Saturday, July 28, 2012


INVADED: The Darkest Day

I couldn't wait to get my greedy eyes on the fifth book in the Chronicles of Caleath. 

Rosalie Skinner doesn't run out of steam. Invaded: Darkest Day offers riveting new developments and takes Caleath's exile to a new level.

 The fascinating new character of a planet's spirit comes out to play and what an asset Artura is for the novel. Loved to meet her, while the company of good old friends made for a suspenseful but fun journey through the book. 

Fun for the reader, not so much for Caleath. 

Tallowbrand certainly enjoys torturing and taunting our hero, all for the best of course, and I sure loved every encounter of Cal and the dread lord's ghost.

 I love the Chronicles of Caleath.

Edith Parzefall 

Friday, July 27, 2012

PARTY TIME... Head on over to Wendy's Blog...

Wendy's Famous Blog Book Launch

Head on over to share in the celebrations... TEN Muse authors have books released today.
There will be plenty of cyber food, drink, and friendship to share.
And prizes to be won.
Strange characters to meet, creatures to dodge and new books to add to your To Be Read list.

INVADED: The Darkest Day  is now available... still with 20% off sale price. For a short time.

See you at Wendy's.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Two Excerpts of INVADED...on MUSEITUP blog..

INVADED: The Darkest Day 

Tomorrow is Release Day...

 Join us for a Book Launch Blog party...

at        Wendy's Blog.. Garden Party

Don't forget if you PRE ORDER
you can still get 20% off...

See you at Wendy's

Sunday, July 22, 2012

INVADED: The Darkest Day... Blog Launch Party...

To celebrate the launch of Book Five in the Chronicles of Caleath... Wendy Laharnar is throwing one of her now famous... or should I say, INfamous cyber parties. There could be dragons. Who knows who or what will turn up?

We hope to have nearly a dozen of Muse's authors helping us celebrate! Check Wendy's blog for details. :)

The debris from the last book launch bash has been cleared away. 

The pond has been drained and refilled. 

The garden hedge replanted, the gate re swung!

We are ready to go. The cyber spirits are on ice...
or burning where they like it best.

The ovens are fired up. The snickerdoodles are smelling good.

Only a few days to prepare, so mark your diary. 

Stock up on your sense of humour and  adventure and be sure to join us.

Oh, and to grab your copy of Caleath's brand new adventure...

 you can PRE-ORDER your copy from MUSEITUP PUBLISHING and save 20%. 

$4.76 BARGAIN.

If you have not yet caught up on what Caleath has been through previously... (not essential, but why not enjoy his adventures...) the four books in EXILED are still available. For a limited time EXILED: Autumn's Peril is on special at $2.99

See you at Wendy's Blog party on Friday 27th!

Friday, July 20, 2012


Welcome  to my blog. Thanks for being here today.
Thanks for having me! It’s really a pleasure to be here.

Other than ‘author’ what are three words you would use to describe yourself?
Well for one, ‘introverted,’ definitely. I love people, but spending time alone or one-on-one with another person is fine with me. I’m one of those people who’re actually quite comfortable on their own. Oh, and I can’t stand crowds. Yikes.

Another would have to be ‘insecure.’ A weird one. I was born in the year of the dog, and don’t I match that personality description! When I get criticized, it’s like taking a bullet. When I get praised, my thoughts are something along the lines of, They’re probably patronizing me. I try to accept praise now and then, but I guess that’s just the person I am. Being a writer, I should have thick skin, but I’m secretly only pretending!

Lastly would be ‘[day]dreamer.’ I’m a person who sees a lot of power in dreams. My favorite activity is riding in the car with a good playlist on my iPod, because I can just let my mind wander. The music guides it in the right direction. A lot of stories have been fleshed out that way, and a lot of potentially productive school hours, too.

Do they influence you as a writer? Or the genre you write?
Yeah, I think they do. On a very basic level, I wonder if I would have had the time to even write out my stories if I didn’t enjoy being alone, or if I would even have any story ideas if I didn’t spend my time daydreaming. Probably not. And of course, you have to have a crazy imagination to write spec-fic, don’t you? Those things made the conditions right for me to become a writer.

What is it about your chosen genre/s that fires up your muse?
I write spec-fic, so I love to read/write everything from sci-fi to fantasy to paranormal and all their subgenres. Setting up the worlds is a really fun process for me. I usually take some creature from mythology and reshape it dramatically. For instance, the word skinwalker is most commonly used for a Navajo witch who shapeshifts with the help of some outer magic or animal pelt. From that, I created these poor souls whose spirit animals curse them with powers they can barely control and a grudge that puts them through emotional hell. Creating worlds and creatures is some of the most fun I’ve ever had.

You are about to be published, what inspired your story?
I live in the Pacific Northwest. Around here, it’s hard to not find some interesting legend to write about. It’s safe to say The Messenger was inspired by the huge tribal influence I see all around this area. I wrote this story years ago, though, and only about a year after the idea came to me, so I couldn’t remember an exact moment that began the whole thing.

Do you have a regime when writing? A special place, time, mood or do you snatch opportunities to pen ideas or write a few lines?
I’ve got to know exactly what happens before I write a single word, but my process for this differs with what I’m writing. Any one process doesn’t work for every story, I guess. Sometimes I write a chapter-by-chapter synopsis like I did for The Messenger. Other times, it’s different. When it comes to the actual writing, I’ve got to be alone at my laptop. The words will come too quick to write them on pad and paper, and I’m hyper-sensitive to sound and need to be alone in the quiet in order to write. I can’t even listen to music when the actual writing occurs.

Does your Muse follow rules and plot lines or does she offer ideas on a whim?
I get key points in the form of daydreams. Sometimes these are inspired by a piece of music, other times just randomly. Hate to be cliché, but I’ve also gotten a few decent ideas from dreams in my sleep. After I have the chronology of these ideas down, I have to sort them out with the usual rules (which I do break sometimes). So I suppose it is a bit of both.

What are the most dramatic changes you have made to a story you have written? What prompted the change?
Oh gosh. Well, in The Messenger, I took out a lot of useless stuff during pre-submission edits. I realized a certain character (who will not be named) unfortunately had no real purpose and won’t ever see the light of day.

But I think the biggest change I’ve made to any story was to the first book I ever wrote. It was about shapeshifters, too, but I wrote it years ago and decided, after a long and emotional journey with it, it just wasn’t publishable. So I scrapped it completely.

A while ago, I had that book/series reincarnated (into a story, funny as it may seem, called ‘Incarnation’). The shapeshifters from the original turned into mages/elementals. A new protagonist was based on an old antagonist, even shares his name. The characters even changed nationality and ethnicity. But there’s so much related to the original and so many parallels in it I’d probably count it as, in some ways, the same story.

Has there been one event in your life that changed/inspired your writing career? For example, meeting an author, finding a publisher, joining a critique group?

Meeting with my uncle. As I said above, I’m pretty insecure, so no one knew about my writing but maybe my dad and my best friend. Well, Dad blabbed to my uncle, who’s also a writer. My uncle was the one who pushed me to stop sitting around and get my work out there already, because, as he said, “you’ll never know if you don’t try.” He gave me the link to an online directory of publishers, and I had a contract a few months later.

Would you like to tell us about the main character of your book and/or the villain? Or would you like to share an excerpt? Either or both… we are keen to learn more about the story.
I’d love to, but I’ll put the excerpt below so it doesn’t get in the way of the questions, if that’s alright. There’s actually two main characters to The Messenger.

The primary is Alexis Forsyth. She’s from Sacramento and moves to Washington, like I did as a child, but her reasons for moving are more unfortunate than mine were. Her mother’s just died, and she’s going to live with her twenty-something cousin, Liam. She’s reluctant to leave that life behind, because she really had a strong connection with her single mother, but things seem to get better when she makes a new friend in a boy from the Puyallup Tribe who goes to her school. At least she thinks things are looking up, but in reality she’s gotten herself into a big mess.

She finds out pretty quickly that her friend Cougar isn’t just a boy with a funny name. He was named for the spirit animal that possesses him, and he’s actually cursed to be her enemy. Cougar has some serious issues with controlling the grudge his totem inflicts on him, even more than other skinwalkers. He really wants to keep Alexis as his friend, while his curse makes him want to kill her simply because of the color of her skin; and he definitely could kill her if he let himself. The worst, though, is that he’s not the only skinwalker, and his “brothers” are dangerously adamant about where they stand on Cougar’s friendship with Alexis.

While I can’t call them “villains,” Dante (the bear) and Caleb (the eagle) are the major forces in the story against Cougar and Alex. As fellow skinwalkers, they share a really strong bond that Cougar seems to have betrayed by becoming friends with Alex. That doesn’t sit well with them. Dante, being the bear, is instinctively protective of his brothers. Since he sees Cougar’s relationship with Alex as something to defend against, he’ll kill if he has to in order to get his friend back. Caleb feels the same betrayal, and his ability to see and deal damage with precision makes the duo a really dangerous team.

Who is publishing your story?
I’m proud to say MuseItUp Publishing has taken on The Messenger for publication! I’ve gotten to work with some really great editors and I’m sure the final product won’t disappoint.

Where can we get this book?
Right now it’s available at the MuseItUp Publishing website, right here: The MESSENGER 

How can we follow your career?
You can visit my blog at or connect with me via twitter (@enitameadows).
To follow The Messenger specifically, you can like the facebook page right here at The MESSENGER FACEBOOK page. or learn more at the official website, OFFICIAL WEB PAGE for THE MESSENGER

Thanks for participating.
Thanks so much again for having me! Here’s that excerpt I promised! It’s the story of how the skinwalkers came to be, told by Benjamin Beran, the badger and “Chief” of the Puyallup skinwalkers.

Ben looked back and forth between Cougar and Dante, Caleb watching quietly on the sidelines. Slowly, Ben’s eyes closed, and he lifted one arm toward the sky, reaching as if the stars would fall into his palm.

“Caged,” Ben said, his voice growing cold, serious; ritualistic, almost. A fire sparked in his eyes, the awkwardness of moments before was suddenly forgotten. The gray burned in his eyes, and the happy old man slowly faded into a wild dog.

“The story begins—a story within another—in the year of eighteen-ninety. The proud Lakota, the strength of the prairies, were worn and weak from an overwhelming force—the ghost-faced people who had come with welcome, and stayed with hostility. The Lakota were said to be the final force—the last to go. Even with such great numbers, even with such a strong history among the tribes and during the wars, the Lakota Nation too was caged, confined to a reservation. Until a new prophecy had come into play, from a man named Wovoka. Wovoka prophesized the land would heal. All the terrible scars upon the land would be covered with the youth it once had. A wave of new health, new life, new soil, would cover the land, burying all the damage that the world had seen. And the Lakota, along with every other tribe, would live the way they chose to. No more cages, and no more reservations.” Ben’s eyes blazed with a passion I couldn’t understand, but my eyes were locked to his as he spoke. “Three days ago was the anniversary of the day Spotted Elk’s band of Lakota were intercepted. It was the anniversary of the day they were escorted to Wounded Knee Creek by the Calvary, and made camp.” Ben looked down, sighing. “Two days ago was the anniversary of the massacre.  The regimen of the seventh cavalry surrounded the camp, and went in to disarm the Lakota.

“A deaf man—Black Coyote—hesitated on an order to surrender his rifle. Black Coyote was surrounded as men tried to pry his rifle from him, and his rifle sounded into the air. Black Coyote’s gun shot the first bullet. The second bullet—fired by a soldier—went straight through his heart.” I stared wide-eyed as the boys sat in silence around me, each staring solemnly down at the sand.

“The Lakota fell with over one-hundred-and-fifty dead. The tribe was massacred and told it was fair. Several warriors escaped into the prairies, and all but one froze or bled to death. One warrior cried out, alone, for the family he had lost.  Silent as he was, his mind never left the massacre, only able to think of the blood and death of every friend he had.

“No man would hear, and no man would listen. His family was dead or caged, and words no longer meant anything to him. And still, his story played through his mind over and over again, and he would cry to—mourn with—anyone that would listen.

“It was the animals who heard his story. It was the animals that cared. The animals near him kept him safe, and the animals far away kept him in their thoughts. They knew his story, and felt his pain. The animals made a promise solemn as the night that they would remember. They promised they would always remember the crimes the white race had committed, and that the animals would always stay with him. That they would stay with what remained of his people, and they would stay with the other tribes as well.

“The animals stayed by the people. They guided them…or controlled them. Each animal became the guide and instinct of a person, and each person was in possession—or was a possession of—their animal’s spirit, their animal’s energy. Those who were guided by the totems, who remembered—the totems who held that grudge—were stronger than anybody could possibly imagine.

“But people had no way of containing and controlling so much pure life energy. The spirits of the animals would escape. And the animals still remembered. The animals would always remember, and always hold a grudge. The animals’ energy escaped from the bodies of the skinwalker each possessed, and created the fifth stage of the skinwalker’s body.  The Animal Totems rampaged through towns and cities, destroying every white face they saw.”

The fifth stage? Cougar had mentioned the first stage, the second stage.  If Cougar can do all that in stage one…what happens when he gets to stage five? I glanced anxiously at Cougar, only half-understanding Ben’s story.

“And the Lakota warrior, seeing what he had done, watched as innocent lives were taken. He watched as innocent people were killed for their heritage. The Animal Totems rampaged over the land taken by the foreign settlers. Even with the pain he felt, the man who had made the promise with the animals at Wounded Knee did not want his memories repeated. Innocent people should not die.  Trying to fix his wrongs, the warrior gave his own life to stop the destruction. He made necklaces woven of dreamcatchers, and upon his death, the necklaces were given to the Skinwalkers. The webbing captured the corresponding animal within the body of the Skinwalker, and suppressed the Fifth Stage. And now, our animals do not have full control over us.”

I looked from Cougar to Dante to Caleb to Ben. What were they?

“But the animals stayed with the people to make sure we never forgot. And we don’t forget,” Ben said, pulling his necklace out from beneath his torn-up old shirt. “The Ghost Dance was not ours.  The Ghost Dance was what we were born from. But the intentions of the Ghost Dance live in us. The grudge—the truth—lives in us.  And when the time comes, we will live in the truth.”

Thanks again, Enita Meadows for sharing a glimpse into THE MESSENGER. 
Congratulations on your release today. May your books never go out of print. :)

INVADED: The Darkest Day.. release day coming up!

if you live in North America... guarantee your copy and get a discount. :)
Email the publisher if you live outside the states and book your copy!

These are the new adventures, never before seen...

Trapped on a dying planet by friends he trusted, Caleath falls into the hands of his arch-enemy.

Fortunately, viewing rights make the Deathbringer a valuable 
asset. More torture, better ratings. Nobody suffers as well as
 he does.

Sent back to Allorn, Caleath is the only one able to stop the
 invasion of his former Karadorian masters. If he keeps a
 cool head, accepts the help of those who betrayed him and 
the power offered by the dead planet’s spirit, dare he 
unleash the ferocious warrior lurking within?

Wrath has been waiting for his chance to take revenge far

too long. His time has come--for better or worse.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Thanks for your support....

The Free offer managed to propel EXILED: Autumn's Peril to #1 In Germany and #5 in UK, and #14 in USA.
Thanks for your support. It's been terrific.
I hope everyone who downloaded the book, enjoys reading Caleath's adventures.
Now... back to preparing INVADED the DARKEST DAY for release soon.
These are new, unseen adventures. Exciting to be able to offer them to the reading public. :)

Monday, July 16, 2012

A Glimpse into Autumn...

Exiled: Autumn's Peril

To celebrate Christmas in July and half a year of amazing interest in The Chronicles of Caleath

Here is a glimpse into a version of the opening chapter.

Chapter One

   Determination drove him. 

Caleath gulped air before the next wave struck. The crashing foam tore the barrel from his grasp. Without support, the weight of his companion’s body dragged him underwater. After keeping the blacksmith alive for so long, Caleath refused to lose him within sight of land. Legs kicking, he surfaced among the floating debris—testament to the death throes of The Albatross and her battle with Nature’s spite.

“Balls of a hairy goat!” The oath came with a surge of elation. Salvation lay beyond a final line of breakers. Caleath’s tenacity returned when he saw the fractured spar of the mizzen mast dumped on a narrow beach. He renewed his hold on a waterlogged barrel and struggled against the storm’s spent fury.

Panic drove adrenaline through pulsing veins and gave him the strength to heave his burden to the surface. Despite salt water trying to fill his lungs, he remained afloat until the tide dumped him onto solid ground.

Slumped on a beach beneath driving rain, he could not relax. With each successive wave, he lugged his companion’s body higher onto the shore. A greedy undertow dissolved the sand under his feet, but Caleath held ground against Nature’s fickle temper. Dragging air into tortured lungs, he waited for the next incoming surge.

Having survived the shipwreck, he hoped saving the life of his companion might provide redemption for the dark morass of his past.

A tumble of rocks offered protection from the wind. In their care, Caleath examined his shipmate. He cleaned a calloused finger, gritty with sand, and searched for a pulse or the telltale warmth of living flesh. Life pulsed at a fast but weak pace beneath clammy skin. The smith's breath came in gurgling spurts.

Caleath pressed on the man's chest. Seawater spilled from the slack mouth with every forced exhalation. “Chesney, come on man, you aren’t going to die. Not now.” 

Caleath pinched the smith’s bearded cheek and shook him gently. His action prompted a faint expelling of breath. No more water in the lungs. “It’s not long till dawn. Stay with me.” Caleath began to untie the rough rope binding him to the smith. He winced as pain spread with returning warmth. He glanced into the darkness crowding the rock strewn beach. The wind whispered accusations and shadows came to life.

Again Caleath checked Chesney’s breathing. “Can you hear them?” He tossed aside the hemp rope, pulling the tattered ends of his shirt sleeves over his bleeding wrist. “They are waiting for you to die or for me to fall asleep. Ghosts. Feel their hate?”

Chesney didn’t react. His body though radiated heat and Caleath edged closer, as meager warmth permeated shivering flesh. He needed Chesney to survive. The smith risked his life to save him. He would not fail the man. Not now.

“Chesney, listen to me… Stay with me.” He felt a muscle twitch in the man’s arm and although exhausted he concentrated on keeping the smith from sinking into a coma. “I don’t know why you saved me.” 

A violent shiver shook Caleath. 

Memories of being chained in the flooded hold of the sinking Albatross overwhelmed him. He clutched his arms around his chest. Blood still seeped from the wounds at his wrists, where cold iron tore skin and flesh. He swallowed, remembering the taste of terror as the ship rolled and water closed over his head. 

Nanobots in his blood wouldn't let him drown. These microscopic machines from his home planet ensured his survival. Immortality lost its allure with the prospect of spending decades at the bottom of the sea until the wood deteriorated enough to release him. Since purveyors of dark magic had found themselves an unquenchable source in Caleath, he often regretted no longer having the option of a quick, clean death.

Alive. Chained to a wreck while ribbons of blood invited predators to feed on his flesh. Living flesh. His fate if the smith hadn't released him.

The science needed to understand Caleath's longevity evaded the primitive natives of this planet. They called him daemon. Magic they could deal with. Science they failed to understand.

“Did you believe the stories, smith?” Caleath asked, not expecting an answer. “I never wanted the ship to sink. Wasn’t my fault. No one will believe me though, will they?”

The smith’s breathing faltered. Caleath rested a hand on the man’s rotund chest. His fingers caressed the rich brocade decorating he smith’s vest. “This world is a globe. We could never sail off the edge as the crew feared. I needed to find this southern continent.” Caleath listened as the wind dropped for a few heartbeats. Pounding surf drowned the ghoulish voices whispering at the edge of hearing. “I have to get off this planet, Chesney. There is a man I must kill.”

The smith’s breathing settled into an even rhythm. Caleath patted he man’s ample girth feeling his body heat return. Damp but alive, Caleath felt confident the man would survive.

“You’ve made a small fortune from my pain, haven’t you?” 

Caleath couldn’t blame the smith. For breaking into the flooded hold, risking his own life to save a maligned slave, Caleath forgave him his gains through betting. 

Freedom though, meant Caleath could shed the persona of the gladiatorial slave Wrath. After sending two dread lords to their watery graves, Caleath no longer needed to fear Governor Elensor, the man who claimed to own Wrath. Whatever wealth the smith garnered from Caleath’s role as Elensor’s prize fighter, those days were past. 

Now he called himself Caleath, the name he had selected while planning his escape. The name of a free man, bent on leaving this planet and returning to the stars.

When Chesney began to snore, Caleath relaxed.

His eyes closed. Fatigue plagued every cell of his high-tech body. To succumb to dreams before dawn meant facing the ghosts who haunted his nights. Instead, he mulled over the task ahead, concentrating on how he would escape this accursed planet. Only then could he focus on revenge.

With a curse, he vowed to punish the man who abducted him and left him stranded on this world where sorcerers and slavery existed.
Anger warmed his blood while he contemplated how Ephraim would die.

* * * *

Despite his determination, sleep overwhelmed Caleath but offered no peace of mind. Scrutinized by the sightless eyes of drowned men, panic plagued his dreams. Hungry for vengeance and corrupted by the stench of watery decay, their angry spirits sought to destroy his sanity.

In his vision, strands of hair washed like seaweed across the disintegrating flesh of dead sailors. Tides of marine scavengers reduced humanity to bare bone and memory. 

Ghostly accusations spread on the current to drown him in guilt. Lifeless skulls and partially devoured corpses of the recently drowned whispered curses. They laid the blame for their demise on his shoulders. Fleshless fingers reached through the depths to draw him into Death’s grasp while parasitic wraiths gnawed at his soul and his lungs filled with the fetor of a carnivore’s breath.

Caleath woke from the nightmare. Daylight drove barbs into his eyes, forcing him to blink before he could focus on the muzzle of a salivating wolf.

Fangs gleamed inches from his face and amber eyes regarded him without blinking.

Hunger, thirst, and the will to survive overcame any fear a wolf might evoke. Terror dissolved before a snarl.  Caleath lifted an arm to fend off the creature’s curious approach. When the wolf backed away, hackle and tail raised, he knew the beast would not hinder his escape from this planet. Nothing could ruin his chance of escape. Not an angry wolf, nor recurring nightmares, nor Death herself could stop him while nanobots flowed in his bloodstream.

A second problem struck into his consciousness. A new menace needed sorting. Cold steel touched the flesh of his neck.  Heavy enough to draw blood, the blade glinted in the sunlight. Caleath could see white knuckles strangling the sword’s hilt.

“Riante tol?” The voice of a young man trembled, but pressure applied to the blade emphasized each word. Caleath half closed his eyes. As if drifting off for a few seconds, he maneuvered his hand to ensure nothing hampered its scope of action.

While the wolf stood close enough to share warmth, Caleath accessed data stored on microchips in his brain.

 These implants, the size of a single cell, carried information he collected during his lifetime. Able to access knowledge in an instant, he searched through languages, cultures, or geographies from across a dozen galaxies. His home planet's technology stood him in good stead when he extracted the youth’s language from stored data. He drew on research material from another galaxy, collected during his previous career as a surveyor of unexplored planets.

“You can call me Caleath.” He tried to swallow, but a parched throat made the simple task difficult. Blistered lips bled from days in salt and sun. Coarse words drew a snarl from the wolf. “Call off your dog. I will not hurt you.”

The youth’s gaze flicked from the horizon to the cliffs, as if to win time to consider his options.  The sword weighed heavy on Caleath’s neck while lines of anxiety creased the flesh around the boy’s eyes.

Before the youth made a decision, Caleath ducked from under the blade. His fist smashed against the wolf’s jaw. The creature recoiled with a yelp. When the young man’s attention rekindled, Caleath grasped the haft of the sword and wrenched the weapon free of the youth’s grasp. Caleath slammed the blade into the sand, out of harm’s reach.

“You won’t need that. You're likely to get hurt.” He brushed sand from his hands. “This man needs help.”

Recovering its dignity, the wolf growled but remained out of reach. The youth’s eyes widened and sweat beaded on his brow. His gaze dropped to his empty hands before he wiped them on his leggings.

“What is your name?” Caleath prompted conversation while he struggled to lift his companion. With a grunt, he managed to hoist the older man’s arm across his shoulder. Only then did he take stock of the youth’s homespun garments and ingeniously tailored skins.

From sun-tanned toes to his head of sandy hair the boy exuded health and vitality. His expression seemed honest and unused to the shadow of fear that haunted his brow.

Green eyes glinted in the dawn light while the youth watched Caleath.

“Gwilt. My name is Gwilt.”

Glancing at the boy’s bare feet Caleath nodded.

“You live near here. Help me get this man to shelter and you can have any of the bounty we can salvage.”

“I could have killed you.” Gwilt shaded his eyes as he scanned the strewn wreckage. “So this could all have been mine anyhow.”

Caleath perused the storm torn headland where he crawled ashore. 

Wooden chests, barrels, and shattered wreckage from 
The Albatross littered the beach.

With a smile, he hoisted his burden higher. The boy might have been right, only Caleath did not intend to die, nor would he allow his companion to come to harm.

Hope you have enjoyed this version of the opening scenes from EXILED: AUTUMN'S PERIL...

Join Caleath's adventures... our final FREE offer is running on 16th 17th July

The first four ebooks are available NOW... 


INVADED: The Darkest Day...
We hope for a JULY release date to be announced SOON.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Christmas In July...

It's the middle of the year and around the world, many of us take the time to celebrate the approach of a new season. Down under we count the days until spring returns. Warm weather, blossoming flowers, whales migrating, the first hot day and swimming again.

Of course, some enjoy the pleasure of diving every day. Here is an amazing video taken diving among grey nurse sharks at South West Rocks. Listen to the humpback whales singing in the background.

I think there are reasons to celebrate every day!
Merry Christmas in July! 
Hope your year to date has been a good one! 


FREE OFFER  16th 17th JULY


to get your copy of this Best Selling ebook.
EXILED: Autumn's Peril.
Mark your calendars... don't miss out.
Tell your friends.

If you don't have a Kindle, Amazon has free apps to allow reading on ipad, tablet, iphone, pc... etc.

Thanks to everyone who has been so supportive. This is the final free offer this year. Please share this Christmas in July special with your friends.

Keep an eye out for the release date of INVADED: The DARKEST DAY... 
coming soon.


Sunday, July 1, 2012


Thanks to your support EXILED:Autumn's Peril has made it to the top of an Amazon best seller list in UK, Germany and into the top five in USA.

GERMANY 30th June 2012


UK AMAZON  30th JUNE 2012




after Free day