Friday, January 31, 2014

Happy Groundhog Day - Get Rys Rising: Book I for 99 cents at Smashwords

It's been a long cold winter in North America with the Polar Vortex and I have a feeling our exalted groundhogs are planning on a little more time in their holes.

To celebrate the fact that we haven't frozen to death yet, let's stay curled up until spring with a good long epic fantasy where you can solve your problems with swords.


Available worldwide in your choice of ebook format at Smashwords.
Normally $2.99 get it for $0.99 through February 3rd.
Use coupon code GA29F at checkout. 

Excerpt from Rys Rising: Book I

With polite humility, he asked her only to remove the remainder of his tattoos. He said nothing as Onja worked on his skin. Gendahl paid attention to the sensation of having her magic touch him. She was blocking the pain as she burned the pigments bit by bit from his flesh, and then healed the skin as she went. The stags with their blue antlers gradually disappeared, and Gendahl forced himself to accept the end of his old life. It was the only way he could even attempt to go on. Gendahl could not be forgiven.
A breeze stirred and it was cool against his sweaty skin. He stared at his hands. The absence of his tattoos made him feel different. When his skin was tattooed, he had been only a small boy, and the painful task was one of his earliest memories.
This is my earliest memory of my new life, he thought.
With Onja’s firm slender fingers massaging his hands, Gendahl wondered if it had been the will of Jayshem, the God and creator of Gyhwen, that he experience a life other than being Lord of the Lin Tohs.
“Does it comfort you to think that your God willed your suffering and loss?” she asked.
Taken aback by her knowledge of his thoughts, Gendahl pulled his hands away. “What else can I think?” he asked back.
She lifted her eyebrows thoughtfully. The slight stretching of her eyelids sharpened the beauty of her features. His answer intrigued her greatly.
To change the subject, Gendahl examined his hands and thanked her. “I could not go on with my lord-born markings. I am lord-born no more,” he announced.
“You are still what you were, Gendahl,” Onja contradicted. “Tattoos did not make you a lord.”
“But they showed others what I was. I am something new now, but I know not what,” he said.
“You are Gendahl, my friend,” Onja said, and she smiled.
Her smile seemed to reveal a vulnerability that he would not have expected from her. She was alone as well.
“Your friend,” he said although he had no smile to give. “But call me Gendahl no more. I am Amar.”
“Amar,” she said and liked the name.
“I must go,” he said. He scanned the trees, rocks, waters, and mountains around him. Onja’s presence enchanted the landscape and made it more beautiful. It was a good place to die and to be born. “Back to the world of men,” he added.
Onja nodded with understanding. The time would come when she would go back to her kind as well. “If you want my help before I go back to Jingten, I will be here until the day equals the night,” she said, still hoping that he would make a request of her.
“Thank you, Onja,” he said and stood up.
Onja reached into his pile of gear and pulled forth his weapon. Proffering it, she said, “Your sword, Amar.”
Receiving the weapon from her opened a door in his mind, but he did not yet dare to look inside. He was not ready to receive any knowledge from this awesome being. As he took the sword from Onja and strapped it over his shoulder, he looked into her eyes that sparkled with powers to which no man could aspire. He would miss her.
Amar said, “I start a new life today. It is not a life I want, but perhaps if I keep living, the path to vengeance will present itself.” He decided that he needed this goal to keep going. He would view his smashed domain and take to the bandit life, and he would look for a way someday to hurt the Patharki and Ginjor Rib.
He parted from Onja without any more words. Planning to follow the stream through the hills, Amar walked away along the bank. When he turned back, Onja lifted a hand in farewell and he waved back to her. Onja sensed among his many harsh emotions his sadness at leaving her. It was good to have a friend.
You shall have your vengeance, she thought.


Available worldwide in your choice of ebook format at Smashwords.
Normally $2.99 get it for $0.99 through February 3rd.
Use coupon code GA29F at checkout.

Thursday, January 30, 2014

The Origins of the Child Seer in New Fantasy Novel Quintessence

Today I welcome back Marsha A. Moore. She's touring blogs again with the release of her fifth Enchanted Bookstore Legend novel Quintessence. Her guest post today is about those little characters authors need to sort of "staff" their stories and keep things moving along and how one little girl earned herself a big promotion.

Please enter the ebook giveaway for Moore's fantasy novels at the bottom.

The Child Seer in Quintessence
By Marsha A. Moore

Barbaric Dark Realm warfare threatens to overtake all Dragonspeir lands, including the Alliance. Lyra McCauley, the fifth Scribe of the Alliance, finds herself in a desperate competition to gather four missing keystones. Those amulets of the four natural elements guarantee victory for the side possessing them. The Dark Realm’s alchemist, Eburscon, beats her to finding the water gem, the Pearl of Pendola. Three more keystones remain: the fluorite containing earth energy, the moonstone of the sky, and the fiery, dangerous Emtori Ruby.

The powerful gems, stolen centuries ago, channel astral energies and can restore much-needed Alliance power—the last hope. The wizard, Cullen, who is Lyra’s beloved, relies on Alliance magic for his immortality and will perish if the land falls to the Dark Realm.

Lyra uses her rare magical energies of quintessence and the Staurolite, governor of the four natural elements, to guide her to the hidden keystones. However, greed and power drive opponents, who challenge her in close pursuit, planning to destroy the Alliance, or to claim the power of quintessence for themselves.

The Dark Realm captures the ten-year-old Alliance seer, Kessa. Her abilities can give them information about the locations of the keystones, complicating Lyra’s plans. Will her love, allegiance, and quintessence allow her to save Cullen, Kessa, and the Alliance before the Dark Realm claims all of Dragonspeir?

While writing, I’ve often had minor characters do some surprising and wonderful things. While their limited roles are always dictated in my outlines, they can demand larger responsibilities. This happened to an extreme degree while I wrote the fourth Enchanted Bookstore Legend, Staurolite. As planned, a ten-year-old crippled girl, Kessa, was sneaked into hiding in the Imperial lair of the Alliance during Dark Realm attacks on their village by her mother. Kessa’s role in Staurolite was merely to bring my heroine, Lyra, a jewel case containing ancient, magical trinkets that would help her learn about the discoveries of her scribal ancestors.

However, Kessa commanded a far greater role than I’d intended. She lit up while touching those items, and her own magic sparked my heart. I empowered the girl as a seer, the only one present in all of Dragonspeir for centuries. Lyra identifies with the child, much like herself at that age, unsure of how to use her magic and fearful of the consequences. No wonder…using Kessa’s powers as a seer led to an attack that permanently crippled her.

The girl even became a pivotal character to end the series in my latest release, Quintessence. Once her insightful magical abilities were known, both the good Alliance and the evil Dark Realm fought as much for her as for the powerful keystones. She directed Lyra to find the Pearl of Pendola, the water keystone, at the end of Staurolite. Both sides believed Kessa could supply valuable information about the locations of the three remaining lost gems. The Dark Realm stole the Pearl away from Lyra and took Kessa prisoner.

In Quintessence, Lyra’s heart is tied to the girl, and the Alliance desperately needs the keystones to restore its magical strength. In a race with her opponents, Lyra faces a dilemma—should she first save Kessa or find the powerful gems? Learn what she decides in Quintessence: Enchanted Bookstore Legend Five.

Thanks lots, Tracy, for inviting me to share with your readers today!
Marsha A. Moore is an author of fantasy romance. Much of her life feeds the creative flow she uses to weave highly imaginative tales.
Enjoy this excerpt from Quintessence:

from Chapter One: The Evil Tidal Pool

Jaw clenched and arm muscles tensed, Lyra pumped aura into her fist, which was closed around the Staurolite. The cross-shaped crystal at its center pulsed red hot in her palm. Power from her ancestors—four female Scribes—pressed hard against her fingers, begging to be set into motion against the evil alchemist. Aura flooded Lyra’s senses, bringing keen perception. She studied Eburscon, watching for the slightest movement.
His gaze fixed on her and the Unicorn Guardian in the surf below. He sat motionless on the back of a cimafa stealth dragon, hand cupping the iolite pendant outside of his dark purple cloak. The gem lay quiet. Only the graying braid at Eburscon’s back swept from side to side with the impatient contortions of the cimafa.
Inky clouds billowed around the members of the Dark Realm. The three cimafa were well camouflaged, visible only when they snorted through fiery nostrils and their sleek, long tails undulated.
The Black Dragon’s scales irridesced with light reflected off whitecaps riding on fierce waves across the Sea of Cogadh. Acid drool from his snout peppered the water, sizzling upon impact. His wings moved almost imperceptibly to maintain an aerial position, while his gaze locked on his nemesis, the Alliance’s leader.
Behind Lyra, the huge golden dragon, twice the size of his opponent, stood on the shore. The Imperial Dragon’s thigh muscles bulged and his wings extended, ready for flight. Muffled guttural noises escaped his throat, apparently still burning from the Black Dragon’s acid attack.
Lyra wanted to empower the golden sapphire apex of her wizard’s staff, but feared the display of power might initiate more strikes from the Dark Realm.
Behind her on the Unicorn’s wide rump, Kenzo’s aura shifted. The owl followed the Imperial Dragon’s cue and partially unfolded his silver-striped wings.
Wisps of the Unicorn’s white aura danced in the twisting, turning surf.
Nearby, the sea nymph watched the Pearl of Pendola she had protected for centuries. Its white nacre shined between the fingers of Eburscon’s fist. Before he stole it from her hand, she intended it as a gift for Lyra. The pearl would strengthen the power of the Alliance that protected the nymph and all kind dwellers in the Sea of Cogadh. Tears rolled down her pale cheeks. She slipped off the rocky outcropping into the churning waters now overtaken with evil. Her long blue hair briefly swirled at the surface before she dove deep.
A tremor of power moved along the Unicorn’s spine beneath Lyra. Pulsations of his aura pushed her nerves over the edge. Her own aura spilled reflexively into her staff, and she clutched his mane, preparing for the consequences of an onslaught of strikes from the enemy.
The partially eroded skin of the Black Dragon’s upper lip curled back to reveal rows of snaggled, dark teeth. “If you will not concede, then come into my land and try to get what you need.” He reared his long neck high, then coiled it behind him and snaked his body into a sharp turn in the direction of the Dark Realm.
Eburscon released a wicked laugh and leaned toward Lyra from his seat on the cimafa.
The Imperial Dragon responded and soared to a position between them. His tremendous wings, connecting far beyond his hind legs, completely shielded Lyra.
Warlord Oasth took an aerial position beside his leader. He spread his smaller drake-sized wings but snarled viciously, a mouthful of flames swirling between his teeth.
A violet laser, the color of Eburscon’s aura, shot to the shoreline and pelted the evil tide pool. The surface reflected purple rays at all angles, but no one dared to move toward it.
At last, wing beats sounded behind the wall of the two dragons protecting Lyra. Although breeze from dragon flight lifted strands of her hair, no flames or acid shots cut the airspace.
The alchemist’s laugh grew more distant.
Lyra turned to face the tide pool and noticed an image on its surface. “Move closer to the enchanted pool,” she urged the Unicorn.
“I don’t trust the strength of my ward against Eburscon,” the Guardian whispered over his shoulder to Lyra. He peered cautiously from behind the dragons’ wings, his aura heightened into a swirling cloud.
Kenzo hovered a short distance beyond them and motioned with the tip of his wing. “They are leaving.”
The Unicorn faced the Dark Realm’s border while stepping toward the basin. His dark eyes widened, and his nostrils flared, he tested the trails of evil hanging on air currents.
The party from the Dark Realm flew slowly but steadily back to their land. When they disappeared into the shadowy forest of Silva Nocens, Lyra and the Unicorn turned their attention toward the pool. Violet haze of Eburscon’s aura hung above the water. The calm surface beneath reflected an image.
Kenzo circled the pool, while Lyra dismounted and kneeled on the bank in order to see under the mist. She secured her heavy wool riding cloak behind her shoulders, but the golden tip of her braid nearly fell into the evil water before she pushed it onto her back.
In the vision, the thin frame of Kessa, the young seer, huddled in a corner against a rough stone wall. The ten-year-old child wore shackles on her ankles. Her leg braces had been removed, revealing long scars above and below her knees. She hid her face in her folded arms and a cascading curtain of matted, dark blond hair.
A heavily muscled Qumeli man sat cross-legged beside her, a stoic expression on his bearded face. Two thick, coiled horns grew from either side of his forehead and spiraled backward past his shoulders. Their size revealed his mature age. Red beaded decorations strung in his long peppered black hair and between the horns indicated his status as a tribal chief.
On the other side of Kessa, a plump old woman puffed calmly on a hand-carved pipe, allowing the smoke to trickle out in ribbons through her wide nose. Horns spiraled from high on her head of wiry gray hair, coiling around her ears one turn more than the man’s. Beaded dangles and charms festooned the bottom of each spiral. Weather-beaten, deep wrinkles marred her olive complexion. Lyra recognized the woman as the sibyl star reader, Stella, who had tricked her. During a lesson in mystic astronomy, Stella had positioned Lyra near the edge of a cliff, where a waiting cimafa attacked and fought fiercely to steal her aura. Recalling the experience, her first with a stealth dragon, Lyra shivered.
A heaving lump of clothing next to the sibyl raised a scarf-covered head and choked on a sob. Nillea’s swollen face turned to the Qumeli woman. Nillea’s eyes were bloodshot and her clothing ripped. She crawled a foot in the direction of her daughter.
The sibyl glared at Nillea, and the chief sent his fist into Kessa’s outer knee.
Kessa whimpered and curled tighter against the wall, while her mother wailed inaudible words with a hoarse voice.
“Stop begging,” the sibyl snapped. “Such a slow learner. More you do, more pain she’ll get.” One corner of the old woman’s mouth curved into a grin. “Only when she tells where the other keystones are to be found, we stop and let you both free.”
“She’s only a small girl. Please.” Nillea shuddered. Upon receiving no response, she faced Kessa. “Kinchin, please do this one bit of Great Gramaema Heilia’s magic for these people.” Her voice cracked. “Then we’ll leave here and no more magic ever. It brings too much hurt.”
The sibyl cackled and blew a puff of smoke in Nillea’s face. “You hurt the child, not her seeing.”
Nillea coughed and fell back. Her foot caught in torn layers of her full skirt, and she writhed helplessly, while the sibyl enjoyed a resounding belly laugh.
A dense violet film clouded the vision. Lyra looked at the Unicorn and Imperial Dragon. With white knuckles, she clamped onto the shaft of her wizard’s staff. “If this is true—”






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Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Podcast Dedicated to all Things Werewolf the HowlOutCast Interviewed Me


Kaijudo the host of the HowlOutCast kicked off my Werewolves in the Renaissance blog tour early today with my interview at his podcast. We had a great talk. His laid back style and warm humor made for a fun interview experience for me and I'm grateful for the opportunity. Visit the HowlOutCast blog to get coupon codes to save on the ebook or paperback of Werelord Thal. This is the very first place I've shared these discount codes.

Listen to the show with the player below.

Monday, January 27, 2014

Toxic Sludge is Good for You! - A Treasured Paperback in my Library


Print Book Appreciation Month continues with this look at one of my most revered little paperbacks in my nonfiction library. Toxic Sludge is Good for You! Lies, Damn Lies and the Public Relations Industry by John Stauber and Sheldon Rampton was assigned reading in my Propaganda and Public Opinion class at Chico State University. It details the dirty and deplorable tricks of the public relations industry to twist, manipulate, and mislead public opinion and lawmakers usually at the behest of polluters and warmongers and foreign governments.

This is such an eye opening book. It's made my understanding of the media and what is called "news" very different from the mainstream consumer who might actually believe what they read in mainstream publications or see on TV. Most news is very carefully crafted to promote a certain agenda, and almost never one that benefits you. So powerful and pervasive are these techniques that you will believe that "toxic sludge is good for you!"

Published in 1995, its examples are a bit dated now, but the information is still relevant. In the chapter called "The Torturers' Lobby" the common practice of lobbying the U.S. Congress by foreign governments with repressive regimes is explained. They seek support from the U.S. government through trade or business agreements and avoid sanctions for human rights abuses.

Next in the chapter "Poisoning the Grassroots" the surveillance of activists is explained. Spies even infiltrate activist groups that threaten industry and undermine their efforts. Next time you hear about a scandal among some do-gooder group keep in mind that the event was likely manufactured by undercover agents. Then there is the creation of false grassroots organizations that promote industry agendas and undermine or obfuscate the work of real activists. This is known as astroturf. These false organizations even enlist concerned citizens but misdirect them with lies. The Tea Party is the recent textbook example. It's made up of genuinely upset real people but the whole idea of the Tea Party was funded and promoted by billionaires like the infamous Koch brothers. You didn't believe that actual activists get coverage on cable news did you?

I could go on and on. I'm grateful to this hard-hitting little book for pulling the wool off my eyes. It only leaves me wondering what tricks I'm still falling for.

If you'd like to know the details of why you don't trust the media, I heartily recommend reading it.



Saturday, January 25, 2014

Best Techie Review of 2013 Kindle Paperwhite

I'm passing along this thorough review of the Kindle Paperwhite syndicated by Best Techie. The author of the review seems fairly fussy about gadgets but had an overall positive experience with the Kindle Paperwhite. I also learned in this review that the Kindle software on this device integrates with Goodreads the book lovers' social network recently bought by Amazon.


Review: Kindle Paperwhite (2013) (via BestTechie)

For the past year, I’ve done most of my reading on a 4th-generation iPad. I went back to the iPad after selling my Kindle Touch, which was an improvement over Kindle models past, but still left me wanting in terms of contrast and illumination. That…


Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Smashwords Ebook Deals $2.99 and Less

Smashwords Deals for the week of January 22nd

This is a weekly feature at Her Ladyship's Quest. Follow by email or with RSS and come back for the next Smashwords Deals feature. 

Browse my bargain ebook picks this week from Smashwords. All ebooks are available internationally in your choice of format.


Hilda Extreme: Book 12 Hilda the Wicked Witch

Paul Kater

Fantasy Humor

Only $2.99 no coupon needed

Get it at Smashwords

As usual Hilda and William run into adventures, and this time into severe problems as well. They will find out what it takes to go against a witch we know, in a very extreme way! What would you do with 150 horses?


Yvie Towers

African American Historical Romance

Only $2.99 no coupon needed


Lily’s a young woman with a tragic past and an uncertain future. Julian’s a man with a questionable past and a seemingly bright future. When the two of them meet, their worlds collide, blurring the lines between slave and master, freedom and subjection, and even love and hate.


Poor Man in a Rich Man's World

Aaron Bearup

Self Help Personal Finance

Only $0.99 no coupon needed

Get it at Smashwords

Financially speaking, times are tough for nearly everyone right now. Spending less money than you make is a more challenging proposition than ever before. Within a framework of lighthearted personal stories and an analysis of current economic and social conditions, this book offers advice on how to spend less than you make on a monthly basis without hindering your quality of life.

Happy Reading!

Follow Her Ladyship's Quest by email or with RSS and come back for the next Smashwords Deals feature.
Authors: Send me your coupon codes with the form at the bottom of the Smashwords Deals page.

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Excerpt from New Religion Plus Coupon for Paperback


Print Book Appreciation Month continues with this 15% off coupon for New Religion: Rys Rising Book III paperback plus an excerpt. Buy the 446 page 6x9 inch trade paperback at Createspace and use coupon code EHJ77M8M to take 15 percent off the list price. 
(Also available as an ebook for $4.95)

I've selected this scene to share from New Religion: Rys Rising Book II because it illustrates how I chose to show most of the holy war that takes place in this fantasy novel. The scene opens with Loxane who is the woman on the book cover (and this blog's header because she's so good looking). She is the Shamaness of the Kelsur Tribe and now the High Priestess of Onja, the powerful rys that is in the process of convincing humanity she is their Goddess. Throughout the saga Loxane is a character kept at arm's length. Her mystique never fully allowed me to get to know her, yet she is an important player throughout the epic. She is primitive, powerful, and lives beyond the normal restrictions of human societies. 

After her appearance, the rest of the scene focuses on Khage, a boy soldier abducted from his village and forced to serve Onja's swelling army. He's about to participate in the assault of a major fortified city.

Excerpt from New Religion: Rys Rising Book III by Tracy Falbe

Loxane raised her sickle and the wind billowed in her cape as she rode along the front of the massing army. Khage was in the front row and watched breathlessly as she came closer. Men and boys cheered her wildly, and Khage added his voice when she flowed past him. She was a vision of female beauty wrapped in male aggression. The dichotomy ignited Khage’s courage because he could follow her example of bravery while still hoping to impress her.
After Loxane moved on, Khage looked at Telop. Dawn was breaking over the city, silhouetting its walls and towers that cast long shadows toward the army about to assault it. Along the walls Nurati warriors yelled insults at the invaders. Priests held two sacrificed lambs over the walls and the bright red blood spilled down. The ritual sacrifice encouraged the city defenders and they yelled even louder and banged their weapons on the walls, but the attackers were not intimidated. Attempts to appease old and failed Gods were futile, and every fighter in the service of Onja believed in her supremacy.
Khage rested his hand on his battle axe. He had no doubt that he was going to be among the first to show his faith to the Goddess. Late last night, rysmavda had moved through the camps promising eternal paradise to those who fell fighting for Onja. The Goddess would escort the souls of her fighters to a new world of plenty, but Khage was more interested in earning the rewards she would give the living.
The army had been buzzing with the news that Onja’s power was going to be unleashed in this battle. Khage had heard the stories about what had been done at Dengar Nor and Chadenedra. He could not imagine how to prepare himself to witness such wonders.
Behind Khage the siege towers were advancing. They creaked at a slow crawl as multiple teams of horses or oxen hauled them forward. Ranks of infantry parted for the dozen towers and men reformed their lines to follow them.
Crews also ran forward with many ladders. The scene fascinated Khage. His view of previous battles had always been myopic. He had simply run with his fellows into a village and started killing. But out here on the open ground before the large city, he saw the assembled faithful and watched them move with careful orchestration.
He eventually had to move aside as one of the siege towers rumbled close. His heart hammered as it went by him. Horns blared, signaling orders among those much more important than himself.
All manner of wood and metal scraps had been hastily patched together to form the walls of the rolling tower. Khage thought they looked like they would offer good protection from the furious Nurati. But then he watched Temulanka warriors line up behind the towers and realized that they would get to use them. With less enthusiasm Khage assumed he would have to make do with one of the spindly ladders.
Kezanada on horses moved in front of the boy soldiers. Khage recognized the usual men who directed them in battle. They addressed their young fighters and Khage listened to the man closest to him.
“Children of Onja, you were born for this great day. Today you will become heroes to your people. They will sing your names and praise how you spread the word of your Goddess to stupid unbelievers. Now is the time to show your faith like never before. If Onja is impressed with your bravery, she will give us this city. Then you can fill your bellies and take treasure to make your families rich!”
Many boys cheered, Khage included. He could believe that this walled city with its royal palace, schools, temples, and theaters had many riches that the villages had lacked.
The Kezanada continued, “And you will be granted another great reward for fighting today. One you have never been allowed before. When the Goddess grants our victory, you may celebrate with battle wives!”
Excitement shook the boys’ juvenile bodies. While rampaging through the villages, the Kezanada, Kelsurs, and Temulanka had always taken the women for themselves. Sometimes they let the boys watch, but they had always told the boys they did not deserve women until they were real warriors.
The Kezanada continued, “This is a real city and if you take it then you will be real warriors. Find yourself a woman and do what you’ve always wanted to do. These Nurati women need men who serve the Goddess. Teach them well.” The Kezanada concluded with a laugh as he surveyed the gaping mouths and wide eyes of the boy soldiers.
Lust engulfed the fear inside Khage. He wanted a battle wife. He wanted one more than he had even realized until that moment. His whole life women were something that he was not even allowed to see. Now he could see them, and, if he could just get over those walls, then he could touch them.
“Onja is great!” he shouted and the other boys quickly took up the call.


New Religion: Rys Rising Book III by Tracy Falbe

Buy the 446 page 6x9 inch trade paperback at Createspace and use coupon code EHJ77M8M to take 15 percent off the list price. 
(Also available as an ebook for $4.95)

January is Print Book Appreciation Month. Follow Her Ladyship's Quest to get all the paperback coupons and excerpts offered this month. 

Sunday, January 19, 2014

C.M. Michaels Begins Publishing New Vampire Trilogy Sisters in Blood

I ran across a new release announcement from an urban fantasy author who grew up in Northern Michigan. C.M. Michaels now lives in Kentucky, but he's still a Midwesterner working hard to craft his inspirations into stories for others. Authors are everywhere, and many talented people surround you no matter where you live. Read about his new vampire book Dangerous Waters available for kindle and in paperback.

Gritty New Series Takes a Bite out of Vampire Genre (via SBWire)

From author C.M. Michaels, ‘Dangerous Waters’ kicks off the “Sisters in Blood” trilogy, an edgy urban fantasy series. Telling the tale of a not-so-typical college freshman whose destiny may well impact all of mankind, fans are already buzzing…


Saturday, January 18, 2014

Werewolves in the Renaissance Blog Tour Open for Sign Ups



It's time to take my new release Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale on a blog tour. 

All bloggers whose audience would like to know about a historical paranormal fantasy novel are invited to participate. Werelord Thal is my ninth novel and available as an ebook or paperback. I welcome bloggers from all countries. My novels are available worldwide from my web store and many retailers.

Writing a novel in a historical period means research. For Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale I chose 16th century Bohemia for the setting. The era of the Renaissance and Reformation in Europe is one that I studied in college. This period fascinates me, particularly its witch hunting craze. This element inspired a lot of the content and meaning within Werelord Thal.

To take the book on tour I’ve decided to create guest posts about historical facts I learned while researching the novel. Even though I was familiar with the broad historical strokes of this era, many little details needed to be tracked down as I wrote the novel.

Bloggers who wish to review the book or interview me instead of accepting a guest post are welcome to do so. Free ebook copies are available to reviewers.

Bloggers who sign up to host a tour stop for Werelord Thal will receive the following materials to publish at their blogs.

1. A short guest post highlighting a snippet of historical information from my research. This part is meant to be interesting to readers. I’m hoping to provide content that they will enjoy and appreciate. Example subjects are: Historical quarters of Prague, the clock in the Old Town Square of Prague, the card game primero, Gypsies and laws against them, what are Reiters?, and who were the Renaissance witches?

2. Book cover art and tour banner.

3. Book description.

4. Embed code for a 4-chapter preview of Werelord Thal from SlideShare.

5. Coupon code for my Brave Luck Books web store where your readers can save 25 percent on the Werelord Thal ebook (sale price $2.99 discounted from $3.99).

6. Coupon code to save 20 percent on the Werelord Thal paperback.

7. Links to other retail sites. You may add affiliate codes to these links if that’s your thing. Werelord Thal offers a 50 percent affiliate share at Smashwords if you’re interested.

8. Upon request, any participating blogger may have a free ebook copy of Werelord Thal.

The tour will be supported by multiple and ongoing press releases through my newswire service. I will write and distribute a press release for every tour stop. This is mutually positive for both me and your blog. You could get dozens or maybe hundreds of extra visits to your blog through the newswire. It will also help me keep my name and book circulating on the internet.

Blog tour will start on February 11th and run through March 21st.

To join the blog tour, please fill out the form below and I will be in touch to confirm scheduling and deliver promotional materials. 

 About the novel:


Thal is wanted for Devil worship and shape shifting but still boldly walks the streets of 16th century Prague. Jesuits hunt him. Mercenaries fear him. Musicians sing his praise, and women are captivated by his alpha swagger.

Born of a witch and a sorcerer, he is summoned when his desperate mother casts the werewolf spell before facing torture and execution. Burdened with her magical call for vengeance Thal seeks the men that killed her. His hunt is complicated when the Magistrate’s stepdaughter Altea Kardas crosses his path. She is horrified that her community is burning women to death. She can confide her doubt and fear only to Thal.

He desires her greatly but knows he will bring ruin upon her. Across Bohemia and beyond people who are different are labeled heretics in a restless world hobbled by tyrannical ignorance. The Renaissance has thrown the Holy Roman Empire into turmoil. Printed books are spreading radical ideas. Firearms are triggering a new age of warfare. And the human spirit is shaking off obedience.

Thal embodies the ancient magic of the pagan past. He challenges a world conquered by a spiritual system that denies the flesh and forgets the Earth. And he awakens within Altea recognition of these truths. She believes any risk is worth loving him until she becomes the bait in a trap set by Thal’s enemies.

Please fill out this form to join the tour. 
Dates already scheduled:

January 28th (early bird) - HowlOutCast werewolf theme podcast
February 12th - Susan Stuckey
February 13th - The Kronicles of Korthlundia 
February 18th - Mathew Reuther
February 19th - The Vaetra Files 
February 20th - Worlds of Magic and Adventure
February 21st - Alesha L. Escobar 
February 24th - Disciple of the Fount  
February 26th - Wandering Around the Words
March 2nd - Art and Tree Chatter of Aquariann
March 13th - Illusions of Intimacy
 

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

15% Off Coupon for Paperback Fantasy Savage Storm Plus Excerpt


If you don't want no stinking ebook reader or digital books, I offer the print-preferring public a 15% savings off the paperback price of Savage Storm: Rys Rising Book II.Visit my chosen print-on-demand supplier Createspace to get this novel and enter coupon code EHJ77M8M at checkout to apply the discount. 

About the novel

442 page 6 x 9 inch trade paperback ISBN 9780976223580

When Onja enthralls the savage Chatapaka people of the remote north and unleashes their brutal hordes upon vulnerable Nufalese settlements, the militia is overwhelmed. Cruce Chenomet and his comrades struggle to save the fleeing settlers. Cruce quickly loses hope but keeps his courage as he confronts the savage storm.

Read the excerpt from Savage Storm below to get a feel for the style of this fantasy novel. In this exciting scene Cruce Chenomet attempts to rescue two militia comrades kidnapped by the savages after a big battle. A tabre of the Kwellstan Sect has gone with him to help but only has limited magical powers. For Cruce it's likely a suicide mission undertaken in the heat of battle, but the militiamen of Nufal never leave a man behind if any hope remains. 

I chose this excerpt because it demonstrates the intensity of the action in this novel. I promise there's much more of this action throughout the epic series.

From Chapter 14. The Shaman's Dance

Even without Truleo’s help, Cruce could have located the captive militiamen. The howling, singing, and chanting punctuated by the most chilling screams drew him and the tabre rapidly to the fire lit ring. Many rows of savages insulated some horrible scene. On the outer fringe the savages milled and jockeyed for position, trying to see better the ritual murder of their prisoners.
Cruce and Truleo hovered in the darkness just outside the savage gathering. Nearby they could hear other men rushing to the scene, hoping to experience the gruesome sacrifice. Cruce knew that he would have to plunge into that merciless mass of bodies and do what he could. Another scream shredded his ears and amid the shouts and chants he heard screeching Nufalese curse words.
“Truleo, after I go in, make a distraction,” Cruce said.
The tabre was panting, but not from exertion. He was having a startling physiological reaction to the naked emotions rising from the savages and their victims. He had never imagined such horrors nor had he thought he could feel so small and weak before a group of humans. Their bloodlust exceeded those of any other animal and the power of it made him tremble.
“Truleo!” Cruce hissed urgently.
“I’m afraid,” the tabre said.
Cruce’s eyes bulged. “I’m going in there now,” he said, exasperated that the tabre was afraid when he was the one rushing alone into the raving pumping heart of savagedom.
More screams erupted, speaking to the worst of pains, and Truleo quailed.
“Do something now!” Cruce commanded and ran into the crowd.
The savages were transfixed by their dark ceremony and Cruce was just another pushing man in the hot horrible group. His disguise was sufficient and the ecstatic madness around him covered the cries of those men he removed from his path with his knife and sword. Holding the exposed blades close to his body, he pressed through to the inner circle of blood.
The scene he beheld froze him completely. His body burned to take action, but he did not know what to do. He had been willing to die trying to save his comrades, but now that he saw what the savages did to their live captives, quivering fear snatched at his courage like a protective mother.
In front of him, two savages held a prisoner tied to a pole. Their backs were to Cruce, but he recognized Vrostan’s blond hair. Hebensten squirmed and wailed, but he was helpless to flee or stop the atrocities inflicted upon Drumond. Cruce could not tell if Drumond still lived, but he surely must die soon. His guts were spilled onto the ground and the shaman was yanking the entrails apart and examining them for reasons Cruce refused to fathom.
White light suddenly brightened the surreal acts of cruelty performed by the shaman. After flaring brightly and revealing the bloody mess of Drumond’s defiled body, the light moved around the shaman, illuminating his warped frame within a sphere of glistening energy. The songs of the savages stopped and the shaman looked around his bubble of light. Alarm and fascination shone from his pale eyes, and, being a shaman, he quickly took advantage of the mysterious event. Raising his bloody knives, he shouted and exulted in the power that his ritual had released. The ring of savages backed off a little, terrified of their shaman and the strange light.
Because the supernatural display had to be Truleo’s distraction, Cruce smashed the paralysis of his terror. Now was his only chance to vent his hatred and avenge the horrors upon which he looked.
Cruce raised his weapons and approached the two savages holding the pole with Vrostan on it. Cruce shoved his knife into the upper back of one savage and chopped the neck of the other with his sword. They crumpled with hardly a sound, and Vrostan fell forward as the two men restraining him abruptly let go.
The white light left the shaman and moved into the crowd. Its sphere shape dissolved and weird tendrils of light began snaking around the savages. The crowd loosened as the savages backed away from the light that seemed now to be looking for something.
Cruce worked unnoticed as the simple tabre light tricks drew the full attention of the savages. He bent over Vrostan and started cutting him free. Leaning into his ear, he asked Vrostan if he could stand.
The sound of his own language was a mercy beyond all hope. He heaved his battered body onto all fours as the straps around his neck and wrists fell away. In the hectic shifting light, he did not immediately recognize Cruce but he understood that someone had come to help him. This seemed so impossible that he had to wonder if he had lapsed into a hallucination. Even so, he willed his body to function. Moving into a low crouch, Vrostan looked around.
The white light had lifted into the air, pulling all the amazed eyes of the savages with it. The shaman was singing to it in his own trance-like speech. Cruce left Vrostan and darted to Drumond. Beholding the ruined young man almost made him wretch. He saw Drumond’s hands twitch and bloody lips wheeze through pink froth. Life remained in the poor young man and Cruce acted quickly. He slammed his knife through Drumond’s chest all the way up to the black horn handle. Cracking through the tough sternum, the blade split Drumond’s heart and sent him to the Great Divinity.
Cruce pulled his knife free and whirled away from Drumond too sickened to ever look at him again. Loathsome depths of vengeful rage boiled Cruce’s spirit and filled him with a pressurized strength that could only be released in one way. Danger did not matter and escape could wait. The savages would fear Cruce Chenomet of Nufal.
Lifting his sword high, he stalked up to the blathering shaman...

Save 15% off the paperback price of Savage Storm: Rys Rising Book II.Visit my chosen print-on-demand supplier Createspace to get this novel and enter coupon code EHJ77M8M at checkout to apply the discount.

For more paperback coupons follow Her Ladyship's Quest during Print Book Appreciation Month.

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Celtic Mythology Inspires New Paranormal Romance by Juli D. Revezzo


I'm happy to present a guest blogger today. Juli D. Revezzo is an accomplished author with several stories published in various literary magazines. Today she talks about mythological creatures and her new paranormal romance Passion's Sacred Dance.

Unusual paranormal characters in Romance

by
Juli D. Revezzo

Modern paranormal romance caters to women who want to dream a little more than the average reader. They crave the weird and just looking at the romance pages in Amazon or at the shelves in a bookstore, you’ll see publishers are catering to that wish list.

These days the main star of the genre, though, seems to have gelled down to two factions: Vampires and werewolves. As a reader of the genre, and as a lover of mythology, I’ve often wondered why that is. After all, the world’s mythologies offer so many different types of monsters (yes, I said the M word ;)) to choose from.

For instance, in Medieval mythology you’ll find Spring-heeled Jack.

In Scottish mythology you’ll find the pooka and the selkie.

In Greek and Roman mythology you have the shade (which is akin to the ghost), sirens, and the harpies, not to mention gods, dryads, and fauns—the list is endless right in that one mythology. And can’t you just see the *ahem* Erotic antics to be had with a faun?!

(C.S. Lewis missed a great opportunity to write a romance *eg*)

For me I chose to focus on the Celts of ancient Ireland and Gaul who battled the Romans in order to preserve their homeland. (Alas, we won’t have time to cover here how that worked out) Warriors, druids, sorcerers, maidens with mystic powers and secrets. Though the mythological records can seem spotty, they carry within them the very seed of romance itself.

(and, wow! Imagine being taken away by an elf king… and a faun? Wait, I think I have a new idea for a book.)

If you’d like to see what I made of my take on the Celtic mythological beings, read my new paranormal romance, PASSION’S SACRED DANCE.

Battling mounting debt, Stacy Macken is determined not to lose her historic art gallery. When Aaron Fielding appears and offers to help, she fights to keep the attraction sizzling between them from clouding her judgment. He may be her savior in disguise--but can she trust him?

Aaron intrigues her with tales of the Tuatha dé Danann, sworn warriors who protect humanity from the monsters seeking their destruction. If Aaron can prove what he claims, she would give up anything to help--even the gallery he claims is sacred ground. But with her property set to stage the next epic battle, she needs answers. An old family diary will confirm the ancient legend is true, if only they can find it in time.

If the battle is lost, the enemy will take control of Earth for the next five hundred years. Stacy and Aaron's budding love might only complicate things.

If you’d like to read more, PASSION’S SACRED DANCE today.


Thank you, Tracy for hosting me today! Folks, I hope you’ll check PASSION’S SACRED DANCE out and enjoy the magic!


About Juli D. Revezzo:

Juli D. Revezzo has long been in love with writing, a love built by devouring everything from the Arthurian legends, to the works of Michael Moorcock, and the classics and has a soft spot for classic the “Goths” of the 19th century. Her short fiction has been published in Dark Things II: Cat Crimes, The Scribing Ibis, Eternal Haunted Summer, Twisted Dreams Magazine and Luna Station Quarterly. She also has an article and book review or two out there. But her heart lies in the storytelling. She is a member of Independent Authors Network and Magic Appreciation Tour. Passion’s Sacred Dance is her first romance novel.

You can find out more about her at her homepage: http://julidrevezzo.com/
Blog: http://julidrevezzo.com/blog

Like her on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/JD-Revezzo/233193150037011
Follow her on Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/111476709039805267272/posts
On Good Reads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5782712.Juli_D_Revezzo
Shelfari: http://www.shelfari.com/authors/a1002694572/Juli-D-Revezzo/
On Twitter: @julidrevezzo

So, tell me, what unusual character might you want to read (or write) a love story about?





Saturday, January 11, 2014

My Vintage Doctor Who Paperbacks Are a Beloved Part of Print Collection



What makes me keep a book instead of putting it in the garage sale? What makes something worthy of shelf space?

Many reasons motivate people to add books to their collections. A big influence in my print collection is sentimental value. I keep the book because I have a strong emotional connection with the book's content and the memories attached to the book as a physical object.

My beloved little Doctor Who paperbacks are a perfect example. I've never been able to part with them over the decades. I even cringe at the thought of listing them on Etsy where I actively sell vintage books for fun.

I'm a Doctor Who fan to this day, but when I was a kid I could only watch it when the local PBS station broadcast them. There was no unlimited access on Netflix. DVDs did not exist.

So I turned to books. I can't even remember how old I was when I got these books. I guess I was about 12 or 13. Even though I had seen the episodes of these stories on television, I still loved reading them. The book is always better that the movie right?

Pictured above are these titles:

By Terrance Dicks

Doctor Who and the Giant Robot
Death to the Daleks
And the Day of the Daleks
And the Abominable Snowmen
And the Horror of Fang Rock

And the Masque of Mandragora by Philip Hinchcliffe
And the Green Death by Malcolm Hulke


These books make me happy every time I see them and that's reason enough to keep them.

Follow my blog if you'd like more content about books. I've declared January Print Appreciation Month. I'll be sharing coupon codes for paperbacks of my novels. You can read a long excerpt from Rys Rising: Book I and get a 15 percent off discount code here.

Thursday, January 9, 2014

Rys Rising Fantasy Paperback Excerpt with 15% Off Coupon


Rys Rising: Book I by Tracy Falbe is an epic fantasy available as a 404 page 6 x 9 inch trade paperback ISBN 978-0976223573. Save 15% at Createspace with coupon code EHJ77M8M

Continuing the theme of Print Book Appreciation Month I present today an excerpt from Rys Rising: Book I. In this scene Amar rescues Urlen from a slow death at the Sky Temple. These men will become great friends and conquer many realms in the service of Onja, their rys mistress and soon-to-be Goddess.



About the Novel: A young warrior ruined and near death is saved by Onja a mysterious rys female. Forsaking all that he was, he will take the name Amar and serve his new magical mistress. A lord among outlaws he will become, feared by kings and called the dro-shalum or curse demon by the common folk. Indulge yourself and read this sumptuous epic told from many angles.

Excerpt:


Amar drew his good sword and approached the altar. Onja followed him, captivated by everything she beheld. Cybar trailed them, stalling fearfully. Amar waved the birds away from the altar with his sword. The tormented man squinted into the sun. Amar, silhouetted by the brightness, was fuzzy to his bloodshot eyes. He tried to speak, but his dry thirsty throat barely made a sound better than the coarse crows.
Cybar called to Amar, “His life is for Preem. You must not interfere.”
Amar studied the man on the altar. His brown skin glowed red from the burning sun. His lips were cracked and darkly clotted. His chin length black hair with a deep widow’s peak was dirty and stringy, and blisters mottled his forehead, nose and cheeks. He had only been left clothed in a linen tunic and loin cloth and his bare legs showed the wounds of many probing pecks.
Upon hearing voices, the condemned tried again to speak. “Mercy,” he groaned. “Mercy. I do not deserve this.”
“Amar, we must go,” Cybar insisted. “Do not give him swift death.”
Amar had initially thought to end the man’s suffering with a merciful blow, but now that he looked at him, he changed his mind.
“I would free him,” he said.
“Preem will punish you,” Cybar warned.
Amar dismissed the threat of Preem’s ire. “I seek no forgiveness for anything that I have done. One more thing will not matter,” he said and then looked to Onja, seeking her opinion.
She came beside the altar. “Free him,” she concurred.
The bronze chains that draped the altar were old and corroded, but still firm enough to restrain a tortured man. Amar found a particularly weak link and smacked it with his sword. Three strokes and the link broke. Amar pried the link apart and then pulled the chains off the loop set into the stone.
The condemned man watched Amar with amazement. The young wanderer bore no resemblance to anyone he knew and he certainly lacked the appearance of a Nurati. With the chains loose from the rock, Amar looked at the manacles on the man’s wrists and ankles.
“I can get those off him,” Onja said.
The condemned man turned his head toward her lovely voice. “Sweet lady….” he started to say in a voice as rough as split logs but then he stopped. He did not understand what he saw. He fainted when her eyes began to glow with blue fire.
The bolts of the manacles softened as Onja precisely heated them. Amar pulled the manacles open and freed the man’s limbs. Amar gathered the limp man into his arms. He was slight of build, and Amar was able to place him over a shoulder. The man smelled terribly, and Amar turned his face away from his wretched body.
Cybar had retreated outside the ring of stones. From the shade of an oak he watched Amar approach with the unconscious man. Cybar shook his head insistently. “Put him back,” he advised urgently.
Onja tugged on Amar’s sleeve to stop him. “He truly fears what you have done,” she commented.
“He will get over it,” Amar said, unconcerned about Cybar’s opinion.
“The others truly fear this sky temple,” she said.
“The Gods are to be feared, Onja,” Amar replied matter-of-factly. “You are born. You die. The Gods are always there.”
She contemplated his simple words and then asked, “But you do not fear your Gods, Amar?”
Amar would have shrugged if he had not been burdened with a stinking half-dead man. “I do not care,” he said and continued toward Cybar.
Onja lingered in the sky temple and studied the faces carved in the stones. Their blank eyes now looked at her invitingly, welcoming her into their mysterious club.
So simple, she thought.
She set a hand on a monolith. The stone had been cut from the Rysamand and somehow the humans had dragged it up this butte. The effort that must have taken astounded her. So very strange that the humans would work so hard for something that benefited them not at all. Most of them lived in little huts and enjoyed no luxuries. Why did they not put their efforts toward making better shelters for everyone?
Onja looked at the men under the oak tree. Amar had set the man down in the shade and was dripping water onto the man’s ragged lips. Cybar frowned over them with worry.
There is power in fear, Onja realized.
A crow flapped over her head and landed on the nearest monolith. He squawked at Onja irritably, apparently blaming her for the removal of the sacrifice. She looked up at the impertinent bird. He turned his head and regarded her closely with a perfect black eye that glistened with intelligence. Onja shifted her attention entirely to the sentience radiating from the shiny black bird. Her wondrous mind that knew no bounds connected with the bird’s alien awareness.
“Yes, I took your prize. Forgive me this once, and I will make it up to you,” she told him mentally.
Utterly surprised by the communication, the crow tucked his dark beak against his feathery chest and peeked at her shyly. Onja lifted a blue hand and invited him gently with a twitch of her white-nailed fingers.
The crow looked back at his mates that were strutting across the altar stone, complaining among each other. Tentatively the crow on the monolith opened his wings, and, after one more encouraging gesture from Onja, flapped down to her hand. His feet dug into her skin but did not pierce her flesh. She stroked his neck and purred to him lovingly.
“You shall have to tell me your name someday,” she told him.
He squawked and took to the air. He landed in the oak tree over the men tending the victim plucked from Preem’s justice. Onja watched the indentations left in the skin of her hand fade before she joined her companions.
Amar made Cybar help him carry the man down the steep steps of the butte. The other men were distressed at Amar’s audacious theft from Preem.
But Amar scolded them, “We claim to be brother outlaws yet you would leave one to the judgment of the law-abiding. Whatever this man did, he is one of us now.”
Delirious, the man moaned and turned his head from side to side on the ground. He was grizzled, sunburned, and filthy. His body was thin and his hands were soft. Clearly he was no laborer.
Amar said, “I think this man has some quality.”
They took him to the little stream in the canyon and washed him. The cool water roused him from his burning torment, and he drank greedily, which made him retch. Amar rolled him away from the bank so that he could no longer slurp like a mad animal.
Clearly the group was not going to travel more that day, and Vame gathered firewood. While Amar nursed the man, Cybar answered questions from Kym and Vame about the sky temple. His Kez brothers often glanced warily at the quiet butte. The circling vultures were drifting away. Preem’s servants would go unpaid today. A debt perhaps that would not be forgotten.
Onja sat apart from everyone, cross-legged upon a boulder at the edge of the stream. She stared toward her mountains, lost in intense thought.
Kym eventually stood over Amar and the man that had been rescued.
“Amar, the priests of Preem might notice that the vultures disappeared when they should have thickened in the sky,” Kym said.
“Priests are slow. We’ll move on in the morning. Do not worry, Kym,” Amar said.
“Your accursed pet will not be able to travel so soon,” Kym said.
Amar’s dark eyes flashed up at the Kez warrior. “I do not fear Nurati priests who chain people and leave them for animals,” Amar said. “This man will ride with me.”
Kym shook his head because Amar puzzled him continually. “Why do you want this man? He’ll certainly make no warrior for Vu. I don’t think he could steal a bowl of porridge to save his life.”
Amar wetted a rag and wiped the man’s forehead. “He might have knowledge and rare skills. Warriors aren’t everything,” he said.
Kym scratched the back of his head, where his stubble was starting to grow in. “I suppose the Nurati are known for scholarship,” Kym granted. He squatted next to the thin wretched man and studied him. “Yes, yes, definitely a Nurati nose. What’s your name, Nurati criminal?” Kym asked.
The man’s eyes were half closed. His lips moved as if he might answer, but the effort to speak seemed to be too much. Amar dribbled at little more water into his mouth and said, “I am Amar. Who are you?”
“Amar,” the man whispered back and his long black lashes lifted. His crusty eyes were craters in a skull covered by tight skin. “I am Urlen.”
“Urlen,” Amar repeated. He liked the name. “What was your crime?”
Urlen shut his eyes as if the answer was difficult to recall. “No crime,” he said. “I did what was right.”
Kym chuckled. “Maybe he is a proper criminal.”

If you'd like to sample more of this novel you can download the free ebook version worldwide at Brave Luck Books

Or look for it at your favorite online retailer. Ebook $2.99 Paperback $15.

To save 15% off the paperback list price visit Createspace and enter coupon code EHJ77M8M at checkout. Createspace is the print-on-demand company that produces the paperback that is also for sale at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. The coupon code only works at Createspace

Any questions or comments? Leave one at this blog. I'll see it and respond.

Want to enjoy more excerpts from my novels and get more coupon codes? Please follow Her Ladyship's Quest. You can use RSS (my favorite) or get email notifications.


Wednesday, January 8, 2014

January 8th Picks for Bargain Ebooks at Smashwords

Smashwords Deals for the week of January 8th

This is a weekly feature at Her Ladyship's Quest. Follow by email or with RSS and come back for the next Smashwords Deals feature. 

I'm a big nonfiction reader, so I've collected a few nonfiction picks at Smashwords this week for your consideration. 


PTSD Silent Heartache

Johnny Gavin

Nonfiction Mental Health

$0.99 no coupon needed. 

Get it at Smashwords

The author of PTSD Silent Heartache suffers with this illness himself so can empathise with others who suffer in silence. Whilst he was in the Army – the Parachute Regiment initially he transferred to the Military Corrective Training Centre in Colchester, Essex where he gained various qualifications in stress related issues to help those service personnel who were in detention.

Sales Call Reluctance

Connie Kadansky, PCC

Nonfiction Business and Sales

$1.99 no coupon needed

Get it at Smashwords

There are times when even the best of us find ourselves in a rut. It seems that we are doing the same old things and feel that the excitement has gone out of our career. In this book you will find some of the best and brightest sharing about personal development. Sales Call Reluctance Coach, Connie Kadansky, shares how to overcome the emotional hesitation to prospect and self-promote.


Tech Watch: The Future is Being Built Today

John Stilwell

Nonfiction Science and Nature

FREE! no coupon needed

Get it at Smashwords

This book is a series of articles from my blog that take look at the cutting edge of science. Amazing things are happening that most of us are unaware.

Happy Reading!

Follow Her Ladyship's Quest by email or with RSS and come back for the next Smashwords Deals feature.
Authors: Send me your coupon codes with the form at the bottom of the Smashwords Deals page.

A Book Review of William Shakespeare's Star Wars by Ian Doescher



Just when I thought I would never be interested by a piece of Star Wars merchandise again, I received William Shakespeare's Star Wars by Ian Doescher. My brother gave it to me for Christmas.

Ian Doescher recreated Star Wars in the style of a Shakespeare play. Reading this made me love Shakespeare and Star Wars all over again.

I daresay that Star Wars is even better as a play written in iambic pentameter. Maybe everything is better in iambic pentameter. First time author Doescher displays the skill of a true wordsmith as he delves into archaic language and the squashing of syllables with apostrophes.

Throughout the play I adored the little asides given by various characters.

Here's Vader during the famous choking scene:

Tarkin: --Cease!
No more of this! Good Vader, let him be.
Vader: As is thy will. [Aside:] My point hath well been made
Upon his prideful, unbelieving throat.

And remember that moment when Leia disses the Millennium Falcon?

Leia: [to Han] Hast thou come here in that ungainly heap?
Thou art, perhaps, then braver than I thought.
Han: 'Tis well and good, though I need not thy praise.
Now let us hence, and to the ship repair!

And we know that Shakespearean characters require many lines when dying.

Obi-Wan: But ere I die, I'll one last lesson teach.
I shall in this -- my final moment -- set
A keen example for the universe,
That future generations may yet know
The valor and the strength of Jedi Knights.
Put up thy lightsaber now, Obi-Wan,
And show thyself a Jedi to this son.

I applaud this book. Although it mimics Shakespearean language, it is accessible to all readers. The flowery verbiage won't trigger any comprehension allergies. This is a work of art by a fan for fans of Star Wars and language.


Tuesday, January 7, 2014

I Hereby Declare January Print Book Appreciation Month



Just because most of my sales are digital does not mean I dislike paper books. I love books. I love libraries and bookstores. I love poking through boxes of books at estate sales. I even have a small horde of books that I keep for reasons sentimental and sometimes intellectual.

Therefore, I'm making January Print Book Appreciation Month at Her Ladyship's Quest. I don't want people devoted to print to think I don't want to communicate with them. I do!

After meeting people at face-to-face events the last six months, I know that there are many readers out there who aren't terribly interested in ebooks.

So this month I'll be writing blog posts about how my life is bookish and the physical paper printed books that I specifically love.

And because I produce all my novels in paperback too I'll be sharing coupons for paperbacks too.

If you love reading blogs about books when you're not actually reading a book, please follow Her Ladyship's Quest. You can use RSS (my favorite) or get email notifications.

Coming up tomorrow...

January 8th A Book Review of William Shakespeare's Star Wars by Ian Doescher

January 9th Rys Rising: Book I excerpt plus 15% off coupon

January 11th My Vintage Doctor Who Paperbacks Are a Beloved Part of Print Collection

January 15th Savage Storm: Rys Rising Book II excerpt plus 15% off coupon

January 21st Excerpt from New Religion: Rys Rising Book II with 15% off coupon



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