Linda Saxy

Author (A.K.A. Linda Bolton)

Month: August 2013


I’d like to welcome Sarah Wallace today! She has three amazing books you just have to check out!

Her first, Retrospection, is on sale for $.99.

What if there is more to reality than you ever imagined?

When Claire wakes up in the hospital, she discovers a stranger in her room who only she can see and hear. Learning Jhidhai’s secrets will take her on a journey through both time and space. But Claire has secrets of her own—secrets that will lead her toward a destination she would never have imagined.

Set in Chicago 2001, as well as numerous historic time periods, the paranormal meets the historical in a seamless blend of action, wonder and excitement.

Book 2 – Canvas Skies

The class divide must be closed, and Keira, Guy and Aimee are determined to make that happen.

Greed. Power. Class division. Resistance.

The Terenian government has worked hard to divide the haves from the have-nots. Guy Bensen, Elite bachelor of the year, wants a better life for everyone. Thief/hired killer, Keira Maddock, hungers for equality. Together, they might be able to change society.

Meanwhile, due to tragic events caused by the Divide, Keira’s younger sister, April, has left her baby in the realm across the sea. Now she returns to Terene. With the arrival of two very different men, her life becomes complicated. In order to be safe, April must hide her identity. In order to live, she must open her heart.

In book two of the Reliance on Citizens trilogy, S.L. Wallace delves deeper into political intrigue as we examine the bonds that make us human, blending the genres of action, sci-fi, romance and political suspense. 

Book 3 – Heart of Humanity

What will it take for a broken society to be repaired? ‘Eleven year-old, Noah, is about to find out.

The laws of Terene may have changed, but that doesn’t mean the hearts and minds of its people have.

Life in the peaceful and technologically advanced realm of Mediterra is all eleven year-old diabetic Noah can remember and all his sister, Nadine, has ever known. With a new President of Mediterra, however, the family is forced to leave. Scott Maddock has decided to move his family back to his homeland of Terene where life has supposedly changed for the better. Being dropped into the heart of a prejudiced society and becoming the target of the baddest bully at school, Noah isn’t so sure.

How far will they go to stand up for what is right?

In book three of the Reliance on Citizens trilogy, S.L. Wallace takes a look at equality, bullying and prejudice, while seamlessly blending the genres of action, sci-fi and political suspense. 

Meet Sarah! 
She is an upper elementary Montessori teacher, teaching students in grades 4-6, all in the same classroom.

She enjoys playing volleyball even though she isn’t very good at it.
Plants in her care rarely survive, but kids and animals thrive.

Wolfkeeper’s Woman

Add some historical romance to your day with Lisa Day’s new novel, Wolfkeeper’s Woman.  Let’s meet Lisa and learn a bit about her and her novel! 

Welcome Lisa, 

What is the ideal recipe for a good novel
3 cups flour- 2/3 cups of sugar -1/2 cup butter/oil -2 eggs. mix  oops sorry been thinking a lot about cake lately.
Give a one sentence synopsis of your novel:
The Indian warrior Wolfkeeper attacked Cassie’s home, carrying off her and her son, then he slowly discovered he had a growing desire for the woman that hated him, because of all he did, so he had to figure out how to help her overcome the pain that he caused and aid in healing, so she’d think  of better him. (you didn’t say it had to be a good sentence)
What was the turning point in your life when you decided to start writing?
I was out of work, broke, penniless even and already reread every book in the house and stored in the shed. I decided to amuse myself by writing a story for myself to enjoy. It was either that or clean house.
What is or are the genres of your book or books?
Mostly American Historical Fiction/Romance
What made you decide to write in your particular genre?
It’s my favorite genre to read.
When you write do you take notes, organize your characters and plot, or you write freely as you go?
I usually have a complete outline in my head. Once that’s written I find  the characters  venture out to where I’d never roam.
Where does your inspiration come from?
Haha, ‘inspiration’ how cute. I wouldn’t call the nagging voices in my head inspired anything. Just pests that won’t shut-up until you release them.
Find Me Here

Wednesday Spotlight – Lethal Believers: The Innocents

Wednesday Spotlight:

Every Wednesday I will be spotlighting an author and their book. I hope you will take the time to check them out. These are great books and some are at a special price. I’d love for you to review the book as well.  Authors love feedback!

Today meet G. Mitch Baker and his book Lethal Believers: The Innocents

“Someone is hurting children. Danta vows to battle Mantid Tranquil. He is empowered by those from other dimensions to defend The Innocents.”

“Lethal Believers” is series of novels by G. M. Baker. These paranormal mysteries pit Malachi Danta-Mercadel, a retired Interpol Investigator against Mantid Tranquil, a mystic and persistent organization bent on employing the most lethal paranormal and psychological revenge given Danta’s handiwork for exposing and compromising the illicit organization. “Lethal Believers: The Innocents” is the first in the Lethal Believers series. For Intense Metaphysical Visionary Paranormal with Mythic elements, look to Master Koda Select Publishing™ for “Lethal Believers: The Innocents”, the latest Amazon Best Selling novel by G. Mitchell Baker.

“Lethal Believers: The Innocents” is the first in the Lethal Believers series. For Intense Metaphysical Visionary Paranormal with Mythic elements, look to Master Koda Select Publishing™ for “Lethal Believers: The Innocents”, the latest Amazon Best Selling novel by G. Mitchell Baker.
Malachi Danta-Mercadel believes his responsibilities as renowned paederast hunter conveyed to the next generation when he retired from INTERPOL. However, given his lifetime of handiwork for exposing and compromising Mantid Tranquil’s illicit operations, Danta’s long-time nemesis never agrees to accede, persisting to avenge Danta’s efficiency. 
Reluctantly, Danta rises again to confront Mantid Tranquil, but there is the most intense intervention of what appears a persistent paranormal, a sophisticated supernatural, and perhaps this most pernicious of preternatural experience engaging Danta and Mantid Tranquil during the course revenge. Will Danta adequately defend against the known and unknown phenomena bearing down upon him, or, will vengeance of the Lethal Believers and the uncertainty of mythic elements prevail at the expense of The Innocents?

Now living in the Deep South, G. Mitchell Baker also enjoys living out west, from the southwest United States to western Canada. Having practiced law for more than twenty years, Baker enjoys researching and writing projects that draw him into the many genres, to include contemporary fiction, science fiction, and paranormal, metaphysical, and visionary works of fiction.  In addition, a writer of feature length screenplays, Baker enjoys adapting his novels to screenplay and, adapting his screenplays to novels.
Baker has been fortunate to compete at the highest levels in sports to include baseball and karate.  This spirit leads to his also striving to compete at the highest levels to entertain his readership. Moreover, it is in this spirit Baker invites you to visit and re-visit his ‘Anything But a Tired Barn’ author website and, to become familiar with his current and ongoing projects.   


Sex Lives and Dental Chairs

Sex Lives and Dental Chairs

Book Title: Sex Lives and Dental Chairs
Author: Michele Riccio
Release Date: July 30
th, 2013
Genre: Romance/Chick Lit
Length: 260
Publisher: GMTA Publishing LLC
Presented by: Libertine Press
Jane Tynan wants to be happy. Her needs are simple: a satisfying job, a quiet home, and the man she loves.

But since she testified against her ex-husband, what she has is: an assumed name, a crap job, an apartment upstairs from the world’s loudest sex addict, and no man at all. Unless you count the cute-but-suspicious deputy investigating her neighbor’s disappearance, the Ski-Mask Wearing man camping in her yard, and the dentist she “accidentally” assaulted before her root canal.

Faced with dental bills rivaling the national debt, the revelation of her past to the police, and zits Jane figures she’s hit bottom. Then her ex-husband turns up looking for payback. Jane must decide between running away and calling in a favor from the man she loves, but can’t have.


Chapter One


Another year and I thought maybe I should do something, commemorate it somehow. So this is it. Seems lacking, huh? I would have called, but then you’d find me and it’s better this way. Better for me at least.
Hope you are well
There’s probably nothing so annoying as waking up alone on your fortieth birthday to the sound of your twenty-five year old neighbor having sex.
And yet, there I was, listening to my twenty-five year old neighbor having sex. On my fortieth birthday. Alone.
The two-story building where we lived was old, drafty, and obviously needed quite a bit more insulation between floors since I could hear his groans and her sighs as if they might be doing it under my bed, not a floor below.
“Laurence, you are such a pain in my ass.” I opened my eyes. Enough light played in through the windows to read the book titles on my nightstand. Behind the stack I could see 6:5 on the digital clock. The last numeral hid behind a corner of Consequences. “I take one day off and you decide on a sunrise reenactment of the bounciest bits of the Kama Sutra.”
I wondered if it was the same girl as last time. The one who complained, loudly, after sex. I woke up that time too. Unlike a soldier in a war zone, I could not accustom myself to the sound and fury well enough to sleep through it.
Maybe I should have joined the military, picked up some useful skills like hand-to-hand combat and the ability to tune out the nearly continuous din from below.
My phone rang.
“Are you kidding?” I said to the ceiling.
The ceiling declined to answer, either me or the phone. I dragged the lime-green (got it on sale) quilt along with me and shuffled out of my off-white painted bedroom and into the 70’s fake-wood paneled parlor. The metronomic thuds of the bed downstairs were overcome by the syncopation of the phone. It was a grand conspiracy to keep me from sleeping-in.
I grabbed the handset, silencing the rings. Would that Laurence could be so easily dealt with. “Hello?”
No, you have the wrong number. I am someone else. “Hi, Mrs. Petit.”
“Oh, it is you Jane.”
“Yup.” I flopped on the sagging tweedy couch and dragged the quilt up over my feet, covering my mismatched socks. “Is there a problem?” I asked.
“No, why would you say that?”
Because there ought to be a huge, massive, has-its-own-gravity-well-of-a-problem for you, my landlady, to be calling me this soon after sunrise. “It’s a little early.” I pushed the speakerphone button and stood the handset on the coffee table.
“Oh, but you’re up. I just wondered if you could check to see if Laurence’s car is in the drive? I called, but he didn’t answer his phone.”
“He’s home,” I said. Too bad his home is here and not still with you and his father.
“Then why isn’t he answering his phone? He has caller ID.” Frost bloomed in her voice, as if I had insinuated her darling son might wish to avoid her.
“Maybe he’s asleep.” It was a broad hint, but she didn’t pick up on it. I’d be more pointed in my comments if I had some degree of assurance Mrs. Petit wouldn’t raise my rent in a fit of pique.
“Well, see if the car is in the drive,” she said, tacking on a belated, “please.”
Through the wooden floor I could hear a faint shrill voice raised in anger. The dear boy must have finished too soon. Again.
Part of me wondered what I had done to deserve knowing this much about my neighbor’s sex life. Surely karma could not rate my crimes as being this bad.
Laurence’s paramour continued her rant, now accompanied by the sound of winter boots clomping on his wooden floor. “He’s up now,” I said, “I can hear him moving around.”
“And the car? It is all right?”
Obsessed much? “Let me check.” The porch door slammed as I grabbed the phone and lurched from couch to window. Outside I saw a young woman, with a bad case of bed-head, storming up the semi-frozen ruts of the driveway. Her puffy white coat slumped down her arms and her pink scarf fluttered behind, as if trying to escape.
The same battered maroon compact I had seen a few days ago waited at the end of the drive. Damn it. If I had been going to work I would have been stuck behind her piss-poor parking job. And I was pretty sure that the lovebirds would have let me hang until they were finished. Or, until he finished and she flounced off in a huff.
OK, this early it wouldn’t have been an issue. But if I had been going to work, I promise you Laurence would have waited until later to disappoint his girl.
“Car’s here.” I propped the phone on the windowsill.
Laurence’s disappointed friend revved her engine and reversed onto the lawn. It was too cold for her to tear up the ground much, but she made a fair attempt, spinning her wheels and dislodging some clumps. The tires squealed like angry pigs.
“What is that noise?” Mrs. Petit said. I could almost see her thin face pruning up into disgusted-mode. A look I was reasonably familiar with. “What are you doing?”
Me? “That was someone outside.” Hint, hint, if you can hear that through the phone perhaps it is time replace the windows? “Looks like your son had company last night.”
The ass in question slammed the front door, rattling the entire structure. He marched across the lawn in jeans and a wife-beater, looking like he was on his way to a photo shoot for Red Neck Monthly. She gunned the engine again and he screamed obscenities.
Class act, that boy.
“Looks like they’re saying goodbye.” Or good riddance.
“Oh, well,” Mrs. Petit huffed, “my poor boy, he has so many social obligations.”
“Shall I tell him you called?” I said, in a pleasant secretary voice.
“No, I was,” she paused, “I heard on the radio, there was an accident near Millbridge. A green SUV, like the one Laurence drives. I just wanted to make sure he got home safely last night, and when he didn’t answer his phone… .”
He didn’t get home last night. He got home at four this morning, stormed up the stairs like a herd of wildebeest, then lulled me into a false sense of quiet for a few hours before he started banging the bed against the wall. You, on the other hand, were courteous enough to wait until (I checked the clock did some half-assed math) 6:58 to call and ask if his car was intact. “Seems fine,” I said, still channeling the pleasant secretary voice.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be keeping you. Don’t you have work today? I’ll phone Laurence later on, when he’s had his rest.”
“OK, have a good day,” I said and hung up before she decided I should go downstairs and make Laurence breakfast because her poor boy had been socially obligated to get up so early.
No one seemed to care that I was forced to be up early.
Prince Charming would have cared. If he wasn’t off caring for his wife. A wife who was not me. And there’s the rub, as Hamlet once (sort of) said. My Prince belonged to someone else. I needed to get over him and move on.
I shed the quilt and started the water boiling for chai.
Happy birthday to me.
This isn’t where I expected to be at forty. I had envisioned a home of my own, a loving husband, maybe kids. I thought my family would be there for me.
That was before I found out my husband was an evil bastard. Before the divorce and exile from home. Before Prince Charming lost a leg – before Reg died.
Instead I was living upstairs from Noise Boy (who, I was beginning to suspect, had a sex addiction), alone, no family, and working, not as in the promised position of Librarian at the J. Regina School for Boys, but as a humble library clerk. The salary even more humble than the position.
Had I been capable of performing all of my job-ly duties, I might have cause for complaint. But I still struggled to comprehend the accounting system, let along master it.
Downstairs the stereo boomed on and the windows shivered to the beat. Baump, baump, baump, ba-baump. Terrific. I could feel the music; a huge pulsating heart beneath the floorboards. Poe’s homicidal narrator would love this place.
I found my battered deck shoes, which I wore in lieu of slippers, and waited for the kettle to wail. The baump, baump, baump, ba-baump continued to thrum. The powdered chai shimmied in my insulated travel mug. “Fine, be that way. See if I care that you are a slave to the beat.” It was criminal, the way Laurence subjugated my morning beverage of choice.
If only I had a tiny bit more gumption I could rid the world of this menace to decent music. Except, if I killed Laurence, his mother would probably kick me out. Even his father, who had just last month needed to evict the raccoons let in via Laurence’s carelessness with the basement door, would probably not want to rent an apartment to me.
I poured boiling water into the mug. It too danced in reaction to the bass beat.
Screw this.
I stomped down the back stairs and pounded on Laurence’s kitchen door.
“Yeah?” he said, still dressed in the thin undershirt and jeans.
“The music. It’s too loud.”
He looked at me as if I had spoken some strange language he’d never encountered before.
“Turn it down, please,” I said.
“My girlfriend left me.” He showed no hint of emotion. Only a blank stare; probably caused by a hangover or lack of sleep. Or total absence of brain cells.
“So sad,” not. “But, the music is still too loud.”
“I thought you were at work.” His eyes seemed to be focused on my chin. Odd, but better than his usual chest-centered gaze.
“Obviously not.”
“Too loud?” he asked, as if I had not already stated this very thing. “I’ll turn it down.”
With that he shut the door. “Bye,” I said to the wood panel a few inches from my nose. “Have a great day. Moron.”
As I headed back upstairs the noise level decreased. Why was that so hard?
Well, because it was Laurence, that’s why.
I locked my door behind me and headed to the bathroom to tend to practical needs. The face in the mirror didn’t look forty, but that may have been a by-product of the zit. The monstrous incipient zit on my chin. Which had so fascinated Laurence. No wonder he had been dumbfounded.
Damn it, I was supposed to have wrinkles, not acne. OK, to be truthful, I did have wrinkles – wrinkles that were apparently housing zits like some sort of bizarre condo of the epidermis. What next? Puberty reversed? I shuddered. No, next was menopause (pause, like the body would regain youthful fecundity after a short break) and then death.
Laurence’s music was now just above audible. A monotonous rumble almost more aggravating than full volume. I grabbed a pen and a postcard from the bunch on the counter and eased out the door.
New England March is not usually considered warm. March in Maine could be downright cold.
But it was quieter outside. And I had a Navy surplus pea coat, heavy enough to use as an anchor and warm enough, if I curled my feet up under me, to avoid frostbite. The sun had worked its way around to illuminate one corner of the long bench on my porch. I sat and let it illuminate me as well.
I didn’t go in for journals. Too risky. Secrets weren’t secret if you wrote them down. But if something happened, if Prince Charming showed up – I wanted him to know… something. I just wasn’t sure what.
You didn’t send me a card. I’d be disappointed, but if you had an address, I’d have to move. And I’m tired of moving. I want to be still.
You’d like it here, near the ocean. Lot’s of fish.
If I have candles on the cake, I’ll make a wish.
The back door slammed. The porch railing wobbled and I felt the earth move, but not in a good way. Laurence’s SUV, in need of a muffler, growled and complained as he headed down the nearly naked drive. It used to be covered in gravel, but someone had a tendency to peal out, scattering the stones in plume-like formations along the side of the house.
The ricochets could travel an impressive distance.
I heard the lurch and squeak of an abused suspension hitting the edge of the drive then the engine roar fading into the distance. He was gone. To find another bimbo. Or buy bigger speakers. Or, the long shot, go to work.
Not that ringing up movie rentals was work. He mostly sat on a stool and played video games with the few lucky students who had gotten day-passes from the J. Regina School for Boys. But, it was my day off, I did not have to think about the school or the boys. And I had been granted a respite from Laurence and his noise.
I sipped chai.
And immediately I wished I hadn’t.
The hot sweet liquid sent shock waves of pain surging through my molar and up my jaw toward my eye. I could feel my entire face as defined by shrieking nerve endings. I put the mug down and tried to master the sensation.
It defeated me.

Kai’s Journey

Kai’s Journey

Kai has been fighting for survival and trying to find a way rid the world of the disease his father created… 

Kai’s father accidentally created a race of zombies and like a virus; it soon spreads throughout the entire world!

Kai comes across a young woman named Clover, who is part of a clan traveling across the United States to try to find what is left of humanity. 

Clover is a part of a clan who has a secret of their own. Hiding among what is left of the human race, will Kai be able to handle the truth?

Kai and Clover are watching a meteor shower when their lives are changed forever! 

Kai and Clover begin a heroic journey, fueled by the increasingly dim hope that somehow, the human race will have a chance to start over.

Wendy and Charles Siefken

Tammy Novak and Lilly Waters

I’d  like to introduce you to Tammy and Lilly. 

How the idea of the book came to me

My ideas come to me in my dreams. One night, a long time ago, I woke up with a vivid recall of a dream. It later became the opening scene of the story. Once my heart beat slowed and I could actually breath again, I jotted down the idea and went back to sleep. The memory of the dream came back to me often and I knew the story had to be written, but I was afraid to write it. I wasn’t afraid of the idea but I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to pull it off. Writing wasn’t something I was trained to do. Finally, after years of waiting, I got the courage to try and since I’d thought about the story often I’d already worked out all the kinks in my mind. It was very easy and fun to write. I love the twists and turns! It is truly a unique story so I am thrilled the rest of the world will be able to read it.

 The Abduction of Lilly Waters
By T.M. Novak
            Beth never anticipated her life would end up like it did. The last beating she received at the hands of her boyfriend threw her over the edge. She had to escape him, so she fled taking her daughter Lilly with her. She didn’t know where she’d go, but she didn’t care. All she could manage to think about was the safety of her unborn child and her daughter Lilly.
            The frequent stops the mother and daughter had to make were uneventful until Beth pulled into a Diner in Moore, Oklahoma where her daughter Lilly was taken by unseen hands.
            Detective’s Daniel Prescott and Frank Martinez head the investigation trying relentlessly to solve the case before it’s too late. These days, when children are taken it’s a unified frenzy to find them. In this case, every lead turns up empty and every turn they take reveals a clue they couldn’t have anticipated. The detectives aren’t quite sure where to turn or who to trust; even the mother herself is a prime suspect.
            The Abduction of Lilly Waters is a fast paced child abduction thriller that will leave you on the edge of your seat in anticipation until the end where you’ll discover the deepest and darkest secret waiting.

 Biography of T.M. Novak
Tammy was born in Waterbury, Connecticut eight minutes before her twin brother. She comes from a large family with seven brothers and sisters, and eleven nieces and nephews. She grew up in Southern California, and currently lives in Prescott, Arizona.
Tammy married her high school sweet heart Gary in 1994 and they have four sons’ together. She received her teaching degree from Northern Arizona University in 2010 and is currently a teacher in Mayer, Arizona.
The Abduction of Lilly Waters is her debut novel and there are several other works in progress; she has a Y.A. series in the works called Butterfly Lake, and a children’s book series called, The Big Green Dinosaur which will be published under Tammy Moore. Her sister Latisha Wood is expected to illustrate them for her.
The things that inspire Tammy the most are family and she always keeps them at the forefront of her thoughts. She gets her story ideas from her dreams and her children, where she takes a simple moment and turns it into a world all its own. 

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