Category Archives: BOOKS

Listen, Share, and Be Nice Blitz

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the lost art of mannerisms

 

Children’s Book

Date Published: May 21, 2023

Publisher: MindStir Media

Cori Elba (Illustrator)

 

 

These three words: Listen, Share and be Nice can be basic cornerstones for
your child’s growth and development. Teaching your toddler is a daily
routine. Using the same mannerisms towards them every day establishes a
routine that they become accustomed to. Iif you stick to this routine daily,
it teaches and reminds your child to be nice to others and to those in your
family. But parents do not expect a miracle in 24 hours give it time…
It will take six months to a year to see the effect in your child’s
behavior. Just repeat, repeat, repeat your words of action.

Politeness is spoken worldwide and in every language, whether in public or
private. The simplicity of kindness teaches that everyone matters in this
world. These three children’s books (“Please, Thank You and Excuse
Me,” “Listen, Share, and Be Nice,” and “Animal
Etiquette for Kids”) are lighthearted and geared for all ages.
Mannerisms must start somewhere, so why not parents, grandparents, teachers,
friends, and caregivers show our children mutual respect for all people,
places, and things?

This series of children’s books is a fun way to re-introduce manners into
your children’s lives. It’s cool to be polite and kind to everyone.

About the Author

Ashley Chadwick

Ashley has been a professional nanny for over fifteen years and the owner
of a nanny service. She incorporates nature with mild education and
mannerisms in children’s lives. When Ashley is not a nanny, she is a world
traveler, nature enthusiast, and loves mountain biking, yoga, and spending
time with her nephew, Walker.

 

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The Black Hearts Virtual Book Tour

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Book of the Rising Sun

 

Fantasy / Mythology

Date Published: June 2, 2023

Publisher:
MindStir Media

 

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The Almighty Sun is dead, leaving a throne and ashes for his heirs to fight
for.

As the first female child of the Sun-god in fifteen centuries, Vamya has
the chance to Ascend.

In order to succeed, she must challenge not only her two brothers, but a
millennial society where religion holds more value than any individual,
where women’s rights are scarce.

She must break the foundational chains of an entire belief system,
including her own.

Who can guide her when her own birth is anathema? Who can she trust? Where
can she stand firm when the ground is shaking under the approaching drums of
endless war against the neighboring beacon of the Light and the kingdom of
Darkness?

Who will Fate choose? Who will be the key that will change the course of
the world?

 

The Black Hearts tablet

EXCERPT

Once upon a time . . .

 

Funny, I always hated children’s tales, and yet I know no better way to tell a story before going to bed, resting, or sinking into oblivion. 

Just now, my thoughts traveled as fast as this arrow embedded itself in my chest, through  fleeting memories of what I was, who I am, and who I could have been. One of those memories was of the time I thought, ‘the day I tell a child’s tale will be my last.’

 

Boy, I was right.

 

These rivers of blood pooling around my now-numb legs remind me of the story of a land most dark, of a queen of blood.

 

Blood that would drown the whole world as we know it.

About the Author

Dr Moises Duviel Irizarry

A firm believer that the power of an individual comes from the strengths of
all facets of one’s life, Dr Moises Duviel Irizarry combines over two
decades of fantasy role-playing storytelling, medical experience and his
own, real-life struggles, to tell deep, emotionally compelling stories that
will break someone’s heart while also strengthening their
resolve.

“One just needs to touch a single life to change the whole
world.”

 

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It’s a Wonderful Dog Virtual Book Tour

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A Christmas Tail

 

Animal and Holiday Fiction

Date Published: November 16, 2023

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

 


 

 

It’s Christmas Eve in western Kansas and a snowstorm is gaining
strength as Bear Bailey, a devoted Great Pyrenees, tries to comfort his
beloved owner Mary. She’s in hot water with the local business
villain, and Bear’s earlier altercation with this miser only seemed to
make things worse. When Mary blurts out that she wishes for a different
life, Bear blames himself for her despair and runs away.

Meanwhile Jiff, a Labrador patiently waiting for his own human to meet him
at the Rainbow Bridge, sees Bear shivering alone in the blizzard. Knowing
Bear won’t survive the night without intervention, Jiff agrees to act
as Bear’s guardian angel on Earth. He is determined to show the Great
Pyrenees what the lives of the humans around him would have been like
without his presence over the years.

A holiday “tail” for those who love the season but feel the
deep loss of loved ones (both furry and human), It’s a Wonderful Dog
shines a light on the power of love and community, and reminds us that
miracles do exist.

It's a Wonderful Dog tablet

EXCERPT

One

   

SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW BRIDGE

 

As it happens with each sunrise over Earth, a bridge of colors formed among the swirling, dark blue rain clouds. Faint at first, then, as the moments ticked by, shades of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet deepened in glistening radiance. The rainbow rose over the clouds, widening across the expanse, and bringing with it scores of humans and dogs. Their eyes were filled with surprise as they turned in wonder at the beauty around them.

“Do you think the colors of the bridge are brighter today?” Lea asked. The angel, with an affinity for all things relating to dogs, looked with great thought at the slow, spinning display of colors.

“It’s near Christmastime. There’s much happiness on Earth but also a great deal of sadness,” Josephine answered. “Many tears. More rain. Deeper colors.” The two angels had overseen the Rainbow Bridge for centuries and had an all-knowing understanding of the souls crossing over, as well as events on Earth pertaining to dogs. “What are you seeing?”

“Bear Bailey is in grave danger. Without our help, he’ll join us here on the Rainbow Bridge at Christmas,” Lea said.

“The Great Pyrenees from Kansas?” Josephine asked.

“He’s in a dark place. It’s getting harder for me to keep focus on him from up here. Someone has to go and help.”

Prayers on behalf of Bear Bailey had risen to Heaven in a continuous stream all night long. The words of requests from a whole community of people reflected their frantic concern that he be found and returned home by Christmas.

“Are there any dogs here who might help Bear Bailey?” Josephine asked.

Rows and rows of dogs sat expectantly as the rainbow continued to grow, their tails synchronized like pendulums in a clock shop. The giant breeds of Great Danes, Saint Bernards, mastiffs, and similar sized dogs aligned themselves at the back of the crowd in consideration of the smaller dogs. Without so much as a bark, the dogs arranged themselves so that even the very smallest poodles and Chihuahuas at the front had a clear view waiting for the rainbow to fully expand. A single black Labrador sat to the side near the front of the group. His feet danced in anticipation as his eyes locked on the moving rainbow.

“You and I both know which dog can best help Bear,” Lea replied. “But he won’t go as long as he’s waiting for his human to arrive.”

The rainbow’s expanding movement came to a gentle stop. Josephine raised her hands, flourishing them in the air. A burst of golden light carried the newly arrived humans’ scent onto the breeze. Myriads of dogs’ noses tilted upward; their eyes closed as they began to sniff in hope of recognizing their human’s scent floating on the air. Men and women, and even small children, descended from the bridge along with a pack of newly arriving dogs, all looking into the sea of waiting furry faces.

As the humans drew nearer, most of the dogs barked in welcome but then turned away, not recognizing a familiar scent to run toward. The dogs arriving that day at the Rainbow Bridge without their humans joined this group and followed the morning sun leading them back to the rolling land of the “Golden Meadow.” Running through the unending lush fields, flower-filled valleys, and gentle hilltops would help them pass another day of waiting until they reassembled again for the next sunrise.

The remaining dogs in view of the Rainbow Bridge who connected to a scent in the air heard their name shouted by a beloved voice from their memories on Earth. Joyful mayhem ensued as dogs ran to the people they loved, zigzagging between one another, barking in excitement when their patient loyalty was rewarded. Somersaulting, barking, and laughter filled the area, along with tears of happiness and relief.

“I can’t believe I get to watch this every morning,” Lea said, wiping a tear.

One by one, the humans and dogs connected like strong magnets. The bigger dogs tried to maintain the impeccable manners they’d learned while on the Rainbow Bridge, but inevitably lost control of their emotions and toppled their laughing humans. The smaller dogs jumped into the outstretched arms of people crying for joy, licking their faces as they, too, forgot all etiquette. Among the happy reunions, the black Labrador ran from group to group, sniffing the ground and air around them for any signs of familiarity. He tugged a few sleeves and pawed at the backs of people turned in the opposite direction in an effort to see a face until he’d exhausted all possibilities of a connection.

“This is the element of the morning that gives me pause,” Josephine said, her eyes on the Labrador. “His human has not come this morning. I wonder what we can do to divert his attention from his sadness.”

“You know you can send a giant squirrel offering a platter of bacon and Jiff will not be dissuaded from watching the bridge, Josephine.”

In a short time, like a giant card shuffle, humans reunited with all of the dogs from their lifetime and continued their journey past the Golden Meadow to whatever the human had conceived Heaven to be during their lifetime on Earth. The Rainbow Bridge faded from sight and disappeared entirely for the day.

Jiff ran the length of where the rainbow had been, barking into the expanse, searching the clouds as he whimpered.

“He’ll stay there until twilight,” Lea said.

“He’s still our oldest dog here?”

Lea nodded. “By a couple of decades.”

Josephine began walking toward the Labrador. The smell of sunshine after spring rain filled the air as she spoke. “I’ve never seen such devotion. His attention never wavers.”

“I’ve tried everything, but he wants nothing else but his human.” Lea had crossed the Rainbow Bridge as a human nearly a millennia before and had begged to stay on, so great was her love for dogs and her desire to see their deepest wishes come true.

“What a good boy,” Josephine said, moving across the sky effortlessly in a blink. She knelt to Jiff, opening her palm to reveal a dog treat.

The Labrador sniffed the tidbit and turned away, leaving it in Josephine’s hand. She closed her fingers around the morsel making it disappear.

“You know you don’t have to eat here, Jiff. But many of the dogs love the taste of their favorite foods on Earth. It helps them pass the time,” Josephine said.

His brown eyes were solemn and wide as he shook his head. He turned to the sky again.

“It could be any day now, Jiff,” Lea said, her voice encouraging and cheery.

“Tomorrow?” Jiff asked, his ears lifting.

Josephine scratched the top of his head and worked her way back down his neck where she massaged his shoulders. “We only ever have a general idea, Jiff. Souls decide themselves when their journey is over.”

“I’m tired of waiting,” the dog said, putting his head down and sighing.

Lea cleared her throat and tilted her head to Jiff, raising her eyebrows to Josephine.

“We have something we’d like you to consider, Jiff. You don’t have to help but we have a Pyrenees on Earth in urgent trouble,” Josephine said, motioning downward. “He’s already one of our favorites.”

Jiff lifted his head and sniffed. “Why?”

“Bear Bailey has a particular knack for uniting everyone,” Josephine said. “He brings out the best in the people around him. They’re devasted he’s lost. Here, have a quick look.” Her hands in the air like a skilled artist, she moved the clouds in such a way that the vision of the Great Pyrenees appeared in front of the trio almost as lifelike as if he’d crossed the bridge that morning. In the background, quick flashes of various people praying in earnest for the dog’s safety, crying and pacing in their homes below appeared in the vision, along with their personal memories of Bear. Jiff watched the fast-moving scenes until they disappeared.

“We can’t help Bear from up here,” Lea said.

The Lab looked up at the angels in confusion. “You both handle everything here on the Rainbow Bridge. Why not Bear?”

“You know Josephine and I have to wait for arrivals each morning.”

“You’re both powerful. There must be a way,” Jiff said.

“We can only ‘see’ so far down on Earth, Jiff. With our attention here on the Bridge, we can’t always connect completely to a dog’s life on Earth,” Josephine said. “That’s why we’d like to send you to help Bear. Our ambassador, so to speak.”

“I’ve never heard of you sending a dog from the Rainbow Bridge to help on Earth,” Jiff said, beginning to lick his paws in nervousness.

“We actually have done it a handful of times,” Lea said.

Jiff looked unmoved and sat silent in the best way he knew to be polite but not give the impression he was agreeing to go.

Josephine looked at Lea, knowing her empathy for dogs was a much-needed skill in convincing Jiff. Lea loved on all the dogs crossing the Bridge each day. In addition to her love, she was almost a dog herself, so she communicated with them in a way they seemed to understand.

“Your record on Earth shows what an immense helper you were, Jiff,” Lea began. “Once a good boy, always a good boy,” she said, smiling, hoping to cheer the Labrador.

Jiff whimpered and began to cry. “He’s scared. I can feel it.”

“Bear Bailey?” Lea asked.

He shook his head. “My human.”

“That’s curious. You shouldn’t be able to sense that here. Only what we show you,” Josephine said. “I think your mind is making you believe you can see what you can’t.”

Jiff looked up at her. “It gets worse every day. I’m worried he won’t make it.”

Lea’s face fell. “Do you think your human is bad? You shouldn’t worry, Jiff. They’re almost all just scared and trying their best. “

“My human has always been very good.”

“Then what is it?” Lea asked.

“He fell off a bridge,” Jiff said, shivering as if he’d just emerged from ice-cold water.

“But you saved him,” Josephine said. “You pulled him from a river when he couldn’t swim. He would have died without you.”

“How did you know that?”

“We don’t know how we know, but we always know on the Rainbow Bridge,” Lea said.

Jiff swallowed hard. “He’s terrified of bridges. And the bridge to Heaven is the biggest one of all.” He began to pant heavily.

Josephine felt the dog shaking through her touch on his fur. “The Rainbow Bridge is much different from bridges on Earth, Jiff. When humans see and feel the immense beauty of the Rainbow Bridge, it washes away all fear, any sickness or pain, leaving only happiness and hope. That helps a human let go of things on Earth and be curious and excited about what lies ahead. Especially when they believe they can see their best friend again.”

Jiff began pacing, this time with renewed vigor. “I know what I feel, and it’s my human in pain. He must be ready to cross the Rainbow Bridge. You’ll have to find another dog to help Bear so I don’t miss him.”

“Jiff needs a purpose to distract his mind,” Lea whispered to Josephine. “Even a day of waiting is agony to him.”

“I think we can solve two issues at once,” Josephine said quietly before turning her attention back to the Labrador. “It’s your choice, Jiff, but walk with us before you decide, and let me tell you a story about a wonderful dog named Bear Bailey.”

About the Author

Keri Salas

Keri Salas grew up a small town girl with a sense of grand adventure. After
marrying her childhood sweetheart and starting their first business on a
shoestring budget, she went on to spend the last two decades as a life coach
helping others reach their dreams.

The greatest joys in her life are exploring London, snuggling with her dogs
(past, present, and future), and spending time with her husband David.
Though not necessarily in that order. She believes that people will knock
your socks off with their kindness, and life is filled with miracles and
serendipitous events to rival any great fictional book.

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Laws of Annihilation Virtual Book Tour

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Martyr Maker Series, Book 3

 

Mystery & Thriller / Literature & Fiction / Religion &
Spirituality

Date Published: 10/24/23

Publisher: Sourcebooks

 

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“Eriq La Salle has emerged as a terrific writer with unique
gifts.” ―Don Winslow, #1 international bestselling author

 

A war is brewing in New York City, and no one can stop it.

 

With grit, relentless action, and twists you’ll never see coming, Laws of
Annihilation
is the third installment in the highly-acclaimed Martyr Maker
series by Eriq La Salle.

It’s another blistering summer in New York City, and a sweltering heat wave
stifles the area. Hostility between the Hasidic and Black communities has
been steadily increasing since a tragic incident left a Black teenager dead.
When two rabbis are killed in a gruesome attack on their synagogue, it has
all the signs of retaliation.

The entire city is on edge.

Through it all, Agent Janet Maclin’s dreams of becoming the FBI’s first
female director come crashing down when she receives some devastating news.
In spite of it all, she’s determined to help NYPD detectives Quincy
Cavanaugh and Phee Freeman find the rabbis’ killer as more hate crimes put
the city on the brink of all-out war. As the body count climbs with the
temperature and the tensions, time is running out for Maclin in more ways
than one.

 

Apart from his critically-acclaimed thriller titles, La Salle is a
masterful mystery/crime storyteller. He may be best known for his acting
roles in productions such as ER, Coming to America, and Logan, but his
background in crime fiction was finely honed as he directed and executive
produced countless episodes of popular shows such as Law & Order, Law
and Order SVU, Law & Order: Organized Crime, CSI: NY
, and Chicago PD
with Dick Wolf.

 

Laws of Annihilation tablet

 

Praise for Eriq La Salle’s Martyr Maker Series

 

“Laws of Wrath is all thriller; no filler―a white knuckled
treat.” 

―James Patterson, New York Timesbestselling author

“Laws of Depravity is a gritty crime thriller, spiritual quest, and
love story all woven into one compelling tale.” 

―Publishers
Weekly

“Fast paced…Characters are richly textured [and] none is
without faults.”

―Kirkus Reviews, for Laws of Wrath

 

 

EXCERPT

Chapter 1

In Hell. It was the only way to describe the hottest summer on record. Even under the daily clamor of city life, if one listened intently it was still possible to hear the faint echo of the Devil’s joyful laughter. He was the only one who could have taken any pleasure in the torturous heat, the ungodly stench, and, of course, the gorge of hatred. 

It felt like the cruelest summer ever. New York was taking gut punches from a punishing heat wave that showed no signs of easing. The Big Apple was in dire need of relief. It was thirsting for summer rains, cool merciful drops that fell from somewhere at least in the proximity of Heaven. Of all of the East Coast cities that were being strangled by the heat, New York was choking the most. 

FBI Special Agent Janet Maclin drove down to the Big Apple from Washington, DC, where it was also hot, yet much more tolerable. She suffered through the slow roast of being in Manhattan because her trip was mandatory. Of her numerous visits to the city, it was the first time she had come to New York and hated it. What she hated most was her reason for having to come. 

From the time she was a child, Agent Maclin had had grand dreams of becoming the first female director of the FBI. She’d entered the Bureau knowing that as a woman she would have to run faster and jump higher than her male counterparts just to be considered half equal. Fueled by her dream, she outran and outjumped the best of them. Though sexism had hindered her at numerous turns, it was good old- fashioned bureaucracy that left her dream all but wilting on the vine. It didn’t matter that seventeen years into her career she had acquired quite the reputation, as not just a rising star but a bona fide standout. She had certainly accomplished more than all of her peers and most of her superiors. Bringing down two major serial killers within a month of each other was just one of the many achievements on the impressive résumé she had built on the journey toward her lifelong dream. Ultimately, none of it really mattered because, even though she had entered the Bureau as a young attorney, she had blossomed into a talented field agent and not a bureaucrat or politician, which, throughout the history of the FBI, had been the traditional path to directorship. 

It was public knowledge that the long-standing, current director of the Bureau was being vetted as the heavily favored vice- presidential replacement after the current VP had suffered irreversible brain damage from a severe stroke just five months into the current administration’s incumbency. Now that the director was more than likely leaving, all types of rumors were spreading. There was speculation, thin and unsubstantiated, that he was aggressively looking for a woman to succeed him. Although she knew, both logistically and realistically, she didn’t stand a chance, the spark, however faint, still reignited the flames of her most desired dream. 

Under normal circumstances, she wasn’t the type to allow herself to get caught up in things she considered highly improbable. But for once, she embraced the distraction of hope— because, unfortunately, the current circumstances of her life were unfolding as anything but normal. 

She’d started the day with a stomach full of butterflies. By the time the receptionist ushered her into the penthouse office on Park Avenue, they had mutated into angry dragons that were currently wreaking havoc on her intestinal fortitude. She wore her favorite navy- blue pantsuit with a crisp white collarless top beneath. She wasn’t much on jewelry. She wore no earrings, bracelets, or rings— just a simple, rose- gold Lady Bulova and a silver hamsa necklace barely peeking over the second button of her blouse. 

The tiny hand- shaped amulet had several names and meanings. 

In the Jewish faith, it was referred to as the Hand of God, but Agent Maclin didn’t wear it for any religious reasons because she was definitely not the religious type. She had worn the necklace for the last thirty- four years because it was all that she had left of her mother, who had passed away when Maclin was seven years old. Born into a proud Protestant family, her mother converted to Judaism just before marriage to hopefully establish spiritual consistency for her impending family. The irony was that although Maclin’s father was raised in a Conservative Jewish family, by the time she was born he had at best grown indifferent to the faith. 

Maclin wasn’t a woman who was easily intimidated. Yet, the large office made her feel like a truculent child waiting to be reprimanded by the principal. She stuck her hands in her pants pockets in an attempt to stop them from trembling. She wasn’t the most patient of women. Agent Maclin was a verb, a ball of kinetic energy who found her greatest peace when she was doing. The helpless waiting was nerve- racking. The quiet office didn’t help in any way; the silence was burdensome. She looked through the twelve- foot-tall windows facing 49th Street and could see down the corridor of high- rises all the way to the West Side. 

The inside of the building was unfazed by the scorching heat wave that was punishing everything outside. The office felt like the coolest place in New York, both thermally as well as estheti-cally. She tried to distract herself by taking in all that she could of the space that was unabashedly vying for a shot on the cover of Architectural Digest. Everything about it screamed of money. The address, the bone suede walls with coffered ceilings, customized fixtures, and intricate appointments throughout. The room even smelled rich; the scent of some high- end fragrance floated in the air like a perfect reminder of a tropical island. There was an original Picasso as well as one of Degas’s famous paintings of a ballerina. 

It was not surprising to her that the man she came to see had an “ego wall.” It was the one wall solely dedicated to the long list of his accomplishments over an extremely successful career. 

There were multiple degrees from Harvard and Princeton along with his photo on the cover of Time magazine, not to mention the framed pictures of him with three different presidents. There were tchotchkes and even artifacts in display cases from various parts of the world, no doubt collected during his extensive travels. Despite how much she had read up on him, he still held the upper hand because he knew more consequential things about her. 

Agent Maclin analyzed the office in the same way she ran a crime scene. She gathered facts based on meticulous observation. Even though she had already read as much information as she could, she still gathered clues about the man who knew more about her future than she did. Maclin hated more than anything that she no longer controlled her fate. After being seated for two minutes, she concluded that the leather Barcelona chair she sat in was intentionally only mildly comfortable. As beautiful as the office was, it was never designed for meetings lasting longer than necessary. It was fine by her because she certainly didn’t want to be there any longer than she needed to be. 

She stared at a Swarovski crystal clock on the desk, irritated that she had now waited six long minutes past the designated time of the meeting. Just as her hands stopped trembling, one of the double doors to the office opened. The man breezed in and greeted her with an apology that she felt was filled more with eti-quette than sincerity. 

“My apologies. My staff meeting ran longer than normal,” he offered. 

Maclin hated the man the second she met him. She thought he looked too slick with his gelled hair, artificial tan, and two-thousand- dollar loafers. 

She was a bit surprised that he was younger looking than his online photos and even the magazine covers. He looked too young, she felt, to have acquired all the expertise he was renowned for. 

“It’s quite all right. I was just admiring the view,” she lied. 

She reminded herself to smile because her natural disposition was sometimes a bit off- putting to people. Today, more than any other, she needed not to put anyone off and certainly not the man she came to visit. Maclin wasn’t an unfriendly woman by any means; but unfortunately, she had the kind of pensive face that more often than not seemed frozen in a permafrown .  Her lifelong habit of pursing her lips made her seem as though she was just two ticks away from a full- on scowl. Whenever she was contemplative— which was most of the time— the corners of her mouth turned downward like a grumpy fish. Her malady only added to the pile of misogyny that she waded through on a semiregular basis at the Bureau. “You know, Janet, maybe if you smiled a lot more, you’d go a lot further.”  She’d once overheard two of her male colleagues laughing about how she had a terminal case of Resting Bitch Face. 

Maclin extended her hand and smiled hard, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for her. She smiled like a woman who was certainly worthy of her host’s empathy. He had small, manicured hands that looked better than hers ever had. There was a softness to them. His handshake had the tentativeness of a man afraid that a firm greeting might somehow jeopardize his liveli-hood. He was the type of man that Maclin usually easily dismissed; she had very little tolerance for men with tepid introductions. 

Yet, she was in no position to rebuff him because regardless of the unimpressive measure of his hands they still held all the power. 

However, the minute they shook she knew that things weren’t going to go her way and all the smiles in the world wouldn’t change that. Now she had to wade through indeterminate minutes of polite chatter before he confirmed what she already knew. 

The man’s name was Dr. Winston Quinlan III, and he was widely regarded as one of the top five oncologists in the country. 

Maclin had traveled from DC to New York to see him so that he could offer his professional opinion about how much time she had before she died. 

“…and, unfortunately, after looking at your CT scan we weren’t able to find anything that contradicted your previous two doctors’ 

prognoses. Stage IV metastatic ovarian cancer is certainly a huge challenge on its own, but now that it’s spread to your pancreas and other parts of your body, I’m afraid we’re terribly limited in what we can hope for. I do have to say that in some cases— although it is rare— we’ve seen people beat the odds and live another three to five years.” 

Maclin stayed standing and looked at him directly. “The thing about working in law enforcement is that I’ve given enough bad news over the years to have learned how to take it. There’s no need for you to feel that you have to give me some false sense of hope. I just need the facts so I know what to expect and when to expect it.” 

“Well then, I would have to start by saying that, frankly, I’m surprised that you’re currently functioning as well as you are. In the next month, two max, things are going to get pretty bad and then only worse from there.” 

“Would chemo and radiation help any?” she asked. 

“In your case, I’m afraid not. Your cancer is much too aggressive.” 

“At the risk of sounding clichéd, how long before I, uhh…you know?” 

“I think we’re looking at three months. Four, tops. I’m sorry I can’t give you better news.” 

Agent Maclin looked over the doctor’s shoulder and stared at the painting of the ballerina, and for the next minute was able to shut out everything else. Dr. Quinlan continued speaking, but his voice became nothing more than a steady whirr of garbled apologies. Maclin looked so hard at the painting that she thought she saw it come alive. She found escape in seeing the ballerina move. She saw grace and perfection. She could even smell the hard work and hear the applause of the faceless audience. She felt the warm foot-lights that lit up the stage. The more Maclin looked at the painting, the more she thought about how much it was filled with life and possibilities that were no longer available to her. 

About the Author

Eriq La Salle

Actor, director, producer, and masterful storyteller Eriq La Salle is best
known to worldwide television audiences for his award-winning portrayal of
Dr. Peter Benton on the medical drama ER. Educated at Juilliard and
NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, his credits range from Broadway to
film roles, starring alongside Eddie Murphy in Coming to America, Robin
Williams in One Hour Photo, and Hugh Jackman in Logan. La Salle has
maintained a prolific acting career while also taking the helm as director
for HBO, Showtime, Netflix, Amazon Prime, ABC NBC, Fox and CBS productions.
His craft as a crime writer was honed over his many seasons as a key member
of the Dick Wolf Entertainment team, which include four years as executive
producer and director on Chicago PD, in addition to directing episodes of
Law & Order, Law and Order SVU and Law & Order: Organized Crime. He
is also executive producer, director, and one of the lead actors of Dick
Wolf’s “On Call,” out in 2024 on Amazon Prime Video. As a
writer, La Salle is the author of several critically-acclaimed thrillers
published by Sourcebooks—Laws of Depravity (2022), Laws of Wrath
(2023), and Laws of Annihilation (2023). His episode of The Twilight Zone
recently made WGA’s list of 101 Best Written TV Series. He lives in
Los Angeles, California.

 

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True Treasure Virtual Book Tour

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The Dragon and the Girl, Book 2

 

Middle School Grade Fantasy

Date Published: November 14, 2023

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

 

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Dire news arrives from Cantington. Rumors of dragon sightings are stirring
up fears based on old stories that depict dragons as blood-thirsty,
fire-breathing monsters. To protect his people, the Overking decrees that
all dragons must die.    

Twelve-year-old Eliana knows the truth about dragons. After all, her best
friend, Winston, is one! Fresh off an adventure where she saved her kingdom
using her ability to communicate with Winston’s family, she is now
excited to hone her skills through her Dragon Speaker apprenticeship. That
is until she begins having a recurring nightmare of a scar-faced soldier, a
poison-tipped spear, and an orb that glows in the dark. What’s even
more worrisome is that Winston is having the same nightmare.

When they hear of the Overking’s decree, they realize their dreams
may not be a coincidence. Eliana must quickly learn how to use her ability
to understand dragons to help new friends–and old–solve a
mystery about an ancient treasure and save the dragons from certain death.
Along the way, there are lessons to be learned about the dangerous desire
for fame, about the transitory nature of plans, and about how treasure can
mean different things to different people…and dragons.

 

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EXCERPT

The tip of the spear was mere inches from Eliana’s eye. A drop of poisonous liquid hung there, and in it she saw her own reflection. She tried to scream, to beg for mercy, to somehow stop Margred’s soldier from what she was about to do. Eliana’s cry clawed at her throat, but it was soundless, useless. In the soldier’s other hand was an orb, a glowing round stone that cast light on the soldier’s smile, a terrifying smile made crooked by the scar running the length of her face.

Someone grabbed Eliana’s shoulder. Shook it.

“Eliana.”

A barely audible whisper. Why could she hear her name carried on a breath but not her own screams? 

“Eliana.”

The hand on her shoulder was heavy and warm. And tugged gently on her quilt. Quilt? Why would her quilt be here in the Morgan Castle courtyard in the midst of the battle? She opened her eyes to the dim light of the sleeping room. Her father pulled on the quilt again.

“I know it’s early,” he said. “But Winston is here already. He’s out by the chicken coop.”

Winston. Chicken coop. Eliana felt like she was pulling herself from a murky bog, her dream fading. Yet another of the dreams that had started the night Winston flew her home from Morgan Castle.

Contrary to her nightmares, Eliana knew all was well now. King Halwyn’s horrible counselor Margred and the remainder of her soldiers were gone—had sailed north up the Pearl River. Everyone she’d poisoned had recovered, thanks to Cook’s special tea. Morgan Castle’s treasure had all been found, right where Margred had hidden it. Now King Halwyn could pay the annual tribute to the Overking of Canting at the Banquet on June the sixth, just three days away.

Eliana pushed tangled brown curls out of her eyes and tried to smile at her father. If all were well, why did she keep dreaming about the scar-faced soldier and her poison-tipped spear? And a cavern with a huge dark shape that would never move again?

Eliana slid out of her bed, careful not to wake her older sister Alethia. Her father wrapped a shawl around Eliana’s shoulders and held the sleeping curtain open for her. In the kitchen, Father’s teacup—one of the four Dragon Cups—was on the wooden table, along with a slab of brown bread.

Cadoc pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit. He unhooked the water pot from the rod above the stove, poured the simmering water over the tea leaves in the cup, and slid it to her waiting hands.

“Same dreams?” he whispered, turning to hang the pot back on the rod.

She nodded and wrapped her hands around the cup with its intricate blue designs. The steam from the tea wafted up. It smelled like citrus.

“Have a little,” said her father. “And eat. Then you can go see why Winston is here so early.”

Eliana nodded again and took a few sips of the tea. It seemed to chase away at least some of the nightmare remnants.

“The nightmares . . . it’s your mind trying to understand what happened,” said Cadoc. “Even though everything turned out well in the end, what happened was . . . was what no child should have to experience.” He handed her the bread.

Eliana heard sadness mixed with frustration in his voice. Now he could no longer leave for work at the quarry every day assuming his family would be safe at home, doing the things they’d always done. A dragon was at this very moment dozing in their yard. And his daughter was a Dragon Speaker. Had flown on a dragon hundreds of feet above ocean waves barely covering boulders at the foot of the Dead Rise Cliffs. Had been in the middle of a battle with an evil woman and her spear-wielding soldiers, one of whom Eliana kept seeing in her dreams.

Delicate yellow light from the window fell on her father’s face and on the lines that hadn’t been there before. He stood, careful not to scrape the chair legs on the slate floor. He slung his leather tool satchel over his shoulder and took his coat off the hook by the front door.

He smiled. “I’ll go out this way so I don’t disturb Winston. He seemed tired, too.”

Winston. Her new friend, the young dragon with amazing turquoise and emerald green scales and feathers. Winston, who she could understand when she touched him.

 

498 words

Winston crouched in Eliana’s yard, holding his blocky head as still as possible so as not to disturb the rooster who stood precariously balanced between his ears. Eliana’s father had said his name was Henry the Fifth when he’d unlatched the door to the coop. Gray and white and clearly in charge, he still reminded Winston of his father.

After all the hens had erupted into the yard to begin their morning forage, the rooster had tipped his head to examine Winston with one shiny black eye. Then, without warning, Henry the Fifth had lifted his stubby wings and flapped his way to his current perch on Winston’s head. Clearly, the rooster no longer viewed Winston as a threat.

Now, the rooster shifted his weight, dug his claws into Winston’s scales, and emitted his loud, raspy call. Ererghh errrr eregrerrh errrrr!

The hens ignored him, but Winston’s sensitive ears rang from the assault. Inch by inch, careful not to unbalance the rooster, Winston used his powerful neck muscles to lay his head on the ground by the Fallonds’ garden. With one more awful call, Henry the Fifth made his way slowly down the length of Winston’s snout and hopped off.

Winston watched the rooster strut to the edge of the garden. The rising sun warmed the dragon’s scales. A slight breeze danced in the tufts of turquoise and emerald feathers on his neck.

I’ll just rest a little until Eliana comes out, he thought. His eyelids drifted upward. Soon, puffs of steam emerged from his nostrils, warming the air around his head. One of the chickens came and took a dust bath in the dirt beside his right nostril.

“Opal!”

Winston jerked from his doze at the sound of Eliana’s laugh. He raised his head to greet her, but instead began sneezing. And sneezing. Eliana scooped up the fluffy white hen and put her several feet away from him.

“I think she got dust in your . . . nose? Your . . . nostril? Whatever you call it. What do you call that?” She put her hand on his sun-struck scales so she could understand him.

“My nostril,” he said, attempting to sound more dignified than he felt. He sneezed once more, this time spraying the air with droplets of water mixed with dirt. Eliana backed away, obviously trying not to laugh again.

“Uummmhh mmm muhhhh . . .” Winston began.

Eliana reached to touch him again.

“It’s not really funny, Eliana . . . well, maybe a little bit funny,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Winston,” she said. “Just warn me next time you’re going to sneeze. I don’t want mud on my dress when we meet Doryu at Morgan Castle.”

Morgan Castle.

Winston’s scales rippled and his tail tightened around his body. He’d thought the nightmares only came at night when he slept. But here, this morning, even in Eliana’s sun-brightened clearing, the sights and smells and sounds of what had happened at Morgan Castle returned.

About the Author

Laura Findley Evans

Laura Findley Evans is the author of True North, Book 1 of The Dragon and
the Girl series. It all started when her grandchildren said one night (when
they were supposed to be sleeping), “Tell us a story.” And so
the adventures of a feisty young girl and an impossible dragon began. Laura
would like you to know that whatever she writes must be true, whether it is
real or not. She hopes you will discover the truth in whatever she writes.
When she’s not writing, Laura reads (a lot), cooks (mostly) healthy
dinners, and spends time with people she loves. You can visit her at
www.LauraFindleyEvans.com.

 

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