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Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Book Blitz: Wonderfully Wicked By CJ Burright @CJBurright @swoonromance @NereydaG1003 #YABOUNDBOOKTOURS #Giveaway






Wonderfully Wicked
Release Date: 05/13/14

Summary from Goodreads:
A dreamcaster with the ability to channel creatures from her nightmares, headstrong and cynical Kalila Montgomery longs for a peaceful, picket-fence life…until the man literally of her dreams kidnaps her. Survival quickly becomes her number one goal, yet a growing attraction to the man in her nightmares is impossible to ignore. While she fears he will kill her, other, more terrifying enemies surround her, and Kalila succumbs to his scheme to escape. She may be his one hope for freedom…A deadly combination of power, cunning, and cold-hearted charm, Lydon v'al Endrian fears nothing. Feels nothing.

Chained to a brotherhood of men with the supernatural ability to invade dreams, he hunts dreamcasters to be harvested for their dreams and killed. His target: Kalila Montgomery. But Kalila awakens an undeniable dark desire and a longing for a freedom long-lost. To gain everything he craves, Lydon must seduce Kalila before his plot is discovered…a hopeless challenge which, if failed, will earn him a death-sentence. Caught up in a dangerous world of secrets and obsession, doubt and betrayal, Kalila and Lydon face the nightmare of their lives, where love will either deliver them-or destroy them both.

Available from:

Excerpt:
"I took great effort to see you." His tone hinted the act made him deserving. "You sleep; I'll keep watch. And my vow of yesterday stands. I won't molest you."
To her annoyance, her pulse danced a country jig. Whatever efforts he took on her behalf were of questionable nature, not romantic. She made a rude noise in case he held any such illusions.
"Keep watch for what? No one besides you could reach my window and my door's bolted."
Lydon laced his hands behind his head, his lips twitching as though fighting a smile. "Then I'll watch you. Like before."
Horror prickled over her in a rushing tide. She leapt up. "You watched me sleep? Not skulked around in my bedroom to attack me?" She groaned, imagining him watching her drool, snore, or grind her teeth.
He laughed, low and warm. "You're so lovely when you dream, Lils. An angel." He patted the empty spot beside him.
Her traitorous body, defenseless against him, obeyed. The red, silken comforter hissed beneath her knees while she climbed onto the opposite side of the giant bed. The lone lamp by the bed cast a mystical glow over Lydon, catching golden highlights in his light hair, the silver shards in his eyes. "Watching people sleep is creepy."
He shrugged. "Not people, just you. Besides, I am creepy."
Definitely not creepy. Kalila settled into a cross-legged position and fixed him with a no-nonsense look. "Since it seems you have nothing better to do than lie there like a sloth, be useful and fess up. Why am I being treated as some freaking porcelain doll in a glass case? How can my nightmares benefit the V'alkara? Can the V'alkara really take my dreams away? None of you seem sick-and no, mental doesn't count-so what's wrong? And when will you take us home?"
Lydon jiggled one black boot. What she thought might be disapproval flickered in his eyes. "I won't waste our alone time answering inquiries. I have other plans."
She swallowed hard. Maybe she'd misjudged him. Maybe he was so confident in his assassin abilities-and her helplessness-he felt sneakiness was unnecessary.
He sat up in a blink of an eye, moving with inhuman speed. One large hand was planted next to her knee. His breath fanned her chin. The scent of the outdoors and a tinge of smoke drifted from his clothes. His voice whispered spider-soft.
"Do you care to know what other less attractive names some call me?" The world seemed to shrink to Lydon and the force of his gaze. "Angel of Ruin. Living Nightmare. Scourge." His eyes gleamed, darkened. "As you might guess from such monikers, peace in my life is rare. I'll relish any fragments of it I happen to stumble across for as long as possible."
His fingers trailed her cheek to cup her chin. In the span of a heartbeat, his face changed. From beautiful man to skeletal beast then back to beautiful man. A chill coiled around her soul, deep and cold as a winter storm. Who-what-was this guy?
"Do you feel it too?"
Kalila's heartbeat rumbled in her ears, kicked at her throat. Her fingers jerked with a fierce need to touch him. Instead, she fisted the blanket. Admit nothing to the enemy. Yet the urge to nestle her cheek into his palm and purr grappled with reason. She had to take control before she did something stupid.

About the Author
CJ blames her love for reading and all things Medieval on her father, who plied her often with fantasy novels ranging from Sir Lloyd Alexander to Piers Anthony.  Her love for romance, however, lies completely at the feet of her best friend Michelle, who dared to give her a romance novel for her birthday.  She smiled, politely said thank you, and tossed it in the corner, where it gathered dust.  In a moment of desperation, when only the revolting romance remained in her almost-always toppling stack of awaiting books, she sucked it up and read the romance.  Doomed. 

She started writing fantasy and paranormal romance for the cathartic experience, decided she liked it, and after two overlong, horribly written novels joined RWA and the Fantasy, Futuristic & Paranormal special interest chapter.  Best classes and critique groups ever.  Double doomed.  Now, writing is a necessity, not just a hobby.

In her spare time, when she's not writing or reading or actually working, CJ might be found in the dojang (4th Dan Black Belt, baby), rooting on the Mariners (who will some day win the World Series), working out (P90X, anyone?), gardening (a little dirt never hurt anyone), or playing Music of the Night on the piano (without mask or cape). She lives in Oregon with her fabulous husband and daughter. Not to mention her minions, a herd of cats.

WONDERFULLY WICKED is CJ's Burright's first novel.

Author Links:
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GIVEAWAY:
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Book Blitz Organized by:

Cover Reveal: A is for Apocalypse Editor: Rhonda Parrish @RhondaParrish @JaidisShaw #JGBS #Giveaway




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About the Editor:
"Rhonda Parrish is a shapeshifter with talents to match her every incarnation-magpie tenacity for picking the shiniest submissions, nightingale notes for crafting tales, and bright, feline eyes for seeking out her photographic subjects. She balances on the knife-edge of darkness and light, a sorceress of both realms." - Sara Cleto
 
 
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Title:  A is for Apocalypse
Editor:  Rhonda Parrish
Cover Design:  Jonathan Parrish
To Be Published:  August 2014
Publisher:   Poise and Pen Publishing
Genre:  Horror
Content Warning:  Adult Themes
Synopsis:
What do you get when you take twenty-six amazing writers, randomly assign them a letter of the alphabet and give them complete artistic freedom within a theme?
A is for Apocalypse.
A is for Apocalypse contains twenty-six apocalyptic stories written by both well-known and up-and-coming writers. Monsters, meteors, floods, war-the causes of the apocalypse in these tales are as varied as the stories themselves.
This volume contains work by Ennis Drake, Beth Cato, Kenneth Schneyer, Damien Angelica Walters, K. L. Young, Marge Simon, Milo James Fowler, Simon Kewin, C.S. MacCath, Steve Bornstein and more!
 
 
Excerpt:
 
U is for... by Damien Angelica Walters:
My father and I used to stargaze when I was only a few years older than Millie. He taught me the constellations, patiently pointing at each one until I could recognize the shapes without his help. They were a link to something bigger, something more, but no longer. Now Orion's Belt mocks me with its precision; Cassiopeia with her beauty, a beauty that will remain even when no one's left to see. Once a comfort, all of them, now my enemy.
 
Giveaway Details:
There is a tour wide giveaway. Prizes include the following:
  • Print ARC copy of A Is For Apocalypse
Giveaway is International.
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Spotlight: True Nature By Jessica Freely @jessicafreely @VBTCafe #Giveaway







Author Bio:

Jessica Freely can't resist a wounded hero. As a reader and a writer, her favorite stories are of soul mates finding redemption in each other's arms. Married to the love of her life in a beautiful relationship based on mutual goofiness, Jessica also warps minds as an instructor in Seton Hill University's Writing Popular Fiction MFA program. Her dog, Ruthie, doesn't seem to care that Jessica's an award-winning and best-selling author in multiple genres. She just wants to play tug of war with Jessica's pages.

Author Links -

Jessica Freely Online:
Website & Blog: http://jessicafreely.com



Book Genre: Paranormal Gay Romance
Publisher: Loose Id
Release Date: April 22
Buy Link(s):

Loose Id Buy Link: 

Book Description:

Lake Clearwater--conservation officer and water spirit--has just been appointed guardian of Gem Pond by The Powers That Be. It's the first time in eight years he's had a real home and he's determined to protect it, even if that means hiding his attraction to his sexy new partner, Forrest Oakwood.

Forrest is a native of the Gem Pond area and the guardian of its trees. He knows the land and its people are a crucial lynchpin in the natural order. He also knows that if he comes out, his boss in the DNR, Sgt. Dennison, will find an excuse to fire him. But ignoring his true nature was a lot easier before Lake Clearwater showed up. The man's a walking, talking wet dream.

Meanwhile, local residents--human and animal alike--conspire to bring Lake and Forrest together. The land needs its guardians united and at their full power. Dennison wants to cut down the trees to make room for water slides and tennis courts. If Forrest and Lake don't embrace their passion for each other, they'll be unable to stop him and that would be a disaster, not just for Gem Pond but for the entire natural world.

Excerpt One:

It was full dark and snowing by the time Forrest finished his report. He stood up with a groan and stretched his stiff muscles.
Clearwater sat at the kitchen table, playing a game of solitaire. He looked up as Forrest entered and smiled. "Want some soup? I made it myself."
Forrest wandered to the stove and sniffed suspiciously at the simmering pot. It actually smelled pretty good. "What is it?"
"Lentil."
"Vegetarian, right?"
"Yeah. Doesn't mean it's not delicious. Here, let me get you a bowl. Sit down. What do you want to drink?"
Forrest allowed himself to be herded over to the table.
A few minutes later, Lake set a plate with bread and butter beside him, poured him a glass of milk, and set a steaming bowl of lentil soup before him. It was kind of like being a kid again only…
Only Lake didn't look anything like his mom. He sat down opposite Forrest now, tucking his long blond hair behind his ears. His green eyes gleamed as he waited for Forrest's reaction.
Forrest took a spoonful. Flavors of sage, rosemary, and garlic burst across his tongue, borne by the silken seduction of pulverized lentils. "Mmmmmm."
Lake sat back, looking like a bear with a piece of honeycomb. "Good, huh?"
He nodded, but apprehension stole in upon him. "You trying to convert me, Clearwater?"
Lake widened his eyes as if to feign innocence. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Like hell. Forrest enjoyed the soup anyway.
* * * *
As he washed the dishes, Forrest's thoughts returned to the events of the night before. He remembered Clearwater's body stretched out in the bed, naked and tan, all long lines and flat planes. As he washed his supper dishes, his fingers tingled, remembering the silken texture of that warm, smooth skin. How he wanted to touch those rose-pink nipples, tease them, and watch them become erect, and then dip his head down, circling each one with the tip of his tongue as Clearwater's gasps and moans of pleasure bathed his ears.
"Think I'll turn in early and do some reading," Clearwater said.
Forrest started, dropped the soapy bowl, and splashed water all over his shirt.
Clearwater laughed. "Sorry."
"Just not used to having someone else around." That should have been someone so hot around. Forrest fought to quell his burgeoning erection.
Silence. Clearwater was still there. No footsteps announced his departure. But he didn't say anything. What was he doing? Embarrassment and irritation doused Forrest's libido, and he was able to turn around without humiliating himself.
Clearwater stood in the doorway, staring at him.
"What?"
"Officer Riverbend… Not much of a talker?"
The understatement forced a smile to Forrest's lips. "You could say that."
Clearwater nodded. "I'll try not to overwhelm you with my relentless chitchat."
"That's not what I meant. I just… I don't know. It's just…" What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he complete a sentence?
"It's a change."
"Yeah."
They stared at each other in silence. Forrest felt the stillness of the winter night settle around them.
Suddenly Clearwater drew a deep breath and turned away. "Well, good night."
"Good night."
Forrest finished up the dishes. Yawning, he went into the bedroom and grabbed his PJs. Clearwater was already in bed. One rosebud nipple peeked out from beneath the blanket as he lay on his back, reading a book. No pajama top. What about the bottoms? 












Book Blitz: Surrender By Rhiannon Paille @RhiannonPaille @GHBTours





Surrender
The Ferryman and The Flame #1
By: Rhiannon Paille
Published: October 2nd, 2012

How far would you go to save everything you ever loved?

Kaliel was warned about her love for the Ferryman. One day he will marry the land and leave Avristar forever. She doesn't listen, and because of what she is-- a Flame-- one of nine apocalyptic weapons, she sparks a war. In a desperate attempt to save her home and her love, Kaliel tries to awaken Avred, not knowing she may have to make the ultimate sacrifice.

     

Cover Reveal: Time of Ruin By Shauna Granger @dyingechoes @NereydaG1003 #YABOUNDBOOKTOURS




Time of Ruin (Ash and Ruin #2)
Release Date: 07/22/14

Summary from Goodreads:
The world has ended, and hope is the most dangerous thing left.

Battered and bruised after barely escaping San Francisco with their lives, Kat, Dylan, and Blue press north - desperate to reach the possibility of a new home.

But strange, monstrous ravens are tracking the remaining survivors, food is becoming scarce, gasoline is running short, and people are becoming suicidal, making survival almost impossible.

And the Pestas are growing bolder. Somehow, their numbers are growing.

The further north they go, the harder it becomes to ignore the signs that they've made a fatal mistake. Kat must face the impossible truth that there is no escape, there is no safe haven, and their worst nightmares don't come close to their new reality.


Book One:
(linked to Goodreads)

About the Author
Like so many other writers, Shauna grew up as an avid reader, but it was in high school that she realized she wanted to be a writer. Five years ago, Shauna started work on her Elemental Series. She released the first installment, Earth, on May 1, 2011 and has since released four sequels, with the series coming to an end with Spirit. She is currently hard at work on a new Urban Fantasy series, staring a spunky witch with a smush-faced cat named Artemis.
Author Links:
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Cover Reveal Organized by:

Monday, May 12, 2014

Maverick Promotions Presents AUTHOR Danny Odato @DannyOdato @mcjordan37




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On Tour May 7th-12th
AUTHOR Danny Odato

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Danny Odato is the President and CEO of Feeding American Families and the Book Gallery, a company that publishes novels and stories of different genres. After his extensive study in Philosophy, he found his dream mission: to help the poor and the needy, and those who had suffered from the foreclosure mission in the United States. At Feeding American Families, a non-profit charity organisation started in 2012 by Danny himself, he helps out families with their financial problems while on the sidelines he owns a book publishing company, The Book Gallery as well..

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ABOUT THE BOOK:

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BLURB:

In Harangul, a village in the Latur district of Maharashtra, the Nehra family wakes up to what they believe is an ordinary day. But things are about to take a dark turn in the little village when a mysterious old woman moves into the abandoned house next door.

Padma, a simple woman, is married to Mohan, a hardworking tailor. They have four children and are raising them in a loving, traditional Hindu family. They enjoy the culture of their small community and rely on their many friends, elders, and traditions to lead happy and spiritual lives. But soon after the arrival of the strange woman next door, a child is involved in a horrible, fatal incident. Another child becomes seriously ill, and a woman falls to her death from her roof. Then Padma's own family suffers a tragic loss.

Mohan and Padma seek spiritual advice, to no avail, and the authorities offer no assistance. Finally in desperation, as things become more bizarre in the colony, a party of brave men ventures out to seek a strong baba from far away. With faith, strength, and a very strong sense of community, the people of Harangul work tirelessly to free their home from the grasp of a terrible evil presence-a daayan who threatens their very existence.

The Witch's Revenge is a striking novel that seamlessly blends Indian tradition with suspense and horror-a book eloquently presented by a gifted new storyteller.



MY REVIEW:

I received a free copy of the book from the author for my honest opinion.

Mohan is a man who loves his wife and four children very much. He is a very hard working man who loves taking care of his family he goes to work as a tailor everyday so that he can provide for his family. His wife Padma loves her family just as much as her husband if not more. Padma is not like a lot of the other mothers who live in their village. I loved that Padma would wake each of her children at different times in the mornings before school to help them with their baths and getting them dressed for school. Padma loved the time that she spent with each of her children. She believed and wanted to give each child the same amount of her time. Padma was such a good mother and knew that not only did she love spending time with each child but her children needed this alone time with their mother as well. Most of the women in the village would bathe their children together to save time but not Padma.

Padma, Mahon, their children and everyone else who lived in the village were all like family. The women would take turns babysitting each other's children when they needed the help for whatever reason whether it is for one of them to go shopping or even just to give each other a break once in a while. They all stuck together and would do anything for each other. The women would gather together at each other's home and spend time with each other just talking and hanging out while their children played together.

Everyone that lived in the village were all very happy with their lives and family until a new woman moved into the house at the end of the street next door to Padma and her family. Padma is the only one that the old woman would visit and the only one who has seen her. After her arrival in the village bad things started to happen; children having bad accidents and even some were murdered. Padma and the whole village joined together and tried to stay in groups at all times hoping that the evil that had entered their village would not bother them as long as they were not alone. Everyone in the village except Padma thought the old woman was a witch and was the one who was taking away their children. Some of the men in the village along with Mohan went on a little journey far, far away to another village to find a Baba to help them to get rid of the witch after their own Baba was killed.

I loved The Witch's Revenge from the first page until the very last page. I loved that Padma loved spending time with each of their children. She didn't care about how much earlier she had to get up in the mornings so she could spend that little bit of time with each of them. She wanted that closeness with all of her children not just one. She treated all of her children the same and she loved them the same too. Padma is a prime example to how all mothers should treat their children.

If you love reading about witches and evil wicked things with a whole lot of mystery thrown in then The Witch's Revenge is one book you need to check out. I love the world that author set up with everyone in the village being best friends with each other and would do anything they could for their neighbors.



ON TOUR NOW



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REVIEW TOUR ONLY

May 7th-12th

Wed.May 7th- REVIEW ONLY IndieWritersReview

Thurs.May 8th- REVIEW ONLY Author Frances Langley

Fri.May 9th- REVIEW ONLY The Bialog

Sat.May 10th - REVIEW ONLY JBCulture Shock

Mon. May 12th- REVIEW ONLY The Avid Reader

Maverick Promotion”Artists Not Afraid To Think Outside The Box" ©Michelle Cornwell-Jordan

Cover Reveal: Conquered By Tyffani Clark Kemp @TyffaniCKemp @GHBTours





Conquered
LeKrista Scott, Vampire Hunted Series # 3
By- Tyffani Clark Kemp
Expected Publication Date- May 30th, 2014

LeKrista never thought Roman would kidnap her, but it seems there's no depth to which he won't stoop. She's stuck in a fortress in the middle of only God knows where with no way to contact her family or her new fiance and let them know she's alright.
To add insult to injury, Roman has brought her arch nemesis to keep her company. Forced to make friends with Eddy, the man who has made her life miserable for years, she bides her time until a rescue can be arranged.
But unrealized feelings for her vampire captor make things complicated. Or perhaps it's Stockholm Syndrome. She can't really be sure.
Just to make matters worse, the vampires are ready to go through with their plan to rule the world with an iron fang, and once again, she's caught in the middle of the war for power. The truth of her involvement is becoming clear, but she may lose more than her freedom in her quest to stop the the powerful undead on her own.

Promo: Meditation on Space-Time By Leonard Seet




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Meditation on Space-Time
Genre: Philosophy
By Leonard Seet

Blurb:

Even as Father Lawrence was hearing the stranger's confession, he dreamed of probability waves, black holes and temporal loops. He came to Gilead to search for his friend Camellia, not to hear about this penitent's vices: seducing women, framing rivals and laundering church-funds. After he had chased the penitent through the sanctuary into the church graveyard and lost the man, he found a note that revealed a connection to Camellia.

When he learned that Camellia was pregnant with this man's child, he knew the time to play ostrich was over. But ever since the girl whom he had counseled, committed suicide, he preferred distancing himself from others than engaging their struggles. And ever since falling out with his best friend, he preferred contemplating the duality of space-time to sorting out his own joy and grief and love and hatred. If only he could free himself from his emotional scum… if only he could marshal the courage to polish off his search for enlightenment…

He would discover the hidden identities behind each face and Camellia's helping the villain to bring him down. When faced with betrayal, he would lock himself in his cabin and struggled between retreating to his meditation on space-time and confronting the villain. He would renounce his vow and learn to equate a dollar with a cheeseburger. He would buy a gun without knowing how to load the magazine. He would search for his enemy. But when faced with the gun barrel, Father Lawrence would have to contemplate death… only to hear the three shots that saluted the dark night…

Either mercy or justice; either salvation or friendship. Either choice: a flawed solution for a fallen man in a broken world.

Meditation on Space-Time portrays a man's struggle to discover his identity in contemporary society, to sacrifice for his friends and to take the road less traveled. For readers who would eat up the hero's every morsel of laughter and tear as if each were bittersweet chocolate. While sifting through clues to the characters' true identities and hidden agendas.

An Excelsior Publishing Novel

  


CHAPTER 1

WHEN THE STRANGER STEPPED INTO THE CONFESSIONAL to narrate his crimes, which my vow had forbidden me from disclosing, I was meditating on space-time to recuperate from the ten-hour drive to Gilead, Tennessee.

Dark night the boundary between reality and dream somewhere at a memory's frontier fading near a singularity's ledge surfing upon a probability wave across the space-time fabric through a neutrino sea skirting the edges of black holes searching for dark matter searching for the Higgs Boson. Photon gluon graviton clusters crisscrossing tangling and weaving a unified fabric symmetric space-time hydrogen atoms merging and emerging a helium atom along with neutrinos and photons annihilation and creation interaction and transformation the brightest night the loudest silence the fullest void the darkest knowledge…

"Father, I sinned."

The confessor's rasp stirred me from my meditation, my dream, and I yawned and inhaled the stale air in the confessional. A strip of light slid through the door crack and cut across my left hand as I turned my head and my hair dusted the screen separating me from the stranger. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and shifted to a more comfortable position on the hardwood seat. I stretched my left leg and kicked the confessional's wall. The newspaper flew from my knee and rattled toward the floor as the article about genocide in Rwanda flickered between light and shade.

"Father, I sinned."

The sound of sandpaper against steel sounded again beyond the screen. I twisted my body and my elbow knocked against the wall. I squinted but only saw a shadow distorted under the slanting light beyond the partition. Probably an insomniac who couldn't afford to go to the bar.

Two days ago, I was chopping wood in the forest beside the monastery, and had looked forward to enjoying The Four Seasons in Boston's Symphony Hall with my friends Camellia and Ichiro. I didn't plan on visiting St. Barnabas Church in Gilead but this stranger, from some hallucination, had foreseen my arrival and booked me for therapy.

The penitent knocked twice on the other side of the partition. "Hey, dude, wake up from your wet dream, you're supposed to say 'when was your last confession' or some crap like that. You hear me?" His breath was contaminating the air.

Perhaps I should grunt a mantra. But I was only a monk contemplating the meaning of death, the mystery of alternative universes and other such nonsense. What could I know about confessions? When a man in a Mission Hill soup kitchen confessed to using heroin and stealing his mother's funeral dollars to keep the habit, I listened like a Buddha, not because my wisdom had transcended words and even sounds but because all replies, no matter how concise, how insightful, how articulate, appeared as frivolous as a gilded coffin. In the end, my friend Ichiro bailed me out by impersonating a priest.

Now, this insomniac beyond the partition, from some itch or pang, insisted on harassing a confession-phobic monk, who had evaded the parish, a.k.a. purgatory, by pretending to suffer from attention-deficit disorder. Had I wanted to hear about adultery, thievery, murder, or insider trading, I would've become a bartender or, unable to concoct spirituous potions, a pseudo-Freudian psychotherapist. Even now, twenty-three years later, after having one too many drinks, I would still dream of my former high school classmate Daphne, as she sobbed out her pain in a March evening. Her blue eyes, her blond hair, her smiles fleeing into the mist. In those dreams, unlike this reality, I actually pulled her out of the abyss.

"You should talk to Father Jones." I offered my wisdom. "He'd be glad to hear your confession. Why don't I ask him to come over? I'm sure he's not yet asleep. And even if he is, he'd delay his dreams and hear your confession in his pajamas." Father Jones, the tongue-flapping priest who had begun substituting for this church's parish priest five days ago, would savor this soul's secrets as a thief would Queen Victoria's crown. After delivering this stranger's message but before allowing me to read it, the priest had already complained about not having heard any confessions in a week. He probably envied me for hearing one the first night here. Amid babbles about apple pie recipes, all-meat diets, school shootings and movie-star divorces, his eyes betrayed the lust for confessions-pyramid schemes, clandestine liaisons, corporate double-dealings or plain old government conspiracies. I wouldn't be surprised if at this moment his ear was kissing the other side of the confessional's door and itching for some tale, some yarn, some anecdote of unadulterated sin. I wouldn't be surprised if he was a reformed con man who had sold aphrodisiacs or perpetual motion machines. Or a repentant banker who had bundled junk bonds, sub-prime mortgages and high-risk insurance policies into kosher derivatives. But he better not be taping with a recorder.

"You know, buddy, never confessed before so you can imagine I got lots to say, but of course ain't got much time. So here we go if you don't mind. Well, of course, even if you do, what can you do about it? To start with something simple, I've embezzled money. Oh, not from a bank or a high-tech company, no sir. That'd be dull and cliched as heck, not worth your time. Nope, I stole from a church and a nice one at that too. Well, ain't nothing new, but the amount is something, you know?"

"You should return the money."

"Hey, what's this bullshit? You're supposed to say 'I absolve you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit' or some crap like that. If I wanted to return the money, what the hell am I doing here confessing? Right? What kind of a priest are you anyway? Don't you know your only job's to listen and to absolve sins? What else are you good for? Anyway, why'd I return the money? Ha, ha, we're not talking about chicken feed, if you know what I mean. You have any stinking idea how much I took? Take a stupid guess. Oh forget it, with your petty allowances, you'd never seen that much money in your life. What'd priests know about money anyway? Hell, man, I bought a mansion with a marble hall, a wine cellar, an outdoor pool and complete automation, you know, with the latest hi-tech gizmos. I also bought a Lamborghini Gallardo even though I ain't into racing. But hey, makes me look macho. Well, you know, helps to pick up chicks, I mean nice ones. Hell, I enjoyed every penny of it, as I'm sure you'd if you got the money. Not that you'll ever see so much money, you poor pitiful man. But you probably understand indulgence, right?"

"If you're trying to make me jealous, you've failed. Come, face me and we'll talk, man to man. I want to know why you chose me for your hide-and-seek." I peeked through the screen but the shadow doubled over with laughter and began choking before calming down.

"Father, I sinned. I got two mistresses and enjoy every minute with them. I made love to a minor-"

I opened the confessional's half-hinged door and slipped out of the seat. I stepped on an insect and tiptoed into the hallway, where the statuettes of Peter, Paul and John guarded the Creation fresco in which a chip on the wall removed the serpent's head. I wanted to open the confessional's other door, mark out the fangs and two-prong tongue and squeeze the serpent-neck.

A door slammed, then footsteps echoed throughout the sanctuary. I scared away a rat and dashed down the hallway, past frescos of the Passover, the Passion, the Resurrection, and the Pentecost. I stepped into the sanctuary, where on the left wall a crucified-Jesus statuette stared down at the altar. I bypassed the altar and skipped down the marble steps. I sprinted down the aisle between cherry-wooded pews, while beyond the benches, under candlelight, the mosaic windows flaunted Crucifixion, Resurrection, and Ascension scenes. Claw-like shadows darkened the multicolored windowpanes to overlay a second scene and cast phantoms onto the aisle and pews.

A draft wafted through the aisle. A screech, a thump and several clangs echoed through the sanctuary.

"Damn it," Father Jones said. "Someone poked your eyes out, you clumsy fool? Get a new pair of eyes, man. Don't you know it's against the law to walk without eyes? Ouch, oh my poor and innocent back."

When I reached the entrance, Father Jones was moaning on the floor beside a golden chalice while, near the door, holy water dripped from the baptized donation box. The priest rubbed his back and took out a flask of whiskey. He gulped down a mouthful and winked as if a mosquito had stung his eyelid. "Didn't like your advice, did he? Well, don't worry, the important thing is you heard his story. Oh, by the way, just between you and me, one priest to another, was it interesting? Visiting a prostitute? Cheating the IRS? Stealing intellectual property? Oh, come on, you can tell me."

I helped Father Jones get up and sidestepped his whiskey breath. I ran through the candlelit foyer past the Madonna's icons and exited the main entrance. The humid night air slammed into my face while a fly landed on the back of my hand. I flung it away, stepped out of the archway, and skipped down the steps into the graveyard. No footsteps, no shadows, only a raven cawing on a headstone.

I took out the flashlight and highlighted several headstones. The raven shrieked and flew into the fog. I stepped onto the earth searching for life among the dead, but only found the stench of rotten eggs mingling with the epitaphs.

The most generous person… Worked the hardest in the office… An inspiration for others… A pious man… Beloved son… Born April 1, 1979… September 2, 2007…

I felt I had awakened into the wrong city, the wrong year, the wrong dream. If I hadn't heard the confession, I would've been more peaceful, ignorant of theft, fraud and statutory rape. Blessed be the ignorant.

Past the headstones, a fence stood at the ledge. Beyond the fence, below the hill, Gilead's houses slumbered in the evening, while the town hall's Tower of Babel pierced heavenward through the fog.

I came to Gilead only wishing to find Camellia, to know that she was safe, that she was well. I wanted her to break free from her nameless lover's pull but would rather she orbit around the married man than enter the black hole of her father Donald Larsen, that fugitive on the run from one Ponzi scheme to another. Under her father, Camellia had tasted enough pain and shouldn't have to help him escape to Mexico or some Caribbean island, where on his beachfront mansion's porch he would enjoy coladas and massages while his victims must dine in soup kitchens.

In the distance, above Memphis, neon lights against the fog hinted at the bankruptcies, the foreclosures, the layoffs, and the Pyramid schemes powering the land. But in front of me, a piece of paper taped to a cracked headstone was fluttering in the wind as if thumbing its nose at the heavenly shimmer. I stepped over a decomposing squirrel and scattered the flies. I grabbed the note, on which a smiley face was drawn above Camellia's name.

While I glanced beyond the graveyard and pondered on the connection between the penitent and Camilla, Father Jones called from the entrance, "Don't forget about this memory thingy. Seems like it might reveal something about Pastor Whitfield's disappearance."



Leonard Seet



About the Author:

Leonard Seet is the author of the novel Meditation On Space-Time and the non-fiction The Spiritual Life. Through his writings, he probes the dynamics of existence, including human consciousness, good and evil, and rationality and spirituality. His articles appear on Blogging Authors.

While working overseas as Project Director for a consumer electronics company, Leonard came upon a parchment, which he had drafted in college after booing a novel's ending. The chicken-scratches had begun to fade, but he succeeded in deciphering the text. The writing was amateurish, but the plot had potential. So, to relieve work stress, he began rewriting the story, along the way learning the art of the trade. Several years later, he resigned from the company to write short stories and literary novels.

His favorite novels include The Brothers Karamozov, War and Peace, 1984, The Stranger, and The Road. And his favorite non-fictions include New Seeds of Contemplation, Moral Man and Immoral Society, The Creative Mind, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, and The Competitive Advantages of Nations.

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Giveaway:

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Sunday, May 11, 2014

Maverick Promotions Presents AUTHORS Jerry Sword and Stefan T. Allen @mcjordan37




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On Tour May 5th-09th
Jerry Sword and Stefan T. Allen



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Jerry Sword is a songwriter, film maker, and author from Virginia. His works have been featured in motion pictures as well as independent features. He currently resides and continues writing in a small Virginia town.








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Stefan T. Allen is the pen name of a man who has spent almost 20 years in education (secondary and university). He has worked on four continents and visited 54 countries. Currently he lives on a boat in eastern NC. He writes short stories and poetry. He reads profusely and enjoys watching the sun set with a glass of wine and sitting on the top of his boat.





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ABOUT THE BOOK:



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BLURB:

Deep within the walls of a forgotten monastery in Belgrade lies a secret that has been tucked away for centuries. It is secret men will both kill and die for. While millions throughout the world have revered the Shroud of Turin as the authentic piece of linen that wrapped the body of Christ, one man stumbles upon as undeniable truth that will ultimately end in the final epic battle between good and evil. This masterfully written first installment of the Chronicles Of The Shroud series will keep you turning pages until the very end. The beginning ...of the end...of days.



BOOK TRAILER:







ON TOUR NOW



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Promotion May 5th-9th

Mon. May 05th- (8pmcst/9pmest) Radio Interview 30 minute Book Chat w/ Michelle Cornwell-Jordan- IndieReview Behind The Scenes Internet Radio

Tues. May 06th- Q&A Trailer / Review Feature at IndieWritersReview

Wed. May 07th- Spotlight Feature at Write Indie: Musings of a WriterGeek

Thurs.May 08th-Spotlight&Trailer Feature at IndieReview Behind The Scenes TV

Fri. May 09th- 7pm cst /8pm est- Ten Minute #FaceBook chat w/ Host Michelle Cornwell-Jordan at IndieReview Behind The Scenes Internet Radio on Face Book

Sunday May 11th- Spotlight &Q&A trailer Feature at The Avid Reader (Adtl Premium Stop)

Monday May 12th- Excerpt Feature at Culture Shock (Adtl Premium Stop)

Bonus Stops!

Sun. July 20th 4pmcst/5pmest Radio Interview 30 minute w/ Host Lynda D Brown Author Chat with Lynda D. Brown

Sat. July 26th 4pmcst/5pmest Radio Interview 30 minute w/ Host Lynda D Brown Author Chat with Lynda D. Brown

Maverick Promotion”Artists Not Afraid To Think Outside The Box" ©Michelle Cornwell-Jordan