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Wednesday, July 24, 2024
Available Now ~ Tin God by Elizabeth Hunter #elizabethhunter #elementalcovenant #urbanfantasyromance #vampirebookseries #valentineprlm
Tuesday, July 23, 2024
One of You (Tower District Mysteries) by Lorie Lewis Ham ~ #Mystery
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Book Spotlight ~ Nine Levels by Elana Gomel ~ Fantasy, Speculative Fiction, Greek Mythology ~ @MirrorWorldPub @ElanaGomel #Fantasy #GreekMythology
Mirror World Publishing and Sapphyria's Book Promotions present the 1-week virtual book tour for
Waking up on the beach in Greece after a midnight party, Cleo, a British-Greek tourist, sees a stranger sitting next to her. The stranger has a giant spider on his forearm.
So begins an incredible odyssey through the nine levels of the mysterious mountain populated by an odd assortment of monsters, demons, and avatars of dead gods. Still grieving the unsolved disappearance of her twin sister Cora, Cleo is thrust into the world whose rules she does not understand and whose inhabitants confound everything she thought she knew about Greek mythology. Confronted by Woven Women, masked huntresses, sentient graffiti, and Mother of Monsters, Cleo has to make sense of it all. And meanwhile, a mysterious Call reverberates in her brain: You have to go up. You have to find your sister.
A story of self-discovery, courage, and breathtaking adventure, Nine Levels is a highly imaginative, innovative, and engrossing retelling of familiar legends with a twist you won’t see coming.
Book Blast ~ Gone Crazy by Terry Korth Fischer ~ Traditional Mystery, Cozy Crime ~ @TerryIsWriting @partnersincr1me
GONE CRAZY
by Terry Korth Fischer
July 23, 2024 Book Blast
About the Book:
![Gone Crazy by Terry Korth Fischer](https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/gone-crazy-by-terry-korth-fischer-cover.jpg)
A RORY NAYSMITH MYSTERY
A formal declaration of love scares the bejesus out of small-town Detective Rory Naysmith. As Valentine’s Day approaches, he evaluates his relationship with bookkeeper Esther Mullins, and decides to take her on a romantic date that ends with a poet’s murder. Assigned to the case, Rory pushes his private life aside. Things gets tricky after Esther is appointed Executrix for the estate—then rumors start that place a priceless item among the poet’s many possessions.
The race is on to unearth the treasure and solve the murder, but it leaves Rory wondering if Esther will live long enough to become his Valentine—or end up as the murderer’s next victim.
Book Details:
Genre: Traditional Mystery, Cozy Crime
Published by: The Wild Rose Press
Publication Date: July 22, 2024
Number of Pages: 251
ISBN: 9781509255986 (ISBN10: 1509255982)
Series: A Rory Naysmith Mystery, Book 3
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads
Read an Excerpt:
After a full hour devoted to hob-knobbing, everyone finally headed to the presentation room and the ceremony began. The Guild members sat at the front tables. A particularly distinguished looking gentleman stood at the podium. Rory held Esther’s chair as she took her seat. “What is it that you are so anxious to tell me?” she asked.
“In a moment,” he said, “Do you have the program?”
Esther pulled the pamphlet from her bag and handed it to him. “What are you looking for?”
“A woman in a tuxedo.” He opened the program and scanned the contents. It contained a short bio for each featured poet, including an author photograph. Phoebe Sheehan, retired librarian, Winterset Community College graduate, would read two selections from her chapbook. Her photograph was more glamor shot than portrait—and dated because her locks were more brunette than white.
Perry Benson, Winterset Library Poet-in-Residence, would present two works from his collection titled, Midwest Muddle. His picture revealed both arms tattooed from forearm to wrist, giving him the appearance of a shouting Prisoner-in-Residence at a state penal institution.
And last but not least, Lillie Anderson, comparative literature professor, Winterset Community College, reading from her published work, Wildfire Lies. Professor Anderson’s author shot confirmed she was the tuxedoed assailant—but not why she’d threaten Phoebe.
He turned to Esther. “I overheard Lillie Anderson and Phoebe Sheehan in the bar. Anderson accused Sheehan of plagiarism and following in her father’s footsteps, whatever that means. She said that if Phoebe didn’t admit her fraud, she, Professor Anderson, was willing and able to expose her.” Esther’s face clouded as he continued. “It sounded more like a disagreement about Phoebe being considered for tonight’s award than to the actual plagiarism. I’m guessing it wasn’t Lillie’s poetry in question.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. And Professor Anderson manhandled Phoebe Sheehan.”
“What does that mean?”
“Grabbed her by the arms and retained her against her will. You know, manhandled.”
“To be politically correct you should use the term strong armed.”
Rory opened his mouth but decided it was better to remain silent.
The waiter appeared, lit the candle on the table centerpiece, then took their orders for wine. When he stepped away, Rory said, “I’ve always heard the academic world can be vicious but didn’t believe it. Plus, this Lillie Anderson is dressed like a man.”
“How does a man dress?” Esther asked.
Rory cleared his throat and studied the program.
“There’s Phoebe now,” said Esther gesturing to the white-headed woman making her way up front to join the dignitaries by the stage. She stumbled, then reached out to a nearby table to steady herself. “It looks like she’s drunk.”
“She wasn’t an hour ago,” he said, “but a couple stiff ones...”
“She’s having a hard time finding her way.” Esther stood, hesitating and placing a hand on his shoulder. “I think I’ll see if she’s okay. It might just be nerves.”
Rory let her hand slip away. Patrons milled around in a confused manner, taking time to find their assigned seats, and seemingly reluctant to end conversations they’d started in the bar. He watched Esther thread her way through the tables and make her way to Phoebe. With an arm the poet’s shoulder, Esther helped her take a seat by the temporary stage and sat next to her, their heads bent in conversation. He wondered at the exchange. Soon she returned.
“Well, is she drunk?”
“No. But she isn’t feeling well. She says she started to feel ill this afternoon.”
“Presentation jitters then?”
The man at the podium tapped the microphone and a loud thump exploded from the overhead speakers. “Looks like we might be starting,” Rory said.
Esther fingered her pearls. “I think it’s more than being nervous or simple stage fright. Phoebe looks pale and if she complained that she felt nauseous...after all, she was in the bar trying to get a soda to settle her stomach. Which she didn’t manage to do. You were there along with the crowd, it was chaos. I think I’ll order her a hot tea.”
Esther waved at a waiter as he passed. Failing to get the waiter’s attention, she stood. “They’ll be a minute getting started. I’ll just pop into the bar, order the tea, and be right back.” Before Rory could object, she was gone.
The guests slowly took their seats. The man at the podium thumped again. “Testing. Testing. Can everyone hear me?” The guests at the tables quieted. Those roaming made for their seats.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the Winterset Literary Guild Awards banquet. I’m George Martin, Guild President.” There was some modest clapping, and more chair scraping. “We have a lovely evening planned for you. Our State Poet, Adeline Yost will open, followed by three Winterset distinguished poets: Phoebe Sheehan, Lillie Anderson, and Perry Benson. From these talented poets, one will end the evening as the first Winterset Poet Laureate.” Gentle applause followed. “But first, let me introduce the literary board members.” He motioned for the front row to stand, and one-by-one introduced them, followed by more clapping. Rory hoped Esther would hurry. He didn’t want her to miss the presentation.
George Martin introduced Adeline Yost who, along with him, had a seat by the podium on the stage. Still no Esther. The overhead lights dimmed, and Adeline read a poem about open space and shooting stars that ended in glowing horizons. Rory was impressed with her melodic voice but thought poetry ought to rhyme. Less along the lines of “By the shores of Gitche Gumee, By the shining Big-Sea-Water”, and more “high-diddle diddle, the cat in the fiddle.”
Where was Esther? Should he check on her?
Yost finished and introduced Lillie Anderson. The professor mounted the stage with encouragement from the crowd, then confidently crossed the stage to join Adeline at the podium where she accepted the accolades with grace. Her tuxedo clad figure was a stark contrast to Adeline’s simple long skirt and flowing tunic top. In Rory’s mind the long coarse hair falling past Lillie’s shoulders was ubiquitous in academia, her suit a blatant statement against the role women played in a male dominated world. He recalled the menace in her voice as she accosted Phoebe Sheehan in the bar. Professor Anderson would make a formidable enemy.
As the spotlight highlighted the poet, Adeline Yost explained the structure for the piece Lillie had selected to read. “From her chapbook, Wildfire Lies, Professor Anderson will read a villanelle.”
Villanelle? It sounded as menacing as her accusations in the bar. Rory listened but continued to be more concerned by Esther’s absence.
“The villanelle,” Yost explained, “is a most difficult poetic form. Many artists avoid them, as it can be quite intimidating. The form has nineteen lines, adheres to a particular structure, and offers a rhyme scheme.”
Good. A rhyming poem. Right up my alley.
Adeline continued, “Five three-line stanzas, followed by a four-line stanza. You will notice the first and third lines are repeated three more times throughout the poem at dictated locations. Composing a villanelle is no easy feat. It is so difficult to write that I, myself, have only done so, once. And, I have no intention to attempt a second.” There was mild laughter. She paused for effect, then announced, “Professor Lillie Anderson, reading The Plains Echo.”
Adeline stepped from the spotlight, allowing Anderson to step to the microphone. She looked out over the room and waited for a silence to settle over the audience. When all was quiet, she took reading glasses from where they were tucked into her cummerbund, put them on, situated her printed page on the podium, and began.
Rory wasn’t impressed, but what did he know? Anderson had a stage presence and a flair for the dramatic. And Adeline Yost had set the tone by announcing the piece’s excellence. It was as Anderson raised her voice in the required repeated first stanza line that he saw Esther step into the room. Moving deftly through the tables with a large mug between her hands, she threaded her way to the front tables where Phoebe sat and drew the audience’s attention as she advanced. So intent was Esther in keeping the sloshing contents within the mug that she didn’t notice the disturbance she created.
Her advance, however, didn’t escape Anderson’s notice. The professor’s reading glasses slid down her nose and she glared over the rims. Clearly flustered, she said to George Martin. “Mr. President, are you going to allow this interruption? Must I ignore this blatant attempt by Phoebe Sheehan to undermine my poetry reading?”
Red-faced, Mr. Martin stood and stammered, “I a...assure you. Th…this is not the conduct expected from our members.” His focus on Phoebe, he demanded, “Miss Sheehan, are you quite finished?”
Phoebe, taking a gulp from the mug, froze. From Rory’s position at the back, he watched her rise. Once on her feet, she swayed and put a hand on Esther’s shoulder, and steadied herself. Esther took the mug from her hand.
“George...” Phoebe croaked, drifting to the left before righting herself. “George...” She fell forward and collapsed into a heap before the stage.
The audience gasped. A black clad waiter appeared from nowhere and rushed to the crumpled poet. He bent over her for a moment then announced, “Call an ambulance.”
George Martin took over the microphone. “Is there a doctor in the house?”
Wide-eyed, Esther met Rory’s gaze.
The detective nodded. Then reached for the light switch and flipped on the overhead lights.
***
Excerpt from Gone Crazy by Terry Korth Fischer. Copyright 2024 by Terry Korth Fischer. Reproduced with permission from Terry Korth Fischer. All rights reserved.
Meet the Author:
![Terry Korth Fischer](https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/gone-crazy-by-terry-korth-fischer-author-2024.jpg)
Terry Korth Fischer is the author of the Rory Naysmith Mysteries, a cozy-crime series featuring a seasoned city detective relocated to small-town Nebraska. Transplanted from the Midwest, Terry lives in Houston, Texas, with her husband and two guard cats. When not writing, she loves reading and basking in sunshine, yet, her heart often wanders to the country's heartland, where she spent a memorable—ordinary but charmed—childhood.
Catch Up With Terry Korth Fischer:
TerryKorthFischer.com
Goodreads
BookBub - @terrykorthfischer
Twitter/X - @TerryIsWriting
Facebook - @TerryIsWriting
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Monday, July 22, 2024
Release Day Blitz ~ Realm of Dreams and Destiny (Entwined Hearts Series, Book One) by Stella Dale ~ Romantic Fantasy
Read EXCERPT 2:Marrying someone I’ve never met, especially the son of the emperor, would be…
Dreadful.
Disastrous.
Deadly.
My father swallows hard, something he does when he’s pushing down his emotions, but there’s a firmness in his eyes that conveys the seriousness of the situation. “The emperor has commanded it, Aralin. This isn’t a simple proposal. It’s an order from the emperor himself.”
This is the finality of a decree.
His words settle like a heavy weight in my mind, and a rush of helplessness washes over me. The emperor’s commands are absolute and impossible to defy. The force of his power reverberates through me, leaving me feeling small and insignificant in the face of his authority.
I’m a chess piece in a game of kingdoms and empires where the greater needs of the realm outweigh personal desires. The emperor’s demand is a demonstration of his power, a forceful reminder of the duties and responsibilities that accompany my title.
Let’s not mince words. My life isn’t my own, and it never has been.
This proposed marriage isn’t a simple union between two people. It’s a strategic move in a game where I’m the pawn and the prize is what lies buried deep in the mountains of Wintriness.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “Father, the emperor wants this marriage so he’ll gain access to the natural resources of Wintriness. It’s the truth, and everyone here knows it.”
I’m referring to newly discovered crystallos, a rare and powerful element found only in the frozen depths of Wintriness. Whispers about it have reached my ears, speaking of its ability to bring about the downfall of even the most formidable supernatural creatures. The mere mention of it brings goosebumps to my flesh. Rumored to possess a deadly potency, crystallos can stop the most powerful witch, vampire, werewolf, fae and other supernatural being in its tracks. Its power would be disastrous in the emperor’s hands.
My eyes scan the faces of the king’s hand and the general so I may gage their reactions.
Their expressions are neutral, yet I can’t shake the suspicion that one of them has played a part in this marital arrangement. Possibly both. Those two have always been adept at making power plays and maneuvering behind the scenes to shape the kingdom’s future to their advantage.
The weight of their gazes on me is measuring and calculating. There’s a slight shift in Balius’s eyes, but he gives nothing away. Meanwhile, Indrid maintains his composed facade with perfection.
They’re masters of the political game, and the three of us know I’ve just called out their tactics. All the more reason to get rid of me.
My refusal to accept the emperor’s command would have repercussions reaching far beyond the walls of this throne room. The balance of power, the future of Wintriness and my own fate are all intertwined in this decision.
I won’t be allowed to refuse.
“No matter the motive, I have no say in the matter.”
I hear the defeat in my father’s voice, and my frustration flares. The thought of being used as a bargaining chip in this political game stirs a fierce blaze within me. “The emperor can’t take away the only living heir to the throne of Wintriness.”
My father is composed, but I see the impact of the situation in his eyes. “Aralin, you’re well aware that the new prince of Wintriness will arrive any day now.”
His words are well-meaning and intended to point out that his line of succession will continue without me, but his words sting. Again, I’m reminded that I’m not the prince everyone longs to have.
“I can’t leave the queen, Father. She needs me. Her health is better in my presence. You said so yourself.”
The thought of abandoning my mother, especially in her fragile state, is a dagger to my heart.
“My beloved daughter, you will go to Imperia and take your place. This is a great honor, Aralin. In time, you’ll become empress.”
There it is. The king’s duty as a monarch overshadows his role as a father.
His words, intended to inspire and reassure, fall flat. The title, with all of its power and prestige, holds no allure for me.
“I have no interest in being empress.”
Life in a foreign land, bound in marriage to a stranger, ascending to a throne I don’t want… it’s a future I can’t fathom. And then there’s the added problem of being a witch within the emperor’s small circle.
There’s no way I’ll survive it.
The king’s words, while spoken with a sense of regal duty, are a reminder of the limited choices available to me. Because I’m a female.
The weight of my royal birthright is heavier than ever before. The expectations, the responsibilities, this arranged marriage––all chains that bind me to a destiny I never chose. My personal desires, dreams and hopes are secondary to the whims of these men in power.
My heart aches at the thought of leaving everything I know and love behind.
“I want to stay here in Wintriness near you and Mother,” I say, hoping somehow my words will sway his decision.
“You’ll leave for Imperia in one month when the emperor sends for you.” His tone is resolute.
It’s clear that any additional arguments would be futile. So I nod and allow a mask of acceptance to fall over my face for the sake of appearances. “As you wish, Father.”
I swear I see a flicker of a smirk on the face of the king’s hand, perhaps a slip.
After a deep curtsy, I turn and leave the throne room. Each step feels heavier than the one before as my mind races with thoughts and emotions behind the mask of compliance.
Leaving Wintriness and entering an unknown world is terrifying. But the prospect of marrying the emperor’s son and becoming part of a court that is a world away from everything I have ever known fills me with panic.
Used as a pawn in a tyrant’s game… that will not be my story.
Quest for Copia (John William Drake, Book Two) by E.P. Bellows ~ Children’s Fantasy @lizzypbellows
Excerpt Unearthed:
~The Copian Mediallion is discovered after being buried for years by layers of the realm.
Come on, wings! Don't fail me!" Gusts of wind blew the little bird in all directions. Her vivid red feathers stole the sun’s beams from the sky.
This was not an ordinary bird. This was a young Empyrean wizard named Celeste. Empyrean wizards lived in an extraordinary place where fantastic creatures and magic were a part of every day. All Empyrean Wizards have a bird form appropriately coordinated with their personality. This particular Empyrean was fearless and kind. She also had a knack for finding
"Made it!" Her small but determined wings descended into the trees below. There was a peculiar tree she heard whispers about, and she was on her way to see it for herself. The tree was believed to be a passageway to the other side. Of course, she had no idea what the other side was, which only drove her curiosity. She perched on a boulder next to a single dead tree that boasted the broadest tree trunk in all of Copious Forest. The tree was surrounded by a blanket of thriving greenery. Celeste cautiously glanced around and gave her feathers a ruffle. A young girl emerged through the feathers with wild hair the same shade of vibrant red.
“Incredible!” she gasped and scuttled over to the tree. She poked her fingers out of the sleeve of her cloak and ran them along the rigid bark on the trunk. The bark chimed a soft melody as her fingers went along.
“So it is real.” Her eyes beamed. She stepped back and pulled a scroll out of her cloak. As she unraveled the scroll, the verses of an ancient spell were revealed. “The Tunnel of Light Enchantment ...
Cuniculum lucis incantationis tempus sit, electi ingrediantur. Cum tempus est, electi per cuniculum lucis relinquere possunt.
When it is time, the chosen may enter. When it is time, the chosen may leave through the tunnel of light." She gazed at the dead tree, waiting for even a small flicker of magic. The trunk looked like it had not been seen or touched in years. “Hmm ..." Celeste raised her brow.
A prickly chill traveled down her spine. She squeezed her arms across her chest to soothe her goosebumps. "Hello? Is-is someone there?" Celeste frantically glanced around.
An angry groan rumbled through trees.
“I'm not afraid of you!" she declared. “Come out and show yourself!”
Twigs and bits of forest flew past her curls. She scrambled behind the boulder. Sharp whispers buzzed through the gaps in the trees.
“The moan went from a groan to a vicious roar. A wind funnel shaped like a pair of long, wretched claws appeared.
“Oh, no—it’s the Rive.” Her body tensed.
The dark spell was strong enough to twirl her straight into the air with one dizzying burst. It plowed through trees and shot rocks in all directions. Celeste's cloak whipped around in a frenzy. She crouched behind the boulder and gripped her hands around the base. Then her body lifted off the ground. Inch by inch, her fingers slipped from the boulder. "Oh no!" Her head throbbed from intense pressure as the wind consumed her.
"Where is it? I must find it," the Rive whispered sharply, bringing a sting to Celeste's ears.
"Where is what? What are you talking about?" she shrieked.
"Where is it? I must find it!" the Rive's whisper was now at a rattling shrill.
Celeste closed her eyes and fisted her trembling hands. She felt herself drifting into a dizzying slumber. “I have to channel the élan. Come on, Celeste ... concentrate. I can do this!"
She took a deep breath. "Azra lucem tuam ostende. Azra tua industria illuminet …
Azra lucem tuam ostende. Azra tua industria illuminet."
A warm, vibrant energy burst through her cloak. The dark spell released its grip. It hissed and hurled rocks at Celeste. She stood her ground and
Celeste collapsed to the ground, breathless. “I just did that.” She examined the palm of her hand in astonishment.
She scooped up the shimmering clump and scraped the forest coating off it until all that remained was a medallion with strange markings and feathered wings carved in the center. It chimed and sparkled in her hands. Celeste stuffed it in her cloak and cautiously looked around. An excited giggle slipped out just before she morphed back into a little red bird and flew above the trees.
GoldenRuleism by Craig Cline ~ @RABTBookTours #RABTBookTours #GoldenRuleism #CraigCline #Nonfiction #TheGoldenRule
Living a GoldenRuleism
GoldenRuleism by Craig Cline
Nonfiction
Date Published: May 1, 2024
Publisher: MindStir Media
About the Book:
You've FOUND It.
What We NEED.
NOW.
The majority of people on Earth are familiar with the foundational ethical principle often called The Golden Rule - Humanity's Number One Rule.
It's time now for us to embrace a far more expansive and effective version of the original.
GoldenRuleism is the name of our overarching ethic - an ethic universal in its scope. Discover what it can mean for your life.
This booklet stimulates you to act - to do what YOU can - from where you are.
GoldenRuleism's foundation is its two principal principles - two elegantly simple sentences.
It's Humanity's "Apply It Now" ethic. We the people of the world need to be GoldenRuleistic. We'll make our lives decidedly better - with and for each other.
***NOTE: Our Spanish edition is also available!
About the Author:
Craig Cline advocates for us humans—and for all the other sentient beings on our one-and-only Mother Earth.
Craig has written many articles for publication, on a variety of topics. He wrote this booklet, with the assistance of his Editor-In-Residence wife Cherie: Golden Ruleism: Living A Golden Ruleism-Guided Life.
The Clines support a variety of nonprofit organizations, especially those in their local community. They feel we should all do whatever we can to ensure “our” nonprofits succeed in their heart-driven missions.
Craig’s premise is that by our universally embracing the two principal principles of Golden Ruleism—two simple-to-say and easy-to-remember sentences—we’ll collectively “Move the Needle of Humanity Towards Humane-ity.”
He asks that you please do what you can to move that needle.
Purchase Link
Sunday, July 21, 2024
Moved to Murder: A Vivien Brandt Mystery by Gianetta Murray ~ Cozy Mystery ThereIsAGive@way
Moved to Murder: A Vivien Brandt Mystery by Gianetta Murray
About Moved to Murder:
Moved to Murder: A Vivien Brandt Mystery
Cozy Mystery
1st in Series
Setting - South Yorkshire, England
Publisher : Troubador Publishing Ltd (June 5, 2024)
Print length : 266 pages
Digital ASIN : B0CXJB9KVH
Vivien Brandt (forty-something editor, librarian, and future interior designer extraordinaire) has spent decades dreaming about a life in England, and thanks to her marriage to second husband Geoffrey, her dreams are finally coming true. She and her cat Sydney (who is considerably less excited about leaving the warmth of California) are the newest inhabitants of a cosy South Yorkshire village.
But as Vivien meets the locals - including the vicar, a charismatic politician, and a pair of troubled teenagers - she finds she still has a lot to learn about her new home. Especially after she discovers a body in it.
Now she must work with her neighbor Hayley and a somewhat mistrustful police inspector to uncover the village’s secrets and find a killer. Preferably, before the killer finds her.
Because it seems when the chips (crisps?) are down, the only common language between America and Britain… is murder.
About Gianetta Murray:
![](https://www.escapewithdollycas.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/20240227-_DSF2319_web-300x300.jpg)
Like her protagonist, Gianetta is California-raised and moved to England twenty years ago after marrying her British husband. She has worked as a technical writer, knowledge manager, and librarian in both countries and is currently owned by two cats who are unimpressed by her accomplishments but willing to tolerate her in return for food.
Author Links:![](https://www.escapewithdollycas.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/new-gevbt-button-2022-250.jpg)
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Friday, July 19, 2024
Book Spotlight ~ The Storm Breaks (Demon Storm, Book Six) by Valerie Storm ~ #YA #Fantasy ~ @Valerie_Storm ~ #BewitchingBookTours #CharacterInterview
Purchase from Amazon
Character Interview:
Interviewer: So, what are your names?
Guine: “Guine!” Just “Guine.”
Kari: Kari
Kasente.
Interviewer: And…you’re not from Earth, right?
Guine: I...walk on earth, if that's what you mean? The ground? Most people do.
Kari: What is earth?
Like…the land we’re on? I mean…I don’t know.
Interviewer:
Right…right…okay. Thank you both for being here! If it’s okay, I’d like to ask
you both a few questions. Get to know you.
Guine: Sure, why not? KARI never asks.
Kari: You don’t
tell me anything when I do ask!
Interviewer: Let’s start off! So, uh…you’re from…Taris? Okay. And what are you both?
Guine: Why do people always ask me that…? I'm HUMAN, okay?
Kari: Because
you’re so weird it’s questionable. I’m a wolf demon.
Interviewer: Interesting… What was a favorite place of yours to go when you were a child?
Guine: Couldn't say! I don't really have memories of being a kid.
Kari: There’s a
field of flowers I loved going to, but it’s been a long time now…
Interviewer: What is your biggest secret?
Guine: I once hired some guys to paint Kari's bedroom green with glow-in-the-dark paint while I was out of town.
Kari: I KNEW that was you! It took Ari HOURS to get that off the walls!
Guine: And I enjoy imagining every second of it!
Kari: *growling*
Interviewer: SO! Are you still in touch with your family?
Guine: If you mean blood relatives, then no. Definitely not. For...a multitude of reasons.
Kari: They’re
dead.
Interviewer: …Oh. Let’s try for a lighter question! Who is your oldest friend?
Guine: Valid question. Kari, are you older than Ari?
Kari: No. He was born in the warmer months.
Guine: So…I guess Ari?
Kari: *shrugging*
He’s mine, too.
Interviewer: He sounds like a nice guy! And who don’t you trust?
Guine: Most people. Trust is earned, not given.
Kari: Agreed.
Interviewer: What is your biggest fear?
Guine: Well, it WAS that Kari would find out about the bedroom thing.
Kari: You’re sleeping somewhere else for the next month.
Guine: Come on!
Interviewer: Well, this was a very enlightening conversation! Thank you both for being here. Maybe we can do this again sometime?
Guine: Sure, why not?
Kari: You’d be better off inviting Ari. I’m no good at this stuff.
Guine: You can say
that again…
Read an Excerpt:Suddenly a hand shot out of the wall ahead of her, giving her no time to react or slow her pace as it grabbed her shoulder. Kari pulled at the fingers, tugging at their grasp, trying to hurry. She had to escape the damn water!
Lightning sparked along her claws. She raised her hand to attack again, intending to cut the fingers right off of her.
A familiar voice growled, “Do it and we’re dead.”
Kari froze long enough for the hand to pull her straight into the wall. She stumbled through and fell face-first on something hard and cool.
Groaning, she rolled onto her back and looked up into the sweat-dotted, strained, and frowning face of Guine. Above him hung a ceiling of some kind of jagged, translucent, blue rock.
“Why did you stop?” he demanded rather angrily. “I said we had to keep moving, didn’t I?”
For a moment Kari thought she was still waiting for the water to overtake her. That filthy, disgusting-smelling, murky water. Slowly she realized they had changed locations again; now they were in some sort of cavern. Completely dry and relatively safe, at least for the moment.
Kari jumped up and bared her teeth at Guine. “You didn’t say if I stopped that would happen!”
“Why would I say, ‘don’t stop’ if that wasn’t a vitally important thing to do?!”
“You’re often unclear and exaggerate!” she snapped back.
They glared at each other for a long time. He was mad, but she was madder. He had not been very upfront with her about this wretched maze, and that enraged her. She did not need the Catalyst to fuel her anger; her heart thrummed against her ribs, taking all of her breath with it, and it had not stopped since that first room.
The danger here was real, and yet intangible. She had faced so many people who wanted her dead, or worse. But this place would kill her at the slightest mistake.
Finally, Guine sighed, his face relaxing into exhaustion. He turned away from her.
“It doesn’t matter now. It’s done. But now…now we face a problem.”
The walls were just like the ceiling, seemingly made of something crystalline. Ahead of her, she could see an opening in the circular room.
“What problem? Besides being in this yutemi you’ve created, that is.”
Guine chose to ignore her snappy tone. “We got off-track. Things will change now. I can find the way since I did make this as an option, but now it will take us longer.”
Kari’s gaze slowly trailed back to him. He’d said…what? Two or three days? Without food.
Now it would take longer?
“Just how much longer are you talking about, Guine?” Kari hissed.
He shrugged, not quite nonchalant, but rather resigned. “Maybe tack on a week. At the very least.”
Kari’s mouth dried. Already her stomach rumbled; now that the adrenaline had passed through her system, she was hungry. She wasn’t stupid. She knew her body would be capable of going quite a long time without sustenance, but that long? And what of their water supply?
She felt for the bag, but her fingers were too numb to reach inside for the waterskin. The cavern suddenly seemed very small.
“Guine…”
“Thirst will not be a real issue,” Guine said as if he had read her mind. “When I designed this way, I made a room for myself so that I could survive if I slipped up. There will be a room ahead that provides fresh, drinkable water. Hopefully, we can store enough to last us the rest of the time if we ration it.”
“And what about food?”
He hesitated. “The room…also has a solution for that. For humans. There’s no way we could know it would work for you, or at the very least not kill you.”
Kari stared past him. The only exit out of the cavern they were in was a single tunnel that turned sharply into darkness.
“I will not die in here, Guine.”
“I don’t intend for you to,” he said wearily. “But if things were serious at all to you before, it’s worse now.” He walked to one of the walls and sat down. “We should rest before we go on. Exhaustion and stress make the mind do stupid things.”
Kari didn’t move. She thought of a time long ago when she had left behind Snow Shade. Then she had perhaps gone a day or so without a real meal. It was like torture to her, weakening her body and senses until she had come across something to eat.
She could have adjusted to the idea of three days with no food. But more than a week?