Rogue's Angles Present: On Seas So Crimson James Young

Please welcome  James Young author of On Seas So Crimson

James Young will be awarding a 9 x 12 print of the cover painting, "Death of Kongo" signed by the author and the artist Wayne Scarpaci (US ONLY GIVEAWAY) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

On Seas So Crimson

by James Young

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GENRE: Alternate History

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INTERVIEW:

1.     What or who inspired you to start writing?

I’ve always been an avid reader from when I was little.  Growing up on a small farm that was miles to the nearest neighbor, I used to sometimes act out things that I read in books.  (John Carter was a favorite…darn Earth gravity.)  Eventually I also started writing things long hand, and the rest is history.

2. What elements are necessary components for your genres?

I think the biggest components for any genre, not just sci-fi or alternate history, is that you have to have a compelling set of characters.  In the case of the former, that is followed by some aspect of escapism that will allow readers to separate from their daily drudgery into a different universe.  The reasons why Star Trek and Star Wars have been so successful is we’ve come to care about the individuals involved. 

Alternate history is a bit different in that the main compulsion lies in the historical pivot.  Most of the “characters” are already known to the readers, but the changing situations are not.  For instance, in my Usurper’s War series, most World War II historians are familiar with Heinrich Himmler as the head of the SS.  However, knock off Adolf Hitler and Hermann Goering, and suddenly he’s in a vastly different role as Fuhrer.  That what if transitioning to what now is the genre’s foundation in my opinion.

3. How did you come up with the ideas for your novels?

A lot of time it’s a combination of what I’ve read and random inspiration.  For On Seas So Crimson, it was a discussion back in the ‘90s about how World War II could have been different.  For An Unproven Concept, it was being a fan of the old Robotech novels, Star Wars, and the old school Battlestar Galactica. 

4. What expertise did you bring to your writing?

I’m actually getting my doctorate in U.S. History and majored in Military History from West Point.  I’ve placed in historical essay contests and have been published in both Proceedings (the United States Navy and Coast Guard’s professional journal) and the Journal of Military History.  So in the alternate history arena, it could be said that “I’m a professional.” 

Alas, I have no experience with commanding a starship or flying mecha in real time.  If any travelers from the future or distant galaxies want to change that…

5. What would you want your readers to know about you that might not be in your bio?

I’m blessed to be part of a community of writers in Kansas.  Everything from Star Trek to Sherlock Holmes through zombies, I’ve got people who can hook you up. 

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

At the moment, I’m working on Though Our Hulls Burn…, the sequel to An Unproven Concept.  I should have my dissertation done by the end of the year, so that will give me more time to work on the third book in the Usurper’s War as well.

7. If you could be one of the characters from your books, who would it be and why?

This is the point I see a few of my local writer’s group chuckling, as I have a reputation for being a little brutal to my characters.  I’d have to say Jason Owderkirk, the Commander Air Group (CAG) for the C.S.S. Constitution.  Mainly because he has it relatively easy (so far) in the Vergassy Universe.

8. Do you belong to a critique group? If so how does this help or hinder your writing?

Yes and no.  My local library is incredibly supportive of local authors, with one of the librarians being the Municipal Liaison for Nanowrimo.  This has created a strong community of writers, and we’ll help people out if asked.  So yes, I’d say that finding a critique group is definitely a fruitful exercise.

9. When did you first decide to submit your work? Please tell us what or who encouraged you to take this big step?

If we’re talking originally, I submitted my work to agents and publishers back when I was in high school.  Looking back, I think the main impetus was that I had no idea how publishing worked, so I figured there was no harm, no foul in submitting. 

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

A little of both.  I’ll often have a scene just come to me while I’m driving to work or doing something else.  For example, the ballroom scene from An Unproven Concept just popped into my head.  I was fortunate enough to find a great concept artist, Justin Adams, who was able to convert words to picture (see below). 

With the Usurper’s War series I have to be a little more careful due to it being alternative history.  I have to make sure I don’t completely mess up the timeline because I was not paying attention.  Therefore I keep a loose timeline and do my best to adhere to it.

11. Are your plotting bunnies angels or demons?

I will answer this by relating the fact that my wife and fellow author Anita C. Young has never finished An Unproven Concept because I went dark.  Not graphic violence dark, just may have lovingly caressed a potential third rail.  So maybe saying they’re demonic might be a bit of a stretch.  However, make no mistake—my plot bunnies may or may not have been on the Marquis de Sade’s “For a good time, call…” short list.

12. Anything else you might want to add?

I usually hang my hat over at vergassy.com. I discuss everything from warships to heavy metal in my posts, plus you can find samples of my writing there.  In addition, my novellas “A Midwinter’s Ski” and “Pandora’s Memories” are available for free electronically on Amazon, B&N, and several other book outlets.  Try before you buy!

BLURB:

Adolf Hitler is dead.  Great Britain has fallen.  The Royal Family has fled to Canada, and the United States stands alone against the Axis.

On Seas So Crimson collects both novels of the Usurper's War into a single package.  Acts of War (Amazon Bestseller in alternate history) begins this universe with London on fire, while Collisions of the Damned (recommended by Alternate History Weekly) continues it with the desperate defense of the Dutch East Indies. 

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EXCERPT 

It’s never a good day when you become commander of a vessel simply because no one else was left.  From what he understood, Keir had started the day as chief of Hood’s Navigation Division.  That had been before the vessel took at least three 15-inch shells to the bridge area, as well as two more that had wiped out her gunnery directory and the secondary bridge.

Captain Gordon was right—she was a very powerful warship.  Unfortunately that tends to make you a target.

“Commander, you are certain that…” Gordon started, then collected himself.  “You are certain His Majesty is dead.”

“Yes sir,” Keir said.  “His Majesty was in the conning tower with Admiral Pound when it was hit.  The Royal Surgeon positively identified His Majesty’s body in the aid station before that was hit in turn.  We cannot get to the aid station due to the spreading fire.”

“Understood.  His Majesty would not have wanted any of you to risk his life for his body,” Gordon said.

“I just…” Keir started, then stopped, overcome with emotion.

“It is not your fault lad,” Gordon said.  “Her Majesty will understand.”

Gordon turned and looked at the Exeter’s clock.

“Very well, we are out of time.  Stand by to fire torpedoes.”

“Torpedoes report they are ready.”

“Sir, you may want to tell your torpedo officer to have his weapons set to run deep,” Keir said.  “She’s drawing…”

There was a large explosion aboard Hood as the flames reached a secondary turret’s ready ammunition.  Eric saw a fiery object arc slowly across, descending towards the Exeter as hundreds of helpless eyes watched it.  The flaming debris’ lazy parabola terminated barely fifty yards off of Exeter’s side with a large, audible splash.

“I think we do not have time for that discussion,” Gordon said grimly.  “Fire torpedoes!”

The three weapons from Exeter’s starboard tubes sprang from their launchers into the water.  Set as a narrow spread, the three tracks seemed to take forever to impact from Eric’s perspective.  Exeter’s torpedo officer, observing Hood’s state, had taken into account the battlecruiser’s lower draught without having to be told.  Indeed, he had almost set the weapons for too deep a run, but was saved by the flooding that had occurred in the previous few minutes.  In addition to breaking the battlecruiser’s keel, the triple blow opened the entire aft third of her port side to the ocean.  With the audible sound of twisting metal, Hood started to roll onto her beam ends.  She never completed the evolution before slipping beneath the waves.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

James Young is a Missouri native who escaped small town life via an appointment to the United States Military Academy.  After completing his service in the Army, Mr. Young moved to Kansas to pursue his doctorate in U.S. History.  Fiction is his first love, and he is currently the author of the Usurper’s War (alternate history), Vergassy Chronicles (space opera), and Scythefall (apocalyptic fiction) series, all of which are available via Amazon or Createspace.  Currently living in the Midwest with his loving, kind, and beautiful spouse, Mr. Young spends his time completing his dissertation while plotting new, interesting ways to torment characters and readers alike.  As a non-fiction author,  Mr. Young has won the 2016 United States Naval Institute’s Cyberwarfare Essay contest and the U.S. Armor Center’s Draper Award for a battle analysis of the Golan Heights.  He has also placed in the James A. Adams Cold War History contest held by the Virginia Military Institute and been published in the Journal of Military History (“The Heights of Ineptitude”).

Blog: https://vergassy.com/

FB Page: https://www.facebook.com/ColfaxDen/

Twitter: @Youngblai

https://www.amazon.com/Seas-So-Crimson-Usurpers-Collection-ebook/dp/B01B175FJG/

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GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE

James Young will be awarding a 9 x 12 print of the cover painting, "Death of Kongo" signed by the author and the artist Wayne Scarpaci (US ONLY GIVEAWAY) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e4345f2175

Damian Andrews couldn't afford to trust the emerald-eyed spitfire who happened upon his secret. THE WAGER BY CHRISTINE YOUNG FREE ON KIDNLE UNLIMITED

The Wager

Christine Young

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level:

978-1-936403-51-6

Buy at: www.roguephoenixpress.com

Buy at Amazon

Buy at Barnes & Noble

BLURB:

Amorica Hepburn was sent to London to find a husband. However, finding a man was the last item on her agenda. With her two cousins, Amorica wagers she can dissuade her suitor before the others. Despite her efforts she discovers a chemistry that cannot be denied. Suddenly she is the arrogant man's wife, pledged to a marriage neither desire. But swept off to his ancestral home above the Dover cliffs and into his strong embrace, Amorica is soon possessed by a raging passion for the husband she had vowed to despise…

Damian Andrews couldn't afford to trust the emerald-eyed spitfire who happened upon his secret. Amorica's hatred of all men of his kind only inflames the war that rages between them. Still, he can not control the intense desire his stubborn bride inspires, or make her surrender to his will until he has conquered the headstrong beauty on the battlefield of love…

EXCERPT

Coast of England 1816

"It's a bloody cursed day." Damian Andrews swept the child into his arms and waded through the pounding surf to the beach. He braced himself against the out-going current then sloshed through the crashing waves. Salt spray clung to the wind, stinging his nostrils.

Damian turned. Beneath his ribs, his heart pounded the cadence hard and fast. He swore again as he watched the captain shout orders to his crew. The French brandy that was supposed to have arrived this night would have to wait.

Standing in the longboat, the captain of the ship that brought the brandy as well as the political refugees from the Germanies held a torch aloft--the only light in the vast darkness. "Hurry, laddie. We have human cargo tonight and the tide is changing."

A little girl whimpered.

Damian pulled her into his arms, bent on protecting her at all cost.

"It's all right. You will all be together soon." The smuggling of French brandy was a cover for the cause that meant so much to him. Religious and political refugees--at times it seemed they came in droves. All were seeking a better life. A life of freedom. "Your mother is coming as well as your baby brother. You will all be safe."

Damian looked to the captain. "The father?" he queried.

"He didn't come with his family. He said he had one more thing to do. You must hurry."

The child leaned into Damian, her little face nuzzling his shoulder, her silent sobs gut-wrenching. He pulled her closer, cursing at the elements as well as mankind and wishing he could find a way to shield the tiny child from all harm. He knew the feat to be impossible. The little girl touched a place in his heart and for a moment filled that broken space with light. Yes, the mother would be with her children, but why had the father stayed where his life was in peril? He had learned long ago one could come to regret rash actions. And he'd also learned one could lose all chance at love in one instant.

Lord, but he'd lost his concentration and in losing that, he could well lose his edge.

No secrets-- no lies. The thought haunted him.

His life was a lie, but he would change nothing until his penance was paid. A constant drizzle soaked him to the skin. The wind sent goose bumps rising on his arms. He reached shore and handed the girl over to Aric Lakeland, a trusted friend and accomplice in this night's work, then turned and walked back to the longboat. Her baby brother as well as her mother waited.

He had never meant to get involved. It was the greatest of ironies that he was here now. He'd been a man who loved his family and his home.

He'd been content but that seemed years ago--a life time.

It felt like centuries.

The captain spoke, his voice hushed. "Hurry, now, Master Damian.

It's the watch. They are due to ride by here any time now. The patrols have doubled these last few weeks. I fear it's not as safe as it used to be." The captain handed over the baby wrapped in blankets. Damian stared at the child. The babe couldn't be a year old. The child didn't make a sound, not even a whimper.

This was injustice, a travesty. He looked at the mother. "Can you make it on your own?" He prayed the fragile lady standing before him had more courage than she appeared to have. She nodded and with the captain's help, she stepped into the ocean, struggling for balance. Yet her shoulders were squared and her spine stiff.

As soon as the captain placed the babe in Damian's arms and the three of them were headed for land, he gave orders. Two sailors rowed out to sea, moving toward the black ship that rose and fell on the distant waves.

On a cliff above, the dark silhouette of a third man, Ryder McClaren, could be seen for a brief moment. He waved his arms then disappeared into the shadows once more.

"Hurry," Damian bade the mother, his hand resting on the small of her back, urging her forward.

Rogue's Angels Present: Purr M for Murder T. C. Lotempio

Please welcome T. C. Lotempio author of Purr M for Murder.

The author will be awarding autographed copy of PURR M FOR MURDER (hardcover - US ONLY) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

Purr M for Murder

by T.C. Lotempio

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GENRE:  Cozy Mystery

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BLURB:

Sydney McCall left behind an ex-fiancé and a New York advertising job to return home to Deer Park, North Carolina and help her sister, Kat, run the local animal shelter, Friendly Paws. Determined to save the shelter from financial trouble, Sydney and Kat organize a cat café fundraising event at a local coffee shop. Things are looking up until their landlord, Trowbridge Littleton, threatens to shut down the event. When Sydney drops by his art gallery to make peace, she finds Kat--along with Littleton's dead body.

Local homicide detective Will Worthington--who just happens to be Sydney's old high school crush--is highly suspicious of the sisters' involvement. Desperate to clear their names from the suspect list, Sydney pounces on the investigation. With the help of one of the shelter cats, a savvy orange tabby named Toby, Sydney begins poking her nose into other local businesses whose owners may have benefited from Littleton's death--until the killer notices she's pawing a little too closely at the truth.

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EXCERPT:

We were in the doorway now.  A large desk was at the far end of what appeared to be an office.  The light was coming from a small lamp perched on the edge of the desk, and as we crossed the threshold, it flickered and then went out.  Kat shone the pencil thin beam of the flashlight around the room, letting out a sharp cry as it hit the wall nearest us.  “Lightswitch,” she squealed, and a minute later the room was filled with a harsh fluorescent light. 

I glanced around.  Yes, this was definitely an office, and not a very tidy one at that.  There were several file cabinets pushed up against the far wall, and two of the drawers in the one on the left were half open. Papers were strewn across the desk, and some file folders had dropped onto the floor and were scattered across the Oriental rug.

“Good Lord,” my sister exclaimed.  “For someone always so fastidious about his appearance, he certainly likes to work in a mess.”

I frowned.  “It looks more to me like it’s been ransacked. Someone was searching for something. What do you think, Kat? Kat?”

My sister had moved over to the far corner of the room and was standing before a large wardrobe.  “Wow, this is beautiful,” she said, lifting a hand to run it over the smooth exterior. She balled her hand into a fist and rapped it against the wood. “Solid oak.  I saw a picture of one like this in a catalog.  French, dates back to the late 1800’s.  I wonder what it’s doing in his office?”

“Who knows? Maybe he keeps his suit jackets in it,” I said.  “Why do you care, anyway?”

“It’s such a beautiful piece,” my sister murmured. “Too good for that rotter. It seems out of place in this office.”

“Maybe it just came in and he’s got it here for pricing,” I ventured.

“Maybe.  I wouldn’t mind having something like this,” Kat said, running her hand once again across the smooth wood.  “It looks deep enough – I wonder if the doors swing out all the way? It would be great to put a TV in.”

I eyed the piece. “That thing looks hand-carved. He probably wants an arm and a leg for it.”

“Probably.” She gave the handle a tug. “Hm.  The doors seem to be stuck.”

I waved  my hand impatiently.  “Oh for goodness sakes, leave it alone. Must you examine it now?”

Her lower lip thrust forward. “Yes.  Who knows, I might not get another chance.”

I shot her a sharp look.  “You’re not thinking of buying this, are you?”

She sighed deeply. “I suppose not.  Littleton will probably want some astronomical figure for it.  But I might never get another opportunity to see such a finely made one up close.” She shot me an appealing look.  “Give me a hand, won’t you? You’re strong. Maybe if we both pull on the handle at the same time it’ll open.”

I knew my sister. Once Kat made up her mind about something she was like a pitbull with a bone. I knew when it was futile to argue with her. “Okay, fine. But if we get this open, one quick look and then we’re out of here.”

She nodded and I placed my hand on top of hers. “On the count of three, give it all you’ve got. One, two—three.”

We both tugged at the same time and suddenly the door flew open.  We went staggering backwards at the same time the body of Trowbridge Littleton, his eyes bulging almost out of their sockets, tongue lolling to the side, hit the floor at our feet. 

Excerpt Two:

Will glanced up.  “Pretty observant of you, Syd. The ME will determine the cause of death.”  He tapped on his notebook with the edge of his pen.   “Why don’t you walk me through what happened.  How did the two of you come to be in Littleton’s shop so early?”

“We had something we wanted to discuss with Mr. Littleton, and we thought the earlier the better,” I said.

“I see.  And just what was the nature of this discussion?”

I shifted my weight to my other foot. “Friendly Paws has teamed with Dayna’s Treats & Sweets for a cat café event to benefit the shelter. For a nominal fee, people can have their coffee and goodies in a room with shelter cats that are available for adoption.”

Will glanced up, and I could see a light of interest in his eyes. “I’ve heard of those cafes. They’re mostly in Europe.”

“There are a few in the States, big cities mostly.  This will be the first event of it’s kind  in North Carolina. We’re hoping to increase revenue for both the café and the shelter.”

 “Let me guess. That idea didn’t sit well with Littleton?”

Kat and I both shook our heads in unison and Kat exclaimed, “I should say not! He was in the shop yesterday, and he made his feelings pretty darn clear.  He thought having the cats around would be detrimental to business. Heck, he thinks-thought-the shelter in general was a detriment to the town.”

“A sentiment you two didn’t agree with,” he said slowly.

“I should say not!” Kat returned, her cheeks starting to flame.  “Syd and I tried to reason with him yesterday but he dind’t want to hear it.”

“And that’s why you decided to come here this morning?”

I nodded. “Yes.  I put together a pretty good argument of pros for the event.  I was hoping to appeal to his sense of business acumen.”

“Why did you feel this was necessary? Had he threatened you?”

“Not in so many words,” I said carefully. “But he did say yesterday that he was determined to put a stop to the proceedings, and we hadn’t heard the last from him.”

“Um-hm.” Will murmured, scribbling some more.

“And Leila Addams – do you remember her, Will?  She’s a reporter for the Deer Park Herald now,” Kat chimed in.  “Leila said that she thought Littleton was inquiring about starting a petition against showing the shelter cats – and the shelter in general.”

Will made another notation in his book. “So when was the last time you saw Littleton?”

 “Yesterday around one-thirty.” I cleared my throat.  “If that’s all the questions you have, we need to get going.”

  He snapped his notebook shut.  “You’re free to go for now,” he said, “but I will probably need to talk to you some more later on.”

“That’s fine,” I said.  “We’ll be here.”

The corners of Will’s lips twitched slightly. “Good to know.” 

Once we were back out on the street, Kat hauled off and punched  me in the arm – hard.

“Yow!” I cried. “What was that for?”

“For thinking that you could come here and face Littleton without me, for one,” Kat said.  “I knew you had your fingers crossed last night.”

I rubbed at my arm. “Can’t put anything over on you, can I?”

 She gave me a shrewd look.  “So, how did it feel, seeing Will Worthington again after all these years!  I heard he was back in town, but I had no idea he’d become a detective – homicide, no less.”  She cut me a sidelong glance. “Funny, isn’t it, how you two came back to Deer Park almost at the same time.  Like Karma, or something.”

 “Well, I’d rather deal with Will than his partner, Colombo Junior,” I said. “Come on, let’s get my car and get to the shelter. I hope Maggie isn’t too worried.”

We walked through the alleyway and when we were almost at  the spot where I’d parked, I suddenly stopped short.  “Hey,” Kat cried as she ran full tilt into my back. “What’s wrong?”

I pointed to the empty space beside my car. “There was a white Lincoln there when I came, parked pretty badly.  The license plate read TLITTLE.  I thought for sure it was Littleton’s car, but if it’s gone…”

“A white Lincoln?  That’s his wife Petra’s car,” Kat said.  She glanced around, then pointed to the gym. “She must have parked it here instead of the gym parking lot, like she usually does. I wonder why.”

Another disturbing thought occurred to me as I slid behind the wheel.  It would have been impossible for Littleton’s wife not to have seen the ambulance and police cars parked in front of her husband’s shop.  Why hadn’t she come to see what was wrong?

Unless, of course…she didn’t have to. Because she already knew.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

While Toni Lotempio does not commit – or solve – murders in real life, she has no trouble doing it on paper. Her lifelong love of mysteries began early on when she was introduced to her first Nancy Drew mystery at age 10 – The Secret in the Old Attic.  She (and ROCCO, albeit he’s uncredited) pen the Nick and Nora mystery series from Berkley Prime Crime – the first volume, MEOW IF ITS MURDER, debuted Dec. 2, 2014. Followed by #2, CLAWS FOR ALARM.   #3, CRIME AND CATNIP, is out this December. She, Rocco and Maxx make their home in Clifton, New Jersey, just twenty minutes from the Big Apple – New York. Catch up with them at www.tclotempio.com and www.catsbooksmorecats.blogspot.com

Where to find them:

ROCCO’s blog:

www.catsbooksmorecats.blogspot.com

Website:

WWW.tclotempio.com

Amazon- Purr M for Murder

 https://www.amazon.com/Purr-Murder-Cat-Rescue-Mystery/dp/1683310926/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1474130829&sr=1-3

Amazon: All Books Page

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_book_1?ie=UTF8&field-author=T.C.+LoTempio&search-alias=books&text=T.C.+LoTempio&sort=relevancerank

facebook:

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Purchase Link: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/purr-m-for-murder-t-c-lotempio/1124519401

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GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE

The author will be awarding autographed copy of PURR M FOR MURDER (hardcover - US ONLY) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e4345f2172