Thursday, December 18, 2014

The 13th Descent Book Blast



The revolutionary year following Serenay "Ren" Avalon's eighteenth birthday could rival Clark Kent's entire adolescence.

After her mother and her grandmother were killed in a car bomb explosion at the heart of theirsleepy hillside town where nothing extraordinary usually happens, she discovers that her mother is actually alive and in hiding, her long lost father is a Father, and her best friend, who turns out was once an Archangel, has taken a gargantuan step back in his evolution to live on Earth with her for the past thirteen lifetimes. And besides being the only one in her immediate circle with a serious case of past life dementia, she learns that during her first lifetime, she was married to one of the greatest teachers history has ever known who is now the gorgeous lead singer of a hot new rock band taking the world by storm, and who is keen to meet up with her again in the twenty first century.

As Ren realizes that the powerful family name she bears also brings with it the promise of an unnatural death, she is reminded that it has always brought hope to people on both sides of the veil, human and Tor. As the world draws closer to being completely shrouded by the dark cloaks of her age-old enemies, the Bloodstones, she now, more than ever before, has to draw strength from her origins to protect her family and their ancient truth from this global force responsible for torturing and killing centuries of her ancestors.

As she struggles to unearth who she was, who she is, and who she chooses to be, as well as the expectations of her first mortal love and the heavenly love she has always guiltily denied, she has until midnight on the Solstice find a way to bring light to a compromised heart and to a world on the brink of perpetual darkness.

This first book in The Rosefire Trilogy by debut YA author, Ky Lehman, is a reminder of how the choices we make in the throes of love, loss, hope, and adversity are what makes the divine human, and the human divine.

The Author, Ky, will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
a Rafflecopter giveaway


“Come on, Renay! You’re as slow as a wet week,” she snaps.

“Right behind you,” I grumble, trying to coax my jelly legs to step out of the car.

She bustles us inside and disarms her house alarm. She grabs my hand, leads me straight to the navy blue comfy couch and gestures for me to sit. “Drink?” she asks.

“No, thanks.”

She goes to the kitchen and gets me a tall glass of water anyway.

Then everything goes from strange to downright bizarre when she sits down, squishes in next to me, puts her arm around my shoulders and rests her cheek on my hair. I am wedged in-between her and the armrest: I couldn’t move if I tried, and I honestly don’t want to. Hugs from my one and only aunt are like sunny days in the winter. They are rare. They are warm. They smell of cream and cinnamon. They go by too quickly. And you know you’ll have to wait a while for the next one.

“Look at me, Renay,” she gently commands. Bleary eyed, she carefully scans my face and sighs.

It seems she is already regretting what she is yet to say. A chill of forewarning forces a shiver: it sets my heart pounding and my legs that have finally regained feeling start to twitch and shake, preparing to run. She senses my panic and holds me tighter, and starts to softly hum a familiar tune that Nanna must have used to calm her down too. Slowly, the dread resides and the warmth returns. My stiff posture thaws allowing me to slump into her side. Realising she has been given the green light, she takes a deep breath and starts talking.

Aunt Romey has never been one to beat around the bush. Simple English. No fluff. The bare facts followed by her opinion of them. But this time, the candour I usually appreciate brings with it a realisation that hits me so hard, that, for the first time since the bomb went off, I am relieved the undercooked takeout chicken kept me home that night.

Bedtime stories that once lulled me into sweet dreams now leave me feeling cold, heavy and sick.

Horrifying truth gives a voice to the intoxicated mutterings of a grieving husband and father.

Nanna’s fairy tales.

Georgie Pa’s drunken rants.

All of the frayed strands and loose ends I’ve obliviously left hanging tangle and weave into the blood stained tapestry that is Aunt Romey’s history lesson.

Three versions of the same unfathomable story, each with its own conclusion. The fairy tale ends in hope.

The drunken rant ends in fear.

And the history lesson will only end with the death of the Three Roses, who my newfound enemies believe are Nanna, Mum and me.

Surrounded by the ghosts of our ancestors and their vindicating screams, I cling to the only olive branch within reach.

Mum may be on the run, but she is alive and well.

But the sinewy little branch is not strong enough to bear the weight of centuries of lost life. It snaps, and I limply fall into large, familiar, bloodstained hands that carry me off into the black quiet.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

KY LEHMAN is a novelist, a children's author, a teacher of swimming and water safety, wife to her high school sweetheart and the proud mother of their three very tall sons. She lives in the Yarra Ranges, Victoria, Australia with her husband and their children where she is currently writing the second book in The Rosefire Trilogy, The 13th Rising.



Wednesday, December 17, 2014


  • Publisher: Diablo Books (October 9, 2014)
  • Paperback: 460 pages
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 0993047203
  • ISBN-13: 978-0993047206
  • Product Dimensions: 6 x 1.2 x 9 inches


LONDON, 1932 … a city held tight in the grip of the Great Depression. GEORGE HARLEY’S London. The West End rotten with petty crime and prostitution; anarchists blowing up trams; fascists marching on the East End.

And then, one smoggy night …

The cruel stripe of a cutthroat razor … three boys dead in their beds … and a masked killer mysteriously vanishing across the smoky rooftops of Fitzrovia.

Before long the cockney detective is drawn into a dark world of murder and intrigue, as he uncovers a conspiracy that threatens the very security of the British nation.

God save the King! eh, George?

THE 1930s … thinking debutantes, Bright Young Things and P. G. Wodehouse? Think again—more like fascists, psychopaths, and kings of the underworld. GEORGE HARLEY’S London is a city of crime and corruption … of murder most foul, and smiling, damned villains.

In part an homage to Grahame Greene’s Brighton Rock, and to the writings of Gerald Kersh, James Curtis, Patrick Hamilton, Norman Collins and the other chroniclers of London lowlife in the 1930s, Mask of the Verdoy also tips its hat to the heyday of the British crime thriller—but unlike the quaint sleepy villages and sprawling country estates of Miss Marple and Hercules Poirot, George Harley operates in the spielers, clip-joints and all-night cafés that pimple the seedy underbelly of a city struggling under the austerity of the Great Slump.

With Mussolini’s dictatorship already into its seventh year in Italy, and with a certain Herr Hitler standing for presidential elections in Germany, 1932 sees the rise in the UK of the British Brotherhood of Fascists, led by the charismatic Sir Pelham Saint Clair. This Blackshirt baronet is everything that Harley despises and the chippy cockney soon has the suave aristocrat on his blacklist.

But not at the very top. Pride of place is already taken by his arch enemy, Osbert Morkens—the serial killer responsible for the murder and decapitation of Harley’s fiancée, Cynthia … And, of course—they never did find her head.

Mask of the Verdoy is the first in the period crime thriller series, the George Harley Mysteries.


Phil will be awarding a $40 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour, and a $50 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn host.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

My Impressions: 

This was an excellent first novel by Phil. The cover of this book draws you into a killer story filled with mystery, intrigue, history, an an amazing plot that all crime and detective junkies alike can fall in love with.

Set in London during the 1930's you read pages filled with corruption, violence, debutantes, gangsters and laymen alike who have their lives turned upside and inside out during the Great Depression.

This was a fast paced read, with some intriguing  characters that moved the plot along. Twists and turns throughout with a surprise ending make this an easy one to recommend. I cannot wait to see what this author does next.

JUST THEN HARLEY heard a shriek from the direction of the fire escape.

He dashed back across the roof and lowered himself carefully onto the ironwork, shuffling as quickly as he dared back to the open window.

‘George … George!’

It was Vi. But her shouting wasn’t coming from Miss Perkin’s room, it was coming from further along the fire escape—from his own house. He made the extra few yards and then yanked up the sash window and threw himself awkwardly into the room.

Harley took in the scene with a professional’s eye: the dark puddle congealing on the floorboards; the mother-of-pearl-handled razor gripped loosely in the grubby, nail-bitten fingers; the leaden pallor on the boyish cheek.

There was a call from the floor below.

‘Police! Anyone there?’

‘Up here, Burnsey! Top floor!’ shouted Harley, already at Aubrey’s throat, searching for a pulse.

A thump of heavy footsteps announced PC Burns’ arrival.

‘Oh, Jesus Christ!’ said the policeman, removing his helmet and rushing over to crouch down beside the bed. ‘Any luck?’

But as Harley drew back the only sign of life Burns could see in the boy’s face came from the two tiny facsimiles of the guttering gas mantle, dancing in the dull pupils.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Phil Lecomber was born in 1965 in Slade Green, on the outskirts of South East London—just a few hundred yards from the muddy swirl of the Thames.

Most of his working life has been spent in and around the capital in a variety of occupations. He has worked as a musician in the city’s clubs, pubs and dives; as a steel-fixer helping to build the towering edifices of the square mile (and also working on some of the city’s iconic landmarks, such as Tower Bridge); as a designer of stained-glass windows; and—for the last quarter of a century—as the director of a small company in Mayfair specializing in the electronic security of some of the world’s finest works of art.

All of which, of course, has provided wonderful material for a novelist’s inspiration.

Always an avid reader, a chance encounter as a teenager with a Gerald Kersh short story led to a fascination with the ‘Morbid Age’— the years between the wars. The world that Phil has created for the George Harley Mysteries is the result of the consumption and distillation of myriad contemporary novels, films, historical accounts, biographies and slang dictionaries of the 1930s—with a nod here and there to some of the real-life colourful characters that he’s had the pleasure of rubbing shoulders with over the years.

So, the scene is now set … enter George Harley, stage left …

Phil lives in the beautiful West Country city of Bath with his wife, Susie. They have two sons, Jack and Ned.




Saturday, December 6, 2014

What I Love About Delaney-November

I adore this little daily ritual or habit we have...We have a new habit right now. Its called body check! Every day I have to gt up and search you from head to toe to make sure you are not harming yourself. I have to make sure you are taking your medication as you are suppose to. Check and make sure you are journaling (don't read it just make sure you are writing), and then we get started talking about our feelings, what we can do different today to make it a good one, etc. You have your days when you love it and hate it. The days when you grumble, complain about lack of trust and down right throw a little fit. Then we have the days when you gladly take part, happy I care enough to keep doing this and are open. Its literally a day to day process we are all working through. 
Scripture Verse.. Psalms 107:19-21 " Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble, and he saved them from their distress. He sent forth his word and healed them; he rescued them from the grave. Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for men."

Favorite Photo...
Favorite Things We Did...Prayed. That's it and it was enough. My daughter who feels further away from the Lord than she ever has, prayed. I dont know what you prayed for and I don't need to know. Just the fact that you allowed God to pierce your heart, even for one day, and opened yourself up to Him, shows me you have not given up, but are walking slowly through your pain and the Lord is walking with you. 
One of your most irresistible physical features is..your smile. I have not seen it in a while, but on rare moments I get glimpses of it and know that one day it will return.
I missed you when....You try so hard to put this brave front on and act like nothing is bothering you, but your eyes give you away. That far away look, the lack of luster and brightness they use to hold. They hold the shell of my daughter trapped inside her own mind of persecution. I long to see that brightness return. The glint of joy. The  radiance of life shining through them again. 
5 Words/Phrases that come to mind when I think about you: afraid, broken, hopeful, vulnerable, dependent. Sometimes I forget how dependent and broken you really are. How you try and cover up your real heart and feelings with sarcasm, fake smiles and transparent words. Then I get a glimpse of you and I see how small and fragile you really are. How hopeful and broken you are and how much pain and turmoil you are in. You stay locked inside your head and refuse to share what you really feel out of shame, brokenness, and fear of being judged and rejected.No amount of words or tears could express how painful this is for a mother to go through with her only daughter. To know she is hurting and torn apart and not to be able to reach her and pull her from the despair. 
Some of our favorite songs we both love...
Eric Paslay, ‘She Don’t Love You’

Tyler Farr, ‘A Guy Walks Into a Bar’
Eric Paslay, ‘She Don’t Love You’

Billy Currington, ‘Don’t It’

Randy Houser, ‘Like a Cowboy’
Katy Perry: Dark Horse
Sam Smith: Stay With Me
Maroon 5: Maps
Taylor Swift: Shake It Off
Meghan Trainor: All About That Bass
Maroon 5: Animals

Tyler Farr, ‘A Guy Walks Into a Bar’

Read More: Top 40 Country Songs - November 2014 |

Tyler Farr, ‘A Guy Walks Into a Bar’

Read More: Top 40 Country Songs - November 2014 |
Tyler Farr, ‘A Guy Walks Into a Bar’

Read More: Top 40 Country Songs - November 2014 |
Tyler Farr, ‘A Guy Walks Into a Bar’

Read More: Top 40 Country Songs - November 2014 |
Special Occasions... Of course Thanksgiving makes the cut here. What is not to love about a holiday when your uncle does all the cooking and we get to just hang out and relax with the rest of the clan? Plus this month you hung out at my work alot. This was also a very hard month for you. You spent the first couple of weeks healing at Children's and then in an rehab facility, but finally by the middle of November you were back home! The rest of November we spent traveling around the state of Texas. We went to Austin, San Antonio, San Marcus, Houston, Wichita Falls and a few other places while I followed up on new job leads and looked at homes. It mad for a fun road trip with lots of hotels, pools and interesting historical sites to visit.  We were both disappointed that Sea World was closed down and so were all the Zip Lines :( Other than that we hung out, watched movies, worked through your healing process and just enjoyed having you back home after a hellish month!