Master Blacke: Tales of the Great Wood

On the heels of his five-book fantasy series, The Chronicles of Dorro, author Pete Prown brings us a new tale that returns readers to the magical world of Thimble Down—but with a twist!
In Master Blacke, we journey to the other side of the Great Wood and meet exciting new characters from the village of Wattle’s Way. Among the players in this saga are Rue and Doily, as well as a strange and deadly kestrel named Jesper Stormcloud, who becomes their friend. There’s also the wise schoolmaster, Master Blacke, and the wicked, but beautiful Minerva Silvercoat and her equally blackhearted accomplice, Mr. Slinks.
The story unfolds with the arrival of Rue, a shy girl lost in the Great Wood. Master Blacke settles Rue into the home of Mrs. Locke, a cold shopkeeper, and her mean-spirited daughter, Meera. There’s something else, too—Doily overhears villagers talking about The Vine, something which will change the way the village is run and who’s in charge. The mystery deepens as townsfolk begin to disappear one by one. Even Master Blacke is baffled by these dark, ominous events.
There’s danger in the heart of the Great Wood. After centuries of peace and tranquility, there’s a plot by the bigger creatures — who call themselves The Vine — to seize power and take control of the meek.
Soon, the fast-paced saga begins, as Rue, Doily, and Jesper find themselves battling for their very lives and fighting back with the help of their tutor, Master Blacke. But will it be enough to defeat The Vine and its forces of evil?
Welcome to the Great Wood, friends ….
Master Blacke: Tales of the Great Wood takes readers on an epic fantasy adventure. Young readers, aged 9 to 13 – as well as not-so young ones—will have trouble putting it down. It is available for sale on Amazon, iTunes, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo.

Almost Supper
Rue stubbed her toed and screeched in pain—she was lost and knew it. The small, brownish pocket-mouse hadn’t seen her parents for weeks, and left their comfy mouse-hole in the Great Wood to search for them, even though her mother said her shouldn’t ever do so. They’d never been gone this long before.
Young and naïve might Rue be, but not entirely foolish. As the afternoon grew long and began throwing shadows, she flitted from leaf cover to tussock, remaining exposed in the open as little as possible. She dug up a few mouthfuls of nuts, roots, and berries as she explored—Rue had never been alone in the forest before, but on the whole, rather enjoyed it.
“I could survive out here, I know it,” boasted the mouse. “I’m Rue the Brave and all shall tremble before me!”
She laughed out loud, but tripped over something hard while crossing a mossy pad.
“Ouch, that hurt! Who left a big log on the forest floor for nice mice pups to fall upon?”
Rue was perturbed and didn’t mind who knew it. Then she sneezed.
And she sneezed again. Ach-choo!
Curiously, she became aware of something moving in the periphery and all her hairs stood on end. It didn’t feel right.
“Dear me, I’m sorry, young lady—how rude of me to leave my tail lying about.”
“Who are you? I can’t see you,” snipped Rue, transfixed by the deep, mellifluous voice.
She heard something sniffing over yonder, under the fronds of an ostrich fern swaying gently in the breeze.
“Mmmmm, delicious! I mean, it’s delicious to meet you. I don’t think you’ve been this way before. We don’t get many field mice here in the deep wood. The occasional vole, but not one of your distinguished species.”
“I’m just a pocket-mouse. Nothing special about that.”
The disembodied voice replied, “I beg to differ. You see, voles are tough and wily, and moles too earthy. And rats—well, I shan’t even deign to make a comparison. Ooooh, but a tender young mouse. Now that’s enough to make up for my abbreviated nap. The pocket-mouse is something I’ve always heard about, but never enjoyed … its company before.”
Rue was suspicious. “You don’t know me, sir. And perhaps you shan’t!”
“On the contrary, my superior sense of smell tells me much. Why, you dine on dandelion petals and thyme leaves, morning dew, and nuts of all types. But I think walnuts are your favorite, correct?”
“That’s true, Mr. Voice-Without-a-Face. I do love walnuts and nuts of all sorts. How did you know?”
“My nose tells me everything, friend. I can even sense the sun-baked warmth of your fur, as well as the rich loamy soil of your mouse-hole. Say, you don’t live near a stand of rye grass, do you? What is that strange scent—summer barley?”
“That’s remarkable, sir! You must be a great detective? Or a magician!”
Rue was suddenly fascinated. “That must be how you can speak without possessing a body.”
“Oh, I have a body and a face and a mouth and a snout. Would you like to see me? I am quite grand, I really am.”
Rue sneezed and became wary again. Something in her veins and blood told her Beware!, but she couldn’t put a finger on it. She’d never really been afraid before, as her parents were always nearby and calmed her when a thunderstorm struck and the rain pelted about the door to their mouse-house.
What is that strange tingling in my paws and legs? thought the mouse girl. My senses are trying to warn me of something, but I don’t what it is.
Suddenly, Rue knew exactly what the tingling was, just as the ferns began to shiver and move. Something was moving in those fronds, inching closer by the second, and it meant her harm.
Then Rue saw it—a black snout pushing through a few fronds. The snout grew longer and impossibly longer, until a face peered out. A sharp face with reddish fur, two pointy ears, and a pair of glowing orange eyes. And its mouth was smiling, but not a friendly smile. It was more of a leer, displaying quite a rack of dazzling teeth. The pocket-mouse knew she was in trouble, as this was surely a red fox seeking its supper.
“I demand to know your intentions, sir,” barked Rue, though quivering and trying to put on a brave face. “I don’t know your name, but I know your heart. You mean to eat me.”
“You are an astute young lady—quite intelligent! My name is Mr. Slinks, though I’m not such a bad fellow,” said the red fox with his usual grace and savoir-faire. He kept talking.
“My job in this part of the Great Wood is to bring balance and order. When something is out of place, I fix it. If Genevieve Possum has too many babes one spring, I help her return her litter to a reasonable number. And should the robin or wren population explode for unknown reasons, just call on Mr. Slinks to scale a nice low tree, find the nest, and bring the number back to earth —quite literally! Logically then, should a tasty mouse get lost and wander into my dell, as a concerned citizen I feel I should do my part to rectify the issue—quickly and with the utmost skill.
There’s no need for endless suffering, I always say. Fast ‘n’ precise, that’s my motto.”
“I may be a pup, Mr. Slinks, but I don’t want to be eaten today. I like seeing the sunshine every morning and I like my walnuts. And I don’t like … you!”
At that, Rue shot from her moss pad like a rocket, so fast that even a deadly predator like Mr. Slinks was taken aback. He figured the lass would make a fine nuncheon and be perfectly civilized about it. Perhaps even lie down and expose her neck in a cordial way, in order to make the fox’s job easier. But no, this brat wanted to put Slinks to the test.
And this is what happened.
Rue had been pent up in her mouse-hole for so long that all her bound-up energy exploded at that very moment. Even she was amazed at how fast she could run, especially when there was a Fox giving chase.“
Catch me if you can, Big Nose!” laughed the girl as she shot under a thicket of rambling roses and in and out tufts of grass.
It would have been a wonderful game if the mouse didn’t hear a Snap! and feel the wind-gust as a pair of jaws narrowly missed her tail.
This spurred Rue on faster, but she knew she couldn’t run forever and that about twenty of her steps equaled only two of Mr. Slinks’. Mathematically, the fox would catch up to her in about five seconds. Fortunately for Rue, fate was on her side, as a new commotion exploded to her left.
“Weeee-haaaaaa! Out of my way, Slinker. Stinker is on the move!”
For a second, Rue couldn’t make out what was happening, but then saw flashes of white and black just off the way. She also knew it wasn’t good news for her rival, as Slinks shouted out a most unfortunate expletive—one we shan’t repeat here in the name of proper decency—and followed it up with various snarls, grunts, and barks.
The race bounded down a sharp slope, with Rue in the lead, Mr. Slinks in hot pursuit, and an unknown personage running interference. The pocket-mouse reached the bottom of the dell and found a rapidly running creek in her way. She leapt onto a flat rock in the water, and then another and another, her toes getting quite wet in the process.
On her tail, Mr. Slinks shouted, “You know this is quite inevitable, mouse. I will have my satisfaction in the end, even with Mrs. Posey being a busy-body.”
Turning his head, he hooted to his right, “I shall deal with you later, Posey. You’re not as invincible as you think—nor are your babes!”
It was at this precise moment that Rue made a grand leap for the far bank, but slipped and missed her mark by a foot. Instead, she landed in a bit of muddy muck and lay immobile on the creek’s bank. She rolled over and, just Mr. Slinks had hoped, exposed her soft belly and throat dangerously.
“A-ha! The day is mine,” gloated Slinks as he bounded across the creek for the final kill. But t’was not to be. For as our friend Rue lay prostrate in the mud, a shadow crept over her, blotting out the light and burying her in dark fur.
“One step closer, Slinksy, and I shall give you such a spray that your prey will know you’re coming two weeks ahead of time. That will give your stomach something to think about, eh?”
“Back off, Posey. I want to eat now, nor was I jesting earlier. Skunk babies are just as tasty as mice and slower off the mark than their mums. They’re sweet and don’t stink yet—I might have a few for a snack.”
Mrs. Posey growled in return and extended her claws.
“Go near my babes and I shall write a note to my cousin Pelarch and, well, even you don’t want that. Pel could rip you into pieces before you even rose to your feet.”
“Is your cousin a precious little bunny rabbit?”
“If you consider high-mountain wolverines to be little bunnies, then yes!” cackled the skunkess in return.
“Curse you, Posey! Always ruining my sport. I just wanted to have a bit of a go at the tender thing,” sneered Slinks.
“No harm was intended. You know me better.”
“Oh I know you, Slinks. Your idea of fun usually ends up with torn throats and gasping final breaths. But I shall let it pass this time.”
Mrs. Posey relaxed her posture over Rue and let a little light and air penetrate. As she moved off, the mouse-ling saw a beautiful black-and-white skunk taking shape, while Mr. Slinks glowered at them both from a rock in the middle of the creek. She took a few steps away from Rue as matters calmed, but was distracted by the Caw! of a fish-crow in a nearby sourwood tree.
That’s all it took for Mr. Slinks to make his move. Bounding the final steps between himself and young Rue in half a heartbeat, the red fox suddenly had the young pocket-mouse cradled in his jaws, even before Mrs. Posey had a chance to turn around.
“How dare you, Slinks! I thought you were going to be a good boy today,” snarled the angry skunk, once again dropping to combat posture.
Mumbling with the creature in his mouth, Mr. Slinks replied, “I’m th-orry, Mrs. Po-thee. But e’en I muss eat!”
“Then I can’t be held responsible for my actions, you rotten Fox!”
At that, Mrs. P. spun on a tuppence and, from a gland within her hind quarters, hit Mr. Slinks with a massive blast of skunk stink. With skunk juice stinging his eyes and fouling his nose and mouth, Mr. Slinks had no choice but to drop the equally befouled Rue in the creek and run screaming into the woods.
“Oh, you horrible woman—now I shall never eat again! I am the saddest and smelliest fellow in all the Great Wood!”
And it was true, Mrs. Posey had doused the fox so completely that he wasn’t able to find any tasty prey beyond beetles and worms for the next few weeks and, along the way, lost a full three pounds.
Yet as he slunk off into the underbrush, Mr. Slinks muttered something under his breath. It sounded something like this: “You think you’re so clever, Skunk. But wait until the Vine becomes law in the Great Wood. Then you’ll learn to serve your betters in silence. And that foolish pocket-mouse will be in my belly.”
With that, the black-hearted fox disappeared into the forest.
Poor Rue, meanwhile, was not only drenched in skunk stink, but was also being borne down the creek with great force. Neither could she swim, thus was gasping for air in between desperate strokes in the bubbling, frothy water.
Fortunately, Mrs. P. was on the scene in a flash and, before she knew it, Rue was gently hoisted into the air within the front teeth of her new protector and carried back to the very soft, spongy moss pad from whence her very troubles had begun.
Exhausted, wet, confused and thoroughly skunked from head to toe, Rue began to cry, yet soon drifted off to the lands of sleep and quiet. Over her, Mrs. Posey stood guard, humming a tune to herself. In that time, she knit her a blanket of sweet-smelling lavender and clover petals, which drew out the stench and coaxed sweet dreams within the girl’s heart. As the hours passed, the forest calmed more and more until this recent episode was all but a distant memory.
From somewhere above them in the Great Wood, a grey thrush hooted the “all clear” signal and life resumed as usual.

Pete Prown is a noted American writer of Young Adult fantasy books. His debut fantasy series The Chronicles of Dorro (Thimble Down, Devils & Demons, The Lost Ones, Death of a Dwarf, and Goblin War) has received rave reviews. THIMBLE DOWN, the first book in the “Chronicles of Dorro” series, tells the tale of a Halfling bookmaster named Mr. Dorro and the dark mysteries he becomes entangled with, along with young companions Wyll Underfoot and Cheeryup Tunbridge. Fans of the Dorro series can’t get enough of the classic-fantasy action and adventure, as they explore the magical world of Thimble Down and its surroundings.
Readers can connect with Pete on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. To learn more, go to

A Brush with the Beast by Richard Sones

A Brush with the Beast by Richard Sones, is a thrilling new Christian Fiction novel about the end-times. You will laugh, cry, and cling to the edge of your seat as you follow this international adventure and epic battle between good and evil.
A brilliant and exceptionally talented IT executive, Nick Gooseberry, is at his wits’ end trying to rid himself of chronic debilitating pain. In desperation he turns to The Order, a shadowy organization that promises him freedom from pain and much more. With The Order’s help behind the scenes, Nick lies and blackmails his way into the highest levels of government while plunging into the blackest corners of hell until he sets his sights on ruling the world.
Sarah Johnson is a thirty-something ex-con that the system abandoned in a small town in Texas. As a dime store cashier, her biggest worries are what to eat and what to wear, but she’s always late for work. Her boss decides to get rid of her for good by sending her back to prison, enticing her with a shortcut to riches. She meets the Lord along the way and manages to escape from the authorities, but the fact that she’s pregnant attracts the attention of the Beast. After being whisked to the other side of the planet, her biggest worry becomes surviving.
A Palestinian schoolboy who witnessed the death of his parents grows into a world renowned terrorist driven by his thirst for revenge on his family’s murderers. He hates Israel and their number one ally, the United States. Known by his Arabic nickname, Fanak (the Fox), he orchestrates terror on every continent never realizing that he’s a puppet of the Beast.
The gripping plot, tender moments, plights and ambitions of each character will draw you in to this page turner you won’t be able to put down.
What People Are Saying About A Brush with the Beast: 
An apocalyptic tale, written better than Left Behind…”Paul Brandt, Indie Christian Book Reviews
“A Brush With the Beast is a thrilling, fast paced novel that will keep you guessing until the end, and will stick in your head far beyond the last page. Richard Sones does a great job of tying together the characters across a landscape that spans most of the globe… It’s an excellent story with a powerful testimony… 5 Stars, Reader’s Favorite
“The Bottom Line: Author Richard Sones establishes himself as the Christian alternative to Dan Brown in A Brush with the Beast, a compelling religious fantasy about a battle for the soul of the planet. Fans of Christian fiction will find plenty to like here…”  Best Thrillers
“A Brush with the Beast’ begins at a steady pace and maintains it throughout the entire narrative… With rich paragraphs filled with flowing descriptions, the reader is transported… almost as if they are experiencing it first-hand… The descriptions of the locations are precise and full of details that make it very easy for the reader to picture… The story begins to dive deeply into a web of conspiracy, terrorism, and cult behavior on several sides in several different religions… The story twists and turns, and it is never quite clear what the end result will be…” Red City Review

Excerpt from Chapter 1:
“Good morning, Mr. D.” chirped Gail. She was always happy, unnaturally happy. She was happy when no one was supposed to be happy. Nick didn’t like that about her, but she was the best secretary he had ever had. He groaned in response to her cheerful greeting and disappeared into his office. “It can’t be all that bad,” he heard her holler after the door had been shut.
Only fifteen quiet minutes had elapsed when a light tapping emanated from the door. “Sir, would you like a cup of coffee?”
“She must be on something,” Nick thought when he heard her. “Sure, Gail, come in.”
The door opened and the cheerful secretary came in using both hands to carry saucer and cup. She wore an off white dress that hung past her knees. Her silver hair was colored dishwater blond, but not so anyone could tell. It reached her shoulders in gentle curls, which bobbed slightly as she walked. “Here you go,” she said as she carefully placed the coffee on the desk in front of him. She had been his personal secretary for over seven years, yet their interaction was as formal as it was the first day. She had never heard anyone call him by his real name. “Will there be anything else, sir?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact, there is. Have a seat, Gail.”
The generally cheerful expression immediately disappeared from Gail’s face as she slowly sat in one of the two burgundy leather arm chairs facing the desk.
Nick felt a trace of satisfaction at seeing her grin dissolve. He knew she thought she was in trouble and decided to let her fret a little before going on. “Have you seen the stock price?” he asked sternly as he began to walk slowly around the spacious office.
“Sir, it’s always low this time of year, and with Energetic Digital Systems big layoff, the whole sector is down more than usual.”
He could hear the anxiety now in her voice. “Enough fun,” he thought, and abruptly changed the topic.
“Gail, I have a friend,” he began, at the same time wondering whether she would buy his story. “He’s been suffering from something debilitating. He experiences pain in his upper back from time to time.” Nick struggled to explain without letting on that he was talking about himself. “He’s been to doctors and had every imaginable test run without any help or answers. Well, I told him over the phone that I would try to help him.”
He stopped pacing and turned to face her. “She looks like she’s buying it,” he thought to himself.
“I want you to do some research to see if you can find some alternative direction to send him. He’s already tried everything conventional. Check out the offbeat, the bizarre, and let me know what you find. I’d like to help the guy if I could. He sounded somewhat downhearted when I talked to him last night. Any questions?”
A look of relief and that silly grin came back as she answered, “No, sir! I’ll get on it right away.” Her dress hem swished from side to side as she scurried out of the room.
Nick was good at delegating and good at holding people accountable. He had a low tolerance for failure and most everyone that worked for him knew it. He was certain Gail would have some options for him by the end of the day. Feeling better just thinking about it, he returned to his desk to set about the business of the day. He reached for the intercom set and pushed a black button about half way down the row.
“Bob, five minutes, my office. Bring me what you’ve got on the UN security bid.” Without pausing he turned to his computer screen and with a few keystrokes was engrossed in research. One of the keys to the success of Dervish was being able to find an opportunity and move quickly before others got the chance.
“Bob is here with the information you asked for,” Gail announced on the intercom.
“Send him in.”
“Good morning, Mr. D, I have…” Bob began.
“What’s the latest,” Nick cut him off. Tensely, Bob began to lay documents on the desk for Nick to look at.
“How many decision makers?”
“It looks like three so far.”
“What about the competition?”
“Well, sir, the word is not out on this one. Besides us, Energetic is the only bidder. It doesn’t look good for them given their current situation.”
“Good. Work it; let me know if I need to run interference on anything.”
With that, Bob picked up the papers and left.
The rest of the morning went much the same, concise meetings about the status of ongoing and pending work interspersed with keeping abreast of business news in excruciating detail. Occasionally he would be on the phone with a prospective client working a deal or trying to smooth relations with a present customer.
Lunch was brought in on a cart from the kitchen in the basement. One might think such a successful, rich CEO would want to get out and away for lunch, maybe for several hours. Not Mr. D. He didn’t choose business as a career for something to do. He loved his work, thought about it all the time, in fact, he even dreamt about it from time to time. He shamelessly flaunted his power and position. He viewed lunch more as an imposition than an intermission. He also recognized an indirect benefit of that viewpoint in that his senior employees tended to work through lunch as well or take short lunch breaks.
By mid-afternoon, Nick’s curiosity would not let him relax. He went to the door and looked out. Gail was on the phone, her desk littered with yellow sticky notes. As she spoke she scribbled on a steno pad that she held in her lap. Her voice was serious, so she probably wasn’t chatting with one of her friends, although he allowed her that little perk given the quality of her work. Besides, the big boss’s secretary ought to have certain privileges. He watched her discreetly for several minutes, waiting for her to finish talking.
When at last she put the receiver down, he blurted out, “Gail!”
“Coming, Mr. D.,” she said confidently, as if she was expecting his call. She gathered her notes and papers, sprang from her chair, and was in Nick’s office before he could return to his desk.
“I assume by that mess of paper that you found something.”
“Yes, sir. I have several leads you can look into,” she paused awkwardly, “for your friend.” She handed him a list of names and contact information. “I have them grouped by their approach.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I have the diet and exercise groups, the drug groups, the environment groups, and the spiritual groups. I’ve included contact numbers and a quick rundown of their methods and requirements, except for a couple of the spiritual groups.”
Her last statement intrigued him. “Do any of them sound for real?”
“I think they’re all gimmicks, just in it for the money, sir. You know what they say, a fool born every minute, soon parted from his money. For what it’s worth though, Maharishi Yoggi Swannee in Oregon sounds promising. His group uses a combination of mountain air resort, diet, exercise, and cannabis.”
Nick gestured for Gail to give him the stack of papers. “Thanks, Gail. I’ll look through this and decide what to pass on to my friend.” Did he give her the friend’s name? He couldn’t remember. Best not use one now and blow his whole cover.
Alone in the office again, Nick studied the notes now in his possession. “Maharishi,” he read silently to himself. “Probably Dave Smith from Tennessee with a beard,” he thought. One by one he scrutinized the papers. He wanted his pain to go away but without any publicity. One sure way to send the stock into a nosedive was to let word get out that the CEO had some strange disease. He couldn’t afford to disappear for a few months either. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to go over to Brother Jack’s Holy Brothers and Sisters Church to get healed either. He could just see the Times business news on that one. “Maybe this was a bad idea,” he thought. Nothing appeared to be remotely close to what he had hoped for. Still, he continued to read each note Gail had written. “The Ancient Order,” this note had nothing but an internet address. “Hmm,” he thought pensively, “all the info must be online.”
Nick’s desk was substantial by any standard. Dark cherry wood, highly polished and protected by a glass top, it wrapped around him to the left. A good portion of the top on the left was in fact a flat screen monitor that lifted up like the screen of a giant notebook computer. He pulled the keyboard shelf forward and typed in the address for the ‘Order.’ A blank white screen came up on the computer. As he watched, the screen started fading to gray. A small burning torch came into view in the middle of the screen as the background continued to fade. After about a minute the screen was completely black with the exception of the small burning torch in the center. He waited another minute, but nothing else happened. “Strange,” he thought to himself as he reached for the mouse. He clicked on the torch to see if anything would happen. “Aha,” he thought. The torch disappeared, and the screen began to lighten until it was a dull red color. There also appeared boxes labeled name, address, phone, and an “Enter” button. He filled in all the information asked for and then clicked on the “Enter” button. Nothing happened. It was as if the line had gone dead. He clicked again and again, waited several minutes, but nothing happened. “Amateurs!” he said out loud, then closed the computer.
“Maharishi,” he found himself looking at the note again. Looking at his watch he figured it was nearly two in the afternoon in Oregon. “What the hell,” he thought as he reached for his private phone. He carefully dialed the number and waited. Two rings, three…
“Path of Life, may I help you?” came a soothing female voice.
“Yes,” Nick responded. “Can you tell me about your operation?” He began to reconsider. “How much should I tell; how safe is this, anyway?”
“What would you like to know?”
“I’m interested in your alternative healing methods,” Nick said reservedly.
“I’m delighted you are calling; how may I help you?”
Nick was getting a little frustrated. This was not going to be easy. “How long does your program last?”
“Brothers and sisters must come without any hindrances.”
“Hmm,” he thought, “it must take a long time.” He then asked, “What types of things do you treat?”
“We allow the devoted to uncover their essence to the flow of the cosmos. It is the power of the flow that may alter the devotees’ reality.”
“Hoo boy,” he thought. “This is beginning to sound like big time commitment. It also sounds like bad press all the way around.”
“Thanks for your time,” he said and hung up the phone.
He looked at his watch again. It was later than he usually stayed. He got up quickly, walked over and opened the door. Gail was already gone for the evening. In fact, the whole office was empty. “They must have thought I was already gone,” he thought. He walked over to the closet, put his overcoat on and headed toward the door.
Nick arrived home troubled. Though the pain was gone today, he knew that it might return tomorrow. He felt increasingly powerless over his fate. He exited the limousine slowly and started up the massive stairs, not bothering to look up. Robert opened the door for him as usual; and when he did, a shiny black card about half the size of a sheet of paper fluttered to the ground. Nick bent down, picked the card up and looked at it. What he saw stunned him. His head began to feel light, and he sensed the feeling draining out of his legs. In the center of the blackness was a small torch. Immediately he turned the card over for some clue as to who had sent it. On the back in very small letters it read, “Midnight – Times Square – Alone.” He folded the card and stuck it in his pocket.
“Is everything all right, sir?” Robert asked.
“Fine, Robert, fine,” Nick replied. He barely spoke another word for the rest of the night.
Nick went to his bedroom at about ten. He lay down fully dressed, but his heart was racing too fast to get any rest. “What have I gotten myself into?” he wondered. “I should never have entered my address.” He tried to remember just how much info he had entered on the mysterious web site. This was way off the deep end. “Why the secrecy?” he thought. “Were these people that good or perhaps, that bad?” His mind raced with the pros and cons of actually going to Times Square. How much would he sacrifice to be free from the nagging, recurring pain? What if he didn’t go? Would these people drop it and leave him alone or had he opened Pandora’s Box. The more he thought the more he feared. He was afraid of both going and not going.
He decided that it made the most sense to go. At least he would meet and confront these folks. He was in a way relieved that they wanted a secret meeting. He wanted a secret meeting too. He just wasn’t going to ask for it in such a haunting way…

About the Author:
Richard Sones grew up as a citizen of the world. Moving every three to twenty-four months from continent to continent, he was exposed to many cultures. As an adult, he continued his tour of the world as a chaplain in the U.S. Army having served 28 years. As a consequence of many deployments, he has first hand knowledge of many varied customs and peoples. Happily married now 38 years, he is a father to four and grandfather to another four. He is still in ministry as the chaplain of a major hospital in El Paso, Texas. He lives just outside the city in the semi-desert where he has time to write, build things in his wood shop, play his guitar, and tinker with the yard. He is the author of:
A Brush with the Beast – An end-times novel about the Anti-Christ’s rise to power and a poor woman caught up in the circumstances.  (historical fiction that hasn’t happened yet.)
Sodom in America: A Candid Biblical View of Homosexuality – A non-judgmental review of what the Bible in fact says and does not say about the subject and why.  Also addresses some of the myths on the subject falsely attributed to the Bible.
The Unofficial Guide to the Military Memorial Ceremony – A how-to guide for military Chaplains, Sergeants Major, and First Sergeants.  Fills the gap left by the expiration and obsolescence of the several field manuals and training circulars the Army used to provide.  Also includes sample homilies.
The Lord’s Supper:  What’s the Point – An in depth Bible study of the Lord’s Supper.  Very briefly hits the high points of the theological arguments.  The meat of the book looks at the symbolism used throughout the Bible and the meanings the sacrament/ordinance brings out.
Lucky: The Vampire – A book based on the lives of murderers who have been executed in the Texas death chamber.  The book delves into the blackness of their hearts and the motives behind their actions.  Instead of capital punishment, however, they meet Lucky, a type of Satan who is drawn to them by the aroma of their vile blood.  Even though it is too late for them, he points out the error of their ways.  All the murderers the book is based on gave no indication of repentance before they died.  Names, dates and places are changed to protect the innocent.  (Though they are a matter of public record)

For further information or to request a review copy, please contact Kelsey Butts at Book Publicity Services at or 805.807.9027.

The Kingdom of Oceana by Mitchell Charles

kingdom of oceanaThe Kingdom of Oceana is a new Middle Grade / Young Adult fantasy adventure series by Mitchell Charles, recommended for 5th-8th grade students. 
At its core, The Kingdom of Oceana is a story about a sibling rivalry.
Five centuries ago, on the island now called Hawaii, there was a kingdom filled with adventure, beauty, and magic.  When 16-year-old Prince Ailani and his brother Nahoa trespass on a forbidden burial ground and uncover an ancient tiki mask, they unleash a thousand-year-old curse that threatens to destroy their tropical paradise.
As warring factions collide for control of Oceana, it sparks an age-old conflict between rival sorcerers that threatens to erupt–just like Mauna Kea, the towering volcano. With the help of his ancestral spirit animals, his shape shifting sidekick, and a beautiful princess, Prince Ailani must overcome his own insecurities, a lifetime of sibling rivalry, and a plague of cursed sea creatures brought forth by the tiki’s spell. Can peace be restored to the kingdom? Can Prince Ailani claim his rightful place as the future king of Oceana? Two brothers, but only one can rule.
The Kingdom of Oceana takes readers on a fun and exciting adventure that is filled with non-stop action, from big wave surfing, to fire walking and shark taming. It is also an educational read, as it brings to light many of today’s pressing environmental and social issues, such as ocean conservation.


“This book is a real page-turner, full of action and adventure, and I would highly recommend it to anyone. I hope that there will be more books like this from Mitchell Charles in the future.” – 5 Stars, Anne-Marie Reynolds for Readers’ Favorite
“Adventure, exotic places and animals, as well as a unique culture, will drag readers head first into this novel…The talent from this writer is amazing. I look forward to reading more by Mitchell Charles in the future.”Danielle Urban, Urban Book Reviews
“Filled with names, vocabulary, animals, and customs that are related to the setting the book opened my eyes to the ancient world of the Pacific peoples. I can envision middle school students fascinated by the words of the text made curious to research to learn more about this unique time and place.” – AngelaThe Teacher’s Desk 6
“As I read, I had several of my student’s already in mind who will eat this up. I feel good about having it on my shelves, as it is not too violent or ‘scary,’ yet it contains that fun zombie style-action that my students love.” – Jillian, Elements of Elementary


Excerpt from Chapter 1 – Waimoku Falls
We climbed the backside of the canyon, still winding through the singing forest. A sudden gust blew through the treetops, causing the tall hollow stalks to cry a warning and my heart to beat faster. What danger was Nahoa getting me into this time?
By midday we reached the tree line, and the terrain became near vertical, with slabs of volcanic rock stacked in a series of small ledges and caves.
I turned around, looking out over the green bamboo treetops. To my right, the towering snow-capped summit of Mauna Kea dominated the sky. It was the tallest and most sacred spot on the Great Island, and on rare occasions smoke and ash billowed from its peak, rising above the icy white snowdrifts. Fortunately, there had not been a major eruption or lava flow in many generations.
“I’ll race you to the top,” Nahoa challenged. “I’ll even give you a head start.”
We had always enjoyed a spirited rivalry, feeding off each other’s competitive nature. I surveyed the cliff, picking my route.
“You’re on,” I said as I hoisted myself up and grabbed onto a small lava finger hold. Just above me was a long fissure in the rock, sloping upward to my right and then back to the left. While this path would take me on a longer course, it was less demanding, and my best chance to beat Nahoa to the crest.
He saw my plan. “Good, little brother. That path is safer.”
I carefully moved forward, while Nahoa soon got stuck above me on the sheer vertical wall of lava, his legs dangling and his feet probing the cliffside.
“Fingers getting tired?” I asked him as I moved closer to the top. I was going to beat him, for once.
“I won’t be here long,” he said.
As I followed the crevice back to the left, Nahoa whipped his body to the right and leapt off the cliff, his foot landing on my shoulder. He pushed off my neck and hoisted himself onto the ledge above me, just below the crest.
“Thanks, omo,” he said with a wicked laugh.
As I pulled myself onto the ridgetop I saw Nahoa ahead, following a fast-moving river that disappeared in the distance.
“Move it!” he yelled above the sound of the rushing water.
I hurried to catch up and we crossed the river along a jagged path of partially submerged boulders smoothed over by the rapids.
Before us, the river gained strength where it merged with a smaller tributary and formed a swirling vortex that plummeted off the cliff as Waimoku Falls.
“That’s it,” said Nahoa, pointing at a small hill piled with rubble just in front of where the two rivers joined.
There we found the remains of a crescent-shaped fortress made from stacked lava rocks. The curved wall was crumbling, with crusty orange lichen growing in the crevices and bright green geckos sunning themselves on top. The ground was littered with shark teeth, razor sharp and bleached by the scorching tropical sun.
I was disappointed. I’d hoped to find a great temple with cryptic markings or intricate carvings. What lay before us was nothing more than a pile of weather-beaten rocks.
“Well, this is a waste of time,” said Nahoa. He picked up a stone and hurled it at the remains of the fortress. From beneath the broken wall, a gathering of centipedes scrambled to escape the sunlight.
An icy wind went through me. It wasn’t like a tropical breeze that cools your sweaty cheek. No, it pierced my flesh like I was no more solid than a palm frond. Disturbing the centipedes was a bad omen—they were minions of the shadows.
“Did you feel that?” I asked.
Nahoa stood frozen, the hair on his arms standing on end.
He swallowed. “Feel what?”
“I don’t think we should be here,” I said, motioning for us to leave. For once, I hoped he’d agree with me.
“Do you want me to hold your hand, little brother? We’ll just have a look around, that’s all.”
Nahoa walked over to where he’d thrown the rock and knelt to examine the rubble. He picked through and uncovered a wooden tiki head. The carving was badly weathered, its left ear missing. Its mouth snarled, and its eyes glared with menace.
I looked at my brother’s face. He was in a trance, his head tilted down and his eyes looking up. They were cold and lifeless.
“Nahoa,” I screamed. “Stop playing around. That’s not funny!”
But he just stood there. I yelled again, “Nahoa! We shouldn’t be here. Let’s go!”
He blinked, but otherwise remained perfectly still.
As I stepped toward him, Nahoa pulled his knife and backed me toward the rushing river.
“It’s you that doesn’t belong here, little brother,” he said in a hushed tone.
Then he charged at me like a wild boar, knocking me into the water. I stood up, knee- deep in the fast-moving river, and dug my feet into the rocky bottom, bracing myself so the current didn’t pull me downstream. Nahoa leapt again and landed on top of me, sending us both tumbling into the whitewater.
Since we were old enough to walk, Nahoa and I had been schooled by the masters in lua—wrestling, hand-to-hand combat, and the use of our tribe’s most savage battle weapons. From years as sparring partners, I knew all his offensive moves and counter attacks as though they were my own. But as we raced downstream, bouncing off the rocks and plummeting down the rapids, I felt as though I was fighting a stranger. And I was fighting for my life.
Up ahead, jagged rocks rose above the waterline. I flipped onto my back with my feet below me, struggling against Nahoa’s hands wrapped around my throat. I kicked free of him, but that only quickened my pace down the rapids. I slammed into a boulder, my feet bracing my impact. I was exhausted, but knew I had to get out of the water before I reached the falls. I managed to clamber partway up a slippery rock, then gathered the strength to hoist myself completely from the rushing current. Upstream, I saw Nahoa dangling from a tree branch, the rapids churning below him.
My footing slipped and in an instant I was back in the river. The turbulence engulfed me, pulling me into the foaming whitewater. Then I was weightless, freefalling.


Mitchell CharlesAbout the Author
Mitchell Charles’ love of the ocean and its miraculous creatures began at the age of 12 when his father taught him to SCUBA dive. From his first adventure 50 feet (15 meters) beneath the Caribbean Sea he was hooked.  He has been involved in the Oceanic Society, America’s first non-profit organization dedicated to ocean conservation, established in 1969.
Mitchell’s inspiration for The Kingdom of Oceana was born of exploring the spectacular coastline, lush valleys, and vibrant coral reefs of the Hawaiian Islands. On these excursions, he imagined what Hawaii was like hundreds of years ago. Before Captain Cook arrived from England. Before the golf courses and hotels. Before the ukulele and the Mai Tai became icons of Hawaiian culture. He dreamed of a time when the islands were an undiscovered magical paradise..
These days, Mitchell divides his time between Southern California and Hawaii. He has two teenage children and a dog named Magic. He is currently working on the second book in the Kingdom of Oceana series, The Legend of the Nine Sacred Pearls, which is expected to be released in Fall 2016.
For more information, visit
Readers can connect with Mitchell on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.
For further information, to request a review copy, or to set up an interview or appearance by Mitchell Charles, please contact Kelsey McBride at Book Publicity Services at or 805.807.9027.


Chakana by W. E. Lawrence

ChakanaW. E. Lawrence’s latest historical romance novel Chakana is a James Bond meets Indiana Jones action/adventure story. It is set in Peru, just before the start of World War II. The basis of the tale is a race between good and evil to find an ancient treasure that could affect the outcome of the war before it even begins.  It’s filled with danger, suspense, some humor, and even a torrid romance (with sex scenes).


In 1940, before the start of World War II, James Fleming, the original British secret agent, races on a high-stakes chase to track down the ancient lost treasure of King Huascar of the Incas. He must recover it before the Nazis do or the whole world will be in imminent danger.
But this is no ordinary treasure hunt. The Incas have proven their cunning and intellect in not only how they hid their treasure, but how they protected it. Fleming joins forces in the remote ruins of Peru, South America with Kate Rhodes, a policewoman on leave from the United States, her archaeologist brother, Nick, and their college professor, Dr. Charlie. Together, they must decode, interpret the clues, and face the challenges of the Chakana on their hunt the treasure.
If this wasn’t difficult enough, the group is hounded throughout their search of the ancient Sacred Valley by international artifact smugglers, familiar with the Chakana and working with the Nazis, who are determined to acquire the treasure to help finance their war effort. Intrigue, danger, suspense, action, adventure, and even romance abound in this brave band’s quest to save the free world.


“With its ability to keep readers’ hearts in their throats from the first chapter to the last, adding political and social insights as a backdrop to character struggles, there’s much to like about Chakana‘s powerful approach – and, hopefully, a movie, down the line.” – Diane Donovan for Midwest Book Review
“I absolutely loved this book. This book is an action-packed Indiana Jones style book that got me hooked from the beginning. I love that this book is full of action, adventure, mystery, and romance that will keep you keep reading and won’t want to put down.” – 5 Stars, Canadian Book Addict
“If you love historical fiction, adventure or historical romance novels, then I would highly recommend you immediately add this book to your TBR.” – 5 Stars, The Writer’s Inkwell
Chakana by W.E. Lawrence is a romantic historical adventure that is impossible to put down. Chakana has all the adventure and excitement that will keep you on the edge of your chair and reading late into the night. W.E. Lawrence knows how to keep the suspense, romance, adventure and mystery alive on every page. If you like Indiana Jones, you will love Chakana. I don’t think anyone will be disappointed when reading this book – it is a five star plus winner.” – 5 Stars, Readers’ Favorite


Countryside outside Athens, Ohio 1934
    The rumble of thunder sent the horse into a nervous prance.  The animal jerked its head and whinnied as James Fleming pulled in the reins to steady his mount.  “Whoa there, big fella. It’s just a few boomers, nothing to be concerned about.”  But when he raised his gaze to study the sudden ominous build of cloud formations, the certainty of a brewing storm made him decide it was time to get back to the barn.  With a gentle tug, he turned the horse.  “All right, Major, you win.  Let’s go home.”
     James had enjoyed these lone horseback outings through the hills and valleys of the countryside and took them as often as he could.  However, this would be his last ride.  He would miss America. Ohio in particular.  He had learned a great deal the three years he spent there, working and studying.  He even learned things he hadn’t intended, like riding horses owned by his sponsors who graciously opened their home and provided him with a place to stay.
     But the time had come to return home.  The winds of war were building between his homeland of Great Britain and Germany, now ruled by the radical Nazis hell-bent on avenging their defeat in the Great War.  His country needed him, and James, always a patriot, would contribute any way he could.
     He again looked to the sky.  The storm had moved in quicker than he expected.  Dark angry clouds now directly overhead made it look as if night was descending.  Gusty howls of wind and more rumbles of thunder gave sound to the suddenly eerie scene.  His horse became more frantic by the moment, pressing the need to get out of the weather as soon as he could.  Although unfamiliar with the shortcut through the valley and having been warned by the ranch hands that the territory contained dangerous marshland, he decided to take the chance.
    Entering the valley, his heart beat faster.  After little more than a hundred meters, the trail narrowed but he pressed on.  Clouds linked together and the low whistle of wind made the hair on his neck stand on end.  Thank God, it hadn’t started raining …yet.
     Then a sudden crack of thunder crashed over their heads.  The horse bolted.  Using what he’d been taught, James fought the reins and had his mount under control in a matter of seconds.  He exhaled, then stopped to regain his bearings.  The animal had only traveled another dozen meters, but his relief was short lived.
   The ground beneath them began to quiver.  When he tried to turn the horse, the earth sucked at the animal’s hooves like quicksand.  Again, his heart raced.  He had to get out, but the horse, now in full panic, reared back and threw him.  Falling backwards, he landed hard in the swampy marsh.  As he lay stunned, he heard the horse struggle to gain its footing, and then gallop away to freedom.
     The horse escaped, but James was not so fortunate.  Sinking, he tried to scramble out but the marsh restricted his movement.  The more he struggled, the faster he went down.  When up to his waist, he stopped.  This couldn’t be happening.  This was supposed to be his last day in America.  He couldn’t die like this.  But the wet mud and the tangy smell of rotting vegetation made it all too real.
     Nearly panic stricken, James turned his head and caught sight of a fallen branch sticking up out of the marsh like an outstretched hand.  With trembling fingers, he reached out and grasped it.  After he pulled himself closer, he slung an arm over and hung on.  He tried to relax so he could catch his breath but each time he started to sink, he had to wiggle upward to keep his head above the marsh.
     Soon, the wet mud and exhaustion began to take its toll.  Though it looked hopeless, he began to shout.  He shouted as long and as hard as he could.


Author W. E. LawrenceAbout the Author:
W. E. Lawrence graduated in 1978 from the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill with a BS in business administration. He has run a successful home health care supplies distributorship for the past twenty-three years.
Passionate about God, writing, reading, family, sports, politics, and America, Lawrence currently lives in Davidson, North Carolina, with his lovely wife and their two wonderful children.
E. Lawrence enjoys writing historical romance novels filled with action and adventure. He published his debut novel Guardian of Paradise in October 2014. To learn more, go to
Readers can connect with W. E. Lawrence on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.
For more information, to request a review copy, or to set up an interview or appearance by W. E. Lawrence, please contact Kelsey McBride at Book Publicity Services at or 805.807.9027.


Guardian of Paradise by W. E. Lawrence

GUARDIAN OF PARADISE BOOK COVERGuardian of Paradise, by W. E. Lawrence, is a historical romance novel filled with action, adventure, suspense, and intrigue. It was published in October 2014 and is available for sale on Amazon.
“Lawrence blends romance, action, and beautiful scenery into an alluring concoction.” – Kirkus Reviews


In 1888, Kira Wall, surviving daughter of missionaries swept away in a tsunami, lives a primitive, but enjoyable life with natives on an isolated island in the South Pacific. But her serene world is turned upside down when an Australian merchant ship, commanded by the sinister Captain Darcy Coleman, arrives with an overabundance of modern and lavish goods. Kira suspects ill intent. Chief Ariki refuses to listen to Kira’s warning, forcing her to uncover the real plan of the captain on her own. Unfortunately, she has a distraction. A six-foot tall, blond, and handsome distraction. Trevor Marshall, doctor and botanist, hopes to find exotic plants on the island to research new cures and medicines. He is dedicated to science, but when meeting the strong-willed, beautiful Kira Wall, he’d prefer to spend time researching her—all night.
The captain thwarts Kira’s attempts to call him out at every step, turning the village chief against her. With only Trevor and her best friend Malana by her side, she stalks the captain and his officers through the dense, predator infested jungle, toward the island’s inactive volcano. Frustrated by her failure to reveal the captain’s true intentions, Kira begins to think maybe she’s wrong about everything. Then an explosion and earthquake bigger than anyone on the island has ever seen renews her resolve. Was the blast natural or man-made? She is determined to prove it was the captain’s doing. Kira races against time and the island people’s naivety to stop the captain from destroying her home and killing everyone she loves.


Chapter 1
South Pacific island of Alofa, two days sail northeast of Sydney, Australia 1888 
            Kira’s heart leapt to her throat as the blare of the lookout’s conch horn shattered the tranquil morning. Startled blue and red lories sprang, squawking from the palm trees, their wings thrumming the air as they fled. Macaque monkeys jumped limb to limb, screeching and chattering from their jungle perches. Another blast of the trumpet sent even the fiddler crabs on the beach scurrying for the safety of their holes.
            She glanced to the cliff overhead, dropped her fishing net, and rushed up the sandy path toward the island’s observation post. The rest of the villagers would be taking cover until the men determined the extent of the threat. With her pulse pounding and her feet working to find traction on the steep, winding grade, images of pirates raiding the village flashed through her mind. The horror of women and children screaming while their men fought to protect them with only spears and clubs sent the chill of danger up her spine.
            When she reached the large flat rock high above the harbor, she found the stocky form of Kupe, the tribal chief’s son, standing with hands on hips, his black Polynesian eyes fixed on the bay. Wearing only a pair of worn, light-colored pants, extending mid-calf and a cloth headband to hold back his wiry dark hair, he remained still.
            “What is it, Kupe?”
            “Ah big ship is com’n in tee harbor,” he answered without turning.
            “A large ship is coming into the harbor,” she corrected. She squinted into the morning glare of the sun. “Are they pirates?”
            She studied the movements of the enormous shiny wood boat with three tall masts. Two wide painted stripes, one cream at the waterline and one black just above, encircled the ship. A complicated system of shroud rigging hung like webbing from the cross spars down to the deck rails.
            “I do not think so.  Ship is too big,” answered Kupe. “Tey have dropped their sails. Tey come in slow. Not hurry.”
            She lifted her hand to shade her eyes. Men lined the ship’s bow, all clothed in the same white bell bottom pants and loose-fitting gray striped shirts. Peering into the clear water, they tried to determine the depth of the harbor.
            “They fly the Australian flag and take their time.  Pirates not tat careful.”
            Kira spotted the dark blue fabric flapping in the breeze above the quarterdeck; the British Southern Cross embroidered in the upper left corner. Her heart sank. “If they’re who I think they are, they might as well be pirates. In fact, it would probably be better if they were.”
            Kupe turned his head and gave her his big brother-like stare. She and Kupe were not related, in fact, Kira was originally from Australia. Still they shared the same competitive bond of siblings. “What are you talk’n about, Kira?”
            “I’m afraid it’s one of those merchant ships from Sydney. They’ve come to trade.”
            “Tat would be good news. Tey have come to trade goods for our crops.”
            She fought the sour feeling in the pit of her stomach. “If we let them, they will take a lot more than we have to give.”
            Kupe’s eyes narrowed. “Our crops are plentiful. There is more than enough to trade.”
            “You don’t understand. We have to be careful. Most of these merchants are selfish and greedy. They’ll take advantage of our people.”
            The corner of his mouth turned up in the hint of a smile. “Tey will not be that bad.”
            “They will be, if we let them. What’s even worse, they think nothing of tramping our fields while they’re gathering the fruit, leaving them scarred.”
            He shook his head. “You always think tee worst.”
            She glared sideways. “I know what I’m talking about. My parents warned me of these kinds of people. I’ve seen for myself what they have done. I was young, but I saw the damage they cause.”
            He turned his gaze back to the ship. “We can take care of ourselves.”
            Kira grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him forcing him to look her in the eyes. “Listen to me. If this were a ship of raiders, I know our men would protect us. But this is different. Worst of all, the more merchants who find out about us, the more outsiders will come. Our home will never be the same and we have nowhere else to go.”
            He shrugged free of her grasp. His large flat nostrils flared. “You make no sense. Tradors have come here before. Our people have pleasure in their visits. It has been a long time since tee last merchants came.”
            She dropped her arms. “It hasn’t been long enough.”
            Glancing down, Kupe held out his hands. “Look at my pants. Tat is how long it has been. I hope tey brought new ones.”
            Though he had a strong build, his round brownish-tan belly threatened to burst the tattered breeches. Everything about Kupe was big; his head, body, even legs. They matched his huge heart and his consuming desire to provide for his people. Kupe being the future ruler of the tribe, Kira only feared for his overtrusting nature and inability to perceive a disguised threat.
            Looking at his worn pants, she would have laughed if she weren’t so angry. “You just don’t see the danger.”
            Kupe set his jaw. “Enough, as long as the outsidors show us tey mean no harm, tey will be treated as guests. We will welcome them.”
            “I said enough. We must call off the warning and greet our visitors before I tell Chief Ariki they have come. He will want to prepare to meet their leadors.”
            She smirked. “Your father is also too trusting of strangers.”
            Kupe shook his head again. “Our people had visitors long before you came… good and bad. You should have more faith in people.” He turned down the path toward the harbor beach, then stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Are you com’n?”
            She picked up a stone and with a loud grunt, hurled it over the cliff. “Yes, I’m coming.”
Author W. E. LawrenceAbout the Author:
W. E. Lawrence graduated in 1978 from the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill with a BS in business administration. He has run a successful home health care supplies distributorship for the past twenty-three years.
Passionate about God, writing, reading, family, sports, politics, and America, Lawrence currently lives in Davidson, North Carolina, with his lovely wife and their two wonderful children.
E. Lawrence enjoys writing historical romance novels filled with action and adventure. He published his debut novel Guardian of Paradise in October 2014. To learn more, go to
Readers can connect with W. E. Lawrence on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.
For more information, to request a review copy, or to set up an interview or appearance by W. E. Lawrence, please contact Kelsey McBride at Book Publicity Services at or 805.807.9027.