🏰Read the First Chapter of Blazing Upheaval by Karen Charles #FirstChapter

  

In the heart of the tumultuous Rodney King riots in Los Angeles, a dedicated teacher finds herself thrust into a hazardous situation. Struggling to navigate the chaos and reach safety on the freeway, she faces dangerous obstacles that jeopardize her life. An unexpected rescue during a brutal attack plunges her, her family, and two other families into a chilling series of enigmatic events and escalating violence.

As the city grapples with unrest, they are entangled in a web of mysteries swiftly building in intensity. In the turmoil, their bonds of family, loyalty, and love are put to the ultimate test. The tension mounts relentlessly until an unforeseen revelation, coinciding with the cataclysmic Northridge earthquake, irrevocably changes their lives forever.

This gripping true-story thriller delivers suspenseful twists and heart-pounding moments, weaving a narrative of family resilience, solidarity, and enduring love in the face of daunting circumstances. It is a tale that illuminates the strength found within the human spirit when confronted with extraordinary challenges.

Blazing Upheaval is available at Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0BMM6BXLG.

Tiffany glanced out the bank of windows along the side of her first-grade classroom.  Ashes rained down as though the heavens were on fire, creating an ominous darkness.  Anxiety gripped her!  What was burning?  The fire alarm had not sounded at school.  

Most parents heeded the warning of unrest in the community and kept their children at home.  Out of the six students, who showed up that day in Tiffany's class, only Orlando remained. He sat in his seat, engrossed in a book with stunning marine-life photography.  He was unaware of the chaos outside.  

The principal of Leo Politi Elementary School, bordering Koreatown in Los Angeles, sent an urgent request for parents to pick up their children immediately. In any emergency, teachers could not leave until all their students had left the campus.

The ringing phone on Tiffany’s desk startled them both.  “Hello,” she answered, remaining calm.

“Bring Orlando to the office. His mom was called. She must have rolled over and gone back to sleep. The principals will supervise him until she gets here. You need to leave, NOW!” explained the school secretary.

“Orlando, get your backpack. We’re going to the office,” Tiffany instructed. She grabbed her heavy school bag and purse.

Stepping outside onto the walkway was a terrifying shock. The cool morning air was filled with orchid-gray billows of swirling smoke. The acrid smell stung her nostrils. Clasping Orlando’s hand, they rushed to the office, sheltered on the covered sidewalks.

Another student also waited in the office.  He cried softly in a corner chair. The principal and the vice-principal would wait for their parents to pick them up while the secretary and Tiffany headed home. A somber principal hurried them to the staff parking lot, unlocking the gate. He reluctantly let them out into a hellish nightmare of rioting, arson, looting, and murder!

The night before, the Los Angeles School District instructed the teachers to come to school as usual if the area looked calm. Coming from the San Fernando Valley, Tiffany took the Olympic Boulevard exit off the CA-110 freeway. Driving down the fourteen blocks to Leo Politi Elementary, the streets were quiet.  She breathed a sigh of relief. Little did Tiffany realize that, within three hours, the gates of hell would break loose.

The day before, April 29, 1992, at the Simi Valley Court House, a jury acquitted all four of the LAPD officers who assaulted a Black man named Rodney King. During the early morning hours of March 3, 1991, after a night of binge drinking, King and some friends were speeding down the Foothill Freeway. He was erratically driving his 1987 Hyundai when two California Highway Patrol officers spotted them. They gave chase but could not force him to stop. King panicked not wanting to be arrested while intoxicated in case it was a parole violation. Speeding off the freeway, he tried to elude his pursuers through residential neighborhoods. Soon, Los Angeles Police Department patrol cars and a police helicopter joined the chase. They pinned him down and ordered King and his two friends out of the car.

When Rodney King emerged from the car, the officers said he acted peculiarly, waving to the helicopter and stomping his feet. They tasered him and the order was given to subdue him.

Unknown to the officers, a tenant in a nearby apartment captured the next 79 seconds, recording King’s resistance. The officers responded by beating him with their batons and kicking him thirty times. Later, when a pulverized King was taken to the hospital, he was diagnosed with a broken ankle, a broken facial bone, and multiple lacerations.

The tenant took his videotape to a local television station. They broadcast the graphic display of police brutality, sparking outrage in the Black community.

Now, with the acquittal of the officers who assaulted Rodney King, a group gathered at the intersection of Florence and Normandie Avenues in Los Angeles. Emotions ran high. A White truck driver, Reginald Denny, stopped his truck at the traffic light at that intersection. A group dragged him out of his truck and beat him. Anger was now at the boiling point, ready for a catastrophic, deadly explosion the city would never forget.

About Karen Charles

Karen Charles transforms real-life narratives into gripping fiction thrillers. Her novels intricately weave the threads of truth into a tapestry of suspense, intrigue, and riveting storytelling. An educator by profession, she is renowned for her thriller “Fateful Connections,” which unfolds against the backdrop of 9/11. “Blazing Upheaval” promises to deliver another chilling, heart-pounding experience. Karen and her husband reside on the serene shores of a beautiful bay in Washington, where she draws inspiration for her compelling narratives. Explore her insights and musings on the writer’s life through her blogs on “My Life As A Writer” at www.weaveofsuspense.com.

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜ http://weaveofsuspense.com 

Twitter ➜ http://www.twitter.com/karenra24229683 

Facebook ➜ https://www.facebook.com/karen.rabe.7/

🏰Read the First Chapter of The Golden Manuscripts by Evy Journey #FirstChapter

 

Title: The Golden Manuscripts
Author: Evy Journey
Publisher: Evy Journey
Pages: 360
Genre: Women's Fiction/Historical Fiction/Mystery

A young woman of Asian/American parentage has lived in seven different countries and is anxious to find a place she could call home. An unusual sale of rare medieval manuscripts sends her and Nathan—an art journalist who moonlights as a doctor—on a quest into the dark world of stolen art.  For Clarissa, these ancient manuscripts elicit cherished memories of children’s picture books her mother read to her, nourishing a passion for art.  When their earnest search for clues whisper of old thieves and lead to the unexpected, they raise more questions about an esoteric sometimes unscrupulous art world that defy easy answers.   Will this quest reward Clarissa with the sense of home she longs for? This cross-genre literary tale of self-discovery, art mystery, travel, and love is based on the actual theft by an American soldier of illuminated manuscripts during World War II.

 

Buy Links:

 

Amazon | B&N | Apple Books

November 2000

Rare Manuscripts

I sometimes wish I was your girl next door. The pretty one who listens to you and sympathizes. Doesn’t ask questions you can’t or don’t want to answer. Comes when you need to talk. 

She’s sweet, gracious, respectful, and sincere. An open book. Everybody’s ideal American girl. 

At other times, I wish I was the beautiful girl with creamy skin, come-hither eyes, and curvy lines every guy drools over. The one you can’t have, unless you’re a hunk of an athlete, or the most popular hunk around. Or you have a hunk of money.

But I’m afraid the image I project is that of a brain with meager social skills. The one you believe can outsmart you in so many ways that you keep out of her way—you know the type. Or at least you think you do. Just as you think you know the other two.

I want to believe I’m smart, though I know I can be dumb. I’m not an expert on anything. So, please wait to pass judgement until you get to know us better—all three of us. 

Who am I then? 

I’m not quite sure yet. I’m the one who’s still searching for where she belongs. 

I’m not a typical American girl. Dad is Asian and Mom is white. I was born into two different cultures, neither of which dug their roots into me. But you’ll see my heritage imprinted all over me—on beige skin with an olive undertone; big grey eyes, double-lidded but not deep-set; a small nose with a pronounced narrow bridge; thick, dark straight hair like Dad’s that glints with bronze under the sun, courtesy of Mom’s genes. 

I have a family: Mom, Dad, Brother. Sadly, we’re no longer one unit. Mom and Dad are about ten thousand miles apart. And my brother and I are somewhere in between.

I have no one I call friend. Except myself, of course. That part of me who perceives my actions for what they are. My inner voice. My constant companion and occasional nemesis. Moving often and developing friendships lasting three years at most, I’ve learned to turn inward. 

And then there’s Arthur, my beautiful brother. Though we were raised apart, we’ve become close. Like me, he was born in the US. But he grew up in my father’s home city where his friends call him Tisoy, a diminutive for Mestizo that sometimes hints at admiration, sometimes at mockery. Locals use the label for anyone with an obvious mix of Asian and Caucasian features. We share a few features, but he’s inherited a little more from Mom. Arthur has brown wavy hair and green eyes that invite remarks from new acquaintances. 

Little Arthur, not so little anymore. Taller than me now, in fact, by two inches. We’ve always gotten along quite well. Except the few times we were together when we were children and he’d keep trailing me, like a puppy, mimicking what I did until I got annoyed. I’d scowl at him, run away so fast he couldn’t catch up. Then I’d close my bedroom door on him. Sometimes I wondered if he annoyed me on purpose so that later he could hug me and say, “I love you” to soften me up. It always worked.

I love Arthur not only because we have some genes in common. He has genuinely lovable qualities—and I’m sure people can’t always say that of their siblings. He’s caring and loyal, and I trust him to be there through thick and thin. I also believe he’s better put together than I am, he whom my parents were too busy to raise. 

I am certain of only one thing about myself: I occupy time and space like everyone. My tiny space no one else can claim on this planet, in this new century. But I still do not have a place where I would choose to spend and end my days. I’m a citizen of a country, though. The country where I was born. And yet I can’t call that country home. I don’t know it much. But worse than that, I do not have much of a history there. 

Before today, I trudged around the globe for two decades. Cursed and blessed by having been born to a father who was a career diplomat sent on assignments to different countries, I’ve lived in different cities since I was born, usually for three to four years at a time. 

Those years of inhabiting different cities in Europe and Asia whizzed by. You could say I hardly noticed them because it was the way of life I was born into. But each of those cities must have left some lasting mark on me that goes into the sum of who I am. And yet, I’m still struggling to form a clear idea of the person that is Me. This Me can’t be whole until I single out a place to call home. 

Everyone has a home they’ve set roots in. We may not be aware of it, but a significant part of who we think we are—who others think we are—depends on where we’ve lived. The place we call home. A place I don’t have. Not yet. But I will.

I was three when I left this city. Having recently come back as an adult, I can’t tell whether, or for how long, I’m going to stay. You may wonder why, having lived in different places, I would choose to seek a home in this city—this country as alien to me as any other town or city I’ve passed through. 

By the end of my last school year at the Sorbonne, I was convinced that if I were to find a home, my birthplace might be my best choice. I was born here. In a country where I can claim citizenship. Where the primary language is English. My choice avoids language problems and pesky legal residency issues. Practical and logical reasons, I think.

About Evy Journey

Evy Journey writes. Stories and blog posts. Novels that tend to cross genres. She’s also a wannabe artist, and a flâneuse. Evy studied psychology (M.A., University of Hawaii; Ph.D. University of Illinois). So her fiction spins tales about nuanced characters dealing with contemporary life issues and problems. She believes in love and its many faces. Her one ungranted wish: To live in Paris where art is everywhere and people have honed aimless roaming to an art form. She has visited and stayed a few months at a time.

Author Links  

Website | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads

🏰Read the First Chapter of Urbex Predator by Jens Boele #FirstChapter

 

Title: URBEX PREDATOR
Author: Jens Boele
Publisher: Amazon KDP
Pages: 394
Genre: Horror/Thriller

A relic from the Cold War, the old barracks beckon photographers, influencers, and adventurers, shrouded in secrets and peril. Nela and Tess dare the eerie ruins for their photography thesis, while Zander, Yelka, Vivien, and Damon embark on a simultaneous shoot. Amid the abandoned shadows, Yelka’s group runs into Steven and his ruthless gang, initially outsmarting them. Yet, Nela and Tess fall victim to a nightfall ambush, escaping but torn apart. As adrenaline courses through the gang, they stalk Yelka and her friends, unleashing a relentless manhunt. Vivien becomes their captive, setting off a chain reaction. Tess encounters Damon and Yelka, while Nela, guided by Ben, the barracks’ security manager, races to find Tess. Yelka strives to rescue Vivien, trapped in an abandoned outdoor pool. On his lone pursuit, Zander witnesses the gang’s brutality, delving into a darker realm within himself, spurred by the horrifying thrill of Steven’s actions. The scene propels Yelka, Damon, and Tess into a frenzy, unleashing chaos to liberate Vivien. Nela and Ben, attempting to overpower the gang, witness Yelka and Vivien’s escape as the gang closes in. With the arrival of Steven’s older brother, Henry, the stakes are set; the old military hospital transforms into a battleground. No one is to leave alive, and a matter of life and death ensues. In the ruthless clash, Nela and Yelka emerge as the lone defenders, while Zander pursues a mission for his own catharsis. In Henry’s basement, dubbed his Hades, the teams converge for a pulse-pounding final duel, where survival is the ultimate prize. 

You can pick up your copy at Amazon. 

Silence was all that was left. Neither the shouting of the officers nor the marching thunder of the soldiers had remained from the Cold War. Finally, it was time itself that had defeated all enemies.

Unwavering, indifferent, and relentless, it gnawed at the foundations of what the Allied forces had left behind. Heat had cracked the asphalt, rain washed out the concrete, wind and storm had smashed doors and windows. Tar paper had melted in the sun and frozen in winter. Tiles had cracked in the freezing cold. Weather had crept into the woodwork and driven the paint out of the wood. Moss and ferns clung to exterior walls, clogging gutters, and water pipes. The forces of nature had achieved what those of the enemy had failed to do.

In the cold moonlight, Scott and Billy wandered between the former apartment blocks near the barracks. Six-story residential silos had probably housed the soldiers’ families at that time. Today they were surrounded by trees that had not been planted yet when the houses were abandoned. In the moonlight, the open front doors of the house looked like the entrance to a more sinister and terrifying world than the darkness of the woods. The night wind carried the heavy smell of forest soil and damp cellars to their noses. Now the nocturnal animals came to life and mingled their calls with leaves rustling.

“Wait!” Billy put his hand on Scott’s shoulder. “There’s something up ahead.”

They stopped on a grassy path that once had been a road.

“What’s supposed to be there?” Scott folded his arms in front of his chest.

“Look …” 

A black shadow emerged from the forest. Billy froze, Scott held his breath. It appears the animal was slowly approaching them. Gosh, let it be just a dog that has lost its way.

“It’s a wolf,” Scott whispered.

Billy felt Scott’s arm pushing him back.

“Damn, what do we do now?” Scott breathed frantically.

The animal approached slowly; head bowed.

“That’s a wolf,” Scott kept whispering, “that’s a wolf …” Breathing frantically, his voice grew louder with each word.

“That! Is! A! Wolf!” he shouted energetically, stamping his foot with each word, and waving his arms.

When Billy came out from behind his back, the animal had disappeared. His shoulders slumped. Scott exhaled in relief.

“Was that really a wolf?” asked Billy in a low voice.

“I don’t know,” Scott went on. “Anyway, it’s gone.”

“Can’t you even turn on the flashlight?”

“No, man. Not until we get inside. I don’t feel like getting caught by security anytime soon.”

Taking a deep breath, Billy let go of his tension. “And how is this even going to work? We’ve been walking through the forest for about half an hour now.”

“Yeah, so what?”

“How are we supposed to move those cables back to the car? Do you think I will run the route back and forth umpteen times?”

Scott abruptly stopped and glanced at Billy. “You aren’t even listening to me, are you? We will get all the cables out of the ceilings that night and stash them here. Then we’ll see what we got, and tomorrow night we’ll break down the gate and drive up here with the transporter. All right?”

Billy chewed on his lower lip. “Yes, but why don’t we go with the van already?”

“Because the broken gate would attract the security service in the morning, which would then catch us, stupid.” 

Waiting for an answer, he glanced at Billy, “It’s not that hard to understand, though, is it?” Billy nodded mutely.

“But do you think there’s still a lot to earn here anyway? This place is kind of old, you know. I’m sure others have been here before and pulled the copper outta the walls.”

“Take a good look around. Do you see any graffiti? Do you see any trails? Has anyone been partying here?” Billy let his eyes wander. No, no one has been here for a long time. “Don’t ask me why, but this place is hot.” 

Scott raised his eyebrows. “Now let’s get going.” Forgivingly, he patted Billy on the shoulder. “Otherwise, the Big Bad Wolf will get you right away.”

Sighing, Billy kept walking.

“This is probably just too far away from civilization. We’re just out here in the middle of nowhere. Nobody gets lost here …”

A bloodcurdling scream echoed throughout the night. 

Frozen, Billy stopped, Scott took a step back.

“What was that?” Billy’s voice trembled. 

Scott stared into the night. “I’m sure it was just an animal.”

Billy shivered. “Was no animal, dude.”

Scott turned to him. “What else would that have been? The wolf probably took a deer. You know what kind of noises animals make when they’re scared to die?”

Billy shook his head quietly as he remained in a state of shock.

“See it like this—the wolf will feast now and leave us alone.” Scott smiled. “Is even better for us.”

After a brief silence, he added, “Think of the money!”

The wind had eased, the dark forest path lay in silence. Behind them, the moon illuminated the clearing where the houses stood. In front of them, there was darkness.

Billy whispered, “Wait,” and then walked on hesitantly. His legs were heavy as lead, his breathing shallow. “Wait for me.” 

“Hurry,” Scott whispered softly.

As the path narrowed, the trees came closer, denying them the last light of the moon.

They could barely see anything when they noticed a motion in the shadows.

A large shade moved slowly between the trees.

It walked upright on two legs.

This was not an animal.

Billy felt an icy chill as his arms felt numb. He felt an invisible band tighten around his chest, draining his breath as Scott disappeared into the darkness.

“Scott?” He gasped for air.

“Run! Run Billy!”

Billy’s stomach clenched. He heard Scott try to shout something, but his voice turned into an uncontrolled gurgle. Like he was going to throw up. Then a rattle. 

Billy wanted to run away, but he just stood there, unmoving and trembling, paralyzed with fright. He grabbed his cheek. His eyes stared into the forest, widening.

“Scott?”

A branch cracked.

Darkness surrounded him.

Silence.

About Jens Boele

Jens Boele, a veteran media designer in the entertainment industry, brings over two decades of cinematic expertise to his writing. Born in Germany in 1975, Jens embarked on his writing odyssey in his youth, culminating in the publication of his debut book, “Sunshine,” in 2015. This was followed by “Hurensohn,” and his latest spine-tingling creation, “Urbex Predator.” Jens is a genre-bending author, specializing in horror and crime thrillers. His narratives often blur genre lines, weaving intricate tales that plunge readers into the darkest corners of the human psyche. Jens’s storytelling brilliance lies in his fascination with the criminal mind; his villains are always profoundly human, offering readers a chilling examination of the psychological aspects of the criminally insane. Jens sets himself apart by seamlessly integrating classic horror with the gritty authenticity of the present day. This innovative fusion imbues his narratives with a dynamic quality, seamlessly blending archaic thrills with contemporary intrigue, resulting in an immersive reading experience that resonates with both vintage enthusiasts and present-day readers alike. Jens Boele’s latest endeavor takes his work across borders, as “Urbex Predator” becomes his first book to be translated into English. A globetrotter with deep connections to the United States, Jens’s passion for exploration and his international perspective, nurtured by family and friends in the US, shine through in his writing, offering readers a captivating blend of horror and cultural diversity. Visit Jens’ website at https://jensboele.com/.

🏰Read the First Chapter of Fateful Connections by Karen Charles #FirstChapter

Title: Fateful Connections
Author: Karen Charles
Publisher: Bookbaby
Pages: 91
Genre: Thriller

Fateful Connections tells the story of four people brought together by the tragic events of 9/11 in the United States. These four individuals were attending a conference in Seattle, Washington, and found it nearly impossible to make it back to their homes, which were scattered across the country. They decide to rent a car and drive together, as they cannot get any flights home. As rental cars are also impossible to come upon, they find a friend who has access to a repossessed car, which he is willing to rent out. Unbeknownst to the friends, the rightful owner of the car wants his car back, and as they find out, hidden inside the car are drugs and guns. What ensues is a dangerous journey which impacts the four friends’ lives forever. The story follows them on their harrowing journey home, then one and two years later as they meet up for an annual reunion. 

The strengths of this story are the easy-to-read narrative and compelling plot. The author introduces four intriguing main characters, as well as a number of antagonists, who hunt down the friends and engage in dangerous and illegal plans to not only recapture their guns and drugs, but also kill the friends so there are no witnesses to their illegal activities. The reader is instantly drawn into the storyline, and moves along with the characters as they experience fear, joy, love, and relief. The plot is compelling, and the reader cannot help but become invested in the lives of these four main characters.

Amazon: https://amzn.to/41WDECT

Everyone was stunned. The conference room was hushed except for a gasp here and there. The gigantic screen above the stage had lit up with the news that the North Tower of the New York World Trade Center had been impaled by a massive jet liner. Fire was pouring from the eightieth-story windows. Was this a terrible accident? Eyes were glued to the report as first responders rushed to the horrific scene. 

A round-table group of four looked at each other in disbelief. They watched, mesmerized by the enormity of the implications. Only eighteen minutes had gone by when a second Boeing 767 appeared, turning sharply toward the World Trade Center, and slicing into the seventy-fifth through the eighty-fifth floors of the South Tower. The massive explosion rained down burning debris. These were not accidents! America was under attack. 

Planned closing conference speeches were immediately canceled. Speakers and participants were all dismissed. Henry, the group’s leader, suggested they all meet in the hotel bar. In quick agreement, they found a table where they could continue to watch the news. No one wanted to hang out in his room alone. They somberly ordered drinks as they listened to President Bush call the events a terrorist attack on our country. Six minutes later, Flight 77 crashed into the western façade of the Pentagon. At 9:37 in the morning, the building would be full of military and civilian personnel. 

The traumatized conference group sipped their drinks in shock. The sudden collapse of the South Tower was too much to take in for Harper. Her big, brown eyes filled with tears as she tightly hugged herself. Another hour went by before they heard of another plane crashing into a field in Somerset County, Pennsylvania. 

Ethan, sensing how upset everyone was feeling, suggested they head up to his suite. The Bell Harbor International Conference Center on the waterfront in Seattle offered spacious suites where they could continue to watch the news. Rain ran in rivulets down his expansive windows, obscuring his waterfront view. No one was interested in the view anyway. Without asking anyone what they wanted, he ordered lunch and drinks for all. 

Owen plopped down in the closest easy chair to the TV. President Bush was announcing that U.S. Navy destroyers had been dispatched to New York and Washington, DC. 

“Owen, you have a brother living in New York, don’t you?” asked Henry. 

“I do,” Owen answered, with a little catch in his voice. “He shouldn’t have any reason to be near the Trade Center. I’ll give him a call.” 

Owen called, leaving a message to return his call as soon as possible. 

The foursome munched their way through the afternoon, rarely taking their eyes off the dreadful news. Owen had just stepped out onto the covered balcony for a breath of fresh air when he heard a scream. He rushed back into the sitting room. Harper had her hand over her mouth, sobbing softly. Henry had his strong arm around her shoulders trying to comfort her. The second tower had collapsed after burning for hours. The lower floors had been evacuated. The unspeakable terror seemed nonstop. 

President Bush was making another announcement. The Federal Aviation Administration had issued the first national ground stop in US history, prohibiting departures for all civilian aircraft. After the third hijacked plane struck the Pentagon, all aircraft were ordered to land at the nearest airport. Three and a half hours after the first plane hit, all US airspace was clear. 

Suddenly, Ethan, who had been unusually quiet, jumped to his feet. “Our flights!” he yelled. “We don’t have any way to get home!” 

The room was silent. “Maybe we could rent a car,” Harper suggested. 

Henry sprang into action, calling every car rental agency in Seattle. Nothing was available. Dismayed, he sank into his chair. “What are we going to do now?” 

After thoughtful silence, Owen spoke up. “I have a friend over on Yesler Way who repossesses cars. Maybe he might have an idea what we could do.” 

Everyone agreed, hoping for a solution to their transportation dilemma. Ethan had to get home to San Jose, California; Owen to Santa Clarita, California; Harper to Phoenix, Arizona; and Henry to Austin, Texas. All of them, industry-leading CEOs of No. 1 ranked companies, had flown in to attend this elite executive conference. 

Owen interrupted a conversation about the ramifications of air travel being halted. “My friend Jimmy says he has a car we can use. They don’t usually rent them, but in these unusual circumstances, he doesn’t see any problem. It was repossessed a while ago, so the guy has had lots of time to make up his payments. Jimmy said we can pick it up anytime.” 

“Wait a minute,” objected Ethan. “Are you sure it’s legal?” 

“We don’t have any other options,” confirmed Owen. 

“Let’s pack, get some sleep, and leave in the morning,” instructed Henry, always the leader. 

Jimmy had the car ready for them early the next day. 

“What happens if that guy gets the money and comes back for his car?” asked Ethan, still worried about this being a smart idea. 

“He’s probably got another set of wheels by now,” answered Jimmy. “Don’t think we’ll ever see his ugly face again!”

About Karen Charles

Karen Charles is a children’s book author and educator. She lives with her husband on a beautiful bay in Washington State. Her latest book is the thriller, Fateful Connections.

Website: https://karenrabe18.wixsite.com/my-site-2

Twitter: https://twitter.com/karenra24229683

🏰Read the First Chapter of A Nick of How to Punch Failure in the Face by Tracy Huff #FirstChapter

Title: How To Punch Failure In The Face
Author: Tracy Huff
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 167
Genre: Self-Development

Are you struggling with your confidence? Have you ever wanted to go after something but don’t know where to begin? Do you need help believing in your ability to go after what you want? Are you afraid of taking the next step? How To Punch Failure in The Face is here to guide you and help you get crystal clear on the exact steps you should be taking right now to identify what is holding you back and the steps you will need to take to achieve your goals.

My goal is to invite you into our community to be empowered, inspired, celebrated, and supported to go after your dreams and get them. I am an expert at helping my students build their confidence and develop the leader in themselves. As a team, we create the space you need to get clarity, confidence, and balance without overwhelm or guilt.

If you are tired of being afraid, or tired of being uncertain and want to stop being so busy you don’t take the time to focus on what you want, then my 9 step process will help you. Let me help, you can do this. Take the first step today.

Book Information

Release Date: November 2021

Publisher: Independent

Soft Cover: ISBN:979-8773327189; 167 pages; $14.99; hardback $24.99; eBook $7.99; FREE on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3VjpkSl

Pick up a signed copy: https://bit.ly/HTPFIFSignedCopy

CHAPTER ONE

 

ven if you’re scared, start small. Take the time to visualize how success looks, rather than focusing on any roadblocks getting in your way. Most roadblocks are mental, anyway. You can overcome them in order to get to the point of success if you stay focused on your strengths instead of weaknesses. The main trick is to just get started. Everything else later will be easier than getting started.

Stop Being Afraid

There are many reasons why we are afraid. No one wants to be seen as a failure, or to be ridiculed, or to be judged… or we are afraid to break free from other people’s expectations of who we should be. All those reasons are why it has taken me over 15 years to write this book and put it into the world. 

Why now?

Because now I believe that helping just one person is worth it. I can have a bigger impact on my community and help more families, and that makes it worth it. 

My mind began to change as I opened my eyes to the impact I was already having with my students. As I continued to grow and help more people, I started to ask myself different questions.  And the answers surprised me. The questions were simple:

1. What do I want to achieve?
2. What will happen when I achieve it?
3. What do I want to avoid?
4. What happens if I avoid it?
5. What is the next step?
6. What can I do first to make sure it happens?

Answering these questions changed my whole perception and made me willing to just take action toward writing my book and do it in spite of my fears. It allowed me to remember what it felt like to be that 18-year-old girl and to ask myself, “What if I didn’t have the support, job, mentors, my husband (then boyfriend), who believed in me…where would I be? I”

“You become what you believe”-- Oprah Winfrey

In that moment I was willing to step through my fears to help someone else who may not have those things or didn’t have them when they needed them the most and still carry the loss, guilt, and shame with them.

What about you? Where are you willing to take action? What is that thing you have been feeling  you should do it for a while now? What would the world be like when you achieve this? 

Steps to Believe in Yourself:

1. Face where you are right now.
2. Love yourself -- warts and all.
3. Identify your unique skills and abilities.
4. Identify the fears that are stopping you.
5. Ask yourself empowering questions.
6. Write down what you want to achieve.

Resources for this chapter:

Identifying Your Strengths

Belief Model

All resources can be downloaded at howtopunchfailureintheface.com

Book Your Free Strategy Call at www.defeatfailure.com

Students Who Have Punched Failure in The Face:

James Hopper

James was my son longer than he has been my student, which kind of made him my guinea pig when developing this system. See, James was a high school football player, and we always had a chance to work on his mindset. The most memorable moment for me was his senior year in high school. We had invested in a program to help him get a scholarship to pay for college. If any of you have been on this journey with your kids, it involves a lot of weekends at training camps and combines. I am not sure when this idea was planted in James’s head, but he came home and told me that he was too short to play Division I football. I was confused, because this had been what we have been working toward for a few years. So, my immediate response to him was, “Who’s rule is that?” He paused and said he was not sure. I asked him if he thought he could play at that level and if he still wanted to play Division I, ball and he said, yes. From that day forward, we focused on what he needed to do to get there and what actions he would need to take to get there…he did it. I didn’t allow him to buy into other people’s beliefs, and he accomplished two milestones: being MVP of the 4A High School Championship Game and getting a full ride scholarship to Virginia Tech.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tracy Huff is a wife, mother, mimi, a Vet of the armed forces, a 4th Degree Black Belt in Tang Soo Do, an author and a business owner. She is the author of  How To Punch Failure in the Face. Her many roles in life have led her to acquire the skills and knowledge that have made her business a success. Tracy has a passion for motivating and helping others build their confidence by identifying their gifts and creating a plan on how to use them now. She is dedicated to helping as many women as she can live that life for themselves. 

After serving in the U.S. Armed Forces for four years, she finished her education in her current home of Fayetteville, NC. She is combining her life experience along with the skills and motivation she has developed as an entrepreneur and Master and sharing that with other business owners. 

She is passionate about helping professional women and entrepreneurs build their confidence and achieve their goals. She’s an in-demand speaker and an expert on developing confidence and leadership skills and is available for workshops and speaking events. 

Visit her website at www.defeatfailure.com or connect with her on Twitter and Facebook.

🏰Read the First Chapter of A Nick of Time by Mike DiCerto #FirstChapter

Title: A Nick of Time

Author: Mike DiCerto

Publisher: Zumaya Publications

Pages: 295

Genre: Middle Grade Fantasy

BOOK BLURB:

It’s New Year’s Eve in Graysland, but when the final second fails to come Rupert Starbright finds his entire town frozen in time. Rupert and his school crush Rainn Evertree must travel to the Land of Annum to retrieve the stolen second from the nasty and evil Epoch. They will explore a wild, imaginative, and musical world where all the characters of the Zodiac join Rainn in helping Rupert in his most colorful and challenging adventure yet!

“A Nick of Time is thoroughly entertaining and a fun read, this should be made into a Pixar animation!” – Amazon

“All kids should be encouraged to read this unique series and use their imaginings as well! It’s the power of positive thinking for the young adult set. Highly recommend!” – Amazon

Book Information

Release Date: August 16, 2021

Publisher:  Zumaya Publications

Soft Cover: ISBN: 978-1612710990; 295 pages; $11.70; eBook $4.99

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3vSNQ1x 

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter 1

A Split Second

“Ten…nine…eight…!”

Old Year Square shivered along with the folks of Graysland

as they counted down the final seconds of the fading

year. Frigid winds swirled and swished around the

heads and legs of the dozens and dozens who had arrived

in the square to greet the newest year. On that wind raced

herds of dead leaves that crunched and scraped along

the stones. It was Graysland, after all, and here the leaves

fell across all the months.

Rupert Dullz stood, his gaze fixed on the giant metal

bellberry leaf that sat atop the tall silver Yearling pole,

waiting for the countdown to finish. Around him stood

his parents, Polgus and Olga, and his grandma Folka,

who was bundled up in a brown coat and hat so thick

she looked like a bear.

“Seven…six…!”

The numbers shouted by the crowd sent clouds of

steam into the chill night air.

1

Folka leaned close to Rupert and whispered, “Did you

make a wish for the New Year, sweetie?”

Rupert nodded and felt his face grow warm with a

blush. A very specific wish had been floating around his

head for the last few months. Ever since school began in

September, he had noticed a new girl in his sixth-grade

class. He wondered if she had noticed him.

It felt like an eternity since he had shared a first kiss

with Mynerla in the wondrous land of Far-Myst. He remembered

her often, and had wished he could meet another

girl who made him feel as special as she had.

This new girl in his class had a very unboring name

—Rainn, with two Ns and not just one old boring one.

Rainn Evertree. Rupert found it hard to put two words

together when she was close by. Even saying hello was

harder than reading an entire page from The History of Leaf

Cutters. Backwards!

If only she liked him as well. That was his wish.

He kept this wish tightly wrapped in his thoughts.

He gazed at the sky, patched with clouds and dabs of glistening

stars.

“Five….four…!”

Rupert had experienced great adventure in the wondrous

lands of Far-Myst and My-Myst. He had even had

the chance to see what his boring town of Graysland had

been like in the old days when it was not so boring. That

was six months ago, when he’d stepped through Pie O’Sky’s

door from old Grayslandville then returned home and

celebrated the Winter Joy holiday with his family for the

first time.

“The Big Leaf Countdown”, as it was called, was one

of the few unboring things that happened in Graysland.

He didn’t think his best friend Squeem was boring, either,

and sent a friendly wave to him across the square, where

he stood with his mom and dad.

2

“Three…!”

Rupert’s heart raced as pulleys creaked on thick ropes

and the leaf, cut from a large sheet of green metal, began

to lower. The squeaky wheels sent a flock of pigeons into

the air, their fluttering wings making fwap! fwap! sounds.

Across the square, Rupert spotted Rainn, in a black

capelike coat, a gray woolen hat pulled down low to cover

half of her eyes, and a black scarf wrapped tightly around

her mouth. Strands of her hair, which shimmered with

streaks of brilliant electric blue, hung from beneath her

cap.

Rupert thought her hair was so unboring. He had never

seen anyone in Graysland with hair of such color. Everyone

else’s was the usual, boring old hair colors. He repeated

his wish to himself. Then, he noticed she was looking

at the sky, and glanced up.

A pitch-black shadow, like that of a giant bird, pushed

the clouds aside like a rude man through a crowd. Oddly,

stars were not revealed. Instead, strange swirling colors,

like motor oil on the surface of a puddle, shimmered.

What the heck is that? Rupert wondered. He turned to

ask his father, who was cuddling close to Olga to keep

warm.

“Two….O—!” cried the excited crowd.

Something very unexpected happened.

Everything stopped. The metal leaf froze in place less

than a foot from the ground. The clouds of visible breath

from the gathered residents no longer floated and vanished

like ghostly vapor. Instead, it became like a solid

mass of thin milk. The pigeons hung in the air like ornaments

strung across a line.

All sounds froze, a silence so deep it hurt Rupert’s

ears like an explosion of quiet. Only one thing moved—

the colors in the sky began swirling like living rainbows

all over the square. In that tornado of color, there was a

rush of brilliant light and sound.

3

Then, with a swoosh that vibrated his body, the multicolored

winds vanished back into the sky. Silence returned.

Rupert tried to look up to see if it was truly all over

but discovered he couldn’t. He could not move his head,

or his arms and legs. He could not even shift his eyes about

the square. The dozens and dozens of townsfolk were like

frozen mannequins. As were the pigeons.

The only thing that was moving and spinning freely

were his thoughts. His mind still worked.

This was good.

Rupert tried to think what could have possibly caused

this situation. Had a really super-duper cold wind blown

through and freeze everyone?

Nah.

Or maybe his thoughts had been so focused on Rainn

that it affected how he was seeing the real world. Maybe

it was like time was standing still.

No. That didn’t seem like the answer, either.

What is going on?

In his field of vision, the sight of the pigeons floating

in the air, wings spread, filled him with wonder.

I can’t imagine how birds could just hang in the air without

flapping their wings.

Imagine! That was the answer.

Rupert’s mind sizzled with sudden excitement. If I can’t

imagine why this happened maybe I can Imagine a way to stop

it.

It had been some time since he used his Imagining

abilities, but he knew the first step was to make his mind

as quiet as a library. He needed to shush out all the negative

and scary thoughts. He thought about how peaceful

the Garden of Dreams was during his journey to the

wondrous land of Far-Myst. He recalled the feeling of

the warm campfire, and the still night air, and the comforting

songs of night birds, and funny, glowing insects.

4

He felt a smile form. Maybe not on his lips, but in

his brain.

Then, Rupert had the image of a clock in his head, like

the one over Mrs. Stonelaughter’s desk at school. The clock

that seemed to take forever and a day to reach 2:57—the

greatest time, when school was over. Sometimes he thought

the clock was broken, stuck, its gear gunked up by dust

and grease.

Maybe that was what had happened in Graysland. Perhaps

there’s some giant, unseen clock that makes days become

nights and nights turn into mornings. Maybe, just maybe,

that clock was gunked up.

How could it be ungunked?

Anyway, Rupert thought. Where is it? How can I clean

the gears of a clock I can’t see?

He would need a special viewing glass to see it.

He figured if he could Imagine that special clock then

why not Imagine a way to see it? The glass must be able

to move on its own, since his arms were frozen at his sides.

It would have little wings, and fly across the square, and

settle on the bridge of his nose like his dad’s reading glasses.

It would have feathers. Purple feathers on a golden

frame.

Yes! Rupert could see such a pair of eyeglasses.

A sound whispered in the solid silence. Tiny pops of

cracking air. And there, across the cobblestone road, was

an object hovering in the air like a purple bird. Flecks of

light struck off gold and glass.

It worked!

The object of his Imagining was approaching, and as

it drew closer and clearer, Rupert felt hope in his heart.

The flying glasses settled on his nose, and through the two

crystal-clear lenses, he was able to see the ghostly shapes

of gears, a multitude of toothy wheels, hanging in the air

5

before him. One of the gears had a gap, just as Rupert had

when he’d lost his first baby tooth.

A missing tooth! I just need to imagine a new one.

He brought into his Imagining a seed. A gear-tooth

seed. He Imagined planting the seed in the empty slot.

With a little splash of Imaginary water it would grow a

new tooth, and the gears would move again.

A little sprout of silver popped up; and in seconds,

the missing tooth was back, and the gear wheels began

to turn, and…

Everything went dark. The gears, the glass lenses, the

golden frame, and the purple wings all vanished. The entire

town square was nothing but black.

Then, Rupert realized his eyelids were closed, and

he gave them the command to open. And they did. And

the town was back.

But everyone was still stuck in place like statues. Even

the flock of pigeons.

Rupert turned his head and saw his grandma, her

smiling face, with its busy roadmap of wrinkles, fixed and

frozen.

Wait! He had moved his head! He tried his hands, and

soon had his fingers flexing before his face. He took a

step. Then another. He had freed himself!

His stomach sank as he looked at his parents, Squeem,

and the gathered crowd. The town square was still as motionless

as a frozen river. He stepped up to the New Year’s

Leaf and brushed its cold, smooth surface with his fingers.

It was a mere foot off the ground. A single second from

bringing in a new year.

“Weird,” Rupert whispered.

“Really weird,” someone said.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Since his childhood Mike Di Certo has always harvested his work from the abundant crop of his imagination. From the wild and hilarious Rock and Roll space adventure Milky Way Marmalade, to the child-like wonder of his middle grade series, The Adventures of Rupert Starbright (The Door to Far-Myst, The Secret of My-Myst and The Ghosts of Winter Joy) Michael's passions play out on the pages. His love of animals, his family, gardening, travel, movies, VR, history, Yoga, reading and music guide and influence his life and his writing.

His latest book is the middle grade fantasy novel, A Nick of Time.

Visit his website at www.ruperstarbright.com or connect with him on Twitter and Facebook.