Rave Reviews Book Club Spotlight Author Blog Tour for Rochelle Carter

Author Pic 3, Rochelle

 

Why I’m proud to be a member of the Rave Reviews Book Club

 

As a publisher and author, I am always seeking ways to help my authors get promoted. I am a huge fan of having them connect through a community, however with such a virtual staff and team of authors it has been difficult to really get them on board with each other.

Rave Reviews Book Club is the only group I know that rewards its member handsomely through publicity for showing up and supporting each other.

This may seem like a little thing for most authors, but for me, an introvert, it fits my lifestyle perfectly.

  1. I like to read books- #RRBC allows me to choose, from highlighted members or at random from a list of members, an author that I can read, support and see their progress without wading through millions of Amazon books. I have my favorites, but it’s nice to whittle down the “give it a try” list to engaged authors in the group
  2. I like to play on twitter- Now I have people I search for regularly to retweet and share information with. Gone are the days of wandering through twitter, now I just hit the #RRBC hashtag to see what’s new with the crew!
  3. I love to play in chat rooms- Do you even remember what those are? I don’t always get to make it, but chat rooms are so much fun for our book of the month authors to gather, answer questions and overall just show off their books. I love getting to know more about them in an informal setting, and I prefer the room to Facebook honestly.

These are just my top three “likes” for RRBC, but there are many more. I am happy to be a part of such a great group of supportive authors, and I hope they don’t find me too difficult and kick me out… J

Book Cover, Rochelle

 

 

Follow Rochelle online! Twitter Facebook LinkedIn Website Amazon

 

Abbey Sees Like an Elf

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Prince Abaddon of Loxmere-Goll sees someone in the distance as he rides into the great desert of the Wilderlands with Shot ‘n’ Stop the python on the back of Arwr the diatryma in Chapter 39 of The Burgeoning…

The sun still hadn’t come over the mountains by the time they had set out again, taking a diagonal path down the face of the long steep slope. By the time it was bearing down on them making the day hot, they had gone a good league beyond the shelf, and Abaddon began to make out great tree trunks strewn about everywhere, sticking out of the colored dirt and sand as far as the eye could see.

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Shot ‘n’ Stop had noticed too. “If thosse bare trunksses are ssuppossed to be a forresst, I don’t think we’ll ssee any sshade,” he said as he slithered across Abaddon’s leg to rise up between his arms for a look. “I jusst don’t ssee any leavesses, kiddo.”

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“I don’t either,” said Abaddon. “Maybe there was a big fire or something.”

“I believe it’s a stone forest,” said Arwr, “though I’d not heard that such a thing existed outside the Dark Continent.”

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“Stone forest?” said Abbey.

“We’ll see soon enough. I do know that this is called the Red Desert…”

“Red? It looks tan and white and purple and black.”

“Indeed,” said Arwr, “but Súlacha said that just beyond the horizon it looks bright brick red, and redder still should we happen to get a rain.”

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“Rain?” said Abaddon. “It doesn’t look as if it ever rains here.”

“Oh but it does. Look at all the deep gullies running down the slopes. I’d allow that it seldom rains.”

“Hey!” cried Abaddon, straining to see from under the flat of his hand. “See that, Arwr? I swear I saw someone dart between a couple of stone trees down yonder. I think he had a bright green hood on. I thought nobody lived in the Wilderlands.”

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Arwr shared a look with Shot ‘n’ Stop. “If you’re certain, Abby, perhaps we should point him out to King Neron.”

“Oh, I saw him.”

“Then hang on,” said Arwr as he flew down the slope at a light, easy jog.

“Arwr?”

“Yes?”

“Grown-ups never thought I had anything important to say back in Castle Goll.”

“Well this could be important,” said Arwr, “and try to keep your eye on the spot where you saw him.”

Abaddon just hugged Arwr’s big fluffy neck.

 ***

“Can ye point him out Prince Abaddon?” said Súlacha as he shaded his eyes to look about.

“‘Way out yonder, I think.”

Súlacha kept looking. “Ansin,” he said with a sharp nod as he stared. “I do indeed see prints in the sand which look to be human, but I see nothing astir down there now but a couple of lizards.”

“I don’t see any of that,” said Abaddon. “You’ve sure got good eyes.”

“But you’re not an Elf yet, Prince Abaddon,” said Súlacha with a serious face.

“You mean all Elves can see faraway like that?”The_Burgeoning_Cover_for_Kindle

“No. Just the aons with eyes,” he said, studying the footprints. “Sire! Look yonder. There’s a man down there amongst the stone trees and he has green hair.”

“A Fairy!” cried Abaddon with an excited bounce on Arwr, as Neron strained to see just where.

“Well, Prince Abaddon,” said Súlacha. “Perhaps you’ve been a-seeing like an Elf all along, since you were the first to spot him.”

Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps

Fannie and the Polite Stranger

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                        Emma Walker Phipps                Fannie McKenzie

ws_A_Path_in_the_Woods_in_Autumn_768x1024Fannie McKenzie was my grandmother’s niece who married Horace Werden and lived with him in a log cabin on a farm north of us. Every day she would card00883_frfeed her sheep and her chickens and guineas and then walk a mile through our woods to teach at the Balch school house. Most days after it turned cold, she carried a spur triggered pistol in her muff to shoot squirrels on the way home.squirrel1

On a day which was cold enough to see her breath, she met a stranger on the path who asked what the shortest way was to get across the river.

“See that hogback, yonder?” she said, pointing this way and that. IMG_1818“Right beyond the top, there’s a fork in the path. Take the path straight east, down into the hollow and follow the creek. Just keep a-going and directly you’ll end up at McCann’s Ford.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a wide-eyed nod, “Yes ma’am!” And he hurried on his way.

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“Well now, he’s awful polite,” she said as she watched him go. And then she remembered the pistol in her hand as she put it back in her muff.

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Tom Phipps

 

Homer’s Head

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When Lukus takes his Elven wife and her family into The Suds and Steer in Sweetpea  to enjoy a Stone_Heart_Cover_for_Kindlenice supper in Chapter 40 of Stone Heart, they run into trouble…

Lukus was disappointed that the waitress did not recognize him in the least, though he clearly knew better. It merely made her like nearly everyone else on earth. Soon she was back, huffing and shuffling and sidling between tables as she brought forth the stew. She labored to breathe as she strained to set out the steaming bowls beyond the reaches of her girth without tottering. As she straightened up, Soraya lowered her hood and unbuttoned her cloak in order to eat. The elephantine serving woman stopped wide eyed and rigid, jowls a-jiggle. As a look of hatred swept across her lardy face, she furiously snapped up both bowls at once, slinging stew onto both Soraya and Lukus. “We don’t serve y’r stinkin’ kind in here!” she screeched as she wheeled away to the kitchen with their meal.

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Lukus sprang up, knocking his chair flat as he started after her.

“Hey,” said Danneth, intercepting him. “Perhaps it would be wise if we just left quietly.”

“No,” said Lukus between his teeth. “Not until that sow gives me a better reason than she just did.”

“I’d say there’s a very good chance she’ll not,” said Danneth with a sigh as he stepped aside.

Lukus zigzagged between the tables, catching up to the waitress just as she put her shoulder to black-patina-platesthe swinging door to the kitchen. “Please excuse my abruptness ma’am,” he said as polite as he could manage, “but I’d truly like to know why you refused to serve my wife and me the meal we just ordered. Our money’s as good as anyone’s.”

“I’m s’prised you’ns even ‘ave the nerve t’ come in here a-flauntin’ y’selves amongst decent folks,” she huffed in a thin falsetto, as her eyes turned to hot slits in her red face. “Ye think we don’t know what you’re all about? Ha! The queen told us ‘erse’f, she did.”

“She what? So just what did the queen say about the Elves?”

“You ain’t no Elf!” she screeched.

“No, I’m not. Now, will you please be kind enough to answer my question? Just what on earth ANT02102did Spitemorta say about the Elves?”

She looked across the room at Soraya. “Why are ye traveling with an Elf?” she said defiantly. “Don’t y’ know they’re dangerous?”

“What makes them dangerous, then?”

“They’re after our land. They’re out t’ kill us all for it, too,” she said with wild piggy eyes. “Y’ best get shed o’ that Elf right now! She’ll sooner slit y’r throat as look at ye, young fool!” And with that, she shoved past him through the door with a shriek and a yank of her tray, sending the bowls skittering across the kitchen floor on the other side.

Lukus looked up from his shocked disbelief to find the entire room astir like a kicked hive, every single eye on him. Across the room Soraya and her kin bore emphatically urgent looks. Things were well on their way to getting ugly and they needed to get out.

Lukus tramped across the dining room, put the bail of one traveling basket in the crook of his arm antique-pewter-plate-olivier-le-queinecand the other one in his left hand as he grabbed Soraya with his right, pulling her to her feet and heading for the hall to the stairs, surrounded by Neron, Danneth, Strom and Jerund.

“Just get our belongings and go?” he said, bounding up the steps.

“You mean there’s a choice?” said Neron.

“Is there a way out up here?” said Danneth.

“Everyone grab up your things!” cried Jerund as he hurried ahead. “Good job no one unpacked. I’ll go see.” As everyone raced to his respective door, Jerund reached the window at the end of the hall. “Cac! Léan air! A leithéid de chac!” he cried. Suddenly he broke out the glass and waved out the window. “Hey! Get the coach and the unicorns around front! Now!” He dashed back, by the rooms as everyone came out. “No way out We got ‘o go back the way we came in! If we’re lucky the coach will be somewhere…!”

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Lukus fumbled with buckles, strapping the claymore to his back for the first time. He grabbed up the twins, put his arm around Soraya and was ready. “It’s a mercy no one chased up here after us,” he said. Down they went, plunging into the dining room full of glares, angry jeers and shaking fists. They shoved their way through the jostling and spitting, but miraculously got to the front door. Soraya, Strom and the twins got shoved outside, stumbling onto the steps before the door got slammed painfully on Danneth’s arm.

“Get ‘em, Homer!” came cries all around, as a hateful face stepped forth and ran a rapier through Jerund’s shoulder.

Lukus went instantly white hot, lunging forward with a furious two handed swing. Gearr Téigh Síós rang with a sharp ping and Homer’s head rolled away across the plates on the floor with a kristeva-severed-topbloody bounce under dancing feet as the crowd gasped, taken by surprise. Suddenly a rotten toothed man with a tar tail charged up with a cutlass to be impaled by Neron, who yanked out his claymore from the fellow and neatly cleaved two heads, while Lukus took off another’s arm. When the crowd hesitated, Danneth pulled Jerund outside, as Neron and Lukus backed out and slammed the door.

Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps

Your Butt’s too Big

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Years ago, when I taught at Ch’ooshgai Community School on the Navajo Nation, the students there had a reputation for playing rough, but when it came to it, they had big hearts. Like students at all schools, they resented the Special Ed students for being given lighter work for the same grades. However when a little Down’s syndrome girl showed up at school, she became a celebrity.

Yvonne was one of the handful of students who stayed in the Special Ed room instead of attending at least some regular classes. In spite if this, like every other student in school, she was supposed to take her seat and stay there when she came to class, and that meant that she was supposed to be in her seat when the door was open and kids were in the hall.

That was an utter impossibility for Yvonne. She was endlessly in the doorway with her hopelessly smeared glasses, swinging her leg like a ballerina at the bar, waving and calling out cheerfully to the passing students. I would hear time and again from across the hall: “Yvonne! Where are you supposed to be?” and, “Yvonne, take your seat!” Kids liked her, even if they did call her names.

One day, she grandly sang out a little rhyme:
“Your butt’s too big, your butt’s too big,
No matter what you do, your butt’s too big…”

“Yvonne! Get to your seat, now!”

But before everyone was in class, I heard:

“Your butt’s too big, your butt’s too big,
No matter what you do, your butt’s too big…”

Soon, passing students were taking up the chant each time they saw her in the doorway. “Whose butt is too big?” became the burning student question. The Special Ed teacher’s? She’s got a big enough butt, they said. No. It had to be the old witch from the Office. Or was it a particular student? They would ask Yvonne.

And her reply was:
“Whose butt’s too big? Whose butt’s too big?
If you don’t know, your butt’s too big.
Your butt’s too big, your butt’s too big,
No matter what you do, your butt’s too big…”

One noon, Yvonne came marching down the hallway with all of the verve and poise of a first string cheerleader, followed by the entire student body, chanting at the top of their lungs, the kids near the walls pounding the locker doors in time:
“Your butt’s too big! your butt’s too big!
No matter what you do, your butt’s too big…!”

The following noon, the Special Ed door stayed closed. There was a brief interlude of students chanting: “Y-vonne! Y-vonne! Y-vonne! Y-vonne!” but every noon thereafter, the Special Ed door remained shut. Even so, I seldom heard a day go by without at least someone chanting a verse of Your Butt’s too Big, all the way to the end of the school year.

So in spite of the best efforts of Special Ed, Yvonne may well have become the most specially remembered of all the students in her class.

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Tom Phipps

Waylaid by Elves

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The_Collector_Witch_Cover_for_KindleAfter a nice supper in the Suds and Steer in The Collector Witch, Rose and Lukus find themselves on a dark road in the woods…

Before them lay the border of Loxmere, beyond which lay the Jut of Niarg, a southern arm of their own country, filled with a dense forest known as the Jutwoods. They crossed the border in the broad moonlight by leaving the road in order to avoid the guard houses. When they had found their way back onto the road, they were nearly three leagues beyond Loxmere in very dense woods. Suddenly Rose halted Mystique so abruptly that Lukus ran his knee into the skirt of her saddle. “Hey! Rose, call your shot next time.”

“Hush!” she said. “We’re being watched.”

“How do you know?”

“I swear I saw movement.”

“It must be the robbers from the inn. I told you they were up to no good.”

“Can you see them, Lukus?”

180291 “It’s ‘way too dark. I can’t see anything. They could hide anywhere. They could be right there in the rocks along the cliff, for all I can tell. I think they’re rocks. Maybe they’re pacing us through the woods, just off the road.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Run or hide. We’d better choose one right quick, ’cause I just heard something. We can make out the road by the gap in the trees.”

“Then let’s ride like the wind. They’ll not have mounts even close to ours.”

At once three figures stepped into the roadway. 

“Lukus!” she cried, wheeling square about and frantically digging her heels into Mystique’s flanks 4ud2to charge back the way they’d come. Lukus tried to follow, but Starfire reared and bolted off the road and through the brush to throw him sprawling in the briars. Two hooded figures rushed out of nowhere and grabbed Starfire’s reins. Lukus scrambled to his feet and fell in time to be pounced on and rolled up in a blanket.

Rose was too far away by now to hear him over Mystique’s pounding hooves, but she looked over her shoulder to see if he was behind her. “Lukus!” she cried. The moment she turned about, three hooded figures stepped into her way, spooking Mystique off the road to go crashing through a thicket while she hung onto her neck for dear life. As they raced under the limb of an oak, somebody dropped onto Mystique’s back to grab her as she lost her grip. She gave out a throat shredding scream.

“Hush!” cried the somebody, clapping his hand over her mouth. “You’ll scare lean air out of Lukus, and cac too, Princess!”

Directly, she was helped off Mystique by the one who had caught her and by two other hooded men who set to work at once, unwrapping Lukus. “Good for you!” she shouted. “You have us! Now what are you going to do to us? And just how did you know  Lukus’s name?”

The three calmed the unicorns and stood quietly before them, faceless as wraiths.

“You’re not from the inn,” she said as they pushed back their hoods.    

The middle one smiled at her. 

“You’re Elves!” she gasped at their pointed ears. “But you don’t exist. You must be an enchantment.”

“Nope,” said the middle one with a bow. “We’re as real as you are. And enchantment would be beyond you, I’m afraid. I’m Danneth and these are my brothers, Strom and Jarund, and we most certainly mean you no harm in the least. In fact, we’re here at your service.”

“Yea?” said Lukus. “And how is stamping on us and rolling us in the blackberry briars the same as serving us?”

“Yes, that was awkward,” said Danneth. “You have lots of energy. It took quite a bit to get you to hold still.”

“Just how many of you are there? Nine? Twelve?” said Rose. 

“We are three only,” said Danneth.

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“Now you’re playing us for fools,” she said.

“Not at all,” said Jerund. “We merely move quickly when we must.”

“Rose, they don’t have to let us find out. It’s pointless,” said Lukus, turning to Danneth. “Though it would only be fair if you all at least told us what you stopped us for and just what you are.”

“But Rose saw at once that we are Elves,” said Danneth.

Danneth looked like his brothers to Rose, but where his hair was silvery, Strom’s was metallic golden and Jarund’s was iridescent and black as pitch, far blacker than any black hair she had seen in her life. “They have to be what they claim, Lukus,” she said, turning to the Elves. “I’m convinced that you’re Elves, but telling us that you’re at our service is no explanation at all for your waylaying us.”

 

Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps

 

 

Rave Reviews Book Club Spotlight Author Blog Tour for John Howell, Author of My GRL

Photo by Tim Burdick

 

This is the second stop on what has been a fantastic tour as a Rave Reviews Book Club Spotlight Author. If you would like to be chosen for this honor you need to be a member. To find out how go to the website http://ravereviewsbynonniejules.wordpress.com/ and read all about it. You can also see all my tour stops listed under Spotlight Authors.

Thank you so much for hosting me. This is a good time and place to let your readers know a little about my book. The first thing people ask me when they see the title My GRL is, “Is there a typo in your title?” I have to chuckle since most of the people asking that question are usually on the lookout for an expired date on the can of peas or carton of milk at the store. It is plain they do not want any “spoiled” goods on their hands. The reason the title is written that way it is the name of a boat. It is the boat which John J. Cannon has bought and is unaware My GRL has been targeted by a splinter group of terrorists. They want to use the boat as a floating bomb to destroy the Annapolis midshipmen on their summer cruise. They have selected John’s boat because in New York harbor it would not stand out from all the other boats that will be there to celebrate Fleet Week on the east coast.

The story is through the eyes of John Cannon a very successful San Francisco litigation lawyer. He finds himself in a position after fifteen years of practicing law of wanting to take some time off. He arranges to take a leave of absence from the firm and buys a boat. He is thinking of starting a charter business and finds that he will need to work hard to get a license. He goes to school to learn how to operate his boat and is becoming more proficient. His first inkling that there may be trouble is when he wakes up in the hospital and learns he was found unconscious next to the body of the attractive young woman who sold him the boat in the first place. He is the only one standing between the terrorists and the accomplishment of their mission.

John Cannon is an ordinary guy who wants nothing more than to try and become fulfilled in pursuit of a dream. He is not a superhero, but a person who becomes caught up in the machinations of those whose objective is destroying symbols of American strength and thereby discrediting America itself.

My GRL_johnwhowell

My GRL is the first book in the John Cannon trilogy. The second, titled His Revenge is now with the publisher and continues the story of John trying to be normal under extraordinary circumstances. John has dedicated himself to bring the leaders of the terrorist group to justice with the help of the Police chief of a small fishing village who is a veteran of the FBI. The action is stepped up when the leader of the terrorists decides to use John as a pawn to meet the group’s goals.

The final story in the Trilogy has the working title of Our Justice and should be finished by the end of December. As the title suggests this story is not only the final book in the trilogy, but also the final resolution of John’s efforts to eliminate the terrorist threat.

My GRL can be found:

US – http://www.amazon.com/John-W.-Howell/e/B00HMRWO6C

Canada – http://www.amazon.ca/My-GRL-John-W-Howell-ebook/dp/B00HV3QECW/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1406542498&sr=1-2

UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/John-W.-Howell/e/B00HMRWO6C

Australia –   http://www.amazon.com.au/My-GRL-John-W-Howell-ebook/dp/B00HV3QECW/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1406542498&sr=1-2

Barnes and Noble – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/my-grl-john-w-howell/1118199518?ean=9781625530592

iBooks – https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/my-grl/id803503649?mt=11

Kobo – http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/my-grl

Martin Sisters Publishing http://www.martinsisterspublishing.com

I can be reached:

Web: http://www.johnwhowell.com

E-mail: Johnhowell.wave@gmail.com

The Religion, Rage & w(R)iting Blog Tour

Hi, and welcome to The Religion, Rage & w(R)iting Blog Tour for Authors, Shirley-Harris Slaughter, Rhani D’Chae and Harmony Kent. When you click on each author’s name, you will be taken directly to their Author Page at 4WillsPublishing, where you can learn more and all about them.

 

Shirley Harris-Slaughter

SHSlaughter

 

Rhani D’ChaeRhani D'Chae photo

Harmony KentAuthor photo, Harmony Kent

 

These three authors are wonderful clients of 4WillsPublishing, a publishing House dedicated to helping authors put out the best written, and marketing products for their literary work, possible.

This tour is a surprise tour, which means the authors knew nothing about it until today!  This is our gift to them to show our appreciation of their work, their dedication to putting out the great written word, and also a big THANK YOU for allowing us to showcase and promote them.

This is a 3 Author/7 Day/40 Blog Tour!  Yes, for 7 days, The Religion, Rage & w(R)iting Blog Tour will sit on 40 blogs!  And for 7 days, on 40 blogs, you will get a tiny tid-bit of something related to Religion, so that you never forget OUR LADY OF VICTORY, the rage of people, such as that displayed in SHADOW OF THE DRILL, and w(R)iting tips to help you POLISH YOUR PROSE! (Click on each book title to find our more about it)

 

 

Remember Our Lady of Victory Cover

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Polish Your Prose by Harmony Kent

This will be a fun tour, an inspirational tour, a delightful tour which has been designed to enlighten you, entertain you and help you overcome those feelings which bind us daily and keeps us from growing from point A to point B.  Each day as you stop by each blog to find out what bit of info is being shared, we ask that you take the time to leave a comment for the authors, visit their blogs, Follow them on Twitter and FB, and last but not least, please PICK UP A COPY OF THEIR BOOKS!  They are all 5 star reads!  And this tour wouldn’t be complete, if you didn’t check out The Religion, Rage & w(R)iting Book Trailer!  (Please note:  these bits and quotes were not taken from the author’s books).

The Religion, Rage & w(R)iting Author Blitz Book Trailer

Before we forget, we’ve included another of our authors, Nonnie Jules.  Although she’s a partner in our firm, she is STILL one of our clients!  Her books, THE GOOD MOMMIES’ GUIDE TO RAISING (ALMOST) PERFECT DAUGHTERS, Daydream’s Daughter, Nightmare’s Friend and Sugarcoatin’ Is For Candy & Pacifyin’ Is For Kids! are also very interesting and entertaining reads!

 

TGMG on BN counter med, Good Mommies Guide

DDNF1, Daydreams Daughter

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On this stop, we want you to dwell on this:

“I really believe that all of us have a lot of darkness in our souls.  Anger, rage, fear, sadness.  I don’t think that’s only reserved for people who have horrible upbringings. I think it really exists and is part of the human condition. I think in the course of your life you figure out ways to deal with that.” ~ Kevin Bacon

 

Thank you for joining us on this stop of our tour.  We are grateful to our host for allowing us to share with this audience and we hope that we have left you wanting more!  To follow this tour, please visit the 4WillsPublishing EVENTS page: http://wp.me/P43s9i-2g for the complete tour line-up and to also register to win a SURPRISE pack of books as well as a stint on WHO’S ON THE SHELF WITH NONNIE JULES!  Now, on to the next stop!!!!

 

Elf in the Night

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Good_Sister,_Bad_Sis_Cover_for_KindleOn the eve of Neron becoming king (ri) of the Jutland Elves in Good Sister, Bad Sister, he discovers to his horror that his wife Nessa has the plague. He goes in search of Wizard Razzmorten…

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“Trafferth!” muttered old white haired Peredur as he yanked tight the sash of his robe. “I’m doing ye a favor here, unless ye want to be scared clean away from the door.” He glanced in the direction of the knocking as he stooped to pick up a flame on the wick of his 221028294183064616_NBVKNTHb_bcandle before stumping the length of the house to the door. “Dod i mewn, dod i mewn,” he said, fumbling to lift the latch with an empty sconce in one hand and a dribbling candle in the other. He threw open the door and looked the stranger up and down.

“Gabhaim pardun agat…” said Neron.

“Prince Neron!” said Peredur with a wide eyed gasp as he twisted the candle into the sconce at last. “Do come in! My word, I’m hardly dressed fit for a prince.”

“I’m so very sorry to be bothering you in the middle of the night…”

1859_021Peredur was already shaking his head. “Razzmorten’s not here,” he said. “It’s something terrible, isn’t it?”

Neron gave a nod.

“I simply don’t know where he is, Your Highness. He’s like that sometimes, and I never know what to do. But I can certainly wake Mistress Dewin for you…”

“Forgive me, but please do.”

Peredur’s eyes got very wide at this. He thrust his sconce into Neron’s hands and vanished into the blackness of the house, leaving a trail of hurried footfalls. He crept past Ugleeuh’s room andimages knocked softly on Minuet’s door. The door came open immediately, causing him to gasp and step backward.

” Peredur!” said Minuet. “I thought you were Leeuh.”

“I suppose my tiptoeing woke you. I’m sorry. Prince Neron is down at the door. Something awful has happened and he wanted to see your father. I told him you’d speak with him.”       

“Very well. Thank you. Just go on back to bed. I’ll take care of it.”

Minuet found Neron still dutifully holding the flickering candle. She curtsied and relieved him of it image018as she lit every candle in the room with a wave of her hand and saw that his face looked haunted. “The plague?” she thought. “You’re trying to find Father?” she said.

“Desperately, I’m afraid. My wife may be dying.”

“That’s terrible! I don’t know where he is.”

Neron’s eyes fell shut for a moment.

“Is she ill, injured?”

“I’m very sorry,” said Neron, getting hold of himself. “It would be irresponsible of me to disclose that. Please. It’s just that…”

“Is it the plague?”Medieval-Home-Decor

“Oh Fates, yes!” he said, squeezing shut his eyes with a silent sob.

“Forgive me Prince Neron,” she said. “I’ve not quite told you the truth. Please excuse me. I’ll be right back.” She turned at once and vanished into the hallway. By the time he had found a chair and had taken a weary seat, she was back. “This,” she said as she handed him her vial and pipette, “is oil of oregano. Put six drops under her tongue, six times a day.”

“This is the very cure?” he cried, springing to his feet.oil-of-oregano

“Yes it is. Does she have buboes?”

“My dear sweet child,” said Neron as he reached out, intending to give her a firm hug. “Thank the very Fates for you! Oh!” he said, stopping short and stepping back away from her. “I mustn’t expose you. No. She has the hepatic kind.”

“Good. Then that will give you more oil for under her tongue. Make sure she takes every last oreganodrop of it. And again, I’m sorry for my not telling you the truth. Father gave me strict orders that no one was to know his whereabouts. He’s getting a hay load of oregano plants along the south shore of the Gulf of Orrin. I’ll tell him that I told you, but please tell no one else.”

“You have my word. Niarg has the plague, too? remote_image_1331653487

“Several have died at Castle Niarg,” she said with a nod. “The first death was a young courier from Far, so it’s there, too.”

Neron paused to shake his head grimly. “I must go,” he said as he hurriedly stepped to the door and opened it. “Thank you, thank you! You’ve saved my whole world.”

“Six drops under her tongue, six times a day…” she called after him, but he had already vanished into the night air.

“Nessa,” he said softly the moment he appeared by her side, “I have the most wonderful news.” He gently brushed aside her hair. Her forehead was cold. For a moment he couldn’t breathe. He frantically grabbed up her cold hand and held it to his cheek as a horror of icy fire flooded his chest. “Oh…! No!” he cried out, echoing through every hall in the palace as his legs buckled and gave way.

 

Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom phipps

 

 

Troll Attack!

NNeanderthal

On the eve of their exodus from the Eastern Continent in Elf Killers, a party of young Elves is ambushed…

imagesAedan glanced up the tall trunks as a breeze chased through the treetops and died away amongst the echoes of the bellbirds. “Make sure that each one of the kids has a nice wet ball of sphagnum on the seedlings, if you would, Oísín,” he said as he sank into the ferns to sit on his heels. He watched as each young Elf dutifully opened his vasculum in turn for Oísín’s inspection.

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“All that’s left of the sunlight is ‘way up in the treetops,” said Oísín with a nod. “You reckon it’s still safe to try for the blue maidenhair at the summit?”

“I was hoping for all four kinds,” said Aedan, as he ran his hands through his hair. “Looks 122327995.aEUEkomo._50C8376like I let the time slip away. Listen! Hear that purple-rib, yonder?”

“Sure do…”

“Well, he thinks it’s a-getting dark…” he said, suddenly looking about for a muffled snap in the leaves.

Neanderthal“Oouyuyf!” bellowed a troll covered with black and red ochre hand prints, as he took a sudden tramp out of the pawpaw leaves to run a spear under Aedan’s collarbone and out his back.

“Run!” cried Oísín as he loosed an arrow into the troll, sending it staggering about to stumble and fall as the wide-eyed young Elves scrambled to their feet and vanished into the woods. Trolls were starting to appear everywhere. As quick as he could manage, he loosed four or five more arrows, striking one of them and scattering the others. He dropped to his knees where Aedan lay on his side in the ferns.

“Go!” grunted Aedan, blowing blood off his lips.cos3

“Here…” said Oísín, starting to scoop him up.

“No!” coughed Aedan. “They’ll get you if you even try. I’m gone. Go! Save the kids! Damn it! Do it!”

Oísín jerked up at a waft of wind by his ear in time to see a huge rock land and roll throughgall7a the leaves beyond him. He was on his feet at once, wheeling ’round with his drawn bow to find two trolls about to run him through with a spear. He loosed his arrow
at once, killing the one with the spear as the other one fled out of sight. “I can still carry
you, Aedan!” he cried.

“Get out of here! Please!”

Oísín was immediately underway, batting aside branches. “We’ll never forget you!” he hollered as he hurtled out of the brush to take huge bounding strides down the side of a steep hogback.

The troll tramped to a halt beside Aedan and pummeled his chest with his fists. “Ooot-neanderthal-615ooot, ooot-ooot, ooot-ooot,” he cried with a look of crazed triumph, slinging spittle from the black and red ochre paint on his face. “Gnydy!”

“Ay-ooo,” sang out Gnydy, planting his spear with a fierce nod of his cap of mud caked hair as he appeared on the far side of Aedan. He jabbed the point of his spear into Aedan’s thigh, drawing blood. “Should-we hair-drag the grabup-squeaker, Dyr?” he said as he licked the blood off his spearpoint.

whippoorwill00“You-want to haul-meat both-ways?” said Dyr with a beetle-browed glare, as a purple-rib took up calling nearby. “We’ll-quarter him on the way-back.

“Should-we stamp-him to heads-mash?”

“Nobe mudful hollowhead. Let-him gurgle-bleed to cold-meat. There-go all-the Dyrny-brutes. Let’sgo.”

Aedan listened to the trolls tramp away through the leaves. “Damn this!” he thought as he squeezed shut his eyes. “I loved my life…” Suddenly he opened his eyes at the sound of light four footed walking in the leaves, making straight for him. “Niall!”

The deer like unicorn slowed to hesitant steps and lowered his head for a careful sniff.

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“I may be out of time, but I have this minute,” he said, wincing with pain at his attempt to pat Niall’s muzzle. “If I can get up onto your back, we’re going back to camp to show them what the Marfora Siofra did to me and to have them try to find Oísín and the children. And even if I don’t make it, you’ll get me there.”

Though Niall understood not one word of this, he would soon know what to do, for he was a terraing pictiúr, a picture catcher unicorn. Difficult as it was with all his pain, Aedan managed to clear his mind enough to picture Niall lying down in order for him to
Elf_Killers_Cover_for_Kindlemount. At once, Niall lay down before him, patiently waiting for him to get on. Crying
out from the horrible pain, Aedan heaved himself onto his knees, where he steadied
himself long enough to cough blood down his front before throwing his leg across him.
He had a long struggle to keep from passing out before he could manage to picture Niall
rising to his feet. Niall got up at once, but it was an eternity of fighting down the pain
from the jostling before Aedan could manage to picture the camp. At last they were
underway.

 

Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps