Centuries ago, the world fell. From the ashes rose a terrible new species—the Tangata. Now they wage war against the kingdoms of man. And humanity is losing.
Recruited straight from his academy, twenty-year-old Lukys hopes the frontier will make a soldier out of him. But Tangata are massing in the south, and the allied armies are desperate. They will do anything to halt the enemy advance—including sending untrained men and women into battle. Determined to survive, Lukys seeks aid from the only man who seems to care: Romaine, the last warrior of an extinct kingdom.
Meanwhile, the Queen’s Archivist leads an expedition deep beneath the earth. She seeks to uncover the secrets of the Gods. Their magic has been lost to the ages, yet artifacts remain, objects of power that could turn the tide of the war. But salvation is not all that waits beneath the surface. Something else slumbers in the darkness. Something old. Something evil.
Ancient civilizations, parallel worlds, aliens, time travel, epic fantasy, dragons and college! The Everville series can be read as stand-alone novels and have it all for teens, new adults, and all ages alike.
Two very different worlds, Easton Falls University and the magical realm of Everville are in dire need of a hero. Owen Sage embarks on an epic journey of monumental proportions to save these worlds all while fighting to keep the world within himself intact. This quest is not for the faint of heart nor is it for the weak of mind—only the bravest will succeed. Discovering the well-kept secret of The Fourth Pillar of Truth is only part of the feat. Owen will have to outwit the ever-powerful villain Governor Jahal and overcome countless other challenges along the way.
Mike Nolan grew up in the deprivation of post- war Britain. As a young man he had a dream that somehow became a reality; to live his life on the high seas to indulge his passion for all things nautical. Eclectic employment as a musician, a hod carier, butler and boatbuilder meant that Nolan’s life never confirmed to a nine to five existence. All the while the call of the sea, like a siren, was impossible to resist. His life as a sailor, fulfilled his wildest dreams but saw him hit by a series of catastrophes, including hurricanes and a violent shipwreck. On a more positive note, he did at least manage to save both his wife and her cat! This is a rags to riches story with a sharp sting in its tale.
It was a warm, balmy evening as we had just watched a dazzlingly beautiful sunset, the bright crimson globe had just dipped below the horizon, as the last haze of daylight surrendered to the night, it became dark almost instantly, as there is very little twilight in the Caribbean, we were en route to St Maarten, having left the anchorage at Guadeloupe in the Caribbean Sea.
Our ship, Hafan-Y-Mor, was an 85 ft LOA Brigantine Schooner. She was our home, as well as providing us with an income, she was the end result of many years of blood, sweat, and tears. All of the sacrifices and effort that we had put into this project was now being repaid in spades. All our hopes and aspirations had come to fruition, and the dream that had been mine for many years was now being shared with Viv. Our future prospects were looking more positive after a couple of successful charters, we were living the dream.
We were running the ship with a crew of four on this particular passage, this was fine for short island hopping. Viv and myself were accompanied by Molino, a South American sailor on his way to St Maarten, along with Magnus a young Swede; these guys were working and paying for their passage.
All was well after completing my evening rounds. Magnus and I went below, Molino was on the helm, he spotted a red light, he called me, I came up on deck to take a look, using the trusted, mark one eyeball and a hand-bearing compass. I was sure that this was the island of Nevis. I went below to the Nav station, checked the chart, and the Satnav confirmed it was Nevis. The chart stated that an all round red light signalled that it was the harbour at Charlestown, we were about two miles distant. I told Molino to keep the light on his starboard side, visible between the mainmast and the shrouds. I returned to our cabin. Suddenly, I heard, and felt, a sickening grinding crunch as the ship lost all forward movement and it stopped. I quickly scrambled up the companionway out on to the deck. I looked puzzlingly at the strange angle of the rigging. My mind would not register the severe degree of the list of the deck. Somehow Molino had driven the ship onto the reef. Instinctively, I knew that the dream had been well and truly shattered, and that it had turned into my worst nightmare.
Before Roxy found herself “Single in Buenos Aires,” she was a single girl in London in search of true love. The third installment of The Polo Diaries series takes us back to that time, and we follow Roxy as she hires a love coach to help her navigate the dating scene. But the love coach comes up with an unexpected assignment: reconnect to a long-forgotten passion. For Roxy this means horses. Within weeks, she finds herself playing polo, thanks to a series of unforeseen events.
Torn between her desire to become the best polo player she can be and the dream of falling in love, Roxy steps fully into the exciting and demanding world of polo, where injury and recovery mix with hard training, and where celebrating the victory of a tournament comes at a high price. Will Roxy eventually become the polo player she dreams to be? And with polo being such a demanding sport, can there be any space left for love?
She wondered what Mr. MacCallum-Blair would be like. Late fifties, she thought, balding, with a large stomach and a pinstripe suit. Or perhaps fortyish with longish hair and lurid ties, a live-in girlfriend who works in advertising or as a model, and….
Jill was so busy conjuring up her new boss’s lifestyle that she had passed the number before she realised it. She quickly doubled back and ran up the broad steps to the entrance to number 76. According to the nameplate, MacCallum-Blair Enterprises was on the first floor. She buzzed and gave her name, then waited for the click of the door’s release.
She ran up the stairs and, as she turned to climb the final flight, she was surprised to see a woman sitting at a desk at the top of the stairs, watching her ascent.
‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘I take it you’re from the agency?’
‘Yes, I’m Jill Kennedy.’
The woman nodded. ‘Take a seat,’ she said, gesturing at an armchair in the corner next to a coffee table of glossy magazines.
Like an upmarket dentist’s, Jill thought, and I feel exactly as if I was going to have several teeth pulled.
The phone rang and, while the woman answered it, Jill took the opportunity to size her up. After all, she would probably be working quite closely with her. Early forties, neatly dressed in a dark blue trouser suit, with a pale lilac patterned blouse and wedding and engagement rings. Not the boss’s fancy woman. Probably the PA she was replacing had that role. Or maybe Mr. MacCallum-Blair was happily married. Here’s hoping, at any rate. She didn’t fancy having to cope with amorous advances as well as the new workload.
‘Mr. MacCallum-Blair will see you now.’ The woman pointed to a dark wooden door. ‘Just go in. He’s taking a call at the moment, but he won’t be long.’
Jill tapped on the door and went in. The room was dominated by two long picture windows, through which Jill could see the trees in the private gardens. A nice outlook for the boss then. In front of the windows was a wide, old-fashioned desk with a very modern laptop sitting on it. Mr. MacCallum-Blair had swivelled his chair round to face out of the window while he took the call. While he ummed and said ‘Right’ and ‘Fine’ to his caller, Jill took the opportunity to admire the high ceiling decorated with an elaborate cornice of grapes, vine leaves, and flowers, and a centrepiece, similarly decorated, surrounding the base of a chandelier.
It’s stunning, she thought, as she admired the crystal pendants waterfalling from their fixture. The light from the windows caught them, and glints flashed around the ceiling and walls. She was enchanted.
‘Good God, not you,’ said a voice.
Ann Burnett has been writing for many years and covers many genres. She wrote Postman Pat stories for a comic for five years, adapted Moomin stories as picture books, and scripted over 100 programmes for BBC children’s TV and radio. She also writes short stories and articles and has even tried poetry and drama!
Her latest writing is a contemporary romance, Festival Fireworks, for Ladybug Publications.
She was once almost sold to a Masai warrior for two cows but was only saved because her husband wouldn’t have been able to get the cows on the plane home!
A Magic Circle wizard has been brutally killed on the English south coast.
Sam Franklin, Pagoda and Meyra are on the case; as a cat, Pagoda would rather get into the case and have a nap.
Sam’s a senior wizard who doesn’t want to follow in the dead man’s footsteps; Meyra’s still struggling to fit into our world.
They walk on and under the mean streets of Brighton, hunting the killer (and the missing body). They find a whole lot more: a murderous dark magic conspiracy preying on the poor and vulnerable in our society, a werewolf with exquisite dentistry, a goblin fatale and a sat-nav with serious personality issues.
This fur-raising adventure will introduce you to the dark corners of our world where magic works and the monsters often wear nicely tailored suits.
PAGODA CAT [allowing Sam the privilege of sharing her mind to experience her burglary]
The Commune begins.
The alleyway running behind the target. Sweep along it. Take in the oozing bin smells and the acrid spilt beer and ammonia.
A Dog. Careers from behind a rubbish bag, comes to a halt, teeth bared, low growl. Jack Russel? Terrier? More like a Pickandmix. Only one ear. Seriously? Do you want to keep that one? Thought so. Yes, that’s it: run away, little boy. A hiss. Just to make sure.
Back of the target building. No sound.
Switch into the embrace of Cat-time, each moment luxurious and plush.
Risk assessment. Tail setting: Cautious.
Squirm through a tight hole to get in. Take care not to ruffle any fur. The human cage…office…is cramped for humans, cavernous for me, the main shop visible through the connecting door. No humans in this room. No guard dogs. Perfect.
And close by?
The black-haired one with the orange split ends: Derek. In the front of the shop talking to an adult human devoid of fur. Humans all look the same, the only way to tell them apart is usually their fur. And how they smell. Derek now exudes spilled korma, adding to his earlier sandalwood; the other human a mixture of sweat and golden retriever. Nothing sinister about him, apart from the Reek of Dog.
No immediate danger. Ignore both.
Look around. Prioritise.
In the corner: there’s something. Food or potential food? Everything is one or the other. Tuna…skipjack…“Seriously Special” brand…Sniff. No more than six hours and seventeen minutes on the floor. Stored between two brown triangles. Must be a clue. Yum. It’s food. Not a clue. Glad that’s resolved. No need for fingerprint evidence.
Video camera mounted on the ceiling. Slowly whirring from side to side covering the front of the shop. Sit and watch it. Side to side, side to side, side to side, side to side…
No sign of a burglar alarm.
Something on the desk. A screen. Alert! There’s another smaller Derek. Here! Trapped in the screen! Talking to another furless human! Tail to Medium since they are only small. Why are there two Dereks and two furless humans? Why is one pair smaller? Is there no end to human trickery? The small ones copy the big ones. Better keep watch on all four. Tail back down to Cautious.
A dull grey tower against the wall with evenly spaced bars for humans to grip and pull so they will slide out. Intriguing, but human thumbs are required. Ignore.
A human litterbox in a small separate room. Marking their territory: a faint trace of something trying to be lemon, but mostly pure human den. Enough layers to keep feline historians busy for a loooong time. Fascinating but distracting: my pedigree etiquette would demand way too much self-grooming afterwards. I don’t have enough tongues…
Oooh! A roll of tape. All shiny and pretty. Potential food? Better chase it around, and – there you go – toss it up and attack it. Hah! Now, leave it alone. Leave it. Leave it. Wait for it. Wait…Re-trace steps up to it From A Completely Different Direction and then: Hah again! Victory!
Hold on, the front door is closing. The big and small shinyhead humans have both gone. Two Dereks left. Where’s that tape gone?
Uh-oh. Big Derek is coming. Getting bigger with every step. And the little one, also getting bigger. Seems to be climbing out of that screen.
Be even cuter, in case either notices. Prepare to widen eyes to Very Big Indeed. That usually works. And, as a precaution, set tail to Bushy and Menacing. Maybe leave the tape alone for now.
Time to go. Can’t fight both Dereks. Sidle away in orderly retreat. Out through that gap in the back wall. Into the alleyway. Stop and catch breath. Reset. Time to look unruffled and immaculate…Outstanding.
Has the Pickandmix come back for more? No? Splendid. (And slightly disappointing.)
Hungry now. Sleepy, too. So: all systems normal.
But must wait until back with Him. Us? It’s the deal.
This novel reflects on the rumours and theories surrounding a number of real-life events, including the death of the Duke of Kent and the aircraft crashes of Short Sunderland W4032 and Avro Anson DJ106.
Wing Commander Robert Sutherland has left his days as a pre-war detective far behind him. Or so he thinks. On 25 August 1942 the Duke of Kent, brother of King George VI, is killed in northern Scotland in an unexplained air crash; a second crash soon after suggests a shared, possibly sinister, cause. Bob Sutherland is tasked with visiting the aircraft’s base in Oban and the first crash site in Caithness to gather clues as to who might have had reason to sabotage one, or both, of the aircraft.
Set against the background of a country that is far from united behind Winston Churchill, and the ever-present threat from the enemy, we follow Bob as he unravels layers of deceit and intrigue far beyond anything he expects.
The world’s first earth-orbit passenger plane, the sensational Celeste Three, takes off from its base in Arizona, also the only place where it is designed land. On a routine flight the craft disappears.
On board is Viktor Karenkov, billionaire oil magnate who has used his wealth to evade prosecution for a murder he committed years earlier. Gregory Topozian, the murdered man’s friend, has been waiting for a chance to bring Karenkov to justice. With dogged determination and considerable ingenuity, he conceives an audacious plan.
Getting the craft down in total secrecy is key. And someone has to pay the huge costs involved.
Fran hates her hometown, and she thought she’d escaped. But her father is ill, and needs care. Her relationship is over, and she hates her dead-end job in the city, anyway.
She returns home to nurse her dying father, her distant teenage daughter in tow for the weekends. There, in the sleepy town of Ash Mountain, childhood memories prick at her fragile self-esteem, she falls in love for the first time, and her demanding dad tests her patience, all in the unbearable heat of an Australian summer.
As past friendships and rivalries are renewed, and new ones forged, Fran’s tumultuous home life is the least of her worries, when old crimes rear their heads and a devastating bushfire ravages the town and all of its inhabitants…
Josie James is an ordinary 13-year-old until something extraordinary happens during her summer holidays. Whilst staying at her Great Grandmother’s cottage in the country she finds herself swept into the cursed world of Suncroft where it is perpetual winter. Her new friends believe she could be the Chosen One who it is foretold will lift the curse, but there are more pressing matters. The Teardrops of Summer – magical crystals that render the owner immortal – have been stolen. Along with her telepathic husky-dog Protector Asher and her new friends, Josie must race to find the Teardrops and prevent catastrophe for their world.
In this chapter, we are starting to learn more about why Josie is the chosen one. Here is where she first meets Asher and realises she can hear his voice.
Josie watched Murphy walked towards him as if summoned.
“I’ve never seen a Husky so big.” Josie was still in awe of Murphy’s size.
“As you can see, Murphy here has the same green eyes as my crystal and if you look at his tail…” Her grandad held his crystal against Murphy. It was an exact match to the black tear drop shape on his tail. “Most Protectors are born and bred in Suncroft, their special gift, like ours, being passed down through the generations. But occasionally one is found in your world.”
With these words a red bundle of fluff raced into the room and launched itself onto Josie’s lap, licking her face and nuzzling her ears. Murphy placed one of his huge paws on its back and suddenly it sat down, green eyes staring intently at Josie.
“Asher is the name, protecting is the game.” Josie could hear a voice with a strong Cockney accent echoing inside her brain. She shook her head in disbelief and looked around the room, bewildered. “It’s me talking, well not talking, oh you know what I mean.” Josie looked at the small Husky sitting on her lap. It appeared to be smiling at her.
“Erm…” Josie looked over to her nan and grandad who had leaned forward in their seats, a look of anticipation on their faces. Even Murphy looked like he was waiting with baited breath. “He says his name is Asher?” Her grandad suddenly leapt up, a huge smile on his face.
“Oh Josie, you don’t know how good it is to hear you say that.” He hugged her tightly. “This is Asher, as you know. He was found in London a few weeks ago after Murphy sensed him and we just knew he was meant for you.” Josie scrutinised the puppy. He was about six months old but already quite large. His fur was long, fluffy and a deep auburn colour. His tummy and legs were a dark cream and like Murphy he had a black tear drop on his tail. “We’ve been waiting for you to be old enough to understand and also to see if you were the one we all hoped you were.”
There’s a follow up, if you’re interested in this one.
Josie James and The Velvet Knife
“For you to find the Velvet Knife, you must solve the riddles thrice.” A mysterious hooded figure, known only as the Velvet Knife has appeared in the cursed village of Suncroft. No one knows who he is or what he wants but when he starts leaving riddles around the village, it is time for Josie to return to Suncroft for a second time. With Asher, her faithful husky Protector by her side, Filan, a half elf, and her great grandad, will they be able to solve the clues in time and discover his identity? The Velvet Knife is not the only one causing problems for Josie. Her rival for the position of the ‘Chosen One’ continues to grow stronger, and now he has a Protector of his own. What does all this mean for Josie? Is she destined to lift the wintery curse of Suncroft or will another take her place as the ‘Chosen One’?
Lily Mae Walters chose her pen name in honour of her beloved grandparents who also stare in the Josie James series.
She is married with two teenage children, and two huskies that are the inspiration behind Murphy and Asher in the books.
Lily Mae lives in Nuneaton, England and finds herself using local places and even her old school in her stories.
Family and friends mean the world to Lily Mae and many will find themselves popping up throughout the series.
Lily Mae also writes for adults under the name of Florence Keeling.