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KYLE
I gathered the reins on Grifter, my majestic black gelding and scanned the
horizon one last time before turning toward home. I hoped I’d done enough to prevent
the feral cats and foxes from taking down any more of the cattle. Electrifying the
boundary fence had been costly and time consuming but, I couldn’t keep Dufus in the
barn for the rest of his days and couldn’t risk losing my prized bull. The randy bull
produced high quality calves which sold for a small fortune and it was what kept us
making good money rather than just scraping by.
I galloped my mount across the open paddocks and felt the strength between my
thighs as his muscles rippled and flexed. The horse’s strides were lengthy, he loved to
gallop flat out and he ate up the ground in no time. When I slowed to approach the barn,
I noticed my foreman, Wendy, talking with someone. Someone who caused my groin to
tighten and heart to beat faster. Even with his back to me, I knew who the curly blonde
locks belonged to.
His shoulders were much broader than the last time I’d seen him, his hair longer
and it lifted in the slight breeze. The jeans he wore were molded over one helluva sexy
ass.
Wendy waved when she saw me approach and the man spun around to face me.
My heart missed a few beats when he smiled, pressure mounted behind the zipper of
the jeans as my cock thickened with interest.
“Luke Kelly.” I barely whispered the words. It had been fifteen years since I’d last
seen the man who’d haunted my dreams for more than half of my life. He’d gone off to
university in the big smoke to study law and his family had moved away shortly after.
I’d assumed Luke would be working in his father’s legal practice in Brisbane. So, what
was he doing here? It wasn’t as if we’d ever been friends.
Wendy took the reins I held out and I dismounted. Luke took two long strides
toward me, his hand outstretched. I knew it was a mistake the moment our fingers
touched. A shudder cannoned through me and I fought to keep my composure as we
shook.
“Kyle Walker, been a long time.”
“Luke Kelly. It has been a long time. I guess you’re working with your father,
how’s the legal business going? What brings you back here to Clearlea?” More
specifically, my ranch.
“Didn’t much like the business of being a lawyer so I joined the police force,
worked out of the Gold Coast. I tired of being in the city though, missed being here in the
country. I got a promotion to Detective Senior Sargent and requested a transfer here to
take charge of your town.”
“Congratulations, but why my place?”
“I heard your dad left the property to you and wanted to come by and say hi. I
know we weren’t friends or anything in school but, I always admired your ability to
ignore those around you and get on with what you wanted to do.”
“It wasn’t hard to melt into the background when you’re a country geek
surrounded by football studs and cheerleaders.”
“We never purposely ignored you, we….”
I waved my hand in the air. “Long time ago, Luke, water under the bridge. You
still haven’t answered me though, I find it hard to believe you only came out here to say
hello. Was there something you needed?” Me? Please say me. Get your fucking head on
the right way, Walker. Football Player. Cop. Straight!
I caught the glance he shot in Wendy’s direction and it hit me. Straight guy
remember and Wendy is one gorgeous woman. One very single, straight, gorgeous
woman.
“Oh, sorry, you’re here to see Wendy, I’ll leave you to it.”
I stepped away but was stopped in my tracks when Luke’s large hand gripped
the top of my arm.
“No, it’s you I need to speak with. I kind of need a favor.”
New San Francisco is the last city standing on a world ravaged by storms
of ash and debris. The city survived by putting the ideals of the
American dream on steroids and inspiring its people to persevere,
though they have become ruthless in the process. Its citizens are
ruled by the General, who has made sure that his people understand
that gentleness and pity have become weaknesses that nature no longer
tolerates.
Now Steve and Leslie
must choose whether they will apply for the
General’s once in a lifetime opportunity to “Rise from the Ashes”
and join the Inner Circle that rules the city. If they don’t, they
will be damned to spend the rest of their lives in the ghettos of
Edingburg, a place where virtual reality has become a
government-subsidized addiction.
For Steve, the choice is easy. His
loyalties lie with the IRA, a
revolutionary army led by a voice only known as “Mom.” They are
trying to overthrow the General and free the people of New San
Francisco from the cruelties of the City Guard. Steve’s mission is
to broadcast a recording of a speech that a famous philosopher died
to tell. Many thousands have and will perish to get this message out,
but is anyone willing to listen?
Bob Collopy was raised on southern values. A world of rigidity and blind
faith. He was then moved to Sedona. A near cultlike world,
grown from 1960’s flower children. He was then moved
to Scottsdale. A world of extreme wealth and vice. He then went tocollege and joined a
fraternityso notorious it was on national and world news multiple times.
Due to these shifts, Bob always found himself the the semilucid observer;
constantly confused and adjusting to new and opposing sets of norms few cultures
would ever call normal or even acceptable.
The city Bob has created is a blending of these intense and opposingcultures and the people
The Thesis that begins in Alcatraz
Sometimes, to write a good book…you have to go to prison.
Wearing a suit to Alcatraz…apparently some people are caught off guard by such a maneuver.
As I stood sandwiched between the corroded metal bars that seal close the notorious 5 by 9
cells of Alcatraz, I was pummeled by unsure looks from my fellow Alcatraz enthusiasts. They all
stared at me, as if alarmed, by my unfitting apparel.
Apparently, there was a meeting regarding the appropriate apparel at Alcatraz…I guess I never
got the memo. In place of a suit they opted for cheap fuzzy headphones. The wires for these
personal boomboxes wiggled down their fronts, creating a cacophonous knot, but somehow the
strings reorganized themselves just as they reached the plug ins of the the 1980’s box
recorder. They wore an array of sweat shirts, most of which serving to proclaim their love for a
particular city (Usually San Francisco). They even wore accessories such as baseball caps and
would even tote their practically packed fanny packs. All those articles put together made a
very clear and cohesive uniform…evidently, I was not following protocol and deserved to be on
the other side of one of the rowed metal bars.
The real reason for my venture to Alcatraz is because of my book, The Phoenix Cycle. The
Phoenix Cycle is set in San Francisco sometime in the future. There is a new government
where San Francisco stands alone as a city state, ruled by The General. In The Phoenix Cycle,
Alcatraz has been reopened as a place to jail philosophers who have views which oppose The
General’s. But Alcatraz has been secretly taken over, and now the philosophers are heading a
rebellion against The General.
So instead of being the last stop for America’s worst criminals, Alcatraz is now the jumping off
point; towards a brave new world.
Follow the tour HERE
for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!
Slated for
execution, shapeshifting assassin, Dahlia Nite, flees her world
to hide in the human realm. As payment for the shelter they
unknowingly provide, Dahlia dedicates herself to protecting humans
from what truly lives in the shadows. Moving from town to town, she
hunts the creatures that threaten an unsuspecting human race; burying
the truth that could destroy them all.
But the shadows are shifting. The lies are adding up. And when Sentinel
City is threatened by a series of bizarre brutal murders, light is
shed on what should never be seen. The secrets that have kept
humanity in the dark for centuries are in danger of being exposed.
Wrestling with a lifetime of her own deceptions, Dahlia investigates the
killings while simultaneously working to conceal their circumstances.
But with each new murder, the little bit of peace she has found in
this world begins to crumble. Each new clue leads her to the one
place she thought to never go again. Home.
If anyone
can tell the difference between monsters and humans, it’s
Dahlia Nite. For nearly a century, she’s hunted one to protect the
other; safeguarding humanity from the creatures that slip through the
torn veil between the worlds—creatures like her. But the lines are
blurring. As people begin mutating and combusting on the streets,
Dahlia realizes a strange affliction has descended upon Sentinel
City. The mysterious ailment strikes all walks of life, from the
posh, high-end nightclub district to the homeless community. Its
victims, driven to random acts of savagery, are drawing attention too
fast to cover up.
Assigned to the case, Dahlia and her human partner, Detective Alex
Creed,
investigate the deaths. But all they have are questions and bodies,
and a public on the verge of panic. Working behind the scenes with
her self-appointed sidekick, Casey Evans, Dahlia struggles to
discover what, or who, is behind the alarming transformations. As the
violence spreads and the mystery unfolds, she wonders: are the
victims still human? Were they ever?
Born in a
small Kansas town on the Missouri river, C.L. Schneider grew up
in a house of avid readers and overflowing bookshelves. Her first
full-length novel took shape while she was still in high school, on a
typewriter in her parent’s living room. While her main focus is adult
epic and urban fantasy, she also pens the occasional science fiction
or post-apocalyptic story.
Though she has been writing all of her life, Magic-Price (the first
installment in The Crown of Stones Trilogy) was Schneider’s first
published novel. With the trilogy complete, she is excited to be
embarking on a new path with her urban fantasy series, Nite Fire.
I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be afraid. I’d outgrown the nightmares of my
youth long ago. Burying the events that sparked them, locking away the images, I’d dismissed
the power they held over me. But I still remembered…
Waking in my dark den, throat raw, fire spitting from my fingertips; in those first few
moments before sleep released me from its clutches, I’d sworn the creatures’ hot breath was still
on me, their barbed tongues darting out, smelling my fear on the air. In every shadow, I saw the
black blur of their shifted forms, circling me. Every heartbeat bore the promise of pain as the
razor-like teeth of the savage nageun shredded the meat from my bones. Every night, I waited for
the creatures’ bites to penetrate, for their venom to flow in and my blood to spill out.
Those moments were far behind me. The nightmares were gone. Experience had made
me stronger and wiser. Determination and training had pushed my fear of their slender, stunted
reptilian forms to the depths of my mind.
Now they were crawling out.
They were stepping from my past.
The dark swarm was closing in, and the nageun’s pursuit of me was as real as the cold
fear burning in my veins; twisting like a frozen blade with each pump of my legs as I ran.
Shifting out of my human form, crimson scales erupted to spread beneath the malleable
confines of my uniform, covering breasts, stomach, thighs, and back. Muscles increased in size
as my slender nose widened. Rounded jaw hardened. Cheekbones and forehead became more
distinct as my full lips darkened. I dropped to all fours, back arched slightly, and the forest floor
sunk beneath my weight. Claw tips extended, digging in, releasing the aroma of damp soil and
moldy undergrowth. With a rustle of leaves, I pushed off.
Night birds scattered in haste at my swift trespass. Woodland creatures stirred and
scurried. My unmistakable smell, an arousing amalgam of human female and dragon, had them
skittish as I dove headlong into the clog of downed boughs and scrub. My agile hybrid form
slipped through the labyrinth of timber with minimal effort. Arcs of fire crackled off the ends of
my hair as it fluttered out behind me.
I was too conspicuous. I needed to blend.
Without breaking stride, I shifted the strands and their composition changed. From scalp
to ends, human hair emerged, and doused the visible fiery heat wafting off the lengthy red
waves. It wasn’t camouflage even close to what my pursuers were capable of creating. Their
ability to shift into shadow, nearly erasing the edges of their bodies—little more than whip-like
tails, long flat jaws, and serrated teeth to begin with—was one of the creatures’ greatest
weapons.
It wasn’t easy to kill my kind. Death by nageun was a long, tortuous mutilation there was
no coming back from. Picturing it, I tore deeper into the forest.
I tried to run and not think. But my mind was spinning, desperately seeking to
understand, to conceive how a normal assignment on a normal day had landed me on the wrong
end of an execution. With a single hesitation, my hopes, my future—my life—was over. The
Guild was all I’d ever known. They’d plucked me from my den-mates, sheltered, fed, and trained
me; promoted me to the coveted role of Executioner. They’d shown me the rewards of a life in
service to our dragon elders. Dahlia Nite was a name respected in the ranks. I was known to all
the tribes, decorated for fealty and bravery. Now, all had turned against me.
I carried the order through. I did as I was told. I’d just needed more time.
If the child hadn’t been there, if I hadn’t…
What? I thought bitterly. I still didn’t know what happened. Only that her emotions had
been strong beyond explanation. They’d been tangible, slithering over and in me, affecting me in
an impossible way. I hadn’t been merely sympathetic to the human child’s terror. Her panic had
brought me to my knees. I’d felt the violence of the moment, the violence I’d been sent to inflict,
in a way I never had: as a victim. I’d seen it, growing around her ankles like a black wet fog.
Stunned, I’d lost hold of my fire and faltered. Pausing, even just a moment, had created a
memory; a record of my uncertainty, and, therefore, a death sentence.
In a society where not even our thoughts were private, no mistake was overlooked. No
performance could be embellished or hidden. Our mission reports, our kills, were pulled straight
from our minds by the highest authority: Naalish, the Exalted One; mother of all firedrakes and
Queen of the Elder Dragon Tribes of Drimera.
Telepathy was common in female elders, but Naalish was said to possess a superior mind.
It was also rumored she’d ripped the heart from her predecessor and ate it, consuming her soul to
gain her power. I’d never believed it. Naalish was the most beautiful and majestic of all the
dragons. Even hours ago, standing before her wrapped in chains, I’d been in awe of her presence.
Deference and pride had kept me silent as she ordered my execution. I hadn’t even thought to
plead for mercy. I was better than that. I was a hybrid, a shifter, a lyrriken. The product of a
human female and an elder male in human form, both human and dragon existed within me. It
was by the grace of the elders alone that I lived. They had every right to judge and punish me.
It didn’t matter that I’d gone before the Queen confused, that I’d needed help and she’d
called for my arrest. Mercy was a not a common dragon trait, and I would never have shamed
either of us by begging. I took her condemnation with my head held high.
It was after when my outlook changed. After, as I sat in my cell, with the blood of that
human child drying on my hands, as I dissected my actions and tried to comprehend—I watched
the walls go inexplicably fluid and gray. And I saw her. I saw it all again: the clearing where her
home sat, the woods surrounding it, the charred body of her headless father on the ground.
Stretching out like a hand from the grave, the child’s terror, stronger than anything I’d felt
before, had gripped me anew. It dominated everything. My status, my honor, my duty to die as
commanded, had no value. My squad, not even my lover mattered. Suddenly and inexplicably, I
cared for one thing.
Survival.
No one had challenged my escape. They had no reason to expect such a bold move. Even
facing execution, no Guild-trained lyrriken would dare defy the Queen. We would stay and take
the death that was given us.
Yet something had crawled inside me that didn’t want to die.
Something that wanted to live more than it wanted to obey.
Now the coin had flipped, and I was the target. I was the one striving to outrun the
oncoming death on my heels, clinging to life even knowing the odds of surviving. Fleeing was
foolish. My impulse to do so was puzzling, but I couldn’t stop. Even now, with my cell in the
depths of the Citadel far behind me, with the lights from the City of Spires dim in the distance,
the sounds of the child’s scream rang as strong as the wind in my ears.
I’d left her alive too long. Her noise had brought the nageun out of the forest. My
hesitation, my compromised aim when I recovered, had left her not quite dead when the horde
descended. She’d watched them swarming. Felt their teeth puncture and tear. I’d backed quietly
away, out of their view, listening to the foul crescendo of the cracking of bones and the slurping
of organs as soft human bodies were reduced to strips of meat and puddles of viscous matter.
They were to die, anyway. It had been my duty to kill them.
But not like that.
I’d botched the entire job, and I still couldn’t fathom how. How could one little human
melt away my years of training, one mistake label me weak and untrustworthy?
Now, in fleeing, I’d earned another brand. Traitor.
Jonathan
is getting ready to start 6th grade, but without his best friend. The
issues of growing up are about to become all too real for him,
especially with bullying and labels and all the other pressure that
comes along with growing up. He’s hoping his close relationship with
his brothers, his love for treehouses and his passion for comics will
be enough to pull him through the rough patches, but will it?
I
was born in Colorado Springs, CO as an Army Brat. I have lived all
across this country but unfortunately I don’t remember most of it
(hate that). What I do remember is growing up in Detroit and Highland
Park, Michigan, playing in my grandmother’s basement that was filled
with books my family bought for me and my sister, pretending to be a
singer, a news anchorwoman, and a writer. Of these, reading and
writing stuck.
When
I was still very young I moved to Arkansas with my father and sister
and have thus lived here for most of my life. I graduated from
Jacksonville High in Jacksonville, AR. I got my BBA from Philander
Smith College and my MSM from Kaplan Online University. And I have
spent the last 10 years working for the State of Arkansas. Yet all I
really wanted to do was have reasons to read and write. But not only
did I want to write, I wanted to share my writing with the world.
I
have not been more proud of a completed goal as I am of being able to
share #MeBeingMe with you. This story is inspired by my oldest son
(and my own) experiences with challenges, change, and middle school
(sometimes it really does suck).
I
still live in Arkansas with my three sons and our dog, Barker. I am
still finding every available minute to read, write, and share it
with the world.
“What did I do?”
“Are you kidding me? You stood me up,” I started to really get mad.
“I didn’t stand you up!”
“Oh sorry, right. You lied to me about what you were doing and went and saw the movie
that we were supposed to see together with a bunch of douches from your school.”
“Hey, you don’t even know them.”
“You’re acting just like those jerks at schools.” At that moment it all made sense.
“You’re acting like the cool kids. You’re one of them!”
David had gotten labeled. He lied to me, again. He just didn’t want me to know that he
wasn’t the geek like me. He never was. From the first day of school he was a cool kid. We
weren’t the same any more.
Followthe tour HEREfor exclusive content and a giveaway!
Six year
old Nevaeh wants to be something she already is —a princess.
Do you know a little girl that doesn’t know she is loved or even
beautiful? Do we as parents, grandparents, or guardians reinforce and
give our little ones daily affirmation? Princess Nevaeh, Lessons on
Self-Discovery covers topics that are important not only to parents
but also to our little girls.
Find out how Mimi shares with her
granddaughter the things that matter
most. Some of the topics discussed in this book are:
Teaching behavioral skills:
fighting, bullying, listening,
and obeying.
Reinforces manners.
Teaches self-worth and values.
Princess Nevaeh, Lessons on Self-Discovery allows caregivers to use this
as a
tool to affirm the child, build positive dialogue and to encourage
self-worth.
Beginning her career in 2008, Paulette is an award-winning, bestselling author
and the founder of WNL Coaching and Marketing Services. Along with
being an ordained Elder, she is the author of several books and
founder of Write Now Literary Virtual Book Tours, a service to help
promote authors of the Christian genre and authors of clean books.
As an inspirational and motivational
speaker, Elder Paulette’s desire is
to empower, influence and cultivate women to move forward while
dealing with issues that hinder women from becoming all they are
created to be. Her topics are biblically sound and pertinent to the
needs of today’s women. Paulette is a mother, grandmother and Bible
teacher. Paulette has appeared on numerous radio and Television shows.
Combining enthusiasm with an energetic speaking style, audiences
describe
Paulette’s presentation as inspiring, enriching and encouraging. She
is committed to speaking a message that is always uplifting and edifying.
As a writing coach, she is the visionary behind her own writing ministry
called “Write Now,” a literary program that specializes in
coaching aspiring writers in the areas of creativity, development,
and publication of Christian books. She provides her listeners with
tools, resources, and opportunities to help them succeed in the
writing business.
Her books have ranked consecutively on the Black Christian Publishers
Bestsellers List for Independent Publishers (non-fiction category).
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