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Preview of Windwalker by Donna Sundblad

2008-08-27T14:03:41Z

Chapter 1

The Telling

She dipped her fingertip into the mud and painted a circle on her forehead representing the eternal hope.
Fires burned in the bellies of small stone statues forming a circle within the Kiva. An orange glow warmed the chamber to the center of the gathering. In the back of the crowded cave, Awena sat against the wall resting her arm across her stomach. The baby kicked. Soon, her life with Cedrick would change. What kind of world would their child find? Cedrick's talk of fulfilled prophecies and the cycle of death scared her.

Steady beats of a drum echoed within the chamber. Cedrick stepped to the center of the circle. He sat upon the teaching stone and the drumming stopped.

"Ojal pulled her poncho tighter and steadied her steps with the twisted staff," Cedrick started. He glanced at the intense faces, young and old. "The chilled mountain breeze tugged wisps of steel gray hair free from thick braids draped over her shoulders. She stopped, leaning against the sheer rock wall. Cold seeped through the thick, hand-painted animal skin, but it felt good; this trek was almost more than her old bones could endure. She flexed her foot and secretly cursed the malformation."

A nearby group of girls huddled and whispered. "She was the last of the Augurs," the oldest said.
"There will be another," the girl beside her piped up, "chosen from among the Windwalkers."
Trinak, Awena's aunt, leaned forward and tapped the girl. "Hush!" She settled back into the shadows. "Listen and learn."

Cedrick cast a glance in their direction and smiled at Awena. His dark hair gleamed in the firelight as he turned his attention to the other side of the room. "The joints in Ojal's fingers burned," he said, "her age-spotted hand clutched the staff that served more as a cane than an amulet."

A murmur spread through the crowd.

Cedrick stood. "The time for discussion follows the telling." The missing Augur's staff remained a popular debate throughout the land. Each head bowed in respect awaiting their Potent's permission to look up. The Potent glanced at his Jonnick guests. The Jonnick healer shouldered a hump on the left side of his back, yet bowed out of respect. His brother Philander also honored Stygian ways. If only all Jonnick behaved like them. Cedrick walked the circle and touched the head of each man. They glanced up at their Potent and in turn touched the heads of their women and children. One by one, heads rose.

Philander's blind eye glowed in the firelight as he looked up into the Stygian leader's face. Cedrik paused with his hand on the Philander's thinning white hair. Time would reveal if he was the one. He stepped backward to the teaching stone without turning his back on his listeners and took his place.

"Rivulets of melting snow trickled in zigzag patterns, diverted by the spiny-leafed shrubs that grew at that altitude," he continued. "A cluster of delicate yellow flowers with white centers sprung from the rock wall and caught her attention. What do we call these flowers today?"
"Ojal's Hint," the people answered in unison.

Cedrick smiled and nodded. "Ojal's gnarled fingers reached toward the delicate petals while she inhaled the light scent. It took her mind off her discomfort and released her to think of Kynan. The young Potent led the tribe well. She loved him as a son."

One among the group of girls stood.

Cedrick tipped his head in the girl's direction as he got to his feet. "You have a question, Guese?"

"Yes, Potent. Did Augur Ojal have to take her mind off herself to walk on the wind?"

Guese fiddled with the end of the long dark braid draped over her shoulder.

Cedrick sat again and waited for the girl to approach and take her place at his feet. "Augurs travel upon the physical plane with much discomfort. Born of a Windwalker, a true Augur is marked by a bumble foot. Throughout the ages, people debate why Ojal didn't wear the body of one of her metots. We don't know the answer. It's not part of the telling. Some say that if she took the form of a bird, an archer might have shot her through, and she'd be no more." Cedrick smiled at the girl. "What we hear in the telling is what we need to know. Ojal's trek to the site where she could see Kynan was most difficult. Remember, an Augur, while in human form, must see the person she plans to visit or have an invitation to join them.

"Guese, take your seat." He glanced around the crowded cavern. "Please withhold anymore questions until the time of the telling is complete."

Awena shifted her weight, and folded her hands across her stomach.

Cedrick perched one hip against the teaching stone at the center of the Kiva. "Ojal leaned against the mountain pointing her staff toward Kynan in the distance. Sunlight glistened on the three small stones on the pendant hanging against her chest. Each stone marked a symbol. The characters etched in the silver outlined steps that opened her eyes to know the future. As the wind carries sparks from a fire, Ojal's gift carried her to the cliff jutting precariously toward the sea. A stiff sea breeze clawed at the hide draped across her shoulders. She stepped beside the young Potent, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"'Kynan, the ships of which I foretold will be here soon,' she said.

"He nodded and turned toward the old woman. His dark eyes studied her. 'We've expected them for decades. You told my father's father of this visit . . . this merging. It is the time of the thaw.' His attention drifted to the rolling waves of the sea below. 'This may be the year.'

"She ambled closer to the edge of the overhang and leaned on her staff."

Within the Kiva, Guese bent toward her companion mumbling about the unknown whereabouts of the staff.

Cedrick sat straight glancing in her direction.

"Forgive me, Potent." She tucked her chin to her chest. The girl's father reached out and placed his palm on her head. When she looked up, he placed his finger to his lips. She bit her bottom lip and nodded.

Cedrick continued. "Ojal said, 'It is different this year, Kynan. I'm not here to tell you it may happen, or that it will take place in the month of the thaw twenty-four moons from now. The time is now. Four moons ago I saw them in a vision. Men, women and children filled four great ships. Hunger and disease chased the Jonnick from their homeland but a lingering menace travels with them. Be cautious of the magic of the Mage, yet show them hospitality, for the skies and seas have dealt a harsh journey.'

"Kynan had heard this familiar telling from childhood. 'They don't sound dangerous,' he said, 'but in need of help. The land can support them as well as us. It would be wrong to turn them away.'"
Cedrick watched the humpback Healer and his half-blind brother from his peripheral vision. They nodded with the others.

"'Yes, it would be wrong,' Ojal said. She propped her weight on the sturdy staff. 'The difficult path.' She smiled. 'They search for new beginnings.' Her dark eyes searched the horizon where the blue sea melded with the sky in an indiscernible line. 'They arrive on these shores soon.'

"Ojal pointed toward the crashing waves at the base of the mountain. Dark sandy shores lined with boulders stretched to the right for as far as they could see. 'The land' she said, 'will sustain them in spite of their ways.' Visions of stockade walls flashed through her head. In her mind, noisy crowds spilled onto the tiny outcropping where she now stood with Kynan, but in another time; a future time. The unsettling faces of the future scared her. She massaged her temple. 'Their alien customs shall change the land. In their tongue, they call the land Ranaan.'

"'Ranaan.' The foreign word rolled awkwardly from his tongue. Kynan stepped directly beside her. 'They've named the land,' he repeated flatly, 'as if they own it.' He shook his head. 'So, they do not understand the relationship?'

"With the tip of her staff firmly planted, she turned to look at him. 'Correct. They do not understand,' she said. 'The Jonnick clan will stake claims.'

"Kynan stood straight. 'Don't lose hope. I will teach them to live in harmony with the land. They can migrate with our clan or join another. They will--'

"Ojal raised her palm to interrupt him. 'You will be a good teacher.' She nodded and stared at the sea. 'Do your part, Kynan. Teach them to let go of the hatred; have faith that the joining brings unity. You have been prepared for this day.'

"Kynan adjusted his poncho. 'Ojal.' He cocked his head slightly. 'Does this mean that you will make the journey to meet your forefathers?'

"She nodded and tucked a loose strand of gray hair behind her ear. 'I travel to a place of rest until the Cycle of Death. At that time I'll return to the land, called to guide, while another takes my place.' Tears brimmed along her lower lashes and quietly followed the creases of her wrinkled cheek. 'Trouble, Kynan. Trouble before the joining.' She swallowed hard. 'And a time of silence.'

"'But that's not in my lifetime, Ojal.' Kynan shrugged one shoulder. 'I can only teach them our ways. I'll welcome them and offer the new beginning they seek. The land will provide. I cannot be responsible for choices others make.'

"'You are right,' Ojal said. 'During your lifetime Jonnick and Stygian shall live in harmony, working together. However, Stygian life in the land shall wax worse and worse until the time of silence.' A smile lifted the folds of time on her face. 'Do your part, Kynan. Write down what you've been taught. For it is from your loins the Arich shall come, and one day rid the land of the division about to be forged. The eye will guide the ones who want to see.'"

Cedrick glanced at the two Jonnick seated among his clan. Philander's blinded eye shined like a silver orb in the firelight.

"Warmth from Ojal's palm rested on Kynan's shoulder," Cedrick reached out and plucked a twig from the fire in the closest statue, "her touch grew hotter, burning his skin." He waved the burning stick through the air. The red ember streaked through the darkness until he pressed the glowing tip against the rock floor crushing it to ash.

"Kynan pulled away and rubbed his shoulder. Sometimes Ojal's powers unnerved him, but he didn't tell her so. Roaring waves slammed the base of the mountain drawing his attention to the sea and out to the horizon.

"'What does that mean?' he asked. 'The eye?' He turned, didn't see her, and twisted in the opposite direction. 'When will that . . . be?' He threw his hands in the air. She'd disappeared again. He massaged the sting of her touch."

The crowd within the Kiva laid one arm atop the other in front of their chests slapping their forearms in applause. Philander glanced at the Healer and leaned close enough to whisper something in his ear.

Cedrick stood, lifted his water skin and shot a stream of water into his mouth. "Add fuel to the fires, for within tonight's telling a new revelation shall unfold."

Muted sounds of excitement mingled with the stirring of bodies settling down to hear more. He smiled and resumed his seat.

"Back on the mountain trail, Ojal leaned forward and inhaled the light floral scent of the yellow blossoms. The aroma caressed her troubled soul. She turned to see Kynan in the distance standing on the cliff. The wind lifted his dark hair away from his face like the mane of a stampeding stallion. He watched for the ships. In time, he would see the mark of the eye and understand his place in history. The birth of fulfillment of the words of the ancients had come to pass and the seed of his loins would save the Stygian race from extinction. This Arich would bear the same mark.

"Water dripped from the scraggy branch of a shrub growing from the side of the mountain and formed a pool near her foot. She mixed the light brown dirt with the toe of her deformed foot. In her visions she walked without a limp, could even run, jump and fly. Would it be so while she awaited the joining? She dipped her fingertip into the mud and painted a circle on her forehead representing the eternal hope.

"A sigh whispered past her lips. She'd never bore a child, had missed the pleasure of a man's touch." Cedrick cast a glance in Awena's direction. "People flocked to Ojal as Augur but a deep-seeded loneliness served as her companion. She'd surrendered these pleasures for long life. All these years, people thought it didn't bother her and soon it wouldn't. She'd witnessed her end to this existence and that of many others. It arrived with the ships and the sickness stowed like cargo. No different than Kynan, she had choices to make.

"Using the tip of her mud-coated finger, she painted the line of life from the Spirit circle down the bridge of her nose. 'Life is the breath,' she said."

Cedrick stood. The crowd did the same, slapping their forearms furiously. "Tonight," Cedrick announced above the noise, "we have an honored guest to give forth a telling. A Teller with a tale never told within this clan." The applause died. People glanced at one another wide-eyed. Cedrick gestured with his arm for the one-eyed Jonnick to join him at the teaching rock.
Cedrick motioned for the people to sit. A handful of men hesitated, but sat one at a time when they saw they stood alone. "Most of you know this man," Cedrick said. "Philander of Chock comes from the clan that arrived on those ships. Tonight, he presents a telling of the Jonnick's arrival to the land. A telling Jonnick, today, ignore." Cedrick stepped to the side and pointed for Philander to sit upon the teaching stone.

He sat in the seat of honor, bowed his head to the Potent, and turned toward the crowd. In a gesture of humility, he looked down, honoring his brother and others while clutching a brown leather book to his chest. "Thank you, Potent, for this opportunity. My forefathers owe their lives to your ancestors. I have their stories here," he lifted the book to face them.
Murmurs and low-voiced chatting peppered the crowd. Cedrick's voice boomed within the Kiva. "I expect you to show our guest the same respect you offer me."

Conversations ended abruptly.

"He doesn't have to present a telling. If you prefer to remain ignorant, I will not require you to stay." One by one, the people lowered their heads. Cedrick walked the circle, touching each man's scalp. From oldest to youngest, the people sat united. Cedrick bowed toward Philander, walked to the back of the circle to touch Awena's head and that of her elderly aunt, Trinak. He crouched and took his seat beside his wife.

This book may be purchased at: Fictionwise and Amazon

Windwalker by Donna Sundblad

2008-08-23T02:16:37Z

Hundreds of years ago, the Stygian race welcomed disease-riddled Jonnick to their shores despite prophetic warnings. Concealed powers of darkness disembark with the refugees. Subsequent generations of conflict draw lines of division between the two cultures unaware that the spirit of the Mage lives within the queen. Paranoia and fear prompt the issuance of royal decrees designed to thwart the coming of the Stygian savior—the Arich. Midwives ordered to report the birth of any child born on a moonless night know it means death to the child. Effects of the law trickle to the present where Manelin, a social outcast, and Jalil, a lame Jonnick girl find themselves thrust into the midst of unfolding ancient prophecies and a world on the verge of annihilation.

Eagles of the Kingdom review by Grace Lightfoot

2008-08-21T12:46:57Z

Eagle of the Kingdom is the third and final book of the New Kingdom Trilogy series by Joanne Hall. The story opens with Alex awaiting trial, held captive in the desert prison of Telesia, which lies across miles and miles of barren desert. Escape appears hopeless.

Alex is awaiting trial for publicly humiliating, Penram, the royal princess. Alex invoked the wrath of her father, King of Telesia, after he sent her home. Humiliation was not what Alex had intended for the princess; nevertheless, that’s how it was viewed by the Telesian ruler. But Alex could not help himself; he could love no one but Lydia. But now he was about to pay the price for that love.

Through a series of events at the prison, Lydia came up with a successful plan to free her husband. It was costly, but in the end it meant their freedom. After their release, they begin to make their way back to their own kingdom, to gather friends and allies along the way. Alex and Lydia are determined to take back the throne and their kingdom and their son from the heinous ruler who is now in command.

Once Valery knew for sure that Alex and Lydia were still alive, he becomes all the more obsessed with killing them. Treachery and betrayal abound on both sides.

Eagle of the Kingdom is a great finish to the New Kingdom Trilogy. The characters are memorable and consistent from book to book, so it is easy to dive in and pick up where the last book left off. I stayed up late more than one night to read on. Ms. Hall is a great story teller, and I can only hope she has another book on the horizon. Even though we only have a 5 star rating, I would it rate it higher than that.—

Review by: Grace Lightfoot, Y-30 Staff

A note from Julia Macdonell, author of The Boy and the Warrior

2008-08-17T15:49:42Z

This is wonderful. I have to report that my book arrived this afternoon and I wish to thank you, Nadene and Donna for all you have done for me and especially for receipt of the book. I could hardly believe it when the postman arrived and I had it in my hands. It's colorful and well printed and my nieces who received a purchased copy wish to compliment the editorial and printing staff for their excellent work. When it arrived, the friend, Carlos Vicente, who offered to translate it to Portuguese for me (working together on the text) happened to be here and we spent about four hours on the Prologue and first chapter. I fully appreciate your keeping The Boy and the Warrior focused in your blog.

Meet Jean Henry Mead, author of Escape - A Wyoming Historical Novel

2008-08-13T14:28:57Z

Jean Henry Mead (aka Jean Henry and S. Jean Mead) served as editor-in-chief of her college newspaper in 1970 while a cub reporter for the Hanford Sentinel, a daily California newspaper. She also served as staff writer/photographer/editor in San Diego, and staff writer for the Casper Star-Tribune. She freelanced for the Denver Post's Empire Magazine as well as other publications, both domestic and abroad. Her work won more than 20 state, regional, and national awards. She also worked with Peggy Simson Curry in Wyoming's "Poetry in the Schools" program and in 1982 the first of her nine books was published. She edited and ghostwrote a number of others, served as In Wyoming Magazine editor, publisher of two small publishing companies as well as Wyoming Writers' president, Western Writers of America's national publicity director and secretary-treasurer, and Wyoming Press Women's historian. Her interviews with Louis L'Amour, Will Henry and a host of other writers may be found on numerous online websites, including Zino's "Best Writing on the Web" and American Western Magazine. In 1981 she founded the Western Writers Hall of Fame. In her spare time she has taught fledgling writers online and worked with youth groups.

This Week's Epress-online Top 10 at Fictionwise

2008-08-05T23:36:03Z

1. Escape [A Wyoming Historical Novel] by Jean Henry Mead [Historical Fiction/History]
2. The Boy and the Warrior by Julia Macdonell [Fantasy/Historical Fiction]
3. A Lesser Form of Patriotism by G.G Stokes, Jr [Historical Fiction]
4. Benning's War [A Novel of the American Revolution] by Jeffrey M. Keenan [Historical Fiction/Romance]
5. Pumping Your Muse by Donna Sundblad [Self Improvement/General Nonfiction]
6. Needle by L. L. Whitaker [Science Fiction]
7. The Sense-ible Writer by Nadene R. Carter [Self Improvement/General Nonfiction]
8. The Daemonhold Curse [World of Altiva Series Book 3] by Teel James Glenn [Fantasy]
9. Sister Warrior [World of Altiva Series Book 4] by Teel James Glenn [Fantasy/Dark Fantasy]
10. Echoes of Silence by Nadene R. Carter [Historical Fiction/Young Adult]

THE INVISIBLE WOMAN by Betty Kreier-Lubinski a story from Other People's Lives

2008-08-03T15:41:59Z

Meg Larimer's life of crime began on her fortieth birthday--the day she learned she was invisible.

She was strolling down the mezzanine of the Brush Prairie Mall, flanked by her teenage daughters. A man approached, glanced one daughter up and down, slithered over Meg without the least acknowledgment, and glued onto her daughter on the other side with that same up and down once-over.

I'll be darned, Meg thought. He looked right past me, as if I'm not even here. Men had been admiring Meg since she was fourteen, and she'd grown to expect that. She knew she had a certain pizzazz, and she knew men enjoyed looking at her. Or used to. When had this changed?

Once she noticed this, she realized it happened all the time. Men looked right through her as though she were invisible. It was unsettling. No, it was downright insulting.

One day she went to the hardware store to buy a hammer and some plumbing supplies. She couldn't find what she needed, but no one came to help her. The male clerks waited on the men and younger women, but somehow no one saw Meg.

I wonder how long I could stand here without being noticed, she thought. She moved to block the aisle near the service counter. A busy clerk stepped around her and hurried to help a man who had just entered the store.

I'll bet if I put this hammer in my bag, it would get someone's attention, she thought. But it didn't.

She walked out without paying. Nothing happened. She felt a slight twinge of guilt overlaid by a deep anger. Her husband, Josh, liked the new hammer.

In the next few weeks, Meg tested her invisibility. She discovered she could go almost anywhere and do almost anything, and some women would notice her, but men never did.

I can do whatever I damned well please, she thought, as long as I do it around men.

She picked up a few candy bars at the grocery store. No one noticed. Her sense of power escalated. It became a game to see how much she could get away with. She walked off with a two-foot statue from an art gallery, just carried it out as if she owned it. No one said a word. She left it in the vestibule; she didn't really want it.

She pilfered a six-foot ladder and a wheelbarrow from the Yard and Garden Shop on Highway 99, on two separate visits. She almost got caught. A female clerk came back from break just as Meg wheeled out the wheelbarrow and yelled, "Stop, thief."

The male clerk looked around and said, "Where? What?" While he was trying to locate the thief, Meg walked briskly away with the wheelbarrow.

Now Meg had never been the criminal type. She'd grown up in a sheltered home, married early, borne two children, and lived a rather anonymous life. But suddenly being invisible really bothered her. Every time a man looked through her--or around her, or away from her--and didn't see her, Meg would seethe.

The man who didn't see her the most, she observed, was Josh, her husband. That was the most disturbing of all. He didn't see her at home, and he didn't see her at the bank, where he worked. She stood right in the open door of his office one day, for five minutes, and he never noticed. It was amazing how many times a day he ignored her.

Meg obsessed over how she could make Josh really notice her. Days, she mulled over the problem. Nights, it interfered with her sleep. Josh noticed her lack of sleep.

"For God's sake, Meg, will you quit fidgeting? How the heck do you expect a man to get a decent night's sleep around here?"

Meg lay awake, her mind playing hopscotch. What could she do to get Josh's attention? And keep it? He wasn't a bad husband. He loved her; she loved him. But where had all the romance gone? She wanted him to see her, admire her, lust after her the way he used to when she was younger.
When the answer occurred to her, it was almost too simple, and too dramatic, to contemplate. She'd rob a bank, but not just any bank. She'd rob the bank where her husband worked. Later, she'd give him the spoils to return back, so it wouldn't really be a theft, but this would be something he'd have to notice.

She said to Josh, "What would you think if I robbed your bank?"

He didn't even glance up from his newspaper. He said, "Fine."

"And kidnapped a security guard."

"Fine, whatever you want."

"Josh, are you listening to me?"

This time he put his newspaper down and looked directly at her. "Meg, why do you ask me that? You know I always listen to you."

"Oh, okay," she said.

That did it! She decided to rob the bank. She gave it a lot of thought since this was a totally new experience for her and she wanted to do it right. She wrote out a step-by-step action plan. She surveyed the bank long enough to know the three women tellers went to Sandy's Kitchen for clam chowder every Friday at 12:45. The bank was always short-handed at lunchtime then because Mr. Crowder, the bank president, took every Friday afternoon off. She clocked it to the minute. The heist would take place on Friday, at 1:00 p.m. sharp.

She went to a toy store and bought a black plastic toy pistol, an obvious fake, but she practiced, in front of a mirror, opening her handbag and showing only part of the toy gun. It was amazing how real it looked from just a quick peek. She also practiced "Give me all your money," in a low, husky voice totally unlike her own.

Meg was certain of her invisibility to men, but she still planned her costume carefully. She wanted to fit in with other bank customers, but she still wanted to look her best. She bought a new push-up Wonder Bra; the first she'd ever tried, and decided her cleavage wasn't half bad. Then she chose a form-fitting red dress, snug in all the right places. After putting on the matching red high heel shoes, she pranced back and forth in front of the mirror.

"Not bad for an old lady. Not bad at all!"

She splurged on a pedicure and manicure, bought a new lipstick, and had her hair done. In the fun of getting ready, she almost forgot what she was getting ready for. She reminded herself by practicing her low husky voice.

When the target Friday came, in her eagerness, she arrived a bit early. It was awkward, pacing the street in front of the bank. She knew she couldn't go in until the female tellers had left. She hadn't had lunch, but she didn't want to go to Sandy's Kitchen where the female tellers ate. She'd never eaten at Mario's next door, but spaghetti sounded okay so she went in.

Mario himself came over to wait on her, almost as soon as she walked in the door.
"Hello, hello," he sang out. "You haven't been here in a long time."

"I've never been here," she said.

"Oh, yes, you have, my dear, how could I forget? Those eyes? Those lips? That smile? My dear, we have been missing you." He waved his arm grandly. "What can I get you? Do you want fettuccine? Lasagna? Wine?"

"No, no," she said quickly. "I want something simple. A small bowl of spaghetti."

"With freshly chopped sun dried tomatoes. Oh, yes, how could I forget. It is your favorite. A lovely dish for such a lovely lady. How have you been?"

She looked him straight in the eye, but it was hard to hide the smile that flickered just behind her lips. "I really have never been here before. You don't know me."

"Oh, yes, I do. A real man always knows a real woman when he sees one."

She laughed. "I'm too old to play these games."

He grinned. "Too old? No, not too old. You are in the prime of life. A real woman just begins to ripen, like a melon, when she becomes mature. And yes, I am having a little fun. But even for a beautiful woman, life is difficult when we are so serious. Life should be fun, sprinkled with a little laughter, some virgin olive oil, a little pesto, a pinch of adventure."

Mario kept returning to her table, making small jokes, and by the time the delicious lunch was over, Meg had laughed more than she had in a month. It was harmless fun, but Meg thrived on the attention. Her cheeks warmed, and her eyes sparkled. As she headed out the door, Mario called out, "You must come back, my little chickadee, come back soon."

She waved and smiled, "I will."

When she went into the bank, her husband came out of his office immediately. "What have you done to yourself?" he said. "You look beautiful."

"I came to rob the bank," she said, but her laughter belied her words.

Josh laughed as he took her hand. "Meg, you have the most delightful sense of humor."

When they went back to his office, she dropped the toy gun in the tall gold-plated wastebasket by the front door. It was a foolish idea anyhow, she thought.

When she left fifteen minutes later, after she'd finished a delightful conversation with her husband, she walked out the front door.

The security guard said, "Good afternoon, Mrs. Larimer."

"Good afternoon, Russell," she said.

She was carrying the gold-plated wastebasket under her arm.

No one noticed.

Other People's Lives by Betty kreier Lubinski

2008-08-01T11:21:15Z

Betty Kreier Lubinski writes with emotion, love and compassion in her collection of 34 short stories, which lets you look through a window into the lives of every day people. She allows you a glimpse of the everyday trials, tribulations, joys and sorrows, right into the heart and soul of her characters.

This is a must read book for anyone who enjoys heartfelt stories and a rollicking good read. Read Other People's Lives to laugh and cry with Betty's true to life stories and memorable people.

New Release from ePress-online by Jean Henry Mead

2008-07-31T10:41:23Z

Escape, a Wyoming historical novel, closely follows actual events of the late 1890s when a four-state governor’s pact wages war against outlaws. Members of Butch Cassidy’s Wild Bunch kidnap a young woman disguised as a 12-year old boy and take her to the infamous Hole in the Wall hideout in Wyoming’s Big Horn Mountains. There, she manages to hide her gender while listening to the outlaws plan the ill-fated Bell Fourche Bank robbery. Tom “Peep” O’Day, a bungling, alcoholic horsethief is the newest member of the gang and botches the robbery, which leads to the gang’s eventual capture. Escape provides a fascinating glimpse into the legendary outlaws of Wyoming. Mead’s remarkably fresh voice tells a compelling story that’s hard to put down. Historical fans will thoroughly enjoy their visit with Butch Cassidy’s Wild Bunch.

New authors signed

2008-07-31T02:08:29Z

ePress-online, Inc. just signed two new authors, Jeanne Tomlin and Clem Daems, for their new book, Talon of the Raptor Clan due out in 2009.

Check out this week's top 10 Epress-Online books at Fictionwise:

2008-07-30T17:47:59Z

1. Mid-Length [43314 words]The Boy and the Warrior by Julia Macdonell [Fantasy/Historical Fiction]
2. Mid-Length [46006 words]The Sense-ible Writer by Nadene R. Carter [Self Improvement/General Nonfiction]
3. Long [57377 words]The Magic & the Mundane: A Guide to the Writer's Journey by P. June Diehl [Self Improvement/General Nonfiction]
4. Long [91454 words]Benning's War [A Novel of the American Revolution] by Jeffrey M. Keenan [Historical Fiction/Romance]
5. Long [92531 words]Needle by L. L. Whitaker [Science Fiction]
6. Long [57569 words]Sister Warrior [World of Altiva Series Book 4] by Teel James Glenn [Fantasy/Dark Fantasy]
7. Long [121576 words]A Lesser Form of Patriotism by G.G Stokes, Jr [Historical Fiction]
8. Long [58880 words]Pumping Your Muse by Donna Sundblad [Self Improvement/General Nonfiction]
9. Long [89473 words]Echoes of Silence by Nadene R. Carter [Historical Fiction/Young Adult]
10. Long [68440 words]Return to UKOO by Don Hurst [Fantasy/Young Adult]

Meet Betty Kreier Lubinski author of Other Peoples Lives

2008-07-29T22:27:24Z

Betty grew up in rural Washington State out in the boonies with no electricity, no running water, no phone, and an outhouse out back. Her family’s main entertainment was a battery-operated radio. They made their own recreation, strumming a guitar by the light of a gasoline lantern, singing songs, or playing pinochle with the neighbors. Betty’s love of reading and writing was demonstrated early in life. She devoured every book in the grade school library and published her first story when she was only 14 years old.

Betty raised four children while holding down a full time job, and published a number of stories and articles over the years. She started writing more seriously after she and her husband retired.

About her book Betty tells us: "I’ve always been interested in other people’s lives. I’m a sympathetic listener for everyone’s troubles and offer a warm shoulder for friends to cry on.. I love to eavesdrop in public places and make up stories about what I’ve heard. I love to observe people who don’t know they're being watched—how they scratch their noses or pull at their pantyhose, make faces or stick out their tongues. People are fascinating. I hope you, too, will find them that way in Other People's Lives."

Excerpt from The Boay and the Warrior

2008-07-25T13:08:57Z

The slave boy, Bento, stirs in his sleep. Shaken by a nightmare, images of standing alone on a mountain under black clouds haunt him. He rolls over on his straw mat and pulls his shirt over his head. It's too early to get up.

The Parahyba River, swollen by summer rains, flows past the farm between its muddy banks. A half moon slides down the sky and a few reflected stars sparkle in the slow moving water. Wild ducks and herons sleep among the reeds where frogs croak in the shallows.

Slave women begin to open their eyes in the dark. They stretch weary limbs on narrow beds and rejoice in the few minutes of peace before the day's labors begin. When the rooster heralds the dawn, women old and young must leap to their feet to begin another harrowing day. Dawn brings another round of work, more lashes on sore backs, more pain. Just another day.

Only Noemia Emerson Caiara knows it will not be so. Already up, she shivers, dressing in the dark, prepared to call her husband, Juan, who sleeps in the four-poster bed for the last time. Her lips tremble; tears rise in her blue eyes. She gazes at the handsome face; jet black hair shining in the light of the waning moon that filters through the open window.

Review for author Joanne Hall's "In Exile" by Colin Harvey at Suite 101

2008-07-22T17:43:28Z

Owing more to Fritz Leiber's Lankhmar than to Tolkein's Lord of the Rings, the sequel to the EPPIE-Award nominated Hierath is more assured than its predecessor.

Joanne Hall made a dazzling debut in 2006 with the story of two young men and the woman they rescue from drowning with the epic sword & sorcery fantasy Hierath.

One of the young men --King Alex-- fell in love with and subsequently married Lydia, the girl, only to be betrayed and his regime overthrown by his childhood friend Valery.

In Exile
Now in exile, a young barmaid encounters the men of the Wolfpack, Valery's feared death-squad. Shen the barmaid is then grabbed on her way through an alleyway, but her 'assailant' is Bale, King Alex's trusted lieutenant.

Back at her rooms it emerges that Shen is Lydia, hiding from the Wolfpack; Bale tells her that Alex is alive, and she agrees to ride north with them to rendezvous with her husband. Her cousin Meganne and Meganne's husband Jorge insist on accompanying her to the meeting.

This had one unfortunate consequence; one or two riders on their own are far less than a group of four particularly when two of the group are strikingly beautiful women -- and Meganne has 'the glamour' the ability to bewitch men, which she seems to be hardly aware of, but which makes her hard to forget by those she's used it on.

When they meet with Alex, the group grows to five, and their progress becomes even harder to disguise. They narrowly evade capture by the Wolfpack, and seeking sanctuary in the island castle of Northpoint they gain another by 'rescuing' Valery's new wife, although she has at first little desire to be rescued.

Influences -- Lord of the Rings vs Lankhmar
There is still much to be admired in Hall's new novel, such as the detail that she brings to her imagined world, and the likeability of her characters, and she has gained in the assurance of her writing since publishing Hierath, so that In Exile is a stronger novel than its predecessor. Like Hierath, In Exile is a much more human work than the template fantasies such as Lord of the Rings and perhaps owes more to classical American series such as Fritz Leiber's Lankhmar.

But there are also a number of caveats.

First is the characters themselves -- particularly Alex, the King and his wife Lydia who behave at times in ways that simply don't ring true of people in their position (they seem astonishingly content to leave their son in the care of others while riding around Hierath in a large group drawing attention to themselves; yet they are possessed by an enemy ruthless enough to wipe out whole communities).

The novel itself seems content to meander along in search of a plot, and really only begins to gain momentum as it gallops toward its conclusion in the court of Telesia.

In Exile is very much the middle volume of a trilogy and should be read as such -- the prelude to a strong conclusion.

Stolen Tome by J. Brian Jones

2008-07-20T16:18:21Z

Morgan Glendennings, aristocrat wizard, is at a crossroads. She believes her family’s mysterious heirloom holds a secret. After much research, she learns of an ancient book that contains the information she needs.

When the book is lost during shipment, Morgan suspects it has been stolen. She hires a shadowy rogue named Axel to help get it back. Together, they pursue the book and the men who stole it.

Axel’s distrust of wizards and all things magical only complicates matters, especially when the chase takes longer and covers a greater distance than either expected. As the mystery unfolds, they end up caught in the intricate plots and schemes of the thieves who stole the book. Morgan and Axel press on, trying to find out who paid for the thieves’ services.

Why would anyone go to such lengths to steal the very book that Morgan needs?
Will they ever unravel the secrets and significance of the Stolen Tome

Meet Julia Macdonell - author of The Boy and the Warrior

2008-07-17T23:40:46Z

Julia Macdonell was born on October l, l916, and despite being a second generation Brazilian, she grew up in an English speaking home. Children of the British and American colonies led an idyllic existence in the years between the two world wars.

At the invitation of historian Clent Coker, Julia, along with her sisters and brothers, made a trip to the United States, and traveled to Georgia to visit their ancestral home.

Mr. Coker had searched for Barnsley descendants and received permission from the property owner, the merchant prince, Fuger of Germany, to entertain them in the old family home. Julia and her family received a royal welcome and met dozens of neighbors who knew the tragic history of their family.

Her rich personal history and love of times gone by is evident in the rich authentic details found in The Boy and the Warrior.

New Release - The Boy and the Warrior by Julia Macdonell

2008-07-15T23:13:08Z

The Brazilian slave boy, Bento, meets the black warrior King Zumbi in a supernatural vision. The ancient warrior invites the boy to return to the 17th century to a kingdom carved from the jungle by escaped slaves. Join Bento on his adventures as he surrenders his freedom and withstands dangers to prepare for life in Palmares where he lives for two years in past time before returning home with a new vision and hope.

Exerpt from Pathogen

2008-07-14T02:01:47Z

Costa Rica

The forest, still sodden from the morning's rain, was alive with the sounds of life beginning and of life coming to an end. This cycle had repeated itself in the rainforest for as long as anyone could remember.

Although he weighed barely more than half a grown man and had the agility of a creature that swung from tree branches, Jose Felipe sank to his ankles in the reddish-brown mud. He took each step with great caution; one misstep could lead to a bottomless quagmire where escape would not be possible.

Standing motionless, his arms frozen at his sides, he waited. And waited. Slowly, methodically, as he had done many times before, he lifted one arm to ready the net as if it were a lasso. Fashioned of brown twine, it was caked with a thin film of dried mud. Jose squinted to the shallow waters ahead laden with green lily pads, above which hovered multicolored dragonflies flitting inquisitively from one pad to another. He studied the rainbow of colors, separating green from orange, yellow from red--colors an artist might gather on his palette before beginning to paint.

With a flick of his wrist, the net spread its wings and sailed through the moist air as if caught by a sudden gust of wind.

Stunned, the dart frog did not move, did not struggle to escape, as one would expect of a creature in the tropical rainforest. It was as if the amphibian knew its time had come.
Smiling with great satisfaction, Jose Felipe drew in the net a few inches at a time. Cautiously, he examined the colorful frog that lay snared in the net. Its eyes bulged from its moist, multicolored body. Handling it with thick, leather gloves that reached to his elbows, he removed it from the tangle of twine, placed the creature in a pail of warm, greenish water, and tightly secured the lid.
Then, Jose retraced his steps back to the village of Santa Maria, an hour's journey by foot on the gravel road. Once there, he hurried to the tin roof house of Carlos Gonzales that bordered near the market square.

Carlos gave him a chilled bottle of Mexican beer, which Jose pressed to his warm forehead. He received five American dollars for the treasure in the pail, one of the most poisonous of all creatures in the rainforest.

The following morning, just before sunrise when the mountains lay shrouded in mist, Jose made the sign of the cross three times as he trotted past the Church of the Holy Trinity. Then, as he had done so frequently, he veered north, returning to the rainforest, the ankle-deep mud, and the shallow steams and ponds with their lily pads and hovering dragonflies to try his luck once again.

Memphis, Tennessee

Patrick "Irish" Holly, owner of the pet store just south of Interstate 65 in South Memphis, assured the mother that the brightly colored frog would be the ideal pet for her six-year-old twin boys. "Very low maintenance," he repeated in a serious and authoritative tone. If she purchased two of them, he'd include a ten-gallon terrarium, complete with a small plastic waterfall, real twigs and leaves, and enough dried insect parts for a week--all at half the regular price.

The twins grinned with anticipation and tugged at her skirt. Shaking her head with indecision, the woman studied the frogs in the exhibit. They were small and kind of pretty, at least for frogs--bright orange, green, and yellow with bulging eyes and suction-cup feet that made it possible for them to cling to the sides of the glass enclosure. As she pondered her decision, one of them seemed to be looking straight at her as if pleading for her to take him along.

"Are they safe?" she asked. "They don't bite, do they?"

The man tried not to laugh. "They are absolutely safe, madam," he said, again using that authoritative tone. "They're bred right here in the United States under strict government control," he added with an air of false authority. "I guarantee their survival for thirty days. No questions asked if you aren't completely satisfied."

The twins squealed with delight when their mother handed the merchant her credit card.
The transaction complete, Mr. Holly placed the two creatures the twins selected in a plastic container and deposited the container in the terrarium along with the twigs, leaves, dried insect food, and the green plastic waterfall.

"They like live ants and tiny insects for a change of pace," the shop owner instructed them as they prepared to leave. "Big red ants, especially. But be very careful. Never take the frogs out of the terrarium. They can be difficult to catch if they get loose." Smiling broadly at the twins, he added, "Make sure you give each of them a cute name."

The boys giggled, gibbering off a series of names that might be suitable. Little Godzilla. Super frog. King frog. They could hardly wait to get home and set up the terrarium in their bedroom. Best of all, the man in the pet store had told them that with good care and proper food, the frogs might live to be five or six years old.

Meet John P. Matsis - author of Pathogen and Cadaver

2008-07-14T01:58:01Z

John P. Matsis was born in Steeltown USA, Gary Indiana. He was the only child of immigrant parents. From the beginning, academics came easily, and he graduated from Indiana University with the highest of honors and went on to Indiana University Medical School. A two-year stint as an army medical officer, in part with the 82nd Airborne Division, was interposed between graduate training in Radiology and his marriage to Frances Ann. Their union resulted in four daughters who quickly became the center of their lives.

Although the practice of medicine was demanding, John had a hidden desire to be creative, to be one of those persons whose passion could be conveyed either to the painter’s canvas or to the writer’s pen. As the years passed, and the demand of medicine and family lessened, he ventured into writing, first writing mystery and literary short stories, and then novels. Upon achieving a small measure of success—“your short story has been accepted for publication”—he was hooked and inevitably writing became an increasingly important part of his life.

Meet John P. Matsis - author of Pathogen and Cadaver

2008-07-11T10:37:28Z

Meet S. L. Connors, author of Dancing on the Edge

2008-07-05T13:18:12Z

Author, S. L. Connors, better known as Shar to family, friends, and peers, resides in South Florida with husband, Jim and Sheltie, Gypsy Lee.

Always busy, she splits her time between writing, professional editing, and the day job that pays the bills. Shar has earned numerous publishing credits. which include short stories, some free form poetry, and craft articles. In December 2006 her debut crime suspense novel, Dancing on the Edge, was released and is available at ePress-online, Inc. in print and Fictionwise in electronic format. Curse of the Marhime, the first novel in a planned series spinning tales of Gypsies, shape-shifters, and magic is now in the editing stages and will be available late 2007.

Shar is a member of EPIC authors, The Romance Writers of America, a long time member of The American Society of Authors and Writers , and a mentor at Writers Village University.

For more information about this author please visit her websites: http://www.sharonlconnors.com/ and http://www.romawolftales.com/

Meet Don Hurst - author of Return to UKOO

2008-07-04T11:18:37Z

Don Hurst is a funny little man who has no hair on the top of his head; a humorous streak wide as a dragon's hindquarters; the imagination of a 5 year old exploring pigeon droppings; a 71-year-old-body and a 15-to-100 year-old-mind; lives in Northern California, USA; has a BA in Expressive Arts and has never married because of a fear of anything resembling reality.
He is friendly and loves being an outgoing hermit.

His webpage is a must see: http://ukoo.org/returntoukoo/ Don is currently working on his new book, Cloud Riders.

Knight Errant - Death and Life at the Faire by Teel James Glenn

2008-06-29T17:27:41Z

The very first mystery novel set at a modern day renaissance faire, Knight Errant: death and life at the faire. Follow Eric Knight, professional fight choreographer and jouster as he tries to solve the cold blooded murder of his best friend while trying to create and perform a season of make-believe medieval mayhem.

For the first time in print the behind the scenes of the renaissance faire world is revealed, the humor, the camaraderie, the jealousy and the lustful, adventurous lives of the ‘rennies’ are laid bare.

See Teel James Glenn's trailer for this book on YouTube.

Meet Donna Sundblad - Author of Pumping Your Muse and Windwalker

2008-06-28T21:36:59Z

Born in 1951, Donna Sundblad grew up in the northern suburbs of Chicago, married in 1969, raised two children and now enjoys her grandchildren.

At age 29 Donna committed her way to Jesus, and over time He instilled within her new dreams and desires. In her early 30's she learned sign language to reach a young deaf boy, and in 1989 her family moved to Florida to start a new chapter in life when her husband accepted a pastorate on a small tropical island. Her creative talents emerged sporadically through poetry and writing a Sci-fi novel over a five-year period, but when she approached her 50th birthday, a childhood dream resurfaced. "God blessed me with an active imagination and an ability to write and I felt prompted not to let the aspiration lie dormant. God grants the desires of my heart, but I know it's necessary to take steps of obedience to reach what he wants for me. With His help, I moved outside my comfort zone and into the unknown."

While working full time as a rental agent on a tropical island in Florida, Donna enrolled in online writing classes that provided structure, support and the writing discipline needed for growth. "Interaction with peers and staff encouraged, yet provided the feedback I needed for improvement." Her first published clips appeared as writer's tips in a newsletter, and God used each acceptance to encourage her to take another step in her life as an author.

In 2003 Donna broke into print with a short fictional story. In January 2004 she joined the fiction editorial team of the online publication T-Zero Expandizine: The Writer's E-zine, and in April 2004 she accepted the position of Acquisitions Editor for ePress-online, a division of Writopia. In April of 2005, her column Birdie's Quill (written under the pseudonym Birdie) made its debut. In June of the same year, ePress-online released her creative writing book Pumping Your Muse. In June 2006, her fantasy novel Windwalker also became available in print and electronic format.

Donna writes short stories, articles on the craft of writing, reviews books, creative historical short stories and serves as the Fantasy Topic Editor and Creative Topic Editor at Inspired Author. She develops and teaches classes at Writer's Online Courses where she passes on to others what she has learned. When she stops to pause, she realizes all the blessings she would miss if she hadn't taken that first step of obedience.

Her Young Adult fantasy Beyond the Fifth Gate will be released from ePress-online, Inc. later this year.

Them's Fightin' Words by Teel James Glenn

2008-06-26T22:46:48Z

Join professional fight choreographer and author Teel James Glenn as he takes you on a literary journey through the process of creating believable and dramatically valid action scenes in every kind of fiction. Using wit and personal experience, he dissects action scenes for the keys to what makes them work.

From Fantasy swordfights, barroom brawls, comic combat to martial arts knockabouts, he not only outlines and explains the whys and wherefores of literary violence, he also explores techniques that allow you to create them yourself with a series of fun and easy-to-do exercises.
In step-by-step examinations, he shows how great writers like Alexander Dumas, Edgar Rice Burroughs and H. Rider haggard did it.

He takes the mystery out of writing action, but not the excitement!