Book Blitz & Excerpt: Myracles in the Void + Giveaway

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Myracles in the Void
by Wes Dyson
(Myraverse)
Publication date: April 12th 2022
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

There once were two children,
a girl and a boy.
One could create,
the other, destroy.

Within every heart lies the power to bond or break.

On an isolated port of floating garbage called Hop, Gaiel Izz and his sister, Lynd, never imagined they’d be able to change anything…

Not their nasty neighbors, not their hungry bellies, and especially not their missing father.

That will change when they discover the power of myracles — magic that either creates or destroys.

As the brother and sister set across Esa to bring their family back together, this power will either unite them or shatter their entire world to pieces.

It will all come down to what truly lies within their hearts…

Create or destroy?

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EXCERPT:

Chapter One – Unforgiving Hop

THE RED TIDE is COMING!

Water Level Low.

SPRYT SightingsHighly Expected.

Un-luck + Disaster ToAllWho Encounter.

BLOCK EVERYOPENING.

— Mayor Tanning

What a delightful sign to have hanging in front of one’s home — a mix of “watch out” with “you’re on your own.” But that’s living in Hop for ya, a’kay?

As a floating port in the middle of the sea, there weren’t any roads to or from Hop. On their own, indeed. But it wasn’t always so lonely. Fifty years ago, Hop was a bustling pitstop for the hundreds of trade ships sailing across the Domus Gulf every year. A place to “hop” from one side of the gulf to the other. Being a travel hub made it bursting with exotic goods and fresh ideas. But the wild waters of the gulf were hard to predict, and they only seemed to grow more dangerous over time. One shipwreck was enough to send thoughts and prayers, but after ten and twenty ships washed back blown to bits, it started to nip at the profits. Soon traders found alternate land routes that may have taken longer, but at least weren’t so death-y.

Practically overnight, Hop and its people were forgotten like a used hanky in a puddle. Trapped on a floating port amid the unfor‐ giving sea, a stagnant idea stuck to them — anything made would just be unmade. What was to stop anything they worked hard to build from falling to pieces like Hop did? Nothin’ lasts butsalt in yer ass became the most graffitied words on the splintering streets, a series of long planks called “Boards.” Was there any point in shining your shoes, doing your hair, brushing your teeth? They would all end up dirty, tasseled, and yellow. Undone, eventually. Was there any point in building relationships, then? Nothing lasts but the salt in their asses, indeed.

Just behind that friendly “red tide” warning sign on Boulie Board, a skinny wreck of a home rose from the battered planks. Its number, 76, was drawn large and wide on the front and side in “Hopper White,” a local specialty paint whose main ingredient was seagull poop. Nothing could be wasted in Hop, not even waste. The pieces that made up the home had a kind of widely used look about them, like maybe that wall had once been the barnacled belly of a rowboat, and before that, it was a sign that said HOP: POPULATION 600. Its door was a full fourteen shades of a should-I-touch-that sort of green and was cracked at the bottom up to the knob. Its two sea-weathered windows were small and narrow like suspicious eyes squinting at the neighbors. By Hopper standards, the Izz family actually had quite a fine little nest.

The only reason the Izz house somewhat outshined its raggedy neighbors was because of the family’s firstborn, Gaiel Izz. Gai liked to fix things when they broke. Something about broken objects made him queasy, compulsive even; a roar in the belly yapping at him to make it better. As for the things he couldn’t fix, he’d at least insist on putting a sheet of soggy newspaper over it or something. In fact, he patched so many holes in his clothes with newspaper that it became the dominant fabric. It crinkled as he walked.

One special night, this industrious fifteen-year-old was lying motionless on the floor in one of the home’s damp upstairs bedrooms. His right ear was practically suctioned to the floorboards as he listened carefully for any signs of movement downstairs. He’d been listening so long his ear had become a bright, throbbing mushroom. This night, he’d embark on his most ambitious fixing project yet — his twelve-year-old sister, Lynd.

While Gai may have been on the floor, he wasn’t out of bed. The floor was both of the Izz children’s bed. Many, many things floated by Hop in the strong currents, like sunken ship junk or garbage from far off Electri City on the mainland. But few were “cozy” materials for them to scoop out and use to make bedding. Since nothing came in or out of Hop, if a Hopper wanted something new, they’d best grab a scoop and pray to Zeea that whatever they needed happened to be floating by that day. Gai once scooped an armful of braided anchor rope and wove it into a nice blanket. He looked over at Lynd sleeping on it, snoring like a ship headed out to sea

— Twaahhh! Peaceful as she seemed, her little hands kept pulling at the fraying edges of the rope-blanket, almost like tearing it apart soothed her as a babe suckling their thumb would. She was definitely not a fixer like her brother. Truly, she was quite the opposite.


 

Author Bio:

Wes Dyson is a creative marketer and dog-daddy of four Pomskies living in Western MA. He loves classical music and earthy, grass-tasting tea.

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Book Blitz & Excerpt: Arcadia + Giveaway

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Arcadia: The Complete Collection – 10th Anniversary Edition
by Al Stone
Publication date: July 7th 2022
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

AN UNTOLD PROPHECY, A BROKEN COVENANT AND A FALLEN ANGEL AS AN ALLY.

WILL CHARLIE SURVIVE?

Arcadia, 10th Anniversary Edition is a complete collection, featuring three full length novels in a single volume for the first time. A young-adult fantasy series full of magic, mythology and adventure. Perfect for fans of Harry Potter, Percy Jackson and Lord of the Rings.

Talisman Of El
They have always been here … watching in silence. Now both worlds are about to collide.

Charlie Blake has always known he was different. He hears what others don’t. He sees what others can’t. In his quest for the truth, he discovers he is the physical embodiment of a powerful ruler and finds himself locked in an ancient battle between good and evil that threatens the life of every being on Earth.

Blackout
Hold your breath. It’s contagious.

Saving mankind becomes near impossible when Charlie’s visions start to invade his reality. He can no longer identify what’s real. When he starts exhibiting symptoms of a deadly disease, he faces a race against time to find a cure, but shocking revelations makes him question where his true allegiance lies.

Ground Zero
Mankind’s only hope is not human. Approach with caution.

26,000 years ago, a supernatural apocalypse almost wiped out civilisation. Now that time has come again and no one is destined to survive. Charlie Blake is determined to stop the apocalypse, but fate might not have the same agenda. Is Charlie destined to save the world or destroy it?

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EXCERPT:

Taken from Talisman Of El (Arcadia, Book 1), Prologue

‘Luther’s dead.’

Derkein’s heart skipped a beat. ‘What … What happened?’

‘Natural causes. Apparently, his heart gave out.’

‘What do you mean “apparently”?’

With a hesitant glance at Derkein, his father opened the front pocket of the bag and pulled out a burnished copper talisman with an engraved steel band and a circular crevice. ‘Luther and I dug this up in the Roncador Mountains in Mato Grosso, Brazil. The earthquake that hit South America two months ago … We caused it when we removed this from the earth.’ He looked down at the talisman and then back at Derkein, distress clouding his features. ‘The moment the earthquake struck, we passed out. Two hours later, we woke up on Manhattan Bridge.’

‘I don’t understand what you’re saying.’

‘We didn’t fly to New York.’

‘Then how did you get here?’

His father started packing the weapons back inside the bag. ‘I don’t know. Three weeks ago, Luther called me and told me that someone was following him. I think whoever was after him wanted the talisman, and when they didn’t find it, they killed him. Now they’re after me.’

‘So give it to them. Dad, this isn’t worth your life.’

‘I can’t. This is my only connection to Arcadia.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘England,’ his father replied. ‘Thomas might be able to help me. If what he told me about these beings is true, I can’t be around you. They got to Luther. I won’t lose you too.’ He turned around and stared at the portrait covering the safe.

‘I miss Mum too, but it’s been five years. Give up before you end up killing yourself. Arcadia doesn’t exist.’

His father looked at him. ‘It’s out there. I’m going to find it. I will bring her back.’

‘Mum’s dead,’ Derkein snapped. ‘When are you going to get that?’

‘I have to go,’ his father said in a calm voice. ‘I’ll call you when I get there.’

‘Dad –’

‘I’ll be fine. I always am.’

‘Dad, please –’

An ear-piercing scream ripped through the building. Derkein froze, his eyes the only things that moved. His gaze fixed on his father, who was rummaging through his bag. He took out a black pistol and turned to Derkein, a tortured expression on his face as he placed the weapon in his son’s trembling hand.

‘Shoot anything that moves,’ his father instructed. He placed the talisman around Derkein’s neck, tucking it inside his shirt. ‘Don’t let it out of your sight.’ Cupping Derkein’s face in his hands, he made him meet his gaze. ‘I’m so sorry I got you involved in this.’ He grabbed another gun from the bag.

‘What exactly have you got yourself into, Dad?’

His father looked at him with a solemn expression. ‘If anything happens to me, you find Thomas. Tell him … Tell him he was right.’ He headed towards the door.

‘Dad, wait.’ Derkein went after him. ‘Dad –’

The double doors burst open with a bang.

His father opened fire. ‘Derkein, shoot!’ he yelled.

Derkein glanced around the room in panic and confusion. He saw no one but his father. Then he felt a sharp pain in his arm, heard his shirt tear, and cried out. Something warm dribbled down his arm, and when he placed his hand on it, he saw blood. His father screamed, and he looked up and saw him flying across the room, crashing into a bookshelf that collapsed under him.

‘Dad!’ Derkein sprinted towards him but felt a powerful blow across his chest that sent him flying backwards, and he landed hard on the floor, his gun falling out of his hand. Staggering to his feet, he glanced around for whatever had attacked him but saw nothing. His gaze landed on his father, who was groaning … and then he was gone. There were no bright lights or loud noise. He had just vanished.

As Derkein stared wide-eyed at the spot where his father had been lying only moments before, something like a blast of electricity stunned him, and he felt an intense burning inside his chest. He let out a cry as his body lifted off the ground and hung in midair. Seconds later, he came crashing down …


About the Author:

Al Stone is the author of the Arcadia Saga (YA Fantasy). After graduating with a BA in Film & Television, Al worked in the television industry for a brief period before a disabling injury led to a pursuit in storytelling. Talisman Of El is Al’s debut novel. The sequels Blackout and Ground Zero are currently available for sale.

At present, Al lives in England, United Kingdom.

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Spotlight, Excerpt, & Author Interview: The Legend of Black Jack + Giveaway

Legend of Black Jack blog announcement

THE LEGEND OF BLACK JACK COVER
The Legend of Black Jack
by A.R. Witham
Genre: YA Fantasy
Intended Age Group: 12+
Pages: 458
Published: May 17, 2022
Publisher: Nepenthe House (Self Published)

Content/Trigger Warnings Shown on page: Child abuse (foster mom hits main character), Child abduction (main character kidnapped by monster)
Alluded to: Child neglect (foster mom ignores her wards)


Thrilling fantasy adventure debut from Emmy-winner A. R. Witham.
Jack Swift can tell you every element on the periodic table, recite Treasure Island verbatim, and would remember in perfect detail every word you’d ever say to him. He has been alone for a long time, so he has buried himself in books, using them to plan his escape.

But no textbook could ever prepare him for the land of Keymark.

At 3:33 a.m. on his fourteenth birthday, Jack is kidnapped by a hideous monster to another sphere of existence. Now there are two moons in the sky, and he is surrounded by grotesque creatures and magical warriors training for battle. They want the impossible: Jack must use his abilities to save a life or be trapped in this bizarre world with no chance of rescue.

Jack doesn’t have secret magic, a great destiny, or any experience.
So why do they all expect him to become a legend?

Doogie Howser, MD • Nonendangered Rhinos • Legen…Wait for it…Dary

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Excerpt:

Chapter 4
BLOOD
Primum non nocere. First, do no harm.
—Hippocrates

The operating room was anything but sterile. The floor was pounded-down dirt, the walls were splintered wood that collected dust by the handful, and the smoking fire in the corner exhaled nearly as much soot into the room as up the chimney. It was dark, it was dirty, and it put the odds against Jack Swift before he even began.

Jack had two concerns, other than the obvious: that Xiang-lo would die the moment he touched him. The first worry was the anesthesia. Dr. Richards had told him repeatedly that in almost any surgery, the drugs used to put the patient to sleep were by far the most dangerous part of a procedure; more men had been killed by a tiny slip in the amount of medication used than from any mistake a surgeon made. The gas passers, as Richards called them, were the background heroes of the operating room, and kept their patients walking the thin line between sleep and death.

Jack had made the calculations for the correct amount of anesthesia, but in the end, it proved unnecessary. Memphis would keep Xiang-lo asleep. Such majik was well within the monster’s mastery, said Valerian, and keeping Xiang-lo out of consciousness and out of pain would be the rhino’s task during the procedure.

The second concern was more personal.

“I don’t want to see his face.”

Valerian nodded as if he had been expecting the request. “That has been arranged.”

Good. So the knight understood. “Not just his face,” continued Jack. “I don’t want to see any part of him other than his belly on the right side. There are medical sheets in Memphis’s bag; cover him with those. His chest, his legs, but especially his face. I don’t want to see it.”

Surgery was just like carpentry. Jack had to remember that. But the only way to treat a man like a block of wood was to remove his face, remove his personality, remove any trace of humanity from him…and even then, he would still be a Pinocchio.

If everything went well, Jack would love to hear about Xiang-lo, about who he was, what his dreams were, and how he’d lived his life. But right now, all Jack wanted to know, all he could know, was where to cut.

Besides, some darker part of his mind chided. You don’t want another face haunting your dreams when you kill him.

They had followed his instructions perfectly. The patient (always the patient, never a person) was laid out on a table, every inch of him covered in thin green medical sheeting, save for his white belly, which shone like a spotlight in the darkened room. Memphis stood at the man’s (no) patient’s head, his massive hands on either side of the bump under the sheet, murmuring strange words softly in the dark. There were other people there, hidden by the surgical masks that Jack, through Valerian, had ordered them to wear. They were silent, standing like statues, waiting. The grey man himself stood aside as Jack entered the room. The knight’s worn face was eerily calm.

Jack walked to the patient. There were the tools, laid out on a wooden stool near the operating table, still in their sterile plastic containers, just waiting to be used. The scalpels, the forceps, the clamps. Cold steel ready to plunge into the man’s warm belly.

The belly. Soft and fatty and pale, vulnerable as a newborn baby.

The boy put on the thin latex surgical gloves, feeling them snap over his wrists, then donned the mask.

Jack swallowed.

Memphis had been thorough if nothing else. Every kind of surgical tool he could possibly need was readily available, from clamps and forceps to ointments and swabs to needles and syringes of every kind. Dr. Swift’s office must have been completely bare by the time the thieving rhinoceros was done.

The first step was the intravenous drip. Valerian’s assistant, Kenyan, had been meticulous in following Jack’s instructions for preparing the room, but this was something Kenyan could not manage herself. The most extensive experience Jack had known with the art of phlebotomy was sticking a needle into the skin of an orange. That was practice. This was different.

He extended the metal stand, screwed it in place, took the plastic intravenous bag from the table, and hung it from the hook. Jack removed the sheet from the patient’s arm, thanked

God the patient had good veins, and took hold of the butterfly needle at the end of the IV tube.

He told himself it was no different from an orange. In the end, it wasn’t. The needle pierced the vein and found a home, easing healthy fluid into the man’s—patient’s circulatory system.

And now there was nothing left to do but surgery.

Jack found the bottle of Betadine, the worldwide standard in surgical antiseptic, resting by the tools. He opened the bottle, poured the orange liquid onto a sterile cloth, and quickly swabbed the open space between the green surgical sheets. The skin turned darkish orange as he cleaned it, and suddenly the skin didn’t belong to a man—it belonged to Jack.

He found the container of latex sheathing and tore the package open with a rip that, in the silent room, sounded like a roar. He removed the adhesive strips, settled the transparent latex window over the area where the incision would be made, and stuck it firmly to the patient’s skin. It was under that window, that minuscule six square inches of the universe, that would be the sole focus of his entire being for the next several minutes.

Or the rest of his life.

Those six inches of skin, and the one tiny little freckle that lay within them.

Jack found himself staring at the freckle. There was something about it that unnerved him. In a perfect world, there would be no freckle. It should be just a sheet of plain white patient skin masked in Betadine. But there was something about the imperfection, about the tiny, little dark spot, that made it impossible for those six inches of flesh to belong to anything other than a man.

He stepped back.

“I…I can’t do this.” He shook his head, flexing his fingers desperately. “There isn’t…there isn’t enough light,” Jack continued. “In an operating room, this should be lit up with very, very bright lights. I can’t—I’m not going to be able to see inside—”

His desperate sentence was cut off as Memphis raised one hand from the bump under the sheet and changed his tone. A tiny globe of white light appeared over Xiang-lo’s belly. It started small, no bigger than a bulb on a Christmas tree, but slowly grew to the size of a golf ball, blazing like a Hollywood klieg light. It rotated, and the area facing Jack darkened like the hood over a lamp, giving him room to work without being blinded.

The boy swallowed, his mind racing, his fingers twitching. In the harsh light, motes of dust and soot danced in the air, falling from the ceiling, changing their course with every breath, each one shining bright in the rays of the blazing, hovering orb.


Author Interview:

1. Tell us a little about how this story first came to be.
I wanted to drop a Muggle into a magical world and see how they handled magical challenges with no magical skills. Jack’s only gift is an extraordinary memory which, for him, is more a curse than a blessing, because he relives the worst moments of his life in perfect detail. All he’s got is his wits and his guts. In the beginning, like all of us, he’s powerless. But as the story progresses, Jack finds ways to leverage what he knows to survive. If you can’t be powerful, be smarter than the other guy. I think that’s something a lot of clever people can relate to.

2. What, if anything, did you learn when writing the book?
I learned there is very little difference between children and adults. Children are just smaller. Adults whine, make up dumb lies, get hangry, and make ridiculously stupid decisions…the only difference is how often it happens. When you’re telling a coming-of-age story, you look for the level-ups, the things that mark that invisible bridge from childhood to adulthood, and they’re much more subtle than I anticipated. Children know a lot more than we give them credit for. The true separation between us is how much responsibility we’re able to carry.

3. What surprised you the most in writing it?
I was struck by how attached I got to the characters. They’re just made-up pretend people, but when something bad happens to them, I really feel badly for them. I’m used to this in books that I read, but I wasn’t expecting it in a book I wrote. Authors create feelings out of absolutely nothing but it’s weird when you’re the one who created an emotion, then it comes to get you. All those emotions makes killing them tough.

4. If it’s not a spoiler, what does the title mean?
The Legend of Black Jack has different layers to it. On the surface, I wanted it to feel like a classic adventure story that you hear the title and think, yeah, that sounds like it might be a lot of fun. The cover of the book is designed with a keyhole in the side, which is meant to make you feel like it is an old leather-bound tome with dangerous magic inside…so dangerous it needs to be locked up. On a deeper level, The Legend of Black Jack is the idea that legends and stories can guide our way and shape who we become. Before Jack ever gets to the land of Keymark, there is already a legend of this other guy, and when they mistake him for the man from that story, that’s where the real fun begins.

5. Were any of the characters inspired by real people? If so, do they know?
Jack is based in part on my dad. His love of science and medicine, his attachment to his own father, his distance from his mother, the importance of family, and the way he approaches problems from a place of logic. Django Barón was created around the idea of a bullfighter named Ignacio Sanchez Mejias, long since dead. Abrahim Qin is based on an old karate teacher I had when I was ten who would absolutely beat the hell out of us, then list in detail each thing we had done wrong. Every class ended with, “No excuses for bruises.”

6. Do you consider the book to have a lesson or moral?
It’s the classic coming-of-age story. It hits on the emotion of being helpless and powerless to shape our future, subjected to the will of powerful and incomprehensible forces. Jack starts out, like we all do, with nothing of his own, subjected to the will of others, no say in what happens, tossed like a leaf on the breeze. But at some point he makes a stand for what he wants, and uses his mind to leverage himself into a position where he gets to make real decisions. It’s a story about what it takes to go from being a child to becoming an adult, and the sacrifices that are necessary to take that final step.

7. What is your favorite part of the book?
Spoilers, darling, spoilers.

8. Which character was most challenging to create? Why?
Valerian Tsai, the Grey Knight, was probably the toughest to get right. He’s a prominent figure in the story and takes on the father figure role for many people. He’s immensely powerful but prefers to use a soft touch. Getting a mentor right is always difficult, and in Valerian’s case doubly so. However, once I thought about what he loves and why he’s taking on this immensely difficult task, it became smooth sailing for how to present him in the right light. Rooker Flynn was challenging as well, because I had to take an immoral character and make him relatable, but once I found his sense of humor, his song started to sing itself.

9. What are your immediate future plans?
I’m going camping in the wilderness for a week. No phones, no lights, no cars. Launching a book is harder than writing one, so I’m going to recharge my batteries in the wilds of Washington. Thanks for your time Sadie, I hope your fans love The Legend of Black Jack!


About the Author:
author-photoA.R. Witham is a three-time Emmy-winning writer-producer and a great lover of adventure. He is the world’s foremost expert on the history of Keymark. He loves to talk with young people and adults who remember what young people know. He has written for film and television, canoed to the Arctic Circle, hiked the Appalachian Trail and been inside his house while it burned down. He lives in Indianapolis.

If you would like a sneak peek at his upcoming work or upcoming events, please reach out to him:

Twitter: @ARWitham
Facebook: ARWitham
Website
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