The Temple of the Crystal Timekeeper by Fiona Ingram Review

I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.

A dangerous mission strands three young kids in the Mexican Jungle where myth and tradition divide the people who call the jungle home in author Fiona Ingram’s third novel in the Chronicles of the Stone series, “The Temple of the Crystal Timekeeper”. Here’s the synopsis:

A plane crash! Lost in the jungle! Hunted by their old enemy, will Adam, Justin, and Kim survive long enough to find the Third Stone of Power? With only a young boy, Tukum, as their guide, the kids make their way through the dense and dangerous jungle to find the lost city of stone gods, where the Stone of Power might be located. River rafting on a crocodile-infested river and evading predators are just part of this hazardous task. Of course, their old adversary Dr. Khalid is close behind as the kids press on. But he is not the worst of their problems. This time Adam will clash with a terrible enemy who adopts the persona of an evil Aztec god, Tezcatlipoca, and is keen to revive the ancient tradition of human sacrifice. Adam, Justin, and Tukum must play a dreadful ball game of life and death and maybe survive. Will they emerge alive from the jungle? Will Dr. Khalid find the third Stone of Power before they do?

While I hadn’t read the previous two books before this, this novel did a great job of making the story stand out on it’s own feet. Finding solid ground within the jungles of Mexico, the story and characters mesh well with one another, building the overlaying backstory of the stones and their mysterious power, as well as the hunt by the modern day adventurers. The author did an amazing job exploring the complex mythology of both the Aztecs and Mayan people, as well as the culture of Mexico as a whole and the people who call it home.

The writing here is wonderful, giving middle grade readers and beyond a clear image of the scenes presented throughout the novel. While fans of the series will love the continued adventures of Adam and his group, the book does a wonderful job of bringing a new supporting character like Tukum and his people to life beautifully. The blend of culture and mythology adds to the series overall building mythos, and by books end gives the reader a nod to the next possible adventure as the mission to recover the stones.

Overall this was a fantastic read. Filled with richly developed characters, a wonderful setting filled with vivid imagery, and a detailed, suspenseful story of mythological proportions. If you enjoy a good adventure story with relatable heroes, powerful villains and a setting filled with rich culture, then you should pick up a copy of author Fiona Ingram’s The Temple of the Crystal Timekeeper today!

Rating: 10/10

The Temple of the Crystal Timekeeper is available to purchase on Amazon.com. 

About the Author

FionaIngram.jpg (1)

Fiona Ingram is a children’s author, but up until a few years ago, she was a journalist and editor. Something rather unexpected sparked her new career as an author—a family trip to Egypt with her mother and two young nephews. They had a great time and she thought she’d write them a short story as a different kind of souvenir…. Well, one book and a planned book series later, she had changed careers. She has now published Book 3 (The Temple of the Crystal Timekeeper) in her middle grade adventure series Chronicles of the Stone, with many awards for the first book,

The Secret of the Sacred Scarab, and a few for Book 2, The Search for the Stone of Excalibur, and one already for Book 3! She also teaches online novel writing for aspiring authors and she finds that very satisfying. Relaxation time finds her enjoying something creative or artistic, music, books, theatre or ballet. She loves doing research for her book series. Fiona loves animals and has written two animal rescue stories. She has two adorable (naughty) little dogs called Chloe and Pumpkin, and a beautiful black cat called Bertie.

You can find Fiona at –

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/secretofthesacredscarab/

Website: www.chroniclesofthestone.com

Twitter: http://twitter.com/FionaRobyn

Author Site: http://www.FionaIngram.com

Blog: http://fionaingramauthor.blogspot.com

GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2868182.Fiona_Ingram

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Blog Tour: Cleaning House (Appalachian Elementals One) by Jeanne G’Fellers

COVER - Cleaning HouseJeanne G’Fellers has a new trans-non binary fantasy book out:

Centenary Rhodes is an old soul with a well-traveled name, but she doesn’t know this yet.

Growing up in southern Appalachia wasn’t easy, so Cent left home as soon as she could, but the post-collegiate happiness she’d expected has never occurred. She can’t find a decent date, much less find that special someone and, after losing her job in a corporate downsize, she’s struggling to meet her most basic needs. Her car has been repossessed, her bills are piling up, and her questionable North Chicago neighborhood is dangerous to navigate.

Returning home to Hare Creek, Tennessee, never crosses Cent’s mind until her Great Aunt Tess contacts her with an offer she can’t refuse. The family’s southern Appalachian homestead must be sold, and Aunt Tess needs someone to clean it up. Cent will have access to Aunt Tess’ garden and truck and can live on the homestead rent-free for as long as it takes. A part-time job is waiting for her as well.

It’s a chance to solve some of Cent’s financial woes, but will her return be enough when evil sets its sights on Embreeville Mountain and the homestead?

Cleaning House is a carefully woven Appalachian tapestry of granny magic, haints, elementals, and the fantastic diversity of the human condition – served with a delicious side of fries and a generous quart of peach moonshine.

Mountain Gap Books | Amazon | Amazon UK | Amazon UK | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | QueeRomance Ink | Smashwords | Goodreads 


Giveaway

Jeanne is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour. For a chance to win, enter using Rafflecopter.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d4716/?


Excerpt

BANNER-Facebook - Cleaning HouseFall, 1952

“Put it out and give me the rest of the pack.”

“Of all the— here!” Cent dropped her pack of Lucky Strikes onto the floor and kicked them under the outhouse door to Pyre. They’re almost gone anyway.It was the middle of the night, and she’d gone to the outhouse to sneak a smoke. One, that was all, and the rush felt so good. It was the best she’d felt in days, and—

“Drop that lit cigarette down the hole. Stowne’s on their way.”

“Dangit.” Cent took a long drag, exhaling as she rose. She couldn’t hide that she’d been smoking again, and—

“Centenary, please come out.” Stowne knocked on the outhouse door.

“I’m busy.”

“We must discuss this.”

“I was just going,” Pyre’s light drifted away.

Coward. Cent tied her robe and stepped out the door. Fall had rolled in early and wet, setting her up for a rough bout of bronchitis that wouldn’t go away. “Fancy meeting you here at two in the morning.” She cleared her throat to stifle its perpetual tickle.

“Centenary.” Stowne folded their arms across their chest. “You should not be out here this time of night, especially in these cooler temperatures.” Stowne held out the quilt from their bed. “You should be inside where it is warm and dry.”

“I had to pee. It’s something Humans need to do regular.”

“There is a night bucket beneath our bed for you to use when the weather is bad.” Stowne caught her before she moved away, wrapping her in the blanket. “You gave Pyre the cigarettes, but where are the matches?”

“You already took my lighter.”

“And I am removing every pack of matches from the homestead.”

“But what if we need to light a new fire?”

“Centenary!” Stowne pointed to where Pyre hovered on the porch. “That is not a legitimate argument.” They lifted her into their arms.

“Put me down.”

“Please see reason.” They turned toward the house.

“Put. Me. Down!” Cent all but fell from Stowne’s arms before they turned her straight. “You and me, we gotta talk about this.”

“About what?” Stowne towered over her. “Your refusal to care for yourself?”

“About the elephant in the dang room!”

“El-e-phant?” Water ran off Stowne’s head as they stared at her. “Those large gray mammals you told me about? There is one in the house? Brownie or Birdie surely would have sounded the alarm if—”

“No, honey. I…” Cent shivered as the rain began falling harder. “Let’s go inside and talk.”

“That is what I wanted when we began this elephant-filled argument.” Stowne walked beside her up the hill, helping her at the slick spots until she was inside the door. “There. Safe and warm.” Stowne unwrapped her blanket and pulled off her rain boots. “Sit. I will stoke the fire and heat water for your tea.”

“Chamomile, please.” Nothing else agreed with her stomach anymore. “And do it over the fire so I can watch. Pretty please?”

“Such simple things bring you pleasure.” Stowne set her favorite earthenware mug on the table beside her chair and another blanket across her lap.

“Tell me a story from our pastlives together.” She watched as Stowne talked and worked, admiring the ever-changing lines of their body. Larger or smaller depending on what was needed, delicate as they poured water over the tea strainer but strong in the way they held the steaming cast-iron kettle without using a potholder.

“Cream and sugar?” Stowne peered up at her.

“Sugar, yes. But cream?” Cent blanched. “But I used to like it, didn’t I?”

“Until this life, yes. And you like it in your coffee now, along with lots of sugar.” Stowne slipped into the kitchen to get the sugar bowl and a spoon from the table, dropping three heaping teaspoons into Cent’s mug and stirring. “There. Now we discuss this elephant.”

“Sit down first, honey. You’re pacing.”

“I cannot help it. I worry.” Stowne turned their rocker to face her. “Tell me why you do not care for yourself like you should.”

“It’s hit the point of why bother.” Cent pointed to the medication bottles beside her. “I take something to sleep. Something for pain. Something for my stomach. Something for— Smoking calms me, all right? It helps with the— I’m afraid.”

“What are you afraid of?” Stowne seemed genuinely puzzled.

“This ain’t about dyingif that’s what you’re thinking.” She pulled the blanket higher on her chest and reached for her tea, cursing softly when her hands shook too hard to lift it without spilling it. “I’m afraid of hurting more, of leaving you with horrid memories before I go. Lung cancer is an ugly death.”

“What about the radiation your doctor spoke about?”

“It’ll only delay the inevitable and make me nasty-sick until then.” Cent smiled when Stowne lifted the mug to her mouth. “Thank you.”

“That is why I am here. Never forget that.” Stowne knelt before her. “I will be here the entire time.”

“You’ve never seen me like this.”

“I have watched you die from battle wounds, from Small Pox, and countless other ways. None were attractive, but I have been there every time to walk you across the veil. This will be no different.”

“But I don’t want to leave you alone.” She reached out to stroke Stowne’s face.

“I will wait for your return, same as always.”

“But this land…”

“Yes, there is that.” Stowne kissed her palm. “It must be handed down correctly.”

“I know.” Cent took Stowne’s face into her hands, pulling them up to kiss them firmly on the mouth. “All right. I’ll think on it.”

“Thank you. Does this mean the elephant is gone?”

“Not gone, but it certainly shrank. Take me to bed, baby.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

And now i’m proud to share an exclusive excerpt only available on this website…

MEME - Cleaning House - Mountain Witch Cleaning House

    “Hey, Cent! Get up!” Aubrey opened the cellar door and bounded down the stairs before she could wake up enough to cover herself, so Stowne did, draping one arm and leg over her body. “Tess said you had work this morning, so I…” Aubrey skidded to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. “I got mushmelon, eggs, bacon, coffee and— whoa, Nelly!” He gaped at Stowne when they wrapped further around Cent. “I’ll let you get dressed.” He turned to gaze up the stairs.

    “Yeah, thanks.” She reached for the clothing Stowne had once again folded while she slept.

    “Do you mind introducing me to your, um, friend?” Aubrey chuckled under his breath.

    “Aubrey, meet Stowne.” I smell coffee. “Stowne, this is Aubrey Rhodes, my cousin who doesn’t know to knock first. All right, I’m dressed.”

    “Centenary speaks highly of you.” Stowne watched Aubrey turn back around and pass Cent a plate and a cup of coffee.

    “Extra cream.” He stepped back to scrutinize Stowne. “Earth elemental?”

    “I am, as well as Centenary’s companion for most of her lives.” They wrapped their arm around Cent’s waist as she ate. “I see bacon is still a favored food.”

    “Love it.” Cent lifted a piece to her mouth. “But Tess always overcooks it.” She sighed when the piece shattered across the plate, leaving her holding a fragment that she put in her mouth.

    “I like it just fine.” Aubrey sat on the bottom stair. “Tess and I talked for a bit last night then I went to the back porch to think after she went to bed. Rayne came to sit with me, and I talked to her, I mean them, most of the night.” He yawned and stretched his arms above his head.

    “Did they answer more of those questions you had?” Cent sipped her coffee. What Tess lacked in bacon-cooking skills she made up for in coffee-making. It was a good cup, and she’d used real cream too, not the powdered stuff.

    “Yeah, they did. They said you have to find your memories and that as you find them, your power will grow.” He peered up at Stowne. “You’re gearing up to fight for the homestead, ain’t you?”

    “Yeah, this has been my land for centuries, and Stowne’s for much, much longer, so I’ll be damned if Mama is going to yank it out from under us.” She swallowed a mouthful of eggs before she spoke again, pulling out a piece of shell when it caught between her teeth. “That’s why I’m here, I think, why I came back.”

END EXCERPT


Author Bio

AUTHOR PIC - Jeanne G'Fellers

Born and raised in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, Science Fiction and Fantasy author Jeanne G’Fellers’ early memories include watching the original Star Trek series with her father and reading the books her librarian mother brought home. Jeanne’s writing influences include Anne McCaffrey, Ursula K. LeGuin, Octavia Butler, Isaac Asimov, and Frank Herbert.

Jeanne lives in Northeast Tennesee with her spouse, Anna, and their five crazy felines. Their home is tucked against a small woodland where they regularly see deer, turkeys, raccoons, and experience the magic of the natural world.

Author Website: http://jeannegfellersauthor.com/

Author Facebook (Author Page): http://www.facebook.com/Jeannegfellersauthor/

Author Twitter: http://twitter.com/jlgfellers

Author Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/106949.Jeanne_G_Fellers

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/jeanne-gfellers/

Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Jeanne-GFellers/e/B01N0YWCT7/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Character Interview: Biyum of Author Andrew Mowere’s “Adventus”

Hello there everyone. I have the honor today of sharing with you an exclusive and fun character interview with one of the characters from an upcoming dark fantasy novel titled “Adventus” by author Andrew Mowere. I will be reviewing this book later in the year, but with the book now available for preorder, I thought it’d be fun to share this exclusive character interview with you guys. Enjoy this one on one conversation with the character Biyum.

 

*There is a frozen tundra among which the wind complains. Darkness spreads, unhindered by what weak moonlight there is that night. However, there is a fire nearby. A large figure sits by it. They turn to look with bright yellow eyes, gripping at a giant bow*

Biyum: Who…what are you?

Mike: Hello. I’m a human.

Biyum: I’ve never seen anything like you before. *glances around* where am I? I was about to leave the world.

Mike: Oh. I heard about this. Your world is sinking, right?

Biyum: Correct. When we thought all was lost, this portal opened. The scouts, they reported seeing creatures like you in the place beyond.

Mike: Yeah, that’s Grimea. How are you?

Biyum: Tired, determined. What question is this? It does not matter how I am.

Mike: No?

Biyum: *picks at one of his tusks* No. What matters is only what I must do.

Mike: Huh. Pretty hardcore. So what is it that you have to do?

Biyum: I am to follow my leaders. There is a…meeting.

Mike: You don’t sound excited.

Biyum: I am not. I am a ranger. What do I know of meetings? But if these are the orders of the war chief, then so be it.

Mike: This place is weird. I don’t see a lot of trees. No houses.

Biyum: We move often. Orcs learn to set camps where there is food. We and our livestock travel. Doing this means that the grasses are not exhausted by us.

Mike: You sound like you know a lot about it.

Biyum: *snorts* Knowledge and understanding are what the world is about. The stupid die.

Mike: That’s a rational way to think. I like your tattoo. The one on your wrist.

Biyum: …thank you, but it there for a purpose.

Mike: Really? What’s that?

Biyum: And why should I tell you?

Mike: Erm, does it help if I’m like, really curious?

Biyum: Certainly not. Human.

Mike: Yeah?

Biyum: This place is not real. I could not have been transported instantaneously, and this land is unlike ours. It looks similar and yet does not sink. We are in a dream, or something like it.

Mike: I guess… that’s pretty smart of you to notice.

Biyum: Simply observant. The point is that if this is a dream, then you might be but a figment of my imagination. Or perhaps I am one of yours…

Mike: *gulps* Or somebody else’s?

Biyum: Maybe. No matter. I should leave soon.

Mike: Wait, one more question. Why did you decide to become a ranger?

Biyum: Here, orcs can choose to join a festival when they are younglings. Our skills are tested, and an appropriate occupation is found for them. I joined because I wished to be more than I was.

Mike: More than a youngling?

Biyum: Indeed. More than a youngling, more than an orc. A true, honorable addition to this world. It is honor that leads to fame, and to self-respect. These are the things that lead to happiness: Outer bliss and the inner. It is only natural that we should pursue this road. Is this answer to your liking?

Mike: I think so, I guess. Maybe.

Biyum: Then I bid you farewell, figment. *steps away from the fire*

Mike: I have a name, you know!

***

Andrew’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/andrew_mowere

Book Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FPWXRP2

 

 

Preorder price: 2.99$

Normal Price: 4.99$

 

Book Description:

Adventus-final-WEB-[PNG]

How far could governments go to shirk humanity?

A hundred years after Yuuto’s great-grandfather discovered the elven portal in Yotaku, it has opened in earnest. Moreover, another portal has opened in each of Jerr and Veld, respectively spewing orcs and dwarves into the realm. With millions of refugees simultaneously fleeing the destruction of their worlds, humanity’s leaders decide to hide the truth and send a joint mission of each race to slay an ifrit in Veld.

Yuuto Aimaru, the Observer, is chosen to represent Yotaku. This is the purpose for which he has been cruelly bred, a game of intrigue and trickery. Each country cares only to further its designs, and Yuuto is a spy well versed in deceit.

Would Yuuto do anything for his emperor and country?

 

Author Bio:

After attempting to write two novels without editing them, Andrew Mowere has decided to completely reboot his writing and considers Adventus to be his true debut. His favorite author is Patrick Rothfuss.

Finding a Co-Author is Finding a Soul Friend (Guest Blog Post by Professor Gore)

I was born into a family of literati.

No one recognized that I had a talent with language because everyone did.  The best evidence of this? At nine months old, I hollered out in the night.  Mother rushed to my bedroom and flipped on the light. I said clearly, “Mommy, let’s visit.”  Instead of realizing how remarkable this utterance was coming from a nine-month-old, she closed her eyes and said, “Dear God, why, oh why did you give me such an annoying child?” She flipped off the light and went back to bed.

The first person to acknowledge and encourage my skill as a wordsmith was my private music teacher and junior high band director, Maestro Wilson.

He would catch the subtlest of quips I would tender during our lessons and laugh out loud.  He would twist them and flip them back at me. I would toss him a pun and he would toss one back.  By ninth grade, band kids would fill his office on Friday afternoons to watch our official pun wars.  We were fierce and worthy opponents.

I adored him and began to think of him as a second father, one who made time for me, while he began to think of me as his daughter.  We became anam cara: soul friends.

Almost as exciting as word playing with Maestro Wilson was that when I was excited about a book, I would give it to him, and he would read it. I gave him O Ye Jigs and Juleps and he laughed and talked about it with me for days.  

He stayed up all night reading the terrifying Rosemary’s Baby after I gave it to him.  We talked about it for weeks like a father and daughter would. I began to see myself through his eyes, and that made me feel like I could be a writer.

I declared English as my major in college.  But my mom’s friend, a first-grade teacher who was like a second mother to me, said, “Millie, only six people in America can make a living as a writer at any one time, and honey, you ain’t one of ‘em.  I’m not going to look across the street when you’re thirty and see you living at home with your parents supporting you because you got a degree in something that you can’t make a living at. You have to change your major to Elementary Education.”

We argued, and argued, and argued, but she refused to go home until I promised I’d change my major to elementary education.  

That ended my dream of becoming a writer.  I became a teacher, and although that wasn’t what I’d wanted to do with my life, I was a great teacher, won awards, was highly valued by my administration, and was adored by most of my students.

Over the years, I sold a few small articles and stories, but teaching is so demanding that I had little energy to devote to writing.  

However, after I finished a doctorate degree at age 40, an academic publisher offered me a contract based on my dissertation.  That first book was followed over the next twenty years by four others for parents and teachers.

But I was yet to write what I was aching to: a picture book for the children of LGBT parents.  I wanted it to be lyrical with a beguiling cadence, filled with metaphor and subtlety, and based on the Hero’s Journey.  A book as much for parents as for children. And I wanted a co-author to share the journey with me.

Only one name came to mind: the teacher who had made words such fun for me. My second father. Maestro Wilson.

Recently widowed, he agreed that we would talk one hour every night, seven nights a week, until the book was complete.  

Over the next months, I taught him about the Hero’s Journey and about same-sex families.  I taught him about character development and how plot grows out of characters rather than characters being forced to fit a plot. I taught him about dialogue and beats, eliminating adverbs and using strong verbs.  

Then we began creating our characters, King Phillip and Don Carlos. We developed the men’s back stories, knew their strengths and vulnerabilities, their triumphs and defeats, how they met and fell in love.  

Maestro Wilson is Hispanic at heart, having grown up in downtown Santa Fe where his brothers of affinity had names like José or Carlos.  He was called Felipe (the Spanish form of Phillip) even by his father, and when he’s tired, lapses into a gentle Spanish accent. So Don Carlos grew from Maestro Wilson’s soul.  

We began creating the Blue Star and baby Milliflora, and although that process was different from creating the men, their essence emerged from my soul.

Every day I’d write based upon what we’d talked about the night before.  Then I would email the maestro what I’d written, and that night, he’d read the draft to me and we’d re-work it. Because he was a musician, his ear for the rhythm of language was magical.  

The next day I would write a new draft based upon our discussion. We continued writing every night for five months until we had created our perfect 1000-word story, All is Assuredly Well.

We have six more books to go in this series.  We’ll have the second book, Most Assuredly Well, ready for our illustrator on January 1.  

The first person ever to recognize my literary skill was my teacher, my soul friend, my second father: Maestro Wilson. I was eleven, and he a grown man with three children and four more to come.  Now, more than a half century later, we’re having the time of our lives writing together. Each book will be one of our legacies to children and families. Our message? The only ingredient necessary to be a family is love.  Shared DNA not required.

 

professorgore

Professor M. C. Gore holds the doctorate in education from the University of Arkansas.  She taught first grade through graduate school for 36 years in New Mexico, Missouri, and Texas.    She was a professional horse wrangler and wilderness guide and continues to play clarinet in two community bands.  She is Professor Emeritus from Midwestern State University in Wichita Falls, Texas where she held two distinguished professorships. Her books for teachers and parents are shelved in over a thousand libraries throughout the world.  She is retired and lives in Hot Springs Village, Arkansas.

All Is Assuredly Well by Professor Gore and Maestro Wilson (Illustrated by Angela F.M. Trotter) Blog Tour, Review and Giveaway

Hello there everyone. I am thrilled to be able to present to you today the official blog tour for the illustrated children’s story All Is Assuredly Well by Professor Gore and Maestro Wilson (and illustrated by Angela F.M. Trotter). Today I am going to be presenting a review of the story, as well as information on the book itself and at the end of this post you will be able to find a giveaway for a print copy of the book. First, here’s my review.

 

Authors Professor Gore and Maestro Wilson, along with illustrator Angela F.M. Trotter, have created a unique and one of a kind children’s story that brings together two men deeply in love and their journey to find a daughter to make their family complete. Here is the synopsis:

 

This pre-Raphaelite picture book is a remarkable contribution to the canon of books for the young children of same-sex parents. King Phillip and his husband, Don Carlos, live contentedly for decades until the king is called to the Hero’s Journey to earn a baby girl to complete their family.

 

This book was incredible to read. Including a modern day tale that brings the love and inclusivity of the LGBTQ community to the forefront and allows parents in that community to feel like they have a story to read to their children that will reflect their own lives, this story showcases not only a strong LGBTQ couple in a fairy tale, but also does a wonderful job of highlighting the struggle all parents go through to have and keep safe their children. The story is beautifully illustrated and brings a classical feel to the story itself. It’s positive message and beautiful artwork make this a one of a kind read.

Overall I loved the book. While a short read and a children’s story, the simple story held a fantastic theme and message that parents will be able to read between the lines of and express the amazing message to their children. In a time when politics and hatred can be overwhelming, a story like All Is Assuredly Well is exactly what will bring families out of that darkness and into the light once more. A story of love, hope and the true meaning of family, authors Professor Gore and Maestro Wilson did a phenomenal job of crafting and weaving a one of a kind fairy tale that parents need to have in their lives, and illustrator Angela F.M. Trotter did a wonderful job bringing that story and vision to life. Be sure to pick up your copy of All Is Assuredly Well in print and eBook formats today!

 

Rating: 10/10

 

Professor Gore & Maestro Wilson’s

WOW! WOMEN ON WRITING TOUR

OF

All is Assuredly Well

 

Book Summary


King Phillip the Good and his husband, The Most Excellent Don Carlos Emiliano Felipe de Compañero y Campañero, live sedate, uneventful lives until King Phillip dreams of having a baby girl. Structured around The Hero’s Journey, King Phillip must follow his mentor, the Blue Star, and encounter allies (a newt and a bluejay) and overcome gatekeepers (a biting fish and a bear) as he completes a series of tasks to prove himself worthy of becoming a father. Once proven, the Blue Star presents him with a baby girl in the middle of a fairy circle of a thousand different flowers in a thousand brilliant hues.  He returns home to present Baby Milliflora to his husband, and the loving husbands joyfully become loving fathers.

Genre: Children’s Books

Publisher: Camille Lancaster Literary Children’s Books

ISBN: 978-0-9998880-0-1

 

All is Assuredly Well is available as an ebook and print at Amazon.com.

 

About the author, Professor Gore

professorgore

Professor M. C. Gore holds the doctorate in education from the University of Arkansas.  She taught first grade through graduate school for 36 years in New Mexico, Missouri, and Texas.    She was a professional horse wrangler and wilderness guide and continues to play clarinet in two community bands.  She is Professor Emeritus from Midwestern State University in Wichita Falls, Texas where she held two distinguished professorships. Her books for teachers and parents are shelved in over a thousand libraries throughout the world.  She is retired and lives in Hot Springs Village, Arkansas.

 

About the Author, Maestro Wilson

maestrophillip

Maestro Phillip Wilson was a public-school band director, music teacher, composer, and arranger for 28 years.  His primary instrument is the trumpet, and he is also a campañero (bell ringer). Although he is over 80, he continues to serve as Music Director and Cantor at his church.   He is a life-long resident of New Mexico and was born in Santa Fe. Although his genotype is Dutch and Scotch-Irish, his soul is Hispanic.  He was Professor Gore’s music teacher and band director, and although the loving biological father of seven musical children, he is a soul-father of the hundreds of students he has taught.

 

About the Illustrator, Angie F. M. Trotter

illustratorangie

Artist Angie F. M. Trotter holds a BA in Religion and Fine Art. Her pen and ink illustrations are a fusion of icons, illuminated manuscripts, stained glass window design, and her spiritual life. She is also a chronic migraine suffer and her art helps calm her symptoms. Her mother was a folk artist; her father was an architect and fine artist, so she has been surrounded by art her whole life. Her work has been compared to the masters of the Golden Age of British book illustration.  She lives in Arkansas.

  

You can find more about All is Assuredly Well and the authors and the illustrator online:

 

www.AllisAssuredlyWell.com

 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/All-is-Assuredly-Well-355497344947289/

 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AssuredlyWell

 

Now for the part you’ve been waiting for. This novel was incredible to read, and I want to share it with you all. That’s why thanks to the incredible contribution and generosity of the authors and WOW Tour, we have a free print copy of the book available for one of you guys. In order to be eligible for this giveaway, all you have to do is share this post, follow @AssuredlyWell and @AuthorAAvina on Twitter, and tweet this post tagging both our accounts and using the hashtag #​AllisAssuredlyWell when you do so. In two weeks time I will choose one person who has tagged us both on Twitter in a post and that person will receive a free print copy of the book. This giveaway is limited to US citizens only. Thanks everyone, and I look forward to announcing the winner within the next two weeks.

Release Day: Caledonia Destiny by Lexi Ander

http://www.lexiander.com/index.htmlIt’s release day for Lexi Ander’s new MM historical fantasy/paranormal book, Caledonia Destiny:

A twist of fate changed both their destinies.

The wyrbears, once a long-lived species, were being lost to the forest in their prime. A people borne of a curse, their abilities not a gift but something wrongly taken, they nonetheless live in harmony with their animal spirits. But over time the curse they lived under changed, mutated, and now what once was a refuge from the world when they became too weary is culling mathan in their prime.

Ewen mhic Friscalach, the leader of his peoples, lost his father too early and is now a widower with four children. The vow he made as a youth to break the curse afflicting wyrbears has been buried by grief and responsibility.

Roi mhic Alric, a priest of Cerridwen and seer, watched his fellow priests slaughtered and his temple desecrated. The only thing that kept him going the last three horror-filled years was the vision Cerridwen had granted him of his emancipation. If freedom came at the cost of his life, well, he was more than ready for the Otherworld.

A fated meeting upon a bloody field of battle. A wrong done long ago. Their choices could save a people… or send them into extinction. Either way, their love will be legend.

Caledonia Destiny started out as 31k short story that had a happy for now ending. Now, years later, I have rewritten and expanded the original to 111k.

Buy Links Coming Soon


Giveaway

Lexi is giving away three $10 Amazon gift cards with this tour – for a chance to win, enter via Rafflecopter:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d4717/?


Excerpt

The next morn Ewen rose early and stoked the fire. Roi wandered into the forest to release his water. When he returned, Ewen bade him sit atop the furs. With an unsure countenance, Roi sat and watched Ewen approach with a wary eye. Ewen took Roi’s hand and used the warm, wet linen to wash it. He rinsed the cloth in the crock of water and repeated the motions with the other hand, gently touching the abraded flesh and each of the scabs where Roi had injured himself climbing the tree.

The camp was utterly quiet as he administered to Roi afore the gazes of his kin. He did not glance into Roi’s eyes until he took the cloth to Roi’s face, cleansing the dust of the road from Roi’s forehead and cheeks. Roi’s eyes were large and round with his confusion, but he did not stay Ewen’s hand which gave Ewen hope. He unlaced Roi’s boots and pulled them from his feet and began to wash them as well. He had not imagined he would be so nervous declaring his intentions in front of his kinsmen, but this moment was important, mayhap the most important declaration Ewen would make in his lifetime.

“Roi mhic Alric, I, Ewen mhic Friscalach, would have it known that I hereby put forth afore my kinsmen my petition to court you. I humbly ask that you consider my request and if you accept, allow no other to court you until the time you decide either to accept my hand or decline it.”

Roi turned pale as milk. Apprehension pooled in Ewen’s gut as he awaited for Roi to shun him. He deserved no less for what he had done, avoiding Roi only to succumb to his desires, waking Roi from sleep to beg Roi to touch him. Whilst Roi spoke truth, Ewen had bestowed upon him harsh words instead of Ewen’s own truth in return. He should have confided in Roi, given him the story of his people’s lineage. Roi’s lack of faith in Ewen might yet be Ewen’s own doing.

Roi placed his hand over Ewen’s where he washed the dirt from Roi’s feet. “Ye be of noble blood, ye do not have to do this.”

He captured Roi’s hand betwixt his palms. “Then tell me how to win back your trust.” Roi’s visage hardened, but not afore Ewen beheld the brief flame of longing in Roi’s eyes. “I shall find a way back into your confidence, Roi, and when I do, you shall never have reason to throw me out again.”

After placing Roi’s hand in his lap, Ewen returned to cleansing his feet, then slipped his boots over his calves and carefully laced them up. Ewen had brought over a square of knotted linen, which he gave to Roi afore he rose to his feet with the crock of dirty water. Roi untied the cloth and stared down at the food Ewen had gathered for him. The offering was not much: the last piece of flat bread, some pine nuts, and the best slices of their dried meat.

Donn grinned and nodded as Ewen passed by on his way to the stream to rinse out the crock. Kneeling at the edge of the water, Ewen then splashed the cold water onto his face, growling at the way his hands trembled.

Bear chuffed with mirth. “Good.”

With that one single word, Bear soothed Ewen’s frayed nerves. For the first time that he could recall, Bear rubbed gently against his skin as if to console him. Crouched at the water’s edge, Ewen held still in shock, able to sense Bear’s emotions without Bear saying the words. When Roi was with them, Bear came alive, naught showing of the violent creature Granda had warned Ewen of. Bear now spoke to, and even interacted with Ewen, all thanks to Roi. Ewen wiped the dripping water from his face with a new clarity.

“Ewen.” He glanced over his shoulder to behold Roi standing at the edge of the trees. Anger still pinched the corners of Roi’s lips but his hands twisted with uncertainty. “I shall not allow another to court—” his brows dipped into a hard V as if he could hardly believe his own words “—me until I either decline or accept yer… yer…” He huffed. “I know not what ye be thinking courting a man, Ewen. Everything ye do confounds me no end, and my mind counsels me to leave ye be but—” Roi rubbed at his left breast, his palm pressing into his chest as if he attempted to soothe an ache “—I find I cannot deny yer request, regardless of how unseemly it be. I never thought ye to be a daft man afore.” The last was said under Roi’s breath.

“I thought you would deny me,” Ewen confessed.

“Yer declaration caught me off guard, and when ye walked away without waiting for my answer I found meself at the mercy of others who vied for my attention. Ye have much to explain, Ewen. No others be as accepting as yer people.” Roi shook his head in a disbelieving manner afore turning to leave, moving around the four men who had followed him to the stream.

Donn, Arailt, and two other cousins watched Roi go. Bear and Ewen growled. “You heard him. He has agreed to my courtship.” Ewen’s kinsmen dispersed, Donn chuckling into his fist but hurrying away afore Ewen caught him.


Author Bio

Lexi has always been an avid reader, and at a young age started reading (secretly) her mother’s romances (the ones she was told not to touch). She was the only teenager she knew of who would be grounded from reading. Later, with a pencil and a note book, she wrote her own stories and shared them with friends because she loved to see their reactions. A Texas transplant, Lexi now kicks her boots up in the Midwest with her Yankee husband and her eighty-pound puppies named after vacuum cleaners.

Author Website: http://www.lexiander.com/index.html

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/lexi.ander.9

Author Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/LexiAnder1

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6521302.Lexi_Ander

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/lexi-ander/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Lexi-Ander/e/B009PT22GM/

 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FBLCD6G/

Payhip: https://payhip.com/LexiAnder

Books2Read Universal Link: https://www.books2read.com/u/mVBaVM

Blog Tour: Mourning Dove by Claire Fullerton (Excerpt)

Hi there everyone!

I am excited to share with you today an exclusive excerpt for author Claire Fullerton’s novel Mourning Dove.

About Mourning Dove:

Mourning Dove Cover

“An accurate and heart-wrenching picture of the sensibilities of the American South.” Kirkus Book Reviews

The heart has a home when it has an ally.
If Millie Crossan doesn’t know anything else, she knows this one truth simply because her brother Finley grew up beside her. Charismatic Finley, eighteen months her senior, becomes Millie’s guide when their mother Posey leaves their father and moves her children from Minnesota to Memphis shortly after Millie’s tenth birthday.

Memphis is a world foreign to Millie and Finley. This is the 1970s Memphis, the genteel world of their mother’s upbringing and vastly different from anything they’ve ever known. Here they are the outsiders. Here, they only have each other. And here, as the years fold over themselves, they mature in a manicured Southern culture where they learn firsthand that much of what glitters isn’t gold. Nuance, tradition, and Southern eccentrics flavor Millie and Finley’s world as they find their way to belonging.

But what hidden variables take their shared history to leave both brother and sister at such disparate ends?

And now here is an exclusive excerpt from the novel:

In winter, Finley tried out for the Woodhill Country Club hockey team because Dad, in his day, had played a regionally lauded center.

One good look at the eight-year-old Finley, and anybody would have said he didn’t have the stature for a contact sport. But Dad took Finley seriously and shepherded us to the rink, where he coached Finley into membership while I skated figure eight into arabesque. Mom had no interest in skating but she loved standing on the ice socializing in her fabulous full-length beaver coat, deeply engaged in gossiping, which was the only contact sport that ever truly held her attention. Chuck Dudley was part of the parents’ crowd that stood on the ice unshielded in Minnesota’s ungodly winter temperatures.

The grown-ups huddled in a cluster, drinking Schnapps from plastic glasses after smearing Vaseline on their children’s faces to abate the whipping wind. I didn’t like Chuck Dudley from the first moment I saw him. There was something smarmy about him, something slick, wormy, lax-muscled, and weak-shouldered, but my mother sure liked him.

I couldn’t tell why.

He had a mousy wife he ignored and a nine-year-old son named Derrick, who was just as unsavory as he. The attention Chuck Dudley slathered on my mother made me uneasy, yet for some reason it made her shine. She became animated in his presence, laughing and charming and fluid, as if Chuck were the most captivating person in the world. Every time we went to Woodhill, Chuck was there laughing and grinning with his big white teeth and blond receding hairline.

The women at Woodhill vied for his attention because they subliminally subscribed to his self-image, which he cast about like a net designed to ensnare. Chuck Dudley got my mother’s competitive nature riled, and it was clear he had his sights set on her now that his three-year affair with Sandra Hardwicke had ended. He’d preen and strut under my mother’s encouragement, and they flattered each other’s vanity like pleasure-seekers in need of a high.

I didn’t know if Finley intended it or not. I didn’t know if he presciently intuited disruption brewing and wanted to rail against it, or if Derrick Dudley was just a pansy in the wrong place at the wrong time. I leaned down to tie my skate laces. When I looked up, I saw Derrick on his back, crying and bleeding from his forehead, with Finley at a T-stop standing over him wearing a scowl.

Even though they were on the same team, Finley had managed to head-butt Derrick with an impact that started on the ice, landed in the hospital, and wove its way into the fabric of our lives.

About the Author:

I’ve always known I’m a story teller. Having been born in Wayzata, Minnesota (the homeland of my father) and transplanted at the age of ten to Memphis, Tennessee (the homeland of my mother,) I learned early that the art of observation can be an acclimating life saver.  My mother told me that as a child, I would sit and watch people. I was thirty years old the first time she said this, then she added,“You still do.” If what is known as “the writer’s eye” is the ability to see the world from the outside in, then I am happily guilty.

Although I now live in Malibu, California, I’ll always consider myself a Southerner: a card carrying member of the last romantic culture on earth. When I was growing up, Memphis was a hot-bed of social and cultural change. In this atmosphere, I embraced popular music, for the city that sits on the bluff of the Mississippi is a musical mecca, and I wanted to be in its middle.  I found my niche in music radio as a member of the on-air staff of five different stations, during a nine year career.

Music radio led me to the music business, and the music business led me to Los Angeles, where I worked for three years as an a1rtist’s representative, securing record deals for bands. From Los Angeles, I took a trip to the west coast of Ireland and ended up staying a full year. An uncanny twist of fate directed me back to Los Angeles, where unbeknownst to me, my future husband waited. Three weeks after my return to the United States, I reviewed the journal I kept, while living in Ireland, and knew I had a good story. I started the draft of what became my second published novel, but years intervened between its beginning and publication.

During those years, I wrote a creative, weekly column for The Malibu Surfside News, and submitted to writing contests and magazines as I focused on developing my craft.  I wrote a paranormal mystery about a woman who suspects she has lived before, and titled it A Portal in Time. Vinspire Publishing published the book, so I decided to show them the manuscript of my Irish novel. Vinspire Publishing published it under the title Dancing to an Irish Reel the following year.

My third novel is titled Mourning Dove. It’s a sins-of-the-father, Southern Family Saga, set in 1970’s and 1980’s Memphis, and  I’m thrilled to report that Firefly Southern Fiction will publish it in June of 2018.

I love the lifestyle that writing affords. I write daily, on one project or another, and like many writers, I have an inexplicable urge to interpret the world around me, in hopes that readers will not only be entertained and have something to think about, but be able to see themselves.

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