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Wednesday, August 28, 2019

New Release — Summer (The Cat Seasons Tetralogy Book 1) by Mollie Hunt

Lise has a special destiny: to help a clowder of sentient cats save the world from an evil older than history itself. It is a terrible battle, but Lise and her feline comrades prevail, putting an end to war, poverty, ignorance and want. The world is a better place.
Or is it?
A century later, it becomes clear that something has been lost. The new civilization produces no artists, no musicians, no scientists, no philosophers. Inertia has taken hold. Lise, now at the end of her life, must join her cat-friends once more to restore the Spark of the Human Spirit, but the goal cannot be reached without sacrifice. Is there enough time left for them to save the world for future generations?

EXCERPT

     Slowly, the monstrosity revolved its luminescent mass until its eye, great and seeping, was fixed upon Lise. She could see a flicker of consciousness as it registered her presence. Then recognition was replaced by raw fuming hatred as it burst from its hollow with a barbarous scream.
     “Cohabitor!" It was Percy. He hadn’t run out on her after all. “Come! Now!" he ordered, and this time, she complied.
     Bounding across the room and leaping through a gap in the plank wall, they tumbled over the foundation into the dew-covered weeds outside. They didn’t stop there, but streaked through the unkempt yard and up the footpath that led to the hill park. Without slowing, Lise shot a glance back at Mr. McDorgal's shed. From inside, a sickly greenish light oozed between the boards.
     What was that thing? But in her mind, Lise knew. It was corruption—blatant and deadly. And it had to be stopped before it swallowed the earth and everything on it. She knew also, no matter how much she tried to deny, that it would be up to her. That was the reason she had been brought into this wild new World.

     

Monday, August 19, 2019

CAT SUMMER, NEW SCI-FANTASY by Mollie Hunt, Cat Writer


One summer day, I found my big tuxedo cat, Dirty Harry, snoozing under the green fan leaves of a hosta plant. His paws twitched as if dreaming. My writer’s imagination could only guess as to the subject of his kitty dreams. 

That was the wisp of fantasy from which Cat Summer, and subsequently the Cat Seasons Tetralogy, was born. Though mystery is my usual genre, these sci-fantasy tales are my heart’s favorites. Through them, I— or I should say, my cats— save the world! 

There has been nothing quite as satisfying as taking away all the problems of today, but in order for resolution, new crises must be posed. The heroes must make their journeys, the reluctant participant must be convinced only she can do the job, and the evil must be so vast that only great effort, dedication, and sacrifice can hope to defeat it.



CAT SUMMER (CAT SEASONS TETRALOGY) by Mollie Hunt
Coming August 28, 2019

Lise has a special destiny: to help a clowder of sentient cats save the world from an evil older than history itself. It is a terrible battle, but Lise and her feline comrades prevail, putting an end to war, poverty, ignorance and want. The world is a better place.

Or is it?

A century later, it becomes clear that something has been lost. The new civilization produces no artists, no musicians, no scientists, no philosophers. Inertia has taken hold. Lise, now at the end of her life, must join her cat-friends once more to restore the Spark of the Human Spirit, but the goal cannot be reached without sacrifice. Is there enough time left for them to save the world for future generations?



I began my relationship with Fire Star Press in 2015 with a cat story produced in the anthology, Nine Deadly Lives: An Anthology of Feline Fiction. Since then I’ve written a monthly blog post and have very much enjoyed reading blogs from other Fire Star and Prairie Rose authors. I’m so excited to finally be a full-fledged Fire Star author. Check out my author page! I hope to see more books on there in the future! Next up: Cat Winter.

Cat Summer is now available for pre-order! Delivered to your Kindle or Kindle App on August 28, 2019. Cat Summer is released through Fire Star Press at only $3.99 — Order here.



Thursday, August 15, 2019

Fire Star Press: The Book Tour: Episode Seven

Fire Star Press: The Book Tour: Episode Seven: Mitigated Success and Unmitigated Failure in Winnipeg, Manitoba and Regina, Saskatchewan I’m on my way, by ...

The Book Tour: Episode Seven


Mitigated Success and Unmitigated Failure in
Winnipeg, Manitoba and Regina, Saskatchewan

I’m on my way, by bus, to Winnipeg, Manitoba. The city takes its name from Lake Winnipeg, the Western Cree word for muddy water. Early nineteenth-century settlers heading west to take up offers of cheap land took the newly constructed railway to Sarnia, but impenetrable forest forced them to continue on by steamship over Lakes Huron and Superior.
The Canadian Pacific Railway line finally reached Winnipeg in 1881, and the city now developed rapidly. Poor immigrants, hoping for a better life in the west, packed into overcrowded trains chugging across the country. They slept on the wooden seats and purchased food at stops along the line. Some were high-spirited, unruly, even destructive, and women in towns and settlements hastily gathered up their children to protect them when the trains filled with “rowdies” pulled in.
            The new railway line effectively divided the city of Winnipeg in two: the well-off Anglo-Saxon population lived in the southern section; the North End was settled by immigrants, and locals dubbed it “the Foreign Quarter,” or, because of the large number of Jewish incomers, “New Jerusalem.” Soon enough, the great influx resulted in overcrowding, a shortage of drinking water, open cesspits, and unpaved, filthy streets. Health inspectors found ten-room houses occupied by five families with one water closet, one sink, one bath, and washbasin; an unsympathetic press accused the newcomers of idleness, lack of cleanliness, and suggested deportation was the solution to the problem.
But the immigrants were here to stay, and they were anything but idle. Eking out a living as bottle collectors, rag pickers and peddlers, or taking up dangerous, badly-paid jobs in brickworks, factories, railway yards, and on construction sites, their children integrated, went on to study, become successful, move southward into the city’s better quarters.
            The Jewish Historical Society has invited me here to talk about my book Finding Home, and the venue is out on the University of Manitoba campus. I am sharing the talk with Joil Alpern, a well-known local figure, and the auditorium is quite full. Alpern is presenting his book, No one Awaiting Me, in which he describes how he, his brother, and a mere handful of Romanian Jews survived the Holocaust and deportation to Transnistria. However, Alpern, a gentle, sensitive man, has decided he is incapable of speaking about this traumatic experience in front of an audience. After excusing himself, his wife takes the microphone and reads a prepared text. When the presentation is over, the audience sits in a respectful but shocked silence, for no one can remain indifferent to such a story.
            Now it’s my turn, and it’s up to me to change the mood — no easy task. My own book is the story of those who crossed all of Romania on foot between 1889 and 1907 determined to reach America and freedom. Some of them were those first immigrants who arrived in this city. When I recount that, in order to do the research for the book, I, too, crossed all of Romania on foot, I see that the audience is there with me. Soon they are laughing in all the right places and hanging on my every word. When that sort of thing happens, it’s magic.
            When my time is up, there is enthusiastic applause. I then ask if there are any questions. One man, elderly, aggressive, and with a heavy accent, immediately pops to his feet.
“I don’t believe you,” he shouts. “I don’t believe one word of this story. I don’t believe you walked across Romania. I don’t believe people walked across Romania back then either. You made the whole thing up. It’s a lie from beginning to end.”
            Well, now what am I supposed to do? No one ever told me this sort of thing would happen at a book talk. There’s obviously no way I’ll convince that man that the story is true. Do I have to try? Of course, I don’t. In any case, I’m so surprised by his outburst, that I start laughing.
            Then, suddenly, there is another shout — high pitched, and furious. An elderly woman, several rows behind him, stands and begins waving her fist. In heavily accented English, she berates the man.
“Who do you think you are, you good-for-nothing? What do you know about Romania? Nothing. You’re a Pole, and you think all the truth in the world is in your hands. I believe this whole story. But you? You’re too stupid to know the truth when it hits you in the head.”
             “Who do you think you are to tell me off?” shouts the man.
            And so, the verbal battle continues. Soon, everyone in the audience is roaring with laughter.
   
         I do manage to sign and sell a few books — not a vast amount, of course — but enough. And tomorrow is another day, as everyone says.
***
            In the morning, I wander through the icy cold streets, passing fine old buildings in a slow state of crumble, although in Winnipeg’s famous “warehouse district” many are being converted into fashionable bars and shops. After crossing the railway tracks, I find myself in the more desolate North Main, and here, paint flakes off in chunks from the frames of boarded-up windows, brickwork looks nibbled, garbage fills empty lots, and a population of no-hopers shuffles past pawn shops and a closed-down soup kitchen. Things don’t seem to have changed much since the bad old days.
            Eventually, I head out to quite another section of town where Angela, my publisher’s ineffectual publicity agent has miraculously arranged a reading and book signing of my mystery, Slanderous Tongue, at the wonderful Whodunit Mystery Bookstore. At six-thirty, I’ll be catching a plane and flying to Regina, 356 miles away, for another talk at eight-thirty this evening. It’s a tight schedule — and it makes me feel somewhat like a big shot — but the bookstore is close to the airport, so I’m not unduly worried.
However, when I arrive at Whodunit, the door is locked, and there are no lights on inside. I pace around for a while, glance at my watch, pace some more, go for a coffee, come back. The door is still locked. I call the bookstore — perhaps someone is hiding inside — but there’s no answer. Finally, an hour and a half later, the door finally opens. I burst in, announce I’m the author who will be doing the reading. The owners, Henrietta and Gaylene are kindly women, but they stare at me with undisguised surprise.
            “Well, you’re certainly early.”
            “I am?”
            “You are. The book talk and signing isn’t until seven o’clock.”
            “It isn’t?” I know my expression is one of astonishment. And dismay. And horror. “But Angela said that it was at four-thirty…”
            “She did? But we did tell her our book talks always start at seven. There will be quite a crowd coming, too.”
            “Thank you, dear Angela,” I mutter and, via telepathy, send her an evil message.
            In the end, Henrietta and Gaylene have me sign a few books. “You can always come back another time.”
Sure, I can. It’s only several thousand kilometers from home.
            “Maybe some people will show up early.”
I hang around chewing my knuckles. Yes, a few people do show up and I do a hasty blah-blah, but I have to leave. I’ve cut time as short as I can, and now there’s every possibility I’ll miss my flight.
I race through the airport, squeak through as the plane doors are closing, arrive in Regina and get to the bookstore in record time. Then I pace around waiting for people to show up.
 “You’re not a local author, so you might not get much of a crowd,” says the sympathetic and kindly owner.
He’s absolutely right. Only one man shows up: Lionel. He isn’t here for the book signing. He just happens to be in the store, but he is a member of the local historical society, so he comes over and asks me a few questions.
“Not much of a turnout,” he says.
“Nope,” I say with feigned indifference.
He buys a copy of Finding Home.
No one else shows up. Finally, it’s closing time.
Lionel is still here, and he feels sorry for me. “Come, I’ll take you to a nice place for a glass of wine.”
“Yes, please.”
I think about all those people in the Whodunit who, earlier this same evening, showed up for a book talk that didn’t take place. I think about all the books I could have sold and signed. I think about how much fun I could have had. I think about the vagaries of fate. I think about murdering Angela. And, I mutter, “Tomorrow is another day.”

More about my books and passionate life can be found at http://www.j-arleneculiner.com and http://www:jill-culiner.com

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Behind the Literature IV: Ojai, CA


I’ve written several posts in the past about the pleasures of discovering literary history in my own back yard (Behind the Literature I and Behind the Literature III: The Hardboiled Streets of San Francisco), and also stumbling upon literary surprises while traveling (Behind the Literature II).  While this post doesn’t focus specifically on writers, it relates to an enchanting book-related find.  But first, a little bit of background.

I recently took a relaxing trip to Ojai, CA, with some college friends.  I didn’t know much, if anything, about Ojai before I went, but learned a few things on our short two-day stay.  Ojai is nestled within a stunning valley surrounded by mountains, off of which the light reflects each evening to create a glorious “pink moment.”  

  
While we could have spent our entire time at our resort and spa with its myriad fitness classes, hiking trails, spa treatments, restaurants, and swimming pools, one of my friends talked us into a short walking tour of downtown Ojai - and I’m so glad she did.  


We learned from our tour guide that the Ojai Valley was originally inhabited by the Chumash Indian tribe, and is said to have mystical energy.  It is known as a spiritual destination where people come for healing and to capture their zen.  


The tour took us through stops into several of the local businesses, where we were treated to lavender lemonade, tacos, honey, handmade ice cream, olive oil, and vegan pizza, topped off by wine tasting.  It was marvelous, and we were able to meet a few of the business owners who were involved in the making of their products.


The special literary discovery, however, was not on the tour.  But it’s hard to miss a reference to Bart’s Books if you are anywhere near Ojai or if you look up Ojai on the internet.  Bart’s Books, founded in 1964, is a mostly outdoor bookstore, open every day from 9:30 a.m. until sunset.  



One of the store’s unique features is that it offers books for sale at all hours on the honor system.  Book-lovers can browse the books on the shelves facing the street, and drop coins through a slot to make payment when the store is closed.  


Although I limited myself to the purchase of only one book (my suitcase was already too full, not to mention my shelves at home!), I enjoyed wandering through the maze of bookshelves that were topped by a tin roof and contained titles from Cooking to Poetry to Sci-Fi to Vintage Paperbacks to, my favorite, Mystery.  


The highlight for me was spotting a Bill Crider mystery (the small blue one).  He could have spent hours in this place.  


Since books have healing powers for me, Bart’s Books was my own personal Shangri-La.  Although I spent only a short time there, it made an indelible mark in my memory.  






Angela Crider Neary is an attorney by day and writer by night. She is an avid mystery reader and especially enjoys reading novels set in interesting locales. She was inspired to write her first mystery novella, Li'l Tom and the Pussyfoot Detective Bureau: The Case of the Parrots Desaparecidos, by one of her favorite areas in San Francisco, Telegraph Hill.  Her second book, Li'l Tom and the Case of the New Year Dragon is now available.  To learn more, visit her on Facebook and Amazon.

Wednesday, August 7, 2019

New Release — Einar of Vindemiatrix by Michael E. Gonzales

When King Thurban the Great is murdered at the hand of his younger brother, very few of his loyal knights survive. Sir Einar, one of the fiercest knights of King Thurban’s realm, has lost his entire family in the carnage. Giving up on a life of his own, he chooses to travel and teach others the principles of chivalry. For those who believe in a knightly code, he will also show them the deadly way to wield a sword in battle—including Ascella, a young woman who convinces him she is an apt student.

Though many years have passed since Einar’s painful losses and King Thurban the Great’s murder, the knight finds a way to avenge his honorable liege—but he cannot do it alone. To return Vindemiatrix to the rightful heir and restore the holdings to their former glory, he needs magic—the most powerful magic he can find.

With the help of a powerful witch, a dragon, an army of centaurs, and beautiful Ascella, Einar is determined to find a way to make things right once more in the land he loved. But he’s never fought an enemy so prepared to hold Vindemiatrix in its powerful grip—and this is a battle to the death. Can he risk losing everything he holds dear a second time?

EXCERPT

     Thurban laid his bloody hand upon Einherjar’s shoulder, and glancing about at his ruined castle, and the burnt lands surrounding it, he exhaled slowly, and lamented, “The end of my reign is in sight, the end of Vindemiatrix.” The king beckoned to his generals, and with their aid, withdrew to the throne room to make final preparations.
     Sir Einherjar remained on the last wall of the castle’s inner defenses. The hated enemy threw themselves upon them yet again.
     “Look hither!” a voice shouted. Einherjar saw the man, among the many atop the wall, pointing to the north. Turning, he beheld a sight more terrible than an enraged dragon. The keep was ablaze, its windows belched black smoke.
     “The women and children!” someone screamed.
     Murfrid, standing near, turned to Einherjar, “I’m sorry for you, Sir Knight, I truly am.”
Einherjar stood transfixed, his mind wrapped in pain, disbelieving his own eyes. His breath, and his heart frozen―

     

Monday, August 5, 2019

Einar of Vindemiatrix by Michael E. Gonzales



As I write these lines, we are on the event horizon of the release of my latest novel, Einar of Vindemiatrix.
This story marks my first sojourn in to the genera of Fantasy and a temporary step back from Space Opera.
I found this story difficult to write because I have a logical thought process, and in Fantasy logic, and the rules of physics are overpowered by magic.

Fantastical creatures, monsters, powers that defy explanation, these combined with more comprehensible things like, envy, greed, lust, all of which merge to present an aging Knight with foes beyond his formidable skill as a warrior.
He will need help and receives it from the strangest places.


“When Good King Thurban the Great is murdered at the hand of his younger brother, very few of his loyal knights survive. Sir Einar, one of the fiercest knights of King Thurban’s realm, has lost his entire family in the carnage. Giving up on a life of his own, he chooses to travel and teach others the principles of chivalry. For those who believe in a knightly code, he will also show them the deadly way to wield a sword in battle—including Ascella, a young woman who convinces him she will make an apt student.


“Though many years have passed since Einar’s painful losses and King Thurban the Great’s murder, the knight finds a way to avenge his honorable liege—but he cannot do it alone. To return Vindemiatrix to the rightful heir and restore the holdings to their former glory, he needs magic—the most powerful magic he can find.


“With the help of a powerful witch, an army of centaurs, and beautiful Ascella, Einar is determined to find a way to make things right once more in the land he loves. But he’s never fought an enemy so prepared to hold Vindemiatrix in its powerful grip—and this is a battle to the death. Can he risk losing everything he holds dear a second time?”

Fire Star Press Blogspot - http://firestarpress.blogspot.com/
And look for me on MeWe too!


Friday, August 2, 2019

The Great Road Trip of 2019


For the last few weeks I have turned my back on all things writing-related to take an epic road trip with my husband. I didn't even take my laptop. The focus of this trip was to spend time together seeing new sights and just enjoying each other's company. And, in the interest of full disclosure, to see if we can spend that much time together without getting on each other's nerves. Except for a couple of bobbles (read arguments) we did pretty good. So, instead of talking about books and writing this month, I'm going to give you the highlights of our trip and share some of my favorite photos.

Stats:

17 days
6048.5 miles
Vehicle driven: 14 year old Toyota Highlander

Thirteen states:

Alabama
Mississippi
Tennessee
Arkansas
Kansas
Oklahoma
Iowa
Missouri
South Dakota
Wyoming

Idaho
Montana
Colorado


National parks/monuments visited:
 
Badlands
Mount Rushmore
Devil's Tower
Glacier
Yellowstone
Grand Tetons


I took dozens (maybe hundreds) of photos on our trip but this is hands-down my favorite. Someone left these shoes on this log at Yellowstone and this picture is stinkin' adorable even if I do say so myself.

Yellowstone National Park





I don't wear hats. Ever. Why? Apparently I have a huge head and it seems most women's head wear is "one size fits all." While that may be fine for most people, one-size-fits-all doesn't fit me. Yet, while we were in South Dakota, we visited Wall Drug Store - a must-see if you are in the area - and my hubby and I both bought western head wear. (It's amazing the difference actual sizes can make.) I love my new hat and wore it everywhere; it definitely helped protect this fair-skinned redhead from sunburn. Well, the hat and SPF 70 sunscreen.

We suck at selfies but we love our hats - and Badlands National Park
My husband gets a kick out of the facts that I love rocks. I was basically in heaven once we reached Montana and the multi-colored rocks there. These were located in Glacier National Park. So pretty!


We drove the Going-To-The-Sun Road at Glacier which was quite an experience and not for the faint of heart. The scenery was gorgeous but my fear of heights and anxiety worked together to make it an emotionally draining experience. This is another of my favorite photos from Glacier.

Glacier National Park

Visiting Devil's Tower was a big fan-girl moment for me since it was the primary location for one of my all-time favorite movies, Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

Fan-girling at Devil's Tower

We learned several things from this trip. First, yes, we can spend an extended period together without the proximity resulting in homicide. Second, we're going to make a separate trip to Yellowstone at some point in the future and spend a week there. The two days we had allotted on this trip just weren't enough to see everything. Third, we need to build more "down days" into our schedule where we don't have to go anywhere or do anything. We only had a couple of those days this trip and we were both pretty well exhausted when we got home. Fourth, I LOVE the state of South Dakota. It is absolutely gorgeous and just gets prettier as you travel from east to west.

I returned from the trip refreshed (once the exhaustion wore off) and with inspiration for new stories. I can't wait to get started! So, until next month I'll leave you with one last photo - a hysterical panoramic photo fail from Grand Teton National Park.

Panorama Fail



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