Dead of Winter: Journey 14 ~ The Veil ~ #Teen & Young Adult Ghost Stories eBooks @teagangeneviene

Book Description

From the very beginning, a prophecy from a creepy voice threaded throughout this story. “Winter is coming!” it warned. As the Journeys progressed, we became aware of additional related prophesies like one of the “lost white brother” and “the frozen sands.” Both of those are touched on in this concluding novella.
Other threads from the previous thirteen Journeys also come together in this volume, which concludes Dead of Winter.
.As many readers said they don’t want these Journeys to end, in the final chapter, I added hints about potential future adventures for many of the characters. These are food for the imagination of readers, so that the story can continue in the mind.
.This has been as much of a “journey” for me as it was for Emlyn. I’ve seen truths about myself along the way. Perhaps the same applies to you.
.“Who can say? What is true for us? That with which we are born? Or that which is the manifestation of our heart and soul? I like who and what I am, as well as the way I see the world I see around me, when I am a dragon.”
.Thank you for being an important part of the Journeys of Dead of Winter.
Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

Out Thoughts for Dead of Winter 14

The penultimate episode set even more questions.

So many problems to be resolved

So much truth to be discovered

The final episode has been a long time coming…

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As this episode begins, the land seems to be holding its breath.

Mist travels down the mountain and through the trees, reinforcing the belief that the forest is haunted.

When the veil separating the Realms of the Living and the Dead from the Realm of the Dead was broken, life had become unbearable. Something had to be done, but who was strong enough to defeat Arawn, the King of Hell?

Warriors are preparing themselves, and in the calm, before the storm Emlyn is visited by her late mother, Eriu, who explains what happened all those years ago, and why she must help Boabhan and rescue her from Arawn.

My favourite part of this series was the developing story of Emlyn and Lucetius, although I was left wanting more. Maybe another story?

The author has excelled with this series. Every scene is worthy of the silver screen. Heartbreaking moments and devastating losses come thick and fast as one by one the obstacles are met and then defeated, leaving just the veil to be rebuilt.

Can Emlyn, a twelve-year-old child succeed where all else has failed?

###

An amazing epitaph for the series. Vividly dramatic, remarkably tense, an amazing, well-written story…

Teagan Riordain Geneviene

Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene is the acclaimed author of the epic high fantasy series, “Dead of Winter.”

Teagan lives in a “high desert” town in the Southwest of the USA. She had always devoured fantasy novels of every type. Then one day there was no new book readily at hand for reading — so she decided to write one. And she hasn’t stopped writing since.

Her work is coloured by her experiences from living in the southern states and the desert southwest. Teagan most often writes in the fantasy genre, but she also writes cosy mysteries. Whether it’s a 1920s mystery, a steampunk adventure, or urban fantasy, her stories have a strong element of whimsy. That element is also present in “Dead of Winter” but the whimsy is presented in a serious way.

Founder of the Three Things method of storytelling, her blog “Teagan’s Books” contains serial stories spontaneously written according to “things” from viewers. http://www.teagansbooks.com Some of those serials have been rewritten into books, like “Hullaba Lulu,” “Brother Love, a Crossroad,” and the series “Pip’s Three Things.”

Major influences include Roger Zelazny, Agatha Christie, Terry Brooks, David Eddings, Robert Jordan, and Charlaine Harris.

See book trailer videos here: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCoM-z7_iH5t2_7aNpy3vG-Q?disable_polymer=true

Our Review for Between the Vines by Staci Troilo ~ #Contemporary Romance ~ @stacitroilo

When you grow up on a vineyard, you learn the grapevine can’t always be trusted.
Elena Santucci is one of the best wedding planners in the Keystone state—ironic, as she doesn’t believe in love. Why should she? Rumors cost her all meaningful relationships, sending her into the arms of one loser after another until she swore off men entirely. Now she spends her days helping brides put together dream days… even though she suspects they’ll all lead to nightmares.
Aaron Kennedy looks like a tough-as-nails cop, but he’s got a marshmallow for a heart. One that’s recently been roasted over the coals by Heather, his former fiancée. After discovering her affair with his best friend, he broke off his engagement and swore off women—at least for a while. When his sister asks for help with her wedding plans, he can’t say no. Then he learns the wedding is at Blooming Valley Vineyards, and his former crush is the event planner. Maybe this is fate telling him not to give up so quickly.

Just when Aaron starts to break through Elena’s icy shell, Heather comes back into his life with an unbelievable story—one Elena seems to support. Rumors travel the grapevine faster than he can make sense of them. He needs to discover the truth before his one chance at happiness withers on the vine.

Find your copy HERE

Our Thoughts

I don’t often read romantic stories, for like Elena, the heroine of this story, love hasn’t been kind to me.

On a good day, I do still look for it, which is why this is the second story I have read in the Keystone Couples Series.

Romance is a funny thing, so many things can ruin your chances.

Unusual circumstances, strange coincidences and jealous people almost wrecked every chance for Elena, and my heart went out to her as she struggled to create perfect fairy-tale weddings for other people in the course of her job, knowing she would probably never walk down the aisle herself.

Luckily, love will usually find a way, for even the most stubborn of hearts…

All three stories in the Keystone Couples Series were wonderful romances and well worth reading…

Who Do You Write For?

Image by Markus Winkler from Pixabay

Writing to an audience

I read a post recently about the importance of identifying your audience or readers when drafting a book. I had heard this before and must admit I didn’t understand it then or now. I mean, basically, we write for readers, don’t we?

But apparently, this is not good enough and could be the reason our books fail to meet our expectations.

Determined to dislodge the penny, I tried to get my head around what the article was trying to tell me. Thinking back to my own writing efforts, none of them had made much of a splash, although (in my humble opinion) they were reasonably well written, so what would make a difference?

Sometimes I turn problems upside down to see them from a different angle. Very often, I can see ways of solving them or at least making them better.

My first book was a challenge for me. I didn’t know if I could write well, if at all, way back then, so I probably wrote it for myself.

To be honest, I think my second book was written for me too. And by the time I started writing the third book, I was floundering. I spent a lot of time chasing how-to articles, searching for helpful ideas and advice and getting nowhere fast.

Around this time, people were talking about muses and how helpful they can be for a writer. Not that said how to get one in the first place.

When I did get what I thought was a muse, he wasn’t what I imagined a muse should be. He was sarcastic, almost rude, making me guess what he meant, but he really made me think.

For some reason, I cannot find the link for the post I wrote on that day, and I would love you to read it…

Call me Sam…

My office is usually a quiet, peaceful place. Unless something goes radically wrong and I am having a rant.

Today was almost such a day, but I was trying hard not to lose it, determined to figure out what I was doing wrong and why my WIP was proving so difficult to get right.

I have to sit with my back to the door, something I wish I could change but the layout of the room doesn’t allow for any change. So when I sensed someone standing behind me, I assumed it to be one of the family.

‘Ma’am, that is surely a crying shame…’

The soft gentle voice of a man, inches from my ear should have alarmed me, but my curiosity had the better of me and I wondered what he was talking about. Although I wasn’t entirely sure if I had imagined it, I answered. ‘Pardon?’

‘I have to say that character is all wrong, you know…’

By now, I knew I wasn’t imagining it, but insanity seemed a better fit. I was also fascinated, so decided to play along and see what happened. ‘How do you mean?’

‘If you will permit me to sit down, I will explain…’

I nodded, aware that I was about to see who my mysterious visitor was. I watched as this white-haired, distinguished and slightly familiar gentleman walked past me to sit in the only other chair in the room. He reminded me of someone, but my brain was stumbling around like an idiot at a genius convention.

He had kindly blue eyes and an enormous, also white moustache, a bit like Albert Einstein, but I was sure it wasn’t him. He sat there, next to me, calmly watching me with an amused expression on his face. I wondered id he, like me, wondered what he was doing here. I decided to ask. ‘I feel as though I should know you, but what are you doing here in my office?’

His bushy white eyebrows were moving slightly, reminding me of caterpillars.

‘Ma’am, I have no idea how I arrived here, but judging from what I just read on your notebook, I must be here to lend a hand, so to speak.’

For the next hour, we talked about my progress as a writer, my WIP and one character in particular. I had been worried about this one, so it was refreshing to have another clearly expert opinion.

‘The problem, Ma’am is this. You have not brought him to life yet. He needs to have a life, smell the coffee, and do normal things like a regular human being. He will die soon anyway…’

‘Where did you read that? And please stop calling me Ma’am, my name is Jaye.’

‘Oh, I didn’t read it, Jaye. The poor chap never eats, so he won’t last long…’

I was embarrassed but had to laugh. My visitor was right. I had been so involved with the plot; I had forgotten to give him a life. My eyes returned to the chapter on the desk in front of me, eager to see with fresh eyes just what a pig’s ear I had made of it all. It occurred to me to thank my visitor for pointing out what had been wrong all along, but when I turned my head in his direction, he had gone and the chair was empty…

I tried to continue working but my brain was busy trying to remember where I had seen the old gentleman before…

The book he helped me with did very well. I remember feeling very differently about this one, once I knew he had been reading it. Every time I sat down to write, I imagined him looking over my shoulder, and I believe it helped. Remembering how I felt back then, the penny begins to move. I think I wrote that book for him, so maybe there is something to this, after all?

Since then, life has thrown everything at us all. Not much time for anything really. Two years on, the virus seems to have lost its teeth and life is struggling to return to normal.

The current WIP, despite a lot of work on my part, is a mess. I don’t know how many times I have almost binned it, but something compels me to keep trying.

I don’t know why my muse left, or how to get him back, but do you think he would lend a hand if I asked him nicely?

Pretty Please?

The Sunday Whirl ~ Wordle 555 ~ #Poetry

I had been feeling distraught all morning
When I noticed a pin prick of light
Coming through the closed blind
It made me feel better to think a tiny hole
Couldn’t keep the sun out
Ms Penny taught us about light
How slivery, how bendy it can be
Creeping into the smallest space
Like bad thoughts chewing the mind
The ones you cannot banish
With brown paper and string
I tied the parcel with a bow
We had yet to take the trip back home
To return an unwanted gift
To an unwanted part of my life
Nothing can make up for the scars on my back…

©AnitaDawes2022

Tuesday Teaser… #Fiction #Excerpt #WIP

Excerpt from the WIP for Ghost of a Chance

The basement door was easy to overlook, it looked like a cupboard. It opened easily, revealing a dark hole leading down into the bowels of the earth. I looked for a light switch, my hand searching where my eyes could not but found nothing.

As we made our way down the stairs in the dark, I used the torchlight on my phone to see the way. I found the light switch at the bottom of the stairs.

The air in the basement smelled old and musty, with the faint odour of tobacco. We were in a large room, set out like an office with an old desk and overflowing bookcases. An even older leather armchair sat in the corner surrounded by a neat stack of cardboard boxes.

Laurie must have read my mind, saying exactly what I was thinking. ‘Phew, thank God there’s no freezer, nowhere to hide a body…’

My next thought I kept to myself, maybe the body had been cut up and was in all those boxes.

A loud noise made me jump and Laurie shriek, and that was when the light went out.

‘What was that? Snow, where are you?’

‘I’m here, Laurie. Stand still while I switch on my phone light. I don’t suppose you remember seeing any torches when we were here before?’

The limited light from my phone isolated us as we stood at the bottom of the stairs. I strained my eyes, trying to see the further corners of the room. It looked as it did moments ago, but it didn’t feel the same. Weird rustling sounds, creaking and what sounded like whispering came at me from all the corners of the room.

Laurie must have heard it too, for she turned away from me. ‘I’ll go look for a torch, shall I?’ And shot up the stairs like an athlete.

I wanted to follow her, but something kept my feet rooted to the floor.

The whispering came closer and seemed much louder. Something brushed against my face and the image of a bat flew across my mind. This was unlikely, as there didn’t seem to be any access to the outside, something bats had to have.

I shone the light around the room again and as it reached the leather armchair in the corner, the light flickered and went out but not before I thought I saw someone sitting there.

I barely had the time to consider this when something shoved me.

I felt hands on my lower back, strong enough to cause me to stumble.

Instantly, my arms thrashed around, expecting to contact whoever touched me, but found no one.

‘Laurie, is that you?’

The room was silent, the creaks and the whispering stopped as if waiting for someone or something to answer my question.

I tried to move, to make my way up the stairs but my feet refused to move.

I felt the hands on my back again, a growing chill spreading from the site of contact. ‘Who are you?’

When the voice began to speak, the whispering grew louder, creating a tornado of sound, circling around me.

‘You don’t want or need to know who I am, MR Snow. Get out of my house!’

When the shove came, it sent me flying across the room and I found myself in the leather armchair, pinned down by the hands that sent me there.

As I sat there, stunned and very disorientated, I tried to make sense of what had just happened. A flickering light appeared, bobbing up and down. Now what, I wondered. My rational mind not quite accepting any of this.

‘Snow, where are you? I found a torch, it’s a bit feeble but better than nothing.’ As she shone the light around the room, she found me sprawled in the armchair.

‘What are you doing? Don’t tell me you wanted to take it easy, what are you like?’

A small laugh escaped from my mouth as I thought about trying to explain what I thought had just happened.

I did my best to describe what happened to me in the basement. Laurie listened, but I wasn’t sure she believed everything I said. One thing we did agree on, we were trying to help a lonely and confused woman, not get involved with ghost hunting.

That’s what I think, but is it really? ( all opinions gratefully welcome!)

Jaye Marie

Sweet Water… #Poetry

Sweet Water

On knees of broken glass
I crawl towards the sea
My home, my family lie beneath the waves
The pain of having legs drives me on
I reach the sweet water, my life
Letting myself sink into darkness
The pain gone, my tail restored
I find my kingdom as I left it
Father, cross at my foolishness
Will the memory of pain
Stop me returning to the land?
He will try to call me back
I will feel a different kind of pain
The loss of his love
I am water, he is land
We cannot be...

©AnitaDawes2022

Technology is ganging up on me…

Image by Joachim Schnürle from Pixabay

Technology is ganging up on me…

It’s official, I hate computers. The laptop is one of those touch screen ones, and apparently, I have the wrong kind of finger. And it’s not just the one, I have tried them all. The slightest touch has things flying about all over the place, and then there are those times when I can stab at the screen like a maniac and absolutely nothing happens.

The demon that inhabited the main computer that has now gone to the PC heaven in the sky seems to have moved into the laptop, doing all kinds of things that are out of my control. If anything finally kills my dream of being reasonably successful, it will be a computer. My ageing brain seems no longer capable of the kind of mindless patience (or insane tolerance) that is needed to use them.

I am convinced they are here to drive us all insane, starting with me. And as for using it in the garden, which was the plan, no such luck!

I thought this would be such a brilliant idea, combining two of the things I love most in this world, writing, and gardening, but when I tried, the screen faded so badly, I couldn’t see a thing!

Just when I thought life couldn’t get any worse…

It has occurred to me that it is quite possible, or more than probable, that the weird things my PC has been doing of late, might mean something is dying inside that metal box. And if I am right, this could mean it will give up the ghost when most inconvenient. With this thought firmly lodged in my (by now worrying itself into a coma) brain, I toddled off to Amazon to see how much a replacement would cost. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that I can get a refurbished laptop for literally peanuts.

Panic over, I could handle it, whenever ‘it’ decided to reveal itself.

Now if I could just get my head around all these new improvements that are taking place at the sites I use, there might be a danger of progress being made around here…

Once more with feeling…

For some reason, the muse has wandered off again. I haven’t added to the word count on WIP or written anything new for a while. I get these blank moments that I’m trying not to equate to old age. It crossed my mind that whatever is wrong with the PC might just be contagious, as I also get periods of quiet in my head, a bit like being becalmed at sea in a boat.

Not that I mind any of this weirdness, as it sure makes a change from depression…

Now for some really good news!


We are happy to announce our participation in Load Your Kindle for May! a brand new Book Funnel promotion for the month of May.

Loads of FREE books in General Fiction, Mystery & Suspense, and Sci-Fi & Fantasy, including my own mystery thriller, CrossFire…

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There are a lot of interesting thrillers just waiting to be read, click on the link and fill up your kindles!

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She Who Returns ~ Audrey Driscoll ~ #Travel Adventure Fiction ~ #Sequel ~#Review

Every decision has consequences, and logic gets you every time.

France Leighton is studying Egyptology at Miskatonic University, hoping to return to Egypt via a field school offered by that institution. But France has a talent for rash decisions, and things are complicated by the arrival of her twin half-brothers from England. Edward and Peter are contrasts—one a rational scientist, the other a dabbler in the occult—but they are equally capable of persuading France to help them with dubious schemes.

France does return to Egypt, if not quite the way she intended. She encounters old friends and new enemies, and challenges rooted in her previous adventures and her family’s complicated history. Accusations of antiquities theft drive France and her companions into hiding in the Theban Hills west of Luxor. An attack from the unknown turns an adventure into a desperate predicament. On the brink of yet another failure, France must make hard choices that may demand the ultimate sacrifice.

Our Review

I loved the Egyptian theme of this book, interesting right from the first sentence, the perfect sequel to She Who Comes Forth. Despite being slightly longer than I am used to, I enjoyed the story very much. This story was perfectly plotted, with no plot holes or thin parts, believable, and with a strong cinematic quality.

France Leighton makes an impressive leading lady, considering the unusual life she leads. Obsessed with Egypt and its mysteries but without the necessary knowledge, France manages to find work at an archaeological dig site, sorting stones. A menial job, but she loves every minute.

She Who Returns is an easy read yet complicated tale, full of mysterious goings-on and delightful magical touches. Once I figured out exactly what shabtis were, I thought this element was one of the best parts of this story. Intrigue made real and plausible.

I found the ending a little sad, but I have the feeling there might be more in the pipeline, as I would love to read more about France and her Egyptian forays.

Audrey Driscoll

Audrey Driscoll grew up reading books and became interested in making stories. As a child, she made her friends act out little dramas based on Rudyard Kipling’s Jungle Book, her favourite at the time.

After establishing a career as a librarian – first at the University of Saskatchewan and then at the Greater Victoria Public Library in British Columbia – a meaningful encounter with H.P. Lovecraft’s character Herbert West turned Audrey into a writer.

The result was The Friendship of Mortals and three more novels, which became the Herbert West Series. Two other novels followed, as well as a collection of short stories.

When she isn’t juggling words, Audrey Driscoll negotiates with plants in her garden, which is located in Victoria, British Columbia.

I loved reading Audrey Driscoll’s She Who Returns! I have always been fascinated by all things Egyptian, and thoroughly enjoyed following France Leighton as she explored that fabulous country.

Turned out to be one of the best and most interesting history lessons!

Jaye Marie