3/31/16

Lisa M Caretti Day 2



The charming but slightly offbeat town of Chester seemed like the perfect place for a
fresh start, at least that is what Bretta Berryman’s husband claimed as he sent his wife and two
daughters ahead of him to find their new dream home.

But when Bretta falls in love and purchases a dilapidated old mansion and begins
renovations, she soon discovers that her new home has a history of horrifying evil and
devastating secrets, all which appear to be intertwined with her absent husband’s inscrutable
past.

As skeletons surface and acquaintances are murdered, Bretta begins to doubt her own
sanity and believe her spouse’s accusations that she is not only mentally unwell, but somehow
responsible.

3/30/16

Lisa M Caretti Day 1

Good Morning folks.   For today and the next four days we will welcome Lisa Caretti and learn about her and her books.

First why don't you tell us a little about yourself?

 I am a wife and mother of three children. I am also the co-founder of a non-profit organization called The Healing Nest which supports women with cancer and a manager with Arbonne International.

Newest release?

 The Last to Know is my latest release.



What can we expect from your stories, action, drama, romance,sex, blood and guts?

Both Whistle in the Dark and The Last to Know are suspense/thrillers that move quickly and keep 
you guessing.

Do you have a favorite character in your stories? Who? and Why?

I love Alice in The Last to Know. She is eccentric and surprisingly knowledgeable. I wish she was my neighbor. 

Give us an interesting fun fact or a few about your book or series:

In The Last to Know, the story takes place in a small town called Chester which was my nickname in 
high school. When I started writing the book I just threw that name in there for fun thinking I would
change it later. It just sort of stuck and I left it in. My friends love seeing that when they read the 
book. 

Has there been any other authors who have inspired your work or helped you out with your stories?

I have always loved to read. I try new authors as well as long time favorites. 

What can readers who enjoy your book do to help make it successful?

Write a review. Please. Say anything. 

Do you have any tips for readers or advice for other writers trying to get published?

Just keep writing a little every day.

Do you have a favorite author? If yes, what draws you to that person’s work?

I love Sue Grafton. I feel like Kinsey is a good friend of mine by now. 

Can you remember one of the first things you wrote? What makes it memorable?

I wrote short stories in school but the first “real” thing that I wrote was Whistle in the Dark. 

Where do you gather most of the inspiration for your work?

I pull ideas from things I have heard about, read about or have seen. When I sit down to write, the 
story is there for me. 

Do you have any other interesting hobbies, pets or stories you would like to share?

I love nature walks and I adore animals. I have two rescue dogs which I love to pieces. I am also a Reiki Master. 

Favorite places to travel or visit? 

Cabo, Mexico. I go each year for two weeks.

And now, before you go, how about a snippet from your book that is meant to intrigue and tantalize 
us:( Include links to where we can find your work)
http://www.amazon.com/The-Last-Know-Lisa-
Caretti/dp/1517528127/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_product_top?ie=UTF8


Prologue

She was an ancient nuisance. An interfering old bat that they should have dealt with years
ago.

Pleased with himself, he attempted to stuff her thick, wrinkled body into a battered trunk
he was fortunate enough to have stumbled upon while exploring the forgotten treasures of her
attic.

He considered his next step carefully as he wiped at the sweat that had begun to drip
freely from his brow onto his shirt sleeve and let out an exasperated sigh.

Perhaps if he would have thought this out a little further in advance he might have
devised a more suitable plan, but whatever. The deed was done. He killed her and he would
simply have to deal with it. The others will thank him.

At least now, for once, he could reminisce through his old stomping grounds at his leisure
and not have to worry about her tiresome meddling and unending interfering.

The peace and quiet would be a welcomed luxury.

He sucked in an oppressive, dusty hot breath and held it in for a moment in appreciation
before slowly lowering his eyes back down to the blob at his feet.

She was gone but still within the window of passing that he actually considered playing
the game with her.

For old times’ sake he told himself.

But she was old and nasty with thick yellow toenails, so in the end decided against it. He
had to use his time wisely plus it would hardly be the same without the others.

He tapped his foot loudly on the attic’s bare wooden planks while he plotted.  Her
oversized remains would have to fit in that chest one way or another, even if things got a little
messy.

He wondered how much time would pass before anyone would even notice she was
missing.

3/28/16

Review of Promised Soul by Sandra J Jackson

Title:Promised Soul
Author: Sandra J. Jackson
Stars: 5
Outline:
     Krista had been having strange dreams and feelings since she was very young. Now she is preparing to take a trip to England a trip she has dreamed of her whole life. With the trip coming the strange dreams came flooding back to her. Krista started to feel like maybe these were not  just dreams maybe something more was going on. Finally the day came for Krista to travel to England. When she got there she felt like she finally was home and settled in quickly. Soon after a couple of missed appointments she finally met her tour guide Aaron and when there eyes finally met she finally understood all the strange dreams and the need to travel to England.
Review:
     I could not put this book down Krista and Aarons love story was one that will probably stay my favorite for years and this book will be one i will revisit often. This kind of love story has been one of my favorites to read since i started reading a love that transcends time but this book left a special place in my heart. I felt the love coming off the pages my heart begging for it to continue and i cried when it ended not tears of sadness but tears of happiness for the lovely couple finally finding the love the fought for for so long. I am already itching to re read it and to be honest will be spending my day tomorrow revisiting this amazing love story...Thank you Sandra.
Heather

Review of Visual Effects by Joyce M Holmes

Visual Effects by Joyce M. Holmes

Rated: 4 stars (Nice, easy read with substance)
 
Drey Winston is a fierce competitor who enjoys challenging her mind and body. But when it comes to her heart—no one ever gets close enough to compete for it. Just when her hard-fought goals are finally within reach, the audacious Jesse Devlin comes along to breach her carefully guarded defenses. Can this commitment-phobic bachelor convince the stubbornly independent woman he loves that his feelings—and hers—are the real deal?

I know this book has some emotional subject matters, and I was afraid I might find it heavy going and not entirely enjoyable, but I was pleasantly surprised. It is written in a light and easy-to-read way and the emotional aspects just worked to give the story substance. I do prefer more showing to telling in a book and Visual Effects was a little more telling than I’m used to, but I understand this is a personal preference. All in all it was a good, easy read and I found it relaxing and entertaining – can’t ask for more.

Heidi

Review of The Devil’s Playground by Heather Eager

The Devil’s Playground
By
Heather Eager

Elizabeth Winters lives in Salem Village in Massachusetts Bay Colony in the year 1692, the year
of the infamous Salem Witch Trials during which twenty-four people were slaughtered in the
Puritan community on suspicion of, and fear of, witchcraft.  Elizabeth is a witch, who, at sixteen
years of age hasn’t a clue about her powers.  What she knows is that her father is a wizard in
hiding from persecution endured in Europe and that her family members are refugees living
among the Puritans in Salem Village.

Be that as it may, Elizabeth is curious about her powers and experiments with them even when it
seems her only magical talent is starting fires accidentally. Faced with Elizabeth’s curiosity, her
father begins to teach her how to control her magic by controlling her emotions. However, she is
young, with strong uncontrollable emotions, and has a jealous younger sister named Anna who
wants magical powers but does not have them. When another mysterious witch stirs fear of witch
craft in Salem causing innocent people to be killed, Elizabeth is outraged.  She protests loudly
and directly and engages in a contest of wills with Reverend Parris, the Village Pastor and Judge
Hathorne who has been commissioned to rid Salem of witches. Unfortunately, her knowledge of
her powers and her ability to control her emotions are no match for her anger and zeal to protect
the innocent.  What follows forces Elizabeth to face her fears and her immaturity as she
confronts Parris and Hathorne, and more importantly, confronts a stronger witch who is causing
the problems; a person that in her wildest dreams she would never have recognized as a witch.

This is an awesome story about a teenage girl growing up and taking on responsibility for her
family and her community. It highlights the ignorance and paranoia common in that community
in that age, but it has implications in any place or time in which young people must grow into
responsible adults and face down ignorance and persecution of others. The characters are
believable each with their private thoughts and motivations, fears and envy, and each knowing
they put those emotions aside for the greater good.
This story should appeal to a wide range of readers from fantasy enthusiasts to every school girl
struggling to deal with real world realities.

5-stars Clabe Polk

Review of Synergy by Georgia Payne

Title: Synergy
Author:
Stars: 5/5
Outline:
      Dee had lived her whole life in a ruff part of Detroit. Dee knew how she lived her life sometimes was not what most people would think was acceptable but Dee had her son to take care of and did what she had to do regardless of what people thought. Jason Taylor was a famous musician who worked hard to get were he was but the night he walked into the strip club Dee was employed at he was just Jason. Dee and Jason met and felt a connection which led to a steamy and some what blurry one night stand. After that night they both felt something for each other a tug to get to know each other. Even though they had to different backgrounds and were so different from each other they felt like it might be worth a try. Soon something would be coming into their lives that could make them or break them. Jason and Dee seemed ready for the ride too see were this big something would take them.
Review:
  I loved this book!!! I loved how it was not just a classic love novel it was so modern and very realistic. Love doesn't care were your from or how you are raised and that is real life. i am very excited to read the second book and I highly recommend this excellent book
 
Heather

Review of Unlawful Love Affair by Tru Lyfe

Great book. Packed with action and twists and can't forget passion. Up beat fast paced and short. There was few errors with incorrect words in places but still enjoyable read. Warning cliffhanger leave you hanging for real!!!!

Shayla had it all money and best career she worked her butt off for was just missing passion. But she finds is with G. But after everything turned crazy from guy she put in prison. And people being murdered and fake changes on her and sleeping with blood member of the guy. And having no clue who to trust. And surprise ending I'm at lost of words so looking forward reading more!

I received for honest review
Reviewer Olivia R.
JBR

Posted on Amazon

Review of The Last Second Chance by Jim Nesbitt

The Last Second Chance by Jim Nesbitt (an Ed Earl Burch novel)

Rated: 4 stars (Good read, enjoyed this book)

When a woman walks into ex-cop Ed Earl Burch’s life pointing a gun at his head and mentioning a name that is a blast from Burch’s past, it is clear things are going to get messy. T-Roy is not a very nice man, and it appears he isn’t dead, something Burch isn’t too happy about, so Burch agrees to hunt him down. What ensues is a race across Texas...

I felt like I was settling down with a good read, and I wasn’t disappointed. It did feel a little slow in places though, the balance between dialogue and narrative, I felt, was a little off, with it being heavy on narrative but this didn’t detract from the quality of the writing or the story  itself. The style reminded me of 1950’s American PI books and all American cross country movies. It’s dirty and grungy in a sand-dusted, dry-hot way. It flowed nicely, and I liked the characterisation. The Last Second Chance is a hard-boiled thriller fans of Lee Child’s Jack Reacher, and author James Lee Burke would like.

Heidi Cieciura

Review of Marie by Ana Elise Meyer

title: Marie
Author: Ana Elise Meyer
Stars: 4 
Outline:
   Dr stanley started out his project with 9 boys its soon also included one girl he found abandoned on his way into work. Marie as stanley named her after his daughter he lost would be put into the program. The program was a study of a injection that stanley had created that made them super humans.
As the children grew Stanley tried to give the kids a normal life but soon the ten children became 7 because 3 of the boys were just to weak in the programs eyes. After this marie and another boy named micheal became very close. Micheal became her protector as they grew.
Finally the day came for Micheal and marie to escape the program.
Review:
  This book was very personally heart breaking to me...I Cried and I hoped that no matter what Marie had be through in her life it would all end happy for her. In the long run I belive it did and that made the book for me. Good read. Ready to read the second
 
Heather

3/26/16

Cecelia Dowdy




Toni enjoys making chocolate treats in her bakery. Haunted by her abusive past, she struggles with her faith in God. Her world changes when a handsome stranger arrives, reminiscing about his childhood. Jason Matthews misses his days of working in his family's pastry shop. Estranged from his father, he longs to rediscover the joy and comfort from baking. When Toni's life is threatened, Jason realizes how deeply he cares for her. Can Toni and Jason overcome their pasts and learn to trust one another?

Amazon Buy Link:
http://amzn.to/1pfN21S

3/25/16

Heidi Cieciura Day 5



THE OBSIDIAN AND WHY I CRIED WHEN I LET THIS BOOK GO

(First published on Holding up the Mirror)

After nine months of excruciatingly hard work, the new novel has finally passed out of my
hands, and is making it in the big wide world all by itself. I find releasing a book a moment
that comes with mixed emotions. Elation, excitement, anticipation, anxiety and most of all
sadness. I've reached the end of a long, emotional journey with friends I bonded with along
the way. The relationship a reader forms with the characters they read about, or a writer
forms with those they create, is every bit as real as the relationships we forge whilst dealing
with living, breathing people.

Rachel Nuwer's article: The Psychology of Character Bonding: Why We Feel A Real
Connection to Actors explains the phenomenon of bonding with fictional characters
brilliantly, it's well worth a read, and had me going Ah, yes. Now I understand. Basically,
readers, and writers, invest a great deal of emotion (and time) in reading a novel (or watching
a film) in the same way we invest emotional energy and time in cultivating friendships.
Empathy and Sympathy - emotions we experience daily in our real lives - Nuwer tells us, are
key to the way we respond to fictional characters.

Howard Sklar, from the University of Helsinki attempted to show that despite there being
differences in how readers respond to real-life people versus how they respond to fictional
characters, the psychology of both shares important similarities. I use reader and writer
interchangeably, although the experience may very well be more intense for the creator of a
work. As a voracious reader too, I know certain characters, Will Trent created by Karin
Slaughter for example, resonate with me beyond any of the books I've read with them in, but
my own characters - Hunter, Jesse, Toby K - they're like my children (and I have several real
ones so I know what I'm talking about). I am responsible for them and their journeys and
when a leg of their journey comes to a close, it's like a chapter in my own life has ended and
of course that sense of loss, of grieving for something I have lost, affects me when I scan the
last few words for typos or bad spelling, and flip the last page over onto the pile. It rushes out
of me, that sense that THIS IS OVER.

When I sit down to start a book, I have already spent several months - if not years - with the
characters I am going to write about bobbing around inside my head. I have laughed with
them, cried with them, worked out how to make their lives harder, before trying to make it
better. They have grown into fully fledged beings in their own rights and, although I know
they aren't real, for all intents and purposes, to me, they are. When I reached the end of The
Obsidian, just as I had done when I reached the end of the first novel Affliction, I felt an
overwhelming sense of loss, as if a good friend - or friends - had passed on. Even the bad
guys I grieve for, it is common in my household for someone to laugh about how I can't let
my bad guys go. People say writing is a lonely endeavour - and for the most part, it is - but in
some ways it isn't. I've made lots of friends and I can't wait to experience the next leg of their
journey with them - and hopefully, with you.

You can get access to all of Heidi’s books at Author Central

You can check out Heidi Cieciura's official author website

Her blog: Holding up the Mirror

Or contact her on twitter @heidicieciura

You can sign up for Heidi’s mailing list to be alerted of updates and receive a free DI Jesse

Rider novella entitled Butterfly. Just click here

You can email Heidi at heidi.cieciura.author@gmail.com

Lara Nance Day 5




A PG - Mad Max meets Divergent with a Christian theme. 
In an America destroyed by war and sunk in depravity, scavenger Paul is rescued by Rebecca, a member of the Believer Tribe, and needs healing in both body and soul. Will she be able to overcome the turmoil about her own path of service as well as her feelings for Paul, and lead him to the truth of the Gospel before his radical ideas disrupt the tribe and threaten their evangelical mission?


Here is a section from the beginning of God’s Tribe. It’s when Paul and Becca first meet:

Paul untied the strip of blanket that kept him warm and from falling out of the tree while asleep. 
He shoved it into his pack and yawned. The pink of dawn faded to a gray overcast sky that threatened rain. He could smell it in the air. He’d need to find a better shelter. 
A crunch of leaves on the ground warned him someone or something approached, and his senses 
pulsed to high alert. He squatted on the balls of his feet, ready to leap and run. With one hand resting on the trunk, he grasped his pack with the other, muscles bunched as he crouched on a large branch. The cover of leaves from the great old oak hid all but glimpses of the surrounding area as a soft breeze stirred the foliage about. 
“Hey, are you okay?” A female voice from behind him at the foot of the oak nearly made him 
fall off the branch. 
He gripped an overhanging limb to steady his balance, his heart hammering in his chest.
“What are you doing up there, sleeping?” A girl, probably in her upper teens, stared at him with 
big brown eyes. She wore black leggings, short boots and an olive green coat that came to her thighs. 
Her long black hair was pulled into a ponytail and hung to her waist. She moved closer to the trunk, and her gaze ran over him—assessing.
“Go away,” he said in a sharp voice. Was she crazy being out here alone?
“Why?” She placed a hand on the wide trunk, tilting her head to get a better view of him. In her 
other hand, she held a walking stick about six feet long. Her clothes were worn but clean, not like 
people from the Block.
Confusion clouded his thoughts for a moment. He didn’t know how to respond. What was she 
doing out here by herself anyway? She could be killed by one of the crud-filled tribes. Maybe she had others near, and they would attack him. He climbed to a higher branch, straining his neck to peer 
around.
“My name’s Rebecca. My friends call me Becca, though.” She hesitated, watching him for a few 
moments, then caught hold of a lower branch and swung up to sit on it. She moved gracefully, strong 
and sure of her actions. “I always thought of this as my tree. I come here a lot in the mornings before 
the dark tribes are out. I like to sit here and think. It’s a great place for that; don’t you agree? Calm and peaceful with the wind making the limbs creak and the leaves rustle.”
He’d never seen anyone like this girl. Everyone he met was afraid, scrounging for food and 
shelter, fighting over scraps of clothing. Belonging to a tribe gave some protection, but they also had 
too many rules, and for most, their members were more like slaves. Yet, this Rebecca walked around 
by herself as confident as if she had a hundred bodyguards. He peered through the branches. She had to have others with her, maybe acting as a decoy to lure him out.

The link to buy this novel on Amazon is:
http://www.amazon.com/Gods-Tribe-dystopian-tale-redemption-
ebook/dp/B01CKEZ1Y8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1457882670&sr=8-
1&keywords=God%27s+Tribe

3/24/16

Lara Nance Day 4




A PG - Mad Max meets Divergent with a Christian theme. 
In an America destroyed by war and sunk in depravity, scavenger Paul is rescued by Rebecca, a member of the Believer Tribe, and needs healing in both body and soul. Will she be able to overcome the turmoil about her own path of service as well as her feelings for Paul, and lead him to the truth of the Gospel before his radical ideas disrupt the tribe and threaten their evangelical mission?

http://www.amazon.com/Gods-Tribe-dystopian-tale-redemption-ebook/dp/B01CKEZ1Y8/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1458826427&sr=1-1

Heidi Cieciura Day 4


INTERVIEW WITH HEIDI CIECIURA


Tell us a bit about yourself…

I live with my boyfriend, our three kids and our partially sighted Collie Nimue in the South 

West of England. I started writing when I was five years old (though the books were mainly 

made up of pictures), and it grew into an obsession that has basically been the bane of my life 

ever since. I wouldn’t say I write for fun, it’s more of a compulsion, if I don’t write or at least 

think about a story for more than a few days I start to get twitchy. I completed a BA (Hons) 

in English Language and Literature in 2013 (I was 36), and I love to read books by Patricia 

Cornwell, James Patterson, Jo Nesbo, Sylvia Day…. The list is actually endless. Oh, and I’ve 

just taken up Tarot card reading for fun.

What books have you released? 

I’ve released the first two books in the Hunter Series, Affliction and The Obsidian, 

supernatural crime thrillers featuring a crime writer called Hunter Cade (who can see into the 

world of the dead), and Detective Inspector Jesse Rider of the Avon and Somerset Major 

Crimes Investigation Unit. It’s important to say that the police do all of the solving in these 

books, Hunter doesn’t actually help solve anything, his story runs parallel to the 

investigations and we see a bond between the two men develop which is relevant to future 

plot lines. I have recently released Don’t Forget Me, a romantic suspense that was going to be 

a standalone but has morphed into a trilogy because I basically couldn’t let Addison and 

Kelly Durban go. I’m looking forward to getting started on the sequel Brutal Honesty which 

is going to be written from Kelly’s point of view. He’s been through a lot including having 

his wife forget who he is, and I wanted to explore further the things that happened to him, 

how they affected him, and also how it affects Addison. 

What are you working on now?

Besides Brutal Honesty, and the third Hunter novel, I’m developing several erotic romance 

titles and an action adventure series I’m quite excited about but which has taken a lot of time 

to research. I have a list of about 25 individual novels I’m actively working on, all in various 

stages of development/completion. Needless to say, I’m going to be busy for quite some time.

What can we expect from your novels?

All my books examine sexual relationships to various degrees, I think if you can read a book 

about someone taking another person’s life, especially books that look at features of a crime 

in close detail, you should be able to read about sex, lust, love, the psychology behind the 

way people share themselves with others. As a teller of stories I’m particularly interested in 

psychology, especially the psychology of deviancy so I tend to explore dark desires in my 

books, and burrow deep down into peoples’ psyches. Hopefully my novels are entertaining, 

with well-developed characters and interesting plot lines.

What is the best thing about being an Independent Publisher?

It’s great to have the freedom to control what I write, and how often I put work out there. For 

example, I started my career with the Hunter Series and it might be that with a traditional 

publisher that is all they would want me to write, but now I’ve expanded into a different 

genre, and am developing other books in other genres and I can hit that publish button on 

two, three, four novels a year if I wanted to. 

What challenges do you face being an Independent publisher?

Not having a team behind me, someone like an agent or a publisher who has faith in your 

work. It is lonely being a writer and being an independent publisher can make you feel like 

you aren’t good enough. I hope attitudes are changing, we work just as hard as traditionally 

published authors, if not harder, we’re responsible for our covers, how our books are laid out, 

editing, marketing… Self-publishing as a viable way to get your books out there is quite new 

and there isn’t a whole lot of easily accessible information to show you how to do it. Also it’s 

a struggle to keep visible and get reviews. Any readers out there, the best thing you can do for 

an author you like is leave them a review. They will be very grateful and it could make the 

difference between them having to give up writing, or being able to continue. 

What motivates you to get up every morning and write?

I have to admit that a lot more often than I’d like I don’t feel motivated at all. It really 

depends on which part of the novel making process I’m in – I’m better at getting motivated 

when I’m at the editing stages, then the creating work is done and it’s just a case of 

improving what you already have which is a lot less demanding mentally. You can’t rely on 

being motivated – or inspired – a professional writer has to work even if they’re neither 

motivated nor inspired. Sitting down at the computer in my hazy, need-more-coffee, just-got-

the kids-to-school state I feel as if I’m never going to be able to write a cohesive sentence 

again, but the act of just trying generally gets me back into it, and by the time a few hours is 

up I’m usually flabbergasted by how much I’ve written. Basically, activity breeds more 

activity.

On a lighter note, can you give us a fun fact about yourself?

Every morning I annoy my kids by singing ridiculous songs. It’s like they’ve walked into a 

musical theatre show. They hate it, but I think a bit of singing in the morning is a great way to 

start the day on a positive note.


You can get access to all of Heidi’s books at Author Central

You can check out Heidi Cieciura's official author website

Her blog: Holding up the Mirror

Or contact her on twitter @heidicieciura

You can sign up for Heidi’s mailing list to be alerted of updates and receive a free DI Jesse

Rider novella entitled Butterfly. Just click here


You can email Heidi at heidi.cieciura.author@gmail.com

3/23/16

Heidi Cieciura Day3



Highlight Don’t Forget Me (Book 1 in the Memories Trilogy)
Title: Don’t Forget Me
Author: Heidi Cieciura
Genres: crime, suspense, romance, thriller
Available as an eBook for Kindle

Synopsis:
HOW DO YOU COMPETE WITH A DEAD MAN, WHEN YOUR WIFE CAN'T EVEN
REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE?

Addison Wright wakes up on a beach, injured and with no recollection of how she got there.
Kelly Durban claims to be her husband, but he can't be. Addison has a boyfriend... at least
she did. Evan Christian died five years ago and the more Addison delves into the events
surrounding his death, the closer she gets to learning what happened to her the night she was
left for dead. Despite advice to stay out of it, Addison, a true crime writer and daughter of a
detective, can't help trying to solve the mystery of what happened to her that night even
though it's clear someone has murder in mind and a past they want to keep hidden.
By the author of the Hunter Paranormal Crime Series, Don’t Forget Me is a gripping tale of
romantic suspense with a kick-ass heroine who knows how to fight for what she knows is
right. It questions to what extent memory creates bonds, and how relationships are shattered
when those memories are taken away.

Buy from Amazon

Excerpt
PART ONE

We loved with a love that was more than love

- Edgar Allan Poe -

ONE
‘Think how much easier it would be if it was just you and me in the world. No evil.’
‘No good.’
‘Nothing to fight. No one to grieve for.’
‘No one to love.’
‘I love you. I don’t need anyone else.’
‘You so do Evan. You need your family, your friends.’
‘I think I made a mistake.’
I think I made a mistake.
I’m aware of a ceaseless pounding in my head as if someone has taken a jackhammer to
my skull, or has positioned one close to my skull and is having fun digging holes despite my
groans of displeasure. I can barely think. The pain is muffling my thoughts.
Addison. I manage to pluck my name from the cotton-ball cloud that is my memory. My
name is Addison.
I was at home. Warm, glowing from the heat of the fire in the hearth and Evan’s finger
lazily tracing a line over my bare stomach. I hear his words: Think how much easier it would
be if it was just you and me in the world, and I wonder what has he done?
I think I made a mistake.
I misread the situation.
No, I didn’t misread the situation. I ignored the gravity of it. I took it light-heartedly
because I didn’t want him to plunge into that darkness. Not with me, not if it meant spoiling
the moment. But Evan’s black musings should never be ignored. Something has happened,
something really, really bad, something we can’t come back from.
My eyes flicker open for the briefest of moments.
I’m outside. It’s dark, the sky above me is black and pebbles bruise my cheek. I don’t
know how I got here or where here is.
My mouth hurts. I want to reach up and touch what must be some kind of damage but I
can’t muster the strength to lift myself up and get my hands out from underneath me.
In the second or two my eyes were open I could see it was the dead of night. All around
me is a chilled lack of light. I am shivering and likely this is because heat has been stripped
out of the day along with the sun but also, I am in pain and quite likely going into shock.
Despite this revelation though, I’m unable to move, unable to claw my way beyond where I
lie like a broken doll, throbbing head and sore mouth and sharp things digging into my skin. I
am unable to cry out, can only make weak clicks from the back of my throat as if whatever I
have experienced has robbed me of my voice.
And what have I experienced? And what if it isn’t Evan’s doing?
I’ve no recollection of how I came to be lying here, can’t piece together the string of
activities which led me to this point. The last thing I remember is being at home with Evan.
It’s March, and he’s been working at The Harbour for exactly twelve months. I made him
shower as soon as he showed up. The smell of fish - even from a guy who’s been promoted
from pot wash to junior chef - is never an appealing one. And I like to watch the water
pummel his fair skin, bouncing off his washboard abs.
I unfold the towel and envelope him in it and he lifts me up and grins as he threatens to
shove me under the showerhead and turn on the spray.
‘Not fair,’ he kisses me instead and places me gently back down on the ground. ‘You get
to see me naked.’
‘All in good time.’
He was happy. At least I think he was happy. How had he seemed really? Distracted?
Something was on his mind. The gaping hole that swallows him up all too suddenly was
circling like a pack of shadowed wolves and I metaphorically closed my eyes to it, to the
darkness, to block it out.
One night; one night to enjoy him, to enjoy us, that’s all I wanted. Now I can see what I
chose to ignore, he was on the brink.
He was asking me, in his usual indirect way, to pull him back from a not too unfamiliar
edge. I failed him.
It should be March, but I don’t get the sense it is early spring cold. I get the sense it’s later
in the year and this disturbs me.
I am injured.
I’m outside when the last thing I remember is being at home. The last thing I remember is
closing the front door on Evan. His smile vanishing as he turns away from me and wanders
out towards the road, and I close the door and turn away, towards the staircase in my
Canterbury home.
The hall light is on and I’m warm and well and feeling loved. I well up with love, and
now, I’m here alone in the night.
I am alone in the night.
I can’t hear voices or footsteps. It is me and the pebbles and the salt-infused wind and the
jackhammer that won’t shut up.
It isn’t a jackhammer. It’s my blood rushing through my head. My brain is a ball of agony,
a pulsing, metallic orb. The pain is silvery and moves about. Behind my closed eyelids I see a
bright light, twin bright lights.
Headlights?
Did someone try to run me over?
Did they succeed?
Was I knocked off the road?
Who hurt me? Why would anyone want to hurt me?
I open my eyes again.
My ribs ache as I push my palms into the sea-smoothed pebbles and raise myself up in to a
weak press-up position - knees on the ground.
Stones stab into my knees, stab my palms. Not too far away from me is a large stone – or
small boulder. A dark, viscous substance stains one side. I wince as a lightning streak of pain
flashes behind my eyes. I screw them shut until it dims.
On all fours I peer ahead and see the rippling, moonlit surface of oil-black water. Rough
waves are washing up onto the shore which is not so far away from me; the cold spray hits
my face and wakes me up briefly. It isn’t enough to bring back my memory, my recollection
of how I got here. I am on a shingle beach with wooden groynes stepping into the water.
Behind me is a road and a grassy, tree covered rise on which sits several houses, their
windows dark except for the windows of one house. I catch a flicker of movement behind
glass.
Tankerton Slopes, I think. How did I get to Tankerton Slopes? Who brought me here?
Have I been held somewhere else?
Evan?
We said goodnight. Did he come back and surprise me with a trip to the coast, a romantic,
midnight excursion?
It must have gone horribly wrong.
Evan?
I thought I said his name out loud but now I’m not so sure.
The beach has no end in sight, stretching into impenetrable blackness on either side of me;
it stretches as far as I can see in the dark.
I was wrong. I’m not completely alone. A figure stands at the top of the beach, on the edge
of the Promenade. I watch as whoever it is waves at a car driving towards them, a police
patrol car with flashing blue and red lights, no siren. I hear the slam of the driver’s door, see a
second person, taller than the first, hitch up the waistband of trousers and swagger over to the
first.
My neck is stiff and my ribs and stomach hurt. I can feel an ache between my legs.
Sex, I’ve had sex.
A swell of panic overrides my senses and I begin to pant. I can’t get enough oxygen, or
perhaps I am getting too much. I have to regulate my breathing, suppress the panic before it
becomes a full blown anxiety attack.
But I can’t remember. I can’t remember that happening. Not if I’ve been held somewhere.
Please god, say it was with Evan. Say I haven’t been ra-
‘Addison? Addison?’
It is the driver of the police car – a man – his voice carried to me on the wind. It has a
muffled quality, as if the words are broken up like insubstantial clouds, torn apart and tossed
across the sky. His voice is torn apart and tossed haphazardly about the beach, part of words
reaching me and yet I get enough to put the whole of what he says together.
‘Addison? It’s the police. Constable Brandon Weiss, ma’am. Hold still, help’s coming.’
‘Addison,’ a woman now, the one who caught the attention of Officer Weiss, drops to her
knees beside me. ‘It’s me, Louise.’
I feel a pressure on my back, gentle but insistent. Police Constable Brandon Weiss is
pressing me back down onto the pebbles, helping me to turn over so that I’m lying down. He
removes his jacket and hastily folds it, placing the makeshift pillow under my head. It doesn’t
stop the pebbles and shells digging into my back though.
‘You shouldn’t move too much,’ Louise says.
She sounds like she knows me, but the woman is unfamiliar. She has chin-length wavy
hair, apricot blonde, and a round face and eyes that are too large. Wide, nervous wide as if
she is not used to finding battered women on beaches.
Or maybe she has seen something that has terrified her.
‘You fell down the steps,’ she informs me. ‘I saw you run out your house and trip down
the steps. Someone was chasing you. He chased you out here and hit you, I think with a rock
or something.’
That explains the thumping head.
Fell down the steps.
I came out of a house and fell down the steps, (the house with the lights on? Must be
where I was being kept). I was being held in a house and I escaped. I was chased on to the
beach.
‘Evan?’ I croak, and I watch Weiss turn his head to look up the slope to the property with
it lights blazing.
The house is backed by thick woodland, and I know there are a cluster of pretty painted
beach huts somewhere to the east.
I look back to the house Weiss is staring at. A dark form stands in an open doorway
leading out onto a veranda, a spectator perhaps, or the person who held me captive?
‘Evan,’ my voice is raspy, barely there.
He must be frantic with worry. So frantic he would hurt himself?
My throat is dry. I’m parched. My head thuds and I’m dizzy, to the point I think I’m going
to throw up. I manage to keep whatever is in my stomach down – it helps to close my eyes –
to close my eyes and let the cold, salty wind blow over me.
I can hear the sea as it washes up on to the shore. A soft, sibilant shush sound as if nature
is urging me to be quiet.
I am relaxed, the pain I felt earlier diminishes into a warm fuzz I can cope with because
my mind is floating off up into the star-speckled sky like a helium balloon cut from its string,
floating up and away and with it my image of his face, Evan’s sweet face, features softened
by his beautiful smile until only his words remain, words that are torn up, and scattered
about, in a reversal of Weiss’s wind-tangled words from earlier.
 Think how much easier it would be if it was just you and me in the world.
… I think I made a mistake.

You can check out Heidi Cieciura's official author website
Her blog: Holding up the Mirror
Or contact her on twitter @heidicieciura

You can sign up for Heidi’s mailing list to be alerted of updates and receive a free DI Jesse
Rider novella entitled Butterfly. Just click here

You can email Heidi at heidi.cieciura.author@gmail.com

Lara Nance Day 3




Here's what some other reviews have to say about God's Tribe  
(from a couple reviewers over at Reader's Favorite)


03/14/2016

Review Rating: 5 stars!

Reviewed by  for Readers' Favorite

God’s Tribe by L.J. Nance is, as the subtitle aptly suggests, a dystopian tale of redemption, a thrilling read that will mesmerize readers. A story that starts with someone sleeping in a tree already holds huge promise of surprising treats to the reader. Paul is trying to stay alive after the country has been ravaged and reduced to dust by war, when he meets Rebecca, a woman of faith and mysterious powers belonging to the Believer Tribe. She becomes his only hope for survival and healing. Rebecca might have followed the path of faith, and extended goodness and spiritual healing to the broken man, but how about the path of her heart, a lonely heart that throbs powerfully for Paul?

God’s Tribe is an interesting story of love and healing and a connection beyond the physical, a story that will entertain and soothe readers at the same time. In the heart of the story is the powerful message that there is hope in every dismal situation. The pace is fast, and readers are immediately drawn in by the opening scenes and will want to know who the characters are and what becomes of them. Nance’s writing is crisp, peppered with vivid descriptions that add immense beauty to the story without slowing it down in any way. The author has created characters that readers will love dearly, both wounded in some way and allowing the vulnerability of others to lead them towards the path of healing, compassion, and love. A book to be read, re-read, and shared with loved ones, an enriching tale of love, hope, and salvation!


*************************

03/13/2016 

Review Rating: 5 stars!   

Reviewed By Tracy Slowiak for Readers’ Favorite

In a great new work of Christian fiction by author L.J. Nance, readers will be treated to a story that 
is in turns disturbing and uplifting. God's Tribe follows the story of Paul, a scavenger living in a 
nearly post-apocalyptic world, as he is rescued by Rebecca, a member of the Believer tribe. Paul 
needs rescuing in ways that are more than just physical; he needs healing of the soul as well. 
Rebecca finds herself with strong feelings for this relative stranger, but she is unsure if she is strong 
enough to be able to lead him on the right path, of following the truth of the Gospel and towards 
God. Will she and the Believers be able to show Paul the Way? Or will his ideas threaten their very 
way of life? You'll need to read the book to find out.

I very much enjoyed God's Tribe. Author L.J. Nance has done a great job in creating characters that 
readers will be able to connect with, will care about, and will continue to think of long after the last 
page has been read. If that isn't a hallmark of a great author, I'm not sure what is. The Christian 
message of the story is up front and is presented in an exciting and thrilling format. Any reader who 
enjoys Christian fiction or stories with a dystopian feel should absolutely read this book. I am 

pleased to recommend God's Tribe and look forward to reading more from author L.J. Nance!

3/22/16

Heidi Cieciura Day 2



Highlight The Obsidian (Book 2 in the Hunter Series)
Title: The Obsidian
Author: Heidi Cieciura
Genres: Thriller, supernatural, crime, suspense, mystery, horror
Available as an eBook for Kindle

Synopsis:
Death doesn’t have to be the end, but it probably should be.

HE THOUGHT HE KNEW WHO HE WAS, HE'S ABOUT TO FIND OUT IT'S ALL A
LIE.

You are invited to The Obsidian Hotel, an art deco leviathan which sits abandoned on a
remote island. Many secrets lay buried within its decaying rooms and at the bottom of the
treacherous waters which block it from the mainland. For Hunter Cade, the invitation comes
too late. He's already there, so can't decline. When he wakes up inside The Obsidian Hotel
after being attacked, he has no idea what torments lay ahead. And when it quickly becomes
clear he is not alone, determining friend from foe becomes a life or death mission. Because as
well as secrets, the hotel has ghosts, hundreds of them. And for a man like Hunter, a place
like The Obsidian could very well be his undoing. Forced to take part in a twisted treasure
hunt, can the captives unravel the truth before they are added to the permanent guest list?
The sequel to AFFLICTION, THE OBSIDIAN is a creepy supernatural crime thriller. Fast
paced, intricately plotted, dark and twisted, a true nightmare.

Buy from Amazon

Excerpt
Despite the night storm having ceased battering the boats moored at Redcliffe, and the
warehouses looming on the quay side, the sky was a roiling mass of ugly cloud, the ground
darkened by rainfall. Hunter zipped up his jacket, stuffing his hands into his pockets to
prevent the chilled wind making him any colder. He couldn’t help thinking about what Thalia
had said. You have this air about you. Hurt little orphan boy. But there’s also something
deeper, something darker.
It was impossible for him to forget what he had come close to doing five months ago, what
he had almost become.
A killer. You almost became a killer.
Hunter had always thought of himself as gentle, as peace loving, although he could fight
for survival for sure if he had to.
He’d boxed as a young boy, and fitness was important to him, he could physically defend
himself if the need arose and he kept telling himself - lying to himself - that the situation had
called for the degree of violence he had meted out in order for him to survive, but in reality i
had been the red veil swooping down to surround him, a door opening within him which had
been like a switch to change his character on and off.
He had been able to flip the switch, thank god, had been able to return to the man he
believed he was.
The gold half-heart key ring he owned, the other half in a police evidence locker, helped
him to stay anchored, but something of that moment remained. A sense that as much as he
was learning control was a quality he could possess, something deeper, something darker had
been let loose with the opening of that door. The monster lying dormant in a cave with a red
pool was now awake, very awake, and hungry.
Freak Land was a cocktail bar on College Green. At midday it was closed, the front doors
bolted shut, the view through any of the three double-width windows an empty bar and arch
through which an inquisitive bystander could just make out a stationary circus hoop hanging
from the ceiling in the inner sanctum.
Hunter let himself in through the private side door.
At the end of the short, dark corridor were stone stairs leading up to the residential floor
and down to the cellar. Halfway between the street entrance and the stairs, on the right hand
side, was a door opening into the area behind the bar. Hunter helped himself to a shot of
Heaven Hill, savouring the scent of oak and vanilla. The bourbon slid smoothly down his
throat and on finishing, he quickly poured himself a second shot.
‘Hunt!’
Before he could slip through the hinged flap in the countertop and enter the large square
customer area with velvet wing-back chairs and sofas, some purple, some fuchsia, and a large
Vaudeville sign with bulbs un-illuminated at that hour, Marco Flight appeared through the
smaller arch which took patrons down to the restrooms.
‘You sacked the cleaner again?’ Hunter drawled, holding his drink up to the dim light
reaching through the windows.
‘Do you think I’d be cleaning toilets in this suit?’ his friend and literary agent gestured at
his black Armani trousers and jacket. Beneath the jacket he wore a white shirt open at the
collar.
Marco was always well dressed, smartly dressed, unlike Hunter who tried never to wear a
suit if he could help it.
‘What are we celebrating?’ Marco took up a stool at the bar. He had let his dark curls grow
a few inches longer and was sporting some designer facial hair. A thin, dark strip lined
 his upper lip; the lower part of his jaw accented by painstakingly trimmed beard, his chin
concealed by a black triangle. It looked like a symbol the lead character in a Dan Brown
novel might try to decode.
‘The book launch.’ Hunter scrubbed at his own stubble, the result of simply not bothering
to shave for a day.
‘Ah, the book launch, didn’t you already celebrate that with the blonde you took home last
night?’
‘I feel used,’ Hunter grabbed a second glass and splashed an ample amount of Heaven Hill
into it, placing it with the ease of a seasoned bartender on top of the counter.
‘Again?’ Marco took the drink. ‘Did my eyes deceive me? It definitely didn’t look like
Charlene.
‘It surprises you someone else can use me?’
‘Not really. Not at the moment. You give off this aura. It’s like you want to be used.
You’re not looking for anything longstanding right now, are you?’
‘No. But this woman, Thalia, put it quite bluntly that she wasn’t either. I was a lay,
nothing more. I’m not sure how I feel about that. How I ought to feel about it.’
‘Man, you really do think too much. Stop over analysing every little thing you do or say,
or that someone else does or says to you.’
‘I’m a writer. I analyse everything.’
‘You’re a prat.’
‘I knew I could count on you not to salve my battered ego.’
‘That’s what I’m here for,’ Marco beamed.
Hunter moved over to one of the wing-back armchairs. ‘Aren’t we due a delivery
tomorrow?’ he said as a large white van pulled up onto the kerb outside.
‘It’s not from the usual place. Though I wasn’t expecting the guy right now,’ Marco
slinked behind the bar.
‘Better not be dodgy,’ Hunter warned.
‘Some bar’s going bust. The guy’s trying to recoup some of his losses before it all blows
up in his face. It’s legit. And a bloody good deal. Gonna save us shit loads.’
‘You’ve always been so much better at the business stuff.’
‘Sure. That’s because I’m not an antisocial freak.’
‘I’m not antisocial.’
‘Yeah, I know. You’re a writer.’
Marco disappeared through the staff door into the utility corridor and Hunter sipped his
drink, watching through the plate-glass window as the driver, dressed in black clothes with
black boots and a black baseball cap pulled down low, exited the van. He slid the side panel
door open and removed several boxes one at a time which he stacked onto a manual handling
trolley. He pushed the trolley through the door. Hunter could hear the wheels trundling along
the cement floor.
The rush of getting the book ready for publication gave you a distraction, now you’ve got
time to think. Marco’s right, thinking isn’t always beneficial.
But if Hunter really believed that, he wouldn’t be sat in his cocktail bar sipping away his
profits, he’d be taking Thalia out for lunch, considering the possibility of getting to know her
better, really getting to know her better, not only her preference for mint mojitos and early
morning sex, but what her favourite colour was, her favourite flower, where she went to
school, what her aspirations are.
The sharp sound of glass bottles smashing made Hunter sit up straight; he lowered the
tumbler and listened.
In his chest, his heart thudded. His breath caught. He was reminded of another situation
when a loud crash alerted him to an unwelcome presence in a friend’s house.
See, still on edge. The guy dropped a box of cheap house wine or something. No one’s
being attacked.
All the same, he placed the tumbler on the table and made his way behind the bar.
‘Marco?’ Hunter entered the dim corridor. ‘Everything peachy?’
The door to the street was wide open. A cold breeze had blown a few stray, dead leaves
over the threshold.
The white van stood partially up on the kerb; at the top of the steps down to the cellar
stood the upright trolley. A single box remained on the base plate.
‘Marco! Answer me you shit! This isn’t funny!’
Hunter slowly inched his way down the stairs, stopping midway.
You’re being stupid. Nothing’s happened to Marco. Nothing’s happened to the delivery
driver. Somebody dropped a box, that’s all.
And even when he saw Marco sprawled out on the cellar floor, a pool of burgundy liquid
and broken green glass littering the flagstones, Hunter supposed he was being foolish. Then
his attention turned to the back of Marco’s head where his hair was matted with a sticky red
substance.
Blood!
But before his thoughts could catch up with what his eyes were seeing, an arm appeared
around Hunter’s neck, pressing against his throat and yanking him backwards.
A plastic mask clamped over his nose and mouth.
His mind swarmed with dizzying thoughts:
You almost killed a man. That man wants revenge.
Marco. He’s hurt, unconscious even. What if he’s dead?
Fight, for heaven’s sake. You haven’t got this far to let it end in your storage cellar.
Mila.
Hunter jerked forward, then backwards, trying to throw his assailant off balance, all the
time breathing deeply, taking great breaths to give himself the oxygen to fuel his fight.
But it wasn’t oxygen he was inhaling.
A substance was pumping through the mask, an inhalable substance which caused his
tongue to tingle and his brain to quickly become less effective.
His thoughts, though previously coming in quick succession, had still been coherent. Fully
formed, shaped by his desire to escape and his fear over the state of his friend’s health.
As he struggled to breathe inside the plastic mask, as oxygen in his lungs became replaced
by whatever gas was expelled into the facial covering, his ability to think clearly was
subdued.
Mila.
Marco.
Out.
Gone.
Hunter stopped battling, relinquishing himself to the sudden overwhelming urge to close
his eyes. Relax.
Sorry.
His body went slack. He relaxed back, into his attacker, and felt himself being gently laid
down before everything went black.

You can check out Heidi Cieciura's official author website
Her blog: Holding up the Mirror
Or contact her on twitter @heidicieciura

You can sign up for Heidi’s mailing list to be alerted of updates and receive a free DI Jesse
Rider novella entitled Butterfly. Just click here
You can email Heidi at heidi.cieciura.author@gmail.com

Lara Nance Day 2



Lara Nance  - Bio

      I grew up in the south, where iced tea is always sweet and BBQ is a religion. I went from
reading every horse story in the world, to Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer, and then on to mysteries
and sci-fi/fantasy.
   
     About 1986, I wrote my first novel (Star Trek fan fiction.) Not having a computer back in those
days, I wrote the whole thing in a notebook with a pencil. When it was complete, I knew I was
hooked, because I'd never stuck with any of my artistic hobbies as long as I did writing that book.

      So, I wrote another story (fantasy this time), and next, a thriller. Then I went through, well,
LIFE, that included three marriages, eight geographic moves, and changing careers from being a
marketing manager to a nurse practitioner, which required going back to college to get a masters
in nursing.

      Finally, in 2008, my writing mojo returned and I decided to pursue publishing. After many
long hours of learning and giving up all pretense of outside fun, I moved into the ranks of
published authors.

      My first published novel, Memories of Murder, won several awards in 2012 and continues to
receive wonderful reviews (I LOVE that story!!) The first book in my Draculaville series won the
Rudy Award for best novel with romantic elements in 2013. I am blessed.

      I've now published more than a dozen books and short stories and am thrilled to be able to
share my love of adventure, sci-fi/fantasy, romance and mystery with my wonderful readers. Yes,
I write in different genres, but the basis of all my tales is my attempt to entertain you.

      Until the wind changes, I'm living on my sailboat in Florida with my husband, Joe, and our
two Yorkies, Belle and Bruno.



3/21/16

Lara Nance Day 1

Welcome to Julie's Book Review.   Here is our interview with Lara Nance.  
We hope you enjoy learning about a 'new to you' author or learning more about her 
if she is an author you already know and love.

First why don't you tell us a little about yourself?

I have been writing for about 30 years, but I wasn’t serious about being published 
until about 2008. Since then, I’ve published 17 novels, some short stories and 
novellas. Originally, I was published with a small press, but now I self-publish all 
my books. I love the freedom and control to produce a quality product that self-
publishing gives me.

My stories range from romance to science-fiction, with a few mysteries and 
fantasies for good measure. I write what I like to read, so when I have an 
interesting idea, I write the tale no matter what genre.

Newest release?

My newest release is a completely new direction for me. God’s Tribe is a YA 
Christian dystopian story. I wrote it at a time when my father was declining and I 
was exploring issues of my own spirituality. This novel poured out of me in two 
months as if the words were already decided and I just wrote them down. For me 
it was a gift from God to help me deal with the grief of my father passing. Of 
course since I wrote it, there had to be some speculative features, hence the 
futuristic, dystopian setting. It’s the journey of two young people in a world 
destroyed by war, where tribes fight and struggle to survive. Finding spirituality in 
such a place takes a lot of faith that these two characters fight to obtain. I call it a 
PG-Mad Max vs Divergent with a Christian theme, if you can imagine that!

What can we expect from your stories, action, drama, romance, sex, blood and 
guts? 

Mostly I try to write an entertaining tale that involves interesting characters facing 
conflicts that help them grow and discover their true essence. I’ve addressed 
some issues that are important to me, like misunderstandings about depression, 
women’s rights, and diversity through the fiction of the stories. It’s different in 
each novel.

Do you have a favorite character in your stories? Who? and Why?

My favorite is always my character Lady Arabella Trunkett in my steampunk 
series, Airship Adventure Chronicles. She’s feisty and resourceful, but not always 
sure of her feelings. Much like many of us. LOL. I love that she faces adversity 
and fights for those who need help. She’s also extremely loyal. With all that she 
has a lot of fun in those books, riding on airships and defeating dastardly villains. 

Give us an interesting fun fact or a few about your book or series: 

I wrote 50,000 words of God’s Tribe in January of 2016. It’s the most I’ve ever written in that 
space of time. It was especially meaningful as I wrote it as my husband and I 
sailed our boat down the Intracoastal Waterway from Norfolk to Florida. So, we’d 
travel by day, check into a marina at night and I’d write like crazy. I’d finished by 
the time we reached South Carolina actually.

Has there been any other authors who have inspired your work or helped you out 
with your stories? 

My favorites are: Anne McAffrey, Georgette Heyer, Frank 
Herbert, Jane Austin, George R.R. Martin, and David Baldacci. Quite a mix, 
right? I read in a a lot of genres, so that has influenced my writing.

What can readers who enjoy your book do to help make it successful? 

Writing reviews on Amazon is the biggest help to authors. Amazon makes a lot of 
decisions about the visibility of their books based on reviews. It’s helps to spread 
word of mouth praise to friends also.

Do you have any tips for readers or advice for other writers trying to get 
published? 

For writers, I’d say write for yourself first. Write what you like. Take 
every opportunity to learn and polish your craft. I’m still learning. Accept criticism 
gracefully, some of it may help you become better. 

Do you have a favorite author? If yes, what draws you to that person’s work?

I’ve always said Dune is my favorite book. I love that Frank Herbert wrote that 
futuristic tale so long ago. It was genius. Those characters are timeless. 

Can you remember one of the first things you wrote? What makes it memorable? 

The first book I wrote was when I had taken a new job in Birmingham, AL back in 
the 80’s. I was alone in a new city and a bit depressed. To keep occupied I read 
a lot of StarTrek novels. After a while, I decided I could write one myself, so I did. 
It was all hand written in pencil on notebook paper as I didn’t have a computer 
back then. That was the beginning and helped me make it through a difficult time.

Where do you gather most of the inspiration for your work?

Ideas come to me in a variety of ways. I’ll read a news story that’s interesting or 
read about a mysterious place that I find intriguing. I also like to look at conflicts 
between people or dichotomies and write stories around them. 
My last book, God’s Tribe, came from deep discussions my brother and I were 
having at the time our father was declining. We’d had a lot of spiritual crises as 
we grew up in a household with a minister for a father. This book is a catharsis of 
finding one’s way despite the odds.

Do you have any other interesting hobbies, pets or stories you would like to share?

As I said earlier, My husband and I live on our sailboat, Fantasy, and are 
cruising. We both left our jobs last October and set out on this adventure. I was a 
nurse practitioner before that. We’re in Florida right now, but not forever. I love to 
cook and read when I’m not writing. I also rehab dolls and put videos of that 
process on YouTube. I sell the finished dolls on Etsy. So, I’m pretty busy despite
being semi-retired.
We have two Yorkies, Belle and Bruno who are our babies and rule the roost. 

Favorite places to travel or visit? 

We love the BVI’s. But anywhere there’s a beach is fine.

And now, before you go, how about a snippet from your book that is meant to 
intrigue and tantalize us:( Include links to were we can find your work)

Okay, this section is from the beginning of God’s Tribe. It’s when Paul and Becca first meet:
Paul untied the strip of blanket that kept him warm and from falling out of the tree while asleep. 
He shoved it into his pack and yawned. The pink of dawn faded to a gray overcast sky that threatened rain. He could smell it in the air. He’d need to find a better shelter. 
A crunch of leaves on the ground warned him someone or something approached, and his senses 
pulsed to high alert. He squatted on the balls of his feet, ready to leap and run. With one hand resting on the trunk, he grasped his pack with the other, muscles bunched as he crouched on a large branch. The cover of leaves from the great old oak hid all but glimpses of the surrounding area as a soft breeze stirred the foliage about. 
“Hey, are you okay?” A female voice from behind him at the foot of the oak nearly made him 
fall off the branch. 
He gripped an overhanging limb to steady his balance, his heart hammering in his chest.
“What are you doing up there, sleeping?” A girl, probably in her upper teens, stared at him with 
big brown eyes. She wore black leggings, short boots and an olive green coat that came to her thighs. 
Her long black hair was pulled into a ponytail and hung to her waist. She moved closer to the trunk, and her gaze ran over him—assessing.
“Go away,” he said in a sharp voice. Was she crazy being out here alone?
“Why?” She placed a hand on the wide trunk, tilting her head to get a better view of him. In her 
other hand, she held a walking stick about six feet long. Her clothes were worn but clean, not like 
people from the Block.
Confusion clouded his thoughts for a moment. He didn’t know how to respond. What was she 
doing out here by herself anyway? She could be killed by one of the crud-filled tribes. Maybe she had others near, and they would attack him. He climbed to a higher branch, straining his neck to peer 
around.
“My name’s Rebecca. My friends call me Becca, though.” She hesitated, watching him for a few 
moments, then caught hold of a lower branch and swung up to sit on it. She moved gracefully, strong 
and sure of her actions. “I always thought of this as my tree. I come here a lot in the mornings before 
the dark tribes are out. I like to sit here and think. It’s a great place for that; don’t you agree? Calm and peaceful with the wind making the limbs creak and the leaves rustle.”
He’d never seen anyone like this girl. Everyone he met was afraid, scrounging for food and 
shelter, fighting over scraps of clothing. Belonging to a tribe gave some protection, but they also had 
too many rules, and for most, their members were more like slaves. Yet, this Rebecca walked around 
by herself as confident as if she had a hundred bodyguards. He peered through the branches. She had to have others with her, maybe acting as a decoy to lure him out.

The link to buy this novel on Amazon is:
http://www.amazon.com/Gods-Tribe-dystopian-tale-redemption-
ebook/dp/B01CKEZ1Y8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1457882670&sr=8-
1&keywords=God%27s+Tribe

Heidi Cieciura Day 1



Highlight Affliction (Book 1 in the Hunter Series)

Title: Affliction

Author: Heidi Cieciura

Genres: Serial killer thriller, supernatural, crime, suspense

Available as an eBook for Kindle

Synopsis:

WHAT IF THE ONE ASPECT ABOUT YOURSELF YOU HATED WAS THE ONE
THING THAT COULD BRING YOU PEACE?
Hunter Cade is a hawk among blind birds… a visionary. He doesn't like to use the term
psychic, but there aren't many better ways to describe what he can do. His lover has been
missing for a year and a brutal serial killer targeting young men could be linked to her
disappearance. Hunter doesn't want to use his affliction, he'd rather forget it exists, but with
the detective investigating the killings taking an unhealthy interest in him, Hunter has to use
whatever resources available to him to finally bring about some peace.
The first in a series of psychological crime novels with dark sexual undertones, featuring
novelist Hunter Cade and Detective Inspector Jesse Rider, Affliction is a story of love turned
bad, and love transcending death.

Buy from Amazon

Excerpt:
The blowfly darts between oaks and hazels standing sentry in the shadowy wood. She
manoeuvres around their trunks, avoids their low branches with young leaves and sails over
the tops of bramble bushes both dense and prickly. Her transparent wings, threaded with
light brown veins, carry her closer to the scent she seeks – nothing more than the action of
bacteria on dead tissue, but to her the odour signifies life.
Blue-bodied, iridescent as carnival glass, she flits through the early morning light,
guided by the smell. A stone circle, the remnants of a fire inside still smouldering, beer
bottles, the ends of hand rolled cigarettes, snack food wrappers littered about, become a
memory as she moves quickly through the shadows.
A rabbit shoots out of the leaf cover.
Short brown fur as soft as velvet covers a lightweight body. Large black eyes are wide
and fearful. The rabbit is startled out of hiding by the loud crack of twigs snapping. But this
indication of something large travelling through the woods doesn’t bother the blowfly. The
magnetising scent lures her, overriding fear.
The rabbit and its alarmed journey across her path, and those sounds that do not belong,
are quickly forgotten. The bluebottle moves with speed and focused energy toward her goal,
wood garlic and the earthy-green bouquets of bark and moss have nothing on the fragrant
trail she follows.

Suddenly bird wings crack the air like gunfire, and echo around the trees until the sound
dissipates. Something startles the inhabitants but she is not disturbed. Her buzz is constant, a
comforting vibration. Rapid wings carry her forward and, ah, now she is rewarded.
It lies like abandoned statuary half inside a clump of brambles. Nearby, rising from the
earth with roots gnarled and twisted, is the lichen-coated trunk of an old oak tree. The
bluebottle is probably the first to arrive, but there will be many more of her ilk arriving soon;
this cadaver is large, as big as a deer but not the right shape. It resembles the large
lumbering two-legged things that swat at her, trying to chase her away - or destroy her. But
this one is still - very still, and she recognises the smell and what it signifies. She is safe here;
this one at least will not try to harm her.
Her tiny body hurtles down through the crisp morning air like a bullet.
She lands on the cold skin covering the zygomatic arch, walks over the curve of the
cheek, down the gentle slope to where the mouth is partially open like the narrow entrance to
a cave. The bristles on her black legs stick to blood still very red as she slips between parted
lips, between teeth. Her goal is to oviposit; the mass of yellow eggs add up to several
hundred and coat the inside of the throat and base of the tongue, a warm incubator in which
her children can develop.
When the blowfly has completed her task, she crawls back out through the cavern-like
mouth, pulling her legs free from the blood once more as she samples the air before taking
flight.

You can check out Heidi Cieciura's official author website by clicking here
Her blog: Holding up the Mirror
Or contact her on twitter @heidicieciura

You can sign up for Heidi’s mailing list to be alerted of updates and receive a free DI Jesse
Rider novella entitled Butterfly. Just click here

You can email Heidi at heidi.cieciura.author@gmail.com

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