Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Triple Love Score by Brandi Megan Granett - Book Blast and Giveaway



About the Book


Miranda Shane lives a quiet life among books and letters as a professor in a small upstate town. When the playing-by-the-rules poet throws out convention and begins to use a Scrabble board instead of paper to write, she sets off a chain of events that rattles her carefully planned world.

Her awakening propels her to take risks and seize chances she previously let slip by, including a game-changing offer from the man she let slip away. But when the revelation of an affair with a graduate student threatens the new life Miranda created, she is forced to decide between love or poetry.









Excerpt

“You sure you don’t want to take a cab?” Scott asked her.

“I’m sure. Then we wouldn’t see the diamonds,” Lynn said.

“Tiffany’s?” Miranda asked. “You’re a little young for that aren’t you? Though you are Bunny’s granddaughter.”

“Not like Grandma Bunny’s diamonds! The diamonds on the sidewalk. Look!”

Sure enough, the concrete in front of them sparkled. Four or five runs of sidewalk shimmered with mica flecks, then it went to plain for a block or two, then more that sparkled.

“I want to know what makes them different,” Miranda said to Scott, pointing at the abrupt change from sparkle to non-sparkle on the sidewalk in front of them. 

“But knowing the difference would ruin it,” Scott said.

“You’d rather think it was magic?”

“I like the idea of magic. Don’t you?” he asked.

“I don’t take much stock in that,” Miranda said.

“Daddy, look!” Lynn said.

And there in front of them was a huge elephant balloon with a circus ball balancing on his trunk. The ball wasn’t all the way inflated yet; it wobbled a little and the sides of the elephant shuddered some as the helium pumped in. But an elephant as tall as a house at Central Park was a sight to behold no matter the size or amount of helium left to go.  The crowd around them seemed to holding their breath in anticipation as the ball slowly rose. 

“See,” Miranda said, “to people watching on television that's magic. But it’s not magic. It’s a year of planning and then people working all night on the day before a family holiday to pull it off.”

“But it’s magic to her,” Scott said. 

Lynn strained at the barricade, craning her neck to see down the street and the rest of the balloons staged there.

“Sure, it’s magic to her. She’s a kid. Kids have to believe in magic. When you really grow up, it’s different.”

“I guess I’m not really grown up then,” Scott said. “And maybe I don’t want to be.”


About the Author

Brandi Megan Granett is an author, online English professor, and private writing mentor. She holds a PhD in Creative Writing from Aberystwyth University, Wales, an MFA in Fiction from Sarah Lawrence College, a Masters in Adult Education with an emphasis on Distance Education from Penn State University, and a BA from the University of Florida.

Granett is the author of My Intended (William Morrow, 2000). Her short fiction has appeared in Pebble Lake Review, Folio, Pleiades and other literary magazines, and is collected in the volume Cars and Other Things That Get Around.

In addition, she writes an author interview series for the Huffington Post, and is a member of the Tall Poppy Writers, a community of writing professionals committed to growing relationships, promoting the work of its members, and connecting authors with each other and with readers.

When Granett is not writing or teaching or mothering, she is honing her archery skills. She lives in New Jersey with her husband, daughter and two dogs.

Author Links:


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Giveaway
Brandi will be awarding a $50 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

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Wednesday, January 25, 2017

The Singer and the Charlatan by D.C. Fergerson - Book Tour and Giveaway



About the Book


Leanna Moonbody dreams of playing at the Saul Amphitheater. With just one adventure to fund her trip, she meets up with a priestess that dreams of a massive flock to take on a pilgrimage. Together, Leanna will set up the crowds, and Priestess Trixi will bring them to Our Lord.

With an elf, dwarf, rogue, pixie and a paladin on their side, they set out to realize both their dreams. They just have to maneuver past a lovesick noble, the clergy, a deranged halfling that can’t seem to die, and a plague.

What could possibly go wrong?








Excerpt

“Ooh, this is exciting,” Leanna said with a smile, grabbing up Tear and Jonathan’s hands.

With the circle complete, Trixi looked to the ceiling.

“Lord. Oh, Lord, who is great and true. Take this offering of Form R226 and whatever leftovers we have here from dinner. Commune with me so that I may be a better Fawnspear, walking the path of truth. May it be really, really funny.”

With that, the scroll burned away before their eyes. Then, nothing. The silence became awkward.

“Did it not work?” Jonathan asked.

“Quiet,” Trixi demanded, turning her ear to the table.

The faint sound of terribly boring music filled the space all around the table. Any old ear would think it came from the building next door, but the trained ear of a Thistlite knew better. She listened to the song for a moment with her eyes closed.

Leanna joined in, leaning in to try and make out the tune. Suddenly, a loud voice spoke out, scaring her so bad she almost fell out of her chair.

“Our Lord is currently speaking with another faithful! You are very important to Our Lord! Your prayer shall be heard in the order it was received!”

Leanna broke the circle. “Oh, come on! Why did that have to be the loud part?”

“Leanna, you must be quiet,” Trixi whispered. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

Interview

What should readers expect when they pick up your book?

They should expect a fully-realized fantasy world, and a group of characters that are about as insane as the world they live in. From Priestess Trixi’s bizarre religion and its many rules, to Leanna Moonbody’s complete apathy toward her amnesia, the paladin Sante’s happy-go-lucky cluelessness, and Tear, the elven sorcerer with an anxiety disorder, it’s a madhouse, and we’re all along for the ride.

Tell us about the cover and the inspiration for it.

It’s funny you should mention that. In this day and age, some of the best fantasy artists out there are just a click away. So many of them were just so far out of my price range, I opted to make the cover myself. It’s got the classic fantasy font style and I went with an aged leather book texture to add to its appeal. The image on the cover is Leanna sitting on a bar stool in Top’s Inn, and we can see Priestess Trixi has crossed out her ‘Tips Appreciated’ sign in her guitar case to read ‘Tithes Appreciated’, what I thought was a playful nod to the relationship they have in the book - Leanna sets up the crowds and Trixi brings them to ‘Our Lord’.

What’s next for you?

Book two, The Princess and the Holy Juggernaut  will release in late February/early March. While I’m wrapping work on book three, I’ll be publishing what I call an ‘anti-romance’ novel called Horses on the Wind in spring/summer. 2017 is going to be a busy year for me.

Three of your all time favourite books?

That’s pretty easy. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series by Douglas Adams, and Lullaby by Chuck Palahniuk.

What would make you not finish a book you're reading?

Growing up, I devoured stageplays. I must have read every major stageplay penned between 1940 and 1960 in my senior year of high school. As such, dialogue is so key for me, and it reflects in my dialogue-centric writing. I love conversations that feel real and organic. So if conversation seems forced or I feel like I’m reading two-dimensional people exchanging lines, I’m probably going to drop it quick. In my three favorite books I mentioned, every one of them has a genuine feel of coming from a layered, complex personality and a distinct voice. I love that.

What do you hope your writing brings to readers?

I want to give everyone a good laugh. Being a sci-fi fan first (fantasy was introduced when I was an adult), I loved the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series, and I think Douglas Adams was brilliant. Fantasy hasn’t had much of that, a series that enjoys a spectacular plot while poking fun at its own genre. I really hope I can change all that.

Anything else you might want to add?

The Singer and the Charlatan is now available in ebook and paperback, and the paperback is so pretty! So please gobble it up and make sure to leave me a review, I love reviews! And of course, don’t miss out on The Princess and the Holy Juggernaut, Book Two of the Wicked Instruments, coming in a little over a month from now!

Thanks...

Trailer




About the Author



An avid reader, fantasy gamer, humorist, husband, and father. I wear a lot of hats, some of them terribly silly, with feathers and such. I’ve channeled years Dungeons and Dragons campaigns and late-night stand-up comics into a series full of wit, charm, magic, and laughs.






Author Links:

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Giveaway
D.C. Fergerson will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

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Wednesday, January 11, 2017

The Applicant by Aidee Ladnier - Book Blast and Giveaway



About the Book

How can something so cuddly and adorable be so destructive? The teddy bear robot decimating his lab is only the first disaster of the day for roboticist Forbes Pohle. If he can figure out how to end its rampage, he still has to interview applicants for the position of research assistant and convince the time-traveler on his doorstop that they should be making their future right now.

Oliver Lennox didn’t travel back in time to have a quickie in the blast chamber—but it certainly is fun. This younger Forbes is a sweeter, more innocent version of his lover. And it will be hard to leave him behind in the past.

If you like sexy nerds, humor, plenty of action, and a love story not even time can disrupt, this romantic adventure has the perfect credentials for the job.






Excerpt

When they came up for air, Forbes claimed his hand and squeezed his fingers, his forehead resting against Oliver’s. “So, if you want the job, the research assistant job—” Forbes took a deep breath. “—it’s yours.” 

Oliver stilled, pinned by that earnest gaze. He reached up to cup Forbes’s cheek in his hand. Forbes turned to plant the kiss in his palm as Oliver knew he would. 

“Doc, I didn’t come here to interview for a job.” Oliver laid a finger on Forbes’s lips as he began to speak, “At least, not yet.” 

“What do you mean?” Forbes let his hand slide out of Oliver’s grasp. 

“I know this sounds crazy… but I’m from the future, and in my time, I already work for you.” Oliver grinned, but it didn’t last. Forbes had begun backing away from him. Crap, the Doc probably thought he was a madman. He could practically see the gears whirling behind Forbes’s eyes. Oliver had to trust that his curiosity would come overcome his fear. 

“Time travel’s been proven impossible.”

Bingo. Oliver recognized that stubborn look. He’d seen it each and every time he made sandwiches with bean sprouts and spinach. Forbes ate those sandwiches too.


About the Author

Aidee Ladnier, an award-winning author of speculative fiction, began writing at twelve years old but took a hiatus to be a magician’s assistant, ride in hot air balloons, produce independent movies, collect interesting shoes, fold origami, send ping pong balls into space, and amass a secret file with the CIA. A lover of genre fiction, it has been a lifelong dream of Aidee's to write both romance and erotica with a little science fiction, fantasy, mystery, or the paranormal thrown in to add a zing.

You can find her on her blog at http://www.aideeladnier.com or on her favorite social media sites:



Giveaway
Aidee will be awarding a $50 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

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Wednesday, January 4, 2017

A Minor Deception by Nupur Tustin - Book Tour and Giveaway



About the Book

Kapellmeister Joseph Haydn would like nothing better than to show his principal violinist, Bartó Daboczi, the door. But with the Empress Maria Theresa’s visit scheduled in three weeks, Haydn can ill-afford to lose his surly virtuoso.

But when Bartó disappears—along with all the music composed for the imperial visit—the Kapellmeister is forced to don the role of Kapell-detective, or risk losing his job.

Before long Haydn's search uncovers pieces of a disturbing puzzle. Bartó, it appears, is more than just a petty thief—and more dangerous. And what seemed like a minor musical mishap could modulate into a major political catastrophe unless Haydn can find his missing virtuoso.







Excerpt

Rosalie, a palace maid, found herself charmed by a handsome stranger she encountered in the palace hallway. He claimed to be Bartó's friend, and asked to meet with the principal violinist. Now Rosalie wonders if the man really was who he claimed to be.

Rosalie's Suspicions

He seemed to know exactly who she was. Only because Master Bartó spoke so often of her, he’d explained. But Rosalie found that hard to believe. The principal violinist’s manner toward her, on the rare occasions that he acknowledged her presence, was nothing other than brusque. She was sure Master Bartó’s friend was…

Lying?

Rosalie brought her head up so sharply, the muscles in her neck almost cracked. She gazed out the kitchen window, her large violet eyes shrouded in uncertainty. Was it possible? But why lie about such a trivial matter?

Besides, how else could he have known so much about her? He knew she was from Rohrau. Just like the Kapellmeister. Who else but Master Bartó could have told him that? She didn’t think he knew anyone else from the palace.

She considered the nameless man. Now, that was strange, too. He had asked for her name, but not given her one in return. Why not?

And now that she thought about it, there had been something odd about his person, too. Rosalie couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. Her mind brought up an image of the peasant with his immense height, his boyish good looks, and charming smile.

A peasant? That was it! His clothes were such as any peasant might wear. Coarse gray-green coat and trousers of serviceable loden. Plain linen shirt. A rough wool cloak. She’d thought he was from Master Bartó’s hometown. A simple peasant. But now, she wasn’t so sure.

She’d thought nothing of it when he asked to meet the principal violinist beyond the castle grounds. Convinced it was a matter of some urgency, she had hurried straight up to deliver the message to Master Bartó. Now she wished she had gone to the Kapellmeister instead.

Despite his clothes, the man didn’t seem like a peasant. No more than His Serene Highness would, were he ever to don such garments. Rosalie tried to picture the Prince in the rough, durable garb of a farm-hand. Now, what would mark him as a nobleman even in such rude gear?

She struggled over the question. His speech, perhaps. Or his gait. But she could recall nothing remarkable in either. No distinct feature that set the stranger apart.

If he was really a peasant, why had he…? Well, not lied. But he had been cagey, merely smiling when she asked if he brought news from Master Bartó’s family. Deflecting all her questions. Drawing her out, but revealing nothing. All she’d gleaned was that he needed to speak with Master Bartó. Privately. She supposed there was no harm in that.

Unless he wasn’t a peasant. But a member of the nobility, instead! What business could a nobleman have with the principal violinist of the Esterházy orchestra? And why had he come disguised?

Oblivious to the warm, soapy dishwater growing cold, Rosalie stared out the window, an uneasy stirring in the pit of her stomach. She clutched a silver dish in one palm, held a sponge in the other, but her hands, growing wrinkled and numb in the water, remained motionless.

Finally, she wiped both hands on her apron. The dishes could wait. She would follow Master Bartó and the stranger, and see if she could overhear any of their conversation. There was mischief brewing, she was sure of it.


About the Author

Author Bio: A former journalist, Nupur Tustin relies upon a Ph.D. in Communication and an M.A. in English to orchestrate fictional mayhem.  The Haydn mysteries are a result of her life-long passion for classical music and its history. Childhood piano lessons and a 1903 Weber Upright share equal blame for her original compositions, available on ntustin.musicaneo.com.

Her writing includes work for Reuters and CNBC, short stories and freelance articles, and research published in peer-reviewed academic journals. She lives in Southern California with her husband, three rambunctious children, and a pit bull.

For details on the Haydn series and monthly blog posts on the great composer, visit the official Haydn Mystery web site: NTUSTIN.COM


Author Links:


Giveaway
Nupur will be awarding a a free print copy of the book (Open to USA, Canada, UK only) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tuesday, January 3, 2017

The Sage Stone Prophecy by N. S. Wikarski - Book Tour and Giveaway



About the Book


Where do you hide a mysterious artifact that could change the course of history? You scatter clues to its whereabouts across the entire planet. Five objects buried beneath the rubble of lost civilizations point to the hiding place of the fabled Sage Stone. A secret society and a fanatical religious cult vie against one another in a global treasure hunt to claim the prize. The Arkana wants to preserve it for posterity. The Blessed Nephilim wants to exploit it to create a terrifying new world order. Only one faction can win. More importantly, only one can survive.











Excerpt

Chapter 1—How A Golden Age Turns Bronze

Gansu Province, Northern China, 2650 BCE

During the age of Shen-Nung, people rested at ease and acted with vigor. They knew their mothers, but not their fathers. They lived among deer. They ate what they cultivated and wore what they wove. They did not think of harming one another. 
–Zhuangzi

The woman stood upright and stretched to ease the stiffness in her back. She’d been cultivating around the roots of a row of millet plants. She paused to study the feathery seed heads drooping above their tall stalks—still green though the weather had been fair and promised to ripen them in a few more weeks.  Her youngest son, barely more than a toddler, was attempting to help her by attacking weed clumps with a sharp stick.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement in the distance.  Several dozen figures were descending from the mountains that surrounded the river valley where she and her clan lived. They were moving at a leisurely pace down the slopes. Curious, she dropped her hoe and, taking her son by the hand, threaded her way through the millet field. Several others of her clan, also working in the fields, had noticed the approach of the strangers. The farm folk wandered toward the river bank and gathered in a small group to watch their descent.

As the band loomed ever nearer, a collective murmur of surprise rose from residents. The woman gasped audibly at the spectacle. The strangers numbered about fifty men, women and children.  These people were odd-looking. Whereas the villagers were short and stocky with straight black hair and brown eyes, the strangers were tall and gangly, their skins as pale as a fish’s belly. Their eyes were round and set deep in their sockets. Their hair was bushy—the color and texture of straw.

They were not walking but riding. The lead figure sat astride a long-necked, long-nosed beast which he controlled with leather straps fastened around the creature’s mouth. The woman had seen a few of these animals before though large numbers of them were said to roam across the grasslands beyond the mountains. They were useless as livestock. Not placid like the pigs which her clan kept in pens. These long-necked creatures were skittish—easily frightened—and, once startled, they ran like the wind. Sometimes her people would hunt them for their meat but no one had ever tried to sit on one before.

Yet here was a band of humans astride the backs of these creatures as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Not all the strangers were riding the animals though. Several among them, mainly women and children, were traveling in even stranger fashion. They sat in square wooden boxes with round disks attached on either side.  Long-necked beasts were tied to these boxes and pulled them forward, making the disks spin and leaving behind tracks in the grass.

The woman’s son had wrapped his arms around her leg as if it were a tree trunk. He stared up at her, silently demanding to be carried. She hoisted him into her arms so he could get a better view. He stuck his fist into his mouth, warily regarding the advancing procession.

The woman’s eyes were drawn to a female figure seated in the foremost of the square boxes. A plank of wood was strapped to her back. On it rested an infant, if the poor little thing could be said to rest at all. It was swathed in cloth strips that bound its tiny body to the plank. The infant was wrapped so firmly that it could move neither its arms nor its legs. Its forehead was held rigidly against the board to keep it from flopping to either side. For a moment, the woman wondered whether the baby was even alive. Perhaps this was the way these foreigners prepared their dead for burial. Then the baby’s eyes blinked open lethargically. The pressure of the wrappings made the eyes seem to bulge from their sockets but the infant remained mute. Perhaps it knew that no one would release it from its bindings so there was no point in whimpering.

The woman’s attention then traveled from the bound infant to its mother. Her hair was flame-colored. She wore an intricately stitched shawl—red and green thread had been worked into square shapes with straight lines shooting through them.  The design was more complex than anything the clan weavers could produce.

This caravan was a peculiar sight to be sure. But of all the curiosities in this odd procession there was one stranger than all the rest. It was a wooden platform, smaller than the boxes which held the women and children. It too had wooden disks attached to each side and was pulled by a long-necked animal. Beneath the platform were more disks with notched edges which seemed to interlock with one another. These all connected to a small pillar resting on top of the platform. The pillar was topped by an ornamental carving of the neck and head of one of the beasts these people used for conveyance. As this platform traveled forward, no matter which way it zigged and zagged down the hills, the nose of the carving always turned toward the same direction. The woman judged it to be pointing south. She couldn’t imagine what purpose this device served.

Her silent speculation was cut short when the leader of the band raised his arm, commanding his followers to halt. They wordlessly obeyed. The man gave his beast a sharp kick in the ribs and it ambled forward until he tugged on the strap in its mouth to make it stop a mere ten feet away from the assembled clan.

The farm folk gawked up at him. He impassively stared back at them. The woman took in every detail of his appearance. His yellow hair hung down his back. It was the color of ripe millet as was the color of the thick beard which flowed down his chest. His age was hard to guess. He was not a youth but not an elder either. His eyes were set so deeply that his eyelids folded over them like a hood. On his head, he wore some sort of metal bowl turned upside down. Horns had been affixed to either side of the bowl, giving him the fearsome aspect of a charging beast. A long knife hung from a leather belt at his waist.

The stranger made no threatening gesture despite his warlike attire. He merely sat on his animal and silently studied the people clustered below him. After a few moments, his gaze shifted from the crowd to the millet fields, the houses, the livestock pens and the river flowing endlessly off into the distance. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The farmers continued to gape and point and whisper among themselves.

The woman felt a shadow cross the sun even though the sky was clear and bright. She didn’t have the gift of second sight like the shamans of the clan. Her gift lay in making things grow. Still, she felt an unaccountable sense of despair welling up from the depths of her heart. Without being able to explain why, she knew that her world was about to change—and not for the better.


About the Author

Nancy Wikarski is a fugitive from academia. After earning her Ph.D. from the University of Chicago, she became a computer consultant and then turned to mystery and historical fiction writing. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America, the Society Of Midland Authors, and has served as vice president of Sisters In Crime - Twin Cities and on the programming board of the Chicago chapter. Her short stories have appeared in Futures Magazine and DIME Anthology, while her book reviews have been featured in Murder: Past Tense and Deadly Pleasures.
She has written the Gilded Age Mystery series set in 1890s Chicago. Titles include The Fall Of White City (2002) and Shrouded In Thought (2005). The series has received People's Choice Award nominations for Best First Novel and Best Historical as well as a Lovey Award for Best Traditional Amateur Sleuth.

Her seven-book Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series is a #1 Amazon Bestseller. Titles include The Granite Key (2011), The Mountain Mother Cipher (2011), The Dragon’s Wing Enigma (2012), Riddle Of The Diamond Dove (2013), Into The Jaws Of The Lion (2014), Secrets Of The Serpent’s Heart (2015), and The Sage Stone Prophecy (2016).

"There's a 52% chance that the next Dan Brown will be a woman ... or should we just make that 100% now?"
--Kindle Nation Daily

Author Links:


Giveaway
The author will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

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Monday, January 2, 2017

Prism by Matthew D. Ryan - Book Blast and Giveaway



About the Book


In the mystical realm of the Cavern, Akarra is Shardshaper to the quartzian people who inhabit it. Fashioned from quartz and filled with enchanted light, the quartzians are a strong and hearty people. Akarra is no exception. But when destiny intervenes, she must choose between the he-quartz she loves and the life path she lives for. Which shall she choose?















The book is free at Smashwords

Excerpt

Yridia produced another crystal: a clump of cracked, twisted quartz. She placed it in front of Akarra and said, “I want you to shape this crystal into an icosahedron. Work quickly. Now, go.”

Akarra blanched: An icosahedron was the most complicated perfect solid known. It was a quasi-spherical shape consisting of twenty identical triangular sides. A correctly formed icosahedron would fit in a perfect sphere in such a way that every vertex of every triangle would just touch the inner surface of the sphere. Actually, that was true of all perfect solids.

Akarra lifted the Shard and pointed the flat face of one of its triangular faces towards the clump of crystal. She bowed her head in concentration, summoning the power of her will. Her mind reached into the Shard; she could sense the Bond it had made with Yridia. The Bond inhibited Akarra’s control of the Heartshard, but not entirely: she could still harness the power of the Shard, just at a less effective level. She did so, and the Shard began to glow in her hands. First it glowed red, pulsing with energy, temperature rising. Next, orange, and the temperature began to drop. Next, yellow and a flash of cold. The other colors followed in turn: green, blue, indigo, violet, and then finally, it went clear. She sensed the presence of deathlight, and saw it in her mind’s eye although her normal vision failed her. She discharged a thick beam of deathlight focused on the lump of crystal. Immediately, the crystal began to morph and ripple.


About the Author

Matthew D. Ryan lives in northeastern New York on the shores of Lake Champlain. He has been deeply involved in the fantasy genre for most of his life as a reader, writer, and game designer. His writing has been featured at Aphelion.com and YesteryearFiction.com. He is the operator of the web-site matthewdryan.com which features his blog, “A Toast to Dragons,” (http://matthewdryan.com/a-toast-to-dragons-the-blog/) a blog dedicated to fantasy literature, and, to a lesser extent, sci-fi. He is the author of the dark fantasy novels “Drasmyr,” “The Children of Lubrochius,” and “The Sceptre of Morgulan,” as well as a growing number of fantasy short stories including: “Haladryn and the Minotaur,” “The River’s Eye,” and “Escape.” His latest work is the stand-alone novella “Prism,” a startling fantasy story of unique character.

Author Links:


Giveaway
Matthew will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

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