Charles Belfoure’s debut novel, The Paris Architect (2013), was a national bestseller, an indie next pick, a national reading group month select, and received stellar praise from booksellers, librarians, authors and critics.

Belfoure’s forthcoming novel, HOUSE OF THIEVES (ON-SALE: September 15; 978192617891; $25.99; Hardcover), is set in 1886 New York City, where a society architect is forced to join a criminal gang and plan robberies of the buildings he’s designed, in order to pay off his son’s gambling debts.

John Cross needs money, and he needs it fast—and New York City’s most dangerous kingpin insists that robbing John’s rich circle of friends is the only way John can pay off his substantial debt.    John’s talent as an architect provides him with access and opportunity—if he can just keep his secret life from his family, he can end this very quickly.   But John didn’t count on the thrill that came from engineering the perfect steal… or that his wife and children would possess the same talents.

House of Thieves is a fascinating look at the two poles of New York society in the late 19th century, from the extreme opulence of the Knickerbocker society to the opium dens and whorehouses of the criminal underworld. It also presents an exciting new twist on the intriguing architecture angle that drew readers to The Paris Architect.

Excerpt

Chapter 7

Mr. Cross, I want you to know that I’m not angry at you for what you did. But I will be less lenient if something like that should happen again.”

Kent reminded Cross of a schoolmaster sitting in his wood-paneled office, reprimanding a recalcitrant student. Cross himself sat stiffly, balanced on the edge of the settee, watching Kent pour tea. Aunt Caroline would have envied the quality of the silver. In a multitiered stand on the tea table were a variety of pastries, but Cross had lost all appetite since the delivery of the ice that morning.

The Dakota was like a huge European château, a riot of steep gables, turrets, finials, and dormers clad in olive–colored stone and salmon–colored brick. Its sheer enormity was amplified by its position on the Upper West Side, surrounded by vacant lots and shacks. It gave the impression of a mountain that had risen out of nowhere; from Central Park, it reminded one of a fortress in the middle of an enchanted forest, like in a fairy tale.

Despite its far–flung location, it had quickly become a highly fashionable place to live. Kent’s apartment was magnificent. He and Cross sat in a beautiful library lined with floor–to–ceiling bookshelves. A vista of Central Park stretched across the tall windows behind them.

“How many lumps do you take?”

“Two, no milk.”

Kent handed him his cup and settled back in his green overstuffed velvet armchair. He sipped his tea with a look of great pleasure.

“Quite a place, Mr. Cross, hmm? Like living in a palace without having to own it.”

Cross didn’t reply.

At that moment, the front door to the apartment opened. A short, elegantly dressed woman with chestnut–colored hair entered, followed by three small children.

“Mr. Cross, meet my wife and children,” Kent said in a jolly voice. “Hello, Millicent. How was the outing?”

“Oh, wonderful. The children so loved the ponies.”

Cross rose and smiled at the beautiful woman, who beamed back at him.

“It’s such a pleasure, Mr. Cross,” Millicent said.

“Mr. Cross is a new business associate. And these rascals are Bill, Henry, and Abigail.”

The children, all of whom were well dressed and well mannered, bowed to Cross and then raced off in three different directions.

“If you’ll excuse us, my dear, Mr. Cross and I have business to discuss. Tonight at dinner, you must tell me all about your day. I wish I’d been there.” Kent followed his wife out, closed the sliding doors, and returned to his seat. “I’m so glad we were able to come to an understanding, Mr. Cross,” he said. “I’m sure we can do business together.”

“Nothing is to happen to my son,” Cross said.

“Or Helen, Granny, Charlie, and Julia—-as long as you keep
our agreement.”

Cross was visibly shaken. After that morning, he knew what this man was capable of. Kent would kill his entire family without batting an eye. He was sure of it.

“I enjoy doing business with a family man,” Kent said amiably. “There’s so much collateral.”

“Where is George?”

“In very pleasant circumstances. I’ll notify him that his debt is forgiven, but I won’t tell him of our arrangement. Don’t worry—-if you keep your end of the bargain, he’ll never know. George will be back in his apartment in a few days. I just hope he can deal with his ‘little weakness.’ You do know there are hundreds of gambling dens in New York City besides mine. But that’s your problem now.”

Cross blinked. In all the confusion, he hadn’t thought about that.

“Let me explain how our business arrangement will work,” Kent said, setting down his teacup. “You will choose buildings you’ve designed that contain articles of great value—-cash, stock certificates, gold, merchandise such as expensive clothing, fine linen, silverware, and jewelry. You will help me plan each robbery by giving me drawings of these places and telling me where items worth stealing can be found. And after each robbery, the value of the goods will be deducted from George’s debt.”

“Promise me that, once it’s paid back, I’m free of this.”

“Why of course. I don’t think you’re cut out for a life of crime, Mr. Cross.” Kent gave him a wink. “But you are a talented architect. That Chandler Building—-and those tall arches! I envy your talent. I wish I could do something like that.”

Cross was silent. Coming from this merciless bastard, it hardly felt like a compliment.

“The next step will be for you to take some time—-one week, say—-to choose a building. Then we will meet to discuss whether your plan is feasible. It takes a criminal eye to evaluate these things,” Kent said. “You’ll want to pay off the debt immediately, of course. But for our first effort, let’s choose something modest. And bring copies of the drawings. I understand that with the new blueprinting process, it will be easy for you.”

Kent was sharp. Only a few years ago, copies of architectural drawings had to be traced over by hand, a long and tedious process. But with the introduction of blueprinting, all that had changed. Now, a photosensitive coating could be applied to a sheet of paper, which would be placed behind the original linen drawing. The contraption was put in a wood frame that sat out in the sun, developing a perfect image on the paper like a photograph.

“Yes,” Cross said, nodding. “I can bring you your own copies of
the drawings.”

“From now on, it’s better to meet elsewhere. You’ll be told where to go and when.” Kent rose from his chair. The meeting was over. “Please don’t think me rude, but I have a Presbyterian Hospital board meeting in an hour over on East Seventy–Second,” Kent said apologetically as he escorted Cross to the foyer. “But before you go, you must see my latest treasure.”

He led Cross to a large oak table with carved legs and removed a heavy sheet of paper, revealing what looked like a very old, yellowed parchment.

“An early eighth–century illuminated manuscript from France. Isn’t it magnificent?”

Though Cross didn’t give a damn, he pretended to be impressed out of courtesy. After taking a respectful amount of time to examine the gold–leaf–flecked pages, he nodded and walked toward the library doors.

“Henceforth, Mr. Cross, you must learn to think like a criminal. Coming from your background, that may be difficult,” Kent said as he slid open the paneled doors.

“It didn’t seem to be an obstacle for you.”

Kent gave a roar of laughter. “I suppose Griffith told you all about me. True, Princeton didn’t give me much training for my line of work. You’re a Harvard man?”

Cross nodded.

“A satisfactory school, but they have no eating clubs, unlike Princeton. So uncivilized,” he said. “Do take a look around the building before you go. You’ll find it most interesting.”

“I walked through right before it opened. The architect, Henry Hardenbergh, is a friend of mine. It’s a remarkable building,” Cross said softly, looking up at the ceiling. “The best apartment building in the city. I wish I had done it.”

Praise for the book

“Belfoure’s sly, roguish writing opens a window to those living both gilded and tarnished lives… Best of all, Belfoure holds together each and every thread of the novel, resulting in a most memorable, evocative read.”—Publishers Weekly, STARRED review

“Belfoure displays a brisk prose style, well-developed plot, and interesting architectural details… a roisterous, supremely entertaining adventure.”—Booklist, STARRED review

“A pulse-raising read for historical crime and historical thriller fans.”—Library Journal

“an entertaining excursion through Gilded Age New York with all the right architectural details.” —Kirkus

Publishers Weekly Show Daily Profile (5/28); Publishers Weekly 10 Books to Grab at BEA (5/27)

Library Journal PrePub Alert (4/20); Publishers Weekly Author Profile (7/27)

“House of Thieves grabs you from the first lines and explosive opening pages, pulling you right into a time and place—just how our favorite historical novels always do.”—Matthew Pearl, NYT bestselling author of The Dante Club, The Poe Shadow, and The Last Bookaneer

“The world of old New York comes alive in this beguiling tale of mystery and intrigue. Danger and drama abide with vivid and dramatic description that allows the reader to easily conjure up the imaginary—as if watching a film—wrapped totally in the writer’s world. Charles Belfoure definitely has the touch.”—Steve Berry, NYT bestselling author of The Patriot Threat and The Lincoln Myth

“Charles Belfoure has written my favorite kind of novel. HOUSE OF THIEVES is the story of a family coming together in the most exceptional and peculiar way. Rich in mischief and populated by thieves and gamblers, gentry and rebels, it is as complex and ambitious as New York City itself. This is historical fiction at its best.”—Ariel Lawhon, author of the THE WIFE, THE MAID, AND THE MISTRESS

“Gangs of New York meets The Age of Innocence in House of Thieves…”— Susan Elia MacNeal, New York Times bestselling author Mr. Churchill’s Secretary

“House of Thieves was great fun… Charles Belfoure continually offers an unusual perspective on the calling of architecture.”— Becky Milner, Vintage Books (Vancouver, WA)

About the Author

Charles Belfoure is the New York Times bestselling author of The Paris Architect and is an architect by profession, with a specialty in historical preservation. He graduated from the Pratt Institute and Columbia University, and has written several architectural histories.

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Her Greatest Risk by Darlene Deluca

Synopsis

Clashing over the fate of a historic building, Jennifer Aukland and Michael Reynolds are on course to become adversaries. She’s an architect devoted to green building and restoration. He’s a developer hell-bent on ripping down the old hotel she’s racing to save to make way for a new casino.

Chemistry leads to compromise, and for a time, they’re on the same team. Jennifer adds Michael – and marriage – to her safe and steady plan for the future. But when Michael throws caution aside and lands in a life-threatening situation, Jennifer’s world comes crashing down. In her family, she’s learned that recklessness leads to tragedy. She must decide if she can commit her life to someone who takes unnecessary risks with his. Will she take control of her own destiny, even if it means leaving Michael behind? Or will she risk everything for love?

Not only does Darlene have a new book out, several of her older books are just $0.99 this weekend!  Get your copy before time runs out!

Something Good * Unexpected Legacy * Meetings of Chance

About the Author

Deluca’s newest title, “Her Greatest Risk,” is her sixth full-length novel. Deluca has been a reader and writer since childhood. With a degree in journalism, she started her career as a newspaper reporter, and later moved into corporate communications and design. She tolerates living in the Midwest (that’s where the fam is), but when the temperature plummets and the ground turns white, she often longs for a distant sunny beach.

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Excerpt

Trip of Gratitude:

DURING THE FIVE WEEKS of our trip we drove through fifteen states and had about 200 conversations with people from all walks of life. Everyone I spoke with had stories related to 9/11 to share and asked many questions. They loved our story, and they especially enjoyed hearing that whatever they sent to help (money, quilts, teddy bears, loving thoughts, cards, songs, poems, etc.) was deeply appreciated, and we knew it came from their hearts.

I find it sad that it takes a tragedy for citizens to pull together and show their true colors of heart-centered love. Towards the end of our trip, we stopped at a local roadside diner in Flagstaff, Arizona for dinner. The sun was just set- ting, and it cast a purple glow across the horizon. I had been driving for about eight or ten hours straight. The waitress came up to our table and poured us some water.

“You look tired. Traveling?”

“ Yes,” I sighed and looked up at her. She appeared to be in her early thirties, short and slightly overweight. She had black hair with flecks of gray and a kind face. I noticed that she looked tired too.

“Just you and your daughter?” She looked at us puzzled.

“Where are you headed?” “Not sure,” I said. “How can you go on a trip and not know where you are going?”

“Take a deep breath, pack the car and go forward,” I replied.

“That takes a lot of guts. I don’t think I could do that. Why are you doing this?”

I inhaled deeply. I was always nervous before I’d share what we were doing because I didn’t want to upset anyone.

“My daughter and I are on a Trip of Gratitude. I lost my husband and Michaela’s father on 9/11 in the terrorist attack, and because everyone shared from their hearts I fell in love with this country. I’m on this trip to give back by expressing my gratitude, and share stories. I’d like to hear your story. Do you have one?”

She became teary and had to pause for a minute. This part was always difficult for me. I felt responsible that I was upsetting her. My intention was not to hurt people, but to build them up, yet to enter the doorway to gratitude always seemed to require going through pain or sadness or some kind of emotion that didn’t feel good. In every conversation I’d had, this was the moment I would think of quitting, but I had learned to sit and be with them in their pain. I knew how important it was to tell the stories to someone who wanted to listen. I knew it would help free their bodies of the trauma of the experience. I waited for her to regain her words.

“I am so sorry,” she said. “Thank you.” “Yes, I have a story. I am so proud of my children. They were eight and ten, and when they saw what happened on TV, they began to cry for the children who had lost parents. We didn’t know anyone in the building or planes. They decided to raise money to help them, so they created a lemonade stand for 9/11 families and within two weeks they had made over $700. It was the best they ever did with a lemonade stand! I was so proud of them. They donated it all to the Red Cross. That experience changed their lives. It was the first time that they became aware that there is a bigger world beyond their lives in Flagstaff, and that they could make a difference, even if it’s a small one.”

“I want you and your children to know that what you all did made a huge difference in our lives, and for that we are grateful.”

“We really did?” Her face lit up. “No one has ever told us that.”

“Well, now I’m here telling you. We are so grateful for you.”

We hugged, and then she hugged Michaela. I asked her to give her children a hug from us too.

As we drove away from the diner, I left with a clearer sense than ever before that we all are connected and we are all one. That love is the most powerful force in the universe, and it exists everywhere. After 9/11, help showed up in all different forms of aid and assistance, but it was the love behind the support that affected me. We never can know the full impact of each thought and every act; nor can we know the reason behind every tragedy, but it’s there, and it’s real. Out of this heinous act, these children discovered they could turn their empathy into love in action, and they made a difference in my life and the lives of thousands of others.

About the Author

Fiona Havlish is an intuitive healer through the use of life’s transformational wake up calls.  She has a BSN degree, is a reiki master and success coach who works through the energetic spiritual realm. She currently lives in Boulder Colorado with her daughter, Michaela, where she enjoys sharing her newest energy practice, Raindrop Technique, and singing duets with her Boston Terrier, Molly, who is an amazing singer herself.

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Title: Entrusted
Author: Allegra Gray
Series: Relic Guardians
Genre: Historical Young Adult
Release Date: September 8, 2015
Publisher: Silverthorne Entertainment
Print Length: 85K
Format: Paperback and Digital
Print ISBN: 978-0692486146
Digital ASIN: B011MSIKQ4

Synopsis

Orphan Audrey Thorndale longs for the peaceful life of a convent, but with a younger brother to care for and England’s religious houses falling one by one to Henry VIII’s Reformation, she’ll have to find another way to serve God and country. The Abbot of Glastonbury, aware of Audrey’s dilemma and loathe to see the great treasures of his abbey looted and destroyed, suggests a plan that could save Audrey, the relics, and even the future of Britain…but if she agrees to it, she’ll have to commit treason.

Second son and sometime adventurer, Tobias Seybourne has never left an opportunity unexplored. He’s won the favor of the king, and is aiming for knighthood, when Abbot Whiting offers him the chance of a lifetime—partner with Audrey, and protect England’s greatest legend. Most importantly? Do it without ever giving the king a reason to suspect more devious purposes simmer beneath Tobias’s charming façade.

With help from the abbot, Audrey and Tobias set in motion a plan to ensure that when the abbey walls crumble, one particular treasure will be safely hidden elsewhere.

But as the abbot points out, the king’s minions keep close account of their plunder, and the contents of Glastonbury’s repository are well documented.

With the king’s men bearing down fast, someone must take the fall…

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Excerpt

“You are worried that Glastonbury is in peril, and the treasures it holds will end up in the king’s coffers.”

“Yes—and no.” He eyes me. “It’s more complicated than that. You must not repeat anything you are hearing right now.”

“No, Father Abbot. Never.” If there is one thing I am, it is loyal.

“When I combine what I know—what I, myself have seen and heard—with what the monks who have already lost their homes tell me, I see a future in which certain relics of Glastonbury never make it to the king’s coffers, but are destroyed instead.” He shakes his head sadly. “The idea that the holy relics would go into the king’s hands was disturbing enough, but to destroy them? Sacrilege.

“Again, I must emphasize the importance of not repeating this conversation—to anyone. Not even Sam. The Treason Act is too loosely interpreted these days to take chances.”

I gulp, cursing myself for giving in to curiosity. Now it is my hands that tremble. I should tell him to stop, that I don’t want to hear any more, but my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. I should never have asked what was troubling him. And yet, I have the sense we have set on an irrevocable course, and I must see it through.

Finally, I pry my tongue loose. “I appreciate your honesty, Father Abbot.”

“Should Glastonbury fall, the treasures that can be measured in gold and silver will most certainly find a new home—whether it be the royal treasury or a pilferer’s stash. It is the others that trouble me.”

He rubs his temples, as though even thinking hurts. I begin moving about the room again, straightening things, dusting surfaces…the little, normal, everyday movements that I know, somehow, provide the backdrop of comfort that Abbot Whiting needs right now.

“You remember those visitors from Walsingham? They informed me that the shrine there, the shrine to the Virgin, which the king himself has visited, has been destroyed. The statue of the Virgin removed, the shrine itself despoiled, and the buildings looted. The same happened at Roche Abbey this summer.”

Finally, it sinks in, and I know exactly which of Glastonbury’s relics—one with no value in gold, but still of immeasurable worth—is troubling him so.

I stop dusting. My tongue, now loosened, does not have the sense to stop.

“If Glastonbury falls, what will become of King Arthur?”

About the Author

Allegra Gray grew up with her nose in a book and her head in the clouds—that is, when she wasn’t focused on more practical things like, say, learning calculus. Perhaps all those stories inspired a spirit of adventure, because at the age of seventeen she embarked on a career journey that has (so far) included serving as an officer in the U.S. Air Force, grad school at Virginia Tech, teaching English, and managing defense contracts in the Middle East. The best thing about this breadth of experience? When she tried her hand at writing novels like the ones she’d always loved, she recognized at once that she’d found a true passion. Her forthcoming series, The Relic Guardians, is genre-bending mainstream/historical suspense, inspired by her long-held desire to unveil things obscured by the mists of time. Allegra is also the author of four historical romances, including the “Daring Damsels” trilogy of Nothing But Scandal, Nothing But Deception, and Nothing But Trouble.

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Giveaway

Join the Entrusted Blog Tour September 7^th to 18^th! One grand prize winner will receive a $25 Amazon Gift Card!

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The Visitor
By Brent Ayscough

Synopsis

Tasked by the Federation of Planets to determine if Earthlings present a threat as they venture into space, Tak, an alien anthropologist, leaves her starship orbiting Earth and takes a shuttle to Kansas. Intending to study humans in the United States—as she has learned no Earth language but English—she is detected while descending through the atmosphere and only evades capture by fleeing to Europe, where she lands in Poland. There, she meets an international arms merchant, Baron Von Limbach, who becomes her guide. She studies “typical” human behavior by accompanying the baron as he fulfills his latest assignment—to get the Dalai Lama back into Tibet. His method of halting the communist takeover of Tibet is to create a race-specific Ebola that will only attack Han Chinese, giving Tak a prime example of how barbaric humans can be. However, the CIA and US military are aware of Tak’s presence on Earth and are determined to capture her. And if she is unable to complete her mission and return to her starship—her captain will destroy every living thing on Earth.

Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

The shuttle doors of the starship opened, and a dark gray, twenty-five-foot-long shuttle exited. Tak looked at the glowing stars and then studied the blue planet ahead as she began her descent. Numbers appeared on the shuttle screen, notifying her of relevant information affecting her intended descent. She choose to descend without power, just gliding, so as not to so as not to draw attention from the planet’s defense systems.

In the quiet of space, she pondered whether she’d made the right decision in choosing the language called English. But one language was enough to learn for this mission–or was it? Some of the languages picked up by the starship seemed so difficult to learn. Transmissions were intercepted from major airport towers all over the planet, and they all spoke English. The place called Russia launched more satellites than any other country, but she had been unable to intercept any transmissions from countries where Russian was spoken, except for a few less-developed adjacent countries. A large number of countries spoke Spanish, but there was no detectable space activity from them.

The place called America seemed to be the best choice, given its satellite activity and advanced technology. Its language was also found to be spoken in a number of other countries around the planet, called England, Australia, New Zealand, Singapore, and much of India. And English had been made so much more pleasurable to learn, as she could watch the intercepted movies. The most interesting ones came from America and were in English. So right or wrong, English had been her choice. And she would land in the middle of that country, in a place called Kansas. This was her first assignment alone and she was determined to do her very best.

As she descended through the atmosphere, the outside temperature began to rise. The blackness of space was being replaced below by bluish stratosphere. Descending by gliding so as to create as little heat signature as possible, the shuttle passed through one hundred sixty thousand feet, downward, soon to be pushed in an easterly direction over the surface of the planet by the natural direction of the prevailing winds. All things seemed to be in order.

BONG! A loud warning sounded, and then she heard, “Radar is being received from the surface.”

She focused intently on her monitor.

About the Author

Brent Ayscough or Ace, as he is known to friends, retired from the practice of law and lives in a house overlooking the sea in Southern California. He has always loved machines, from airplanes to motorcycles, structural design, and other interests. He has enjoyed the acquaintance of diverse and interesting people, and is widely traveled. Bits and pieces of characters he has known, places he has been, seasoned with the spice of his imagination, help him create unusual stories and characters. Extensive collaboration with experts and sources, hopefully, make his stories credible and interesting.

The Multiverse of Max Tovey
by Alastair Swinnerton
Genre: Young Adult Time Travel

Synopsis

Fourteen year old Max Tovey’s world is blown apart when he discovers that his problems are nothing to do with him, and everything to do with being a Time Traveller. Following his mysterious grandfather’s funeral, Max finds himself on a wild journey through first century Celtic Britain, real and mythological, as his every action threatens to change the past, and his future.

Max battles demons – both real and psychological – on his mission to find the legendary Montacute Cross, stolen by his Viking ancestor Tofig, in order to close the gates to the Underworld, and lift the curse on his family.

B&N * Amazon * Amazon UK * European Geeks Publishing

Excerpt

“We have to do something!” said Max helplessly. They had swords, but they had no control over the boat as the battle raged away from it.

“Giants, up!” yelled Myvi. “We have the nasty man to deal with, and these monsters are in our way!”

At this, the Giants grabbed their previous passengers, put them upon their shoulders, and swam towards the battle. The Gwragedd Annwn were being beaten back, outnumbered and out­sized, but now Fymbldwn and his friends launched themselves.

“Leave our friends alone!” yelled Fymbldwn, swiping at the Lord Grymnwr with his club and knocking him almost back to the far shore. At the same time, Dwrandwn and the others swam to­wards the rest of the Fomori with one hand and lashed out at them with clubs in their other, while their passengers slashed at snapping jaws and stabbing spears with their own swords, a double edged at­tack, but still they were not winning the fight, for they were at a bad advantage, having to swim while the Fomori floated free of the water.

Trying not to be distracted by the strange sight of his parents’ obviously well-honed sword-fighting skills, Max dealt the Fomori he himself was fighting a savage blow to the head with the flat of his sword, knocking it down into the water, before tugging on Fymbldwn’s hair to get his attention.

“Ow!” said the Giant.

“Sorry Fymbldwn, but we have to get back to the boat!”

“Why? I’m having fun!” said Fymbldwn, swiping out at two Fomori who bore down on them, and knocking them both off their feet. But in moments, they reappeared, angrier yet.

“But we’re not winning!” yelled Max. “Get me to the boat – I have an idea!”

With a little grumbling, Fymbldwn knocked the two Fomori over again, and swam back to the boat, depositing Max into it. Max opened up the sack of fruit, spilling its contents onto the floor of the boat.

“Pull the boat towards the fight Fymbldwn!” said Max.

“But…”

“Don’t argue Fymbldwn – I know how to win this!”

Fymbldwn pouted, looking like a child that had been told off. Max looked at him and threw his arms up in despair.

“Fymbldwn, we don’t have time for this – just pull the boat!”

And so Fymbldwn did, swimming with one hand and pull­ing the boat with the other, and now Max was within shouting dis­tance of the rapidly advancing Fomori, and the rapidly retreating Gwragedd Annwn. The Giants were doing their best, as were their sword-wielding riders, but they were no match for the now massive lake serpent Faeries.

“Get off him you gurt snake… thing…” said Sarah as she stabbed desperately at the Lord Grymnwr, who was bearing down on Max’s father. The wound distracted him from the fight with Owen, but now he turned his attentions to Sarah.

“Oh-oh…”

Sarah fought valiantly, as did her Giant, but Grymnwr was too fast and too strong for them, and now lashed his fearsome tail around the Giant’s neck, and began to squeeze the life out of Giant and rider alike.

“Get off my mother!” screamed Max, taking one of the Odd­wrau berries and dipping it into the lake. Almost immediately it be­gan to swell, and change colour to a very dangerous-looking red. Max threw it as hard as his tired arm would allow, and as the Lord Grymnwr’s devilish jaws opened, and prepared to finish Max’s ter­rified mother, suddenly he found himself swallowing a rapidly en­larging fruit. He only had a split second to register the fact that it tasted like bananas and custard before his body blew apart, his soul consigned to eternal darkness.

About the Author

Alastair has been writing for children’s television for over twenty five years. Among his many credits are ‘The Wombles’, ‘Sabrina, Secrets of a Teenage Witch’, and the Bafta-nominated CBBC Christmas Special ‘The Tale of Jack Frost’, which he wrote, co-produced and co-directed. He was also one the co-creators of Lego® Bionicle®. ‘The Multiverse of Max Tovey’ is his first Young Adult novel.

Alastair lives in Somerset with his family, and spends much of his spare time walking the dog, more often than not at his beloved Ham Hill.

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Caviar Living is a hand guide of home-spun lessons from a life well lived. Marilyn Whelan shares her wisdom from how to connect with your community to how to play your mortgage like a game.

With short snappy chapters Whelan gives us tips and tidbits on:

·         Fun ways to teach your kids and grandkids about money

·         How to keep a clutter-free house – and why!

·         Creative ways to get a tax break

·         How to stretch a dollar on everything from real estate to creative vacations

Part budget guide, part spiritual manual, and a whole lotta charm, Caviar Living is a lifetime of lessons wrapped up in this 98-pages of fun.

Excerpt

“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.” – Saint Augustine

Travel

Travel is and always will be my passion. My vacations are planned around volunteering, family, adventure, learning and fun. As long as I can be warm, I am willing to go anywhere at any time. I have had the good luck to experience many different types of getaways.

Volunteer Travel

Because my husband was retired military, this allowed us to travel on military cargo planes. We often would sign up for five destinations and take the first one offered. Our main objective was to cross the ocean. We traveled often to Spain, Italy, Germany and England and branched out from there. We served a tour of duty in the United States Peace Corps. We served in the Philippines, and I still keep up with good friends we made there. Many people do not realize Peace Corps volunteers are drawn mostly from two groups: people fresh out of college and retirees.

There are many wonderful opportunities for volunteer-oriented vacations. Perhaps you’d like to try an archeological dig, or pulling weeds on a mountain trail, or counting turtles on a distant island.

One of my favorite adventures was a month I spent volunteering for the National Park Service at Andersonville, GA. Andersonville was the site of the largest prisoner of war camp in the South for Union soldiers during the Civil War. It is now a national park that includes a museum devoted to POWs from all of America’s wars. I was a greeter in the museum, helping visitors look up their ancestors, and I sometimes helped in the gift shop. My two days off per week were spent touring the area. While I was there, I stayed in a small cottage in the cemetery. I was the only one on the grounds at night. It gave me lots of time to reflect, and I took several projects with me to work on. There was no television reception in the area, nor did I have Internet access.

My second-favorite volunteer location was with Pueblo Ingles. This is a for-profit agency that helps Spanish executives perfect their English.

For the Spaniards, it is a very expensive program paid for by their employers. The program does not accept participants who speak only Spanish, because the goal is for them to totally immerse themselves in English. Once you are accepted into the program as a volunteer, you work with program personnel to select a date. If you’re coming with friends, they work with you to offer a week to your party as a group.

We paid only for airfare. We were met in Madrid the evening before departure for the resort and taken to a banquet and flamenco show with our fellow Anglos. Anglos come from all English-speaking countries, such as the U.S., England, Ireland, Wales and South Africa.

The next day we were taken by bus about 2 1/2 hours from Madrid into the mountains near the Portugal border. The resort was beautiful.

Each of us was assigned with a Spaniard to a casita with a bedroom and bath for the Spaniard upstairs and a bedroom and bath downstairs for the volunteer. We shared a small living room and kitchen area. A chef prepared three meals a day, with wine accompanying lunch and dinner. It truly was an unforgettable week for a lifetime of memories. You can learn about this program at www.diverbo.com/en/jobs.

Vacations are for fun, excitement and trying something new. Consider participating on a cattle drive. Dryhead Ranch in Montana is a working cattle and guest ranch. One of the most popular activities there is driving the cattle 50 miles on Bad Pass Trail. This is a three-hour drive that gives you to chance to get acquainted with the beautiful Montana country. For more information, go to www.dryheadranch.com.

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts.  Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.” – Mark Twain

About the Author

Marilyn Whelan has worked as a reporter, a district supervisor in a first time youthful offenders program, and President of Shoppers Critique International.  Her want is to die with something remaining on her bucket list, because when something is crossed off, something else is added.

Marilyn currently lives in Clearwater, Florida, where she is Granny to seven, and Great Granny to three. She loves to travel and plays Mah Jongg twice a week.

Evernight Teen Publishing
YA Paranormal Romance, 67k words
Released: August 28

Synopsis

Sophia Destino is supposed to die. 

All seventeen-year-old Sophia wants is to coast through her junior year. But with her parents obsessed with her Olympic-swimming-hopeful brother, a psychic best friend with a penchant for reading tarot cards, and prophetic dreams that predict her death—that won’t be easy. As her nightmares begin to come true, Sophia finds herself dodging death and longing for the time when getting over her ex-boyfriend was her biggest problem. Until she meets Leo Knight. The mysterious stranger seems determined to keep her alive—and steal her heart. But Leo has a secret that is about to change everything and Sophia is about to learn that sometimes…your number is up.

14+ due to adult situations

Evernight Teen   Amazon

Excerpt

What a waste last night was. I would’ve laughed out loud about how tragically ironic it all was if I could have. My lungs started to twinge at the thought of laughing. They wanted to be filled with fresh air.

The finale of my life was playing out before me. I recalled the peaceful feeling from my dream. I was just waiting for it to happen. My lungs were screaming at me to breathe. This was it. Time was almost up and I was waiting for my life to flash before my eyes when movement out of the water caught my attention. Leo was standing on the edge of the pool. He was shirtless and surrounded by the light, making me question if I’d died and gone to heaven.

He dove into the pool an instant later and scooped me up in his arms, obelisk and all, just as he had the night before, then pushed up to the surface of the water in no time flat.

The extra couple hundred pounds of weight I and the obelisk—mostly the obelisk…I think—added did nothing to slow him down. We shot out of the water as if we had the help of a cannon, not just Leo’s legs.

I gasped for air as soon as my face was free of the water. The breath felt so good my lungs craved more and more. I kept inhaling the air as if it were being funneled down my throat.

Leo swam to the side of the pool, using only his legs to keep us afloat. With one hand, he threw the obelisk all the way in the bed of wildflowers and pulled us up out of the water.

We sat on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water and me on his lap, vowing to never again take air for granted and wondering what happened that made my dreams start coming true.

Using his thumbs to push the water out of my eyes, he laced his hands through my soaking wet hair and rested his palms on my cheeks.

“Sophia?” I coughed up some water and he turned my head to the side. “Sophia, are you okay?”

The air was flowing easily in and out of my lungs. They felt calmed; they knew they would be getting air on a regular basis.

“I’m okay.” I coughed one more time, then took another deep breath to clear my reeling mind and tried to speak again. “I’m fine.”

Physically I was fine but mentally I wasn’t. The world I lived in up until this point didn’t consist of anything supernatural or unexplainable happening except the occasional perfect hair day and the beauty of an aquamarine crystal.

Leo stood easily from his seated position with me still in his arms and crushed my chest to his. Of course I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around his bare torso but his skin felt so hot to the touch. Between the freezing cold of my body and the warm temperature of his I felt overwhelmed. Everywhere our bodies came in contact with each other little puffs of visible steam arose.

When we made it to the living room Hercules began lapping up the puddles of water we left behind us. Leo yanked the gray blanket off of the armchair and wrapped it around me because I was suddenly shaking.

He moved a salt stone lamp out of his way and sat on top of the coffee table, motionlessly taking in my expression. Before he even spoke I just knew he was reading me all wrong. I felt like I could read him already too.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sophia,” he groaned.

“For what? My idiotic carelessness or that you saved my life once again? You shouldn’t be sorry about either of those things.”

“I shouldn’t have let that happen. I shouldn’t have been sleeping still. I promised you I’d protect you and look what happened. Do you have any idea how close you were to dying? Even closer than you were last night. If I was just one second later I would’ve been too late.”

“I know. I was there. But you weren’t too late. It’s all over now—I’m fine.” He put his head in his hands and scrunched his hair in his palms. “Leo.” I reached forward and placed my hand on his arm. He was still so hot to the touch. “Why’s your skin so hot again?”

He flinched away from my hand, stood up, folded his arms across his chest and turned his back to me. His reaction made me question my gesture.

“It’ll go away.”

“Yeah but why does it happen at all?”

He hesitated for just a moment before he answered. “Because I keep saving your life.”

“I thought angels are supposed to save lives.”

“I already told you. I’m not an angel. I’m not supposed to save lives.”

Guest Post

Quick and Easy Writing Tips

There are plenty of places on the internet to find writing tips. Some are wonderful, some are confusing, and some are overwhelming so I thought I would put in my two cents. I haven’t been published long but I have been writing for years and these are some of the things that have worked for me.

Tip 1: Get a background noise that works for you. I’ve been known to put on reruns of my favorite show and here’s why. You won’t be as tempted to watch it if it’s something you’ve seen at least seven times already and you can use the show for inspiration. A running gag, a character quirk, a steamy situation can all be used to help you think of your own material. Something else that I think works well is classical music. Put on a certain composer every time you write. It will help you pick up where you left off and put you in the writing frame of mind.

Tip 2: Always write your ideas down when they come to you. Don’t rely on memory. You most likely have to remember at least a thousand different every day and sometimes your writing just has to take a backseat. So, when inspiration hits and you think of a killer idea write it down. I personally like to carry a cute little notebook around with me because it’s more fun but making a note in your phone works well too.

Tip 3: This one was really hard for me but it is really worth it. Let other people read your work. It can be terrifying to let people critique something so personal to you but it is necessary. When I first posted Always Kiss Me Goodnight to Wattpad I considered taking it down every day but if I would’ve it probably wouldn’t be published today. Readers helped me with everything from pointing out typos and inconsistencies to showing me plot holes and out of character reactions. Joining Wattpad is a great way to go but if you aren’t quite reader for that, find a friend who loves to read and ask for an honest opinion.

Tip 4: Okay, this tip might be a bit controversial because it goes against most writing advice but, you don’t have to write every day. I think it’s important to set small realistic goals and stick to them, but don’t force it. I will work on a manuscript every day for two weeks, but then I might take a couple days off. Personally, I think this helps me with writer’s block. If I’m feeling stuck I just walk away for a little and more often than not when I come back to my work I find that I’m refreshed and have plenty ideas.

Tip 5: And lastly, don’t feel like you have to follow anyone’s rules or tips. I realize I just gave you tips but remember they are just my personal opinion. Writing is art and it’s personal. If something works for you stick with it. And, maybe share it with me!

About the Author

Megan Gaudino works in a high school library by day and on her own books by night. Always Kiss Me Goodnight his her debut novel and was first posted on Wattpad where it gained over two million reads. Megan lives in Pittsburgh where you can find her reading, writing, and Instagramming.

Instagram *  Tumblr & WeHearIt * Twitter * Wattpad

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Title: Last Chance Cowboys: The Drifter
Author: Anna Schmidt
Series: Where the Trail Ends, #1
Pubdate: September 1^st, 2015
ISBN: 9781492612964

Synopsis

Caught between a greedy corporation and a desperate love of the land, Maria Porterfield barely has time to mourn her father’s death. If her family is to survive, it’ll be up to her to take charge—but she can’t do it alone. When a mysterious drifter rides into town, the handsome cowboy seems like an answer to her prayers. But Chet isn’t interested in settling down, no matter how tempting the offer…

Chet made his way West looking for a fresh start—the last thing he wants is to get involved in someone else’s fight. But something about Maria awakens a powerful need to protect the fierce beauty at all costs. He never thought he’d find love, but as danger presses in, he may find there’s more beyond the next horizon than just another long and dusty trail.

Amazon * Apple * BAM * B&N * Chapters * Indiebound * Kobo

Guest Post

What’s the most interesting fact or facts you’ve discovered while researching for your books?

Until I started researching the history of the Old West, I was unaware that the cowboy culture portrayed in films and books was relatively short lived. Once barbed wire was invented and the railroads expanded across the country and refrigeration became available, the need for cattle drives across thousands of miles of open range to reach markets came to an end. That detail gave me the frame I needed for my LAST CHANCE COWBOYS series. With book one [THE DRIFTER] the signs are there and by book four the West as Chet and his fellow cowhands know it will be changed forever.

Another research-related detail that inspired the story was my research on Florida cowboys. I have the blessing of spending my winters on the Gulf coast of Florida – an area near the state’s farming and cattle country. The idea that Chet might travel from the torrid jungle like land of Florida to the barren but also blazingly hot territory of Arizona on his way to the promised land of California quickly became the impetus for the story. How would the changes in landscape and cultures change him? How would he remain the same? Similarly as a woman who is now living with the aftermath of my husband’s death—a life I could never have imagined—I decided that Maria would face a life she could never have imagined when her father dies, her brother takes off for city life and she is left to manage—and ultimately save – the ranch her father spent his life building. (The research for her character was often based on my own life experience as a caregiver and widow.)

I have always loved research—finding that unexpected event or detail is indeed a thrill for me. When I was researching my WWII series (THE PEACEMAKERS) the idea for the third and final story that would bring the cast of characters together again was found in a short article I came across about a boatload of refugees that President Roosevelt brought to America toward the end of the war. To this day when I talk about the “safe haven” a thousand European refugees found in Oswego, NY, most people look at me with surprise and say, “I never knew that.”

It is precisely those “I never knew that” moments that inspire me to tell those stories—stories that were the lives of real people—stories with the power to inspire and touch hearts. And similarly when I draw on the research of my own experience or the experiences of others my intent is to perhaps give my readers a moment of “I never thought about it that way” or “I never realized it could be so…” And when a reader writes to say something like “You understood what I have experienced,” that’s when I know I got it right.

About the Author

Award-winning author Anna Schmidt delights in creating stories where her characters must wrestle with the challenges of their times. Critics have consistently praised Schmidt for her ability to seamlessly integrate actual events with her fictional characters to produce strong tales of hope and love in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles. She resides in Wisconsin.

Website * Twitter

Giveaway

Hardback copy of The Drifter.  Open to US residents only

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Escape From the Past: The Duke’s Wrath (YA Historical)

When fifteen-year-old nerd and gamer Max Anderson thinks he’s sneaking a preview of an unpublished video game, he doesn’t realize that 1) He’s been chosen as a beta, an experimental test player. 2) He’s playing the ultimate history game, transporting him into the actual past: anywhere and anytime. And 3) Survival is optional: to return home he must decipher the game’s rules and complete its missions—if he lives long enough. To fail means to stay in the past—forever. Now Max is trapped in medieval Germany, unprepared and clueless. It is 1471 and he quickly learns that being an outcast may cost him his head. Especially after rescuing a beautiful peasant girl from a deadly infection and thus provoking sinister wannabe Duke Ott. Overnight he is dragged into a hornets’ nest of feuding lords who will stop at nothing to bring down the conjuring stranger in their midst.

Amazon * Barnes & Noble * Kobo * The Book Depository

Praise for the Book

“Fast-paced compelling YA debut.” Giselle Green, #1 bestselling author of A Sister’s Gift”

“A wonderfully crafted romp to the time of lords, ladies, and knights.”  Lee Ann Ward, author and former Senior Editor of Champagne Books

“Escape from the Past is chock-full of the tiny details that make a story feel realistic and immersive, from the leather ribbons used to fasten shoes to the slimy gruel that formed the bulk of the peasants’ diet….those who love historical fiction or medieval fantasy will certainly enjoy Escape from the Past.”  Mike Mullin, author of the Ashfall trilogy

Trailer

Excerpt

Chapter 1

It was exactly 9:32 p.m. when I settled into my favorite chair, the one with the ripped Mexican blanket that serves as a cushion. Little did I know I’d be gone within the hour. I mean gone as in disappeared.
Powering up my high-speed Cyber Xtreme and 32-inch monitor, a guilt gift from my dad and the only valuable thing I own, I stared at the blank disc in my hand. According to my friend, Jimmy, it contained some secret new game his father had invented. Jimmy said his dad thought the game was faulty and I wondered why his dad would have given it to him.

Most people consider Jimmy the lucky one. He lives in a mansion because his father runs some ginormous tech company. My mom and me share space with a thousand spiders in a two-bedroom cottage with a thatched roof. Who in the twenty-first century lives in a house covered with a bunch of straw?

Anyway, I digress. The tower purred as it swallowed the disc, the best sound in the world. It took a long time to boot which should’ve given me the first clue something was wrong. If there’s one thing that drives me crazy it’s slow processors and I knew it wasn’t my equipment. I’ve been gaming since I was six and consider myself pretty good. Especially when it comes to debugging stuff. I was stoked to figure it out, maybe make a few bucks in the process. I’m still American enough to think of dollars instead of Euros because we’ve only lived in Germany for two years.

I was scrounging for a candy bar in my desk when a flame shot across the screen, burning yellow, red and blue. Not that I smoke, but it looked real enough to light a cigarette. In slow motion the fire edged letters into the screen. EarthRider. Cool name. Of course I didn’t get it then. Stupid me.

Below the fire appeared a globe, the kind librarians have on their desks. The thing rotated slowly, zooming closer and closer like Google Earth. Jimmy was right, this was the coolest thing I’d ever seen, the graphics as realistic as if I’d been standing there.

Bornhagen, the place we live, was marked with a front door.

Enter here flashed below.

I was pretty fed up waiting, my fingers twitching to hit the keys. First it took ages to load, then it showed a map? But I didn’t have much else to do except review a few algebra problems— unlike Jimmy I’ve got no trouble with math—so I clicked.

On the screen giant boulders shaped themselves into a gate, opening onto a bunch of hills and a shadowy forest. In the distance, high on the mountain, I saw a castle with two towers, a pale banner fluttering limply on top. It looked vaguely familiar, but at the time I didn’t really think much about it. An ox cart moved slowly across a country road toward the castle.

I sniffed. Something reeked like boiled manure. I looked around to find the source when I noticed a man on the screen scurrying along a bumpy trail. He wheezed, dragging his bare feet. He was obviously injured, the filthy rags on his right shoulder dark with blood. The screen zoomed to follow as the man darted into the woods. Giant oaks swallowed the sun, a patchwork of shadows and light in the undergrowth.

At the time I remember thinking how lame this game was despite the graphics—no dragons, no monsters, nothing exciting whatsoever. Besides, I was slightly worried my mom would come in. The whiskey she likes usually puts her to sleep on the couch, but you never know. Luckily, most of the time, she doesn’t know when I pull an all-nighter.

Horse gallop thudded out of nowhere. Visibly trembling the grimy-looking man hesitated for a moment before thrashing his way through bushes and undergrowth. At the edge of the forest three riders in chainmail and helmets came into view, their chestnut horses whinnying and covered in sweat. The clang of metal sliced the air as the men drew swords.

At that moment my cell rang.

About the Author

Annette Oppenlander writes historical fiction for teens. Whenshe isn’t in front of her computer, she loves indulging her dog, Mocha, and traveling around the U.S. and Europe to discover amazing histories.

“Nearly every place holds some kind of secret, something that makes history come alive. When we scrutinize people and places closely, history is no longer a number, it turns into a story.”

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Ends 9/25/15

Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com eGift Card or Paypal Cash. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Kathy from I Am A Reader and sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.

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