Dreaming in the Pages

Books ... where dreams are better than reality

Broken Pieces

Jack Canon's American Destiny

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Orangeberry Free Alert - Genetically Modified Foods vs. Sustainability by Bruno McGrath

Genetically Modified Foods vs. Sustainability - Bruno McGrath

Amazon Kindle US

Amazon Kindle UK

Genre – Food & Cooking

Rating - PG

4.0 (14 reviews)

Free until 30 April 2013

Connect with Bruno McGrath on Facebook

Website http://moonstarluxury.com/

"We can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them." - Albert Einstein
This ebook points out the surrounding issues of genetically modified fruit and vegetables that consumers are unaware of. While several parties defend the use of technology to create food, it appears that little is being done to increase awareness about this matter to the end consumer.
It also points out alternative food sustainability options such as organic farming and land management. This ebook will indicate that although some parties agree that genetically modified food items are cost effective and considered safe, its long-term results have not been adequately researched and the use of pesticides on these items are far higher than for other types farming or food products.

Orangeberry Book Tours – Straight Dope by LeRon Barton

Straight Dope is book that asks the simple question – why are drugs so entrenched in America’s society. Instead of doing the same ol’ rigamarole song and dance and interviewing talking heads and experts, Straight Dope gets to the heart of the matter and talks to the people at ground zero – the drug addicts whose life revolves around getting high; the criminals who profit of the misery of the addicts; the teachers who deal with the children in drug abused homes; the drug counselors that try and balance breaking the addicts cycle of addiction while dealing with the bureaucracy of government politics; the legal marijuana growers battle against tobacco companies and how to thrive in the growing industry; and the parents issue of how they will prepare their children to just say no.

Inspired by the late great Studs Terkel’s many works, Straight Dope is comprised of raw and uncut hard hitting interviews about the participants experiences, thoughts, opinions, and outlook on drug abuse, why or why not drugs should be legal, and how the government is handling the war on drugs.

Removing nearly all of the questions, the interviews are more like monologues, allowing the reader to feel as if the subject is just, “talking,” instead of your standard interview.

In addition to the real life accounts of people, Straight Dope also has spoken word pieces compiled of biting social commentary, as well as my own personal reflections composed of my experiences with drugs.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – NonFiction / Sociology

Rating – PG

More details about the author

Connect with LeRon Barton on Twitter

Orangeberry Book of the Day - For Gods and For Me by James R. Johnson

Chapter 1

The black-clad figure slipped between trees and bushes under the darkness of night. The moon was hidden behind a sky filled with menacing clouds. Rabbits and field mice scattered from the hurrying figure, but not until he was close upon them. His stealth and speed were the attributes that won him this mission; not to mention the history he had with his contact.

              He floated over the fields and woods of the Italian countryside on his trek to Rome. He followed the Via Flaminia, the main road north out of Rome, at a distance to further hide his tracks. He crouched behind a large tree as he heard distant sounds he could not identify. Holding his breath as the wisps of his last breath dissolved into the cold night air, his eyes darted for any sign of movement. The night, an enemy itself, stabbed at his face and eyes. Searching for anyone following him, friendly or not, he tried to remain as still as the tree protecting him. This was a dangerous mission and he could not afford to be caught. He needed to pass on his information.

They have found him, he thought again to himself. It doesn’t make sense. Why now?

              He watched closely as the greenery waved to him in the wind. In the moonlight he saw the mausoleums lining the Via Flaminia, blue and cold, immovable in the wind. Rome was a city that believed the dead should not be buried within its walls. So, every main street out of the city was lined with mausoleums housing those who were respected. His path to life was shrouded in death.             

Seeing nothing to alarm him and hearing the only the biting wind of the night, he ventured on  toward the great city looming on the horizon. He tightened his cloak against the cold, spring air and continued at a brisk pace. The sooner he could deliver his message the sooner he could return home.

How do we know this information is even correct, he raged to himself. Senefann is taking too great a risk. And where is this information coming from? A spy, perhaps? Certainly a traitor of some kind. Traitors, by definition, cannot be trusted.

              He remembered telling Senefann, his tribal superior, “It is foolish to get involved in the plans and practices of the Gershenah.” For centuries he and his people had hidden themselves from the Gershenah’s intent to dominate mankind. What makes this one man special enough to risk interference, he wondered.

              “It has always been our charge to aid mankind”, Senefann had said plainly. “Whether we help them survive against the Gershenah or themselves, the task remains.”

              “We have been isolated for so long, why do we need to get involved now? Why do I need to get involved? Let him resist the Gershenah on his own as fate dictates.” He was very animated in his pleas to stay out of the fight. Had they learned nothing from the last fight, the Great Civil War?

After all, we helped create those that call themselves Gershenah, he remembered soberly. It is my fault as much as anyone’s.

              Rome began to loom larger and fiercer, nestled on its seven hills. In the early morning hours before dawn, drovers were herding their livestock toward the city for the market day. Dodging prying eyes became more difficult and time consuming. Once inside the city gates, it would become easier to move around unnoticed. The task would then become harder. Where was his contact hiding these days?

              He paused as a wagon carrying vegetables passed close by. Remaining unseen, he headed for the gate. His strategy for stealth changed as he mingled with merchants waiting to enter the city to sell their wares. He only hoped there were no Gershenah agents hiding among the merchants.

Normal and casual, he reminded himself as he tried to blend in. It serves nothing to be captured now.

              The sun broke the night and the light brought increased activity around the city. He slowed his pace and improvised a limp for good measure. As long as he could make it to the gate without speaking or being spoken to, he greatly increased his chances of success. Who knows how many Gershenah are watching for this kind of interference? Are they even still watching? We have been silent for centuries. Do they still see us as a threat to their new way of life?

              Thinking about the Gershenah was something he had not done for several hundred years, and for the last six days he had thought of little else. Those renegade immortals that spurned the teachings and commands of their creator ventured into human society to conquer and control. The end of the Great Civil War that forever split the immortal world replayed in his mind over and again. The Gershenah left behind the crumbled and broken Fenkheti, the immortals that lost the war. They were an immortal community ripped in two. Brothers, fathers, mothers and sisters torn apart as ideologies differed concerning their controversial creator.

I should have been banished along with the rest of the fighters he thought.

              The Fenkheti that were military leaders in the war against their brothers were banished. They were condemned to fight the Gershenah alone without the assistance or acknowledgement of those they represented, those they protected.  

              The gate drew near and the market day bustle was heavy. Good, he thought. His limp ensured that passersby would give him a wide berth and keep to themselves. A limp was a non-specific symptom that sent a simple message: steer clear.

As the guards looking over the wagons and herds entering the city spotted him, he could feel their penetrating eyes on him. They stood several meters in front of the gate, the Porta Fontinalis, which was the closest gate to the Forum in the Servian Wall. Armed guards were forbidden to enter the pomerium, the sacred area around the city of Rome that was protected by the divine spirit Roma. There must be real upheaval in the city for this demonstration of might.

Are these real guards or hidden Gershenah? He wrapped his hand tightly on the hilt of the sword he had stashed under his cloak.

              “Hold!” the larger of the soldiers said. He stopped immediately, head lowered, not raising his alert gaze higher than the armored legs of the soldier who approached him. He could hear the creaking of the cheek pieces in the hinge on the monteforino helmet. Only legionaries wore helmets like these.

              “Out of the way, old man”, the legionary grunted and shoved the messenger aside, heading for another man behind him. Letting his held breath escape slowly, he moved on slowly towards the city, limp still in place. He stumbled as he walked past the younger guard, who reflexively took a small step backwards. He smiled to himself and shuffled through the gate and into the city.

Now, where can I find that old fool?

              The sunlight pulled the shadows back from their lengthy trail as the day progressed. He carefully made his way through the busy Forum. This was the market day, which happened every nine days. It seemed as if every Roman needed to purchase something that day. With the sun higher in the sky, the grime and detritus of the city streets were much more evident. The islands of weeds that sprang up in the cobbled cracks of the streets brought some refreshing color to the monotonous hues of the dirt and straw littering the ground. The glorious days of the city, the triumph of engineering, lay forgotten and lost on the people who lived here.

              He moved outside the Forum and searched through the streets looking for any sign of his contact. His route took him through several temples, government buildings and apartment courtyards in the heart of the city. This is going to take longer than I thought, he said to himself in resignation.

              The shadows stretched to the other side of the city. Twilight was coming and he was no closer to finding his man than when he started. The flow of people; slaves and freedmen, nobles and plebs, had not diminished. At this time of the day, most of that traffic was heading towards the brothels and taverns. It would be difficult to search the brothels for his man, if he even indulged such trivialities. It was better to look in the wine establishments first.

              He searched one tavern after another and found little in the way of evidence. He received several glances of appraisal, presumably from thieves, and quickly fled the scene. No wonder these backward people need our help, he thought as he remembered the instructions to all the immortals before the Great Civil War; help the humans, be an aid to them, save them from themselves. Oh yes, how they needed it.

              It was hard to believe these people had the power to destroy the harmony of his peaceful village. Thousands of immortals were born and raised, living contentedly, away from the world of men and their problems. The creator taught them to be wise and thoughtful, always offering to assist mankind in their time of need. It was these teachings that eventually destroyed the fabric of their community. The Gershenah felt that with the superior power and knowledge the immortals possessed, a life of quiet assistance to a weaker race was ludicrous. This was why the war started - between those who wanted to follow the teachings of the creator and those who did not. After the Gershenah claimed victory, they set out on their own. The beaten Fenkheti banished those warriors who lost them the war, and became a nomadic tribe. The Fenkheti leadership council did not care that they were essentially disobeying the creator in the same way as the Gershenah. Fenkheti desired peace and to be left alone, Gershenah wanted to dominate and rule mankind. Only mankind was watching out for its own interests.

              He entered the last tavern in the Subura, the slum area of the city. It was no different from the many he had already explored. The light was dim, the women were scandalously dressed and the tables served as gambling centers. The wine flowed and the men were collectively drunk and merry. Their moods made his seem graver. The bar was filled to capacity with filthy bodies and loud clamorous carousing. Prostitutes wandered the mob looking for work. Servers moved tirelessly through the throng selling wine and stealing sips where they could.

As he stood in the doorway looking in, he saw his contact. The man he assumed was his goal was face-down on a table, hand clenching a wine cup. He was sharing the table with a rowdy dice game. Several men were around him, laughing and pointing.

              “Go on, he won’t feel a thing”, one of the men slurred as he pushed another toward the unconscious drunkard. The man he pushed was thin and gangly, hardly worth the clothes he wore. He stank of stale and fresh wine mixed with the odor of the unwashed.

              The gangly man stumbled through the crowd. From the doorway, the messenger watched as he slowly slid his hand into the pouch of the unconscious man on the table. The thief retrieved a few coins and raised them up in triumph, to the great delight of his cheering audience.

              The messenger took a step toward the thief who again plunged his hand into the pouch of his mark. This time however, the thin arm jerked violently as the unconscious man became quickly animated and took hold of the robber with both hands. In one swift motion, he bent the thief over, arm wrapped around his back, and threw him into the group of bystanders to their utmost entertainment. Many fell but a few remained standing on shaken legs. This was not very amusing, but at least the messenger had identified his man. And he was recognized as well.

              He stepped over to the table and stood facing the now awake and lively looking thug. The two men faced each other, ignored by everyone in the room. The look of importance on his face was evident to the drunk. The malice the look returned was penetrating and he was momentarily speechless. The rabble in the room increased their din and clamor as the two men surveyed each other.

              The drunkard was young and well built. His muscles could be seen stacked beneath his dirty tunic. He was bronze in color and his short, tight, curly hair was matted, standing up in unnatural places, presumably from passing out on the table. His eyes were a piercing grey, reminiscent of the goddess Minerva. Romans thought anyone with grey eyes was bestowed with wisdom from the great goddess. The messenger knew this to be absolutely true.

              “Salve, General”, he began before his jaw was violently knocked to his right as the drunkard swung and hit true. The impact sent him to the soiled floor. Picking himself up to the fascinated silence of the room, he locked gazes with his attacker, his contact. Without breaking his stare, he wiped the blood from his split lip. The crowd roared suddenly as one organism in its bloodlust, encouraging the fighters to continue dueling.

              “Good to see you again, too”, he whispered before he threw a punch back at the general. The drunkard stumbled back, barely escaping the thrust of the punch. As he continued forward after failing to land his attack, the drunkard again swung his stone fist. He staggered, dazed after the second strike. With one hand on his shoulder, the other on the right side of his head, the drunkard used the continued forward motion to swing him into the back wall, sending him to the floor in a crumpled mess. The drunkard lost his balance and collapsed onto a table of burly drinkers. They jumped to their feet and threw punches back toward the violator.

              The messenger shook his head to regain composure and focus, and looked back to see that the general had started another fight. He saw his opportunity to tackle the man and talk some sense into him before either of them hurt anyone. He leaped towards his target.

              The general stepped to the side and he landed squarely in the middle of a table occupied by much larger men. In the ensuing melée benches were thrown and cups of wine bounced off the walls. Oil lamps were broken on the floor, with little fires springing up here and there. It was then that the proprietor began throwing people out of the tavern.

              The fight spilled into the dark streets of the city. The general grabbed the messenger and dragged him away from the fracas. He stumbled and the general propped him up and half-carried him down the street and into an even darker alley.

              “Come on, old friend”, the general said and heaved him against the wall. Once he was able to stand on his own, the general slapped him to bring him around.

              “Ka’Tewet. Wake up”.

              He slowly opened his eyes again and focused on the general once more. “I think you could have found a better way of getting some privacy, Friend.”

              “And miss the chance to bloody an old warrior, even one as treacherous as you?” the drunkard stated without the slightest hint of intoxication.

“General”, he began.

“Don’t call me that. Those days are long gone.”

              Ka’Tewet nodded, understanding that the days were indeed long gone, centuries gone. “What are you calling yourself these days?”

              “Priscus. Nestor Priscus.”

              “What does it mean?”

              “It means you had better tell me what you’re doing here”, Priscus said.

              Licking his swollen lip again, he breathed in a rhythmic, controlled fashion to alleviate his rising anger. “The Gershenah have found him”, he said.

              “Found him”, Priscus began and stopped. He stepped away from his old friend and stared at the street’s opposite wall for several moments.

Ka’Tewet thought he knew what his general of old was thinking. If they’ve found the heir, then they have found her, the general’s reason for living…

              “As far as I know, they have only located him, the heir, and no one else. And they haven’t taken possession”, he ventured. “How they hunted him down, we don’t know, but they still seem intent on having the prophecy in their fold.”

              “It never was a prophecy, just a supposition from an old man. Sedjet wasn’t always the best at reading deeper than the surface”, Priscus stated.

              “Still calling himself that is he?”

              “Neser Sedjet, the scourge of the human world, self-appointed god of the Gershenah. Surprised?” Priscus asked with a smile.

              Neser Sedjet had given himself this name after he claimed victory in the Great Civil War that forever changed the isolated village of immortals many centuries before. The name itself, in the language of the early immortals, translates The Burning Flame. The arrogance of Sedjet was only matched by his skill in keeping his men in line, by whatever means necessary, usually violent.

              “I assume the Shebikem will pursue the heir and deliver him to Senefann for protection”, he said.

              The Shebikem were those war leaders banished by the Fenkheti, the elite few the Fenkheti tapped to defend them against Sedjet and his Gershenah army. When those Shebikem warriors lost the war, the Fenkheti leadership council banished them as punishment for their loss. Meanwhile, the thousands of surviving immortals left behind after the departure of the Gershenah coined the title Fenkheti for themselves.

              “If the Fenkheti want the heir, then you apprehend him. If the Shebikem find him, we’ll use him to bring that wicked Lifeblood down. Who is the heir and where do I find him?”

From the very beginning of their existence, the immortals had called themselves Lifebloods. They weren’t men or women. They were a creation that was greater and capable of so much more than mere mortals. No one remembered where the term came from or who started it, but all eventually accepted the label and made it their own. Every immortal, Fenkheti and Gershenah alike, proudly wore the badge of Lifeblood.

              “Priscus, we need to know what this is all about. There must be more to this than just having the heir in his possession. We need to know what is so special about him.”

              “Special? If Sedjet wants him, he has something that Sedjet needs. That makes him bait”, Priscus said smiling. “When Sedjet finds the heir, he’ll find me with him.”

              “Good. Then you can ask him what this is all about”, he said. Priscus looked at him and clapped him on the shoulder. Reassured, he told Priscus where to find the heir, the last born immortal, in the city of Rome.

              “So it begins again”, Priscus breathed.


Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Urban Fantasy

Rating – PG13

More details about the book

Connect with James R Johnson on Facebook & Twitter & GoodReads

Check out where this author will be talking about his book!

Review: Straight Dope A 360 degree look into American drug culture by LeRon Barton

Straight Dope A 360 degree look into American drug cultureStraight Dope A 360 degree look into American drug culture by LeRon Barton
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Did this book give you any new ideas about yourself? Just thankful I never had the desire to try any drug and end up like these inmates

What would the main character be likely to do if s/he visited? Tell about lots of people's addictions and the incidences that led them on that path.

What lesson did you learn from the story? Just a reminder that drugs are bad and people should stay away from them.

Disclosure: I received a review copy of this book from the author.

View all my reviews

Friday, April 26, 2013

Orangeberry Free Alert - Aura by Doug Dandridge


Aura - Doug Dandridge

Amazon Kindle US

Amazon Kindle UK

Genre - Fantasy

Rating - PG13

4.8 (4 reviews)

Free until 29 April 2013

The Aura decides the fate of its possessor on this World of battling Gods. Those with a strong Aura are able to control the forces of magic. Those with weaker Auras are controlled by the strong. And those without an Aura are outside the game.
Triplets are born in an out of the way village to the headman and his wife. Ariel, the girl, has a more than double Aura, and is destined to become a mighty magic user, Mage or Priest. Aiden possesses a less than average Aura, and will be a soldier or laborer. Arlen has no Aura, and is seen as an abomination in the eyes of the Church of Baalra, the Dragon God. When Arlen is discovered the parents are killed by the soldiers of the Church. Ariel is taken to the capital to be raised to become the future Avatar of the God Baalra, while Aiden is sold into slavery. Arlen is rescued before he can be killed, to be raised as an Assassin of the Rosacaran Order, his purpose in life to destroy those Evil Priests thought to be too dangerous to live.
It will be up to the brothers to save their sister before she can be taken by Baalra, her soul destroyed and her body the powerful instrument of the Evil God. But can the triplets stand before the military and magical might of the Empire? Or will the boys die in a vain attempt to save their sister from damnation.

Orangeberry Book Tours – Refuge by NG Osborne

On a dusty, sweltering night, Noor Khan, a beautiful, headstrong Afghan refugee, comes face-to-face with Charlie Matthews, a brash, young American aid worker. To Noor’s fury, Charlie breaks every cultural norm and pursues her. She wants nothing to do with him: her sole aim in life is to earn an overseas scholarship so she can escape the miseries of the refugee camps.

However when Noor’s brother threatens to marry her off, she is forced to seek refuge in Charlie’s home, of all places, and suddenly everything Noor believes in is put into question.

Set in the mystical and seething city of Peshawar, where no one is without an agenda and few can be trusted, Refuge is a timeless and unforgettable love story about the struggle for love and purpose in a cruel and cynical world.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Literary Fiction / Romance

Rating – PG13

More details about the author

Connect with NG Osborne on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.ngosborne.com/

Orangeberry Book of the Day – Confession (Under Mr. Nolan’s Bed) by Selena Kitt



“With the mouth, confession is made into salvation…” ~ Romans 10:10.The shocking discovery best friends Leah and Erica have made under Mr. Nolan’s bed has them down the wicked path of temptation, both girls veering far from the narrow path dictated by their strict Catholic upbringing, and their sexual transgressions have had unintended consequences.

Erica finds her life turned upside down when Leah falls for Erica’s father, but just as Erica is beginning to accept their love for each other, Leah disappears. Bewildered and abandoned, Erica and Mr. Nolan are faced with sadness and confusion at their loss, but while Mr. Nolan spirals into mourning, Erica is determined to find her friend.

Erica can’t possibly know why Leah has vanished, but when she enlists the help of Father Michael, her search and the real reason for Leah’s disappearance intersect to uncover a multitude of shocking confessions and a secret that will shake not only the foundation of their faith, but the entire institution of the Catholic Church itself.

First in the series: TEMPTATION (Under Mr. Nolan’s Bed)

Look for the exciting conclusion to the trilogy, GRACE (Under Mr. Nolan’s Bed) coming in April 2013!


“Erica?” Father Michael looked down at her, curious. “Earth to Erica?”

She couldn’t tell him. It was too dangerous to tell him. She raised her head, looking into his eyes in the dimness, knowing she didn’t dare. She did the only thing she could think of to distract them both. She kissed him. This wasn’t like the last time, when it had been soft and sweet and light and easy. This kiss held everything, all the secrets, all the darkness, all the twists and turns in her, she put into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck, feeling the heat of his body, the way he held her.

“Erica…” He gasped as they parted, searching her eyes, and then he bridged the gap this time, taking her mouth, probing it open with his tongue, hands roaming under her long wool coat, her uniform blouse and skirt a thin barrier. She whimpered, struggling out of her coat. She pressed herself as fully against him as she could, letting him shift her weight, pulling her easily into his lap. He was wearing his cassock and collar, his uniformed commitment to the church and celibacy, but neither of them cared in that moment.

When he lifted her blouse, the heat of his hand was like a brand on her back, around to her belly, cupping the full weight of her breast. She moaned against his mouth, wanting more, more. She felt him, wiggling in his lap, so hard. She felt him through his priest’s robes, and she wanted him. She so desperately wanted him. She couldn’t fight it anymore, and he couldn’t either. They were lost in their lust, in the heated battle of their tongues, and they clung to each other as a soft white cover of snow on the windshield hid their passionate embrace.

Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords

Genre – Adult / Historical Romance

Rating – NC17

More details about the author

Connect with Selena Kitt on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://selenakitt.com/

Review: Refuge by NS Osborne

RefugeRefuge by N.G. Osborne
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Top 3 things I liked about the whole book. Good solid book with clear images. Forbidden love. The humility of it all.

Is the story plot or character driven? Plot driven, but the characters were very strong.

Did the book end the way you expected? No, it didn't end at all the way, I thought it would.

Disclosure: I received a review copy of this book from the author.

View all my reviews

Orangeberry Blast Off – The Exemeus by Folami Morris

Hyalee Smith is dead, she just doesn’t know it yet.

Her short life was devoted to love and to hate. Love of the man who stole her heart, hate for the man who stole the world. Murdered by the government she swore to destroy, she’s been given another chance to make it right. But to save the planet, she needs the help of the most powerful mystic the world has ever seen—unfortunately he hasn’t been born yet.

In a world where fear is the only currency, Dephon has committed the ultimate crime: inspiring hope.

His only goal is to make it safely through ninth grade, but on a post-apocalyptic Earth run by the Treptonian government, it isn’t that simple. Heir to a legendary power, Dephon Johnson is the only threat to the government’s rule. And on Trepton, all threats must be eliminated. When hundreds of assassins are dispatched to neutralize him, Dephon is forced to fight back. His only chance of survival is to enlist the aid of the greatest warrior the world has ever known. The only problem is, she’s been dead for 13 years.

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Genre – Young Adult

Rating – PG to PG13

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Connect with Folami Morris on Facebook & Twitter

Blog http://www.theexemeus.blogspot.com/

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Thursday, April 25, 2013

Orangeberry Book of the Day - Jack Templar Monster Hunter by Jeff Gunhus

Excerpt from Jack Templar Monster Hunter


My name is Jack Templar and I am an orphan.

Just before my fourteenth birthday, I discovered that I came from a long line of monster hunters. You know, vampires, werewolves, zombies, you name it.

Not only that, but if monsters around the world could choose one human to kill, it would be me. Why? I haven’t a clue. I’d like to find out some day, but for right now, I’m happy just to stay alive.


Yeah, you read it right. I’m a monster hunter.  Back before I actually became one, I would have thought that sounded totally awesome. And don’t get me wrong, in a lot of ways it is.  But most of the time, I’m either running for my life or hiding in the shadows, praying the monster chasing me doesn’t pick up my scent. And I’m almost always scared to death. In a few pages, I think you’ll see why.

But there are a few things I need to warn you about before I tell you my story.

First, this isn’t a cartoon. These are bloodthirsty creatures who will stop at nothing to kill. They are scary. Very scary. Second, the only way to stop them is to kill them first…and that gets gross and messy. Third, this is all real.

You think I’m kidding, don’t you? I can almost see you smirking as you read this. But this isn’t a joke. Monsters are real and the story I’m about to tell you really happened. If you’d rather walk through life believing that monsters are only found in books or on the movie screen, then you should shut this book right now and go do something else.

I give you these warnings because the story I’m about to tell you isn’t for everyone. Not everyone can handle it. The blood. The gore. The monsters.

This life was thrust onto me. I had no choice but to take up a sword and fight. But you can still walk away and pretend this dark world doesn’t exist. Or you can walk through the door that I’m about to open and find out the truth about the world around you.

But I warn you (and this is a big warning), if you read this book, if you learn about the monsters that roam among us and the hunters who fight them, if you decide to learn the truth, then you will become fair game for the monsters to chase.

Make sure you understand what I’m saying.

If you read this book, you will be part of this world and the monsters will come after you too. You will start to see things that no other humans can see. The shadows will move when you walk near them. The creatures of the night will seek you out, testing the doors and windows of your house, looking for a way in.

And, at some point, they will find you, just like they found me, and you will be forced to defend yourself.

So, think carefully before you turn the page, because once you do, there’s no turning back.


Once a monster hunter, always a monster hunter.

See you on the other side.

If you’re brave enough. 


OK, so looks like you were brave enough (or stupid enough) to ignore my warning. I would say congratulations, but that might imply that I think you made the right choice. Just promise that you won’t say later that I didn’t warn you.

See, I don’t want you to be a big crybaby later on and complain to me that you can’t fall asleep because of all the creepy-crawlies in your room. Or that it’s my fault that a werewolf chewed off your left foot. Or that one of your eyes was plucked out by a harpy when you weren’t looking.  

I especially don’t want any grief from your parents or from your teachers if you’re too scared at night. I’m going to say it as simply as I can:



If you think there’s someone in your life who’s not going to approve of you reading about monsters eating people in gruesome ways, or of monsters getting killed in even worse ways, then I suggest you do one of two things:

a) Don’t read the book

b) Hide the book and don’t tell them you’re reading it.

And whatever you do, don’t let them read it. That would be the worse thing. Imagine if you started to read this book, then you got it taken away from you before you got done. You’d have monsters looking for you and you’d have no idea how to fight them. You’d be a sitting duck.

So, are we clear? No parents. No teachers. No crybabies.

If you’re still in, turn the page and I’ll tell you a story you’re not going to believe.


Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Middle Grade / YA Fantasy

Rating – PG

More details about the author & the book

Connect with Jeff Gunhus on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.jacktemplar.com/

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Orangeberry Book Of The Day - Widow Woman by Julia Tagliere


Chapter One

The salt-bleached pavement unwound behind the brand-new ‘62 Dodge Dart 440 wagon, borrowed from our neighbor to save on the airfare to Minneapolis. His unexpected kindness eliminated our need to rent a car for all the driving we’d be doing over the next few days. Flying back would have been easier but I’d been in no condition to protest.

I fixed my attention out the window, counting the sooty, aging snow berms lining the roadside. My mother’s ashes, nestled in the urn at my feet, overshadowed everything as we made the one-way trip back to Graceville from her home in nearby tiny Cokato.

Tense and hungry, I rooted through my box of peanut M&M’s for a yellow one. I held it up to the window, masochistically focusing on the little makeshift sun that hurt my eyes almost as much as the blue sky.

I popped it into my mouth and Peter murmured, “Breakfast of champions,” and held out his hand. “Though Wheaties would be healthier.”

“At least it’s not a cigarette,” I said, dropping a red one into his open palm.

We shared the rest of the box in silence. I closed my eyes, but the memories relentlessly pinched and prodded at me:

The first desperate call from Catherine, Mom’s best friend.

The neighbors’ voices, urgent, in the background.

The endless long-distance wait for word.

Peter, across the room, not knowing how, or whether, to console me.

The second call. We lost her. She’s gone.


I turned my attention back to the window, concentrating on keeping my cheeks dry. I tried to doze, the slideshow of memories continuing their assault behind my eyelids.

First I heard Mom’s throaty laugh, erupting over one of her corny puns, shared around the bonfire. I closed my eyes, smelling the smoke. About to leave for college, I was scared; she was not.

“I’m so proud of you. You’re going to have such adventures. I wish I could go with you,” she whispered, hugging me fiercely.

The memory shifted to a sudden taste on my tongue of our regular weekend breakfasts: feasts of blueberry pancakes, burnt bacon, and inexhaustible chatter.

Mom’s last letter had arrived at our house in Nebraska the day she died.

Come home, Audrey. You can stay here for a few days until you figure things out with Peter. Even with Mom gone I’d still considered going back, to think things through. But could I call it home anymore without her there? There was always Catherine—

“How much farther?” Peter’s voice startled me awake.

I rubbed my swollen eyes and squinted out the windshield at Catherine’s car, poking along ahead of us. We were now onto the next step in this mind-boggling process. I had, with Catherine’s help, planned the funeral long distance, and as soon as we arrived we held a memorial service to honor Mom. Friends, co-workers, her former students of all ages, neighbors, and townspeople all attended and said nice things about Mom, things I had forgotten or had never known, but which eased my saddened heart.

Now we were completing the most final of steps—scattering her ashes.

“I don’t know, Peter. I haven’t been up here in years,” I yawned, exhausted and disoriented.

“I thought your grandparents lived here,” Peter said.

“Yes, but after they died, we never came up here anymore. I think it was too hard for Mom.”

That had been a terrible time for her, my grandparents’ dying in a car accident so close on the heels of her divorce from my father, Hank. Catherine’s news last week that Mom had held onto her parents’ farm outside of Graceville had taken me by surprise.

Ahead of us, Catherine’s car—my mother’s old Plymouth—slowed.


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Genre – Women’s Fiction

Rating – PG13

More details about the author & the book

Connect with Julia Tagliere on Facebook & Twitter & GoodReads

Monday, April 22, 2013

Orangeberry Free Alert - Water by Terra Harmony


Water - Terra Harmony

Amazon Kindle US

Amazon Kindle UK

Genre - Fantasy

Rating - R (Mature)

3.8 (64 reviews)

Free until 30 April 2013

Elemental powers in the palm of her hand…and it won't be enough to save her. When Kaitlyn Alder is involuntarily introduced to a life of magic, she becomes part of an organization hell-bent on saving the Earth. Her newfound life holds promises of purpose, romance, and friendship, but the organization divides and a rogue member holds Kaitlyn hostage. Now one of the most terrifying men the human race has to offer stands between her and Earth's survival.
This novel contains sexual situations, some non-consensual, and is for mature readers only.

Orangeberry Book of the Day – Double or Nothing by Meg Mims


A mysterious explosion. A man framed for murder. A strong woman determined to prove his innocence.

October, 1869: Lily Granville, heiress to a considerable fortune, rebels against her uncle’s strict rules. Ace Diamond, determined to win Lily, invests in a dynamite factory but his success fails to impress her guardian. An explosion in San Francisco, mere hours before Lily elopes with Ace to avoid a forced marriage, sets off a chain of consequences.

When Ace is framed for murder before their wedding night, Lily must find proof to save him from a hangman’s noose. Will she become a widow before a true wife?

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Genre – Western Historical Mystery

Rating – PG

More details about the author

Connect with Meg Mims on Facebook & GoodReads

Orangeberry Book Of The Day - Deadly Memories by S.D. O’Donnell (Excerpt)


Who is the beautiful Jayne Doe? And why does someone want to kill her?

Ex-detective Saul Becker learned the hard way not to get involved in the troubles of beautiful women. But what else can he do when a barefoot, catatonic Jayne Doe turns up practically in his backyard? Who is she, and what is she so afraid of?

Jayne Doe doesn’t remember anything about her life before she crawled into a hollow tree at the lake next to Saul’s home.. All she knows is that she’s afraid of something—or someone.

Together, Saul and Jayne set out to uncover her past. But they are in more danger than they know, and it will take all of Saul’s skill and training to track down the past that’s stalking them.

Deadly Memories is a fast-paced novel with unexpected twists and a surprise ending.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Murder / Thriller

Rating – PG13 (some foul language, a few short love scenes)

More details about the author

Connect with S.D. O’Donnell on Facebook & GoodReads


SHE HUDDLED ON DAMP EARTH, knees to her chest, back pressed against something rough and wet, comforted by the smallness of her retreat. A thin cold film of moisture enveloped her skin. Why? When had that happened?

Honking geese broke the silence, reminded her that a bigger world still thrived, outside.

Dew. That’s what the film of moisture was.

She didn’t want the night to end, wanted to stay in the quiet, alone in the darkness, the smallness. She heard splashes, a duck’s quack, piercing yips that passed and faded into the distance.

Each sound scraped against her nerves.

Wet drops traced down her checks. Fat drops. Not dew. She heard a sob and realized it was hers.

Someone called out, “Hello?”

She gasped.

“Are you okay?”

She needed a new place to hide, one where morning couldn’t reach her. Without moving, without thinking, she escaped to a safer, even smaller place.


SAUL BECKER SURFED THE WASTELAND of early morning television, one of his more successful tactics for overcoming insomnia. When that didn’t work, he sat for hours in the dark, thoughts tumbling through his head like clothes in the dryer.

He’d finally achieved a kind of mental numbness he would have happily called sleep when a shrill noise brought him out of his chair. He yanked a pistol from the end table drawer before the phone rang a second time. Feeling like an idiot, he glanced at the clock as he picked up the receiver. It was seven thirty.

“What?” he said, his voice like gravel.

It was his elderly neighbor, Mrs. Blackstone. Her voice sounded an octave higher than normal as she rattled off something he didn’t quite follow.

“Say again?”

He slid his custom Colt Series 70 M1911A2 back into the drawer.

“Get down here,” she said. “There’s a lady crying inside the tree.”

Saul took a moment to stretch in the cool August morning before jogging down to the lake behind his townhome. He could see the Rocky Mountains on the western horizon, the early morning air north of Denver still clear enough to make the foothills seem closer than they really were.

He worked hard to stay in shape, proud to still be lean and muscled as he edged over forty. He had fair skin, sky-blue eyes, and sandy hair with hints of red. Add his freckles, and he looked a stereotypical Irishman.

The townhomes were built on top of a hill and he kept his stride short as he ran down the trail to the lake. When he got close, he saw Mrs. Blackstone pacing beside a huge cottonwood tree. Two patrol cops watched from fifty feet away. They jerked around at the sound of his approach, hands moving toward the service pistols at their waists. Saul braked to a walk, holding his hands up, palms out.

When he was close enough to identify who they were, presuming they could do the same, he lowered his hands and called out a greeting.

“Roan. Mathews. Been a while.”

Roan’s height made Saul’s 6’4” look short and Roan was built to intimidate. Mathews was barely 5’ 10” and looked more like a geek than a cop, right down to the thick glasses sitting on the bottom of his nose.

“Becker.” Roan rubbed a hand across the stubble on his chin. His palm didn’t hide a slight frown. “What’re you doing here?”

“That’s my neighbor.” Saul nodded at the white-haired woman next to the tree, who interrupted her pacing to dab at her eyes with the edge of a thick shawl. “She called me, I told her to call you.”

“So we’ve got you to thank for this end-of-shift call,” Roan said.

“Thank the woman she found. You seen her yet?”

Mathews rolled his eyes. “We were just wondering if your neighbor isn’t quite right in her head. Maybe what we really need here is the loony toon squad.”

“Why?” Saul said.

A yawn cut off Roan’s snicker. “She pointed to the tree and yelled, ‘She’s in there.’ What would you think?”

“That the woman is inside the tree.”

Saul sprinted down the path and circled around to the side of the tree where Mrs. Blackstone waited.

“Finally.” She gestured at the tree. “Go see if she’s okay.”

Several years prior a lightning-induced fire had burned through about five feet of the trunk’s interior from the ground up, creating a hollow that still smelled of stale smoke, and a black-rimmed hole that allowed entrance.

Saul ducked inside and squatted for a minute to let his eyes adjust to the shadows. A woman sat with her legs pulled up, her arms wrapped around them, and her face buried between her knees.

She didn’t move when Saul said hello. She didn’t move when he tugged gently on her arm.

“Well?” Roan’s voice sounded muffled. “What’s in there?”

“I told you already,” Mrs. Blackstone said. “It’s a woman. She was crying.” Saul heard impatience in her answer.

“Not crying anymore.” Saul backed out of the tree. “Don’t think she’s all there mentally.”

“You couldn’t have brought her out with you?” Mathews said.

Saul shrugged. “I gave her a tug. She didn’t want to come.”

“Aw, shit.” Roan pressed his hand against the rough bark as he bent over, looking as if he had folded himself in half. He emitted a low whistle. “This is your job, Mathews. I won’t fit.”

Mathews took his turn to look inside.

“If I do this myself,” he said as he crawled into the tree, “you owe me big time.”

From outside, they heard Mathew’s grunts, interspersed with a string of curses.

“Do something,” Mrs. Blackstone said, with a light push on Saul’s shoulder.

“You know I don’t do this for a living anymore.”

“Hey!” Mathews yelled. “Need some help here.”

He’d maneuvered the woman to the opening. Saul took her elbow and held her head down with his other hand until she cleared the entrance. Once she was standing, he kept his grip until he was certain she wouldn’t bolt.

She was close to 5’ 11”, underfed, no older than her mid-thirties. Her shoulder-length pale blond hair resembled fine silk, though it was stringy and matted. Sapphire eyes with specks of gold blinked in an uneven pattern. Lines of dirt streaked across a perfect face. Even dirty and disheveled, she belonged in a class of gorgeous Saul had only seen on a movie screen.

She wore faded jeans, a dingy gray T-shirt, and a purple hoodie. No socks or shoes.

“I don’t see anything else in there,” Mathews said, flexing his back when he was out of the tree. “She seems okay except for being nonresponsive. What do you think, Roan? Call an ambulance or take her back and call Social Services?”

“We call an ambulance—one of us has to sit with her at the hospital.”

“One of us is gonna have to sit with her anyway.”

“Hanging out at the station beats the hospital.”

Roan placed his hand on the woman’s arm and took a few steps. She moved with him.

“Hold on,” Mrs. Blackstone said. “She’s barefoot.”

Roan glanced up the trail.

“Short of throwing her over my shoulder, I don’t think we have any choice here.” He shortened his stride to match the woman’s but began walking faster as they neared the parking lot. The woman stumbled.

Saul sprinted forward to catch her. The maneuver left her lax body tightly wound in his arms and he felt a memory playing hide-and-seek. It vanished before he could place it.

Within minutes of reaching their vehicle, Roan, Mathews, and the woman were gone. Saul and Mrs. Blackstone retreated up the hill to their homes.

They lived in a group of townhomes known as The Courtyard. Saul paused at the edge of the real estate’s namesake, a square yard in the middle of the U-shaped complex, hoping the sunlight would burn away the memory that had threatened him as he caught the stumbling woman.

Instead of burning away, it ripped open. Every muscle from his face to his feet clenched in a surge of rage and grief.

The woman in the park had felt like Martha.

Closing his eyes, he shoved all recall of her back into the off-limit corners of his mind.

He opened his eyes to Mrs. Blackstone watching him.

“Tea,” Mrs. Blackstone said. It wasn’t a question.

When they reached her door, they found her potted plants scattered across the ground. Some of the pots were broken.

“Well, look at the mess our raccoons have made,” Mrs. Blackstone said.

Saul bent to pick up a pot.

“Leave them be.” She slapped his hand away. “I’ll take care of it myself in a bit.”

A faint pattern in the scattered dirt looked almost like a smiley face. He startled, then shrugged. The wind must have swirled through the yard and used the dirt as canvas. He followed his neighbor inside, where he was greeted by the faint aroma of potpourri.

He waited on the sofa while she brewed one of her custom tea blends. She served his in a thick-walled mug, then sat in an armchair across from him. Her hands shook visibly and her china cup rattled against the saucer when she lowered it.

“I wonder what happened to her.” She sighed. “Poor thing. And so lovely too, wasn’t she?”

Saul grunted in agreement, happy that his neighbor’s equilibrium seemed to improve with each sip of tea. He put his empty mug in the sink and made it as far as the door before she spoke again.


He knew that tone.

“I just can’t stop worrying about her. Would you go down to the station and make sure she’s okay?”

He didn’t think she really understood what she was asking, but then he wasn’t sure it would stop her if she did. He rubbed an open palm over his stomach as it hardened into a knot and wished he’d just let the damn phone keep ringing.

Orangeberry Book Tours – Some Are Sicker Than Others by Andrew Seaward

“Seaward not only weaves an exceptionally well-constructed story with wholly credible characters, he offers deeper insights and relates more factual information about the disease of addiction than any other writer to date.”

-Grady Harp, Top 10 Amazon Reviewer “Monty Miller’s journey reminds us of the difficult road of acceptance, forgiveness and redemption that we all must take at some point in our lives.”

-Cyrus Webb, Top 500 Amazon Reviewer 

“This is a very dark, harsh, unmerciful look at addiction with unrelenting exposure of its consequences.”

-Dr. Patricia Laster, Psychologist and Author of “Breaking Free”


In this gripping debut novel by Andrew Seaward, the lives of three addicts converge following an accidental and horrific death.

Monty Miller, a self-destructive, codependent alcoholic, is wracked by an obsession to drink himself to death as punishment for a fatal car accident he didn’t cause.

Dave Bell, a former all-American track star turned washed-up high school volleyball coach, routinely chauffeurs his bus full of teens on a belly full of liquor and head full of crack.

Angie Mallard, a recently divorced housewife with three estranged children, will go to any lengths to restore the family she lost to crystal meth.

All three are court-mandated to a secluded drug rehab high in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. There, they learn the universal truth among alcoholics and addicts:

Though they may all be sick…SOME ARE SICKER THAN OTHERS.

Based on the author’s own personal experience with substance abuse and twelve-step programs, Some Are Sicker Than Others, transcends the clichés of the typical recovery story by exploring the insidiousness of addiction and the harrowing effect it has on not just the afflicted, but everyone it touches.

With the harsh realism of Brett Easton Ellis and the dark, confrontational humor of Chuck Palahniuk, Mr. Seaward takes the reader deep inside the psyche of the addict and portrays, in very explicit details, the psychological and physiological effects of withdrawal and the various stages of recovery.

As Top 10 Amazon Reviewer, Grady Harp, put it: ”What sets Andrew’s novel apart from other recovery stories is his deep understanding of the physiochemical aspects of substance abuse and addiction. Seaward not only understands the socioeconomic, psychological and, yes, criminal impact these people create, he also displays such a profound understanding of the physiological/medical aspects of addiction that we are left to wonder if he hasn’t been down the path of his characters himself.”

Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords

Genre – Literary Fiction

Rating – R

More details about the author

Connect with Andrew Seaward on Facebook & Twitter & Pinterest

Review: Some Are Sicker Than Others by Andrew Seaward

Some Are Sicker Than OthersSome Are Sicker Than Others by Andrew Seaward
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Top 3 things I liked about the setting in this book –

The Sanctuary and only this was my favourite setting.

Why would you recommend or not recommend this book?

I don't think I would really recommend this book to anyone, I know. Just not the people, I associate with.

What kind of book is this? List three evidences of this

Fiction - I know it, because the author says it.

Disclosure: I received a review copy of this book from the author.

View all my reviews

Orangeberry Book Tours - May Specials & Ongoing GIveaways

All special offers are valid on a first come first serve basis until Friday, 31st May 2013.


ALL 5 (FIVE) of the Orangeberry packages listed below for only $55 (Usual price is $140.00)


1. ORANGEBERRY SOCIAL BUTTERFLY is a mini book tour (7 days). It consists of 5 blog stops, 1 Twitter View and 1 Twitter Blast. (Usual price is $30.00)


2. ORANGEBERRY SPREAD ME sees to it that you and your book receive long-term exposure on the web with 5 blog stops in 5 weeks. (Usual price is $30.00)


3. ORANGEBERRY BOOK OF THE DAY is a sweet tool if you want your book to appear on the same day on at least 50 different blogs. (Usual price is $49.99)


4. ORANGEBERRY BOOKSTORE will showcase your book for a whole year amongst book lovers and book club members. You can view the entire bookstore HERE. (Usual price is $29.99)


5. ORANGEBERRY BOOK EXPO will be held in August 2013. Your book cover will be included for the entire duration of the expo. More details about the expo can be found HERE(Usual price is $9.99)


Payment is exclusively via PayPal.

1.Upon sign-up you will receive a starter kit with more details about your guest posts and interview questions.

2. Please sign up HERE

More questions? Email us at info AT orangeberrybooktours DOT com

The ORANGEBERRY BOOKSTORE  is open to all authors, books and genres.

What will you receive? This site receives approximately 5,000 views a month so your book will be placed within reach of book lovers, bloggers and other authors.

What does it look like? All books are listed HERE.

What will it cost you? It costs $29.99 for a whole year. Yes, that's $2.50 a month.

Payment is exclusively via PayPal.

1. Please also send us your book cover  (in jpeg or png). Type email subject as "OrangeberryBookstore".

2. Please sign up HERE

More questions? Email us at info AT orangeberrybooktours DOT com

Next available date - after 25th April 2013


(All proceeds will go towards the Orangeberry Goodie Bag, advertising & site maintenance)


ORANGEBERRY FREE ALERT PREMIUM will assist you to get the word out about your free book promotion via a Twitter campaign, book blast and social media networking. This is currently available for Amazon and Smashwords only.


How will you benefit? This site receives approximately 5,000 views a month and there are more than 13,000 fans on our Facebook page PLUS your free alert will be posted to at least 30 different blogs. Your book will be placed within reach of book lovers, bloggers and other authors.

What will it cost you? It costs $29.99 per book for two days. That's $15.00 a day.

Payment is via PayPal. Use button below or "SendPayment" to info AT orangeberrybooktours DOT com

1. You will receive a total of 10 Tweets (5 Tweets a day) AND a book excerpt or description on at least 30 different blogs.

2. Please ensure your book is already free when you are signing up for this. i.e. You have already created your free promo on your KDP dashboard or your book is set to free on Smashwords.

3.  Please also email us your book cover  (in jpeg or png), release date, Amazon / Smashwords link and book blurb.

4. Sign up HERE.


***PLEASE NOTE - due to the volume of free alerts and tweets we send out in a day, we will NOT notify you once your free alert is alive. You can check our Facebook page at 2000 hours GMT or check your mentions on Twitter.


Next available date - within 48 hours.

(All proceeds will go towards the Orangeberry Goodie Bag, advertising & site maintenance)

Ongoing Giveaways

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Sunday, April 21, 2013

Orangeberry Spring Fling – Reflection by Kim Cresswell


Page 1 > Page 2 > Page 3 >


>>>Amazon Listmania

>>>GoodReads Listopia


Whitney Steel found her big story…

Now it may kill her!

Florida investigative reporter, Whitney Steel, has lived in the shadow of her legendary father long enough. To prove herself she needs to find the “Big” story.

She finally found it, and now it may kill her.

After receiving a lead pointing to the world’s first cloned human, now a small child, Whitney vows to unravel the truth. However, sifting through the facts proves to have dangerous results, including death threats and murder.

When she’s nearly killed, but is saved by undercover FBI Special Agent, Blake Neely, he refuses to let her get in the way of his own objective–at least not right away.

Caught in a lethal game between a billionaire obsessed with genetic perfection, his hit man’s thirst for retribution, and a Colombian drug lord fresh out of prison determined to make Blake pay for his twin brother’s death over a decade ago…

Can they save an innocent child before it’s too late?

Faced with tough choices, with deadly consequences for many–Whitney soon realizes that sometimes a story becomes more than just a story.

“Fast-paced…gripping…riveting!” -Bestselling True Crime Author, RJ Parker

Buy at Amazon

Genre - Romantic Suspense (PG13)

Connect with Kim Cresswell on Facebook and Twitter

Blog http://kimberleycresswell.wordpress.com/

Orangeberry Book Tours – Show & Tell in a Nutshell: Demonstrated Transitions from Telling to Showing by Jessica Bell

Have you been told there’s a little too much telling in your novel? Want to remedy it? Then this is the book for you!

In Show & Tell in a Nutshell: Demonstrated Transitions from Telling to Showing you will find sixteen real scenes depicting a variety of situations, emotions, and characteristics which clearly demonstrate how to turn telling into showing. A few short writing prompts are also provided.

Not only is this pocket guide an excellent learning tool for aspiring writers, but it is a user-friendly and simple solution to honing your craft no matter how broad your writing experience. With the convenient hyper-linked Contents Page, you can toggle backward and forward from different scenes with ease. Use your e-reader’s highlighting and note-taking tools to keep notes as you read, and/or record your story ideas, anywhere, anytime.

The author, Jessica Bell, also welcomes questions via email, concerning the content of this book, or about showing vs. telling in general, at showandtellinanutshell@gmail.com

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Non-Fiction / Writing Skills Reference

Rating – PG

More details about the author

Connect with Jessica Bell on FacebookTwitter

Blog http://thealliterativeallomorph.blogspot.com/