Book promo
If you wish to send us books for next week’s promo, please email to bookpimping at outlook dot com. If you feel a need to re-promo the same book do so no more than once every six months (unless you’re me or my relative. Deal.) One book per author per week. Amazon links only. Oh, yeah, by clicking through and buying (anything, actually) through one of the links below, you will at no cost to you be giving a portion of your purchase to support ATH through our associates number. I ALSO WISH TO REMIND OUR READERS THAT IF THEY WANT TO TIP THE BLOGGER WITHOUT SPENDING EXTRA MONEY, CLICKING TO AMAZON THROUGH ONE OF THE BOOK LINKS ON THE RIGHT, WILL GIVE US SOME AMOUNT OF MONEY FOR PURCHASES MADE IN THE NEXT 24HOURS, OR UNTIL YOU CLICK ANOTHER ASSOCIATE’S LINK. PLEASE CONSIDER CLICKING THROUGH ONE OF THOSE LINKS BEFORE SEARCHING FOR THAT SHED, BIG SCREEN TV, GAMING COMPUTER OR CONSERVATORY YOU WISH TO BUY. That helps defray my time cost of about 2 hours a day on the blog, time probably better spent on fiction. ;)*
FROM PAM UPHOFF: Murder by the Light of the Fireworks (Fall of the Alliance Book 3)
A Novella length Mystery set in the Fall of the Alliance series.
As the Alliance weakens, life goes on as usual for an unimportant backwater world.
A New Year, ushered in with parties and fireworks . . . and the death of a young woman.
Detective Inspector Rodolph Smirnov finds himself in a tangle of families, feuds and friendships.
FROM NATHAN C. BRINDLE: Huntress on the Rocks
A young military intelligence agent. Hunting a murderous drug dealer across a floating city on a water world light-years from Earth – with only his name, and a vague description of what he might look like. Will she finally find her quarry and bring him to justice, or will cases of mistaken identity mean she’ll simply end up
A Huntress on the Rocks
(A Delaney Wolff Fox story)
FROM JIM BEARD: The Nine Nations Book One: The Sliding World
The End of the World is Nigh…
The denizens of the Nine Nations live their lives between a rock and a hard place, between impassable mountains and un-crossable deserts, and between the lifeless Greylands and the unavoidable Edge. In fact, mere existence across the land is always on the edge-until a series of seemingly natural disasters sends a signal that the end of the world may be even closer than anyone ever imagined.
Now, two men ride out from the ancient Nation of Complin, each with his own quest for answers and solutions to the impending doom of their land, and though they are accompanied by capable companions with missions of their own, they are all riding into a storm that will alter them beyond recognition. At the end of the world, transformation may be the only path to saving their souls.
Pulp writer Jim Beard makes his first foray into fantasy with book one of The Nine Nations Duology, a story that both welcomes lovers of epic fantasy tales, yet also challenges them with fresh, new concepts for the genre. The Sliding World invites you to peer into the abyss, let go of your fears, and take a leap of faith.
FROM KENT HOPPER: Fractured Planes
For seventy years, mankind cowered among the stars they once ruled.
No one knows how it happened, but space itself was shattered.
Horrors now stalk the Void, and the desperate remnants of humanity fight in the ashes of their once great Empire.
Or, at least, that’s what everyone keeps telling Steven. Steven is an Artificer, an engineer living comfortably in the military autocracy of Dweomerdeep. He learns the stories are more than real when he is kidnapped and forcibly enlisted in a dark-ops mission to retrieve a set of experimental electronics that have gone missing.
Events continue to spiral beyond his control as he is given a choice:
is this the right life for him?
And, even if it is, can he get out alive?
FROM CHRISTOPHER WOERNER: Life and Polonia
The life story of the greatest leader of a fictional country. Satire and humor.
B-side: Non-fiction I wrote during the seven weeks of writing the first draft of this novel. Whatever I thought about whatever was going on at the time.
FROM ANNA FERREIRA: Christmas at Blackheath
Agnes Rawlins would never dream of showing a melancholy face to her brother’s guests. She may be a spinster, and treated little better than any common housekeeper, but she is responsible for bringing Christmas cheer into the dark and rambling Blackheath Manor, and she does not shirk her duty, even when she has little reason to celebrate.
William Marlowe, Viscount Claridge, has reluctantly accepted an invitation to spend the Christmas season at Blackheath. It’s not his first choice- how anyone could wish to spend time in the gloomy manor house is beyond him- but when he meets the kind and gentle lady of the house, he finds that Christmas at Blackheath might not be so bad after all.
Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike.
So what’s a vignette? You might know them as flash fiction, or even just sketches. We will provide a prompt each Sunday that you can use directly (including it in your work) or just as an inspiration. You, in turn, will write about 50 words (yes, we are going for short shorts! Not even a Drabble 100 words, just half that!). Then post it! For an additional challenge, you can aim to make it exactly 50 words, if you like.
So what’s a vignette? You might know them as flash fiction, or even just sketches. We will provide a prompt each Sunday that you can use directly (including it in your work) or just as an inspiration. You, in turn, will write about 50 words (yes, we are going for short shorts! Not even a Drabble 100 words, just half that!). Then post it! For an additional challenge, you can aim to make it exactly 50 words, if you like.
If you have questions, feel free to ask.
Your writing prompt this week is: grouchy
According To Hoyt 
“Did you get up grouchy this morning?”
“No, he got himself up”.
[OK Somebody Had To Tell That Old Joke!] [Very Big Crazy Grin]
Tom Lewis stared with characteristic dourness out over the thronged convention hall. “I’m telling you, Senator,” he said, “if you make that speech, it’s going to be your Waterloo.”
“Good,” said Rose Chiang brightly.
Lewis blinked. “*Good*?”
“Sure,” said Chiang, and kissed Lewis’s cheek affectionately. “Because *my* Grouchy showed up.”
“Why are you being so Grinchy?”
“I’m not ‘Grinchy.’ I’m grouchy.”
“What’s the difference?”
“You haven’t seen me stuffing the tree up the chimney, have you? Or hitching the dog up to the sleigh?”
“We don’t have a chimney, We don’t have a dog. We don’t have a sleigh – what would we do with one in Tucson?”
“No matter. I’d find a way, if I was a Grinch. I’ll be fine just as soon as we crack open the real eggnog later this week.”
“Uh-huh…”
The above is fiction only so far as the actual dialogue goes. It’s been a very annoying week around here…
Suddenly my mood turned grouchy
When I saw the feckless Fauci
Nattering on the television
On my kitchen wall
Servant of the dem kleptarchy
And the Chinese oligarchy
Droning platitudes galore
Mask and booster, evermore.
Sorry. Couldn’t resist thee rhyme
Trying for a limerick here.
So far, only thing I have is “There was an old fraud from the government,”
Might need that eggnog to finish it.
There was an old fraud from the government
Who set an unfortunate precedent
To aids patients he said
You’re better off dead
So long as my tenure is permanent
Again…
I’m assuming you’re cold stone sober. (Woodworking today, so I obviously am.)
I have no chance without at least a good sized alcohol content.
There was an old fraud name of Fauci
Who made all the people feel grouchy
Wear a mask, get a shot
Even if you’re just a tot
Don’t question the health hierarchy
Sigh…
I discovered that it was possible for the world to feel grouchy. My bed was far too cold, despite the house having proper central heating. There was an actual layer of God-help-us frost on the windows. My body felt like my skin was a size too tight, my bones a size too large, and the less said about my joints the better. I was stuck in this…lovely state of not wanting to get out of bed, because if I woke up I would have to accept that today was terrible. But, if I didn’t get out of bed, I was going to get very hungry, need to pee, and that would get messy fast.
The only good thing, as far as I could tell, was that this was a Tuesday. A Monday or a Thursday would have made today utterly insufferable.
“Alice, you’re so careless! Why are you pressing so hard on your pencil, you’re getting graphite all over everything and you’re tearing the paper!
“Sigh dearest teacher, if you demand I write a three thousand word essay about why I like school, of course you’re going to get grouchy marks!
Oscar sighed. His trash can was a perfect mess, as was proper. For some odd reason he didn’t feel even slightly grouchy. Maybe he managed to accidentally eat right, or he got up from the right side of the bed somehow. I can’t let anyone see me like this, he thought to himself. Not going out at all today, he asserted.
Heh, this was a gimme to at least reference these guys…
—
“Oh? I thought I’d have to go looking for you at the bar again!”
Maximilian looked up to find a face he was slowly coming to enjoy seeing, and not just for the obvious reasons most men did. Scarlett was quite good at keeping things organized and analyzing information, things Maximilian himself had trouble with sometimes given the previous nature of his work with the Order. Her beauty – enhanced by her blazing red eyes in his opinion – certainly didn’t hurt, though.
“Kuroda-san is in one of his moods.” he explained, looking up from his paperwork. “I’d never be able to enjoy a drink with him ranting and raving like that.”
“He sure is a grouchy one, isn’t he?” she asked, rolling her eyes with a playful smirk. “Let me guess, Harry barged in on him again?”
“No, as far as he’s concerned fetching me from there is yours and Anya’s job, not his. His words exactly.” Maximilian said, unable to keep himself from smiling despite trying his best to remain cool and professional.
“Well, you’re already where Col. Ivers needs you to be doing what he needs you to do so no fetching needed today!” Scarlett replied, smiling brightly. “Looks like you could use some help, though! You really need to spend more time on this part of the job, Max.”
“I won’t turn any down if you’re offering.” he responded, motioning to a nearby table.
“Lucky for you, I am!” she said, snapping up a stack of papers with her usual enthusiasm. “What would you do without me?”
“What indeed…” the knight thought to himself, shaking his head briskly after she turned around so as to shake himself out of his reverie. Even with her help he still had a full day’s worth of work ahead of him.
Sir Marius Biddle came down to breakfast and found his wife Messalina in a grouchy mood. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
“We must do something about the man-eating newts in the lake,” replied Lady Biddle testily. “It was bad enough that they got two gardeners and the gamekeeper, but a note just came from the Vicarage —”
“Not Reverend Clotworthy?” cried Sir Marius over his shoulder from the sideboard, where he was filling a plate with kippers and scrambled eggs.”
“No — Mr. Handley the curate went down to the lake last night and has not returned.”
“By Jove! I agree,” said Sir Marius, busily plying his knife and fork. “I’ve heard that there’s a man in Much Chaffing who deals in pest removal. I’ll go and see him directly.”
Two hours later, Sir Marius returned, bearing good news. “He’s coming after lunch with a newt-eating duck. In a week our problems will be over.”
“A newt-quacker? Sweet!”
Snerk! 😀
Teachers, no doubt. Both of them looked at her with appraising eyes. One was very much older than the other, with snow white hair. Ava drew a deep breath. A long journey, and being tired, was no excuse to be grouchy, and she wanted to make a good first impression.
Other girls might be content to grouch about if Drusilla’s promises were not quite what was expected. She would make her pay.
Her mouth pursed. Remember to be careful, she told herself. Selena let Drusilla lure her into opening that box. Not only did Selena die, Drusilla gained the contents.
New product line seems to be dumped on me, though it really is not my division, but then, my line is at a standstill, in part because corporate is just not that smart (merger! did they change any upper, or even middle management? no? then don’t expect things to change drastically). Said not smart management decided that the years and years of production by those locally and me, though as I said not my department, were irrelevant, lets get someone who has never done this, preferably in a lock-down state most of the continent away (Tukwila, Washington) who will not allow the R&D developer to fly out to figure out why they keep messing it up, and ensure the shipping is ultra high because they keep shipping a few thousand pounds on a dedicated load via the highest priced places, and what little product they make is full of trash and residue from the not new containers they are using instead of the new ones . . . Oh, and it was supposed to be stored here in a production line that cost 90% of what the equipment needed to make it here would have run, because someone had to see if it really was going to be “as expensive and wasteful as predicted.” and none of that line has even been tested for working, so the slowest possible solution of packaging was given to me and all the while sales has been selling the product from before they even knew it would be able to be produced bigger than lab-sized batches (something made by the gallon to 5 gallon test size, sometimes cannot be made by the 10,000 gallon production size) so we are almost a year behind, some customers are complaining they will lose money if their orders are not filled by the new year, most of the staff are away for the rest of the year, and I get this silly email: “If we can be flexible and jump through hoops the balance of this month it will settle down”
I took a day to cool off before I replied: “I won’t go into decisions that got to this point, but if extra flexibility and hoops are to be jumped through, find a Circus with trained animals and a geek show.”
So
Yes, I am grumpy.
well
more than I usually am
This isn’t making bricks without straw, it is spinning gold from straw . . without spinning wheel, nor straw
That quip about “We” (meaning everyone but the sender) was cause of a bit more than grumpy.
more like livid.
Juss cast an uneasy look in the direction of the office of the Chief of Engineering. “I don’t know if you want to go down there right now.”
“I don’t have much choice.” Lou Corlin held up a USB stick. “I’ve got orders to deliver this directly to Ken Redmond. Not just drop it off, actually hand it to him and have him sign off that he received it.” Lou even had one of those little handheld devices for taking signatures electronically.
“He’s not going to appreciate being interrupted right when he’s neck-deep in dealing with a serious breakdown that involves the environmental systems.”
Awareness dawned in Lou’s expression. Anyone would be grouchy while dealing with an issue of that magnitude, especially if there were any question of it being sabotage.
“Good morning, sunshine!”
She gave me a dark look that would have bored a hole through granite.
I let it roll off me and smiled. “My. You woke up grouchy this morning. Do you need coffee?”
She growled at me, but reached for a mug.
Two vignettes, separated by a layer of misunderstanding:
FIRST:
“What’s got you so crabby?” asked Aunt Teri.
Cari’s face was knotted with frustration. “Max was annoying me, and I snapped at him. Now he’s all angry with me. Not only that, when I tried to buy us tickets for the Giant Wheel, they were all sold out!” she wailed.
MEANWHILE…
“You’re in one of your moods again, huh,” said Bopo.
Bopo, Max noted, could read him like a book. There was no point in hiding it. “Cari’s angry. I’m angry. And this, after I snagged the last two tickets for the Giant Wheel. They were supposed to be a surprise!”
OT…got a spam text this morning referencing WordPress. Don’t know if it relates to here, but just in case…