Category: giveaway

This
is a heart-warming collection of letters to loved ones that explores
the wonder, frailty and extraordinary qualities of friendship,
family, love and life.

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Dear Beach,
Warm sand scrunching between your toes… cool white foam lined waves crashing on the current… hotVitamin-
D rays beaming down from a clear blue universe… floating sphere of fire setting as a glowing luminosityrises… crackling pit of flames sparking into the darkness while genuine conversations fill the breeze over
cold
coronas…
We all need that one place where we can truly unwind and unplug from the daily madness that adds to
our
everlasting insomnia. A place where every worry, fear, doubt and concern slips into a coma. A place
where
technology isn’t allowed to be super-glued to our hands and eyes.
We all need that unscheduled time where the only responsibilities to be accounted for are laughter from
inside jokes amongst family and friends… creating memories to add to our lanes… one too many over
stuffed s’mores being inhaled… walks along the waves indulging in the beautiful scenery of endless
ocean… becoming mesmerized by the faceted ombre sunset painted on Mother Nature’s canvas…
What I just described to you is my sanctuary. Dull or boring are never scheduled on my calendar, but
days of
escaping are. Beach… this one syllable word is my morphine that numbs the chaos of the constant
insanity
that my mind is shifted into. I have no worries when sand and ocean are in the presence of my eyes. I
feel like
myself instead of the version that’s expected. This is the one place where I can just be.

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Lifelong
friends Jag, Tegan, Aari, Mariah and Kody are cast into an adventure
of epic proportions when their small plane crashes in the remote
forests of northern Canada. They are rescued by a secretive tribe in
a hidden valley who possess astonishing abilities — and a
terrifying divination. 

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A
mysterious plague destroys crops and leaves swaths of farmland around
the world in ruins. Panic and riots break out. Famine and rebellionpush nations to the brink of war.

 “If
Daniel Silva and Rick Riordan had a love child, it would be the young
S.S.Segran. With the intensity of an adult spy thriller and the
relatable characters that teenagers enjoy, Aegis Incursion takes YA
Action, Adventure, and Fantasy to a new level.” ~The OnlineBookClub.org ~

 

When not devouring a novel or
writing one, Segran can be found drawing on paper and tablet, or
tumbling into a black hole of comic books and video games. She’s an
ardent fan of horseback riding and parkour, and having enjoyed
jumping out of a perfectly fine plane at fifteen thousand feet —
perhaps skydiving.

Subscribe to her Aegis Insider reading
group and receive a 10-Volume short story collection and other
exclusive material plus Advance Reader opportunities for upcoming
books. Join here www.aegisnovel.com/insider

 

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Jag and Tegan flopped onto a couch despondently and turned on the television. They increased the
volume just as the anchor warned viewers of the graphic imagery that was about to be broadcasted.
Mariah, Aari and Marshall joined them as a shaky video from a Moscow train station unfolded.
Screams and gunfire blasted through the speakers as armed personnel in military hazmat suits
gunned down infected men and women. Some of the footage had been blurred but a few of the
friends still turned away. Aari stumbled toward the front door, slamming it shut behind him.
“Gareth said he was there,” Marshall said hoarsely. “He witnessed that.”
Tegan looked away. As much as she tried to forget, the dead Dema-Ki villagers from the Battle of
Ayen’et still lurked in the recesses of her mind; their bodies strewn lifelessly in the dirt, the rest of the
villagers having to carry their fallen brethren home and bury them. The massacre at the train station
brought the raw images back to the surface.
Her eyes welled up but she quickly blinked back the tears as the images on screen switched to
drone shots of civilians being taken into quarantine zones around the world, some even at gunpoint.
One zone in Indonesia had gotten out of control, and as in Moscow, the infected were all gunned
down.
A voiceover recited portions of press release statements and statistics throughout the photo and
video reel. “. . . Dozens of countries have officially declared a state of emergency with many
grounding all flights to and from their nations. Urban centers and transportation hubs are most
affected and many quarantine zones, as you can see on your screens, have been set up around the
globe in an effort to contain the disease. Governments have also begun closing their borders as the
death toll continues to rise. According to the World Health Organization, at least four-hundred
thousand mortalities have been reported. There is no indication that this disease seems to be
slowing down as the world frantically searches for a cure. We have to hope that a breakthrough will
come soon. Back to you, Lara.”
The camera cut back to the anchor but each time she opened her mouth to speak, only shaky
breaths came out. “I, um . . .” She pressed her fingers to her closed eyelids.
Mariah sank onto the couch beside Jag, who put his arm around her. “It’s happening,” she
whispered. “It’s really happening. The world is spiraling out of control, just like Reyor wanted. And
we’re supposedly the ‘Bearers of Light’, the Chosen Ones. Look at us.”
The anchor managed to compose herself. “I apologize. Thank you, Thomas. Continuing on now, a
recent report about the ongoing conflict between the Indo-Sino forces and Russia bears no
suggestion that the war will end anytime soon.”
“You’d think,” Tegan said, “that an outbreak like this would slow down this stupid war.”
Marshall shook his head. “They’re just soldiers following orders, doing what they think is necessary
for the survival of their country. Besides, most of these skirmishes are taking place in farmlands
away from populated areas. They probably haven’t seen the effects of the outbreak up close.”

She
played the corporate game every day for the past ten years and
enjoyed the life she’d built. Straddling two worlds was never easy,
but she’d done just that for many years. During the day, she was a
mild-mannered financial guru in a world of suits. But in her free
time, away from the clean-cut world of numbers, she was a Lady
Guardian. Riding her bike in the open air with the hum of the engine
underneath her, was the only time she felt free to be herself. Due tosome underhanded dealings at her office, her two worlds were about to
collide in a most glorious way.

Jamison
Reed just wanted a good burger and a cold beer.

He
was a war veteran, a businessman, and a biker all rolled into one.
The night he caught sight of the beautiful woman walking into his
favorite bar, all those labels fell to the side. At that moment, he
was simply a man. A man who wanted to claim the woman who had a body
made for loving. It was only supposed to be one night. Just enough to
get her out of his system. That small taste of her wasn’t enough
and now he wants more. When danger comes to her doorstep, he knows
there’s no one else better to protect Geneva. His need to protect
her was too great and he would let nothing come between him and his
woman.

*40K
Word Novella | BWWM Romance | HEA*

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“Hey sweetheart,” he returned, stepping through her doorframe. At six feet four
inches and wearing his black riding boots, he towered over her five feet seven-inch frame.
He grabbed the door, closing and locking it behind him before he turned to her again. “It’s
good to see you,” he said, just before leaning his head down to capture her lips in a soft kiss.
The squeak in her voice as she returned his greeting was so embarrassing. She was
thirty-one for God’s sake. “Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable. I was about to pull
something out for brunch, but I didn’t know what you wanted. Are you hungry?”
“I’m always hungry.” Dropping his black leather bag on the floor, he removed his cut
and laid it on the back of her couch.
“That third door on the left has a few hangers in there. You can hang it up there if
you want.” Eyeing him hungrily, she licked her lips as she watched him maneuver around
her large living room. When she’d purchased this home, her mind had been focused on
having enough space for parties with her friends and when her family came to visit. Now
that Reed was in the space, she felt that she’d known a man like him would enter her world.
He was a large man and someone like him needed space to maneuver.
“Keep looking at me like that and brunch won’t be the only thing I’ll be eating this
morning.” His low drawl met her ears and snapped her out of her musings over how well he
fit in her home.
Glancing at him, she gave up any pretense that she didn’t want to be underneath him
again. At the thought of having his cock inside her again, or his mouth nibbling on her wet
pussy, she gave him a seductive smile. “And what if I don’t.”
“You’re playing with fire baby. Don’t start something you’re not willing to finish.”

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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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papers, presentations, and contributions to medical texts.  He’s
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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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