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Blog Tour: “Timeless Echoes” by Balroop Singh

15 Jul

Hello, everyone! I’m excited to welcome today’s special guest: Balroop Singh and her new poetry book, “Timeless Echoes“.

I read another of Balroop Singh’s poetry books, “Emerging From Shadows” and loved it. So I look forward to reading this one as well.

 

 

Introducing poet and author, Balroop Singh:

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Poet, Balroop Singh

 

Author Bio:

Balroop Singh, a former teacher and an educationalist always had a passion for writing.  She is a poet, a creative non-fiction writer, a relaxed blogger and a doting grandma. She writes about people, emotions and relationships. Her poetry highlights the fact that happiness is not a destination but a chasm to bury agony, anguish, grief, distress and move on! No sea of solitude is so deep that it can drown us. Sometimes aspirations are trampled upon, the boulders of exploitation and discrimination may block your path but those who tread on undeterred are always successful.

 

When turbulences hit, when shadows of life darken, when they come like unseen robbers, with muffled exterior, when they threaten to shatter your dreams, it is better to break free rather than get sucked by the vortex of emotions.

A self-published author, she is the poet of Sublime Shadows of Life and Emerging From Shadows, both widely acclaimed poetry books. She has also written When Success EludesEmotional Truths Of Relationships Read FREE with Kindle Unlimited and Allow Yourself to be a Better Person.

 

Balroop Singh has always lived through her heart. She is a great nature lover; she loves to watch birds flying home. The sunsets allure her with their varied hues that they lend to the sky. She can spend endless hours listening to the rustling leaves and the sound of waterfalls. The moonlight streaming through her garden, the flowers, the meadows, the butterflies cast a spell on her. She lives in San Ramon, California.

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Book Blurb:

Certain desires and thoughts remain within our heart, we can’t express them, we wait for the right time, which never comes till they make inroads out of our most guarded fortresses to spill on to the pages of our choice. This collection is an echo of that love, which remained obscure, those yearnings that were suppressed, the regrets that we refuse to acknowledge. Many poems seem personal because they are written in first person but they have been inspired from the people around me – friends and acquaintances who shared their stories with me.

 

Some secrets have to remain buried because they are ours
We do share them but only with the stars
The tears that guarded them were as precious as flowers
Soothing like balm on festering scars.

 

While there are no boxes for grief and joy, some persons in our life are more closely associated with these emotions. Their separation shatters us, their memories echo, we grieve but life does not stagnate for anyone…it is more like a river that flows despite the boulders. When imagination and inspiration try to offer solace, poetry that you are about to read springs forth.

Book Information:

Title: Timeless echoes

Author: Balroop Singh

Genre: Poetry

Available at: Kindle

 

 

The Editor’s Review:

 

Half of what we say are lies although they might be considered true, but truth with one’s self is an accepted bundle of lies except for those rare moments of self-realization. These lines right at the start of Timeless Echoes, ‘Each moment is precious, we try to cage it within our heart, where it perches in perfect rampart, embalmed by memories,’ reveal how this book is a healer, promising to lay bare the ills of the soul as it soothes, cleanses, and nurtures; instilling in us a will to learn and live without fear, and a will to not hurt others: ‘Why can’t our hearts feel the hurt we hurl at others?’

 

Balroop’s new book is a steadfast repudiation of those ills that we painfully hide under the covers of our flesh to present the polished exterior as truth. This magnetic collection of poems highlights our precious human lives with all their varied emotions and imposing relations: the lives often blinded by the strictures of the self-made duplicity, an excessively common phenomenon. ‘Listen to your heart, my friend. It knows you well,’ she writes.

 

I treasure these ‘forgetting fragile facets of love, facade of fading memories, echoes of dwindling love, is all I have now, yet love echoes refuse to subside’ believing that love echoes are soul-launched signals, ready to hug our pretenses to forge a divine assimilation because the struggle has always been with the self that we excommunicate to build up a wall, which obscures the travails plaguing the core. And finding a path to the core is the cure since there’s no villainy in the soul.

 

As Balroop proclaims ‘love is such a strange emotion, it gives less, it claims more…the facade of love is so delusive,’ I concur how our infirmities require urgent banishment, more pressing now than ever. And once I’ve made peace with the self, ‘the dark corridors are like meadows, they glow with my presence.’ Yes, without an iota of my own falsehoods plaguing me.

Mahesh Nair

Excerpt:

 

Moments That Echo

 

  Each moment is precious

We try to cage it within our heart

Where it perches in perfect rampart

    Embalmed by memories!

Moments of love croon around us

Offering eternal passion that blinds

Drowning in the deluge of delusion

Validating ephemeral enchantment!

Moments of joy glisten on the sand of time

Fleeting away faster than dappling light

Peeping through the corridors of life

   At the mercy of others’ delight!

Woeful moments smile through strife

  Each one stretching far and wide

    Into every nerve and sinew

Sneering at our impertinent divide!

Each moment an experience in itself

We grow in its glow to wend and win

Divesting the ignorance of our thoughts

         Solace echoing within!

Connect with Balroop on Social Media:

Blog:

Twitter:    

Facebook:

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Goodreads:

Amazon:

I hope you enjoyed today’s guest and her beautiful poetry. Have a wonderful week!

Book Tour: If You Love Me, I’m Yours by Lizzie Chantree

9 Jul

Lizzie Chantree-author-novel-romance-blog_tour-book-Vashti Quiroz Vega-The Writer Next Door

Hello and welcome!

Today, I’m excited to be featuring the latest release by author, Lizzie Chantree, as part of her “If You Love Me, I’m Yours” book release tour.

Lizzie and I are both members of the Rave Reviews Book Club and she has been a guest on this blog before. She is a talented, award-winning author and inventor. It is a privilege to have her as my guest today.

Introducing author Lizzie Chantree.

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Author Bio:

 

Award-winning inventor and author, Lizzie Chantree, started her own business at the age of 18 and became one of Fair Play London and The Patent Office’s British Female Inventors of the Year in 2000. She discovered her love of writing fiction when her children were little and now runs networking hours on social media, where creative businesses, writers, photographers and designers can offer advice and support to each other. She lives with her family on the coast in Essex. Visit her website at www.lizziechantree.com or follow her on Twitter @Lizzie_Chantree

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If You Love Me, I'm Yours-Lizzie Chantree-author-book-novel-romance-The Writer Next Door-Vashti Quiroz Vega-Blog_Tour

Click on image to purchase.

Book Blurb:

 

‘If you love me, I’m yours…’

Maud didn’t mind being boring, not really. She had a sensible job, clothes, and love life… if you counted an overbearing ex who had thanked her, rolled over and was snoring before she even realised he’d begun! She could tolerate not fulfilling her dreams, if her parents would pay her one compliment about the only thing she was passionate about in life: her art.

Dot should have fit in with her flamboyant and slightly eccentric family of talented artists, but somehow, she was an anomaly who couldn’t paint. She tried hard to be part of their world by becoming an art agent extraordinaire, but she dreamed of finding her own voice.

Dot’s brother Nate, a smoulderingly sexy and famous artist, was adored by everyone. His creative talent left them in awe of his ability to capture such passion on canvas. Women worshipped him, and even Dot’s friend Maud flushed and bumped into things when he walked into a room, but a tragic event in his past had left him emotionally and physically scarred, and reluctant to face the world again.

Someone was leaving exquisite little paintings on park benches, with a tag saying, ‘If you love me, I’m yours’. The art was so fresh and cutting-edge, that it generated a media frenzy and a scramble to discover where the mystery artist could be hiding. The revelation of who the prodigious artist was interlinked Maud, Dot and Nate’s lives forever, but their worlds came crashing down.

Were bonds of friendship, love and loyalty strong enough to withstand fame, success and scandal?

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Website

Twitter

Facebook

Instagram

Goodreads

Universal book buy link

Please join Lizzie Chantree on Twitter each Monday for #CreativeBizHour

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Have a great week, everyone!

Watch WRISA Write Showcase Tour – Nonnie Jules

29 Aug

Hello everyone and welcome! Rave Reviews Book Club’s ‘Watch WRISA Write’ continues on day 29 with author and president of the club, Nonnie Jules. 

 

Nonnie is sharing a powerful and important piece with us today. Please read and share. Feel free to leave your thoughts and opinions in the comment section below. Thank you.

 

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Because of the division that’s going on in our world right now, the hate that’s being stirred up and spewed by these White Supremacist groups, we felt it appropriate and extremely necessary that we share a piece from our President, Nonnie Jules, that needs to be wide-spread.

“DOES MY LIFE MATTER?”

 

I am a black woman, and because of the shade of my skin and coarseness of my hair, because of the fullness of my hips, my lips and the bold colors I wear…some don’t find me as attractive as my fairer counterparts.  You see, I’m no longer your house-maid or here for your sexual pleasure; no longer Mamie to your children, I’m now someone’s Mother…a treasure.  But, does my life matter?

 

I am a black man, and because of my dark skin and the boldness of my stance, because of the kinky in my hair, the anger in my stare, and the wear and tear shown on my hands…some still don’t see me as a man.  You see, I’m no longer your field property or your whipping post.  I’ve freedom papers and own land now, maybe, more than most.  You build cages to hold me, guilty or not; where you should build institutions of higher learning, you lock me away for little things, then leave me there to rot.  Do you forever see my bed as a cot?  But, does my life matter?

 

I am a white woman, and because of my milk dove skin and cute, pinched nose, thin ruby red lips and fair skin that glows…with my pearly whites and prominent chin…some still look at me and despise the skin I’m in.  I was never privy to the pain that was caused.  I was born into that hatred…those God-awful laws.  So, does my life still matter?

 

I am a white man, born into privilege and wealth, easy life, perfect health, yet…I’m still persecuted and referred to as “the man.”  I, too, hate the ways of the Ku Klux Klan. My neighbors are black, white, green and red…still, I haven’t fled.  To be where everyone looks more like me, is not where I want to be.  I, too, would like to one day be FREE. Yes, FREE!  It also applies to me! FREE of the labels that bind because of the color of my skin; I’ve never owned any human or degraded any man. But, does my life still matter?

 

I am a brown-skinned woman and because of my accented words, you think I should be silent…quiet and not heard.  I can do more, than clean your windows and floors.  Just ask me what I’m capable of, you’d be surprised, I’m sure.  I may have come here via the back of a truck, or even the legal route, if I was blessed with such luck.  Maybe I was born here, and my parents, too.  In your eyes, would that still make me less American than you?  Does my life matter?

 

I am a brown-skinned man and though maybe a bit stocky, I’m no less in appearance, than your brawn and cocky.  I’m not a rapist, a thief or thug…but a man like you, with kids to hug.  I’m not ashamed to tend your lawns and trees, but Executive, also a title I wear with ease; whatever it takes…my family to feed. Don’t dismiss, or overlook my face; I may not have been born here, but I’m here to stay.  And, with that said, does my life still matter?

 

With all that’s going on, there’s much racial unrest.  It’s time to put differences aside and put real LOVE to the test.  We can’t keep fighting each other, when there are real wars going on.  We must come together in love, heal and stand strong.  There are real enemies among us, and their names we know not.  We must stand on the front lines, together and talk.

The differences between us are fewer than those in our heads; and in the end, until we draw our last breath,  we all still bleed red.  Yes, that small matter is what makes us brothers, and binds us tighter than any other.

That stream of red flowing thru our veins, is what should force us to…

release all blame,
stop the pain,
forge ahead,
no more blood we’ll shed.

Nonnie Jules WRISA Author Page

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Book Launch: Murder at the Bijou – Three Ingredients 1

20 Aug

Hello everyone! I have a very special guest today, author Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene. She’s been a guest here before and I love having her. Teagan is here to announce the launch of her new book. I’ll let her take it from here.

Teagan's Books-guest blogger-author spotlight-book-The Writer Next Door-Vashti Q-Vashti Quiroz Vega

Announcing the Launch of
Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I

Introducing the second “three things” serial, in novel form Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I.

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Yes, that’s the cover. (I love making covers!) I kept it similar to the one for the first serial, The Three Things Serial Story, but with different 1920s photos.

For those of you who are not familiar with my blog serials…

Ages ago I developed a writing exercise. I asked friends to give me three completely random things. Then I would write until I had mentioned all the things. I brought that exercise to my blog (Teagan’s Books), but I had the readers send me their things. I let the random things drive every detail of a serial story, setting, plot, and characters. That resulted in The Three Things Serial Story, which gave birth to this culinary mystery. However, this time the “things” are food related — or ingredients.

About the Book

As with the first serial, Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I is a spontaneously written, pantser story. I wrote by the seat of my pants and let the “ingredients” readers sent each week drive a new serial story. This is the “bookized” version of that serial.

This time the Jazz Age setting is Savannah, Georgia where our flapper, Pip, is “sentenced” to live with her grandmother and learn to cook. Pip gets caught up in a layered mystery that includes bootleggers, G-men, and the varied challenges of being a young woman in changing times. She meets new friends, including some animal characters.

If you have not read The Three Things Serial Story, be warned. This adventure contains a bit of a spoiler, but does not go into detail about it.

Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I is available through and Amazon and Create Space. If you don’t have a Kindle, Amazon also offers a free app that will let you read Kindle books on your computer or other device. The purchase links are below. But first, here’s a snippet.

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In my imagination, a young Lucille Ball would play Pip.

Excerpt

Rutabaga Limbo

Either I woke up feeling horribly nauseated, or the queasiness woke me. I’m not sure which. I opened my eyes to complete darkness. There was no light, no sound. The way my stomach tossed reminded me of a small boat on the ocean. It was as if I sailed in a lightless limbo.

Oh… that was a bad train of thought to have with an unsettled belly.

Think of something else! Anything else, I told myself.

I stood unsteadily. The sound of a cricket came to me. Good. The utter silence had been very disturbing. I became aware of the cool moist earth beneath my palms.

Where the Sam Hill was I?

I sat back on my heels, focusing all my senses. My eyes might as well have been closed — it was that dark. Bare ground was beneath me. The air had a musty odor. A sickly sweet scent clung to my bobbed hair.

The cricket’s chirping was the only sound. Still sitting, I turned. My eyes widened and strained, trying to see in that heavy darkness. When I looked up I was rewarded with the sight of a thin line of pink light.

The faint glow allowed me to see vague outlines a few feet away. I stumbled over something and stooped down to let my hands figure out what it was. I felt a burlap bag and round lumps. Rutabagas? I felt around and found another bag. That one felt like potatoes. I moved closer to the wall and a tall shape. Yes, a ladder, my questing hands confirmed for my still foggy brain.

Gazing up at the line of pinkish light I realized I was in a root cellar.

But how did I get there?

***

Purchase Links

Amazon USA

Paperback 

Kindle 

Amazon UK

Amazon UK (Paperback)

Amazon Japan

 

Author Bio

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Image by Chris Graham

Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene, a southerner by birth, was “enchanted” by the desert southwest of the USA when she moved there. Now a resident of a major east coast city, she longs to return to those enchanting lands.

Teagan had always devoured fantasy novels of every type. Then one day there was no new book readily at hand for reading — so she decided to write one. And she hasn’t stopped writing since.

Her work is colored by her experiences in both the southern states and the southwest. Teagan most often writes in the fantasy genre, but she also writes 1920s stories and Steampunk. Her blog “Teagan’s Books” contains serial stories written according to “things” from viewers.

You can also visit me at:

Amazon
Twitter
Facebook
Pinterest
YouTube
LinkedIn

Watch WRISA Write – Author Spotlight: John Howell

10 Aug

RWISA-RRBC-Rave Reviews Book Club-Vashti Quiroz Vega-Nonnie Jules-Vashti Q-author_spotlight-bog_tour-John Howell-The Writer Next Door

Welcome to the 10th day of the Watch WRISA Write Showcase Tour an event organized by the Rave Reviews Book Club (RRBC). Today, the spotlight shines on one of my favorite authors, John W. Howell.

He has a great blog, Fiction Favorites where you can read some of his work, see all his books and learn more about him, so be sure to check it out.

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*I recently read John’s thriller, Our Justice and enjoyed it very much. Here’s the review I left on Amazon. 

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Book Review

If Our Justice by John W. Howell was a roller coaster ride, it would be one that begins high on the track right before the free fall, twists and loops––what a ride!
The Protagonist, John Canon is an authentic, likable guy whose not afraid to show fear or allow a woman to take charge, which is endearing to me. He’s a genuinely good guy with great morals. You’ll love to hate his nemesis, Matt Jacobs, a very rich and powerful, kind of charming lunatic bent on destroying him. And I loved Stephanie, a strong, intelligent, beauty. All-around well-developed and memorable characters.
Aside from the nail-biting, edge-of-your-seat thrills and chills action, it’s obvious that a lot of research went into this story. Sometimes I wondered while reading if the author had been a navy seal or scientist, because the descriptions and scenarios were so on point and believable.
This story was written in first person, present tense and I felt like I was tagging along on all the adventures. This is the last book in the John Canon trilogy but it stands alone.
If you enjoy a fast paced, harrowing, thrilling story with a very satisfying ending then this book is for you.

John W. Howell is sharing a story he has written for this tour and it’s wonderful. Here it is. Enjoy! 

 

Last Night

by John W. Howell © 2017

 

So, with nothing better to do, I figure I’ll stop at Jerry’s place and grab a couple of drinks and a burger. Usually, I don’t go there on Saturday night since there’s a crapload of amateurs taking up what would be considered prime space. I figure since this is a Friday and close to Saturday, it may be packed, but not as crazy as Saturday. It’s the kind of place where everyone minds their business. They’re there for a good time and will likely not notice me. Even so, I go through the door, stop, and have a look around, trying not to make eye contact. I hope that the ball cap and large coat will keep me from getting noticed. The bar holds a weekday crowd, hanging on each other like they never had a date before. I tighten my eyelids against the smoke and make out four guys near the pool table, and what looks like a couple of girls fetching drinks. I search for a seat beyond the table in the back, but it seems like they’re all taken.

A guy bumps into me as I stand here. I say excuse me, and he looks me in the face. “Hey, don’t I know you?” he says.

“I don’t think so.” I make to turn away.

“Yeah, you’re the sports hero who lost all his money. I saw you on TV.”

“Naw, people always say stuff like that. I’m not him, buddy; trust me.”

He gives me a puzzled look but doesn’t want to push it, in case he has it wrong. I turn away and continue to look for a seat.

Straight ahead lies the bar, and it has a place right in the middle. I move in the direction of the empty place and look over to the other side of the room. The tables look full of happy drunks. Buckets of empties line the bar top, and the barmaid’s trying to sell more. She doesn’t have much luck since most of these people just spent their last five bucks on this outing. Upon making it to the stool, I hoist myself up and lean on the bar.

“Hey, Greg,” Jerry says. “Whadda you have?”

“Evening, Jerry. I’ll have a Gin on the rocks with a water back.”

“Comin’ up.”

I like Jerry’s no-nonsense way of handling things. He doesn’t like small talk and gets right to business. My eyes smart from the smoke, and I wonder how Jerry gets away with letting people kill themselves, when clearly, it’s not supposed to be allowed in this kind of establishment.

“Here you go. Want me to run a tab?”

“Yeah, I would appreciate that. I intend to have another drink and then a burger.”

The guy who thinks he knows me grabs my shoulder from behind. I almost fall off the stool.

“You’re Greg Petros, the big fund manager. I knew I’d seen you on TV. You took a beautiful career in football and ran it into the ground.”

Jerry leans over the bar and lays his hand on the guy’s shoulder. “Move on, my friend. You made a mistake. This guy is nobody. Go sit down and let me buy you a drink.”

“You sure? You called him Greg.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Go get a table, and I’ll send someone over.”

The guy looks at me one more time but does as Jerry suggests. He believes Jerry’s wrong, but the idea of a free drink lets him get away without losing face.

“Thanks. I didn’t mean for you to have to jump in.”

“No problem. Gimme the high sign when you’re ready for another drink.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

“For you buddy, anything.”

I should mention that Jerry and I go back aways. When I fell on hard times, he became the only one that seemed to give a shit. I take a sip of my drink and wait for the burn in my throat, which signals the good stuff. Here it comes. I take a swig of the water and almost believe life is good. The Gin needs to get to the brain before making any honest judgment.

While I wait for the warmth to go from my stomach to my head, I check out the folks seated on either side of me. They both have their backs turned to me and sit engrossed in some discussion with their neighbor. I figure it’s just as well since I don’t want to go through that old “don’t I know you?” bullshit again. Also, I don’t figure on staying the night, so no use in getting into any long discussions about life.

I look down at my drink and wonder what will happen tomorrow. My daughter Constance wants to come and visit. She lives in New York, and before all hell broke loose, we didn’t see each other often. I missed her so much, and it seemed I had to beg her even to talk on the phone. Now, it’s like she wants to be here every weekend. It’s only an hour’s flight by the shuttle or three by train, so she can come when she wants. I just can’t figure out why she got so clingy. I have my troubles, but it doesn’t have anything to do with her. No use in asking her husband, either. Though a nice enough guy, I always wonder if he has someplace important to go when I visit. He never sits still, and stays busy on the phone or at the computer. He makes a good living, but it seems a person could take an hour to sit and talk. I’d looked forward to some kind of relationship when he and Constance got married. It’ll never happen with him.

When I take another pull at my drink, I notice the burn feels less. It happens every time. First sip initiation, I call it. It’s like the first puff of a cigarette, hits hard then, after, nothing. I decide to let Constance pretty much have the agenda tomorrow. She and I have not had a chance to talk about anything deep for a while. It could just be that she blames me for her mother running off with that guy with the house on the Hudson. He has a title, and the old gal couldn’t resist, but, I think the daughter always felt I should have done something. Her mother’s sleeping with another guy and what the hell can I do about that?

I’ll just go with the flow. If she wants to go out, we will. If she wants to stay in, we can do that, too. I better think about getting some food in the house. Of course, we can always order take out. I need to move on to my drink and let this go. Tomorrow will be what it is. I remember the day she was born. I looked down at her in my arms and promised I would do anything for her. I love her more than life itself, and I hope we can somehow get to the root of whatever’s wrong. She sounded strange on the phone this morning, and I feel helpless to do anything about it. I hope she opens up when she gets here.

For some reason, I feel tired. Perhaps I’ll go ahead and finish my drink. Maybe I’ll just go home and forget the burger. First, though, I’ll just shut my eyes for a minute. My hands feel good when I put my head down.

“Hey, Greg,” Jerry says. I barely hear him. “What’s the matter? You taking a nap? Greg?” I can feel him shake me, but I have no interest in waking up. His voice gets further away, and I think he says, “Oh my God, Sophie, call 911, quick.” Now the room goes silent.

 

END

John W. Howell-Watch WRISA Write-RRBC-Rave Reviews Book Club-spotlight-author-blog_tour-Vashti Quiroz Vega-Vashti Q-The Writer Next Door

Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH RWISAWRITE Showcase Tour today!  We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, to please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.  WE ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs.  Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent!  Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about this author:

John W. Howell RWISA Author Page

 

Book Promo – New Release – ‘The Fall of Lilith’ by Vashti Quiroz-Vega…

9 Aug

I am a guest author on ‘Chris, The Story Reading Ape’ Blog! Stop by Chris’ cool blog and say hello! Wishes don’t work unless you do!

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Book Tuesday: Vashti Quiroz-Vega

8 Aug

Hi everyone! Since I released my new book, The Fall of Lilith I’ve had the pleasure of being featured in several very cool blogs. I am very grateful to these wonderful authors/bloggers. Today, I will be at ‘Thought by Mello-Elo’ for Book Tuesday! Please stop by and visit the lovely Eloise and say hello! Thank you!

Thoughts by Mello-Elo

Welcome to Book Tuesday.

Today, I have the honour of introducing a lady who has featured with her thrilling book, The Basement and is back to introduce her latest book, The Fall of Lilith. Her name is Vashti Quiroz-Vega.  I am excited to share Vashti’s new book with my readers and let you all get a chance to get to know her and her book.

vashtiHello everyone! I’m so happy to be here at Thoughts by Mello-Elo. Thanks for inviting me, Eloise! My name is Vashti Quiroz-Vega and I’m a writer of Fantasy, Horror and Thriller. If you enjoy reading short stories in those genres and poetry you can do so on my blog, The Writer Next Door | Vashti Q. I’m here today to tell you a little about myself and to introduce my new novel, The Fall of Lilith.

I began reading, writing and storytelling…

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Guest author: Vashti Quiroz-Vega – The Fall of Lilith

7 Aug

I’m a guest author at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo! She’s featuring my new release, The Fall of Lilith. Please stop by her blog and check it out. Thank you!

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Hello everyone! I’m so happy to be here at Sue’s blog. Thanks for inviting me, Sue!

My name is Vashti Quiroz-Vega and I’m a writer of Fantasy, Horror and Thriller. If you enjoy reading short stories in those genres and poetry you can do so on my blog, The Writer Next Door | Vashti Q. I’m here today to tell you a little about myself and to introduce my new novel, The Fall of Lilith. 


I began reading, writing and storytelling early. In elementary school I drew pictures and wrote stories in comic book form and sold them for a quarter a piece. I grew up in a religious home, attended a religious private school and went to church regularly with my parents. I read many religious books. I also enjoyed fairy tales and mythology and devoured many of these types of books. I’ve always been curious about…

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Spotlight: M J Mallon Author

12 Jun

“Try to be a rainbow in someone’s cloud.”

~Maya Angelou

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Hello everyone! A warm welcome to The Writer Next Door! I’m excited to spotlight today the lovely and talented, Marjorie Mallon.

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Marje is a writer, poet, photographer, blogger, wife, mother––let’s just say she wears many hats. She keeps busy on her blog, M J Mallon Author, doing  Author Interviews, Spotlights, and Book Reviews . She is a very supportive member of the writing/blogging communities. In fact, she founded an organization on Facebook called, Authors/Bloggers Rainbow Support Club to do just that.

What is the Authors/Bloggers Rainbow Support Club?

It’s a friendly community of authors/bloggers/book reviewers working together to support each other in a multitude of ways – e.g. by writing or sharing reviews, highlighting author spotlights/book launches/interviews, and posting writing/poetry/blogging tips, or tips about writing reviews, or discussing general topics of interest.

I am proud to say that I am a member of the club. Colleen Chesebro and Debby Gies have joined the club as administrators.

“If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don’t write, because our culture has no use for it.”

~ Anaïs Nin

M J Mallon wrote her first middle grade/YA fantasy novel, The Curse of Time, which is currently in the final editing stage.  She will soon be a published author and is already at work on a second novel.

The quotes on this post are some of Marje’s favorite quotes. You can read more of them here.

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In her words . . .

What can I tell you? Well before we start I’d like to suggest that you might want to pull up a comfy chair, sit back and enjoy my blog, Kyrosmagica, which is all about the magic of writing, my love of books, crystals,  laughter, and much, much, more! I’m writing a second novel, and blogging, of course, writing book reviews here, and on Goodreads, and Amazon, and in fact anywhere else that will have me! Being an open minded type of gal, I like to review a wide a range of genres as possible, including YA, Contemporary, Romance, Fantasy, Science Fiction, Asian Literature, Detective, LBGTQ, and from time to time when I’m feeling brave I read dark thriller, or perhaps a horror story..

I have a penchant for travel and have relatives in far flung places, Australia, Malaysia, and Singapore, (my birthplace.) I grew up in Bonnie Scotland, in Edinburgh, and now live in Cambridge. I love sunny, hot places, particularly Rome, Venice, Portugal, Barcelona, and I forgot to mention the sun drenched beaches of the Caribbean, how could I? I am lucky to have been blessed with two lovely daughters and a six foot hunk of a husband, who I met at the tender age of eighteen, who I fondly refer to in this blog as my black sheep. Considering how long we’ve been together I could call him my swan, but I think black sheep kind of suits him, a charming black sheep! His title Black Sheep originated from a family joke, which you can read about in my post Mother in Laws and Black Sheep! With my passion for travel, culture, beautiful beaches, good food, books, theatre, writing, art, photography and humour, I hope to keep you entertained.

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“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”

Maya Angelou

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UPDATE:

Author M J Mallon has launched her novel, The Curse of Time and it is now available on Amazon.

Read more about Marje here

Be sure to visit Marjorie’s blog, M J Mallon Author

Connect with Marjorie Mallon on Social Media:

Facebook

Twitter

Instagram

Goodreads

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Author M J Mallon

Have a great week everyone and see you Friday for Haiku Friday!

 

 

Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse with Al Lane

19 Apr

My friend Al Lane from A Certain Point of View is participating in a month long challenge called the A to Z Challenge. He’s chosen the theme of Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse in which he is giving us tips and advice on how to survive if zombies took over the world in the form of haiku. It’s brilliant and hilarious! To change it up in between his A to Z posts he posted this poem that shows us the positive side of a ‘Zombie Apocalypse’. I thought it was great, so I just had to share it. Be sure to check out his A to Z Challenge posts you’ll enjoy it.

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Reasons To Be Cheerful

by Al Lane

No more light pollution,
Ruining the stars,
Global warming gone,
With all those fumes from cars.

No more stuck in traffic;
Or idiots at the wheel;
Finding a spot to park,
Or hours caged in steel.

(That idiot bloke next door
And his annoying son
Acted big and brave:
Got eaten on day one! )

No need to pay the bills
Or keep the taxman quiet.
No pension plan to stress on
Or post-Christmas/ summer diet

And think of all those groups,
That really ticked you off
Lawyers, footballers, estate agents,
All now zombie scoff

No so-called celebrities
And the focus on their looks;
Instead, try conversation
And learning things from books

That’s not to say life’s easy
With zombies all about
But there’s plenty to be thankful for
Of that I have no doubt!

Here are a few of his A to Z haiku . . .

Don’t believe the myth:
Zombies aren’t after your brains.
Any flesh will do.

Hang onto your hope,
But don’t hold out for a cure.
Focus on living.

Remember when death
Used to be a full stop?
Now it’s a comma.

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