Voting for Turning The Pages BOOK OF THE YEAR has now officially Opened. We have a ton of books that were submitted and are just itching to have you go vote on them! You can vote for the book of the year then you can vote on each category as well. SO hurry up and get your votes in and tell your friends!!!
Friday, December 6, 2013
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Hadley is Lost. Living is a struggle with her family gone, leaving her the lone survivor of a horrible car accident. As Hadley struggles to overcome the grief that comes with the loss of her family, she wonders if she wants to continue living. Life doesn’t feel worth living until she meets Avery. Avery…who makes her want to feel things she shouldn’t so soon after her tragic loss. Avery…who makes her want to live. With Avery’s love, will she be able to overcome the grief or will it consume her?
By P.A. Warren
Genre: New Adult Romance
Releasing: January 2014
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Hadley with the help of Avery will find that after the storm come the rainbows.
Learn More About The Author... P.A. Warren
P.A. Warren currently lives in the fine state of North Carolina. She is an avid reader and blogger. P.A Warren first found a love of books while reading The Babysitter Little Sister series by Ann M. Martin and since then hasn’t looked back. Reading everything she could and would get her hands on. Befriending librarians was one of P.A Warren’s favorite things to do. She also has a huge love for Squirrels.
She now has a Kindle and has found gold in Indie Authors. It has been a lifelong dream of hers to write So when she was finally able sit down and put words to paper she was thrilled, and has been writing non-stop since. She looks forward to hearing from readers!
Connect with P.A. Warren
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Saturday, November 2, 2013
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DONT FORGET ABOUT THE BOOK OF THE YEAR CONTEST!! ENTRIES CLOSE THE 27th!!!
Thursday, October 31, 2013
By: K.T Dixon
Everyone has heard of the world famous inventor Thomas Edison, but not everyone knows an inventor that he admired. Mrs. Fern Butters was an inn keeper on Matecumbe Key in the nineteen twenties and thirties, and although she didn’t actually invent Key Lime Pie, she did concoct the finest version of it ever known to mankind. And as luck would have it, Mr. Edison was a pie lover.
The fact that these two wonderful people enjoyed the pleasure of each other’s company isn’t much of a story, but the way their relationship ended is a fantastic tale that could have only happened in the Florida Keys.
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In the early nineteen-hundreds Thomas Edison, Henry Ford, and Harvey Firestone formed a band of travelers that became well-known throughout America as “The Vagabonds.” The group motored across the nation by car every summer, camped out in tents and cooked over an open fire. It was Americana at its finest. Each year brought a different destination, one year it was the Rocky Mountains, the next Niagara Falls, and the next back across the country to the Grand Canyon, and finally the destination was Florida.
Edison had to convince the group that a trip to Florida would be worthwhile. In those days the place wasn’t much of a tourist destination, but Edison had spent his winters in the sleepy little village of Fort Myers since the late eighteen hundreds and he treasured his time there. It took some persuasion but finally the group agreed and off to Florida they went. Henry Ford loved the place so much after a few days in the Sunshine State that he wanted a home there too. One thing led to another and Ford soon became Edison’s next door neighbor. The two of them wintered there for the rest of their days.
Thomas Edison was a self-proclaimed gypsy that loved to travel, so in the spring of 1927 he decided to take a trip through the Florida Keys. In those days the vast majority of the islands were still wild jungle and it was a fantastic place to be if you were a nature lover and amateur botanist like Edison. He loved to venture out on foot to parts of the Keys where his car couldn’t go. Edison explored every little island along the journey and enjoyed the native animal and plant life to the fullest.
During his first journey Edison made it as far as Key Largo where he found a charming little inn named Captain Ed’s Fish Camp. The hotel was very much like a modern day waterside bed and breakfast with a boat dock in the back. The place was owned by fishing boat captain Ed Butters and it had the finest hotel between Miami and Key West. His wife Fern cared for the guests when they weren’t out fishing and she prepared all their meals.
Dinner was served promptly each evening at six o’clock and every meal was topped off with one of Mrs. Butters’ fantastic homemade pies. When Edison took his first taste of her fantastic dessert it was love at first bite. He had never tasted such an incredible bitter-sweet delicacy. Thomas Edison had discovered Key Lime pie.
Although Edison was a modest man he just had to introduce himself to the cook. Not to boast about who he was, but to shake the hand of the person that made such a wonderful treat. Of course, Mrs. Butters graciously accepted praise for her culinary skills, especially from a man of Mr. Edison’s social standing, and she politely offered to share her recipe for him to take home. That was an offer that Thomas Edison just couldn’t refuse.
Edison returned home to Fort Myers the following week and gave the recipe to his personal chef. He instructed the chef to prepare the pie for dinner that evening because he wanted to share his most recent discovery with friends and loved ones. Well, somewhere between Key Largo and Fort Myers something must have gone terribly wrong. Even though the chef had hand written instructions from Mrs. Butters herself, the pie just wasn’t the same and Edison insisted that he never attempt to make it again. His Key Lime pie palate had been spoiled by the loving care that only Mrs. Butters could put into her magnificent dessert.
Thomas Edison’s good friend Harvey Firestone came to him in the spring of 1928 and asked about the possibility of finding a plant in the subtropical climate of Florida to use in place of the South American Rubber Tree for making tires. If a suitable substitute could be found, tire and rubber products could be produced at a much cheaper cost. The first thing out of Edison’s mouth was, “road trip,” or something to that affect. He knew that the closest North America could come to the South American environment was the Florida Keys, so off they went.
The two gentlemen set out on their quest early the next morning and by midday they were stomping around in the undeveloped brush of Key Largo. They searched the island until sunset and then hopped into their car and headed for Captain Ed’s. Once there, the first thing Edison did was present Mrs. Butters with a piece of Ivy that he had collected earlier in the day. He had actually discovered the plant during a previous trip to the Keys when it was in full bloom, and Edison assured Mrs. Butters that it would make a beautiful addition to her garden. He promised her that it would one day have the most delightful flowers that she would ever see.
Mrs. Butters gladly accepted the vine and planted it in the garden just below the kitchen window. The tiny twig grew at a tremendous rate as the months passed and by mid-September half of the back wall was covered with the Kelley Green leaves that reached out from the vine. Mrs. Butters cared for the plant daily and watched for buds all of that year, but when spring rolled around without blooms she considered uprooting the plant. By that time the little plant had grown to cover the entire back wall of the two story house and it was just too beautiful to destroy.
Time passed and soon the summer of 1929 was at hand. Thomas Edison returned to Captain Ed’s for a week stay in July that year and Mrs. Butters mentioned that the vine had failed to bloom. Edison asked her if he could work in the garden the next day so he could access the problem. Mrs. Butters obliged the request and Edison examined the vine the next morning. The plant had grown at an incredible speed, the color was good, the leaves and stems were strong and healthy, but there was no indication as to why the vine didn’t bloom. Again, Edison assured Mrs. Butters that the plant would one day be a visual spectacle.
Mr. Edison enjoyed his time in the garden so much that he spent the rest of the week just caring for the plants around the house. He worked in the garden all day and spent the evenings on the front porch with Captain Ed, listening to the radio, playing checkers, and eating Key Lime pie. The three of them developed a great friendship during the week and when Edison checked out, Ed and Fern refused to take his money.
Mrs. Butters continued to trim the vine and care for it after Edison departed. She grew to love the plant and think of it for what it was, a gift from a dear friend and one of the finest gentlemen in history. Uprooting it was out of the question. Mrs. Butters even made Ed climb a latter once a month to trim the plant in high places that she could not reach. The vine had become a part of their home.
Thomas Edison returned to Captain Ed’s in the spring of 1931 and brought the Vagabonds along with him. Firestone had accompanied him there before, but for the others this was their
first trip to the Keys. Edison praised Mrs. Butters’ Key Lime Pie as they dined that evening and by the time dessert rolled around the entire gang was chomping at the bit in anticipation. To their delight, they weren’t disappointed. Henry Ford even requested the recipe, but Edison assured him that it was a pointless appeal and the taste couldn’t be imitated. So with great disappointment, Mr. Ford slowly held up an empty plate and politely requested a second piece of the most amazing pie that he’d ever eaten.
Mrs. Butters asked Mr. Edison to join her in the garden after dinner and he respectfully accepted her invitation. He followed her through the kitchen and out the back door, where Mrs. Butters stopped and turned to point the back of the house. “I wanted you to see just how lovely this vine has become,” she said. “But it has yet to bloom a single flower.”
Edison looked at her with a gleam in his eye and a smile on his face. “Not to worry, madam. This fall your vine will bloom and you will see the most wonderful flowers that you’ve ever seen in your life.”
The caravan of travelers continued on their way early the following morning. Mrs. Butters didn’t know it, but that was the last time she would ever have the pleasure of Thomas Edison’s company.
Spring ended and the summer passed, fall was at hand in the Florida Keys. Mrs. Butters tended her garden each day and made sure to give special care to the Edison vine. When she went to the garden one delightful October morning to pick flowers for the dining table arrangement, Mrs. Butters was greeted by a wonderful surprise. Thousands of buds covered the entire house from end to end and top to bottom. They had appeared overnight and were waiting for the perfect moment to spring open and display the breathtaking beauty that nature had gestated for many years. The vine was going to bloom just as Thomas Edison had predicted. Mrs. Butters was delighted, her mind filled with the wonders of nature, and her heart felt a sense of fulfillment.
Mrs. Butters worked in the kitchen that day and peeked out the window a thousand times hoping to catch the blooms at the very moment they appeared. As she sang along with the musical interlude playing from the radio the music suddenly stopped. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer’s voice interrupted, “News flash, West Orange, New Jersey. The great inventor and elder statesman, Thomas Edison, has fallen ill and is at this moment unconscious. Doctors fear that he may not survive the night. More details will be brought to you as they develop. Now back to our regularly scheduled program.” The music sadly continued.
Mrs. Butters was devastated, she shouted for Ed, who was cleaning fish down at the dock with a hotel guest. Ed came running into the kitchen and his wife told him the horrible news. The two of them stayed by the radio the rest of the day and hoped and prayed like the rest of America. About ten o’clock that night the radio station signed off and there would be no further word until morning.
Sleep was fleeting for the Butters’ that night. The memories of this wonderful man who had broken bread in their home many times lay heavy on their hearts. Their souls could find no rest in the darkness.
Morning came and the radio was turned on long before the station signed on for the day. Mrs. Butters stepped out the backdoor and walked into the garden to say a prayer for her dying friend. When she finished and turned to go back in the house, Mrs. Butters was greeted by the most spectacular site she had ever witnessed; the vine had bloomed during the night.
When the sun peeked over the horizon and shined through the palm trees, its magnificent light sparkled on the morning dew caressing the newborn flowers. Each pure white pedal reached
out for the life giving light from a golden starburst center and created the visual sensation that God himself had kissed every bloom. The rich green leaves that had grown haphazardly for so long now turned their magnificent face toward the sun and made a glorious backdrop for the splendid blossoms. It was indeed a miraculous site.
Standing in awe, tasting the wonders of nature with her eyes, Mrs. Butters heard the radio come to life through the open kitchen window. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” the announcer sounded defeated and downtrodden. “It is with great regret and a heavy heart, that I must report the passing of an American icon. Mr. Thomas Edison died this morning just before dawn in his New Jersey home.” The report continued, but Mrs. Butters had heard enough. Her longtime friend had died just as the blooms appeared in her garden. The Lord had blessed the world with the man, and now he blessed it with a beauty that matched his brilliance.
Thomas Edison’s legacy extended far beyond the shores of tiny Key Largo, but for Mrs. Butters his legacy always lived in her heart and in her garden. But Mr. Edison wasn’t the only one in this story that lived on beyond those days; Mrs. Fern Butters left a legacy too. To this very day her famous Key Lime Pie recipe is one of the most sought after recipes in the world. You can easily find it and make yourself a mighty fine pie, but just as sure as the sun will rise in the morning and the wild Ivy of Florida will bloom in October, your pie will not be as good as the ones served from Mrs. Butters’ kitchen.
Meet K.T. Dixon
K.T. Dixon was born on the shores of Lake Erie in Cleveland, Ohio, but soon after his birth the family moved back to their native homeland of Tennessee. He grew up in Nashville and a passion for storytelling developed in his younger years as senior family members shared their southern tales over the dinner table. After serving as a police sergeant for several years, the tropics called out in the mid-nineties and K.T. headed for Florida. There he discovered a treasure-trove of fantastic tales filled with colorful characters and amazing adventures that were a throwback to the stories he loved as a child.
K.T. now offers some of those tropical tales in an old-fashion style with a hint of modern day flair that creates a fun and pleasurable literary fusion. The stories are filled with excitement, adventure and emotion, and the characters are exactly what you would expect from the land of the infamous Hanging Chad.
K.T. Dixon resides in Orlando, Florida and travels the state in search of tales, but he always takes the time to enjoy a good book. Ernest Hemingway, Carl Hiaasen, Dave Barry, and Bob Morris are just a few of the Florida authors that he loves to read. K.T. plays golf, fishes coastal waters, and has been known to spend some time at the poker table on occasion.
K.T. Dixon spent months traveling the Florida Keys in search of tales that reflect the true essence of the islands. KEY NOTES is a collection of fun and entertaining short stories unearthed during those journeys. From the northern Keys in Biscayne Bay to their southern tip in Key West, these tales bring to life the eccentric characters and bizarre events that shaped the colorful history of the island chain. Though some of the stories seem far-fetched, their authenticity is still there for you to explore today.
WIN YOUR SIGNED COPY!!!!
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
ZACH FORTIER was a Police officer for over 30 years specializing in K-9, SWAT, gang, domestic violence, and sex crimes as an investigator. He has written four books about police work. The first book, CurbChek, is a case-by-case account of the streets as he worked them from the start of his career. The second book, Street Creds, details the time he spent in a gang task force and the cases that occurred. The third book, Curbchek-Reload, is by far the most gritty. The author is danger- ously damaged, suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome (PTSD) and the day-to-day violence of working the street. Hero To Zero, his fourth book, details the incredibly talented cops that he worked with but ended up going down in flames. Some ended up in prison and one on the FBI's ten most wanted list. If you are looking for gritty, true crime stories, be sure to check out all of Zach Fortier's novels
Link to Author Web Site: http://www.zachfortier.
Social Networking Site links:
What is something you love? I love being a dad. Watching the people my children have grown up to be is one of the most amazing and rewarding things I have been able to see.
What is something you have lost? I think that the single most important thing that I have lost and want back would be some of the friendships that I have let go over the years. People I wish I ‘d made time for and kept in touch with that were significant in my life and that have since grown distant for one reason or another.
What is something you fear? I think my single greatest fear is the fear of Heights. I am sincerely terrified of heights and have been most of my life. It is such a fear that even watching movies involving camera shots from high up cause me anxiety
What is your favorite thing about the town you live in? I live in the mountains outside a relatively small town in the middle of southern Colorado. The thing that I love most about it is that no one here knows me. I love the anonymity I have here. No one knows me.
Are the people in your book based on real people in life? Yes the people in all my books are based on real people and the events are based on real events that have happened in my life and career. Some of the events may seem unbelievable but they are all true.
Where did the inspiration for your latest book come from? My latest book is called Hero To Zero. The inspiration came from watching cops, during the course of my career as a cop; go down in flames after achieving some major success. Their stories fascinated me and still do. Seeing how fragile we all are, and yet somehow achieve great things has always interested me.
What can we except to see from you in the next year? I am hoping to release at least one book this spring and maybe another in the fall.
What is your favorite place to write at? I do all my writing in the kitchen of our house. Listening to whatever sci-fi or action flick is on the TV. I need the distraction of the movie playing in the background or I get too focused and I actually shut down and have writers block…. Weird I know but the white noise help me focus enough but not too much.
Coffee, Tea, or Soda? Hahaha. Soda. Anyone who knows me knows instantly Diet Pepsi!
If a fairy gave you 3 wishes what would they be? This will probably sound corny as hell but if I could be granted any three wishes they would be good health, happiness, and wisdom. They are three things I have learned to value greatly in my life, much more than money, or fame, or any other of the usual requests.
If you could take a vacation (family can come too) to ANYWHERE in the world where would you go and why? If I could go anywhere and take the family on vacation I would take them to Denali Park in Alaska. I love being outdoors and seeing wildlife and I think Denali Park is probably the best place in to world to do both.
Do you believe in ghosts? No I do not believe in ghosts… that being said I have experienced things that made me realize there is more going on than what we see and understand.
What advice do you have to people who are starting to become a writer? I would say be prepared to accept a lot of criticism, and to work hard in spite of it. Always be striving to improve.
Curbchek-Reload is the third True Crime account written by Zach Fortier. Like the two previous books, Curbchek and Streetcreds, it is based on real events that happened to Zach Fortier during a thirty year career in Law Enforcement. Curbchek-Reload is a dark account of the final years of Zach's time spent as a cop, He is damaged and paranoid. Having survived frequent life and death battles. He is taking dangerous risks and pushing himself to the limits. Sprinkled with humorous events to lighten the razors edge descriptions of the daily shootings, stabbings and, rapes, Curbchek Reload has the highest rating of any of Zach Fortier's books. If you like your true crime edgy and dark take a look at Curbchek-Reload. You will not be disappointed
We Were Made for Each Other
People talk a lot of trash about cops and all night donut shops and 24-hour convenience stores. I’ve heard it my whole career: if you want a cop, go to the nearest 7-11 or donut shop, and there they’ll be. There’s a reason for that; several, actually. Midnight shift is long, and you get tired. The more fatigued you are, the more you crave sweets. I ate an amazing amount of gum and candy bars. They’d keep me awake and somewhat sharp after the rush of calls had ended at about 4:30 am and we were left with the early risers, Daywalkers beginning to exit their homes and retake the city. Some cops ate donuts, some candy, some fruit, but we all craved sweets to fight the fatigue. We all had a store that we staked out as ours. Sometimes it was that the coffee was better at that store or the clerk was someone you could talk to that wouldn’t ask stupid questions. But we all took a store as ours to protect and watch over. That, too, was the reality. We were there to keep them safe. Shit could break loose at an all-night store fast. The clerks weren’t able to defend themselves against the predators of the night. You never knew what would walk through the door or when if you were a clerk at one of the stores. The clerks often offered free food or coffee if we’d hang out at the store. Sometimes guys abused the offers, and sometimes they didn’t. The clerks were a wealth of information as to what was going on in my area. They could tell you the latest drug trends or who the newest hookers were in the area, and I’d frequently ask them questions, picking their brains on what was going on. People came into the store all night, talking trash, drunk, high, and completely unaware of the information they spilled in front of the anonymous clerks. I took their input into my area’s trends very seriously. Train the clerk to watch out for who you were looking for - or better yet, find a clerk that was already aware of the street - and you had a relationship that would benefit you both. I learned a lot from the clerks. One guy explained to me why they were always out of the antifreeze testers. He said that they ordered them in by the hundreds and they’d be sold out in hours. I had no idea they went through so many. He said that the testers were made of tempered glass, able to withstand heat. Crackheads and tweekers would buy them and empty the glass tubes, modifying them into glass pipes to smoke their drug of choice (street people referred to them as the “glass dick” and said that tweekers and crackheads were slaves to the “glass dick”, referring to a look of relief and enjoyment that porn stars, crackheads and tweekers all shared during their oral relief). I was amazed. I knew that they used the glass pipes, but I had no idea where they got them. Any automotive shop or 7-11 carried the testers, and they were always running out of them in my area. The clerks taught me a lot, upping my street IQ. I was always happy to learn from anyone who would teach me.
One night, we came out of briefing and hit the ground running. The calls were stacked up, and none were small or minor. The city was rocking, and we had to step it up to meet the challenge. We couldn’t gradually step into the street tonight. It would be a strange night. Normally, we all met at an all-night convenience store and hung with Sgt. Duke. He was one of the few Sgts we all liked. He was one of us, and not admin. He took a special pride in his squad and made us feel like what we each did mattered. This was a direct contrast to the Chief, who repeatedly told us we could be replaced by anyone and at anytime. He admitted to us that he was a “bean counter”, and it showed in his management philosophy. We, too, were nothing but beans to be counted, and nothing we did mattered or was special. The man was an idiot. Anyway, this night we couldn’t meet at the store for our regular bullshit session before we hit the streets. It was a case of fate, and I wonder how things would have turned out if it had been slow that night instead of so frantic.
Meanwhile, the clerk wondered where we were. She had the coffee ready, freshly brewed. Minutes ticked past, and still we didn’t show. We were so busy, I wouldn’t hear about the incident that was about to occur ‘til the next day. Some nights, it seemed to us that the city was infected with an evil disease, like on one of the popular zombie movies. The city was alive with crimes in progress; shootings and stabbings. You could hear the sirens screaming and the patrol cars’ motors gearing up as we bounced from call to call, putting out fires and keeping the dark side of the population in check.
Tom Miller was a frequent client of the store, and we saw him nearly every night we were there. He was on Social Security and lived off a small amount of money in an apartment near the store. He was one of the night people that Daywalkers are barely aware of. He was mentally disabled, but he appeared to us to be harmless. He’d often stop and talk to us as he stopped in on his nightly quest for a large Mountain Dew and candy. He never said one hostile word to us or to the clerk. We were aware of him, but he wasn’t perceived by any of us as a threat. What we didn’t know was he was schizophrenic. As long as he was on his medication, he did really well; but for some reason, the voices got to him one day. They were a little louder. Maybe he forgot to take his medication, or maybe he needed the dosage to be increased; I don’t know. He started to hear the voices again, and they told him to quit taking his medication. He did quit taking his medication, and the downhill spiral was rapid after that. He became worse and more paranoid. He quit coming to the store at night and stayed in his apartment. The night we were running throughout the city, trying to keep the chaos from getting out of hand, he was at his worst. The voices had spoken to him for days, telling him to go to the store and kill us all. He had a shotgun, and he loaded it up and waited for the time we normally showed up at the store. He left his apartment, walking the two to three blocks to the store, then walked in, shotgun loaded, finger on the trigger, safety off, ready to go. We weren’t there. The clerk saw him and immediately dialed 911. He walked through the store, looking for us - but saw no one. He went to the clerk, who was on the phone, and started shooting. He had no intention of robbing her or us. The voices were clear: kill them all! He shot the woman at point blank range, blowing her shoulder and left arm completely off. He reloaded and shot her again, then set the weapon down on the counter and waited for the cops to come.
Who knows what would have happened if we had been there? Maybe he would have killed a couple of us, maybe not. Maybe we would have killed him and the clerk wouldn’t have been harmed. The “what if” shit drove us crazy. We felt responsible for her injuries, feeling guilty for not being there when she needed us. We had a relationship with her as a squad. We took care of each other. Again, there was a feeling that we’d failed. You couldn’t be there every time, every place, everywhere you were needed. No matter how you tried, no matter how much you educated yourself in the ways of the streets, there was always random shit like this that was brutal and life altering. We tried to go back to the store, but the guilt was too much. Our bullshit sessions were over, and no one said a word, but we all felt like we’d failed her. The clerk somehow survived, but she’d be forever handicapped by the shooting. We started to meet at other stores and in smaller groups. We couldn’t face the feelings of failure that being in that store brought us. We failed all night long every night to win back the streets. As hard as we tried, we barely kept the shit in check. We had to have someplace to go and feel that we didn’t fail, even if it was an illusion.
ENTER TO WIN!!!!!
Monday, October 28, 2013
Jeff LaFerney has been an English teacher for more than twenty-five years. He and Jennifer, his wife of twenty-six years, live in Davison, Michigan. Torey and Teryn are their two children. Loving the Rain, Skeleton Key, and Bulletproof are his three stand-alone suspense and mystery novels in the Clay and Tanner Thomas series. Jumper is the first book in his time-travelers series. Jeff also professionally edits books. He loves competing at sports, connecting to good books, and creating words that entertain others.
1. Where is your favorite place to write? I do well writing in the cabin of a cruise ship. If I could only manage about 20 weeks a year on board a luxury liner, I’d be prolific.
2. If a fairy gave you 3 wishes what would they be? I’d love to time travel, be able to become invisible, and have abs like the male models in the romance novels. J I’m only partly kidding, but really I’d just like for my kids to have a chance to live the American dream (it seems unlikely the way things are going). I wish people would put others before themselves—myself included (we’d live in a much better world). And I wish that God was honored and followed instead of shoved aside and discriminated against.
3. What is something you have lost? I hate to admit it, but it seems I constantly lose my best friends. It’s made me leery of getting close to people, but it’s also led me to want to have good, genuine friendships in my books.
4. Do you believe in ghosts? I don’t know. Two of my earlier books have ghosts in them because the people in the towns of my settings were convinced historical buildings were haunted. I’ve talked with lots of people and listened to stories of people who are confident they are real. I just don’t understand what they are…why they’re there…why their spirits aren’t moving on to another place? I just know that if I happened to be a ghost, I’d be a playful one.
5. What can we expect to see from you in the next year? I want to write another Clay and Tanner Thomas mystery where my humorous “midget” character has a bigger role. I’m writing another time travel book combining my original time traveler with a new one who can plane. I’m considering a middle grade novel about a teen who is searching for a lost grandfather. And lastly, I just might write a mystery or suspense romance. Can a guy pull that off without changing his name?
Guest Post By: Jeff LaFerney
Time travel is hard to write. Seriously. Well, at least it was for me because I made the “mistake” of going on line to learn all about it. Yes, I read all about the Theory of Relativity. Einstein is smarter than me, believe it or not. I read all about worm holes and temporal paradoxes. I read all about the scientific “rules” of time travel—some geniuses have five rules; some have ten. All agree that to time travel forward is possible if a method of traveling faster than the speed of light can be devised, and time travel backward is impossible unless a time machine exists in the past. And no one can do anything that would alter the time continuum unless there could be alternate universes, which most clear thinkers say there couldn’t be. No one can go back in time and alter history because everything has already happened and alterations would have a ripple effect that couldn’t happen because events are already fixed in history.
But people love time travel, right? Creative thinkers—like writers…like me—think that the idea of time travel is all that matters. It’s no different than for readers who like aliens. If a reader enjoys the creative possibility of aliens, then they can enjoy the story. And who cares if there really aren’t fairies, vampires, unicorns, magic beans, Greek gods, super heroes, or talking rabbits? It’s just a story. And that’s why we can accept time travel in Back to the Future, The Terminator , Looper, The Butterfly Effect, The Time Traveler’s Wife, Star Trek, The Time Machine, and Timeline among dozens and dozens of other books and movies. Everything doesn’t have to be possible; the writer just has to make it seem possible.
So I spent lots of agonizing hours fretting anyway—of course. That’s just how I am. Finally, I settled on a mode of presentation. OF COURSE IT’S NOT POSSIBLE. As my wife became fond of saying, “It’s fiction. Time travel doesn’t exist. Do what you want.” Of course my story can be meticulously analyzed and found flawed. Of course it doesn’t meet every scientific principle, but it’s a story—made-up fiction to be enjoyed. And I think I did it in a way no one else has done it. I’m quite proud of that.
Instead of looking at time travel and time machines, I looked at time. And I made up a theory of how time exists on the spiritual plane. Then I created a time traveling “slinky” to stretch in and out of time and place, not because of a time machine, but because of a gift and because of a mission that was assigned to him by three angels who exist on a different plane than humans and understand time in a different way. It’s “explained” in the excerpt below as Cole Flint, the time traveling teleporter, has time explained by Perisa, a principality—an angel—after Cole learns of his abilities and his mission.
“This [time traveling and teleporting] is a lot to take in…even to believe. How is it possible?” [Cole asked.]
“Time on earth is perceived linearly. But that’s not how time really works.”
“Then how does it work? If all I have to do is picture where and when I’m going, I want to be able to visualize how it works too.”
Perisa smiled and stretched out a wire—where it came from was a mystery. “Do you recall how people once thought the world was flat?”
“They couldn’t comprehend how it could be round. But it was, regardless of what they thought. Well, people think of time like a timeline,” she explained as she stretched out the wire.
“But it’s really round?”
With a hand on the end, somehow Perisa fashioned the straight wire into a perfect circle. “Like this?” she asked Cole.
“Yeah…no beginning, no end. It sort of makes sense to me.”
Perisa giggled. “Well, that’s not how it is, Cole.” With a quick couple of twists of her hand, the wire formed into a coiled spring. “Time is more like this. No beginning or end, but all time is piled on top of each other. In the spiritual realms, past, present, and future are all happening at the same time.” She then pressed the spring with her thumb and compressed it into a solid piece of metal. “It’s not really a spring, though. Everything that happens on earth is happening on a linear timeline—at least it is to the people living here—but in the spiritual world, it’s all happening at the same time…except to you. You are the spring…sort of like a slinky. You rise out of time, stretch in whatever direction or time you want, and then settle back into the metal.” As she spoke, the “slinky” she mentioned rose out of the metal and dropped back into the visual aid, theoretically into a different time or place.
“I don’t know how you’re doing that, but thanks for the visual. You gonna give me the magic wire in case I have to explain things to the wonder girl?”
“What wire, Cole? There’s no wire,” she said as she held up her empty hands. “I know you have questions, but I need to say goodbye for now. I sense your anxiety…and sadness. You must deal with that in your own way, but please know that I will be watching…and please be careful.”
So Cole Flint, in an attempt to protect Hannah Carpenter from people who are seeking the Staff of Moses, the relic that Hannah is possessing, takes her back in time, and thus starts an adventure. In the process of transporting her in time and place, she keeps making contact with a grizzly bear and the King of Jordan. The adventure—WHICH I MADE UP—follows many of the rules of time travel—you know, those scientific “rules” about something that doesn’t exist? And some of the travels don’t follow the “rules,” leaving paradoxes. Yet, the end result is a mission is accomplished, a mystery is solved, and characters are involved in an adventure that is sure to be enjoyable to read. So relax; sit back and enjoy; and read another of the many varied tales of a time traveler that is impossible fiction but no more impossible than Harry Potter or Percy Jackson or Edward Cullen or Willy Wonka or Doctor Jekyll or Spock or Gandalf or the Incredible Hulk. It’s a story to be enjoyed—not believed. It’s an adventure to pique the imagination and to defy possibility. It is Jumper.
After spending three years in prison and others completely alone, twenty-four-year-old Cole Flint discovers an amazing ability—he can time-travel and teleport. He’s a jumper. So what should the motorcycle-riding, cage-fighting tough guy do? He should protect an innocent eighteen-year-old girl who happens to be in possession of the Staff of Moses. Following the direction of a trio of angels who are determined to shake things up in the Middle East, Cole pairs up with Hannah Carpenter and her pet grizzly while he also tries to change his past and learn the mystery of his birth. Curiously, the King of Jordan knows all about Hannah, and he’s determined to gain possession of the staff. He’ll do anything to possess its power, but is it possible that he’s no more than a pawn, manipulated in time along with Cole and Hannah? Jumper is a mysterious roller coaster of action and a time-traveling adventure that will keep readers guessing right to the very last page.
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Sneak Peek at Jumper by: Jeff LaFerney
As the king’s car shifted into gear, Akmal-Adnan caught sight of the Carpenters making their way into the Church of Moses rather than back down the mountain. “Wait,” he ordered. “That girl…it’s her.” The order to hold was passed to the other drivers.
“It’s going to storm, Rich. Don’t you think this can wait until tomorrow?” Kristina asked.
“It’ll only take a minute. I’m dying to see it with my own eyes…photograph it. Don’t you want to touch it?”
Deafening thunder exploded, but Richard wasn’t to be denied. He withdrew his camera as the family entered the door to the historic stone church. There it was…with an increased, bright-blue hue. “Can you believe it?” he asked excitedly. An incredible bolt of lightning could be seen through the open remains of the uncanopied portion of the Basilica followed almost immediately by another tremendous explosion of thunder.
He slid his hand along the staff reverently as he shot picture after picture. It possessed breathtaking beauty. Purity emanated from the polished gem, and again, it seemed a living entity. The family, in awe and reverence, gathered around the staff in admiration. Another brilliant flash of lightning and a horrifying peel of thunder broke them from their trance.
“We need to go,” Sarah begged. “I’m scared.”
“Okay, you’re right. Let’s each give the thing a heft and get out of here.”
“It’s time,” Cassiel ordered Perisa. “Go to Cole Flint, and send him now.”
Perisa disappeared as Richard gave the staff a yank. It stood firm. Kristina tried next. Still, no movement occurred. Sarah nervously glanced to the sky as she gripped the staff and another thunderclap, louder than any other, shook the mountain. She gripped, yanking on the gem with no luck and then ran, her father and mother following closely behind her. They exited the church as huge drops of rain began to fall. Richard put his arms around his wife and daughter before realizing that Hannah wasn’t with them.
Hannah seemed under a trance. Her family fled before she could try to dislodge the staff herself. Slowly, she reached forward and grabbed hold with her right hand. She felt peace as her palm gripped the radiant gem. The staff was warm to the touch, as if it flowed with energy and power. It felt right in her hand, like a comfortable tool—as if it belonged to her. Only a mere few seconds passed, but Hannah felt as if time wasn’t of any essence. This rod that once divided the Red Sea beckoned her to lift it. She felt relaxed as she tightened her grip and wasn’t surprised in the least as it slid out of the rock without any resistance at all. The Staff of Moses balanced comfortably—delicately—in her right hand. In a sort of dazed wonder, she walked with it to the church exit, and right as she stepped out from the church, her father glanced back to look for her. Hannah Carpenter possessed the Staff of Moses.
King Adnan saw Hannah exit the church with the staff and gave a quick order. “Take it! Take it now!” Within seconds, doors flew open and Royal Special Forces, amidst a torrential rainstorm, aimed their weapons at Hannah.
Lauren caught a glimpse of the girl from her news-van window at precisely the time she exited the church. She quickly took out her cell phone and began recording the scene as the Jordanian military police surrounded Hannah and the Carpenter family. Lauren could see the fear in the girl’s eyes despite the driving rain as guns pointed menacingly at her.
Out of the pouring rain, a bright-blue motorcycle appeared, its muscular driver in a blue, sleeveless shirt and dark, blue jeans materializing from thin air. The machine landed on the stony, muddy ground with a sideways skid and slid to a momentary stop right before the girl. Hannah’s attention diverted from the gunmen to the stunning, dark-haired rider. With no hesitation, Cole Flint, the time traveler, stood quickly, lifted her, set her facing him on the seat, and accelerated in an incredible burst of speed toward the stone church. From the viewpoint of the Carpenter family, the government entourage, and Lauren Molina, it appeared that he drove right through the stone wall. The girl, the staff, and the mysterious rider had simply vanished.
Friday, October 25, 2013
Alexandrea Weis is an advanced practice registered nurse who was born and raised in New Orleans. Her first novel, To My Senses, introduced readers to the world of Nicci Beauvoir and garnered numerous awards and rave reviews. Her popular second Nicci Beauvoir novel, Recovery, won the Gold Medal for best romantic suspense from The Reader’s Favorite Book Awards 2011, was named best Romantic Suspense novel by the Spring 2011 NABE Pinnacle Book Awards, and was a Finalist in the ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year Awards in 2011. Her fourth novel, Broken Wings, won best Contemporary Romance by the NABE Pinnacle Book Awards in 2012, was a finalist in the USA Book Awards for Romance in 2012, and was a finalist in the Reader’s Favorite Book Awards for Contemporary Romance for 2012. Her sixth novel, Diary of a One-Night Stand, was released in August 2012 and was named a Paranormal Romance Guild’s Best Reviewed of 2012. A permitted wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries, Weis rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans.
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