THE HALO LEGACY SERIES

IN THE BEGINNING…

Bernie O'Shea's legacy was perfect as a picture. His eight adopted children wanted to live as boldly, with as much compassion and desire for justice as Bernie displayed while they were growing up. And pictures of Marly and Dawson together led to their romance and marriage. So it seemed appropriate the first book of the Halo Legacy Series be called PICTURE PERFECT LEGACY. 

AND THEN CAME…

LEGACY OF ANGELS--but no ordinary angels. In the second book of the series, two tarnished angels--a former priest and a former prostitute--may seem an unlikely hero and heroine. However, their journeys to find lives of truth and integrity would make Bernie proud. 

AND IN THE THIRD BOOK…

The oldest O'Shea sibling is LIVING THE LEGACY as he strives to be like Bernie. However, the love of a small-town woman detours his journey when he realizes he made choices for the wrong reasons. 

NOT EVERYONE BELIEVES...

Then a beast-man blows up Halo, and cracks show up in the legacy. What is the truth surrounding Bernie's death? A reporter returning to her home town wants to know what really happened. A soft-spoken bomb tech joins her in CHASING THE LEGACY, and what they discover promises to shake the foundation of Halo once again.

THERE'S MORE ACTION AHEAD…

The next book in the Halo Legacy Series arrives November 1. See what surprises await in CHALLENGING THE LEGACY.

CLIFFHANGER SATURDAY: JUST LIKE THE MATINEES OF OLD

Cliffhanger excerpt from PICTURE PERFECT LEGACY, by Genie Gabriel

Marly grabbed her coat on the way out the door. She had spent twenty-eight years with seven brothers. She could tell when she had been bamboozled. Too bad she had wasted an entire day dazzled by the deputy's sexy body before her brain kicked in and realized he deliberately stalled her about going to see Claudia deGras. 

By the time Marly marched to the barbershop, the lights were out. She pressed her nose to the glass and peered inside, but saw only the shadows of a single barber chair. No people. She scowled and silently cursed Dawson Browning's small-town hide. He probably thought she would go away if he stalled her long enough. 

Well, good. He wouldn't know she learned about patronizing male attitudes from her brothers. Wouldn't know she often beat her brothers at their own games. The element of surprise was on her side. 

Marly moved down the sidewalk, considering her options. She could look for him and run the risk of frostbite. Or she could cause enough of a commotion for him to come to her. 

She stood in front of the Assayer's Office, wondering if breaking a small window would cause enough noise to bring the deputy. Then she noticed several people in this supposedly empty building. 

One of them was Deputy Dawson Browning. 

Gotcha. Marly smiled with satisfaction as she turned the doorknob. 

FRIDAY'S FEATURE: PICTURE PERFECT LEGACY

EXCERPT

Don't take my baby. Please don't take my baby. The woman's plea whispered in the steady swish, swish of the wipers. Her image wavered among the falling flakes of snow, horror streaking in anguished tears down her face. 

Marly O'Shea shivered and forced her attention back to the narrow, twisting road grudgingly carved out of the side of the mountain. 

The heater of her Jeep Wrangler valiantly battled the fingers of icy air creeping through the gaps in a canvas top that seemed to shrink each summer while it lay bundled in Marly's garage. She much preferred the heated summer breezes that tangled her over-curly hair in wild abandon to the frigid winds laying icy sheets of moisture in the dips and shadows of the road she now traveled. 

A gust of angry wind blasted around a curve, rattling the canvas top of the Jeep. The flurries of snow grew heavier, layering the road in a relentless white. Marly shifted into a lower gear and concentrated on what she could see of the road illuminated by her headlights. 

Until she realized the headlights careening through the darkness weren't hers. They bore down on her, like a missile seeking its target. 

Adrenaline spurted through Marly's veins. She leaned on the horn and steered the Jeep as far to the side of the road as possible without sliding off the edge. 

Brighter and brighter, the lights obliterated the darkness until Marly thought they would explode. Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the lights jerked away, bouncing down the road behind her and quickly disappearing. 

The tires of the Jeep hit gravel, then slushy mud. Frantically down-shifting, Marly eased to a stop and sat frozen. Nothing dared intrude on the deafening silence of the night but the roar of a creek echoing in a canyon far below. 

Another brilliant light flashed on, and Marly jerked her arm up to shield her eyes. A sharp rap on her door sent her grabbing for the purse that had slid onto the floor. Reaching inside, her fingers wrapped around the taser her overprotective brothers presented to her as a moving-away-from-home gift. 

Cradling the weapon on her lap, Marly turned to confront the man standing beside her Jeep. A halo of light silhouetted the man's bushy hair and beard, but his features remained obscured in shadows. 

"Are you hurt?" His voice flowed like melted honey, its comforting tones at odds with his unkempt appearance. 

Slowly, Marly shook her head. "No." 

"We need to get you off this curve before another car comes through. I'm going to hook my winch to your vehicle and pull you back onto the road." 

He disappeared into the curtain of light, leaving Marly with only the impression of broad shoulders encased in black leather. 

Her heart raced. It was the near accident, she told herself. 

Soon, metal clunked against metal as the man hooked a cable to the underside of her vehicle. After a moment's token resistance, the Jeep moved back onto the solid surface of the road. 

A sigh of relief flowed through Marly's body, brought up short by the sudden reappearance of the man beside her vehicle. Many times her brothers scolded her for being too trusting. Narrow hips and long legs snugly encased in worn blue jeans could belong to a serial killer as easily as a white knight. 

"Step out while I check your vehicle for damage." A jagged scar over the man's right eyebrow gleamed as he reached for her door handle. 

Every murder mystery she read as a teenager gave the bad guy a scar. She wasn't taking any chances. Adrenaline pumped through Marly's body once again as she leveled the taser at the man's chest. "Stop right there." 

Irritation briefly crinkled the man's brow. "The undercarriage of your vehicle might be damaged." 

"Step away from the vehicle." Marly juggled the taser in one hand while using the other to crank the key in the ignition. 

The Jeep sputtered to life, rocketing relief through Marly's veins. The man quick-stepped backward as she shoved the vehicle into gear and stomped on the gas, leaving her mystery rescuer--or would-be attacker--standing with the snow falling on the dark velvet of his tousled hair. 

**Excerpt from PICTURE PERFECT LEGACY, copyright Genene Valleau, writing as Genie Gabriel

Inspiration

It's check in day at the Rogues Angels blog. 

Time to pay the piper! How did you do?

This is the Rogue's Angels weekly check-in. Every Thursday we encourage the Angels and visitors to let us know how their writing is going.

How well are you doing?

Had problems this week? That's ok. Just sit down this coming week and write. Whatever you do, don't let difficulties from the week before get in your way this week.

Every word is one word closer to the finished product.

My week is going great. I spent two nights at Beverly Beach near Newport, Oregon. First time ever camping in a Yurt. I hope to finish Catching Meara by Friday night. I finished editing and worked on the fight scene. So now I'm just wrapping up the ends and tying them together.

Had a great week? Keep it up, the momentum is on your side.

Brain Storm

Courtney Renee gives Brain Storm by Edward T. Keller 4.5 wings.  

REVIEW

 

Brain Storm was one of those fun easy reads, that you sit down and open up only to find yourself a few hours later closing the last page and thinking, “WOW, that was quite the ride.”  I was expecting brain eating zombies and instead I got a wonderful story about zombies but with quite an unexpected twist.  Who is controlling who?  Who is in charge?  

The fact that the human race is reduced to animals in our most primitive form was such an in your face idea.  I loved it.  No sex, thank goodness.  Oh there are hints of the sexual nature of humans, but not anything more than that.  It was all horror and gore and just grand. 

 

What was one thing I liked the most?  The fact that children were the ones that had to find a way to save the day.  Not only did they do it themselves, but they found an explosive and ingenious way to get there. 

 

What was one thing I liked the least?  There were so many great sidelines going on.  I think they could have been flushed out a bit more.  Not because they weren’t complete, but because I am greedy and just wanted more.

 

This is a great read.  You truly can sit down and simply enjoy. I will definitely be keeping an eye on this author and looking forward to what else he can create. 

 

Publisher: Rogue Phoenix Press

 

Genre: Sci-Fi

 

Length: 229KB

 

Rating: 4.5

 

Reviewed by: Courtney Rene

EXCERPT:

Brain Storm

Edward T. Keller

daynovemil@gmail.com

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 1

Buy at: www.roguephoenixpress.com

Twins Alex and Sasha are in the small town of Maple Junction and their summer vacation quickly turns into a summer nightmare. Everyone is being controlled by an unknown sinister force. A primitive sinister force. On the streets it’s back to the Stone Age. Calling for help is not an option. The only allies are a group of small children. The twins can trust no adult, not even their own father, and at times--not even themselves. But someone must stop the madness.

EXCERPT

"I bet it's an alien invasion," said Nash, as the car left behind it the last of the town's houses.

"What?" asked Alex without taking his eyes off the wet road.

"I said, I bet it's aliens inside that factory, controlling everyone. They're planning an invasion," clarified Nash earnestly. "Don't you believe in aliens?"

"I do, but..." said Alex doubtfully.

"Well I don't think it's aliens," said Alvin. "Sorry, Nash," he said to the UFO enthusiast beside him.

"Well how do you explain all this crazy stuff then?" demanded Nash.

"I'd say it's a government conspiracy," said Alvin after some thought. "My Dad always reads about government conspiracies, 'cause you can never trust the government."

"That's more like it!" said Alex approvingly, "sound more logical. Must be using some sort of gas or waves or something, to see how they can brainwash folks. What do you think, sis?" he asked Sasha.

"I don't know," she said.

"I think it could be an evil wizard," offered Li-Hua in her quiet, measured voice. "Maybe he was killed hundreds of years ago, but has now returned to seek vengeance."

At this Sasha giggled and said, "Well, then I say it's a vampire overlord, who is trying to make an army of the undead."

"You're all nuts," said Alex shaking his head, and then they were already near the plant again. All banter stopped as the building came into view. Alex cut the engine and everything was silent.

The sky was already dark, and visibility had fallen quite a bit. It wasn't real night yet, but it was already real dusk. The wipers of the car now immobile, rain quickly covered the windshield, blurring the view of the plant's front gate.

"There's a barrier at the gate," said Alex, "we'll have to go on foot."

"Isn't that Carla's car there?" asked Sasha pointing at one of the cars parked in a disorganized manner by the plant's fence.

"Maybe," shrugged Alex, "let's concentrate on what we came here to do."

He turned back to Alvin, Nash and Li-Hua. "Take your guns and pepper sprays from the backpack. Remember, if people come at us - try to scare them away by shooting into the air. If that doesn't work use the pepper sprays. Let's try to not harm anyone if we can help it."

Sasha took her revolver from Alvin, fished her spray out of her pocket and finally took a deep slow breath. "I really hope it's not a vampire overlord," she said with a strained smile and opened her door.

Tir Na n'Og

Please Welcome Marni L. B. Troop author of Tir Na n'Og to the Rogues Angels blog.

Marni will be giving away a copy of Brian Froud's and John Matthew's How to See Faeries. Marni said, "Brian Froud's artwork is one of my inspirations, so it's very appropriate. Plus, it's a cool book!"

In order to win you have to leave a comment.

Tir Na n'Og

By

Marni Troop

INTERVIEW:

1. What elements are necessary components for this genre.

For Historical Fantasy (or Alternative Historical Fantasy), the world must be grounded in historical fact… as much of it as is possible to find. The trick is to work within the bounds of the things we know about the place and or person so that what happens in the fantasy aspect of the story is at least somewhat credible. In fantasy, we are quite certain that none of it really happened, so the question authors have to answer in their stories is “Could this have happened?” if the fantasy aspect of the story were possible. Beyond this, the sky is the limit!

2. How did you come up with your idea for your novel?

In college, I was a part of the Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA). I also met and was trained by a small group of Wiccans (Celtic-based paganism). Out of this combination, I discovered a deep interest in Celtic history and more specifically, Irish history. I had a professor who was from Ireland, and when he offered his students the opportunity to go with him to his homeland, I jumped at it! The moment I stepped off of the plane, I felt as if I’d been there before… like it was my home. I have an eastern European lineage, so I couldn’t explain it, but because of that trip, I wanted to know everything I could about Ireland’s “magical” history. At the heart of it was the “People of the Mounds,” the ones we call Faeries. Over several years, I realized that the Irish legends involving these people were not even well-known by the Irish themselves, let alone any other people around the world. Their stories are so rich in all of the elements that even modern audiences love in a good story: love, lust, horror, adventure, temptation… I decided that I should attempt to retell their story with the hope that an interest in the folklore would be reborn.

3. What expertise did you bring to your writing?

I am not an Irish literature scholar, nor an Irish historical scholar. I am, however, an expert researcher. I have a Master of Professional Writing degree from the University of Southern California with an emphasis in Cinema-TV/Drama, a Master of Arts in Secondary Teacher Education, and the coursework for a Master of Arts in Rhetoric & Composition from Loyola Marymount University. Why just the coursework? That’s another story.

4. As far as your writing goes, what are your future plans?

I plan to write a total of either six or seven books in the “Heart of Ireland” series, but after I complete “Journal Two,” which is due out later this year, I will begin a new supernatural science-fiction series called, “Helen’s Cave,” which is about a young woman who discovers that our perception of the natural world is wrong and she is the only one who can see the truth. Beyond that, I have a couple of screenplays I intend to revise and possibly turn into novels.

5. If you could be one of the characters from this book, who would it be and why?

I would be the Morrigan because she has the best sense of humor about everything and because she can just be herself and scare the crap out of anyone if she wants to.

6. Can you give us a sneak peak into this book?

Sure! There is a lot of death and a really cool horse.

7. What is the best and worst advice you ever received? (regarding writing or publishing)

The best advice I ever received was to just keep writing as long as you enjoy it, because not everybody gets published. If you’re end goal is to be published and you don’t enjoy writing, your writing will never be good enough to publish. The worst advice I ever received was that if you’re not one of the best writers, you shouldn’t bother trying. What’s wrong with this advice is that “best” and “worst,” or “good” and “bad” in art is quite subjective. 

8. Do you outline your books or just start writing?

Oh, I definitely outline. Not necessarily in the traditional sense, but I at least have a twelve-step outline (see “The Writer’s Journey,” by Chris Vogler).

9. How do you maintain your creativity?

Ha!!! It comes and goes. Eventually, I get so frustrated with not writing that I give myself a nearly impossible deadline, tell my friends about it so they can harass me, and get to it.

10. Who is your favorite character in the book. Can you tell us why?

I don’t have an absolute favorite… besides Casey, the narrator… but Ada is one of my most favorite. I can’t tell you why, though, except to say that she’s Casey’s horse.

11. Are your plotting bunnies angels or demons?

Yes.

BLURB:  

Casey is a Faerie, but not in the way you might think. She’s not a little creature with wings or magic dust.  If not for her tall, pointed ears, this regal princess could be mistaken for a human.  She is gifted among her people in that she can see into anyone’s thoughts.  She can remember every detail of every event that has occurred among the Faeries since her birth.

In "Journal One," Casey watches as the Faerie kings slaughter Ith,  a stranger from across the sea and man of peace who believes the Faeries to be the gods of his people, the Iberians.  Little do the kings know that when you kill an innocent, humans seek vengeance.  Ith’s people come in great numbers to slaughter their “gods” and take Ireland as their new home. Caught in the middle, Casey tries to find a way to bring peace to the two peoples so they can live on the Island together. After things do not go as she plans, the humans prove victorious. At the moment the Faeries surrender the Island, she and her people are transformed into the magical creatures that inspire legend, and Ireland is changed forever.

You would think this to be enough drama for a young Faerie princess, but in the midst of it all she meets her one true love, an Iberian named Amergin. At the moment when all seems perfect between them, they are separated in the worst way possible – dangled right in front of each other but forever just out of reach.

Casey knows that the fate of her people and her love are inextricably linked. For the moment, all she can do is observe… and record everything she can. She has become the Chronicler: the one true historian of her entire race.

EXCERPT:

I came upon the thirty Elders sitting quietly on blankets and looking at me with mixed feelings. Scanning them quickly, I knew that most thought fondly of me and wanted me to be happy. What was strange was that none of them were thinking about the ritual. In fact, several were completely closed off to me and the others were concerned about me. I did not have time to listen carefully to any one person’s thoughts because Eriu spoke quickly.

“The visions you have had, Casey. Are they prophecies?”

“No,” I said. “I do not have that power.”

“Then you should ignore them,” my mother said. “They cause you great distress for no reason.”

“But this is a real being I see,” I replied. I did not understand why they were dismissing my visions simply because they were not prophetic.

“You may feel as if the being you see is real, Casey,” said Oghma in his deep, soft voice, “but there is no evidence to suggest that any of us can see beyond the Island. Even Dagda himself has lost his bond with the Northern Islands.” Oghma was our scholar and keeper of the trees. His stature was lean and forgiving like the trunk of the Willow. His sense for seeing the new and important was as keen as his aim with the bow. For him to believe that my visions were imaginary meant that everyone else would think the same. The way he phrased his comment to me said something different. He wanted to believe… he wanted to find a new power among us.

AUTHOR INFORMATION:

Marni grew up in a suburb of Washington, D.C., where she worked at and attended many sci-fi/fantasy conventions and bought several Tarot decks before going off to college. After college, she moved to Los Angeles to work as a story analyst, editor, ghostwriter and just about any film or television job she could find.

After earning a Master of Professional Writing in Cinema/TV-Drama from the University of Southern California, Marni started teaching others how to write. Marni currently lives in Glendale, Arizona, with her spouse, two brilliant children and six crazy pets (11 if you count the fish).




LINKS:

Link: www.tirnanogsaga.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Heart-of-Ireland-Saga-Marni-L-B-Troop/131388060226272
Twitter: https://twitter.com/TirNanOgSaga
Buy Link: http://www.amazon.com/Tir-Na-nOg-Journal-One/dp/1453606033/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1341692281&sr=8-2&keywords=tir+na+nog


By the way, please comment.

Autumn

                Yesterday was the first day of autumn. My favorite season is a feast for all our senses. Beautiful colors, scenic drives, moisture hangs in the air and the sound of dry leaves crunching when we walk. My family has almost finished canning, another sign of fall. Apples and tomatoes are all we have left to do. Yeah. 

     My grandson’s soccer games are a delight to watch. He is at the age where pick dandelions during the game is more important than following the ball. 

     As for my writing, I’m working on edits and the final scenes of my May Day book. My writing time is always shortened during the summer when there are other demands on my time. I remind myself even one sentence a day moves the story forward. 

     This week I highlighted my first book A Wife for Jay Prescott. Finding an excerpt and cliffhanger was a fun look back. Writing has been a great journey and learning experience for me.  

Cliff Hanger Saturday: Just Like The Matinees Of Old

                  The phone rang again and still no answer. Knowing she occasionally had trouble walking, Jay didn’t hang up.

     “Hello.” Her warm voice broke the silence.

     “Hi. Mimi. I’ve only a few minutes, but I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

     “Nothing new here. How was your trip?”

     “Good. I almost froze. Never realized New York winters could be so cold.”

     “It’s been quiet around here. You were away on business and my friend, Peggy, had an emergency trip to California to see her new grandchild. He was seven weeks early.”
     Be prepared for the unexpected. He could easily hear Lillian’s soft-spoken words. Would her voice haunt him as much as her legs?

     The silence on the phone line lengthened before Jay realized his grandmother was waiting for a reply. “That’s good.”

     “She called last night. A baby boy named Eric, after Peggy’s late husband.”

     “Bet she’s happy,” he answered absently.

     “Jay, what’s troubling you? You don’t sound like yourself. What’s on your mind?”

     “Nothing.” Ever since he was a child, she knew when something disturbed him. Their routine was always the same. She’d ask what was wrong, he’d say nothing, and by the end of the conversation she’d know all about his problems. She was a crafty woman, but she wouldn’t extract any information from him today. He knew all her tactics.

     “Jay, I’d like to see my great-grandchildren before I’m gone.” Her voice sounded different, troubled. Her statement didn’t resemble her usual pestering request, “I want you to get married.”

     “What are you trying to say, Grandma?” Jay sat up straighter in his soft leather chair. He knew she wasn’t as active as she used to be but he wasn’t prepared for her filing health. She meant everything to him an he’d do anything for her. “Have you seen a doctor lately?”

     “Yes, dear. I see one once a week.”

     “Once a week!” The muscles in the back of his neck tightened. “What’s wrong with you?”

     “Dr. Mason plays bridge with us.”

     Jay released an audible sigh. “Mimi, you had me worried.”

     “I’m fine. My hip doesn’t always cooperate, that’s all. Back to you, Jay. What do you want to tell me?”

     Jay glanced down at the yellow legal pad on his desk. If he focused on something else, she wouldn’t weasel out of him what was on his mind. “I won’t be able to stop by on Sunday. I have to finish up some paperwork here at the office.”

     “You work too hard, Jay…”

     A knock on his office door distracted him for a moment. He placed his hand over the mouthpiece. “Come in.” Steve wanted a meeting, so Jay knew he’d have to end his phone conversation. “Grandma, I have—“

     A discreet cough drew his attention to his office door and the woman standing there. She wore a familiar-looking linen suit and silk blouse, yet she had long strawberry blonde hair. Her sexy smile also looked familiar. Confused, Jay glanced down at ankles. He’d recognized those ankles anywhere. His gaze returned to her face. Without the wig, glasses, and wrinkles she was obviously –“A young woman,” Jay muttered to himself.

     “You have a young woman.” Mimi squealed. “How delightful! Why didn’t you tell me right away? What’s her name?”

     Bewildered by the woman across the room, Jay only heard half of what his grandmother said and answered her without thinking. “Lillian Ross?” he whispered in disbelief.

     “Bring her by for Sunday dinner.”