A Chain of Flames is about how different people – some on the front of society and some on the fringe – are able to find their way to something greater . . . despite their disasters, their difficulties or their levels of malcontent.

Eli Rathebohn is a wounded, lost soul. He’s not really living, he merely exists. Just one heartbeat away from ending his life, Eli decides that he’s not going down alone. He’s determined to take an innocent man with him.

Johnny James is a civil servant—just a modest police Chaplain in a mid-sized southwest town. He has no idea that his simple life is about to change so drastically, that he is about to be tossed so deeply into the fray.

Denise Grayhorn, the daughter of an influential tribal leader, may have just ended her own career as a television news anchor. In a last-ditch effort to redeem herself she accepts a meager assignment. But no one knew that her penance would turn into the most sensational news event of the year.

Jared Suina has been raised on a Pueblo in New Mexico. Young and educated, he finds himself caught between his heritage and a yearning for something more. Will he find what he’s searching for? Does it even exist? In the center of two worlds, Jared gains more than he could ever have imagined.

Together these people will come to realize that life is not a single footpath, but a broad interchange. Where souls are linked and mingled, as in a chain of flames.

The author weaves together the lives of his characters in a meaningful way that illustrates the untapped power of faith, redemption, and love. A Chain of Flames shows us how the seemingly small things in life can become grand adventures. If not for ourselves, then for others.

Targeted Age Group:: Appropriate for all ages

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I have often been struck by the level of disinterest that we sometimes tend to assign to others that we meet within the context of our day. When it is, really, those interactions that can actually shape the future outcomes of our time spent on this Earth, in this reality. Especially now- during this time of 'masked' anonymity so prevalent during the covid-19 pandemic. Interaction matters. People matter. Connections matter. So I wrote A Chain of Flames to show how seemingly disparate people can – and do – make an impact on one another. Because, like it or not, we are all linked and mingled through soulful interactions. Like a chain of flames.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
I came up with my characters by observing people that I came into contact with at various time of my life and then mixing their traits, their personage, and their 'spark' until it was something unrecognizable from the original but very developed as a book character. It was important for me, as a writer, to assess diligently what it must have taken in the lives of those people to get them to where they are in life. I think that good character development begins this being a keen observer of people, but then letting the muse rearrange what you've learned.

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This book is intended for user of an operating system other than Linux and wants to switch to Linux and particularly to AntiX Linux for one or the other reason. The most common reason provided by computer users for switching to Linux is “its free”. Apart from the “free” tag, it may be useful for a variety of reasons:
1. Your old laptop/PC is too old and outdated to support latest version of Windows or Mac.
2. Linux is not affected by viruses.
3. Linux can be used effectively for programming and code learning purposes.
4. to enhance knowledge

The guide can also be applied to other types of Debian Linux such as MX Linux or Zorin Linux. This book guides you through the process of selection of OS, exploring Linux on live Linux, accessing windows drives in linux, installation of Linux, the partition of Linux, understanding and setting up dual booting Linux along with windows, installation of all modern tools like ZOOM, python, pycharm, C/C++ compilers, google drive setup on Linux. After completing this book you will gain confidence in switching from Windows to Linux Operating Systems.

Get a copy now to gain freedom from all paid software and free viruses.

Targeted Age Group:: 6-100

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I am a great fan of Linux, however, I find that most people are reluctant to switch to Linux due to their fear of damaging computers. I have written this book as a guide to those people who want to switch to Linux and want to have a new experience.

Book Sample
Before you start the installation of Linux or you want to run live Linux on your system for testing hardware and feature of a Linux operating system, you will be required to set your tools in place. You will need a USB pen drive with a capacity of about 8 GB. This pendrive will be used to save installation files of Linux or files to run live Linux on your system. Further, assuming that you are using a Windows computer, you will be required to have any software for writing Linux ISO files on the pendrive.

The step by step process of making a pendrive ready for running live Linux or installation of Linux is explained in upcoming sections.

What is a bootable media/ device

When your system does not have any operating system, it cannot start on switching power. Say you want to change the operating system or you want to install a new operating system or you want to scan your computer with an antivirus while keeping your computer operating system shut, you will need bootable media for starting your computer. This can be done through special instructions stored on another Hard Disk or USB pen drive or Compact Disk (CD).
In simpler terms, making USB bootable means loading special instructions on pendrive to load certain files to start an operating system. You cannot communicate with a dead OS computer without bootable media. Here in our case, we will be storing the bootable data on USB to start our PC from scratch without going into Windows OS.

Uses of a bootable USB
1. Most commonly bootable USBs are used for installing a new operating system
2. Loading a small operating system with an anti-virus scanner to scan PC/Laptop hard drive for virus or errors.
3. Flashing Bios Memory (not covered in this book. To be done by experts only as this may damage your PC)

Making USB drive bootable

For making your pendrive bootable you may need to install software on your Windows PC to load booting instruction and operating system ISO on pendrive. This software will copy operating system files and booting instructions on a USB drive. ISO are file images intended to make CD/DVD.
Why cannot I simply copy-paste ISO data on pendrive as I usually do? hmmm… yes you can copy-paste to load data on pendrive, but from this process, the pendrive will not become a bootable pen drive i.e. instructions will not be copied into the right location.

The boot instruction for execution requires them to be stored in the first 512 bytes of a pendrive/CD/hard disk. Well, this is a hardware part, without going into detail, I tell you that copying will not put the booting instruction at the right locations.

I suggest a few software for installation on your Windows machine to copy OS ISO on your pendrive to make your pendrive bootable for installation of a new operating system.

Below is the link to one such software that can copy ISO data to your pendrive and make it bootable. You are strongly recommended to install this software on your Windows PC.

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A fast moving and informative account of an RV Road Trip to Alaska, Yukon, B.C., and the Northwest Territories. The destination is one of the world’s last great wilderness areas, a region renowned for its spectacular mountains, abundant wildlife and stunning scenery. Along the way, the author and his wife experience this and so much more.

They expected Alaska to be a once in an lifetime experience, but had no idea at the time that the journey would also encompass a month living in a log cabin in the Yukon; driving the Dempster Highway, 458 miles (737kms) of gravel highway through spectacular wilderness to Inuvik in the Northwest Territories; crossing the Arctic Circle; paddling a kayak down a portion of the historic Yukon river, and flying by small plane to an Inuvialuit (Eskimo) community on the Arctic Coast, but it did and much more besides. They thought it would take about two months, ultimately it took almost five.

Whether you are an armchair traveler, or thinking of experiencing the trip for yourself, this book makes a great read and will provide an insight into what awaits those adventurous enough to head north to Alaska “The last frontier”.

Targeted Age Group:: 16-80

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
After a lifetime of travel, I wanted to education and inspire others to travel to Northern Canada and Alaska independently by RV.

Book Sample
As a child my parents would take me to department stores at Christmas. My favorite attraction was always the model railway displays. Professionally constructed, they often featured winter displays, with trains passing through mountains buried under unbelievable amounts of snow, all the more to create a spectacular scene. At the top of Thompson Pass that spring, those childhood fantasies came to life. Here snow lay in unbelievable quantities, in winter up to 5 feet can fall in a single day!
Winter storms are legendary, in December 1905, a blizzard on the pass was so bad that a crew of the V.T. Freighting Company were forced to abandon 2,100 pounds of gold, valued at $508,000 (worth over $12,000,000 today). After spending the night in a roadhouse, they returned the next day and retrieved the total amount untouched. The following November, Theodore Kitteson and Percy Charles were forced to abandon several thousand pounds of gold and return to a roadhouse. Again the gold was safely recovered and Kitterson later said “The gold was safer covered with snow on the trail, than it would be anywhere else”.
The first morning in Valdez heralded another gorgeous day, especially when one considered this city held the record for the most snow in one day. Even in mid-May, the 300-feet that fall annually were still evident, with most hiking trails still closed. While wandering around town, we stumbled on a snow pile as high as a 2-story building, but the pack was melting fast and surrounding mountains were made more spectacular by the numerous waterfalls cascading down to the bay.
Our base was a waterfront RV Park, with panoramic views of the surrounding mountains and bay. A young French couple, were amongst the few campers there. Flying into Anchorage, they had rented a car and were touring around Alaska with a tent for a couple of weeks. Like us, they arrived early in the season, with the express idea that deep snow would make the scenery more spectacular. They were cooking a meal of Caribou and macaroni, over a small portable stove, on the harbor wall. Looking a little unsure about the meat, they claimed “it tastes a little strange, rather like liver”. A surprising comparison, I would have expected it to be similar to venison. They offered me a sample and while I would have liked to taste Caribou for curiosities sake, I decline, feeling that eating their lunch was a bit cheeky.
The RV Park was unusual in that it had a large number of pet rabbits of varying size and color. At the office, I was told simply that “The owner likes them”, which seemed as good an answer as any. When asked about the Exxon Valdez oil spill disaster, they said that the RV park at that time had been busier than ever, being full of Exxon employees. Just across the road was a small block of apartments, which were built in great haste during that period. Commenting about the current good weather, the locals claimed that such sunny days were not at all unusual for that time of the year and the summer before last, they had actually recorded a high of 97F.
Valdez is a major departure point for day cruises into Prince William Sound, the main attraction of which is the tidewater glaciers and wildlife. We considered the trips on offer, but decided to wait until later in the season, when we would be in Seward. Our reasoning was that most glaciers were still covered in deep snow and frankly, were difficult to distinguish from the rest of a snow-covered mountain. Glaciers are best viewed after the snow has melted, leaving only the blue ice visible. We came to regret that decision later, as all else aside, the weather was almost perfect.
Instead, we decided to return to Thompson Pass and enjoy the beauty of the day amidst the breathtaking vistas. From the top we stared out at the fantasyland of ice and snow while Maggie commented “It’s like standing on the edge of the world, ” which was a perfect description.
On the way back into town, we detoured to view the site of Old Valdez, but could find very little evidence that it ever existed. The demise of the previous Valdez town site goes back to Good Friday, March 27, 1964, when the largest earthquake ever to hit North America struck Alaska. The epicenter was just 45 miles west of Valdez. Many coastal communities were affected, but none were as hard hit as Valdez, which had to be totally rebuilt 4-miles west of the original town site, in a higher, safer location.
The shockwaves which the magnitude 8.4 – 8.6 earthquake generated, ripped streets apart and destroyed many homes and buildings. Millions of cubic yards of earth slide into Valdez Bay, triggered by a huge submarine slide. In total, 33 Valdez residents lost their lives. It took between two and four years for new Valdez to progressively replace old Valdez. During this period, approximately 62 buildings were moved from the old to the new town site. Some claim a similar tragedy could never happen today, as new Valdez sits on more stable ground, consisting of cobblestone some 100 feet deep, but for those who lived through the terrifying experience, every tremor brings back nightmares.
By a strange quirk of fate, on Good Friday, March 24, 1989, exactly 25 years to the day after the 1964 earthquake, Valdez suffered another disaster. Even as residents were commenting the passing of a quarter century since the quake, the Exxon Valdez oil tanker was inexorably heading on a collision course with Bligh Reef. The vessel spilled 10.8 million gallons of unrefined Alaskan crude into Prince William Sound causing the largest oil spill in North American history.
No crude made it into Valdez harbor, as prevailing winds and tides moved the spill further south into the Sound. In total, oil covered over 1,200 miles of rocky shoreline and beaches as far as Kodiak Island and beyond. During the summer of 1989, over 10,000 workers were employed in a massive cleanup effort. Valdez, a city of 3,500 people, grew three-fold almost overnight. On average Exxon spent $1,000 per day, supporting each and every worker involved in the cleanup. When this figure was multiplied by 10,000, it made for an astounding amount of money, which eventually exceeded $2 billion.
The actual cleanup process was ineffective in many ways, as quickly as workers would wipe down a beach, the tide would change and oil-laden water would cover the rocks with a another coat of oil. Later, new techniques were used, with micro-organisms that “eat” crude oil being sprayed onto some of the beaches.
Estimated wildlife deaths were 250,000 seabirds, 2,800 sea otters, 300 harbor seals, 150 bald eagles and 22 killer whales. After ten years, only two of 28 species injured by the spill were declared “recovered”, but new safety methods, such as an escort vessel system for tankers in Prince William Sound and an improved radar system have greatly reduced the potential for such an accident to happen again. In 1994, a jury determined that Exxon’s conduct was reckless and awarded a $5 billion settlement in a class action lawsuit brought by 40,000 commercial fishermen and other parties.
Departing Valdez, we found the town was crowded with hordes of tourists, who had arrived by cruise ship during the night. The warm sunny weather was causing rapid snowmelt and as we traveled through Keystone Canyon, waterfalls thundered down the steep walls. At the top of Thompson Pass, areas of dark rock were starting to appear through the snow. 18 hours of bright sunshine a day was having an astonishing affect. As we approached Glenallen, a lake which had been nine-parts frozen two days before, was now nine-parts open water.
West of Glennallen Junction, a wall of heavy grey cloud and rain confronted us, heralding a dramatic change of weather. Several minutes later, we were cocooned in a deluge of tropical proportions, which slowed our progress as we crossed a lengthy stretch of black spruce forest.
We expected to break out of the rain, back into sunshine, but as the miles rolled by, it became apparent that wasn’t going to happen, so we decided to stop for the night at a small restaurant with an RV park in the back. Heading to the office, I was greeted by a very large dog, which made it clear that I was to throw the equally large stick he had in his mouth. Obliging him, he charged after it like an overweight grizzly bear. Running back, he presented the stick for me to throw again, but this time he had a different game in mind and refused to let it go. So, as I’m sure had happened with many other customers, we tussled and fought for possession of the stick and, as I’m sure he expected, he won easily. Not only was he built like a Grizzly, he was almost as strong as one.
The lady at reception was busy complaining about the cost of gas, which had risen to astronomical proportions as we traveled further north. Her main gripe was receiving no apparent benefit from residing in an oil rich State. The wholesale price they paid was $1.69 gallon and their price at the pump was $1.99.
After parking the rig, I turned my attention to the unusual power sockets, which were unlike anything I’d seen before. At the end of a long limp electrical cable was a small white circular socket, completely open to the rain. With some trepidation, I connected the trailer plug and was relieved not be electrocuted on the spot. However, inside the trailer, all was not well, there was no sign of any power and worse still, the trailer’s transformer was making strange and ominous noises. I went back outside and tried a couple of other sockets, each with alarming results. The first one sizzled and hissed, while the next one had a steady trickle of water seeping out of it. We all know that oil and water don’t mix but oil and electricity is an even worse combination. The “home made” power sockets were more “shocking” than anything I’d ever seen, even in Mexico. So, after speaking to the owner, I received a refund and headed on towards Anchorage, hoping that our transformer had not been “fried”.
Climbing in altitude to over 3,000 feet, we were hit by heavy snow, making it hard to believe it was the same day on which we’d left Valdez in glorious sunshine. Eventually, we descended out of the clouds and came to rest at Matanuska Glacier State Campground. In spite of low cloud, the glacier view was impressive. Surrounded by moraine and forest, enormous fingers of ice scoured the valley bottom. I consider myself fortunate to have seen many glaciers around the world, but invariably they have been at high altitude, typically clinging to a mountainside. This one however, lying below us rather than above, was different, more accessible and somehow more impressive for it.
As evening fell, we heard occasional cracking noises in the otherwise silent campground. When curiosity finally got the better of me, I found the instigator of the noise was a large cow moose, breaking Willow branches in order to eat the juiciest shoots. Unlike other moose we’d seen, this one had attractive coloring, with patches of white on her rear legs. Judging by the volume of droppings throughout the park, the moose was a regular visitor.

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-Serena-
Marrying the man of your dreams after crushing on him for the last decade should be cause for celebration. So why am I crying alone in the honeymoon suite on my wedding night? Because there’s just one problem – it’s a fake marriage. Purely for appearances as part of a business deal between our fathers’ companies.
But I can’t sit idly by pretending this is only a platonic relationship, especially as sparks begin to fly between us. So what will I have to do to convince my stoic Prince Charming I want him for real? And what will I risk along the way?

-Archer-
The plan is simple – act like a husband in love publicly after I foolishly got myself involved in this fake marriage, and behind closed doors keep things separate. But the longer we continue this charade attending events and staging selfies, the more I’m unsure what’s fake and what’s not, especially when things start to heat up in private.
As the successor to my father’s billion dollar company, work has been my life. Focusing on my job has never been harder, though, when there’s a temptress living in my guest bedroom. What are the chances this business deal of a marriage could turn into the real thing? The last person I ever expected to fall for is… my wife.

Targeted Age Group:: Adults

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I loved the idea of writing about three brothers who, despite coming from a wealthy family, still have relatable problems. This book follows two characters first introduced in another book of mine, so it was satisfying to explore their characters more and have them find their happily ever after.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
I love a grumpy/sunshine pairing where one character starts out guarded and stiff, and eventually has to let the other one in and form a deep connection because of how persistent and positive their partner is. In the book, Serena and Archer play off each other well and I wanted them each to find their other half.

Book Sample
1

Serena
“I can’t do this,” Gabriel says, his voice echoing off the walls of the ballroom.
If everyone’s attention wasn’t on us already, it definitely is now.
I stare at my fiance from across the altar, but he refuses to meet my eye, instead looking slightly over my shoulder. Not that I blame him. If I was announcing I’m not marrying someone in front of four hundred plus people, I wouldn’t want to look them in the eye either.
“You can’t?” the minister whispers, clearly at a loss on how to proceed.
“No.” Gabriel turns his head slightly, finally looking at me, the resoluteness in his gaze easing something within me. After all that heartache, all that worry that was making me literally sick to my stomach, I’m… free.
Now don’t get me wrong, Gabriel Bishop seems like a nice enough guy, but I barely know him. He’s not the reason I agreed to this business deal of a marriage to begin with.
His brother is.
My gaze cuts away from my fiance’s face to the man standing behind him. The best man. His brother.
Archer Bishop.
Two years older than me and the star of my teenage fantasies back when we both attended Redmond Prep a decade ago, time has been kind to him, only growing more handsome with age in that way men do. Dark hair brushed back neatly off his face. Strong jaw accentuating full lips. Piercing blue eyes… suddenly turned on me.
Oh God, everyone’s looking, aren’t they? I glance out into the crowd, immediately regretting my decision as I realize people are no longer staring just because I’m the bride, but pointing too. Whispering to each other, eyes filled with pity. For me. The girl who’s getting dumped at the altar.
The relief from earlier at Gabriel’s announcement twists in my stomach, dragging me down, my arms prickling with dozens of invisible pins and needles as a disquieting wave washes over me.
My hands twist together and I wish I still had my bouquet to hide the way they’re trembling. The way my knees are barely holding me up. The way my back seems to hunch forward instinctively.
“He can’t marry her… because I’m in love with her.”
My gaze flies up to meet Archer’s, steady on mine, an embarrassingly loud gasp escaping me. Did I hear him right? Or am I in some kind of mental state of shock dreaming up a fantasy scenario to get me through the next few minutes?
But as he switches places with his brother, the minister backtracking through the script, it doesn’t seem like a dream as he repeats the vows, his deep, “I do,” sending a rush of warmth through me, scattering the anxiety away.
I stand in a daze, barely hearing the words I’m repeating myself, unable to process exactly what’s happening right now. Am I really marrying this man? And it turns out he… loves me?
He reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out two wedding bands, and motions for me to take the larger one. I blink rapidly, my brain taking a moment to catch up, and I carefully accept it from him, my only thought that this was originally meant for Gabriel. Will it even fit him?
“These rings are a symbol of your union. An unending journey you are about to embark on together,” the minister says as Archer slips the band over my left ring finger, his hand warm and steady where it briefly touches mine.
I nearly drop his ring with how badly my hands are shaking, and have to pause and regroup before I manage to get it on him.
He doesn’t seem to judge me for my nervousness, silent as the minister continues speaking, and I’m almost calm until we’re pronounced as husband and wife, those infamous you may now kiss the bride words making my stomach rise once again.
My hands grip the skirt of my dress at my sides, guilt momentarily flooding me as I realize I’ve torn the intricate beading. But I can’t worry about that now because the man I’ve dreamt about for the last decade is bending down to kiss me.
This is it. The moment I’ve been waiting for. If I could speak to my younger self, I’d tell teenage Serena not to give up hope. It’ll happen someday.
But a chaste peck on the lips is all I receive for my years of anticipation. I swear I’ve gotten more tongue action from dogs at the animal shelter than that.
It’s probably just because we’re in front of all these people. Archer is a reserved guy. And it would be tacky to get hot and heavy when I was literally supposed to marry his brother five minutes ago. That has to be it.
The recessional starts and the wedding planner, Mackenzie, thankfully has the presence of mind to give me my bouquet, my brain still in a fog as Archer holds his arm out to me and I loop my hand through the crook of his elbow, the fabric of his navy suit luxuriously soft.
The growing buzz of excitement around us surges in volume as we walk down the aisle, until I can barely hear myself think. The only thing I’m able to focus on is that steady chant in my head. He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.
Me. Serena Montague. I honestly wasn’t sure he knew I existed. But maybe all this pining for him in secret was mutual after all. He certainly did a good job hiding it. Even I didn’t know.
I’m on cloud nine as we’re whisked away by the photographer to take pictures together, his body close to mine, a subtle spice emanating from him that must be his cologne. I inhale, drunk on his presence, on the knowledge that this man is my husband.
We’re too busy posing to speak privately, and when we’re finally finished, Mackenzie’s there to guide us over to the tail end of the cocktail hour. We’re almost immediately bombarded by all sorts of well wishers with thinly veiled requests for more information about this strange turn of events. Archer keeps tight-lipped, refusing to indulge their morbid curiosity, and I take his lead, mostly because I have no clue how to respond. This is all a happy surprise for me too.
When everyone takes their seats for dinner, I realize my cheeks are aching from smiling so much. The food is to die for, our first dance perfection as I gently sway in Archer’s arms, the bouquet toss thrilling as a woman I’ve never met whoops and hollers in delight after catching it. Mackenzie’s there by my side directing us as we cut the cake, the feel of my husband’s hand warm on top of my own. He holds his fork out to me and I take a bite, a smile overtaking my face at his romantic gesture.
How could I have missed any sign from him that he felt this way about me? Did he not want to tip Gabriel off? But then why not say something back when the engagement first started? I assumed it was a family decision.
It all still seems so unreal. This honorable, kind, brilliant, insanely attractive man is mine. My husband.
He takes my arm at the end of the night, leading me out of the reception and toward the elevators. Up on the thirty-third floor is the honeymoon suite. Where Archer and I… A rush of goosebumps races across my skin at what’s to come. We’ve been surrounded by people the entire time, unable to have a private conversation. Once we’re alone, maybe he’ll want to give me a proper kiss. One that would have been entirely inappropriate at the altar.
I hold my hand over my stomach as we ascend, containing the butterflies trapped there, biting my lip so he won’t see the goofy smile that wants to break through. Almost time now.
The elevator dings upon our arrival, room 3301 directly in front of us as the metal doors slide open. I turn to him, expecting him to lift me in his arms and carry me bridal style into the room, but he merely pulls the key card out of his pocket and swipes it, holding it open for me, his face impassive.
Okay, maybe he doesn’t know about that tradition.
I squeeze the tulle layers of my gown through the doorway, eyeing him as he passes by me to slump down in a chair in the corner. He sighs as he scrubs a palm over his jaw, weariness radiating off him.
I stand awkwardly in the middle of the room as he continues to ignore me, staring down at his glossy shoes. Shouldn’t we be kissing already?
He fumbles at his neck to loosen his tie, leaning forward to remove his jacket next, his shoulders broad and defined even through his dress shirt. I release a breath, my stomach easing. He’s just getting comfortable before we get to the good stuff.
But when he pulls out his phone and starts scrolling, the butterflies from earlier sink.
“I’ll wait around for a bit and slip out a back exit once it’s died down.”
Um, what now?
“You’re an amazing actress by the way. I don’t think anyone suspected.”
My knees suddenly give and I stagger over to the bed, barely reaching it in time. If he thought I was acting, does that mean… he’s acting?
“You said you loved me.” I can’t help how small my voice sounds, how pathetic. I’m not capable of mustering anything stronger it seems.
“It’s the only thing I could think of in the moment,” he says distractedly, attention still focused on his phone. “I was just trying to recover the situation. Dad really wants this deal to go through.”
“Right,” I choke out, a weight settling in my chest. I try to take a deep breath, but the heaviness spreads, pushing my shoulders down, compressing my lungs. It’s all I can do not to let out the sob that’s building inside.
“Are you okay?”
I glance up, realizing his focus is finally on me, right when I least want it. I rub at my breastbone, then make a motion toward my back. “Can you, um, loosen these corset strings? I can’t breathe.”
“Yeah, sure.”
He settles in behind me on the bed, his breath warm against the nape of my neck. But instead of the sensation leaving a pleasant wash of shivers racing through me, it’s only more fuel for the icy dread creeping out from my chest.
When my dress is loose enough to take a deeper breath, I stand, holding the bodice up with one hand. “If you’ll excuse me,” I murmur, heading toward the bathroom.
I flip on the fluorescent light and accompanying exhaust fan, the humming drone drowning out the sound of my gasps as I brace my palms on the counter.
It was all an act? A way to preserve this asinine business deal our fathers have arranged? I still don’t even fully understand why Dad insisted on it to begin with.
“Do you need help?” Archer’s deep voice calls through the door. “With your dress? I won’t look.”
A mirthless chuckle escapes me. What a time to be a gentleman.
“I’m fine.”
Outwardly, everything is perfect. I just married a man who’s set to inherit an insane amount of wealth one day. Who’s already the CFO of his father’s billion dollar company. The guy I had a raging crush on throughout high school. The one I’ve tried to forget about over the last decade.
And someone who apparently is following the same deal me and his brother had arranged. A marriage in name only for the sake of our fathers’ companies.
How did I not pick up on that? Am I really that delusional?
I take a few calming breaths, running my fingers carefully underneath my eyes to wipe away any stray tears before opening the door a sliver. “I’m going to take a bath. You can…” I swallow heavily, willing my voice not to shake. “You can leave whenever.” If I’m around him much longer, I might start blubbering on his shoulder.
“I’m meeting with my father tomorrow. We’ll come up with a game plan for the curveball I threw everyone.”
I nod, not that he can even see me through the slight crack in the door.
“And I’m sorry. I know you were supposed to marry-”
“It’s fine,” I interrupt him. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I rest my forehead against the door frame, just wanting to escape this situation already. That’s what I’ve always been good at. Running away.
I close the door and plug the drain to the bathtub, turning on the tap. Laid out on the edge of the sparkling white tub is an assortment of high end toiletries, and I grab the bubble bath bottle, twisting off the top to dump it in. It takes me a minute to wiggle out of my dress and peel off my bridal lingerie, each layer I shed releasing a weight from me. I undo the complicated braid around the crown of my head, finger combing it out the best I can, and sink into the hot water, letting the jasmine scented bath soothe the tangle of my mind.
I’m married. To a man who doesn’t want to be married to me.
It’s no different from the situation I expected as of this morning when I thought I’d be marrying his brother, but knowing it’s Archer I won’t have a true marriage with somehow seems infinitely worse.
I was resigned to a married on paper but completely separate lives arrangement with Gabriel, but I don’t want that anymore. Now that I have Archer, I want the real deal.
Tonight, he’d radiated that same confidence and authority I remembered from high school, grown only stronger with time and experience. He’d been gracious with guests, accommodating to me as I’d trampled over his feet dancing, patient as he pretended to be in love. And even if it wasn’t real, he’s still everything I’ve ever wanted.
My eyes flutter shut, a hundred different scenarios racing through my mind, but in the end, it all boils down to one thing as a resolution settles upon me.
If I want a real marriage… I’ll have to make it one.

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This simple story offers a new way of beating a bully through kindness.

This book about Ben the Bully:

① Contains lovely illustrations and a strong message about kindness.

② Helps children recognize bullying behaviour and understand how to make friends.

③ Offers a different perspective on dealing with a bully.

④ Teaches children about how to express kindness through words and actions.

Kindness needs to be taught just as self-worth and personal safety is taught. Because of the increase in bullying in all aspects of society, Anusjka R.E. decided that she wanted to contribute, to the support of carers, and parents in teaching the principles of kindness.

Targeted Age Group:: 3-7

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
The world we live in seems to be spiralling out of control into a cloud of hatred. I wanted to help parents approach the topic of bullying, making friends and kindness with their kids.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Sid the main character in the Sid the Kindest Kid stories is inspired by my son. We came up with of the skeleton my first book Sweets, Sweets, Sweet during our night time sorry times. The character Kameron was inspired by his best friend in nursery school when he was a toddler. The girl in the story is inspired by my daughter and I came up with the character Ben out of the blue. I honestly thought that the name was easy to remember and I was going to call the book Ben the Bully which rhymed, but my community felt the name Ben Learns to Be Kind and was more positive.

Book Sample
'Just then, Ben ran into the classroom, kicked the train tracks, which Kameron, Sid and Suzy had just completed building and ran off.
Sid picked up one of the trains and ran after Ben the bully.
What do you think Sid did next?'

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Now, for the first time ever, a light and fun book will save you from reading thick wine encyclopedias to look confident and cool on your date. This book reveals the secret of wine experts and all those mysterious words, provides all tools for everyone to talk about like a pro about every aspect of wine while helping to discover your personal palate along the way.

Each page is packed with clear answers to every wine-related questions imaginable such as the history of wine, winemaking techniques, type of grapes, regions, labels, buying and storing basics, food pairing tips, how to hold the wineglass, how to taste wine, how to evaluate and describe the wine.

Targeted Age Group:: 20-60

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
This book contains the most relevant question and answers about wine. Whether you are looking to learn the basics of wine or impress people around you with your wine knowledge, this is a book that should be on every wine lover’s shelf.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
The book is on answer and questions. The one who is asking the questions is a beginner level about wine and knows almost nothing about wine. The questions are given by a wine expert.

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12 accounts of personal experiences from the world beyond – deceased human beings transmitted their individual story through the Swiss deep trance medium Beatrice Brunner. In a vivid manner they describe their initial experiences and encounters in the next world and provide an insight into the meaning of earthly existence and the diversity of the world that awaits us.

Beatrice Brunner (1910–1983) counts among the most important deep trance mediums in the German-speaking world. During the 35 years of her service, she channelled more than 2500 lectures from the world beyond. These lectures offer comprehensive instructions on Christian spirit-teaching, God’s creation and the “where from” and “where to” of mankind.

Targeted Age Group:: 16-80

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
The personal accounts, transmitted through the Swiss deep trance medium Beatrice Brunner, are impressive testimonies of the continuation of life after death and provide revealing insights into the world that awaits us. Each of these accounts gives us information which goes far beyond what has been ascertained by classical thanatology.

Book Sample
In this book 12 deceased human beings describe their initial experiences and encounters in the beyond. These personal accounts, transmitted through the Swiss deep trance medium Beatrice Brunner, are impressive testimonies of the continuation of life after death and provide revealing insights into the world that awaits us. Each of these accounts gives us information which goes far beyond what has been ascertained by classical thanatology.

“My name is Mathys … When I arrived here in the beyond, I was astonished at the reception I was given. My parents, who had returned to the spirit world a long time before, came to greet me and were overjoyed to see me. ‘Now you need never worry again about your daily bread!’ they told me.”

“My name is Peter. I died when I was seventeen. During my short life on earth I never gave any particular thought to the world beyond. When I entered this world where everything was quite new to me, I was met by my grandmother, clearly overjoyed that I had come home.”

“My name is Theresia. … During my life on earth I, too, made many, many mistakes. I was told this immediately I arrived here in the spiritual world. But I was also told the following: ‘Theresia, you have earned yourself considerable merit on account of your many children.’”

“My name is Jakob. … During my life on earth I could not believe in God – I could not find him. I had little sense of responsibility and could see no purpose in life. My lack of belief led me to make many mistakes in my life.”

“My name is Maximilian. … I did not suffer much before my death, and when I opened my eyes in the next world I was astonished to discover that death was not the end of everything.”

“My name is Amalia. … I was ill for a while and I had to be nursed. … When I opened my eyes I found myself in a very different setting: everything was bright, and there was light all around me.”

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A safehouse ablaze.
4 dead federal agents.
A missing federal witness.
2 wounded agents clinging to life.
Another day at the office for Sheriff Tom Myers.

When a secret joint FBI/US Marshal safehouse in Sommersville, Georgia is attacked, federal witness Bates Hewell flees custody in the confusion and heads for the hills. The authorities descend on the county in search of their prize witness, now classified as “In the Wind!” The FBI and US Marshals Service are convinced that their material witness is hiding out in the wilds of undeveloped Sommersville County, an area with its own set of laws and rules. Can local sheriff, Tom Myers find him and bring him in before a band of hired killers do?

Tom Myers’ story began in EVIL WAYS and continued in DEADLY GAMES! but the Sommersville sheriff’s adventures are far from over. Sheriff Tom Myers returns in IN THE WIND, the first in a new series of mystery/thriller novellas from award-winning author Bobby Nash and BEN Books. Snow’s FBI Agent Tom “Mac” McClellan guest stars in this story.

Targeted Age Group:: 15+

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
When I wrote my first novel, EVIL WAYS, Sheriff Tom Myers was a secondary character. He wasn't the lead, but was important to the story. My second novel, DEADLY GAMES! took place in the same fictional town where I set Evil Ways. There was no plan to use the sheriff in the story, but the character kept chittering away in the back of my brain that this is where they should call the cops. So… Sheriff Myers and his deputies returned.

I thought that would be their last appearance, but like all good characters, Tom Myers would pop up every so often and remind me he was still around and ask when he was getting his own book. Eventually, a story popped into my head that was a good fit and Tom Myers and his deputies returned. I was surprised by the reaction to their first story and am currently working on a second Tom Myers Mystery. Fifteen years after his first appearance, Tom Myers gets his own series at last.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
The story in EVIL WAYS centers on murders happening in a small, rural community. I created the fictional town of Sommersville, GA and populated it with some interesting characters. One of those was Sheriff Tom Myers, a guy who, up to that point, had never had to deal with multiple homicides by the same killer or the chaos that happens in that novel. The character handled himself well and grew during the writing of the book. When he returned in DEADLY GAMES!, I added another layer to the character.

Now, we pick up a couple of years later. Sommersville has gone through a bit of a growth spurt. The businesses they were courting in Evil Ways have arrived and with new jobs comes new residents, more traffic, and an increase in crime. Another change is the town of Sommersville incorporating and becoming a city. Tom Myers is the sheriff of Sommersville County. Having a new city police department is a big change. Sommersville is growing far faster than Tom would like, but he has to grow with it. This has allowed us to play with relationships in town. In book 1 "In The Wind" Tom and the Mayor square off over resources. The mayor has supplied them with new vehicles, but Tom still prefers his beat-up old sheriff's truck. I learn new stuff about the sheriff, his wife, his deputies, and support staff, and the denizens of Sommersville every day.

Book Sample
IN THE WIND – A Tom Myers Mystery
Written by Bobby Nash

Pete Messer hated his current assignment.

It wasn’t a tough gig, but what it also wasn’t was very exciting. He had been tasked, along with two other U.S. Marshals like himself and an FBI Agent to baby sit a witness at a safe house out in the middle of nowhere.

On paper, it sounded like a plum assignment.

In reality, he was bored to death.

Their witness was a mid-level scumbag who kept book for the Manelli crime family named Bates Hewell. Although the Manelli’s had been keeping a low profile in recent years, save for a slight altercation a year earlier that ended in a shootout. Instead, they had focused the investigation on their legitimate enterprises as opposed to their less than legal means of income, they hadn’t abandoned their criminal ways. They just learned how to keep those endeavors out of the limelight.

What their witness knew would mean mass arrests and convictions. Once the word got out that Hewell had turned State’s evidence, if it hadn’t already, all hell was going to break loose. This guy’s life wouldn’t be worth a plugged nickel if the Manelli’s got a hold of him. For the past two months, Agent Messer and a revolving team of agents had been babysitting the witness, moving every few days to a new secure location in an effort to keep anyone looking for Hewell off balance. They had to keep him safe until his deposition later in the week. After that, they would repeat the process until the trial, which could take anywhere up to a year or more to begin. Longer no doubt, once Manelli’s high priced attorneys got in on the act.

Messer hoped there was a plan to rotate him out of babysitting detail soon. He needed a break, not just from the monotony of the assignment, but from the annoying protectee in his charge. So far, he was the only Marshal on the detail to not be swapped out and he was starting to wonder if he was on someone’s shit list back home or if they had simply forgotten about him.

“Ours is not to question why…” he muttered and dropped the cigarette on the driveway before grinding it out with his shoe. He had given up the cancer sticks once upon a time, but when on these seemingly never-ending protection details, he craved a smoke if for no other reason than to have something to do. Out of respect for his coworkers, he always took it outside when time to light up. Slipping on a sweater jacket and hoodie over his button up shirt and tie to keep up the illusion that it was a nice, normal family renting out the old Patterson place off Old Country Road 3 near the intersection of Highway 81.

To his co-workers, he was walking the perimeter while grabbing a smoke.

The safe house sat on a fairly secluded piece of land in a quiet northeast Georgia area just a few miles north of the middle of nowhere, a perfect place to hide out. The house they had rented under false, government created identities, was a ranch built in the 1980’s when the house had once been a farm house. There were several acres of fairly flat, overgrown with grass, terrain surrounding them, which meant they would see anyone coming their way long before they reached the house.

From the outside, there was nothing extraordinary about the old Patterson place.

The inside wasn’t much different, which made it the perfect safe house to keep their witness on ice until time for him to stand before the grand jury and spill his guts.

The safe house was your typical ranch style house that was built in the 1980’s all over the southeastern United States. Three bedrooms, two of them tiny, two bathrooms, kitchen, den, living room, dining room, small fireplace, and two car garage that only fit two cars if you didn’t have to open the doors on either of them. The house sat on fourteen acres of flat farm land, which allowed them to keep an eye on all directions. It was a foreclosure that had been purchased under a dummy corporation’s name to keep it secure. On paper, it was a rental property.

Only a handful of people knew its real purpose.

Deputy U.S. Marshal Messer walked into the living room and yawned. The sun had set less than an hour earlier and since he had been on duty since midnight, he was ready to crash.

“I’m beat,” he told the Parker and Cutler, who were playing what was probably their hundredth game of poker. One of them had brought cards and chips. Messer wasn’t sure if they were actually playing for real money or not.

Messer, along with Deputy U.S. Marshal Simon Parker, Deputy U.S. Marshal Amy Street, FBI Agent Mike Cutler had spent the past week rotating shifts around their witness, an annoying man who rarely slept and watched a lot of TV when he wasn’t pacing nervously. He was an anxiety attack just waiting to happen.

“Yeah, sack out, man,” Parker said as he folded and tossed his cards atop the pile of chips he had just forfeited. “You look tired.”

“You’re a peach, Parker,” Messer said.

“Knock first. Street’s in there.”

Thanks. He knocked and there was no answer so he assumed she was asleep. Messer HHHH gave his colleagues a half-hearted salute before heading into the master bedroom and quietly closing the door behind him. In the dark, he couldn’t see Amy Street in either of the two beds that sat against opposite walls of the master bedroom, but he entered the room quietly anyway.

Both beds were empty. Once the door was closed, he heard the shower running in the bathroom and saw light from beneath the door. It didn’t take a twelve-year law enforcement veteran to put two and two together.

Messer kicked off his shoes and climbed into the bed farthest from the bathroom without bothering to change clothes, although he did loosen and pull off his tie and unbutton his shirt. He hung his shoulder holster on the bed post along with the tie then laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. He was tired, but sleep constantly eluded him, especially on the job. It was not a new problem. He couldn’t shut off his brain long enough to doze off. There were too many variables running through his head, schedules, check ins, perimeter searches, things like that. His mind was on the job twenty-four/seven. While that made him good at his job, it had killed more than a few relationships. Occupational hazard.

Messer could still hear the TV from the living room through the door, but it was a muffled roar. Their witness was obsessed with old TV shows. Thanks to the abundance of cable channels showing classic TV lineups these days and the witnesses inability to sleep for more than two or three hours at a time, each night he was able to watch one episode each of each Star Trek series, the A-Team, Quantum Leap, Magnum p.i., Nash Bridges, Night Court, Cheers, and Simon & Simon before passing out for a few hours when the house fell into blessed silence.

The deputy marshal did not see the appeal, personally. He had seen many of those shows as a kid, but after seeing an episode once, he never felt the need to watch it again. He couldn’t understand people like his brother who collected box sets of old shows and watched them over and over again. It seemed weird.

Messer had just started to doze off when the bathroom door opened and Street came into the room. In the short time he had known her, he came to realize that she never walked through a door so much as she burst through them.

“Sorry,” Street said softly as soon as she realized she wasn’t alone. She flipped off the bathroom light and plunged the room into darkness. The only light came in under the door from the living room, the red numbers on the clock, and from around the edges of the closed blinds on the window.

“Did I wake you?” Street asked as she tiptoed across the room on bare feet.

“Nah. I just got in,” Messer mumbled. “You turning in or heading back to the final frontier out there?”

“Nap time,” Street said. After securing her weapon in the nightstand, she climbed into the other bed. She was dressed more comfortably than he was, in sweats and a baggy T-shirt, her long, dark hair pulled up into a ponytail.

He and Street got along pretty well, probably because he was the only man in the house that hadn’t tried to hit on her yet. He found her attractive, but she wasn’t really his type. He hadn’t been able to say the word gay out loud yet, despite John pressuring him to at least tell his parents about them moving in together. They both agreed that keeping it out of the workplace was probably smart, especially on these long babysitting gigs. Based on the way some of the guys acted around Street, he could only imagine the kind of bullshit he would have to put up with if they knew. He hated having to hide who he was, but there were some fights he found were easier to avoid than have. This was one of them.

Messer said good night, then rolled over to face the wall, and eventually drifted off.

He woke to an out of place sound.

Marshal Messer’s eyes snapped open at the sound. Without sitting up, he glanced around the room. The clock showed that it was twenty minutes to four in the morning. He could still hear the TV playing in the other room, but the sound that woke him had not come from there.

He sat up on the edge of the bed softly, quietly. He focused, carefully listening for another clue that he hadn’t dreamt the sound that woke him. He slipped his feet into his shoes, then stood and pulled the service weapon from his shoulder holster still dangling from the bed post.

“Time to get up?” Street asked sleepily from her bunk.

“Shhh…” he said. “I thought I heard…”

That’s when the shooting started.

Messer eased open the door for a look. The living room was empty so he opened the door all the way and stepped out.

Amy Street was two steps behind him, gun also in hand. She was still barefoot, which seemed like a bad idea, but he wasn’t about to admonish her in the middle of a shootout. She moved toward the fireplace that jutted out from the wall off the master bedroom to divide the living room from the dining room. It provided good cover.

Messer went wide, heading to the far wall so he could back her up.

Street pointed two fingers at her eyes then pointed in the direction of the dining room and the kitchen beyond.

He shook his head. He didn’t see anyone.

He pointed toward the open door leading to the other bedrooms, bathroom, and stairwell to the attic that was on his side of the room.

She shook her head. It was clear.

Messer inched forward, ready to head toward the kitchen when he heard glass break.

He turned into the hallway, gun leading the way. The bathroom was ahead. It was clear. So was the back bedroom.

Where the hell is everybody?

He heard glass shatter again and bolted for the front bedroom. He entered just in time to see their protected witness leap out of the broken window into the bushes below.

He’s escaping! Where’s his detail?

Hewell shouted as the prickly bushes bit into his flesh, cutting and scratching him as he freed himself from their grasp. Once free, Hewell ran for the field ahead, hoping to lose himself in the tall grass.

“Stop!” Messer commanded.

Hewell looked back, but kept running.

For a second, the marshal considered shooting him, but couldn’t risk it. Hewell was a scumbag and a crook, but he was also under the protection of the U.S. Marshal’s Service. Shooting him would not be looked on favorably.

He heard the sound of footsteps come up behind him. They were heavy. Boots. Not Street. She was barefoot, he recalled.

He turned just in time to see a stranger enter the room.

The man was armed and seemed just as surprised to see someone there as Messer was to see him.

The man raised his gun.

Messer pulled the trigger first, two slugs to the heart, dropping the man where he stood.

He ran back into the living room.

“Street! We’ve got a runner and shooters! Watch your…”

That’s when he saw her.

Street was leaning against the fireplace, a pool of blood beneath her. She had been shot, belly wound.

“I got… got him,” she said through the pain.

There was no time to question her. He had to get them both to safety and call in medics for Street. He decided he would catch up with Hewell after he was sure she was okay.

“We got to get out of here,” he whispered into her ear as she helped her back to her feet. With one hand, she put pressure on the wound. She still held her gun in the other. They reached the front door without incident.

Messer opened the door and stepped out onto the small concrete porch. It was barely large enough to hold a chair. There was one step between the ground and the porch. He took one step forward.

He didn’t feel the blast until they were airborne.

The house exploded in a giant blazing ball of fire and smoke. Walls were reduced to shrapnel that hammered Messer and Street like tiny missiles as they were propelled across the front lawn.

They hit the ground hard as wood and plaster rained down all around them like a fiery thunderstorm. The grass ignited and spread quickly to the nearest tree.

Street was lying face down in the grass.

She wasn’t moving.

Messer tried to get to her, but he couldn’t move either. He tried again and felt something tear in his side. It was the most unimaginable pain he had ever felt in his life.

Before he passed out, Pete Messer caught a glimpse of Bates Hewell before he disappeared into the tall grass.

Their star witness was in the wind.

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Curving or bending of time can be caused by a bounce from one side to other. Barents Island in Norway is an inhospitable place where the headquarters decided to establish a station K 1000.

Targeted Age Group:: All

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
The novel “Island 2289” is a piece that I started to write in high school. At that time it was only written in sections and I only got up to the tenth page. It wasn’t a definite story, only one about an island where it was freezing cold and people were captured there against their will. It was lost until now. I often looked for it, but wasn’t able to find it. I came across it whilst separating old documents to be recycled. One has to mature for some things. I continued to write where I had left off and it gained a final form. It’s a very significant small piece for me. Everyone has their circle of readers and through this book I’d like to thank you for including me in your reading genre and also that you included me on your bookshelf. I believe that you’ll enjoy my novels and hope that in the future I’ll write some stories that will leave some question burning inside of you. The story isn’t divided into chapters, it’s written just as it was originally. So I’ve left it on one level, as a story told by one person to another.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
All my characters in this bookthey're made up.

Book Sample
The infinite winter in this part of Norway transformed the island into a harsh and empty place. The noise of waves rushing to the shores of this small island drowned out even one’s own screaming. Henrik sometimes tries to shout down this blistering sea water, however it’s pointless. Dusk, snow and dark water surrounds the shores regardless of the time and wishes of the temporary inhabitants. The only monument in this cold hell is the station K 1000. The great dome-like object in the middle of the island that looks more like a bowl turned upside down.

Winter on the island is infinite. In practice it means that it’s avoided by polar bears and other animals, since there isn’t anything that would maintain the life of anyone or anything. The dark water around the island generates fear from isolation that this island provides. It’s a cold hell amid the world. If one was born here, then one would think that the whole world was comprised of only this island and that everything was focused only around it. But this idea is likewise unrealistic. Here it’s impossible to live and have a family. The inhabitants were sent here only for a certain time and each perceives this time differently.

A blue lighthouse began to shine at the station which is a signal to return to the station. There’s a strict regime here which can’t be transgressed. Simply because of the reason that it’s a small piece of earth, there wouldn’t be any point of transgressing the rules. It wouldn’t lead to anything. Even the stocks of food and all other necessities are delivered on water. The flat silver boat, operated by means of magnetic propulsion, always appears on Friday at six in the evening.

5
The ship without a crew is programmed so as to stop on the southern coast and it will then release a red-coloured flare to give a signal that it’s time to unload the supplies. Two employees charge out on a continuous track vehicle and unload the supplies. The ship without a single human being, slips into the distance of the deep dark waters. This repetitive process, established by the government always repeats itself on the single pier, with a singular sign on a white board- Barent’s Island.

The government of the world decided that Barent’s Island wouldn’t be accessible by plane but merely by sea. It’s not possible to assume the aim of this decision. Everything is cancelled always at the right time so that people can’t assemble into a large number, and thus the establishment of groups and assemblies is prevented. Everything is under control. In case of the smallest suspicion, the system, tactic and presumption will always change. For an ordinary person it’s impossible to see into the system that’s been established for over a hundred years. Nobody knows if the world got to this system thanks to the infinite perfection of technologies or the infinite revolts, uprisings and wars. There are great gaps in the knowledge and history. It’s not even known why they occurred. Everything in the world is directed from one centre that’s controlled by people who have never been seen by anyone and their names are also unknown- that’s if they even have any.

There aren’t any telephones or post offices and the satellites in orbit have been destroyed, leaving only one that circulates the earth and serves the government for communication and giving out orders.

In every residence in the world there’s a touch hand. It’s a kind of glass or more like a mirror the size of a palm of the hand.

6
After placing one’s palm of the hand on it, it activates and lights up a green colour, then subsequently identifies you according to your fingerprints. A person has the option to communicate either with the centre- the central office of the government or he can say a certain name or office. Afterwards there’ll be a connection and the communication starts. Since the transmission occurs through the only satellite circulating the earth then the central governmental has control over your every word.

Nothing escapes it. If someone decides to communicate with the centre, it’s for free. You even get points assigned to a card that doesn’t include finances like in the past, but points that are used for shopping or payments. A frequent communication with the centre implies that the said person is obedient and shows affection for the government which gives them also more opportunities and advantages. You can ask the centre all sorts of questions and you’ll always get an answer. It’s only known that the centre doesn’t like questions concerning the past and history. In cases of these questions a beep occurs, which means that the answer was declined or is prohibited.

The beep is so intense that sometimes it brings the person to their knees and he loses the interest to ask questions of this sort. The centre loves questions and discussions concerning the improvement of a model citizen. This increases opportunities for better employment and being forgiven smaller transgressions against the system. Henrik gazed intently at the blue lighthouse that shone on top of the station and he was in no mood to return. Maybe he’d rather spend the whole night walking on the shore and thinking about why he’s actually here. In this world of nothing and infinite winter.

7
The yellow bodysuit that’s worn by all temporary inhabitants of this station shines long distances and either way he’d have nowhere to hide. This is also a direction of the centre. Even though the attributes of this bodysuit are more than remarkable, since it keeps you warm in the winter and cools you down in the summer. Everything’s thought through. One can even swim in it and exit the water completely dry. This bodysuit has universal attributes and is adapted to extreme situations. It’s non-flammable and never has to be washed. The yellow bodysuit characterizes the envoys on this island. The dark blue bodysuit marks the employees of the K 1000 station. They don’t really talk to the envoys.

The envoys are on the island for control and research. They are researched by the touch hand on the wall of every room in this station. The station consists of residence rooms, precisely 1000 of them. That’s why this station bears its name.

Henrik slowly wondered through the shimmering snow to the station since there weren’t any pavements on the island. Maybe there’s also a reason why the centre thought of this. He couldn’t think of what the point of staying at this island was. Even the touch hand was the same kind like everyone else at home had. Nothing exceptional occurred here, actually it was just boredom and infinite winter. Norway had been covered with snow for over half a century.

It’s five times colder than before. He can’t remember how he got to the island. The way everyone else. It’s usually that an envoy wakes up on the island and has no idea of how he got here. Before that there’s a visitation of agents in their home. They arrive unexpectedly.

Henrik is an employee at an observatory in the suburbs of Oslo.

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Something is killing the people of Comanche.

In 1887 near the tiny Texas town of Comanche, a posse finally ends the murderous career of The Piney Woods Kid in a hail of bullets. Still in the grip of blood-lust, the vigilantes hack the Kid’s corpse to bits in the dead house behind the train depot. The people of Comanche rejoice. Justice has been done. A long bloody chapter in the town’s history is over.

The year is now 2016. Comanche police are stymied by a double murder at the train depot. Witnesses swear the killer was dressed like an old-time gunslinger. Rumors fly that it’s the ghost of The Piney Woods Kid, back to wreak revenge on the descendants of the vigilantes who killed him.

Help arrives in the form of a team of investigators from New Orleans. Shunned by the local community and haunted by their own pasts, they’re nonetheless determined to unravel the mystery. They follow the evidence and soon find themselves in the crosshairs of the killer.

Targeted Age Group:: 18+

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
“Debut novelist Riley tells a quite deliciously twisted tale. The novel is a lot of fun, with a very entertaining story and a great cast of characters.”― David Pitt, Booklist

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
“Brett Riley’s gothic ghost western, Comanche, will delight readers of both westerns and horror, (his) prose crackles, and at times reminds of Stephen King or even Zane Grey. Riley employs a quick pace, with a strong emphasis on the lead protagonist’s character development, private eye Turner, who spends the novel struggling with early sobriety." ― Stephen Scott Whitaker, The Broadkill Review

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EVERYONE has wondered about it.

MOST believe it possible.

SOME even wish for it.

…but NO ONE expected this!

“A fascinating story that cleverly weaves ‘Stargate’ with ‘Ancient Aliens’, and just enough ‘The Da Vinci Code’ to leave you praying we never make contact.”

An unusual phenomenon sends one of Saturn’s moons, Hyperion, hurtling toward Earth. For months, humankind faces the fear of possible extinction until Hyperion emerges from behind Jupiter on a course for the Sun instead.

While the world celebrates, an alien species arrives with a dire warning; Earth is not out of danger. Communicating through persons they abducted decades ago, the aliens offer advanced knowledge that could not only save humanity but also bring an end to many other global issues.

As world leaders consider whether the aliens should be trusted, and wonder how the aliens’ arrival could affect their own agendas, archaeologists uncover a secret in Egypt. An ancient secret, guarded for thousands of years, that suggests the aliens had visited long before recent times. Even as far back as mankind’s first civilization, raising questions about who the extraterrestrials might really be and what their true intentions are.

This story takes us on a journey of a “What if we’re not alone?” using actual history, beliefs, and connecting many common dots across various ancient mythologies and religions to produce one possible and thought-provoking scenario.

A scenario that is completely, and entirely, fiction.

…OR IS IT?

Targeted Age Group:: 13+

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I am an avid reader and love the science and speculative fiction genres. Also, I've wanted to be a writer since I was eight years old. So, after years of not finding certain stories I've always wanted to read, I figured I may as well start writing them myself!

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
I knew when I started this book I would need a diverse mix of character personalities. More than one of the main characters needed to be strong women, and another female character needed to begin weak but then grow stronger. After that, I also needed multiple types ranging from humorous to annoying, and from panicked to calm & stoic, regardless of their genders. In the end, I wasn't searching for specific characters, per se, but specific personalities so as to present the readers with a wide range of opinions and points of view regarding the major events which occur in the story.

Book Sample
As the elastic walls of the ship snapped back into place, an African American man in his late twenties stepped out onto the pier. He wore a red thermal shirt under old-fashioned overalls. He put on his straw hat while shielding his eyes from the blinding light of the Sun, then stood in awe at what he saw around him. A world progressed by more than half a century since he had last seen it, a place unrecognizable to him, while thousands of people gawked at him.

On the ship behind him, from the same area and in the same manner, another figure slid through the wall. This time it was a man with blond hair in his mid-twenties and dressed in the uniform of a 1950s Air Force pilot. As soon as he was out of the ship, he dropped to the ground, sobbing, and kissed the slab of granite under him.

After the pilot, more persons exited the ship, one by one, until a total of twelve persons had set their feet on the Earth again that morning for the first time in seventy to eighty years. In total, including the man in the tuxedo, there were nine men and three women, each of them confused by the unfamiliar place they had arrived to, and alarmed by the size of the crowd gathered around them. The island’s new arrivals were from diverse walks of life and backgrounds. From a poor farmer to a former U.S. Senator, from a man wearing a bolo tie and cowboy hat to a middle-aged, female librarian. Yet all of them wore styles of clothing that hadn’t been exactly flying off the stores’ shelves since the late 1940s to early 1950s.

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Serial Killers have their own social media platform and they use it to form a support group, but one of them isn’t there for counseling.

Targeted Age Group:: Adults

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
The fascination with serial killers and how they become murderers. Are serial killers born or made and can they be counseled to not be violent? My love for dark crime dramas made me want to write my own.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
My characters are based on things that are being discussed and debated in the world as we speak. Rape, police brutality, homelessness and racism. Every character comes face to face with one of these that help shape who they become.

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Buy Psychos Anonymous Print Edition at Amazon

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Glen loves her life as it is. Parties, nerdy endeavors, and normalcy are all she cares about… until a fateful encounter with a magical talking cat opens her eyes to her destiny and exposes a conspiracy that will have long-lasting implications on her life and the lives of everyone in the world.

Now that Glen knows what her calling is, she must rise to the challenge and accept sorcery training or refuse it and watch the world around meet its fate.

Will her fight to keep her life simple cost lives, or will her conscience push her out of her comfort zone and into a world where magic and sorcery are unavoidable?

Targeted Age Group:: new adult

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I was going to write fanfiction but the story expanded so much that I had to convert it to a trilogy. I wrote this to experience my childhood love for video games.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Most of them simply pop up in my head but the main character was the hardest to come up simply because of the name. I changed it like three times.

Links to Purchase eBooks – Click links for book samples and reviews
Buy Legacy of Darkness: Volume 1 On Amazon

Have you read this book? Tell us what you thought! All information was provided by the author and not edited by us. This is so you get to know the author better.