Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Empyreal Fate: A Llathalan Annal by Rachel Hunter

Empyreal Fate: A Llathalan Annal (Vol 1) by Rachel Hunter
Follow her on Twitter, stop by and read her blog, or like her on facebook

What the book is about:

Filled to the brim with forbidden love, an ancient evil, and a nation in disrepair, Empyreal Fate is a tale of riveting bravery and mortal corruption.

The land of Llathala lingers on the brink of war between men and elves, a dark history surrounding each race. Stirred by tensions of the land, a shadow of the past reemerges, taking precedence in reality and consuming the very soul of mans' mortal weakness. Darrion, the son of a poor laborer, is ensnared in a hostile world, forced to choose between loyalty to his king or the counsel of the elves. Yet Fate has other plans in store, tying his course to Amarya, an elven royalblood of mysterious quality and unsurpassable beauty. But this forbidden connection incites betrayal from members of their own kin, marking them as traitors to the crown. In a land torn asunder, only Fate's decree can allow such love to coexist with an ancient enmity.

It received 4.8 out of 5 stars rating. Reviews wrote, “if you like reading about new worlds, this is definitely a keeper,” and “this author has an original story, twists and turned and kept my attention from page one to the end…I am looking forward to the next book in the series!”.

A Short Bio

In 2007, Rachel was selected a state winner of the Minnesota Promising Young Writers Program. Accordingly, her winning poem, "It All Starts with Creativity", was published in An Anthology of Poetry by Young Americans.

Senior year of high school proved another momentous year. A winner of the Oklahoma Young Writers Competition, Rachel was awarded with publication of her "Sestina of Elven Regret" in the 2010-2011 anthology, Growing Voices.

In March of 2012, Rachel published her first short story with Trestle Press, titled, "Perfect Nothing", which recounted her harrowing relationship with an eating disorder and was also fueled by her passion for psychology. But there is so much more and you can find it all on her website.

Purchase in Print or Ebook format!

Blog by B. Franklin. You can follow me on Twitter, talk to me on facebook, or read my works on Smashwords.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Switched in death by Sherry Foley

Sherry Foley, author of Switched in Death  (clicking on the link will take you to the kindle version on Amazon.)
Follow her on Twitter @sherry_foley

Book about:

Detective Seth Banning searches for one of the most heinous serial killers of all time. Seth is desperate to find the sadistic murder who takes his female victims two at a time, and switches their heads. Elaina Von Hagan is on the run from the drug trafficking father she has exposed. As she and Seth begin a relationship, she becomes a target for the serial killer's deranged ritual. The stakes have never been higher for Seth as Elaina is taken, and the stage is set for a gruesome showdown between good and evil.

It has received 4.8 out of 5 stars. Readers have stated that is was "Unpredictable!", "Made my top five favorites list!" and even the kindle boor review wrote "This is right on par with other psychological thrillers by authors like Iris Johansen, Kay Hooper, and Linda Howard. If you enjoy those authors--you'll like Foley.".

Once you pick it up you won't be able to put it down and that's a book worth reading. If you loved this book than you should take a peek at some of her other works such as A Captive heart and A Heart of Hold. Her latest work is A Forbidden Heart and I look forward to when she finishes it.

You can read more about the author and the excerpts for these stories on her website http://www.sherryfoley.com/home.htm or by clicking on the name off the books which will directly take you there.

Blog by B. Franklin
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Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Short Story: Lovestone


In my garden stands a beautiful man in which I lay my eyes upon every day. I sit at his feet and tell stories of the life he has missed out on. I whisper secrets, tell jokes, cry my heart out, and sing. I tell him everything in my thoughts, my darkest secrets, and deepest desires. Everything.
He is my only friend and the only man I have ever loved and ever will.
I pray to the heavens that one day we will meet, but I fear that such a meeting can never be, for my father has caught me many a times with this man. He blames the man with no name for the reasons why I have lacked at my chores and my lessons.
I pray he does not take away my love.
One morning I woke to hear my father outside my room and he spoke words of cold about ridding me of my love.
“What man be human to rid one of their love?” I beg to him in haste before he can leave my doorway.
“I be not simply a man, but a father. And as such I find your infatuations have gone too far for this old heart.”
“But I love--” He raises his hand and glares upon me in such a manner that I cannot go on.
“You can not love something that does not love back.”
“And how can you speak of love?” I spoke in truth and fury. “You! A man who claims to be my father, one in which loved as much as I have--”
“I have loved more passionately than you could ever child. Heed my warning and do not test me!” He spat in rage.
“But your love has died with that of my mother and so you wish not for me to have my own love. I beg of you to see reason!”
“I have and I am ridding this land of that statue.” My father turned and pointed towards the garden in which my love with no name stood smiling. I gasped rushing forward but was abruptly stopped by the guards.
“No! You must let me go. You cannot allow for this travesty to take place!” I cried out, but the men pushed me back into my room shutting and making me a prisoner of my chambers.
I hurried to my balcony to look, in horror, at the men with their tools approaching my love. He who had no name and was defenseless and out of my reach, the man in which I prayed for every night and day every morning and afternoon. His life flashed before my eyes and I thought that death was upon us both. I leaned farther over the balcony screaming to the men to leave him be, but they continue their approach.
“I love you man with no name. I, Rena, love you.” The men began to attack and brought him down by wrapping him with ropes and tearing him apart in front of my eyes. My cries silenced in shear horror. Every detail of his face I could recall, every curve on his body, and the way his clothes folded were perfectly engraved in my memory. I knew I would forever hold him in my thoughts, but I could not help but weep for my loss.
I cried long nights for him and in time stopped as I came to the realization that he was with me still. He was not simply a statue but more. I loved him and that was stronger than stone. He was mine and I was his.
My love’s body was gone, but I still prayed and held hope that one day we would be together.
In a year’s time, my father found that it was time for me to become more of a woman.
I found out my father’s plans to have me wed one winter’s evening as I sat at the stone steps that my love once stood.
A young man walked up to me and sat upon the steps. I held no interest in him, nor did I like that he sat so close, as if we were lovers.
“My lady,” Spoke the man kindly. He was a young lovely man with a strong bone structure, but he was not my love.
I stood about to leave him in silence, but he rose to follow me.
“I am here because you father wishes us to get to know one another and--” I cut him off with a smile and a sigh, for I felt weak and weary of my father.
“Tell my father that I refuse. I do not love you. I am sorry, but I will not love another.” I placed my hand upon my breast and took in the sun.
“I did not say you must love me, but I do ask that you consider. I ask not for your love, but for your partnership.” I coughed slightly.
“Kind sir, I still must turn you down. I will remain untouched”
“You don’t want to escape you father? At least with me you will not be forced to be with someone who will harm you.”
And what would you do? If you shall not love me what is there?
“I will cherish you.”
“I thank you, but I must refuse, for I feel my love will soon come and he is not you.” I walked away coughing and praying.
Days traveled by and my cough grew. I soon could not go to the steps which I had spent my life at and I could no longer sing with my dying voice. Weeks came and went, as well as doctors. No one knew my illness and soon I had become bedridden.
What more was there to do? My life felt small now. The only thing I greatly desired was my love. My statue. I spoke of such to my father and he must have thought me mad. He rushed off with such speed that I feared he would hurt himself
I spelt and woke by my fathers violent shaking and to my amazement my father stood before me with a smile that I had not seen in so long.
“My name is Demetrio and I am the Architect who did the sculpture of the young man that was in your garden.” My eyes fought to keep open as the corner of my lips rose.
“What was…his name…” I asked with little strength.
“Theo. His name was Theo. He was my boy.” The man spoke with sadness. “He passed away of a illness before his twenty third birthday.”
“Theo.” I spoke. It felt right. I tired to catch my breath as I became overwhelmed with joy. My love’s name is Theo. “Now I know…Who to ask…For…”
“Ask Where? Who?” My father asked as tears of joy left me.
“Heaven…” I breathed as the room faded and there was silence.
“Rena.” Came a beautiful voice
My name. I knew it was called. I could hear it clear as day as pain left me and my body felt light. I stood upon the floor and found no trouble breathing or moving around. I could hear a light humming and then song. He was there. I ran down the empty hall and out the door where the garden was. His back was turned as I approached.
“Rena. I have been waiting so long.” He spoke turning. He glowed as I stood before him.
“Me too... Me too.” I whispered.
He held out his hand and I took it.
“I love you Rena and I have listened for so long about your wonderful life. Tell me more.”
“No, it is your turn to tell me something my love.” I smiled gripping onto his hand tightly as he led me away to warmth.

Read more of my works on smashwords or follow me on Twitter. I would love to hear from you.
B. Franklin

Friday, May 4, 2012

A Steady Pulse

A Steady Pulse is the first story of my Pulse Series.

Virgil just wants to continue living his somewhat normal life as a vampire, but when Elizabeth Parks drives up to Lake Pineywoods for a vacation away from her life, things become complicated.


“What--” Virgil’s voice cut short by a dim female whisper.
He turned quickly to his right expecting to see someone. He looked around and even into Garrison’s room for a moment. He heard her. Clear as day. Her voice tired and scared, a plea.
“Virgil?” Garrison’s voice pulled him from his momentary insanity as he continued to glance around knowing that what he heard was impossible.
“I thought I heard someone for a moment.” He shook his head. It had been a hard pass few hours. Her voice was now haunting him. Even when he had left her house he could still see her memories. He could see pieces of her past and mixture of feelings all bottled up within.
“Virgil?” Helena entered the hall. “You okay?” Helena had been ease dropping on their conversation coming to check on Virgil out of concern. He laughed lightly at her worry and raised his hand to wave her worry away, but as his hand lifted up something unexpected occurred.
Virgil’s body slowed. Time almost stood still as he watched Helena slowly stepping towards him. Pulling his eyes away from her, he gazed upon Garrison rising slowly to his feet. Virgil’s senses stretched out. It was like Garrison was trying to talk but this wasn’t Garrison’s doing. His blood boiled as both his head and chest felt a great wave of pressure and pain. His felt body as though it was being crushed for a brief second.
Someone help! Please! She screamed as though she was just down the hall.
“Elizabeth!” Virgil gasped back to reality grabbing the doorframe for balance as Garrison reached out to him. Sweat beaded down his forehead. The room swayed for a moment.
“Are you okay?” Helena rushed to him, but Virgil turned with such speed tearing from Garrison’s light touch and down the hall past Helena to the front door.
He could feel it. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what had happened and how, but he wasn’t going to ignore something as loud as that.
“Hold on, I’m coming!”

A Steady Pulse by B. Franklin on Smashwords 
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