Renee Writes

Posts in category Author Spotlight

Author Spotlight: Londinium by Debbie Manber Kupfer


Welcome to another Friday Author Spotlight! Today I’ve got Debbie Manber Kupfer returning with the latest book in her P.A.W.S. saga, Londinium. She’s shared an excerpt from the book as well, so keep reading!

Debbie grew up in the UK in the East London suburb of Barking. She has lived in Israel, New York and North Carolina and somehow ended up in St. Louis, where she works as a writer and freelance puzzle constructor of word puzzles and logic problems. She lives with her husband, two children and a very opinionated feline. She believes that with enough tea and dark chocolate you can achieve anything!

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About the Book

“The pea soup has spoken,” said Caradog. “You are destined for Londinium.”

“Londinium?” asked Miri.

“It was the ancient city from which London sprang. The P.A.W.S. Institute of Londinium is the oldest in the world. It started before the city of today existed and straddles the old and the new. Unfortunately, today it is run by a fool.”

Join Miri as she continues her journey through Umbrae and Londinium with the help of werecats, wild warlocks, an old dog, a duck, and a whole lot of pea soup.

The P.A.W.S. Saga continues with Londinium.

Get it today on Amazon!


Keep reading for an excerpt:

“Hellooo,” said Precipitous. “Whatever are you doing in there?”

“I was a duck,” said Xavier. “But now I’m not.”

“Well,” said Precipitous. “Do you want to be a duck?”

“Oh, yes, I liked being a duck,” said Xavier, sniffing.

“Well, come out of there, lad, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Xavier pulled himself out of the bush and stood up in front of the odd-looking man.

“Come with me,” he said, and Xavier followed. They walked through the park until they came to a large horse chestnut tree. The ground in front of the tree was filled with discarded sticks. It was conker season, and Xavier only yesterday had been throwing sticks up at this tree trying to get them down.

Now as he watched, the odd man picked up one of the discarded sticks and traced the letters P, A, W, and S on the trunk of the tree. His eyes widened as a green door appeared in the trunk, and the man opened it.

“After you,” he said. Xavier walked in and the man followed. He flicked a switch on the wall and revealed a row of buttons. He pressed one, and a voice echoed into the small room. “Who is it?” the voice croaked.

“Precipitous Brew and, um, a duck!”

“Very well, bring them down here.”

“Come on, lad,” said Precipitous and led Xavier through another door and down a long spiral staircase. Xavier was breathing heavily by the time they reached the bottom, but the old man seemed barely winded.

They were met at the bottom by an even older man with a croak in his voice. “Follow me,” he said.

They walked down a long corridor, and Xavier noticed carvings of all kinds of animals on the walls: cats, dogs, weasels, squirrels, and birds a plenty, and even a camel.

At the bottom of the corridor was another door, and the older man turned to Xavier. “What is your name, lad?”

“Xavier Woods,” said the boy.

The man took out what appeared to be a silver wand and pointed it at the boy and intoned a spell:

“Xavier ut iam intraret in anatis P.A.W.S. of Londinium.”

Xavier gazed at the wall by the door and noticed a new carving. A large, fat mallard duck.

“Xavier Woods, you may now enter P.A.W.S.,” said the man, and the three of them walked through the door.

Author Spotlight – Crisis (An Empire of the Elves): A #SciFi Novel by David T Applegate

Welcome to this week’s Friday Author Spotlight! This week I have David T Applegate visiting with a science fiction novel in his An Empire of the Elves series, Crisis. He’ll be sharing an excerpt with us from his book, but first…

David Applegate is an Australian and based in Brisbane, Queensland. From early childhood, David had dreamt about Elves, space travel, and magic. Having placed those dreams on hold to focus on family and career, now he can concentrate on writing.

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About the Book

The Elven Empire has been ruled by the Thirteen Great Elven Houses since fleeing their home world. The richest and most powerful of which is House Hashimoto.

The Great Exodus started thousands of years ago, and is nearing competition. In that time the empire has grown and flourished, but now the empire is in crisis.

Pirates are attacking the Last Exodus fleet. They are after an ancient artifact and will kill anyone who gets in their way.

Get it Today!

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Google Play


Keep reading for an excerpt:

In the dark, three figures wove their way through the hawthorn bushes around a round white marble pool. They were Blood-Witches, masters of the healing arts and magic. Their uniform was a black double-breasted tunic, with red trim and a high Asian collar, with a black pleated skirt with red trim. On the left sleeve of the tunic was the symbol of the Empire, a black round patch with a gold rope edge and the seven stars of the Pleiades inside, and on the right sleeve was a white kite shield patch with a red Rod of Asclepius inside.

Each had a wide red patent leather belt, which had a mobile phone clipped on. Each wore red pantyhose and black knee-high boots. Each Witch had an ankle length black robe with red trim and a large hood with red cord. The robe had had the red Rod of Asclepius on the back.

Each Witch had the hood over her head, with her face concealed by a red medical mask. The Blood-Witch in the lead carried a staff and a medical bag, the second was pregnant, and the third carried a small basket that contained a blue wrap.

They stopped in front of a pool at a quarter-circle marble bench seat. At the back of the pond stood a marble statue of a Flower Elf maiden, holding a vase that poured water into the pool, with the overflow and filter at its feet.

Author Spotlight: The Jesus Man by Keith Anthony Baird

Welcome to this week’s Friday Author Spotlight! It’s been a while, but we’ve got a few lined up over the next few weeks or so. Today, Keith Anthony Baird is visiting to share his book, The Jesus Man. He’ll be sharing an excerpt from the book as well, so keep reading!

Keith Anthony Baird lives in rural Cumbria, England, with his partner Ann, a mad spaniel, two cats and two goldfish. He’s also inherited two daughters and a grandson. He’s had a varied career, having been a journalist for ten years, and also a designer and a retail manager in his time. The Jesus Man is his first novel, written throughout 2016 and based upon an idea he devised just under thirty years ago.

Inspired by such luminaries as H. P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe and H. G. Wells, his aim has been to deliver stories in a classic vein, but with a contemporary slant in both style and content. He aims to remain entirely independent, producing his works his own way, without interference from traditional publishing houses.

In his spare time, he and Ann indulge their shared love of the mountains by scaling the many peaks of the inspirational Lake District National Park.

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About the Book

It is 2037. Radicals in the Middle East have done the unthinkable. Low-yield nuclear weapons have been unleashed and the subsequent escalation of exchanges is enough to blacken the skies.

In time, the world goes dark. Crops fail and economies begin the inevitable collapse. Countries close their borders, cease trading with one another and declare martial law to control their populations. As oil and power dwindle, the descent into chaos follows and the global meltdown unfolds.

An entity arrives and this malevolent force begins its strategy to claim this broken territory as a piece in a long-waged celestial conflict. Moving half a century ahead, the story centres on a colony entrenched in the desert of the Four Corners region of the United States. It is a place of sanctuary, established in the post-war years and grown to be a stronghold in the badlands. In the wake of the entity’s global strategy, it stands as the sole remaining seat of the human race. Its citizens are ruled by a brotherhood of elders who cling to the shattered remnants of the Christian faith.

A priest, favoured of the sect, begins to suffer nightmarish visions as evil turns its intent on the last bastion of mankind still to fall by its hand. Overcome, and subsequently possessed, the holy man becomes the vessel through which dark forces infiltrate the colony and lay low the last of men with a crushing malediction which will claim their souls, their homeworld and ultimately their Godhead for all time.

Rich in descriptive content and paced throughout with a growing sense of doom, The Jesus Man delivers an unsurpassed vision of Hell on Earth.

Get it Today!

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play

Keep reading for an excerpt:

A faded sign that read ‘North 163’ rattled where it lay as a feral wind tore across a desolate highway. It was a howl of dry air that sung a septic aria to scorpions and little else. East of the cracked and bygone lanes, a huge ragged incisor-shaped rock punched skyward from the volcanic field like a bite that lacerated the forlorn panorama. Empty decades had wreaked their toll of abandon on this forgotten road and, where broken and degraded, the surrounding badlands had encroached to reclaim the strip. Strangled with scrub and suffocated with sand, the man-made scar that stretched to the horizon looked the spine of an era long dead. The racing sky lifted the skin from the land and birthed a pack of dust devils that danced over the creeping death of it.

South of here it was an ugly stripe of dessicated plant life, of those that could survive even the harshest of conditions, yet they stood stripped of moisture and seared beyond recovery. They withered right here, at a rate that defied natural law and the overdriven air scattered their parched stems into the hate of the desert. His presence was the antithesis of existence, an aura that whispered quiet annihilation to anything in his path, unless he willed otherwise. He reached inside his robe, retrieved a sackcloth doll and put his gaze upon it. A thing that had been cast down before him by a medicine man on a distant island in a weak attempt to ward off his imminent ending decades ago. It was a crude representation fashioned from a weave of dried sedge, dressed with a coarse fabric, that bore sewn features and was held together with rustic string bindings.

As the last act of defiance by a human soul it had intrigued him and so he’d kept the effigy as a memento mori and, in recent times, had embellished the thing with a modification all his own. Rosary beads he’d picked from the wreckage of a church in the City of Angels were now wrapped around it, with the crucifix in situ on the chest. He turned, stepped off the highway and moved to a cluster of rocks with the plants of the desert floor being destroyed with each step. The raging wind deflected around him, unable to make contact with its abrasive cargo of sand particles and disrupt his actions in any way. He placed the doll on a sheared rock and this time removed a skull from his garments, formerly the medicine man’s head, then moved the upturned remnant in a lazy counter-clockwise motion before spilling the knuckles inside across the slab to reveal their bone divination.

A sole peal of thunder rasped through the arid drift, followed by no other. Satisfied, he stowed the articles and made his way back to the road, making once again for the stark horizon and leaving a swathe of dead flora in his wake.

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