Synopsis

 

‘Dark Truth’, the second in a series of three novels, is a suspenseful mystery thriller full of intrigue that will leave you guessing right until the very end.

Private investigator Joe Wilde is hired by Tom and Marie Archer to investigate the disappearance of their six-year-old daughter Laura. Joe also takes on an unusual case for a client by the name of Jack Riley. Jack believes he was framed to make it look like he was cheating on his fiancée, Claire Brooks. Claire has been the target of disturbing vandalism. As Joe helps the police investigate Laura’s disappearance, he uncovers disturbing secrets concerning the Archers and some of their neighbors. Meanwhile, the attacks on Claire become more extreme. Fearing for her life, Claire also hires Joe. As Joe continues to investigate, he puts himself in great danger.

 

 

Amazon US * Amazon UK

 

 

Excerpt

 

The conditions were near perfect; there was only a very gentle breeze. His location afforded him an ideal view of the occupant’s back garden.

He was situated on a small hill approximately 150 yards away — he was well concealed amongst some thick brush. He had been waiting patiently for nearly thirty minutes now and knew it was a case of when, not if his target came out into the back garden, especially given it was a lovely late summer’s night.

He looked at his watch; it was almost half ten — then out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a silhouette move past the rear patio doors. He looked through the red dot sight of his rifle but there was no one at the patio door. He was glad he had recently invested in a bipod to rest his rifle on so he wouldn’t have to hold it. He wasn’t a bad shot but practising on static objects was one thing, trying to hit a moving target was a completely different proposition.

There was still no sign of movement but he was prepared to wait it out for another hour or two if need be — the pay off would be worth it. Just then he started to feel some light drops of rain on his forehead, this was the last thing he needed, if it turned into a full-on downpour that would pretty much end any hope of his target going outside.

The rain did get worse but fortunately it only lasted for fifteen minutes before it completely stopped. A few minutes beforehand his target had stood by the patio door briefly looking out across the garden, no doubt checking to see if the rain was beginning to ease. Now that the rain had stopped, surely she would be going out into the garden very shortly he thought to himself.

He got his wish soon after as just a couple of minutes later he saw the patio door slide open and his target walk slowly out onto the patio. She walked towards the end of the garden, when she was almost at the end she stopped and started looking around. He saw this as his chance — he looked through the sight and aligned the red dot right in between her eyes then gently rested his right forefinger on the trigger. He could feel the adrenaline starting to pump through his body; he needed to control his breathing so he started breathing gently through his nose.

‘On the count of three,’ he said to himself. ‘Three, two, one.’

On the count of one he exhaled and squeezed the trigger — a split second later his target slumped to the ground. He didn’t need to wait around to confirm the kill; he knew he had executed the perfect shot. He detached the rifle from the bipod then put them both in his sports holdall before making his way down the far side of the hill where he had parked his car.

 

 

About the Author

 

C.D. Steele is the author of the Joe Wilde mystery thriller series. There are at present two books in the series, False Truth which was published by The Book Guild on 28/04/21, and Dark Truth which was published by The Conrad Press on 15/11/23.

He works as an Executive Officer in the Civil Service, has a degree in Recreation Management, and lives in County Down, Northern Ireland.

 

LinkedIn

 

 

Synopsis

 

From glittering ballrooms to verdant mountains to poverty-stricken slums, A Delicate Marriage takes the reader on a vivid tour of Puerto Rico forty years after becoming a U.S. colony, a time of great change and political turmoil on the island.

Isabela, a wealthy woman, sacrifices her artistic aspirations to marry Marco, a penniless man dedicated to improving conditions on the island. As the island’s insular government enacts pro-U.S. policies, Marco builds a real estate empire while struggling to maintain his populist principles. Meanwhile, Isabela feels unfulfilled in her traditional role as a wife and mother and becomes disillusioned with Marco’s shifting moral compass. She begins to identify with anti-U.S. factions, leading a dangerous double life that puts her family in peril.

As political violence threatens their paradise, Isabela and Marco question whether their marriage, like the island’s relationship with the U.S., should continue. Margarita Barresi’s debut novel celebrates Puerto Rican culture while delving into themes of class, oppression, and the effects of colonialism through the lens of a marriage.

 

 

 

Barnes & Noble * Amazon * Bookshop

 

 

Praise

 

“Margarita Barresi’s A Delicate Marriage is an electrifying debut … smart, heartfelt and timely… a trenchant portrait of an island and a marriage pushed to the breaking point.”  —    Junot Diaz, author of This is When You Lose Her

“Immersive and interesting, empathetic, and expansive, Barresi skillfully interweaves a love story with the history of Puerto Rico politics. An impressive debut!” — Susie Orman Schnall, author of We Came Here to Shine

“Barresi is a naturally gifted storyteller with a talent for narrative structure…What emerges is a fully three-dimensional portrait of a couple trying to find a way forward in a time of political and social upheaval…An absorbing and deeply nuanced romance.”    —Kirkus Reviews

“Barresi expertly weaves captivating details of Puerto Rican history into this gripping love story.” — Independent Book Review

“A Delicate Marriage, with its blend of glamour, charm, and a nostalgic nod to a bygone era, promises to uplift readers’ spirits on even the dreariest of days, inviting them to revisit the tempestuous yet enchanting landscape of Puerto Rico.” — Literary Titan

 

 

Excerpt

 

The storm raged overnight, and though Marco fought to keep his eyes open, he eventually surrendered to sleep. He woke to the smell of burnt candle wax and the sound of weeping and pulled himself upright to see Padre Palacios holding his mother’s hand, offering the usual platitude, “If he’s gone, my dear, it’s God’s will.”

Marco trembled uncontrollably, his mind refusing to accept the unthinkable. He sprang to his feet, darted to the back of the church, and pounded up the bell tower stairs to the town’s highest vantage point. He scanned the devastated valley for a trace of his father. The countryside, just yesterday a hundred shades of green, appeared denuded as if a giant’s hand had ripped out its flora. Ancient trees lay tortured on the ground, and few homes, including his own, remained standing. The vast detritus of humanity lay scattered: a black cauldron, a doll’s torso, a twisted bicycle. Smashed avocados, plantains and guavas littered the ground alongside pig, chicken, horse, and cow carcasses. The destruction was incomprehensible. Yet the sky shone an incongruous bright blue, as if denying culpability.

Papá, where are you? Marco’s steely grip on the steeple’s railing turned his knuckles white. He stayed there all day, pacing back and forth in the turret, holding vigil for his father.

 

 

About the Author

 

Raised in Puerto Rico by her grandparents, Margarita Barresi grew up hearing stories about the “good old days”—the genesis for this, her first novel. She studied public relations at Boston University, and after a successful career in marketing communications, now devotes her time to writing. Her essays have been published in several literary magazines and compilations. Margarita lives in the suburbs north of Boston with her husband and two Puerto Rican cats, Luna and Rico.

 

Website * Instagram * X (Twitter) *  Facebook

 

 

 

 

 

Synopsis

 

Elements thirty-two through sixty-three on the periodic table are used in this unique collection, a follow-up companion to the first volume, “Periodic Stories”. Will Ken and his girlfriend’s son ever get along? Why is krypton so important to Duke and his brother and their friends? Will Mr. Jordan, a young high school teacher in his first job, be able to win over his class with a science experiment? Why was their silver anniversary so important to Bryce and Abby? These are lovingly written stories that deal with human beings and their relationship with themselves and others. Oh, yes, sometimes science plays a role.

 

 

 

 

Amazon

 

 

Excerpt

 

Germanium

Ken was happy to have gotten a rather difficult conversation out of the way. “Sure, breakfast sounds good.” He stood up. “Plus, I’ve got something you might like.” He touched Allen’s shoulder in a show of affection, something he wasn’t used to doing. Right now, though, it seemed like the right thing to do. “It’s in the cellar. I’ll be right back.” He hurried downstairs.

Bev stood at the counter and whipped up a bowl of eggs while Allen sat wondering what Ken was up to. He had to admit, the more he was around the guy, the better he liked him. At least he wasn’t physically abusive to him and his mom like his dad had been.  Plus, he helped his mom stay sober. That was a big thing.

Ken came into the kitchen a minute later carrying a shopping bag. He removed a package wrapped in brown paper and set it on the table. Bev stopped beating the eggs and came over to join them. “Open it,” she said, looking at Ken. He winked at her. She had no idea what he’d done.

Allen peeled back the paper, exposing a bright yellow box with a camera on the cover. It was a Nikon.

“Oh, wow!” he exclaimed, opening the box and taking out the camera. He held it up and admired it. “This is so cool.”

Ken grinned. “I thought this would work better for you for our hunting expeditions. That old Cannon of yours wasn’t doing the trick.”

Allen held the camera reverently. “Oh, man, this is awesome, Ken. Thank you so much.”

Ken grinned and handed him another package. “Here, this kind of goes with it.”

Allen’s eyes went wide. The package was about twelve inches long and four inches square. “What is it?”

“Open it. I think you’ll like it.”

Allen carefully peeled off the paper. “Oh. My. God!” he exclaimed. This is amazing.” He stood up and hugged Ken, something he’d never done before. “I love it.”

“It’s a telephoto lens,” Ken told him. “It’ll help get those closeup photos you’ve been trying to take.”

Allen was stunned. He’d never been given such a wonderful gift. As he held the new, wide-angle lens along with the camera reverently in his hands, he turned to his mother, “Mom, this is so cool. I’ll be able to take some awesome pictures.”

Ken sipped his coffee and watched as Allen showed his mom his new lens and camera. When he and Bev had first gotten together, he hadn’t really considered what it’d be like having a son. But now it looked like he had one. And Allen was a good kid. A little fat, that was for sure, but they could get that under control.

Plus, he was learning what it was like being a father figure, some of it good, some of it not so good. This was a good part. Ken disliked guns and shooting, so when he’d found out Allen liked photography, they’d begun going on what they called their hunting trips together taking pictures. Ken had done research and knew that the new camera and wide-angle lens would be just perfect for helping Allen develop his interest in wildlife photography. The new lens was made with a material called germanium. It was supposed to improve the optical quality of the photograph. Sounded good to him.

Ken glanced out the kitchen window. There was a soft line of light on the eastern horizon. The sun would be coming up in an hour. “Hey, Allen. You know, we should probably get going. Get out in the woods to the stand and get ready to shoot some deer.”

Allen grinned, “Sounds great.” He stood up and began packing the new camera lens in his old camera case. “Just give me a minute.” He turned to his mom. “Sorry about breakfast, but we’ve got to go.”

Bev smiled and hugged him. “Don’t worry. We’ll have something when you get home. In the meantime, you guys have a good time.”

Allen finished packing up his new camera and lens and was the first one out the door. Bev stopped Ken, “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that, you know. I know how expensive that camera equipment is.”

Ken zipped up his jacket and adjusted his cap. “Don’t worry about it. It seemed like a good thing to do. Besides,” he grinned, “I kind of like the kid.” He gave her a quick kiss.

She kissed him back and smiled, “I know you do.”

Bev closed the door and watched the two of them walk across the yard to the pickup get in and drive off trailing a plume of exhaust in the cold morning air. She poured a fresh cup of coffee and sat at the table slowly sipping it, thinking, you know, this might work out okay after all.

She stood up and tossed her pack of Marlboros in the trash. Then she sat down again. And smiled.

 

 

About the Author

 

Jim’s stories and poems have appeared in nearly five hundred online and print publications. His collection of short stories, Resilience, is published by Bridge House Publishing. Short Stuff, a collection of flash fiction and drabbles is published by Chapeltown Books. Periodic Stories, Periodic Stories Volume Two, Periodic Stories Volume Three – A Novel, and Periodic Stories Volume Four are published by Impspired. Dreamers, a collection of short stories, is published by Clarendon House Publishing. Something Better, a dystopian adventure novella, and the novel, The Alien of Orchard Lake, are published by Dark Myth Publications. In the fall of 2022, his collection entitled Holiday Stories was published by Impspired as was his collection of poetry, Haiku Seasons. In February 2023, Periodic Stories Volume IV was published, as was his collection of poems, The Alchemy of Then, both by Impspired. In June 2023, a collection of flash fiction, Dancing With Butterflies, was published by Impspired.In July 2023, his YA novella The Battle of Marvel Wood was published by Impspired. His short story “Aliens” was nominated by The Zodiac Press for the 2020 Pushcart Prize. His story “The Maple Leaf” was voted 2021 Story of the Year for Spillwords. He was voted December 2022 Author of the Month for Spillwords. He also reads his stories for Talking Stories Radio and for Jim’s Storytime on his website. He lives in a small town west of Minneapolis, Minnesota.

 

Website

 

 

 

 

 

 

Knitmare on Beech Street (A Knit & Nibble Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
10th in Series 
Setting – Charming fictional town of Arborville, in northern New Jersey
Kensington Cozies (November 28, 2023)
Mass Market Paperback ‏ : ‎ 320 pages

 

Synopsis

 

Knit and Nibble member Pamela Paterson, and her best friend, Bettina, stumble on a body in a once grand Victorian house when they join a group welcoming new residents to Arborville—and must figure out if old secrets killed the new neighbor . . .

When Pamela, Bettina, and their friends show up at the Voorhees House to greet its new owner, they’re met with a most unwelcome sight: a dead body on the kitchen floor. Tassie Hunt just inherited the old Victorian, which had been occupied by a reclusive widow for many years and had a reputation for being haunted. But Tassie would have been unlikely to be spooked since her career involved debunking such paranormal phenomena.

Her demise sets off a new flurry of gossip and ghostly speculation in the New Jersey town, of course—and it’s tempting to think spirits were indeed involved considering there’s zero evidence so far of foul play. A nosy neighbor reports strange lights and sounds, and a man obsessed with the Victorian era starts photographing the place from the street. But it won’t take long before Pamela and Bettina are moving in on a killer . . .

 

 

 

Amazon *  Barnes & Noble * Bookshop.org * Kobo

 

 

Excerpt

 

Pamela led the way down the steps, down the narrow concrete path, and along the sidewalk, until they reached another concrete path. From this path, steps led up to another porch, smaller and with a plainer railing, onto which the back door opened.

Saying “I’ll try again,” Marlene hefted the gift basket and headed up the steps. As she pressed the doorbell, the rest of the group joined her on the porch one by one.

Marlene turned away after a few minutes and much enthusiastic pressing of the doorbell. “No answer,” she murmured. “And I was sure ANGWY was clear about the date and time.”

She shrugged, edged past the others, and started down the steps. Bettina, however, stepped closer to the door and tipped her head to peer at the doorframe. “I’m not sure it’s closed all the way,” she said and gave the

door a tentative push.

The door swung open easily. After a shrug and a glance at the other women, Bettina raised a stylishly shod foot and stepped over the threshold.

“Tassie?” Her voice rang out with a cheerful lilt. “Hello? It’s the ANGWY committee.”

She disappeared inside, but a moment later she was back in the doorway. Her cheer had vanished, leaving her face a wan canvas that made her careful makeup appear garish.

Ignoring her heart’s sudden lurch, Pamela took a few quick steps and joined her friend in the doorway. Bettina backed up against the door, anchoring it in a fully open position, and Pamela slipped past her into the kitchen.

A woman lay sprawled on the ancient linoleum, a slender blonde woman wearing a light cotton robe printed with small flowers in shades of blue and lilac . . .

 

 

Guest Post & Recipe

 

Lemon Icebox Cake

 

In Knitmare on Beech Street, Karen Dowling serves Lemon Icebox Cake when she hosts the Knit and Nibble knitting club. It’s a summery dessert that suits the book’s June setting. Nell Bascomb, the group’s oldest member, recalls that her mother grew up in a household where, before the invention of modern refrigerators, perishables were kept cold in a literal icebox, with blocks of ice delivered by an iceman. The icebox backed up against an outside wall with a little door in it, and a card in the window notified the iceman when ice was needed and how much.

She also notes that in an era before air conditioning, people would be reluctant to heat up their huge stoves, and thus their kitchens, in the summer—but, then as now, people still liked their desserts. Thus was born the icebox cake, though the early icebox cakes would be merely chilled and not frozen.

I hope you like this one!

 

 

Ingredients:

 

6 oz cream cheese, softened

1/2 cup powdered sugar

2 cups heavy cream

3 lemons

1 11-oz box vanilla wafer cookies

1 cup lemon curd

1 heaping tbsp. granulated sugar

 

Notes: You are only using the peel of the lemons. You can save the peeled lemons in a plastic bag for another project or juice them and freeze the juice.

Lemon curd comes in a jar and looks like jelly, but I found mine in the Baking aisle at my supermarket.

 

Directions:

 

You will need an 8” x 12” (or thereabouts) baking dish (though you won’t be baking your creation).

You will be creating three layers with the cookies. I’m not sure whether boxes of vanilla wafers always contain exactly the same number of cookies, but the box I bought contained 80. I used 28 for my bottom layer and 26 for each of the other two layers.

Zest 2 of the lemons and set the zest aside.

 

 

In a large bowl, cream the cream cheese and powdered sugar until smooth.

 

 

Add the heavy cream and beat until soft peaks form.

 

 

Fold in the lemon zest.

In order to prevent the cookies from sliding around as you begin to assemble the icebox cake, spread a bit of the cream cheese mixture on the bottom of your baking dish. Top it with a layer of the cookies.

 

 

Top the cookies with about a third of the cream cheese mixture, using a table knife or rubber spatula to spread it evenly.

 

 

 

Smooth 1/2 cup of the lemon curd over the cream cheese layer.

 

 

Layer more cookies, cream cheese mixture, and another 1/2 cup of lemon curd. Finish with a last layer of cookies and the last third of the cream cheese mixture.

 

 

Cover the icebox cake with plastic wrap or foil and freeze it for at least 3 hours. Transfer it to the refrigerator an hour before you plan to serve it, or let it sit at room temperature for about 20 minutes—though it’s also good straight from the freezer.

Make candied lemon peel for garnish:

Using a vegetable peeler, remove long strips of lemon from the third lemon.

 

 

Heat 1/2 cup water in a small saucepan, add the granulated sugar and stir until it dissolves, then add the strips of lemon peel. Boil for about 1 minute, cool, and refrigerate the peel and sugar syrup in a small container.

When it’s time to serve your lemon icebox cake, leave it in the baking dish to cut servings and lift them out with a spatula. Slice the lemon strips into narrow slivers and use them to garnish the servings.

 

 

Leftovers should be refrigerated or frozen if you want to keep them longer than a few days.

Enjoy with friends and family!

 

 

 

About the Author

 

Peggy Ehrhart is a former English professor with a doctorate in Medieval Literature. Her Maxx Maxwell mysteries, Sweet Man Is Gone(2008) and Got No Friend Anyhow (2011), were published by Five Star/Gale/Cengage and feature a blues-singer sleuth.

Peggy is currently writing the Knit & Nibble mysteries for Kensington Books. Her amateur sleuth, Pamela Paterson, is the founder and mainstay of the Arborville, New Jersey, knitting club, nicknamed Knit and Nibble. Knitmare on Beech Street is book #10 in the series. Peggy herself is an avid crafter, dating from her childhood as a member of the 4-H Club in rural Southern California.

Peggy is a longtime member of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime. She regularly attends mystery-writing conferences and participates in conference panels. She also gives talks on mystery fiction at libraries and other venues in New York, Connecticut, and New Jersey.

 

Website * Yarn Mania Blog * Goodreads Blog

 

 

Giveaway

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

Synopsis

 

In the summer of 1914, 16-year-old Evan Sinclair leaves home to join the Great War for Civilization. Little does he know that, despite the war raging in Europe, the true source of conflict will emerge in Ottoman Palestine, since it’s from Jerusalem where the German Kaiser dreams to rule as Holy Roman Emperor. Filled with such historical figures as Gertrude Bell, T.E. Lawrence, Winston Churchill, Faisal bin Hussein and Chaim Weizmann, “Wages of Empire” follows Evan through the killing fields of the Western Front where he will help turn the tide of a war that is just beginning, and become part of a story that never ends.

 

 

Amazon * Author’s Website

 

 

Excerpt

 

 

Prologue

 

 

April 18, 1911

Jerusalem

 

THE TEMPLE MOUNT was shrouded in darkness. It was the dead of night yet sounds of digging echoed within the Dome of the Rock.

Gunter von Wertheimer knew the sounds well—the steady scrape of a shovel, the bite of a pick, and the whisper of soil poured from full panniers.

Cloaked in a hooded robe, he stood in the shadow of the shrine and looked up at the sky. Among the bright points of stars, the constellation of the scorpion hovered over the Dome, the sharp stinger formed by a bright star the Arabs called Lasa’a, poised to strike.

As the digging continued, another sound whispered out of the darkness.

“It’s time.”

He knew the voice was that of his friend and fellow archeologist, Rahman B’Shara, a hulking shadow in the darkness.

“You know what you must do,” said Gunter.

“It’s strange, though,” Rahman murmured. “When Walker first came, I thought he was like the others—just another greedy treasure hunter, anxious to get his hands on the golden vessels hidden beneath the Foundation Stone. But once I joined the dig, I couldn’t believe how quickly it was progressing.”

“Do you still believe he’ll break through in the next few days?”

“No. He’ll break through in the next few hours.”

“Because of the spiritualists and clairvoyants he hired?”

“More likely, it’s the unchecked access he’s had to dig for the last two weeks. Walker has a keen sense of which Ottoman officials to bribe—starting with the Turkish governor.” Rahman turned, stepped past Gunter and whispered, “There’s no time to lose.”

“Good luck, my friend.”

“Why do I need luck?”

“You know that better than I. His guards are well armed.”

Rahman smiled, his white teeth flashing in the starlight. “We have something more powerful than their guns.”

“Indeed. We have the power of the Temple.”

“In the end, yes, but I was speaking of a power of this world—the power of the mob.”

“And what a mob!” Gunter agreed. “Thousands of pilgrims in Jerusalem for the Feast of Nebi Musa! When they hear the Temple Mount has been desecrated by treasure hunters, Walker won’t need to enter the Temple to experience divine wrath.”

“Yes! The faithful will be quick to avenge this outrage.” Rahman bolted away, disappearing into the darkness.

Gunter knew he was heading to the Muslim Quarter beyond the northern edge of the sacred precincts. After a few seconds, he heard his voice calling out, echoing among the narrow lanes.

“Sacrilege! The Frengi are breaking the foundation stone! Sacrilege!”

Within seconds, two armed Turkish guards with torches shot out of the shrine and sprinted in the direction of Rahman’s voice.

Gunter flattened himself against the smooth tiles and watched as they came to a stop, apparently despairing as they heard the words Rahman was shouting.

“Arise to vengeance! The Turks have given over the Holy Mountain to the greed of infidels. Avenge the sacrilege! Arise!”

The guards ran back into the shrine and within seconds, Gunter heard the anxious voice of Montagu Walker.

“We must get out of here double quick! Hurry! Take whatever you can carry!”

As he waited in the shadows beneath the arches of the arcade, Gunter knew that Rahman had been the one best suited to infiltrate Walker’s scheme—to expose and stop him. Walker had hired Rahman as his consulting archaeologist to give his treasure hunt the patina of a legitimate excavation—Rahman, who could trace his ancestry in Jerusalem back for a hundred generations.

Though Gunter had also been born in Jerusalem, he was the son of German Templers, and never completely trusted by the local population; suspected of working for the Germans, or the Ottomans, or both.

But Gunter served no colonial empire. He, like Rahman, was a Guardian of the Temple Mount, an order that traced its origins to a time before the holy mountain had a name, a time cloaked in the

shadowed silence before history.

A line of flaming torches appeared along the northern border of the Temple enclosure. Shouts of execration filled the air.

Walker and his crew tumbled out of the Dome of the Rock, struggling with heavy sacks, shovels and picks that scraped and clattered on the paving stones.

“Leave that stuff!” Walker shouted. “Run for your lives!”

They rushed headlong away from the mob, frantically clawing past one another.

Gunter knew they were making for a gap in the southern border of the enclosure.

The mob surged forward in pursuit, the light of a thousand torches beneath the black sky.

Walker was finished.

The passages and chambers within the Temple Mount would remain sealed, as they had been for a thousand years.

But Gunter knew that others would come—drawn by the power and mystery of Jerusalem. And he also knew that the Guardians of the Temple Mount would be watching, and they would never rest.

 

 

About the Author

 

Michael J. Cooper emigrated to Israel in 1966 and lived in Jerusalem; during the last year, the city was divided between Israel and Jordan. He graduated from Tel Aviv University Medical School, and after a 40-year career as a pediatric cardiologist in Northern California, he continues to do volunteer missions serving Palestinian children who lack access to care. His historical fiction novels include “Foxes in the Vineyard,” set in 1948 Jerusalem, which won the 2011 Indie Publishing Contest grand prize, and “The Rabbi’s Knight,” set in the Holy Land in 1290. “Wages of Empire” won the 2022 CIBA Rossetti Award for YA fiction along with first-place honors for the 2022 CIBA Hemingway Award for wartime historical fiction. He lives in Northern California with his wife and a spoiled rotten cat. Three adult children occasionally drop by.

Website

 

 

Synopsis

 

Michelle Alger flees when her secretly recorded tryst winds up on the internet. She has no option but to hide. Her one-night stand—the son of a powerful US senator—was murdered. Learning she’s the prime suspect is traumatizing. Already a member of witness protection thanks to a Colombian drug lord kidnapping her in college, she now has to run from the senator and law enforcement. To make matters worse, the drug lord finally knows her location and is hot on her trail. There’s only one man she trusts. He saved her once, can he do it again six years later?

Captain Jeremy Malone no longer wears a Green Beret. He’s traded in his fatigues for a new life leading Delta Squad, a covert unit within SweetBriar Group. His latest orders from the senator: find the unknown woman and bring her to me. But Jeremy knows her identity. He once rescued her from a Colombian cartel, and has never forgotten her. He assigns his squad a new mission: find Michelle first and learn the real story.

Michelle and Jeremy can’t deny their explosive chemistry. But, with every new piece of evidence, Jeremy’s faith in Michelle’s innocence is questioned. Is her plea for help a ruse…or a trap set by a beautiful woman determined to expose Jeremy’s own secrets…

This is the second book in the SweetBriar Group (SBG) series and can be read as a standalone.

 

 

 

Amazon

 

 

Excerpt

 

Cappy was going to hell.

The sight of Michelle’s perfect ass disappearing out the window was now permanently burned into his brain. He was such a bastard for avidly watching it wiggle as she forced her body through the tight opening.

Every nerve ending north of his toes still vibrated from touching her. Though he had sounded like a bumbling idiot earlier, he’d meant it when he’d blurted how amazing she looked, so healthy and whole. The antithesis of the bloody, broken woman damaged by the Osvaldo Cartel in that shithole room six years ago. This beautiful, vibrant, sexy woman surged his blood and overloaded his fantasies. God built her body for a man like him. Built her for deep, hard sex, be it up against a wall or bent over a chair . . . Goddammit.

Straight. To. Hell.

Remember the mission. He couldn’t think of her in any terms other than professional. For Christ’s sake, he had to find out if she killed the senator’s son. Not have her starring in his latest mental porno.

He pulled a disposable phone from his leg pocket and dropped it inside her overlarge bag. Once he zipped the thing closed, he called, “Heads up. Purse coming through.”

He gave it a little nudge over the sill, hearing it thud into her hands before he yanked the battery out of the back of her cell phone. Now no one could trace her from the GPS in the device—which had been his plan if she hadn’t called him.

He dropped the pieces into his leg pocket for later disposal. Putting on his sunglasses, he ensured his gun holster wouldn’t knock into the frame’s edges, and slid soundlessly through the small opening, then closed the window. Turning, he half expected to find her gone, but she stood just to the left, chewing on her lip with fear lacing through her irises.

“This way,” he whispered, grabbing her hand and motioning toward a grungy building next door.

The electricity from the contact instantly had him hard. He grunted and urged her forward. He pulled her around the back corner of a convenience store and stopped, shifting his hips to relieve the pressure.

“Cutting it too close, Cappy,” Talon admonished softly. Michelle jumped, squealed, then slapped a hand over her mouth.

Yeah. Talon had that effect on people. He was so damn good at blending into the background, he caught most by surprise.

Cappy seized Michelle’s hand to stop her from inching backward. “Relax.”

Her eyes were as large as her face, and she didn’t seem able to look away from his teammate. A sudden shot of jealousy spiked through his veins. Stow that shit. He had no time for the destructive emotion, and it was wrong on so many levels.

“Where’s the car?” he barked, jolting them all. Christ.

Engines raced into the parking lot next door and instantly shut off. Car doors opened, then slammed shut.

Cappy didn’t need to see his teammate’s eyes to know they were both thinking about how they had just barely made it. Michelle trembled underneath his palm.

“Car’s on the other side of the dry cleaners, as commanded.” Talon pointed to a building that had seen better days adjacent to the convenience store.

* * *

Dear God, who is this guy? Michelle couldn’t stop staring at the wicked knife with the onyx blade still protruding from SCK’s [Stone Cold Killer’s] fist.

She shivered.

A male voice yelled from the hotel’s parking lot, “You two cover the back. White, start peering in windows. I’ll talk to the desk clerk.”

“Our signal to move,” Jeremy whispered, jerking her arm as he pulled her forward.

She ran as fast as possible but knew she wasn’t close to the speed both men wanted. Tough darts. She didn’t live in a gym like them.

Had she done the right thing, calling Jeremy? She trailed behind the two men, still rattled by his apparent connection to the FBI’s investigation. He saved you before. Yeah, he did. Was he doing that now? Every TV show, movie, and book she’d ever read clearly pointed out how only those closely connected to a case were privy to details like a raid on a hotel room. Did that mean Jeremy saw the YouTube video?

Talon glanced over his shoulder. His dark shades had slid down and the cold light in his eyes sent fear racing down her spine. No. No! She pulled against Jeremy’s grip, her mind plunging back into Colombia without warning. Cold steel bit into her skin while the man with a pair of emotionless yet fanatical eyes stared at her. “You going to talk now, puta?”

“Michelle,” Jeremey snapped. “Stay with me.”

She blinked away the vision, disoriented at being ripped back into the present so fast. Jeremy tightened his grip and dragged her against his side. For a brief moment, she allowed her head to fall against his meaty shoulder. She inhaled his addictive scent and instantly felt better.

“Eyes front, Talon.” Jeremy flattened her body against the side of the dry cleaners. “We clear to make a break for the car on the other side?”

From beyond the hotel and as far as Michelle could glimpse in the other direction, the backs of the buildings were relatively flush with each other. Some had blacktop as if for additional parking while others had large dumpsters filling the space.

“O Romeo, Romeo. Wherefore art thou Romeo?” Talon crooned softly.

What the heck?

Jeremy flashed SCK a grin and placed his lips next to her earlobe. She shivered at the faint breath and almost missed his command. “Keep low but run as fast as you can. Don’t stop or slow down. Once you clear the corner, wait for us.” Her mind turned to mush at his whispered words. “We’ll use our bodies to block the view if someone should glance this way.”

It took everything she had not to giggle and lift her shoulder. Get it together, Michelle. This is serious.

He placed a large hand at the small of her back. “Go.” He gave her a little push.

 

 

About the Author

 

P.A. DePaul is a Publishers Weekly Bestselling and award-winning author.Her books are full of action, suspense, and romance.

As a hybrid author, she has books traditionally and independently published. Her traditional publishers include Berkley, a Penguin Random House imprint, and Harlequin Books.

 

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Giveaway

 

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Synopsis

 

The first thirty-one elements of the periodic table are each used in the thirty-one stories in this unique collection. Will Warren always be lonely? Why does Lonny’s grandfather like balloons so much? How come Derek’s new fishing rod is so important to him? Why is Paul excited to learn how to test for chlorine in swimming pools. How did Eric’s spoon melt when he stirred the coffee? These are lovingly written stories that deal with human beings and their relationship with themselves and others. Oh, yes, sometimes science plays a role.

 

 

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Excerpt

 

Hydrogen

 

I remember hearing the song by Three Dog Night, “One Is the Loneliest Number,” and thinking, Yeah, that’s me. All by myself. No one cares.

Now I see that thought for what it really was, a cry in the night from a frightened six-year-old kid whose parents abandoned him to the child welfare system, leaving me all by myself, scared and alone, wondering if this foster home thing was going to work out.

Fortunately, it did. Early on, I bonded with my older foster brother Tony. His parents were crack addicts and he’d been removed from them when he was three years old and put into the system. He was four years older than me and pretty smart. He read books to me, took me on bicycle rides and taught me to fish.

One of my best memories with Tony was when I was in eighth grade. I had tip-toed from the bathroom and into the bedroom we shared. I quietly closed the door and asked “What do you think about this?” Earlier, I’d snuck into the bathroom and bleached my hair with hydrogen peroxide like some of my classmates were doing.

He put down the book he was reading and gave me a long once over. I watched as his expression changed from horrified to bemused. “To be honest,” he said, shaking his head, “it looks pretty bad.” I fought back a sudden unexpected flow of tears. All I had wanted was fit in with my classmates. “Here,” he said, standing up and taking me by the arm. “Come on. Let’s see what we can do to remedy this situation.”

He took me into the bathroom and stood me in front of the mirror. “Look.”

I looked closely at my bleached hair. Normally a rich dark brown, it was now a bright, wheat colored yellow. Some of it was orange. The closer I looked, the more embarrassed I felt.

I met his eyes in the mirror, “I guess you’re right,” I told him. “It looks pretty bad.” I felt the tears welling up again. “I’m so stupid.”

In the mirror Tony said, “Hey, relax, It’s not the end of the world. Your hair will go back to its normal color. Eventually.”

I used as Kleenex to wipe my nose. “I can’t believe I did such a dumb thing.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He mused my hair. “We all make mistakes.” Just talking to him made me feel a little better. No much, but a little. Tony was a senior in high school, good looking and popular. He didn’t need to waste time with a stupid kid like me, but he did. “Here, let me show you something.”

Even though I didn’t need it, he opened the cupboard, took out a can of Gillette shaving cream and spent the next fifteen minutes teaching me how to shave with a trac-two razor. I thought it was the coolest thing that ever happened to me. He even let me use some of his aftershave. Agua Velva. It smelled great.

We became very close after that. I’m not the brightest bulb in the pack, but Tony watched out for me and showed me stuff and helped me navigate the next four years of my life. I eventually graduated from high school. Whenever I was feeling down about my grades, he’d remind me, “There’s more to life than book learning, Warren. At least you try.” And I did. I tired as hard as I could.

In fact, I still do. I work as a stock boy at a local grocery store, and I ride the bus to and from our apartment to work. That’s right, our apartment. After I graduated, Tony asked me if I wanted to move in with him. “Because we’re buddies,” he told me at the time.

Well, yeah. “Sure!” I told him. “Thanks.”

So, he and I have our own place. He tells me he’s proud of me. I pull my own weight and ‘pay my own way’ as the saying goes. It makes me feel proud to help out. I might have been lost in the system if not for Tony. I was lucky to have met him. I still consider myself lucky.

“We’re roommates for life,” he often tells me. “I’ll always have your back.”

You know what? I not only have a brother, but a friend. And I’m not lonely anymore. Not like I was before I met Tony. I was sad then. Now, I’m not. In fact, I’ve never been happier. We’re even thinking of getting a pet. Maybe a cat. I love to have something to take care of like Tony does for me. That’d be so cool. And if we do, I’m thinking of naming him Hydro because of that thing years ago with the hydrogen peroxide. I think it’s a great name.

 

 

About the Author

 

Jim’s stories and poems have appeared in nearly five hundred online and print publications. His collection of short stories, Resilience, is published by Bridge House Publishing. Short Stuff, a collection of flash fiction and drabbles is published by Chapeltown Books. Periodic Stories, Periodic Stories Volume Two, Periodic Stories Volume Three – A Novel, and Periodic Stories Volume Four are published by Impspired. Dreamers, a collection of short stories, is published by Clarendon House Publishing. Something Better, a dystopian adventure novella, and the novel, The Alien of Orchard Lake, are published by Dark Myth Publications. In the fall of 2022, his collection entitled Holiday Stories was published by Impspired as was his collection of poetry, Haiku Seasons. In February 2023, Periodic Stories Volume IV was published, as was his collection of poems, The Alchemy of Then, both by Impspired. In June 2023, a collection of flash fiction, Dancing With Butterflies, was published by Impspired.In July 2023, his YA novella The Battle of Marvel Wood was published by Impspired. His short story “Aliens” was nominated by The Zodiac Press for the 2020 Pushcart Prize. His story “The Maple Leaf” was voted 2021 Story of the Year for Spillwords. He was voted December 2022 Author of the Month for Spillwords. He also reads his stories for Talking Stories Radio and for Jim’s Storytime on his website. He lives in a small town west of Minneapolis, Minnesota.

 

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Synopsis

 

“Reading the 27 stories in Resilience, the collection of short stories by Jim Bates is like listening to one heartfelt tune after another being sung by 27 singers and never hearing an off-note. This is writing at its finest, where fiction is so well hidden in the life-affirming stories – a hallmark that almost defines Jim’s writing – that it’s easy to forget that the plots and characters aren’t real. In Resilience, relationships aren’t merely vehicles for moving a story forward; they are the raison d’ȇtre. These are stories about husbands and wives, parents and children, grandparents and their grandchildren, brothers, and friends, both young and old, and even a few animals. Not one of them in the entire collection feels fake or contrived, which is incredible. It’s hard not to think that each character isn’t someone Jim knew or knows. There’s no exaggerated soap opera or melodrama between the characters or in the stories. People live, die, are loved, missed, and mourned as if they stepped out of the photographs and obituaries in real family scrapbooks and photo albums. The tension and conflict in many of the stories hums just beneath the surface, but the focus is on the small moments in the lives of the characters, which perfectly mirror our own lives. The drama and tragedies that exist in some of the stories never overwhelm the plot and never wander into unrealistic territory.

Resilience is a mix of Thorton Wilder’s Our Town, Edgar Lee Masters’ Spoonriver Anthology, with just a touch of a subdued J.D. Salinger thrown in. I didn’t do a word count, of course, but I think there are at least three novelette-length stories included in the collection, the quasi-crime story “Sugarfoot” being my favorite among them. I can easily see Norman Rockwell doing the illustrations to Jim’s stories, which is particularly true of his stories about boys coming of age, especially in this collection as a companion to “The Last Time I Ran Away.” Jim knows the landscapes that serve both as backdrops and centerpieces to his stories; his descriptions of places in Minnesota and North Dakota are written art pieces all their own. I highly recommend Jim’s collection.” Steven Lester Carr, author of The Theory of Existence: 50 Short Stories, among other publications.

 

 

 

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Excerpt

 

Remembrance Day

 

They started walking again, her soft, small hand in his large, callused one. She was five years old, of average height, and was way too skinny in his estimation, even though she ate well at every meal. She was fun-loving and had a unique personality all her own. When they were together they talked and laughed and she was a true joy in his life.

The next house up ahead was his son’s home. He pointed, “Let’s go into your folk’s backyard and play.”

“Sure,” she agreed and ran off. The old man was eighty-six years old and followed as fast as he could. It took him a while.

A few minutes later his son Steve who was standing at the window and looking into the backyard called to his wife, “There he is, Emma, I see him. There’s Dad.”

“Finally,” she said, somewhat annoyed, “He’s lived with us for ten years. Today of all days he should know we’d be eating by six o’clock.”

Steve checked his wristwatch and said, “He still has a few minutes.”

“What’s he doing out there anyway?”

“Looks like he’s dancing.”

“What?”

“Dancing.” Steve shook his head grinned to himself. He liked that his father was a bit of an eccentric. It kept things interesting. Most of the time, anyway, but not today. Today was different. “Never mind. I’ll go get him.”

“Please hurry. I’m putting the food on the table.”

In the dining room sat Steve and Emma’s other four children. This was the family’s Remembrance Day. The day they set aside every year to remember the short life of Alisha Ann Drayton, Steve and Emma’s youngest daughter who fifteen years ago today had died at the age of five from acute lymphoblastic leukemia.

Steve went downstairs and out of the back door. “Hey Dad,” he called, “Come on in. Dinner’s on the table.”

Out in the yard, the old man stopped running around and playing tag with Allie. She was wearing him out and he was getting tired, even though he didn’t mind trying to keep up. He just wasn’t as young as he wanted to be.

He turned toward his son, “All right. Just give me a minute.”

“Sure, Dad,” Steve said, walking over. He put his arm affectionately around his father’s shoulder, “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, son, I am.” He was quiet for a moment, “I just miss her, you know. I miss being with her. Playing with her. We were close. She was one of the best things that ever happened to me.” He paused a moment and then added, “It’s not just today, son, but every day. Every day is Remembrance Day. At least it is for me.” His eyes suddenly became moist as tears formed.

Steve sighed and gave his dad a compassionate hug. “Me, too, Dad,” he said, “me, too.”

Then they walked slowly towards the back door. The old man didn’t want to go inside just yet but knew he had to. Emma had dinner ready and he didn’t want to be rude. After all, it was generous of his son and wife to have him live with them. More than generous.

Over his shoulder the old man turned and waved to Allie, standing in the middle of the yard. The wind blew through her hair and the sun caught her freckles just right, making them seem to sparkle. She smiled and waved back, locked forever in the old man’s memory.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said to his granddaughter as he turned and started for the door.

“What’d you say, Dad?” Steve asked.

“Nothing,” the old man said. “It must have been the wind.”

Then he turned and waved to Allie one more time before finally going inside.

 

 

About the Author

 

Jim’s stories and poems have appeared in nearly five hundred online and print publications. His collection of short stories, Resilience, is published by Bridge House Publishing. Short Stuff, a collection of flash fiction and drabbles is published by Chapeltown Books. Periodic Stories, Periodic Stories Volume Two, Periodic Stories Volume Three – A Novel, and Periodic Stories Volume Four are published by Impspired. Dreamers, a collection of short stories, is published by Clarendon House Publishing. Something Better, a dystopian adventure novella, and the novel, The Alien of Orchard Lake, are published by Dark Myth Publications. In the fall of 2022, his collection entitled Holiday Stories was published by Impspired as was his collection of poetry, Haiku Seasons. In February 2023, Periodic Stories Volume IV was published, as was his collection of poems, The Alchemy of Then, both by Impspired. In June 2023, a collection of flash fiction, Dancing With Butterflies, was published by Impspired.In July 2023, his YA novella The Battle of Marvel Wood was published by Impspired. His short story “Aliens” was nominated by The Zodiac Press for the 2020 Pushcart Prize. His story “The Maple Leaf” was voted 2021 Story of the Year for Spillwords. He was voted December 2022 Author of the Month for Spillwords. He also reads his stories for Talking Stories Radio and for Jim’s Storytime on his website. He lives in a small town west of Minneapolis, Minnesota.

 

Website

 

 

 

Synopsis

 

For fifty years, Ebar, an alien from planet Rykos, has lived in human form on Earth as Kyle Johnson. When Ebar gets into a fight at the sewage treatment plant where he works, he is put into jail. A jailer overhears Ebar trying to contact his home planet and tells the authorities. Ebar is sent to the psychiatric ward of the Buffalo County Hospital for evaluation, where he eventually comes under the care of Jeremy Slater.

Jeremy is a young mental health professional, and Ebar’s case is his first assignment. No one believes that Ebar is an alien. More to the point, everyone thinks he’s crazy. After working with his patient for a month, Jeremy begins to believe Ebar truly is who he says he is and concocts a plan. If Ebar will quit talking about being an alien and pretend he is human, Jeremy will work with him so he can get released from the hospital and go on living his life. Ebar agrees.

Jeremy’s egotistical boss, Doctor Richard Andrews, has other ideas. He and a friend at the Pentagon have come up with a plan of their own. Andrews will take over the case and announce to the world that Ebar really is an alien. Andrews figures it will make him famous. His plan is to keep Ebar locked up and study him for the rest of his life.

Jeremy is appalled. He and Ebar have become friends, and he can’t allow Andrews to take control of his friend’s life. Aided by co-worker Julie and her partner Wren, the four of them go on the run with thugs sent by the Pentagon in hot pursuit.

This is a story about good and evil and is a mirror held up to the times we live in. Ultimately, though, it is a story of friendship, a friendship that changes the lives of both Ebar and Jeremy forever.

 

 

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Excerpt

 

Jeremy took a deep breath and made a fateful decision, one that would change his life forever. Julie was right. He had been riding the fence, and he couldn’t have it both ways. It was time to decide. “Okay, let me tell you this, Ebar. I believe you.” He stood up and went to his patient and looked him square in the eyes. “I believe you. I really do. I believe you are an alien.”

Ebar felt weak in his knees. Jeremy caught him by the elbow and guided him to the chair at the desk by the window. Ebar sat down and looked gratefully at his counselor. “You really believe me?”

Jeremy fought an urge to ‘cross his heart’ like he and his friends used to do when they were kids. Instead, he looked Ebar with as sincere an expression as he could muster and said, “Yes, I do, Ebar. I believe you. I promise.”

Ebar sighed in relief and smiled. “You’re sure?”

“I am.”

A wide smile broke out on Ebar’s face, but it quickly faded. “But do you think you can help me? Really and truly? That big meeting’s coming up next week. That’s pretty fast.”

Jeremy wasn’t sure at all, because he had no idea what he was going to do. But that’s not what he told Ebar. Instead, what he said was, “Yes. I am very sure.” He took the stack of communiques and started spreading them out on the bed. “Let’s take a look at what we’ve got here.”

Jeremey’s mind was racing because there was something else he and Julie had talked about; something that was now painfully clear the more he thought about it. If Ebar was an alien, what exactly did Jeremy hope to accomplish by helping him? Integrate him back into civilian life so he could return to work as a sewage treatment employee? That seemed a little far-fetched. Once word of Ebar being an alien leaked out, the news media would go crazy for the story. Jeremy could just see it – the press would have a field day. Ebar’s picture would be plastered all over not only newspapers and cable news shows, but social media as well. His life would change forever, and probably not for the best.

Ebar didn’t need that. What he needed was to somehow establish communication with Commander Zenon and his home planet Rykos. That’s what would make him feel better and restore his mental health. But Jeremy’s boss, doctor Andrews, and the others like Wallace and Kucinen wouldn’t go for that. After all, treat some guy who believes one hundred percent that he’s an alien. No way. That’s what they’d be thinking. In fact, they’d probably think Jeremy was nuts himself. Andrews might even fire him, and maybe, just maybe, have him committed. He and Ebar could end up being patients together.

Enough! Jeremy shook his head to clear the garbage thoughts from his mind. Talk about a conundrum. He’d have to tread very carefully. And he’d have to make sure Ebar understood the issues they faced. If Ebar wanted people to accept him, they’d have to accept him as Kyle the sewage treatment employee, not Ebar, the refugee alien from another galaxy.

 

 

About the Author

 

Jim’s stories and poems have appeared in nearly five hundred online and print publications. His collection of short stories, Resilience, is published by Bridge House Publishing. Short Stuff, a collection of flash fiction and drabbles is published by Chapeltown Books. Periodic Stories, Periodic Stories Volume Two, Periodic Stories Volume Three – A Novel, and Periodic Stories Volume Four are published by Impspired. Dreamers, a collection of short stories, is published by Clarendon House Publishing. Something Better, a dystopian adventure novella, and the novel, The Alien of Orchard Lake, are published by Dark Myth Publications. In the fall of 2022, his collection entitled Holiday Stories was published by Impspired as was his collection of poetry, Haiku Seasons. In February 2023, Periodic Stories Volume IV was published, as was his collection of poems, The Alchemy of Then, both by Impspired. In June 2023, a collection of flash fiction, Dancing With Butterflies, was published by Impspired.In July 2023, his YA novella The Battle of Marvel Wood was published by Impspired. His short story “Aliens” was nominated by The Zodiac Press for the 2020 Pushcart Prize. His story “The Maple Leaf” was voted 2021 Story of the Year for Spillwords. He was voted December 2022 Author of the Month for Spillwords. He also reads his stories for Talking Stories Radio and for Jim’s Storytime on his website. He lives in a small town west of Minneapolis, Minnesota.

 

Website

 

 

 

Synopsis

 

Dive into the heart of a fantastical crossover family adventure with ‘The Fairie King’, a spellbinding, fast-paced fantasy tale that promises to captivate your imagination and keep you turning the pages.

When five personal guards of the Fairie King arrive at Charlie’s doorstep, exhausted and near death, his family learns that the Fairie Kingdom is under attack. At the King’s behest, and under the protection of the King’s Guards, the Donal family embarks on a journey that will compel Charlie to confront his neuro-divergence head-on. They encounter enemies both seen and unseen, from giant Glykons blocking their path to the lurking Tangies from behind.

Despite numerous obstacles, Charlie forms special bonds with Iris and Finley, two of the King’s Guards, Frank the screaming gerbil, and most unexpectedly, with his bully of a cousin, Caleb.

Witness Charlie’s transformation along the way. Ultimately, Unicorns, Ashguardians, leadership from Ava, and invisible pathways aid them in reaching the Fairie Kingdom, where they finally uncover their connection to the Fairie King and the reason he has summoned them.

 

 

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Excerpt

 

Connor heard the fluttering of wings a moment before he and Charlie saw three Fairies fly in through the kitchen window. He immediately recognized them by their uniforms, dirty and torn as they were. These were members of the Fairie King’s Guard.

He never thought he would see them again, especially appearing as suddenly as they had. Connor’s heart was racing, a warm feeling, a sense of relief washed over him. Actual Fairies were in his home again!

With military precision, the three Fairies landed in front of Connor and Charlie. Close up, Connor realized his estimate of 7 inches tall had been dead on. The Fairies Connor grew up with were 5, maybe 5½ inches tall. Most of them were slight of frame or, in the case of hard-working Garden Fairies, they were lean with well-developed muscles from tending the soil.

The Guards’ once pristine uniforms were now torn and tattered, with battle scars that reflected silent, tragic stories. Gone were the bright gold and amber markings of their rank and position, replaced with mud, tears and blood. Something must be terribly wrong in the Fairie Kingdom.

“Mr. Donal, my apologizes for barging in on you unannounced. It is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Finley, this is Colin, and this is Ava.”

All three Fairies had passed exhaustion on the long flight to Connor’s farm. Only Ava remained standing; Finley and Colin sat down on the coffee table with their legs and wings hanging off the edge. Connor couldn’t imagine how exhausted these Fairies must be.

 

 

About the Author

 

James Lipson’s books, including The Fairie King: A New Adventure Begins, Fallen and Other Stories, The Girl with Hands in Her Hair, and Game Over and Other Stories, can be found on Amazon.com. Additionally, his short stories have been featured in various publications such as Black Hare Press Anthologies, Zombie Pirate Publishing, Clarendon Publishing Anthologies, Teleport Magazine, and others.

With a background in art, James has naturally turned to illustrating as he writes, bringing many of his short stories to life not only with descriptive detail but also with detailed visual imagery.

 

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