Speculative Fiction Showcase

Friday, September 13, 2019

Speculative Fiction Links of the Week for September 13, 2019

It's time for another somewhat truncated weekly round-up of interesting links about speculative fiction from around the web, this week with Chapter 2 of It, Joker, GamerGate five years later, The Testaments by Maragret Atwood, WorldCon 77, NecronomiCon, DragonCon, debates about the Campbell/Astounding Award and the Tiptree Award, the 2019 Dragon Award winners and much more.

Speculative fiction in general:

Film and TV:

Comments on Chapter 2 of It:

Comments on Joker:

GamerGate Five Years Later:

Awards:

Debates about awards name changes:

Writing, publishing and promotion:

Interviews:

Reviews:

Classics reviews:

Crowdfunding:

Reports about WorldCon 77:

Other con and event reports:

Science and technology:

Free online fiction:

Odds and ends:

Thursday, September 12, 2019

The School for Humans (The Book of Lost Calaens, Book 1) by Vanessa Kittle

Release date: September 4, 2019

Subgenre: Epic fantasy, Historical fantasy

**About The School for Humans:**

Our epic journey begins in Bronze Age Ireland.

Ellene is a servant to one of the great Calean leaders.
The Caleans are opening a school for the young from Ellene's village, but not all of the Caleans want to teach the humans.
Some have much darker plans, and the school may be the last chance for peace between the two peoples.

Excerpt:

Ellene didn't feel very special. She wasn't as fair as the other young women in her village, so she often wondered why Janneah had chosen her and her father. It was an incredible honor to serve Janneah, and to live with her under the same roof. The house had three levels overlooking Lake Amarh, and it contained so many rooms, with tall ceilings, and floors made of a curious smooth stone you could slide across like ice. It had three different hearths for building fires, a kitchen larger than the chieftain's entire dwelling, and beds softer than the thickest grasses of summertime. Ellene remembered the little round hut she had grown up in with her father. It was made of tree branches and clay. There was barely room enough for the two of them. Her mother had died in childbirth. The ceiling was low and the floor was just made of packed dirt that froze in the winter and turned to mud in the spring and summer. Compared to her new home she thought the old was better suited for chickens or pigs.

Janneah was a Calean. The people from Ellene's village all thought that the Caleans were Aos sí: the faerie folk, but Janneah explained to her that this was not accurate. Janneah said that she was mortal just like Ellene's people - only slightly different. Even Ellene's father thought the Caleans were Aos sí, and it was easy to see why. Their features were so fine and their hair so long and fair. And their eyes! Their eyes were so bright and green they seemed to glow with a light from the otherworld. They also had a peculiar angle upwards at the outer edges. Calean ears also were unusual. They were very small and round - barely ears at all. Of course the most remarkable thing about the Caleans was their wisdom and intelligence, not to mention their great height! Most Caleans were well over six feet tall.

The Caleans were living by the lake when Ellene's people arrived. Her father figured that they had always been there since the beginning of the world, and Ellene had to admit that it did seem possible. The Caleans were so calm and so wise. Most of them seemed always like the waters of the lake when there was no wind. There were a few who were... more turbulent. Ellene tried to stay away from those Caleans as much as possible. Janneah, however, was the kindest and most thoughtful of them all. She even bore their title of honor 'Laernh.' It meant lady, but in a strange way. To the Caleans the word lady meant that you studied always and were very wise.

In any event, Ellene was certainly not afraid of Janneah, nor of most of the Caleans, regardless of whether they were Aos sí or not. She was a quiet and thoughtful young woman. Had she not come to serve Janneah she would have undoubtedly been married off to one of the loud clumsy oafs from the village years ago. Perhaps it was her quiet nature that caused Janneah to select her. Janneah was always reading and studying, and would obviously not be able to stand a noisy and bothersome servant.

Ellene had been dispatched that afternoon on an errand to her old village. Janneah sent her with seeds for the winter barley crop: another of the Caleans gifts to her people. The sack had been terribly heavy, but Ellene chose to go alone rather than trouble her father with the long walk. His work at the house was already becoming too much for his aging bones. Visiting the village was always an unpleasant task for Ellene. She had been with Janneah for nearly five years. It was so strange how easy it was to forget what life in the village was truly like, and how poor, tiny, and just dirty the place looked. She was glad to turn her back to it and follow the sun west to her real home.

The path leading out from the village was narrow - just a dirt track beat through the brush and high grass. Ellene walked it carefully so as not to ruin her lovely tunic or get too much mud all over her new shoes. She paused for a second. It sounded as if she heard footsteps behind her, but when she looked back she saw only the empty path. Then, when she turned round again, she found that her way forward was now blocked. A horse had come out of nowhere and was standing on the path only twenty paces from her. She looked at it and it looked back at her. The horse's face gave the impression of intelligence, and its boldness marked it as one of the beasts from the village, who were accustomed to being around people. She started to walk towards it with her hands open and outstretched to show she meant it no harm. But then the horse suddenly charged her. She dove into the brush and just barely missed being trampled. When she got up she saw that it was heading back to make another run at her, almost as if some invisible rider was guiding it. She dove aside again. This time, when she got up, she saw that a boy from the village, Ruarc, had come swiftly up the path. He was waving his arms at the horse and shouting loudly. The beast ran off across the field and Ruarc approached her timidly.
Instead of thanking him right away, Ellene first asked, "Were you following me?" Ruarc had always been a shy boy. Now he seemed to be an even more awkward and overly gentle young man. He gazed firmly at his feet and did not reply. She said, "It does not matter. Thank you for driving it off. Have you ever seen a horse behave that way?"

Ruarc spoke softly, "Your arms."

She looked down and saw that she had scratched herself badly in the brambles. Some of the many scrapes on her arms were bleeding. She held her arms out carefully so that she wouldn't get any blood on her tunic. She said, "Thank you again, Ruarc. I must get back and wash these." She turned without waiting for his reply, and walked as quickly as she ever had, west down the path.

Amazon

About Vanessa Kittle:

Vanessa Kittle is a former chef, soldier, and lawyer who now teaches English. Her fantasy and science fiction stories have been featured by Akashic Books. Vanessa has also recently appeared in magazines such as the Rhysling Anthology, Contemporary American Voices, Dreams and Nightmares, Abyss and Apex, Star*Line, and Silver Blade.

Her books have received hundreds of thousands of downloads on Amazon in the genres of fantasy, science fiction, paranormal romance, and cooking.

Vanessa edits the Abramelin Poetry Journal. She enjoys watching cheesy movies, cooking, gardening, and Star Trek!

Facebook | Goodreads

Tuesday, September 10, 2019

Choices of Honor (Goddess's Honor, Book 3) by Joyce Reynolds-Ward

Release date: August 22, 2019

Subgenre: Epic fantasy

**About Choices of Honor:**

Sometimes vangeance becomes more complicated than expected.

Avenging the death of co-Leader Inharise of the Two Nations appears straightforward at first for Katerin Leader and Rekaré Kinslayer. The curse that killed her points directly to the Witches Council of Waykemin. Therefore, they’re responsible. But as Katerin and Rekaré lead a small avenging force to Waykemin’s capital city of Formis, they discover that things are not quite as they seem.

At the same time, Waykemin’s overseas ally, Chatain, Emperor of Daran, sends an invading force that Katerin’s daughter Witmara must counter. But is Chatain’s sortie a distraction from the attack on Waykemin, or does it serve a deeper purpose? Katerin must choose between her daughter and the challenge that Waykemin presents—and hope she made the right choice.

Excerpt:

Something’s wrong. And what was worse, she couldn’t identify whatever it was.

Rekaré Kinslayer scowled into the tiny warming fire of dried grasses, dead sagebrush, and juniper twigs, looking for wisdom in the flickers of flame and finding none. Maybe it was the season that caused her worry as spring and winter fought for supremacy, the weather unsettled and raw, warm one day, bitter cold the next, the abrupt transitions that made the hair on her forearms prickle with uneasiness.

Except that today was a nice day. The fires her two tens of Mer Galad riders had kindled in this bare spot on the snow-covered ridge’s point were for the purpose of drying out gloves and preparing a hot drink for the noon meal more than the need for warmth. While lacy, scattered clouds occasionally diffused the early spring sun’s rays, that soft chill was only momentary. The short interruptions in sunlight weren’t enough to pause the tiny rivulets of snowmelt trickling from under the knee-high snowbanks under the rimrocks. Mud and not ice squished under her heels. The trill of a bluebird swooping overhead testified to the presence of enough bugs for it to feed.

So just another lovely early spring day on the sagebrush plateau. Except that worrisome tingle, which had grown to a cool tightness in her gut. Rekaré raised her head, tired of not finding answers in the flames. She inhaled deeply, savoring the fragrant smoke, working her fingers open and closed to help banish the chill. Nothing revealed itself in the clouds as she watched the sky, either.

There was nothing unusual about this trip, save that it was earlier in the season than she and Katerin usually met. So why did she have this nagging sense of wrongness that had been tugging at her all day? The land would not be talking to her. It wasn’t hers.

Maybe it was something amongst her people.

Except she knew how that discord felt from past experience. That wasn’t the source of her uneasiness. Senth and Deta would have sensed any dissonance as well and moved to deal with it before her fretfulness escalated this far. So not amongst her riders.

No. Whatever this was affected her and her alone. But what could it be?

She looked away from the fire to check the Mer Galad anyway, even though Senth and Deta were moving from fire to fire talking to their tens, joking and chuckling, and would report any issues to her soon. Brown-skinned peoples from the nations of Larij, Medvara, Keratil, the Two Nations of Keldara and Clenda, and Saubral mixed with the gray-skinned Saubral Shadowwalkers without worry. Twenty riders, male and female, just about in equal numbers. All wore the blood-red cap and cowl of the Mer Galad as they warmed themselves by the fires, some squatting like her, others standing.

Nothing out of line, certainly nothing that would fuel her uneasiness, not like it had been in the early days when it took her, Detaluna, and Sesenth to smooth out fights between riders of different nations.

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About Joyce Reynolds-Ward:

Joyce Reynolds-Ward is a speculative fiction writer who splits her time between Enterprise and Portland, Oregon. Her short stories have appeared in Children of a Different Sky, Steam. And Dragons, Tales from an Alien Campfire, River, How Beer Saved the World 1, Fantasy Scroll Magazine, and Trust and Treachery among others. Her books include Shadow Harvest, Alien Savvy, Netwalking Space, Pledges of Honor, Challenges of Honor, and Klone’s Stronghold. Joyce recently completed editing her first anthology, Pulling Up Stakes. Besides writing, Joyce enjoys reading, quilting, horses, skiing, and outdoor activities.

Website | Blog | Author Central

Friday, September 6, 2019

Speculative Fiction Links of the Week for September 6, 2019

It's time for another somewhat truncated weekly round-up of interesting links about speculative fiction from around the web, this week with The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, Carnival Row, Chapter 2 of It, Ad Astra, Joker, tributes to Terrance Dicks, WorldCon 77, debates about the Campbell/Astounding Award and the Tiptree Award, the 2019 Dragon Award winners and much more.

Speculative fiction in general:

Film and TV:

Comments on The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance:

Comments on Carnival Row:

Comments on Chapter 2 of It:

Comments on Ad Astra:

Comments on Joker:

Awards:

Writing, publishing and promotion:

Interviews:

Reviews:

Classics reviews:

Crowdfunding:

Reports about WorldCon 77:

Comments about the issues with the Hugo Losers' Party at WorldCon 77:

Other con and event reports:

Science and technology:

Free online fiction:

Odds and ends:

Thursday, September 5, 2019

The Night Court (Thurvok, Book 7) by Richard Blakemore and Cora Buhlert

Release date: August 6, 2019

Subgenre: Sword and Sorcery

**About The Night Court:**

The city of Vanadur suffers under the thumb of the Night Court, whose bailiffs snatch random people off the streets and whose masked judges know only one verdict: guilty.

Meldom, thief, cutpurse and occasional assassin, is one of those who are snatched off the streets and put on trial by the Night Court. The accusation: murder. But while Meldom may have done many questionable things in the past, he knows that he did not commit this particular murder.

However, the Night Court is not inclined to believe him and so it’s up to Thurvok, Sharenna and Lysha to save him from the gallows.

This is a short story of 7100 words or 25 print pages in the Thurvok sword and sorcery series, but may be read as a standalone. Includes an introduction and afterword.

Excerpt:

Night had fallen over the free city of Vanadur and the streets and alleys lay deserted. Only the man of the night watch were out and about, patrolling the streets with their lanterns and halberds. There were also other, less lawful elements abroad, keeping strictly to the shadows to engage in their various illicit activities.
Not too long ago, the man dressed in black from head to toe, his lithe body swathed in a cloak the colour of midnight, might have been one of those less lawful elements. For Meldom of Greyvault used to ply his trade as a thief, cutpurse and occasional assassin. He’d sworn off killing by now — and he’d only ever killed those who had it coming anyway. He still cut the occasional purse and picked the occasional pocket, but only to stay in practice. And he only stole from those who could afford it.
But these days, Meldom was mainly a freelance adventurer and occasional mercenary. To his own surprise, he was also a hero, ever since he and his companions had slain the dragon Khadaragh the Terrible who’d been terrorising the countryside in the Valley of Kosh.
And since he was a hero now and not engaged in any illicit activities for once, Meldom did not stick to the shadows, but walked in the middle of the cobblestoned street, his head held high. He was on his way to the Murky Meerkat tavern to join his friends Thurvok and Sharenna as well as his sweetheart Lysha.
Normally, Meldom was a cautious man. But he had no enemies here in Vanadur that he knew of. All right, so he’d been here before and he’d done a few jobs, stolen a few things, but nothing major. Nothing that would cause anybody to seek revenge two cycles later.
Besides, his mind was already imagining the wine he’d have at the Murky Meerkat and the food he’d eat and Lysha’s slender body lying next to his in a nice soft bed. And so he never noticed that some of the shadows cast by the lanterns hanging above the entrances of the wealthier houses were moving in the night and that they were following him.
However, he did notice that someone was trying to jump him from the overhang of one of the houses lining the street. Meldom quickly vaulted aside and his would-be attacker landed on the cobblestones instead.
Meldom whipped out his dagger to confront his assailant, when a black canvas sack was thrown over his face from behind. Blindly, Meldom lashed out with his dagger, but only hit empty air.
Then someone knocked him on the back of the head and he collapsed in the street, out cold.

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About Richard Blakemore:

Richard Blakemore (1900 – 1994) was a prolific writer of pulp fiction. Nowadays, he is best remembered for creating the Silencer, a masked vigilante in the vein of the Shadow or the Spider, during the hero pulp boom of the 1930s. But Richard Blakemore also wrote in many other genres, including an early sword and sorcery series about the adventures of a sellsword named Thurvok and his companions.

Richard Blakemore's private life was almost as exciting as his fiction. He was a veteran of World War I and II as well as a skilled sportsman and adventurer who travelled the world during the 1920s. He may also have been the person behind the mask of the real life Silencer who prowled New York City between 1933 and 1942, fighting crime, protecting the innocent and punishing the guilty, though nothing has ever been proven.

Richard Blakemore was married for more than fifty years to Constance Allen Blakemore and the couple had four children.

Blog | Twitter

About Cora Buhlert:

Cora Buhlert was born and bred in North Germany, where she still lives today – after time spent in London, Singapore, Rotterdam and Mississippi. Cora holds an MA degree in English from the University of Bremen and is currently working towards her PhD.

Cora has been writing, since she was a teenager, and has published stories, articles and poetry in various international magazines. She is the author of the Silencer series of pulp style thrillers, the Shattered Empire space opera series, the In Love and War science fiction romance series, the Helen Shepherd Mysteries and plenty of standalone stories in multiple genres.

When Cora is not writing, she works as a translator and teacher. She also runs the Speculative Fiction Showcase and the Indie Crime Scene and contributes to the Hugo-nominated fanzine Galactic Journey.

Website | Mailing list | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest | YouTube | Mastodon

Monday, September 2, 2019

Peavley Manor (Or, Introducing Macalley) by Robert Dahlen

Release date: August 27, 2019

Subgenre: Steampunk, Gaslamp Fantasy

**About Peavley Manor (Or, Introducing Macalley):**

Alice Peavley was a sales clerk in a book shop, until her rich uncle left her his estate in his will. She moves to the manor, meets her new tenants and neighbors, and adjusts to life in the eccentric town of Darbyfield with the help of her valet, a sardonic gnome named Macalley. Alice gets mixed up in misadventures involving a concert gone askew, a chaotic baking competition, and a mischievous squatter, but there is a more sinister plot afoot to steal her land and her fortune. Can Alice get to the bottom of the conspiracy and save Peavley Manor? Find out in this comedy of manners, mayhem and magic!

Excerpt:

I stepped inside the small room. There were ten glass cases set along the walls, resting on carved wood stands. Inside each casewas a book, except for one that held three. I walked over to one and read the plaque on the stand. I gasped. “Oliver Twist?” I said.

“Yes.” Clarinda beamed. “These are what books we’ve been able to find and salvage from before the Great Relocation.”

“My heavens.” I tried to appear calm, but the library studies major in me was starting to cry. “I’ve never seen a book from those times.”

“We only have these twelve. We need to keep them in these cases, as we’re worried about the pages decaying.” Clarinda paused. “There were five more, but they were in excellent shape, so we sent those to a publisher in Velessa. They were able to get them printed for wide distribution.”

My eyes widened. “Is that where The Three Musketeers came from?”

“It was!”

“Oh! I loved that book!” I smiled gleefully. “I must have read it four times!”

“Same here!” Clarinda smiled again. “It’s ironic that a town with British roots played a part in making a French book so popular!”

“My friends and I dressed up as Musketeers for a costume ball!” My smile turned wistful. “Priscilla made a wonderful Porthos.”

Clarinda chuckled, but her smile faded. “I hate to keep Darbyfield’s heritage locked away like this. We’ve been asking the university to look into how we can preserve and protect these for future publishing.”

“That would be amazing. But wouldn’t there be more of these books?”

“There were many more, at one point.”

“What happened?”

“The Oakton clan.” Clarinda scowled. “It goes back to the days following the Relocation, when the agreement between Darbyfield and Elfking Barkbirch was being negotiated. An objection was made by Lord Dalewood Oakton. He had been closing a deal with Barkbirch to purchase some of the land for a housing development—the land where Peavley Manor now sits.”

“Is that so?” I tried, and mostly succeeded, to hide my surprise.

“The owners of the manor, old Clarence’s parents, disliked Oakton on sight and refused to sell. He then set one condition before he would approve the deal: He wanted our books.”

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About Robert Dahlen:

Author bio: Fantasy novelist, all-around wisecracker and penguin aficionado, Robert Dahlen lives in Northern California with lots of penguins, a tablet stuffed with e-books and works in progress, a collection of Disney Infinity figures that is growing exponentially, and a very nice hat.. He is hopefully working on more Monkey Queen stories (and other projects) as you read this.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Sunday, September 1, 2019

Origins of the Tainted Bloodline (Shapeshifting Seas Trilogy Book 1) by Rosie Scott

Release date: August 30, 2019
Sub-genre: Dark Fantasy

About Origins of the Tainted Bloodline:

Alastor Cerberius is a troubled man.

After over a century enslaved in the oppressive underground, he and his best friend, Koby Bacia, escape their chains. They emerge onto the surface: a new world full of the unknown, freedom, and discovery. Desperate to leave his tragic past behind, Alastor changes his name to Calder and delves into the dangerous blood science of shapeshifting. With the new ability to transform into a lethal lizard at will, Calder finally has power after a lifetime of captivity.

Calder and Koby answer the ocean’s call with dreams of smuggling illegal goods as mercenary sailors. This is easier said than done, for the seas are full of horrors of their own, and each time Calder transforms into the beast, it further scars his damaged psyche. Worst of all, a botched business deal puts them at odds with a criminal ring of pirates that are determined to remain the greatest threat on the seas.

Excerpt:

Staying low enough in the ocean to remain invisible to the surface while in lizard form, I darted under the ship toward our pursuers. Only a minute later came the hum of disturbed water before I could see the caravel's keel cutting through it like a knife. I swam to the right side of the approaching ship and rose to meet it once its shadow darkened surrounding waters. Spreading both hands to reveal my talons, I waited until the vessel swept overhead in a blob of moss-covered blackish-brown to latch my claws into the imperfections of its wood. Wasting no time, I yanked one hand free and started to climb its hull.

Only once I nearly reached the deck could I hear conversations happening between our foes. I waited patiently as the caravel looped in a half-circle, preparing to pull up alongside our ship so the pirates could attempt to board it. My muscular arms ached as they held my body weight from the hull's ornate woodwork.

“It's sad they're even trying,” one woman proclaimed from the deck above. “We have twice as many men.”

“They're traders,” a man replied. “They're probably stupid when it comes to battle tactics.”

“Stupid when it comes to trading, too, if they think they can get through the strait while we patrol it,” a different man mused.

“That stupidity benefits us,” the woman spoke up again. “Don't complain. Whatever cargo they've got, it has to be expensive if it's worth the trip. We'll get riches and captives all in one battle. Vruyk will be pleased.”

Captives. So these pirates were involved in Nahara's slave trade. Though the caravel still maneuvered the waters, I waited no longer to reveal myself, eager to spill slaver blood.

I grabbed the taffrail and hoisted myself up onto the deck. The quarterdeck of the caravel was flatter and more open than that of our cog, but twice as many men spotted it. When a strained exhale escaped my nostrils in a puff from my physical efforts of climbing, they all turned at the noise.

One woman shrieked, backing away from me as I bounded forward. She clashed a mace into my side as I neared her. The blunt weapon barely chipped my scales, but it rattled my ribcage enough to anger me. I grabbed her hair with a webbed hand, eyed the nearby mast, and slammed her into it. The woman's skull caved in immediately; an explosion of shattered bone, blood, and shredded brain matter sprayed out around my hand. Her body slumped to the deck, leaving a smear of gore over the rough mast. I shook my hand of filth, and a pulverized eyeball flung overboard, eager to feed awaiting fish.

“What the fuck?!” a pirate screamed with horror, staring at the broken body before the front of his trousers darkened with urine. Perhaps I needed to start expecting that reaction to my arrival.

Shik!

A bolt from Hassan's arbalest cracked through the temporal bone of the pirate's skull, puncturing the back of his left eye. Its capillaries burst with trauma as the gaze within his pupils dulled with death. His limp body landed on the near railing before giving into gravity's seductions, falling to the ocean below.

Dull vibrations traveled up my tail as multiple pirates tried attacking me from behind. I spun, lashing my thick tail in a damaging circle behind me.

Crrk! Crrk! Crrk! Crrk!

Two men fell to the deck screaming, grasping at their newly broken ankles. I crushed one's skull under my feet as I bit the other's head, twisting quickly to snap his neck.

“They have more beasts!” came a scream from the poop deck.

I glanced up. Kali silently zipped through the air between ships in mantis form, her wings beating so speedily they were invisible. As the pirates scattered to the sides of the deck to avoid her, she swooped down, unhinging her walking appendages just wide enough to capture a slaver's shoulders. She landed on the deck for only a millisecond, clamping down with her front legs until the snap of his broken collarbone sliced through the air. Her victim burst into bumbling sobs as she lifted him and flew back out over the ocean.

Arrows bounced off her exoskeleton uselessly as Kali hovered over the waters at a safe distance, holding the man with her praying arms. Her triangular head swiveled, and her mandibles spread. She buried her head in the crook of the slaver's neck, bringing her mouth parts together with a sickly crunch.

Origins of the Tainted Bloodline is Part I of a new trilogy by Rosie Scott that forms a prequel to her Six Elements series.

Amazon

About Rosie Scott:

Rosie Scott has been writing novels for over twenty years and publishing since 2010. She writes unconventional adult dystopian, fantasy, and science fiction novels which are partial to themes such as warfare, gray morality, and rebellion. Obsessed with the human psyche and how experiences, events, and trauma can transform a person, most of her books have protagonists who walk just off the path of being a hero. Rosie loves building characters from the ground up with different viewpoints and backgrounds, having them interact uniquely with one another, and then playing with their mortality in her novels because she believes no character should ever be invincible.
Rosie’s novels tend to explore darker themes and are not for the faint of heart. No philosophical question is unable to be examined. No character is immune to death. No hero is truly righteous. Rosie has a penchant for writing unapologetically strong characters, brutal inconveniences, and crude humor, and she will forever test limits by exploring questionable morality and scenes of gore. Rosie loves entertaining with long battle sequences and witty banter, but she also seeks to plant questions in her readers’ minds that will stick with them for long after a book is read.
Besides writing, Rosie spends her time video gaming via her gaming PC and twelve consoles, collecting medieval and video game weapon replicas, sketching the characters she creates, and building models of medieval siege weapons and cars. If she isn’t writing about bloody warfare and conquest in one of her novels, she is probably leading an army with a mouse and keyboard.
Rosie Scott is continually writing to please her fans. She invites you to visit her blog at http://www.rosiescottbooks.wordpress.com, where fan art, timelines, maps, and fun facts about her books await. You may also follow her mailing list at http://eepurl.com/c6SRB9 to be informed of new releases. All business inquiries can be sent to rosiescottbooks@gmail.com.

Web-site | Mailing list | Amazon author page

Pages

Friday, September 13, 2019

Thursday, September 12, 2019

About The School for Humans:

Excerpt:

About Vanessa Kittle:

Facebook | Goodreads

Tuesday, September 10, 2019

About Choices of Honor:

Excerpt:

Amazon | B&N | Kobo | Apple

About Joyce Reynolds-Ward:

Website | Blog | Author Central

Friday, September 6, 2019

Thursday, September 5, 2019

About The Night Court:

Excerpt:

Amazon | B&N | Kobo | Apple | Smashwords | Scribd | Playster | DriveThru | 24symbols

About Richard Blakemore:

Blog | Twitter

About Cora Buhlert:

Website | Mailing list | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest | YouTube | Mastodon

Monday, September 2, 2019

About Peavley Manor (Or, Introducing Macalley):

Excerpt:

Amazon | B&N | Kobo | Apple

About Robert Dahlen:

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Sunday, September 1, 2019

About Origins of the Tainted Bloodline:

Alastor Cerberius is a troubled man.

Excerpt:

About Rosie Scott:

**About The School for Humans:**

**About Choices of Honor:**

**About The Night Court:**

**About Peavley Manor (Or, Introducing Macalley):**