Monthly Archives: June 2014

Juggle and Hide, by Sharon van Ivan

Juggle and Hide-BEATitle: Sharon van Ivan

Genre: Memoir

Author: Sharon van Ivan


Publisher: Cygnet Press

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Juggle and Hide is award-winning writer Sharon van Ivan’s dizzying story of her unconventional, often harrowing, and 
sometimes hilarious life. With a childhood split between time with her alcoholic mother in Akron, Ohio and her gambling dad in Brooklyn, New York, as well as other challenging family members along the way, she was destined to find comfort on the edge and in the company of highly creative and self-destructive individuals.

Hers is a story of getting drunk and getting sober, of triumphs and failures in her work as an actor and screenwriter, and of exhilarating love affairs, including her twenty-year relationship with the renowned artist Charles Pfahl. The book is quirky and compelling, and engaging on many levels. Sharon takes the reader on a roller coaster ride into the depths of personal tragedy with unexpected outcomes.


Part I

Chapter 1

Mommy’s Home 

I cannot remember a time when I was not my mother’s keeper.

I stare at the back of my mother’s head. I sit on her bed. I look over her shoulder and see in the three-sided dressing table mirror that her face is slightly puffy from having her teeth pulled earlier in the day… all of them… and insisting the hack dentist fit the dentures over her raw gums.

“Reach in there and get me my lipstick.”

I dig around in her navy blue leather purse, find a shiny black tube and hold it out to her.

“Revlon. Persian Melon.”

When she reaches for it, I see how beautiful her nails are. Also, Persian Melon.

She slathers the orangish-red lipstick on, under and over her swollen lips and then smacks her lips together.

“You are damned lucky. You got your father’s lips. Get me a Kleenex.”

I hand one to her and she gently blots her puckered lips. I continue to gaze at the back of her head while she finishes putting on her going-out-tonight face.

“Get my shoes, and don’t ask which ones.”

A bit of rummaging in her overflowing closet and I find the new navy blue sling-back pumps she bought to match the dress she is wearing tonight.

She slips the shoes on, stands up and looks at herself for a long time in the distorting full-length mirror on the wall next to her closet.

”You’re beautiful, Mommy.”

“I make myself beautiful. See how everything matches: shoes, purse, dress, everything. Blue. Promise me you will never, never buy cheap makeup.”

And without looking at me, she hisses,

“Stop biting your nails or you won’t ever get a husband. Do I have any lipstick on my teeth?”

She bares her new false teeth in sort of a smile.

I shake my head. She looks like a movie star. I wish I had long curly auburn hair and creamy white skin. My hair is straight and dirty blonde like my father’s.

On the way to the front door, she reminds me to not ask her again what time she will come home.

“I lost my keys. You’ll have to let me in.”

Then she is gone.

The sweet smell of Arpege cologne or toilet water or perfume—it annoys her that I never knew which is which— is all that is left of her.

I clean up her getting-ready–to-go-out mess.

Afterward I go to bed fully clothed not knowing whom she might bring home or whether I will even hear her when she bangs on the door. I pray aloud to someone—to anyone—to keep her safe.

At three a.m., I walk the two long blocks to Pete’s.

I stand outside for a few minutes beneath the neon sign flashing “Pete’s View Lunch.” There is no view. There is no window. And I don’t think they serve lunch.

The door is propped open with an old brown wooden chair. Taking a deep breath and walking into the crowded bar, with the sickening smell of stale beer, cigarettes and misplaced rage all around me, I search for Pete.

Pete spots me right away.

Pete has no teeth. Not even one.

“Looking for Mommy?”

I nod.

He winks at me and points with his middle finger toward the back. I want to ask him why he has no index fingers, but my mind is on finding my mother.

I push my way through the drunks to the back of the dark narrow room to the bathroom.

I open the door and there she is lying face down on the filthy floor, near the once white toilet.

She has on one navy-blue shoe, but her purse is gone. I roll her over with some difficulty and see that the Persian Melon is all but gone, too.

I wet my hands in the disgusting sink and splash cold water on her face.

“What the hell are you doing here, you goddamn little spy? Always watching me.”

In an attempt to sit up, she bangs her head on the empty toilet paper holder.

Pete knocks on the door.

“You girls decent?”

He sticks his head in and holds the door open.

“She was in rare form tonight. Caused a real stink with Carney Wells and Crazy Marie.”

“Come on. Mommy, let’s go home.”

“Leave me alone. What are you doing here anyway?”

Then she sees Pete.

“Pete, honey, get me a Seven and Seven.”

Pete looks at me and winks again.

“You’ve had your last drink for tonight. I called you and your kid a cab.”

Pete and I pull, push, and shove her into the yellow City Cab. He gives the driver our address on Jewett Street and a couple of dollars.

“Thank you, Pete.”

He leans into the cab and gives me a sloppy wet kiss.

On the way home, my mother puts her head in my lap and curses me over and over again for ruining her night, her life.

At our place, I ask the driver to please help me get my mother inside. He is a nice guy. He helps me.

Once inside, she wrenches herself away from us and stumbles and lands on the couch.

The cab driver looks at me like I’m a sideshow freak.

“What are you about six years old?”


I quickly lock the door after he leaves.

Then I hear my baby brother cry out from his crib in my bedroom.

“It’s okay, Bobby. Go to sleep now. Mommy’s home. Mommy’s home.”


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Book Spotlight: The Shu: The Gnostic Tao Te Ching by Thomax Green

The ShuTitle: The Shu: The Gnostic Tao Te Ching
Author: Thomax Green
Publisher: CreateSpace
Pages: 110
Genre: Spiritualism
Format: Paperback/Kindle

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Author Thomax Green has produced a compelling new book so cosmic in its scope that it has the power to change readers’ lives. THE SHU: THE GNOSTIC TAO TE CHING is a “modern-day Gnostic work which blends all faiths and sciences into a super belief,” Green says. “With this belief system, you can be a faithful individual without the restrictions and classifications that are imposed by religious groups. In short, it is the way to freedom and happiness.”

Book Excerpt:

In the beginning, there was no multiverse. All that existed was a perfect machine called the Light. This light was like a super-giant sun, except it radiated perfect light which did not burn but instead enlightened with complete harmony.

Those who kept the light were creatures of pure energy. We call them angels, and for a time there was bliss like a perfect equation. Until an alien emotion corrupted half the angels; it was a disease born from love. This dark emotion is called desire.

To desire is not evil, if what you obtain does not harm another. But in the beginning this emotion was so concentrated that it created darkness within the corrupted. They are now known as demons.

What they desired the most was the Light itself. They already had it but they wanted to possess it and call it theirs. This caused the angels to defend the Light from the Darkness within the demons. And a battle ensued.

Angels and Demons cannot die, but there were casualties. And when the Darkness tried to touch the Light it caused the perfect machine to explode.

The Light expanded into an infinite amount of pieces. Mass divided by nothing (or antimatter) equals infinite energy. The perfect machine was broken and time began. It became the multiverse and everything within it is the Light which is called the Inner Light or what we call God. That is how it is all powerful and all knowing. For it is within everything, the suns, the planets, the birds, bees and us. The Inner Light within us we call the soul or mind.

The battle is still being waged, for the machine is broken. The angels are pure Inner Light and the demons are now pure Inner Darkness. As humans we possess both from that original corruption.

The demons want us corrupted for they still crave the Light but they live in Darkness. The angels guide us to become better than we are so we may become pure from harmful desire.

The Multiverse is divided into an infinite number of universes. In some Darkness will prevail in others Light will win. That is why the demons do not stop fighting. For no one knows which universe will prevail good or evil.

This is why we have many lives. For in each incarnation we learn something that makes us either better or worse. Some of us will become one with the Inner Light. This is what we call going to heaven. Others will become one with the Inner Darkness and that is what we call going to hell.

There are those who adopt their inner power completely and when they do they will no longer reincarnate into this world. There are perfect examples from both sides like Jesus, Buddha, Hitler, and Napoleon. There are examples all throughout history of people becoming enlightened by their Inner Light or Inner Darkness. Look at Mother Teresa or Jeffrey Dahmer.

Ultimately when this universe comes to an end it will either be controlled by the Light or the Darkness. And when all universes come to an end whichever power is greater will cast out the other and replace it when time travels in reverse back to the beginning.

And that is the story of all things.


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Rebuilding Civilization on the Bible Book Blitz – Win a $25 Amazon Gift Card

Rebuilding Civilization on the Bible coverTitle:  Rebuilding Civilization on the Bible: Proclaiming the Truth on 24 Controversial Issues
Author: Jay Grimstead
Genre: Religion/Theology/Instruction
Publisher: Nordskog Publishing, Inc.
ISBN:  978-0-9882976-5-4

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About the book:

False teachings threatening to corrupt the Church forced the leaders to join in councils, where they codified the orthodox teaching of the Bible into creeds received by the Church as faithful distillations of Scriptural truth and as a bulwark against future corruption. Error, heresy, and outright paganism are today common in churches that were once sound. Even many “better” churches have little depth to their teaching and are silent on critical issues of the day, and even in some paganism masquerades as Christianity.

This book is the fruit of the work of hundreds of theologians and Christian leaders working throughout a 37-year period to define and defend the key Biblical points on 24 controversial issues — which would not even be controversial if all believed like Jesus and Paul in the inerrancy of the Bible.

This book states the Bible’s position on 24 controversial issues and explains why each document needed to be written. It offers the global Body of Christ tools for reforming the Church and motivating Christians to live in obedience to Christ and to all commands in the Bible intended for us.


“We heartily invite all Christians on this planet who desire to live in obedience to the Bible in all areas of life at all times, to form themselves and their local churches into “United Spiritual Armies” at the city and county levels, and to establish a network with other such churches and “spiritual armies” at their state and national levels with the goal of making Christ King of their cities and nation. We invite you to join with us in applying these 24 DOCUMENTS to the life of the Church and in making 2 Cor. 10:5 a reality. By that we mean that together we are called by God to destroy “speculations and every lofty thing raised up against the knowledge of God, and we are taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ.”

Grimstead photo color

About the author:

Dr. Jay Grimstead was born in Bismarck, ND. He received his Bachelor of Science degree in Biology in 1957 from Sterling College in Sterling, KS. He graduated from Fuller Seminary in 1961 with a Masters in Theology (ThM) and later received a Doctor of Ministry (DMin) degree. He spent 20 years on staff with Young Life Campaign, a ministry of clubs and camping to evangelize and disciple non-church teenagers.

In 1984 he founded the Coalition on Revival which created the 17 World-view Documents which state the biblical principles for the various spheres of life and the “blueprints for how the Bible applies to the fields of: Law, Government, Economics, Education, Science, the Media & Arts, Medicine, etc.” Under his leadership, COR organized the International Church Council Project in 1992.

In 2004 and 2005 he organized theological committees in Guatemala, San Salvador, Costa Rica and Panama to discuss and defend certain of the 22 Theological Documents of the Church Council Project which had been translated into Spanish. A year later, Dr. Grimstead gathered national leaders from various fields to create the “24 Year Plan to Rebuild America upon the principles of the Bible.”

Dr. Grimstead now lives with his wife, Donna, a registered pharmacist, in Murphys, CA. They have two grown children, Julie and Guy.  Dr. Grimstead’s favorite hobbies are mountain climbing and playing jazz and blues on his trumpet.

To learn more about Dr. Grimstead and his work, please visit

Pump Up Your Book and Dr. Jay are teaming up to give away a $25 Amazon Gift Card!

Terms & Conditions:

  • By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
  • This giveaway begins June 2 and ends on June 27, 2014.
  • Winner will be contacted via email by July 2, 2014.
  • Winner has 72 hours to reply.

Good luck everyone!


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The Stolen Herd by K. Madill – Win a $25 Amazon Gift Card

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00068]Title:  The Stolen Herd
Author: K. Madill
Genre: Young adult fantasy
Paperback: 181 pages
Publisher: CreateSpace (February 20, 2014)
ISBN-10: 1482640023
ISBN-13: 978-1482640021

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About the book:

Mandamus is only a foal when his herd is captured by the terrible Rakhana Army. Rescued and raised in secrecy, he knows nothing of his heritage until a dreadful incident in the woods brings him to the attention of the Forest council – and everyone else. Sent away for his own protection, he is determined to seek help on behalf of the many animals who have gone missing from the forest, including his own family.

With the help of a troubled man and a stout-hearted bat, can Mandamus save his fellow creatures before it’s too late?

First Chapter:It was a pale spring morning when a green butterfly failed to save the Alsvid herd. The wind, brisk in the early hour, carried the small creature in its swiftly flowing current. The sun had not quite risen but lit the edges of the world, colouring the sky a still and sullen grey. The butterfly, whose name was Gideon, pulled out of the rigid breeze and swirled down to the empty field below. Landing on a fat coneflower, he hungrily searched for food. An inky black bat swooped and darted behind him.

Gideon took a deep gulp of nectar and then shook his head sadly. He turned to the bat that had landed softly next to him.

“Well, Arkas,” he said gloomily. “I tried.”

Arkas nodded sympathetically and dug around the flower bed, as if he hoped to find something tasty.

“I should have put an arrow through Arion’s heart,” said Gideon, plucking half-heartedly at a petal. “His…and the rest of the horses. They’re all are as good as dead now, anyway.”

Arkas chirped in agreement then scrounged up a strawberry and stuffed it in his mouth. He had begun rooting around for more when a rumble of thunder shook the sky. The ground began to quiver and the trees that lined the meadow swayed wildly from a sudden, howling wind.

“They’re coming!” yelled Gideon over a sharp crack of lightning. “Let’s go, we have to find Daleth and Mareva.” He dove into the air and sped away while Arkas flapped closely behind.


* * *


Mareva awoke with a jolt. Her mate, Hengist, flicked one gray ear at her movement but did not wake. The cave was quiet in the early morning. The queen mare took a deep breath. The tangy smell of smoke reached her nose and lit her senses with an uneasy spark.

She shook her chestnut coat and stepped carefully through the sleeping horses of her herd to the entrance of their cave. Looking out, she faced a long stretch of white sand and deep green sea. As she listened to the rush of the surf, her instinct began to nag in slow whispers. She listened closely, and then crept out of the cave. A cold wind whirled around her, bending the flowers and tearing the leaves from the trees. Shielding herself behind a gnarly oak, she peeked down a worn path to a clearing where several figures were gathered. 

Are those humans?” she asked herself, drawing a deep breath. “Yes…that is the smell of man, but…it’s different somehow.” She inhaled again. Her nose picked up the scent of unfamiliar horses—a dusty smell that didn’t match the burnt-grass odour of her herd, the Harena. She moved closer for a better look, jumping when thunder crashed closely overhead. A storm was coming.

“Do you smell that?” asked a voice from behind. Her younger sister, Daleth, a golden mare with amber eyes and a pearly mane, had followed her. “That is the stench of man and his fire.”

“It doesn’t smell like a regular man,” Mareva said with a puzzled frown. “And that fire is black—that’s not a normal flame. There is something else… a strange scent I would not associate with humans.”

Daleth studied the clearing through narrowed eyes. She flared her nostrils, testing the air for herself.

“You are right, Queen Sister,” she agreed. “It smells like an animal that has lain dead in the sun. It is the Rakhana Army, the Silver City’s most dreadful pick of soldiers, led by that reprobate, General Caucus. That’s him there, the tallest one. I’ve tasted that scent before.” She pushed her sister with her muzzle. “We should wake the others and hide further in the cave.”

“Not yet,” said the queen, for her instinct had begun to whisper again, telling her to wait… or she would miss it. “Miss what?” she thought as watched a terrible scene unfold in front of her.

The Rakhana had caught a herd of horses, trapping the terrified animals in a ring of black fire. With fat whips, the men lashed any horse that tried to dash out of the blaze. General Caucus, his face hidden by a glinting silver mask, had cornered the herd’s king. The stallion reared and struck, but the man quickly leapt out of the way and jabbed the horse with a long stick. A jet of blue flame stunned the creature and he crumpled to the ground. Men swarmed the horse, tightly pulling ropes around his thrashing form. The general attacked the stallion’s mate with bolts from his weapon until she too collapsed, only with a loud ‘snap.’ He stood over the mare and watched her flail on the hard ground.

“Oh, no,” Daleth whispered in horror. “Her leg is broken.”

General Caucus pulled a small, silver ball from his cloak and aimed it at the wailing mare, who scrambled to get to her feet. A thunderous boom rang across the field and the mare was still. He kicked at her limp form and then strode away to where the stallion lay struggling against the ropes. Mareva strained her ears and fought to pick up what the man was saying, but his words were lost under the stallion’s furious whinnies. The sisters huddled miserably together.

The moon still cast its faint light across the land as Gideon and Arkas reached the beaches.

“What pretty green wings,” said Daleth dryly, spotting the butterfly who landed at her side. Arkas squealed and flapped over to Daleth. He nuzzled the large horse affectionately.

“Daleth,” Gideon said breathlessly. “It is good to see you, old friend; you too, Mareva.”

“Never mind that,” said Daleth impatiently. “What are you doing here, Forest Man? You’re only a lucky charm for humans. Anytime I see you, it usually means trouble.” She tossed her head warningly at him.

“Gideon, what is going on down there?” asked Mareva anxiously. “Who is that herd?”

“It’s the Alsvid. That fool, King Arion, came here to make a deal with Queen Asura. She wanted animal Bonds with his herd for her soldiers of the Rakhana. In exchange, she promised them immortality.”

“What?” Daleth shrieked. “Immortality…has he been bitten by a rabid fox? How ridiculous!”

“I thought the Alsvid were dead against Bonding,” Mareva murmured.

“So did I,” answered Gideon. “But her falsehoods fed his large ego. He actually believes his herd legends about being created for the Gods and he was lured by the lies of Asura and that wizard of hers.”

“Oh, don’t tell me that scoundrel of a magic maker, Dazra, is still hanging around and stinking up the castle?” Daleth hissed. “Why he and Asura weren’t beheaded for killing their human king is beyond anything I’ve ever…”

“They weren’t beheaded because they rule the Silver City now, in his place,” Gideon interrupted. “Most people still believe their lies about him dying in a riding accident. An accident while atop your back.”

“Hmpf,” Daleth snorted. “So, they’re still up to their two favourite pastimes, trickery and untruths, are they? I see nothing has changed since I left.”

“It’s gotten worse,” Gideon answered grimly.

“Did you not tell Arion what that so called “queen” has been doing to the animals in the Silver City?” Daleth asked bitterly.

“Of course I told him,” came the reply, followed by a soft pop.

Where a butterfly had been only moments before, stood a tall, lean man. He had a bony face lit by fierce, green eyes. His long hair was the colour of tree bark and he wore a green cloak that brushed the tall grass. Arkas flew up and roosted on his shoulder.

“You’re getting old, Gideon,” said Daleth, studying the lines on his face.

“If Arion was coming to make a deal with the queen, then why are the Rakhana rounding them up?” asked Mareva quietly.

“Because she had no intention of giving them immortality,” Gideon said angrily. “She just plans on turning them all into warhorses. I came to warn him that it was the army coming to meet him, not her, but he didn’t believe me. What a fool.” He watched the soldiers with an expression that was both miserable and furious.
“Oh, no,” Mareva whispered, “the entire Alsvid—finished.”

“Not quite,” said Gideon turning to her. “I managed to do one thing right today and that’s where you two come in.”

“What do you mean?” Daleth asked.

“I took his foal.”
“Good heavens, you did what?” gasped Mareva.

“I took him,” Gideon replied. “Like I said, Arion wouldn’t believe me when I told him the army was on its way. I stood there arguing with him as the minutes ticked by and with each one the Rakhana grew closer. So, I changed to my butterfly form and teased his foal into following me. He’s so young; there’s no way he could have made the journey from here all the way to the Silver City. The first time he tried to lay down to rest, the Rakhana would have just left him there…that or killed him.”

“Where is he?” Daleth asked.

“I hid him in that brush, just over there.” Gideon pointed to a clearing further up the edge of the forest.

“Oh, Gideon, his son…” Mareva whispered unbelievingly.

“He’s your son now,” said Gideon. “Mareva, I need you to keep him here at the beaches and raise him as your own.”
“Wait a minute, you mean you want us…?” Daleth began.

“Daleth,” interrupted Gideon, “I don’t trust anyone else to take him. There’s more to this and I don’t have time to…” he stopped short, as if taking a cue from the worried looks on their faces.

“There is a legend,” he said as the violent wind that whipped his hair, “about a man who rides a ‘white-eyed steed; Alsvid are the only horses to have white eyes, as far as I’ve seen. I must keep him safe. What if he is the horse from the myth?”

“A legend,” Mareva muttered. “But if the legend is about a man and men are rounding them up then wouldn’t—”

“No,” Gideon interrupted shortly. “I need you to trust me, Mareva. Now, tell no one he is here except for the Forest Council, do you understand me?”

Without waiting for their answer, he and Arkas disappeared in a rush of green smoke.

“Good old Gideon,” said Daleth with grudging affection. “Always running around sticking his nose in everyone’s business—turns out it was a good thing, this time.” She turned to Mareva. “You stay behind me and if I tell you to run, you do it, no matter what. Let’s go find that foal.”

Daleth quickly led her sister in the direction that Gideon had pointed. As they reached the small clearing, Mareva caught the fresh-morning scent that always accompanied a young horse. She pushed past Daleth and poked her face into a small hillock.

Huddled in the weeds was a small, shaggy foal. His coat was the deepest shade of midnight and his hooves were as black as coal. He would have looked like a perfectly ordinary horse if not for his white, glowing eyes that shone like two full moons in the dark morning. He looked up at Mareva’s looming figure and gave a surprised snort.

“Daleth, my goodness,” Mareva whispered in amazement. “Look at this!”

“Let me see him,” said Daleth, shoving Mareva aside. She eyed the odd shape on the colt’s flank—a white spiral, bordered with a scattering of tiny, silver spots. “There is his mark,” she muttered. “Alsvid, indeed; we should get him to the cave.” She stared back out at the Rakhana army.

The Alsvid had stopped fighting and were grouped miserably under a swollen storm cloud that had settled solely over them. Under a shroud of pounding rain, the soldiers bound the horses into a long line. The largest soldier led the limping king stallion to the front of the row and began dragging the horse away.

“That is not a fight we can win,” Mareva said warningly, after seeing the blazing look on Daleth’s face. “And if the Rakhana see you, you will be caught too. Come, Sister, we have to get this foal to safety.”

“Quickly now, little one,” Mareva whispered to the small horse. He shakily got to his feet and they rushed him to the trees outside their cave. Here, they looked him over.

“An Alsvid,” Daleth said wondrously. “I’ve never seen one before. Look at those strange eyes. Oh, how I hate leaving them to this. Now that the army has them, who knows what dreadful things fate has in store for them.”

The foal sank to his knees and laid down between the sisters. Mareva began to wash his coat with soft, gentle licks. Comforted by the queen horse’s affection, his strange eyes grew heavy, and with a deep sigh, he fell fast asleep.

“Look at that,” said Daleth quietly. “He’s settled right in already. How lucky for us too, what with no foals this year.” She swished her tail and gave the foal a small push with her nose.

“I worry about what Hengist will say.” Mareva said with a frown. “Bringing a strange male into the herd will seem like a challenge to him, don’t you think? He won’t like it at all.”

“Well, that’s too bad for Hengist, isn’t it?” Daleth answered, laying her ears back. “You are the Queen of the Harena herd and your stallion will do as you say, if he knows what’s good for him. Besides,” she added, “Gideon told us to take him and trust me—you do not want to go against his wishes.”

Seemingly satisfied with this reasoning, Mareva finished grooming the foal. “There you are,” she whispered. “You don’t need to worry; we are your herd now.”

“I wonder what his name is,” Daleth mused. “Gideon, that twit, he forgot to tell us.”

“Now, now,” chided Mareva. “Gideon might not have known it himself. This poor, little fellow; he must have one. I hate the thought of changing it on him.”

“Well, he can’t tell us what it is and we have to call him something,” Daleth said logically. “What should it be?”

“I don’t know,” answered Mareva as she got to her feet. “You’ve never had a foal. Would you like to name him?”

Daleth looked pleased. “Well,” she replied, licking her lips. “My Bonded human used to shout a very strange word just before he led his army and me into battle. I don’t know why he said it—it didn’t seem to have any effect on the enemy, but he did it every time. I always loved the sound of that word. To me, it meant victory.”

“What was it?” asked Mareva.

“He yelled, ‘Mandamus.’”

“Mandamus,” murmured the queen. “What does it mean?”

“He told me that it meant “we command,” in a very old human language, spoken before creatures decided to use the Common Words that we and the humans share now.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mareva said with a frown. “That sounds dangerous to me, naming him after a human battle cry. It could bring all sorts of problems and we don’t want that for him.”

Daleth snorted. “Right, well if you think this little guy is going to go through this life without running into any problems, then guess again—no one gets off that easy. For starters, he is the last of the free Alsvid… I’d say his troubles have already begun.”

“‘We command,’” said Mareva thoughtfully. “Shouldn’t it be ‘I command’?”

“Absolutely not!” Daleth answered. “Who should be allowed to command on their own? You said I could pick what we call him; now, let’s name him.”

Mareva smiled at her sister’s stubbornness. “Mandamus,” Mareva said softly, touching the foal’s forehead with her muzzle. “By the Goddess Epona, we will call you Mandamus.  Mandamus of the Harena.”

The sisters stood over the sleeping foal and listened to the fading sounds of his herd being forced away. When the sun finally rose on that dreadful morning, the Alsvid and the army were gone.

About the author:

Karai MadillA chronic “head in the cloudser” K. Madill lives in a rickety house on a well treed street in British Columbia, Canada.  When she’s not hanging out with her best equine friend in the woods she can be found trying to stay upright on her roller skates or mediating the affairs of her various furred and feathered friends that rule the aforementioned rickety house. 

K. Madill’s website:





Pump Up Your Book and K. Madill are teaming up to give away

a $25 Amazon Gift Card!

Terms and conditions:

    • By entering, you confirm you are 18 years of age or older.
    • Raffle runs from 12:00 AM EST on June 2 through 12:00 AM EST on June 28, 2014.
    • Winner will be selected randomly by Rafflecopter.
    • Winner will be notified by email and has 72 hours to claim the prize before a new winner is selected.
    • Prize will be sent via email from the author’s representative.

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Categories: Adventure, Fantasy, Young Adult | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

The Living Memories Project: Legacies That Last

The Living Memories Project 7Title: The Living Memories Project: Legacies That Last
Authors: Meryl Ain, Stewart Ain, & Arthur M. Fischman
Publisher: Little Miami Publishing
Pages: 196
Genre: Nonfiction
Format: Paperback

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Three years after the death of her mother, Meryl Ain was still unable to fill the hole that the loss had left in her life.  In talking to friends, Meryl discovered an insight shared by those who had successfully overcome grief; there simply is no closure. It was a breakthrough for her. She writes, “Our loved ones will always be with us if they are not forgotten. It is up to us to integrate them into our lives in a positive way that reflects their unique personality, values and spirituality. In that way we keep them alive in our hearts and minds always.”

Meryl enlisted the help of her brother, Arthur Fischman, and her husband, Stewart Ain, and began a quest to interview people who had moved beyond mourning through meaningful action. The Living Memories Project: Legacies That Last by Meryl Ain, Ed.D., Arthur M. Fischman, & Stewart Ain (March 2014, Little Miami Publishing Company, Trade Paperback, 196 pages, $18.95, ISBN:978-0-9882553-7-1) is a result of that research.

The Living Memories Project presents more than 30 interviews with both celebrities and others who share their experiences and the projects they undertook to memorialize their loved ones. The authors have sought to demonstrate that any tribute, big or small, can be a meaningful way to preserve memories of loved ones. Establishinga foundation or scholarship, usinga recipe on a particular holiday or family occasion, creatingartwork, embarking on aproject or even an entire career – all could be traced to a specific talent, interest or valueof the deceased. Each chapter offers a rich first-person history that will engage and inspire readers of all faiths.

Among them are:

  • Linda Ruth Tosetti, who made a documentary film about her grandfather, Babe Ruth, to highlight his humanitarian side – a value she cherished and believed was often overlooked in Babe’s biography. Ruth was a German-American, who publicly denounced the Nazi persecution of the Jews in 1942.
  • Liz and Steve Alderman, who established the Peter C. Alderman Foundation to honor the memory of their 25-year-old son, who was killed on 9/11 at the WorldTradeCenter. The foundation trains doctors and establishes mental health clinics on four continents to treat PTSD.
  • Eileen Belmont, a quilt designer who helps others preserve their memories of deceased loved ones through the creation of memory quilts.
  • Singer/songwriter Jen Chapin (daughter of the late folk rock icon Harry Chapin), who carries on her father’s legacy of music and feeding the hungry.
  • Dr. Yeou-Cheng Ma (sister of Yo-Yo Ma), who keeps the memory of her father and music teacher /mentor alive through the Children’s Orchestra Society and herpoetry.
  • Robert Meeropol (son of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, who were executed as spies by the US Government in 1953), who established the Rosenberg Fund for Children to help children whose parents are imprisoned.
  • Author, actor and raconteur Malachy McCourt, who presents his unique take on how he keeps alive the memory of his brother Frank (Angela’s Ashes) through the Irish tradition of song and story.


Not everyone can create a foundation, fund an orchestra or make a documentary film, but the authors’ hope is that readers will find inspiration from the wide range of actions they read about. The authors are currently compiling narratives for the second volume of The Living Memories Project and welcome input from readers.
Book Excerpt:

Liz and Steve Alderman of Westchester, New York, set up the Peter C. Alderman Foundation to honor the memory of their twenty-five-year-old son, who was killed on 9/11 at the WorldTradeCenter. In the past seven years, the foundation has trained 385 doctors in twenty countries on four continents and opened nine mental health clinics to treat posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and mental depression in countries such as Rwanda, Haiti, Uganda,and Cambodia. The foundation-trained staff has treated more than one hundred thousand patients and has partnerships with the governments of Rwanda, Angola, and Cambodia. Barron’s named the foundation one of the ten best small foundations or charities in the United States. The Aldermans received the Purpose Prize, which honors American social entrepreneurs over the age of sixty.

SHORTLY AFTER HE DIED, his friends needed to be together and to be with us. So his friends got in cars from all over the country and drove here. We ended up having over 250 of his friends at our home a week and a day after he died.

His hobby was relationships. He was not the honor student who became an honor student after he died. His brother, who is six years older, said when I grow up I want to be like Pete. In fact, we have an arm of the foundation called Friends of Peter Alderman. These kids every year get together and raise money for the foundation. They raise a lot of money. They just had a walk-a-thon that netted over seventy thousand dollars. These are his friends and they are still part of our lives. The tough part is, we are invited to their weddings and they bring their children to see us. It’s very difficult, but we would still rather have them in our lives than not.

We knew we had to create our own memorial for Peter. We really didn’t know what to do. And then we saw a Nightline broadcast that said one billion people in this world—one-sixth of humanity—have directly experienced torture terrorism and, of those who have survived, over 50 percent suffer debilitating traumatic depression and posttraumatic stress disorder. They can’t work, children can’t go to school, and some people can’t even leave their beds.

There was nothing we could do for Peter, but if we could return the survivors of terrorism to life, then that would be the perfect memorial because Peter so loved life.

We are building and contributing significantly to the evidence that tells us that psychiatry in postconflict countries is at the center of recovery. On a personal level, the work is terribly, terribly important. It is a reason to get out of bed every morning and function at a high level. We feel really, really good about the people we are able to help and the doctors we are meeting along the way.

The main reason for starting this is that we wanted to leave a mark that Peter existed on this earth. He died at a very young age. We believe that we have left a profound and indelible mark that Peter existed; the world is a better place because he lived. Peter loved life and if we can return people to life so that they can live their lives, that is the perfect way to memorialize him….

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Just an Accident by Amy Montgomery Book Blitz – Win a $25 Amazon Gift Card!

Just an AccidentTitle: Just an Accident

Author: Amy Montgomery

Publisher: AuthorHouse

Pages: 229

Genre: Biography/Memoir

Format: Kindle

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There was no blood at the scene, not even a cut on his body. Yet on May 25, 1999, when the top of a massive beech tree snapped off and slammed into 33-year-old, Adirondack logger Scott Remington, his bones exploded. The terrain was unforgiving and the area too remote for cell phones. So the fact that medics reached him is a miracle. So is the aftermath of a freak accident that felt like death to a woodsman who could never sit still. More than the story of one man, this is also about a small town that rescued Scott from despair, and, by accident, discovered the meaning of life.

In this well written and extremely compelling book, Amy Montgomery draws us into the essence of living with a spinal cord injury through Scott Remington’s moving story. Her portrayal of his struggle to survive and live a meaningful life makes us care as much as the members of his family.

In an instant both Scott and I became members of a club that neither of us would ever have wanted to join. But instead of self pity, Scott has demonstrated relentless energy, drive, and willpower that no disability can diminish.

Montgomery has captured not only the drama of an accidental tragedy but the power of the human spirit to overcome it.
Christopher Reeve

Amy donates 10% of her $9.38 per-book royalties to the Christopher Reeve Foundation.




Amy Montgomery is an EMT and New Jersey-based freelance writer, who has worked primarily with corporate clients across a range of industries. She has also worked as a radio reporter, press secretary, and adjunct instructor at the University of Michigan.  She has a BA from Wesleyan University and an MA from the University of Michigan.


Amy is giving away a $25 Amazon Gift Card!

Terms & Conditions:
  • By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
  • One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter to receive one $25 Amazon Gift Certificate or Paypal Cash.
  • This giveaway begins June 2 and ends on June 14.
  • Winners will be contacted via email on Monday, June 16.
  • Winner has 48 hours to reply.

Good luck everyone!


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The Soul of the City by John McMillan Book Blitz – Win a $25 Amazon Gift Card!



9781491714386_COVER_FQA.inddTitle: The Soul of the City
Author: John McMillan
Publisher: iUniverse
Pages: 310
Genre: Literary Fiction
Format: Kindle

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The Soul of the City is a tale of two cities, Belfast and London, in the heady, liberating days of the late 1960s and early 1970s. Young Jim Mitchell moves through a succession of jobs, girlfriends and apartments in the quest for personal fulfillment and his dream of becoming a writer in the face of often dispiriting circumstances. There is the trauma of his affair with Maureen, an older, married woman, and the trap of his career on the unrelenting white-collar production line of the “Ministry of Truth”, against the background of civil rights protest and the onset of the troubles in Belfast.

Escaping to the space and freedom of London, Jim tries to live the dream of the bohemian writer but all too soon there is the pressing need to earn a living in the more mundane occupations on offer in the metropolis. Just when all seems lost, Jim meets and falls in love with the beautiful Anglo- Irish student Bridget and is drawn into an exciting student-hippy milieu of experimentation, idealism and fun.

However, such pleasures are by definition transient and the young couple, Jim and Bridget, must strike out on their own, exploring love, intimacy and enlightenment together in their ongoing search for the soul of the city.



John McMillan writes with an unfailing eye for the telling detail and an irrepressible native humour. He balances an acute social awareness and sense of history with a strong lyrical feeling for the underlying meaning and beauty of life.

The search for the soul of the city is nothing less than the search for the soul of a man and a woman in our time.


Pump Up Your Book and John McMillan are teaming up to give you a chance to win a $25 Amazon Gift Card!


Terms & Conditions:
  • By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
  • One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter to receive one $25 Amazon Gift Certificate or Paypal Cash.
  • This giveaway begins June 2 and ends on June 14.
  • Winners will be contacted via email on Monday, June 16.
  • Winner has 48 hours to reply.

Good luck everyone!


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The Saint of Santa Fe, by Silvio Sirias

Sirias - Cover - 9781937536565.inddTitle: The Saint of Santa Fe

Genre: fiction

Author: Silvio Sirias


Publisher: Anaphora Literary Press

Find out more on Amazon

In 1968, a young, recently ordained Colombian priest leaves behind everything to start a new parish in the jungles of Panama.  Father Héctor Gallego soon discovers that his parishioners live as indentured servants.   Inspired by liberation theology, he sets into motion a plan to free them.  Father Gallego is successful, but his work places him on a collision course with General Omar Torrijos, the nation’s absolute ruler.  On June 9, 1971, military operatives abduct the priest.  He is never seen or heard from again, but he remains very much alive in the minds of Panamanians who, still today, clamor for his case to be brought to justice.  Although The Saint of Santa Fe is a work of fiction, the novel is based on the real-life experiences of Héctor Gallego and the campesinos who worked alongside him to create a just society. This sweeping novel tells many stories, including that of Edilma, the priest’s sister who since age eleven has been searching for the meaning of his death.  The Saint of Santa Fe is a story of faith, heroism, and sacrifice that’s reminiscent of Graham Greene’s The Power and the Glory and Miguel de Unamuno’s San Manuel Bueno, mártir.

Chapter One


September 29, 1999

It’s her first time on a plane.  Nervous, she follows Nubia so closely that she steps on the heel of her left foot and her older sister turns to glare for a moment.  Upon reaching row nineteen, Nubia, who has been assigned the window seat, steps aside and says, “Take my place.  That way you can enjoy the view.”

She makes her way across with difficulty while Nubia, the experienced traveler, places their bags in the overhead compartment.  Once her sister is seated, she imitates her, fastening the seatbelt and adjusting it to fit tightly.

Earlier that morning, at Colombia’s José María Calderón Airport, in the city of Medellín, she had clung onto the temporary passport as if she feared someone would take it away.  Fearful of getting lost, as Nubia checked them in at the Avianca counter she made sure her shoulder was always touching her sister’s.

After listening attentively to the pilot’s greeting, she places her purse on the floor—as she has seen her sister do.  She then leans against the backrest of the seat, hoping to ease the dull, throbbing ache in her neck.  That doesn’t work.  To distract herself, she watches the flight attendants—three women and one man—as they walk up and down the aisle, closing the compartments and making sure that every passenger’s seat is upright.

When they are done, she closes her eyes and, still trying to calm herself, starts to recollect how this urgent trip started: with a phone call she received less than forty-eight hours ago.  They were lucky to find her, for she had sworn never to return to Salgar, her birthplace.  But the depression that followed her divorce, the health problems that doctors couldn’t diagnose, and the loss of her job of eight years, forced her to accept a former neighbor’s offer to care for his elderly mother.

Don Pantaleón Gómez, a family friend of old who lived seven houses down the street, had received the call.  The person at the other end of the telephone line wanted to know if anyone from the Gallego family still lived in Salgar.  She was out of breath when she arrived.  The young boy Don Pantaleón had sent to fetch her said that she needed to hurry because the call was long-distance, from another country.  With great curiosity, she picked up the phone.

“Aló,” she answered, her breathing labored

“Sí, buenos días,” a deep, attractive voice replied.  “Am I speaking to Héctor Gallego’s sister?”

“Yes.”  The mention of her brother’s name startled her. The simple utterance stuck in her throat and came out as a grunt.

“This is David Alfaro,” the voice said.  “I’m the station manager at Radio Caracol in Panama.  May I have your name?”

“Edilma.  Edilma Gallego.”

“May I call you Edilma?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Edilma, I’m calling because a mass grave has been discovered on the grounds of a former military base in Tocumen, next to the international airport.  The person who tipped off the authorities wants to remain anonymous, but he claims that your brother is buried there.”

“¡Dios mío!” Edilma gasped.  Stunned by the news, she reached out, seeking the wall for support.  Don Pantaleón quickly brought her a chair.  She glanced at him, nodded her thanks, and sat down.  Lord, she thought, finally, after twenty-eight long years they’ve found Héctor’s body.

“We want you to come to Panama.  Immediately,” David Alfaro said.  “The attorneys who are working on behalf of the families of the disappeared have managed to halt the excavation until you get here.  The station will pay all of your expenses.”

Edilma didn’t know what to reply, and then, as if the Holy Spirit had whispered the thought into her ear, she said, “I’ll go if my sister can come with me.”

“Certainly,” the station manager answered.  “That’s even better.  And we’ll pay for her expenses as well.”


* * * *


As the plane starts taxiing toward the runway, she turns her attention to the flight attendant who is explaining the safety instructions.  Edilma tries to follow these, thinking that her life might depend on the information, but she soon begins to panic because she doesn’t comprehend a word.

“Nubia, I can’t understand what she’s saying.”

“Don’t worry about it,” her sister answers as she flips through the airline’s magazine.  “They always mumble.  Besides, if the plane goes down little of what she’s telling us will matter.”

When Nubia sees Edilma flinch, she pats her younger sister on the forearm and says, “I’m sorry.”  Smiling reassuringly, she adds, “Really, Edilma, don’t worry about it.  Flying is very safe.  But if you really want to know what she’s talking about, there’s a card that explains what to do in case of an emergency.”

Edilma grabs the card and starts to read, but before long, she realizes that she’ll never be able to memorize the information; plus she doubts that she’ll be able to think clearly if something awful should happen.  She returns the card and, to distract herself, she leans hard into the backrest, closes her eyes, and begins to recall her brother’s life.

The last time Edilma saw Héctor she had just turned eleven.  She was the youngest of eleven children and one of only two girls—Nubia and herself.  A twenty-two-year gap separated her from Héctor, who was the oldest.  In spite of this, she remembers him vividly.  What’s more, she also inherited her mother’s memories of him.  After Héctor disappeared, Alejandrina consoled herself by repeatedly telling Edilma stories about her consentido, her pampered child.

In Gallego family history, the date of Héctor’s birth, January 7, 1938, is sacred.  Married less than a year at the time of their first child’s birth, Alejandrina and Horacio were living on their farm in Montebello, a small village not far from Salgar.

“As a little boy, Héctor was sickly,” Alejandrina would tell visitors during the uncertain days after her son’s disappearance, when the family still hoped that he was alive, locked up in a cell somewhere.  “He was allergic to everything, so I had to be careful about what I fed him.  Still, even though he was sick a lot of the time, he never complained.  He was a very good child: loving and always smiling.”

Her mother would then sigh before recalling the most frightful incident of Héctor’s childhood.  “When he was six years old, I gave him a purgative.  I thought that maybe if I cleansed his insides he would get over his allergies.  That was a terrible mistake.”  In spite of the many times Alejandrina relived the episode, she always had to stop here to brush away the tears.

“The poor boy almost died.  His father and I rushed him to the hospital, and right after we got there, he went into a coma.  After examining him, the doctor came out of the room with a worried expression on his face.  He told Horacio and me that he didn’t think Héctor was going to make it.

“As soon as I heard that, I ran out of the hospital.  I was so distraught I couldn’t even hear Horacio chasing after me, calling my name.  I ran to the nearest church and lit several candles at the feet of La Virgen del Carmen.  I prayed the rosary, concentrating harder than in my entire life.  Once I finished, I made Our Lady this promise: ‘Holy Mother,’ I said, ‘if you save my little boy, I will make sure that he becomes a priest and that he lives out the rest of his life in your service.’”


* * * *


Breaking away from her recollection, Edilma notices that the flight attendants have vanished.  She sits up straight and looks toward the front and then the back of the cabin.  “Where have the attendants gone?” she asks her sister.  Nubia merely shrugs, too engrossed in reading an interview with Paulo Coelho, her favorite author.  The plane, having reached its takeoff position, stops moving.  Gradually, the engines rev up.  Edilma becomes alarmed.  She looks toward her sister for comfort, but Nubia, acting as if taking off is the most natural thing in the world, continues to read.  Closing her eyes to try to forget that she’s about to fly for the first time in her life, Edilma returns to Héctor’s story.

“And La Virgen del Carmen heard my prayers.”  Edilma smiles at the clear memory of her mother’s voice.  “The moment I knew that Héctor was going to survive, I made up my mind to spoil him.  And I did.  I never denied him anything.  You can’t really blame me, can you?  He was my firstborn; the child that the Blessed Mother rescued from death.  But I never imagined that she’d want him back after only a few years.

“When he returned from the hospital I made sure that he didn’t do any heavy chores.  I also wanted to make sure that he would fulfill my promise to La Virgen.  If Héctor was going to become a priest, he needed to study, so I sent him to an all-day school, not just half-day, as most children around here do.  He was an excellent student.  His teachers loved him.  That poor boy had to ride to school on the back of a mule, thirty minutes each way.  But he never missed a day of class, even when he was sick and it was pouring rain.

“Because he was so frail, I fed him better than the rest of my children.  A couple of times a week, I made his favorite—Sopa de papa, with plenty of cilantro and chicken.  On Sundays, I’d make an enormous Bandeja Paisa for the entire family, making sure that Héctor got the best portions.  I’d always serve him first, loading his plate with rice, beans, avocado, mashed plantains, fried cassava, grilled beef, and sausages.  But since he wasn’t a big eater, he always ended up sharing his food with his brothers, who ate like starving soldiers.  Although I spoiled Héctor, my boys never got angry.  On the contrary, the rest of my children were very protective of my firstborn, never letting him do much of the physical farm work.”

Edilma smiles, allowing the warmth of the memory engulf her.  For a moment, the recollection has helped her to forget that the plane is about take off.  As the roar of the engines intensifies, she immerses herself once again in Alejandrina’s story.

“When Héctor finished the sixth grade, he called a family meeting to announce that he wanted to become a priest.  He asked his father to enroll him in Jericó—a high school and seminary in Medellín.

“I was thrilled to hear this because it meant that my promise to La Virgen del Carmen would be kept.  Horacio, though, didn’t like the idea, not one bit.

“‘No son of mine, especially my firstborn, is going to become a priest,’ he said when we were alone.  ‘It’s the eldest son’s duty to follow in the footsteps of his father and oversee the family business.’

“‘But, Horacio,’ I said to him, ‘you’ve got other sons who can do that.  Let Héctor become a priest; that’s what he wants.  It will bring the family great blessings.’

“It was difficult for Horacio to accept Héctor’s choice.  He’d always grumble, saying that the priesthood was a waste.  But I’m grateful that he never said anything in front of Héctor.  If he had, the boy would’ve been crushed.

“I, on the other hand, was so excited by my son’s decision that the day after the family meeting I made two black cassocks for him.  Héctor loved them, insisting on wearing the robes everywhere he went, even on the farm.

“Since Horacio thought the whole thing about Héctor becoming a priest was ridiculous, he kept asking me to take away the cassocks, which I wouldn’t.  This went on until one day, as Horacio returned to the hacienda from an errand, he noticed that the workers were missing.  That made him angry; he thought they were off somewhere, sitting in the shade and being lazy.

“After searching a while among the coffee bushes, Horacio headed for the farmhouse.  As he was climbing the steps, he heard voices.  He stopped to listen.  He didn’t comprehend the words, but it sounded as if the workers were praying.  Then he heard Héctor’s sweet voice responding to their chorus.  As Horacio reached the top of the stairs, he gently pushed the door open.  What he saw amazed him: twenty-three grown men were kneeling before his son, their heads bowed in reverence as his twelve-year-old boy celebrated mass.”



















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The Soul of the Sun by Genevieve Crownson & Win Prizes!

The Soul of the Sun banner 2
The Soul of the SunTitle: The Soul of the Sun
Genre: Paranormal/Young Adult
Author: Genevieve Crownson
Publisher: Genevieve Crownson
Pages: 348
Format: Paperback; Kindle

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“The hands of time turn on the face of the sun. Only you can move them. If the Watcher controls the hands of the clock he can go anywhere, past or future– and destroy our planet.”

Since the days of ancient Greece, the Argos dynasty has kept a secret, a mystery passed down through their descendants from generation to generation, in the hopes that the forces of good can stop the evil destruction of planet Earth.

Margaret Ingall is harboring that secret. Time is running out for the descendants of the Argos. They know a great healer and time traveler will be born of their blood. But the only person that knows whom they will call “the soul of the sun” is Margaret’s sister, Abigail. Before she can reveal the healer’s identity, disaster strikes…

Evil stalks them, watching and waiting to find out which member of her family has the ultimate power. Is it Margaret’s own child? Or her beloved granddaughter? Or even herself? Their only clue is a powerful protective amulet that will lead them all in a cat-and-mouse game to discover secrets as ancient as time.

If the Watcher discovers the truth before they do, all will be lost.

Fate, time and love weave together in their struggle to fulfill their destiny. Will Margaret’s fears sabotage her family’s protection? Can the healer accept her gifts in time? And once the soul of the sun is finally revealed, will it be too late?

Her power is incredible. The sacrifices required of her are immense.

Will it be enough to stop the Watcher?


The rain fell in sheets around me, it was gloomy and depressing, but I didn’t feel a drop. I was completely encased in light; I was a moving, breathing, flaming yellow orb that no one could penetrate. I watched in amazement as my broken leg instantly healed and the torn pajama fabric cinched itself back together. My jaw pain ceased. I closed my hands over the amulet, now humming with intensity. In a split second, I was vibrating with the same power. The wind picked up and the sky loomed black. The moon lay dark behind an inky sky and somehow strange chanting words flowed out of me. Lava hot and fraught with meaning, they rose to a fever pitch. Every word was a part of me, part of my being. Words from another time, Tanga’s time, slipped from my lips as though it were my native tongue. It was the inscription on the amulet, of that much I was sure.

I stretched my glowing hands out to Thomas.

I call on you Lady Isis.

Protect Me.

For I am the one, the Soul of the Sun.

I plead with you and your son Horus to give refuge.

Patroness of Nature and Magic bring all my power and your power together to glorify

what is right and true in this world.

Honor your name and those we safeguard from harm. Let time be taken from no man.


He was laughing at me.

“You stupid little twit, did you honestly think that would work? You think that I can’t take what’s mine?”

As he spoke, I chanted the same words, repeating them over and over. I saw fear cross his face just for a moment when he realized I was using the amulet’s power. A brilliant beam of light continued to radiate from my core. It was strange, the light now shone gold instead of blue. It must have changed when it sealed together. I continued to watch and to my astonishment, he became transparent and, with a puff of smoke, evaporated into the heavens. I could hear his heart-rending screams echoing through the ocean’s storm. Drained completely of energy, I crumpled, exhausted, onto the sand.

About the Author:

Genevieve CrownsonGenevieve Crownson graduated from the College of Charleston with a Bachelors of Science degree. A love of writing led her to pen her debut novel, The Soul of the Sun. This is book one in her highly anticipated trilogy, The Argos Dynasty. She currently lives in beautiful Charleston, SC with her family and beloved four-legged friends.

You can find her at

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Genevieve Crownson is giving away 2 $25 Amazon Gift Cards!

  • By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
  • Two winners will be chosen via Rafflecopter to receive a $25 Amazon Gift Card.
  • This giveaway begins April 7 and ends June 27.
  • Winner will be contacted via email on Monday, June 30.
  • Winner has 48 hours to reply.

Good luck everyone!


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Ocean Whirled by Sam Webb Book Blitz – Win a $25 Amazon Gift Card!

Ocean Whirled



Ocean WhirledTitle: Ocean Whirled
Author: Sam Webb
Publisher: Xlibris
Pages: 282
Genre: Science Fiction/Fantasy
Format: Kindle

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“An alien underwater race has invaded the ocean and is gradually wiping out every creature in it. The N’harmae (the carers of the ocean) are the main target of this alien race and are nearly extinct. Penure a young N’harmae who has been brought up by the dolphins must save his ocean world from doom and he can’t take on this task alone!””




Sam Webb has always been fascinated by the ocean and it’s ‘out of this world’ creatures. A snorkeller, Scuba diver and ‘wanna be’ Marine Biologist, the ocean and its wonderful creatures inspired her to write this fanciful tale. Sam’s hope is that it will draw readers closer to the ocean and inspire them to love and protect both the ocean and the amazing creatures who live in it.


Sam is giving away a $25 Amazon Gift Card!


Terms & Conditions:
  • By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
  • One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter to receive one $25 Amazon Gift Certificate or Paypal Cash.
  • This giveaway begins June 2 and ends on June 14.
  • Winners will be contacted via email on Monday, June 16.
  • Winner has 48 hours to reply.

Good luck everyone!


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