Night of the Purple Moon (The Toucan Trilogy, Book 1) by Scott Cramer

Night of the Purple Moon (The Toucan Trilogy, Book 1) - Scott Cramer

Amazon Kindle US

Amazon Kindle UK

Genre – Science Fiction

Rating – PG

4.4 (308 reviews)

Free until 30 September 2013

Abby Leigh is looking forward to watching the moon turn purple, unaware that deadly bacteria from a passing comet will soon kill off older teens and adults. The lightning-fast epidemic sweeps across the planet when the germs attack the hormones produced during puberty.
On a small island off the coast of Maine, Abby must help her brother and baby sister survive in this new world, but all the while she has a ticking time bomb inside of her -- adolescence.

Almost A Senior by Brenda Faye Collie

Chapter 1

“Jason, wake up” I yelled for the hundredth time. For the hundredth and one time he stirred in the bed mumbling, “Five more minutes.” He had stayed up Thursday night to watch Friday the 13th, Part Six. When I told him to cut off his new television at 12:00 am because he had an appointment with his probation officer at 9:00 am, he mumbled as the masked Jason on television cut up some poor white woman after having her screaming and running for ten minutes, “Five more minutes.” Jason was famous for his five more minutes. Mama said that he was born five days late and he’d probably be late for his own funeral. But I was determined that I wasn’t going to be late for school this morning. So, after I turned the slab bacon strips in the frying pan, I politely went into the refrigerator and took out the pitcher of cold water and threw it on him. He gave a yell which woke up Mama and I’m sure a few dead people. Mama came out of our bedroom running and screaming, “What’s the matter, Jay?” That’s what she calls him. Jay, which is short for jaybird cause he ain’t got much sense. He is nineteen and six feet two, which means he’s too old to be whining over a little cold water.

“Why you do that to him, Loresha?”

“Cause she’s crazy, Mama.” He used his pointer to circle his head.

I went into the kitchen and started beating two eggs for my breakfast. Me crazy? I didn’t steal a bucket of subway tokens from a subway station and then try to sell them outside the same station. He’s the one that has to appear in court every month to show that he’s making progress in a GED program and working for PAL as a youth aide. I go to regular school. I’m in the eleventh grade. I ain’t got to report to anyone except Mama Police.

Mama Police entered the kitchen and picked up a slice of bacon. She slammed the cabinet door after pulling down a cup. I didn’t say anything to her. I knew she didn’t want me to remind her that her job interview was at ten o’clock. I just scraped my eggs onto my plate because the look on her face said that she was not in a friendly mood. The faucet water thundered into the coffee pot.

“Why must everyone wake when you wake up, Loresha?”

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Genre – Young Adult

Rating – PG

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The Symbolon (The Sibylline Trilogy) by Delia Colvin (Excerpt)

∞

Alex hadn’t expected to like the tiny Etruscan village, but Carrara had grown on him, as Kristiana had. The discovery of the extraordinary, white marble, heralded as the finest in the world, had changed not only his fate but the fate of the residents of Carrara, as it created a major industry in the sleepy town.

It was still early when the sun slowly rose over the mountains, in Kristiana’s studio. Alex watched as the light shifted dramatically through the various hatches in the ceiling of the studio capturing the white dust that clung gracefully to the air and coated everything within yards of the building, including Alex and Kristiana, with its mystical sparkle; transforming an otherwise drab room into a magical place.

“Why are you striking it there?” he asked, amazed at Kristiana’s adeptness with the hammer and chisel.

“Watch!” she ordered, without taking her eyes from their position on the glistening white stone. The chisel sat angled on the delicate face of her sculpture. Alex held his breath as the hammer gently tapped on the marble and the piece broke away perfectly, leaving what would become the delicate chin of a woman.

The room held numerous works that Kristiana had completed recently and had not yet been sold. Most of her sculptures were of women that rose, arms outstretched, from the sea. Her work was a marvel to him in that is was ageless and appeared to be effortless.

Noticing his expression after her last tap, she signaled for him to come closer for another lesson. “As I tell all of my students,” she quipped, seductively placing Alex’s hand on her chest, “You must feel the cut in your heart first before you cut with your hand.” She pulled his arms around her. With Kristiana, he could almost imagine what it would be like to be happy.

“But you must practice! I never see you practice anymore,” she scolded, softly. An unfinished work sat in the corner. Neither Kristiana, nor Alex had the nerve to move it. The face could be transformed into someone else but he didn’t have the heart for the work anymore.

Analyzing one of her works, Alex said, almost distracted, “You need the marble more than I do.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He had told her that he would go up the mountain to select and purchase more marble—it gave him something to do. He envied Kristiana with her passion of creating art for the sake of creation. His goal had only been to see Cassandra and Alex had no desire to create other works. He knew that his hands and heart knew only that subject. It was better not to sculpt.

She rose, facing him, with a mischievous smile, and turned his palms towards her, “To be a great artist you must have the marble in your veins.” She placed his hands on her hips, covered in white dust. He smelled her hair and felt her curves. “But we will begin with it on your hands.”

He kissed her lightly and offered her a rare smile. Then pulling back, he said, “I need to leave now, if you wish me to return this evening.”

Until then, he had been concerned that too much time away from her would cause his mind to wander back to Cassandra, causing his pain to return. But now, after a month of togetherness, he knew that he needed the time to himself. And Kristiana needed marble.

She sighed, “Tonight then.” She kissed his neck and pressed into him to close the sale.

∞

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Genre – Paranormal

Rating – PG

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Ethan McKenzie – Ten Tips of How To Become A Better Writer

Ten Tips of How To Become A Better Writer

by Ethan McKenzie

Anyone who has ever tried to write stories knows that development is important. It is a great thing that you want to improve your writing skills and you are willing to learn new things and are open to new ideas. Here you can find ten useful tips which help you become a better writer.

First of all, you need to read a lot. Read as many books as you can. It is not only enjoyable and relaxing; by reading books, you learn how to create a good structure for your stories, how to compose sentences, how to describe your characters to make them real. If you read plenty of books, chances are that you are good at grammar, you have an extended vocabulary, and your spelling is flawless.

Read books of any genre. Read classics, contemporary fiction, literary fiction, science fiction, gothic literature, pulp fiction. You can learn something from every genre and every single book.

Practice makes perfect. Write a lot. Write a diary, write short stories, it does not matter if it is not meant for an audience. Get up ten minutes earlier and write about your thoughts; write about anything that comes to your mind. It helps you express your thoughts. It makes your text flow.

Honesty and authenticity are important. Actually, this is probably the most important part of your success in writing. If you want to write great stories – and who would not want that –, then write about subjects that you adore and admire. You need to be truly interested in your story, its subjects, and its characters. This is the X factor that makes the difference between a fairly good story and a great fiction. Your writings reflect your persona. If your writings are in harmony with your innermost persona, then it will show. Your readers will just love your fictions.

Give your works a nice, well-composed structure. A good story needs to have a riveting introduction, adventures and challenges for the characters, and, in the end, a spectacular climax full of tension, and a short aftermath. Put your characters through difficult situations. Give them as much difficulties as you can think of, and see how they react, how they solve these problems.

Instead of naming certain traits of a character, you should just describe their acts and habits that will highlight these traits. Instead of saying “she was hard working and studious”, write “she got up early, she did a thorough research on every school project, she studied until midnight every day, and spent hours by reading books and taking notes preparing for her tests”.

Be careful with dialogues. They should be simpler and shorter than sentences in the narrative. This makes the situation look natural and real. Do not let your characters use stilted, long sentences. Make sure that the language they use fits them. A gangster will not use the same language as a priest does.

Do not use too many adverbials.

Do not add scenes that are unnecessary. If you have already shown in one scene that your character is strong, we do not need three more scenes to emphasize this.

Keep your writings and your sentences short and neat. Do not use too many words if you could say the same thing with much less words. Think of Hemingway. Of course, you may use more sophisticated language – Lovecraft did so, and he wrote wonderful stories –, but do not be repetitive.

Write about believable, real characters. Readers do not need clichés and Mary Sues. An actual character has flaws. Your characters do not need to be great looking, warm, down-to-earth, happy, and innocent. They are allowed to be sulky, envious, angry, arrogant, or awkward. They may have fears or imperfections. Just do not forget, instead of telling about their traits, you should describe them. Tell about their habits, their unique characteristics. Remember – your characters are not just “smart and kind, love classical music”, they are “near-sighted, short, and plump, they often eat chocolate, they always listen to Mozart, they can memorize any details quickly, and they love Sudoku and mathematics”.

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Genre – Medical Suspense Thriller

Rating – PG

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Characters In Search of a Novel by Molly D. Campbell

Loretta Squirrels

She don’t take nothin’ from no one. Hell, she ain’t had a Daddy her whole life, and her Mama left Loretta to take care of them babies most days. Loretta learnt how to shoot and how to cook what she kilt. Them babies never went hungry.

She don’t take no shit. She don’t have to, cause she’s so big and mean. Loretta has to bend down to go through most doors, and I seen her kick a few in when they was locked! And if she gets drunk, git out of the way, cause Loretta gets to shoving folks around, then!

Loretta married Bobby Ray Squirrels when they was in eighth grade. She says she liked his eyes. Everyone says it’s cause Bobby Ray had the best Moonshine recipe, and Loretta wanted that recipe more than anything else in the world. Moonshine is money in the bank. So now Bobby Ray and Loretta have a bidness. A real bidness. Loretta is the CEO. That means Cheats Every One.

Loretta don’t never make mistakes. Hell, she says the only mistake she ever made was havin’ too many babies. But Loretta raised ’em and kicked ’em out. Now she has all the time she needs to keep her stills goin’ and keep Bobby Ray in line.

Loretta loves her music. She and Bobby Ray go over to Jesco’s Grill on Friday nites, when they’s got the bluegrass goin’. Hell, she sings right along with the band, and she gets louder and louder all nite! I seen her take her top off and shake around in her bra, but then Bobby Ray tole her to git her clothes on! Loretta can sing all nite long, and she never gets raspy or nothin’.

I hear that Loretta’s cousin Harald tried to steal from Loretta’s sister one time, and Loretta stabbed Harald for tryin’. I hear she used a fork. Man, that woman is mean! But shit, Harald should of knowed better. He was the one who showed Loretta how to use a gun, for cryin’ out loud.

I used to be friends with her, but now I don’t trust Loretta for shit. Hell, she came over my house and took four chickens! She says she did not, but I saw her runnin’ off down the creek—she wrung their necks and shoved ’em in a poke! That Loretta oughta think about things. ‘Fore she knows it, her and Bobby Ray won’t have no more folks to depend on. What they call that? A support system? Well, she ain’t gonna have one, no how, if she keeps stealin’ poultry.

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Genre - Fiction / Short Stories

Rating – PG13

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Death’s Servant – C.J. Ellisson

Death’s Servant – C.J. Ellisson

Amazon Kindle US

Amazon Kindle UK

Genre – Urban Fantasy

Rating – R

4.9 (77 reviews)

Free until 31 December 2013

Jonathan Winchester has clashed with his alpha one too many times. After another argument he leaves the Manitoba pack, his only home since the werewolf attack that changed his life. He returns to his home state of Virginia to start a new life free of pack politics. Jon finds work and meets a young waitress, Raine, who appears to be a lone werewolf, too.
As their relationship progresses, Jon's embroiled in more intrigue than he bargained for and a danger bigger than he can handle. He's running scared until his own alpha tendencies surface, making him unable to leave the pretty werewolf's problems behind. The young man is desperate to save Raine--even if his efforts may lead him straight to death.
Journey along in this first prequel novel involving the favorite characters from the bestselling V V Inn series. Written at reader demand, this stand-alone story explains how the beloved Jonathan came to serve the deadly redheaded vampire, Dria.

Excerpt: Bad Traffick by DV Berkom

Chapter One

The gentleman in the impeccable Armani suit watched the images flash by on the screen, a glass of Macallan single malt on the gold inlay table beside him. Two additional men, shrouded in darkness and unknown to each other, were also taking part in the video conference from different areas of the world, watching the same images. Several times one or the other would raise his hand, platinum or gold watch flashing in the darkened rooms, signaling for the Seller to pause the presentation so they could look more closely at the photographs.

The Seller was visibly sweating in the air conditioned comfort of the massive hotel suite. If he didn't make the sale this time, these clients would look elsewhere for their pleasures. His reputation as the go-to guy in the business was balancing on a knife's edge. Ever since the fiasco with the televangelist two months prior, he'd kept a sharp eye on the operational side of things.

One of the executives was fidgeting, apparently bored, and the Seller's anxiety level skyrocketed. He didn't have to find a mirror to know his appearance was giving his discomfort away. He could feel the cold sweat flowing down his back and armpits, running between his buttocks. What the hell do these guys want? Am I losing my touch? Usually it wasn't this hard to match the client to the product.

The Seller was down to his last two photographs when all three men simultaneously motioned for him to stop. The client in Saudi Arabia rose from his chair and walked to the screen, gazing at the delicate visage.

The Seller's shoulders relaxed. He shouldn't have been worried, should've known the eyes would close the deal: jade green flecked with gold surrounding deep black pupils. Everyone who saw her stopped in their tracks. She'd reminded the Seller of a famous photo he'd seen years before in an issue of National Geographic. She wore the same enigmatic expression. The silence of the buyers signaled it was time for the hard sell.

"Gentleman. I see you have exquisite taste. Mara is newly acquired and in pristine condition. I guarantee she will delight you with her generous charms. As I'm sure you'll agree, she has no equal. I always save the best for last. Mustn't trot out the most sublime too quickly, eh?"

There were murmurs of agreement between the men. The Seller's anxiety morphed to excitement as he prepared to set the hook. My God, look at them. They're practically salivating. A bidding war would be a welcome relief.

The client in the room waved him to his side. His unusual gold pinkie ring flashed, catching the Seller's eye. He'd seen the symbol before, but was unaware of its significance.

"Her age?" he asked.

The Seller turned and glanced at the picture of the girl. Her expression still held a trace of innocence, although churning through the American foster care system for two years had taken its toll. The photographer had captured the picture before Mara realized she wasn't going home.

"Twelve years, sir."

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Genre – Romantic Suspense

Rating – PG13

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Website http://www.dvberkom.com/