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. I reserve the right not to run any submission, if cover, blurb or anything else made me decide not to, at my sole discretion.– SAH
FROM PAM UPHOFF: The Black Cube (Chronicles of the Fall Book 14)
Hieronymus was just going to take a ride with a friend and wasn’t expecting his friend’s sisters to be a kidnapped . . . and he certainly wasn’t expecting the opportunity to be a hero.
As information about the abilities of unchipped Portal Clones spread, their usefulness for cross-dimensional crimes of the ordinary sort should have been anticipated . . . although how to stop them is difficult, if not impossible. But as a spunky thirteen-year-old works to escape, Hieronymus has a plan . . .
FROM CELIA HAYES: West Toward the Sunset
It’s the year 1846, and Sally Kettering is just twelve years old. Her parents have decided to sell their farm in rural Ohio and go west … west to California. Sally and her six-year old brother Jon must leave everything they knew – friends, kinfolk and the little town where they had lived all their lives so far. Pa and Ma Kettering packed what they could take into a single covered wagon, and they set out to follow a trail through the wilderness west, along with a party of other families and adventurers. Unknown dangers lay around every bend of the trail … wild animals, wilder Indians … Indians who might be hostile or friendly, and no way to know for certain … treacherous river crossings, trackless deserts, and jagged, dangerous mountain passes.
And still, the Kettering family and their friends boldly set out … following the trail that led west toward the sunset!
FROM ALMA T. C. BOYKIN: Healer, Hunters, and Hearts: Familiar Generations Book Seven
Birds of mischief flock together …
Healer and Hunter, Deborah Chan Lestrang makes her way in the world as an herbalist and Healer who also hunts fell creatures when needed. Tensions inside her extended family call for a healer of hearts as well—a task far trickier, perhaps, than easing physical pain.
Weaker magic workers report being harassed by birds, birds inside a shield. Foul creatures appear, brought by a gate-spell cast by a coven. Or was it?
An old ill resurfaces …
Word comes from the north of a new drug, one that seems to grant magical abilities to those who take it. And that does not kill them as quickly as heart’s fire did. Could the birds of ill omen and the new pharmaceutical be related?
Deborah must find a path between duties and desires, the past and the present. But she does not travel alone. And she is her parents’ daughter. If she can survive Master Lestrang’s chili and his curries, she can banish abyssal evil. Maybe.
FROM HOLLY LEROY: Pooled Blood – A Lt. Eve Sharpe Thriller
Love J. A. Konrath’s Jacqueline “Jack” Daniels? Try Lt. Eve Sharpe.
After barely surviving the horror of the Parkside Strangler, Lieutenant Eve Sharpe and her friend, P.I. Jillian Varela, decide to head to Cancun for a little well-deserved R&R.
But instead of a relaxing two weeks at a five star, luxury resort, a grisly death lands at their feet, and a young girl is arrested.
It should be simple, but in Mexico, you are guilty until proven innocent. And if the Policia Federal find out what Eve and Jillian are up to, they’ll be spending a long time in less than luxury accommodations.
The third in the series of Lt. Eve Sharpe/Jillian Varela mysteries.
ONE EIGHT SEVEN
REMEMBER THE DEAD
POOLED BLOOD
FROM HEATHER STRICKLER: Defiant Sparks (A Bard’s Hearth)
Some fires will not be quenched.
Some people will never just lay down and die.
These are some of their stories.
Old men fighting hungry shadows.
Prisoners refusing to be broken.
From the mean streets of a fairy city to the ancient paths of Ur, some people will not yield nor sacrifice honor to any force.
Ten stories of determination and honor and a willingness to cling to what is right.
FROM HOLLY CHISM: The Godshead (Modern Gods Book 1)
Food and drink for sale; snark for free…
It’s hard to be a god nobody believes in, sometimes. Especially when one spends their days trying to quietly go about his or her life in a world that barely remembers the myths surrounding the old Greek gods, but where some religions still follow the old Norse gods.
And some of the Norse gods are getting more dangerous: Loki, the trickster, has lost the last of what passed for his sanity, and needs to be helped, or stopped. One of the two. And no one seems to be up to it.
At least, not alone. Working together, they can avoid the worst of Loki’s tricks, and maybe even solve their problems.
A tale told from several points of view.
FROM MARY CATELLI: Queen Shulamith’s Ball
A ball, a ball, Queen Shulamith would hold a ball. . . .In the magical city that all kingdoms can reach, and none can conquer, filled with kings and queens, intrigues and wonders, that the reclusive queen would stage a ball was a marvel among marvels.It will mean much to many: a young woman newly arrived in the city; a woman and a bear who dance on the street; two small orphans sent to the house of their great-great-grandfather; soldiers staging an invasion; and a queen securing her position.
FROM LEIGH KIMMEL: The Space Race Trilogy Omnibus: Time Slips, The Secret of Pad 34, Beach House on the Moon, Plus two exclusive new essays
Time Slips
What if our most treasured verities were in fact wrong?
To be selected for Project Mercury and be one of America’s first astronauts was a dream come true for test pilot Deke Slayton. But fellow Mercury astronaut Al Shepard kept telling old stories from his native New England, tales of monstrous entities like Cthulhu and Yog Sothoth. Earlier generations had viewed them as demons, but might they in fact be aliens, here long before humanity?
Soon Deke discovers evidence that something is watching the US space program. Something that begrudges humanity the stars and would put a ceiling on human attainment. Something that can manipulate time itself.
HP Lovecraft wrote that we dwell on a placid island of ignorance amidst the dark ocean of infinity, and that we were not meant to travel far.
What might the US space program have looked like in a cosmos filled with hostile eldritch entities? Would they notice us as playthings? Or as a nuisance to be dealt with?
The Secret of Pad 34Who would put a ceiling on humanity’s expansion into space?
That’s what Gus Grissom wants to know. While fishing offshore from Cape Canaveral, he glimpses a mysterious undersea city of unearthly geometries, marked with a strange three-armed cross symbol.
His efforts to research it bring him veiled threats from strangers at his door. Trouble blights an exemplary career. However, Gus refuses to be cowed into silence, and pursues every lead he can find.
HP Lovecraft wrote that we live on a placid island of ignorance and were not meant to travel far. This is the Space Race in a world where the Soviet Union is not our only adversary.
Beach House on the MoonThe Moon is a dead world, airless and desolate. Emmaline Waite has known this fact since childhood, when she watched the Apollo landings.
But here she sits on the shores of the Sea of Tranquillity, looking up at the gibbous Earth as the waves roll in. What madness can this be?
She gets no time to contemplate that question, for she is not alone. She is about to enter a realm of love and fear, of mind-bending secrets that change her understanding of human history, and of self-sacrifice.
Her life will never be the same.
Miskatonic University in the Cold War and Contemporary Era
How would H.P. Lovecraft’s famous fictional institution of higher education have developed through the second half of the Twentieth Century and into the Twenty-first?
Space: Gernsbeck vs. Lovecraft
A look at the fundamental worldviews underlying the approaches of Hugo Gernsbeck and H.P. Lovecraft to the portrayal of outer space, aliens, and space travel.
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: PURPLE








Little Tommy left his sweatshirt in the small wagon in the family room. Since it was in sunlight, Mary, a small calico cat jumped in the wagon and started to enjoy the warmth. Tommy saw this, grabbed the handle and started walking backwards. When asked, he said: “I’m doing a purr-pull!”
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Groan!
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Yeah, but “aww!” too.
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Humming, he walked along. His gaze went over the butterflies. One, a splendid purple, flew haltingly. A turn in its path revealed the torn part in its wing. He paused. Sacrificing grass restored it. The butterfly staggered in its flight, beating at its strange, sound wings. It alighted on a flower and stayed there, beating its wings again at the air. Only slowly did it take to wing again.
And the grass had withered to the ground for a span as large as the palm of his hand.
More knowledge was needed. He could garner it on the way, though.
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“Remember that silly poem about a purple cow?”
“Yep, what about it?”
“Well I saw a purple cow and I wish that I hadn’t seen it. And yes, I’m glad that I’m not a purple cow.”
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Moo.
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As I leaf through the old photo albums, I can instantly recognize the pictures from the Energy Wars. It’s that weird purple color to the sunsets, especially the ones with a few light clouds in the atmosphere above the setting sun.
Once the oilfields went up in flames, an enormous amount of smoke got injected into the upper atmosphere, some of it high enough that it wasn’t going to come down for years. And even with the best people in the business putting those fires out as fast as they could, some of those fires burned for weeks. That’s a lot of soot up there, some of it so high it wouldn’t come down for years.
And that was just the first round. Taking out Saddam was supposed to make things better, but it ended up destabilizing the entire region. So there was a lot more fighting in regions full of oil wells, and how better to slow your enemy than to turn the wellheads into torches and the sand into a sea of fire?
By the time everything ended, even the daytime sky started looking this weird purplish color instead of a proper sky-blue. A whole generation of kids didn’t realize what “sky blue” should look like until they were finishing grade school.
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Liked — lots of compelling imagery!
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The members of country rock Hendrix tribute band “Riders of the Purple Haze” climbed into their psychedelic pickup trucks and headed out on a long, strange trip, planning to visit a Voodoo Child in New Orleans, fervently hoping that this time they wouldn’t be set up like a bowling pin.
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“Daddy, why are those things in the street painted here?”
“The grates?”
“Yes, those things.”
“It’s weird tribute to a musician that went by the name of Prince, at least most of the time. He had a goofy symbol he used instead of a name for a while during a contract dispute. But he wrote a song called ‘Purple Rain’.”
“Purple Rain?”
“Yeah, weird. But it explains the tribute… all the purple drains.”
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You could always tell newcomers to Epsilon Colony, Dr. David Cambridge thought. They would go to the surface at dawn or dusk, simply to spend and hour or so gazing upwards. Nobody was prepared for the purple sky shifting to lavender (or vice-versa). Dr. Cambridge remembered he himself was dumbstruck.
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The young dad took the new toy out of its box, inserted batteries, and placed it in front of his toddler. The toy was a purple dinosaur, activated by squeezing its left hand. The dinosaur began to sing, “I love you; you love me!” while the toddler howled in terror.
The above, by the way, is based on a true story.
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The army spread before them, splendid and glittering. Knights and wizards alike arrayed themselves in colors of scarlet and green, blue and purple, silver and gold. Swords in hand or spells lighting up where they stood.
“Perhaps more than is needed,” said the Archmage. “Still, petty to exclude anyone from the honor of fighting the necromancer.”
Scholastica stood in her seven-league boots, her gaze on the castle that towered blackly ahead.
The Archmage shook his head and turned to the younger wizards. “That is the mark of a fool, a castle built on spellcraft. It will fall when he falls.”
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Nomination time:
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/23008232-february-2025
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Hmm. I also posted a vignette that appears to be have been eaten. WPDE!
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The signals from Baade’s Star easily converted to ASCII, but they made no sense. 800080. BF40BF. 9A4EAE. 893BFF. 4B0082.
Scientists were perplexed until the Aldeberani ship landed.
Having been affected by the broadcast of the great works of Bulwer-Lytton, they spoke only in purple prose.
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Maggie groaned as she popped the external airlock controls. This job just got a lot harder.
”What’s wrong?” Harrison radioed from the salvage tender. “Arcturian shuttles are a piece of cake.”
”Yeah, but it has Larcon circuitry. Their vision starts in the lower ultraviolet. To us humans, everything looks purple.”
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I’ve described EE “Doc” Smith’s prose as being so purple as to verge on the hard UV.
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