Storm & Fury
A Storm and Fury Adventures Collection
by Gail Z. Martin & Larry N. Martin
Genre: Paranormal Historical Adventure, Steampunk
New Pittsburgh, 1898 – a crucible of invention and intrigue. Born from
the ashes of devastating fire, flood and earthquake, the city is
ruled by the shadow government of The Oligarchy. In the swarming
streets, people of a hundred nations drudge to feed the engines of
progress. The Department of Supernatural Investigation was set up to
take care of those things that live below, that go bump in the night…
those odd cases that go beyond ‘standard’ investigation.
Nicknamed ‘Storm and Fury’, Mitch Storm and Jacob Drangosavich
are two of the more creative agents, working in New Pittsburgh and
obeying the rules – when they have to.
A collection of short stories and novellas set in the world of the Iron
& Blood novels and the related Storm and Fury Adventures.
Airship Down, Ruin Creek, Resurrection Day, The Hunt, Grave Voices,
and Rogue. Plus two bonus stories: Ghost Wolf and a Steampunk fairy
tale: The Patented Troll
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Gail Z. Martin
discovered her passion for science fiction, fantasy and ghost stories
in elementary school. The first story she wrote at age five was about
a vampire. Her favorite TV show as a preschooler was Dark Shadows. At
age 14, she decided to become a writer. She enjoys attending science
fiction/fantasy conventions, Renaissance fairs and living history sites.
Larry N. Martin
is the author of the new sci-fi adventure novel Salvage Rat. He is
the co-author (with Gail Z. Martin) of the Spells, Salt, and
Steel/New Templars series; the Steampunk series Iron & Blood; and
a collection of short stories and novellas: The Storm & Fury
Adventures set in the Iron & Blood universe. He is also the
co-author of the upcoming Wasteland Marshals series and the Joe Mack
Cauldron/Secret Council series.
The Martins have three
children, a Maltese, and a Golden Retriever.
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“I’VE GOT TO catch that train!” Agent Jacob Drangosavich of the Department of Supernatural
Investigation opened the throttle on his steam-powered experimental velocipede, pushing the
steambike to its limits as he raced to catch up with the locomotive.
All of his attention was focused on the train, and he willed himself to go faster, closing the
distance between himself and the speeding locomotive.
Mitch Storm, his partner, was aboard that train, and he was counting on Jacob to back him
up. The sound of a gunshot in the train’s sole passenger car doubled Jacob’s resolve.
That’s got to be Mitch, Jacob thought. Question is, was Mitch doing the shooting or getting
Jacob coaxed a bit more speed from the velocipede, despite its straining engine. He was
gaining on the locomotive, close enough now to see the automaton in the cab, a metal man taking
the place of a human railroad engineer at the controls of the train. The click-clack of the train on
the rails drowned out the roar of Jacob’s steambike, and the clouds of smoke belched from the
locomotive’s stack drifted between him and his quarry, partially hiding him from view.
“Come on, come on,” he muttered to himself, pushing the velocipede for every bit of power
its engine could muster.
Jacob had a Peacemaker in a shoulder holster and another, less conventional weapon
holstered at his hip. The Department paid the best scientists in the country a premium to supply
them with top-secret, often one-of-a-kind weapons, tools, and gadgets that made the stories of
Jules Verne pale by comparison.
“Just a little more,” Jacob muttered, crouching low over the velocipede’s handlebars to
reduce the wind resistance. The steambike edged nearer to the train, and Jacob grabbed his
second gun, an odd contraption with a bulbous grip and a metal tube in the center of a coil of
wires. Jacob veered his bike a few crucial inches closer, leveled his weapon at the copper-faced
werkman at the train’s controls, and fired.
By Gail Z. Martin and Larry N. Martin
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania has a lot of history—and a lot of ghosts. It was a key fort in Colonial days, and by the end of the 1800s, it had become the crucible of steam-driven manufacturing and invention. But with that growth came tragedy, and from that, plenty of ghosts. Mine disasters, accidents in factories and steel mills, bloody labor strikes and unlucky ships on the city’s three rivers all create the kind of history that lends itself to ghosts. Pittsburgh was also a melting pot for immigrants who came from all over Europe for jobs in the mills— and brought their beliefs, superstitions, and magic with them. In the world of Storm and Fury, those newcomers were also followed by supernatural creatures, family secrets, and Old World curses. Mitch Storm and Jacob Drangosavich, agents for the secret Department of Supernatural Investigation, take care of paranormal problems. They’ve got all of the latest experimental gadgets the department’s genius inventors can dream up, and it’s their job to make sure that the things that go bump in the night get dealt with so that regular people can sleep peacefully, blissfully unaware of the secrets that lurk in the shadows.
Malak, Desert Child
The Boy Who Sailed to Spain Book 2
by Paul Ogarra
Genre: Magical Realism Fiction
The first time I saw her she melted the ice in my soul.
Malak is a tiny beautiful five-year-old girl child. She lives in a cave in
dire poverty with her drunkard father and her Saharoui mother and
sister. Her enemies are all the towns children who victimize her and
her sister because of their race and condition. Her only friend is a
single mother named Latifa, and Malak ́s grandmother Jeeda Hazzah who
dies of cancer.
But Malak is the champion of her family against a violent father and the
children of the Zoco who she fights singlehandedly. This is a magical
and often mystical story of a young girl and the people she stumbles
upon, as she is rushed away by her uncertain destiny, to the land in
which her mother was born, the Sahara Desert. The unravelling of
Malak’s story is also the unsnarling of the web of intrigue
surrounding the North of Africa, and it ́s peoples and history, and
the reasons for many current dilemmas in this land of witchcraft and
The tale begins in earnest when a wandering ex-warrior happens on the
child and is struck by her magnificent courage and beauty. After a
significant episode with her drunken father and his cronies, having
interceded on the family ́s behalf, he flees with them on a stolen
high-speed cruiser heading for Western Sahara and freedom. In the
course of their errant journey, they are taken into threatening
custody by the Algerian police. Malak ́s personality and mystic
nature make of her the flux in an adventure which begins as a race to
return her to her maternal grandfather ́s family. A flight of mercy
will become a race against time as Malak and her friends take on the
impossible. In this, they enlist the help of many tribespeople. Some
tribes known to all and others lost in the wastes of the mysterious
desert and the annals of history.The story comes to an emotional and
pent up conclusion in the least expected possible fashion.
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As he ate, he noticed the beautiful facial features of the child and her long thick hair. Even
though she was dressed in rags and dirty, her face smeared and her hands black, the child was
striking. She glanced at the food, still attending to the baby, and even though she looked away,
her eyes wandered back to the overladen dish. Then she’d put her chin out abruptly as an
inward gesture, a self-correction, and look elsewhere. She’s starving poor little cow, Pete
thought, but proud, amazing a five-year-old urchin with a gutful of pride.
“What is her name?” He pointed at the child.
“Malak” she replied. “Her mother works, so she and her sister are on the streets all day.”
“So what’s the problem with school?”
“No money.” She said something about him to the child, who turned and looked at Pete. Her
teeth were white and perfect, and her smile entirely unexpected in a face whose total lack of
expression must have been the child’s only weapon against the evil and negligence which was
happening around her, and which she instinctively knew was so, so wrong.
“Give her couscous.”
“No, she will have what we leave.”
So he went to the other room and found a plate and a fork. He stacked the big platter high with
semolina and placed it before the child, who fell on it like a wolf cub, using her hands to devour
it ravenously. He gave her bread and a Coke.
“Malak!” he said loudly, and she looked up but continued eating. “Tell her to stop.”
Latifa, his friend, spoke sharply to her and the girl stopped and looked at him. “She says she is
“She has nothing to be sorry for, just tell her she will make me happy if she uses the fork.”
Latifa spoke to her, and the little girl listened attentively, humbly. Then she laughed, a peal of heartfelt
mirth, looking at him, and Pete, caught unawares, grinned back in spite of himself. She ate the rest of the
food with the implement, experiencing some difficulty. As she ate, she kept looking into his face and
If you knew you’d die tomorrow, how would you spend your last day? If I knew I ́d die tomorrow, I ́d fight , kick, pray and scream in an effort, however futile to remain alive. When I do go, I want to be heard kicking the walls of the coffin as they take me out. This is probably why I am here today, no way am I going to lie down and die just because they say it ́s the norm. Who is your hero and why? My hero is a wonderful wonderful couple, my oncologist, Dr Cobos and his wife. Fifteen years ago they saw this baby in their hospital who was doomed to die from some disease common in the village of it ́s birth in Morocco. The child would die unless the machinery to save her were purchased and she were nursed constantly for her duration of life. Dr Cobos and his wife took out mortagages and purchased the machines, and dedicated the next 11 years of their lives to nursing this child at their home as if she were their daughter, and giving her a chance at a life. She died knowing great love on her eleventh year, and the Doctor and his wife were heartbroken. They had lit a candle in the wind,with all their care and sincerity. except it wasn ́t a candle it was a little girl, and they loved her. When I see them now, they hug me and kiss me and tell me I am a lion, because I am a survivor; but I hold them away and look at them and I tell them that I am nothing , that they are truly giants amongst human beings. What kind of world ruler would you be? A ruler who ruled only by example ,I would be a slave to my people and my task. What are you passionate about these days? I am passionate as ever in my search for love, any type of love, I see it in others sometimes but it always seems to elude me, perhaps it ́s my cross. I sometimes think that I should become a missionary and go to live in some far off location where people need help, these are probably the places where people go who are full of love to give. What do you do to unwind and relax? All sorts, swim, walk, go and sit in the sun and have a conversation with my dog Mr Harry although he ́s a bit restless and fidgety. How to find time to write as a parent? Parenthood passed me by a long time ago. It was a happy time though. Describe yourself in 5 words or less! Individual,tranquil,determined,strong,friendly When did you first consider yourself a writer? When my daughter one day turned around and said” Papa, will you stop throwing the things you write away, keep everything, it all has a value.” And she was just a kid at the time. Do you have a favorite movie? Well I have lots, but if I needed to go for just the one it would be “To kill a mocking bird.” Which of your novels can you imagine made into a movie? Well it all started with movies. When I left hospital having survived against expectations, I decided to do what I had always wanted to do, and that was to study film making. So I went to Praque, and although I loved cine, I realised what a pain in the neck it would be having to organise so many tempermental folk. So after being told by my lecturer, in script writing, that I was a natural, I decided to start with the writing side of things. So yes, I have always aimed at writing books that would one day perhaps make good movies.Malak would be an absolutely amazing film. What literary pilgrimages have you gone on? Well, the only thing I have ever been to is the Gibraltar literary festival, which is fact one of the best in the world, so I am told. I went as a speaker and met lots of fascinating people, in particular, one really wonderful personage with whom I struck up a friendship. His name was Ray Keene the world famous Chess Grandmaster, a man of great simplicity and warmth who actually later invited me to his oncoming
birthday dinner. Trouble of course, was that most of the guests were grandmasters and I have always been really lousy at the game. It was a great privilege though, and I enjoyed it very much. As a writer, what would you choose as your mascot/avatar/spirit animal? Otters have always been special for me, mainly because they make and live in dams. I also have a soft spot for squirrels and the cosiness of their homes or dreys, and the nut gathering for winter. Remember The Wind in the willows, and The Brer Rabbit books, well I do with great fondness and also Babar the elephant.
Paul O ́Garra was born in Gibraltar on the 8th May 1952. Paul and his
three siblings were the
children of schoolteachers
and were reared with English discipline,
immersed in romantic
literature on the one hand, and a large local family of uncles,
aunts, cousins and a doting grandmother, who was Spanish from Cadiz,
on the other.
Childhood was spent roaming across the Up South
Rosia, and Europa point areas of Gibraltar engaging in childish
adventures, reading extensively books
such as Enid Blyton’ adventure series, ‘Famous Five,’
‘Secret Seven,’ ‘Swallows and Amazons Forever,
’ John Buchan and the ‘Gorbals Die-hards.’
Saturday mornings were a day for avoiding the displeased grimaces of
monocled and overweight
colonels, delving and searching through the
shelves of the old
Garrison library to discover new horizons, characters, and
stories. The journey of discovery that had begun with Baba the
Elephant eventually began to grow richer as the classics
In 1967, he looked on as fellow
students of Jewish persuasion prepare to leave for Tel Aviv
to defend Israel. Shortly after, the arrival of
General Moshe Dayan at the gates of Cairo, signaled to the world
that Israel ́s direst moment had been overcome.
Paul, at the earliest time
possible, set off in a
steamer from Tangiers, sailing to Southampton.
After a spell in London, he left the UK to discover his roots in Malta.
He alternated callings as a tour guide of Morocco and recoverer of
broken down rented cars in the desert, tour guide of south Spain and
eventually running a flamenco club on the Costa del Sol, in the days
when the Costa was still a new and exciting place to visit.
Eventually, he set off again to
discover new places in the Middle, the Far
East and the Philippines, and when Perestroika
and Glasnost finally arrived at the hands of
Mihail Gorbacheff and the Soviet Union was open, set off to discover
the East there. He studied Russian at St Petersburg and spent time
travelling to the Republic of Udmurtia, Kazan, Siberia and up an
uncharted river to meet Tribes that still lived in the area. Later to
Nizhny Novgorod and the South Volga, then to the Ukraine travelling from city to city,
falling more and more in love with the great Russian writers and
painters as he went. Seventeen years ago at the age of fifty, Paul
contracted renal cancer.
He was operated on successfully at the Bullfighters Hospital in
Pamplona in North Spain. Metastasis was practically impossible the
surgeons happily reported. Two years later the cancer metastasised to his lungs on which
he was duly operated, and half of his lungs were
Later for reasons undefined he suffered strokes in both eyes and lost
partial sight in one eye and total in the left which he duly
recovered by swimming and praying. Seventeen years have gone by since
the renal cancer was first discovered, and seven
years since his last operation and
everything is fine, remission seems to be total.
Paul’s still swims at least one or two kilometres per day all year round,
travels, practises martial arts and fervently believes that the Lord
leads him by the hand. After leaving the hospital
he spent some time in Tangiers, hairless, gaunt and on crutches, but
enjoying the warmth and affection of many new friends there. Then off
to Prague to study filmmaking, made several shorts but finally
decided that he would first write and then make movies when the time came.
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The Heart Collector
Auckland Steampunk Book 1
by Barbara Russell
Genre: Steampunk, Romantic
The Supernaturals are frightened. Despite being able to do extraordinary
things like teleporting or lighting a fire with a stare, a serial
killer, the Heart Collector, is slaughtering them. He rips their
chests open and removes their hearts.
While other aristocratic, nineteen-year-
old girls spend time dancing,
Isabel trains hard to become an MI7 agent—Military Intelligence
Seventh Division, a crime squad run by Supernaturals. The Heart
Collector murdered her best friend, and enrolling at MI7 is the best
way to help catch the killer.
Isabel senses other people’s feelings as if
they were her owns. But MI7’s
leader is too worried about Isabel’s safety to let her join the team.
Eager to prove that her power is valuable,
Isabel volunteers to meet Murk,
a dangerous Supernatural man who can turn himself invisible. MI7
desperately tried to recruit him and failed.
She believes that her power is enough to
convince Murk to become an MI7’s
agent and help apprehend the Heart Collector. If he wants to attack
her, his feelings will broadcast his intention, and she’ll be ready.
What Isabel isn’t ready for is to fall in
love with the man who will
collect her heart.
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I’m an entomologist and a
soil biologist, which is a fancy way to say
that I dig in the dirt, looking for bugs. Nature and books have
always been my passion. I was a kid when I read The Lord Of The Ring
and fell in love with fantasy novels.
When I discovered cosy
mystery and crime novel, I fell in love with
Hercules Poirot and Sherlock Holmes. Then I grew up and . . . Nah,
I’m joking. I didn’t grow up. Don’t grow up, folks! It’s a trap.
PS I hate gardening. There,
I said it. Sorry fellow Kiwis.
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One of the perks of being a duchess and the lady of Hastings Manor was that I could make my
Most of the time.
I bunched a corner of my long brocade skirt and climbed the sweeping stairs toward Victor’s
office. The bustle, heavy with satin ribbons, bounced lightly, tapping on the small of my back.
On the landing, one of the little cleaning machines that roamed the house trotted around, buzzing
as its brushes dusted the white marble floor. A puff of steam trailed behind it while its wheels and pistons
whirred. I strode on, the star-bright tiles sparkling under my velvet slippers.
The butler bowed stiffly, carrying a tray with tea and cakes that smelled of cinnamon. “Your
Grace.” He stepped aside to let me pass.
“Hollom.” My heels’ click-clacking noise died down on the blue rug covering the entrance in front
of Victor’s office.
I raised my fist to knock but stopped inches away from the gleaming, polished oak wood, needing
a moment to collect myself. Victor had to see reason. Convincing him that my role in the investigation
was vital wouldn’t be easy, but I was nineteen and properly trained in combat. More or less. The point
was, I could face danger.
My resolve wavered, and I bit the inside of my cheek. On light feet, I turned and slid inside my
late father’s personal library. Victor’s supernatural hearing wouldn’t catch me in the room protected by
thick walls, and the old leather-bound volumes calmed my nerves.
I cleared my throat before rehashing my speech. “Victor, you’re the leader of Military Intelligence
Seven, but as Duchess of Sussex, I have the right to . . .” I shook my head. This sounded patronizing. I
took a deep breath to slow my pounding heart, glad that I wasn’t wearing a corset. Another perk of being
I squared my shoulders. A wrong word and Victor would dismiss me. “Victor, I kindly request…
would you… I would appreciate if you assign me to the ongoing investigation on the Heart Collector,
since I believe my skills can be an asset.” There. Simple, polite, and to the point.
I jutted out my chin and smoothed my bodice. I should’ve worn my dark green dress. It made me
look taller and older. This blue gown gave me a childish air with its velvet ribbons and budding roses.
After another deep inhalation, I marched toward Victor’s office again and knocked on the door.
“Come in.” The thick door muffled his deep voice.
I wiped my sweaty hand on my skirt before turning the handle and stepping into the office that had
once belonged to my father. Victor and his younger brother Jamie stood up from their stuffed chairs and
“Good morning, Victor, Jamie.”
After the dimly lit corridor, the sunlight streaming from the floor-to-ceiling window blinded me,
and I squinted, closing the door behind me.
I walked to the desk that occupied almost half of the room, keeping my eyes on Victor’s frowning
face. “I need to talk to you.”
Victor stretched out an arm, indicating the empty chairs. His serious expression added wisdom to
his five and twenty years. “Of course, Isabel. Please, sit.”
I perched on the very edge of the chair and set my back straight to not crush my bustle. Victor sat
at his desk while Jamie settled himself next to the fireplace.
“Is something the matter?” Jamie leaned forward, his blond hair swishing about his cheeks. “You
I faced him. “Well, I—” A dark blue bruise marked his chin, his bottom lip was split, and a fresh
cut marred his forehead. “What happened to you?”
Jamie clenched and unclenched his fists. “My encounter with one of the Supernaturals we’re
trying to recruit didn’t end well.”
I focused on Jamie, unleashed my power, and reached out for his feelings. A rush of energy
flooded me, and heat warmed my chest. His anger, annoyance, and humiliation washed over me. Physical
pain stabbed him as well. I gently prodded his body with my mental strength. His ribs hurt, and a cut on
his back throbbed. His feelings left the sour taste of unripe grapes in my mouth.
I swallowed. “This Supernatural must be particularly strong to hurt you.”
Jamie stroked his bruised skin. A new wave of mortification surged from him. “He is moderately
Moderately strong? Jamie could bend iron bars with two fingers and lift twenty times his weight.
How strong was this Supernatural?
Victor shifted his gaze to me. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Exactly about this.” I nodded toward Jamie. “This Supernatural you want to recruit for the
investigation on the Heart Collector.”
Victor knitted his blond eyebrows in the same way Jamie would. “You don’t have to concern
yourself with that. Jamie will soon make another attempt to meet this Supernatural.”
“But.” I paused to read Victor’s feelings. His determination and mild exasperation reached me. It
wasn’t a good start, but maybe my speech would convince him. “I would like you to allow me . . . I mean,
to assign me to this mission since I request, kindly, I request kindly, that it would be me, myself, to do it.”
Damn. So much for rehashing. I clasped my hands in my lap not to show how much they trembled. “I’d
like it to be me.” I swallowed. If I weren’t so eager to get the job, I’d laugh at Victor’s scrunched face.
I searched his feelings again. Even without my supernatural empathetic power, the hard set of his
jaw and his narrowed icy blue eyes told me he wasn’t pleased. I cleared my throat. “I want to meet this
“You want what?” Jamie asked, propping an elbow on the mantelpiece.
I ignored him. “What did you say his name was?”
“I didn’t.” Victor straightened the pile of documents on his desk, arranged quills and inkbottles,
and loosened his bow tie.
Fun facts about me: My toes are prehensile. I can pick everything up with them. I’m dyslexic. I thought that ‘Breaking Bad’ was ‘Baking Bad,’ a reality show on cooking-impaired people. I believe that artichokes are weapons. I believe in Santa Claus. Sue me.
The story has always been
told that the end of the world is the end of everything.
In AUGUR OF
SHADOWS: BOOK 1 OF THE DESTINED SERIES,
Seventeen year-old Henri
and his two friends, Etlina and Siméon, are burdened
with the responsibility to bring about a cataclysmic event in order
to save the entirety of existence from the primordial evil.
Through the guidance
of otherworldly beings, Henri and his friends venture on
their paths to fulfill what
is needed to ensure the survival of the universe.
intertwining endeavors, Henri and the others venture on exploits through
lands of myth and
mystery. In the process of fulfilling their obligations,
they begin to form a much-needed bond, which helps propel them
forward to do what is needed to guarantee existence in the future.
Jacob John Rundle was born on September 27, 1985, in Galesburg, IL. He
attended Knox College, earning a Bachelor’s Degree in Russian
Language and Literature. He served eight years in the United States
Navy as a Nuclear Mechanic.
After finishing his time
with the Navy, he moved to New Orleans,
and it is where he resides,
pursuing his dream of being a writer.
“Henri,” a mysterious voiced whispered in his mind. Henri stopped walking to see who
was whispering in his ear. He turned around, but he saw nothing, which caused a chill
down his spine.
“What’s that?” Henri didn’t like the chilly feeling in the air, and he didn’t
appreciate the feeling like someone was watching him. He picked up his pace on the
sidewalk, avoiding any tiny obstacles in his way. His mind had one mission, and the
mission was to get home safely. At the present moment, Henri wished that someone were
with him in case something happened.
“Who’s there?” Henri waited for any sign of a response. He walked towards his
house, ignoring the increasing creepy vibe he felt. A sharp pain stabbed Henri’s stomach,
forcing him to run to his house. The pain became more intense as the seconds passed.
When he made it up his front stairs, he spun around to confront whoever was stalking
him. Henri saw nothing but his front tree, and the trashcans that he didn’t retrieve the
Henri panicked for that he didn’t know what to do. The area went silent, and he
heard nothing, but the breathing of an invisible force. He felt as though an unseen bubble
had formed around him and his front porch. His heart increased its output, and Henri’s
breathing became erratic.
The wind picked up loosened materials off the ground, and a sharp unexpected
breeze passed through his proximity. The wind flew through the open crevices of the
trees, creating an eerie howling. Henri quickly scanned the area again, yet he still didn’t
see anything. He tried to channel his frustration instead of terror.
“What is going on?” Henri mumbled under his breath. He glanced up into the
early evening sky, and he saw dark clouds were rolling towards his house as a tide during
a full moon. The branches and bushes’ tall blades bent over by an unseen terror. He
backed up against his door, trying to open his front door only realizing that he had left his
house key elsewhere.
The Characters of Augur of Shadows
Augur of Shadows is a story that involves a main character (MC) Henri, and his two friends, Etlina and
Siméon. The three have intertwining destinies that require them to make difficult decisions, and they will
be forced to push passed their physical, emotional and mental limitations in order to complete their task of
bringing forth a cataclysmic event, which will aide in the fight against the Primordial Evil.
Henri is a seventeen year-old boy who recently lost his father. He and his mother moved to New
York City to start a new life. In the process, Henri starts having prophetic dreams of a future evil. He is
set on a course of self-discovery and destiny by the guidance of many other spirits, gods and angels. He
will have to make difficult decisions on his path, and he will have to decide to either place the entire
universe above his own needs, or he continue on his mundane life.
Etlina is a strong, young, Latina who was abandoned by her family because of her unique talents,
and her persistent attitude to delve in her ancestral heritage. She is connected to the forces of nature and
mystery. She is a major powerhouse, and she isn’t afraid to protect whom she sees as family.
Siméon is a teenager, foreign exchange student from Port-au-Prince, Haiti. He is a wise,
powerful priest from Haiti, and he plays an important role in Henri’s life. Siméon’s experience in the
supernatural will aid Henri and Etlina on their journey into the lands of the spiritual and magical, so the
three of them may fulfill their destinies, and they may save the universe.
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Alex Conner’s memories of the vile man she exiled using supernatural
powers inherited from her mother are all but breaking into her living
hours, and nothing is working to keep her nightmares at bay.
Can Alex solve this mystery before it’s too late or will she be the one
responsible for bringing this horror back into her life?
Who can Alex trust and how is she to deal with the draw she has towards
new man in her life – a man who is definitely more than meets the eye?
Alex Conner: Witch? Healer? Both? Joining this powerful female
and a scooby-like cast including a seer, sexy book boyfriends,
devoted best friends, heros, villans and monsters, and magical
creatures. Enjoy the first book in this ongoing paranormal and
fantasy series overflowing with suspense, steamy and romantic scenes,
kick ass action, intrigue, adventure, mind-bending plotlines, and
laugh out loud humor. Trust is a coming of age story about a young
women who had to figure out her powers all on her own. The new adult
tale will get you laughing, crying, while also being a nailbiter as
supernatural powers and beings make this a page turner for
paranormal, mystery, suspense, and fantasy fans.
Trust is a unique twist on paranormal romance, contemporary & urban
fantasy for fans of The Hollows by Kim Harrison’s, with the humor,
heart, and horror of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the magic of The Weird
Girls Series by Cecy Robson, & the science and world building of
The King Killer Chronicles.
The Alex Conner Chronicles Reading order: Trust, Truth, Forbidden, &
Only with more to come! Contains explicit adult language and scenes.
“The storyline was brilliant.” ★★★★★
“I ran the gambit of emotions with this
Party time’s over; now it’s time to kick some ass.
Now that I can no longer deny my heritage as a powerful magic-wielding
Earthen Protector and healer, everything comes crashing down around
me. My estranged mother has enlisted my help in finding my Healer
father; a man who was presumed dead since before I was born.
While I wait and train with Dana, the Mistress of Weaponry and Potions,
innocent people, some who I dearly love, face unspeakable horrors. My
small, yet powerful, group of companions confront danger head-on
while we hunt down those responsible.
Is my father really alive and will the training prove to be enough for
me take on new ruthless enemies?
As if the threats in my life weren’t enough for me to handle, my
feelings for two men have me torn and tempted.
honest, my true power lies within my skills as a Seer. Alex says
that my vixen skills are just “icing on the cake.”
Sandra is a bombshell. She also happens to be a Seer, and Earthen
Alex Conner’s best friend. When Alex goes missing, Sandra seeks
help from the one person she is forbidden to contact.
Can Sandra, and those she used to be closest to, finally move past all
the fear and mistrust?
Discover Sandra’s dark and hidden past, one that even Alex doesn’t
about, in this intense novella, and get a peek at what is in the
cards for their future.
“This story has action, excitement and suspense. It is about forgiveness
and the past colliding with the present.” ~ Amazon Reviewer
The Alex Conner Chronicles reading order: Trust, Truth, Forbidden, &
Only. Contains adult language and situations.
Forbidden is a unique twist on new adult
paranormal romance and supernatural
suspense for fans of The Hollows by Kim Harrison; with the humor,
heart, and horror of Buffy the Vampire Slayer; and the magic of The
Weird Girls Series by Cecy Robson.
magic, demons, and mystery.” ★★★★★
“This book blends reality and fantasy
“Gripping story full of jammed packed action.” ★★★★★
Sometimes you just have to keep your mouth shut and play along; the quiet is
best for plotting, and I am getting out of here.
“This is a great high fantasy, sexy romantic read.” ★★★★★
“Full of adventure, love, betrayal, and magic.” ★★★★★
One would think the sassy, sexy hybrid Earthen Protector and Healer
Conner deserves some downtime after all she’s been through. But no.
Instead, she finds herself trapped by the king of the Fae, and he’s
not letting her go until he gets what he wants.
As alternate realities tangle her in confusion and bring her close to
forgetting who she is and everyone she loves, will she unwittingly
give the king what he craves?
If she does escape, will she ever pick up where she left off with her
sexy Adonis Ryan?
And can she control the new power she never knew she could wield—
over life and death itself—or will she be entangled in a realm
whose ruler is hell-bent on entrapping her and someone she holds
Only is a unique paranormal/supernatural romance & contemporary
fantasy novel for lovers of the metaphysical, romantic fantasy, &
elementals with romantic and dark fantasy elements. Only is enjoyed
by fans of The King Killer Chronicles, Sunshine, The Hollows, The
Weird Girls, and The Shannara Series & Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Ms. Sinclair is an Amazon best-selling fantasy author with books crossing
into YA epic fantasy, NA Urban fantasy, paranormal romance, mystery,
suspense, and Sci-fi genres. Visit ParkerSinclair.net/followme for
FREE books and samples.
Parker gives credit to the development of her imagination and passion for
writing to multiple childhood destinations lacking indoor plumbing.
She would never trade the childhood her parents gave her, and she
thanks them for raising her to have her own thoughts, dreams, and
bountiful imagination. Oh and she wishes to thank them for teaching
her that one should never leave their jeans on the floor of an
everglades campground shower–lest she do the dance of the scorpions
in the pants again!
There’s only one option I can think of and it’s one I was forbidden to use. He told me never to
contact him, to stay away from him, but how can I? Alex’s life is at stake, so to hell with his
Dana’s pinching grip on my arm breaks me away from my thoughts. She knows my plan,
though she still insists on trying things her way again. I swear warm blood is dripping down the
length of my arm, and I tense when a drop pulls away to fall upon the cold tile. I couldn’t have
some decent clothes, could I? Well, it doesn’t help that she practically grabbed me out of bed and
led me back to the guest room where Alex had been staying in my damn pajama shorts and tank.
“Ease up a bit, will ya?” We’ve been trying to take Dana’s Dreamwalk back to when
Alex was taken on and off for hours now, yet we still can’t break into the memory, despite
exhausting brain squeezing attempt, after attempt. The room, which harbored cool tones and an
empty bed flickers to show the scene from hours passed. Alex is sitting up talking to me as I sit
next to her on the bed and I brace myself for what happens next. Darkness engulfs the room,
along with a trembling roar that seems to rattle the cracks of the tile in its grouted spaces.
“What in the hell is that mojo keeping us out? What did you do blondie?” Her voice
whispers into my ear, angry though laced with a rare dose of fear from the Mistress of Potions
and Weaponry. “There’s something sick and twisted stuck all over this putrid muck, like a
vamp’s mouth sucking on a prostitute’s neck. Some crazy Seer blockage is what this is.” Her
grip grows even tighter and I try to pull away.
“Look, Potions Priestess,” I growl. I’ve grown tired of being beaten down each time we
trek into the past. “This is not working, and it is not because of me.” I gulp silently hoping this
isn’t from me, or from those hidden parts of me that have been cemented over with double walls
of brick, mortar, and secrets. Dana releases her fingers from where they’ve burrowed into my
“You asked for it gypsy queen.” At the end of her promise, a fury of feathery smacks and
barbed scrapes unleashes, as if I’ve walked through a forest of thorns with a background noise of
an unwavering screeching inside my brain. I drop to my knees gasping and rubbing the length of
my neck willing it to open so I can breathe. I take in a thankful inhale at a slight reprieve only to
choke on feathers lodging themselves in, attempting to force me to swallow them down. I shut
my mouth and fold into myself onto the ground, my hands over my head like I’m reenacting a
tornado drill from school.
“Fight it, Sandra! You have to tear this thing down. We are in your memory, so you can
control it.” What she truly means is that I better get control over it if we’re going to find Alex,
but nothing I try works. I am entirely blocked out, and whatever the cause is has some serious
badass power backing it up.
“I can’t,” I whimper, doubting she can even hear me over both the raucous and the fact
that my lips are pressed against the hard floor. A tugging sensation yanks my mind with a pop,
followed by silence and only the fan’s hush of cool air flowing along my skin.
“You can get up now, we’re done. I don’t know what else to do besides back your plan.”
I swear she wants to spit on the floor after her sardonic statement. It’s hardly my plan.
What inspired you to write this book? I have been writing for most of my life. In a plastic bin, I still have stories, journals, and even backs of napkins that hold words and stories back as far as elementary school. I think my love for writing came from a passion for reading and for the arts. My grandmother and father love to read, and I remember sitting with them in a sunroom in Biloxi, or on our porch in Kentucky reading alongside them in the silence. When I was writing, I don’t think I saw ahead to be an author until much later in life. I had submitted a poem or two to contests in college, but it wasn’t until my mid-20’s that I thought maybe I could tackle a book. I mean I had done a thesis, and two poem books, so why not go for gold and create an entire story—hell an entire world. I think the thing that held me back, the thing that closed the doors deep in my psyche, was that most of the fantasy and sci-fi books I had read were male authors. It wasn’t until my 30’s that the idea for writing a book with a strong, compelling, messy, and inappropriate protagonist really came to life. I thank those women I found in the paranormal and urban fantasy genre for leading me towards life as an author. When I began to read Jeaniene Frost, Kelley Armstrong, Cecy Robson, I realized my type of humor, action, romance, and magic all worked. They had proved it. But it wasn’t until four years after my mom passed, something that has impacted me on a level I am not sure I have really tapped into let alone recovered from, that the well of creativity brewing since I was a child filled up and overflowed. I was in the Arizona desert with one of my best friends when I had a vision of my mom. When I tell you I saw and spoke to her, there is no way I doubt what happened. I felt her hands in mine, a glowing light warming me throughout my body and the sensation that she was happy, safe, and would never leave me. There is something about the desert, it was her favorite place after all, and that experience was the most magical thing that has ever happened in my life. When I came home from that trip, my first book, Trust, poured out of me. I was working as a high school guidance counselor and would still write until one or two in the morning before getting up at 5:30 a.m. for work. I drove myself to that final page, and now, here I am, six books later and finding a foothold in the indie community. I will never stop writing and will continue to seek to create new worlds and new stories for Alex. She saved me in a way, keeps saving me, by allowing me to escape into her world, one that my mother helped create.
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