Book Excerpt: Nurse Dorothea Presents Why Coping Skills Work and What Are Some That Can Be Done Anytime and Anywhere by Michael D

 

“Hi everyone, my name is Nurse Dorothea. Thank you for coming to the after-school club on mental health. I hope to provide you with some tools to manage your emotions and navigate life’s challenges.Mental health is complicated because there are so many things that can affect it. This class was created to show that it is ok to talk about your mental health with others as well as to give you ideas to improve your mental health.

“We will be recording this session. People in the future will get to experience the same things you will today. Sometimes, I will speak to people watching this showor reading the future book about the class. This is an interactive class and I want you all to ask questions as you have them. We will stop sometimes and discuss things with each other. If you are watching the show or reading the book, then I want YOUall to also discuss the questions and topics with those in the room. This book is an experience, and you will only get the full experience by talking with others. Please take breaks from the show as you need to since this will be a long discussion.”

– Excerpted from Nurse Dorothea Presents Why Coping Skills Work and What are Some That Can Be Done Anytime and Anywhere by Michael Dow, Dow Creative Enterprises, 2024. Reprinted with permission. 

 

We are starting the process of removing stigma about mental health issues. Let’s share ideas of the journey to well-being and seek to understand others as they are instead of how we wish them to be. By learning to know ourselves and trying different coping skills that are specific to the situation that we find ourselves in, we can achieve balance and peace. As we deepen our self-awareness and harness tailored coping mechanisms for diverse situations, we pave the path to equilibrium and serenity. Let’s foster an environment conducive to both individual and collective growth within our society. By doing this, we unlock potentials previously unattainable, empowering us to fully cultivate our knowledge, skills, and abilities. With gratitude in our heart, peace in our mind, and confidence in our capabilities, we can face the future with bravery, courage, and determination to help make the best lives for ourselves and others that we possibly can. If society wants something we have never had, we’re going to have to do something that has never been done.

Nurse Dorothea Presents Why Coping Skills Work and What Are Some That Can Be Done Anytime and Anywhere is available at Lulu.

Michael Stephen Dow is married to Perla in Arizona and has 3 kids.  Michael was on a path to attend medical school and then the events of September 11, 2001 occurred.  Michael became angry at the terrorists and decided to join the US Air Force.  He went through Officer Training School and then graduated specialized Navigator training to become an Electronic Warfare Officer.  Michael deployed 6 times for the Global War on Terror between 2005 and 2009 with the EC-130H Compass Call mission.  Michael medically retired in 2010 and then became an US Army contractor serving Wounded Warriors and ensuring they received all of their entitled benefits for 8 years.  Michael always had a love for science and the human body so he then used his GI bill to go through nursing school and graduated in August 2020.  Michael now works as a Registered Nurse at an inpatient psychiatric hospital.  Michael’s education is as follows: B.A. in Psychology from Auburn University in 1999, B.S. in Biology from the University of Alabama at Birmingham in 2001, M.S. in Management from Troy University in 2010, Masters in Health Administration from the University of Phoenix in 2017, and M.S. from the University of Arizona in 2020 through its 15 month accelerated Masters Entry to the Profession of Nursing program.  Michael is the Founder and Manager of Dow Creative Enterprises, LLC.  His books have garnered the Silver Nautilus Book award in 2020 (Nurse Florence, Help I’m Bleeding) and an Award-Winning Finalist in the Religion category for the 2021 International Book Awards (A Prayer to Our Father in the Heavens: Possibly the Greatest Jewish Prayer of All Time).  Michael believes we will need the best of science and religion to successfully navigate ourselves, our civilization, through the future obstacles we will face.  More information can be found at www.DowCreativeEnterprises.com and www.NurseFlorence.org.  Nurse Florence® is a federally registered trademark by Dow Creative Enterprises.  The Nurse Florence® series seeks to promote science and health among children and to help increase the health literacy levels of our society.  With teamwork, inclusion, faith and perseverance, we can bravely face our problems and help each other reach our better selves as well as our best collective good.

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜ www.nursedorothea.com

Facebook ➜ https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100095060389625

 

 

Book Excerpt: A Dream in the Wilderness by Jean Hackensmith

 

Superior, Wisconsin

August 21, 1834

Caleb Wachsmann stood before the four open graves, his two eldest children on either side of him and the youngest in his arms. His entire body was numb. It still didn’t seem possible that all four of them could be gone. But they were. Cholera had taken them systematically, one by one. His father. His mother. His beloved wife, Annie, the mother of his children. His gaze settled on the last coffin, no more than three feet long. Inside was his six-month-old son, Danny. 

Caleb and the older children got sick first. Caleb’s mother had been through other cholera epidemics and knew exactly what to do. They started boiling the drinking water from the nearby St. Louis River and, between her and Annie, and even his father, had forced tons of the bacteria-free water down their throats to prevent dehydration. At one time, Caleb joked that he thought he was going to float away.

He and the older children recovered. Then the rest of the family got sick. The rapid deterioration in their conditions made it impossible for Caleb to keep up with the hydration on all four of his patients. Danny was the first to succumb to the disease. He lasted only 24-hours after the first symptoms appeared. The others lasted two to three days.

Caleb couldn’t help but blame himself. He was responsible for their care, and he had failed.

“Pa?”

Caleb didn’t hear his son’s voice. He was too lost in his thoughts and his grief.

A yank on his shirt sleeve brought him back to reality.

“Pa!”

“What, Seth?” he asked with exasperation heavy in his tone as he looked down at the carrot-topped, freckle-faced boy before him. In fact, all of the children were the spitting image of their mother, and it made looking at them all the more painful.

“Why did we put Grandpa and Grandma and Ma and Danny in the ground? Grandma and Ma aren’t going to like it at all, cuz they don’t like to get dirty.”

Caleb stooped before his eight-year-old son, placing two-year-old Bethany on his knee, then indicated for the five-year-old Jenny to come closer, also. “Remember how I told you that your ma and Danny and your grandma and grandpa are in Heaven with God now?”

The two older children nodded.

“You see, what we put in the ground wasn’t your Mama and Danny anymore, or your grandma and grandpa. The part of her that made your mama your mama and Danny, Danny already went to Heaven.”

“Like their ghosts, you mean?” Seth asked.

“Their spirits,” Caleb corrected. “What’s in the ground is just what was left over and, in time, that part of them will go back to the ground.”

“But it still kinda looked like Ma when you and Father Hauley put the cover on the box,” Seth argued.

Caleb sighed his resignation. “Yes, it did. I don’t know how to explain it better, Seth. When you get older, you’ll understand.”

“So, who’s gonna take care of us now, Pa?” Jenny asked. “Mama and Grandma always took care of us when you and Grandpa were out in the fields plantin’ stuff.”

“I haven’t figured that out yet, honey, but I will.”

The little girl’s green eyes teared and her face scrunched up with her sadness. “I miss Mama, Pa. I want her to come back.”

The sight of his sister’s anguish brought renewed tears to Seth’s eyes also, and Caleb pulled both of them close. Bethany put pudgy arms around her older brother and sister and joined in the hug.

The traveling priest who had performed the ceremony, the only other person present at the burial, looked on in sympathy when he considered what lay ahead for the young father. It was unheard of for a man to raise three children on his own, especially a farmer who spent ten to twelve hours a day cultivating his fields. Yes, Caleb Wachsmann was going to have to find a woman, and he was going to have to do it soon.

– Excerpted from A Dream in the Wilderness by Jean Hackensmith, Jean Hackensmith, 2024. Reprinted with permission.

 

Unable to find a teaching position in the flooded job market that is New York City, twenty-one-year-old Sarah Bentley accepts the position of nanny to Caleb Wachsmann’s three children after the farmer’s wife, parents, and infant son die in the Cholera epidemic of 1834. The twist? The job is in Superior, Wisconsin in the Michigan Territory, an unsettled wilderness located on the northwestern tip of Lake Superior.

Caleb is not looking for love; his heart will always belong to his beloved Annie. What he does need is a woman to watch after the children while he toils in the fields making a living for his family. Sarah turns out to be that woman. She raises his children with a gentle and loving hand and also helps Caleb to overcome an unbearable loss. As Wisconsin vies for statehood, the young couple will face challenge after challenge as they struggle to tame a wilderness that really doesn’t want to be tamed at all.

A Dream in the Wilderness is available at https://www.amazon.com/Dream-Wilderness-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B0DJS19HMH.

I have been writing since the age of twenty. (That’s 47 years and, yes, I’m disclosing my age.) I am the proud mother of three and grandmother to four wonderful grandchildren. After losing who I thought was the love of my life, my late husband Ron, in November of 2011, I met Rick. So, it is definitely possible to have more than one “love of your life.” Rick and I were married in July of 2018 and are still going strong today. He is my soulmate, my confidant, and my biggest fan. He has read every book I have ever written (even the romances!) 

Next to writing, my second passion is live theater. I founded a local community theater group back in 1992 and directed upwards of 40 shows, including three that I authored. I also appeared on stage a few times, portraying Anna in The King and I and Miss Hannigan in Annie. I am sad to say that the theater group dropped its final curtain in 2008, but those 16 years will always hold some of my fondest memories. 

I moved from Superior 15 years ago, seeking the serenity of country living. I also wanted to get away from the natural air conditioning provided by Lake Superior. We moved only 50 miles south, but the temperature can vary by 20-30 degrees. I guess I’m a country girl at heart. I simply love this area, and am lucky to, once again, have someone to share its beauty. I love the solitude, the picturesque beauty of the sun rising over the water, the strangely calming effect of watching a deer graze outside your kitchen window. Never again, will I live in the city. I am an author, after all, and what better place to be inspired than in God’s own backyard.

Let’s Connect!

Website: https://www.jeanhackensmith.com.

X: https://x.com/Author911 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/p/jean-hackensmith-61554012674412/ 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/32957713?ref=nav_mybooks

Book Excerpt: Vanity Project by Andre Spiteri

 

Detective Inspector Brian Brandon stared into the bathroom mirror, but a stranger stared back at him.


Three weeks of forced leave, and he didn’t recognise himself anymore. His wavy salt-and-pepper hair was frizzy, thinning on top, and appeared far heavier on the salt than it had been that morning when he’d checked himself in the hallway before leaving for East Strathburgh Police Station to plead his case. His face was pasty and puffy. Careworn. The face of a man who has had too much time on his hands and far too little to fill it with for much longer than is healthy. The knot of his blue paisley tie constricted his fleshy neck, which was spilling over the collar of his white poplin shirt. A shirt with a tailored fit that, through some process he vaguely understood but couldn’t quite fathom, had become too tailored in all the wrong places.


He closed his eyes and held onto the sink with both hands, a captain steering his ship through a thicket of fog.


‘I’m fine, sir. I assure you,’ he’d told – practically begged – DCI Lowe five minutes earlier. ‘Champing at the bit. Raring to go.’


What he hadn’t told Lowe was that he wasn’t sure how much longer he could trust himself to keep his head without work to occupy him. His thoughts were racing at breakneck pace, taking him places he’d rather not visit for fear he’d want to remain there. Permanently.


Lowe had given him a long, appraising look from beneath his legendarily bushy black eyebrows and leaned forward in his faux-leather office chair. Brian, standing in front of Lowe’s cluttered glass and brushed-aluminium desk, had shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, like he needed to go to the lavvy.


‘It’s too soon, Brian,’ Lowe had said, steepling his fingers under his non-existent chin.


‘It’s been long enough,’ Brian had insisted. ‘I’m polis. It’s what I do. This kind of thing… it’s…’ He’d waved his hand around, looking for the right words. ‘It’s par for the course in our line of work,’ he’d ended flatly.


Lowe had raised his eyebrows. One of the hairs was sticking out at an obtuse angle, giving him an oddly comical look.


‘Have you spoken to somebody?’ Lowe had asked. His tone was gentle. Fatherly. But there was steel in his eyes. ‘It helps. What you’ve been through—’


‘I’m fine,’ Brian repeated, a tad more forcefully than he’d intended.


He’d stopped, then. Taken a breath. Held Lowe’s eyes with an earnest gaze.


‘Look,’ Brian had said. ‘Try me. That’s all I’m asking. If I can’t hack it, I’ll be the first to tell you. No need to worry about that. We’re understaffed as it is. So what do you have to lose?’


Lowe had sighed then. A deep, heavy sound that Brian hadn’t been sure what to make of. Was Lowe about to relent? Had he managed to wear him down?


‘Let me think about it,’ he’d said at last, weighing every word.


‘But—’


‘I said, let me think about it,’ Lowe snapped. ‘Take the win.’


Brian had pushed down several smart retorts and nodded deferentially.


‘Thank you, sir,’ he’d said finally, trying not to grit his teeth.


Now, standing in front of a rust-spotted mirror in the lads’ lavvy across the hall from Lowe’s office, a grey shadow toyed with the edges of his field of vision, and he opened his eyes before it could take on a more substantial form. His thoughts turned to home. To the bottle of Monkey Shoulder in the cupboard under the sink. He pushed them away. Opened the cold tap. Splashed his face. The freezing water jolted him.


Aye, that was better. Once he got back to his flat and peeled off this ill-fitting suit, maybe he’d go for a run. Clear the cobwebs. Put himself on the road to well-being and prove to Lowe he was walking the talk.


He turned the tap off, pulled a bunch of paper towels from the dispenser and patted his face dry. Then he took a deep breath. Steeled himself. Walked out of the lavvy, through the corridor, toward the carpeted stairs that led to the station’s entrance, and the parking area outside.


‘DI Brandon!’


Lowe’s voice, calling him from his office doorway, stopped him mid-stride. Brian’s heart skipped a beat.


‘Come back here, will you?’ his senior officer added and strode back into his office without waiting for a reply.


Brian followed, his stomach clenching. ‘Sir?’ he asked from the doorway.


Lowe gave him another one of his appraising looks. His unblinking stare made him feel vulnerable. Naked.


‘Fine,’ he said, after a pause that felt like it had gone on for hours. ‘You’re right. We’re stretched thin and I can’t spare one of my more experienced DIs.’


Brian’s knees almost buckled with relief. His lips curved into a smile.


‘Does that mean—?’


Lowe lifted a hand, palm outward, in a silencing gesture.


‘Just so we’re clear,’ Lowe continued, ‘I’ll be watching you like a hawk. The second I sense you’re not up to the job, I’m putting you back on forced leave, you hear?’


‘Loud and clear,’ Brian said, with feeling.


A brief memory flashed. 3 a.m. Two days earlier. A half-empty bottle of Monkey Shoulder standing on the coffee table. Hunched on the sofa in a frayed terry-cloth robe, counting out how many Nytol one-a-day tablets he’d managed to scrounge from his medicine cabinet and wondering what would happen if he took them all. Washed them down with long gulps of the water of life.


Something prickled behind Brian’s eyes.


‘I won’t let you down, sir,’ he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as shaky as he felt.


‘Let’s hope so, Brian,’ Lowe said, turning his gaze to his laptop – a sign Brian was being dismissed. ‘Let’s hope so.’


– Excerpted from Vanity Project by André Spiteri, Maverick Words, 2024. Reprinted with permission.

 

How far would you go to protect yourself if the truth is too hard to swallow?

DI Brian Brandon’s first murder investigation after a forced leave of absence seems open and shut. A love triangle gone horribly wrong.

But, the more he digs into the life of the victim — freelance cybersecurity consultant Ray Higgins — the deeper he’s drawn into a complex web of greed and betrayal.

With bodies piling up and the press baying for blood, Brian faces a race against the clock. What he hasn’t planned on is that his own demons are also hot on his heels.

Can he uncover the killer’s true identity before they catch up with him, or is he doomed to pay the ultimate price?

Vanity Project is available at Amazon UK and Amazon US.

 

André Spiteri is the author of award-nominated crime thriller Back From The Dead and other novels featuring struggling characters with troubled pasts. He was born on the sunny island of Malta in 1982 and lives in Edinburgh with his wife, their two daughters, and two cats. 

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜ www.andrespiteri.com

Instagram/Threads ➜ https://www.instagram.com/andrespiteri_  

Book Excerpt: The Shards of Lafayette by Kenneth A. Baldwin

 

“Are those Boelcke’s goggles?” Marcus asked. 

Smith nodded and took them off.

“I Convinced Mustermann to leave them here as a sign of good faith.” Smith’s eyes glossed with a peculiar sheen. He laughed to himself and whispered. “I’ll be damned, but they work.”

I stared, grasping now for the first time the importance of Smith’s experiment. 

“You watched the fight through the goggles?” I asked.

“Hardly thought to grab them when the bomber showed up, but I’m sure glad I did.”

Marcus squirmed beside me.

“What do you mean they work?” he asked, a trace of anger on the edge of his voice.

“I mean that while Private Whiskey pulled his risky spiral, it just so happened to coincide with the German’s bottom gun jamming.”

“How do you know?” Marcus stammered.

But we all knew, at least after the fact. The bloated pause before Lufbery opened fire—a gun jam would explain it. A flash of sympathy for the pilots raced through me. How they must have panicked when they realized…

“It’s just like Mustermann said,” Smith replied, tossing the goggles brusquely to Marcus. “There’s something inside of you that goes off. And as you believe it, the plane gets a bit of a glow to it. Like the glow of a Christmas tree from down the hall after too many drinks. Hazy like, almost blurry. It’s like you could swear someone was shining a blue flashlight on the jammed gun.”

I turned to Marcus. Part of me wanted to flaunt how I’d been right, that the magic was real, but the danger of the immediate situation cut the wind from my sails. Instead, I hoped he would at least see reason. He saw red.

“Luf downed that plane because he’s the best pilot we have.”

Smith raised his eyebrows.

“Best American pilot, you mean.”

“Best Allied pilot.”

“Not by the numbers,” Smith said flatly.

“Then forget the numbers,” Marcus spat back, his voice raising.

I furrowed my brow.

“Marcus, you have to start believing. Why else would the Germans send a bomber after Mustermann if not to keep him quiet? These goggles are important. This mission is important. They must be on to something.”

“On to what?” Marcus asked. He shook his head “What? Blue flyers and special goggles? Smith, what if this is all part of a larger cup and ball routine? If I were Ludendorff, one of my top priorities would be finding a way to make the other Allied commanders lose faith in General Pershing. Isn’t this type of goose chase exactly the thing to accomplish that?”

“You think the Germans would sacrifice a Gotha bomber in a show of pageantry? Have you lost your mind?” I asked incredulously.

“I appreciate the point you’re trying to make, Marcus. But like it or not, she’s right.” He looked at the goggles with a faraway frown. “It’s too many validations. I don’t know if those goggles are some kind of military innovation or if they’re the product of some devious enchantment or what, but they worked for me just now. Could it be that the Gotha had some type of technology synched up with these goggles to show me what I expected to see? Maybe. But that’s not technology our government has any idea how to replicate.” 

“But, sir—”

Sharp shouts from Dupont and Atkins cut short our conversation. Calls for help mixed with rudimentary commands in German.

“This day keeps getting better,” Smith said as he peered through the trees toward the wreckage. “The pilot survived.”

– Excerpted from The Shards of Lafayette: Drops of Glass Book 1 by Kenneth A. Baldwin, Eburnean Books, 2023. Reprinted with permission.

 

1918. France. Reports of unexplained rogue attacks have come in from both sides of the Western Front.

When Marcus Dewar is tasked with investigating the aerial bombardments, it’s not because of his aviation record. To make a name for himself, he will have to escort his best friend, a woman named Jane Turner known for her witchlike repairs on damaged aircraft, through some of the war’s most dangerous battle zones.

But when they learn the rogue pilots seek out arcane devices filled with magic powerful enough to alter the war, it will take more than some hedgewitch tactics and smart flying to return with their lives.

And in a conflict that values human life so little, that’s the least they have to lose.

The Shards of Lafayette: Drops of Glass Book 1 is available at Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/Drops-Glass-Magic-Shards-Lafayette-ebook/dp/B0C42B144X .

Kenneth A. Baldwin writes stories that blur the lines between history, magic, dreams, and reality. He loves finding oddities in history books with unbelievable tales or unexplained phenomena. His first series, The Luella Winthrop Trilogy, takes place during just such a time when late 19th-century Victorians struggled to balance a surge of occultism and never-before-seen scientific advancements.

Before he started writing novels, Kenny paid his way through law school by writing, performing, and teaching humor. You can still catch him on stage or in corners of the Internet that feature sketch and improv comedy. Now, he lives nestled under the Wasatch Mountains with his wonderful wife, sons, and Golden Retriever.

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜ www.kennethabaldwin.com 

X ➜ http://www.x.com/kennethabaldwin 

Facebook ➜ www.facebook.com/kennethabaldwin 

Goodreads ➜ www.goodreads.com/kennethabaldwin  

Book Excerpt: Ring of Rosin by Nancy Golden

 

Thirty minutes later, they were all seated in the library, looking attentively at the messenger, a slim, proud youth about Rugal’s age possessing the distinctly dark, handsome features of a citizen of Tolan.

Dressed in riding leathers, the youth had thick black hair and the beginnings of a beard. He bowed formally from the waist, and with Rugal’s nod of acknowledgment, he began to recite his message:

“I, Johan of Sharvindar, in the name of King Handerbin of the kingdom of Tolan, bear greetings from my sovereign and wishes of health and happiness to the esteemed royal family of Elayas. News of Oldag’s overthrow and the restoration of King Rugal, rightful sovereign of Elayas, in accordance to her laws and traditions, has brought us great joy. Our sorrow has been long in knowing that the evil king Oldag’s birthplace was Tolan, and it gladdens us that he has finally met with justice.” Johan paused for breath, and his listeners leaned forward in anticipation of his words.

“We wish to reassure you of our good intentions. Long have our countries viewed each other with mistrust, kindled by Oldag’s rebellion. We are also aware of the theft of the Ring of Rosin, and we believe that those responsible are members of the Kargoliths, who have come to inhabit what has been the unsettled territory of Tolan, earmarked for future expansion.”

“How did you know?” Rugal interrupted. “About the Ring of Rosin?”

Johan met Rugal’s gaze squarely. “King Rosin had the ring made by one of the most skilled craftsmen in all of Tolan. It is a fragment from the stone of fire.”

Mura nodded. “That makes sense. I know my cousin had made a special commission for its creation. I was never told the exact details, but that it arrived from a mysterious location. I remember the day it was shown at court for the first time.”

Rugal’s voice sharpened. “That still doesn’t explain…”

“We intercepted a message from the Kargoliths, which is what prompted King Handerbin to send me here.” Johan hesitated, leaning forward. “The leader of their tribe has the Ring of Rosin. King Handerbin has sent me to help you retrieve it. You will need a guide, someone familiar with Tolan.”“Just what are you proposing?” Jackal stood up, shoulders tense.

The Swordsman put up a hand. “It’s okay, Jackal. It makes sense.” He glanced at Soldar, who nodded. “The Kargoliths have been searching for the shards of the stone of fire for many years. It is woven into their history. Fables of old, when the wondrous bird captured it and flew to the mountains, are told around their campfires from one generation to the next. If they have the Ring of Rosin…”

“They will not give it up. This is the Year of Wisdom and the Day of Questioning approaches. They will demand King Rugal’s presence.” Johan looked significantly at Rugal. “For only he will be able to activate its power on that day.”

Rugal cocked his head. “Day of Questioning? I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Soldar cleared his throat. “An oversight on my part, Sire. We did not cover the fables of the Kargoliths, as I saw no need.” He glanced at Johan and raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps I was mistaken.”

“It certainly seems relevant now, Soldar,” Rugal let out a noisy breath. “Please explain.”

His eyes contemplative, Soldar exhaled. He turned his attention to the dark youth, and Johan nodded almost imperceptibly. Soldar turned back to Rugal.

“The Ring of Rosin has a property that no one knows about. It has been entwined in the lore of Tolan and the Kargoliths for many years and is thought to be conjecture. Apparently, that is not the case, or it would not have been stolen. Not only does it identify the true king of Elayas, but it also imparts wisdom to the king.” Soldar paused and rubbed his eyes. “The Kargoliths must know the Ring of Rosin has this power.”

Johan spread out his hands. “You are correct, Soldar.” He bowed his head briefly. “But there is more to the fable.” He continued with a storytelling inflection to his words, “The rightful king of Elayas will be able to ask the Ring of Rosin anything he desires, and the ring will impart that knowledge to him, but only once in every ten years. This day is designated as the Day of Questioning.”

Rugal’s eyes narrowed. “Anything? Even another person’s most deeply held secrets?”

“Yes, indeed,” Johan agreed. “Which is why it is so powerful. But it will only respond to the queries of the King of Elayas, and only for the Time of Sun Shadow on the Day of Questioning. This is when the sun is completely engulfed in shadow, but only for a few minutes. It is as if it is nighttime, yet it is still day.”

The room remained quiet as everyone contemplated the ramifications of what had just been revealed. Finally, Rugal rubbed his cheek. “So, they stole the ring in anticipation of the Day of Questioning. But what good will it do them without me?”

“Exactly,” Johan replied. “That is why I am here.”

– Excerpted from Ring of Rosin by Nancy Golden, Golden Cross Ranch LLC, 2024. Reprinted with permission.

 

Many, many years ago, a wondrous bird flew into the mountains of Tolan. In its claws, it bore a giant stone, a stone of fire. The bird dropped the stone somewhere in the mountains, where it shattered. The one who finds its fragments shall have power beyond belief.

The Ring of Rosin has unexpectedly disappeared. Join King Rugal on his quest to recover the ring symbolizing his right to rule, forged from the stone of fire. A mysterious companion joins the young monarch on a perilous journey. Rugal’s shadowy ally leads him to the nomadic Kargoliths, who are locked in an ongoing dispute with the neighboring kingdom of Tolan. As destinies intertwine amidst the clashing cultures, the fates of Elayas, Tolan, and the Kargoliths hang in the balance.

Will the Ring of Rosin’s power on the Day of Questioning help Rugal defeat the foreign threat to Elayas, or will it be used to destroy him?

Follow King Rugal as he faces the greatest threat to his reign since his coronation. An exciting adventure of valor and unlikely friendships the whole family can enjoy!

Ring of Rosin is available at Amazon.

>Nancy Golden wears a lot of different hats – She is a wife and mom, author, engineer, professor, horsewoman, and small business owner. She is also the founder of a writing group – the Carrollton League of Writers. Nancy lives in a suburb of Dallas, Texas and she loves to ride bicycles and horses. She is a member of the National Space Society, and she has been a Trekkie for as long as she can remember. Nancy Golden Books provides a great reader experience with well-crafted writing that will brighten your day.

Website ➜

nancygoldenbooks.com

Twitter ➜ https://www.twitter.com/ncgolden1  

Facebook ➜ https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61564426002283 

Instagram ➜ https://www.instagram.com/ncgolden1 

Goodreads ➜ https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/216235312-ring-of-rosin 

Book Excerpt: The Death of the Kremlin Czar by Jorg H. Trauboth

 

“Watch out! High-voltage line at three hundred meters!“, shouted the co-pilot.
“In sight!“ the commander replied calmly, pulling up just before the obstacle and immediately pushing the helicopter down again. 

The two pilots of the Ukrainian armed forces guided the old Russian Mi-8 helicopter with their night vision devices on a zigzag course away from populated areas and Russian defense walls to the target. The destination was Luhansk. The mission: to free their own soldiers from Russian captivity. They had volunteered for the Ascension mission and trained for the flight intensively in the simulator supplied by the USA, including simulated enemy fire and evasive maneuvers. The simulator‘s current aerial photographs proved to be extremely helpful in the dimly lit night. A lot had changed in Donbass since the region was forcibly annexed by Russian President Ivan Pavlenko. Destroyed cities, abandoned villages, mined escape routes, deportations, rapes, mass graves, poverty, hunger, thirst and despair. 

Ivan Pavlenko was called “Czar Ivan II“ by the co-pilot, a former history teacher. But not only by him. The Ukrainian people hated this man who had brought so much suffering to their families with his megalomania and wanted to steal their country. Even those people whose thinking was shaped by Russian culture had turned their backs on this madman in Moscow. 

The co-pilot turned to Iris, the commander of the special forces, and signaled “30 minutes.“ 

Iris had been given his nickname because - like the German anti-aircraft missile of the same name - he was known for always hitting the bull‘s eye. Everything Iris tackled led to success. On a street in Kiev, the child-pushing, medium-sized, friendly man at his wife‘s side would not have been noticed. No one could have guessed that the man flirting with his young daughter was a rare mixture of analyst, combat soldier and leader with a stellar military career ahead of him. 

Iris looked at his men. The two teams sat opposite each other and remained completely relaxed despite the loud engine noise in the old transport helicopter with its fake Russian registration. 

Perhaps it was a kind of meditative calm before the dangerous mission. Or perhaps it was the awareness that they could be hit by a Russian missile at any time during this night-time low-level flight into the Luhansk Oblast without being able to do anything about it. There weren‘t even any parachutes on board, because every kilogram counted for the return flight, during which the aged and rattling Mi-8 would be fully occupied. 

The commander of the special forces fixed his gaze on the German opposite, who returned the look and nodded. Iris had received authorization for this rescue mission with a foreign team member from the highest authority. He had only agreed to it because the German Marc Anderson was considered a legend in the West despite being only thirty-five years old. Together with the US Navy SEALs, he had evacuated an American aircrew from the depths of Afghanistan and later served as a private security officer. 

The US president‘s family was rescued from the hands of Iranian terrorists on a luxury yacht by the security agent and his team. He and his team were personally honored by the US President. The Iranian terrorists took revenge and brutally murdered Marc‘s wife in front of their house in Hamburg.

 

Russian President and new Czar Ivan Pavlenko suddenly shows his true colors during the war in Ukraine. He wants the old Soviet Union back. The world is on the brink. The influential oligarch Alexei Sokolov wants to prevent Ivan’s megalomaniacal plans and is planning a fundamental new beginning for Russia. To achieve this, the Russian president must die. How will the US President react to the CIA’s proposal to support the oligarch, who has a romantic relationship with the Russian President’s partner, Yulia? 

The poison attack is perfectly prepared, but the Boeing with the oligarch Alexei Sokolow, his lover and over 100 passengers on board is hijacked by a Ukrainian terrorist and is supposed to crash over Berlin after knocking out the crew by shooting. Former elite soldier Marc Anderson is on board with his family and takes over with Alexei. The two flight amateurs try to get control. Will the landing and the assassination succeed or will the Kremlin Czar strike back brutally after realizing the role of Yulia?

The Death of the Kremlin Czar is available at Amazon (U.S. edition) and Amazon (German edition).

Jörg H. Trauboth, born in 1943 near Berlin, logged over two thousand flight hours as a Weapon Systems Officer Instructor in the Luftwaffe, flying PHANTOM F-4F / RF-4E and TORNADO fighter jets, and over 3000 hours in light aircraft. At the age of fifty, he left the service with the rank of Colonel in the General Staff. He received training as a Special Risk Consultant from the English Control Risk Group and served as Managing Director Germany, dealing with extortion and kidnapping cases in South America and Eastern Europe. Shortly thereafter, he founded his own consulting firm, quickly establishing an outstanding international reputation. Trauboth protected his clients with a 24-hour task force during product extortions, product recalls, kidnappings, and image crises. He was the first President of the European Crisis Management Academy in Vienna and President of the American Yankee Association.

He is known as a respected expert in the media on security-related topics. He volunteers as an emergency counselor and is a member of the Crisis Intervention Team (KIT Bonn) of the German Foreign Office. He is a private pilot, married, with two sons and three grandchildren.

In 2002, Trauboth wrote the now out of print standard work “Crisis Management for Company Threats”.

In 2016 the follow-up work was published with Jörg H. Trauboth as editor in collaboration with five authors: “Crisis Management in Companies and Public Institutions”.

Terror expert J. H. Trauboth presented his debut novel in 2015 with the Germany thriller “Three Brothers”. (Available in English). In 2019 “Operation Jerusalem” followed and in 2020 “Omega”. The trilogy is about the former elite soldier Marc Anderson and his team. With these three self-contained thrillers, Trauboth is rated by many readers as the “German Tom Clancy.” The trilogy is available as a printed edition, eBook and audio book.

His first detective novel, “Jakobs Weg” (German), followed in 2021. The highly explosive topic of “sexual abuse of children” is processed sensitively in a scenario on the Way of Saint James and at the end offers contact options for those seeking help.

In 2022, the novella “Bonjour Saint-Ex” was published (German) in which the passionate pilot Jörg H. Trauboth turns the last flight of the legend Antoine de Saint Exupéry into an exciting literary event.

Readers wanted a sequel to the Marc Anderson series. In 2023, ZarenTod – Das Ende der Präsidenten was published, a highly topical political thriller. The Russian president and new tsar, Ivan Pavlenko, suddenly shows his true face during the war in Ukraine. He wants the old Soviet Union back. The world is on the brink. The influential oligarch, Alexei Sokolov, wants to prevent Ivan’s megalomaniac plans and is planning a fundamental new beginning for Russia. To achieve this, the Russian president must be removed. But the plan goes awry. Ex-elite soldier Marc Anderson intervenes. Will Czar Ivan die? What will become of Europe? The book 8/ 2024 in English „The Death of the Kremlin Czar” is the fourth political thriller in the Marc Anderson series.

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜  https://trauboth-autor.de/english/

Twitter ➜ https://twitter.com/JorgTrauboth

Book Excerpt: Battlefield Earth by L. Ron Hubbard

 

Man,” said Terl, “is an endangered species.” 

The hairy paws of the Chamco brothers hung suspended above the broad keys of the laser-bash game. The cliffs of Char’s eyebones drew down over his yellow orbs as he looked up in mystery. Even the steward, who had been padding quietly about picking up her saucepans, lumbered to a halt and stared. 

Terl could not have produced a more profound effect had he thrown a meat-girl naked into the middle of the room. 

The clear dome of the Intergalactic Mining Company employee recreation hall shone black around and above them, silvered at its crossbars by the pale glow of the Earth’s single moon, half full on this late summer night. 

Terl lifted his large amber eyes from the tome that rested minutely in his massive claws and looked around the room. He was suddenly aware of the effect he had produced, and it amused him. Anything to relieve the humdrum monotony of a ten-year duty tour in this gods-abandoned mining camp, way out here on the edge of a minor galaxy. 

In an even more professorial voice, already deep and roaring enough, Terl repeated his thought. “Man is an endangered species.” 

Char glowered at him. “What in the name of diseased crap are you reading?” 

Terl did not much care for his tone. After all, Char was simply one of several mine managers, but he, Terl, was chief of minesite security. “I didn’t read it. I thought it.” 

“You must’ve got it from somewhere,” growled Char. “What is that book?” Terl held it up so Char could see its back. It said General Report of Geological Minesites, Volume 250,369. Like all such books, it was huge. Time, distance and weight have been translated in all cases throughout this book to old Earth time, distance and weight systems for the sake of uniformity and to prevent confusion in the various systems employed by the Psychlos but printed on material that made it almost weightless, particularly on a low-gravity planet such as Earth, a triumph of design and manufacture that did not cut heavily into the payloads of freighters. 

“Rughr,” growled Char in disgust. “That must be two, three hundred Earth-years old. If you want to prowl around in books, I got an up-to-date general board of directors’ report that says we’re thirty-five freighters behind in bauxite deliveries.” 

The Chamco brothers looked at each other and then at their game to see where they had gotten to in shooting down the live mayflies in the air box. But Terl’s next words distracted them again. “Today,” said Terl, brushing Char’s push for work aside, “I got a sighting report from a recon drone that recorded only thirty-five men in that valley near that peak.” 

Terl waved his paw westward toward the towering mountain range silhouetted by the moon. 

“So?” said Char. 

“So I dug up the books out of curiosity. There used to be hundreds in that valley. And furthermore,” continued Terl with his professorial ways coming back, “there used to be thousands and thousands of them on this planet.” 

“You can’t believe all you read,” said Char heavily. “On my last duty tour—it was Arcturus IV—” 

“This book,” said Terl, lifting it impressively, “was compiled by the Culture and Ethnology Department of the Intergalactic Mining Company.” 

The larger Chamco brother batted his eyebones. “I didn’t know we had one.” 

– Excerpted from Battlefield Earth by L. Ron Hubbard, Galaxy Press, 2016. Reprinted with permission.

 

In response to Voyager I, the human race was nearly wiped out by an alien invader of superior strength and weapons so technologically advanced that any counterattack was futile. 

After a thousand years of dystopian terror, one courageous man attempts to gather the scattered tribes of humanity and reclaim the planet. He must unite a beaten people and uncover any possible weakness in the alien’s hold on our world.

Already pitted against overwhelming odds, Jonnie is being secretly undermined by an unexpected enemy within his own people, who will stop at nothing to destroy him.

This carefully plotted journey of the fate of humankind has captivated readers for more than 40 years and earned its place as one of the most beloved science fiction novels of all time.

A Random House Modern Readers Library poll voted Battlefield Earth one of the Best 100 English-Language Novels of the 20th Century.

“L. Ron Hubbard was one of the big change agents of science fiction. He helped shift the genre from a cold exploration of machines, technology, and alien worlds, to a warm exploration of human beings and how they reacted to such machines, technologies, and worlds. Battlefield Earth is a prime example, a character-driven epic that grabs you from the start and never lets go. You root for the heroes and despise the villains, all the while becoming immersed in a compulsively-readable science-fiction tour de force, complete with breathtaking action, non-stop adventure, and enough creativity to fill a dozen novels.” —Douglas E. Richards (author of Unidentified)

“Battlefield Earth is one of my favorite works of science fiction ever. I’ve probably read it eight times or so. It’s always in my top five. As a writer myself, I think about the pacing and the plotting of that book and just marvel that he pulled it off. It’s really brilliant.” —Hugh Howey (author of Wool)

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Battlefield-Earth-Arrival-Invasion-Post-Apocalyptic/dp/1592129579
Barnes & Noble: 
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/battlefield-earth-l-ron-hubbard/1100824883?ean=9781592129577
Booksamillion:
https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Battlefield-Earth/L-Ron-Hubbard/9781592129577

With 19 New York Times bestsellers and more than 350 million copies of his works in circulation, L. Ron Hubbard is among the most enduring and widely read authors of our time. As a leading light of American Pulp Fiction through the 1930s and '40s, he is further among the most influential authors of the modern age. Indeed, from Ray Bradbury to Stephen King, there is scarcely a master of imaginative tales who has not paid tribute to L. Ron Hubbard.

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