The Cometeers by Steven R. Southard
#gypsyshadow #steampunk #armageddon
Showing posts with label series. Show all posts
Showing posts with label series. Show all posts
Monday, September 8, 2014
The Cometeers by Steven R. Southard
NEW RELEASE SEPTEMBER 1, 2014!
#gypsyshadow #steampunk #armageddon
huge comet speeds toward a devastating collision with the Earth, but no one will launch space shuttles filled with nuclear weapons. It’s 1897. Instead, they’ll fire projectiles from the Jules Verne cannon and try to deflect the comet with a gunpowder explosion. Commander Hanno Knighthead isn’t sure he can motivate his argumentative, multinational crew of geniuses to work together. It turns out one of them is a saboteur. Then things get worse. Only a truly extraordinary leader could get this group to cooperate, thwart the saboteur, and jury-rig a way to divert the comet. Lucky thing Hanno brought his chewing gum.
#gypsyshadow #steampunk #armageddon
huge comet speeds toward a devastating collision with the Earth, but no one will launch space shuttles filled with nuclear weapons. It’s 1897. Instead, they’ll fire projectiles from the Jules Verne cannon and try to deflect the comet with a gunpowder explosion. Commander Hanno Knighthead isn’t sure he can motivate his argumentative, multinational crew of geniuses to work together. It turns out one of them is a saboteur. Then things get worse. Only a truly extraordinary leader could get this group to cooperate, thwart the saboteur, and jury-rig a way to divert the comet. Lucky thing Hanno brought his chewing gum.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Marissa's Surprise by Shiloh Darke
NEW RELEASE AUGUST 26!
#gypsyshadow #eroticromance #series
Marissa's Surprise by Shiloh Darke
#gypsyshadow #eroticromance #series
http://www.amazon.com/Marissas-Surprise-Celestial-Abductions-Book-ebook/dp/B00N2HQNU4
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/marissas-surprise-shiloh-darke/1120210366
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/470646
http://www.gypsyshadow.com/Shiloh.html#Marissa
His only chance to help save his world lies in the hands of a human woman. But dare he hope love might bloom between them? Marissa's Surprise by Shiloh Darke. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:
http://www.gypsyshadow.com/Shiloh.html#Marissa
The first time Marissa saw him, she was training for the Olympics in the depths of the Sea. He was there for a moment, then she lost sight of him when he vanished beneath the waves.
Two years later, she has suffered some losses and is only beginning to refocus on her goals. Thoughts of her fleeting meeting with the man from the water still haunt her. When she’s abducted by an alien, she is illogically worried she may never see him again. Little does she know, he’s not from the ocean; he isn’t even from Earth.
Word Count: 18600
Pages to Print: 59
File Format: PDF
Price: $ 3.99 /2.41 /3.02
EXCERPT:
Prologue
Two years prior to when the abductions occurred
Savryk circled the portal, using his powerful tail to gain momentum. The vortex between the sister planets opened only once every few cycles, so his time was limited. The survival of his species depended on the chance that this planet held women whose DNA could be easily modified to enable them to survive within the waters of Meridia.
His brother of blood had undergone the appropriate tests to see if the land-dwelling females here could bear offspring with the Meridia races. Once the seed had taken root in the incubators, he had known the only thing left was to see if the race from Earth ever ventured into the waters of their world.
With one mighty dive, the Merman swam through the portal. The oceans of Earth were similar to the oceans of Meridia. But if the women there never set foot in their water, then Savryk knew he and his brothers of the depths were doomed.
As he swam out of the coral that protected the entrance to his world from prying eyes, he took notice of the creatures who occupied this sister ocean. Almost immediately, a school of dolphins approached him, curious about his existence. He watched them warily a moment, but couldn’t help smiling when they greeted him and joined him on his journey toward the surface of the water.
He could tell by the shallowness of the ocean floor, land was not far away. He couldn’t risk being seen, for obvious reasons: blue tinted skin, along with a tail would be very hard to play off as normal on this world. Luckily, his eyes could see easily at far distances, so he would only need to see if they were swimmers.
As he neared the surface, the dolphins, who bore close resemblance to the creatures his world called Pheldorns, sprang from the ocean, soaring powerfully out of the water and splashing each other as they did. He watched them frolic for a few minutes while he worked up his courage to surface and find out if there were any of what the Slavers referred to as humans, playing in or around the water.
Slowly, he broke through with gentle strokes, only rising above enough to let his eyes see. He stared intently at the sandy beach and the men, women and children who played there. Hope filled him as he saw women and children not only running through the shallows, but also some people, further out, swimming. They lacked the tail that he was able to grow when in water, but they still swam.
He was so excited by his discovery that he didn’t notice the girl until she spoke. “Are you okay? What’s the blue stuff; some kind of sun screen?”
Startled, he turned toward the voice, only to come face to face with the most beautiful female he had ever seen. Her hair, which he’d been told about, was light colored, even when it was wet, and floated in the water around the girl as she moved slowly closer to him. Her eyes were a deep color of blue. He could understand her speech, but he knew she would not understand him if he were to speak, so he remained silent, and simply nodded. If she thought it was sunscreen, maybe he could spend a few more moments in her presence.
She waited for his answer, but when he said nothing, she tried again. “Do you not speak English? I’m surprised to see anyone besides myself out this far from the beach.” She seemed to contemplate him for a moment before her face brightened.
“Are you training for the Olympics too? I have two more years to get ready, and I figure if I can master these waves before then, it’ll improve my time in the pools.” She chattered as he watched her in silent fascination. “I’ve also been working on holding my breath underwater. I’m up to three minutes if I’m swimming and almost six if I’m just hovering.”
When his eyebrow rose in response to her words, she took it to mean he didn’t believe her. “Oh, you think I’m lying, don’t you? Well, here! I’ll show you! Watch!”
~~~
Savryk watched in a mixture of horror and fascination as she pulled what looked to be some kind of protective eye covers over her eyes and took a deep breath before plunging beneath the surface. His eyes widened as he realized he only had a matter of seconds before she knew he was not like her. Panic filled him, but he couldn’t bring himself to abandon her company. Instead, he waited for the hysteria that was bound to overwhelm her. He reasoned with himself that if she passed out from what she discovered, he couldn’t leave her defenseless. She could drown.
She had sunk below the water and began mentally counting. She was good at this. He would have no choice but to believe her when she resurfaced, because he would have witnessed her talent firsthand. She slowly opened her eyes and looked around. The ocean was pretty clear out here and easy to see, as long as you used goggles.
She had her face turned to the side, but she was curious as to whether this man had put the blue sun screen over his entire body. However, when she turned to look at his legs, she found them strangely missing. Instead, there was a large fishtail. At least, that’s what she thought it was. She had heard of people who practiced swimming wearing suits that covered their lower bodies with long back fins that helped to steer their way through the water, but she had never seen one.
Her curiosity got the best of her, and she found herself reaching out to touch the suit. She had to remind herself not to breathe at her discovery. She knew what she felt was most definitely flesh under her touch instead of any kind of waterproof fabric. She stroked the tail for a moment as if trying to wake herself up from what she was afraid was only a delusion.
~~~
When he felt her hand, not only touching his tail but also stoking it, he closed his eyes. He could just take her; claim her for himself and swim through the portal with her in his arms. No one need ever be the wiser. He could claim her, breed her, and they would have children before the end of the Season. The desire to do just that was almost overwhelming.
He stayed stock still, breathing slowly as she seemed to be exploring him. She was being so gentle it was almost a kind of torture to him. She obviously wasn’t really panicking too terribly. He couldn’t imagine she would be spending so much time below the water, touching him if she was truly scared.
He was debating silently with himself when her hand slid slowly across the flesh fold that covered his genitals. Immediately, he felt them stir in response to her touch. Unnerved, he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing her hand and pulling her up.
When she surfaced, he reached out and yanked the goggles off her face, eliciting a startled squeak from her. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? Please forgive me.” She spoke hurriedly, and Savryk shook his head as he found himself unwilling to let her go.
By all rights, she should be screaming and trying to put as much distance from him as she could manage. Instead, here she was apologizing and asking if she had hurt him. He gripped her arms with both his hands and held her closer than he should, but she didn’t seem to mind.
When she finally stopped speaking, she bit her bottom lip and seemed to think over her words before she asked, “Is that real?” Her voice was soft, and Savryk found himself mesmerized by both her beauty and her voice.
He knew she would not understand his words. She did not have the Nanos that had only been in use in his galaxy for a little over the last few centuries. He answered her the only way he could. Nodding his head, he was still reluctant to let her go. She might try to flee and he just couldn’t bear to part with her yet. She was the most amazing creature he had ever seen.
She offered him a shy smile. “My name is Marissa Prince. I love to swim. I’ve been swimming since I was old enough to get in a pool.” Her smile grew and she giggled. “Is this for real? I’m talking to an honest to goodness real life Merman. I must either be dreaming or I’m the luckiest girl in the world!”
Savryk fought an internal battle within himself. He was breathing in the sweet fragrance of her pheromones. It was a unique scent the men of his race could smell only when in the presence of a potential mate. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and swim swiftly back through the portal and claim her as his bride, right now.
The desire to do so almost overwhelmed him, but he fought it as he returned her gaze. She was still too young for him to claim. Even in his own world, it would be forbidden for him to take her as a mate. She was close to reaching maturity, but he knew she was not yet ready.
Unable to stop himself, he reached out and stroked her cheek for a moment. Her eyes held his, and she smiled. Steeling himself, he moved back from her and turned, diving back into the depths of the ocean and making his way swiftly to the portal before he changed his mind and did something he knew would be a violation of everything he believed.
His mind repeated her name over and over in his head; Marissa Prince. He would remember her. If it was at all possible, he would request the Slavers take her when the time came. He was already desperate for her. He had to have her. He’d ask forgiveness later. If he was truly lucky, she would find a way to forgive him.
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Exit Us (Print) by Ben Larken
NEW IN PRINT JULY 1, 2014!
#gypsyshadow #horror #suspense
Winter has come to Railston.
Exit Us; The Pillar Saga, Book II by Ben Larken
#gypsyshadow #horror #suspense
http://www.amazon.com/Exit-The-Pillar-Saga-Book/dp/1619502259 (Print)
http://www.amazon.com/Exit-Us-Pillar-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B00LG6MKFK
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1119886255
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/453879
http://www.gypsyshadow.com/BenLarken.html#ExitUs
Thomas Pillar surfaces to stop a sword-wielding madman bent on igniting a demon apocalypse. Exit Us, Book 2 of The Pillar Saga by Ben Larken. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:
http://www.gypsyshadow.com/BenLarken.html#ExitUs
Winter has come to Railston.
Shattered from the loss of his old life, Thomas Pillar hides, chilled by the past as much as the falling snow. Ross Medford, more media sensation than detective, knows his days as head of the Pillar taskforce are numbered. Both men have hit a standstill—but that’s about to change.
After a failed suicide attempt, Pillar finds himself in the condemned hotel Elysian Falls, living amongst Railston’s homeless. Vagrants are being picked off by a mercurial stranger wielding a sword, their bodies carved with an otherworldly message: EXIT US. No one knows what it means, but Pillar realizes the hunter is searching for something he possesses, a key that will open a doorway to another realm. As Ross and his team draw near, demonic forces clash and a trail of murder blazes through the city—a trail that leads straight to Pillar.
Can Pillar stop a madman obsessed with igniting a demon apocalypse? How can he defeat an opponent who knows more about his purpose than he does? One thing is certain. If Pillar fails, the world may never see another spring.
Word Count: 123700
Pages to Print: 410
Price: $6.99
EXCERPT:
Chapter Three
December
Sunt lacrimae rerum
There are tears for things. Life is tragic.
—Virgil
Sunlight broke over the canyon wall, illuminating the wooden monolith in the center of the rocky plain. Thomas Pillar lay crumpled on his side, his forehead resting uncomfortably on a large stone, three feet from the upright rectangle. His eyes flickered open, unfocused. He stared blankly at the brown door, at its simple frame, at the rusty hinges. Pink light reflected off the knob’s tarnished silver. Everything was quiet here. The wind was a forgotten whisper. Animals were nonexistent. Just the sky and the ground and the door—a land of bare minimums. Sometimes that was comforting. There were times, coming with more frequency lately, when Pillar needed the solitude. He needed to pare away the unnecessary excess and clutter of the world. He needed a place as vast and empty as his soul.
Other times, like now, he longed for something else—when he caught himself wondering what would happen if he opened the door.
He sat up, his arms resting on his knees, facing the door. A single word sat at the edge of his tongue. It had wanted to be uttered for weeks, ever since the thought hit him, but he hadn’t been brave enough. The implications were too ominous. His eyes skipped over the barren crevices and withered walls. He knew it was time. He opened his mouth, trying to overcome the urge to hesitate.
“Charlotte?”
His voice came out small, but he didn’t care. Volume didn’t matter much in this place. “Charlotte, are you in there?”
He waited. Regret seeped into the fringes of his mind. She wasn’t in there. Of course, she wasn’t. Why had he been stupid enough to think—?
“Tom?”
His eyes widened. He scrambled towards the sound. Soon his hands were on the door’s chilly veneer. “Charlotte! I’m here.”
“Tom,” she said. “Oh Tom, where are you? I can’t see anything in here.”
“I’m right here, baby, on the other side of the door. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“God, Tom, where have you been? I’m scared.”
Pillar ran his fingers down the door, seeing her face in his mind. “I know you are. I am, too. I miss you bad.”
Something ran down the other side of the door—fingers. “Tom, let me out. I don’t want to be in the dark anymore.”
He turned his eyes to the old knob, the pink sunlight still beaming off it. His fingers drifted toward it and then stopped.
“Tom,” she whispered, right on the other side. “What’s wrong? Open the door.”
“I—I’m not supposed to.”
“What? Tom, I just want out. You can close the door behind me.”
He rested his forehead against the door, closing his glazed eyes. “If I do, bad things will happen.”
The voice came back wounded. “Do you not want me anymore?”
“Baby, no,” he said, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I want you so much, it hurts. I need you. I’m nothing without you. I’m nobody.”
“Then open the door,” she sobbed. “Let me hold you.”
His fingers drifted again. He looked down and saw them resting on the knob. His jaw clenched. Another tear broke free. “I don’t know what to do, Charlotte. What if something else gets out?”
“There’s nothing else here. But you have to hurry, because they’ll be back soon. Hurry and open the door. I want to feel you against me.”
He was silent, choking on his own emotions. His fingers grazed the knob. All he had to do was add a little more pressure. He could turn it quick, and she’d be here again. Charlotte would be back in his life. He—
“Damn it, Tom,” she cried. “Why won’t you open it? First you shoot me, next you trap me in here. Let me out already!”
He pulled his head back. One thought came to the forefront.
“You’re not Charlotte,” he whispered.
“Tom,” she pleaded, but her voice changed. The light, warm tone he knew so well shifted. It deepened. It gargled. It sounded horrible. “Tom, Tom, Tom,” the slimy voice croaked. “Fucking Tom. Fucking bastard Tom. I’m going to get out of here soon. And when I do, you will feed on your own excrement.”
“Go away,” he said, his voice dwindling. “Leave me alone.”
A raspy laugh came through the cracks. “We’ll never leave you alone, Pillar. Not until you open the door. Turn the knob already.” Something pounded the other side, making the dust fall from the frame and the hinges squeal. Then a second pounding came, booming through the canyon, and he leapt back as the door bent outward.
“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”
Tom’s head jerked up and a cold spasm riveted his body. “No!” he cried, and the word bounced from every direction, sounding like a disapproving parent. For an instant, Tom thought he was still in the canyon. No, he was awake, lying alone in a darkened shower room. The cruel part was he couldn’t tell which place was worse.
He sat up, scrutinizing the shadows. The single grate mounted at the top of the wall across from him, a foot in length, normally remained shut to keep the winter draft out. He staggered to his feet and hobbled to it, opening the slats. Gray sunlight filtered in, reflecting off the intricate tile work. His face hovered close to the grate, basking in the achromatic light.
Everything’s okay. The canyon isn’t real. Only a dream, something constructed out of subconscious fears. The words ran through his head like a mantra. It was. He thought the same thing every morning.
He turned from the grate as another tear dripped to the floor. He touched his face, smearing the wet lines on his dusty cheeks. He had been crying again. His hand dropped to his side, and he straightened his back, glancing at the ten showerheads surrounding him like vultures. He stood in the center of them, ignoring the biting wind that flowed through the grate. A chill wrenched his insides, along with the realization that had circled every thought and emotion for weeks.
“I’m going to die,” he whispered, glancing at each of the showerheads like they might talk back. “I’m going to—find Charlotte.”
Saturday, July 12, 2014
The GHOST Group, Books 1 & 2 by Dawn Colclasure
NEW IN PRINT, JULY 1, 2014!
#gypsyshadow #paranormal #middlegrade
There’s something different about Sarah Town. It’s brimming with ghosts—and some of those ghosts need help! That’s where the GHOST Group comes in—the Ghost Helpers of Sarah Town. The GHOST Group is made up of five 11-year-old team members: Jesse, Jenny, Ryan, Trent, and Cassie.
The GHOST Group, Books 1 & 2 by Dawn Colclasure
#gypsyshadow #paranormal #middlegrade
http://www.amazon.com/Ghost-Group-Books-Dawn-Colclasure/dp/1619502097 (Print)
http://www.amazon.com/The-GHOST-Group-Book-Two-ebook/dp/B00K2F48T2
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-ghost-group-2-dawn-colclasure/1119395571
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/434199
http://www.gypsyshadow.com/DawnColclasure.html#GHOSTGroup2
Second Book in Middle Grade Paranormal Mystery Series Combines Ghost Dog Story with April Fool Hijinks. The GHOST Group 2 by Dawn Colclasure. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:
http://www.gypsyshadow.com/DawnColclasure.html#GHOSTGroup2
There’s something different about Sarah Town. It’s brimming with ghosts—and some of those ghosts need help! That’s where the GHOST Group comes in—the Ghost Helpers of Sarah Town. The GHOST Group is made up of five 11-year-old team members: Jesse, Jenny, Ryan, Trent, and Cassie.
Four delightful and spooky tales to thrill and delight you:
The Ghost of Sarah Travers
The Ghost of the Crying Valentine
The Ghost of the Irish Setter
The Ghost of the Missing Hiker
EXCERPT:
The Ghost of the Irish Setter
Chapter One
Close Call
If there was one thing that could be said about Deanna Foster, it was this: She was not much of a cook. Jenny winced at the thought, recalling the many times her mother had served something burnt or unrecognizable for dinner. Good thing usually her dad did most of the cooking or they ate takeout. “Not much” was putting it delicately.
Oh, sure, her mom could make toast—when she didn’t burn it. And she could also figure out how to get the microwave to work to nuke something for them to eat—on a good day.
But put her in front of a stove or tell her how to bake something in the oven, and all of a sudden, she turned clueless. You might as well have been trying to explain to her how to perform brain surgery; it was uncharted territory to her.
So of course Jenny had been surprised when she noticed her mother looking through a bunch of cookbooks, searching for some recipe or another. When Jenny noticed what kind of cookbooks they were, it all made sense: Cookbooks for Irish meals.
Irish. Of course. This was March, after all, and the St. Patrick’s Day Festival—a big deal in Sarah Town—was coming up. Every year, her mother made some kind of dish for the St. Patrick’s Day Festival, and every year they all got to read about it in the newspaper the next day when people got sick or had to be rushed to the hospital from food poisoning.
Okay, maybe that last thought was an exaggeration. But, yeah, her mom and cooking just didn’t mesh. Still, her mom was never say die with that kinda thing. Proof: The many sounds of pots and pans clanging together in the kitchen for hours, the occasional screams of frustration or the sounds of crying and praying coming from behind the kitchen door.
Jenny frowned, looking down at the picture she’d been quietly working on the whole time her mom had been in the kitchen. She didn’t try to force herself to do something for the festival that she knew she wasn’t good at; instead, she did something she did know she was good at. She created art.
She held up the poster, admiring the picture she’d made. And it was a pretty good picture, too, she had to admit. She’d written Happy St. Patrick’s Day! in the center, drew a dancing leprechaun under that, then created a shower of shamrocks all over the top, with some of them circling the words in the center of the drawing as they came down around it.
“Ta-da!”
Jenny looked in the direction of the sound as she placed her picture back down on the table.
“I’ve done it!” her mother declared, holding a plate of food in one hand and holding her other hand up as though she were praising the heavens. “Corned beef, cabbage and potatoes! The perfect dish for St. Patrick’s Day!”
Jenny winced. “Yuck. I’ll take Foods I Never Want to Eat for $200, Alex.”
“Well, eat it, anyway,” her mother said, walking over to place the plate of food onto the table in front of her. Jenny swallowed the puke that came rushing to her mouth at the sight of the disgusting food.
“This is the dish I’m making for the St. Patrick’s Day Festival,” her mother said, smiling. “And I need a taste tester.”
Jenny looked up at her. “Hey, Mom, why don’t you ask Dad to taste it for you? He’s the best taste tester in the world!”
Her mother didn’t say anything. All she did was heap that green and brown stuff up on a fork and hold it up to Jenny’s mouth.
Alarm bells screeched in Jenny’s head. Little people in charge of the Tasting Department frantically ran around, trying to control the chaos of impending doom. “Full alert!” one screeched. “Disgusting food about to enter the mouth! Batten down the hatches!”
“Taste it,” her mother encouraged. “Please?”
A knock sounded at the door. Jenny’s mother handed her the fork. “Here. I’ll be right back.” She turned around to walk out of the room.
Jenny made a face as she held the food up in front of her mouth. It smelled almost as bad as it looked! What excuse could she come up with to avoid eating this stuff? Tell her mother she was allergic to brown and green food?
No, that wouldn’t work. She wouldn’t be able to eat hamburgers or bacon in front of her mother again.
Maybe she could pretend the food she inched closer to her mouth was a nice juicy hamburger. Yes, that was it. Just a thick juicy burger with ketchup and lettuce and . . .
“Jenny! Cassie’s here.”
Jenny lowered the fork and let out a huge breath of relief. She hopped off the chair, ran from the table to leave the room, then ran back to where she’d been sitting to look up. “Thank you,” she whispered. She turned to run out of the room again.
“I smell food,” Cassie said, sniffing the air as she walked into Jenny’s house.
Jenny smiled at her friend. “And you just saved me from eating it, too. Mom’s practicing her dish for the St. Patrick’s Day Festival.”
Cassie frowned. “Are you guys Irish?”
Jenny shrugged. “How should I know? But I guess everybody's Irish on St. Patrick’s Day.”
Cassie chuckled. “My house smells like bread. I guess both our moms are making something for the festival.”
“Do you think Ryan’s mom will make anything? I know they are Irish.”
Cassie laughed. “Ryan’s mom isn’t much of a cook. She’ll probably grab something from the bakery. Have you found any new ghost cases for us yet?”
Jenny frowned, shaking her head. “Not yet.”
“Well, maybe something will turnip.” Cassie laughed.
Jenny only shook her head. Why on earth was Cassie bringing up turnips? And why did she use it in a sentence that way?
“Get it? Turnip? Turn up?” Cassie asked. When Jenny only stared at her, Cassie placed her arms on her hips. “Well! We were talking about food!”
Jenny forced a laugh. “Oh, right. I get it. Funny.”
Jenny walked over to the table, ignoring the horrible food still on the plate, and carefully removed her picture as though she were Indiana Jones removing the idol from the pedestal. She hurried away with her creation, a chill racing down her spine as thoughts of a giant ball of corned beef rolling behind her tugged at her mind; she paused until her friend caught up, grabbed Cassie’s hand and pulled her into her bedroom. Only after the threat of eating disgusting food was averted did she turn to Cassie and sigh. “Phew! We’re safe!”
Cassie laughed. “What was that about?”
“You don’t want to know,” Jenny replied, shaking her head. She smiled, remembering her poster. “Check out this poster I made!” She held her creation up for Cassie to see.
Cassie looked it over, her eyes widening. “Wow! That’s pretty good!”
“Thanks,” Jenny said, smiling.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
To Be First/Wheels of Heaven by Steven R. Southard
NEW RELEASE JULY 1, 2014
#gypsyshadow #alternatehistory #fantasy
To Be First/Wheels of Heaven by Steven R. Southard
#gypsyshadow #alternatehistory #fantasy
http://www.amazon.com/First-Wheels-Heaven-What-Wrought-ebook/dp/B00LFW9V4S
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/to-be-first-and-wheels-of-heaven-steven-r-southard/1119886258
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/453881
http://www.gypsyshadow.com/StevenSouthard.html#ToBeFirst
Twin tales of legend and fact—Ottoman space voyagers from an alternate universe, and the truth about an ancient Greek cosmic prediction machine. To Be First/Wheels of Heaven by Steven R. Southard. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:
http://www.gypsyshadow.com/StevenSouthard.html#ToBeFirst
Two intriguing historical tales packaged together! “To Be First” follows two space voyagers from an alternate universe as they return from the moon, in 1933. In their timeline, manned rocketry began in the Ottoman Empire, which advanced and spread. When these Ottoman lunanauts end up orbiting our comparatively backward world, they have a choice to make, one that will forever change their future and ours. In “Wheels of Heaven,” an arrogant Roman astrologer finds a geared Grecian machine for predicting the positions of celestial bodies. On the voyage back to Rome, he meets a sailor who dismisses astrology, an astonishing notion in 86 B.C. But when the sailor's prediction is right, and every one of the astrologer's is wrong, he must question his most basic beliefs.
Word Count: 10350
Pages to Print: 37
Price: $3.99
EXCERPT:
Wheels of Heaven
Athens, 86 B.C.
The star-signs decreed it an ordinary day for routine matters, but when Drusus Praesentius Viator saw the box, he knew his world had changed.
“What is this device?” General Lucius Cornelius Sulla stood nearby with arms crossed. “Something related to your craft?” After conquering Athens, the General and his officers were inspecting the art and treasures of the Greek city-state, selecting items to send to Rome.
Viator, the General’s personal Astrologer, turned his gaze back to the box with his good right eye. A patch covered the left one.
The small wooden box sat on a waist-high pedestal, looking dull and ugly among the museum’s bronze statues, marble sculptures, and ceramic urns. Looking around at the Grecian artwork, Viator wondered how some of the museum’s delicate pieces would remain undamaged after being lifted onto carts, pulled by draft animals over rutted roads, and unloaded at Rome.
“Well?” Sulla asked. “I can’t spend a whole day on this matter.” The port wine stain birthmark on his face made him look angry even when he wasn’t, and he rarely wasn’t.
“I’ve heard of such machines, my liege, but never seen one,” said Viator, and never imagined they could be this small. The box stood no taller than the length of a man’s forearm, about as wide as a man’s hand was long, and one hand-width deep. A large metal dial with a projecting handle adorned the front face. Two similar dials dominated the back side, one above the other. Grecian inscriptions covered all sides of the wooden box and all three dials. No doubt the General saw the star and zodiac symbols and sent for me.
The machine’s dials showed a date in the Grecian Calendar, which Viator converted to the Roman equivalent, the Nones of Quintilis. He touched the handle and found it turned with ease. When he did so, concentric outer wheels turned as well, as did dials on the back of the box. “I think it is a device for showing the positions of stars, sun, and moon for any date.”
“Would it be of any use to you?” asked the General in an impatient tone.
“Yes,” Viator said. He didn’t want to sound too eager, but feared Sulla was losing interest and would turn to other matters. He gazed at the box with increased admiration for Greek mechanical skill. If this machine was accurate, it would save countless hours of computation time. “I believe it is worth further study.”
“Fine.” The General walked away and spoke to one of his men. “Have the box loaded aboard ship with the artwork and other treasures. The Astrologer will sail with the machine to Rome.”
Viator decided he would test the mechanism, see if it truly indicated celestial positions, and then—
Sail? Aboard . . . ship? Viator looked up at the receding General and his officers. “Wait! General! My liege!”
****
Viator’s heart sank when he arrived at the Piraeus quay, just southwest of Athens, and saw the tiny ship he would ride. Even just thinking how such a craft would roll in the waves brought on a pang of nausea.
He’d been given no chance to avoid this trip. General Sulla had ignored his pleas and his caution that the General should not march with his army all the way to Rome without the services of his astrologer. Years before, Viator had ridden a warship and well recalled getting seasick, but telling the General even this failed to reverse the decision.
He boarded, along with one of Sulla’s officers, the Decurion known as Metunus. Metunus supervised the loading of cargo, including Grecian artwork and the celestial prediction machine, into a hold beneath the main deck.
From Viator’s limited experience with vessels, this one looked odd. In contrast to the warship he’d once had the misfortune of riding, this ship held no oarsmen. Only sails moved her along. Even odder, a huge, wooden replica of the graceful neck and head of a swan jutted upward from the stern deck. Twice the height of a man, this white-painted swan gazed aft at the ship’s wake.
“Welcome aboard the Prospectus,” said an old man who came up to him. “You must be the Astrologer they told me about. I’m the ship’s captain.” Except for his pinched and wizened face, he could have been Neptune himself, complete with flowing, gray hair.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Exit Us; The Pillar Saga, Book II by Ben Larken
NEW RELEASE JULY 1, 2014!
#gypsyshadow #horror #suspense
Exit Us by Ben Larken
#gypsyshadow #horror #suspense
http://www.amazon.com/Exit-The-Pillar-Saga-Book/dp/1619502259 (Print)
http://www.amazon.com/Exit-Us-Pillar-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B00LG6MKFK
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1119886255
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/453879
http://www.gypsyshadow.com/BenLarken.html#ExitUs
Thomas Pillar surfaces to stop a sword-wielding madman bent on igniting a demon apocalypse. Exit Us, Book 2 of The Pillar Saga by Ben Larken. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:
http://www.gypsyshadow.com/BenLarken.html#ExitUs
Winter has come to Railston.
Shattered from the loss of his old life, Thomas Pillar hides, chilled by the past as much as the falling snow. Ross Medford, more media sensation than detective, knows his days as head of the Pillar taskforce are numbered. Both men have hit a standstill—but that’s about to change.
After a failed suicide attempt, Pillar finds himself in the condemned hotel Elysian Falls, living amongst Railston’s homeless. Vagrants are being picked off by a mercurial stranger wielding a sword, their bodies carved with an otherworldly message: EXIT US. No one knows what it means, but Pillar realizes the hunter is searching for something he possesses, a key that will open a doorway to another realm. As Ross and his team draw near, demonic forces clash and a trail of murder blazes through the city—a trail that leads straight to Pillar.
Can Pillar stop a madman obsessed with igniting a demon apocalypse? How can he defeat an opponent who knows more about his purpose than he does? One thing is certain. If Pillar fails, the world may never see another spring.
Word Count: 123700
Pages to Print: 410
Price: $6.99
EXCERPT:
Chapter Three
December
Sunt lacrimae rerum
There are tears for things. Life is tragic.
—Virgil
Sunlight broke over the canyon wall, illuminating the wooden monolith in the center of the rocky plain. Thomas Pillar lay crumpled on his side, his forehead resting uncomfortably on a large stone, three feet from the upright rectangle. His eyes flickered open, unfocused. He stared blankly at the brown door, at its simple frame, at the rusty hinges. Pink light reflected off the knob’s tarnished silver. Everything was quiet here. The wind was a forgotten whisper. Animals were nonexistent. Just the sky and the ground and the door—a land of bare minimums. Sometimes that was comforting. There were times, coming with more frequency lately, when Pillar needed the solitude. He needed to pare away the unnecessary excess and clutter of the world. He needed a place as vast and empty as his soul.
Other times, like now, he longed for something else—when he caught himself wondering what would happen if he opened the door.
He sat up, his arms resting on his knees, facing the door. A single word sat at the edge of his tongue. It had wanted to be uttered for weeks, ever since the thought hit him, but he hadn’t been brave enough. The implications were too ominous. His eyes skipped over the barren crevices and withered walls. He knew it was time. He opened his mouth, trying to overcome the urge to hesitate.
“Charlotte?”
His voice came out small, but he didn’t care. Volume didn’t matter much in this place. “Charlotte, are you in there?”
He waited. Regret seeped into the fringes of his mind. She wasn’t in there. Of course, she wasn’t. Why had he been stupid enough to think—?
“Tom?”
His eyes widened. He scrambled towards the sound. Soon his hands were on the door’s chilly veneer. “Charlotte! I’m here.”
“Tom,” she said. “Oh Tom, where are you? I can’t see anything in here.”
“I’m right here, baby, on the other side of the door. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“God, Tom, where have you been? I’m scared.”
Pillar ran his fingers down the door, seeing her face in his mind. “I know you are. I am, too. I miss you bad.”
Something ran down the other side of the door—fingers. “Tom, let me out. I don’t want to be in the dark anymore.”
He turned his eyes to the old knob, the pink sunlight still beaming off it. His fingers drifted toward it and then stopped.
“Tom,” she whispered, right on the other side. “What’s wrong? Open the door.”
“I—I’m not supposed to.”
“What? Tom, I just want out. You can close the door behind me.”
He rested his forehead against the door, closing his glazed eyes. “If I do, bad things will happen.”
The voice came back wounded. “Do you not want me anymore?”
“Baby, no,” he said, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I want you so much, it hurts. I need you. I’m nothing without you. I’m nobody.”
“Then open the door,” she sobbed. “Let me hold you.”
His fingers drifted again. He looked down and saw them resting on the knob. His jaw clenched. Another tear broke free. “I don’t know what to do, Charlotte. What if something else gets out?”
“There’s nothing else here. But you have to hurry, because they’ll be back soon. Hurry and open the door. I want to feel you against me.”
He was silent, choking on his own emotions. His fingers grazed the knob. All he had to do was add a little more pressure. He could turn it quick, and she’d be here again. Charlotte would be back in his life. He—
“Damn it, Tom,” she cried. “Why won’t you open it? First you shoot me, next you trap me in here. Let me out already!”
He pulled his head back. One thought came to the forefront.
“You’re not Charlotte,” he whispered.
“Tom,” she pleaded, but her voice changed. The light, warm tone he knew so well shifted. It deepened. It gargled. It sounded horrible. “Tom, Tom, Tom,” the slimy voice croaked. “Fucking Tom. Fucking bastard Tom. I’m going to get out of here soon. And when I do, you will feed on your own excrement.”
“Go away,” he said, his voice dwindling. “Leave me alone.”
A raspy laugh came through the cracks. “We’ll never leave you alone, Pillar. Not until you open the door. Turn the knob already.” Something pounded the other side, making the dust fall from the frame and the hinges squeal. Then a second pounding came, booming through the canyon, and he leapt back as the door bent outward.
“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”
Tom’s head jerked up and a cold spasm riveted his body. “No!” he cried, and the word bounced from every direction, sounding like a disapproving parent. For an instant, Tom thought he was still in the canyon. No, he was awake, lying alone in a darkened shower room. The cruel part was he couldn’t tell which place was worse.
He sat up, scrutinizing the shadows. The single grate mounted at the top of the wall across from him, a foot in length, normally remained shut to keep the winter draft out. He staggered to his feet and hobbled to it, opening the slats. Gray sunlight filtered in, reflecting off the intricate tile work. His face hovered close to the grate, basking in the achromatic light.
Everything’s okay. The canyon isn’t real. Only a dream, something constructed out of subconscious fears. The words ran through his head like a mantra. It was. He thought the same thing every morning.
He turned from the grate as another tear dripped to the floor. He touched his face, smearing the wet lines on his dusty cheeks. He had been crying again. His hand dropped to his side, and he straightened his back, glancing at the ten showerheads surrounding him like vultures. He stood in the center of them, ignoring the biting wind that flowed through the grate. A chill wrenched his insides, along with the realization that had circled every thought and emotion for weeks.
“I’m going to die,” he whispered, glancing at each of the showerheads like they might talk back. “I’m going to—find Charlotte.”
Thursday, May 8, 2014
The GHOST Group Book Two by Dawn Colclasure
NEW RELEASE MAY 1, 2014!
#gypsyshadow #paranormal #middlegrade
The GHOST Group Book Two by Dawn Colclasure
#gypsyshadow #paranormal #middlegrade
http://www.amazon.com/The-GHOST-Group-Book-Two-ebook/dp/B00K2F48T2
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-ghost-group-2-dawn-colclasure/1119395571
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/434199
http://www.gypsyshadow.com/DawnColclasure.html#GHOSTGroup2
Second Book in Middle Grade Paranormal Mystery Series Combines Ghost Dog Story with April Fool Hijinks. The GHOST Group 2 by Dawn Colclasure. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:
http://www.gypsyshadow.com/DawnColclasure.html#GHOSTGroup2
There’s something different about Sarah Town. It’s brimming with ghosts – and some of those ghosts need help! That’s where the GHOST Group comes in – the Ghost Helpers of Sarah Town. The GHOST Group is made up of five 11-year-old team members: Jesse, Jenny, Ryan, Trent, and Cassie.
The Ghost of the Irish Setter is a “ghost dog” story where team member Jesse must come to terms with losing his dog, Lolly, after she ran away. A ghost dog that is an Irish setter seeks Jesse’s help, but when the rest of the GHOST Group join the case, it becomes a matter of life or death after Cassie and Ryan are kidnapped! Can the GHOST Group help the ghost dog? And can Jesse find out what really happened to Lolly?
In The Ghost of the Missing Hiker, a day of April Fool’s hijinks turn into another mystery for the GHOST Group. Meanwhile, the group's helper ghost, Adam, has some bad news for the team, and Jenny realizes she must accept her special gift and learn how to use it so she can help other ghosts in Sarah Town.
Word Count: 31700
Pages to Print: 135
Price: $4.99
EXCERPT:
The Ghost of the Irish Setter
Chapter One
Close Call
If there was one thing that could be said about Deanna Foster, it was this: She was not much of a cook. Jenny winced at the thought, recalling the many times her mother had served something burnt or unrecognizable for dinner. Good thing usually her dad did most of the cooking or they ate takeout. “Not much” was putting it delicately.
Oh, sure, her mom could make toast—when she didn’t burn it. And she could also figure out how to get the microwave to work to nuke something for them to eat—on a good day.
But put her in front of a stove or tell her how to bake something in the oven, and all of a sudden, she turned clueless. You might as well have been trying to explain to her how to perform brain surgery; it was uncharted territory to her.
So of course Jenny had been surprised when she noticed her mother looking through a bunch of cookbooks, searching for some recipe or another. When Jenny noticed what kind of cookbooks they were, it all made sense: Cookbooks for Irish meals.
Irish. Of course. This was March, after all, and the St. Patrick’s Day Festival—a big deal in Sarah Town—was coming up. Every year, her mother made some kind of dish for the St. Patrick’s Day Festival, and every year they all got to read about it in the newspaper the next day when people got sick or had to be rushed to the hospital from food poisoning.
Okay, maybe that last thought was an exaggeration. But, yeah, her mom and cooking just didn’t mesh. Still, her mom was never say die with that kinda thing. Proof: The many sounds of pots and pans clanging together in the kitchen for hours, the occasional screams of frustration or the sounds of crying and praying coming from behind the kitchen door.
Jenny frowned, looking down at the picture she’d been quietly working on the whole time her mom had been in the kitchen. She didn’t try to force herself to do something for the festival that she knew she wasn’t good at; instead, she did something she did know she was good at. She created art.
She held up the poster, admiring the picture she’d made. And it was a pretty good picture, too, she had to admit. She’d written Happy St. Patrick’s Day! in the center, drew a dancing leprechaun under that, then created a shower of shamrocks all over the top, with some of them circling the words in the center of the drawing as they came down around it.
“Ta-da!”
Jenny looked in the direction of the sound as she placed her picture back down on the table.
“I’ve done it!” her mother declared, holding a plate of food in one hand and holding her other hand up as though she were praising the heavens. “Corned beef, cabbage and potatoes! The perfect dish for St. Patrick’s Day!”
Jenny winced. “Yuck. I’ll take Foods I Never Want to Eat for $200, Alex.”
“Well, eat it, anyway,” her mother said, walking over to place the plate of food onto the table in front of her. Jenny swallowed the puke that came rushing to her mouth at the sight of the disgusting food.
“This is the dish I’m making for the St. Patrick’s Day Festival,” her mother said, smiling. “And I need a taste tester.”
Jenny looked up at her. “Hey, Mom, why don’t you ask Dad to taste it for you? He’s the best taste tester in the world!”
Her mother didn’t say anything. All she did was heap that green and brown stuff up on a fork and hold it up to Jenny’s mouth.
Alarm bells screeched in Jenny’s head. Little people in charge of the Tasting Department frantically ran around, trying to control the chaos of impending doom. “Full alert!” one screeched. “Disgusting food about to enter the mouth! Batten down the hatches!”
“Taste it,” her mother encouraged. “Please?”
A knock sounded at the door. Jenny’s mother handed her the fork. “Here. I’ll be right back.” She turned around to walk out of the room.
Jenny made a face as she held the food up in front of her mouth. It smelled almost as bad as it looked! What excuse could she come up with to avoid eating this stuff? Tell her mother she was allergic to brown and green food?
No, that wouldn’t work. She wouldn’t be able to eat hamburgers or bacon in front of her mother again.
Maybe she could pretend the food she inched closer to her mouth was a nice juicy hamburger. Yes, that was it. Just a thick juicy burger with ketchup and lettuce and . . .
“Jenny! Cassie’s here.”
Jenny lowered the fork and let out a huge breath of relief. She hopped off the chair, ran from the table to leave the room, then ran back to where she’d been sitting to look up. “Thank you,” she whispered. She turned to run out of the room again.
“I smell food,” Cassie said, sniffing the air as she walked into Jenny’s house.
Jenny smiled at her friend. “And you just saved me from eating it, too. Mom’s practicing her dish for the St. Patrick’s Day Festival.”
Cassie frowned. “Are you guys Irish?”
Jenny shrugged. “How should I know? But I guess everybody's Irish on St. Patrick’s Day.”
Cassie chuckled. “My house smells like bread. I guess both our moms are making something for the festival.”
“Do you think Ryan’s mom will make anything? I know they are Irish.”
Cassie laughed. “Ryan’s mom isn’t much of a cook. She’ll probably grab something from the bakery. Have you found any new ghost cases for us yet?”
Jenny frowned, shaking her head. “Not yet.”
“Well, maybe something will turnip.” Cassie laughed.
Jenny only shook her head. Why on earth was Cassie bringing up turnips? And why did she use it in a sentence that way?
“Get it? Turnip? Turn up?” Cassie asked. When Jenny only stared at her, Cassie placed her arms on her hips. “Well! We were talking about food!”
Jenny forced a laugh. “Oh, right. I get it. Funny.”
Jenny walked over to the table, ignoring the horrible food still on the plate, and carefully removed her picture as though she were Indiana Jones removing the idol from the pedestal. She hurried away with her creation, a chill racing down her spine as thoughts of a giant ball of corned beef rolling behind her tugged at her mind; she paused until her friend caught up, grabbed Cassie’s hand and pulled her into her bedroom. Only after the threat of eating disgusting food was averted did she turn to Cassie and sigh. “Phew! We’re safe!”
Cassie laughed. “What was that about?”
“You don’t want to know,” Jenny replied, shaking her head. She smiled, remembering her poster. “Check out this poster I made!” She held her creation up for Cassie to see.
Cassie looked it over, her eyes widening. “Wow! That’s pretty good!”
“Thanks,” Jenny said, smiling.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Philip and the Sneaky Trashmen by John Paulits
NEW RELEASE MAY 1, 2014!
#gypsyshadow #middlegrade #humor
Philip and the Sneaky Trashmen by John Paulits
#gypsyshadow #middlegrade #humor
http://www.amazon.com/Philip-Sneaky-Trashmen-Emery-Series-ebook/dp/B00K27EHKA
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/philip-and-the-sneaky-trashmen-john-paulits/1119395010
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/434194
http://www.gypsyshadow.com/JohnPaulits.html#SneakyTrashmen
When clumsy Leon helps Philip clean his room, it begins a wild adventure for Philip and Emery complete with missing jewelry, stolen pants, a crazy Aunt, and secret trips to the police station. Philip and the Sneaky Trashmen by John Paulits. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:
http://www.gypsyshadow.com/JohnPaulits.html#SneakyTrashmen
Philip begins his summer in a bad mood. His mother insists he clean his room. But when Philip allows Leon, the clumsy jinx-boy of the neighborhood, to help, it sends Philip and his best friend Emery off on the wildest summer adventure they’ve ever had. Missing jewelry, stolen pants, a crazy Aunt, and secret trips to the police station keep Philip and Emery hopping until the night when it all explodes!
Word Count: 15400
Pages to Print: 70
Price: $3.99
EXCERPT:
Chapter One
Philip Felton sprawled on the grass in the backyard of his house. What a miserable beginning to summer vacation. He had gotten through fourth grade successfully and now looked forward to almost three months of glorious . . . well, glorious anything he wanted. So why did things have to start out so badly this morning?
“Philip, your room is a disgrace. I want it clean and neat by the end of the day.”
“Mom, I . . .”
“Mom, I nothing. Clean and neat. Or else. Your Aunt Louise will be here tomorrow, and if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s my sister looking down her nose at my housekeeping.”
Philip tried to look down his nose. “Why don’t you just let her? It only hurts your eyes.” He tried again, and it hurt again.
“By the end of the day!”
He watched his mother stalk away and scratched his head. Why would his aunt even go into his room while she was here? Glumly, he made his way to the backyard lawn.
Philip heard a noise, lifted his head, and saw his best friend Emery Wyatt walking his way.
“What are you doing back here?” asked Emery. “Your mother said you were cleaning your room, but I knew you weren’t. You never do.”
Philip glared. “And you do?”
“No, I don’t clean your room. Why would I clean your room?”
Philip rested his head back on the grass. “Not my room, dummy. Your room. You don’t clean your room.”
“I do when I have to. I know when it gets messy enough to make my mother twitch.”
Philip raised his head again. “Your mother twitches?”
“When my room gets messy she does.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means I clean it before she goes from twitchy to screamy.”
Philip rolled his eyes and lay back. “Twitchy to screamy,” he mumbled. Aloud he said, “I gotta clean my room or else.”
“Or else what? Twitchy to screamy?”
“Something like that.”
“So clean it.”
“I hate cleaning it! After I clean it, I can’t find anything.”
“Hey guys.”
“Don’t tell me that’s Leon,” said Philip.
“Yup. It is,” answered Emery.
Emery’s unlucky, clumsy cousin Leon came into the backyard, his wide smile showing off his chipped front tooth. He had once been jumping up and down on his bed, missed his landing, and went flying off into his bureau, leaving behind a pool of blood and a piece of his tooth.
“I thought I heard you guys talking. No school till September. Ain’t it great?”
“Yeah, great, Leon,” said Emery.
Leon stared at Philip lying on the grass. “What’s wrong with him? Got no bed?”
“His mother said to clean his room.”
“Who’d she say it to?”
Philip lifted his head and looked at Leon. “She said it to me, Leon. To me. Who else would she say it to?”
“My mother never says it to me,” Leon said proudly. “I’m a good cleaner. I heard my teacher tell my mother I can’t do much, but I’m a good cleaner. Mrs. Furfman let me do all the classroom closet cleaning this year.”
Emery gave a snort. “So you got 33% in spelling and 100% in closet cleaning?”
Leon gave his goofy laugh. “Yuk, yuk. They don’t give marks for closet cleaning. The spelling, though . . . Doesn’t matter. Mrs. Furfman passed me, didn’t she? You want me to help you clean your room?”
Philip sat up. “You mean it?”
“Sure. I’m a good cleaner. I already told you, didn’t I?”
Philip got to his feet.
Emery slid next to him and whispered, “I wouldn’t let Leon help me do anything. He’s a jinx, a disaster-maker. You know that.”
“Yeah, but I hate cleaning,” Philip whispered back. “Sure, Leon. You can be my cleaner.”
Leon started toward the back of the house. As he walked, his head went from side to side as he sang, “I’m gonna be Phil-ip’s cleaner. I’m gonna be Phil-ip’s cleaner.”
Philip and Emery shared a glance.
“You’ll be sorry,” said Emery.
Monday, May 5, 2014
Calculation by Steven P. Marini
NEW RELEASE MAY 1, 2014!
#gypsyshadow #mystery #thriller
Calculation by Steven P. Marini
#gypsyshadow #mystery #thriller
http://www.amazon.com/Calculation-Jack-Contino-Crime-Stories-ebook/dp/B00K2E9G8G
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/calculation-steven-p-marini/1119394831
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/434193
http://www.gypsyshadow.com/StevenPMarini.html#Calculation
A brutal serial killer is loose on Cape Cod and Jack’s wife is a possible target. He has to keep his wits about him to solve this. Calculation by Steven P. Marini. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:
http://www.gypsyshadow.com/StevenPMarini.html#Calculation
Is there a serial killer on the loose on Cape Cod?
Multiple, bizarre murders are taking place in Dennis, MA, Detective Jack Contino’s new town. But they all have different signatures. One looks like a MOB execution, another is a brutal knifing, yet another is the shooting of a businessman. The killer evens has his sights on Jack’s wife, Natalie. Somehow MOB boss Tommy Shea, Jack’s longtime nemesis, comes into the picture. He often does. What is his link to these events?
Jack can’t get rattled, but his nerves are getting frayed. He’s never had so much at stake in a case. He and his colleagues, including old pal Leo Barbado, get on the trail and must put the pieces of this puzzle together.
Word Count: 66000
Pages to Print: 217
File Format: PDF
Price: $4.99 /2.95 /3.60 //$13.99?
EXCERPT:
Chapter One
I hate these damn, freakin’ places, condos, condos, condos. The Cape is supposed to have quaint little cottages in quaint little villages, here and there. La,la,la. Saw the wife and kiddie leave, so now it’s just you and me, booze man.
I’d seen death like this before. Thirty plus years of police work in Boston gave me plenty of experience. Now I was with the police department in Dennis, Massachusetts, on Cape Cod, the place Patti Page sang about, Old Cape Cod, quaint and quiet, with salt air everywhere. It was the late 1970s and I was still a cop, only now I was trying to take it slow and ease my way into retirement soon. This had all the markings of a Mob hit. They don’t get creative. When the Mob wants to execute somebody, they don’t have time to make a ceremony out of it. They usually have someone the victim trusts and lets the killer get close. Then, the killer turns the tables on the target, the ultimate betrayal of trust. This one fit the profile.
The guy took a single bullet to the back of the head in his West Dennis townhouse, shattering the peaceful October Sunday afternoon he was enjoying while his wife and small daughter were out. His body lay on the kitchen floor by the counter. It was a small kitchen, with yellow appliances against a light green wall. A guy could stand at the range and spin around to be at the sink. There was a bottle of Scotch and two glasses with ice on the counter near him, spoiled by blood spatter.
I got the call while off duty at home with my wife, Natalie. We were cleaning house when Sergeant Jim Pearson called me. My home is in West Yarmouth, so it took me about fifteen minutes to get to the scene. I looked around the kitchen and surrounding area with Jim while the forensic techs did their thing. Pearson was my right hand on the Dennis PD, a smart twenty-year man. He was about six foot-two and built like a linebacker, a good man to have beside you if things got rough.
“What have you got on him, Jim?”
“He’s Robert Schroeder, thirty-three years old, owner of West Dennis Liquors on Main Street. I’ve been in there myself and chatted with him a little. He’s owned the store outright for a couple of years, after buying out his partner. That’s what he told me once. His wife was out when it happened. She and her little girl came home and found him. Fortunately, she was able to block her daughter from seeing this. She’s with a neighbor next door. Mom is in the master bedroom with Officer Karen Orlando.”
“Speaking of neighbors . . .”
“Some officers are questioning people now,” said Pearson.
“Good. I’ll talk to the wife, if she’s up to it.”
“She’s okay with that, Jack. I spoke to her briefly and told her she’d have to talk to you, too.”
“Fine. While I see her, check on the officers canvassing the neighbors.”
“Got it.”
Anne Schroeder was sitting on the bed when I came in. She held a handkerchief to help her wipe back tears. I asked Officer Orlando to remain.
“Hello, Mrs. Schroeder, I’m Detective Jack Contino. I’m in charge of the investigation.”
She looked to be in her early thirties, a very good looking woman, and was well composed, considering what had just happened. She seemed small and frail, but when she spoke, there was strength in her surprisingly deep voice.
“Yes, Detective, Sergeant Pearson said you’d need to talk to me. I understand. I want to help any way I can to catch whoever did this.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Schroeder. I know this must be very hard for you, but I need to get as much information as I can quickly. If, however, you need some time, I understand.”
“No. That’s okay, Detective. Go ahead.”
I don’t know how people in her situation can do it. Somehow they pull it together, for a while, anyway.
“Did your husband have any enemies that you know of?”
Mrs. Schroeder took a breath and paused a moment before speaking. She looked at me, then diverted her eyes, gazing toward the window across the large bedroom. The room was nicely decorated with a king size bed and matching cherry wood dressers, all new. The tan wall-to-wall carpet felt like a cushion under my big feet.
“Detective, my husband had a partner when they bought the liquor store five years ago. He was an old high school friend of Bob’s. Bob worked very hard to make his business a success, since it was always his dream to own his own business. Well, George, that’s his friend, George Brady, didn’t have the same energy for work and they didn’t see eye to eye about how to grow the business. Bob wanted to open another store after a few years, but George didn’t want to do that. He just wanted to enjoy the profits from the current store and live like he was on a permanent vacation. I guess you could say they had a falling out.”
“Did it ever get violent?”
“No, but they had some real shouting matches. I thought once that they were going to fight, but George slammed his fist against a wall at the store and walked out. The only solution was to buy George out, which Bob did two years ago. It meant selling the ranch house we had to get the money, but as soon as we sold it, Bob did the buyout. It drained our savings almost to nothing, but it was the only way. It was worth it, though. Bob hired an assistant to help him and a couple of part timers. I work there, too, part time when Janie, that’s our daughter, is in school. It’s been paying off and we moved into this condo unit seven months ago.”
“Who was working the store today, the assistant?”
“Yes. My God, he doesn’t know what’s happened. I didn’t think to call him. I’d better do that now.”
“Relax, Mrs. Schroeder, I’ll have some officers go over there and tell him to close up. Does he lock up the cash in a safe?”
“Yes. There’s one in the back room.”
“We’ll have him do that and tell him you’ll have to close the store for a while.”
“Thank you, Detective.”
She gave me the name of the assistant and I passed that on to Pearson, who sent an officer to the store.
“Mrs. Schroeder, do you have George Brady’s address and phone number?”
“I have that information in our address book, but I don’t know if he still lives there. He was in Harwich.”
She started to get up, but I suggested that I could get that information in a minute. I wanted to keep her talking.
“Did Mr. Schroeder ever have any other business dealings with people who he didn’t see eye to eye with?”
“No. He got along fine with the owner of the building and everyone else I know of.”
“I’d like to get the building owner’s name and information, too. Did your husband have any hobbies or activities that might have involved large sums of money?”
“You mean, like gambling, Detective? It’s a fair question. I’m not offended that you asked. No, he didn’t gamble. His whole life was his family and the store.”
I didn’t mean to insult her and was relieved by her response. “Of course, Mrs. Schroeder. I didn’t mean to imply anything.” I took a breath. “Is there anything else that you can tell me? Is there anybody else who might have a grudge of some sort against your husband?”
She shook her head, holding it high as she spoke, despite the tears.
“No, Detective. Bob was a fine man. He was kind and gracious to everyone.”
“Okay, Mrs. Schroeder, you understand that you can’t stay here now. We have to secure the crime scene, probably for a few days. Is there anyone you can stay with? If not, we’ll take you and your daughter to a motel at the town’s expense.”
“My sister lives in Sandwich. I’ve already called her, and she’s on her way.”
“Fine. Pack some things. Officer Orlando will help you. Your sister won’t be able to enter, so we’ll let you know when she arrives.”
“That’s all right, Detective.”
She eased her petite body off the bed and walked over to a closet and started collecting clothes. She wore tan Capri pants and a pale blue T-shirt. With white tennis shoes, she seemed to float across the floor. She turned back toward me and I saw her beautiful blue eyes, now tinged with sadness.
Other novels by Steven P. Marini:
Connections
A Jack Contino Crime Story
This vigorous, well-plotted crime concoction takes a straight-on look at the tangles and snares involved in stepping outside the “social contract,” and it’s a kind of morality tale without the classroom lecture. It’s pretty well done, too. The author has wisely limited his word count, so it feels just about right, and we’re left with the sense of an inaugural job well done.
--The Barnstable Patriot
Aberration
A Jack Contino Crime Story
Author Marini again shows his mettle when it comes to creating a great storyline . . .”
--The Barnstable Patriot
Aberration takes off like a bullet with a cool hero: Jack Contino, a cop’s cop, who knows a thing or two about criminals, breaking cases and chasing down a cold one. You’ll find yourself rooting for him all the way. And if it’s the late 1970s you’re nostalgic for, you’ll feel right at home with this nifty mystery.
--Jordan Rich
Chart Productions, Inc.
WBZ Radio.
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