Peter

Chapter 4

Portland, Oregon

October 22nd

Afternoon Hours

I sauntered out of the school building with my friends in tow and pulled on a thickly woven hat to cover my fluffy flaxen hair, which was bound to be frolic even in the mildest of breezes. I took a deep breath and scrutinized my immediate surroundings, noticing an armada of clouds scudding across the sky. It was a rather blustery day. The shrewd, trilling wind had all but divested the converging trees off their multicolored leaves, pasting them on the glossy asphalt and graffiti adorned walls across the road. My spirits were quickly heightened by this observation, and I suddenly felt rejuvenated after a long and taxing day at school. I didn’t know why, but the afternoon’s indolent weather appealed to me very much. I found it to be a congenial environment. For unexplainable reasons, I felt like I was caught amidst a fairytale. It was this eerie feeling which came and went on a whim. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Perhaps it was triggered by the subconscious mind brushing against a collage of subliminal memories, which stopped resurfacing partway through the process.

Anyhow, there I was, enjoying the warm and soporific touch of the autumn sun on my face, engaging in introspective thoughts of adolescent nature when Max Cornwell, a close, meddlesome friend of mine, called me from my rhapsodic dream with a sharp nudge in the ribs.

‘Hey, man! You daydreaming?’

I closed my eyes; feeling a little peeved, took a long drag of the wakening fresh air and gave him a negative response by shaking my head.

‘Feel sick or something?’ he persisted.

I wished he would stop harping on me, but it looked like Max had no intention of letting me enjoy my moment of glee, so I withdrew by tartly saying, ‘No, I’m all right.’

‘Hey, check this out,’ said George Whitmore,–who was another pal of mine–wedging himself between me and Max. He held a folded twenty dollar bill in his hand, and his ecstatic facial expression suggested that he had just chanced upon the find by sheer luck.

‘Is that yours?’ I asked, knowing very well that it wasn’t.

‘No, I found it on the floor of the auditorium. Just seconds before the last period ended.’

‘Then perhaps you should report your discovery to the lost and found. I’m sure they’ll know what to do with it there.’

‘Yeah, right. That’s exactly what I’m going to do,’ he said, snorting derisively. He then added in a somewhat defensive tone, as if trying to convince himself more than anyone else, ‘I found it, so it’s mine–right?’

I considered pointing out that his intentions were tantamount to theft, but shrugged it off instead, and followed the wrought-iron fence verging the school grounds before exiting by the small postern. I was in no mood for an argument, feeling too tired to do anything other than run a bath and soak in it. Therefore, I expunged the matter from my mind, bid goodbye to both George and Max and plunged into the small gathering of trees and brush which we, the kids, had dubbed the Mini Forest. It was seldom traveled by anyone, but we called it that because of its size, which was way too small to be an actual forest, and a trifle too large to be called otherwise.

I was whistling a merry tune, and wending my way home with a spring in my step, when my ears abruptly pulled back in fright. All of a sudden, I couldn’t help but feel as if I was being watched. But that wasn’t all. I felt like someone was trying to look inside of me. Right into me. As if they were rummaging in my soul, searching its every nook and cranny, trying to fish up my deepest fears and darkest secrets. It was equivalent to being stripped naked in front of a large audience. Steeling myself for something ugly, I felt the first stirrings of unease.

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Genre – Young-adult, Action and Adventure, Coming of Age, Sci-fi

Rating – PG-13

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Connect with  Ramz Artso on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://ramzartso.blogspot.com/

* * * * *

The coronation banquet is held at Westminster Hall. The food arrives late and is cold, the grease settled. Her uncle Lancaster stands up with a mouthful of goose and shows the assembly that the meat is raw before hurling a haunch of seared and bleeding beef at an usher.

There is no shortage of wine and the several of the guests become bawdy. Her brother Charles approaches her with her uncles and indicates that it is time to leave. Edward has his arm around Gaveston, and their fingers are intertwined. They have no eyes for anyone else. Gaveston kisses his cheek.

“Have you not a care?” the Earl of Lincoln shouts at him and has to be restrained. The King hardly notices.

They retire to an antechamber. Valois has a servant fetch him wine.

“I was once on crusade in Outremer,” Evreux says. “I was lost in the desert among some brute Germans who could do no more than grunt at each other and because we starved we ate one of the camels raw. Even so, the company and the food was better than it was tonight.”

Valois props himself in a window seat and stares at the river, in a sulk.

She hears it described how the king allowed Gaveston to prepare both the coronation and the feast. They all count both a disaster. “Did you see the tapestry he prepared for the occasion?” Charles says to Valois. “It had Gaveston’s arms beside the king’s. It should have been my sister’s arms placed there. He has insulted our entire family!”

The door bursts open and Lancaster stamps in. “He couldn’t organize a fuck in a barrel full of whores.” Valois nods towards Isabella and Lancaster’s face turns pink. “Your grace,” he says and bows. “I did not see you.” But he is only off his stride for a moment. “Did you see what he wore?”

Isabella stares at the floor. She has never heard language as ripe as this. This has been altogether an interesting day. “I need to get out of this damned country.” Evreux mutters.

“Why is everyone so angry?” Isabel asks him.

“No one is allowed to wear purple but the king!” Lancaster shouts at her before remembering himself and lowering his voice. “Look at me! Is gold not good enough for him as well? And he dares hold the Confessor’s crown! Is he high born? Is he noble? The privilege should have been mine or Warwick’s!”

“We sympathize with your plight,” Charles says. “But let us desist. We are upsetting my sister.”

“He has insulted her as well.”

“I agree.”

“Are you not vexed?”

“Vexed? I am ready to do murder. But one wonders if that would be a wise course. This is not our realm.”

Lancaster stamps across the room and pounds a fist against the wainscoting. It causes it to dent and splinter. “Did you see them sitting there, staring at each other?”

“Will you all please explain to me what is happening?” Isabella says.

They all look at her. The child can speak. But how can she understand? There is a long and difficult silence. They all wait for one of the others to do the talking.

Finally Charles sits down beside her and picks up her hand. “We are shamed that he pays his favourite more attention that you”

“Who is this Gaveston, where he is from?”

“He is a Gascon, a squire in the former king’s household. They grew up together. They became close friends.”

“Close!” Lancaster snorted.

“I heard his mother was burned as a witch,” Valois said, still looking out of the window.

“There is no truth in that rumour,” Evreux says. “The plain facts about him are bad enough without making up falsehoods.”

“Why does he favour him above anyone else?” Isabella asks them.

More looks. Charles waits for Valois to help him but he joins Evreux by the window. Lancaster shrugs and turns away. “Do not fret, Isabella. This shall not stand. He shall give you the respect that is your due.”

“I shall go to my knees tonight and ask the Virgin for guidance in this,” Isabella says.

“Then you shall not be the only one on your knees when the candles are out,” Lancaster says and walks out, leaving behind an embarrassed silence.

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Genre – Historical Fiction

Rating – PG-13

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Connect with Colin Falconer on Facebook & Twitter

Website https://colinfalconer.wordpress.com/

Rachel: A rock star. Her albums go multi-platinum overnight. She was sixteen when she had her first hit, more than ten years ago. She grew up under the scrutiny of the media. It is time for her to break out from under the shadow of her infamous Svengali ex-boyfriend/manager. She tires of the good girl image and wants to change, get dirtier, sexier. Enter Brandon.

Brandon: A playboy artist. His paintings demand almost unheard of prices at auction, but it’s his escapades away from the easel that garner the biggest headlines. He is a favorite of the tabloids and the paparazzi. A manipulator, he has used the publicity to drive up the prices of his work. If the tabloids are to be believed, he has slept his way through Hollywood’s A-list. The very definition of bad boy. He tires of the game.

Both incredibly damaged, can they heal each other or will they part lonelier and more broken than when they first came together?

This is a rock star erotic romance written by a man with a male point of view. This is how the guy is really thinking and feeling.

Icarus Rising is the first of a trilogy, but it stands as a novel by itself.

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Genre – Erotic Romance

Rating – R

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Connect with Rob Manary on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://robmanary.com/

10 Things You Didn’t Know About Arthur J. Gonzalez

Here are some quirky/funny/nerdy facts about little ol’ me.

1. I spoke at both my high school and college graduation

2. I’m extremely clumsy and goofy (Friends call me to Phil Dunphy – from Modern Family) -__-

3. I was on MTV’s Say What Karaoke my senior year of high school – I would post it if I could

find the video, I promise.)

4. Volunteered in Haiti a month after the 2010 earthquake (Life-Changing Experience!)

5. Owned a Health Care company

6. I don’t like roller coasters

7. I’m obsessed with Aladdin

8. I get all the words to every song wrong (literally, EVERY song)

9. I’m uncoordinated and horrendous at sports (I’m warning you, if I’m ever on the sidelines to

be chosen to play for a team, choose me last!)

10. I went to school to be a doctor (I know, right?!)

To find out even more, and/or sign up to my mailing list for up-to-date information, exclusive reads and cover reveals, and special giveaways, go here: www.arthurjgonzalez.com/contact

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Genre - Young Adult Science Fiction

Rating – PG

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Connect with Arthur J. Gonzalez on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.arthurjgonzalez.com/

*

Jez was already fit, an excellent shot, and he could fight – or at least that’s what he’d thought. But after more than six months of intensive training with Spetsnaz, he realized he’d only been scratching the surface.

He’d not long been back from an exercise in Northern Siberia and he was tired, dirty. They’d given him a tent, a knife, no food, and enough clothes to keep out the brutal weather conditions – barely. When they dropped him off in the middle of nowhere, the unit sergeant shouted, “Let’s see if you can find your way out of this,” and drove off laughing – all part of the process.

He’d lived off the land for three weeks before he got back to base, and the first thing on his list was to shower. He soaked up the tepid water until his skin wrinkled, and then he dressed. No sooner was that done than a soldier pushed the tent flap back. “The sergeant wants you,” he said, and left without another word.

“You want to see me, Sergeant?” Jez said, going into the unit commander’s tent.

“Yes, come in, Kornfeld. Colonel Petrichova has looked at feedback on your performance since you’ve been with us.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Jez said.

His time had come and he’d be on his way again, he was sure. He only wished he could tell Anna, and wondered where she would be now. Perhaps she’d already set out plans for world domination. He smiled inwardly.

“I don’t know what world affairs you keep up with, Kornfeld, but the Greek communist party, the KooKooEh, is at civil war with the conservatives.”

“Yes, Sergeant, I know about as much of the situation as is made public.”

“Good, because that was about as much as I was going to tell you. Pack your kit, soldier, you’ll be flying out to join your new unit in about four hours.”

“Sergeant!”

*

Set against the backdrop of Soviet, post-war Russia, Birth of an Assassin follows the transformation of Jez Kornfeld from wide-eyed recruit to avenging outlaw. Amidst a murky underworld of flesh-trafficking, prostitution and institutionalized corruption, the elite Jewish soldier is thrown into a world where nothing is what it seems, nobody can be trusted, and everything can be violently torn from him.

Buy Now @ Amazon, B&N, Kobo & Waterstones

Genre - Thriller, Crime, Suspense

Rating – R

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Connect with Rik Stone on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://rik-stone.simdif.com

It’s almost dinner time so I get ready. My dress is scarlet, short, strappy and figure-hugging, my heels are sling-back stilettos, my lipstick is porn-star red. I look in the mirror and smile. Then I kiss the mirror and say, ‘You’re smoking, Delilah!’ Finally I’m confident enough to face everyone at the dinner table.

Five minutes later, I yank off my dress, kick off my heels and hurriedly wipe off my lipstick. ‘You look like a tart!’ I say to myself, my confidence shaky again.

In just my bra and panties I sit on my bed and ruin a good manicure with my teeth. This is so not me. But then I remember the FBI, the freedom of the villagers, my grandchildren and its back to my slutty dress, my hooker heels and my porn-star lip gloss.

I’m late for dinner so I hurry along. They better notice. Diablo better notice – these stilettos are pinching my toes. How the hell does Paris walk in six inch heels with such ease?

The moment I enter the dining room, conversation ceases. Diablo slowly rises to his feet, mouth agape.

Easier than I thought. Suppressing a smile, I take my seat.

Everyone is staring. I’m somewhat pleased. Embarrassed, but secretly thrilled. I’ve never been able to bring conversation to a halt before.

Christa eyes me, a fixed smile to her garnet lips. ‘Gringa is looking very … different today,’ she scoffs, her eyes sweeping over me.

Bitchface is talking to me? I didn’t know we are on speaking terms again after she whipped my ass and incapacitated me for three weeks. And how come Diablo has just forgiven her like that? I got a good mind to break her other leg with my stilettos.

‘Why? You going to a ball or something, eh gringa?’

Lots of laughter around the table. Santana’s laugh dominates.

Suddenly, I feel like an idiot and I resist the urge to run back to my room.

Using my middle finger (A move I learnt from Paris) I slowly move my hair aside from my heavily made up face and smile sweetly. Usually, I’d use my middle finger differently.

‘I sure am,’ I say, in what I hope is a Marilyn Monroe voice – you know – soft, breathy. ‘And …’ I look at Diablo from under my lashes, ‘I’m taking Diablo with me, so don’t wait up, ’cos we may be late.’

‘Oooooh!’ the men chorus, while Christa slams back in her chair, a granite look in her eyes. Bet that’s not the response she expected?

Santana picks at the table with her steak knife.

Diablo raises both his bushy eyebrows but does not smile or join in the chorus.

I hold his gaze and tilt my head to one side. He gives me the slightest of nods and spends the rest of the evening ogling me, pissing off Santana and Christa.

I ignore their barbs and focus on my target.

Link to Gringa:

http://www.amazon.com/Gringa-Modern-day-Love-Story-ebook/dp/B005CQBCJA\

BOOK BLURB:

I was twenty-one, a sassy college student who took crap from no one. While holidaying in Mexico, I was accosted by The Devil of Mexico called Diablo and shot, because the s.o.b. mistook me for a spy.
I survived, only to encounter him again months later. How’s that for luck?
Furious and sick of all that I’d been through because of him, I slapped him, told him to go to hell and braced myself for the bullet. He could shoot me – I no longer cared.
But, to my surprise, he became fascinated with me and blackmailed me into becoming his woman. He’d slay the entire village that sheltered me, if I rejected his proposal.
He was Kong, hairy, tattooed from fingertips to face, with scary ass piercings, blood-shot snake eyes, a ruthless killer and above all, he was my murderer – how could anyone expect me to say yes?
To save the village I had to.
He took me by force, terrorized me into submission and made me his. To make matters worse, I had to put up with his ruthless, backstabbing family who hated me and wanted to kill me.
I despised the bastard and I told him that. Spark flew. Fists too.
But, the more I rejected Diablo, the more he wanted me.
At times he wanted to kill me because of my insolence, but other times he just wanted me to love him.
I was his Gringa and in an attempt to get my love, he began to change for me. Drastic changes that made me laugh at him at first, then made me curious.
As the days went by, I found myself drawn to him and I began seeing him differently. When I found out about his past, everything changed.

Where to find Eve Rabi online

Website: http://everabi.wordpress.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/eve.rabi

Blog: http://everabi.wordpress.com/

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/everabiauthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/EveRabi1

LOVE STORIES BY EVE RABI

Deception – A Palace Full of Liars – Book 1

Deception – A Palace Full of Liars – Book 2

Burn’s World – Book 1

Burn’s World – Book 2

Burn’s World – Book 3

Burn’s World – Book 4

CAPTURED – My Sworn Enemy, My Secret Lover – Book 1

CAPTURED – My Sworn Enemy, My Secret Lover – Book 2

Gringa – A Love Story Book 1

Gringa – A Love Story Book 2

Gringa – A Love Story Book 3

Gringa – A Love Story Book 4

THE CHEAT – A Tale of Lies and Infidelity – Book 1

THE CHEAT – A Tale of Lies and Infidelity – Book 2

You Will Pay – For Leaving Me (This book is free to Eve Rabi Fans)

Obsessed with me –Book 1

Obsessed with me –Book 2

Betrayed – He’d get his Girl at Any Cost

My Brother, My Rival (Book 1)

My Brother, My Rival (Book 2)