Date Published: November 30th 2020
A tale of two communities learning to live in harmony but will the trust stay strong between them?
After everything they have gone through. Why now? Why this?
Kelpie and Jason grew up in peaceful solitude, at one with nature. Yet when they are forced to move, they are also forced to change. Nevertheless, they grow to appreciate this new life and the harmony between both the human and the fae societies. When the killings start, their tranquillity is threatened and in their midst a well of fear, mistrust and discord has risen.
If she is to survive, she must learn to adjust and be ready for the danger hidden in the shadows. Will the life she fought so hard for fall to pieces? Or will Kelpie and Jason withstand the darkness and escape the misfortune of their troublesome cycle?
Emilie Dallaire was born and raised in Montreal, Quebec and now enjoys her full-time job as a QA Lead in the Gaming Industry. After having the unique opportunity to have her works – ‘My Demon’ and ‘Starved’ – published in the Melting Pot Anthology (compiled by Syndie Beaupre), she has finally been able to switch her attention more to her true passion; writing! The project reignited her deep affection for the written word and gave life back to her childhood dream.
Throughout and since her youth, Dallaire has always had a wild imagination allowing her to be the author she is today. The author likes to unwind with classic Disney movies, video games, anime and photography, that all help her to relax while still stimulating her creative juices. Dallaire adores and is inspired by relatable fiction stories including impelling romances, of which you will often see incorporated into her own works.
The Crone had left me this particular book a few times to read, but I’d avoided it several times. It was a book on different Fae, and the knowledge within was a mixture of factual and assumption. It was everything that had been learned over the years, with some common mistakes mixed into the pot.
I smoothed my fingers down the spine of it, contemplating my options. I wanted to know more about my kind, but the fear that the information would be inaccurate twisted my gut.
“Everything okay?” Jason finished his sweeping and had taken a quick look around the shop for any remaining cleaning before coming to my side. He glanced at the book and slid it out of its place for me, then arched a brow. “She’s been encouraging you to read it.”
“Why haven’t you?”
He was right, of course, but that didn’t settle the nerves twisting my gut.
At least he seemed to acknowledge that and he patted my thigh before slowly getting back up. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day? Decide what you want to do and if you need time alone to read, I can give you that. I’ll send you some coffee from that shop you like.”
“…The pumpkin spice?”
“I’ve told you a million times it’s out of season now.” His grin seemed to quirk at the question, but he wouldn’t laugh. At least, not while I was in the room.
I appreciated that, at the very least. I don’t think I would have been able to stomach his mockery. No, not mockery…I knew better than to label it as such a thing. That was the little voice talking to me. I took the book from him, nodded in thanks, and made my way back upstairs to our home. “Fine, surprise me then, since you know me so well.”
That comment did pull a laugh from him and I couldn’t help but smile. It was a sweet sound to hear from his lips.
Book 1 of The Atlantis Legacy Series
Teens, Young Adult, and all mature readers
Date Published: November 19, 2020
Publisher: Mindstir Media
Trouble is coming…coming by land…coming by sea. Coming for you…and coming for me.
What would you do if you had just prepared a perfect margarita and turned to leave your kitchen only to find a menacing assassin blocking the doorway and his stated intent was to kill you right now?
This is the situation Matt Flannery is confronted with on an otherwise typical Saturday afternoon at his bungalow on Anna Maria Island, Florida.
Who is this mountain of a man? Why is he here? What does he want? And…why me?
This day and this incident begin an unexpected, epic journey for Matt that will not only change his life, but the lives of his friends, family, and possibly…all that live on Planet Earth.
This journey of discovery will take Matt to many destinations in search of answers to his questions. Questions raised many years earlier by his explorer grandfather, James “Irish” Flannery, who Matt idolized. Sailing aboard his beloved charter fishing vessel, the Nice Catch, Matt sets out with his girlfriend Kelli, fellow seeker Lucien, and close friend Jake in search of solutions to the perplexing problems and fresh dangers that continually present themselves. The action moves in a frantic and tightening spiral that always threatens to be the undoing of our intrepid crew.
Come meet the ever-evolving cast of characters who play a part in this thrilling story and discover, along with Matt, what the real story behind the story is.
Are you ready to board the Nice Catch and take part in this stirring saga? Just keep telling yourself that “it is only a story…isn’t it?”
“Larry Hamilton keeps the intensity dialed up in critical mass, the second book of his Atlantis Legacy Series. With all the elements every good thriller needs like secrets to unravel, double-crosses, murky government types, and plenty of fireworks, he leaves you very few spots to catch your breath. Courage and loyalty face-off against greed and power reaching a climax that will leave you on your own search for the next installment.”
#1 Amazon Bestselling Author
I’m insane! Just kidding again. Forgive me…
I have been a voracious reader since my earliest childhood. Words and books became a window to the wider world for me as I grew up in poverty in the hills of Appalachia in Eastern Kentucky. So I traveled the world in the county library which was free and held unlimited mystery and exotic locations for me to sample. I used to climb the nearby hills and look to the other side in the hopes of seeing a harbor or great city. As a result, I have always loved words. Unlike video, books were interactive and required me to create the pictures the writer was trying to paint. So, I became accustomed to doing so. As I grew into adulthood, I felt the itch to try to create something meaningful with words. But, I had no formal training or encouragement to do so and I also had jobs, businesses, and families to take care of. So writing stayed on the backburner. But as I reached my 50’s, the urge to write began to resurface and I had more time and means to do so. That is why I began writing. So why write these books about these subjects?
I have always had a strong interest in the things we don’t fully understand or know as human beings…yet. Every time our scientists make a great physics discovery for example, it seems to bring into question everything they thought they knew. And they start over in their quest for true understanding. I actually love it when that happens. The mysterious unknown feeds our sense of wonder and gives us more windmills to tilt at. Humans love it. It’s what drives us and fuels us. The urge to know and see what is over that next hill. The Atlantis Legacy Series incorporates all of this. Ancient histories of this planet that are still slowly coming to light. The question of Who are We? and Why are we Here? are fundamental to everyone. New things are being unearthed, so to speak, every day. Both on the planet and off the planet. By Book 3 of this series, we will be examining all of these great unknowns and what mankind would do if our origin and place in the universe is not exactly what we have been told it is. Ultimately, I want to take the reader on this search for discovery in a fun, adventurous way but also address these great mysteries that are becoming more apparent with each new discovery. I guess I wrote these books for myself and trust they find like-minded readers who will share this thrilling ride with me. It is my life’s dream.
You can organize anything but family–and love.
Ambitious organizer Minn Evans resents being the only sane and stable person in her family. She wants a normal life with schedules and balanced meals and maybe a man who won’t fall for her sister.
Ford Hayes, a whiz at creativity and a dud at organization, becomes Art Director for a privately-owned TV station. But his office is a mess, his planning skills are a train wreck, and he can’t find his socks.
Minn needs a job; Ford needs an organizer. But Minn’s vagabond parents and man-stupifying sister aren’t the only roadblocks on their journey to love.
The building that might hold her future towered over her, glowing with promise. She put her hand on the brass plate, mentally crossed her fingers, and pushed. Uh-oh. She sprinted for the closing elevator door and risked a glance at her watch. Time for a stop in a bathroom, time to practice the carefully prepared answers to standard questions, time to chew a breath mint.
Her heel caught in the gap between floor and elevator cabin, catapulting her into a passenger. Arms that had been full of files now held only her. His files were on the floor, and her breast was in his hand. Heat prickled up her neck and into her cheeks. “I…uh…it was…oh, my…”
He stared at his hand—no, at her breast!
Minn lurched back and groaned, reaching for her broken heel. Her stomach fedexed bile to her chest. This couldn’t be worse.
A thoaty “Oh, crap!” drew her attention to a patchwork of paper and now-empty file folders across the floor.
“I-I’m so very sorry. I’m not usually so clumsy.” They both bent, heads collided, her feet slipped on the loose paper. Down she went.
Okay. It could be worse.
Jeanne Kern is a retired high school teacher who found her HEA when she met her husband on the internet. Together they love traveling and animal encounters: petting whales in Baja California, feeding rhino in Indonesia, walking with lions in Zimbabwe. Rich runs an award-winning volleyball website and Jeanne enjoys acting on stage and in indie horror films.
Date Published: January 19, 2021
Publisher: FyreSyde Publishing
For generations, the wizards of Candle Paranormal Investigations have helped the people of Boston with everything from garden-variety poltergeists to Eldritch abominations. Sixteen-year-old Henry Candle, however, has no interest in taking over the family business and would much rather spend time hanging out in cafes with his human friends. But when his father is brutally murdered while working on a case, Candle Paranormal Investigations magically falls into Henry’s possession — and so does a warning: “BEWARE, HENRY. HE’LL COME FOR YOU, TOO.”
Henry does some digging and discovers that two other wizards have been killed in the past month, both of their bodies found with the same symbol scrawled into their chest as his father. He decides to reopen the case so he can discover who (or what) is murdering Boston’s wizards before he’s next. Aided by his pug familiar, a witch and a group of human friends, Henry must stop a supernatural serial killer and find an evil spell book that could end the world.
Author Share Link
Corey Edward is a lifelong lover of books, learning, and coffee. Although he is easily spooked, he lives for a good scary story, so perhaps it is fitting that he finally decided to start writing them. He lives in Ohio, where he works as a ninth grade English teacher.
He received his BA in Integrated Language Arts from Youngstown State University and went on to later receive his MA in English.
The first thing most outsiders noticed upon coming to New England was the sheer enormity of the trees. And it’s true: they’re huge. Bigger than monsters in childrens’ nightmares and just as inescapable. Sometimes — on cloudy October nights like this one — it felt almost like they were watching you, warning you to stay away. Sometimes, it was worth listening.
That’s right, not a fairy tale, a Tale Faery. A genuine hetero, cis Tale Faery. We’re rare.
It started with dragonflies on a magic summer day in Gainesville Florida. One of those 100+ degree, 100+% humidity (seriously, a clear blue sky supersaturated with humidity, a state of dew), my five-year-old daughter and I rode our bikes around a swamp, and I discovered what faeries are.
Heather rode in front. Her little legs pumped the pink pedals, and her scarf trailed behind. Empty roads and sidewalks, weather fit for a Florida hibernation.
A red dragonfly flew along between us.
“Look,” she said, “a blue one and a green one!” The farther we went, the thicker our dragonfly entourage. They ranged from an inch across to wingspans of almost eight inches. Each a single bright primary color.
A big red one perched on her handlebars, its wings brushed her hand. She let her bike coast to a stop and rubbed a finger along the dragonfly’s body. Its wings buzzed for an instant, but it didn’t take off.
“Look another one!” A blue dragonfly landed. She reached over it flew away.
Heather started pedaling again. We passed a pond where two men sat on an ice chest in the shade with fishing poles; the only people we saw that day. Dragonflies darted across the surface.
Down a street into a neighborhood lined with oaks. Trunks as big as the cars in driveways, and branches that met over the street forming a canopy with Spanish moss dangling like tropical icicles. I stopped in the shade, and she turned back toward me.
“If you lean into a turn just right, you can ride without pedaling,” Heather said.
“I guess we could just lean into these turns and go around in circles all day.” I pushed off too. I remember wondering if the energy of the Earth’s rotation could be used to maintain this sort of precession with no effort and how it could be used as a power source. Heather was in a world all her own, too.
She broke the silence. “I guess the dragonflies don’t like the shade.”
“They’ll probably come back when we head home.”
We rode around in circles for a while longer and then Heather stopped in the middle of the street. She leaned back, looked up into the leaves, and said, “I wish the world would stop turning.”
“No, that’d suck,” I said. “If the world stopped turning there’d be brutal earthquakes, tidal waves. No night and day, it’d be like Mercury and the light side would get insanely hot, and the dark–”
“That’s not what I mean, silly,” she turned and looked right at me. “I wish the world would stop turning so that this day could last forever.”
That day didn’t last forever, but from then on, I’ve found great joy in the little creatures who flutter, buzz, and zip around us.
In The Book of Bastards wonderful faeries, beautiful little people whose bodies share wings and shapes of butterflies, dragonflies, bumblebees, lady bugs, and so on, help people deal with the hardships of life. And then some jerk comes along and ruins it for everyone.
I hope you enjoy the ride! And, by the way, if you want me to finish the trilogy, you have to ask, email@example.com. I’ve finished a draft of book two, Bastard Knights, and have outlined Bastard Princess, but I might need some influencing to tidy it all up for you. Graft would help.
Date Published: January 14, 2021
Publisher: The Intoxicating Page
Welcome to The Gold Piece Inn, where you can drink, gamble, and play!
Cursed on the day the king is assassinated, Dewey Nawton is compelled to protect the widowed queen, but protection means different things to different people (and different curses).
Kings have dictated every role Queen Dafina has ever played. Now, a halfling innkeeper assigns her the role of serving lass. But is The Gold Piece Inn just another tavern? Could it be an orphanage? … surely, it’s not a brothel.
Oh yes, she’s fallen from grace, but will that stop her from leading a handful of pirates and a dozen bastards to avenge her king and rescue Glandaeff’s faeries, elfs, and mermaids (and merbutlers!) from a brutal tyrant?
Dewey has a secret. Dafina has a secret. The Bastards have two secrets.
Is there even a sip of moral justice in all this bawdiness?
The Book of Bastards combines a riveting, intense plot of righteous vengeance with tongue-in-cheek banter that will keep you turning the page with eager anticipation. With settings that make you wish they were real, characters you can’t help but cheer for, and twists that keep you guessing, Ransom Stephens has crafted an engaging tale that makes every minute of reading, time well spent. I don’t often reread a book, but I think I’ll make an exception. Loads of fun. Highly recommended. – Brian D Anderson, million-selling author of The Bard and the Blade
“A delightful, detailed tale about morality, being honest with yourself, and self-reflection, even when you don’t like what the glass has to show. A perfect treat for lovers of rich fantasy worldbuilding, gory battles, and the kind of thoughtful, character-driven stories that make your brain whirl, your imagination dance, and your heart surge.” -J.M. Frey, bestselling author of The Accidental Turn Series
About the Author
Ransom Stephens has searched for the Holy Grail in Cornwall and Wales but settled for a cracked coffee mug. He’s won several awards, but they’ve all been named after people he’d never heard of which made for awkward acceptance speeches. The author of four previous novels on simple, non-controversial topics like science vs religion in The God Patent, technology vs environmentalism in The Sensory Deception, oligarchy vs anarchy in The 99% Solution, and love vs money in Too Rich to Die, in his latest, The Book of Bastards, he offers readers what they really want, a story of bawdiness washed down with a sip of moral justice.
I’m a fairly accomplished scientist and technologist, all the details at https://contact.ransomstephens.com
Dewey took his seat between the fireplace and the only glazed window in the building. He could see the street, the saloon, the casino, the red-carpeted stairway, and the balconies and rooms on the second and third floors. He listened to the minstrel’s ballad of a heartbroken pirate on a desert isle, ate salmon grilled in rosemary and served on sourdough bread, felt the warmth of the fire on one side and the cool evening fog on the other—and none of it soothed Dewey’s worries.
Then he saw her on the porch. She fell through the door but not the way drunks fall. She reached up as though climbing from an abyss, and wailed, “Oh gods, please help me. Anyone, please!”
Loretta got to her first, dropped to her knees, and took the woman’s hands.
The woman grabbed at Loretta, tears cascading down her face, sobs racking her from head to toe. “Please!”
“It’ll be all right, dear. We’ll care for you.” She looked up at Dewey and added, “We will care for her.”
Dewey stood over them. Children accumulated. Teen-aged Aennie said, “She’s the cleanest beggar I’ve ever seen.”
Another kid plopped down next to the woman and held his worn black feet up to her clean pink soles. “Somefin wrong wit her feet.”
“What the?” Loretta said. “Feet don’t come that clean. I’ve tried.” She held the woman at arm’s length and examined her. “She’s a bag of bones, must be starving—Macae, fetch salted bread.”
“Get her out of sight,” Dewey said.
“You know her?”
“To the barn. Now!”
Loretta lifted her, muttered, “She weighs nothin’,” and guided her back outside.
The screech owl that lived in the barn announced to everyone within a mile that a stranger had arrived.
Dewey looked back at his inn. The minstrel had switched to a light ditty about a horny woman who carried drunk men into a field and took advantage of them—the sort of song that’s mostly chorus so anyone can sing along. Children were underfoot and some of the goats had found their way back inside. Bob was pouring ale and wine, the servers who weren’t delivering food and drink were lounging on the laps of smiling patrons. A serving-lad named Faernando slipped off a sinewy woman, the profiteer sailor and card-cheat named Baertha. She threw the lad over her shoulder and carried him to the stairs just as the chorus returned to “she threw the boy down, he popped up, and she made him a man.” The crowd erupted. Baertha took a bow, the lad waved, and Dewey held out his hand. As she passed, Baertha dug into her belt and tossed a silver ohzee. Dewey said, “You give him two of those when you’re through. If you hurt him, it’ll piss off the wrong kinds of faeries.”
In other words, it was just another night at The Gold Piece Inn, and no one had noticed the beggar at the door.
Dewey rushed through the kitchen and out to the barn. He dodged sheep, rabbits, a sleeping cow, nearly stepped on the tail of an old bloodhound, and climbed the ladder. The loft was covered in straw and cordoned into sections by blankets of differing color and quality. The woman lay on a brown blanket next to an unshuttered window that let in the last light of the day. Loretta appeared to be threatening her with a baguette.
“She’s lovely but there’s nothin’ to her,” Loretta said to Dewey. And then to the woman. “You faer?”
“I require your aid,” the woman said. “Please, my children …”
Loretta took a bite of the baguette dripping with salty olive oil and then offered it to the woman again. “Never seen a beggar who won’t eat. She elfin? Your kind?”
“No, she’s as human as you are.”
Loretta leaned forward and sniffed the woman’s neck. “She don’t smell like a human.”
“She bathes. Some people do that, you should try it.” Dewey helped the woman up.
Loretta examined her hands, no scars or calluses. She ran her fingers through her long, straight black hair and mumbled, “Fine as silk.”
Dewey said, “When have you ever touched silk?”
Loretta said. “I didn’t think skin got that pale.”
The woman’s eyes lost focus, and she fainted.
“Farqin shite!” Dewey said, “Get some water—nay, a blast of brandy.”
Loretta dropped down the ladder in a fluid, practiced motion.
Dewey waited a few more seconds and then whispered, “Queen Dafina, what are you doing here?”
She sat up straight, dabbed her eyes, and said, “I require your help.”
“You have to get out of here.”
“You must assemble the bodies of my husband and children.” Her voice cracked. “They require decent burial.”
“The usurper has them. There’s nothing I can do.”
“I can pay you more than you can imagine.”
“Maybe so but pay means nothing to a dead man.”
“Think of the favors I can grant, I can—” and then she went quiet and looked down, blubbering out the words, “My children, my husband, everyone is dead.”
“I’m not, and don’t plan to be any time soon.”
She looked up at him and then around. She fondled the rough threads of the blanket and pulled a piece of straw through a gap in the weave. A lamb bleated below, and a mouse scurried across a rafter overhead.
“Surely you don’t want to watch more people die.”
The Queen stood and bumped her head on a beam. Dust sprinkled onto her face. “No,” she said. “No, anything but that.”
“I’d like to help,” he said. “Dozens of good people, your subjects and their children, live here—you’re duty bound to protect them, and you know what Lukas will do if you’re found here.”
“Right.” She started down the ladder and Dewey held her steady. “I’ll go.” She stepped toward the barn door and Dewey nudged her, gently at first and then with a bit of authority to the side exit that led to an alley out of view of High Street.
He put two silver ohzees in her hand and said, “Take the morning barge back to Glomaythea or get passage on a ship to Nantesse—isn’t that your home?”
He gripped her shoulders and rotated her to face him. He waited for her to look up and said. “You asked for my help and I have helped you. Right?”
“Yes, thank you good sir.”
He oriented her downhill and gave her a shove. She staggered into the dark alley and down the hill that would take her back to the marketplace if she followed it. She said, “My babies are dead. They’re all dead.”
Dewey shut the gate just as Loretta appeared with a goblet of brandy.
“Just in time,” he said. He took it and drank.
When disaster strikes
A Colton comes to the rescue
The regret of missed opportunity...More info →
"A woman walks into a crowded Manhattan bar and meets a nice southern gentleman." That sounds like the beginning of a bad joke or the beginning of an intriguing love story.More info →
Stories about winter, spring, summer and fall, and seasons of life, seasons of love, and even seasons of discovery.More info →