Welcome to a realm where each planet has a soul that lives on even after that planet's death, searching the galaxy to free other planetary souls from their rock encrusted wombs.
With every planet they devour they become stronger, bonding with mortals and giving those mortals mutated powers until they can destroy the planet they are on.
Welcome to the realm of the fantastic, where a winged woman fights alongside a cyborg, a telepath and a seer for survival. Where anything is possible and were-beasts roam the land.
Good is corrupted. Evil is beside you. Faith is lost.
And then…

This novel contains all three books of the completed Nova trilogy. As a bonus, it also includes The Fall of Eon, the prequel to the Nova realm.

Welcome to a realm where each planet has a soul that lives on even after that planet's death, searching the galaxy to free other planetary souls from their rock encrusted wombs.
With every planet they devour they become stronger, bonding with mortals and giving those mortals mutated powers until they can destroy the planet they are on.
Welcome to the realm of the fantastic, where a winged woman fights alongside a cyborg, a telepath and a seer for survival. Where anything is possible and were-beasts roam the land.
Good is corrupted. Evil is beside you. Faith is lost.
And then…

This novel contains all three books of the completed Nova trilogy. As a bonus, it also includes The Fall of Eon, the prequel to the Nova realm.

The evil essences of the universe’s dead worlds are descending to the core of the planet Solaris, drawing ever closer to their nightmarish, planet devouring goal.

Julieth has found a moment of calm, but the voices within her call her downward to battle the essences. The surviving members of Julieth’s league, a cyborg and horde of were-beasts, gather for a desperate attempt to halt their planet’s destruction and save their own lives.

For if the League can reach the planet core and devise a plan for destroying their unslayable foe, they may be able to at last find peace…

WARNING: If you don't believe that sometimes bad things happen to good people, don't read this book. If you don't believe that faith and love can get you through, don't read this book. If you don't believe in love that's worth dying for, PLEASE don't read this book.

A decade ago, a young man was enlisted into a "terrorist" faction against his will. His survival depended upon a plan he opposed, designing a weapon he had no intention of building and the death of his cousin.

And then he betrayed some very bad men to the US Government.

Eight years later, Erich Nazzari is a happily married man. He has a job he enjoys and lives a comfortable life with the woman he loves beyond anything in the world. His life is thrown into chaos when he crosses paths with a man who calls him by a name he left behind all those years ago. And now he has to find a way to stop them again to save his wife and the country from retribution.

The Postcard is a Christian novel. His wife's name is Faith and she was written to be not just the woman, but the concept, the thing he believes in that gets him through the hard times. It's a story about Faith, Love and how far a man will go to save the one thing he loves.

Moscow, 2138. With the world only beginning to recover from the complete societal collapse of the late 21st Century, Zoya scrapes by prepping corpses for funerals and dreams of saving enough money to have a child. When her brother forces her to bring him a mysterious package, she witnesses his murder and finds herself on the run from ruthless mobsters. Frantically trying to stay alive and save her loved ones, Zoya opens the package and discovers two unusual data cards, one that allows her to fight back against the mafia and another which may hold the key to everlasting life.

This is a description for Foresight, written by Dee Harrison. The short can be found in Breakwater Harbor Books' newly released anthology, Gateways!

Riom - a world of crystals and magic
 
Dee Harrison’s Firelord’s Legacy series is based on the world of Riom, an earth-like planet in orbit around Salix, an aging red sun. Riom has two moons, Talior and Sipis: Talior is closer to Riom and appears larger while Sipis is not visible north of the Robanon mountains. Most of the story takes place on a single continental mass spanning several thousand miles. Environments vary from vast grassy plains to deserts, immense forests to frozen wastes. Animals are somewhat similar to our own and so have been called by familiar names. Some like the Sil, majestic deer-like creatures, or the fer-cats, large sentient felines, have no Terran equivalent.
 The inhabitants of Riom appear similar to humans but with some differences. Most obvious is their ability to manipulate the planet’s energy flows, often enhanced by the use of crystal technology. These abilities, known as maisterie, or mastery, are hereditary and viewed by those not in possession of them as magical. Some powers of maisterie are considered to be active, others passive. A particular colour, or aura, is associated with each of the primes: red/coercion; amber/healing; purple/foresight; blue/defence; green/shapeshifting and indigo/weather-working. A few very rare people have a platinum aura indicating they possess a little of all the primes. There are also very many secondary talents, such as finding and far-viewing. Those people possessing maisterie are called runecasters, a reference to the words, or spells, that are chanted as they work. However, the words serve only to focus mental pathways and are not, of themselves, magical. A group of runecasters comprising all six primes is known as a ‘crown’.
The story included here can be viewed as a prologue to The Firelord’s Legacy and takes place a few weeks before the beginning of The Firelord’s Crown. It introduces several of the primary characters and shows the led-up to some of the main focal points of the series.
 
Foresight
 
   After a devastating misuse of magic the world of Riom shifts on its axis, initiating another Ice Age. Two thousand years pass before Tamilin, Master Healer and Seer, uncovers this truth. He learns that the only chance of saving his world from unrelenting winter is to reforge the Firelord’s Crown, the powerful artefact that was instrumental in the original magical battle.
   But the circlet was divided up amongst six companions who took ship and headed for safety when their homeland was destroyed. During the voyage one of the ships vanished but the segment her captain guarded will be needed to complete the Crown. Tamilin believes that it may lie far in the uncharted north and dispatches an expedition in search of it...

This is a description for Pivot of Fate, written by Lela Markham. The short can be found in Breakwater Harbor Books' newly released anthology, Gateways!

In a medieval world, history and literature are transmitted orally by bards and folk sitting round fires in the evening. Imagine a group of travelers in a caravanserie in the east of Celdrya in the world of Daermad. The travelers take turns telling tales while they digest their evening meal. The bard’s work next falls to a young teamster with wide shoulders and a pleasant smile. Duglys leans back against a log as the fire light washes his face and he launches into a controversial tale of racial and religious integration attempted and lost.
The rig of Clarcom said the neighboring and now-hated Kin massacred peaceful Celts at Ama’na, but Duglys was there and tells a different story involving some of the main characters of the Daermad Cycle.

An excerpt...
 
Pivot of Fate
by Lela Markham © 2015
 
 
I mean to tell the tale of Ama’na, what the Kin called Peace River – for that was what they hoped to find there – peace with the Celt over a subject we could both agree upon … horses. It became much more than that, much better if not for … where people are involved you can never find paradise.
My name is Duglys and my father was a horse drover who took us to Ama’na when I was 12, hoping to breed better horses.  Our family tumbled about for a good many years before we came to roost. I lost my taste for the rambling life at Peace River, but you do what you have to do in this world.
The Celt call it the Southern Confluence now, but the Kin – what the Celt call the Fey -- called it Peace River. That’s what Ama’na translates as, you see. That were the hope and it started well enough. The community had been growing for a few years when we arrived and they’d settled the worst of the conflicts.
When I say conflicts – you shouldn’t confuse the way it turned out with how it started. It were a beautiful place and beautiful people.
We called it Peace River because that were what we were after – peace.  I don’t think anyone were looking for paradise, but they were hoping for a place where Celt and Kin could be friends and raise some wonderful horses. My mam would have said it were a good place to raise children – a place where young ones could run freely and even strangers wouldn’t harm them.
It were a wondrous place to raise horses. Ama’na were on the other side of the lake from Clarcom … far enough from civilization that there were no uninvited noses to enter our business, but close enough that we could take horses to market when we like. It were right at the end of a Kin trail … they’d used the meadows between the two streams for generations.  Some of the early Celt settlers called it the confluence because the two streams – small rivers really – came together just off the mountains and then spilled toward the lake as one. The grass grew lush and green and the lake was filled with eating fish. It had everything a drover were looking for to raise horses and a nice community besides.

This is a description for Big Boy Burgundy: Blind Alley, written by Dyane Forde. The short can be found in Breakwater Harbor Books' newly released anthology, Gateways!

Big Boy Burgundy: Blind Alley is actually the third installment of a serialized story. It has been modified to become a standalone piece in order to meet the requirements of this anthology. Fun facts:  a writer friend inspired the story by providing me the prompt words burgundy, mycotoxins,

​and ​

manhunt. That friend was amused 

to learn

that, like him, Burgundy is big and bald,

and​

owns a .500 magnum Smith & Wesson and a muscle car.


In the section presented, Burgundy has joined forces with Leila, a tough, smart hacker who’s as adept with punch-kick combinations as she is with a blaster. Though totally different, the two have come to respect one another, and have come to the point of gaining proof that Burgundy was framed for the governor’s murder. Of course, that doesn’t stop something unexpected from coming into the picture and tugging at Burgundy’s taut heart strings…​



An excerpt......
Big Boy Burgundy: Blind Alley

 

Leila shut off the hover car. The compressed air under it slowly thinned, lowering the vehicle until it came to rest on the pavement. Burgundy threw open the door and unfolded himself until he was standing on the curb.

“I hate small cars.” He said small cars like it was a cuss word. “And I hate hover cars more. Can’t feel the road, can’t even sense how fast you’re going.” He vigorously rubbed the muscles in his back and neck.

“They’re an improvement over the stinky, gas-guzzling abominations of the past. You know, the ones that wrecked the planet.” Leila pressed a hand to a panel, locking the nondescript, energy efficient car. Burgundy scowled at the slight to his beloved Shelby—the gorgeously curved metal lady he’d wrecked in a high speed chase the week before.

“Yeah, well, this bloody thing doesn’t even make any noise! You can’t even call it a car.”

“You’re right. It’s a hover car.”

Burgundy scowled again, but he was glad Leila was comfortable with computers and anything tech. It made things easier for him since he couldn’t stand the faceless machines that computed everything from key strokes, to how much food you ordered from the dispensers in the market, to dosing medicine in the pharmacy. Even how many squares of toilet paper you used to wipe your ass. Damned control freaks!

“I still say it’s creepy that the thing drives itself.”

“It’s a Smart Car, newest model out there.”

“So now they’re making cars that are smarter than people.”

“No, smarter than you. Because you refuse to use GPS, if you’d been driving, you would’ve gotten us lost four times over before finding this place.” Leila snapped on leather gloves and reset the skull cap over her straight, dark hair.

“Funny.”

“You ready?” Leila pulled her blaster from her hip holster and placed her thumb on the micro screen. The minicomputer inside recognized her DNA. A blue line etched along the side of the barrel, signalling it was charged and ready to go. With a finger, she nudged a nearby tab, and the blue streak changed to green. The blaster was set to kill.

Burgundy grunted. He slid Big Boy from its holster and tilted it so the barrel and chamber glinted in the lamplight. The hard rubber handle of the .500 magnum Smith and Wesson rested comfortably in his hand. The feel of the grip was as familiar to him as the creases in his favorite leather jacket. Was he ready? “Hell, yeah.”

Burgundy started to rise from a crouched position to slide along the alley wall to the building situated at its end when Leila checked him by clearing her throat.

“One thing. Don’t do anything stupid this time.”

“This time?” Annoyance crept into his voice. Not because of what she had said, but because she was right.

With one hand, Leila reached up and pulled on the edge of his black jacket to bring him back down to eye level. Of all the women in the world, only she had the balls to drag this mountain of a man back to the ground.

“Look, Burgundy. I get it. You’re big and strong, and damn brave, too, I’ll give you that. After working together over the last few weeks, I figure there’s no one else I’d rather barge into an unfamiliar building with. You’re good with a gun and can turn anyone into a New City pretzel faster than that vendor on the corner of Eight and River. I know you don’t think you’ve got much up there--” here, she tapped him lightly on the forehead, “but that’s not true. You just have to take a second to think before dashing off into unknown territory. As much as improvising can get you out of a tough spot, it can also get you killed.”

Burgundy brushed her hand aside and stood up. He tugged on the front panels of his jacket with both hands, snapping the leather to straighten them out. “Thinking isn’t my thing. Shooting shit up with Big Boy and wrecking stuff with my bare hands, on the other hand--”

This is a description for Lethal Black Book, written by Melissa Simonson. The short can be found in Breakwater Harbor Books' newly released anthology, Gateways!

Chelsea George is an oblique but important character in Pretty Waste.  Dead long before the start of the novel, her role is that of narrator.  Her attitude isn’t what anyone would consider sweet or pleasant—it’s rare for Chelsea to have a nice word about anyone, but she shares a special sort of aversion for one character in particular.  In this short story, you’ll learn more about the why. 

An excerpt...

Youthful beginnings. They’re less aww-inspiring when you’re dead.
 
 
The woman sitting beside me isn’t someone I’ve met, but I still recognize her.  And what she’s doing.  Ever heard of the phrase two whores is too many?
Didn’t think so.  I just made it up.  Not one of my best.  And I was feeling so quippy yesterday. 
She’s pretending she can’t hear my delicate little ahems.  Maybe she’s deaf.  With earrings that look like doorknockers, I suspect all sorts of ear-related havoc is afoot. 
“You’re poaching,” I tell her.  Loudly. 
Suddenly her hearing works, and she looks me full in the face.  “Excuse me?”
“Yes, you’re excused.”  I hook a thumb toward the exit.  “Try across the street.”  And good luck with that.  This is the only bar around that doesn’t card religiously.  My fake I.D. puts my age at twenty-one, three years off the mark, and I doubt she’s much older than me.
She flicks a brown wisp of hair off her forehead and gives me a look of phony bewilderment.  Who, me?  Whatever do you mean? I love this dive.
“I’m sure you’re a swell person, but I don’t need another distraction hanging around.”  I point at the TVs in the corners of the bar and sweep the rest of the place with a hair flip.  “I didn’t come to a sports bar to watch the Mets get their ass kicked.  These tards can hardly take their eyes off the game.  When they finally come up for air I’d prefer to not watch them have an internal struggle over whether they prefer blondes or brunettes.”
Too many options would be confusing.  Hello, I’ve got rent to pay. 
“Blonde?”  She laughs, fingers her godawful earrings, and turns back to the television.  “That’s the brassiest blonde I’ve ever seen.  Steer clear of the drag queen salons.  They’re not your friends if they send you off like that.”