Monday, March 31, 2014

PROMO: Black Cats and Ballet Slippers

Black Cats and Ballet Slippers - Week Blitz
By Iva Valentino
Middle Grade Humor
Date Published: March 7, 2014

Gemma Mayfield feels like middle school is a lot to bite off and chew. School, ballet classes, and planning on how to get Trevor Davis to ask her to the Halloween Dance are a tough balancing act. On top of that, Gemma is convinced that her science teacher, Ms. Pruett, is a witch.

When things start getting fishy at school, Gemma knows that Ms. Pruett is behind it all! Students are getting spells placed on them and start to go missing. Gemma and her best friend, Izzie, vow to stop Ms. Pruett from doing any more damage. Will they be able to save Middleton Middle School from witchcraft?


Okay, so something REALLY strange is going on. Boys are from a different planet, but right now a few of them at Middleton are acting like they’re from a different universe. (Wait. Does this make sense? Is there more than one universe? Ugh. Maybe I should have paid more attention last year in Astronomy.)

So, by the time I got to Ms. Pruett’s class, I had already worked myself into a super version of “I Don’t Wanna Go To Class Because I’m Creeped Out!” mode. I walked into the Science Laboratory, and I swear I felt the cold of Building 400 smack me right in the face. I’m not kidding.

Of course Ms. Pruett was at the door, acting like her sweet old lady self (ha ha, I know better), and was welcoming all the kids into the classroom. I just kept my head down and muttered a hello as I passed. Staying below the radar was the goal. Then I sat down at my lab table and shivered a bit.

Joey sat down at the table just a second later. Normally he is really loud and obnoxious, cracking jokes, and calling to the other Soccer Jocks across the room. Today he was quiet.

“Hey,” I said, trying to be friendly. I thought maybe we could commiserate on us both having spells cast on us. Joey responded with a “hey” but didn’t say much else. Hello? Was this the Joey I knew?

“So, Joey, are you feeling okay?” I asked. “You know, after yesterday…”

Joey didn’t say anything, but began writing on a piece of paper. He folded up the piece of paper and passed it to me. I gave him a questioning look. He gave me a weird look back that I couldn’t decipher. The note was as follows:

     Hey Gemma,

     Sorry I gave you a hard time yesterday about the “Cute Boy” list. It was kind of rude of me.


That’s when it hit me that Joey hadn’t recovered from Ms. Pruett’s spell. For me it was just temporary, like a few minutes. But Joey was acting weird. It had to be the spell.

“Um, thanks,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.” I then started taking out all my school stuff so that I could look busy and not have any more awkward moments with Joey until he felt better. He was taking longer to recuperate.

After class I headed straight down toward the lunchroom. On the way there, I saw Trevor going in the opposite direction past me. Our conversation went like this:

            Me: “Hi Trevor!” (with a big smile and enthusiasm)

            Trevor: “Oh, hi Gemma.” (with zombie-like attitude)

            Me: “Okay, have a good lunch!”

            Trevor: “Okay, thanks. Bye.”

            I wondered where he was going, in the opposite direction from the lunch room when it was lunchtime. It took me another couple of moments to realize that the ONLY classroom in that part of campus was Ms. Pruett’s room. He was headed back toward Building 400!

            Yikes! I turned myself around in mid-stride and turned back the way I came. I knew there was no way possible that Trevor would be going to Ms. Pruett’s. Why would anyone in their right mind be going there by themselves?

            I didn’t want Trevor to think I was stalking him, because of course I would never do that. But just in case that’s what it appeared to be, I used as much stealth as possible. I walked in the shadows and stopped to peek out behind bushes and building walls. I saw him up ahead…just before he ENTERED MS. PRUETT’S CLASSROOM.

            My mouth fell open, and I just sort of stared at the door for a while.

            Weird things are going on here at Middleton. And I think Ms. Pruett’s behind it all!

Iva Valentino

 photo 372_zpsa6615d54.jpgIva Valentino lives in Arizona with her husband and their dog, Lupo. She graduated from the University of Arizona with a Bachelor’s degree in Biology and a Master’s degree in Education. She thinks visiting cold places is fun, but she loves living year-round in the warm desert.

Iva spent many years as a middle school teacher, where she enjoyed doing cool science experiments with her students. She currently works as a science editor at an educational publishing company. She loves travel, yoga, and photography. There is nothing that brings her more happiness than a good dance class!

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Tuesday, March 25, 2014

PROMO: Bad Boy vs. Millionaire by Candy Starr

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Bad Boy vs. Millionaire - Cover Reveal
By Candy Starr
New Adult

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When fate forced Hannah Sorrento to take on the management of indie rockers, Storm, she managed to survive but, when she found out she'd been played by their mercurial front man, Jack Colt, the betrayal hit her hard.

She flees to Tokyo, where her father orchestrates a deal to save their collapsed financial empire.  A deal that involves a gorgeous millionaire.

Tamaki is everything Jack isn't and, with their similar backgrounds, he and Hannah form a bond.  He offers her safety and security as well as a return to her luxurious lifestyle.  But the passion Jack arouses in Hannah won't be denied.

In the second Bad Boy Rock Star book, Rock Star vs Millionaire, can Hannah forgive Jack or will she take the sanctuary Tamaki offers?


Jack was in the kitchen, making breakfast. How could a man look so good first thing in the morning? With his tussled hair and baggy pj bottoms… and I didn't even want to think about his arms in that tank top. That curve from his shoulders down his arm. A classically trained ballerina could not move as gracefully as that curve in his muscle as he . If I thought too hard about it, the only decision left in this world would be whether I wanted to trace that indent with my finger tip or my tongue.

"Want a coffee?"

I jumped, hoping he couldn't read my thoughts.

I sat at the kitchen bench with my gaze fixed firmly on my hands.

"So, what's the plan for today?" he asked.

I hadn't really thought about it.

"I guess I should start looking for a place to live."

"You can stay here as long as you like, you know. It's okay." He grinned at me. I'd add that to my collection of the other four or five genuine Jack Colt smiles I'd got in this life.

"With you sleeping on the couch, I don't think so."

The words hung in the air. Emotions flitting over both our faces, words we didn't want to put out there. Jack didn't have to sleep on the couch. I had taken over his bed and that bed had a huge Jack Colt-shaped emptiness that had haunted my dreams.

He squeezed by me to get cups out of the cupboard. In the small kitchen space, I couldn't help but be aware of his physical closeness, the feeling of his body almost brushing against mine and the smell of his skin that even the fresh coffee couldn't hide. I wanted to press against him and feel his heat. I wanted him to be mine to touch and caress but he wasn't. Too many questions hung over us. He'd told me that he wanted me, he wanted to be with me but I still had no idea if I could trust him.

I moved to sit on the sofa, putting some space between us.

Maybe I should just ask, I thought. Bring it all out into the open. Tell him how I felt, my fears and worries. Let him know what was holding me back. But the words didn't exist in me. This wasn't some talk show. We were real people and real people didn't let it all out. They held it deep inside, hugging it to themselves. When you told people how you felt, that gave them the power.

If I was a normal girl, I'd have these straight forward emotions that I could talk about. I'd be able to lay it out on the table, take it or leave it. But, instead my emotions squirmed inside me, burrowing deeper and deeper.

Candy Starr
 photo candy_zpseb97f9bd.jpgCandy J. Starr used to be a band manager until she realised that the band she managed was so lacking in charisma that they actually sucked the charisma out of any room they played. “Screw you,” she said, leaving them to wallow in obscurity – totally forgetting that they owed her big bucks for video equipment hire.

Candy has filmed and interviewed some big names in the rock business, and a lot of small ones. She’s seen the dirty little secrets that go on in the back rooms of band venues. She’s seen the ugly side of rock and the very pretty one.

But, of course, everything she writes is fiction.

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PROMO: Shattered Embrace by P R Newton

Shattered Embrace - PROMO Blitz
By PR Newton
Contemporary / Women's Fiction
Date Published: 3/14/2014

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Bethlehem took her first breath as her mother took her last.

Left to survive in overcrowded Ethiopian orphanages, she developed survival skills rivaling a warrior - a fierce, independent fighter before she could walk or talk. As she approached her second birthday, Bethlehem lived her days guided by two rules: everyone leaves and trust no one.

A world away in Canada, Tory Witcraft is trying to adopt from Ethiopia with her husband, Matt, when her adoption agency goes bankrupt, threatening her dreams of becoming a mother. Against the advice of many, including government officials threatening to revoke the adoption, she goes to Ethiopia, and her new daughter, Bethlehem.

When they finally meet, both mother and daughter struggle to connect, each trapped by their own fears and demons. Emotions and tempers run hot. Hearts and dreams collide, shattering a family before it could fully form. 

The adoption journey was difficult, but no one expected the hardest part of the journey would begin once they met.


An itty bitty little thing of a girl came running into the room. Bouncing high with each step as she flew at them and promptly threw herself into Matt’s lap. Tory’s hand clutched her face, her breath stopped in her chest as she watched Matt draw the little girl close. His body rocked as he held her, his face split into a smile of pure joy.
“Daddy!” she cried out in a squeaky voice. She grabbed Matt’s face kissing each cheek with a big, slimy, open mouth kiss.
“Bethlehem!” Matt breathed out as he hugged her and kissed the top of her head.
“Bethlehem,” Tory whispered the name, as if saying it for the first time as she took in the face of the little girl she had studied through pictures for months. Blowing up the pictures until she could examine every facet of the the little girls features. Seeing her up close, face to face, finally close enough to touch left Tory breathless. Her skin itched to touch her. With a tentative hand she stroked her back.

About the Author:

P.R. (Piper) Newton is a proud geek mom of two little boys, one through birth, one through adoption. She has a background in psychology and continues to take post-grad courses in childhood trauma and development. In her writings she loves to explore the human mind, putting her characters through unthinkable things, just to see how they react. She is a full-time author, who believes in the magical, creative inducing powers of arm warmers and stripy socks.

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Monday, March 24, 2014

Blog Tour: Damsel in Distress by Lee French


Date Published: 3/20/2014

Given the burden of safeguarding a precious treasure at a tender age, Sabetia is placed squarely in the middle of a fantastical legend. Swords, demons, magic, a curse: it has everything a great epic tale should. All she needs to do is face the danger that could threaten the world if left unchecked. If only it were so simple. A hero could solve this problem, but she doesn't happen to be one.
A good wife is obedient, patient, obedient, quiet, obedient, doting, and above all, obedient. Sabetia was raised to be a good wife. It makes her perfect prey, a perfect damsel in distress. 



Believeable and Relatable characters really help to captivate the reader and get them invested in the happenings of this story. I loved Sabetia from the very start. 

There are some grittier topics and this story is not for the faint of heart. 

A great Fantasy Novel that delves deeper than most.

Lee French lives in Worcester, MA with two kids, two bicycles, and too much stuff. She has written several books, including the Maze Beset superhero novel trilogy. In addition, she is an avid gamer and active member of the Myth-Weavers online RPG community, where she is infamous for finding unexpected ways to use squirrels. She also trains year-round for the one-week of glorious madness that is RAGBRAI, has a nice flower garden with absolutely no lawn gnomes, and tries in vain every year to grow vegetables that don’t get devoured by neighborhood wildlife.

Twitter: @AuthorLeeFrench


PROMO: Glory Days

Glory Days - PROMO Blitz
By Patrick Szabo
Young Adult / Coming of Age
Date Published: March 3, 2014

Matt is heading into his senior year of high school and has the world at his feet.

School comes easy for him. He’s the lead guitar player in a hard rock band, about to embark on their first gig. He has a job he likes, a car he doesn’t, a best friend he hopes to be friendlier with, and a pretty good set of parents. He has it all.

Until he doesn’t.

His dad suddenly begins acting strange and keeping odd hours. Matt has his own life to live, though, and doesn’t pay it much attention. Until he wakes up one morning to find his dad gone, leaving behind only a short note to his mother, setting into motion a chain of events that sends Matt down a dangerous path that could jeopardize his present as well as his future. Forced to quit a job he likes, he must take on a new job to help his mother out financially, but one that also eats into his ever important social life as well as school. Adding to his troubles, his best friend, Dawn, has a new boyfriend.

Matt can’t wait to become a member of the Class of 1989, but first he must get out of 1988 alive.

* NOTE *Contains adult language


Chapter 1

I was seventeen years old when I played my first gig.

Thinking back, it really wasn’t that big a deal in the grand, macro scheme of things. It didn’t change my life nor did it lead to a record deal, followed quickly by fortune and glory. Women didn’t throw themselves at me or scream and cry when they saw me, like the girls in the old footage of The Beatles early shows. I played lead guitar in an 80’s hard rock band. We did get a fairly decent sized following around Columbia, SC, but a few years into our music career the bottom fell out of that type of music. Thanks in equal parts to fluffy ‘metal’ bands all over the airwaves and a few groups from Seattle that took the nation by storm. So, yeah, that first gig wasn’t that big a deal.

But at the time? It was the greatest moment of my young life.

The night before the show I didn’t sleep that well. I was way too excited to be bothered by any of those little slices of death, to paraphrase Poe. Don’t get me wrong, I tried to sleep, I really did. But each time sleep started to overtake me, my overactive mind kicked slumber to the curb and whirled with a thousand possibilities, all of them bad.

I only had one guitar, so what if I broke a string during a song? What if my voice went out? What if I forgot how to play the songs or messed up during the guitar solos? What if my dream girl didn’t show up? What if, what if, what if?

Then I would nod off for a few minutes and then wake up again and the cycle would continue.

Frustrated, I kicked the covers off and slipped out of bed. I thought about going for a swim—nothing quite like a middle of the night dip in the pool—and then decided against it. There would be dead bugs in the pool, possibly big ass palmetto bugs (my current Biggest Fear for some reason), and we didn’t have enough light in the backyard to properly scoop out all the detritus. So that was out. I decided to get a pop out of the refrigerator and think about my predicament.

I stepped quietly out of my room into the darkened hallway and tripped over my dog, who was asleep on his side outside my parents’s bedroom door. The big dog yelped and tried to jump up as I stumbled across his previously prone form. I cussed, regained my balance, and then he got his legs tangled in mine, and we both went down with a crash, a jumble of arms and legs and fur.

“Son of a bitch,” I said.

“Bo, shut up,” Dad’s groggy voice bellowed from behind the door.

I started to push myself up but Bo threw himself on top of me and shoved me back to the floor. He licked me.

“Get off me, you big moose,” I said and pushed his head away. He lurched forward and got in one more slobbery dog kiss—his impeccabley aimed tongue lapping my mouth—and then he was gone. I wiped his slobber from my face and swiped my hand on the carpet. “Gross, dog.”

He chuffed at me and then lay back down in front of Mom and Dad’s closed door. I shook my head, got up, and went to the kitchen. I squinted my eyes against the glare of the refrigerator light, grabbed a can of pop, and plopped down at the kitchen table. I popped the top as quietly as I could and took a big gulp. Then another. And one more for good measure.

I sat in the dark and drank and did my best to quiet my mind.

It didn’t really work all that well. I was nervous as hell, but at the same time I was as excited as a kid on Christmas Eve. I finished my drink, got up, and tossed the can in the trash. I thought about that swim again and immediately put it out of my mind. The last thing in the world I needed was a dead palmetto bug bumping up against me in the water. I shivered in disgust at the thought.

I went back to my room and, after closing the door behind me, flipped the light on. I took my guitar off its stand and sat down on my bed. If I couldn’t sleep, I might as well get a little extra practice in. Just a quick run through of the songs we would be playing the next night. I took a deep breath, played a few scales to limber up my fingers, and stopped. I couldn’t remember how to play the song we’d be opening with. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the name.

“Shit,” I muttered. I sat there with my guitar resting across one leg and stared at my closet door, but the set list didn’t magically appear on the wood in blazing letters from the heavens.

“Come on, dumb ass,” I said. I thought about calling the singer but I didn’t think his parents would appreciate a phone call at three in the morning from some dipshit kid panicking over a song title. Why didn’t I write the damned songs down and toss the paper in my guitar case? Why was I such an idiot?

And then it came to me.

“Stagefright,” I said and felt relief flood through me. I shook my head and noticed for the first time that I was sweating. I chuckled. “Flop sweat.”

I did a speed run through the first few songs of the set and figured that was enough. If I didn’t get some sleep I would be pretty useless the next night. I put my guitar away and stretched out on my back and stared at the ceiling.

I ran the set list over and over again in my head and finally fell asleep.

I dreamed of a swimming pool full of palmetto bugs and not being able to scoop them all out. Weird and disgusting.

I woke the next morning just before noon and had some leftover pizza for breakfast. I went outside into the bright heat of the day and glanced at the pool. Nope. Not full of those damnable little insects. Not even one.

I kicked around the house the rest of the day, not really paying any attention to what I was doing. It just wasn’t that important. Finally it was time to get ready for the gig, so I showered, blew dry my hair, and got dressed.

I grabbed my guitar case, told my parents goodbye, and went out to my car. I put the case in the back seat, climbed behind the steering wheel, and prayed it would start. I turned the key and prayed again. It would be just my luck that on the most important day of my life the piece of- - -

It started on the first try. Hallelujah.

I checked my hair in the rearview mirror—I wore it more Iron Maiden, than Poison—and, satisfied, backed out of the driveway.

I popped a tape into the tape deck and drove to the gig, a big dopey grin plastered to my face.

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Friday, March 21, 2014

PROMO: Lakota Honor

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Lakota Honor - PROMO Blitz
By Kat Flannery
Historical/Paranormal/Western Romance
Date Published: 5/30/2013

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Fate has brought them together, but will a promise tear them apart?

In the small town of Willow Creek, Colorado, Nora Rushton spends most of her days locked up in her home with a father who resents her and fighting off unwanted marriage proposals from the wealthy Elwood Calhoun. Marked as a witch, Nora must hide her healing powers from those who wish to destroy all the witkowin—crazy women. What she doesn't know is that a bounty hunter is hot on her trail.

Lakota native Otakatay has an obligation to fulfill. He has been hired to kill the witkowin. In a time when race and difference are a threat and innocence holds no ground, courage, love and honor will bring Nora and Otakatay together as they fight for their freedom. Will the desire to fulfill his promise drive Otakatay to kill Nora? Or will the kindness he sees in her blue eyes push him to be the man he once was?


Colorado Mountains, 1880

The blade slicing his throat made no sound, but the dead body hitting the ground did. With no time to stop, he hurried through the dark tunnel until he reached the ladder leading out of the shaft.

 He’d been two hundred feet below ground for ten days, with no food and little water. Weak and woozy, he stared up the ladder. He’d have to climb it and it wasn’t going to be easy. He wiped the bloody blade on his torn pants and placed it between his teeth. Scraped knuckles and unwashed hands gripped the wooden rung.

The earth swayed. He closed his eyes and forced the spinning in his head to cease. One thin bronzed leg lifted and came down wobbly. He waited until his leg stopped shaking before he climbed another rung. Each step caused pain, but was paired with determination. He made it to the top faster than he’d thought he would. The sky was black and the air was cool, but fresh. Thank goodness it was fresh.

 He took two long breaths before he emerged from the hole. The smell from below ground still lingered in his nostrils; unwashed bodies, feces and mangy rats. His stomach pitched. He tugged at the rope around his hands. There had been no time to chew the thick bands around his wrists when he’d planned his escape. It was better to run than crawl, and he chewed through the strips that bound his feet instead. There would be time to free his wrists later.

He pressed his body against the mountain and inched toward the shack. He frowned. A guard stood at the entrance to where they were. The blade from the knife pinched his lip, cutting the thin skin and he tasted blood. He needed to get in there. He needed to say goodbye. He needed to make a promise.

 The tower bell rang mercilessly. There was no time left. He pushed away from the rocky wall, dropped the knife from his mouth into his bound hands, aimed and threw it. The dagger dug into the man’s chest. He ran over, pulled the blade from the guard and quickly slid it across his throat. The guard bled out in seconds.

He tapped the barred window on the north side of the dilapidated shack. The time seemed to stretch. He glanced at the large house not fifty yards from where he stood. He would come back, and he would kill the bastard inside.

He tapped again, harder this time, and heard the weak steps of those like him shuffling from inside. The window slid open, and a small hand slipped out.

“Toksha ake—I shall see you again,” he whispered in Lakota.

The hand squeezed his once, twice and on the third time held tight before it let go and disappeared inside the room.

A tear slipped from his dark eyes, and his hand, still on the window sill, balled into a fist. He swallowed past the sob and felt the burn in his throat. His chest ached for what he was leaving behind. He would survive, and he would return.

Men shouted to his right, and he crouched down low. He took one last look around and fled into the cover of the forest.

About the Author
Author Kat Flannery photo LoupaPhotography20284029_zps53a1bff5.jpeg
Kat Flannery's love of history shows in her novels. She is an avid reader of historical, suspense, paranormal, and romance. When not researching for her next book, Kat can be found running her three sons to hockey and lacrosse. She has her Certificate in Freelance and Business Writing. A member of many writing groups, Kat enjoys promoting other authors on her blog. She's been published in numerous periodicals. Her debut novel CHASING CLOVERS has been on Amazon's Bestsellers list many times and was #62 over all their titles. LAKOTA HONOR and HAZARDOUS UNIONS are Kat's other two books and both have made bestseller lists. Kat is currently hard at work on her next book.

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Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Blog Tour: Anstractor Vestalia

Sci-Fi Romance

Date Published: 1/6/2014

: Born an outcast, raised a soldier, and chosen as a savior. Rafian VCA is humanity's only hope against a vicious new race of predators aimed at taking over the galaxy of Anstractor. In Anstractor: Vestalia, the first book by author Greg Dragon, the planet of Vestalia has been completely taken over by the Geralos. After losing their home and being forced into space, the revengeful Marines of Vestalia decide to take the fight back to the Geralos and win their planet back.

My Review

A nice clean Sci-Fi with Romance. The world Greg Dragon has created was vivid and imaginative, he really succeeds in drawing the reader in. There were so many deeper levels to this story. The plot was fast paced and had plenty of twists to keep the readers attention. I was taken through a barrage of emotions. I am excited to see what comes next for this series.


Greg Dragon hails from sunny South Florida and has worked in the creative field for several years. He has written extensively on the web with articles on gaming and lifestyle improvement and continues to do so on several websites.

PROMO: Forager

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Forager - PROMO Blitz
By Peter R. Stone
Date Published: November 2013

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Eighteen-year-old Ethan Jones lives in Newhome, a town built upon the decaying ruins of post-apocalyptic Melbourne, ruins haunted by the ferocious Skel, a nomadic tribe of degenerate savages.

The Skel are ramping up their attacks on Newhome's foraging teams and infesting Melbourne's ruins in ever greater numbers. Is this part of a larger plan that could spell the town's doom?

Meanwhile, the last thing Ethan expects when he and his companions rescue a two-car convoy from the Skel is a Japanese teenage girl with an outlandish dress-sense, who after they take her back to Newhome, goes to great lengths to ingratiate herself into his life. But is it in gratitude for saving her life or is she seeking something more?

And what a quandry she places him in, for he knows the rules, that no man is permitted to be alone with an unmarried woman. But how can he drive such a gentle soul away when she touchs his heart so deeply, even though she clearly carries the pain of a broken heart.

At the same time, Newhome's police force, the Custodians, are suspicious of Ethan's foraging team's successes and are pulling out the stops to find out which member of his team has the illegal mutant ability that gives them an edge over the other teams. Should these peacekeepers discover Ethan is the mutant they seek, they will haul him away and dissect him like a frog.


Michal, our driver and my best friend, clambered into the truck first, having to duck his head down just to get through the door since he easily topped six-foot-four; and at seventeen I suspected he hadn't even finished growing. I clambered in beside him while Leigh, David and Shorty climbed into the back seat.

Michal looked down at me, clearly displeased about something. "You gotta be more careful, Ethan."

"Me?" I asked, not having the slightest inkling of what he was referring to.

"Yes, Ethan, you," he confirmed as he turned the key in the ignition and pumped the accelerator gently to get the engine started. The truck was pretty old and I doubted it had a single part that hadn't been replaced or refurbished at some stage. 

"I'd wager my bottom dollar they're here 'cause they want to find out why our team brings in more metals than the others."

Our team was one of many that foraged in the ruins outside for non-corrosive metals, such as gold, platinum, copper, bronze and lead, that had survived the decades since the Apocalypse. We would take them back to the Recycling-Works where they would be sorted, melted down, and handed over to the factories.

"What do you mean?" I replied, feigning ignorance.

"Them other three goons," he whispered as he jerked his head back to indicate our workmates in the back seat, "they ain't too bright. They think you just know the best spots to look, but not me. I've seen you."

That sent icy tendrils of dread creeping back into my gut. "Seen me what?"

"You can drop your act with me, okay?" he said softly as he shifted the truck into gear and drove it out of the Recycling-Works yard and towards the town gates. 

"I've heard about people like you, and you're secret's safe with me. Just don't keep hitting pay dirt every day from now on, 'cause those Custodians, they're not here to protect us from the Skel like they claim, otherwise they'd have brought a Bushmaster instead of that G-Wagon."

Peter R. Stone
Peter R. Stone photo Peter20R20Stone20Small_zpsedbedb3c.jpg

Peter Stone, an avid student of history, was reading books on Ancient Greece from the age of four. Periods of interest include the ancient world, medieval era, Napoleonic times, and the Second World War. He still mourns the untimely passing of King Leonidas of Sparta and Field Marshal Michel Ney of France.

A product of the Cold War Generation, Peter Stone studied the ramifications of a nuclear missile strike when he was in his senior year of high school, learning the effects of nuclear fallout and how to (hopefully) survive it. He has ever been drawn to post-apocalyptic and dystopian novels and films, and eagerly devoured The Day of the Triffids and John Christopher's Tripod Trilogy when he was a child. He is also an avid fan of science fiction, and his favorite books include the Lensmen Series by E.E.Doc.Smith, anything by Alastair Reynolds, and the Evergence trilogy by Sean Williams.

Peter Stone graduated from Melbourne School of Ministries Bible College in 1988. He has been teaching Sunday School and playing the keyboard in church for over twenty-five years. His wife is from Japan and they have two wonderful children. He has worked in the same games company for over twenty years, but still does not comprehend why they expect him to work all day instead of playing games.

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