Wednesday, February 28, 2018
The Infinity Mantle has had a face-lift, and compliments are rolling in for the new look. All LORE books will be made shiny and new, as the final book in the series is prepared for launch!
Currently at a mere 99c - do get your copy :)
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
A break in the cloud cover allowed early dawn sun through, and it pierced in a shaft of pale light, casting Shellan’s yellow eyes with a wolfish glow. There were no wolves on Valaris, but these men knew them from elsewhere.
They gasped and stepped back. For the first time they were afraid.
Monday, February 26, 2018
Saturday, February 24, 2018
My friend Jack Mulligan sent me the link to his latest infographic and said it's more than okay to share. Love these!
Below are the first 5, but if you can't wait for the rest, pop on over to Jack's post for the rest :)
Friday, February 23, 2018
The Infinity Mantle is about to receive a face lift! To celebrate, here are a few older posts and images, and every one is still spot on :)
Thursday, February 22, 2018
Wednesday, February 21, 2018
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
In view of updates coming to The Infinity Mantle in the next few days, along with a brilliant new cover, here's an excerpt:
As the Calloway hurtled downward in search of its grave, her safety line was releases when the rail splintered.
Clueless how to behave in the water, instinct took over, and she pulled at the dark water with cupped hands. As she broke surface to draw panicked breath, she was knocked under to gulp seawater.
Coming up, she instinctively paddled, and found the swell aiding her away from the sucking vortex caused by the vanishing sloop.
She panicked again, before hearing Taranis’ kind voice in her mind, telling her not to panic, to trust her life jacket. Putting fear aside, she relaxed, and floated. The ocean battered and betrayed her, but she did not go under for long. Every time the inflated jacket brought her back to air.
Noticing a rope twisting on the heaving surface, she grabbed it, and held on despite the tugging from the ocean.
It was wound around one of the water barrels that was stored aft of the ship. It had to be empty to float, and was obviously thoroughly sealed against the ocean’s advances. It waited for her and she did, for dear life, take it.
She pulled it closer and painstakingly pulled her pack up. It countered the float of her jacket, she had to get it out of the water, or balance it. After countless attempts, she managed to sling it over, and secured the ropes.
The achievement meant she and her pack were then counter-balanced, the barrel between them. An added advantage was she floated high enough to dodge mouthfuls of salty water.
Looking for the others, she saw only floating debris in a dark, vicious and watery world. She tried calling, but the thunder was too loud. She paddled, but seemed to go nowhere.
She was alone, and she was alive. It was up to her.
Monday, February 19, 2018
Friday, February 16, 2018
Thursday, February 15, 2018
Wednesday, February 14, 2018
Tuesday, February 13, 2018
A morsel from FingerNale Tales!
Indeed, it is a cat’s life!
The cat has no name she is aware of.
She sleeps most of her days away curled up and silent, and most of her nights too. Occasionally she stretches, and enjoys the attention it brings her.
When she chooses her place of slumber, it’s best to leave her in peace.
Sometimes she hears a sound and it’s familiar to her, a sound often repeated, but she can’t duplicate it, for it has no meaning to her other than that sense of familiarity.
She knows this word heralds a summons for her presence. She sits up from her slumber and listens briefly and then chooses whether to answer that command or not, for she is in control of her fate, not another.
The cat is queen of her domain.
There is another sound, a strange sibilance that serves to prick her ears a bit, and this one she is more likely to answer to. It usually heralds a tin opening or a pouch rustling – not that she makes those kinds of distinctions. Tin, pouch, pish. The hiss is about food. She is ever hungry, but most often she’s too lazy to hunt. She thus waits for that sound and then meanders to the place where she knows an offering will be made to her.
She may purr her appreciation; most often she merely lowers her furry nose to smell … and eat. If it’s particularly tasty, she may deign to purr after.
When her stomach reveals the sibilant sound is overdue, she isn’t afraid of making her displeasure known with an ear-piercing question to her supplicant. Generally this serves to have her offering granted, but sometimes she needs to swirl around strangely warm posts in motion to garner the necessary attention.
She isn’t happy doing this, and yet it is a better choice than abandoning her comfort zone in order to hunt up something usually unpalatable to appease her stomach.
The cat knows she is lazy … except when it comes to birds. She’ll chase those feathers, yes, despite what you think of that.
She is a loner, but occasionally she feels the need to connect with a different warmth, and she will then cuddle up to receive a wonderful massage, and those hard to reach areas upon her queenly body will accept a delightful scratch. Ah!
Do not make the mistake in thinking she lowers herself to another’s level; know this is a gift she bestows. A queenly gift of great value it is to touch her royalness.
Other felines in her comfort zone are unwelcome, although she may deign to accept them as long as they keep their distance.
Please be aware she will throw the grit from her toilet in your face if you do not keep it clean for her. She is always finicky about cleanliness. She may even leave a donation in an inconvenient place, for you to be made aware of her displeasure.
She is happy sleeping and receiving her offerings. She accepts a royal massage as her due. She prefers her own company and enjoys a private place to purge her royal inner self of unwanted material.
Do not mess with her or she will leave you without a second thought.
All hail Queen Cat.
Monday, February 12, 2018
Friday, February 9, 2018
Thursday, February 8, 2018
Wednesday, February 7, 2018
Tuesday, February 6, 2018
Have you ever looked at your hands?
Or caught them peripherally while doing something else? There, see your nails? The little things added on as afterthoughts to your fingers, by the looks of it, and yet they are tools we cannot do without. We do so much with them. They can be scissors, files, tweezers, sandpaper, devices of torture … and they are able to pick out tasty morsels from the wrapped meal you just bought at the local deli.
These tales are like that.
The bit at the end of a bigger story, or the beginning of something larger, sometimes colourful, other times plain, sometimes flaking. Sometimes broken, other times perfect. Sometimes dirty, other times trimmed.
We may think of nails as an afterthought, but they do define us in a way we cannot explain. Some of us spend hours keeping them in great shape; others among us give them only spurious attention.
A bit like these tales.
Some will grab you, some not, some are like sandpaper to your life, while others may cut you or squeeze your heart. Others are those tasty morsels.
Welcome to the afterthought realm of ‘FingerNale Tales’.