Saturday, 21 April 2018

Guests Nicole Tremblay & Zev Bagel - artist & author - of Shediac, NB


Partners!

The Scribbler is running a series of creative people that happen to be partners with other creative people. The second part of this series includes two former guests to the Scribbler, visual artist Nicole Tremblay and author Zev Bagel. They are back as a team for a 4Q Interview.


 Zev's previous visit can be viewed here , Nicole's here .


**Of special note, Moncton's famous Frye festival begins this week and as a kickoff, Zev will be reading from his work, along with other authors at the Shediac Frye Fringe Fest.



4Q: First question is for you Nicole.  Since your previous visit to the Scribbler, you have completed many beautiful paintings. Which one is your favorite and why? Please share what inspired the painting.





NT: Well…..isn’t this a bit like asking one…and which one is your favourite child? HAHAHA!  I would say that there is always a certain part of a painting that brings it together and gives me the big YES!  Some paintings are much quicker than others giving that ‘yes feeling’.  I do not really plan a painting… I might have a colour in mind and I start building up the background – I love  colour and texture.  I cover the surface with paint, collage, stencils until it takes a form/shape I can feel and then go on…it can sometimes be a rather long process….and then it happens.  I listen to music while I paint. Chris Rea is probably my favourite singer/musician and will often inspire the title of the piece I’m working on.


4Q: I’ve recently completed your latest novel Zev, Secrets, and I enjoyed it very much. Please tell our readers about the story.

ZB: Most of my books are based on real events or personal experiences. Secrets is pure fiction. Well, almost.  I was a life-coach for thirty years, and would never divulge the secrets people told me. The idea for this book came when I thought “What if a psychopath became a life-coach?” Imagine what such a person could do with the secrets he heard. So here’s a man who arrives in New Brunswick, decides to become a life-coach and takes on clients, opening the way to fraud, blackmail and murder. Getting into the mind of such a character was frighteningly easy! It must have helped that an undercurrent of humour pervades the mayhem.

4Q: You have an exposition at present Nicole at Café C’est La Vie in Moncton, NB in which many of your paintings are on display until mid April. Where else can your paintings be viewed and/or purchased?

NT: The exhibit at Café C’est la vie will come down on Monday April 30th. Zev and I will be at the Shediac Market in the Park every Sunday from June 3 to September 30 (9am-2pm) rain or shine.   Friday evenings (6-10pm) July and August (check newspapers for dates) you can find us at the Allée des Artistes off Main Street in Shediac.  We will have books, paintings, poems and cards.   Viewings can also be arranged by appointments (506) 351-0645.


4Q: Your latest novel which you discussed above was published by Museitup Publishers and in the last section of the book, it tells us that there are 5 more novels waiting for publication. Care to tell us about any of them, or perhaps all of them.

ZB: The titles awaiting publication by MuseItUp are: The Last Jew in Hania, Bender’s Box, State of Flux and Lost. I have just completed my latest, which is called Solitary. This last one is about a Canadian who is in solitary confinement in Iran’s notorious Evin prison. He befriends an Iranian prisoner by communicating through a hole in the wall. Some of the story is based on the family history told to me by an Iranian-Canadian friend. This was the hardest book for me to write, since I had to get into the head of someone enduring forced confinement willing himself to survive. The relationship between the two prisoners is what lifts the story.


4Q: We are going to cheat this week and slip in a fifth question. What’s in the immediate future for both of you?




NT:  Having fun, working on my next art projects, going to workshops, travelling.

ZB: The immediate future is now, which is where I like to be. Now is good. I’m between novels right now, and enjoy writing poems to Nicole’s paintings. We have some travel plans, and will be celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary while we’re away. As for the next book – inspiration awaits.

Thank you both for sharing your thoughts. I'm very happy to say that I own two of Nicole's paintings and enjoy them daily. It is my hope to add more to my collection. I have also collected Zev's novels and am looking forward to the coming stories.




Saturday, 14 April 2018

Guest Author Connie Shipley of Italy


 
 
There is a saying, “Tuscany, like a fine wine, has been some time in the making…

One of the special things about Tuscany is that our guest calls the region home. Meet Connie Shipley and enjoy her 4Q Interview.

 

 

Hi, and thanks for having me on your blog. Now what can I say about myself? I was born in Belgium, although my parents were British. Well actually dad was, but mom was Belgian and became British through marriage. I spent my childhood there and visited the UK at least once a year. Our house was full of books, history, military stuff, as my dad had been in the military and had fought during WW2. He passed the love of books onto me and he used to make up funny stories, so I guess I got the fantasy side from him.  I studied foreign languages, physiotherapy, and osteopathy. Soon after my studies, I traveled to the Middle East for work.  I was fortunate to have met interesting people and I had the privilege of attending embassy socials, as well as observing military training which was quite exciting.  I’ve done quite a bit of traveling for work and for pleasure, so most countries and locations I write about, I have visited in the past.

Today I’m married and living in Tuscany, with my Italian husband and three dogs. I’m an avid researcher, always out on the look for new ideas. I don’t quite remember why I started writing, but it was two years ago, with my first novel MoonHuntress. I created a series, so now there are three completed books. I love complex characters and the psychology that surrounds them. I always try to show the reader how my characters really are, what they think, how they live, feel, their emotions. I also love fashion, so there’s the feminine side to my books as well. I hope you enjoy the series.

 

4Q: You have a successful series named “MoonHuntress,” which is also the name of the first novel in the series. How did this series come about? What inspired the stories?

CS: It started out as a completely different story about a Sisterhood, but there were far too many characters, so I began to remove them. Then, after talking to some military friends and doing some research, I began to write the first draft of MoonHuntress. Now, as I said before I’ve lived and worked in the Middle East, so many characters are based on real people but of course the entire story is invented. I never really know what’s going to happen with the characters, so I just write as I go. And when I arrived at the end of the first book, I thought, why not continue, and write a series. So, I went back to the story-board, talked to military friends with their specific knowledge on tactics, weapons, strategy, and went from there. There’s also a lot of research in my books, which I love doing.  If you like action, adventure, and a dash of romance, this is the series!

 

 
 
 
4Q: In the second book of this series, SoulCatcher, your heroine is Bina Knopfler. Tell us about her.

CS: Bina Knopfler is already introduced and the main character in the first book of the series. She’s the protagonist. She’s a Mossad agent. She’s beautiful, clever, and very strong minded and determined (a bit like me, yes). But she also has her weak side, she isn’t perfect, and she makes mistakes. Life hasn’t been easy on her, and she pretty much has been a loner. But through the story, she needs to face the truth, and it’s a hard truth.
Then of course there’s romance, but you’ll have to read the books, I’m not giving out any spoilers, ha!
 
 


 

 

 

4Q: Pleased share a childhood anecdote or favorite memory.

CS: My favorite memory is my childhood at the beach. I think I had the best childhood ever. We used to live in a beach town. So, every summer was great fun going to the beach with my cousins. Playing in the sand, digging holes, swimming in the sea. My cousin and I used to have two bathing suits, one dry one, and one to go swimming, we used to change them every ten minutes, making our mums go crazy. It was fun.

 

 
 
 
4Q: There are three books in the series with the third called The Golden Key and all sound intriguing. Two have also been translated into Italian. What’s next for Connie Shipley?

CS: Well I’m working together with my American editor on an upcoming book, a paranormal thriller.  I’m very excited about this project. It’s completely different, very intriguing and hope the readers will love it as we explore a wing of the esoteric world. Plus, in the meantime I’m working with my Italian editor on the translation of the Golden Key. It’s a lot of work and it’s keeping me quite busy.

 
 
 
 
 
 
Once I’m finished with the thriller, I’m going to work on the final book of the MoonHuntress series. So watch out!!

Saturday, 7 April 2018

Guest Author Balroop Singh of California.



The Scribbler is most fortunate to have Balroop Singh as our guest this week, agreeing to a 4Q Interview. She lives in California with her family and is originally from India.



Balroop Singh, a doting grandma and a dedicated wife, a former high school teacher and an educationalist always had a passion for writing.  She is a poet, a creative non-fiction writer and a relaxed blogger. She writes about people, emotions and relationships. A self-published author, she has written five books.  She always had a passion for poetry which evoked images before her eyes and carried her far beyond the horizon. She could see the visions of her own poetry while teaching the poems. Her dreams saw the light of the day when she published her first book ‘Sublime Shadows Of Life.’

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

Realism and fantasy blend perfectly in her poetry, which highlights the fact that happiness is not a destination but a chasm to bury agony, anguish, grief, distress and move on! No sea of solitude is so deep that it can drown us. Sometimes aspirations are trampled upon, boulders of exploitation and discrimination may block our path but those who tread on undeterred are always successful.


4Q: You have lately received high praise from author Deborah Stevens for your book of poetry – Emerging from Shadows. Please tell us more about this collection and your inspiration.

BS: Poetry is timeless as it carries a profound message, which remains eternally relevant. Poems capture raw emotions most eloquently, sooth our disillusioned minds and leave an everlasting impact on sensitive souls. It is the succinct style of writing through imagery that inspired me to embrace this genre.



Here is an introduction to ‘Emerging From Shadows’:

From darkness into light, from despair onto the wider ways of hope…life oscillates between sunshine and shadows. Emerging from shadows is a choice, which lies dormant, which can be gently inspired by self-talk. Each poem in this book banks on the hope of emerging stronger, saner, positive and resilient. Each poem in this book would talk to you, revealing layers of enclosed emotions. Each poem would divulge a secret path that could lead you into the world of poise and serenity.

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

Let one of the reviewers speak for my poetry:

“Forty poems, composed and curated by the author herself, adorn the book. All the poems, though not related to each other, seem harmonious to me as I finished reading. As if, they are pearls of the same string and, together they exude a feeling that resonates with your mind in more than one way.

Balroop’s poems liberate the mind of the reader from darkness to light. Life, for us, is not a bed of roses. It is a roller coaster ride alternating continuously with highs and lows. The carousel of life concocts love, discord, merriment and strife. Balroop made us understand this eternal truth and guides us to rise above mediocrity. Her poems would make you feel stronger from within, would help you ameliorate the pain and suffering life has thrust upon you, would lead you to have that insight towards self-discovery. There lies the magic of her poetry!


Portraying the philosophy of life in the poetical form, that is what the poet has done in the book. But, so subtle, so beautiful is her approach, that the reader will never feel encumbered. The language is a delight, exuberant bubbles of words rising softly upwards– leaving behind a sillage to cherish for a long time.”
 
- -Maniparna (read more at Amazon.com)


An excerpt from my poetry, liked by Cathleen Townsend, another reviewer: 
“I can no longer remain insignificant

Your harrowing hauteur is oppressive

Forgive me for finding my own avenues

My gratitude goes to my spirit.”

This is one of my favorite poems from the book:


OASIS OF PEACE 
Blooming blossoms, whispering wind

Carried me far into the haven of peace


Solitude softly spoke in serene tone,

We welcome weary travelers alone 
Divesting dirty robes of dissent

We revel in the glorious sun

You too can embrace this light,

Just follow it with smiling delight


The light that enlightens the mind

The light that permeates all around

Adds new dimension to thoughts,

Guides us out of those knobby knots


Illumines those innate virtues

When we try to shake them off

In annoyance, in rage, in resentment,

Leisurely hours are wistfully spent


Rejoicing in the new found glee

We sat and shared upon His knee

Palpable peace pervaded all around,

Into which all dismay drowned.



4Q: I’ve visited your blog – Emotional Shadows – (see below for link) and you spoke of teaching, sharing your thoughts and experiences in your pursuit of happiness. Does writing make you happy? How so?

BS: Teaching molded me into a patient, kind and responsible individual and I discovered myself anew when I was placed amongst youngsters who spoke intrepidly and honestly. I stumbled upon my writing talent while I was encouraging them to pen down their thoughts. I was bewildered that I could compose poetry, when challenged to do so. Happiness filtered through those tireless moments of working together in creative writing workshops.


The elation of recording our feelings is so liberating! When we write, we can create our own world of fantasy, we can unlock all the doors, as the keys are in our possession…isn’t it a wonderful feeling?

Writing calms us and leads us to self-discovery. Words become our best friends, teach us tolerance, control our anger and rein our negative thoughts. They slash those emotional walls down, which ward off our progress towards becoming a better person.
All those hurts, the agony and emotional throttling gets assuaged when we pour it out. Healing starts the moment we pen down our thoughts. We feel relieved. We learn to forgive. We rise above human imperfections.

Writing has given me wings. I can fly anytime, anywhere. I often perch on the branches of my favorite trees and can communicate with anyone without any reticence. All those who sit far away, in the comfort of their homes can hear me as I let my voice merge into the clouds that float around, merrily.

4Q: Please share a childhood memory or anecdote.

BS:  Little children like to follow their moms and we were probably too determined not to be left behind. Our moms thought they could slip by while we were playing near the pond outside our grandma’s home. We must be too little as I have heard this story many times but have a faint memory of this incident.



The moment we saw our moms going out, my cousin Debi suggested we must see where they were going. So we ran after them. We were told many times to return home but we were made of sterner stuff and didn’t get deterred by the threats and gestures that we could see. We knew any punishment at grandma’s home was not possible!



They quickened their pace and thought we would return when we wouldn’t see them. We didn’t. Our moms returned home in the afternoon to discover that we were missing and were blamed for being irresponsible. The whole house was searched. My grandma rushed into neighboring houses, hoping we must be playing somewhere.

The big news was conveyed to my uncle, an authoritarian man with haughty demeanor who considered talking to women a waste of time. He was furious and thundered: “These women can’t even take care of two kids!” Only grandma could face his wrath and ordered him to send men all around the village. No success!

Having realized the gravity of the situation, my uncle took his bike out and told grandma that the kids must have drowned in the stream. Mumbling some obscenities about the women of the house, he drove away to request the local authorities to stop the discharge of water so that the bodies could be retrieved.

No one could have ever seen such a delight at the face of my uncle as he returned home with us, chatting away to glory! My grandma ran to the storehouse to carry round blocks of Gur (jaggery) to be distributed to all those who came to congratulate! Nobody was interested in our story and who saved us!

Within hours, my uncle announced that we should go back to our own homes next morning as he had had enough of our adventures!


4Q: What’s next for Balroop Singh in writing? Travelling?

BS: My next poetry book ‘Echoes Within’ is almost ready. I am looking for a suitable cover.

Travelling has been my passion though I have never made any bucket list. When I look back, one memory looms large and that is the wish to visit Switzerland. Though it had faded away as I grew up, it is returning now with passionate reminders.




Thank you Balroop for taking the time to answer our questions. For you readers, you can learn more about the talented author here:



https://balroop2013.wordpress.com/

Let’s connect:
https://twitter.com/BalroopShado https://www.facebook.com/pages/Emotional-Shadows/151387075057971

https://plus.google.com/u/0/+BalroopSinghsrao/posts https://www.pinterest.com/balroops/ https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7340810.Balroop_Singh

https://www.amazon.com/Balroop-Singh/e/B00N5QLW8U/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Saturday, 31 March 2018

Class Act Publishing Finale!



This has been a fun series. This week you will meet the last three from the growing roster of published authors of Class Act Books.

If you've missed the list, please check out the following links back to the start of this collection.

The most recent March 17th

Previous March 3rd

The beginning January 13th





**Class Act Books is currently open for manuscript submissions and are looking for finished and proofed novels or series in the genres of western, romance, and mystery/suspense, to be published in e-book and paperback. More information on manuscript submission can be found on their website at: http://www.classactbooks.com/submissions


 
 
 
Toni V. Sweeney 

About the Author:

Toni V. Sweeney has lived 30 years in the South, a score in the Middle West, and a decade on the Pacific Coast and now she’s trying for her second 30 on the Great Plains. She holds a Bachelor’s degree in Fine Art and a diploma in Graphic Art and also produces book videos. Since the publication of her first novel in 1989, Toni divides her time between writing SF/Fantasy under her own name and romances under her pseudonym Icy Snow Blackstone. Her novels have garnered awards from The National Writers Association, Preditors & Editors, The Maryland Writers Association, and The Paranormal Romance Guild. In March, 2013, she became publicity manager for Class Act Books. She is also on the review staff of the New York Journal of Books and the Paranormal Romance Guild.  Recently she was named a professional reader by netgalley.com.  

More about Toni at: 


Amazon Author’s Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002BLQBB8



Twitter: @ToniVSweeney

 

 

Blurb for The Story of a Peace-Loving Man:

 

Allan McAllister is a Paxist, a believer in peace, forced by the United Terran Federation into military service to punish his treasonous kinsman. N’Sagar sh’en Singh is the daughter of a Felidan pride chief, one of the enemy, but there’s no hatred in her heart for the lone Terran marooned on her planet.

 

Thrown together, then torn from each other by the aftermath of a war neither wanted, their love will be a tragedy and a triumph as a man sworn to walk the road of Peace is made to follow the dictates of War and suffer its consequences.

 

 

Excerpt for The Story of a Peace-Loving Man:

 

He was in the line with all the others, dressed in his Federation-issue fatigues, duffel bag resting at his left ankle. The Sarge was going down the line, comparing names on the screen of his hand unit with the little holographic ID tags hanging around each recruit’s neck.

  He stopped when he came to Allan. “Well, well...who do we have here?”

  Thinking the man actually expected an answer, Allan replied, “Allan Malcolm McAllister, sir.”

  “Did I give you permission to speak?”

  “Well, no, sir. But I— ”

  “Then keep quiet, recruit!” He turned to the others. “Gentleman... ” Even that word was deliver with a modicum of irony Allan would learn was the Sarge’s normal speaking voice. Odd how Southern accents fitted themselves so well to that mode of delivery. “We have here the relative of a very famous personage, or infamous, I should say. Mr. McAllister is the nephew of… Why don’t you tell us, Mr. McAllister?”   When Allan didn’t answer, he leaned forward and went on in a stage whisper, “You may speak now, Mr. McAllister.”

  “Egan Rand.” Allan supplied the name very quietly.

  “What?” The DI cupped one hand to his ear, “What was that? I didn’t quite catch that.”

  “Egad Rand!” Allan answered, louder.

  “Egan Rand. That’s right. The traitor who thinks we should love the Felidans instead of killing them. Who wants the Federation to stop the war and welcome those murderous aliens with open arms.”

  “I don’t think that’s— ”

  “I don’t care what you think, McAllister! Isn’t your uncle a fugitive from Federation justice for preaching sedition by urging our young men not to enlist?”

  “Yes, sir, he’s a fugitive, but that’s not exactly—”

  “Well, then?”

  “If I could explain, sir.”

  “Oh, by all means, please. Explain.”

“No one knows why the Felidans attacked Ferris Alpha.  My uncle thinks we should find out the reason. Maybe the Felidans feel they were justified. H-he thinks if we know why they did it, maybe it can be resolved without a war…”

  “Well, now, that sounds reasonable enough, doesn’t it?” That slow, deep accent fairly dripped sarcasm. “Love thy neighbor. Now, I know that’s what Christos taught, and it’s what each of you dewey-eyed innocents heard when your Mamas took you to church every Sunday, but in that Bible each of you were issued along with your LX-15, it also says, an eye for an eye and do unto others—” 

Spittle flew as the Sarge ranted. Allan blinked to keep from being struck in the eye by a globule. He forced himself not to flinch, didn’t dare dodge or reach up to wipe his face, just stood there, feeling the bit of wet trickle down his cheek.

“Quite frankly, I think that’s what we ought to do. We ought to take a couple of dirty laser bombs and drop ’em on Felida and wipe out all of those murderous bastards…” He broke off to survey the young faces a moment before continuing, his tone now mild in shocking contrast to his previous angry one. “But use of those type of weapons was banned at the Jovian Covention of 2120, so we’re going to do the next best thing. We’re going to use our gunboats to kill as many of ’em as possible. As for you…” He swung back to Allan. “As a little reminder to keep your mouth shut and not spread any of your uncle’s crap, drop and give me fifty!”

  “Fifty what, sir?” Allan didn’t move.

  “Are you smart-assing me, McAllister?”

“N-no sir. Fifty Credits? I-I don’t have that much cash—”

“Fifty push-ups you idiot! Now!”

  While the rest of the company marched off to the barracks, Allan flung himself to the ground and performed the requested callisthenics, calmly counted out by the corporal.

 

Buy links:

 






 

Tony-Paul de Vissage
 

A writer of French Huguenot extraction, one of Tony-Paul de Vissage's first movie memories is of being six years old, viewing the old Universal horror flick, Dracula's Daughter on television, and being scared sleepless—and he’s now paying back his very permissive parents by writing about the Undead. 

Shadow Lord, first novel in the Second Species series, was named one of the top ten horror novels of 2013 by Preditors & Editos Readers Choice Poll for that year.

 

Find out more about Tony-Paul at:

Twitter:  @tpvissage





 

 

Blurb for Shadow Lord:

 

Men call them vampires.  They call themselves aventurieri.  For generations, they hide in the mists of the Carpathians away from their human foes.

In 1794, everything changes… Their prince’s assassin is murdered. His son demands revenge.

Marek Strigoi’s quest for justice will take him from his Transylvanian homeland to the Hellfire clubs of Vienna, to the boudoir of a Parisian Marquise, but not even love will stop his vengeance.

Mrcea Ravagiu must die.

When both the hunter and the hunted are vampires, not even Hell will stand in the way!

 

Excerpt from Shadow Lord:
 

When Marek appeared, the girl was already dressed, braiding her hair before the cheval glass.

“You’re leaving?” He tried to hide his disappointment as he pushed the door shut.

“I must, my lord.” Her eyes met his in the mirror. “I’m certain Madame Lubos has already missed me.”

 “Do you want to go?” Marek came closer, his feet making no sound on the thick carpet. When she looked up to find him standing directly behind her, she appeared startled.

“Not really.” The gaze she turned on him was unhappy. “I'll probably get a beating for coming here.” She tried to look unconcerned. “Oh, well, it won’t be the first time.”

“What’s your name?” He touched her shoulders. Unconsciously, she leaned against him.

“Lily. Lily-Magda.”

“Don’t go, Lily-Magda.” He whispered the words into her ear, one arm going around her waist. “Stay here. With me.”

Madame’ll never let me stay, my lord, not even to be a servant to a ghidaj.”

“I don’t want you as a servant.” Recklessly, startling himself with the words, he went on, “I believe I love you, girl. Stay with me, my crimson lily.”

To his surprise she burst into tears. Marek was dismayed. Oracle, damn it. Am I to be accursed this night with crying women?

“Oh, master, since the moment I saw you standing in the gallery…I didn’t know who you were and when I found out…How could the ghidaj want someone like me? You did and now…” She put her hands to her face and began to sob louder.

“Does that mean yes?” Marek pulled her hands away.

She gave him a watery smile and nodded. Throwing his arms around her, he lifted her off the floor, swinging her in a tight circle. He kissed her again. Holding her body against his chest, he ran to the window, climbing upon the window seat.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

With one hand, he pushed the shutters open and stepped onto the sill. There was a soft rustle as his wings unfurled. Marek flung himself from the window, Lily clutched in his arms.

She struggled slightly, then her squeal was bitten off as she realized they weren’t falling to their deaths, but instead rising above the trees. Marek circled the courtyard, then climbed higher, the sweep of his wings pushing the air past them in loud gusts.

“Look, Lily.” He gestured, and she glanced at the scene far below them…the castel and the forest around it, and further on, the rough slopes of the mountains and the far-off peaks.

On the parapet of the castel they could see soldati walking the walls. One looked up, pointing, calling to another, and they raised their hands saluting, not the least surprised by seeing their ghidaj flying with a female in his arms.

Marek swooped lower, spinning in the air, acknowledging their homage as Lily laughed with delight.

“Oh, master, it’s so beautiful!”

“This is all Strigoi land, Lily. It’s mine, and it’ll be yours too, if you’ll stay with me.”

Circling above the tallest pine, he rose higher until they touched the first wisp of cloud hovering above the mountain peak, the shadows of the cliffs covering and hiding them.

“It’ll be summer soon,” he said. “When the nights are warmer, we’ll fly over the river and see our reflections in the water. It’s so clear you can see to the bottom when the moon’s full. The travertine in the currents reflects it like a mirror. Would you like that? Will you stay?”

“Oh, yes.” Her arms tightened around his neck.

Before them loomed the highest tower of the castle, its stones silvered in the moonlight. His wings bore them to the spire where the Strigoi banner, a sword cleaving the sun, waved in the night air. Around the emblem in blood-red script was embroidered the clan motto, In Fidelitas, Est Potentia…In Loyalty, There is Power.

Circling the tower, he kissed her with a quickening hunger, eagerly, desperately, even

as he tried to be restrained, trailing small bites across her throat. His wings caused the banner to flap wildly as if in a sudden storm, the words seeming to blink at them…     

     Fidelitas… Potentia….Loyalty…Power…

 


 

Robb T. White

Author’s Bio: 

Under the names Terry White, Robert White, and Robb T. White, Robert White has published dozens of crime, noir, and hardboiled short stories, and three hardboiled private-eye novels.  A lifelong reader of crime fiction, he published his first story in Gary Lovisi's Hardboiled magazine. Since then, he has published several dozen crime stories, and a collection of mainstream stories in 2013. An ebook crime novel, "Special Collections," won the New Rivers Electronic Book Competition in 2014. 
 
White was born, raised, and continues to live in Ashtabula, Ohio. 

More about Robb at:



 

Blurb for Dangerous Women:
 

Weaker sex?  Not hardly!

The female is definitely deadlier than the male.  Short stories about ladies who can hold their own.
 
 

 

Excerpt for Dangerous Women:

 

Be careful what you wish for, Regina.

Her mother’s words. Sometimes she could hear her mother’s voice in the house.

The Vindicator piece on Bodycomb’s death was two paragraphs.

He was found floating in Lake Milton, a popular summer resort area for fisherman seventeen miles east of Austintown just off the Interstate 80 overpass. Shot by a small-caliber weapon in the back of the head. The important information was in the second paragraph: Bodycomb, it noted, was running a dog-fighting network among three states: Ohio, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia for a loose-knit West Virginia crime family connected to the Pittsburgh LaRizzo family.

Damn you, Leo.

She was blowing through caution lights, ignoring the honking of cars, as she beelined for the office on Market.

Like a script from a cheap thriller, he was there, wearing the same clothes and unshaven, big jowls dark with stubble, pong of body odor in the overheated single room.

“You promised me full disclosure, total honesty,” she said.

She threw the paper across his desk.

“Here it is in case you missed it.”

Be calm, Regina, she told herself. She wasn’t going to lose her temper and a new job in that order.

“I did and I meant it, Baby,” Leo said.

He glanced at the paper sideways and pushed it back to her. He’d obviously read it.

“You asked me—no, you demanded I call somebody. I did,” he said.

He disgusted her with those wagging jowls and big stomach. She noticed his belt was undone and a patch of curly belly hair exposed.

Probably jerking off in here, the freak.

“I suppose you’ll tell me when the mood strikes.”

“I meant the second case—your next case,” Leo said. “Full disclosure, just like you want.”

Her indignation petered out at the prospect. “So tell me about it,” she said.

Bodycomb was moving in on Donnie Bracca’s territory with his dog-fighting, Leo said.

“He can kill all the dogs he wants in West Virginia,” Leo said. “But Donnie B. controls gambling around here.”

“Donnie Bracca was your real client all the time,” Baby said.

“It’s like this, kid. They don’t blow each other up in cars no more. Gentlemen’s agreements, all nice and polite. But rules have to be followed. Bodycomb went rogue.”

She bit back a retort: You mean, like your own father?

Leo went on, waxing large, a hopeless Mafioso lover, although a real mafia man, a made man, could see Leo couldn’t be trusted. But even the Aryan Brotherhood used outside associates to get things done. Leo could be useful if you couldn’t buy a cop or scare off an investigative reporter snooping in shady politics or business deals.

She didn’t feel bad about Bodycomb’s death. After all, she'd wanted to kill the guy herself.

“Damn it, Leo,” she said. “You should have told me this in the beginning.”Baby moved in the direction Bodycomb’s vehicle had taken. After A couple of hundred yards through meadow grass up to her knees, she stopped and listened. Moving on, she dodged stunted bushes that popped up out of nowhere to snag her clothing. The foliage grew less dense. She found the parallel ruts of the Road Runner’s tracks and kept moving, straining her eyes to see light ahead. If Bodycomb was hiding assets from his soon-to-be ex-wife, he was taking a lot of trouble over it.

After five minutes of faster walking in the grooves, she heard barking coming from the right. She saw the first glimmer of light in the distance. The terrain was sparse but small slopes refracted the light source so it appeared and disappeared with every rise of the ground. A single dog barking became two, then three and finally a pack. Beneath their howls, men’s voices.

When she got close enough to make out words, she lay flat on her belly and put the binoculars on a cluster of men beside a ramshackle barn surrounded by cages of dogs in the beds of trucks beside a squared string of light bulbs a dozen feet from the ground. It looked like a crude boxing ring for backyard brawlers.

Its purpose became clear in the next few minutes. It was a dog-fighting pit.
 

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