Reaper Aftermath by Jonathan Pongratz

 

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Jonathan Pongratz will be awarding a 15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Five years have passed since the Reapers invaded Earth and tore it asunder. Gregory, his mother, Trent, and their group of scavengers hunt the decimated wastelands for survival.

But when a sudden Reaper attack forces Gregory through a Reaper door, he finds himself in a bizarre place, one that may provide answers to the Reapers’ past and where they came from.

Can Gregory put together the pieces of the past and find his way home, or will he just become another human casualty in the lost war against the Reapers?

Read an Excerpt

A sudden noise woke me from my fitful sleep. I groaned and rolled over, squinting in the dark as I eyed Trent’s bed. He was fast asleep, snoring lightly. I sat up slowly, removing my covers.

I glanced at the doorway, flinching when I saw the outline of a dark figure standing there. I couldn’t make out much in the dim light from the hall, except that the person was short and had a feminine form.

I snatched my flashlight off the small end table next to my bed and shined it forward. My jaw dropped. My little sister stood before me. Her curly brown hair fell down in little ringlets, and she had an impish grin on her face.

“I-Imogen?”

She giggled, then ran off into the hall to the right.

“Imogen!” I cried. I couldn’t believe it. My little sister was back! I had to tell Mom, but first I had to get Imogen to stop running and tell me what happened, where she’d been all these years.

I scrambled out of bed and left my room, aiming my light down the hall. I caught a brief glimpse of Imogen before she turned a familiar corner to the right.

Why would she head to the library? We didn’t have time for games like this. I barrelled down the hall, my bare feet loud as they slapped against the tiled floor. Seconds later, I arrived at the small double doors of the school library. One of them was slightly ajar.

I entered the library with slow, cautious steps. The entrance was the only way out, but I didn’t want to spook my little sister. She must be so scared, confused to be back with everything so different.

A tall aisle of bookshelves stood before me, another opposing set on the other side of the room.

“Imogen?” I called.

I heard movement up ahead and crept closer.

When I reached the open center of the room I spotted Imogen several yards ahead, her back facing me. She stood before a large, rickety door that wasn’t supposed to be there. My stomach dropped. A Reaper door. She reached for the doorknob.

“Imogen, don’t!”

She ignored me, and as she opened the door a brilliant white light beamed through. I shielded my eyes with my arm. “Imogen!”

My little sister walked through the door. Without thinking I chased after her. I couldn’t lose her again. As I ran through the doorway, the blinding light suddenly snuffed out, replaced by darkness. I scanned my surroundings with my flashlight, a cold tingle shooting through me like icicles.

To my right a set of stairs led upwards. On my left, numerous items of furniture were draped in white sheets. Dozens of boxes stood in tidy columns behind them. This was … no, it couldn’t be. The basement from my old house in my hometown. But how was this even possible? We knew that the doors the Reapers used had to be some kind of portal, but this didn’t make any sense.

I shook my head. Find Immy first, ask questions later. I glanced at the stairs and ruled them out immediately. I’d been right behind her. If she’d climbed the stairs I would’ve seen her. I turned left. The covered furniture and other sheeted items created odd, threatening shapes in the dark. When I ran my light over them, a wave of dread shot through my core.

I needed to get out of here and fast. I frantically checked around each blanketed surface, calling for my sister as I progressed further into the basement. I made my way to the back where Immy had been taken five years ago, my anxiety soaring. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, I thought to myself as I searched high and low.

Regardless, faded gritty images from the past flashed inside my head: the sudden appearance of the door in the wall, me scrambling to find a weapon to fight whatever would come out, Imogen being taken by the Reaper. Her cries ...

No. No, no, no! I wasn’t going to let the past get the better of me. I shined my light around again. “Immy, where are you? Say something, please!”

I headed down the aisle of boxes along the back wall of the basement, searching every nook and cranny. I was nearly through with my search when a familiar sofa with golf clubs sticking out from under it caught my eye. The white sheet draping the couch was discolored, misshapen. I inched closer until I could snag the sheet away.

As the white cloth fell to the floor, I cried out in horror. Imogen’s dead eyes stared straight up at the ceiling. Her chest and face were covered in blood, and her expression was frozen in shock and terror. I felt around desperately for a pulse, but couldn’t find one.

Oh god, oh god, oh god. This couldn’t be happening! I had just gotten her back. Warm tears rolled down my face, and I held my little sister in my arms as tightly as I could. “Please don’t leave me,” I squeaked.

A series of guttural warbles sounded nearby, making me jump. Goosebumps raised all over my body, and the air in the basement became heavy, electric. Reapers.

I released Imogen for a moment, taking a cautious look around. I couldn’t see them, but they could be anywhere. I reached for my gun, but grabbed at empty air. Shit! It was still in the storeroom back home. I mulled my situation over for a quick second. I couldn’t just sit here and let them find me. I scooped up Imogen’s body with a grunt and made my way back. I wouldn’t leave her here. She deserved better than that.

I tottered back to the open Reaper door as best I could, stumbling several times due to the awkward load in my arms. When I was just feet away, an inhuman shriek of protest stopped me dead in my tracks. I spun around. Three Reapers approached me from the way I’d just come. A cloaked Reaper, flanked by two others on all fours. The cloaked Reaper pointed a crooked finger in my direction, and the two hunter Reapers prowled forward. Saliva oozed from their mouths and their predatory yellow eyes leered at me dangerously.

I turned back around to escape, but the door was no longer there. With one hand I struck the wall in disbelief. No, it had just been here! The Reapers on all fours closed in on me, forcing me back against the wall.

“No,” I whimpered. I couldn’t believe it. This was it. This was the end. I looked down at Imogen’s still body, propping her up to me. I kissed her forehead, my vision watery with tears. “I love you, Immy.”

I glowered at the Reapers defiantly, just in time for them to pounce upon me.

About the Author:

Jonathan Pongratz is a writer and author of captivating horror, fantasy, and other speculative fiction stories. When he’s not writing, he’s busy being a bookworm, video game junkie, and karaoke vocalist. A former resident of Dallas, he currently resides in Kansas City with his Halloween cat Ajax. By day he works magic in finance, by night he creates dark and mesmerizing worlds.

Website: http://www.jonathanpongratz.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jonathanpongratz
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Reaper: Aftermath Universal Ebook Link: https://buy.bookfunnel.com/3asmrg39g7
Amazon Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/0578827441
Barnes and Noble Paperback: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/reaper-jonathan-pongratz/1138649891

Reaper: A Horror Novella Universal Ebook Link: https://buy.bookfunnel.com/yaar1pv37e

Jonathan Pongratz will be awarding a 15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

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Something Wicked by Tom Williams

 

I'd like to start by thanking Jennifer Macaire for her hospitality on her blog and then to immediately abuse it by telling you a dark secret about her.

Jennifer once tried to learn to dance tango and was so bad at it she was asked to leave the class!!!*

Actually that says a lot about the teacher and nothing about Jennifer’s terpsichorean abilities. As I keep telling her, if she would only come over to London (once we’re allowed to move again) I would happily teach her to dance. If you can ride a bicycle, you can learn to tango. (If you can’t ride a bicycle you may have balance issues that make dancing impossible.)

But should she learn? You never know who you might meet in a darkened ballroom long after midnight. Who can you think of who only comes out at night and who might want to embrace you in the dance with their teeth conveniently close to your neck?

The connection between vampires and tango is so obvious that I can hardly believe someone hasn’t written about it before. (Probably they have. Please don’t tell me.) At least there is a tango vampire story out now and it’s called Something Wicked.

Fortunately my vampires are (generally) urbane types who try to avoid unnecessary gruesomeness. As one of them explains: “There are people who will sell their blood quite cheerfully. Some are happy to let us have it freely. They seem to get some sort of sexual thrill from it. Then, at a pinch, there is animal blood.”

Sometimes, though, things go too far and people die. Over the centuries, vampires have become very good at covering such incidents up. But when a maverick vampire leaves a peer of the realm completely drained of blood, the police inevitably get involved. As Chief Inspector Galbraith closes in on the killer, he faces a dilemma. How will people respond to learning that they are living alongside a substantial vampire sub-culture? Is this a crime that is better left unsolved?

Welcome to the most unusual police procedural novel of 2021.

Something Wicked: not your usual stake out.

BIO

 Tom Williams used to write books for business. Now he writes novels, mostly set in the 19^th century. Something Wicked, though, is his second contemporary urban fantasy book (after Dark Magic, which came out on Halloween 2019). His stories have given him the excuse to travel to Argentina, Egypt and Borneo and call it research.

Tom lives in London. His main interest is avoiding doing any honest work and this leaves him with time to ski, skate and dance tango, all of which he does quite well. In between he reads old books and spends far too much time looking at ancient weaponry.

LINKS

Tom’s blogs appear regularly on his website, https://tomwilliamsauthor.co.uk where you can also find details of all his books. You can follow him on Twitter as @TomCW99 or Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/AuthorTomWilliams).

 

BOOK LINKS

Dark Magic: mybook.to/DarkMagic

Something Wicked: Mybook.to/Something_Wicked

*Note by Jennifer - Tom is almost right - actually, the teacher stopped dancing with me, saying I'd never learn to tango if I "couldn't learn to be submissive to the man". End of quote, and end of any hopes of me ever learning how to tango... 

**More notes - I just got my copy of Something Wicked and it's terrific! 

Her Timeless Gamble by Nancy Fraser

 

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Nancy Fraser will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

When Matthew McAlister pulls a nearly-drowned woman from the mucky waters of the Mississippi, he has no idea what's in store for him. Or, how easily he'll willingly give up his carefree, love-em-and-leave-em lifestyle for a chance at real happiness.

Kathryn (Kate) Lowell can't believe her bad luck. Or the fact she's somehow been transported from the twenty-first century back to the post Civil War south. Worse yet, into the arms of the one man she grew up hating. The man she blames for her father's recent demise.

Can these two off-kilter and infinitely stubborn individuals fight their mutual attraction? Or, will they give in to the inevitable? And, when the time comes, will Kate choose to stay with Matt in the past, or return to her former life?

Read an Excerpt

Kate moaned softly, and lifted a heavy hand to her aching forehead. “Where am I?”, she wondered aloud.

“Just rest. You’re safe, everything is fine.”

The muffled sound of a man’s voice penetrated the throbbing in her head and she struggled to open her eyes, to identify the source. A dim light shone on the man’s handsome features and Kate realized she’d come face to face with the devil. His intense expression, an expression she felt certain could stop rush hour traffic in Times Square, seemed to mock her. Haunt her.

I must be dreaming. That’s it, I’m dreaming. I didn’t really drown, I’m just asleep.

Kate closed her eyes and waited, certain that at any moment she’d awaken. Until then, she’d allow this ridiculous dream to run its course. She’d let this man who looked suspiciously like Matthew McAlister sit at her bedside without so much as a single complaint. After all, it was only a dream, a dream most likely resulting from the trauma of her father’s death. A dream in which her subconscious had conjured up a man who’d been dead himself for nearly a hundred years.

Cautiously, she reopened her eyes and met the man’s darkened gaze.

“Oh my gosh, it is you. And just like my father’s sketches, and the way he described you, right down to the scar above your left brow.”

Unconsciously, Kate suspected, he reached up and ran his finger across the scar. “Someone described me?”

As soon as he spoke, Kate recognized the voice from her dreams. Either she had totally lost her mind or, like Matthew McAlister, she was dead. “I’ve got to be dreaming. This can’t be real. And, you can’t possibly be Matthew McAlister.”

Nervously she scanned her surroundings, taking in the beamed ceiling, the heavy wooden furniture and the brocade coverings. The dim light, she realized, came from an oil lamp on the bedside table.

“Lady, I don’t know who you are, or where you came from, but I can assure you, I am definitely Matthew McAlister.”

She shook her head in disbelief, regretting the quick motion when a shooting pain radiated from back of her head forward. “Where am I? Never mind, don’t answer that. I’m dead. I must be dead because that’s the only way I could be seeing you.” She scrambled for the edge of the bed, saying, “I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t…”

Rather than free herself, her legs tangled in what seemed like yards of bed linens. In her haste to get away, Kate slipped unceremoniously off the edge of the bed and landed flat on her backside, the thick carpet cushioning her embarrassing attempt at escape.

“Are you all right?”, he asked.

Bracing himself on the foot rail at the end of the bed, he reached out and offered his free hand. His gaze settled on her bare legs. A man’s shirt, most likely his Kate realized, rode high on her thighs, exposing far more than she was willing to show.

“All right?”, she repeated nervously. If being insane is all right, then I’m fine.

“Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m not hurt. I’m just in a room that looks like something off the set of Maverick, and any minute now a young and rakish Mel Gibson will burst through that door with someone shooting at him, and I’m talking to Matthew McAlister. Other than that, I’m fine.”

Matthew McAlister looked positively baffled by her insane rambling. Yet, when he spoke, his voice held firm conviction rather than confusion. “First of all, you are not dead. And second, who is this Mel Gibson fellow who’s going to burst into my stateroom at any moment?”



About the Author:

NANCY FRASER—Jumping Across Romance Genres with Gleeful Abandon—is an Amazon Top 100 and Award-Winning author who can’t seem to decide which romance genre suits her best. So, she writes them all.

Like most authors, Nancy began writing at an early age, usually on the walls and with crayons or, heaven forbid, permanent markers. Her love of writing often made her the English teacher’s pet which, of course, resulted in a whole lot of teasing. Still, it was worth it.

Published in multiple genres, Nancy has published over thirty-five books in full-length, novella, and short format.

When not writing (which is almost never), Nancy dotes on her five wonderful grandchildren and looks forward to traveling and reading when time permits. Nancy lives in Atlantic Canada where she enjoys the relaxed pace and colorful people.

Website: http://www.nancyfraser.ca
Facebook: http://facebook.com/nancyfraserauthor
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Puzzle Link: HTG Jigsaw Puzzle - https://www.jigsawplanet.com/?rc=play&pid=2a6411aeb716

Buy Links: The book is on sale for only $0.99

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08RZBYQZV
Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/id1547274584
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/her-timeless-gamble
BN/Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/her-timeless-gamble-nancy-fraser/1138562029
Universal: https://books2read.com/u/4NXpRx

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DOC CEDARWOOD by Megan Slayer

 

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Megan Slayer will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Can an accident and a rim job lead to lasting love?

Aiden Connor isn't looking for a date. Sure, he wants one, but relationships seem to be too difficult to maintain. He's an ER doctor and doesn't have time for commitment...that is, until he runs over a curb and needs a new rim for his sports car. The mechanic isn't anything like he expects, but could be the one man he needs if he's willing to open his mind and heart.

Matt Phillips equates dating with disaster, but sees himself as an eternal optimist. When he catches sight of Aiden, he wants to give relationships a try. Every cell in his body screams to get the sexy doctor naked and in his bed. But Matt has demons and addictions he's still working through. Will he fall prey to his past or learn and move forward with the hot doctor?

Read an Excerpt

Maybe I’m dating the wrong men.

“I keep telling myself that. Jordan tells me the same thing, but I still want to clobber Farin when he goes Groomzilla on us. I wasn’t this bad when I married Jordan—at least I don’t think so. We walked, we stood, we said I do, then had one hell of a party at the house.” Colin shook his head. “I just wouldn’t have thought he’d be…like this.”

“It’ll be over in two days. You’ll live.” Aiden clapped Colin on the shoulder. “Speaking of days, I have exactly one day off before I’m expected back at the hospital. I’m on for an eight-hour shift on Saturday, so if I’m running late, that’s why.”

“We’ll keep an eye out. Thanks for the heads-up and thanks for talking to the group. Have a good night.” Colin winked, then strode away.

Aiden grabbed his jacket from the coat rack. The weight of a twenty-four-hour shift had gotten to him. He wanted to go home but wondered if he’d make it. As he navigated through the halls of the hospital, he waved at a couple of the nurses and, in the foyer, nodded to the elderly woman behind the main counter. The moment he stepped into the chilly October air, he blinked and dragged a long breath into his lungs. Nothing worked to wake him up like crisp fall evenings. Well, nothing like those and a good blow job in the morning, but he wasn’t likely to get one. He’d need a boyfriend first. He’d worry about his lack of a partner later. Right now, he wanted to go home, slip into a warm bath or hot shower and collapse for twelve hours straight. Maybe he would meet someone at the wedding or reception.

Maybe hell will freeze over first.

©Megan Slayer, 2020, All Rights Reserved

About the Author:

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library. Find out more about Megan and Wendi at http://wendizwaduk.com/indexMegan.htm

Sign up for the newsletter here: http://ymlp.com/xgjmjumygmgj

Website: http://wendizwaduk.com/indexMegan.htm
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Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5330530.Megan_Slayer
Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/MeganSlayer

Buy Links:

https://www.firstforromance.com/book/doc-cedarwood
https://books2read.com/u/bank56
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08587JDBS/
https://books.apple.com/us/book/doc-cedarwood/id1500804906
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/doc-cedarwood-megan-slayer/1126488306
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/doc-cedarwood-2
https://www.amazon.ca/Doc-Cedarwood-Pride-Megan-Slayer-ebook/dp/B08587JDBS/

Megan Slayer will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

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A Remedy In Time, or how to geek the Ice Age

 
About a year ago, I saw a skull on a blog that I hang out on (yeah, I hang out on those kinds of blogs…) that belonged to an extinct animal known as a sabretooth tiger (or smilodon). I’ve always been a dinosaur geek, but the Paleolithic animals ran a close second – mammoths, giant elk, dire wolves, and sabretooth tigers, among others. And when I saw the skull it made me wonder how exactly the tiger used his huge, over-sized upper canines – did he use them to stab? That would make the most sense. But how? Wouldn’t they break? What kind of stabbing motion would be the most effective? I went searching for answers, and came up with a lot of different theories. Looking at the skeleton, I was struck at how stocky and massive the animals forearms were. I leaned towards the theory that the animal would leap on his prey from above, grip tightly with its powerful forelegs, stab it in the neck or as close to the skull as it could, using his huge canines like daggers, and probably leap off the animal and wait until its prey bled to death. I even thought it would explain why so many sabretooth tiger skeletons were recovered from tar pits. Wounded animals head downhill, and downhill is water, and in those days – the water covered the tar pits where the animals bogged down and were trapped.

How could I test my theory? Sabretooth tigers (and actually, they are now referred to as sabretooth cats, but I honestly prefer tigers…) are extinct, and I don’t have the material to clone one and bring it back to life Jurassic Park style. The next best thing would have to be a voyage back into time to see one for myself, so I sat down and wrote “A Remedy in Time”, about a woman who is sent back to the Paleolithic to find out where a deadly virus has originated from. Her hypothesis is that it came from saber tooth tigers. When I wrote the book, Covid-19 didn’t exist yet, so I can’t claim it was the idea behind the story. In fact, the idea came from an article I read about typhus in American cities. One type, a feline typhus, is a parvovirus. Now, parvoviruses are very resistant and are able to survive for several months (or even much longer!) in the outside world. Coronaviruses are bigger (relatively speaking) and a little more fragile. They are also not very species-specific, so they mutate from infecting animals to infecting humans (as Covid-19 has) fairly easily. Anyhow, back to the parvoviruses – the feline parvo is highly contageous and very deadly. It has never (and most likely never will) mutate to infect humans. But a writer has to do what a writer has to do, and in my book the virus infects humans so my heroine, Robin, goes back in time to get some samples from the best-known feline of the time – the sabertooth tiger. That’s not all of the story, of course – there are bad guys and good guys, a romance, a caveman who learns to love chocolate, and lots of swearing – so fasten your seatbelt and get ready for a wild ride to the Paleolithic!

Link to buy: https://amzn.eu/3KZc66X

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Rise and Fall of My Beloved by Utanu Maa

Rise and Fall of My Beloved

by Utanu Maa

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GENRE: Poetry

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rise and Fall of My Beloved is a collection of poetry and prose about resilience—about the experience of stigma and rejection, disease and suffering, love and care, loss and grief—and also a testimony of gratitude, forgiveness and togetherness. Each of its three parts is a journey through life's struggles, pain and loss, all of which require an inner force to overcome, build, rebuild, succeed and heal: resilience. It expresses an undercurrent to an imposed destiny or stigma.

Based on the life experience of my late brother, Rise and Fall of My Beloved is a tribute to mankind's resilience to overcome adversities. The book takes readers from his vulnerable childhood as a neglected orphan set to die, through a childhood in which he was bullied, to his rise as an accomplished engineer, and sadly to his fall as a dying patient of HIV/AIDS. Each poem depicts the essence of unconditional love and care, the dignity of dying of AIDS, forgiveness, and family bond. This book is a manifesto of my brother's exceptional resilience, the best memory of him that will live forever. It is an invitation, an inspiration, a reflection that, when mankind encounters struggles, disease, pain, death, loss, grief, we have to grieve and heal, and rebuild.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

EXCERPT:

The Viral Load

Two critical factors would determine Zola’s chances of survival:

The level of the viral load versus the CD4 count in his body.

“The CD4 are the white blood cells,” the doctor explained,

The master of the body’s immune response against viruses,

The army of soldiers to fight or kill viruses in a human’s body.

“The lower the viral load detected, the higher the CD4,” said

the doctor,

“The best indication of a healthy body’s immune response to

fight back or retaliate

And to protect an HIV/AIDS patient from any opportunistic

virus.”

But Zola’s viral load stood higher than the white blood cells to

form

A propitious state for Tuberculosis and Cryptococcal Meningitis.

Two new opportunistic infections were more deadly than HIV.

The doctor explained that the lifesaving treatment to save Zola

From Cryptococcal Meningitis was a generic drug called L-AmB,

A pill to expand his life expectancy but unaffordable,

Expensive, and inaccessible to some countries worldwide.

Intellectual property and patent of one pharmaceutical firm,

This drug is only registered in six countries on the planet Earth.

Zola, born and living in a less-developed geographic setting,

Would not benefit, but miraculously the doctor saved him

By a miracle of fervent faith and prayers or a reminiscent

resilience.

But in the aftermath, his thinning body looked skeletal and

weak.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

I am Utanu MAA. I live in Toronto and work as a public servant within the Ontario Court of Justice. Originally from the Democratic Republic of Congo in Africa, where I studied French Literature and Law before migrating to Canada in 1991, and thereafter studied Fashion Marketing, Paralegal and Law (1year) programs. In 2004, I was a recipient of a prize for the Poetry contest organized by Canada Heritage during the celebration of the Francophonie. "Couleur d'une langue" (The Color of a language), my unpublished poem about the diversity and different accents that give rhythm and power to a language to become an umbrella of one identity. "Rise and Fall of My Beloved" is also my own journey into unconditional love and care, and the resilience to deal with pain, loss, grief, to grieve, heal and continue with life after my brother's death.

Connect with Utanu Maa:

http://utanumaa.com/

FACEBOOK

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorUtanuMaa

Purchase Links:

AMAZON.COM

https://amazon.com/dp/0228836506

AMAZON.CA

https://amazon.ca/dp/0228836506

KINDLE

https://amazon.com/dp/B08M2DNJHP

BOOKSHOP

https://bookshop.org/books/rise-and-fall-of-my-beloved/9780228836506

INDIGO CHAPTERS

https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/rise-and-fall-of-my/9780228836513-item.html

BARNES & NOBLE

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rise-and-fall-of-my-beloved-utanu-maa/1138021915

BOOK DEPOSITORY

https://www.bookdepository.com/Rise-and-Fall-of-My-Beloved-Utanu-Maa/9780228836506

RAKUTEN KOBO

https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/rise-and-fall-of-my-beloved

SMASHWORDS

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1051884

APPLE BOOKS

https://books.apple.com/us/book/rise-and-fall-of-my-beloved/id1538242460~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GIVEAWAY INFORMATION 

The author will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

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A Remedy in Time by Jennifer Macaire

 

 

To save the future, she must turn to the past ...

Oslo, April 1945

San Francisco, Year 3377. A deadly virus has taken the world by storm. Scientists are desperately working to develop a vaccine. And Robin Johnson – genius, high-functioning, and perhaps a little bit single-minded – is delighted. Because, to cure the disease, she’s given the chance to travel back in time.

But when Robin arrives at the last Ice Age hoping to stop the virus at its source, she finds more there than she bargained for. And just as her own chilly exterior is beginning to thaw, she realises it’s not only sabre-toothed tigers that are in danger of extinction . . .

 

#TimeTravel #IceAge #Historical #Adventure

 

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Excerpt

When I next opened my eyes, sunlight slanted into the cave. Motes of dust danced and sparkled in the air. An acrid, bittersweet odor filled my nostrils, and smoke made lazy spirals in the breeze. I heard a crackling sound, but it was just the fire dying into embers. My bed, if you can call a pile of furs a bed, faced the cave entrance with the fire between me and the opening. The cave was little more than an indentation in the rock, and not deep at all. It hadn’t been lived in long. The fire had hardly any ash. There were no other signs of human presence except the bed of furs and the fire. I would have expected a more structured space, perhaps some baskets, articles of clothing, weapons even.

I started to feel better and sat up, being careful not to jog my arm. I needed to urinate again, so, bracing myself on the stone wall, I stood. My knees wobbled, but I was up. I checked, and saw my comlink was still around my wrist. I called up my vid cam. It flew into the cave like a demented bat, and I winced. It must have spent the night outside and gotten hung up in a tree. A small branch was stuck to it.

I plucked the branch off it and sent it out to scout, and then I opened a floating screen. I didn’t want to walk into danger. If I had to, I’d stay here until the rescue team came and have my vid cam lead them to me. The screen showed the river. And it also showed the cave I was in. It wasn’t the cave I’d seen from the river - no, that one had been high on the cliff. This one was nearly flush with the river and must flood after too much rain. No wonder it wasn’t used as a dwelling. The caveman must have dragged me here from the river and lit the fire for me. And he’d gotten furs for me. His intentions had been good. He’d gone out of his way to help me. Another thought occurred. I hadn’t been wearing my modern clothes. There wasn’t too much about me that screamed “Woman From the Future!”. My comlink was one I’d chosen because it looked so natural - the band looked like leather with three large copper beads on it: one for my floating screen, one for my vid cam, and one for my computer.

I floated my screen in front of me and sent the vid cam downriver looking for the caveman. There he was, trudging along with a pile of sticks on his shoulder, dragging some sort of dead animal behind him. Oh joy. Breakfast.

 

About the author

Jennifer Macaire lives with her husband, three children, & various dogs & horses. She loves cooking, eating chocolate, growing herbs and flowering plants on her balcony, and playing golf. She grew up in upstate New York, Samoa, and the Virgin Islands. She graduated from St. Peter and Paul high school in St. Thomas and moved to NYC where she modeled for five years for Elite. She met her husband at the polo club. All that is true. But she mostly likes to make up stories.

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