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Wednesday, May 9, 2018
Follow @IndieAuthorsMonthly on FaceBook on Thursday, May 10th from 12PM-8:30PM for #AuthorTakeover Day!
Tuesday, May 1, 2018
Monsterland Reanimated by Michael Okon, PLUS Mary Jane Walker's book collection!
________________________________________________________________
Six books of travel stories, by Mary Jane Walker
Descriptions of six heavily illustrated titles follow the author’s biography, overleaf.
All are available on Amazon.
In addition, A Maverick Traveller is available on Apple iTunes, Scribd, 24Symbols, Tolino, Barnes and Noble, IngramSpark, Kobo, Playster, and Overdrive.
A Maverick Traveller (Mary Jane’s first book) is available for $1.99 as a Kindle or Epub.
A Maverick Himalayan Way (book six) is available as a Kindle for $1.99. The other four books in between are selling for $5.99 as Kindles.
The whole series of six books—with more than 2,000 images between them— would normally cost $27.94.
There will be one-week Amazon Kindle Countdown promotion starting on Friday the 4th of May that will enable purchasers to buy the whole series from as little as $6.
Print-on-demand copies are also available for $12.99 and $13.99.
The images in these lavishly-illustrated books can be viewed in color on devices other than regular Kindles, and online via Book2Look widgets posted by Mary Jane on her website, http://a-maverick.com.
The color photo pages of the books are also linked to in this flier, which, in addition, contains links to conventional previews of the books as they would appear in a black and white print edition.
SHORT BIOGRAPHY OF THE AUTHOR
Mary Jane Walker hails from New Zealand. She has been traveling the rest of the world, and her native country, since early youth. She first experienced serious world travel as part of the crew on a small Chinese junk which was being sailed from China to France. Her memoirs are unconventional, historically well- informed and lavishly illustrated. Six titles have been published in 2017 and 2018, and three more are forthcoming.
Mary Jane Walker
A Maverick Traveller Ltd P O Box 44-146 Auckland 1246New Zealand
26 April 2018Email: admin@a-maverick.com
Mary Jane Walker hails from New Zealand. She has been traveling the rest of the world, and her native country, since early youth. She first experienced serious world travel as part of the crew on a small Chinese junk which was being sailed from China to France. Her memoirs are unconventional, historically well- informed and lavishly illustrated. Six titles have been published in 2017 and 2018, and three more are forthcoming.
Mary Jane Walker
A Maverick Traveller Ltd P O Box 44-146 Auckland 1246New Zealand
26 April 2018Email: admin@a-maverick.com
A MAVERICK TRAVELLER
An account of Mary Jane Walker's world travels and an introduction to her series of books of travel stories. With 90 images.
A Maverick Traveller (preview)
Extract with color images
ISBN (print): 9780473408053
ISBN (epub): 9780473408060
6” by 9” / 152 mm by 228 mm Publication date 2017
Paperback, perfect bound
Black and white on white paper (444 ppi) 90 illustrations
331 pages
ISBN (epub): 9780473408060
6” by 9” / 152 mm by 228 mm Publication date 2017
Paperback, perfect bound
Black and white on white paper (444 ppi) 90 illustrations
331 pages
A Maverick New Zealand Way (preview)
Extract with color images
ISBN (print): 9780473408077
ISBN (epub): 9780473408084
6” by 9” / 152 mm by 228 mm Publication date 2017
Paperback, perfect bound
Black and white on white paper (444 ppi) 598 illustrations
465 pages
6” by 9” / 152 mm by 228 mm Publication date 2017
Paperback, perfect bound
Black and white on white paper (444 ppi) 598 illustrations
465 pages
A MAVERICK CUBAN WAY
Mary Jane's account of a journey around the island after the death of Fidel Castro, by local bus and other transport, to try and discover the real Cuba. With 247 images.
Mary Jane's account of a journey around the island after the death of Fidel Castro, by local bus and other transport, to try and discover the real Cuba. With 247 images.
A Maverick Cuban Way (preview)
Extract with colour images
ISBN (print): 9780473408336
ISBN (epub): 9780473408343
6” by 9” / 152 mm by 228 mm Publication date 2017
Paperback, perfect bound
Black and white on white paper (444 ppi) 247 illustrations
259 pages
ISBN (epub): 9780473408343
6” by 9” / 152 mm by 228 mm Publication date 2017
Paperback, perfect bound
Black and white on white paper (444 ppi) 247 illustrations
259 pages
A MAVERICK PILGRIM WAY
Mary Jane's account of pilgrim paths, old churches, public walkways and other heritage in Europe and Turkey - not just for the religious! With 547 images.
Mary Jane's account of pilgrim paths, old churches, public walkways and other heritage in Europe and Turkey - not just for the religious! With 547 images.
A Maverick Pilgrim Way (preview)
Extract with color images
ISBN (print): 9780473408299
ISBN (epub): 9780473408305
6” by 9” / 152 mm by 228 mm Publication date 2017
Paperback, perfect bound
Black and white on white paper (444 ppi) 547 illustrations
361 pages
ISBN (epub): 9780473408305
6” by 9” / 152 mm by 228 mm Publication date 2017
Paperback, perfect bound
Black and white on white paper (444 ppi) 547 illustrations
361 pages
A MAVERICK USA WAY
As the 2016 elections approached, came and went, Mary Jane rode the Amtrak rails around America, talking to people and taking in the landscape. With 409 images.
A Maverick USA Way (preview)
Extract with color images
Extract with color images
ISBN (print): 9780473408312
ISBN (epub): 9780473408329
6” by 9” / 152 mm by 228 mm Publication date 2017
Paperback, perfect bound
Black and white on white paper (444 ppi) 409 illustrations
392 pages
ISBN (epub): 9780473408329
6” by 9” / 152 mm by 228 mm Publication date 2017
Paperback, perfect bound
Black and white on white paper (444 ppi) 409 illustrations
392 pages
A MAVERICK HIMALAYAN WAY
Mary Jane visits and treks in Nepal, Sikkim, Dharamshala, Kashmir, Chitral and the Hindu Kush, China, Japan and more southerly parts of India. With 294 images.
Mary Jane visits and treks in Nepal, Sikkim, Dharamshala, Kashmir, Chitral and the Hindu Kush, China, Japan and more southerly parts of India. With 294 images.
A Maverick Himalayan Way (preview)
Extract with Color Images
ISBN (print): 9780473408275
ISBN (epub): 9780473408282
6” by 9” / 152 mm by 228 mm Publication date 2018
Paperback, perfect bound
Black and white on white paper (444 ppi) 294 illustrations
342 pages
ISBN (epub): 9780473408282
6” by 9” / 152 mm by 228 mm Publication date 2018
Paperback, perfect bound
Black and white on white paper (444 ppi) 294 illustrations
342 pages
Monday, April 30, 2018
*Monday Author Fiction Spotlight* New Kings of Tomorrow by J.M. Clark
New Kings of Tomorrow by J.M. Clark
Twenty years ago, Jacob lost everything. Just as he was starting to figure out life as a college freshman, Jacob ’s world was suddenly shattered when A rapid and devastating illness that destroyed everything and everyone who mattered to him.
Jacob and the other survivors of the pandemic were transported to The Palace Program. The palace, a quarantined perfect community housed in a modern facility was designed to protect them from the sickness that wiped out ninety-five percent of the population while creating a man-made Utopia.
The Order, which has risen as the new ruling power, believed the desires of The Old World were responsible for its collapse. They appointed responsibility to Sirus, The Program Director, to rehabilitate the survivors and continue with reproduction of mankind.
As the years go by and Jacob’s relationships in The Palace grow, he slowly begins to see that the Utopian society is nothing close to a perfect Tomorrow, but instead, an unfathomable deception.
New Kings of Tomorrow
J.M. Clark
ISBN 1973596199
Thursday, April 19, 2018
Ted Cohen's Promotions!
SALE
All Three
Kindle Editions
Starts this Sunday
April 22 through 29
99 cents each
₤0.99 each in the UK
Book 1:
Book 2:
Book 3:
Don’t have a Kindle? Get the FREE Kindle app for you device at the URL below:
Get the free Kindle app
Available on iOS, Android, Mac & PC
I hope you enjoy these THREE new flash fiction books! Remember: each book contains 73 stories and each story is prompted by an intriguing photograph!
Thursday, April 5, 2018
Collision The Battle for Darracia Michael Phillip Cash - Chapter 1 Excerpt
Collision
The Battle for Darracia
Michael Phillip Cash
Book 2
Chapter 1 Excerpt
----------Available on Bargain Booksy April 6, 2018: https://www.bargainbooksy.com
Amazon - Link: https://www.amazon.com/Collision-Battle-Darracia-Book-Saga-ebook/dp/B00ISD7036
Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, 24 Symbols, Angus & Robertson - Link: https://www.books2read.com/collisionthebattlefordarracia
----------
The shores of Fon Reni were fine black sand dotted with purple sea glass that littered the barren beach. Stars lettered the velvet sky, here and there a shooting cosmic spray spread across the inky darkness, illuminating the still night. It was quiet here, the distant planet devoid of life, save the lonely inhabitants who lived on the beach, footprints washed away by the icy seas.
He had constructed a crude hut for his guest using the fronds on the leafy trees that populated the jungles. Zayden slept under the night stars, enjoying the peaceful freedom of the beach. Living on what he hunted, he reveled in the quiet of Fon Reni, knowing it was far from Darracia, his troubles, and the memories. He was tired, exhausted by grief, angry with his lack of solution.
Staf Nuen had disappeared. It was as though he had never existed. Zayden had spent almost a year
tracking him, coming up with nothing but dead ends. He had traveled from one end of the solar system to the other, living by his wits, surviving hand to mouth, always just missing him. He must have gotten close, because he was jumped outside a graphen den on the planet Venturian. He woke up, disoriented, shamefaced, with his newfound friend, Denita, and with a colorful tattoo on his biceps. He watched the ripples rise from the dark sand, the heat sucking the air from his lungs. It was as hot as a furnace. He wore just his trousers, naked from the waist up, so he could see the stupid tattoo taking up most of his shoulder. The bruises on his torso had faded a bit, but his face still looked as battered as an old suitcase. Sweat evaporated as soon as it appeared, and he let the hot air roast him. He heard the foliage rustle behind him, made a face, then laughed softly at the curse he heard muttered behind the screen of the dense brush.
There were fourteen planets in his solar system, Darracia being his native one. He had left it in search of his uncle Staf Nuen, who had killed his father, King Drakko, leaving his legitimate half brother V’sair the reigning king. V’sair pleaded with him to stay as his advisor, Zayden remembered, rubbing the still raw scar that bisected his once handsome face. The new king had appointed him grand mestor, Zayden thought with chagrin. Imagine that, the bastard of King Drakko was offered the highest position in the land.
There were fourteen planets in his solar system, Darracia being his native one. He had left it in search of his uncle Staf Nuen, who had killed his father, King Drakko, leaving his legitimate half brother V’sair the reigning king. V’sair pleaded with him to stay as his advisor, Zayden remembered, rubbing the still raw scar that bisected his once handsome face. The new king had appointed him grand mestor, Zayden thought with chagrin. Imagine that, the bastard of King Drakko was offered the highest position in the land.
He drew aimlessly in the dark sand with a broken stick. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want any part of it until he could bring Staf Nuen to justice. It was because of his uncle’s overthrow that his beloved Hilde was slain, killed by her psychotic brother when she protected Zayden from a death blow of a Fireblade. Clenching his hands into useless fists, he relived the last moments of her life.
The empty socket where his amber eye used to be throbbed as though a thousand pickaxes were stabbing it. Pressing deeply with his palms, he covered his eyes, trying to blot out the images imprinted on his brain.
The empty socket where his amber eye used to be throbbed as though a thousand pickaxes were stabbing it. Pressing deeply with his palms, he covered his eyes, trying to blot out the images imprinted on his brain.
Blood, blood, and more blood, coupled with Hilde’s dying gasp as she collapsed into his arms, a sword robbing him of his future with the only woman he ever felt he could love.
He glanced at his discarded Fireblade, thrown negligently on the sandy ground. He hadn’t used it since that day, preferring the heavy pistol strapped to the side of his leg. Darracians disdained guns.
Swords were for warriors, guns for cowards, he had been taught. His people valued the skill one developed with a blade, never respecting those beings who just aimed and fired. Guns were illegal at home, the punishment fierce if one was caught with such a firearm. His father had taught him it was dishonorable; if a warrior fought in combat, he must be engaged with his opponent, feel the heat of battle. Guns made warfare impersonal; there was no honor to kill without knowing the skill of your enemy. It showed lack of respect for the ideals of battle. That was why only a small part of the population knew how to fight with the Fireblade—it kept violence at a
He glanced at his discarded Fireblade, thrown negligently on the sandy ground. He hadn’t used it since that day, preferring the heavy pistol strapped to the side of his leg. Darracians disdained guns.
Swords were for warriors, guns for cowards, he had been taught. His people valued the skill one developed with a blade, never respecting those beings who just aimed and fired. Guns were illegal at home, the punishment fierce if one was caught with such a firearm. His father had taught him it was dishonorable; if a warrior fought in combat, he must be engaged with his opponent, feel the heat of battle. Guns made warfare impersonal; there was no honor to kill without knowing the skill of your enemy. It showed lack of respect for the ideals of battle. That was why only a small part of the population knew how to fight with the Fireblade—it kept violence at a
minimum. Darracian warriors were taught to uphold justice, never kill for personal gain, and until his uncle had tried to overthrow the government, Darracia had been a relatively mild place to live. He had picked up the gun on the lawless space station, Pagil 7, far from the rules of Darracia.
After V’sair had rocked the foundation of the beliefs about the Fireblade, Zayden didn’t want it anymore. It seemed that Darracians had gotten it all wrong. Chanters from all over his former home were meeting, trying to make sense out of the Sradda Doctrines. There were forums and debates; all the schools were rereading and trying to find new ways to interpret the messages of the Elements.
Well, he didn’t give a crap about all that religious stuff. His faith died when Hilde perished. He didn’t know why he hadn’t jettisoned the Fireblade from his portal as he traveled through deep space.
He shrugged his broad shoulders, thinking perhaps because it was presented to him by his late father when he achieved his highest honors, and he was a sentimental fool,
After V’sair had rocked the foundation of the beliefs about the Fireblade, Zayden didn’t want it anymore. It seemed that Darracians had gotten it all wrong. Chanters from all over his former home were meeting, trying to make sense out of the Sradda Doctrines. There were forums and debates; all the schools were rereading and trying to find new ways to interpret the messages of the Elements.
Well, he didn’t give a crap about all that religious stuff. His faith died when Hilde perished. He didn’t know why he hadn’t jettisoned the Fireblade from his portal as he traveled through deep space.
He shrugged his broad shoulders, thinking perhaps because it was presented to him by his late father when he achieved his highest honors, and he was a sentimental fool,
after all. He felt naked without it. He eyed his sword with resentment. Denita should never have taken it from the thug who tried to kill him. She should have left both him and the Fireblade to rot on the filthy streets of Venturian. Zayden sighed gustily. So here he sat, on the desolate beach of Fon Reni, reliving his nightmare and waiting for a sign. A signal for him to find Staf Nuen and kill him with his bare hands.
He watched the progress of the silver crabs as they clawed their way up the dark sand of the beach. The tiny feet worked in unison, scrabbling through dense patches of seaweed. There were hundreds of them. He tapped his stick thoughtfully. Well, he wouldn’t have to work very hard for their dinner tonight. Pushing himself onto his feet, he stretched widely, feeling his cramped muscles expand and his bones crack. His head still ached where he’d been beaten, and his ribs reminded him they weren’t all that healed after all. He grabbed a rush basket and then began to pluck the crabs from the ground until his container was a swirling mass of nervous creatures trying to escape. He placed them over the fire he had built earlier in an old helmet he used as a pot. Soon, he heard the crackle and hiss of their bursting shells, their color changing to an appetizing light green. He thought to call out that dinner was ready, but shrugged instead, plopping down on the sand to eat alone. That’s how he wanted to eat, by himself. His guest was nothing more than an encumbrance. He sneered at the dense forest behind him. Carefully, he pulled a cooked crab out of his makeshift pot, singeing his fingers, catching the green juice of the dripping crustacean with his tongue.
He watched the progress of the silver crabs as they clawed their way up the dark sand of the beach. The tiny feet worked in unison, scrabbling through dense patches of seaweed. There were hundreds of them. He tapped his stick thoughtfully. Well, he wouldn’t have to work very hard for their dinner tonight. Pushing himself onto his feet, he stretched widely, feeling his cramped muscles expand and his bones crack. His head still ached where he’d been beaten, and his ribs reminded him they weren’t all that healed after all. He grabbed a rush basket and then began to pluck the crabs from the ground until his container was a swirling mass of nervous creatures trying to escape. He placed them over the fire he had built earlier in an old helmet he used as a pot. Soon, he heard the crackle and hiss of their bursting shells, their color changing to an appetizing light green. He thought to call out that dinner was ready, but shrugged instead, plopping down on the sand to eat alone. That’s how he wanted to eat, by himself. His guest was nothing more than an encumbrance. He sneered at the dense forest behind him. Carefully, he pulled a cooked crab out of his makeshift pot, singeing his fingers, catching the green juice of the dripping crustacean with his tongue.
The fire warmed him against the stiff ocean breeze, and memories of camping trips with his father and V’sair came rushing back like a tidal wave. They had stayed here, the three of them, on this very beach. V’sair was so young, his royal braid barely touching his shoulder. No servants were allowed, and though his father’s elite guards hovered in the sky above, they spent a sun-filled week on Fon Reni that became a yearly ritual. They returned V’sair, to his mother’s horror, a lovely shade of brown, his light- tannish blue skin burned and toughened by the strong rays of both suns. It was a special spot for Zayden. Here he was just Drakko’s son and V’sair’s older brother, not the illegitimate offspring of the king and his laundress.
He had loved his father, as well as his royal younger brother, despite the differences in their stations, even though it appeared that he was the only one troubled by it. He was older by a good fifteen years, and he didn’t begrudge his younger sibling his inheritance; however, sometimes he admitted to himself that he felt invisible. It was funny, he mused, V’sair envied Zayden’s Darracian strength, and he valued what V’sair took most for granted, his assured place in Darracian hierarchy. Oh, V’sair always treated him with respect, had offered him the position of grand mestor, but Zayden knew what the others felt. He was seen as an interloper, barely tolerated despite the fact that he was one of the army’s fiercest warriors.
He constantly pushed himself to be faster with his Fireblade, the hardest rider when it came to his stallius, as well as the best jolter in the tournaments. He lived by his warrior’s creed, happy to make his father proud. He enjoyed showing them all his royal placement was earned with dedication and hard work. But somehow the dynamics of the Fireblade had changed now. It was not about brute strength and chivalry, so where did it leave him? He reached over to grab his sword and heard it hum to life, great red streaks lighting with energy. He knew now it was the wrong color. It was the shade of anger, not strength. Once, it had been the true blue of justice and a force to be reckoned with. His had always been the blue of a pure heart, even though he never realized what it meant. Now it blazed red, like his enemy’s. The Fireblade was about something else now, and he didn’t have the patience to try and understand. He was too tired. Angry and tired.
He threw the shells of his crab onto a neat pile, sucking the meat from the tiny claws. He should eat all of them, he thought with a mean chuckle. She missed the crabs nightly progress; Denita never learned. He eyed the last few crabs and groaned. Last time she had walked in the shallow waters she had cut her foot. No, it wasn’t worth it—he’d have to nurse her again, and hear her complaints. She could be an ornery pain in the ass. Better leave her enough to satisfy her hunger. He tried to remember Hilde’s soft laughter, and Denita’s velvet voice smothered the ladylike sound. Instead he pulled a frayed, black ribbon from a pouch and held it to his nose. Her scent was gone. Just like Hilde. Gone, forever. None of that mattered now, anyway. The one he wanted more than life was taken from him this last year, killed by the hand of her brother, Pacuto. Zayden could not rest until he brought her traitorous father to justice.
He threw the shells of his crab onto a neat pile, sucking the meat from the tiny claws. He should eat all of them, he thought with a mean chuckle. She missed the crabs nightly progress; Denita never learned. He eyed the last few crabs and groaned. Last time she had walked in the shallow waters she had cut her foot. No, it wasn’t worth it—he’d have to nurse her again, and hear her complaints. She could be an ornery pain in the ass. Better leave her enough to satisfy her hunger. He tried to remember Hilde’s soft laughter, and Denita’s velvet voice smothered the ladylike sound. Instead he pulled a frayed, black ribbon from a pouch and held it to his nose. Her scent was gone. Just like Hilde. Gone, forever. None of that mattered now, anyway. The one he wanted more than life was taken from him this last year, killed by the hand of her brother, Pacuto. Zayden could not rest until he brought her traitorous father to justice.
The four moons lit the beach, bathing him in their glow. He watched phosphorus mengles dance under the waves, their multicolored poison glowing iridescently under the swirling sea. Swimming was out of the question. One sting from their tails and he would sink to the bottom of the water never to be seen again. He drank deeply from a flask, swallowing the burn of the liquor, his eye never leaving the horizon of the endless ocean. Then what would his guest do, he thought contemptuously. He needed this complication the way one needed a headache. She would do nothing but slow him down, and although they had a common hatred for Staf Nuen, Zayden parked himself here hoping she’d lose interest. Denita had howled with outrage when he landed, screaming for him to proceed to Planta and find his uncle. He didn’t need her or anyone else. He didn’t want her or anyone else, for that matter.
He eyed the circular mark on his upper bicep. It didn’t hurt anymore, and he supposed Reminda would know someone who could get rid of it. As much as he hated it, he thought he’d keep it now. It was just another scar, like his ruined face, marked on this journey for revenge. Taking a faded patch from his pocket, he covered the empty place where his eye used to be. A comet streaked across the sky. He searched his memory for its name and came up with nothing. Due to his flight patterns, he knew every celestial event in the sky. Hearing about this one must have escaped him. He watched its progress, its feathered tail stretched out for miles, curving toward the west. Comets always meant something. Emmicus, his old tutor, always said that. Something was going to happen, he thought, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth. The salt and sand burned against his lips. Yes, he scanned the stygian sky, something was coming, he just wasn’t sure of when or what.
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Available on Bargain Booksy April 6, 2018: https://www.bargainbooksy.com
Amazon - Link: https://www.amazon.com/Collision-Battle-Darracia-Book-Saga-ebook/dp/B00ISD7036
Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, 24 Symbols, Angus & Robertson - Link: https://www.books2read.com/collisionthebattlefordarracia
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----------
Available on Bargain Booksy April 6, 2018: https://www.bargainbooksy.com
Amazon - Link: https://www.amazon.com/Collision-Battle-Darracia-Book-Saga-ebook/dp/B00ISD7036
Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, 24 Symbols, Angus & Robertson - Link: https://www.books2read.com/collisionthebattlefordarracia
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Tuesday, April 3, 2018
*AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT* Talking Tales: Puppy's Bubble by Erica Graham
Talking Tales: Puppy's Bubble
Erica Graham
ISBN #: 978-0997855531
This award-winning book is designed by speech-language pathologist, Erica Graham, to help promote babbling and first words while following Puppy on his search for the missing bubble. Puppy's Bubble is part of the Talking Tales series.
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