Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off: Christmas in Newfoundland: Memories and Mysteries by Mike Martin @mike54martin #mystery #memoir

CHRISTMAS IN NEWFOUNDLAND
Mike Martin
* Mystery/Memoir *

Title: CHRISTMAS IN NEWFOUNDLAND: MEMORIES AND MYSTERIES
Author: Mike Martin
Publisher: Ottawa Press and Publishing
Pages: 113
Genre: Mystery/Memoir

From the author of the award-winning Sgt. Windflower Mysteries comes “Christmas in Newfoundland: Memories and Mysteries,” a welcome addition to the Sgt. Windflower family of books.

Christmas in Newfoundland is a special time. In the depths of long winter nights memories are made and stories are told. Of Christmas by candlelight and horse and buggy rides to church. Of shopping on Water Street in St. John’s before malls and the Internet.

In later years, Sgt. Windflower came to work and then to stay in the quiet town of Grand Bank by the Atlantic Ocean where the salt air froze in the wind and the Mounties were welcomed to warm themselves by every fire.

Come and warm yourself by the fire and hear their stories. Some memories and some mysteries. Enjoy some holiday time with Sgt. Windflower and all the familiar characters that you’d come to know and love. Good food, good friends and always another chair at the table.

★★★★★ ORDER YOUR COPY ★★★★★

Amazon → https://tinyurl.com/y39fby3r

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A Windflower Christmas

It was just days before Christmas, and Sergeant Winston Windflower only had one big problem. That was what to get his girlfriend, Sheila Hillier, for Christmas. Other than that, life was good for the RCMP officer in Grand Bank, Newfoundland. Crime was low, if not non-existent, and spirits were running high as the holiday neared its peak in this little seaside town.

Of course, being the holiday season, the Mountie was concerned about impaired driving. But Windflower and his team had been out on the roads for the past two weekends with the R.I.D.E. program. He figured that meant everyone would be on their best behaviour for the next couple of weeks. That was especially true since one town resident had been charged with impaired driving and two others had received suspended licences because they were just over the legal limit of alcohol.

Fortunately, even the weather was cooperating. They hadn’t had any snow in Grand Bank for almost two weeks. That was a relief to not only the snow shovellers catching a break after a series of early winter storms but also to the RCMP officers, as they had already worked several overnight shifts because of storms. The best news was that there wasn’t even any snow in the short-term forecast.

All of this meant the town could be festive and safe during the holiday season already well underway.

The old Town of Grand Bank went all out to pretty itself up for Christmas. Almost every house had some form of decoration, and Christmas lights were aplenty all over town. Some people went old-fashioned and just had a wreath on their front door and a couple of strings of lights hanging from their eaves. Others decided to splurge on nativity scenes and blow-up Santas, as they held nothing back in their gaudy and joyous celebration of the season.

Old Saint Nick had already made one visit. That was last weekend during the Santa Claus parade led by the antique pumper truck from the volunteer fire department. Local RCMP vehicles were decked out in flashing lights and ribbons as the Mounties collected toys and gifts along the parade route for the Salvation Army. Sheila had rounded up a few extra dollars from local businesses to ensure that even the abandoned buildings near the wharf were gaily festooned with ribbons, bows and the essential Christmas lights in time for the parade. Now, Saint Nick’s return engagement on December 25^th was eagerly anticipated.

All

 

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Mike Martin was born in Newfoundland on the East Coast of Canada and now lives and works in Ottawa, Ontario. The Walker on the Cape was his first full fiction book and the premiere of the Sgt. Windflower Mystery Series. Other books in the series include The Body on the T, Beneath the Surface, A Twist of Fortune and A Long Ways from Home, which was shortlisted for the Bony Blithe Light Mystery Award as the best light mystery of the year. A Tangled Web was released in 2017 and the newest book in the series.is Darkest Before the Dawn which won the Bony Blithe Award in 2019. A new book in the series, Fire, Fog and Water is being released in October.
Mike is currently Chair of the Board of Crime Writers of Canada, a national organization promoting Canadian crime and mystery writers.

★ WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS: ★

Website → www.sgtwindflowermysteries.com

Twitter Link: → http://ww.twitter.com/mike54martin

Facebook→https://www.facebook.com/TheWalkerOnTheCapeReviewsAndMore/

 

Virtual Book Tour Kick Off: Her Last Whisper by Jennifer Chase @jchasenovelist #crimethriller

HER LAST wHISPER

JENNIFER CHASE

* Crime Thriller*

Title: HER LAST WHISPER
Author: Jennifer Chase
Publisher: Bookouture
Pages: 320
Genre: Crime Thriller

Katie focuses her mind, trying to keep another anxiety attack at bay. The victim’s long brown hair is slick and wet, her body rigid in the grass. She looks more like a mannequin than the woman Katie had spoken with only yesterday, the woman she had promised to protect… 

When a cold, naked body is discovered by a couple on a jog through the lush woodlands of Pine Valley, California, new recruit Detective Katie Scott is stunned to discover the victim is Amanda Payton – a much-loved local nurse and the woman at the heart of an unsolved case she’s been investigating whilst getting a grip on her crippling PTSD.

Weeks earlier, Amanda had run, battered and bruised, out into the headlights of a passing patrol car. She claimed to have just escaped a kidnapping, but with no strong evidence, the case went cold. The Pine Valley police made a fatal mistake… 

Katie is certain the marks on Amanda’s wrists complete a pattern of women being taken, held captive and then showing up dead in remote locations around Pine Valley – and she won’t let someone die on her watch again.

But then a beautiful office worker with a link to the hospital where Amanda worked goes missing. With only days before the next body is due to show up, can Katie make amends for her past by saving this innocent life?

Totally gripping crime fiction for fans of Lisa Regan, Rachel Caine and Melinda Leigh. Nothing will prepare you for this nail-biting roller-coaster ride…

Readers adore Jennifer Chase!

‘THERE WAS NO WAY I WAS PUTTING THIS BOOK DOWN!!!!!… I was literally holding my breath… I HAD TO KNOW!!!!! As for the explosive ending WOW definitely not what or who I was expecting.’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars

‘I was really wowed by it… I couldn’t put the book down and was trying to read as fast as I could so I could find out who the killer was. The ending took me by surprise… I was literally gasping for air… I would definitely recommend.’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars

‘Wow what an absolutely amazing fantastic read. I was hooked almost as soon as I started this book. I am still trying to pick my chin off the floor. I loved it from page one and couldn’t read the pages quick enough. I did not see the end coming…Awesome.’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars

‘If you read one police thriller this year make sure that it is this one… it will grip you from the start and will drag you into the story trying desperately to work out who the killer is but I promise you that you will not be able to figure it out.’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars

‘A great way to start a new series! It’s a wonderfully written roller-coaster ride. A must read!’ Book Obsessed Introverts, 5 stars

‘Wow!… The hairs on my head stood up with this one!’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars

ORDER YOUR COPY

Amazon → https://tinyurl.com/yxdmmftw

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TeaseR

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A heavy evening mist clung to the windshield of the police car, obscuring the view of the forgotten neighborhood. In the few occupied houses curtains were drawn tightly leaving only thin cracks of light seeping around the edges. Some homes even had bars across the windows. This small rural community had been ignored by the rest of the lively, growing town around it for too long. It was in desperate need of attention and restoration.
Deputy Stan Miller flipped on the wipers to clear his view, only to smear streaks of dirt across the windshield. He let out an annoyed sigh and turned the wipers to a higher speed—making it worse—and then off again.
“Now you’ve done it,” said Deputy Karl Windham beside him, and Miller laughed in spite of himself after a long and uneventful night shift.
“You’re going to criticize me?” Miller joked. “Me? The guy who has your back?” He sat up straighter, sucking in his waist and adjusting his seatbelt; it was no use pretending he hadn’t put on a few extra pounds recently.
“It’s the kiss of death out here tonight,” complained Windham watching out the side window as the mist turned to light rain.
“I bet it was Sheriff Scott’s idea to double us up, with all those recent ambushes on cops around the state.”
“It probably has something to do with the mayor’s office. Who knows? You know how they don’t tell us anything, even though we’re the ones putting our asses on the line every shift.” Still gazing out of the window, he watched a dark figure dart around a garbage can and disappear into the darkness, then he turned his attention to a skinny cat scurrying along the sidewalk, nose close to the ground tracking something.
The rain got heavier as they drove deeper into the Basin Woods Development. There were no other vehicles on the road. No lights in the distance. Only darkness.
“You hungry?” asked Miller.
“I wouldn’t turn down a cup of coffee,” replied Windham.
“Me neither.”
Deputy Miller took his eyes off the road for a moment to check the time and looked back just in time to see a slender woman stagger into the road ahead of them. She stopped still in the headlights. Her long hair, wet from the rain, was plastered against her head and around her face. She wore only a pair of panties and a tattered tank top. She looked terrified, dark eyes pleading in the glare of the lights, her mouth forming words they could not hear.
“Hey!” yelled Windham to his partner. “Stop!”
Miller jammed on the brakes, making the patrol car bounce to a stop inches before hitting the young woman. Weak and unbalanced, she fell to her knees. In the glare of the headlights, both men could clearly see the dirt embedded on her face and neck, the blood seeping from wounds on her hands, elbows, legs, and feet.
Deputy Miller turned to his partner with wide eyes. “What the…?” Jamming the vehicle into park he picked up the radio. “Dispatch, this is 3741, we have a possible 10-16 at Lincoln and Travis. Will keep you updated. Copy.”
“Copy that,” replied Dispatch.
He nodded to Windham who swung open the car door and ran to kneel beside the woman. “Miss…” he spoke gently. “Are you alright?”
She shook uncontrollably. Her head and shoulders drooped as her mouth tried to form around a word.
“Can you tell us what happened?” Windham said.
He gently touched her shoulder and she flinched away from him. “It’s okay. You’re okay now,” he reassured.
“Truth… truth… the truth… you don’t understand… otherwise…” she finally managed between gasps for breath. “I told the truth…” she muttered.
“What truth?” asked Deputy Miller who had retrieved a blanket from the trunk and now stood a few feet away.
She stopped speaking and slowly looked up at the deputy, her eyes filled with fear. Then she whispered, “I told the truth… I told the truth… told… the truth.”
Both deputies carefully helped the woman up and gently wrapped the blanket around her.
“What’s your name?” asked Windham.
“A… Aman… Amanda,” she said slowly.
“Okay, Amanda. We want to help you. Can you tell us what happened?”
“I tried…” she whispered. “It was…” Her voice trailed off.
Deputy Miller opened the back door to the patrol car as his partner gently guided her to sit down in the backseat. Miller handed her a small bottle of water and, after a few moments, her eyes focused on the officers and her breath began to steady.
Deputy Windham kneeled down to her eye level and asked, “Amanda, can you tell us what happened to you? Do you remember what happened? Anything?”
She shook her head as more tears welled up in her eyes.
“It’s okay.”
“A blue door with white trim,” she said quietly. “A big box…”
“What else, Amanda? Can you remember anything else?”
“There was a fantasy tree…”
Confused by the description, the deputy tried to make sense of it, pushing gently to pry out any more details from her. “Can you tell us what happened?”
Taking a couple of deep breaths, she finally spoke: “I was k-kidnapped.”

 

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TEASER

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Meet The Author

Jennifer Chase is a multi award-winning and best-selling crime fiction author, as well as a consulting criminologist. Jennifer holds a bachelor degree in police forensics and a master’s degree in criminology & criminal justice. These academic pursuits developed out of her curiosity about the criminal mind as well as from her own experience with a violent psychopath, providing Jennifer with deep personal investment in every story she tells. In addition, she holds certifications in serial crime and criminal profiling.  She is an affiliate member of the International Association of Forensic Criminologists, and member of the International Thriller Writers.

website & Social links

Website → https://authorjenniferchase.com/

Twitter → https://twitter.com/JChaseNovelist

Facebook → https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenniferChase/

 

Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off: MY BILLIONAIRE FAKE FIANCE by Linda West #romance

MY BILLIONAIRE FAKE FIANCE

LINDA wEST

* Contemporary Romance *

Title: MY BILLIONAIRE FAKE FIANCE
Author: Linda West
Publisher: Morning Mayan Publishing
Pages: 300
Genre: Contemporary Romance/Holiday Romance

He needs a fiance to seal the deal. She needs a Christmas miracle to save her home.
When tree activist Allie Archer is forced to strike up a deal with her nemesis the heir to Somerset Industries, the flurries of fate have a completely different plan than the one she counted on…

order your copy below

Amazon → https://tinyurl.com/y4ujbn2c

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teaser

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excerpt

"Now, I really did mean to keep my mouth shut. I certainly wasn't going to bring up the rainforest or the fact that Somerset Industries killed more trees for stupid boxes than anyone, and that directly impacted global warming. 

No.I was going to be the perfect, quiet well-heeled fiancé. But since I am neither well-heeled nor a fiancé, it was only a matter of time before I would mess up even with the best intentions..."

 

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about The Author

Linda West is a multiple Amazon bestseller in clean wholesome and funny romance. Born near Niagara Falls NY Linda knows snow and small towns:)) She loves cats, books and her family.  Her Kissing Bridge Series features six adorable stand-alone holiday romances set in a Vermont quaint mountain town where love and magical recipes are featured.  Her latest release – My Billionaire Fake Fiance is an enemy to lovers Christmas romance that will leave you smiling and clapping. Simply romantic and filled with holiday joy sure to bring a smile to your heart.

website & social links

Website → http://www.lindawestauthor.com

Facebook →  https://www.facebook.com/morningmayan

 

Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off: The Devil and Dayna Dalton by Brit Lunden @britlunden #fantasy #romance

THE DEVIL AND DAYNA DALTON
Brit Lunden
* Fantasy Romance *

Title: THE DEVIL AND DAYNA DALTON
Author: Brit Lunden
Publisher: Chelshire, Inc.
Pages: 128
Genre: Fantasy/Romance

Reporter Dayna Dalton’s reputation has been ruined since birth. The daughter of wild child, Becky Dalton, is expected to follow her mother’s footsteps; never given a chance to prove she’s different. Dana’s been in love with Clay Finnes since she was a teenager. Her unrequited love for Sheriff Finnes leaves her empty. He’s happily married and unavailable. Instead, Dayna finds herself stuck in the revolving door of bad relationships. But this is Bulwark, Georgia, a town where strange things are always happening. Dayna is doomed to this loveless life until she can find someone who will appreciate the depth of her character. Can she overcome her fears and look beyond her own perceptions to accept a greater love?

Amazon → https://amzn.to/2oemkM6  

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“I am good, but not an angel. I do sin, but I am not the devil. I am just a small girl in a big world trying to find someone to love.”

Marilyn Monroe

The crisp, clear sunlight was not her friend. Dayna Dalton winced at the bright light that squeezed in through the slats of the venetian blind. She reached over and gave the cord a hard tug, sending the pint-sized bathroom into near darkness. Behind her, the shower head dripped with a steady plop, plop that reminded her of the exposé she did on water torture in Guantanamo Bay that never got published. It was deemed too harsh to print.

The Bulwark Advance preferred her to write…fluffy pieces. 

She sneered thinking of the crap on her computer, the half-written article about the elusive Easter Bunny that awaited its final edit. She hung her head in shame, thinking of what her sorority sisters from Georgetown would feel if they knew where Dangerous Dayna Dalton had ended up. There’d be hell to pay in the form of eternal humiliation.

Dayna twisted the faucet, her freckled knuckle turning bone white from the effort. It was no use; the leak continued relentlessly, driving a hole in her throbbing head. Oh, that last round of shots was totally not necessary.

 

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Brit Lunden is a prolific author who’s written over 50 books in assorted genres under different pen names. Bulwark was her first effort in adult fiction and was chosen by several of her fellow authors as the basis for a new series, A Bulwark Anthology.  Using her characters, they are creating new denizens in spin-off stories to this bizarre town. Brit Lunden lives on Long Island in a house full of helpful ghosts.

★ WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS: ★

Website → www.britlunden.com

Blog → https://britlunden.blogspot.com

Twitter → https://twitter.com/BritLunden

Facebook → https://www.facebook.com/britlunden

 

Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off: Save Him by William M. Hayes @WMHayes_Author #scifi #military #thriller

SAVE HIM
William M. Hayes
* Scifi Military Thriller *

nside the book

Title: SAVE HIM
Author: William M. Hayes
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 245
Genre: Military Faith-based Thriller

Rydel Scott, a brilliant scientist working at a secret military lab, accidentally discovers a form of time travel while working on a project designed to save wounded soldiers in the field. Rydel’s sister, a woman of faith, tells Rydel on her deathbed that she has received a message from God. The message—save Jesus Christ from the cross.

And Rydel Scott travels back in time to do just that.

It is believed even the smallest change to the past can cause catastrophic repercussions for future generations. An elite military unit is sent back in time to hunt Rydel down before he can alter history and possibly kill millions in the process.

The unit and its commanding officers, Colonel John Adams and Unit Commander Ray Catlin, become divided. Catlin, a devout Catholic, claims he witnessed a miracle by Jesus upon arrival in Jerusalem and fervently believes in Rydel’s mission. Adams hasn’t believed in God since he was a boy and his only concern is the safety of the people in the present. They must now choose between the fate of Christ and the fate of present-day mankind.
They must decide if they will Save Him.

Order Your Copy below

Amazon → https://tinyurl.com/y3veph29

 Barnes & Noble → https://tinyurl.com/y4rw4sgm

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Near the window inside the room, the nurse and her superior set up a chair with a footstool, blankets, and pillows and brought in a bedside table with wheels. They also placed a nightlight in an outlet below the window for Rydel to see where he could plug in the laptop he'd brought with him in a shoulder bag. He finally left the room briefly while the nurse named Peggy changed his sister's bedding.

Now alone with Karen, the first sound of thunder finally came. Rydel stood by the window for over half an hour, watching the gray clouds form above the city, listening to his sister fighting to breathe behind him. Another rumbling sound as light-tapping rain hit the pane of glass in front of him. He almost began to cry along with the rain—but held it back. Another feeling started to take over, a feeling of contempt toward this God his sister devoutly served with everything she had in her beautiful soul. And this is what she received for her complete devotion—to suffer in a wasted shell of a body at the age of twenty-seven.

How incredibly cruel, he thought. Suddenly, Rydel's awareness of his surroundings alarmed him that something was wrong. He could not hear Karen breathing anymore.

Turning, he came face-to-face with Karen standing in front of him and took a startled step backward.

Not just because of the sight of his sister out of bed—but her appearance. She looked healthy, vibrant.

Karen reached out with both hands and touched Rydel's face.

"He came to me. He has been guiding you these past few years. At last, finding the right soul to give the knowledge to, the one who will help save His Son. He told me about your Placement."
"How? How do you know about Placement?"

"By the broken fence leading to the field where we would play as kids…there is something He needs to show you, Rydel."

"Who?"

Karen closed her eyes and slowly fell forward into Rydel's open arms. Rydel carried Karen back to the bed, placing her down softly, staring down at his sister as her body continued to heal right in front of him. Rydel moved away from the bed and stumbled out of the room, running toward the nurses on duty just down the hallway, the two talking quietly to each other.
Rydel had met the nurses before, but now, frantic, he could not recall their names.

"Nurse!"

"Mr. Scott—what is it?" the taller of the two nurses, Jackie, asked.

"Something has happened to my sister!" Rydel shouted.

Rydel spun away from the two women and ran back inside Karen's room. The two nurses ran after him, both sharing the same thought—the vital signs monitor had gone down (happening only one time on record at the hospital five years ago) and Karen had passed without anyone noticing but her brother watching over her in the room.

The two women entered the room to see Rydel kneeling at his sister's bedside with his head lowered.

They looked over the patient, then the machines in the room, and everything seemed to be working.

Rydel quickly turned toward the two.

"No, no, no! She wasn't like this before!"

"Calm down, Mr. Scott. She wasn't like what? What did you see—what happened?" Jackie asked. "She wasn't dying! She was cured!"


__



Early the next day, Rydel sat alone and impatiently in an office, waiting for Karen's doctor, the sunlight streaming through the windows behind an oak desk in front of him. A man in his forties with sandy hair entered the office. He walked behind the desk and eased down into a high-back gray swivel chair.

Lee Stepneake was a man with an excellent reputation not only for saving lives but also for his amazing bedside manner. It was a blessing the way Dr. Stepneake cared for a dying patient and for the family as well.

Knowing Rydel was a man of science—having talked with him briefly—Lee saw no need to comfort Rydel and therefore skipped the approach he was well regarded for by so many. He was at the end of a twenty-hour shift; he was tired and hungry and wanted to go home.
"Your sister has only weeks to live. I am sorry."

Another doctor entered the room. A woman with frazzled hair and eyes that seemed almost halfway shut. Rydel knew the look all too well with the hours he put in at the lab. The woman walked over and stood next to Dr. Stepneake without saying a word.

Rydel nodded a hello toward the woman, acknowledging her, and returned his attention back to Dr.

Stepneake.

"She got out of her bed. Coherent. Healthy, it seemed. Somehow, something is happening inside her that is trying to fight off the illness. I saw it happen."

The half-awake woman glanced down at Dr. Stepneake and then stepped closer to Rydel. "Mr. Scott, she hasn't been able to get out of her bed for over two months now. You are tired. Believe me, I understand. The mind can play cruel tricks when a loved one is dying."

Rydel quickly stood up and paced in front of the two doctors, shaking his head, knowing very well what the two were trying to do with him now. Rydel came to an abrupt stop and pointed a finger in the face of the woman doctor with the slept-in hair and droopy eyes.

"Don't talk to me like that, damn it! I know what I saw. I didn't imagine what happened. I'm not crazy!"

"No, you are not. However, the way you are screaming right now, you do sound a little crazy." Frustrated, Rydel turned away and bolted toward the office door. On his way out, he suddenly
stopped.

"I know what I saw."



__



Rydel spent the morning and afternoon with his sleeping sister. By early evening, he was out of the Hertz car rental office on 76th Street and in his rented Chevrolet Impala, navigating the streets of Manhattan.
He was heading back to his childhood home in New Jersey.

The hour-long drive seemed like the first time in years he felt calm and at ease. A soothing, whispering voice was calling him to the place his sister had told him to go. He had complete fluidity in his thoughts and a feeling of peacefulness flowing throughout his body.

Everything he was working on at the lab pushed its way out of his mind, and a calming presence began to take over him. His work was now not all-consuming. Those thoughts were put aside, not gone, but on the back burner.

Where he was going became all that mattered. Where he was going would give Karen what she needed. Rydel had no idea what that was, but he knew he had to reach the place his sister had talked about, hoping that the fence and the field would still be there.

The field and remnants of the old broken fence were still there. Nothing much had changed. The house looked different on the property, refurbished. However, the large backyard property line of his childhood home had not changed at all. The homeowners of the present, feeling it was also too much of a hassle to landscape the entire acreage of the property, ignored the fact that the overgrown, weed-strewn wasteland with tall trees dotted here and there was theirs to upkeep.

Standing in the knee-high grass with a half-dead tree behind him, Rydel took it all in. Memories of being a young boy playing hide-and-seek with friends, running after his sister, times when they would—
"Remember playing out here when we were kids, Rydel?"

Rydel turned around so fast he lost his footing and went down on his knees. He lifted his head to see his sister in her hospital nightgown, smiling down at him. Small patches of moonlight lit her face, and thin, tree-limb shadows covered her body.

On his feet, Rydel clumsily stepped closer toward Karen, his legs unsure and his head trying to process what he was seeing. She's not here. She can't be—your mind is not working properly. Too much work. Too much to take, knowing Karen is going to die. Too much!

Rydel closed his eyes, feeling the wind move over him, seeing and thinking nothing, taking time to calm his mind. He breathed in the air passing over him, and the smell of the greenery around him began to make him feel better.

A hand touched the side of Rydel's right cheek, and his eyes snapped open. He was now standing face-to-face with his sister.

"This can't be possible."

"God has given me an extension of life in this world. My life should have ended by now, Rydel. This night is why I kept my illness from you—to show you God's miracle. To make sure you do what needs to be done. There is a reason you discovered Placement. You need to follow me now."

Karen let her hand fall slowly away from the side of Rydel's face and walked past him into the field, and Rydel followed. She walked toward a circular clearing with a sky-reaching dawn redwood placed in the middle of the overgrown landscape.

Rydel stopped and rubbed his eyes. And when he was finished, Karen was suddenly sitting under the towering redwood with her back against the tree, sixty feet away.

"Come sit with me, Rydel," she shouted out.

Fear hit Rydel hard. He feared not just for himself but also for what he could do to help others with his mind's abilities, saving lives with his work.

God, I'm losing my mind.

"You are not losing your mind, Rydel. Come and sit with me. We have a lot to talk about," Karen said, just loud enough to be heard.

The inflection changed in her voice. She spoke in her normal speaking voice from before she became ill; however, there was now this underlying warmth coming from her. With the soothing tone of voice drawing him in, Rydel was starting to peacefully accept what was happening.

Rydel smiled back at his sister, who still sat sixty feet away, and walked over to her. After lowering himself and leaning against the tree, Rydel touched Karen's face, the face of a healthy twenty-seven-year-old woman.

"You're cured. How?"

"By God."

"I don't understand."

As he faced his sister, Rydel's mind began to question what he was seeing. This is not your sister. You are just seeing what you want to see. You are imagining this image of her.

"You are not imagining what you are seeing, Rydel. I am healed right here in front of you now." "That's not possible. My mind has just created you. I wish to God you were cured, Karen. But I'm starting to understand what is happening. The doctors were right. I am worn out. I'm surprised I made it

here without getting in some sort of accident. You are back at the hospital, you are dying, and I will always miss you."

Rydel got back up on his feet and turned away from his sister. After taking three steps, the redwood tree he had been leaning against landed on each side of him, perfectly halved. One tree branch struck his lower cheek, and his cheek began to bleed slightly. The tree never made a sound; it just split perfectly in half from the ground up and fell forward.

Body and face trembling, Rydel looked over his shoulder. Standing between each half of the tree, Karen nodded for Rydel to join her, and he did, moving closer with robotic legs he no longer controlled until he stood in front of his sister.

"A war is coming, Rydel. One you have to help stop."

"A war?" Rydel replied.

Karen slowly nodded three times. "Yes. The one war that will turn the earth into a literal hell. The Other will wipe out humanity. Christ's Second Coming has to be done in His time to save us from that. We let Him die on the cross as a people. We have to save Him."
"Save Him?"

"The earth will burn, Rydel. Did you really believe it was just you creating Placement? God's hand was guiding you to save our Savior."

"Placement is dangerous—"

"It is not dangerous," Karen quickly said. "And you know it. It will save humanity…once He is saved. The message Christ was sent to deliver to the world has to be known in our time. He was crucified before He was able to finish what He was sent here to do."
"You want me to go back in time and save Jesus Christ?"

 

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William M. Hayes lives with his beautiful family in a small suburb in New York. His passion for writing became apparent in his twenties, and he dreams of retiring to a secluded beach house where he can write all day.

website & social links

Website → www.williammhayes.com

Twitter → https://twitter.com/WMHayes_Author

Facebook → https://www.facebook.com/WilliamMHayesAuthor/

 

Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off: Witchwood and Seabound by Ethan Proud #Fantasy

wiTchwOOD and SEABOUND

ETHAN PROUD

* Fantasy *

Title: WITCHWOOD AND SEABOUND
Author: Ethan Proud
Publisher: Proud Brothers Publishing
Pages: 492
Genre: Fantasy

Gripping and tense, Witchwood tells the tale of a witch and sheriff turned unlikely allies to stop the town of Northgate from being destroyed by dark forces.
Sheriff Ruckstead reluctantly asks his nemesis Artemisia Corax, the woodwitch, for help when a string of murders unsolvable by mundane means occurs in one night.  As he cooperates with the witch, his reputation is called into question and he faces conflict with one of the wealthier business families of Northgate.
While Sheriff Ruckstead faces his own challenges, Artemisia discovers that she will need aid in bringing the murderers to justice and enlists the support of a demon. When the interplanal denizen escapes her control, she finds that she and Ruckstead have more on their plates than they bargained for. Including the wrath of a goddess.

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Prologue

The morning dew clung to the sage and native grasses in the pasture, their scents mingling pleasantly in the air. However, a stronger odor corrupted the tranquil morning. The tang of iron and stench of fetid greenery overlay all other smells. In one corner, the buck rail pasture had been knocked over and the occupants were nowhere to be seen. Look a little further to the west, however, and a macabre sight covered nearly a quarter acre. Six of the highland cattle were dead. Only their hooves and horns remained untouched. The rest of them was strewn across the field or carried off by the murderer.
Willem Cronley stood horrorstruck in the crisp air. Half of his livelihood had been destroyed, and the other half was either lost in the woods or had met a similar end. He heard a gasp as his wife, Helen, came up behind him.
“Keep the kids inside,” he said, his voice hoarse.
Helen picked up her skirts and hurried to stop her children from witnessing what she just had. She nearly made it through the door of the cottage before her breakfast demanded it be let loose. Her boots would need another polish before she started her daily chores. But without the cows to milk, there would be no butter to churn and she would have to start in the chicken coop before tending to their modest garden.
“What is it, Mother?” Her youngest stepped outside, and before she could usher him back inside he screamed at the top of his lungs. His siblings came running, and they too screamed.
From somewhere in the forest, a low mournful cry echoed back to them.



Chapter One

The knocking at Artemisia’s door was incessant. She knew without a doubt it was the sheriff. People in her profession rarely got any respite from superstitious lawmen. She took her time, carefully grinding the mugwort root into a paste with her mortar and pestle. When it was completed to her liking, she stood, brushed her long blonde hair behind her ear and rose to answer the door.
“Miss Corax,” the man said as politely as he could through gritted teeth. He wore his hair loose and shoulder length, had a well-groomed mustache, and a five o‘clock shadow along his jawbone. His gray eyes further demonstrated how disappointed he was to be making this house-call. He wore black trousers, knee high polished boots — a wise choice in the infernally muddy town of Northgate — and a steel gray peacoat.  As she suspected, it was Sheriff Ruckstead.
“And to what do I owe this untimely surprise?” Artemisia lilted. Her own brown eyes reflected the same attitude as the lawmen on her doorstep.
“I’m afraid it isn’t to incarcerate you this time. I have something I need your help with,” he said reluctantly.
She smiled broadly. “I refuse.”
The sheriff shot out one of his dark hands to stop the door from closing in his face. “Something happened down at the Cronley’s farm. Something killed half of their cattle and the other half escaped. They think it’s the work of some demon.”
“And naturally you come to me for aid,” she said demurely, but nonetheless pulled on a heavy woolen jacket. From her pocket she extracted her riding gloves. “I will only need a minute to prepare my horse.”
“Of course,” Ruckstead said amiably enough. But just being in the woman’s presence made his skin crawl. The door and window frames of her home were covered with wolf lichen, the bright green fungus pinned up with nails before it had taken to its new substrate. Along the south side of her home was a vegetable garden, half of the plants in it poisonous. In two planters in the front of her house were crops of nettle. Why she grew the plant escaped the sheriff — unless it was to deter visitors. Lining the well-worn path to her front door were numerous shaggy mane mushrooms. Their soft, scaly caps were already beginning to blacken at the edges and some had begun to drip dark tendrils as the fungi consumed itself.
The sound of leather stretching and groaning alerted him that Artemisia was ready as she adjusted her weight in her saddle. Her horse seemed impossibly large for her, Ruckstead was certain it was part draft. The animal’s glossy white coat matched with the woman’s blonde hair made for an ethereal pairing straight from an old wives’ tale, but the sheriff knew better. Artemisia had plenty of dark secrets, a few of which, he was loath to admit, had substance familiar to him.
He mounted his own jug-headed, buckskin horse, easily swinging one long leg over the saddle to settle in the right-hand stirrups. A quarter-mile down the path they intersected a cobblestone path and turned their steeds south. The evergreens gave way to aspen trees, which in turn gave way to supple saplings, reaching greedily towards the sun. Oak brush dotted the landscape as it became more and more sparse, yet a few grew to tree-like status. Paintbrush, flax, and other wildflowers swayed easily in the breeze from between bunch grasses. A mill could be seen growing larger in the distance, a wheel noisily splashing water as it generated movement for the machinery within.
Artemisia grimaced, the sight of such industry so close to her home always struck a chord, though she was on good terms with the owner of the mill and found him and his wife to be extremely pleasant. Soon the natural landscape was broken by the monocultures of food production. It was equally as beautiful as the forest she lived in, but Artemisia would never feel at home among the crops.
Sheriff Ruckstead nodded to some of the familiar faces he saw tending the fields. Many of them were indentured servants, slaving away until they could afford to strike out on their own. Of course, that would never happen. His eyes picked up the trickle of irrigation ditches meandering throughout the field, running their courses happily until they were diverted and spilled across the soil surface. Potatoes, corn, soybeans, and squash were common staples of farmers’ fields, not to overlook the cereals: wheat and barley. Three years ago, ergot infected much of the wheat yield, and as such few farmers had been bold enough to replant. The Cronley’s were one such family, and no doubt their recent tragedy would cause a flurry of rumors. Witchcraft, demons, and more. Ruckstead turned a wary eye onto the witch next to him. Artemisia claimed she was a simple herbalist, but most of the town knew otherwise. Her business was a front for her darker rituals.
“Something on your mind, Sheriff?” She broke the silence with a cold drawl.
“Nothing different from the usual,” he muttered darkly.
“Ah, so nothing,” Artemisia purred and kicked her horse into a canter.
Ruckstead scowled, and urged his horse, Wineae, to follow the pearlescent gelding ahead of her. The sun struggled to peer through the heavy haze of clouds that left Northgate in a perpetually sun-starved state. If the growing season wasn’t so long, the crops would surely produce meager yields year in and year out. It took weeks for the plants to even grow two inches once they had burst from the soil, and nearly a month until they were knee high. Yet the farmers tended their fields lovingly, and somehow produced enough crop to feed their family and the town. Perhaps it was the rich soil. It was said that nearly three hundred years ago a great battle was fought. The blood and bones of the First Peoples fed the ground that they now stood on.
Suddenly the town was before them, the wood shingled roofs and shuttered windows only increasing the drab look of the buildings. Everything was painted in dreary grays, mournful blues, and sickly greens. It might have just been the moss and lichen clinging to the houses that tricked the hues into shining a little more emerald than they had been intended to be. Chamber pots were emptied into the streets, and drunkards could be seen teetering dangerously close to the gutters. The town of Northgate was by no means large, but its population still fell prey to the sins of a larger city. They crossed from the Main Road onto Raven’s Barrow, and Artemisia scrunched her nose as they passed by a series of apartments.
Her younger cousin, Mission, lived in one of them. She didn’t know which. It was a point not to visit his apartment, but he was frequently invited to her forest dwelling. He brought her supplies from town so she could maintain her status as a hermit, and she gave him tinctures and salves to sell at a discounted rate to the poor in the community. If she had to guess, she would say he lived in the Oyster Shell block, judging by its seedy reputation.
It only took twenty minutes to cross the entire town. A few more miles southwardly they came to a crossroad and turned right, to the west. The Cronley Farmstead was only a half-mile further. There wasn’t much to the farm, a few outbuildings and the main house. A single windmill stood alone against a dark hillside, its sole purpose to mark the watering hole for the livestock.
The Cronleys were a poor family and soon the richer businesses would buy them out and send indentured servants out to tend the fields that the Cronley family had had for six generations. Willem, Helen, and their six kids did their best, but it was simply not enough to keep them afloat. And now half of their livestock had disappeared, the other half massacred. Like vultures sensing death, the businessmen and investors would no doubt swoop in at the promise of an easy bargain.
Willem stood by the open gate, wringing his hands nervously. He was an ugly man, with thick eyebrows, a hooked nose broken many times over, hair like straw, and a smile so crooked a drunk couldn’t even walk its line. Luckily for his children, they had inherited his wife’s plain beauty and had large, baleful, brown eyes, high cheekbones and curly, dark hair.
“Sheriff Ruckstead,” he said and nodded respectfully. He broke into a smile he quickly tried to hide when he saw Artemisia. “Milady.”
“Malady is more like it,” Ruckstead said sourly under his breath. Artemisia snickered.
“Willem, I wish the circumstances of our meeting were on better terms.” Artemisia looked past him to the six children pressing their faces against the glass.
“It is always a pleasure when you visit our humble home. The children are still overjoyed with the gifts you brought them last time, and the crops-” Willem was cut off as the woman lifted a hand to stop him.
“Careful now, we wouldn’t want our good sheriff to cart you off to jail,” she warned.
Willem stammered for a moment but Ruckstead harrumphed to voice his displeasure.
“We only arrest criminals and witches.”
At that the farmer blanched. Ruckstead sighed and continued, “Let’s get to the heart of this matter, though. Where are the poor beasts?”
“I left them as they lay.” Willem turned and led them towards the closest pasture. How his entire family hadn’t been woken by the slaughter of the animals was beyond the sheriff and the witch. They were assaulted by the smell before they had a glimpse of the massacre. As they crossed the pastureland, Artemisia caught a glimpse of something white gleaming from its burrow in the grasses. She reined in Newt, her horse, and slipped gracefully to the ground. She saw the pupil as she brushed the green blades from overtop of it. The gentle brown color of the iris made the eye seem peaceful even in death. She scooped it from the ground and held it aloft in her gloved hand. Without an explanation, she dropped the eye into a pouch held at her hip. She didn’t bother climbing back into the saddle, but instead lead Newt by the reins towards the epicenter of the bloodshed.

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Meet The Author

Ethan Proud was raised in Pinedale, Wyoming and that is where he fell in love with reading, writing, and the outdoors. He published his first series the Rebellion Trilogy with his older brother, Lincoln. Ethan is an avid adventurer, whether it is on the page or in nature and when he is not writing or reading he can be found backpacking, rock climbing, or snowboarding.

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