Today I have a latest release for you by my friend Jade Kerrion. Eternal Dawn, book two in the Aeternae Noctis series. I have read this series and I highly recommend it. Start with book one Eternal Night.
Nothing false endures forever. Especially not love…
All parents in Aeternae Noctis have lost children to the culling, among them, the herbalist Rafael Varens. Once more, humanity’s remnants rise in rebellion against the ruthless rule of the three immortal icrathari and their vampire army. Yet again, they are crushed.
When the icrathari Siri seeks a salve for her chronic pain, she and Rafael strike a bargain. He will cure the poison in her blood if she expands the settlement and frees the children, including his son. Their tentative alliance ushers in unexpected friendship, until it is shattered by the cruelest betrayal.
From the darkness below the earth, an ancient…
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Jacob Renselaer arrives in the Kepler 22 system, carrying a wasp ambassador as a sign of humanity’s hope for an end to its first interstellar war. But that hope crumbles as Jacob, his girlfriend Daisy, ambassador Hunter One and Marine chief O’Connor watch unknown aliens drop thermos-nukes on the wasp colony world, killing wasp larvae and adults. These new aliens pursue Jacob’s ships and a fleeing wasp ship. To Jacob’s horror, the new aliens attack with mobile balls of antimatter! Facing sure death, Jacob retreats to the Kepler 63 wasp colony world where Hunter One demands that he and his fleet defend a colony with 23 million wasps. Where does his duty lie? Must he fight and risk lives and ships to protect their former enemies? Or…
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Source: Ticket sales
Tickets are now on sale. Please note that due to the size limitations of the venues events can sell out quickly. To avoid disappointment please book in advance, even for the free events.
You can buy online https://llandeilolitfest.org/calendar/
or directly in Llandeilo from these shops:
Red Cross Book Shop.
Occasionally, some of your visitors may see an advertisemen
There was a princess, who lived in a large and well appointed castle with no one but her elderly father, The King, for company. (And one hundred and forty three servants and the fifteen members of The Royal Protection Squad, but they never count, do they?)
One day the Princess went walking by the stream that ran beside the Castle, handily removing the need for an expensive mains sewerage system. For this reason it was her habit to walk upstream, rather than downstream. As she went, she skipped merrily, to avoid the pools of water left by the recent rains, and by those members of the Royal Protection Squad who had been caught short by her sudden excursion. As she passed one of these pools, a small frog espied her and did call out.
“Princess, Princess, listen to me!”
“Did you speak to me?” asked the amazed Princess.
“Oh yes, for I am no common frog but the Prince of the neighbouring Kingdom who has been set under a wicked enchantment. But kiss me, and I shall be restored to my former self and we may be married!”
The Princess regarded the frog, and did reply. “Not a chance, Sonny-Jim. If you lack the intellectual capacity to avoid such snares, we will be ill suited for marriage and I suggest you seek a bride elsewhere.”
The Princess walked on, and at the next pool she was espied by a frog sporting a small, round and somewhat exotic hat.
“Princess, Princess, listen to me!”
“Did you speak to me, oh frog?”
“Yes, for you see I am the Prince of an exotic land called Nigeria. If you but kiss me, send me £ 500 and your bank details, I can then make you the richest woman in all the lands from this unrecorded bank account, and we can be married.”
“Not a chance, sunshine. For I already get more money from the Civil List than three people could spend in a lifetime of trying, and do not need your blandishments.”
The Princess walked on, and at a third pool she was espied by a frog sitting upon a leaf.
“Princess, Princess, listen to me!”
“I suppose you are a Prince, too are you?”
This frog had a terrible attractive Italian accent. “Yes, I am a Prince and to win your hand I will perform any quest you so desire. Once you’ve snogged my face off and turned me back into a Prince, of course.”
“Any Quest I so set?”
The Princess held out her hand, the frog hopped onto it and was raised to her lips.
“Your Quest is to travel across the sea to the land where the mighty wizards make the magical white powder that my father has banned from his kingdom, and bring it back to me.”
The Princess kissed the frog, who was transformed into a handsome Italian Prince. He produced a stylish pure white helmet and leapt upon his pure white charger (actually it was a Pearl White Honda 750 with matching panniers) and he rode away.
Three days later, the Princess met her Prince at the Ferry Terminal. His exotic motorcycle had attracted the attention of Customs, who had searched his panniers and confiscated an enormous quantity of an illegal substance. The Princess watched with a smile as the Prince was dragged off by the Border Police and Drug Enforcement Agency to spend an enormous amount of time at His Majesty’s Pleasure whilst her Royal Protection Squad pulled rank, and various assorted automatic weapons, on the Customs Agency until the magical powder was released safely into the custody of the Princess.
Who lived very happily for a very long time afterwards.
I am quite enjoying creating this haphazard collection of old folk tales, updated for a modern time. There may well be more, yet.
The Crime Writer’s Association has honoured the Llandeilo Lit Fest with a feature in its newsletters, and you can also find information about the festival at the Literature Wales website http://www.literaturewales.org/lw-event/gwyl-llen-llandeilo-2017/
Meanwhile, the programme booklets have become available and bookings are taking off. Remember some of our venues are small, so book early to avoid disappointment.
The festival is a four day…
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Fierce weather from Hurricane Ivan stalks Karen Puno and her dog, Putt-Putt, as they flee their home and reach the barrier island’s bridge where both their destinies change. Karen is about to give a woman named Jennifer Barns a gift that she’s been praying for … a new liver.
As a cascading medical crisis begins, it interlocks the lives of Karen and Jennifer’s college-aged children, an anesthesiologist, a crafty surgeon, and a feisty pilot involved with the organ harvest procurement.
Will Jennifer live through the heart-stopping surgical tension in the O.R.? Will Putt-Putt find shelter from the devastating storm and circumvent the horrific events that befall him? From tragedy to triumph, Outcome is an intense, heart-wrenching, and climactic novel.
Has it been a long time since a book made you cry, or cheer…
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As a few of you may recall, I’ve a gig at the Llandeilo Literary Festival on 29 April. So yes, I am preparing some new material that might be suitable, and here as a taster is something that I might perform as part of the set. Or maybe not, if the mood takes me, we artists are capricious people, are we not?
Anyway, here it is.
There was a widow with two pretty and sweet tempered daughters in their late teens (we will skip over the obvious logical impossibility) who remarried. Her new husband was a duke, also a widower, who was in possession of a large fortune and a daughter in her early teenage years who was called Ash. Actually she possessed a long and rather beautiful and exotic African Tribal name, granted to her at birth by her father who at the time was off his face on an exotic powder he had been given as a present during a Save The Children Fundraiser, but she preferred to shorten it to Ash.
Now, shortly after the wedding the Duke died, from an unfortunate overdose of that same powder, before he had had time to visit his solicitor and remake his Will and accordingly the new Duchess got the lot. Because she had, in addition to the beautiful daughters and the newly acquired enormous fortune, a strong Social Conscience, she naturally intended to treat Ash as part of her own family and rather than ship her off to some fiendishly expensive Swiss Finishing School to try and catch the heir to a Russian Oligarch fortune, bring Ash up herself.
Ash however was unimpressed, considering this a waste of all the time she had spent learning Russian and showed it in many little ways, but chiefly by playing Slayer and Queensryche at 3 am with the volume turned up to 11 in her bedroom until even the sweet tempered older teenagers had had enough. Ash was moved from the light, airy bedroom with the view over the homeless in the Park to the entirely empty old Servants Quarters on the top floor which she promptly repainted black and installed extractor fans in all the rooms, along with Mega Death and Slipknot posters.
The final straw for the Duchess was Ash’s acquisition of two quite terrifying tattoos on her forearms, and her habit at the expensive Charity Parties they all attended of sitting in a corner playing Death Metal through her individually designed Bluetooth earphones so loudly that even the CIA agents trying to get financial backing for their latest Regime change plans began to complain. Accordingly, when the gold encrusted invitations to the Annual Famine Relief Ball at the Dorchester arrived, the Duchess quietly dropped Ash’s invitation in the bin – where Ash found it an hour or two later during her regular inspection of the Duchess’ waste bags in an attempt to hack her Stepmother’s identity and gain access to the enormous fortune (she had listened to more than just Slash Metal at the Charity Events, you see). She laid her plans.
So at the appointed hour the Duchess and her daughters, in their best finery, departed for the Ball. An hour or so after they had arrived, and the Royal Guest of Honour was trying to breach the solid wall of eligible daughters surrounding him in order to reach the comparative safety of the Bar, the part was disturbed by the roar of massed motorcycle engines from outside. Ruching to the windows they saw a Hell’s Angel cavalcade draw up out side the Hotel, escorting a large Hearse. The Undertakers climbed out of the Hearse and took out the coffin, which they brought inside the Hotel. The angle of the windows prevented the party-goers from seeing the coffin lid open, and a somewhat creased Invitation be presented from within the coffin to the Security Staff on the door. Presuming this to be just another publicity stunt for the massed paparazzi, the staff let the coffin in and the escort roared away with the massed ranks of the Metropolitan Police in luke-warm pursuit.
The coffin was placed in the middle of the dance floor and the lid removed. A vision in an expensive dress arose. This was Ash, who had carefully concealed her face and identity by smearing makeup over the tattoos and ‘borrowing’ her late father’s leather BDSM mask from the Duchess’ bedside cabinet where it was kept it for sentimental reasons.
She danced the night away with the besotted Prince. Not to the expensive orchestra, but to the strains of Slipknot, Slayer and Metallica through her expensive designer earphones, embellished with a Death’s Head symbol. As the Prince had forgotten his, she lent him one of her own.
But alas, the appointed time for her departure arrived too early. The Hearse was needed for a funeral at 10am, and Ash had to suddenly flee as the Undertakers reopened the coffin and beckoned her urgently. In her rush, she forgot to reclaim her earphone.
All were left, asking: Who was that mysterious Girl? And what time does the free bar close?
The next day, the besotted prince began by searching the internet images from the paparazzi for the mysterious girl who had claimed both his heart and, in an unguarded moment, his wallet. He called for the Royal Protection Squad, who had a list of all the attendees and quickly worked his way down the list. He then visited the most likely suspects, crying: Match this thing that she left behind last night, and you will have verily won my heart! But none could do so.
Finally, the prince arrived at the Duchess’ house and repeated his plea. The Duchess had no idea what the thing with a Death’s Head upon it was, and looked pleadingly at her daughters. They searched their collection of earphones desperately, hoping for a match, but sadly none was available. The Prince decided to leave, exiting through the kitchen for discretion.
“Has no one such an earphone?” he cried in despair.
Ash was sitting at the kitchen table, for she had recently awoken and was afflicted with the munchies as a result of taking some of the enormous cache of stuff she had found in a concealed pocket within the coffin the night before. “Hey,” she shouted. “That’s mine! Give it here!” and she brought out the twin to the earpiece the prince held.
There was much rejoicing, especially by the Duchess who was addicted to smooth jazz and didn’t really care for Mega Death and Slayer, and the Prince duly married Ash.
They lived happily ever after. Well, they did after the eventual divorce and Ash was able (on the proceeds) to set up a small promotional company allowing her to tour the world with up and coming Thrash Metal bands, and the prince to spend his time in his LA Playboy mansion with a continuous supply of porn movie stars.
https://llandeilolitfest.org/programme-details/ for more details of the Festival.