Jul 22, 2014

Quest of the Artisan by Donna Hosie

THE CHILDREN OF CAMELOT series continues in...

Six months ago, seventeen-year-old Rustin Hall thought he knew what he wanted. Then he travelled back in time with his best friend, Mila, to the world of Camelot, knights and magic, and everything changed.

Now Rustin is the artisan, and he knows his future because it's written in the past.

But Rustin's plan to build the first temple for the Gorian druids is cut down like the trees he talks to when the Round Table reveals the name of the newest knight of Camelot: a name that carves fear and unrest into the other knights. With Mila now in danger, Rustin, along with his friends, James and Jalaya, goes on a quest to find her before a new malevolent evil gets there first. A necromancer is building an army of the dead, and they are coming for Arthur's daughter.

Rustin will join forces with a young would-be knight called Galahad, as his quest takes him into the very heart of the Arthurian legends he grew up reading. A quest that could be the end of the artisan's life, not just in Logres, but for good.

Due for release 2015.

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Donna-Hosie/e/B00A49AN7M/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Check out the first in the series!

Jul 20, 2014



Part I Daybreak
Part II - Vacant

The evening air began to cool her skin as it was ushered across the bare earth, a light breath compared to the humidity that seemed to be building the past few days.  She looked to where Channer stood, talking to some old woman, helping her set up chairs for prayer.  He had become surprisingly gaunt in the few days they had roamed the hills, searching for anything, as though the anxiety that shone like fever in his eyes was consuming him from the inside.  Or maybe everything was so empty and dark and heavy with sorrow she had forgotten what things used to be.

The bell for prayer clanged discordantly in the distance making her frown.  Staring back up the hill she threw her feet under her, scrambling up the slick grass towards the frantic crowd in time to hear a sharp crack as it tore through the silence of the valley, echoing like an old rifle before it was drowned out by screams.  People ran frantically, as she struggled to where she had last spotted Channer, almost collapsing as a wave of nausea hit her like lead.

-   -   -

A rosy pool soaked through the abdomen of the old woman's dress as she lay in shock, holding onto Channer as he desperately tried to save her, preparing to haul her into his arms and carry her from the open.

"Boy..." He froze in the face of her glassy eyed stare as she raised a hand painted scarlet. "It's time for prayer."  Chest heaving he couldn't process her words, she had been as sceptical of false hope as he had, her keen eyes assessing every person like a patient rather than committing to wishful thinking.  Propping her up against a dusted chair he watched her slump, those same hopeless tears he had seen too much of falling through his fingers as he brushed the dirt from her face, and saw through the growing fear how young she truly was.

Looking up he saw Madison, rooted to the ground with her eyes fixed on the dying woman, shaking with each bullet that ripped through the air.  Leaping up he grabbed her arm, ignoring her horror as she tried to pull away from his blood soaked hands, and dragging her to a sprint.  He wouldn't let her stop until the night was so deep and their legs so tired they were stumbling mindlessly across uprooted trees.  Eventually the adrenaline and fear wore off and and sense set in.

"We should rest Madi," he said hoarsely, his voice sounding too harsh after hours of silence.  She merely shook her head, pushing away his arms and stumbling forward.  Concerned he reached for her again, worry building as she began crying out in breathless gasps that seemed to rip from her lungs.  Again she pushed away, picking up pace as she tripped further into the woods until he pinned her down.  "Are you okay Madi? Talk to me!" he yelled as she continued to struggle, both brimming with frustration.

"Did they die like that?" she screamed. 

He let her go, taken aback, stuttering under the face of her anger.  "What?"

"How did they die Channer?" she accused, advancing upon him until she could see the whites of his eyes through the terrifying darkness.  "How did my family die?" she whispered.

cliff hanging is an extreme sport,
from sjp

Jul 9, 2014

Book Blast: Vortex by S.J.Kincaid

The impossible was just the beginning. 

Now in their second year as superhuman government weapons-in-training at the Pentagonal Spire, Tom Raines and his friends are mid-level cadets in the elite combat corps known as the Intrasolar Forces. But as training intensifies and a moment arrives that could make or break his entire career, Tom’s loyalties are again put to the test. 

Encouraged to betray his ideals and friendships for the sake of his country, Tom is convinced there must be another way. And the more aware he becomes of the corruption surrounding him, the more determined he becomes to fight it, even if he sabotages his own future in the process.
Drawn into a power struggle more dramatic than he has ever faced before, Tom stays a hyper intelligent step ahead of everyone, like the exceptional gamer he is—or so he believes. But when he learns that he and his friends have unwittingly made the most grievous error imaginable, Tom must find a way to outwit an enemy so nefarious that victory seems hopeless. 

Will his idealism and bravado cost him everything—and everyone that matters to him?

Filled with action and intelligence, camaraderie and humour, the second book in S.J. Kincaid’s futuristic World War III Insignia trilogy continues to explore fascinating and timely questions about power, politics, technology, loyalty, and friendship.

S.J. Kincaid was born in Alabama, grew up in California, and attended high school in New Hampshire, but it was while living beside a haunted graveyard in Scotland, that she realized that she wanted to be a writer. Her debut, Insignia, came out in July of 2012. The second book in the series, Vortex came out in July of 2013. The final book in the INSIGNIA trilogy will come out in Fall of 2014.

TWITTER: @SJKincaidBooks

Giveaway is open Internationally | Must be 13+ to Enter

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Jun 23, 2014


When you're so overwhelmed,
the story leads you to solace.

The salt air stung as the wind tore down the coast, storm driven currents being sent by the Mother from the churning depths of the ocean to the arid clouds of the desert of the Father. Two heartless expanses colliding with one another, neither willing to give way. So many saw the shoreline as a saviour, only to learn too late the treachery she hid below the surface. To tempt either element is to throw your life to their perils. Can you swim against the waves? Or walk through a sandstorm? The coast was where life was abandoned, and only the winds survived all, carrying the fury of each into the other, until all you heard were the crushing roars of the Father and the Mother.

This was just another part of Brutask that terrified him.

He had been there once, and once was all it took to learn that lesson; the screams never let him forget it. The furious foaming salt clawing at you, turning your legs to lead, filling your lungs until you choked, gasping for air, strangling your voice, dragging you under and tossing you about like the putrid sea grasses that reached for you with their ghostly fingers.

He stood on the pier, clutching the railing until splinters bit into his fingers, the salt air already drawing bile to his throat. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard until he could breathe again.  It didn't matter that they would be sailing a different ocean, far from the desert coast, the waters were just as dangerous.  Just keep your eyes on the horizon, follow the sun, one day and one night, just a short trip... He felt her presence behind him, those eyes burning into him.

"Stop. Evelyn." He muttered through gritted teeth, turning from the railing to face her as she quickly cast her eyes down.  He sighed in exasperation, she was never quick to back down, unless she knew something he didn't.  "I would rather not know if I am to drown on this trip."  Her eyes flickered back to his face; they both knew he was lying.

"You will be fine," she told him sternly, the usual bravado coming back into her features as she smirked at him. "Lug this for me will you?" She added, lifting a crate. He gave her a small smile, the crate was not important, but it gave his shaking hands something to do, and for that he did thank her.

A short trip, he repeated to himself, just around the point. He stared up at the large sails, holding his breath as they walked up the plank, joining Kai on deck as the crew finished loading.  His face appeared stern as he oversaw the preparations but they knew the elation he suppressed over the chance to leave the mountains.

"You are very pale," Kai stated, concern burrowing into his brow with a slight frown as he fiddled with his gloves absentmindedly.

"That's because every muscle is screaming at me to get off this damned boat."  He tried at a light hearted laugh but fell short, and Kai's concern continued to follow him as he headed below deck.  He knew he hated to be kept in the dark, but Damon did not feel in the spirit of describing another tale where he had cost people their lives.

His path was shrouded in just as much death as the coast.

never trust the waves,
from sjp

Jun 4, 2014




I swear every Tuesday I think man, that was a real insecurity, it will be great for this months instalment, but it's only Tuesday, better save it for Wednesday... and then totally forget until I see all the IWSG posts popping up.

And by then I'm already feeling better, maybe it's the knowledge that no matter what little thing is niggling away there's a support group out there ready to say don't be ridiculous.  Or maybe I know I'll be able to deal with it, after all it's just an insecurity ;)

Although the last month was slightly stagnant I'm getting back in the habit of fiction, seems every time I hit a wall I just look back at all the bits and pieces of stories around me and think well I have to keep going just look at something and start writing.  Think I'll hold to that write 100 words a day dealio because even though I didn't set strict goals or anything just having it in my mind to write something got quite a few words on the page.

The music writing is picking up too which is good, although I don't do myself many favours always leaving the write ups til the deadline and watching episodes of Adventure Time between each paragraph :S  I just need to find which voice to use; how to share the euphoria of live music to readers.

I worried my last article wasn't good enough, that it was boring and read more like a schedule instead of illustrating the chilled and awesome day the festival was.  That was until friends read it and told me it was a "heaps great read!".

I guess anyone who produces something, especially when it's their hope on the line, are going to seek validation.  Even though I feel like an awkward beginner in a room full of professionals and journalists with "I like bands" written in crayon instead of a list of qualifications, I'm doing it anyway because in the end it's what I love, even if I freak out over every article I send off.

disorderedly yours,
from sjp.
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