Jesus didn't flee the sinners for higher ground; he dwelt amongst them to save their souls. He is still here.

Have you ever felt that a person in your day was sent to you by God to help you just when you needed it, to guide you or carry you? People say that God no longer acts, but when we open our eyes we can see him everywhere. This book is about that presence in our lives. It is about what it sometimes could be.

An excerpt:

He stood in the abandoned house as the sun rose, staring out its attic window, in awe of its orange brilliance on the horizon. Every time, he thought. Every day it is so beautiful. He looked around at the bookshelves lining the attic walls and a long unused birdcage that sat in the corner of the room. He remembered seeing it when it had been in use; such a beautiful space; such a wonderful man who owned it in that man's time. Focus, he thought. The day is young but it will go quickly. He mentally made a checklist of everything on his person, three shirts on his back, three pair of pants, multiple socks and a set of gloves. A bag stuffed with money was tucked inside his shirts and a heavy coin purse hung to his side. The book, he thought and went to the musty bookshelves. He traced his fingers along their bindings, stirring a thick layer of dust before he found the tomb he desired, pulled it from the shelf and blew the dust off. Yes, he thought and placed it in his large pant pocket. Oh, and I almost forgot. He took several steps across the room to where the birdcage rested. Beside it was a bottle with a letter in it. You will do. He stuffed it in the pocket of his other pant leg.

Sixteen years ago a very powerful man died in a fiery car wreck, leaving a fortune to an eight-year-old boy whom no one had ever seen.
For Sammael, sixteen years hadn’t been long enough to recover

He started over once again, in his hiding place along the banks of the Nile. He would have spent at least that many years as an asp in the hot sand. He would have let himself drift from conscious thought until he forgot the reason he'd had to leave that last life behind. He would have made a new plan and come into this new life with some sort of ambition. None of those things happened, because this time he'd asked Evangeline to stay.
Starting over was always difficult.
Weakened by a loss greater than he’d imagined he could feel, Sammael needed the comfort of the one being made to love him. So again and again he asked Evangeline to return to him knowing her love for him was so strong she could not refuse. But hiding in the desert was not the sort of life she deserved, and Sammael knew the time had come to become Brendan Mirek. The time had come to find a purpose out in the modern world. The time had come to make a new life, a simple life, in a place of comfort where he and Evangeline could blend in as Brendan and Phoebe.

But when his resolve to leave the desert found him starting over in London, this new life seemed to become synonymous with fire. Memories from ages ago twisted and contorted with those so recent they still burned. His new neighbor, Lilith, developed an obsessive interest. Her aggressive assault upon his weakened spirit caused Brendan to lose his memories. Freakish accidents and recurring dreams of loss and fire smothered him with guilt he couldn not seem to assuage. He struggled to keep warm as his divine spirit was siphoned away.
Until at last, he was left wondering if his life was even worth fighting for.

Can a new friend with an age old memory, the eternal love of the other half of his soul and divine intervention save Sammael or will this demon of fire drain him away until all love is lost from creation?

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.

Jesus didn’t flee the sinners for higher ground; he dwelt amongst them to save their souls.
He is still here.

--

Have you ever felt that a person in your day was sent to you by God to help you just when you needed it, to guide you or carry you?
People say that God no longer acts, but when we open our eyes we can see him everywhere.
This book is about that presence in our lives. It is about what it sometimes could be.

An excerpt:

He stood in the abandoned house as the sun rose, staring out its attic window, in awe of its orange brilliance on the horizon.
Every time, he thought. Every day it is so beautiful.
He looked around at the bookshelves lining the attic walls and a long unused birdcage that sat in the corner of the room. He remembered seeing it when it had been in use… such a beautiful space… such a wonderful man who owned it in that man’s time.
Focus, he thought. The day is young but it will go quickly.
He mentally made a checklist of everything on his person, three shirts on his back, three pair of pants, multiple socks and a set of gloves. A bag stuffed with money was tucked inside his shirts and a heavy coin purse hung to his side.
The book, he thought and went to the musty bookshelves. He traced his fingers along their bindings, stirring a thick layer of dust before he found the tomb he desired, pulled it from the shelf and blew the dust off. Yes, he thought and placed it in his large pant pocket. Oh, and I almost forgot. He took several steps across the room to where the birdcage rested. Beside it was a bottle with a letter in it. You will do. He stuffed it in the pocket of his other pant leg.

A healer must mend a fractured kingdom and bring two enemy races together before a greater enemy destroys them both.

Fate took Prince Maryn by surprise, leaving Celdrya to tear itself apart. A century later an army amasses against the warring remains of the kingdom as prophesy sends a half-elven healer on a journey to find the nameless True King. Padraig lacks the power to put the True King on the throne, yet compelled by forces greater than himself, Padraig contends with dark mages, Celtic goddesses, human factions and the ancient animosities of two peoples while seeking a myth. With all that distraction, a man might meet the True King and not recognize him.


Check this fantastic debut release out now on Amazon!

Lela Markham is the pen name of an Alaskan novelist who was raised in a home built of books. Alaska is a grand adventure like none other with a culture that embraces summer adventure and winter artist pursuits. Lela has been a journalist, worked in the mental health field and currently works for the State of Alaska, but her avocation has always been storyteller.

Her first published book, The Willow Branch, begins an exploration of the world of Daermad where a fractured kingdom leaves two races vulnerable to destruction by a third and opens the opportunity to mend old wounds. Lela drew inspiration from Celtic mythology, Alaskan raven legends and the Bible to craft a tale of war, faith and reconciliation. And, don’t forget … Celtic goddesses, sentient animals and dragons. Lela shares her life with her adventuresome husband and two fearless offspring and a sentient husky who keeps a yellow Lab as a pet.

[email protected]

[email protected]

'Fusion: A collection of short stories from Breakwater Harbor Books' authors' is the WINNER of the Best Anthology category for the '2014 eFestival of Words Best of the Independent eBook Awards!'
 
This festival was put together by Bards and Sages Publishing, a Publisher of Speculative Fiction and Roleplaying Games since 2002, and nominations were voted on by the general public. The winners were announced during the actual festival which included virtual panel discussions, live author Q & As, seminars and workshops.

BHB's authors are honored to have won top honor in the Anthology category and are also honored to be considered beside the other high quality Anthologies involved! BHB author Claire C Riley is also the runner up for her Vampire novel, Limerence, in the Best Novel category! Check out Fusion below and go to Amazon to get your free copy today! Below is also the link to the eFestival website!

http://www.efestivalofwords.com/2014-efestival-of-words-winners-t568.html

Featuring gripping Independent authors from around the world, FUSION is the first collection of short works published by Breakwater Harbor Books. Contributing heart-pumping tales of Science Fiction, Fantasy, Horror and Crime are seven stories that will thrill you, rivet you and some will even make you sleep with the light on. Authors from across a wide variety of genres, Dee Harrison, Ivan Amberlake, Claire C. Riley, Scott J. Toney, Mindy Haig, Cara Goldthorpe and C.M.T. Stibbe.


The Sliver of Abilon – A Mirrorsmith Tale – 'and you thought it was safe to look in the mirror?'

Diary of the Gone - Without a girlfriend, bullied by the Principal’s son, and haunted by the dead, Callum Blackwell thinks his life can’t get any worse. But he’s wrong.

Life Ever After. Nina's Story: Part one. – When the dead begin to rise, it's time to put your differences aside and run!

NovaFall – When the Meteor falls, the essences will come, forging flesh and planetary souls as one.

Cybilla. – To claim his Muse, one man must find the gate between the mortal and the immortal worlds.

Capturing Perfection – An artist's tale of love, loss and beauty in Renaissance Milan

Until The Ninth Hour – Until a man loses his daughter to a serial killer, until he loses his best friend, until he is down on his luck, Darryl Williams must put all thoughts of retaliation out of his mind.

An excerpt from Dee Harrison’s The Sliver of Abilon – A Mirrorsmith Tale

Junah Venmark, Master Mirrorsmith, exited the wayportal directly into the seaweed stench of Abilon. The foul odour tickled the back of his throat and he gagged on a rise of bile. Mirrorsmith Guild protocol demanded that he preview his destination before he arrived but it could not prepare him for an assault on his other senses. He vomited onto the trackway, just thankful that there was no-one to witness his most pitiful entrance ever. He loathed the smell of mouldy greens – it stirred up too many reminders of his wretched childhood in the back alleys of Varna, largest city on his homeworld of Vargo – but this was kabbige soup intensified tenfold.

When his heaving subsided, Junah sank down onto his rump, trying to ignore the early evening dew which was soaking into his leggings. He pulled a kerchief from his belt-purse, to wipe the spittle from his lips, and cursed this ill-favoured world. Sissik, his wail, chittered and scurried around him like a silver-furred cyclone, mewing her distress. Junah winced when she skipped onto his tender stomach, the better to peer into his face with her large, prosimian eyes. He ran a finger down her spine and she slowly relaxed beneath his touch.

Junah ill? She sent.

No, I’m fine, Little One he reassured her. He grimaced. The smell caught me out, that’s all.

Sissik wrinkled her own nose. Nasty, nasty stink, she concurred.

Junah delved into his purse a further time and extracted a couple of lozenges from a packet. A few chews later and he could smell nothing.

“Next time I’ll take ‘em before I get here,” he promised out loud. “Not that there’ll be a next time!”

Junah clambered to his feet and peeled the sodden fabric from his buttocks. Sissik took her accustomed place on his shoulders, hiding beneath his long, dark hair and curled around his neck like a fur collar. Wails were native to all the worlds of the Regium, even the undeveloped ones like Abilon. Some wails, the silver-furred ones like Sissik, were prized for their ability to generate the acoustic frequencies that Mirrorsmiths depended upon. Others, the plumper, browner ones, made good eating. Whenever Sissik irritated him, which was often, Junah threatened to dye her coat russet. Now, however, she was quiescent, understanding that it was time for work.

The wayportal, part of the network of gates that connected all the worlds of the Regium, had opened between a pair of standing stones that dominated the headland to the north of Abilon.

For your FREE copy please visit one of the links below!

Scott J. Toney's newest book, The Last Supper: John, has just released and is 99 cents for Kindle on Amazon.com! If you've read and enjoyed Lazarus, Man then this is a book for you! An excerpt is below and a link so that you can take a look. 

This is the story of The Last Supper told through the mind of  the disciple John.

Excerpt:

John sat on the floor at a low  stone table while the other apostles spoke. Candles danced light around them. 
“Did you hear what Jesus spoke in the streets?” Bartholomew asked in low  tones to Thomas across the table. “He said ‘The hour has come for the Son of Man  to be glorified. Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the  earth and dies, it remains just a single grain, but if it dies, it bears much  fruit.’ What do these words mean? He speaks in riddles. If he is to be glorified  will he now take his place as ruler over the land of Jerusalem? What role would  we play then?”
Thomas took a hand and placed it on the table, turning to his  fellow apostle. “I do not think he means to rule, but I am afraid I also do not  understand. He spoke of death, and yet he then told the masses ‘Whoever serves  me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves  me, the Father will honor.’ I do not think he would speak of serving and  following if he or we were to die now. But then he has said before ‘The Son of  Man is going to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and on the  third day he will be raised.”
“I would die for him if he asked,” Simon Peter  spoke from nearby John.
It had been like this for days, ever since their  arrival to Jerusalem during the festival while Jesus rode the donkey over  branches of palm. Jesus spoke words they did not fully
understand, words that  brought fear to the apostles. John looked around the table at his eleven  brothers. Their faces were apprehensive, some masking it with jovial talk and  others asking questions about what was to come.
All seemed to feel this  coming meal with Jesus was important and pivotal in some unknown way. Tension  held between them at all times.

"Great short story. Perfect for a layover." When I logged in to Amazon today to check my books' stats and to see if I had any fresh reviews this review of Hearts of Avon was waiting for me. It's short, yes, but it meant a lot. As an 'Indy Author' there is a big thrill to know that others are reading my works, and to think about this gentleman sitting in an airport reading Hearts of Avon and immersing himself in the world of the book while he passes his time. Reviews of Independent books serve two purposes. First, they help future readers make the decision to pick up the book as well. But also, the authors of Independent books check to read your reviews. It means a lot to know what our readers think and that pushes us in our drive to publish more books for you to enjoy. I'd like to say thank you to Raymond Fleming for his support and review and say thank you to all my readers. Have a wonderful day, and if you haven't yet read one of my books, I would love to hear what you think in an Amazon review when you finish!

- Scott

'Fusion: A collection of short stories from Breakwater Harbor Books' authors' is a finalist in the Best Anthology category for the '2014 eFestival of Words Best of the Independent eBook Awards!'
 
This festival is put together by Bards and Sages Publishing, a Publisher of Speculative Fiction and Roleplaying Games since 2002, and nominations are currently being voted on by the general public. That means its time for YOU (Stop looking at other people around you), yes you to go and vote Fusion to the top of the pile! In August the winners will be announced during the actual festival which will include virtual panel discussions, live author Q & As, seminars and workshops.

BHB's authors are excited and honored to be finalists! In addition Claire C Riley is a finalist in the Best Novel category for Limerence and Ivan Amberlake is a finalist in the best Contemporary Fantasy/Urban Fantasy category! Check out Fusion below and go to Amazon to get your free copy today! Below is also the link to the eFestival website!

http://www.efestivalofwords.com/2014-finalists-for-best-of-the-independent-ebook-awards-t513.html

Featuring gripping Independent authors from around the world, FUSION is the first collection of short works published by Breakwater Harbor Books. Contributing heart-pumping tales of Science Fiction, Fantasy, Horror and Crime are seven stories that will thrill you, rivet you and some will even make you sleep with the light on. Authors from across a wide variety of genres, Dee Harrison, Ivan Amberlake, Claire C. Riley, Scott J. Toney, Mindy Haig, Cara Goldthorpe and C.M.T. Stibbe.


The Sliver of Abilon – A Mirrorsmith Tale – 'and you thought it was safe to look in the mirror?'

Diary of the Gone - Without a girlfriend, bullied by the Principal’s son, and haunted by the dead, Callum Blackwell thinks his life can’t get any worse. But he’s wrong.

Life Ever After. Nina's Story: Part one. – When the dead begin to rise, it's time to put your differences aside and run!

NovaFall – When the Meteor falls, the essences will come, forging flesh and planetary souls as one.

Cybilla. – To claim his Muse, one man must find the gate between the mortal and the immortal worlds.

Capturing Perfection – An artist's tale of love, loss and beauty in Renaissance Milan

Until The Ninth Hour – Until a man loses his daughter to a serial killer, until he loses his best friend, until he is down on his luck, Darryl Williams must put all thoughts of retaliation out of his mind.

An excerpt from Dee Harrison’s The Sliver of Abilon – A Mirrorsmith Tale

Junah Venmark, Master Mirrorsmith, exited the wayportal directly into the seaweed stench of Abilon. The foul odour tickled the back of his throat and he gagged on a rise of bile. Mirrorsmith Guild protocol demanded that he preview his destination before he arrived but it could not prepare him for an assault on his other senses. He vomited onto the trackway, just thankful that there was no-one to witness his most pitiful entrance ever. He loathed the smell of mouldy greens – it stirred up too many reminders of his wretched childhood in the back alleys of Varna, largest city on his homeworld of Vargo – but this was kabbige soup intensified tenfold.

When his heaving subsided, Junah sank down onto his rump, trying to ignore the early evening dew which was soaking into his leggings. He pulled a kerchief from his belt-purse, to wipe the spittle from his lips, and cursed this ill-favoured world. Sissik, his wail, chittered and scurried around him like a silver-furred cyclone, mewing her distress. Junah winced when she skipped onto his tender stomach, the better to peer into his face with her large, prosimian eyes. He ran a finger down her spine and she slowly relaxed beneath his touch.

Junah ill? She sent.

No, I’m fine, Little One he reassured her. He grimaced. The smell caught me out, that’s all.

Sissik wrinkled her own nose. Nasty, nasty stink, she concurred.

Junah delved into his purse a further time and extracted a couple of lozenges from a packet. A few chews later and he could smell nothing.

“Next time I’ll take ‘em before I get here,” he promised out loud. “Not that there’ll be a next time!”

Junah clambered to his feet and peeled the sodden fabric from his buttocks. Sissik took her accustomed place on his shoulders, hiding beneath his long, dark hair and curled around his neck like a fur collar. Wails were native to all the worlds of the Regium, even the undeveloped ones like Abilon. Some wails, the silver-furred ones like Sissik, were prized for their ability to generate the acoustic frequencies that Mirrorsmiths depended upon. Others, the plumper, browner ones, made good eating. Whenever Sissik irritated him, which was often, Junah threatened to dye her coat russet. Now, however, she was quiescent, understanding that it was time for work.

The wayportal, part of the network of gates that connected all the worlds of the Regium, had opened between a pair of standing stones that dominated the headland to the north of Abilon.

For your FREE copy please visit one of the links below!