Getting to Know #Author Richard Parry @TactualRain #AmReading #Fantasy #Thriller

Do you plan to publish more books?

You couldn’t stop me if you tried.

Okay, before someone steps up with a big CHALLENGE ACCEPTED shirt and cuts off my fingers, there are probablyways you could stop me.  Let’s not go down that road.

I have a current plan to release a new title about once a year.  A lot depends on the title, and how much work’s needed.  For example, Night’s Favour is about 108,000 words, give or take, and I know how long that took to write. Upgrade is looking to be more like 150,000 words.

The complexity ramps up. I look at books like REAMDE by Stephenson, and I’m not quite sure how he does it, to keep coherence throughout.  I’m sure Stephenson has a brain the size of Mars, but still, the editing process must belegendary.

That aside, I have four more books to be released about one-a-year to make a five-for-five plan.  I’ve got a few people asking for a sequel to Night’s Favour, and one of those books is that sequel — you’ll get your story, to find out where Val and Danny go, what John does with his life, where Carlisle ends up.  One of them will be a sequel toUpgrade.  I don’t want to say too much about that, as it’ll spoil the surprise, except to say that I plan to deliverUpgrade in a full complete story when it’s done.  It’ll stand alone without a sequel: the tale will be complete, and you’ll be able to choose — as with Night’s Favour — whether you want to dip a toe into the sequel.

The fifth book is a new thing for me — it’ll be my first book with a female lead.  This one is going to be the hardest one of them all to write, because (being a male human) I don’t easily understand what life’s like to be a woman.  I hope the book doesn’t suck.

What else do you do to make money, other than write? It is rare today for writers to be full time…

I used to say that I played piano in a whorehouse, because it was more honourable than my actual job, until someone asked me to play a tune.

I can’t play the piano.

“Something in computers,” is my usual answer.  I work for the government, with the usual bunch of Top Men*, trying to help make realistic investment planning advice in information systems, along with planning for disruptive innovation.

* ObIndy

It’s a little less awesome than it sounds.

Totally, it pays the bills, and pays quite well.  But the skills aren’t easily transferrable: it’s not like all that business writing maps to a page of character-driven storytelling.  And the biggest challenge is keeping my head straight, my creativity on tap, to generate good stories.

Mostly what I want to do when I get home is drink.  That’s not great for creativity.

I’d love a job where I could work part-time, a couple days a week.  I only need so much money to survive, and I’d much rather write — even if it pays poorly — most of the time.  It’s nice to dream.

What other jobs have you had in your life?

For a few years I worked as a consultant.  That’s kind of interesting, if you don’t mind having your brain fried on a sort of hourly basis.

The way I pitch consulting is a bit like this: imagine you’re walking on a tightrope.  You’ve got to get to the other end, and someone’s shooting at you.  Along the way, someone sets fire to the rope, and it’s about to break.  You, and only you, have the skills to repair that rope.

And you can’t walk a tightrope.

That’s kind of what it’s like.  It’s exciting!  But it’s not something I can handle for more than two or three years at a throw.  I wouldn’t mind doing more of it, but again, in brief spurts.

If you could study any subject at university what would you pick?

I’ve thought about this a surprising amount.  It’s one of the things I’d like to do: when I retire, spend the rest of my days at a university learning stuff because it’s cool, not because it’s something to monetise.

My early answer would have been Philosophy, but now I think it’d be Religion.  Most of the things I find interesting are about people and how they work, and much of the way the world is today is about what people believe, and have believed, throughout history.  Understanding how all that fits together — or at least getting a bit of insight into it, if not the whole thing — would be a lot of fun.

If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?

It might be somewhere mediterranean.  I loved Italy, the people, the food, the climate.  There’s not much to not like about the place, except for serious things like the economy and the government.

Failing that, somewhere quiet.  It’d be nice to have a house on the edge of a remote lake, a fridge of beer and a satellite uplink, to spend my days how I choose.  I’d write, and probably fish a little.  I never catch anything, but I don’t think that’s why people go fishing.

How do you write – lap top, pen, paper, in bed, at a desk?

When I was starting out in this gig, I spent some time working out what worked best for me.  You know, there’s some people out there with strong views.  I read a book once that said that anyone who didn’t use Word to write their work was some kind of imbecile.

I guess that’s a view.

Me, I’ve got nothing against Word, but I figure you’ve got to take your own steps to work this thing through.  Where I ended up was a sort of amalgam: I do my primary production on a laptop, usually at my desk in my sanctum sanctorum, or at a local cafe.  I always need some kind of network connection, which is easy at home, but I’ve got a good data plan on my phone so I can tether wherever I might find myself with an urge to scribe.

For example, I’m writing this in a cafe right now, using the Internet to make sure my use of “scribe” isn’t horrendous.  Mirriam-Webster supports my use of the word as an intransitive verb!  Take it home.

I don’t write in bed.  Bed’s for … other stuff.

Tech aside, I also have a notebook — I use that for freeform ideas, scribbles, plot thoughts.  I find that my mind is most nimble with a pen in my hand, and I have a strong desire to get one of the walls of my sanctum sanctorumconverted to a chalk board.

I take my phone everywhere, and take copious photos and notes of everything.  Most of these make it straight to the trash, but I’ve grabbed quite a few useful quotes, lines, and photos of people and things for places and outlines.  As a writer, much of what we do is creative, but I feel there’s a tremendous amount that is recording and observing the world and people around us.  Our ability to mulch it, synthesise it, and then make it real again is what makes us better at our craft.

Software?  I have a deep and long-standing love affair with Scrivener, and a newer hotbed romance with Scapple (both from the same company).  I haven’t found anything that equals Scriveners’ ability to work with words yet, and if I could have it installed on my office computer I’d do it in a flash.  I get that people like Word as well, and I can work within that, but really, anything works in a pinch.  Chunks of Night’s Favour were written in Notepad.

Where do you get support from? Do you have friends in the industry?

There’s a posse, sure.

I’m not sure if I’d call them “the industry,” but one of my close friends works as an editor.  She introduced me to a now mutual friend, who runs the speculative fiction publishing house Steam Press (who you should check out, because they’re doing things no one else is).

And there’s my writing homies — people I’ve met through writing, or have known for ages and discovered they’re closet writers too.  I have a writing group, which is awesome, we meet monthly over coffee and cake and talk about aliens and brain viruses.  Or, sometimes, their kids.

I find it hard to differentiate some of those categories.

Aside from the people who practice The Craft™, I have a group of friends who bend over backwards for me.  They are always willing to talk about ideas and offer advice, even when I don’t take it — which astounds me, that they deal with that without reservation.  It’d piss me off if I kept giving advice to someone and they didn’t take it, which probably makes my friends better people than me.  Or just more patient.

How much sleep do you need to be your best?

Somewhere in the ballpark of six or seven hours, depending on the day before.

It’s an odd day when I’ll sleep for eight hours.  That’d be a sign that I’ve been infected with some kind of parasite or soul worm, and putting me in a box and returning to sender would be the best policy.

Less than five hours, and The Beast comes out.  The Beast isn’t very articulate, has trouble remembering nouns, and gets angry, but without the endearing qualities of The Hulk.

Is there anyone you’d like to acknowledge and thank for their support?

Easiest question by far.  My fiancé, Rae.  She’s amazing.

Yeah, I know we’re supposed to say that, but there’s a lot of ways you can measure this objectively.  I don’t know — how many people do you know who will help you to the point of putting your life and dreams before theirs?

It’d be a short list, I can guarantee you that.

I don’t know if I’d be able to do this without her.  There’s a lot of incidental things that go along in life, whether you’re a writer or not, and I can absolutely guarantee she’s got my back in all things.  But from a writing perspective, she talks with me tirelessly about my work — even I get bored talking about it sometimes.

This is apparently weird.  I’ve talked to some of my “writing friends” whose partners are antagonistic about this weird, time-wasting pursuit they do, or are ambivalent about it, treating it as some sort of cute fad.

Fuck that noise.  Rae believes in me and my dreams, and helps them to become real.

Every writer has their own idea of what a successful career in writing is, what does success in writing look like to you?

It’d be nice to be financially successful, sure, and I’ll cover that one off first.  To me, I’d be super happy making even a third of my current income so I could “retire” from a day job and work full time.  That’s a firm metric, easily measurable.  Am I making X dollars per year?  Yes?  Quit your job!  No?  Keep writing.

The real form of success that I hadn’t considered until it happened was this: that people thought what you wrote was good.  That they liked it.  They say they couldn’t put it down, and  ask when the movie is coming out.  That it reminded them of Dean Koontz, Jim Butcher, whoever — that it reminded them of someone’s work they loved.

That kind of success can’t be bought or paid for, and it blew my mind.  That alone would keep me writing until the end of time.  That something that I wrote made someone else out there happy?  That’s what makes it worthwhile, and when I saw those comments start to come in, it was a measure of success I hadn’t expected or planned on.

It is vital to get exposure and target the right readers for your writing, tell us about your marketing campaign?

My marketing campaign, such as it is, is about reviews.  I think people attach well to reviews, and having quality reviews is vital.

By quality, I mean both good and bad.  The truth of it is, Night’s Favour is not in the same genre as Anne of Green Gables, sad as that may sound.  They are not the same by any measure, except that they are both written using the language commonly known as English.

Having a 2-star review from someone who’s read AoGG, but who explains why — that Night’s Favour was too violent for them, that they didn’t enjoy the fact that it’s got a werewolf in it — that’s valuable.  I don’t want people to have a shitty time with the book because it’s not what they expected.

By the same token, a 4-star review from someone who says they read Koontz and that the style is very similar — that is gold.  It helps people hone down: do they also like Koontz?  Is it worth giving this a shot?

The challenge here is quality — quite a few people are willing to write a review, but the number of useful statements that help you understand what they’d normally go for can be low.  As a reader shopping on Amazon or whatever, I find the best reviews give me context.

For example, doing a book tour is something I’m hoping will be highly useful — that a group of people with similar tastes will enjoy the work, and tell people about it.

Valentine’s an ordinary guy with ordinary problems. His boss is an asshole. He’s an alcoholic. And he’s getting that middle age spread just a bit too early. One night — the one night he can’t remember — changes everything. What happened at the popular downtown bar, The Elephant Blues? Why is Biomne, the largest pharmaceutical company in the world, so interested in him — and the virus he carries? How is he getting stronger, faster, and more fit? And what’s the connection between Valentine and the criminally insane Russian, Volk?

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Action, Thriller, Urban Fantasy

Rating – R16

More details about the author

 Connect with Richard Parry on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.rage.net.nz

Peter Simmons and the Vessel of Time by @RamzArtso #YA #SciFi #AmReading

Peter - Chapter 4

Portland, Oregon

October 22nd

Afternoon Hours

I sauntered out of the school building with my friends in tow and pulled on a thickly woven hat to cover my fluffy flaxen hair, which was bound to be frolic even in the mildest of breezes. I took a deep breath and scrutinized my immediate surroundings, noticing an armada of clouds scudding across the sky. It was a rather blustery day. The shrewd, trilling wind had all but divested the converging trees off their multicolored leaves, pasting them on the glossy asphalt and graffiti adorned walls across the road. My spirits were quickly heightened by this observation, and I suddenly felt rejuvenated after a long and taxing day at school. I didn’t know why, but the afternoon’s indolent weather appealed to me very much. I found it to be a congenial environment. For unexplainable reasons, I felt like I was caught amidst a fairytale. It was this eerie feeling which came and went on a whim. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Perhaps it was triggered by the subconscious mind brushing against a collage of subliminal memories, which stopped resurfacing partway through the process.

Anyhow, there I was, enjoying the warm and soporific touch of the autumn sun on my face, engaging in introspective thoughts of adolescent nature when Max Cornwell, a close, meddlesome friend of mine, called me from my rhapsodic dream with a sharp nudge in the ribs.

‘Hey, man! You daydreaming?’

I closed my eyes; feeling a little peeved, took a long drag of the wakening fresh air and gave him a negative response by shaking my head.

‘Feel sick or something?’ he persisted.

I wished he would stop harping on me, but it looked like Max had no intention of letting me enjoy my moment of glee, so I withdrew by tartly saying, ‘No, I’m all right.’

‘Hey, check this out,’ said George Whitmore,–who was another pal of mine–wedging himself between me and Max. He held a folded twenty dollar bill in his hand, and his ecstatic facial expression suggested that he had just chanced upon the find by sheer luck.

‘Is that yours?’ I asked, knowing very well that it wasn’t.

‘No, I found it on the floor of the auditorium. Just seconds before the last period ended.’

‘Then perhaps you should report your discovery to the lost and found. I’m sure they’ll know what to do with it there.’

‘Yeah, right. That’s exactly what I’m going to do,’ he said, snorting derisively. He then added in a somewhat defensive tone, as if trying to convince himself more than anyone else, ‘I found it, so it’s mine–right?’

I considered pointing out that his intentions were tantamount to theft, but shrugged it off instead, and followed the wrought-iron fence verging the school grounds before exiting by the small postern. I was in no mood for an argument, feeling too tired to do anything other than run a bath and soak in it. Therefore, I expunged the matter from my mind, bid goodbye to both George and Max and plunged into the small gathering of trees and brush which we, the kids, had dubbed the Mini Forest. It was seldom traveled by anyone, but we called it that because of its size, which was way too small to be an actual forest, and a trifle too large to be called otherwise.

I was whistling a merry tune, and wending my way home with a spring in my step, when my ears abruptly pulled back in fright. All of a sudden, I couldn’t help but feel as if I was being watched. But that wasn’t all. I felt like someone was trying to look inside of me. Right into me. As if they were rummaging in my soul, searching its every nook and cranny, trying to fish up my deepest fears and darkest secrets. It was equivalent to being stripped naked in front of a large audience. Steeling myself for something ugly, I felt the first stirrings of unease.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Young-adult, Action and Adventure, Coming of Age, Sci-fi

Rating – PG-13

More details about the author

Connect with  Ramz Artso on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://ramzartso.blogspot.com/

The King of Sunday Morning by J.B. McCauley @MccauleyJay #Crime #Thriller #Action

The Mile End Mambo - 1990

He held him in his arms and looked into the glassy eyes. Yellow flecks dotted the cornea. This boy was dead a long time before Roger had run him through. He knew the look. Too much top shelf and not enough down time.

The body from which life dramatically seeped away began to convulse. It would not be a Hollywood death. It would be a harsh demise for this gangster. Unexpected but unavoidable. He had stepped on the wrong toes and nobody touched Roger’s patch.

The big screen had always glamorised death but there was nothing glamorous about having a gaping 12-inch gash where your stomach had once been. Roger’s white shirt was splattered with blood and sputum. He noted to himself with an air of cold detachment that he would have to dispose of it later. The boy soldier’s back arched in agony. A gurgling noise rushed from his throat and then he was gone.

Roger put his arm underneath the boy’s knees and slowly lifted him from the red morass that had filled the doorway. He cradled him in his arms and walked slowly along the pavement. A young couple averted their gaze as he struggled with the limp body. They knew not to look. This was after all the witching hour in the East End. What you don’t see, you can’t tell. He turned the corner and moved into another shop doorway. It was a Dixon’s electrical shop exalting the latest stereos and TV’s.

Roger placed the body carefully on the ground. He took one final look at what 10 minutes ago had been the epitome of arrogance, bravery and youth, then left. He walked quickly to the edge of Walters Street, turned into Burden and darted through a now deserted car park and onto Rially. He saw a red telephone box just up from Dunston Road. He opened the door and tried to ignore the stench of piss and shit. He dialled the number and waited patiently for the connection.

“Rudi?”

His rich baritone West-Indian voice caressed the receiver.

“Yeah, he’s in Dixon’s shopfront on Walters Street.” He paused, digesting the question on the other end of the line.

“Yeah he’s dead. Dead as a door nail. See you at home.”

With that, he hung up the phone and disappeared into the night. His red Rasta beanie swaying as he loped through the shadows. The victim wouldn’t be missed. Roger had nothing to fear. The status quo had been maintained and an example had been made.
Most of all, Rudi would be pleased.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Thriller, Action, Suspense, Gangster, Crime, Music

Rating – PG-18

More details about the author and the book

Connect with J.B. McCauley on Facebook & Twitter

Kevin Sterling (Jack Lazar Series) on Family & Writing @KSterlingWriter #Mystery #Suspense

1. Tell us about your family.  When it comes to family, I consider myself truly blessed. First and foremost, I married my beautiful soul mate, and my writing career would not be possible without her consultation, love and support. I also adore her entire family, and I have it on good authority that they like me, too! I have a fantastic son, whose life mission is to do his part to help the world, and my mother is a sweet, loving person to whom I am very close. My father was born and raised in Germany, but he met my mother in Amarillo, Texas when he was a high school exchange student. His father (my grandfather) was a senator in Germany before the Nazis took over; and once they did, he refused to cooperate with them. So he picked up the family and moved to a town called Kiel on the Baltic Sea where he worked with the underground against Hitler. There are streets and monuments all over Germany to honor him.
2. How do you work through self-doubts and fear?  That’s an easy answer – meditation. Fear and self-doubt are products of the ego, and they arise when we lose connection with our higher self. Meditation helps us regain that connection, and it opens up the paths to creativity, too! But I think it’s also important to point out here that indie publishing is HARD, and there are a hundred reasons to quit for every one reason to stick with it. But sticking with it, especially when things look bleak and discouraging is exactly what successful indie authors have done. If you’re a good writer creating books that people want to read, work with a crackerjack editor who helps you polish them in to solid works, and invest the requisite time and creativity on marketing, it’s just a matter of time (and a backlist of books) before you reach success.
3. What makes you the happiest? My first thought is spending time with the people I love, which is absolutely true. But I must admit that the release day of each of my books was pretty darn fantastic. The amount of work to make that happen is huge, and there are so many times throughout the process when you just don’t think you’re going to make it, as any published author will tell you, so the feeling of accomplishment is just incredible.
4. What’s your greatest character strength? Probably my ability to remain calm and lucid in difficult situations. My family and friends regard me as someone they can come to for advice and strength when they need it the most, and it always makes me feel good to help them.
5. What’s your weakest character trait? Definitely my inflated ego, but I’m really working on it. I swear!
6. What are you most proud of in your personal life? My son, Preston. He completed both his undergraduate and law degrees in a fraction of the usual timeframe and now serves the people at the Texas State Capitol, earning a much lower income than he would have made at a law firm. He truly cares about others and is dedicated to helping the world, and I am so proud of him for all of that.
7. What books did you love growing up? My favorite book back then was Airport by Arthur Haley. I’ve always been an airplane and travel fanatic and had the unique opportunity to spend many of my summers in Europe growing up. So reading about all the intricacies of commercial aviation in combination with Haley’s gripping story really hit my buttons. I also ate up every single James Bond novel by Ian Fleming.
8. Who is your favorite author? That is so hard to say because I appreciate different things about so many authors. But if I had to pick one, perhaps it would be John Grisham. He does a great job of building a complex story while writing in a style that is quick and easy to read, and I do my best to emulate that style in my own writing. Like Grisham, I want readers to feel like things are speeding along, that they’re not getting bogged down with excessive details, and it won’t take long to reach a resolution to the suspense keeping them on the edge. But then, there’s always something else to take its place! Otherwise, what’s the point in turning the page?
9. What book genre do you adore? Adore? Interesting word choice. In that case, I’ll have to say romantic suspense. Unlike most other authors who write action/mystery/suspense, I am compelled to throw romance (and…ahem…sex) into my books because I personally enjoy reading it. In my opinion, intimate human interaction makes life so rich and yummy that I want as much of it as I can get…and give, too!
10. What book should everyone read at least once? I’m going to steer away from the obvious classics or religious texts and say The Road Less Traveled by M. Scott Peck, M.D. It does such a great job of putting life into perspective and teaching us how to be happy. It encourages us to take responsibility for our own feelings, stop looking “out there” for happiness and/or blaming something or someone else for our problems. Once we do that, we become very powerful and can simply decide to live life however we choose. Happiness is a choice, plain and simple.

"James Bond Meets Fifty Shades of Grey"

Immerse yourself in the world class novels that combine action, mystery & suspense with tantalizing and tastefully written erotica. You’ll find all your sensibilities roused at once with Kevin Sterling’s ultra-sexy, action-packed Jack Lazar Series.

In this fourth action-packed thriller, Jack travels to Denmark for a business venture, but what seems to be a textbook transaction turns into a nightmare after he gets involved with Katarina, a vivacious Danish girl who apparently lacks a moral compass, not to mention an off button. After naively believing their liaison was just a random encounter, Jack discovers she’s connected to his business deal, and there’s a dangerous political group with skin in the game, too.

Katarina makes a convincing case of being a victim, not part of the conspiracy, but can Jack really trust her?

The firestorm gets out of control as Jack digs deeper, unearths the convoluted plot behind it all, and discovers that innocent people are being heartlessly killed. He’s not only horrified by the reason why it’s happening, but how it’s being done, and there appears to be no way to stop it from occurring again.

Then the scheme’s real objective emerges, launching Jack into action with intelligence operatives to prevent it. But that’s not so easy with assassins on Jack’s tail, forcing him to struggle for survival while trying to prevent Katarina from getting caught in the crossfire.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Action, Mystery, Suspense

Rating – R

More details about the author

Connect with Kevin Sterling on Facebook & Twitter 

Christopher Grey on the Big Dirty Publishing Secret @greyauthor #AmWriting #WriteTip #AmReading

The Big Dirty Publishing Secret: Novels Are Products 

Every author should watch 1987s Throw Momma from the Train with Billy Crystal and Danny DeVito. It’s a wonderful comedy, but that aside, it is a wonderful expose of the minds of writers. My wife, also an author, and I quote that movie to each other all of the time. One of the more poignant quotes in the movie happened when the protagonist Larry gets fired by his literary agent, played hilariously by Rob Reiner, who finally says, “You want to be an artist? Fine. Go to Mexico—the rest of us need to make a living.”

It’s so easy, given the tremendous amount of work we put into our books, to remember that our books are products and our work is to create a product. That is not to say novel writing should be void of art and creativity, but we should never lose sight of the fact we are trying to sell the book. That is why it is so important that authors let the professionals take them through the process—editors, publishers, book designers, marketers—they all know the trade and while you may know how to write a book, that doesn’t mean you need to be an expert in all facets of publishing.

The best thing an author can do after a book is born, is to let it go. Detach oneself from the novel so that it can be groomed, tailored and packaged. Without the rest of the industry doing its job, your novel can never truly reach its potential.

For me, the antidote for letting go of a book, is to write another one. By the time you are immersed in the next story it’s much easier to let the last one go.

In the fall of 1947, Will Shakespeare saw the world collapse around him. Shakespeare, a secret soldier for the Knights Templar, barely escapes the slaughter of his entire knighthood at the hands of a rogue militant arm of the Vatican in a small Montreal church. With orders to escort Templar business associate Dorothy Wilkinson back to her home in Bermuda, Will must locate and rescue the most important secret treasure in human history before it is devoured by a hurricane in the watery caves beneath her father's property. The spiraling quest sends Will and Dorothy into uncovering dark secrets that make up the origins of the knighthood as they confront the traps and puzzles that masterfully protect the world's most coveted treasure.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Action, Adventure

Rating – PG

More details about the author

Connect with Christopher Grey on Google+ & Twitter

#Action #Excerpt The Sovereign Order of Monte Cristo by Holy Ghost Writer @SultanOfSalem

After the much-needed bath, Dantes puts on his dressing gown and lies down on his old bed, which he finds deeply comforting. He has played and traveled hard over the past few busy years, and he knows it has worn on him; there is more silver in his hair than before. He hopes to slow down soon, for he loves his new home with his family close by and misses them terribly. The sweet, baby faces of his daughters loom in the darkness of his closed eyes. How blessed he is! He resolves to enjoy Paris while he is here, though. He wants to go to the opera while he is in town and also visit a few of his favorite haunts. Finally, he falls fast asleep, only to awaken to a servant telling him the meal is nearly ready.

The servant helps Dantes dress and leads him to the dining room.

“The table looks divine,” Dantes says, thinking how nice it is to be out of his traveling clothes and into something more refined. He looks at the spread before him—fresh fruit and vegetables, as well as two huge pheasants with mint jelly. The yeasty smell of homemade bread fills the air and makes his mouth water.

“I hope this pleases you, sir,” Valentine tells him. “I know the food in America is quite different. Perhaps you have become too accustomed to their fare to appreciate ours.”

“Oh, nothing can compare to a good French meal, although American food has its own charms. When the baby is old enough to travel, you will all have to visit my estate in Georgia. It’s a different world, but one I believe you will enjoy,” Dantes tells them.

Just then, he hears the creak of a wheelchair. In comes M. Noirtier. Dantes rushes over to him and bids him hello.

“My old friend!” he says. “My heart fills with joy to see you—let us enjoy this magnificent feast as well as one another’s company.”

The next morning, Dantes plans to visit more of his old friends, at least those who still reside in Paris. A carriage awaits him in the hazy light of dawn, and he is flooded with memories as he drives through the streets. He wishes Mercedes and Haydee could be at his side, but knows his daughters are far too young for such travel; it would exhaust them.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Action, Adventure

Rating – PG-15

More details about the author

Connect with Holy Ghost Writer on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://holyghostwriterbooks.blogspot.ca/