Two series, one shattered universe:
an ancient war that
forged magic,
and the modern invasion that it made possible.
Mother of Trees
Thaumatropic Roots Book 1
Part of the Fractured Arcana Universe
by Steven J. Morris
Genre: Epic Fantasy
A dying goddess. A
fractured prophecy. A magicless elf who shouldn’t exist.
Elliah has spent her entire life being told what she
isâbereft, wrong, a mistake the world would prefer to correct. Drifting from
town to town with a mother who won’t explain why they keep running, she has no
magic, no place, and no future. Then a single misstep draws the attention of
those who’ve been looking for her, and everything her mother was hiding comes
apart.
She isn’t ready for what she learns. But ready was never an
option.
Mother of Trees is the thrilling first book in
the Thaumatropic Roots epic fantasy series. Enter a world of dangerous magic,
ancient powers, and one impossible girl who refuses to stay down.
**Get it FREE!**
Elliah ~ 1
My mother told me many times that all adolescents feel like
they don’t belong, but⊠I really didn’t. So I spent my free time away from
other elves, on my own but for the animals⊠they didn’t understand how broken I
was. And I was quite pleased with my current find, so I snarled when a noise
behind me scared away the drakeling that had settled in my hands. Black with a
pattern of red scales along its spine, its body the thickness of my finger, it
took flight with a flurry of thin leathery wings and disappeared behind a
massive brown trunk.
“The real ones are much more intimidating,” said
an unfamiliar voice.
Time slowed as I tensed to run, shocked that I’d let my
guard down so much that anyone had gotten that close. How many lurked behind
me? On the outskirts of town, in the thick of the woods near the river, I had
expected solitude.
“Stay, Bereft. I am not afraid,” said the voice.
His words provoked me.
“No one’s afraid of me,” I
blurted. Bitterness stained my words as surely as the pollen of the bloodcups
had stained my ragged clothes.
I turned away from the vanished drakeling to focus on the
intruder who’d scared it away. A man. No, I corrected myself, someone
my age. Someone not quite old enough for adults to consider one of their
own, but too old to call a child.
But not Bereft. No other elf shared that with me.
The newcomer was slightly taller than me with a thin frame,
his light hair hanging long, wild, and tangled. He was new to the villageâI
would have noticed an elf with skin so light. I’d heard whispers of him at
school. Kethryllia had called him Salt-kissed, and I’d wondered what that
meant, but his light skin answered that question. He’d undoubtedly caught
whispers about me, heard of my⊠condition. Bereft. Yet at that moment, I
thought only of the hours of coaxing I’d spent to draw the little drakeling
into my grasp, and that the stupid elf had scared it away. I wanted to punch
him.
“Maybe they should be,” he said, taking a step
back, though it would have taken me two leaps to get to him, and he’d have me
pinned in one, if he had any skill with magic at all. But I’d prepared a leap
already, only not in his direction. As I sprung away, he continued, raising his
voice, “And you’re right, they’re not afraid of you.”
I landed with a tree between us. His magic wouldn’t be able
to snag me there. Unless he was very good at it.
“They’re afraid of what you represent.”
Continue the Thaumatropic
Roots Series
Magic is as
natural as breathing in Elliah’s world â except to her. Born without a single
spark in a war that runs on it, she has nothing but her will and her refusal to
accept the limits everyone else has already decided for her. This is what
happens when the world writes you out of the story, and you refuse to leave.
Get them:
The Guardian of the
Palace
The Guardian League Book 1
Part of the Fractured Arcana Universe
by Steven J. Morris
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Magic isnât real.
Red Hernandez is very sure of that.
She wants a quiet life after Special Forcesâjust a steady
security job at a half-finished Manhattan skyscraper.
But then a sister tower implodes in a way physics canât
explain.
Witnesses report creatures in the smoke.
And something hunts her in the tunnels beneath.
Red wants answers. What she gets instead is an elf with a
sword, a troll with a wry sense of humor, and a dwarf who believes every battle
requires an audience. They insist an ancient enemy has crossed into our
worldâand Red becomes an accidental gatekeeper simply because sheâs standing on
the fault line when it cracks open.
As a hidden war erupts in the shadows of New York City, Red
must decide: run from the past that nearly destroyed her⊠or fight for a world
sheâs only just beginning to believe in.
A veteran with
nothing left to lose.
A threat born of magic and shadow.
A team she never saw coming.
The Guardian of the Palace launches the
action-packed Guardian League seriesâperfect for fans of urban
fantasy, modern-world magic, found family, and heroines who refuse to back
down.
**Get it FREE!**
Prologue
Corpses patterned the ground as far as my eye could see, a
patchwork quilt of death.
I stood atop a skeletal tower, overlooking the broken ruins
of an ancient civilization, so very far from home. I envisioned the beauty that
the soaring arches once held, the bridges between the constructs reaching out
with broken arms, buildings leaning against one another like ancient lovers in
a final embrace. Crumbled remains powdered the bases of former statues, and,
everywhere, all of it was littered with the dead.
Like a phoenix, I stood, bathed in fire. An Angel of Death.
Not the Angel of Deathâhe was an ass.
A part of me wanted to go down and see for myself. Maybe
just to make sure⊠to make sure I had done my job⊠and killed everyone that
used to inhabit that world. The magic I was wielding should have destroyed them
allâsomething inside of me could feel that it hadâbut I wanted
to see it.
Yet I knew that was unrealistic. I didn’t have the time.
There were other worlds that needed my infection, and Earth was on my
shortlist.
Chapter 1
Red – Day 20, Sunday, the day after the attack
“Ms. Hernandez?” a muffled voice called from a
distance, accompanied by a gentle rapping on a door. My consciousness
registered the interruption as a nuisance and pulled me back under.
What seemed like seconds later, the rapping came again, more
insistent. “Ms. Hernandez.”
Ms. Hernandez was my mom⊠why were they bothering me?
Then a scraping sound, and an alarmed voice. “Ms.
Hernandez! Are you okay?”
Some scrambling, some grunts, more scraping⊠shit, I was
going to have to wake up. Why couldn’t they just let me sleep?
I tried to answer, but my throat was dry and nothing came
out. Coughing, I attempted to sit up, not wholly returned from my trip to
dreamland. “I’m here. I’m okay.” Was I though? I wasn’t sure.
I was in my flat. Not the desert. My door was partway open,
and a slightly overweight man had paused in the act of pushing his way in. I
recognized him, but his name escaped me. Swinging my legs off my cot, I did a
quick modesty check. I was fully dressed, though rather tragically, in some
semblance of civilian fatiguesâmuddied, disheveled, and a little bloody.
The reason came screaming back to me. There had been
creatures, unearthly monsters, in The Palace. They’d done things I
could not explain by any of the rules I knew. And they’d beaten the hell out of
me and then patched me back up in a matter of seconds. I’d blown the head clean
off of one of them and fled the scene.
#blogtour The Secrets of the Cryptids by Sharon Buchbinder
She never belonged
to the packâuntil fate led her to him.
Secrets of the
Cryptids
Cowboys and Cryptids Book 1
by Sharon Buchbinder
Genre: Paranormal Romance, Romantasy
She never belonged to
the packâuntil fate led her to him.
Cybersecurity expert Hayil Rufus Rose has spent her life hiding one impossible
truth: sheâs a werewolf who has never shifted, a failure by her packâs rules
and a woman on the brink of exile. A solo hike in Glacier National Park is
meant to clear her headâbut instead, a chance meeting with Will Penn, a guarded
federal agent with powerful instincts and secrets of his own, changes
everything.
As Hayil becomes entangled in a missing persons case involving Willâs brother,
she uncovers corruption, cartel money laundering, and violence threatening the
Blackfeet Nation. She forms an unexpected bond with a Bigfoot family, who are
not monsters, but an ancient people who recognize her latent power. Through
trauma, loyalty, and nearâfatal danger, Hayil finally undergoes her full
transformation, claiming her identity at last.
Secrets of the Cryptids launches a thrilling paranormal romance
series about found family, fierce hearts, and the courage it takes to become
who you were always meant to be.
Amazon * Books2Read * Bookbub
* Goodreads
Hayil had the advantage of
excellent night visionâsuper vision compared to other humans. Plus, she
possessed an almost uncanny ability to connect with most wild and domestic
animals. Hayil mentally grimaced. She could also thank her grandmother
for her long overdue ability to shift. What would it take to trigger her body
into the lupine version of herself? Was it like a growth spurt that hadnât hit
her body yet? Or was Hayil destined to remain the one person in her pack who
wasnât able to wolf out?
Once again, her motherâs
constant refrain came back to her: âYouâre a late bloomer, like your
grandmother. She was older than you when she shifted. All in good time.
Youâll see.â
Sure, Mom.
Hayil knew her mother
wanted the best for her, but found her cheerfulness a bit forced. Beneath her
motherâs optimism, Hayil sensed an undercurrent of concern about her
thirty-year-old daughterâs ability to integrate into the red wolf clan. This
missing piece of Hayilâs identity called to her like a sirenâs song, demanding
she complete herself. Would she ever be a true part of the pack? Or
would she forever be the unmated one? What then? She was an anomaly, something
the pack didnât tolerate well. Tradition dictated that if a pack member didnât
shift by the end of their third decade, they were banished.
A chilling thought struck
Hayil mid-stride.
If I donât
shift this year, will they force me out of the pack?
They were the only family
sheâd ever known. Her mother would fight for her to stay and would probably
win. But at what cost?
Hayil would be an outcast.
Sheâd never be invited to pack meetings, deliberations or celebrations. Those
were reserved for shifters. If she married a non-shifter, the pack would drive
her out, of that she was sure. What if her offspring were able to shift? Would
that make things better? Would the pack let her stay then? It wasnât as if she
could go to a genetic counselor and ask for a DNA test for werewolves.
The thought of losing her
extended family through no fault of her own made her gulp back tears. Angry at
herself for allowing her thoughts to go down that dark rabbit hole, Hayil
reminded herself she was a scientist. Review the facts, not the fears.
Fact one: Grandma had been
in labor with Hayilâs mother when sheâd shifted for the first time.
Fact two: The majority of
the pack members had shifted when theyâd hit puberty.
Fact three: Hormones! It
had to be related to hormones! The rush of hormones at puberty and the flood of
pregnancy hormones had to be related somehow.
Hayil was long past puberty
and the associated mood swings and acne, thank you very much. She was not ready
to be pregnant. For starters, she would need a romantic partner in her life.
Sheâd had zero luck on that score so far.
âI still have time. Itâs
not too late. I wonât give up hope.â
Shaking her head to clear
her mind, Hayil double-checked her wild animal deterrents. All in place.
Then she tugged her knit cap down over her ears and pulled her hands-free
headlamp into place. She zipped her fleece jacket against the breeze and
adjusted her twenty-five-pound backpack. With an altitude gain of almost
nineteen hundred feet, she planned to take her time, pacing herself for the
strenuous four-hour hike. She grasped her lightweight hiking poles and took a
last look up at the stars. Time to see that spectacular view at the top.
As promised by the trail
blog, the dirt path was well maintained. The morning air was cold and crisp,
layered with the woodsy scent of damp earth and pine needles. An owl hooted,
and Hayil spotted movement in the brush between the thick pines beside the trail.
Her headlamp reflected in the eyes of small critters, all of whom skittered
deeper into the woods.
For three hours, all she
heard was the crunch of her hiking boots on dirt and gravel, the rasp of her
own breaths, the glug of water when she drank and the jingle of her bear bells.
She looked at yet another incline on the trail and decided she needed a hiking
song for inspiration.
âCountry roads, take me
home,â she sang, belting out âMountain Mamaââand something crashed through the
bushes ahead on the trail. Something large.
She froze.
An enormous black bear
stood on its hind legs at the top of the hill.
Shit,
shit, shit. If only I could shift, shift, shift!
The animal had its back to
her, but if it got her scent, it could turn and charge at her in a flash.
Heart pounding like a
jackhammer, she placed her hand on the bear spray.
A breeze sprang up, making
her eyes water with its intensity. The good news was that it meant she was
downwind of the bear. The bad news was that the air smelled like a wet dog had
rolled in a dead animal. The worst news was that the bear turned and looked
right at her.
Omigod.
Itâs not a bear. What the heck is it?
Sharon Buchbinder is an award-winning author who has been
writing stories since she could hold a pen. The paranormal romance genre is her
writing home, a place where the impossible is simply the beginning, where women
find their power in the most extraordinary circumstances, and where love is
always worth the danger of seeking it.
A Maryland-based author with a background in healthcare and
higher education that has informed her vivid, grounded storytelling, Sharon is
drawn to heroines who have been underestimated â women who carry something
extraordinary inside them and spend the whole book learning to trust it. Sharon
believes passionately that readers deserve stories where the heroine doesnât
just survive â she transforms. When sheâs not writing, Sharon can
usually be found unplugging in her garden, obsessing over cryptid mythology,
and convincing her pets they are not, in fact, supernatural.
Website * Facebook * Instagram * Bluesky * Bookbub * Amazon
* Goodreads
Follow
the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!
Enter the Secrets of the Cryptids Giveaway Here
#blogtour Justice, or Something Like It by Doc Blalock
A private eye with a badge, a bottle, and a little bit of magicâŠ
Justice, Or Something
Like It
The Jake Bishop Files Book 2
by Doc Blalock
Genre: Noir Paranormal Sleuth Suspense
In Solomon City, everybody keeps secrets. Secrets are Jake
Bishopâs job.
When a harmless old drunk is caught standing over a corpse,
murder weapon in hand, the case looks open and shutâbut he wonât say why he
pulled the trigger. Just that it had to be done.
Bishop knows better. Digging deeper, he uncovers a blackmail
scheme, a shadow war in the Irish underworld, and a threat aimed at the one
person his old friend has left to loseâforcing Bishop to bend the law, and his
own conscience, to see something like justice done.
Amazon * Edgeweaver Books * Bookbub
* Goodreads
âSecrets.
Everyone has them. Some folks keep them for good and noble reasons, others, not
so much. All kinds of secrets. Personal, professional, valuable, harmful or
embarrassing. People will go to extremes to keep them safe. Some folks have
been willing to die for them. Some will kill to protect them. Iâm Jake Bishop,
private investigator. Secrets are my job.â
A Damned Dirty Thing
The Jake Bishop
Files Book 1
The explosion should have killed him . . .
Jake Bishop is back on the streets of Solomon City, ten
months after a mob bombing destroyed his office and murdered his partner and
secretary. But Bishop isnât just any private detectiveâheâs a âditch wizardâ
able to step through shadow and bend reality to his will.
When the beautiful and mysterious Portia Vance answers his
ad for a new secretary, Bishop thinks his luck might finally be changing.
Together, they begin hunting Vito Morelli, the mob boss who ordered the hit
that nearly ended Bishopâs life.
Their investigation leads them through the cityâs darkest
cornersâfrom strip clubs to shadow banking operations, from corrupt cops to
magical wards. But in a world where bullets and spells are equally deadly, and
where everyone has secrets worth killing for, Bishop discovers that the line
between hunter and hunted is thinner than he thought.
Some cases require a gun. Others need magic. This one
demands both.
In the shadows of Solomon City, justice comes with a
priceâand revenge wears a beautiful face.
A gritty noir fantasy that proves sometimes the most
dangerous magic is the human heart.
Christopher âDocâ Blalock is a US Navy veteran Corpsman and retired
counselor. He is a prolific fine artist, illustrator, musician, sculptor and
writer, cursed with the itch to create. He draws inspiration from sources
ranging from JRR Tolkien to Tom Clancy. He additionally draws from his love of
classic black-and-white noir films, infusing their moody aesthetic and
storytelling into his writing. A helpless coffee addict, he lives in the
Atlanta suburbs with his childhood sweetheart and a dog of dubious moral
character.
Website * Facebook * Facebook * X * X * Instagram * Amazon
Follow
the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!
Enter the Justice, Or Something Like It Giveaway
#blogtour The Healing Heart by Randa Knight
hardest, complete with a hilarious girl squad who keep it real, plenty of witty
banter, and a protective, “touch-her-and-die” Alpha hero fighting to
break his family’s curseâone swoon-worthy, heated night at a time.
The Healing Heart
Boys of Bragg Book 5
by Randa Knight
Genre: Military Romance
One tragedy changed everything.
Lizzy
One reckless night. One unforgettable taste of him.
The moment I broke my rules and gave in, I knew I was playing with fire. His
smoldering cerulean eyes and the way he whispered my name? Irresistible. He
didnât want foreverâbut I needed more.
Now, heâs back, acting like the boyfriend dreams are made of. Sweet. Attentive.
Protective. Maybe even ready to love me the way I crave.
But how do I trust a man whoâs made walking away into an art form?
Is a second chance worth the burn?
Josh
I left her. Not because I didnât want herâbut because I wanted her too much.
Marriage. Kids. The white picket fantasy. I told myself I couldnât be that manâŠ
because Iâm my fatherâs son. And he broke my mother in ways I can never forget.
So I let Lizzy go.
But fate had other plans. Now Iâm here, ready to fight for her, to protect
whatâs mineâwith teeth, fists, and fury if I have to.
She says she doesnât trust me.
But Iâll prove itâone kiss, one promise, one heated night at a time.
**Releases Sep 14 â PreOrder Now!**
âHey, did
you have a good run?â Lizzy asks, looking me up and down like Iâm a dessert she
canât wait to eat. I love that she canât hide how much she still wants me.
Maybe this
will be easier than I thought. âIt was⊠therapeutic.â She nods, knowing running
is how I clear my head. âIâm going to shower.â Smooth, dumbass. You have
better game than this.
But Lizzy
has always made me into a babbling idiot stumbling over my words. My therapist
told me itâs because I actually give a shit about Lizzy and care what she
thinks. Halfway down the hallway, I stop, remembering I decided to change
things with Lizzy, beginning with a date. âDo you have plans tonight?â
She glares
at me and snarks, âWhat, do you have a hot date and want the apartment to
yourself?â
I shouldnât
mess with her like this, but sheâs asking for it by thinking I would look at,
let alone be with, anyone but her. âWeeellll, Iâm not sure yet. It depends on
her.â
âSuch a
fucking gentleman. I can stay with Dee. Actually, I probably shouldâve moved
out by now. Iâll do that while youâre on your hot date.â Anger oozes from her
even though sheâs trying to hide it, but I know her too well. After slapping
her laptop closed, she heads to the guestroom, but I stop her when sheâs within
armâs reach.
Fuck. Iâm
messing this up already.
âI didnât
ask if you had plans, so youâd leave. The last thing I want is for you to leave
tonight⊠or any night. I was hoping you would be my hot date.â I brush
my palm against her cheek and see her take a deep breath. I havenât lost her
yet. I whisper, âIâm going to shower and get ready for this smokinâ hot blonde
who makes my heart race.â
âMakes your
heart race? Too bad itâs not enough for you to make a long-term commitment to
her.â
Wrapping my
arms around her, I breathe in her light scent and say in a gravelly voice, âIf
I did, sheâs the only one I would ever think about making any type of
commitment to.â
âIf. I canât
live in a world of ifs. I needââ
I interrupt
her with my lips. At first, her lips are stiff, but in mere seconds, she melts
into me. Thank God.
My body
relaxes into the kiss. Her lips soften and mold to mine, followed by her arms
gripping the bottom of my shirt, showing me sheâs trying not to get lost in
this kissâlost in us. She changes the kiss from soft and languid to desperate
and demanding as she slips her hand under my shirt, skimming her fingertips
along my abs.
I break the
kiss only so I can feast on her beautiful neck. I need to taste herâremind
myself of everything about her. Those subtle sighs. Quiet moans. How she melts
in my arms.
I should
stop us. Change our old patterns of falling into sex. But damn, I canât think
straight when she touches me. I always cave to her.
After Lizzy
pushes my shirt up, I whip it off and she immediately runs her hands up my
chest, causing my dick to become a steel rod. My lips continue to attack her
neck and suck on that little spot right below her earlobe. Working my way down
to her cleavage, pulling her tank top down, she gives me access to her
beautiful tits that I need to cherish and ravish. I wrap my mouth around her
nipple to suck, kiss, and flick her desire from her.
âI hate
you,â she moans, directing my head back to her mouth.
âI can tell
you hate me so damn much.â
âI hate how
sexy you look after a five-mile run.â
âTry
thirteen miles today since I couldnât get this gorgeous woman off my mind.â I
groan and swirl my tongue around her nipple, causing her to give me a long
moan.
Her fingers
dig into my hair, further turning me on. I love it when she marks me with her
nails, even when I used to get counseled and lectured for allowing my girl to
damage government property. Instead of telling her to stop or at least mark me
where my uniform covers, I rewarded her with more orgasms. I pray she does the
same tonight.
Switching to
the other side with the same fervor, I wrap her legs around my waist and grind
myself to her warmth. I can feel how turned on she is through her tiny athletic
shorts.
âI hate how
sweet you are to Cristian.â
âLetâs not
talk about our godson right now.â That kid has a knack for killing a boner.
Heâs been a cockblock a few times when we were babysitting him. My dick is
trained for Cristian being a no-fly zone until he goes to sleep.
âWe
shouldnâtââ
I interrupt
her with my lips, knowing sheâs trying to talk herself out of being with me in
any capacity. If we stop, she wonât go to dinner with me either. Sheâll shut me
out. I canât do that again. I need this woman with every fiber of my being.
As Iâm about
to roll my hip into hers, she pushes my shorts down, releasing my hard cock.
Her lust-filled eyes tell me what she wants from me, and no way am I going to
deny her anything. I have her shorts off in a matter of seconds. I almost shoot
my load when she wraps her hands around my dick, strokes me a few times, and
rubs me along her wetness. Fucking teasing me. I smirk, pulling her right
nipple into my mouth and doing a combination of flicking and sucking, which I
know drives her wild.
âI hate that
you know me so well.â
I thicken my
accent, knowing how much it turns her on. âBack at ya, darlinâ.â
She
continues rubbing my dick up and down her slit, but when she moves me down, I
slip into her completely, causing her nails to dig into my shoulders and down
my arms. I didnât realize her hands moved until I felt them. Yeah, thatâs
going to leave a mark.
âI
hateâright there, sexy⊠God, yesâhow you fuck me.â
âObviously,â
I say, kissing her neck. I can feel her tightening around me, and I pray I can
hold out until she finishes. Jesus, sheâs fucking heaven.
âI hateââ
âI hate how
much youâre talking.â
âThen shut
me up.â She flashes me a challenging look.
Donât miss the
other Boys of Bragg!
Find them on Amazon
Randa Knight was born and raised in a small town on the
Ohio/Indiana border. Her love of reading began when her grandmother curled up
together with a new book every weekend. She studied Literature with a Creative
Writing minor at Indiana University (Go Hoosiers!) where she fell in love with
writing. The idea for the Boys of Bragg series began during a creative writing
course and has evolved over the years.
Website * Facebook * X * Instagram * TikTok * Bookbub * Amazon
* Goodreads
Follow the blitz HERE for special content and a giveaway!
Enter The Healing Heart Giveaway Here
#blogtour Fireline by Peter Berk
A scientific experiment gone horribly wrong sends an
apocalyptic firestorm raging throughout the Eastern seaboard. If it reaches the
Atlantic, it might just be game over for the world.
Fireline
by Peter Berk
Genre: Action, Eco Thriller, Suspense
An unhinged scientist introduces a nano-based chemical
compound into the Potomac that’s designed to purify the world’s waterways but
that instead sets the river on fire and rapidly spreads directly toward
Manhattan, with only the young chemist who first warned against the experiment
the worlds best hope of stopping it.
Fireline takes us from the heart of Washinton, D.C. to the Statue of Liberty –
all of which are direclty impacted by an out-of-control firestorm snaking its
way to the Atlantic where it could go on to threaten every corner of the
world.
A science gone astray disaster novel, Fireline also touches on such timeless
themes as personal redemption, heroism in the face of seemingly insurmountable
obstacles, friendship and even father-son dynamics – all handled with touches
of humor and romance.
Peter Berk has written six novels, three TV pilots and
a dozen screenplays, including several with his father which became the basis
for the TimeLock series of novels. The original TimeLock novel
is a Finalist in the 2023
Chanticleer International Book Awards for Science Fiction, Mystery,
and Global Thrillers. TimeLock was also named as a Distinguished Favorite in the
TechnoThriller category of the 2024 Independent Press Award. TimeLock
2: The Kyoto Conspiracy was published in 2023 and the third book in
the series will be published by IngramElliott. Peter and his family live
in Southern California.
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Goodreads
#blogtour How do You Live without Love? By Anthony Bradshaw
A newly hired, grief-burdened local pastor relocates to
Asheville to revive a struggling Methodist church, only to collide with
small-town politics, scandal, and a media-fueled public crisis; his efforts to
build community and heal himself meet resistance, tragedy, and unexpected
solidarity.
How Do You Live
Without Love?
The Dying Church Series Book 1
by Anthony Bradshaw
Genre: Contemporary Fiction, Found Family
Wesley Aames shows up to New Covenant as a man who has
already lost everythingâwife, daughter, and the will to keep going. Hired to
revive a sleepy Appalachian church, he finds a congregation on life support:
dwindling funds, fractious trustees, and a choir director who distrusts the new
pastor from day one.
When a teenager dies by suicide and her mother’s humiliation
explodes online, Rosa Lee becomes a magnet for cameras and contempt. Wesley,
barely a pastor and twice a stranger to mercy, steps into the stormâcounseling
teens, calming old ladies, cutting the grass, answering crisis hotline
callsâtrying to make faith look like rescue instead of rhetoric.
As the church’s finances and patience run out, a vote looms:
keep the earnest, flawed pastor or replace him with steadier hands. But when
the outside world shows up with microphones and accusations. Wesley’s choices
become literal life or death. Can a man who still blames himself for his
family’s deaths save strangersâand in doing so, finally forgive himself? This
is a story about grief, messy grace, and the small acts that sometimes hold a
town together.
**Only .99cents!**
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* Goodreads
Wesley
walked today rather than ran. Too tired to run, he needed time for
introspection, processing, and perhaps a re-balancing of his inner psyche. He
had always prided himself on his self-control and equilibrium. Rarely did he
lose his temper or act without thought. Wesley started the play list that
featured Janiva Magness and walked the streets of Asheville with her sultry
voice soothing his savage breast.
Then
Wesley saw him. The ugliest, mangiest looking dog Wesley ever. The few spots
where he had hair were brown. One leg was missing. One ear looked chewed off
and the way he cocked his head made Wesley think the dog was blind in one eye.
âHey there,â Wesley said. The dog took a step back. Wesley kneeled on the damp
ground. âHey boy.â
The
dog held his ground this time. He cocked his head and watched Wesley with his
good eye. Using the universal and timeless signal between dogs and the people
they owned everywhere, Wesley clucked his tongue. The dogâs one good ear
twitched. A little.
Turning
around, Wesley took a few steps away from the three-legged, one-eyed, one-eared
dog and whistled. The dog barked. Wesley kept walking. The dog barked again.
Twice. Louder this time. Wesley turned back and looked at the dog. âCome on, if
you want to,â said Wesley with a smile. The dog barked at Wesley, and then he
trotted to where Wesley stood, looked up at him and barked. Man and dog walked
the streets of Asheville.
Back
at the parsonage, Wesley knew he would be late for work, but he did not care.
The dog needed to eat.
âAs
funny as it would be to watch you eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, how
about I give you corned beef hash? Itâs canned. I havenât had time to make
freshâbut I will, I promise. Just for you. Well, and me. Iâll have some of this
as well for my breakfast. You wonât care if I heat it or not. So, letâs rough
it and eat it straight out of the can. You know, like the cavemen did.â The dog
sat back on his one good haunch and waitedâlike dogs do.
âHere
you go, pal.â Wesley spooned half of the can onto a paper plate. âYou know,
missing a couple body parts like you do, looks like you have stories to tell.
You may be the luckiest dog alive.â Wesley kept up a constant stream of chatter
to put the dog at ease. The dog barked and moved closer. Wesley took the
opportunity, while the dog devoured his food, to check the dogâs collar and
tag.
âGeorge.â
The
dog stopped eating, backed up, and growled.
Wesley
looked at the dog and said it again. âGeorge.â
The
dog growled and barked. It was a different bark from any of the earlier barks.
Wesley
pointed at the collar and tag. âThe tag says your name is George,â reasoned
Wesley.
George
growled and barked.
Wesley
squatted and clicked his tongue. âCome here, boy.â
He
placed a slight emphasis on the last word. George wagged his tail and inched
close enough to resume eating, which he did.
âGeorge,â
said Wesley. âGeorgeâ backed up a few feetâout of Wesleyâs reach. His one good
eye darted between Wesley and the half-eaten corned beef hash.
âCome
here.â Wesley clicked his tongue.
The
dog stared at Wesley for a moment before coming close enough to eat his few
remaining bites.
âWell,
it looks like you donât care much for your old name. I bet I can call you
anything if I feed you. How aboutâŠLucky?â
Wesley
looked over âLuckyâsâ three-legged, one-eared, and one-eyed body and just shook
his head at the irony of calling this dog âLucky.â That sealed it. âI wonder if
you only have one nostril working?â Wesley laughed. âYou oughta see the other
dog, huh? Right, Lucky?â
Wesley
kneeled and scratched behind the dogâs good ear and repeated his new name â
Lucky. Before Wesley left for work, he pulled up the picture of his family on
his cell phone and introduced the newest member of his family to the picture of
his wife and daughter.
Lucky
finished the can of cold corned beef hash and drank water from the empty can.
I’ve had several “careers.” I’ve taught robotics;
been a hospital administrator, served in the National Guard, bussed tables and
flipped burgers. Above all else, I am a husband, father, and grand-pere’. I am
a native of North Carolina and currently reside near Asheville.
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