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VBT – Curse of the Sea
About the Book
Title: Curse of the Sea
Author: Joni Parker
Genre: Urban Fantasy
A NATO training exercise goes terribly wrong when five warships from different countries are mysteriously transported to Eledon, the Realm of the Elves. The warrior, Lady Alexin, is charged to escort the troops back home to London in the year 2031 with the aid of the Wizard Ecstasy and a magic shrinking potion. Yet, when the authorities question her story, Alex is detained and imprisoned under suspicion of terrorism. Caught in a web of politics, betrayal and bungling bureaucracy, the confusing world of the future will push her magical gifts to their limit, and her own future will hang in the balance, caught between “justice” and the place she calls home.
Author Bio
Fantasy novels are Joni Parker’s writing passion. Thus far, she’s written two series—“The Seaward Isle Saga,” a trilogy, and “The Chronicles of Eledon,” the award-winning four-book series. Her latest project, “Curse of the Sea” is her eighth book and begins a new trilogy. Her work extends beyond novels into short stories with two appearing in an anthology, “Tucson and Beyond” by the Tucson Science Fiction Fantasy writers’ group. Joni’s retired from military and federal government service and devotes her time to writing. She currently resides in Tucson, Arizona.
Links
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FLBT312
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ParkerJoni
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJoniParker
Website/Blog: http://www.joni-parker.com
Giveaway
Win a print copy of “Curse of the Sea”!
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/OWVmMzUzNWJlY2NjOWExMTIxY2QwNzQ2NmEzMTdiOjU5NQ==/?
Book Excerpt
Chapter 2:
A short while later, Captain Jonas returned, accompanied by a middle-aged woman and a group of young sailors, male and female. The woman wore a mottled blue camouflage uniform and her blond hair was tucked under a dark blue cap with a brim and the name USS Lonestar emblazoned in gold.
“Alex, this is Captain Williams. She’ll take over…this place.” He grimaced as he looked around. “Captain Williams, I’ll check in later.” He nodded to her and marched out.
“Nice to meet you, Miss.” Captain Williams held out her hand.
Alex shook her hand and noticed the eagle pins on her collar. She was the same rank as Captain Jonas, equivalent to a Colonel, the rank of her foster father, Colonel Penser. “My name’s Alex. They allow women to be in charge of ships?”
The Captain’s smile grew. “Yep, sure do. Half my crew is female.” She winked. “The Captain disapproves.”
“I get the same reaction. Are you an American?” Alex’s smile broadened.
“Yes, ma’am, from Houston, Texas. Where’re you from?”
“I was born here, but my foster father’s from Texas. He’s a colonel and in charge of the Nyla Army Garrison. I thought I recognized your accent.”
“How long has he been here?”
“A long time. He said he was in a place called ‘Nam before.”
“You mean Vietnam?” The Captain rubbed her chin. “That was about sixty years ago.”
“Oh, he hasn’t been here that long.”
The woman paused, uncertain how to react and pressed her lips together. She turned to monitor the cleaning crew. “When was the last time this hospital was used?”
“We call it a healing house. I was here about three or four years ago. I guess no one’s needed it since.”
“What kind of equipment do you have? An X-ray machine?” She took notice of the bare walls. “What about electrical outlets? Running water?”
Alex shook her head. “We don’t have outlets for anything, but you can get water from the pump outside. We don’t have any kind of X equipment.”
“Uh, where exactly are we?”
“Seaward Isle. It’s part of Eledon, the Elf world. We haven’t had a shipwreck here in years and we just fixed the Elf grid to keep this from happening.”
VBT – The McKenzie Files
About the Book
Title: The McKenzie Files
Author: Barry K. Nelson
Genre: Science-Fiction
The United Protectorate is under attack by the Brelac, a bloodthirsty reptilian alien race bent on destroying humanity. A dark alliance between the Brelac and the Vendetta, a separatist organization, looms over the Protectorate. The Brelac’s onslaught brings forth the creation of the genetically engineered humanoid weapons called Reploids. Reploids are identical copies of real humans captured, killed, cloned, embedded with powerful psionic abilities, and programmed to serve the Brelac. They are untraceable and blend into human society so believably, the Reploids themselves do not know they are clones.
Colin McKenzie, part of a military team sent to a remote planet to investigate and capture a downed Brelac ship, turns on his commanding officer in an attempt to protect a shipwrecked band of Brelac soldiers. But he is captured and reprogrammed – along with two other arrested Reploids – to serve the government they were originally created to destroy.
The balance is upset when a weapon powerful enough to bring the Protectorate to its knees is about to be unleashed – and the Protectorate’s only hope of stopping it is the three Reploids.
Author Bio
A Pennsylvania native, Barry K. Nelson has attended college and has worked at a variety of jobs, including retail and the corporate environment. Barry enjoys reading and gardening and is a fan of science fiction and horror movies, Marvel comic collecting, and the X-box gaming.
Barry has written several short stories, and his first book in the science fiction series, The McKenzie Files, followed by the sequels, Assassination Anxiety, Obliteration, and Maximum Deevor.
Barry is a member of Ning and Goodreads, can be found on Facebook, and can also be reached through Dreaming Big Publications..
Links
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/barry.k.nelson
Publisher: http://www.dreamingbigpublications.com
Amazon (eBook): https://www.amazon.com/McKenzie-Files-Barry-Nelson-ebook/dp/B07FTJ4C9V/ref=sr_1_4?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1534348561&sr=1-4
Amazon (Paperback): https://www.amazon.com/McKenzie-Files-Book-One/dp/1947381040/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1534348561&sr=1-4
Book Excerpt
For a moment the Brelac standing before Fenlow remained silent. Fenlow’s skin twitched, apprehensive as to what would happen next. He had limited personal involvement with these creatures, but knew that they were as unpredictable as they were vicious. He eyed the rows of long teeth under the curled lips and suppressed a shudder.
The Brelac uttered a deep growl to slowly form a single name. “Fenlow. So, you’re the Great Doctor Fenlow. One of the first traitors in the brief history of this war. We finally meet.”
“I find the word traitor to be a little too malignant to suit my purpose,” Fenlow said quickly. “I’d like to think of myself as an entrepreneur.”
The Brelac growled again. Showing more of his sharp teeth. “Traitor, entrepreneur. It’s all the same to me. The point is that you’re here. The question is, why?”
“I’m here to speak to Bane Mariner. I have a proposition for him.”
“You are addressing Governor General Bane Mariner. Supreme Commander of the Brelac Empire. And I hope that your proposition is worth my time.”
“It is,” Fenlow assured him. “What I’m about to propose will greatly benefit both you and my company.”
“Carp Technologies,” Mariner leaned back on his heels, his tail stretching out to counterbalance his shifting weight. “I admire your company. Playing both sides of the war for their own benefit. All the while maintaining the facade of a benevolent corporation serving your little corner of the universe. I wonder, what your people would say if they knew that you and your company were working with us to create the Reploid menace?”
“I’m…I’m afraid that the Reploid program has been discontinued for the present time. More especially the advanced Reploids. En-route to Helios on the planet Meridan one of your shuttles carrying several Reploid units was shot down by Protectorate forces. Three Reploids were captured by the military. Carp considered this to be a threat to company security and decided to halt the project.”
Fenlow withheld the fact that he himself had recommended halting the project. Aided by Carp’s resources, Fenlow produced the Reploids in a laboratory within a company research vessel stationed at a secret location in space. Fenlow notified his Brelac contact on a secured channel when each shipment of Reploids would be due for delivery, and would then meet a Brelac transport shuttle at a designated rendezvous point.
Curious about the Brelac’s vision without the use of physical eyes, Fenlow had asked to examine their psionic implants. After months of extensive research he’d been able to create a more advanced version of the implants, and promised to deliver dozens of Reploids armed with the implants to help the Brelac achieve a swifter victory. Highly treasonous acts that would certainly earn Fenlow and others within Carp Technologies a swift death sentence.
“Those Reploids in the hands of your military could pose a problem,” Mariner stated, cracking his knuckles.
“They’re no threat. There are only three of them. The military will make limited use of their abilities, and I’ve already taken steps to diminish their effectiveness,” Fenlow paused. “Carp’s board of directors has decided to move forward with Operation Broad Axe. I have to do what I can to insure that the plan is successful. This means that I have to begin some of the more advanced projects that I’ve been working on.”
“And you need my help to pull all this off,” Mariner added. He went silent, his eyeless face studying Fenlow. “Let him go,” he growled.
Both guards raised their left hands to their heads in a familiar military salute and exited the hall with haste.
Fenlow thought that it was curious how the two Brelac saluted in such a fashion. As if they were mimicking human troopers. He suspected that he would learn a great deal about these creatures by working closely among them in the days ahead.
“Fix this man a seat next to mine,” Mariner blared out. “He’s my guest of honor.”
The attendants serving food and drink quickly provided a place at the table on Mariner’s right side, and Fenlow sat as instructed, his hands slightly shaking in his lap. Using a long, two-pronged fork an attendant quickly loaded his plate with three long sections of the pale snake-like meats and two of the centipedes, steam rising from their cooked flesh.
Fenlow stared at his plate. The appearance of the food before him was nauseating enough, but it’s oily smell combined with a sour milk odor left him near paralyzed.
Mariner silently faced him, and a thin stream of saliva dripped out of the right side of his mouth. Fenlow shuddered, slightly spooked in the close sight of Mariner’s scaled face and the long pointed teeth in the constant grin.
Fenlow nervously cleared his throat. “I suppose you’re not serving any salads.”
A faint, hoarse growl came from Mariner’s throat. “Nothing so elaborate here.”
“I see.
Fenlow looked to the left and right side of his plate and saw no silverware. He quietly groaned in frustration. It was evident that the Brelac were eating with their hands, and Fenlow desired to blend in with his hosts. He gingerly picked up a centipede. It was warm and soft to the touch. He held it up to his face and managed not to flinch away. At least he was able to distinguish which item smelled like sour milk.
A deep grunt came from Mariner. “You look like you were just kissed by Pandora. Don’t worry, Doctor. It won’t bite you back.”
Kissed by Pandora. A strange terminology to use. Perhaps an example of their alien culture?
But the name, Pandora, stuck in Fenlow’s mind. There was something familiar about it. He thought that this would be the perfect time to get a little more background on his allies. He laid his centipede back down on his plate but kept his fingers on it.
“So, I’ve done a little research and found that you Brelac are Reploids yourselves,” he said.
“To a degree we are all the same,” Mariner sluggishly droned out, grabbing his own centipede and downing it in one loud gulp. “Our race needed a technological means to insure its continuation.”
“A technological means,” Fenlow repeated. “And what of your females? I noticed that through all the grunting and growling you all sound male.”
“As I have already explained, we are all the same,” Mariner said. “We have created the means of producing the perfect military force. Our soldiers originate from templates that are devoid of fear, unhindered by compassionate doubts, and minds that are not mired by the frivolous aberrations that obstruct you humans.”
“What about these original templates that you mentioned? I’m assuming that it’s some sort of original genetic stock.”
“Our original source is centuries old and continues to endure. But its history is not important.” He waved a clawed hand. “All that matters is that it serves us as we produce our numbers en-masse in order to achieve our objective.”
“And that objective would be?” Fenlow asked, suspecting he already knew the answer.
“Our objective is to spread ourselves across this universe and administer retribution to any and all opposition. Then we will become the only supreme power. That is our mission passed down to us through generations. This is what we will achieve. And you, Doctor Fenlow, will help us.”
Fenlow pondered Mariner’s words, fingertips stroking the soft white flesh of the centipede on his plate. He was still dreading the notion of being forced to eat this thing.
The Brelac mission of conquest and retribution. A chilling thought.
But Fenlow’s job was to find a way to work Carp Technologies’ interests into the mission so that their own plans could materialize unscathed. And with the Brelac’s help his job would be much easier.
“I’ll help you,” Fenlow told him, nodding.
He took a long look at the centipede he was holding. He picked it up and slowly raised it to his face, holding his breath against the smell. He opened his mouth.
Release Blitz – The Heart of Aleppo
About the Book
Title: The Heart of Aleppo
Author: Ammar Habib
Genre: Young Adult / Coming of Age / Contemporary
Page Count: 235
After standing for over 7,000 years, Aleppo’s ruin came overnight. Separated from his family during the night the rebels attacked the city, thirteen-year-old Zaid Kadir is lost in the middle of a war zone. Alongside his friends, he is forced to survive the dangers of a civil war he does not even fully understand. Zaid witnesses the destruction of the brutal Syrian Civil War as it grows more deadly by the day and rips his city apart. However, as he braves this destruction, as he desperately tries to survive this catastrophe, he discovers something. Zaid realizes that it is in the darkest hours when humanity’s spirit of hope burns brightest.
Links
About the Author
Ammar Habib is a bestselling and award-winning author who was born in Lake Jackson, Texas in 1993. Ammar enjoys crafting stories that are not only entertaining but will also stay with the reader for a long time. Ammar presently resides in his hometown with his family, all of whom are his biggest fans. He draws his inspiration from his family, imagination, and the world around him.
Social Media
Website:www.ammarahsenhabib.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ammarahsenhabib
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AmmarAHabib1
@AmmarAHabib1
Blog: www.ammarhabibblog.wordpress.com
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/Ammar_Habib
Instagram: https://instagram.com/ammar.a.habib/
@Ammar.A.Habib
Giveaway
In conjunction with the release of The Heart of Aleppo, Ammar is running a giveaway from July 26th to August 3rd. The prize of the giveaway is a signed copy of his national award-winning novel, Memories of My Future. Memories of My Future is a historical/inspirational novel that was published in 2016. It received several accolades after its release, including the Independent Press Award in May 2017.
Go here to visit the giveaway!
Why Ammar wrote The Heart of Aleppo:
I personally believe that the Syrian Civil War is one of this generation’s greatest tragedies. With the way it is proceeding, it’ll be remembered by future generations in the same manner that we remember the Rwandan genocide and the Bosnian War of the 1990s.
The motivation for writing The Heart of Aleppo was simple: I wished to bring more global attention to this crisis. Although the characters are fictitious, this novel accurately depicts the events that transpired in Aleppo during the summer of 2012. I hope that reading this will lead readers to have a greater understanding of the plight those in Syria face, as well as those in other war-torn regions. If this work helps garner more attention for those in Syria, then I will have considered this project a success.
In an over-politicized world, my wish is for this work to humanize those we call “refugees”. The Heart of Aleppo is not about the politics of the Syrian Civil War or any other conflict. Its aim is not to convince readers to support any faction or political party. Instead, this story is about the unbreakable spirit of humanity. It is about how humanity often shows its true strength during the darkest times.
I truly hope that these themes of hope and strength will resonate with readers. I know that simply writing this The Heart of Aleppo changed me as a person, and it made me more aware of everything that transpires in the world around me. Although the world will never be perfect, I believe that if we keep our faith in the human spirit and keep striving to always better ourselves and those around us, then we can create a little piece of heaven on earth.
Writing Playlist for The Heart of Aleppo
- “Sadness and Sorrow”
- “Sound of Hugh Glass”
- “Despair”
- “Man of the World”
First excerpt from The Heart of Aleppo:
Two days before Nabeel leaves for the last time, I find him standing at the kitchen counter with his friend, Zakariah. I don’t know his rank, but Zakariah serves directly under Nabeel in the army and only lives two miles down the road. The two of them always seem to be on leave at the same time.
Their voices are low, almost secretive, but I catch the look in Nabeel’s eye. Except back then, I didn’t recognize it.
“What are you guys talking about?”
Seeing me enter and hearing my voice, they both look my way before exchanging glances. That gleam in Nabeel’s eyes disappears.
I excitedly run up to the two of them. “Tell me!”
Nabeel looks back down at me as he stops leaning against the counter. Reaching down, he ruffles my hair. “You’re too young to know about that, Zaid.”
“Aww, what’s that about? I’m not part of the group now—”
My brother playfully flicks me on the forehead as he crouches down a little. “I’m sorry, buddy. Maybe next time.”
“You’re always saying that.”
Zakariah laughs as he comes closer to me. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “That’s just not fair, Nabeel. You’re a horrible brother for leaving Zaid out like that.”
I see a concerned expression momentarily wash over Nabeel’s face.
However, Zakariah glances up at Nabeel and shoots him a quick wink as he continues. “Why don’t I just tell you then?”
My eyes light up. “Really! You’re the best, Zakariah.”
Coming to his knees, he puts his arm around my shoulders and leans close, acting as if he is about to tell me the world’s biggest secret. “You see, Zaid, your brother and I were having a discussion about which one of us would win in a wrestling match. We all know that I’m stronger, but he just won’t admit it.” He sighs and shakes his head as he looks back at Nabeel. “But you agree with me, don’t you, Zaid?”
I don’t hesitate to respond. “No way!”
He moves his head back in surprise. “Huh?”
“Sure you’re pretty strong, but my brother would beat you!”
Zakariah is slow to reply, taken aback by the statement. “C’mon, Zaid. You do realize that I’m older than him—”
“Age has nothing to do with it, Zakariah! My brother was the school’s wrestling champion. He wouldn’t lose to you.” I whip my head to look back at Nabeel. “Right, big brother?”
Nabeel is slightly smiling now.
With a chuckle, Zakariah rises back to his feet. “Alright, alright. Well, I best be off, Nabeel. We can finish our little discussion next time.”
Nabeel shakes his hand. “Give my greetings to your folks.”
“I will.” Zakariah grabs my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “See you, Zaid—no, sorry: Dr. Zaid.”
Did he really just call me that? How did he know?
Hearing Zakariah’s footsteps grow faint, I turn back to Nabeel. He opens the fridge door and rummages through it.
“You told him?” I ask.
Nabeel doesn’t look my way. “I tell everyone.”
I watch him pull out a pound of chicken meat rolled up in brown paper as he turns back to me.
“Aisha is visiting her parents tonight and Abbi and Ummi are having dinner with friends. So looks like it’ll just be you and me.” Nabeel shoots me a wink. “I’m going to make some shwarma for dinner. Just the way you like it: tomatoes, lettuce, onions, lots of chicken, and even more spices.” He starts setting the ingredients on the countertop. “I went by Sohail’s shop today. The mangoes he was selling were ripe, so I picked some up. We can have them for dessert. That is if we have room.”
He looks back at me with a smile, but it fades when he sees my expression.
“What’s wrong, Zaid?”
I glance at the ground before replying, “I don’t think I want to be a doctor anymore.”
“Why not?”
“…I don’t think I can.”
He takes a few steps towards me before crouching down to come to my eye level, urging me to continue.
“Ms. Farooq said I’m not smart enough.”
“She did?”
“I got the lowest score in the class on the last math test. She said I’m not cut out for it.”
“I didn’t realize Ms. Farooq could tell the future.”
I don’t respond.
“Did you tell Abbi or Ummi?”
I shake my head.
He takes a deep breath and glances down at my feet. His eyes look like he’s weighing something, wondering if he should say it or not. When he does speak, his voice is different. It’s no longer speaking to me as his younger brother but as his friend. “You know, Zaid, Zakariah was joking about what we were talking about.”
“Really?”
He nods before his gaze focuses back on me. “Not even a few weeks ago, my soldiers and I were in a bit of a… well, situation.”
“What happened?”
“We were in Homs. The people we were fighting—the rebels—had heavy control of some neighborhoods. We were trying to take them back. It was…”
A silence ensues as he searches for the word.
“Difficult.” Nabeel pauses. “Some soldiers were pinned. The army tried an airstrike to break the rebel lines. It was a heavy bombardment that leveled entire streets. The cost was high. But we couldn’t break their lines.”
I don’t interrupt him.
“Our intelligence said it was a lost cause. We were ordered to abandon the soldiers. They said we would lose more men than we would save. But even the army’s ‘intelligence’ doesn’t know everything.” He looks away. “Zakariah and I disobeyed our commanding officer. As did our men. Those soldiers that were pinned weren’t just men. They were my friends… my brothers. And I would never abandon them, even if it led to…”
For a moment, his eyes again display that same gleam, but it disappears as quickly as it came.
His gaze again meets mine. It’s firmer this time, stronger. “It doesn’t matter what people say, Zaid. It doesn’t matter what the facts say. All that matters is what you say. And, maybe more importantly, what you do.”
I hang on his words, unable to say anything.
“Why do you want to be a doctor, Zaid?”
“I’ve always wanted to.”
“But why?”
“Because… I don’t want to see people suffer. I… I want to be the one to help others. I want to save lives, make a difference and put others before myself. I want to make this world a better place. Just like the Imam always talks about.”
Nabeel smiles. “Never forget that. And never go back on your word. No matter what happens. Please never forget one thing, Zaid: I love you. No matter the circumstance—no matter if I’m so far from you that you may never see me again, know that I’m with you.” He presses his finger against my heart. “I believe in you, Zaid.”
VBT – Memoirs of a Road Warrior
About the Book
Title: Memoirs of a Road Warrior
Author: Fred Klein
Genre: Humor
Andrew Livingston, a young, naive college graduate gets a job as a sales engineer for a crazy company. Set in New York in the corporate raider 1980’s this humorous book is a recounting of all the strange history of a high-tech company with an eccentric CEO.
This character gathers together a strange assortment of employees who endeavor to manufacture and sell their products to an equally strange collection of customers. The book tells of their amusing conflicts and experiences throughout the decades.
Follow the company’s encounters with Chinese agents, horse trailers, rocket fuel disasters, con-men, bedbugs, and airplane crashes. Learn how not to run a business!
Author Bio
Fred Klein is a new author of his humorous novel MEMOIRS OF A ROAD WARRIOR. He was a sales engineer for 30 years selling scientific instruments throughout North America. He is a private pilot, a drummer in a band, and presently lives with his wife in California. Fred is not a natural comedian but funny things always see to happen around him.
Links
Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/
webpage: http://www.humorous-book.com
email: memoirsofaroadwarrior@gmail.com
facebook: http://www.facebook.com/fred.klein56232
twitter: https://twitter.com/Author3333
wordpress: www.humorousbook.wordpress.com
Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/81816063
VBT – The Sunwright Chronicles: A New World
About the Book
Title: The Sunwright Chronicles: A New World
Author: Kevin Villegas
Genre: Fantasy
Join the magical adventures of the Sunwright family as they live, love and defend their high magic home of Alavar. It is the beginning of a new phase in the lives of the Sunwright’s castoff’s from an unloving modern Earth, they seek their fortunes in a brand new world. Enjoy these brand new adventures filled with; romance, intrigue, murder, and revenge! Watch their interactions with the powerful Elves of Alavar, how drama unfolds as a great disease hits the Elven population and all eyes turn to one Sunwright who can save them all. Will the Elves prosper or fall to the disease, and what consequences will the dreaded disease have on the burgeoning Elven civilization?
Author Bio
I have been writing for as long as I can remember. My ongoing series “The Sunwright Chronicles.” Is a culmination of fifteen years of creating a unique living world with a rich history. I am currently writing the second book in the series. Besides writing I enjoy computer gaming, reading, watching the history and science channels. My favorite activity is hanging out with my awesome family :).
Links
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2KnpMdT
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sunwrightchronicles/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/sunwrightcron
VBT – The Immortal Seeds: A Tribute to Golden Treasures
About the Book
Title: The Immortal Seeds: A Tribute to Golden Treasures
Author: Sambath Meas
Genre: Family Memoir
This is a story about a father’s dream of escaping a war-torn country in search of stability and freedom, so that his children can live and thrive.
Sarin Meas, who was born and grew up in a remote village in Trangel, Kampong Chhnang, drifts from one place to another in search of a purpose, and a better life. In Pailin, a small town in western Cambodia known for its richness of gemstones, he meets a poor and uneducated girl whose daily life, from dusk until dawn, is strained by hard work: selling fruits and vegetables at the local market, along with cooking, doing laundry and cleaning up after strangers and relatives whom her aunt has taken in. If she doesn’t do her chores correctly and one of them tells on her, her aunt, a woman whose mood changes like a person suffering from a split personality, hurls foul language at her and beats her with any heavy object in sight. Sarin realizes that this young woman, whom everyone calls Thach, will die if she continues to live like this. So he marries her out of compassion. His compassion turns into love. Sarin and Thach form a family.
Tragically, after fifteen years of peaceful existence and independence from France, Cambodia gets sucked into the war of idealism between the world’s super powers—America, China, and the Soviet Union—by way of the Vietnam War. Cambodian leaders and people take sides. The Khmer Republic (backed by the United States) and the Khmer Rouge (backed by China, the Soviet Union and Vietnam) fight each other acrimoniously. After five years of battle, the relentless Khmer Rouge soldiers emerge victorious. Sarin has an opportunity to escape to Thailand with his family, but chooses to remain behind out of fear of the unknown. Soon he realizes the victors don’t know how to manage the country. Fear, paranoia and revenge turn them and their supporters into a killing machine. Sarin, through cleverness and luck, helps his family navigate the horror of communism. When a second opportunity arrives, like thousands of other surviving Cambodians, he takes the chance to venture to the unknown—to find freedom, opportunity, and a better life for his family.
The Immortal Seeds: A Tribute to Golden Treasures is not only about the continuing of a family’s life cycle; it is also about a father’s idea—a purpose—that gets passed on to his daughter. In turn she hopes to pass it on to people not only within her community but also around the world.
“King Grandfather would like to wish that your memoir The Immortal Seeds will become successful.” — Norodom Sihanouk, King of Cambodia
“The Immortal Seeds is a story of war, love, and the unbreakable bonds of family. Touchingly told, Sambath pays homage to her family across the generations, and shares how they helped the Meases to survive the war and thrive in peace.” — Loung Ung, author of First They Killed My Father and Lucky Child
“The Immortal Seeds exhibits a memoir’s emphasis on highly personalized, if not fully contextualized, experiences.” — The Phnom Penh Post, Cambodia’s Newspaper
Author Bio
SAMBATH MEAS was born in Pailin, Cambodia at a time of civil war. Having survived the effects of the Vietnam War, the Khmer Civil War, and the Maoist-inspired Khmer Rouge regime, her parents decided not to stick around for another phase of mass killings. Her family, like thousands of other Khmers, fled to the Cambodian-Thai border in 1979. After being displaced in refugee camps for two years, Chicago became their new home in 1981. Meas graduated from Loyola University of Chicago with a B.A. in political science and is taking writing classes at Northwestern University. She has worked in the legal industry for over 19 years and contributes to the richness that is Chicago literature. In her spare time, she helps novice writers to get started with their stories. Her current projects include self-help, science fiction, graphic novel, and young adult fantasy books. She writes fiction, focusing on murder mystery, fantasy, and science fiction; and nonfiction, focusing on memoir, biography, and self-improvement.
You can follow the author at the following sites:
Website: www.sambathmeas.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/sambathmeas1
Twitter: @MissSambathMeas
Instagram: smeasuniverse
Newsletter:
https://mailchi.mp/53478904a49a/thank-you-for-subscribing-to-sambath-meass-author-page-37615
Giveaway
Win an eBook copy of one of the author’s other books, “The Governor’s Daughter, The Mysteries of Colonial Cambodia”:
Book Excerpt
The weather was as it had always been during April— sunny and scorching hot; but against the backdrop of the massive American bombardment and the raging Khmer civil war, it was everything people had imagined hell would be. Pailin was not as stifling as many other parts of the country due to its thick forest and mountain ranges. On April 15, 1975, the biggest and most festive national celebration of Cambodia arrived. Khmer people had always welcomed it by bathing the Gautama Buddha statues, cleaning pagodas, building sand hills, setting off big fireworks displays in the shapes of amazing images of apsaras, lions, nagas, garudas, etc., floating intricately arranged floral lanterns on the riverbanks, attending traditional and modern dances, playing Khmer games, and sharing bountiful food with relatives, friends, and neighbors. Sadly, nothing was festive about it this time.
The fighting throughout the country between the Khmer Rouge and Khmer Republic continued to be intense and acrimonious. Pailin seemed a bit more stable. There were families who celebrated Bonn Chol Chhnam or Entering the New Year quietly at home. A thirty-year old Sarin with prominent eyebrows, his twenty-six-year-old wife Srey Touch with eyes like a bushbaby, and her relatives who live in O Ta Prang, a plantation in Pailin, didn’t celebrate the New Year. The uncertainty brought about by war and anarchy had killed their moods.
In the tug of war between ending capitalism and guarding the country against socialism, the communists emerged victorious on the last of the three days of the Khmer New Year.
A firm yet sad voice echoed from a Phnom Penh radio station, as if he was forced at gunpoint to make the announcement. “Brothers and sisters, we have liberated Phnom Penh. The [Republican] soldiers have dropped their weapons.”
Release Blitz – Oak Seer: A Fey Matter Novel
About Oak Seer
Thrust into the public eye as the “Green Lady,” Effie of Glen Coe has become a living legend, the fey woman who saved Scotland from devastation. But to some, she’s a threat to human existence and a traitor to fey-kind.
Determined more than ever to forge a peace between fey and humans, Effie finds herself navigating a realm increasingly divided. The lords of London have other plans, and once again Effie is pulled into a quagmire of politics and greed. She must stand against plots to remove her kind from the shores of the empire and madmen who murder fey without regard.
Even worse, heinous cults have arisen, enthralled by an unseen enemy. With violent thugs and unruly mobs all around, wits and courage are not enough. Effie must become something more than herself, an Oak Seer, a fey mantle long lost. But can she survive long enough to claim it?
Author Bio
Craig Comer is the author of the gaslamp fantasy series A FEY MATTER, which includes THE LAIRD OF DUNCAIRN and OAK SEER. He is a co-author of the mosaic fantasy novel THE ROADS TO BALDAIRN MOTTE. Craig earned a Master’s Degree in Writing from the University of Southern California and enjoys tramping across countries in his spare time, preferably those strewn with pubs and castles. His website is: https://craigcomer.com/
Links
Get your copy on Amazon
An excerpt from Oak Seer – Chapter One
Heavy spring rains flooded the road to Langmire. The village sprouted to the north of Stirling along the River Teith. It smelled old to Effie, full of moldy timbers, damp leaves, and rusting iron. The collection of buildings, crofters’ homes mostly, sagged like the slumped back of a crone. Grey smoke wafted from a few blackened chimneys that sprouted from thatched roofs. Someone baked fresh bread. She caught it on the wind, and another something sweeter. Eager for a warm hearth and a cup of honeyed tea, she licked her parched lips. She’d travelled a full day to reach the village. She’d come because Conall Murray had begged her, because without her an innocent woman would hang.
In the heart of the village grew a stout oak. Muckle Ben the locals called it, Effie had once heard. They’d carved a Green Man into its bark long ago, during a time when such things held power. Now banners pronouncing some celebration hung from its limbs more often than not, but none remained there currently. Its trunk stood as somber as an undertaker. Chickens picked at worms in the upturned soil near its roots, and a lone hound howled at the rustling leaves as the branches creaked above.
Fergus Alpin hacked into his handkerchief, a wet, miserable noise she’d had to contend with the entire journey from Stirling. The Fey Finder sat across from her in the steam carriage’s tight compartment. His wrinkled face was spotted and thin, and he kept tugging his coat tighter about his frail bones. She tried to avoid his gaze, but nothing adorned the compartment for her to study, and she could only stare out the window for so long before feeling rude.
“I’ll do the speaking,” the man said. “You will remain silent.” The quiver at his lip turned into another fit of hacking, yet she still heard his mumbling. “Send a fey to catch a fey, and one with paps at that!”
The steam carriage rocked and bounced, splashing through the flooded road as if fording a stony riverbed. Its benches were worn and hard, the padding flattened from years of service. A lightly stained wood paneling formed its walls, floor, and roof. The boiler at the rear of the carriage warmed the compartment, but at the expense of the coal smoke that clouded the air.
Effie shifted to relieve her sore hips. Her eyes narrowed. “The Fey Finder General bade me accompany you, Mr. Alpin, and not so I would stand and do nothing.” She tried to keep the bite from her tongue. Of Fey Finders, Alpin was a journeyman and not a zealot. At least there was that. He sought not to be bothered rather than possessing the fiery hatred common to his profession.
She pressed her palms into the cushion on either side of her, to steady herself. It still marveled her she could sit so close to a Sniffer, a man the crown tasked with hunting down malevolent fey. Malevolent, as if they knew what the word meant. They hunted all with fey blood, and as a Sithling—one with the ancient blood of the Daoine Sith coursing through her—that included her. But things had changed after Caldwell House, and she had a need to trust where once she dared not. The fierce battle there had forced the lords of the empire to open their eyes. They could not rest on centuries of intolerance any longer. They had to welcome the fey into society’s ranks and accept a permanent treaty. They had witnessed the fate awaiting them if they did not.
Effie’s heart warmed. If the lords of the empire could learn to trust, so could she, and perhaps the Scottish fey would live freely for the first time in millennia.
Alpin’s jaw worked. He’d likely never had someone with paps stand up to him. Most Scots of either gender avoided Sniffers as if they carried the plague. “Look here, Miss Effie,” he snapped. “I’ll not have it. You may dine with the likes of lords, but you’re not in some grand procession here. I know the hearts of these gentle folk better than you ever will, and I will not banter with the mind of a devious hag.”
“When you see one, I’m sure,” said Effie, not knowing whether the man had meant her or the poor Spae Wife they’d come to question.
Heavy spring rains flooded the road to Langmire. The village sprouted to the north of Stirling along the River Teith. It smelled old to Effie, full of moldy timbers, damp leaves, and rusting iron. The collection of buildings, crofters’ homes mostly, sagged like the slumped back of a crone. Grey smoke wafted from a few blackened chimneys that sprouted from thatched roofs. Someone baked fresh bread. She caught it on the wind, and another something sweeter. Eager for a warm hearth and a cup of honeyed tea, she licked her parched lips. She’d travelled a full day to reach the village. She’d come because Conall Murray had begged her, because without her an innocent woman would hang.
In the heart of the village grew a stout oak. Muckle Ben the locals called it, Effie had once heard. They’d carved a Green Man into its bark long ago, during a time when such things held power. Now banners pronouncing some celebration hung from its limbs more often than not, but none remained there currently. Its trunk stood as somber as an undertaker. Chickens picked at worms in the upturned soil near its roots, and a lone hound howled at the rustling leaves as the branches creaked above.
Fergus Alpin hacked into his handkerchief, a wet, miserable noise she’d had to contend with the entire journey from Stirling. The Fey Finder sat across from her in the steam carriage’s tight compartment. His wrinkled face was spotted and thin, and he kept tugging his coat tighter about his frail bones. She tried to avoid his gaze, but nothing adorned the compartment for her to study, and she could only stare out the window for so long before feeling rude.
“I’ll do the speaking,” the man said. “You will remain silent.” The quiver at his lip turned into another fit of hacking, yet she still heard his mumbling. “Send a fey to catch a fey, and one with paps at that!”
The steam carriage rocked and bounced, splashing through the flooded road as if fording a stony riverbed. Its benches were worn and hard, the padding flattened from years of service. A lightly stained wood paneling formed its walls, floor, and roof. The boiler at the rear of the carriage warmed the compartment, but at the expense of the coal smoke that clouded the air.
Effie shifted to relieve her sore hips. Her eyes narrowed. “The Fey Finder General bade me accompany you, Mr. Alpin, and not so I would stand and do nothing.” She tried to keep the bite from her tongue. Of Fey Finders, Alpin was a journeyman and not a zealot. At least there was that. He sought not to be bothered rather than possessing the fiery hatred common to his profession.
She pressed her palms into the cushion on either side of her, to steady herself. It still marveled her she could sit so close to a Sniffer, a man the crown tasked with hunting down malevolent fey. Malevolent, as if they knew what the word meant. They hunted all with fey blood, and as a Sithling—one with the ancient blood of the Daoine Sith coursing through her—that included her. But things had changed after Caldwell House, and she had a need to trust where once she dared not. The fierce battle there had forced the lords of the empire to open their eyes. They could not rest on centuries of intolerance any longer. They had to welcome the fey into society’s ranks and accept a permanent treaty. They had witnessed the fate awaiting them if they did not.
Effie’s heart warmed. If the lords of the empire could learn to trust, so could she, and perhaps the Scottish fey would live freely for the first time in millennia.
Alpin’s jaw worked. He’d likely never had someone with paps stand up to him. Most Scots of either gender avoided Sniffers as if they carried the plague. “Look here, Miss Effie,” he snapped. “I’ll not have it. You may dine with the likes of lords, but you’re not in some grand procession here. I know the hearts of these gentle folk better than you ever will, and I will not banter with the mind of a devious hag.”
“When you see one, I’m sure,” said Effie, not knowing whether the man had meant her or the poor Spae Wife they’d come to question.
Cover Reveal – To Know A Killer
About the Book
Title: To Know A Killer
Author: Natalia Hale
Genre: Thriller / Suspense
It takes one to know one still rings true.
For years Luna Lis has been at the forefront of every trend in fashion, deciding what’s in style and what’s out. Cold, calculating, and downright manipulative, Luna fought her way to the top of the tower at the international fashion magazine L&L and is now editor in chief. She’s been written up as one of the most influential women of the world, and nobody is about to knock her off her pedestal. That is until a phone call from a detective makes her realize that there’s more to journalism than what’s hot or not on the runway.
Notorious serial killer Hannah Best has been in jail for over a year, but that hasn’t stopped her from influencing the world. Half a dozen reports have come out with perpetrators claiming they have killed for her. She wasn’t willing to speak out about it, but now she wants a tell-all book written about her life and the real story told. And she knows exactly who she wants to write it.
Luna Lis.
Author Bio
Natalia Hale is a journalism graduate with very little interest in writing news articles of any kind. A reader of the mysterious and morbid, she decided that it was time to start her publishing journey in 2015 with her novella It Takes a Killer. Focusing on short fiction, her stories delve into the disturbing tales that toe the line between acceptable to read in public and “if this is what you think about maybe you should talk to someone” (semi-joking advice from a friend). She is not as dark a person as her writing, but tends to get lost in existential thoughts.
Links
It Takes A Killer, the first book in the series, will be free on Amazon from May 23 to May 25.
Website: www.nataliahale.wordpress.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/halebooks
Twitter: www.twitter.com/natalia_writes
Giveaway
Win an ebook copy of “It Takes A Killer”, the first book in the duology.
