VE Day, May 8th

It seems a long time with nothing much happening that we, the Electric Eclectic authors and friends, brought you an anthology full of stories about VE day. We planned a big launch to coincide with all the celebrations that were going to happen as it had been 75 years of Victory in Europe.

Sadly, along with everything else in 2020, the pandemic hit, and everything was cancelled. The book was released without ceremony and sold a handful of copies. However, one year has now past and we want to bring it to our readers attention again.

The book contains six poignant stories and is 109 pages long. Predominately Electric Eclectic authors, we invited two special friends to join us. Julia Blake and Jane Risdon are wonderful story tellers, and I urge you to check them out on Amazon.

The Dome of St Pauls by Karen J Mossman

“They called his regiment back to rest but, before they could, they received word a Canadian division were blocked in, and under attack from a German tank regiment. They went to help and leap frogged each other as they dodged bullets. With guns blazing, they blasted a hole in the ring of Panzer tanks. The Germans soon fled. As a result, the Canadian government awarded them the Maple Leaf battle honour, which they wore on their uniforms with pride. “

99th Squadron by Audrina Lane

The sun was beating down on my face, the heat reflecting up from the light sand of the beach. The bombing raids on England had been devastating at times with the coastline and the major cities of London, Birmingham and Coventry also facing a daily and nightly barrage. I wondered if we would win this fight, as I twisted the spanner and tightened the bolts that had shaken loose on the fuselage. The pilot was lounging in the shade, what little there was on the beach. The conditions were vastly different with the main part of our work taking place early in the morning or later in the evening. This was the furthest I had ever been from home and I often thought about my life back there. Ena, the girl I had met back in the early days when I’d first signed up. We had been married and I knew that when or if I returned my legacy was assured. My wife had been pregnant when I’d flown away to what had seemed to me to be the other end of the world.

We’ll Meet Again by Jane Risdon

‘Stanley Potter’s Band played Vera Lynn’s, ‘We’ll Meet Again,’ as Mavis and her best friend Agnes sipped their tea from canteen style white china cups, their eyes watching the latest arrivals from the camp. Both girls were wearing their Sunday best and wore their hair in the latest style which they’d created for each other on Friday night whilst they listened to the BBC Forces programme.

‘Mavis, did you see the tall bloke who looks like Michael Rennie, the one near the exit?’ Agnes nudged Mavis in the ribs and nodded towards the double exit doors.

‘What? Oh yes, he does look like him. Uncanny,’ her friend replied, but it soon became apparent that Mavis was staring at another bloke who’d just come in on his own.

The soldier was tall, dressed as the others were, in uniform, but for some reason he carried himself differently and stood out from the others. Agnes was impressed but she wasn’t attracted to him like she was the Rennie look alike. Mavis noticed he didn’t appear to be with anyone else, male, or female, which pleased her for some reason.

‘Yours is a bit of all right Mavis but mine’s a cracker. See you later.’ And Agnes walked over to the man of her dreams and brazenly asked him for a dance.’

Rosemary for Remberance by Julia Blake

And it was fun. To begin with. The streets were heaving with people, so many people, all determined to celebrate this most wonderful occasion. The war was over. All those long bitter years they’d suffered through had finally ended. Barely twelve years old when it all began, Rosemary could hardly remember what it had been like before. When her parents reminisced about having plenty of food and being able to walk the streets at night with no fear of bombs dropping, she’d felt it was another world they were describing. A magical land of safety and plenty.

Andrew and his friends had acquired beer from somewhere and were openly swigging it on the streets, and nobody cared. Looking around, Rosemary saw food and drink being shared amongst friends and strangers alike. One young airman offered her a swig of his beer and she took it, not liking the sour gassy taste, but desperately wanting to be part of it all. It settled in her empty stomach, spreading a warm glow throughout her body, and she laughed with the others.

Butterflies of Dunkirk by Claire Plaisted

All shapes and sizes of vessels left the English ports. Any seaworthy boat went to rescue those from the French shores and the horror of the massacre on Dunkirk.  The boats approached the French shoreline, horror on the faces of the captains and seamen, as they watched the slaughter continue. The boats powered ahead to rescue as many men as they could, praying for the souls of those they couldn’t.  Close enough now, men were running towards them, guns were firing at them, some toppling dead in the water having been shot before they could get to the boats.  Big black bursts of smoke overhead, where Spitfires and Messerschmitt’s fought aggressively in a massive dogfight. The Spitfires in protection mode, the Messerschmitt’s doing what damage they could. British, American and Canadian men fell in their thousands.

Patrica, Annie and Jean by Paul White

The wall was too far from the air raid shelter and much too far from home; where dear Daddy dug the garden and installed an Anderson Shelter with steps down and a canopy over. He made a sound wooden floor and a raised platform where he placed a mattress to make sure it did not get damp.  We had a radio on the shelf. Electric light, camping stove, windproof matchsticks, kettle and tin mugs, along with all things for making tea and cocoa. It was very cosy. Even the cat would go down there. I knew my mother would be scurrying to the shelter now, pulling my brother, Peter, along with her. She would worry about my own whereabouts. Most nights we slept in the shelter, although my diary records on 6th November 1940 I slept in my own bed. I still have no idea why.

What the reviewers are saying:

This is a wonderful, yet very moving collection of short stories. I have to admit I had more than a couple of tears in my eyes whilst reading them.

The stories will make you laugh and cry and they’ll be with you for a long time to come. Congrats to all concerned and to Paul White for putting it all together.

I’m sure it’s going to be one of those ‘can’t put it down’ reads. We owe it to those who gave their lives & those who lived with the memories.

Really good short stories, all made you think and made you realise just how lucky we all are not to have had to live through a world war. A lot of the stories made me cry and some made me smile. A really good mix.


Look out for articles over the next few days from Karen J Mossman, Audrina Lane, and Jane Risdon who talk about their stories.

Can you hear them?

Can you hear them?

A short story for Halloween 2020 from Paul White

I have a small multi-tool. It is much like a penknife; a type of ‘Swiss Army’ knife for the handyman. I keep it in a small compartment in the top draw.

That compartment is its ‘home’. When it is not in use, it is where it ‘lives’.

Two weeks ago I needed this knife. It was not in the draw. I could not find it.

Today I was fetching another item and the knife was back in the draw, back in its small compartment. Back in its ‘home’.

This is not the first time some of my possessions have gone ‘missing’ or have moved; seemingly at will.

Sometimes things appear in my home. They may be objects I have lost, misplaced and… this is one of the strangest, items I have never purchased, ones I do not own.

Generally, these are small articles, inconsequential stuff, general household or personal belongings. The type of artefacts we all acquire during our lifetime.

I hear you saying ‘so what’? This happens to us all and you would be right, it does.

But, I ask you, how many times have you been certain the item in question was not where you left it?

I do not mean the times you may have been mistaken, but those times when you were totally and absolutely sure; times when you know your certainty is more than mere conviction?

I hear people say ‘we must have ghosts,’ or that ‘Mr Nobody’ must have moved it.

The fact is, when said and done, it is not too far from the truth. Only it was not a ‘Mr Nobody’, or a spectral entity who moved or misplaced your item.

It is something real.

Something which lives amongst us. Something which lives in all our homes, in our workplaces, our schools and colleges. Something which is with us at all times.

Even while we sleep.

Especially while we sleep.

It has been said, the best trick the Devil ever played was to make people believe he does not exist.

This is also true of the Gremlin.

I am not speaking of those cute(ish) furry characters portrayed in the film, but of the true Gremlin. Those tiny flitty little beasts.

The leathery-skinned ones with luminous green eyes and teeth like wild piranha.

I doubt if you have seen one, unless you are particularly susceptible to the spirit world, or you are a young innocent child.

Then you may have heard one scuttling under your bed, or in the closet, or outside your bedroom door in the darkness of the hallway.

You may have, on the odd occasion have glimpsed at one. That fractional shadow, the one which flicked past the corner of your eye yesterday.

The silhouette under the bathroom door, the one you see when you are home alone.

They are the Gremlin.

They watch you.

Constantly.

Hear a bang, the unexplainable crash from the room or upstairs. Like when the jar toppled over in your kitchen, or the picture fell from the wall.

All the tapping noises, those creaks and rasps you hear as you try to fall asleep at night.

What causes them?

Gremlin.

Gremlin love the night.

Gremlin love the darkness.

They are the creatures who moved your lip gloss from your handbag and hid it in the back of the bathroom cabinet.

The Gremlins took your car keys and tossed them into your sneakers, pushed them right down into the toe section so you could not find them.

The older the Gremlin get the more insidious their pranks. Messing with your machines. That is why your dishwasher rattles and your car now pulls to the left.

That accident you passed… it was no accident.

The Gremlin have been playing.

Trains crashes. Ships capsize. Planes disappear.

Gremlin.

They are in the machines. Your TV, your Vacuum cleaner, even the device your reading from now.

They are in the rear of your closet, the dark corner of your garage, and under your bed.

Turn your TV off. Turn the radio off.

Be quiet.

Be still for just a moment.

Listen… that noise… the faint noise…

Hold your breath and listen…Listen hard to the background noise, the constant drone which accompanies our lives.

Strain your ears.

You can hear it now, just there in the background… yes, that. It’s Gremlin going about their work.

Quickly look into the corner now, did you see it? In the shadow by the cabinet, shooting behind the sofa?

No?

Sneaky aren’t they.

Try again… use the corners of your eyes.

They are there. In your lounge, in your bedroom.

In the dryer, the car, your garden shed.

They are in the darkness at the top of the staircase, waiting in the loft, in the eaves of your roof.

They are watching you now, right now. Watching your every move.

Doggedly.

They are waiting for the right time, the right moment.

Trust me, I know.


Would you like to read more short stories with a little ‘spookiness’? Then download your copy of these Electric Eclectic Novella today…

North to Maynard, is a ‘ghost in the machine‘ story with and ending you will not expect. Download today.

Or how about a bit of fun?

Miriam’s Hex is a tale of greed and latent curses. This is light hearted black humor at its best.

Available to download now, or order as a Pocketbook Paperback

The Amulet is a ‘feel good’ tale of ancient magic in the modern world.

Download your copy, click here.

You are welcome to visit my website where you can find all my books, artworks & photography, http://bit.ly/paulswebsite


Ghosts in Crime

By Karen J. Mossman

I’ve never believed in ghost or of psychic ability but as I’ve got older I’ve opened my mind a little. I now believe that for other people, it’s different. I believe, they believe, and perhaps something has happened to them to make it that way.

As a writer, it’s a pot of gold. I love anything like that, but only if I can control it. I can’t control films or other people’s stories because my imagination is far too active after the event. Whereas if I write it, it is active before. Does that make sense?

So, what am I leading up to? Halloween. It’s lasts one day and I have a free book that you can read in one sitting. Then, if you like the character, you may wish to read more about her.

Cassidy Newbold is a clairvoyant and also an Official PrisonVisitor. This enables her to help her brother, a detective to crack his cases.

Shaking the hand of prisoner Ronnie Gunner, suspected of abducting two girls, Cassie sees everything. This horrific case would shake her to the core. With the lives of two young girls at stake, she must force herself to enter the farmhouse where Gunner kept them captive.

Can she locate them before it is too late?

A short story for your enjoyment…

PEMBERTON

Sometimes, most times, life is a bitch.

The huge raindrops were constant, drumming a never-ending tattoo onto the roof of the car and crashing into the windscreen like a million kamikaze diamonds which splintered into slivers of distorted white light as they hit the glass.

The intensity of the rain limited my visibility, even with the wipers on full speed I found myself squinting into the darkness of the night trying to decipher what was road, what was verge, and what was simply reflection.

One hundred and ninety miles, black night, black rain, unlit country roads.

I must be insane.

As my eyes grew tired and my brain became weary, every shadow became menacing, each refraction of light an ominous threat. I drove with a sense of foreboding, a sense all would not end well.

That realisation was enough. I must to stop soon.

Besides, I needed fuel.

“Carl, Carl” she screamed down the phone. “You have to help me. You have to come now”.

So, I reacted.

I simply jumped into the car and started to drive. I never considered the weather, never checked the fuel gauge, I just drove.

Seven times so far I have called her back. No answer. Her phone just rings. I am concerned, worried.

I should not be.

I should not be going to her.

I should not be risking my life. Not for her. Not now. Not after what she has done.

Not after the way she treated me.

But here I am, in the centre of a storm, in the middle of nowhere.

The sign pointed left, ‘Pemberton – population 756’. Underneath a second sign ‘Fifteen miles’.

I headed left, following the sign, it was not much more then a dirt track but I was going to stop at Pemberton. I was going to get fuel and a big mugful of strong, black coffee.

I would need a boost of caffeine before I saw her, before I faced whatever crisis she was having.

I drove slowly along the track, trying to avoid the potholes which were brimming with rainwater. I was having to battling the rough uneven surface of the track.

I was also battling with myself.

The Devil in me said forget her, to go home. She was a liar. She was nothing but trouble.

I had to agree.

She was all of those things, yet I still thought of her more days than I did not.

One more chance, I told myself. I would give her one more chance.

Maybe I was doing this more for myself than for her?

Maybe this had nothing to do with her at all?

Maybe I must to prove her wrong… or right.

Maybe I needed to do this to give me closure, to finally draw a line under our relationship, to free myself, so I could move on.

The dirt track levelled out and changed to a paved surface. I relaxed slightly. The rain easing, leaving a misty haze hanging in the air which surrounded everything with a wispy, ghostly quality.

My phone rang. It was her.

At last.

I pulled the car over and answered. “I’m on my way, the weather is terrible. How are you doing?”

She giggled. I could hear voices in the background. “I’m fine, I just needed… you know… some stuff… I’m fine now. I’ve friends here. You don’t need to come now. I don’t want you to come anymore. I don’t want you here at all.”

The laughter from several voices echoed down the phone.

So that was it. She was talking shit again, pumping god-only-knows-what into her veins. I should have known.

But in that situation, when someone calls out, when someone you care for, cared for, sounds so desperate, you do not think.

You react.

She said she was clean, said she was not using anymore.

I believed her… until now.

“I’m halfway to you,” I said. I had no idea how far I had come, or how far away she was from here, from Pemberton, the facts were irrelevant just now.

“Then you are halfway home too,” she answered. I heard the other voices laughing at her remark.

“Yes, I am,” I replied through gritted teeth.

“Bye then,” she said with a flippant snigger in her voice. The phone went dead.

She had gone.

I had my answer.

I had closure.

I now felt I was free to move on.

Sometimes, most times, life is a bitch.

But sometimes life gifts you in unexpected ways.

Today life gifted me a future.

You see, as I started to drive away, I saw a silhouette of a woman leaning against her car, which was stopped a little further along the road.

Not a place to be alone at this time of night, especially in such inclement weather.

I walked towards her, calling ahead as not to startle her. “Are you lost? Can I help?”

I have no idea why I said that because it was I who was lost… and in more ways than one. I also had no notion whatsoever of where I was, or in which direction I should go from here.

“No,” she answered, “I’m not lost, just out of fuel.”

I drove her into the town, explaining I too was looking for fuel and a strong cup of coffee. She found that amusing.

Pemberton, it seems, has only one garage, which also doubles up as the town’s only diner, neither of which would be open until Monday. So, I had the rest of tonight and all of tomorrow to wait for both coffee and fuel.

She was telling me I would be stuck right here, in Pemberton, for the rest of the weekend.

As it turned out, that was just fine because her home was comfortable, her coffee rich and strong, her bed soft and her body warm and tender.

Sometimes, most times, life is a bitch.

But sometimes life gifts us unexpectedly.

Sometimes.


I hope you enjoyed this small snippet of my work.

Although this story does not appear in my book, ‘Within the Invisible Pentacle’, it is representative, in style, of the twenty-nine short, and not so short, stories which do.

You can find ‘Within the Invisible Pentacle’ on this link, https://mybook.to/wtipentacle

Don’t Tell a Writer Your Secrets!

by Karen J Mossman

Sometimes the most embarrassing things can be humorous and I wrote something a little risqué by my standards. I also wanted it to be a little cringe worthy because we’ve all been in situations that have made our toes curl.

You know that saying, never tell a writer your deepest secrets? No? Well, perhaps I made that up but it’s true. They may write it in their book!

I’m guilty of that. Someone, who will remain nameless, once told me how she lost her virginity, and many wonderful things are written in books about ‘the first time,’ the reality is it is often embarrassing and messy. You always hope you’ll never see that person again, right?

If we collected stories of first times, it would end up being really funny simply because people keep that to themselves. They don’t want to share their inexperience or be made to feel foolish. I know I wouldn’t. The truth is we have all been there and hearing someone else’s stories makes ours less shocking. The more we hear, the more amused we get, do you follow?

I wouldn’t dare ask you about your first time and neither would I tell you mine, so instead I put a tale in The Magic of Stories, one I made up, with a little bit of truth in it!

Meanwhile, I will leave you to read this amusing post entitled:

41 Things I Wish I Could Say To The Guy Who Took My Virginity

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Pictures Telling Stories, The Ghost on the Stairs

by Karen J Mossman

Untitled design (1)I don’t really know whether I believe in ghosts. I’ve never had an encounter, nor do I want one. I’m open-minded and believe that others have seen them and they believe.

The one thing I do know is that I love to write about them.

With this book, I had such great fun because I love my main character. Cassie, who is a clairvoyant. She is fun and sassy at times. Before I knew it I had mixed up two elements that generally don’t go together, or do they?

Scary ghosts and humour, because this isn’t a comedic book, it’s deadly serious. I believe in writing about life as it is and so many people find humour in the things that frighten them most, Cassie is no exception.

The first photograph shows the book cover, which I absolutely love. I designed one myself but was never happy with it. Then, Paul White, from The Electric Eclectic Booksmade this one for me and it says just what I needed it too, plus it is very clever having the book on the stairs, who’d have thought of that!

The second photo is the creature that haunts the house. It started out as a man but soon turned into something demonic. Here is a small excerpt.

I’d brought Damien into this and he was good enough to stand by me, the least I could do was to protect him. He was a non-believer; he shouldn’t be seeing this.

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The picture underneath the ghoul is Cassie as she stares in wonderment around her. She sees more than she ever tells and has learnt to leave the undead to make their appearances on their own.

Finally, the biker is Damien, one of two sporting brothers who are also models. Winning cups and the hearts of girls is what they do. Daniel is married to discover the house he bought with his wife his haunted and she refuse to go inside.

Damien comes to Cassie to ask for help. She soon falls in love with him but is aware of his disbelief in all she does and fears their relationship may not last because of it.

Damien’s love for Cassie is severely tested, and it may be too much for him to stay with her.

 

Do You Know What an Indie Author is?

by Karen J Mossman

I’m sure you do, and we all take it for granted everyone else does too. But this isn’t the case. Not long ago, I gave a talk to a group of ladies and asked them the same question, already knowing what their answer would be. Imagine my surprise when most said they didn’t. I spend my life in two different worlds, the online one, and the actual world.

In the latter, people are impressed you are a writer. They will happily buy a paperback and are interested in what you as an author have to say. In the online world, readers are very different, they download books and not interested in paperbacks. Neither are they impressed by you being a writer because almost everyone is. You are not unique; you are just one of many.

For those reasons, I believe we should treat the two worlds differently.

We need to address the question about Indie authors and once I explained to the group what an Indie author was, the next question became, “How do we find them?”

If you think about it, there is no central point; nothing on Amazon that says this book is published by an independent author, so what would you do?

Well, send them to Amazon and put Electric Eclectic Books in the search bar. It also works on Google and on Goodreads, too.

Launched in November 2017 by author Paul White, the brand has grown and grown. It originally started out as offering novelettes to find your new favourite author but now offers full novels too.

There are a lot of choices with Electric Eclectic and a lot of talented Indie authors just waiting to be discovered!

Paul White also wrote an interesting blog article about Indie and Readers. Head over and give it a read.

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The easy way to find bestselling books

How long do you browse through, or scroll down, on Amazon when you’re looking for you next book, whether it’s to read yourself or one you are purchasing as a gift for someone?

Here, at Electric Eclectic, we are all about making life easier for our readers and, not only when your looking for an Electric Eclectic book, but any book.

Below, are two links to help you find those books you want, they will take you directly to Amazon, to pages of bestselling works in both Paperback and Kindle/eBook formats especially collated for you.

Click the link below and go to Amazon now.


Best Sellers in Books
Best Sellers in Kindle Store

If you are looking for an Electric Eclectic book, visit @open24, where all our books are in one place.

Happy reading.

Enjoy.

Illusional Reality

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Illusional Reality book 1

Genre: YA fantasy PNR

Author: Karina Kantas

Publisher: Asteri Press imprint of Bolide publishing

Cover designer: Sharon Lipman from Fantasia Cover Designs

Editors: Michelle Dunbar, Anna Proofing, and Black Cat Edits


Nobody expects to stare death in the face, only to find out their entire life is a lie.

When marketing executive Becky is saved from near-death by Salco, she is taken to Tsinia, a magical world filled with peaceful people who are trying to forget their land is on the brink of destruction.

Becky discovers that her arrival is no accident and that she is Thya, the heir to the enchanting land. As if that isn’t enough, she learns that an Oracle prophesied that she will save the gentle Tsinians from slavery and domination by Darthorn, the Warlord of Senx.

The Tsinian council and her kinsmen are certain that a union between Darthorn’s son, Kovon, and Thya will create peace between the two lands. However, Darthorn has plans for Tsinia, as does Kovon for Thya.

Her future has been written, and, if she is to save Tsinia, she must marry Kovon, but Thya gives her heart to another – a love that is both forbidden and dangerous.

Illusional Reality is a story about hope, courage, love, and sacrifice.

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KINDLE ONLY

https://bit.ly/KIRB1


Excerpt

The cool air refreshed her, and she was soon wide awake. Alkazar brought a seat out from the room and asked her to sit.

“As I was trying to convey to you, the gift you possess is named Flite. You have the ability to move objects with your mind. All Ganties possess this gift, and tis my pleasured duty to tutor you in the employment of your talents. To move an object, you are required to reach the Owto, a place between conscious and unconscious.”

“Sort of like a trance?”

“Similar to a hypnotic state,” he answered. “You ought to be aware of things around you and pay attention to conversations, yet you need to be able to detach yourself from reality so you can concentrate on what you desire. It is rather like splitting your mind in two.”

“Sounds hard.”

Alkazar laughed. “It can be. It depends on how receptive you are. Let us attempt?”

“Sure, what have I got to lose?”

“Start by relaxing your body. Close your mind and relax in the chair; feel your body loosen. When you think you cannot go further, push your body deeper.” He saw Thya push herself back into the chair. “Employ only your thoughts. Do not employ your physical being.” Thya relaxed once again. “Better. Melt into the chair. Become one with the wood. Breathe deeply. Inhale through your nose, and exhale through your mouth. That’s it. Keep breathing deeper. Good. You ought to feel as though you are drifting.” Thya nodded slightly. “I require you to imagine space as you understand it to be: be darkness all around you, apart from the stars and planets surrounding your view. You are alone, moving through space, drifting. Detach your mind and focus on the darkness – on the silence. Concentrate, Thya.” He paused for a moment. “The stars and planets are fading, and there is naught but utter darkness. Still, you move through the blackness.”

Thya was coming to the crucial part. Alkazar moved closer. He lifted one of her eyelids and saw her pupil was stationary and her breathing steady. Both were good signs. Just for a moment, he felt the urge to lean in and kiss her but pushed the thought aside. He scolded himself. He was supposed to be teaching her how to concentrate yet struggled with his own.

“Continue moving through the darkness,” he continued. “Soon, you will come to a suspended door. Tis grey in colour. When you arrive, grasp the handle until I instruct you to –”

“I sight the door,” Thya called out.

 “Continue to grasp the handle. When I command you to unlock it, I want you to open your eyes. Are you prepared?”

“I am,” she answered.

“Unlock.”

Thya opened her eyes, blinked twice, and then smiled at him. “So, how did I do?”

Alkazar wasn’t surprised she did not reach the Owto; they rarely did on their first arrival at the door. However, he was surprised by how far she had gone.

“Very good. Only you have to concentrate harder. Relate to me, what colour was the door?”

“Umm… a light grey with black marks.”

“You have done well. We will discontinue for the moment. You ought to rest, as you will be tired. I will request that Pertius does not announce himself.”

“Thanks, Alkazar. I do not think I can take any of his talk of doom and gloom.”

Alkazar laughed. “Pertius has much to instruct you about your legacy, the past, and of your future. It does not have to be as doomed as you remark. I am confident that once you have conversed you will find a sudden interest to learn all.”

“If you state so,” she replied casually.

“Rest if you can. However, I declare that after our session your mind will be wandering.” He turned to leave, pausing at the door. “Understand this, Thya. If you ever require me as a friend or as a tutor, you have only to summon and I will attend you. This I vow. For the present, farewell.” He bowed then left.

Prize Draw

Download Illusional Reality now for just $0.99/£0.99 and send proof of purchase to karina.kantas@yahoo.com. You will be entered in the draw for this stunning necklace – identical to the one Thya is given, an heir loom carried through the generations of Ganties, and now it could be yours.

Pre-orders are included in this contest.
The prize draw is open internationally.
No other prize will be given out.

The winner will be announced in Karina’s newsletter.  http://eepurl.com/daKief
This contest is run and organised by the author Karina Kantas.

https://bit.ly/KIRB1

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Reviews

“With most books, you have to back up a page or two. That is something I NEVER had to do with this one! It is well written and captures the imagination, guiding you into the new land and language with such easy grace that you hardly are aware of it.”

“This is a unique story filled with intrigue, deception and danger. As you read along so much unfolds.”

“The detailed descriptions let me see the magical land of Tsinia, with it’s tree-top dwellings and it’s friendly and peaceful inhabitants. Senx, the home of her ‘intended’, Kovon and his father, Darthorn, is a much darker and gloomier place.”

“Karina sets up some great and compelling characters. Thya, Alkazar, Omad, Kazer, Kovon, Siren are all intriguing for their own reasons. We love them, we hate them. I’ll let you make your own opinions.
This truly is a fantastical world with magical gifts, a reluctant princess, an angry warlord and oracles, and contains lots of espionage, treachery, suspense with a bit of romance thrown in.”

“What a delightfully touching love story! Our author entwined our world with a fantasy one with action, magic and of course, love.”


Author’s Bio

Karina Kantas was born in the Midlands, UK, and has lived on the island of Corfu for twenty-seven years.

Karina Kantas is an award-winning, prolific author of thirteen titles, including the Outlaw books—the gritty MC thriller series—and the exciting YA fantasy duology, Illusional Reality.

She also writes short stories, and, when her imagination is working overtime,  thought-provoking, dark flash fiction.

Karina is the author of TOXIC – an Electric Eclectic book. https://amzn.to/3cVnG2W

There are many layers to Karina’s writing style and voice, as you will see in her flash fiction collection, Heads & Tales. In Undressed, she opens up to her fans, giving them another glimpse into her warped mind.

Karina writes in the genres of fantasy, MC romance, young adult. sci-fi, horror, thrillers and comedy, romance, paranormal romance, dystopian, and erotica.

When she’s not working on her new books, she helps her clients by offering affordable Author Services five days week.

Titles To Date

The OUTLAW series  – MC thrillers
In Times of Violence
Huntress
Lawless Justice
Road Rage

Collections
Heads & Tales – mixed genres
UNDRESSED – poetry, prose, short fiction mixed genres
A Flash of Horror

In Times of Violence Young Adult Edition – MC romance
Stone Cold – YA supernatural thriller
Toxic – dystopian erotica

Illusional Reality duology
Illusional Reality – YA romantic fantasy
The Quest/fantasy – YA paranormal romance

WIP
Broken Chains (Mafia Romance) currently on Wattpad

Author Links

http://bit.ly/FBFPKK – FB fan page
http://bit.ly/INSTKK – Instagram
http://bit.ly/TwittKK – Twitter
http://bit.ly/BLOGKK – Website
http://bit.ly/KKGRE – Goodreads

Facebook pages:

http://bit.ly/IRFBPAGE – Illusional Reality FB page

eBooks or Paperbacks… or is there another option?

Ebook vs Print Books

How often do you get asked, or hear the argument asking which is better… eBooks or Paperbacks?

To me, both have their benefits and downsides.

The main thing against eBooks is, you need a device and you need that device to have The e-Book Accused of Causing the Death of the Paperback?power. An uncharged Kindle, iPhone or Tablet is nothing but a piece of useless junk.

Even worse, is when it cuts out halfway through a chapter and your miles away from a charger, like on the beach or halfway up a mountain.

 

Of course, good things for eReaders of any description is the number of books you can store on them and the lack of space they take up. (Not that you’ll read even a small percentage of the books you have stored, while on holiday… or ever.)

The good things in favour of paperbacks are, you can read them anywhere, power or no power, charging points or not. You can flick through the pages of a physical book whilst in the bathtub without the fear of totally ruining it if it gets wet.

table-leg-and-bookAlso, I have never (yet) seen an electronic device used to prop up the wobbly leg of a café table, I have seen this done with a paperback book.

If you drop a paperback, no harm done, just pick it up and continue reading, no broken screens, no expensive repair bills.

Oh, and when did anyone snatch a paperback out of your hands and make off with it? Never is my guess.

There is also the wonderful feeling of holding a ‘real’ book, sharing it and lending it to your friend, or having it displayed on a bookshelf in your lounge. You cannot do that with eBooks.

Paperbacks do have a downside.

They are quite large in comparison to an Android phone or a Nook, so take up a lot more room, which is fine at home but can take a good proportion of luggage space when going on vacation.

And so, the discussion goes on. You may prefer one format over the other, or you may take advantage of the benefits of each, as and when you want.

However, what if there was a middle ground?

What if… you could read a paperback the size of an iPhone?

Think of how many of those you could slip into your suitcase or rucksack, a handbag, or even your pockets.

You could read them anywhere, no batteries to worry about, no signal needed, no damage if dropped and no fear of anyone stealing them. You could even leave it unguarded on your beach towel when you went swimming, knowing it will still be there when you return.

How amazing would that be?

The thing is, this is not an idle thought, a sci-fi fantasy, or simply a futuristic dream. These books actually exist NOW.

EEPocketbook

Electric Eclectic has a growing range of ‘POCKETBOOKS’, smaller paperbacks whose dimensions are just 6×4″, which makes them ideal for travellers and commuters. These small-format books easily slip into a case, rucksack, handbag or, as the name suggests, a pocket, even the back pocket of your denim jeans.

Each pocketbook is a complete book, an entire Electric Eclectic novella or novelette. Most have an eBook option if you really prefer the electronic version.

Electric Eclectic is increasing the number of pocketbooks in their library, so keep checking in for new releases.

Here are some of the currently available Pocketbook titles.

Click on any cover image to read more on Amazon.

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