He was dismissive from the word go. “You don’t have multiple sclerosis,” he said.
“How can you be sure? Aren’t there some kind of tests you need to do to prove that?”
He waved my concerns away. “You don’t have multiple sclerosis. I’m a doctor, I know these things.”
“What about my body?” I asked, growing slightly frustrated. “I know my body and I know my cerebral palsy. This isn’t cerebral palsy causing the falls. I know it’s not. There’s something else going on.” He stared at me with a somewhat bemused gaze. “I know my own body,” I said again. “What about my speech?”
“This is all in your head,” he told me. “All this hysteria is affecting you. I would suggest psychological help. That’s what you need. I can recommend a good therapist.”
I was shocked. I had never been talked to like I was an idiot. I felt quite hot under the collar now. “What about my speech?” I asked again.
He waved his hand once more. “I would suggest elocution lessons.”
I left his office furious, knowing without a doubt that I needed more than elocution lessons and therapy, but I had no idea what to do or who to talk to.
On December 30, 2012, my hand went numb.
I called my doctor again and got him to begrudgingly refer me to a neurologist, but the appointment was months away. Every time I smoked a cigarette my hand kept going numb. I would switch to the other hand, then I’d begin to lose feeling in that one, too. The cigarette would fall from my fingers. I would pluck it off the carpet before it burned a hole.
Since seeing the doctor that first time, the symptoms I experienced had worsened. I fell almost every day with no explanation and had more trouble with my speaking. I made jokes about it, but I was worried.
I looked forward to the coming new year and I decided to go to bed early so I would have plenty of energy for the day ahead. My body, however, had other ideas. I went to bed living one life and woke up living another.
Spotlight – Fid’s Crusade
About the Author
While growing up, David H. Reiss was that weird kid with his nose in a book and his head in the clouds. He was the table-top role-playing game geek, the comic-book nerd, the story-teller and dreamer.
Fortunately, he hasn’t changed much.
David is a software engineer by trade and a long-time sci-fi and fantasy devotee by passion, and he lives in Silicon Valley with his partner of twenty-six years. Until recently, he also shared his life with a disturbingly spoiled cat named Freya.
(Farewell, little huntress. You were loved. You are missed.)
David’s first book, Fid’s Crusade, has just recently been published; this was his first novel-length project, but it certainly won’t be his last—he’s having far too much fun!
Website Link: https://www.davidhreiss.com
Twitter Link: https://twitter.com/davidhreiss
Facebook Link: https://www.facebook.com/davidhreiss
About the Book:
Title: FID’S CRUSADE
Author: David H. Reiss
Publisher: Atian Press
Pages: 365
Genre: Scifi/Contemporary Fantasy
BOOK BLURB:
Consumed by grief, rage, and self-loathing, a brilliant inventor rebuilt himself to take on a new identity: the powered-armor-wearing supervillain, Doctor Fid. For twenty violent years, Fid has continued his quest to punish heroes who he considers to be unworthy of their accolades, and the Doctor has left a long trail of blood and misery in his wake. After a personal tragedy, however, Doctor Fid investigates a crime and uncovers a conspiracy so terrible that even he is taken aback.
Haunted by painful memories and profound guilt, the veteran supervillain must risk everything to save the world that he once sought to terrorize. Every battle takes its toll…but the stakes are too high for retreat to be an option.
In the end, it may take a villain to save the entire Earth from those entrusted with the Earth’s protection.
Praise:
“Fid’s Crusade by David H. Reiss is one of the most refreshing and lively takes on the superhero genre I’ve seen in years. His title character’s crusade is colorful, compelling, and takes wonderfully unexpected turns, and the novel delivers an impressive emotional punch (to go along with the super-powered ones). It stands easily alongside other character-driven superhero novels like Austin Grossman’s Soon I Will Be Invincible, Carrie Vaughn’s After the Golden Age, and Paul Tobin’s Prepare to Die!.” – Hugo award-winning author Tim Pratt
ORDER YOUR COPY:
Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07C92PMDH
Book Excerpt:
“I’m fine,” I informed Starnyx as soon as he answered his highly-encrypted phone.
A swarm of medical automatons surrounded the gurney on which I was reclined, a humming and swirling dervish of blades, clamps, sponges and other surgical tools focused upon the stump of my shoulder. A surgical laser was carefully burning away flesh in a pattern that would increase the efficiency of repairs performed by the medical nanites once my right arm was reattached.
The blended smell of disinfectant and cooking meat had been disturbing at first, but I was beginning to get used to the odor.
“Okay…?” Eric yawned. “Where are you?”
“I’m back in Boston,” I winced; a more significant cocktail of painkillers was now coursing through my veins, but some discomfort remained. “I’m sorry, I forgot that you were asleep when I left.”
“Nah, it’s almost morning. I can wake up. What’s up?”
“I ran into some minor trouble on my way home,” I forced a chuckle. “It will probably make the news and I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Hold on, let me get to a computer.” I heard tired, uncoordinated movement over the connection.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Using my neural connection to the surgical control computer, I ordered one of the robots to add another dose of topical anesthetic. “Really, I’m fine.”
“So, what happened?” Eric must have reached his desk, because I could hear the clacking as he typed on his keyboard.
“I ran into the Brooklyn Knights.”
“I think I’ve heard of them. New guys, righ—” he paused mid-question and fell silent.
“Eric?”
“So, you’re fine then?” Nyx asked, patiently.
“Absolutely,” I affirmed.
“I only ask, because the first hit I get on recent news of Doctor Fid is shaky cel-phone footage of you with your arm cut off,” he explained. “And I’m pretty sure you had both arms earlier tonight.”
“Tis but a scratch?” I tried.
“Christ, Doc,” he sighed, “I’m not doing Monty Python bits with you. Let me get dressed, I can be up in Boston in a few hours.”
“Thank you,” I smiled gratefully. “But, really, don’t bother. I’ll have my arm re-attached by then.”
There was another long pause.
“How?” Starnyx sounded exasperated.
“Medical nanotechnology. I’ll have function back in eight hours.” Which was a good thing, since my civilian persona had a face-to-face meeting with the Governor of Connecticut this afternoon to discuss opening a new research facility in Middletown. “In twenty-four hours, I’ll be good as new.”
“You’re a scary man,” he chuckled, relieved. “Okay, I get it. You’re fine.”
“I am.”
“Keep out of trouble, Doc, I’m going to get back to bed. Stay in touch, yeah?”
“Of course.” It was an odd feeling, having someone who cared for Doctor Fid’s wellbeing.
He hung up, and I closed my eyes to think.
Book Trailer:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1e_2WVVnZO8&t=2s
VBT – SHADES OF JUSTICE
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Carolyn Arnold will be awarding a personalized paperback copy of Power Struggle to a randomly drawn winner (International Giveaway) via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
The line between good and evil isn’t always clear…
Detective Madison Knight has risked her badge—and her life—in the pursuit of justice before, and she just might need to do so again. Two victims are found murdered and naked in the home of Steven Malone, who is the largest contributor to the Stiles PD. One victim is his wife. The other victim is a John Doe. This high-profile double homicide immediately pits Madison against her sergeant, who seems more intent on protecting the Malones’ reputation and retaining a benefactor than catching a killer.
Madison will need to pull on her tenacity and courage if she’s going to follow the evidence without prejudice. In the process, it becomes clear that finding justice isn’t always black and white, and often the shades in between tell the fullest story—and it’s not something she will forget anytime soon.
Read an Excerpt
“What’s up?” Madison asked her partner as she bunched up the empty wrapper and tossed it into a garbage bin. It bounced off the edge and then went in. Score: three points.
“Where have you been?” Terry’s face was flushed, his nostrils slightly flared, his eyes wide, his chest heaving. Even for looking unhinged, every one of his blond hairs lay perfectly in place. She, on the other hand, resembled a blond cockatoo most of the time.
“I’m waiting,” Terry pressed. He was certainly in a mood this morning, and he was coming across as if he were the senior detective. He was three years her junior. “I tried calling you five times, left two messages. Why weren’t you answering your phone?”
Crap. She’d been so focused on chocolate she’d forgotten to turn her phone’s ringer back on. She rectified that and saw the missed calls. “I had an appointment.”
Terry pointed to her phone. “You had your ringer off?”
“I had an appointment,” she repeated while shifting her weight to her right hip and jutting out her chin.
“While you’ve been off doing whatever, we had a double homicide land in our lap.” Terry tapped the paper he was holding, and it sank in that it was likely a search warrant. “Quite a high-profile case at that,” he added.
He already had her attention with “double homicide.” As a city of about half a million, Stiles saw its share of murders, but rarely were two bodies found together at the same time. “I’m listening.”
“A man and a woman. Don’t have an ID for him, but she’s Lorene Malone.”
About the Author:
CAROLYN ARNOLD is an international bestselling and award-winning author, as well as a speaker, teacher, and inspirational mentor. She has four continuing fiction series—Detective Madison Knight, Brandon Fisher FBI, McKinley Mysteries, and Matthew Connor Adventures—and has written nearly thirty books. Her genre diversity offers her readers everything from cozy to hard-boiled mysteries, and thrillers to action adventures.
Both her female detective and FBI profiler series have been praised by those in law enforcement as being accurate and entertaining, leading her to adopt the trademark: POLICE PROCEDURALS RESPECTED BY LAW ENFORCEMENT™.
Carolyn was born in a small town and enjoys spending time outdoors, but she also loves the lights of a big city. Grounded by her roots and lifted by her dreams, her overactive imagination insists that she tell her stories. Her intention is to touch the hearts of millions with her books, to entertain, inspire, and empower.
She currently lives in London, Ontario with her husband and beagle and is a member of Crime Writers of Canada and Sisters in Crime.
Connect with CAROLYN ARNOLD Online:
Website – http://carolynarnold.net/
Twitter – https://twitter.com/Carolyn_Arnold
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/AuthorCarolynArnold
And don’t forget to sign up for her newsletter for up-to-date information on release and special offers at http://carolynarnold.net/newsletters.
Carolyn Arnold will be awarding a personalized paperback copy of Power Struggle to a randomly drawn winner (International Giveaway) via rafflecopter during the tour.
Spotlight – Misfits and Supermen
About the Author
Steve Starger is a journalist, author, and musician. His 2006 book, “Wally’s World: The Brilliant Life and Tragic Death of Wally Wood, the World’s Second-Best Comic-Book Artist,” was short-listed for the Will Eisner Industry Award for Best Comics Related Book of 2006.
His latest book is a memoir titled MISFITS AND SUPERMEN: TWO BROTHERS’ JOURNEY ALONG THE SPECTRUM.
Website: www.misfitsandsupermen.com.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Steve-Starger-2222670174658438/
About the Book:
Title: MISFITS AND SUPERMEN: TWO BROTHERS’ JOURNEY ALONG THE SPECTRUM.
Author: Steve Starger
Publisher: Friesen Press
Pages: 178
Genre: Memoir
BOOK BLURB:
The bond of brotherhood is hard to break, but a lifetime of dealing with familial expectation, bitterness, and psychological disorders can bend and warp it into something nearly unrecognizable. This story tells the tale of two brothers: Melvyn, the elder, whose amalgamation of disorders leave him completely unable to function within society; and Stephen, the younger, whose own emotional and psychological issues are overshadowed to the point where he becomes little more than a pale and twisted reflection of his brother.
On different ends of the same spectrum, Melvyn is blissfully unaware of their troubling connection (or so his brother can only assume), but for Stephen, it is undeniable. He lives with it every day, sensing his own otherness in every twitch, outburst, and inability of his brother to overcome his inner demons. Left largely on his own to deal with his peculiarities-while carrying the burden of being “the normal one,” of whom much is expected- Stephen begins a complicated and unpredictable journey, one which will take him as far from his brother as he can manage to get, even as it brings them inexorably closer.
A portion of proceeds from this book will go toward the Camp Cuheca Scholarship – Melvyn D. Starger fund at Waterford Country School, Quaker Hill, CT., to help fund a two-week summer residency at the camp. For more information about Waterford Country School, please email development@waterforddcs.org.
“A finely crafted, affecting memoir of two brothers.”
— Kirkus Reviews
“If you want an honest book about life with mental illness in the family, this is it. Great writing. Brutally honest. Hard to put it down. Great stories about CT, NY and CA from the 1940s to 2000.”
–Amazon Reviewer
ORDER YOUR COPY:
Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/s?k=misfits+and+supermen&i=stripbooks&ref=nb_sb_noss_1
Barnes & Noble
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/misfits+and+supermen/_/N-8q8?_requestid=1514906
Book Excerpt
On a clear, cool night early in the spring of 1967, I lay on a stone wall fronting Long Island Sound, waiting for the acid to come on. I was in the back yard of a mansion in Stamford, Connecticut, staring into the star-filled sky, listening to the small waves gurgling against the shoreline. My mind was serene, but I was nervous, as always when I took acid or some other psychedelic substance. The unpredictability of the drug both thrilled me and made me anxious. Where will I go? What will I see? What will happen? Will I survive? If I lose myself on this plane of existence, what will come next?
My expectation and anxiety were more intense than usual this night. I had dropped what I had been told was two-hundred-fifty micrograms of pure Sandoz LSD-25, the Holy Grail of psychedelics. Or something very much like it.
I had no idea who obtained this rare specimen of a heralded consciousness-altering substance or who manufactured it, but it showed up at the house where my band, NGC 4594, had camped to rehearse. The sprawling home was a prime example of a southern Connecticut Gold Coast mansion; it belonged to the family of our flute and mouth-harp player.
The tablet I had swallowed, about the size and color of an adult dose of aspirin, purportedly had the purity and power of LSD-25, the legendary psychedelic accidentally discovered at Sandoz Laboratories, in Basel, Switzerland, by a chemist named Albert Hoffman, in 1938. Dr. Hoffman’s cosmic experience was decades in the past, but this dose was supposed to be light-years beyond any acid I had previously taken.
The pitch that accompanied this acid could have been lifted from a used-car salesman’s book, but if the claim was correct, I was in for a journey to the center of consciousness, where “clear light” waited to bathe me in its cleansing glow. I had taken other “clean” acid trips, uncut with amphetamines to make the trip come on faster, and free of other additives favored by the street “acid men” to stretch their product for maximum profits.
As the acid slowly insinuated itself into my nervous system (one test of purity is the length of time it takes for uncut LSD to start working, about forty-five minutes to an hour), I felt the heightened combination of exhilaration and anxiety that signals the acid beginning to work its magic.
A gentle nudging began to assert itself at the edges of my consciousness. I gave myself over to the Sandoz simulacrum and let it take me where it would.
Over the course of what seemed like millennia, the acid took me far away, into the vast field of stars above me, and into the water, where I imprinted my image on the surface over and over, until I became an armada of insubstantial clones breaking on the shore. In a quick burst of rational thought, I thought, so, this is what the shouting is all about over Sandoz. Well … let it come down!
Inside the house, NGC was playing to a group of local day trippers who showed up every Friday night to get high and listen to us. We had moved into the mansion from Storrs, Connecticut a couple of months before and had become the latest attraction for the local sensation seekers.
As I lay wrapped in ecstasy in Stamford, my brother, Melvyn Starger, lay on his small bed in his small cell of a room on the opposite side of the state, at Norwich State Hospital. He too had taken drugs, ones very different from what I had consumed by choice. He was not given a choice in the matter; his drugs were prescribed and mandatory. His meds probably were benzodiazepines, psychoactive medications that produced sedative, hypnotic, anti-convulsive, and muscle relaxant effects. In other words, they were used to control patients’ behaviors, which could be explosive and unpredictable.
Someone meeting Melvyn for the first time would wonder why it was necessary to give him medicine designed to pacify him. He seemed so calm and diffident to most people. But he had a temper that could get way out of hand, and it could explode in seconds. He was too thin and under-muscled to do any physical damage to people, but he could be scary. He could yell at the top of his range for a long time.
I can’t presume to know where Melvyn’s mind went when he was on his meds. His inner workings had been a mystery to me and my parents for many years. I did my best to hold off thoughts of him as I peaked on the acid. Had I thought of him in this blissful state, I thought I would freak out (as we used to say). That would have been a shame, because this trip was one of a kind. Nothing should be allowed to ruin it. Not that I hadn’t thought of my brother over the years since we were kids, but there were times when it just wouldn’t have been fair to let reality intrude on my experience.
My efforts to keep my brother at bay have never worked. He was always there, ready and waiting—my constant Virgil on our travels together. He had appeared to me many times over the years, a stoop-shouldered wraith shambling through my thoughts, not so subtly reminding me that our bond would never be broken, least of all by changing locations and doing drugs.
Even in the middle of my cosmic dance on Long Island Sound, I occasionally felt the sorrow generated by my brother’s presence creep in, slowly and inexorably. This time, my altered perceptions absorbed Melvyn and his aura with barely a whimper. I didn’t panic; no ambulances had to be called. I simply rode the whirlwind to its conclusion: the good, the bad, and the ugly.
By then I had learned enough about how to guide myself through a psychedelic experience to understand that walking the Via Dolorosa (“the way of grief”) can be an important part of the experience. After all, the language we used to describe an acid trip or some other mind-altering experience employed such phrases as “ego death,” states of being one must travel through to reach the true center of consciousness, where the pain and suffering brought on by human folly melts into divine nothingness.
Our perceptions of the power of psychedelic drugs came from our readings of Buddhist philosophy and certain practices found in the Tibetan Book of the Dead, which had been appropriated by the Harvard psychedelic guru Timothy Leary for his own usages. In terms of getting high on psychedelics, it probably amounted to nonsense, but if that got us through bad experiences, what was the harm? In fact, the truest thing I had learned about acid, peyote, mescaline, magic mushrooms, and even things like lowly marijuana was how strong these substances were. One could believe anything behind their power to distort the senses and disrupt the orderly flow of one’s mind.
In my brother’s case, he walked the Via Dolorosa his entire life.
In some societies, my brother might have been revered as a holy man, treated with respect and deference. In our world, he was crazy. A looney-tune. A moron. No one in polite society called him those terrible names, of course, at least not in public. I called him those names, in private and in public.
Divorced from the rest of “normal” society by his multiplicity of psychiatric afflictions, my brother grew up inside his own life. It was not a life that anyone would have chosen, but it was his, thrust on him by nature. His world was rigidly self-contained. He was the only permanent resident. He could relate to the “outside” when he chose to, but those were rare moments. My parents and I had to do the work required to enter his world. It was a hard, frustrating task, but there were occasional payoffs, if one worked hard enough. Small flickers of light would dance in his eyes on those rare moments when he was able or willing to enter the world of the others—our world.
This brief description of my perception of Melvyn’s affect and demeanor may remind some of the classic symptoms of autism, or as the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-IV) terms it, “Autistic Disorder.” The DSM’s list of symptoms includes: Marked lack of awareness of the existence or feelings of others; no or abnormal seeking of comfort at times of distress; no or impaired imitation (e.g., does not wave bye-bye, does not copy mother’s domestic activities, mechanical imitation of others’ actions out of context); no or abnormal social play; and gross impairment in ability to make peer friendships.
Melvyn did display some or all of these manifestations at various times throughout his life, sometimes all of them at once. The diagnosis of autism was not generally heard during the time of Melvyn’s development, and even if it had been, the tagging of Melvyn as autistic, or “on the spectrum,” may not have made a difference in my parents’ comprehension of their son’s many aberrant behaviors. In retrospect, the gap that existed between Melvyn and the rest of the world would surely have remained—in fact, did remain—for his entire life.
But Melvyn did not live in a vacuum, despite all of the obstacles that separated us. Melvyn—the fact of Melvyn—exerted a profound influence on everyone who came into his world. My parents struggled for their entire marriage under the weight of Melvyn’s conditions.
Some families, when faced with crippling mental disabilities in a family member, bond together and face their futures in some kind of harmony. Other families fall apart, unable to face the fact of a terrible intruder in their midst. My family went the latter route.
When Melvyn’s strangeness could no longer be ignored or explained away, my parents’ reactions took very different forms. Over the long term, my father grew more distant and depressed, and he began to blame my mother more and more for Melvyn’s problems. My mother adopted the pose of a martyr, taking verbal abuse from my father that increased with passing years. My mother became “Long-Suffering Elsie” in the eyes of friends and family. The perception wasn’t entirely fair. She could still laugh and socialize and have fun playing the piano, but there was no doubt that something deep and sad had possessed her. One can argue that we all affect each other simply by being in each other’s lives, but living so closely with someone of Melvyn’s uniqueness takes that rather obvious observation to a very different place.
As Melvyn’s wrongness became more and more pronounced, my parents turned their gazes on him and never looked away. My developing antisocial behavior and rock-bottom self-image took a backseat to Melvyn’s much bigger problems. My parents missed the danger signs in my young life early on. Their concentration on Melvyn bored like drilling tools into Melvyn’s being, as if my parents could mine information from him about his strangeness. They watched in mounting horror as he transformed from a seemingly normal child into an alien creature lurching toward entropy. They reacted to the early years of Melvyn’s thwarted development with shock, disbelief, denial, increasing pain, depression, and cruelty.
The fact that it took years for Melvyn’s first symptoms of psychiatric disorder to appear—holding out hope for my parents where none really existed—exacerbated a situation that eventually flowered into a force that destroyed the fabric of my family.
This may sound like melodrama, but I watched it happen. My mother, refusing to believe the evidence of her eyes, would swear at times that Melvyn was reading full sentences when he was 2 years old, which proved to her that what was clearly happening to him was beyond her comprehension. She was indulging in magical thinking to save her own sanity.
VBT – THE HIEROPHANT’S DAUGHTER
The Hierophant’s Daughter
(Disgraced Martyr Trilogy #1)
by M. F. Sullivan
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GENRE: Sci-fi, Horror, LGBTQ
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BLURB:
By 4042 CE, the Hierophant and his Church have risen to political dominance with his cannibalistic army of genetically modified humans: martyrs. In an era when mankind’s intergenerational cold wars against their long-lived predators seem close to running hot, the Holy Family is poised on the verge of complete planetary control. It will take a miracle to save humanity from extinction.
It will also take a miracle to resurrect the wife of 331-year-old General Dominia di Mephitoli, who defects during martyr year 1997 AL in search of Lazarus, the one man rumored to bring life to the dead. With the Hierophant’s Project Black Sun looming over her head, she has little choice but to believe this Lazarus is really all her new friends say he is–assuming he exists at all–and that these companions of hers are really able to help her. From the foulmouthed Japanese prostitute with a few secrets of her own to the outright sapient dog who seems to judge every move, they don’t inspire a lot of confidence, but the General has to take the help she can get.
After all, Dominia is no ordinary martyr. She is THE HIEROPHANT’S DAUGHTER, and her Father won’t let her switch sides without a fight. Not when she still has so much to learn.
The dystopic first entry of an epic cyberpunk trilogy, THE HIEROPHANT’S DAUGHTER is a horror/sci-fi adventure sure to delight and inspire adult readers of all stripes.
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EXCERPT
Excerpt One:
I
The Flight of the Governess
The Disgraced Governess of the United Front was blind in her right eye. Was that blood in the left, or was it damaged, too? The crash ringing in her ears kept her from thinking straight. Of course her left eye still worked: it worked well enough to prevent her from careening into the trees through which she plunged. Yet, for the tinted flecks of reality sometimes twinkling between crimson streaks, she could only imagine her total blindness with existential horror. Would the protein heal the damage? How severely was her left eye wounded? What about the one she knew to be blind—was it salvageable? Ichigawa could check, if she ever made it to the shore.
She couldn’t afford to think that way. It was a matter of “when,” not of “if.” She would never succumb. Neither could car accident, nor baying hounds, nor the Hierophant himself keep her from her goal. She had fourteen miles to the ship that would whisk her across the Pacific and deliver her to the relative safety of the Risen Sun. Then the Lazarene ceremony would be less than a week away. Cassandra’s diamond beat against her heart to pump it into double time, and with each double beat, she thought of her wife (smiling, laughing, weeping when she thought herself alone) and ran faster. A lucky thing the Governess wasn’t human! Though, had she remained human, she’d have died three centuries ago in some ghetto if she’d lived past twenty without becoming supper. Might have been the easier fate, or so she lamented each time her mind replayed the crash of the passenger-laden tanque at fifth gear against the side of their small car. How much she might have avoided!
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AUTHOR Bio and Links
M.F. Sullivan is the author of Delilah, My Woman, The Lightning Stenography Device, and a slew of plays in addition to the Trilogy. She lives in Ashland, Oregon with her boyfriend and her cat, where she attends the local Shakespeare Festival and experiments with the occult. Find more information about her work (and plenty of free essays) at https://www.paintedblindpublishing.com
Author Links:
Blog: https://www.paintedblindpublishing.comhttps://www.paintedblindpublishing.com
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/TheRealMFS
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/M.-F.-Sullivan/e/B013DDEQVE
Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14199461.M_F_Sullivan
Buy/Review Links:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Hierophants-Daughter-M-F-Sullivan/dp/0996539565
NetGalley: http://netgal.ly/AYYlKV
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42921564-the-hierophant-s-daughter
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-hierophants-daughter-m-f-sullivan/1129918390
Hardback: 978-0-9965395-6-2
Paperback: 978-0-9965395-7-9
eBook: 978-0-9965395-8-6
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY
One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.
Enter to win a $50 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Interview
What is the sweetest thing someone has done for you?
Hah, I don’t know. I’m not much of a romantic outside of my writing style. My boyfriend took me to New York two years ago, then we drove over to Ohio to visit my family—that was very sweet, very kind. And a whirlwind trip—eleven plays in eight days, I think? M. Butterfly was the best by far, but I also loved the off-Broadway production of A Clockwork Orange. It was really in-your-face and a very challenging production on an emotional level; the actors playing the Droogs managed to make me feel a little unsafe as an audience member, and I think that’s the highest praise I can give a play.
How would you spend ten thousand bucks?
Marketing the hell out of The Disgraced Martyr Trilogy! You’d see a big ad in the New York Times for a few days, at least. That would probably cost all ten thousand!
Where do you get your best ideas?
Listening to music just about anywhere, especially while doing dishes or going to the gym. Also, thinking about tropes I’d like to explore/revive, or thinking about works of art which disappointed me and how I would have done them better.
What comes first, the plot or characters?
Characters. Organic characters will write the story for you and I can’t stress that enough. They wrote this story for me! Especially Miki Soto, the Japanese prostitute—she’s a very plastic character, I think most readers will agree, and I feel like I had no say in anything about her. She just appeared in the work and stayed in the work, and slowly revealed herself as, just, this absolute gem of a character, both as a person and a plot device. If you have a bunch of really natural, strong-willed fictional characters and fall into the flow with them, they’ll just build a rapport off of one another and reveal the plot to you, one dialogue or interaction at a time.
What does your main character do that makes him/her special.
General Dominia di Mephitoli is the former Governess of the United Front—that’s essentially President of the United States. She’s widely known in her world as one of the most dangerous living martyrs, and she’s one of Earth’s most formidable fighters, with 1000 battles to her name. But as she runs around with her weird friends—Basil, the sapient dog, René the Franco-Japanese professor of English, and, of course, the aforementioned Miki Soto—it becomes apparent that Dominia’s quest to resurrect her wife has further-reaching implications. Especially when Dominia discovers what’s really going on with Basil, and that there’s no limit to her own abilities—or reality.
Spotlight – Dark Spiral Down
About the Author
After a career in medicine, Mike Houtz succumbed to the call to hang up his stethoscope and pursue his other passion as a writer of fast-paced thrillers. A rabid fan of authors such as Clancy, Mark Greaney, Vince Flynn, and Brad Thor, Mike loves series writing with strong characters, fast pacing and international locations, all of which explode into action in his debut novel, a 2017 Zebulon Award winner. When not at the keyboard, he can be found on the firing range, traveling for research across the globe, or trying out the latest dry-fly pattern on a Gold Medal trout stream.
He lives at the foothills of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado.
His latest book is the thriller/international/action novel, Dark Spiral Down.
Website: www.mikehoutz.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/michaelhoutz
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/author.mikehoutz/
https://www.facebook.com/mike.houtz.77
About the Book:
Title: DARK SPIRAL DOWN
Author: Michael Houtz
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Pages: 377
Genre: Thriller/International/Action
BOOK BLURB:
COLE HAUFNER is a reluctant superstar in the professional mixed martial arts world. After his latest fight, his wife and child perish in a car crash. His grief deepens when his brother, BUTCH, a Delta Force operator, is absent from the funeral and reported missing by two furtive strangers who show up unannounced at the burial. Despairing, and acting on a tip, Cole travels to his childhood home in southeast China, looking for his brother.
Butch and his teammate, HAMMER, are the sole American survivors of a gun battle between their unit and North Korean commandos, both sides fighting over possession of a stolen suitcase containing a miniaturized fusion device that could either provide unlimited clean energy or be converted to an undetectable bomb seven times more powerful than a nuclear explosion. Leading the North Koreans is the sociopath, Commander PARK. Pressed into helping the Koreans is a disgraced former CIA operative, BARRETT JENNINGS.
Cole meets with the uncle who raised him, MASTER LI, and is warned to stop his search for Butch. Barrett discovers Cole’s identity (with the help of a genius computer hacker, LILLY), which opens a twenty-year-old wound when Barrett was blamed for the disappearance of Cole’s father, along with the man’s invention. Barrett enlists the 14K organized crime syndicate to help capture Cole. Hammer, separated from Butch during the fight for the device, thwarts the gang’s attempt to kidnap Cole, and the two then set off to find Butch and the device. All parties converge on the city library where Butch, now disguised as a monk, is attempting to communicate with the Pentagon. Barrett and Park capture Butch, while the 14K gang nabs Cole.
Danger mounts as Chinese authorities begin investigating foul play within their borders. Cole fights his way free of the gang and reunites with Hammer. Both men find Barrett’s apartment and discover Lilly (the man’s stepdaughter), who divulges Barrett’s identity and plan. Cole clashes with Hammer, who is willing to sacrifice Butch in order to recover the fusion device. Lilly offers her help in exchange for her and Barrett’s rescue from Park’s grip. Meanwhile, Barrett discovers the true nature of the case the North Koreans are pursuing and, sensing he and Lilly are to be assassinated by Park once he has the device, frees Butch. Butch, trusting Barrett was sent to rescue him, leads the turncoat to the site where he hid the device. Barrett, hoping to make a quick fortune selling it, shoots Butch before escaping with the case.
Cole, along with Hammer and Lilly, arrives at the location of Butch and finds him gravely wounded. Butch fingers Barrett for shooting him and for stealing the case. Cole wants only to save his brother but Butch makes him promise to kill Barrett and recover their dad’s invention. The revelation that the device is his father’s scientific discovery propels Cole forward to fulfill his brother’s mission. Cole is forced to abandon Butch at a hospital. Cole pursues Barrett to a remote dock where the ex-CIA man is planning to escape China by boat. With the Chinese military now actively looking for Cole, Cole confronts Barrett and Park sparking a gunfight. Barrett kills Park. As Barrett turns the gun on Cole, Hammer kills Barrett. Cole, Hammer and Lilly escape via the boat, and the fusion device is safely returned.
Praise for Michael Houtz Books
“If you’re in the market for a fast paced, action filled, page-turning thriller, Mike Houtz delivers a must-read novel. I highly recommend this emotional rollercoaster of a book for every die-hard thriller reader…Get it ASAP!”
~Lima Charlie Review
“…this work proves that author Houtz is undoubtedly a rising star in the publishing world.”
~Andrea Brunais, Author
“Mike Houtz takes us on fast-pace adventure in Dark Spiral Down, a thrilling ride along the border between China and North Korea, where Cole Haufner is in pursuit of his Delta Force brother and a device that has the potential to change the world forever or destroy it.”
~Dan Grant, Author
“Dark Spiral Down is a phenomenal debut novel by Mike Houtz. This book has everything readers of the genre love: a great plot, memorable characters, and a powerful voice. It’s a must-read!”
~Ammar Habib, Bestselling & Award-Winning Author, Editor-in-Chief of Thriller Magazine
ORDER YOUR COPY:
Amazon
Book Excerpt:
Anger born of helplessness rose in his chest. In contrast to Master Li’s placating tone, Cole straightened to his full height and stared into the man’s face. “Let me guess, more 14K cowards?”
Another man stepped forward and cocked his pistol’s hammer. “I show you coward.”
As at the Crowne Plaza earlier, Cole refused to back off, even in the face of impending conflict. “The coward is the man who needs a gun.”
The other with the shotgun pointing at Cole’s chest stood only some seven or eight feet away. “You will come with us now!”
“Please. Violence is forbidden here,” Master Li spoke again. “The Temple is sacred. We cannot have this type of behavior.”
“Maybe you don’t hear so good,” the leader sneered. “He comes with us whether you approve or not.”
“He is a famous American! If you take him, the government will arrest anyone involved. They will have no choice but to hold immediate trials and executions.” Master Li cupped his hands together and held them against his chest.
“Famous American,” the man chuckled. “If you are so famous, what are you doing here then, huh?”
Cole stared straight into the man’s eyes. He took several steps toward the shotgun-wielding thug. “How about I show you?”
C.A. Milson 