What happens when you have an active wormhole in your garage? Hawk finds out when he invites the new girl Celeste to the space club. The Black Hole Radio summons them down the hyperspace highway…. all the way to Pooponic’s moon, Bilaluna, which is inhabited by giant cyborg insects! Mutated Earth insects – but how did they get there? And how can they stop the climate disaster that forced them to leave Pooponic from destroying their beautiful new home on Bilaluna?
Join Hawk, Matt and Celeste on another intergalactic adventure as they are carried over the treetops by giant cyborg flies, race on the backs of cyborg roaches through an alien rainforest and sip nectar with the Queen Bee at a totally incredible intergalactic tea party! Stay tuned!

Targeted Age Group:: 8-11

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I was inspired to write this story by a strange beeping coming from a box in my garage. When COVID-19 hit Canada and everyone was in quarantine or lock down, I had lots of time to imagine being sucked through a wormhole to other planets and what wonderful things I might find there.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
This is the 2nd book in the series and I wanted a girl character to join Hawk and matt on their next adventure. I also wanted her to be diverse and different so I gave Celeste the traits of a person with Asperger's Syndrome which is part of the autism spectrum. The aliens are cyborg insects and are facing a climate crisis that is killing their world. Luckily Celeste knows a lot about insects.

Book Sample
CHAPTER 1
LIFE IS BUT A DREAM
We’re back in ‘Mission Control’. I look over to see
Matt snoring on the other side of the couch,
using his awesome afro for a pillow. Phew! I
breathe a sigh of relief.
Beep, beep, beep, beep!
“Nooooo, not again!” I cry, jumping over the back of
the couch, hiding there. My heart is pounding in my
chest.
“Matt!” I hiss, trying to wake him up quietly. “Matt!
Wake up!” I whisper louder. Matt comes to, looking
groggy and confused.
“Where am I?” he asks looking around.
“Matt . . . I’m back here,” I say.
Matt looks over the back of the couch with sleepy
eyes, “What are you doing back there?” He scratches his
head and rubs his eyes. “Hawk! Did it all really happen?”
I shoot my eyes towards the closed garage door.
“I’m not sure, Matt . . . but I just heard beeping coming
from the garage.”
“No way!” Matt yelps, jumping over the back of the
couch. He lands with a thud, fully awake now.
Beep, beep, beep, beep!
“It can’t be!” he says, with eyes big as saucers. “We
didn’t really travel through your haunted garage to
another planet, did we?” He looks at me in disbelief.

I crawl out from behind the couch, away from the
door leading to the garage.
“I don’t know! I thought it was a dream too when
I woke up. But how could we both have the same
dream?”
Looking down, I realize that I don’t have my club
ring on my hand anymore and remember that Matt
and I gave our rings to Dweezil and Zzznap before we
left planetoid Shnergla.
Matt looks at me strangely. “Hawk, did you just say
that you remember giving our club rings to Dweezil
and Zzznap?” he asks, looking down at his hand.
“No, but I was thinking . . .” Whaaaaaaaaat! Did Matt
just read my mind?
“Yes,” he says, looking at me with wide eyes.
“Okay, Matt,” I say urgently. “Think about something right now.”
“Uh, okay,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets
and shifting his feet.
“No, I don’t want to know how badly you need to go
to the bathroom!” I say, rubbing my head. “This is serious, Matt. I think we can read each other’s minds, like
Shnerglers! Wait. maybe that’s the gift that She-Shnerg
gave us before we left.” I pace around ‘Mission Control’,
tearing at my tangled, dirty blond hair. “I knew it would
be something weird and wonderful . . . but like ESP!”
“But, but . . . that would mean that it’s all true and it
really did happen,” Matt says quietly, as the realization
hits us both at the same time.
Beep, beep, beep, beep!
OMG! We ARE the Worm-Ones!

Links to Purchase Print Books
Link to Buy Black Hole Radio – Bilaluna Print Edition at Amazon
Link to Buy Black Hole Radio – Bilaluna Print Edition at Barnes and Noble
Link to Black Hole Radio – Bilaluna Print book for sale on Bookshop.org

Links to Purchase eBooks
Link To Buy Black Hole Radio – Bilaluna On Amazon
Link to Black Hole Radio – Bilaluna on Barnes and Noble
Link to Black Hole Radio – Bilaluna for sale on Smashwords
Link to Black Hole Radio – Bilaluna eBook for sale on Kobo

Links to Author’s Social Media:
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Author Bio:
Ann Birdgenaw is a librarian in an elementary school and always wanted to write a book of her own. She was inspired to write this story by a strange beeping coming from a box in her garage. When COVID-19 hit Canada and everyone was in quarantine or lock down, she had lots of time to imagine being sucked through a wormhole to other planets and what wonderful things she might find there.

Ann lives in Montreal, Quebec, Canada with her family and two morkies: Bilbo and Sheba.

Author Home Page Link

Somewhere at the edge of the Great Being’s dream lies a desert kingdom ruled by four young siblings. One burns with rage like fire. One battles monsters to make his siblings smile. One laughs with ruthless charm. One itches with desperation. All teeter on the edge of madness.

In Remy Apepp’s harrowingly beautiful Sand to Glass, the Kingdom of Ordyuk finds itself faced with destruction. Endlessly attacked by accursed beings, the kingdom relies ever more heavily on the four siblings. Under such a weight, their only choice is to grow into monsters themselves—

Or to shatter like glass.

Targeted Age Group:: Adult

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
My latest/first published book is titled “Sand to Glass”. It’s actually the second novel I wrote in this universe, and it started out as the backstory of one of the characters who appears in the first novel I wrote (which will be published as the second book because it needed significantly more editing).
Mostly I just had personalities and a family dynamic I wanted to explore, and this book was simply that. And also playing with matters of monsters and deities and all that fun dark fantasy stuff.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Anything that makes me feel something I’ll turn into a character. Emotions, mindsets, philosophies. For “Sand to Glass”, however, I got the fundamental mindsets of all the characters from MISSIO’s song “Twisted.” I always liked that song a lot, it always felt like story material to me.

Book Sample
Prologue

In the beginning, before the creation of the World, there was only the Great Being Rujir-Zakurele. Rujir-Zakurele was everything and all there was. But since there was only Rujir-Zakurele, the Great Being was bored and fell asleep. As Rujir-Zakurele fell asleep, the Great Being began to dream.

As Rujir-Zakurele dreamed, the World was created.

Consequently, the World was created on accident and without any manner of plan or purpose. As the Great Being dreamed, the World amassed like a great tree, sprouting off countless branches, which sprouted off further branches, entangling and enmeshing with one another. Branches of the World decayed and fell away, but the branches that had sprouted off from them kept growing and sprouting off further branches, such that the World moved like a great snake chasing after its tail, but continuing to shed its skin and grow at such an expansive rate that it was never able to reach the end of itself.

Within this dreamed World, entities known as humans came to develop complex consciousnesses and societies, and some of their stories came to develop plots—as if they actually had some kind of meaning.

In this way, the World developed, diversified, and expanded in ways entirely out of the control of Rujir-Zakurele, who was very tired of everything and yet could not wake up from it.

I

Diyomendon Tdroki Madubabakar, first son of King Agamenjiyr and Queen Ythiris, was the Crown Prince of the Desert Kingdom of Ordyuk.

He hated it.

He was the one who would be inheriting the throne, and the expectations for the kingdom’s future were riding on him. He was supposed to be perfect. He was supposed to be the best. He wasn’t allowed to make mistakes. He wasn’t allowed to do anything that could get him injured. His life was too vital. Everyone bowed down to him and did things for him. He wasn’t allowed to do those things for himself.

He was supposed to be happy. He wasn’t supposed to be bitter or angry. He was supposed to glory in being the heir. He was supposed to like having the power to tell everyone what to do and not to have to do anything for himself. He was supposed to feel honored and superior because of it.

He didn’t. All he felt was frustrated, constrained, suffocated, and angry beyond belief.

Diyomendon Tdroki was the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Ordyuk, and he hated the role with a burning, fiery passion.

…

Naliki Rkalla Madubabakar, second child and only daughter of King Agamenjiyr and Queen Ythiris, was the sole Princess of the Desert Kingdom of Ordyuk.

She loved it.

Everybody waited on her. She got whatever she wanted. She got away with whatever she wanted. She was being groomed to eventu­ally marry an important member of the government or military. The idea was for her to grow up feeling beautiful and to develop an agreeable personality, so everyone was sweet to her. She was spoiled, really. It was great.

Her brothers had it a lot harder. She felt bad for them, some­times. Other times she enjoyed messing with them, because they couldn’t do anything to her. She did love them, though.

She was very glad, however, that she’d been born a girl and not a boy.

…

Rezekyrios Tmra Madubabakar, fourth child of King Agamenjiyr and Queen Ythiris, was the Third Prince of the Desert Kingdom of Ordyuk.

He was always thinking about it.

The crown prince, princess, and second prince had been born for strategic purposes, each of them about a year apart. Rezekyrios Tmra had been born seven years after the second prince, nine years after the first. His birth had not been for any strategic purpose. King Agamenjiyr and Queen Ythiris—although their marriage had had its strategic purposes—deeply loved each other, and Rezekyrios Tmra had simply been the product of a night of passion.

His parents and his older siblings loved him, but he felt lost and inadequate. In regard to the kingdom, he did not have a clear role, and he wasn’t particularly good at anything. In academics, he was subpar; and when it came to anything physical, he had two left feet. He was fully capable of tripping on his own toes when he ran and giving himself black eyes with his own hands when he flailed.

He loved his family, but he didn’t know how he fit in it or what worth he had.

…

Ythiris Rida Madubabakar, Queen of Ordyuk, considered them her Gem Children.

Her dear Tdroki, with his fiery red-orange eyes like carnelians and his hair that stuck up like flame and couldn’t be tamed; her dear Rkalla, with her deep red eyes like garnets and her straight hair that she wore down to her shoulders, with her bangs pulled out of her face and braided around her head like a circlet; her dear Nkidu, with his eyes like gold and his hair that fell down in smooth, effortless waves even though he never brushed it; her dear Tmra, with his eyes of two different colors, his right eye black like obsidian and his left a light yellow-orange like amber, and his hair that fell partially down and stuck partially up in obstinate cowlicks until her daughter one day braided them with metal wire and weighted them down with gold and obsidian beads.

What they shared was their warm bronze skin-tone, partway between her slightly lighter tone and her husband’s slightly darker one. Both Tdroki and Nkidu shared their father’s deep, multi-toned brown hair that shifted shades in the light, while Rkalla and Tmra shared Ythiris’s darker, more single-toned shade.

Their particular idiosyncrasies suited them, Ythiris thought. Tdroki with his fiery personality, Rkalla with her passionate one, Nkidu with his effortless talent, and Tmra with his alternating bold­ness and timidity.

They were all different; they were all beautiful; and Ythiris loved them all to pieces.

…

Agamenjiyr Nji Madubabakar,King of Ordyuk, cared deeply both about his children and about his kingdom.

If asked, he would have considered those two cares one and the same: if his children flourished, his kingdom would as well; if his kingdom flourished, so would his children.

He had great faith in his children. His eldest, although the boy was recalcitrant and had a considerable temper, had already proven himself as being more than worthy of inheriting the throne; his daughter would become an excellent queen that any king would be blessed and fortunate to have by his side; his second son would become a legendary warrior; his youngest, while still a small child, was keenly perceptive and uncannily intuitive and would make a valuable adviser.

King Agamenjiyr had great faith in the future of Ordyuk.

…

Diyomendon hated everyone. His parents, his siblings, the citi­zens of Ordyuk, the people outside of Ordyuk—everyone in the entire world.

He hated his father for trying to make him become him. He hated his mother for always misunderstanding his anger and trying to reassure him that he’d make a great king. He hated his sister Naliki for following him around and not being bothered by his hatred. He hated his brother Luxanthus for always accepting things as they were and not hating him in return. He hated his brother Rezekyrios for being afraid of him.

He hated his academic instructors for being hard on him. He hated his fighting instructors for going easy on him. He hated the people of Ordyuk for being so stupid and sheeplike that they need­ed a king to lead them. He hated that it had to be him. He hated the people outside of Ordyuk for making the existence of the kingdom necessary. He hated the deities for making the world the way it was and for forcing him to be the way he was.

He hadn’t asked to be born the Crown Prince of Ordyuk. He didn’t care about being the Crown Prince of Ordyuk. He didn’t want to be the Crown Prince of Ordyuk. It was, all of it, absolutely unfair,and it made him so angry.

…

Naliki loved all her brothers, but she was closest with her elder brother. He was endlessly entertaining, and he made her feel special because she was the only one aside from their mother he allowed to call him Tdroki, while everyone else had to call him Diyomendon. Even if he told her not to and didn’t call her Rkalla in return, he still let her get away with it.

He told her that he hated her, and she laughed at him because he didn’t mean it and she knew it. So it didn’t bother her any. She honestly preferred Tdroki’s fiery and unforgiving temper to Nkidu’s unflappable placidity or Tmra’s fluctuating skittishness. Nkidu was unfailingly considerate, but he was boring as sand. It was easy to get rises out of young Tmra, but he was so sensitive that Naliki always felt bad for messing with him.

She could mess with Tdroki all she wanted, though, and he’d always get amusingly angry at her, and she didn’t have to feel bad about it at all because that was just how he was.

…

Luxanthus wasn’t particularly close with either of his older siblings. He didn’t dislike either of them, but he also didn’t and couldn’t connect with them.

They completely baffled him, honestly. It seemed that no matter what he did, Diyomendon was always angry with him for something. Luxanthus could never figure out what he’d done wrong. And as far as his sister Naliki was concerned, Luxanthus had no idea how to interact with her. He couldn’t tell what she expected from him. She seemed always disappointed with him for some reason.

Outside of royal and social obligations, Luxanthus therefore mostly kept to himself. That only changed once Tmra learned to walk and started following him around everywhere. Luxanthus was almost never alone, after that; Tmra tripped over himself to keep up with him no matter where he went.

The younger boy looked up to him; and when Tmra smiled at him like he was the sun, it made Luxanthus feel like he could do anything.

…

Rezekyrios was more than a little frightened of his oldest brother, and his sister intimidated him. Being around them made him anx­ious. It was the way Diyomendon looked at him like he wanted to set him on fire and watch him burn alive, and the way Naliki smiled at him like she wanted to suck his blood.

Diyomendon would never have allowed Rezekyrios to call him Tdroki. Naliki insisted that Rezekyrios call her Rkalla, but it always felt weird to do so.

Rezekyrios adored his older brother Nkidu, though. Nkidu was kind, and he was strong, and he was good at everything. Rezekyrios felt completely safe whenever he was with him.

Nkidu was the best, and Rezekyrios wanted to be just like him.

Links to Purchase Print Books
Link to Buy Sand to Glass Print Edition at Amazon

Links to Purchase eBooks
Link To Buy Sand to Glass On Amazon

Links to Author’s Social Media:
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Author Bio:
Remy is fond of understatements. Some of Remy's favorite understatements include the following:

Remy likes writing.

If stories were stars, Remy would want to write an entire night sky full.

Remy writes stories for the same reason explorers adventure into and chart unknown territories—and also for the same reason people treat headaches by drinking water, eating snacks, taking pain meds, going for light walks, and getting rest.

All Remy wants from life is to write stories that touch you in the same place music does; that make you think differently than before; and that linger in your mind as if they'd been written into clay tablets rather than printed on paper or typed on screens.

Also, Remy can write a novel in a month but can't write an author bio in a year.

Author Home Page Link

Stories come alive at night.

They are whispered around dying campfires, by quiet bedsides, under deformed old trees.

They might get interrupted by the howling wind, inaudible gasps, or nervous comments, only to be continued fervently once the dust settles again.

Why did the girl visit the eerie village? What did the gypsy’s words mean? Can the discovery of a new flower change the world?

Stories are supposed to end but they never do.

They leave you wondering and longing for more. They live on in your mind, in corners with cobwebs and memories you’ve been suppressing, in recurring daydreams you have while waiting in long lines. They fester and thrive there. They spiral and soar. You wish they would die but they cannot anymore.

Once you blow breath into a story, it instantly becomes yours…

Targeted Age Group:: 16-99

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I started inventing short stories for my wife before sleeping, then she suggested me to write a book with some of them.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Every story has different characters that were inspired by friends, patients, or by random people I crossed in the street.

Book Sample
When Mary Jane visited my village, she was astonished. It was not for our communal wooden huts where four or five families resided together, neither for the fact of living in the middle of the forest isolated from the rest of the world. It was our traditions that shocked her the most.
We met for the first time in the hardware store when I went to buy stuff we needed for repairing some of our huts after the huge storm of November 1971. She stared at me with an inquisitive face, probably wondering if my clothing was a costume. I wore my bison trousers and a simple skunk hat. We were used to being observed by the outsiders when we were out of the forest. Her face was so dazzling and delicate it captivated me. She caught my eyes and came to me.
“Nice outfit,” she said, “it looks so pretty.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you going to any kind of contest…or party?”
“No, not really…”
“I have never seen you around. Are you new in town?” she asked.
“Well, I’m not from here, but I live very close.”
“Ah, are you from Susanville?”
“No,” I said, “I’m from Izah.”
“Izah? Never heard of it. Anyway, my name is Mary Jane.”
“Nice to meet you, Mary Jane. I am Brody.”
She invited me to get a coffee in a cafe next to the store. We chatted for about two hours. I explained that I lived in a village in the forest called Izah. We didn’t follow the rules and the laws from the outsiders, and we would only leave our village for necessary matters. She looked fascinated by our community. I felt overwhelmed; it was the first time I had such a long conversation with an outsider. She gave me her address in case I wanted to send a letter to her or visit her.
It took three months until there was a need to go out of the village again. The winter was very cold, and we were running out of groceries. I volunteered to go to town in order to buy cereal. Nobody complained.
I bounced to Mary Jane’s house and stepped inside. It was a tiny house with very little furniture, and the smell of fresh baked cake whetted my appetite. Mary Jane was in the kitchen. She hadn’t notice me until I said hello, to which she leaped and emitted a loud yelp.
“Don’t you know how to knock before coming in?”
“I’m sorry… I thought that I was invited to enter when you gave me your address.”
She prepared two cups of tea and offered the sofa for me to sit on. It was so soft and comfortable; I was used to sitting on wooden chairs. She explained to me that she lived with her aunt in this house, and she worked in a bar. I had seen bars, but I had never been inside any.

Links to Purchase Print Books
Link to Buy The Fabric Over the Moon: 28 short stories from unlikely heroes Print Edition at Amazon

Links to Purchase eBooks
Link To Buy The Fabric Over the Moon: 28 short stories from unlikely heroes On Amazon

Author Bio:
Ferran Plana was born in 1988, at present settled in Barcelona. He began his writing passion after a long period of improvising bedtime stories for his wife before sleeping. When he is not writing, you might find him building a sand castle on the beach, observing birds with his binoculars, playing cello or trombone, or in the hospital working as a doctor. The Fabric Over The Moon is his first published short story and flash fiction collection.

Author Home Page Link

Frank Clayton’s life has fallen apart in the wake of his son’s death. His wife has left him, he has been blacklisted from employment and his citizen-consumer status had been taken away, leaving him no choice but to enlist in a murderous reality show. When an opportunity comes up to escape, he finds out that he still has something to live for: revenge.

Targeted Age Group:: Adult

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I was inspired by the looming threat of catastrophic climate change, which has since become a reality, the erosion of commitment to universal human rights, and the power dynamics of crisis, i.e. the predatory maneuvering of corporations seeking to capitalize on the aftermath of war and disaster. While I sought to portray the resulting future as horrifying and dystopian, I have no doubt that some will read about it and think "that's just what we need".

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
The main character of Frank is my typical protagonist, an everyday, "normal" man cast into an abnormal situation. Over the course of the story, as he takes the fight to the powerful corporate interests controlling him, he also comes to realize how his own past behavior contributed to the dystopia around him. On the other hand, the man responsible for Frank's escape from the kill zone is someone from the privileged corporatist milieu who finds a conscience.

Links to Purchase Print Books
Link to Buy Kill Zone Print Edition at Amazon
Link to Buy Kill Zone Print Edition at Barnes and Noble
Link to Kill Zone Print book for sale at BookShop.org

Links to Purchase eBooks
Link To Buy Kill Zone On Amazon
Link to Kill Zone on Barnes and Noble
Link to Kill Zone for sale on Smashwords
Link to Kill Zone eBook for sale on Kobo

Links to Author’s Social Media:
Goodreads

Author Bio:
Damir is the author of the sci-fi thriller Kill Zone, the occult mystery Always Beside You, and short stories featured in multiple horror and speculative fiction magazines and anthologies, including the Lovecraft eZine, Strange Aeon 2020, and Scare Street’s Night Terrors series. He lives in Virginia with his wife and his feline writing assistant. An auditor by trade and traveler by heart, he does his best writing on cruise ships, thirty-plus thousand feet in the air, and in the terminals of far-flung airports.

Author Home Page Link

War – What happens to the soldiers who fight them? Do they just go home and ride off into the sunset? Do they return to their families and a normal life? Or do they have an internal war? Trying to come to terms with what happened to them and their buddies in a war that no one wanted. Scars made not only outside but inside. Called baby killer, murderer and so many others vile names. Ignored and sometimes abused by the very system they gave their oath and sometimes their lives to protect. Lt. Colonel Jackson MacKenzie is one of those men. He gave all on many occasions and nearly gave his life to honor his oath and the men with which he served in Korea and Vietnam. Only to be betrayed by those above him. Those who know the truth but refuse to come forward. Honor, Duty, Country, Loyalty aren’t just words to him. They are his life. His problem, does he follow his heart and stand by his duty or disappear into his mind and let his demons take over? His other choice, live the rest of his life as a simple cowboy hiding out on a cattle ranch in Montana? It is a decision both hard and easy. And one he has to make or lose himself entirely.

Targeted Age Group:: Adult

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
The beginning of the 1st book in the series came in a dream and an article in Time magazine. Heroes today are few. And we need more of them. This book is a continuation of that theme.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
My characters come from many places. My friends, people I admire, people I despise. Some are a mixture of traits I would like to see in others and myself.

Book Sample
March 25, 1974
Double M Ranch, Montana

“Get out of my way, Chief. That’s an order! I’m going to the barn to take care of my horse.” Jackson grabbed his coat and took a step toward the door.
“No, sir.” Chief held out both arms to block Jackson’s path. “You have a 104-degree fever from the flu and need to get into bed.”
“Get out of my way, Sergeant Blackwater.” Jackson growled low in his throat like a rabid dog. Spit dripped off his chin.
“No, sir.” Chief maintained his position in front of the door.
Jackson drew back his right fist and threw a punch at Chief’s jaw. It connected, snapping his head back in a violent twist.
“Still not moving, boss.” Chief wiped the blood from his split lip.
“Your choice.” Jackson twisted his hips and launched his fist into Chief’s stomach.
Chief doubled over while his hand gripped his side. “Ouch. I think you broke my rib, boss.”
“Don’t care.” Jackson latched onto Chief’s shoulders to shove him out of the way.
“But I do, sir.” Chief grabbed his friend with both arms and bent him backward into his bunk. “Mikey, get your ass over here and sedate him. I can’t hold him much longer.”
Jackson saw his opening with his feet still on the floor. He aimed his knee at Chief’s groin and connected with a loud pop. The vice grip over his chest lessened, but not enough for him to wiggle free. Someone pulled his right arm straight and rolled up the sleeve. The smell of alcohol filled his nose as a cold cloth wiped his skin. “Don’t touch me, Roberts.”
Mikey shook his head. “I have to, sir. Your fever is climbing.”
“Leave me alone, Sergeant Roberts. That’s an order.” Jackson wiggled like a worm to get free. A few seconds after the sting of the needle, the lights blurred, he fought against the darkness, then a dark hole swallowed him up.

Links to Purchase Print Books
Link to Buy The Jackson MacKenzie Chronicles Peace at a Cost Print Edition at Amazon

Links to Purchase eBooks
Link To Buy The Jackson MacKenzie Chronicles Peace at a Cost On Amazon

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Author Bio:
I'm many things. And had many different careers. My life has been a learning experience for over 50 years. I have been a bomb dog handler, loaded cargo planes on the cargo ramp. Sat at a computer entering data. Washed dishes at a restaurant and sacked groceries.

I have attended FEMA classes in Terrorism, Suicide bombers, and Nuclear/Biological. I have handled explosives, shot different weapons, from the M1 Garand to the AR-15, and many different pistols.

I am a college graduate with a BA in Political Science and History. I'm a WWII history buff. The P-51 Mustang and F4U Corsair are my favorite planes of WWII. Many people in my family have served. My father, step-father, step-brother, two great uncles, and many, many friends.

I am a musician. I can and do DIY. My kitchen turned out nice as I figured out how to refinish the cabinets.

I love to travel. Been to Europe. My favorite place there. Pompeii. Eerie and exciting at the same time in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius I have seen the battleships Alabama, Wisconsin, Iowa, and Missouri.

My experience is across a wide range of things. A jack of many trades and master of none. Or maybe a few.

Author Home Page Link

Pour yourself a nice mug of hot chocolate and curl up on a comfy sofa to read the heartwarming romance book, A Christmas Romance with the Earl.

It’s a week before Christmas when Jess Smith, a thirty-year-old London copywriter, is hoping that childhood crush Matthew Churchill will honour a decade-old pact and ask her to marry him.

But on the eve of the deadline, Matthew announces that he is marrying her old school bully instead.

The heartbroken Jess flees to the beautiful frost-covered village of Birling Grove to stay at her parents’ farm cottage, but she soon clashes with a notorious local earl…

As their feelings grow, will new love blossom or will a dithering Matthew get in the way?

Targeted Age Group:: adults

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I wanted to write a romance novel where the heroine did not necessarily have a glamorous job but was not looking to escape it either. So that the hero becomes part of a fulfilled life, rather than the entire destination.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
My characters tend to be inspired by ordinary women, with ordinary jobs, who happen to stumble into romance—even if it’s while wearing a reindeer-print onesie and brandishing a shotgun.

The earl in this case was inspired by an actual minor royal I met in a village many years ago, but he was a quiet and unassuming sort of man and nothing like the male protagonist of my novel.

Book Sample
Chapter One

Friday 17th December

A week before Christmas, translucent pellets of sleet tapped against the window panes of PolkaDot Media as Jess Smith tried to ignore the silent phone on her desk.

‘Just focus,’ Jess scolded herself as she typed the finishing touches to the sales copy for Brigadier’s Moustache Pomade.

But how could she concentrate when any minute the phone would hum and she would finally hear the words that would change her life forever?

Her colleague and best friend of ten years, Ashley Evans, peered through her blonde fringe from the opposite laptop. ‘You know a watched phone never rings.’

‘That saying’s meant for pots,’ Jess replied. ‘Besides, Matthew said it was important.’

Her workmate stopped typing and sighed. ‘J, try not to get your hopes up.’

‘You don’t think he’s going to ask me?’

Ashley tilted her head in sympathy. ‘I just don’t want you to be disappointed. Again.’

‘This is different,’ cried Jess. ‘We made a pact. If we both reached thirty and were still single, then we would marry each other.’

‘But you were only eighteen then,’ Ashley sighed. ‘Didn’t you get him an interview here, only for him to back out last minute to work at Smartphone Warehouse?’

‘Matthew’s always been a bit wishy-washy.’

‘Then what makes you think he’ll stick to a decade-old pact?’

‘He’s thirty tomorrow,’ Jess replied. ‘Neither of us are seeing anyone and after all it ‘tis the season.’ But before Ashley could reply, Jess’s phone buzzed. Her heart thundered as she picked up.

‘Yes?’

‘Meet me for lunch at our café,’ Matthew purred then hung up.

Jess whipped off her tortoiseshell glasses then pulled on a red duffle, cream scarf and matching bobble hat. She grabbed her blue satchel and dashed from her desk. ‘Wish me luck!’

‘Good luck?’ said Ashley with a shrug.

Soon Jess ducked through freezing sleet towards the high street café, Sparrows. Once inside, she clasped numbed fingers around the warm cup of malted chocolate on the wooden table then peered through cloudy windows for Matthew’s slim form.

His workplace was only across the road; why was he always late?

Still, Jess’s heart raced at the thought of him marching towards her through the crowded street on his way to their favourite haunt. His sandy hair slick with melted sleet, those piercing sky-blue eyes and oh, that dimpled smile. She had wanted to kiss those lips from the very first day they met at the school gates of Birling Grove Secondary. But Jess could never quite bring herself to tell her best friend that she had always loved him.

Jess glanced at her watch for the third time, only to be surprised by a soft kiss on her temple. She smiled as Matthew rounded the table to sit opposite, then allowed him to ease the hot chocolate from her fingers to take a generous draught. Matthew grimaced before he slid it aside, then finally held her warm hands in his damp and icy grasp.

‘My Jessie,’ Matthew murmured then lowered his gaze, those pale lashes framing sparkling eyes.

‘What is it?’ she giggled and bit her lip in hope.

‘I have something really important to tell you…’ he began.

‘Yes?’ said Jess, her heart now a hum.

At last Matthew met her gaze.

Oh God. After all those years of sharing meaningful looks over steaming cups of hot malted chocolate, he was finally going to ask her out!

Matthew took a deep breath. ‘I’ve asked Manda to marry me.’

At first his words did not register.

‘What?’ said Jess.

‘You know, Manda,’ he replied. ‘Amanda Huntley from school? We were The Three Musketeers, remember?’

Jess frowned. ‘The Amanda who stole my school skirt during P.E. Amanda?’

Matthew shrugged. ‘Well obviously she’s changed…’

A cold splinter formed in Jess’s heart.

‘I had to go to school in my netball skirt, for a month,’ she hissed.

‘But that was a long time ago.’

Jess withdrew her hands from his.

‘She posted a photo on Instagram wearing my skirt last week, just to prove she could still fit it!’

‘You know Manda’s humour,’ he chuckled.

‘What? Sociopathic?’

‘Just say you’re happy for me, Jessica Jane, please?’

Jess stared at him in bewilderment. ‘First of all, no-one calls me that unless they are livid. Second, you are marrying Amanda Huntley of all people?’

Their pact seemed so distant and childish now.

Matthew gave Jess a faraway smile. ‘I know it seems hasty, but I think this is fate.’

Jess’s voice rose to a squeal. ’But why now all of a sudden?’ Were you two even dating?’

He gave a dismissive wave. ‘Sort of,’ Matthew replied. ‘For a month or so before she split up with her ex. I saw my chance and just took it.’

Jess stared at him in disbelief. ‘Haven’t you just…’

‘Oh be happy for me, won’t you, Jessie J?’

And just one day before their pact was due.

The sleet quickened outside.

Jess gulped down the hard knot that had formed in her throat and tried to keep her voice steady. ‘I’m really…happy for you.’

Satisfied, Matthew rose from his chair to plant a wet kiss on her forehead. Jess’s heart sank even further.

She looked up through the first prickle of tears. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Got to dash mate.’

Mate? Mate! That was even worse.

‘Going to ask Mum for a loan to buy Manda a ring. We’re going to hold the mother of all engagement parties Christmas Eve.’

‘This Christmas?’ Jess yelped.

He nodded with a smile. ‘Wish me luck.’

Then Matthew grabbed her malted chocolate and dashed out of the Sparrows café into hard sleet.

When a shell-shocked Jess stumbled back into the office, Ashley took one glance at her, speared a pen into her topknot and leapt up from her desk. She pulled Jess into a staff kitchen decorated with leftover tinsel then slammed its flimsy door. Jess plumped down on a stool by a sleet-freckled window, where the Shard’s spire towered beyond London’s grey cityscape.

‘What on earth happened?’Ashley cried.

But at that precise moment their colleague Andy burst in, armed with a bunch of tissues and a generous slab of milk chocolate.

‘Not now!’ Ashley yelled. Andy froze wide-eyed then backed in haste through the door.

‘He…’ Jess began, still numb. ‘He’s getting married.’

Ashley frowned in confusion. ‘Who’s getting married?’

‘Matthew,’ Jess yelped. ‘To Amanda, my old school bully.’

Her friend blinked. ‘Wait, the woman who paraded your stolen school skirt on the internet?”

‘Sounds like quite the sweetheart doesn’t she,’ muttered Jess.

‘You cannot be serious…’

‘He says she’s changed,’ Jess managed to mumble.

‘I just don’t understand it,’ cried Ashley. ‘But what’s her problem with you?’

Jess exhaled. ‘On the first day of school Matthew chose to walk home with me instead of her because our houses were closer. Pretty sure she only hates me out of habit.’

‘So when did they even start seeing each other?’

‘Apparently they’ve been dating for a month, while Amanda was still with her ex…’

‘Classy,’ said Ashley then her eyes narrowed. ‘She must be pregnant. Or maybe he’s bankrupt…’

‘No,’ Jess sighed. ‘Apparently he’s just been nursing a long-time crush on my childhood tormentor.’

‘And he never thought to tell you?’ Ashley said.

‘Not even a sausage. Now they’re throwing an engagement party on Christmas Eve.’

‘Good God. I’m so sorry,’ Ashley cried.

Jess’s voice trembled. ‘What am I going to do?’

‘Right,’ said her friend. ‘Have you finished your campaign?’

‘Just need to send the final revisions before the holidays,’ said Jess. ‘I swear if I have to describe one more handlebar moustache grooming kit, I am going to throw myself off the Shard.’

‘Lucky for you the weekend starts tomorrow,’ Ashley said. ‘Go on holiday now. Shut off your phone. Just get out of this place.’

‘I don’t want to run away,’ Jess cried.

‘You’ve had a crush on this man for nearly two decades! And Matt’s so gormless he’ll probably be here every lunchtime before Christmas, asking you for your opinion on wedding rings.’

‘That is so Matthew,’ said Jess. ‘I should’ve told him how I felt.’

Ashley rolled her eyes. ‘You think he doesn’t already know? Probably enjoyed having you gaze at him longingly with those big brown puppy-dog eyes, until he could prize that National Treasure off her poor beleaguered boyfriend.’

The splinter of ice in Jess’s heart shattered and out spilled painful sobs.

Ashley hugged her. ‘Oh J don’t cry.’

At last Jess nodded and wiped her eyes. ‘You’re right. I’m not going to bawl. I’m just going to get away.’

‘Do you have any plans for the holidays?’

Jess shrugged. ‘What I always do when I’m single at Christmas. Stay at Mum and Dad’s farm in Kent.’

‘Good,’ Ashley said. ‘Then I’ll ask Clare if she can extend your holiday right now.‘

Jess dabbed her eyes with spent tissue. ‘If you think the boss will be sympathetic. But I’ll still have to face Matthew when I get back.’

‘A few days being chatted up by a few gorgeous farmhands and soon Matthew Churchill will be history.’

‘I hope not,’ cried Jess between sniffs. ‘Because both of them are my brothers, but thanks for trying Ash.’

‘Well at least you’ll be able to make up some farm-based excuse to avoid the wedding. Like being trampled by a rogue cow, or mown down by a runaway combine harvester.’

‘But he’ll still want me to support him as a friend,’ said Jess. ‘It’s not his fault I read him wrong. He never asked me out.’

Ashley placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘You didn’t read him wrong. That man’s been stringing you along for years by tossing you the occasional breadcrumb. Then the nanosecond commitment draws near, promptly asks the girl he really likes to marry him.’

‘Matthew’s not that calculated,’ cried Jess. ‘You’re being far too harsh.’

‘In Jane Austen’s day we’d call him a rake and have him immediately married off to the silliest sister. Or at least to an accomplished pianist doomed to die of consumption… You see if he doesn’t try to wriggle out of this marriage.’

‘I can’t even think straight right now,’ Jess sobbed.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Ashley. ‘A few miles away from this place and Mr. Churchill will soon be a distant memory.’ And she gave Jess a determined nod.

Jess’s phone began to buzz. She glanced at it wide-eyed. ‘It’s him already!’

‘Don’t answer it. Just let me talk to our esteemed Creative Director about your holiday.’

‘Thank you,’ whispered Jess and her best friend hurried out.

Curious stares followed Jess as she crept back to her desk and submitted the client’s copy.

Then she dropped her modest display of Christmas cards into her blue satchel. The last, from Matthew, had a snowman and snowwoman poised to kiss beneath a sprig of mistletoe.

Merry Xmas from Matthew, it read.

Jess felt the sting of tears, once more.

How on earth did she get this so wrong?

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Author Bio:
Have you ever thought this after reading a romance book?

• The only tears I want to fall after reading a story are tears of joy.
• I like books that aren’t too predictable and with strong character development.
• The whole novel had a good pace and was professionally written. Really satisfying.

If so, I’m Kate Harriet and I write uplifting, cosy reads for fans of chicklit- with warm, loveable characters and a heroine you’ll want to root for.

As an author and ghostwriter I have spent years writing for the kind of reader who loves an exciting read, set in picturesque and idyllic settings with just a splash of romance thrown in.

If that’s you then click today to start reading fun, feel-good books and short stories that will leave you smiling from ear to ear.

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