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. A COMMISSION IS EARNED FROM EACH PURCHASE.*Note that I haven’t read most of these books (my reading is eclectic and “craving led”,) and apply the usual cautions to buying. – SAH
FROM LAWDOG AND CEDAR SANDERSON: The Squeaks Caper
Lawdog tells two tales from his childhood in Africa.
Speaker, known as Squeaks, gets to live the mongoose dream when a python drops literally at his feet. The python has other thoughts. Chaos ensues, with the family thrown into an uproar by the chase.
The trial of a goat becomes an educational experience for the young Lawdog and his even younger brother. Will justice be done? Will the goat speak in court? Read on and find out!
The whole thing is illustrated by Cedar Sanderson’s quirky pen-and-ink style. Pictures of Nigerian flora and fauna accompany the full pages portraying scenes from the tale, and bonus illustrations at the end will leave you amused at her whimsical imagination.
FROM HOLLY CHISM: The Dragon’s in the Details
Six stories of dragons hiding in today’s world:
A Friend, Indeed–A little girl meets the best friend she could ask for when she finds a dragon sleeping in her wagon.
Tempest–What do you do when you find a dragon in your favorite teacup?
Clowder–These are absolutely not cats, no matter what they look like, and will take offense at your mistake.
Back Yard Birds and Other Things–If the dragon defends your chickens, you invite it to stay.
Houdini–When the pet supplier sends the wrong kind of dragon, the pet store’s got a problem.
Hoard–Not every dragon cares for gold, gems, or cash.
FROM J.M.NEY-GRIMM: Queen’s Cusp (The Hades Cycle Book 6)
Does she love him enough to forego her heart’s desire?
As queen of hell, Persephone revels in the freedom granted by darkness. She finds meaningful work in the release she provides shades seeking repentance and atonement. But when her mother bids her beware Dìs’ cruel side, Persephone’s newly won assurance falters.
After her husband invites Persephone to again witness ‘the dance’ at his side—a sadistic rite essential to his rule over Hades—she sees its horror with fresh clarity. And knows she can no longer condone this torture of innocents.
But if her scheme to provide Dìs another source of strength fails, Persephone will confront an impossible choice. Unless she forfeits the god she loves most—and the wellspring of her own strength—the macabre ritual must persist forever.
Queen’s Cusp is the sixth tale in the vivid Hades Cycle. If you enjoy lyrical mythology that moves quickly, keeps you guessing, and magnificently captures the terror and passion of the ancient gods, you’ll love J.M. Ney-Grimm’s twist on the story of Hades’ king and queen.
FROM LEIGH KIMMEL: The Baying of the Hounds
In the world we know, Nikola Tesla’s Wardencliffe experiment proved a costly failure and was ultimately torn down for scrap. But what if things had gone differently and he pressed his work to completion?
In a world similar to but unlike our own, Tesla completes his transmission tower. But when he turns it on, he discovers his calculations were incomplete. Some unknown factor has created a connection with another world with physical laws unlike our own. The commingling of curved and angular space has led to catastrophe.
Now his greatest rival, Thomas Alva Edison, compels him to repair the damage. To do so, Tesla must make his way through a ruined city to the locus of the damage. And through his mind echoes the baying of unseen hounds.
A short story originally published in the anthology Steampunk Cthulhu.
BY CHARLES ALDEN SELTZER, BROUGHT BACK BY D. JASON FLEMING: West! (Annotated): A Classic Pulp Western Adventure
Josephine Hamilton’s first impression of the west was stopping the hanging of a supposed horse thief. From that moment, she decided that the west needed her principles imposed upon it.
And the man who personified that west, and most needed dominating, was Steel Brannon, a man who was merely amused that she stopped him from giving justice to a horse thief. And intrigued by a woman so willful, and so misguided.
This iktaPOP Media edition includes an introduction giving historical and genre context to the book.
FROM KEN LIZZI: Silver and Bone (Semi-Autos and Sorcery Book 4)
The fingerbones of a dead Voodoo priestess possess the power to point to treasure. Naturally, people are willing to kill to find the fingerbones.
A salvage vessel discovers a sunken treasure ship. A self-loathing practitioner of Voudon hopes to investigate the scientific foundations of his powers and needs funds to do so; the treasure would do the trick. A piratical deserter from the Venezuelan navy has designs on the recovered treasure.
Karl Thorson, ex-Special Forces soldier, becomes embroiled with all three parties when Gig Delphin, a salvage expert, treasure-seeker, and heiress to a Gulf Coast fortune, asks him to protect her and help secure the delivery of the treasure. Samuel Augustin, Voudon oungan and assistant professor of history, helped Delphin pinpoint the location of the treasure. He means to get his hands on it, no matter who he has to hurt along the way. Ernesto Abad, tool pusher of his own oil rig demolition crew—a crew happy to help on the occasional heist, wants to intercept the treasure. Karl Thorson was hoping for some time off on the beach. But helping the beautiful Gig just might make up for his interrupted vacation.
Can Karl get his hands on the Voodoo priestess’ fingerbones? Can he protect Gig from magic and pirates? And why can’t all these people solve their problems on dry land?
Don’t miss the 4th and final book in the Semi-Autos and Sorcery series. It’s what fans of Larry Correia and Jim Butcher are hungering for.
FROM MARY CATELLI: Treachery And Spells
Two novellas of magic and adventure. . .
Caught between pirates who would force him to use wizardry in their aid, and a king who would force him to spy, Alik will need every scrap of wits and wizardry to forge his own path.
A curse of ill luck leaves Perriel and Gareth trapped in an endless winter, with only the faintest hope of breaking free.
FROM SARAH A. HOYT, NOW WITH A NEW COVER AND IN PAPERBACK AND HARD COVER: Death of A Musketeer
When D’Artagnan, Athos, Porthos and Aramis discover the corpse of a beautiful woman who looks like the Queen of France, they vow to see that justice is done. They do not know that their investigation will widen from murder to intrigue to conspiracy, bring them the renewed enmity of Cardinal Richelieu and shake their fate in humanity. Through duels and doubts, they pursue the truth, even when their search brings them to the sphere of King Louis XIII himself and makes them confront secrets best forgotten.
FROM KAREN MYERS: Tales of Annwn – A Virginian in Elfland (The Hounds of Annwn Story Collections Book 1)
A Collection of Five Short Stories from The Hounds of Annwn.
The Call – A very young Rhian discovers her beast-sense and, with it, the call of a lost hound.
It’s not safe in the woods where cries for help can attract unwelcome attention, but two youngsters discover their courage in the teeth of necessity.
Under the Bough – Angharad hasn’t lived with anyone for hundreds of years, but now she is ready to tie the knot with George Talbot Traherne, the human who has entered the fae otherworld to serve as huntsman for the Wild Hunt. As soon as she can make up her mind, anyway.
George has been swept away by his new job and the people he has met, and by none more so than Angharad. But how can she value the short life of a human? And what will happen to her after he’s gone?
Night Hunt – When George Talbot Traherne goes night hunting for fox in Virginia, he learns about unworthy men from the old-timers drinking moonshine around the fire and makes his own choices.
Who could have anticipated that the same impulse that won him his old bluetick coonhound would lead him to his new wife and the hounds of Annwn? Every choice has a cost, he realizes, but never a regret.
Cariad – Luhedoc is off with his adopted nephew Benitoe to fetch horses for the Golden Cockerel Inn. He’s been reunited with his beloved Maëlys at last, but how can he fit into her capable life as an innkeeper? What use is he to her now, after all these years?
Luhedoc needs to relearn an important lesson about confidence.
The Empty Hills – George Talbot Traherne arranges a small tour of the local human world for his fae family and friends, hoping to share some of the sense of wonder he discovered when he encountered the fae otherworld.
He’s worried about discovery by other humans, but things don’t turn out quite the way he expects.
FROM WILLIAM EDGAR JONES: Tales of Frozen Sleep Volume 1: The First Family.
Imagine you and your family are driving home when your car suddenly crashes off a bridge into the icy water below. You hopelessly scramble to save them and yourself as the car sinks; all of you drowning and freezing together. However that is not the end.
You wake up. You cannot feel your limbs, cannot move your mouth, and have no sense of smell. Opening your eyes presents only a jumbled picture, and the sound you hear makes no sense. You finally discover that you died in the crash, and have now been revived as a Living Cryogenic (LC) subject. You are just a head in a container.
Join Franklin as he struggles to establish contact with the scientists that have revived him. They have invented a process to keep heads alive, but never put in any foresight for how the revived would feel or interact with the living. Then add to that the horror of discovering that the rest of your family is waiting in storage to also be revived. Can Franklin keep his sanity? Can he help the scientists to establish methods of contact and even comfort for LC subjects? What will be the final fate of his family? And unknown to both him and the scientists are the horrors they are experiencing while in storage.
Bundle up. You are about to enter the Frozen Sleep Universe.
FROM CHRISTOPHER WOERNER: 202302 Balloonatic
Current events for the month of February, along with whatever else I think and write about. Leftist tyranny, the upcoming war, all the usual stuff. It’s just in straight-forward chronological order, each day getting us closer to the end. Hopefully our rulers will hold off and wait until we’re close to the ocean before they shoot us down. That would be nice.
The B-side collects the comic strips I’ve done this month, various amounts of commentary about the same events. Because what else would the end of the world be if you couldn’t read comics? That’s just wrong!
FROM CAROLINE FURLONG: The Best of the Planetary Anthology Series
Welcome to this remastered best-of collection to showcase the highlights of the entire out-of-print Planetary Anthology series from Sol to Pluto and everything in between.
SOL:Let The Dead Bury Their Dead (Caroline Furlong)
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.
We recommend that if you have an original vignette, you post that as a new reply. If you are commenting on someone’s vignette, then post that as a reply to the vignette. Comments — this is writing practice, so comments should be aimed at helping someone be a better writer, not at crushing them. And since these are likely to be drafts, don’t jump up and down too hard on typos and grammar.
If you have questions, feel free to ask.
Your writing prompt this week is: TIE
According To Hoyt 
Flyby c4c.
Whoosh
See, I was careful that time!
Vignette later, when I have a proper keyboard rather than a phone screen.
“Why did I agree to do this?”
“Come my love, it was your idea that we Ancients dress as the Americans do for this affair.”
“That was before I tried putting on this monstrous thing, they call a tie”.
By the way, Holly’s book is Very Fun To Read!
Ha. I’ve very little experience with the things myself, but I have heard there’s… an art, let’s say… to getting the knot right.
Joke follows
“The tie was invented by a woman in revenge for men inventing High-Heels.” [Crazy Grin]
That makes sense.
The Reader thinks that men got the better of that deal.
Valid point.
Because it’s just like a woman to get revenge on men for a garment she stole from him in the first place?
(allegedly)
LOL 😆
Well, there are periods where High Heels were worn by both men and women.
Of course, men who ride horses (for work or pleasure) often wear high-heeled boots (for better use of stirrups).
Not an art. For the first 30 years of his work life (before business casual finally hit the Great Big Defense Contractor), the Reader tied a tie every work day. It becomes the same as tying you shoes; a set of motions you don’t think about.
Fair enough.
Joined my company in 1999, right out of the Air Force, and wore a tie almost daily for the next dozen years. Switched from one uniform to another, I guess.
As well as a myriad of knots to use – choice is often random, but really ought to be associated with the collar shape and the thickness of the tie fabric, and all that changes about every 3 years. (Just looked – my gosh, there are some really weird ones!)
Happens I despise the ‘dimple’ below the knot, and tie mine (half Windsor and Windsor) to NOT have one. I’ve had busybody women try to rearrange my tie to put the darned dimple in. Gerroff, lady!
Started wearing them in high school (boarding school, required). Got so I could tie one while running for study hall. Picked up some late-30s, early 40’s hand-painted ties at a rummage sale, and got thrown out of said study hall for one of those – IIRC, salmon pink with blue and white sort of upward swoosh. (True story)
I didn’t resist. It was long before Star Wars, and TIE fighters did not yet exist.
Craig Rice’s detective John Malone, attorney at law, was known for his garish hand painted ties. It became a running gag in the stories.
I have heard of ties with a interesting pattern of dots and dashes, which could be Quite Rude Indeed – if you could read Morse.
Isabella threw her hands in the air. The buffets stopped as if she had tied down the winds in a magical bag.
“Come inside, again,” she said. Ava trudged back in. The winds outside her spell were still going full blast, of course. It would take skill to calm them.
Interesting simile there. Is that actually possible in this world? Tying wind into a bag?
I doubt it. I was thinking of Odysseus. She probably was thinking of the equivalent.
Got it!
Why would we want to, when we’ve got a whole government full of windbags already?
Well, if one can fight fire with fire, it must be logically possible to use one windbag to blow other windbags away. Right?
We’re gonna need a Cat 6 for some things.
Cat 5e is probably adequate unless you’re pumping some really heavy graphics . . .
“So, you can move from one reality to another? Just how do you do that?”
“I feel for the reality I’m looking for, pull it and ours together, and expand the intersection so I can go through it. I suppose you could call it a Trans-dimensional Interface Excursion, a TIE.”
Autumn picked out, among the branches, the brown entwinings of a nest. The snake could still strike it down, and there was no way to tie it to a bough and wait.
Her mouth set, she drew up her make-shift club again, stepped closer, and smashed as the coils surged.
“I’m sorry, he couldn’t what?”
“I know! It used to be a rite of passage for preschoolers, but then they invented velcro… so they get here and have to wear historical dress for plays, and I have to teach them – college students! – how to tie their shoes!
“Don’t get me started on what they do to button-down shirts.”
regrettably based on a true story
Ugh. Took me a while too, as I recall, but I did get it figured out before middle school.
Mme. Brodeur, proprietress of L’Aiguiere Verte, was presiding over the bar and kitchen on this cold and windy evening. She eyed the customers who had come in a few minutes before and now slumped over their drinks in a quiet corner. Their clothes were stained with mud, and one bore the beginnings of a black eye; such disreputable types would normally not be welcome in her establishment, were it not for the fact that she knew them.
Passepartout took a deep swallow from his tankard and finally spoke. “What are you thinking, Fixx?”
“I need some hot food,” his partner replied. “Do you think that lettuce soup is on the menu again?”
“We shall find out.” Passepartout raised his hand to madame. “How is your eye? Madame can bring you a dressing for it.”
“I am so sorry, madame,” Fixx muttered to their disapproving hostess. “We have had what you might call an eventful day.”
“Clearly you have,” Mme. Brodeur replied as her expression softened. “I think perhaps you had the worst of it, no?”
A glint of humor crossed Fixx’s face. “I think perhaps it was a tie, madame. My friend Mr. Passepartout here was thrown into a rubbish heap, and a horse stepped on his foot -”
“And M’seur Fixx got into a fight and landed in the street, narrowly escaping that same horse!” The two men looked at each other and finally started to laugh. “Madame, we have earned our dinner, and some of your delicious soup to start.”
“Awright you two, knock off yer jawin’. You wanta settle who’s the best with a lassoo, you can do it right now. Square off!”
In seconds the two cowboys stood about ten yards apart, glaring at each other.
The self-appointed referee spat tobacco juice. “Go!”
They twirled their ropes and flung them at each other, dodged, pulled them back and tried again, and again. One landed a solid hit, then the other. They dragged each other closer, pulling and twisting, until they were both too trussed up to move any more.
Another spit of tobacco juice. “Waal now, Ah’m a-gonna declare that a tie.”
Clever referee, to wait until they were both too knotted up to punch him for that crack.
Thought of a better ending after I hit post.
Bystander: “So, who won?”
Referee: “Looks to me like they’re tied.”
I was trying to find a “fit to be tied” joke in there somewhere, but I didn’t want to get roped into it…
Great set of promos, and yes Holly’s and Ian’s books are fun reads!!!
Greg looked around frantically as Joyce said, “I’m ready, and we’re going to be late! Where ARE you?”
Greg sighed as he finally found his tie under his jacket. “Coming!”
That new Musketeers Mysteries cover looks great.
Thanks. I’ll be changing the other covers, as well.
Nomination time:
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/22463398-april-2023
“I’ll try to help as best I can,” said Nigel Slim-Howland, “but I’m not sure this companion is ours.” The waterlogged companion on the slab had been in the river a while.
“If I can tie this machine to Howland Technologies,” said Inspector Wiley, “we’ll have a lot to discuss.”
“Inspector, companions are tied to central servers at all times for maintenance and updates. However, little is actually recorded,” said Nigel. “Privacy and all that.”
“So you can’t just rewind and play back, eh?” said inspector Wiley. He was frustrated.
“No more than you can interrogate the dead, I’m afraid.”
“Jenkins, we’ll be tied up for the next few weeks,” said Nigel Slim-Howland. “We’ve been deputized!”
“Indeed, sir?” replied Jenkins noncommittally, a standard reaction to unclear data.
“Oh yes, we’ll be working with the police department!”
“Shall we be providing technical support,” said Jenkins, “or ‘assisting police with their inquiries?’”
He wished he had not told Kevin. If he merely took the apple and rushed ahead, he could cure their father, and no one would question who merited the reward of their father’s kingdom. Now, both he and Kevin might lay claim, if Kevin did not get ahead of him.
“They were found in a storage unit in New Jersey, apparently part of the estate of a well-known science fiction author,” Rachel said, and sighed.
“The man was a genius. With the technology available at the time, he developed a material completely impervious to all forms of electromagnetic and ionizing radiation. Hang these on a window and no known form of sensor gear can penetrate them.”
“But why the…fastenings?” Patricia’s tone said she already had an idea about that, and didn’t like it.
“From the notes, the official reason was that metal or plastic closures interfered with the sensor blockage. But….you’ve read Isaac’s works. You know how much he loved puns…”
Patricia groaned. “You mean -”
” Yes, I’m afraid so. These are the blinds that tie.”
Groan!!!
Thank you. It came to me and I had to do something with it.
The Reader deems this carpworthy.
WELL MET!
“You know far, far too many rope ties,” Sayuri sighed.
“I have Viola, Kiokyo, and Charlotte as Servants,” I shrugged. “I know far too many rope-tie techniques for the four major kinds of rope bondage that a sixteen-year-old girl should know.”
Juss pulled back the desk and stared at the tangle of wiring he’d revealed: Ethernet, USB, Firewire, Thunderbolt, even HDMI, all twisted together. “Hasn’t anyone in the Life Sciences Department ever heard of cable ties?”
Technically, it’s a still a tie if both boats in the race fail to complete the course due to weather, war, or wanderlust…
“No. I’m serious. If we do it, we can clean up.”
“No. Not only will we get in trouble with the mob who runs the books on the boxing match, but you’re setting us up to get sued by Lucas.”
“Lucas? Whatever do you mean?”
“You’re proposing that we throw the boxing matches by fighting each one to a draw, thereby splitting all the proceeds. Lucas will want to claim proprietary rights to “a pair of fight tiers.”
True story:
For Christmas one year, my wife gave me a tie. It had a Star Wars TIE fighter on it, so it was a TIE tie. Then I looked at the label. It said “Made in Thailand”. You read that right: my wife gave me a Thai TIE tie.
You’re a tie-rannical punster. You know that, right?
So it was a… three-way tie?
A trifecta.
Don’t you mean a Tie-fecta? 😛
Guess it depends on how you tie your Thai TIE tie.
Well, in cultural matters, isn’t it always best to ask how the locals do it? When in Rome and all that.
So, how does a Thai tie a Thai TIE tie?
You win. 😀
Prepare to accept your prize — a big, juicy flying Carp!
Unfortunately (well… semi-unfortunately), Chapter 3 has had me tied up all day. No time for a proper vignette. This will have to do.
On the bright side, Chapter 3 is finished enough for external review now!
Dark figures loomed out of the gloom, and Marcus’s tongue felt frozen in his mouth. Dark figures bearing bird-like masks. No necromancers were near to fall silent at the sight, but the other children fell silent, and moved no more than if they had been tied down.
“You, child,” said one. The voice was rough like a crow’s. “Come with us, now.”
The pale little girl looked at him. He held out his hand. She smiled a little and stood up. Marcus’s heart hammered in his chest, and his mouth could not move.
What would you say? jeered a wild thought. Don’t go? You can not stop her, or them. He still stared desperately as she took the land and walked off, trustingly, innocently.
Otto, he remembered, had left. And been seen again, all robed and fattened back up to health.
He looked at his hands. That would be worse.
“The king will still want her in his service,” said Master Edgar. “It’s not like wizards depart for their own realm on some distant island and never return.”
“Who will I put her with? There’s — I have no connections!”
“I, of course, do have ties among the royal wizards.”
She had to have some tie to the villagers, unless she was staying with the knights. He would have heard of her staying with the knights.
He frowned. Except that he had not spoken with either the Eagles’ Nest or Starwood for days. She could have arrived in that time.
Coming soon (currently on preorder):
And you’ll send it to promo next week, right? And send it to my hotmail so I put it on instapundit, right?
I would be delighted to. However, I need to do that right away because Mom had another stroke this morning and I may be headed up to Nashville for a few days. Let me get on that now.
Oh no. Many hugs. I’ll keep your mom in my prayers. It’s so difficult.
Many thanks. I’ll take all the prayers I can get these days. The last year and a quarter have been HARD here. This book is the first full novel I’ve managed to produce since Darrell died; I’ve written a couple of shorts just to see if I COULD, and then attempted the novel. If you want the promos for the shorts, I can send those too.
Okay, info for promo and instapundit sent. Had several different emails, some of which came back defunct, but one of those ought to get to you, lol!
I’m just now returning to writing and functioning.
This I understand all too well. Love and hugs to you.
I’m really sorry to hear that. Prayers have been sent up.
Many thanks.
Do we send it elsewhere for Instapundit?
My personal email. Otherwise I forget. Memory of ten minutes.
Officer Holden took in the scene with the aplomb of a man who’d seen it all at least twice over. His partner, Officer Dietz, was similarly unimpressed. Though she did raise an eyebrow at the giggling girls at the back of the room.
The three were dressed in blankets and what looked like a man’s hoodie. They seemed to be unharmed, surprisingly enough.
“Alright son. How about you fill us in on just what we’re dealing with here.” Holden drawled, waving at the four groaning men tied to the sink and urinals of the men’s restroom.
“Start at the beginning, work your way to the end. Miss a lot less things that way.”
Dietz broke off to speak to the girls while Holden took the menfolk. Well, boys. The rather skinny fellow in front of him looked like he might just need to shave sometime in the next five or six years, but not yet.
The boy stammered a bit, but the story unfolded about like he expected. The other men had planned to have their way with the girls via spiked drinks. The kid happened upon the scene late, but not too late and objected rather forcefully.
Scuffles ensued, earning the boy one hell of shiner and some bruised ribs by the look of it, but the four men hadn’t fared so well. Groaning and the occasional whimper could be heard from the pile. They weren’t up to talking just yet.
Judging from the flattened knuckles and squared shoulders, the boy was a fighter. The pitiful pile, not so much. More predators of the weak, opportunists, than true blue monsters that took by force.
“I do have to ask one more question, though,” Holden asked, hiding his smile with the ease of long practice.
“Just how were you able to secure them so well? Those knots, son… You’re not involved in-”
“I was a BOY SCOUT!” The boy hissed through clenched teeth. Behind him, the girls erupted into laughter as his face heated.
“I’m sure you were, son. I’m sure you were.” This did not seem to help the young man at all.
“It was some kind of sartorial humiliation ritual, you see, to keep the lower orders in their place”, the lead archaeologist said.
“Seems cruel to me. I mean, there’s no place on that getup for tools, no convenient front pockets, no abrasion resistance. And that choker thing on their necks would freaking kill you if it got caught in machinery.”
“Utterly emasculating. It confined them to a spectators role in these bland so-called office environments.”
“There isn’t even anything on their workbenches! Just screens and keyboards!”
He had dared all. Overcome knee-shaking fear. Met every challenge. An hour remained before the final prize—mere minutes and the hardest test. Consumed by doubt, he faced the black ribbon of fate alone. Mother said her seeming magic would not suffice. Could he knot this mystery, this bow tie?