Happy Release Day, Kristin Clark!Title: The Chosen (The Chosen Trilogy, Bk 1) Written by: Kristin Clark Published with: Siren Press Publishing Chloe Caledone is counting down the days until high school graduation, ready for the day she can finally escape her boring small town and experience the world she’s only seen through other people’s eyes. So far, Chloe’s teenage years have been good but boring, and she’s managed to go through life unnoticed—until the morning of her eighteenth birthday. One fateful birthday gift and a run in with a group of the school’s most popular kids later, Chloe finds that her small town life is anything but boring, and her destiny just got a whole lot more dangerous than she’d ever imagined. The descendant of the most powerful magical bloodline in history, Chloe has been Chosen. Together with her new friends, Chloe will find everything she thought she knew turned upside down in the wake of secrets, lies, and an unanticipated love triangle, all while she and five others descendants of the original Chosen fight to destroy a dark and powerful immortal—who has his eye set directly on Chloe.Available exclusively with Amazon BUY HERE for 99¢This isn’t how I expected death to be. I imagined it cold, dark, and lonely. This is nothing of that sort. It is warm and light. I feel everything except alone. I feel brave and strong. And loved. The only pain I feel is seeing the one I love so much hurting right now. I did what I came here to do, and now it’s over. I was chosen. Chosen to make a choice. A choice to live and a choice to die. I chose death, and dying in the arms of the man I love is peaceful. If my own life must be given in place of the lives of others, then I shall give it away. I’ll leave a memory with everyone I’ve touched. I will remember all the time we spent together. My only hope is that his memory of me is as beautiful as my memory of him. I struggle to open my eyes, knowing what I see will shatter the dream that I want to remember when I die. Slowly I flutter my eyelids, seeing nothing except a blur through tears and blood. Focusing, I see my medallion, dangling empty of the fire it once held around my neck. It now drips crimson droplets, staining the ground on which I lie. I cringe and curl my fingers around the ancient chain, accepting it for what it is. I am gone, and with my life, the fire goes out. “Chloe, can you hear me? Chloe. Chloe! Come on, baby, open your eyes, please. Please, open your eyes. You can’t go yet. I have so much to tell you. Come on, Chloe, please wake up. God, there is so much blood. This is all my fault. I am so sorry, baby. I’m here, Chloe. I won’t let you go; I won’t do it. I will trade places with you, my love.” His voice is the sound of an angel, my angel. He is my reason for living. He gave me hope in my lonely, obsolete world, hope that I could fall in love and that someone could love me back no matter our differences or how absolutely normal I am … was. I can hear him and want so badly to answer him. I want to call his name. To tell him I am here. It will be okay. Painfully, though, I can’t. Instead, I drift farther and farther away, dreaming about the time we had together, reminiscing about the not so long ago memories of falling in love with not just him, but with five other of my dearest and closest friends. It is almost unbelievable … Hell, it is unbelievable that just a few weeks ago, I was just me. Plain, average, old-souled me. Now here I am, after finding out that I’m descended from a powerful bloodline said to be undefeatable, lying on the ground, defeated, while my soul drifts toward the light of death. Content as I am, with a smile on my face, I say good-bye. You never know where life is going to take you. I know now what I was brought into this world to do. What I was created for. What I was chosen for. Meet The AuthorKristin is an avid reader and has been writing stories for as long as she can remember. Her three daughters inherited her creative mind, leaving no day uneventful. She has been a Litigation Paralegal since she graduated college and is beginning a new journey as a Realtor. When she isn’t working, carting her girls around to softball, or writing, she is snuggled up with a good book and a huge Dunkin Donuts coffee.
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Historical Fantasy/Mythical Realism
Date Published: November 20, 2018
Publisher: Afrocentric Books | Mugwump Press
Amina is heir apparent to the throne of Zazzau and must prove she is worthy of the crown. As foreign invaders close in on them, she is all that stands between her people and destruction. Caught in a web of prophecies, she must defend Zazzau, but cannot do so if she wants to prevent the future that was foretold. She did not seek war yet it finds her. Unwilling to be the plaything of gods or men and determined to take control of her own destiny, she tracks down the god of war himself. But has her destiny already been written? Can she choose her own fate? And can she protect her kingdom, no matter what price she must ultimately pay? Because, gods always want something in return.
Queen of Zazzau is an Historical Fantasy that takes place in precolonial West Africa. It chronicles the life of one of the most famous W. African queens, Amina of Zazzau (or Zaria). At 139,000 words, the novel features several W. African historical figures and a pantheon of W. African gods. The story is told in first-person and gives the reader an intimate look at some of the lifestyles and cultures--many of which are still alive today--of medieval W. Africa.
Excerpt
I dreamed. Not a dream of laughing brooks and water spirits; I dreamed of an empty plain. I stood in the field, yellow-green savanna grass swaying in the wind. As its soft whistle grew to a roar, the grass whipped my legs violently. But it wasn’t the wind roaring; it was men. Hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands suddenly surrounded me. Each man fought the other with murder in his eyes.
My uncle was among them. Sword in hand, he lunged at the nearest half-naked man and brought down his blade, cutting into the other man’s shoulder. His enemy howled in pain but did not fall. The soldier rushed forward, still howling, pushing the sword deeper into his own flesh, and stabbed at Karama with a long-knife. Karama swept the knife away with a braceleted wrist. Then his wrist came down on the howling man’s head, burying the raised, serrated edge of a war bracelet in his skull.
Dislodging his bracelet, my uncle pushed the corpse off his blade. He turned and saw me. Our eyes locked for only a moment before a spear sprouted from his chest. Screaming, I ran to him but was buffeted by a sea of men. The faster I tried to run, the farther away my uncle was.
“Uncle,” I cried. “No!” But the wave of men pushed me to the ground. Curling into a ball, I tucked my head under my arms, closed my eyes, and screamed as the men stampeded over me.
Silence.
I opened my eyes, confused, sweat slick on my brow, tears still damp on my cheeks. The men were gone, but I could hear their cries. Climbing to my feet, I scanned the vast savanna ocean. A mud altar that hadn’t been there before now stood beside me. Blood spilled from the edges of the altar like melting wax. The men’s cries came from the structure. From the thousands of tiny figures piled upon it. At first, I thought they were living dolls, but they were the miniaturized bodies of men suffering myriad violent deaths. These were the casualties of war.
I stared at the mangled bodies, some of which were writhing in pain, and somehow knew these men had died—were dying—in the battle many leagues away. Frantic and nearly petrified by what I might find, I searched for my uncle among the bodies. There were so many Zazzagawa and Kwararafa mingled in the pile; I couldn’t tell one fallen soldier from another.
Wringing my hands, I backed away and reminded myself not to let fear subdue me, but terror pounded in my chest. The stink of death hung over the altar like a horrible fog that choked my lungs. Retreating from it, I came up against something hot and solid.
I froze.
The thing behind me shifted. It spoke.
“Look upon Death, Beloved. And know it for what it is.”
I spun around, stumbling backward, to find myself staring at the chest of a very tall man. Still trying but failing to fully master my fear, I took another backward step and looked up at who stood before me.
Towering over seven feet, the man had skin like polished ebony. He wore a vivid red and gold kilt that hung to just above his knees and a black cloak so long it brushed the ground. Black leather bracers with gold clasps covered his forearms. The open cloak was slung back over his shoulders, exposing a lean, powerful torso that rippled with muscle under smooth, dark skin.
I followed the contours of his chest, his long neck, a proud jawline. Save for the pointed tuft of hair on his chin and the thick, black eyebrows, his face and head were bald. His gaze was not upon me, his chin raised, so I could not see his eyes. I didn’t need to see them. I knew that once he looked at me, I’d be staring into the roiling red eyes of War.
About the Author
J.S. Emuakpor was born and raised in West Africa. She is a married mother of four, a scientist, and owner of Afrocentric Books. She currently lives in North Carolina and is very much allergic to it. Most of her writing draws upon the spiritual beliefs of the ancestors who frequently whisper in her ear and on the superstitions that she refuses to relinquish.
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Little Drops of Sunshine Pre-Order Blitz with USA Today Bestselling Author, Staci Stallings11/20/2018 Blurb: First love is seldom as easy as everyone makes it sound. Lauren Miller wants to fall in love. She has dreamed of falling in love. But watching her very best friend fall in love with the man of her dreams and then have her heart shattered into a gazillion pieces has made Lauren question if this whole love thing is even worth it. When Wes Conway, a guy who teases her constantly and thinks of her as not much more than a little sister, starts popping up in her life, Lauren is sure she knows what his intentions are where she’s concerned—and they are definitely not the romantic kind. But how does a girl keep her heart from falling for a guy who is so intent on protecting her and being there for her no matter what? Wes Conway’s life has been no fairy tale, and finally graduating from high school hasn’t changed that. Stuck working to make ends meet while all of his friends go off to college, Wes doesn’t see his life getting any better any time soon. Then, he starts hanging out with Lauren Miller, a high school junior. Thanks to the differences in their ages, Wes knows Lauren is too young for him to even think about dating. Unfortunately, she’s cute, funny, and impossible to not want to be around. But Wes can’t fall in love with her. He just can’t… From USAToday Best Selling Christian Romance author, Staci Stallings, comes the third book in The Imagination Series, LITTLE DROPS OF SUNSHINE. Fraught with the trials and turmoil of young love, The Imagination Series will give Christian romance readers the emotional ride of a lifetime. These young adults trying to figure out life and love will have you cheering, laughing, and crying as they traverse what it means to be friends and maybe even more. Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42100031-little-drops-of-sunshine Author Bio: A USA Today Best Selling Author and stay-at-home mom, Staci Stallings has a husband, three kids and a writing addiction on the side. Stallings offers numerous titles for readers to choose from. Not content to stay in one genre and write it to death, Staci’s stories run the gamut from young adult to adult, from motivational and inspirational to full-out Christian and back again. Every title is a new adventure! That’s what keeps Staci writing and you reading. Although she lives in Amarillo, Texas and her main career right now is her family, Staci touches the lives of people across the globe with her various Internet and writing endeavors. Author Links: Amazon: http://amzn.to/2z97dIf Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/stacistallings.spiritlightauthor/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/StaciStallings Web: http://www.stacistallings.net/ Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1030539.Staci_Stallings Buy Links: Be Coming Me: https://amzn.to/2l62wWD The Taste of Tears: https://amzn.to/2KOS7Zz Little Drops of Sunshine: https://amzn.to/2DK0dnn
Christianity, Religion
Date Published: November 19, 2018
Publisher: Lucid Books
Has Christmas gotten to be just the same old, same old? Do you feel as if you're simply going through the motions, even though you know this should be a season of celebration and worship? Same tree, same Christmas songs, same baked goods.
Come and refresh your hope in Christmas through Our Gift-Giving God. This devotional will take the reader through the traditions and symbols of Christmastime and uncover the deep, gospel truths woven throughout that God has for each and every one of us. Throughout these chapters, you will discover:
A purposeful, firmly planted life
Friendship
Joy
Protection
A new beginning
Provision
Mercy
Unfettered approval
In this eight-day study, you can unwrap the very best gifts and the best news you'll receive all year. Spend time opening the gifts only our gift-giving God can deliver.
About the Author
Andrea Kim was born and raised in Houston, Texas. She holds an accounting degree, an MBA, and a law degree from the University of Texas at Austin. She also earned a Masters in Biblical Studies from Dallas Theological Seminary. She has spent well over a decade teaching the Bible at church and serving as head of sermon research for her pastor at Houston’s First Baptist Church. Andrea is an attorney of 20 years, but her passion is to open up the world of God’s exciting truths for others the way they were opened up for her. She serves on the Board of Directors for The Seed Company, a Bible translation organization currently translating the Bible into more than 800 languages.
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Blurb: It’s one year until the apocalypse of 12.21.12 is supposed to take place. Burning buildings, screaming babies, and death will surround us. It will be the end of the world. That can’t be allowed. When six powerful women come together with one goal—to save humanity—they’ll get much more than they bargained for. They join forces and learn to use the gifts hidden within themselves to battle a monster feeding off something too many of us feel in our souls: Hate. But they must first learn how to forgive—themselves as well as others. Hate is birthing a creature dwelling under Central Park in New York, and the fiend is eager to burst forth and sink his fangs into the Earth. The Fury, The Visionary, The Beguiler, The Siren, The Prophet, and The Mystic are our last hope, and even they aren’t sure if they can win. The end is coming, but with it, there may be a new beginning. Author Bio: Jo Michaels is... Hi, I'm Jo. Let's forget all the "Jo Michaels is blah, blah, blah" stuff and just go with it. I'm a voracious reader (often reading more than one book at a time), a writer, a book reviewer, a mom, a wife, and one of the EICs at INDIE Books Gone Wild. I have an almost photographic memory and tend to make people cringe at the number of details I can recall about them and/or their book(s). My imagination follows me around like a conjoined twin and causes me to space out pretty often or laugh out loud randomly in completely inappropriate situations. I have a degree in graphic design, and my journey to the end was one few students who begin that program ever complete. However, this was one case where my memory and OCD tendencies helped me. Graduation was one of the most amazing days of my life. But, my most amazing day was when my now husband proposed. Every little girl dreams of being Cinderella someday, and he pulled off the proposal of fantasies. At the risk of sounding cliché, I'm going to let it out there and say how much I absolutely adore the man I'm married to. Along with my children, he's my whole world. I've lived in Louisiana, Tennessee, and Georgia, but I've had my feet in almost every state. Traveling is something I adore, and have plans to someday see the Mongolia I've written about in Yassa. One of my favorite things is hearing from fans! You can find me on social media most any day of the week. Connect! I'd love to hear from you. Author Links: Website: http://WriteJoMichaels.com Facebook: http://facebook.com/WriteJoMichaels Twitter: https://twitter.com/WriteJoMichaels Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/WriteJoMichaels Instagram: http://instagram.com/WriteJoMichaels Blog: http://jomichaels.blogspot.com Amazon: https://amzn.to/2rkgBSZ Radio: http://blogtalkradio.com/ADailyCupofJo Buy Links: The Fury: https://amzn.to/2PeXS63 The Visionary: https://amzn.to/2RXtH4W The Beguiler: https://amzn.to/2qvmdtj The Siren: https://amzn.to/2RZsVn7 Excerpt: Chapter One ~ Running from Me Melody walked through her parents’ house feeling tiny and insignificant. Grand halls, famous paintings, and statues towering over her always made her feel less important. Stopping to examine a withered tulip, she thought how like the flower she was. It seemed it was passed over when the maid did the watering, and Melody was sure no one had noticed. Just like no one noticed her disappearing body. They were both hungry, but the flower seemed to show it much more gracefully. She passed her fingers over the petals and reveled in how soft they were. What a beautiful thing left here in a corner to die because somebody decided it needed to be put on display, and it can’t speak up to make demands for what it needs. It made her breath catch in her throat as the burn of tears rose behind her eyelids. Crushing the flower in her hand, she jerked it off the stem, threw it on the floor, turned, and walked back toward the practice room. Once she closed and locked the door behind her, she fell back and slid to the floor, allowing her tears freedom as she pulled the letter out of her pocket once again and opened it. On the day she’d gotten the note, she’d just given a concert in downtown Atlanta and was on top of the world. Since that day, she’d read the cruel words scribbled haphazardly on the page no less than two hundred times. It was worn, and the creases were deep, but she couldn’t bring herself to throw it away. She read: Melody, From the 1st time I saw u on TV I new u were nothing special. U have a gr8 voice but a lot of ppl do. Ur fat an ugly an no1 wants to see u. Y dont u go sing on the radio n not make us have 2 look at u? If not y not do something w/urself? Work out or give up a meal 4 needy kids. Ur a spoiled BRAT. Every1 nos. Ur mom n dad look like snobs. Grow up lose w8 or get lost. Either way get off my TV. I hate u. Fatty! It wasn’t signed, and she’d never shown it to anyone. But she watched what she put in her mouth from that day forward and had taken to running three miles every day. When her mom commented that Melody was looking good with all the weight she was losing, it solidified her resolve, and she swore never to be large again. Over one hundred pounds down, she still felt fat when she looked in the mirror and compared herself to the poster of supermodel Lily Conyers, hanging on the wall by the bed. Those last few inches needed to go, and Melody was bound and determined to make it happen. As she sat there, reading the hateful words repeatedly, she dried her tears with her hand and stiffened her spine. She knew her eyes were glinting with the malice in her heart as she rose from the floor and stuffed the letter back into the pocket of her baggy jeans. A shiver ran down her spine, and she hugged herself to ward off the chill. Unable to get warm recently, she’d taken to wearing a sweatshirt everywhere she went. She rubbed the thick hair that had begun to grow on her arms. Ugh! Why can’t Mom and Dad save some money and turn down the air? Flipping on the CD player, she hit play before taking her position on the stage her mother had demanded be built in the room. Allowing the music to swell, Melody opened her mouth and sang. A trickle of pinpricks began at her toes and inched their way over her skin as she orated the lyrics. Her head fell back, and her eyes slid closed. ~~~~~ After Markaza chugged two more cups of coffee, she got up and headed for the bathroom to shower and get ready to hunt down her quarry. An hour later, she stepped out of her room with a smile on her face and a spring in her step. She got in the elevator, pressed the button for the main floor, and passed out. It was dark; Bronya, Lily, and Shelia were walking down the streets of New York, laughing and carrying large cups of coffee in their hands. From an alley, a man leapt into their path and pointed a gun at Lily’s head. “Give me your purses!” he shouted. Bronya laughed, and Shelia flicked her hand in the air. At once, the man started to weep. Lily’s body emitted yellow light, and the gunman dropped his weapon, running like the hounds of Hell were on his heels. From Markaza’s vantage point, above the scene and to the right, she could see flashes from a number of cameras. Her friends seemed to be unaware their photos were being taken. Markaza gagged as she took in a gulp of air and was overwhelmed with noxious smells. Waking up to sour breath is bad enough without the added stench of body odor. Above her, the over-eager manager hovered, looking worried and barking orders into his cellphone. “Wait a moment, she’s awake.” Putting his hand over the mouthpiece, he asked, “Are you okay?” She nodded while holding her breath and gave him a small push backward as she got up off the elevator floor. “Yeah, she’s fine. Thanks anyway.” He flipped his phone shut and stared at her. Giving him a smile and thanks for his concern while trying not to breathe in any more of his stench, she bolted for the front door of the Ritz. Once she was outside in the open air, she checked the time and was pleased to find she’d only been out for a couple of minutes. She unlocked her phone and dialed Bronya’s number. No answer. Trying again, Markaza dialed Shelia. One ring. Two rings. Shelia sounded chipper when she picked up. Markaza smiled. “Hey, you. How’s it going up there in the Big Apple?” “It’s okay here. How’s it going down there in Hotlanta? Did you find our girl yet?” “Yes. But I haven’t made contact. I’ll call you with an update as soon as I make some kind of progress. I need to ask you for a favor.” Markaza chewed her lip. “Sure! Anything for you. What is it you need?” Shelia’s voice dropped low. “Make sure you guys don’t go anywhere until I get back there, okay? At least, not after dark. Please, don’t ask me why; just trust me.” Hi Everyone!
Who doesn't love No Bake Cookies? I know I love them, and so does my family. I was in a mood to make something. So No Bake Cookies it was. Well the first batch just did not turn out right. I figured it was because I used almond milk instead of real milk, trying to make them so I could enjoy as well. Second batch made with real milk and they still did not turn out. I'm a professional chef, I followed the recipe why did they not turn out again. So I look up the recipe again from my mother in law on my phone and realized when I copied over the recipe I did not write down the directions right and no wonder, they did not turn out. YOU DON'T ADD ALL INGREDIENTS AT ONCE AND THEN COOK, YOU ADD THE VANILLA AND OATS AFTER. Palmto the face... Really!?! I should have caught that one, but I did not. However I will say, adding in a little of the first batch with my overnight oatmeal has been really yummy. So is it really a mistake? Click here to see the correct way to make No Bake Cookies. As always thanks and enjoy! |
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