Category: book tour

Imposters
pose as our Shadow group, spreading panic and killing innocents
across the lands. These False Shadows wield a magic in its infancy, a
power they call the Skills. There’s great potential to this power,
but a menacing undertone taints those who wield it. Their intentionsare sinister, without purpose, and their morals, questionable.

I
am Kilo, a Shadow of Vaiyene, and I vow to put an end to these False
Shadows. My friends have been killed. My homeland, threatened. These
imposters know our weakness, and they seek to exploit who we are. I
fear before the end, I may forsake the very creed I’ve lived my
life by. Despite this, I must persist and find a way to return peace
to the lands. I will become the strength our people need.

—

My
parents were brave and honorable.

I
am neither of these.

This
is no longer the world my parents knew. Peace is threatened in
Vaiyene and across the lands. The False Shadows have attacked, and
despite our Phantoms reassurance, I am not naïve enough to believe
we are safe.

I
am Shenrae, one of the next generation of Shadows. My comrades doubt
me, as I often doubt myself, but I have no other choice than to
fight. The Phantoms cannot protect us for long. Soon, I will have to
find my place, and my strength, or I will lose everything I have
left.

Shadow’s
Hand is the first book in a heroic epic fantasy, inspired by Japan’s
samurai and their warrior code Bushido. It’s a story about the
makings of a hero and the hero’s sacrifice. If you like characters
with strong morals, fast-paced epic storytelling and exploring
magic’s morality, you’ll love The Shadow’s Creed Saga. Pick up a
copy today and join Kilo and Shenrae on their heart-twisting journey
to restore peace.

 

We
have the opportunities, both as writers and readers, to experience
people who are better than ourselves. Flawed still, but people who go
against all odds, perhaps too great for us in real life to aspire to.
They speak grander, fight against magical forces and live in a place
where imagination and dreams can thrive. This is why I write Fantasy.
Within my characters I find the strength and hope for a better
tomorrow, one that can be more fantastical and beyond reality. It’s
these characters that I wish to write, and these journeys I want to
take my reader’s on.

I’ve been
writing my trilogy, The Shadows Creed Saga, for the past five years.
The original idea came to me back in high school where I had the
support of many of my English teachers to continue writing the book.
However, I realized that in order to write a good book, I needed to
have experienced life more. I needed to lose someone close. I needed
to have my heartbroken. I needed to know what it was like to really
love someone, and what it means to be loved. So, I put my book awayand came back to it eight years later. I feel that I can instill my
life experiences into my characters now and really understand
them.

I now feel I have the
discipline, experience and imagination needed to bring the books to
publication. For now, this is my records to publication and my
writing process. My only wish is to write books that take people on a
journey, and feel that perhaps they have a friend and someone to
aspire to within the pages.

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Excerpt from Chapter 6, The Farewell, Kilo POV
I knelt upon the ground and placed my candle between Zavi and Mia’s swords. Syrane and Shenrae
joined me, placing their own candles in the cracks of the rocks. I covered my eyes with my hand,
digging my fingers against the side of my head.
There will be no replacing them.
I removed my hand and looked at the mark on the back of my hand. The scar as clear as it had
been seventeen years ago. Zavi, Mia, and I, on our first Shadow mission, burned ourselves with the
tip of a blade. It was little more than a triangular imprint, but the mark showed our ties. As long as I
lived, I would carry them with me.
“Did you ever notice the marks on your parents’ hands?” I spoke, my voice steady, meeting
Shenrae, then Syrane’s eyes. “We were about the same age as you when we branded ourselves
with a metal knife.”
I stood up, offering Shenrae my hand and nudging Syrane with my foot. “There’s a place not too
much higher than here. It’s one of the spots I used to go with Zavi and Mia. I need to talk to the two
of you.”
I met Finae’s gaze over Shenrae’s head, and she nodded. I would meet up with her later.
I led Shenrae and Syrane away from those who lingered, circling around the Reikon Tree and
stepping between the swords, lances, pikes, arrows, and axes of my fellow Shadows. Their souls
were at peace now, but their protection remained. It was the unspoken strength of the Shadows.
One never truly was alone.
Leaves fell on my shoulders, and I brushed them off, the fresh air bringing peace to my steps. The
Reikon Trees was a sight in any season, but in winter, giant icicles hung from the branches,
catching the sunlight and casting rainbows across the frozen waters. I’d brought Finae here, many
times, and not just in the wintertime. She had wanted to capture the image on canvas, but I stopped
her. Sometimes the only way to experience something was to make the journey for oneself.
Syrane and Shenrae trailed behind me, their solemn footsteps trudging in the gathered leaves. I
climbed onto a rock outcropping, the Reikon Tree and crystal waters down below. I sat down on the
edge of the rocks and let out a along breath.
“Vaiyene is what your parents fought for and they died to protect it.”
Shenrae and Syrane were old enough to understand a Shadow’s burdens upon their family, but I
needed to do what I could to bring them closure. My heart was still numb from everything that
happened, but warm enough that I did not wish to cause any unnecessary pain or worry for them.
They had not been told why their parents died—or how—or of the reason behind the attacks in
Vaiyene.
I wrestled with the consequences of doing so.
If our places were reversed, I would appreciate the truth. But, they were young, impressionable, and
Syrane did not have control of himself. Anger would give them purpose, but it would destroy them.
The Shadows never sought vengeance. Their parents would not wish for it either.
But knowing Syrane, and his temper, if I do not guide his emotion, it will destroy him, the same as
his father struggled against it.
Syrane and Shenrae waited for me to continue.
They deserved the truth.

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The
subway ad is enticing. One might even consider it elegant as well. A
beautiful woman, sitting atop a desk in a sparsely decorated office,
staring directly at Bobby Fastow, a blue collar worker, on his way to
his monotonous yet physically exhausting job. The photograph has
an unusual charisma, a spectacular presence. It seemingly leaps
off and out of the poster. 

But,
in the world of advertising, nothing is as it seems. What if the line
that separates an advertisement from the real world were erased? What
if an image stepped from an ad and beckoned you to follow it back,
inviting you to melt into its world. Could you resist? Bobby Fastow
couldn’t, and his decision would turn his world upside down.

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Dr. Neviaser is a
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and personalized attention to attendees.

“Get Fit, Eat Fast Food!” read the poster above the subway window.
Bobby had noticed advertisements posted here many times before, but this ad seemed to leap
out of its metal frame and demand his attention. Bobby Fastow had ridden the subway to and
from work for most of his adult life. As a low-to-middle-income, unskilled factory worker with a
wife and two daughters, he had struggled from paycheck to paycheck. Sometimes, he felt there
was something unfair about it all. It didn’t matter if his knees ached, he had a terrible cold, he
felt down and out, or
there was a foot of snow on the ground. No circumstance seemed to warrant a day off because
every dollar earned was a dollar needed for survival.
So, Monday through Friday, he boarded the 6:04 a.m. subway, sat down in whatever seat was
available, nodded his head, and tried to catch as much shuteye as possible. “Shuteye” was
different from sleep. Bobby didn’t always nod off because he was tired, but closing his eyes
meant he could shut out and escape the real world around him and enter another level of
consciousness more of his choosing.
Today, he was going to close his eyes, but there, in front of him, was an advertisement
illustrating a most attractive woman, whose features were conjuring up feelings he’d had only
when younger. He let his overweight body slide forward in his seat, rested the back of his head
on the subway window behind him, and closed his eyes. He imagined this woman sitting across
from him in a bar.
She’s reaching across the table and taking my hand, bringing it to her lips, then lowering my
hand onto her thigh, and leaning slowly forward, puckering her lips.
The emotion from this fantasy was so inviting, almost real. Maybe too unbelievably real for
Bobby Fastow!
Just before her lips touched his, the subway swayed and jarred his eyes open. He knew from
experience that another stop was imminent. Suddenly anxious, Bobby checked the station sign
to be sure he hadn’t missed his stop. He was not sure how long he had been daydreaming.
Noticing he had a few stops remaining, he wiped his damp, shiny forehead, sighed with relief,
and straightened his bulbous body back upright in his seat. He had gone into this make-believe
world too deeply several times over the years and passed by his destination. It wasn’t the
embarrassment, hassle, or frustration of getting back to his exit that bothered him but the
prolonged ribbing he had to endure from his fellow employees for being late. This was what he
really dreaded. He had never
been late in his twenty-plus years of work.
“Get Fit, Eat Fast Food!” What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Bobby let his gaze drift from the headline to the photograph beneath it depicting a young,
strikingly slender woman in her late twenties. She was dressed in a black pantsuit and white
blouse with ruffles around her neck. He noticed her silky nylons but was surprised she had no
shoes on. She was sitting at the end of a long oak conference table with her legs crossed,
Indian-style, her right elbow placed on her knee, her forearm and hand supporting her chin. The
table was not unique and could have
been found in countless board rooms across the country. Bobby gazed at her face: beautiful,
soft, but with minimal makeup. She was looking at the other end of the table at a hamburger and
fries smothered in ketchup. Below the photo were dishes of salad, fruit, and broiled chicken, and
a
message that read:
Fit’n’Fast, Inc.
The Food You Crave Without the Guilt
We will select the finest ingredients with your tastes and health in mind.
We will make your dining choices easier by providing delicious and nutritious choices to suit all
tastes and budgets.
Today, Fit’n’Fast, Inc. is synonymous with the words healthy dining, quality food, and of course,
our fast, personal service. Our ability to deliver unique, quality foods in a time-sensitive, fast,
and casual
environment is unrivaled.
(Formerly BurgerBlast, Inc.)Bobby assumed the model ate the healthy selections rather than the traditional burger and fries.
That certainly seemed to be the obvious message the ad meant to convey; however, Bobby was
amazed that BurgerBlast, Inc., the fast-food takeout restaurant that had hawked greasy burgers,fries doused in sugar, and gaseous sodas for years had now become FitnFast, Inc., a health-
conscious corporation.

In spite of its new name, Bobby knew he would continue to refer to he restaurant as The Greasy
Spoon. He knew it well because he had eaten hundreds of meals at BurgerBlast, Inc., and now
it was copying other restaurants of its type and advertising the hell out of it. He also knew that
hundreds of gullible folks would go to the restaurant to stand in line and soon become captives
of the smell of their greasy burgers and fries and conveniently forget the healthy food.
It has to be a ploy to get them into the joint.
~ ~ ~
The forty-six-minute subway ride was over, and Bobby exited the subway, along with the hordes
of other nine-to-five working stiffs, to enter his private purgatory of work orders, printing presses,
and
drudgery. This was his world, where nothing changed from day to day and everyone watched
the clock until quitting time.
The memory of that young woman on the conference table with no shoes continued to stir his
imagination. As he exited the subway terminal and walked up the concrete steps to the street,
the heat of the day engulfed him.
It’s going to be a hot one today.
As he hustled across the street and into the Page Newspaper Company’s print shop, the image
of the ad and the woman to whom he had been so physically attracted just minutes ago
gradually
disappeared…—but not for long.

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When
a return trip home from a clan meeting ends in a bloodbath, Laird
Caeleb MacLeod begins his search for the clansman who betrayed them.Little does he know he need look no further than his bed.

As
the housekeeper for Laird Caeleb MacLeod, Gwendolyn is in a position
to learn many things important to her master, Malcom Donald, captain
to the Donald laird. Now she must choose between destroying the man
she loves and saving the sister being held hostage by
Malcolm.

PREVIOUSLY
PUBLISHED AS TREASURES OF SKYE

Foryears, master thief Helena Donald has lived at Glenwood Abbey and
submitted to Malcolm Donald’s bidding. Desperate to break free of
his control, Helena agrees to steal the MacLeod Faire Flag for
Malcolm for she intends to sell the flag and start a new life far
from Malcom. When Helena is caught in a blizzard, she prefers to die
in the cold wasteland rather than return to the abbey.

Betrothed
to Lady Allison, the granddaughter of the dying MacKenzie laird,
Jacob MacKinnon stands ready to do his duty and unite their twoclans. But enemies watch, and plan to prevent the uniting of those
two powers.

Linnae
Donald is a lowly serving girl. How is she supposed to tell Laird
MacKenzie that the granddaughter he’s mistaken her for died when
their carriage was attacked?

She
can’t break a dying man’s heart. Neither can she do what Jacob
MacKinnon asks and help him prevent a war by pretending to be Lady
Alison…and marrying him.

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Deceptions Excerpt

Linnae kept her attention on the scenery passing outside the carriage and pretended not to
notice the other two maids’ giggles.
“Cook said that Jacob MacKinnon can make a lass swoon simply by looking at her,” the
younger maid, Rebecca, said.
Lady Alison shifted on the carriage seat beside Linnae. “Perhaps it is true,” her mistress
said. “Such a man would only marry a beautiful woman.”
Linnae hid a smile. Lady Alison referred to herself, of course—and failed to add that her
grandfather, Laird MacKenzie, had betrothed her to Laird MacKinnon in order to bind the
MacKenzie and MacKinnon clans. Lady Alison could have been horse-faced and Laird
MacKinnon would have married her. Lady Alison, however, was not horse-faced. No doubt,
Laird MacKinnon would be more than pleased to have the flaxen-haired beauty as his bride,
even if she was only fifteen.
“I believe Linnae is laughing at me,” Lady Alison said.
Linnae looked at her and said in an innocent voice, “Nae, my lady, I would never do that.”
Lady Alison arched a haughty brow. “Do you know the penalty for laughing at your
mistress?”
Linnae dropped her gaze. “A lashing.”
“A tongue lashing, ye saucy maid.” Alison bumped Linnae’s shoulder with her own.
Linnae looked up and widened her eyes. “And you are very good at dosing out tongue
lashings, my lady.”
Lady Alison grinned. Linnae didn’t miss the roll of Rebecca’s eyes and Dina’s answering
look, but didn’t care. They were simply jealous of the friendship that had sprung up between
Linnae and her mistress. No one was more surprised than Linnae that the spoiled noblewoman
had taken to her with such force. After nearly two years of Linnae’s service, Alison rarely went
anywhere without Linnae.
When Lady Alison had received the message from her brother David that their grandfather
had betrothed her to Jacob MacKinnon, her one condition of acceptance was that Linnae go
with her. He’d sent Dina and Rebecca, as well, for David MacKenzie wouldn’t have it said that
he’d sent his sister to marry the MacKinnon laird without at least three maids in attendance. Of
course, he didn’t accompany them, just as he hadn’t been home for more than a few weeks
during the last two years.
“ ‘Tis warm for that cloak you’re wearing, do ye not think, Linnae?” Dina said.
Before Linnae could answer, Lady Alison said, “Hold your tongue, Dina. Ye are just jealous
because I gave the dress and cloak to Linnae.”
Dina’s eyes widened.
Alison tossed her head. “I might decide to send ye back to my brother’s home.”
Tears filled Dina’s eyes.
Alison rolled her eyes. “Good heavens, do no’ cry. ‘Tis your own fault for being cruel to
Linnae.”
“She wasnae really cruel,” Linnae said gently. “And she is right. The carriage is warm. But I
admit, I like the brush of fine cloth against my arms.”
Alison’s eyes narrowed and Linnae feared she had miscalculated. Alison was loyal to a
fault, but that fault often came in the form of a childish demand to be obeyed. She might insist
Dina had been cruel and deserved punishment.
Dina stared at her hands clasped in her lap and said in a small voice, “The rich purple of the
dress does flatter your hair, Linnae.”
“Just as I knew it would,” Alison said. “Linnae and I have the same fair hair.”
Dina looked up, eyes wide, but said nothing.
“I saw Laird MacKinnon once,” Rebecca said, in an obvious attempt to divert Alison’s
attention. “He is perfect.”Linnae sighed. More talk of Jacob MacKinnon wasn’t wise, at this point.
“He can break a tree in half with his bare hands,” Rebecca went on.
Linnae snorted. She knew nothing of the man save the gossip that had swept through the
castle when word of the betrothal had reached them a month ago—and would wager neither did
Rebecca. It was irrational to believe that a man—or a beast, for that matter—could break a tree
in half with his bare hands or make a woman swoon at the sight of him. If such a man existed,
he wouldn’t live among mortals. As long as a man had a good name and a good family, an
honest woman needed nothing more. Lady Alison should be so fortunate to marry such an
esteemed laird.
Rebecca giggled. “Ye are very fortunate, mistress.”
Alison’s fingers groped for Linnae’s on the seat beside her. Linnae grasped Alison’s hand
and gently squeezed. True to her station in life, Lady Alison was a maiden. Her apprehension
about arriving at her grandfather’s home to immediately marry and be bedded by a man she
hadn’t seen since she was six years old had grown into an anxiety that had kept her awake the
last two nights.
Linnae once again turned her attention out the window and Lady Alison rested her head on
Linnae’s shoulder. Their carriage curved along a steep incline and Linnae peered out the
window into a deep ravine. Patches of bluebells, primroses and hyacinths colored the
landscape.
Linnae’s stomach churned. Her own anxiety had grown along with Lady Alison’s.
After the wedding, Jacob MacKinnon would take Lady Alison away from Eilean Donan Castle to
his home on Skye. Linnae hadn’t been on Skye since she ran away from Glenwood Abbey two
and a half years ago. In truth, she hadn’t planned on ever returning. Dunakin Castle, seat of the
MacKinnon clan, commanded the strait of Kyle Akin between Skye and the mainland. From the
tower, she would be able to see the loch and hills as far as the eye could reach. That would be
as far into Skye as she dared venture for—
A deafening cry drowned out her thoughts, causing Linnae to jolt in her seat. The carriage
listed to the right and the other three women slammed against Linnae’s side of the coach. One
woman crashed into her. Linnae’s head struck the side of the carriage and dull pain throbbed.
The vehicle righted and the women scrambled back into their seats.
“Holy God, what happened?” Lady Alison demanded as she leaned toward the window.
Linnae reached for her. “Nae! My lady,” she cried, but her warning came too late. The
carriage began to tip.
The other women screamed and slid against the wall again. The carriage crashed onto its
side—then began to tumble. Linnae’s head slammed the cushion, then she was thrown against
Lady Alison. Her ladyship flailed. They struck the front of the carriage as it came to a grinding
halt. And silence.
Her head pounded. Linnae raised her hand to her head and drew a breath at the pain. Her
heart thrummed in her ears. What had happened?
Angry male shouts mingled with the clash of steel. She tried to concentrate on the noise, but
it seemed to come from a distance. Linnae grasped the door handle and dragged herself to a
sitting position. Her head spun. She squinted in an effort to discern her surroundings. The
interior of the carriage swam into blurry focus. Two of the women—one Lady Alison—lay
motionless beside her. Linnae groped for a pulse at Lady Alison’s neck. Tears pressed against
the backs of her eyes when she detected no heartbeat.
“Ye cannae be dead, my lady,” she said through tears. “Wake up.” But the young woman
remained motionless.
Linnae brushed Lady Alison’s hair from her face and searched for any signs of life in the
eyes that stared up at her. This wasn’t possible. Her mistress couldn’t be dead. Tears streamed
down her face, but she forced herself to examine the other two women. Dina lay with her neck
at an odd angle. Linnae wasn’t surprised when she felt no pulse in Dina’s neck, but her stomach
churned and she forced back tears as she felt for a pulse on the young Rebecca’s neck. She,
too, was dead. Linnae rose and realized she stood on the roof of the carriage. She edged past
her mistress to the door and shoved it open, nearly falling out. She caught herself and
straightened. She gasped at sight of the carriage walls crushed inward like paper.
Shouts yanked her from the shock. She stumbled around the side of the carriage, then
stopped. The horses lay in a tangle of leather and harness. Shouts yanked her attention upwhere a dozen men fought atop the hill. Her eyes tracked the skid marks the carriage had
carved from the top of the hill to the steep ravine. Sweet heaven, how had she survived?
Two men dismounted their horses and began scanning the ravine. She ducked behind the
carriage, then stilled for three heartbeats until her head cleared. Carefully, she peered around
the edge. Her heart beat wildly. The men had started down the hill.
Her mind muddled. What was she to do? She thought of her female companions—and Lady
Alison’s bag, which carried her mother’s ruby necklace and the gold band she was to give Laird
MacKinnon when they married. Linnae forced back tears and sent up a quick prayer for the
women’s souls, then quickly retrieved Lady Alison’s satchel. She pressed a kiss to Alison’s
forehead, then climbed out of the carriage. With trembling fingers, she felt for the knife sheathed
and strapped to her belt and nearly burst into tears when she found it hadn’t fallen out during
the accident. With a prayer that she wouldn’t have to use it, she stumbled toward the trees.
Keeping out of sight of the road, she stayed inside the tree line and continued away from
the clang of steel-upon-steel. Sounds of the fighting waned, and the thunderous pounding of
horses’ hooves racing along the high road above drew nearer.
The trees began to thin and she reached a stone arch bridge that crossed a creek. She
started across then froze at the sound of riders approaching. Cloak gripped tightly about her,
she scurried down the incline and under the arch. Her heartbeat matched the thunder of hooves
as they galloped past. Loose dirt fell like rain into the rapid waters below. With trembling hands,
she clung to the cloak until quiet reigned.
Fear cramped her stomach, but she picked her way back up the incline and ran across the
bridge. Night would soon be upon her and sleeping in the woods without food or protection
wasn’t a fate she wished to consider.
“This way!” a man shouted.
Linnae whirled. Three men trekked through the brush toward her. How had they found her?
She caught sight of her small footprints in the moist ground.
Oh, sweet Heavens!
Linnae whirled and barreled into a broad expanse of plaid. She leapt back and jerked her
gaze up to the face of a tall man with stormy blue eyes and shoulder-length brown hair. She
froze. Bootfalls sounded behind her. Linnae clutched the satchel close to her breast. Three
other giant brutes came into view.
The first man eyed her like a wolf about to attack. Linnae broke eye contact as the others
circled her.
She yanked the knife from the sheath strapped to her belt. “Take another step closer and I
will kill ye.” The trembling inside her stomach began to work its way through her body and she
prayed her hand wouldn’t betray her terror.
“Ye need no’ fear us, lass,” the first said.
The concern in his voice surprised her. She stared.
“I am Laird Jacob MacKinnon. My men and I were expecting you this morning. When ye did
no’ arrive, we began searching for you. I am only sorry we arrived too late.”
Laird MacKinnon? Lady Alison’s betrothed. Memory flashed of the women’s description of
him, tall, muscular and handsome. Lady Alison would never see him for herself.
Tears sprang to her eyes and she dropped the hand gripping the knife to her side. “The
carriage went off the cliff. The others—” She broke off.
“We saw the others, my lady,” he said in a soft voice. “I am sorry.”
A lump formed in her throat.
“We must go,” he said.
She slid the knife into its sheathe, then remembered the men. “I saw men fighting on the
hill.”
His mouth thinned. “Aye. We chased the curs. They attacked your party.”
“Attacked us? Why?”
“I dinnae know, but we will find out soon enough. Come, we will escort ye home. Our horses
are just over the hill.” He winged an am arm toward her.
Linnae slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. He covered her fingers with his large
warm hand and squeezed. She clutched close the satchel and was grateful for the warmth of his
hand on hers as they tramped through the woods. Linnae hurried to keep up with his long
strides until they reached the top of the hill. Half a dozen other men waited with their horses.

“Let me take your satchel, lass.”
Before she could respond, he took the satchel and hung it from the pommel, then grasped
her waist and hoisted her onto the horse’s rump. He mounted in front of her and clicked his
tongue. The horse lurched into motion. Linnae threw her arms around his waist, cheek pressed
against his back, and hugged him tight in order to keep from slipping off. The scent of musk and
burnt wood filled her nostrils. His stomach muscles flexed beneath her fingers.
This man would have soothed Lady Alison’s fears. Memory of Alison’s motionless body
brought tears. Silently, Linnae gave into her sorrow and cried into Laird MacKinnon’s plaid.

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She shook her head, a look of pure disgust now reflected in her eyes. “Tanner,
Tanner, Tanner, don’t play that card with me. History is witness to the truth and you
know it too.”
“What truth?”
“Men make war, not women. Men build war machines and weapons of mass
destruction, not women. Men walk into schools and shoot kids up, not women. Men
run the streets in gangs, killing and raping and pillaging – women don’t do that. Men
run human trafficking rings, not women. Men kill. Men murder. Men rape. In fact,
statistics across the world showed that men committed most of the brutal crimes
throughout history – that’s indisputable fact.” She paused, her eyes now seething with
a passion that betrayed some hidden pool of hatred.
“Do you recall any infamous NAZI figures who were women? Do you
remember the names of any women who were shooting Jews in the back of the head or
committing atrocities during the Holocaust? Name one woman that started and
engaged a pogrom to wipe out a whole race of people?” She shook her head at him.
“You can’t, can you? Because the infamous characters who screwed up the world were
men, and while some women may have played a role in coaching them, or pandering to
their power, or spreading their legs for them, they didn’t officiate the tragedies.”
She turned and walked to the far wall and then, leaning against it, folded her
arms across her chest with a look of imperious authority on her face. “Men very nearly
put us on the path of World War III, a war that would have destroyed the world.” She
points a finger at him. “A handful of nuclear weapons caused that much destruction, so
imagine what would have happened if Russia, China and the others had joined the
party?”
“That’s conjecture.”
“Is it?” She approached. “We found transcripts, in the wake of the Cataclysm,
as men were off dying by the millions and could no longer protect their secrets from
public knowledge, both in the Pentagon and their equivalents in Russia, China and
elsewhere, showing that their leaders were preparing for nuclear war. You think they
gave a shit if millions or billions died, Tanner?” She shook her head. “They didn’t;
because they knew they would survive it, and in the end, the minority, the rich, the
entitled, the bankers and corporate moguls, the oligarchies that ruled the world, would
swoop in and scoop up the property and the broken nations, just like they did in World
War II, and start over again, only more powerful than before.”
She lingered with a wag of her head. “You just don’t get it, do you, Tanner.
Why build tens of thousands of nuclear weapons if you’re not going to use them
eventually? The Cold War wasn’t just a stand-off between global powers, held at bayby nuclear bombs, it was just foreplay for the inevitable theater, the day when some
stupid fuck would press the little red button. And, unfortunately, the timing was right,
we had two stupid-fucks in power at the same time.”

Followthe tour HEREfor exclusive excerpts and a giveaway!

 

Everybody
loves unicorns! OK maybe they don’t but for those who do, they will
love this story about a little unicorn who was born into a tribe of
magical, metal horned unicorns. The little guy has no magic and he
has no metal but somehow he must save the tribe from an evil
sorcerer. Read the book to find out if he can do it.

Well,
things were pretty bad in the land of MarBryn. Magh, an evil sorcerer
utilized unicorn horns and hooves to create his magical potions and
spells. Those he used, to increase his power and to conquer everyone
in his path. All of the unicorns from the Tribe of the Metal Horn
were now gone . . . except for twelve survivors.

Before
the blue unicorn was born, Numen told Alumna, the aluminum-horned
oracle, that he had a plan to bring the tribe back home to Unimaise.
His prophecy was, “Only the blue unicorn can join with the
Moon-Star. Until then, no new unicorns will be born.” Blue was the
last unicorn born. Twenty years later, his horn was still covered
with a plain blue colored hide. There was not a glint of metal to be
seen on it or his hooves. And he still didn’t have any magic. But
he was no longer scrawny and he had his wits. Though no one else in
the tribe thought he had a chance, Blue felt ready to make Magh pay
for his evil deeds. And he went off to do it alone. That was Blue’s
first mistake. If the entire tribe was not standing horn-tip to
horn-tip at the proper time and the exact place to help usher the
Moon-Star Spirit into Blue’s horn, he would die. Then, the rest of
the tribe would really be doomed.

Readers
will follow along two journey paths in this book. Blue is joined in
his travels by his mentor Gaiso, the Stag and his friend, Girasol the
Firebird as they try to find their way across a danger-filled MarBryn
to Muzika Woods. The rest of Blue’s tribe is forced to follow
another route due to Nix Nickle Horn’s unfortunate incident with a
Manticore. Nix, the great unicorn defender must safely lead the way
for Ghel, the Golden-Horned unicorn; Silubhra Silver Horn; Cornum the
Brass-Horned unicorn; Steel Horned Style; Cuprum the Copper-Horned
unicorn; Tin-Horned Tinam; Dr. Zinko; Iown the Iron-Horned unicorn
and the others in an action packed adventure to their destination in
Muzika Woods. Both journey paths converge there in the NebuliumCircle.

This
ebook, for teens and older readers, will introduce you to the Read
and Color black and white version of The Blue Unicorn’s Journey To
Osm Illustrated book. If you love to read and you love to color, this
is the book for you. Read a chapter, then color the fanciful pictures
yourself in this fully-illustrated black and white version of “The
Blue Unicorn’s Journey To Osm”.

This
book, written by Sybrina Durant and illustrated by Dasguptarts,
offers readers a

visual
feast of over forty beautiful water-color pictures that each span two
pages. Forty-two – easy to digest two-page chapters are chock full of
adventurous and entertaining morsels. If you love to read and you
love to color, this is the book for you. Read a chapter, then color
the fanciful pictures yourself in this fully-illustrated black and
white version of “The Blue Unicorn’s Journey To Osm”. This
illustrated book will become a favorite of teen and older fantasy
readers.  A companion coloring/ character description book is
also available at any online bookstore.

Goodreads* Amazon

I’m
Sybrina. . .. . .Just one of millions of wannabe
author/singer/songwriters out there but I hope, after reading or
hearing my books and songs, you’ll think my contributions to the
world have as much value as any other famous artist out there
today.

Fame
is all in being in the right place at the right time but at least
with the internet and venues like this, all of us have opportunities
to share our creativity with the world. I’m so happy that I am able
to share my works with you. That is awesome!

The
books I’ve written span a wide range between illustrated picture
books, coloring books and YA novels to technical and how-to books.

Enjoy!

Website* Facebook

* Twitter *
Pinterest
* Amazon
* Goodreads

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