Book tour blitz and review for Christmas Eve by Angela Burns

Review of a Christmas Eve by Angela Burns 

'Christmas Eve' is a simple Winter Ghost Story. A tale of one womans redemption from immeasurable suffering, taking you on a journey to the Heights of Heaven and the Gates of Hell, exploring the intricacies of human nature and the the deigns of fate through the eyes of a family left in torment following a horrendous accident. 'Christmas Eve' is a heart-warming read, set over the night when we all feel a little magic in the air.'

'Christmas Eve' is the story of a family burdened by grief at the loss of the beloved elder daughter, Jo, on Christmas Eve the previous year. In particular, her mother, Janet, who cannot let go of her sorrow and her anger toward the drunken driver who killed Jo. Janet is unable to see that her all consuming grief is not only dragging her deeper into a dark abyss of despair, but impacting on her husband Dave and younger daughter, Alice, driving an invisible wedge between them.

The arrival of a charismatic stranger on Christmas Eve is to have repercussions that neither she nor David could foresee. At first she is wary of Nick, and sees his arrival as an intrusion. However, Nick offers her an unusual gift, the choice of descending deeper into the darkness into which she has descended, or the chance to forge her own salvation and heal the rift driving her family apart, through suffering, self recognition and forgiveness.

This is a beautiful, poignant Christmas story, which I read almost in one sitting.  At first I  found the present tense narrative a little disconcerting, especially having  just read another story in that tense, which I did not particularly enjoy, and found very distracting and disjointed. This was the case with 'Christmas Eve' however. The present tense in this instance actually gives the story an immediacy and sense of reality which would not have worked quite so well had it been told in the past tense, and it is beautifully written with some almost poetic turns of phrase. As it unfolded it reminded me a little of 'A Christmas Carol' and also'The Shack' by William Paul Young. The inevitable drama of the climax is satisfying in itself, but this is followed by a lovely little twist, which not only reveals Nick's true identity, but gives a festive as well as a spiritual reason for his involvement with the family, and the part the youngest daughter played in his arrival, and makes  for a very satisfactory and heartwarming conclusion. I thoroughly enjoyed 'Christmas Eve'. I was glad I'd read it,  and it's one of the those rare stories that made me wish I'd written it myself!


EXCERPT:

“Jo’s on the phone.”

This simple sentence pushes her headlong into the abyss of insanity, causing her to throw up as she spirals into incomprehension, not caring which of these winter ghosts she is being persecuted by.

This isn’t real. This can’t be happening!

Repeating this mantra provides no comfort as she rocks back and forth on the sofa, sobbing wildly, floods of tears burning her, her hands covering her face. She lets out an almighty scream. Her dishevelled state and pitiful wails do not attract the revellers as she stands and looks around the room.

The familiar faces of friends and family from the past, all gathered for their annual celebration of the holiday they once held dear, remain oblivious to her presence.

Brutally trembling, holding onto the furniture for support, she makes her way slowly through the room. Disjointed snatches of conversations resonate in her skull, feeding an intense headache of confusion.

Jo is on the phone…I need to talk to Jo. Am I dead? Are these ghosts? Am I the Ghost? Why can’t they see me?

She was right; they couldn’t see her or hear her–apart from one man.

He stands resolutely in the bay window of the room, by the grandiose tree, in mid-conversation with Janet’s boss and her partner, when he stops and glances at her, smiling warmly.

Nick! She shouts in her mind, unable to form the word.

She tries again to call out, but each time the syllables stifle in her throat, sentencing her to a wretched silence from which she cannot flee.

Winking at her, he returns to his previous conversation.

You were here on that night, damn you! Why can’t I remember you?

Continuing through into the entrance hall, she slowly drags her feet on the flagstones, crippled by her sickness.

I must get to the phone.

There are more people there, many more, crammed, solemn, like cattle to the slaughter. This time, however, they do not belong to her memories. None of them speak as she ambles her way through. Hunched like zombies, they study her every step as she moves pathetically amongst them.

They can see me.

Their costumes reflect the history of the life once told in this home – four hundred years of history. Mortified, she remains possessed by the miraculous chance of hearing her daughter's beautiful voice again, and has no time to question what is happening.

As she approaches the kitchen where the phone is kept, a cold wind brushes past her arm. Horror-struck to see her other self sweep through her as she quickly walks towards the kitchen, towards the phone, another scream begins to curdle as she realises that she shares one common denominator with the guests in the
hall. They are all ghosts. The ghosts of Stonebridge Farm. It is only her determination to hear her daughter once again that chokes her cries, refocusing her.

I must … get … to that … phone.

Each weighty step exhausts her as she trudges through the walls of dead energy that surround her.

Am I dead? What the heck happened? Where’s Nick? I’m coming Jo … sweetheart … please don’t go … I’m coming.

The other Janet had already picked up the phone as she stumbles into the kitchen.

DAMN YOU, YOU SELFISH BITCH! THAT WAS MY CALL! She screams at herself in deathly silence.

Helpless and panicking, she calls wildly at the others to help her.

Please help me! HELP ME! She doesn’t know what she is doing … what she is saying! FOR GOD’S SAKE, PLEASE WON’T SOMEBODY HELP ME! I NEED TO SPEAK TO MY DAUGHTER!

ASIN: B00AHK0H92 

About the Author:

Angela Burns is a retired Police Officer, living with her partner and children in Norwich, Norfolk. Having been given the gift of time, she now writes full time, living her ambition to share the stories that have floated around her head for so long.

Website

AMAZON  UK

AMAZON USA

Don't forget to enter the Rafflecopter contest to win a copy of 'Christmas Eve' 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

'STARQUEST'    'CHILDREN OF THE MIST'  (The sequel to Starquest)  Dancing With Fate     
'Freeread':'A BARGAIN WITH DEATH      Also available on Kindle

I'm Hearing Voices Character Blog Fest 6th to 10th Feb

Every great story has great characters! So this blogfest, run by Angie Cothran and Cassie Mae, is designed to help us flex our character writing muscles through three separate blog posts.

February 6th - Monday: Characters on the couch

February 8th - Wednesday - Dialogue Introduction

February 10th - Friday - Emotion Flash Fiction

Full details can be found HERE or by clicking the Button at the top of this post.

I've registered for all three of these challenges and HOPE to complete them all.  Wish me luck - there are prizes involved! :)




'STARQUEST'    'CHILDREN OF THE MIST'  (The sequel to Starquest)  Dancing With Fate      'Freeread':'A BARGAIN WITH DEATH 'STARQUEST'    'CHILDREN OF THE MIST'  (The sequel to Starquest)  Dancing With Fate      'Freeread':'A BARGAIN WITH DEATH'

                  Also available on Kindle

Brinda Berry - Guest Post, 'The Waiting Booth and a Contest

It's my great pleasure today to welcome fellow author and dog lover, Brinda Berry.

Welcome to my blog, Brinda, have a glass of something blue, delicious and bubbly (totally harmless and calorie free)

Brinda's debut Young Adult novel 'THE WAITING BOOTH' was released on 15th July, details to follow later in this post.  In the meantime, I'll leave it to Brinda to tell us about another of my personal interests - caves! Over to you, Brinda.

The Fountain of Inspiration

I've often been asked, "How do you think of a new story?" It's not an easy question to answer. Inspiration comes from many sources for most writers.  Some writers dream up tales totally outside their personal experience.  Others may use an occurrence from daily life to expand upon creatively.


My imagination runs wild constantly. I will see an interesting person or situation and wonder about the details. I ask myself, "What if..." This overactive analysis running rampant in my brain occurred just this week. I took my parents and a visiting uncle on a day trip.  We had planned to travel to a state park and cave during the afternoon. As plans usually go, we were running behind schedule.

Instead of driving several hours to perhaps miss the last tour of the day through a well-known cave, I decided at the last second to change the plan. I saw a rather large billboard sign for a cave tour. I immediately pulled the car over and said, "Change of plan. Let's do this one instead!"

Trusting souls that they are, my parents and uncle agreed to the new plan, and we were off.  The ticket station for the cave tour was located a couple of miles from the highway. We paid cash for the tickets and waited for the tour to begin. There was no sign-in sheet or appointment book. Within fifteen minutes, a tour guide with two tourists exited the mouth of the cave, and we were next. 

The tour guide was friendly enough and handed us small flashlights to carry into the cave. This should have been our first clue about what to expect.

Inside the entrance of the  cave, there were a few lights strategically placed along the way.  The lighting decreased the further we traveled. The passages were extremely narrow, and I was last in the group.  I periodically flashed my small light behind me to ensure that I didn't have someone or something behind me. This caused me to nearly hit my head on an overhang every ten feet.

Mr. Tour Guide entertained us with stories while pointing out interesting features along the walls and ceiling. I dutifully pointed my camera and took photos while hoping that I captured something. Anything. My digital camera view screen displayed only a black rectangle. At one point mid-cave tour, we saw a small rowboat tethered in a cove. We were told it was used for the longer, wilder tour. He said there was "swimming involved". I replied, "You're kidding."  He answered with a straight face, "No."

Frequently during the one-hour tour, I imagined the ease of killing us.  We were undocumented guests. I had meant to text my sister to let her know the change of plans.  My parents and uncle are older and therefore less physically able to ward off a madman. My mom wore some idiotic slip-on shoes that made running nearly impossible. The tour guide mentioned the death of his mother whereon my overactive mind produced a Hitchcock scene from Psycho. He showed us the spot where he discovered some human bones.  There were nooks and crannies for hiding bodies EVERYWHERE.

At the point when I thought I might internally combust from stress, I realized the tour was over. We had returned to the mouth of the cave for exiting. Returning my flashlight, I happily thanked the guide and wished him a great day. I had survived. Now my husband wants to see it and do the longer tour (involving the boat and swimming).  I imagine that I'll survive that one, too. Maybe, I'll even write a story about it.

Phew, that's some story, Brinda, and quite scary.  As I said, I am fascinated by caves myself, and have used them as part of the settings in a couple of my own books. I also have vivid memories of visiting Dan Yr Ogof caves in Wales, very beautiful with stalagmites and stalagtites, and I can still remember how cold it was.

Anyway, we've kept the readers waiting long enough, lets hear all about your Debut YA novel, released on 15th July:  THE WAITING BOOTH!

BLURB: 

Mia Taylor's older brother has been missing for over a year, and someone knows the truth. When Mia's science project reveals a portal into another dimension, she learns that travelers are moving in and out of her woods in the most alarming way. Regulus and Arizona are two agents from the IIA on a mission to save this world from viral contamination. The mysterious Regulus intrigues Mia with his aloof nature and secretive manner. But for Mia, it's bad timing for a crush. When Regulus reveals the secrets that he knows about her, Mia's not sure what his motives really are.

EXCERPT

“Hi, Mr. Taylor. Mia here?” Austin entered without waiting to be invited in. My dad stepped aside and looked up at me expectantly as I was taking the last few steps. I hoped that Austin wouldn’t breathe a word about what was on the pictures. I sure didn’t want my dad to be paranoid about leaving me alone during the week while he worked out of town. “Dad, Austin’s helping me with my science project. Come on up.” My dad had always liked Austin. If he ever found out that Austin had hit on me, that would change in a heartbeat. For crying out loud, I even thought about Austin like he was a brother. That he’d tried to kiss me sent the ick factor into the stratosphere. We bounded up the stairs as quickly as possible without alerting my dad to some urgency in the air. I closed the door behind Austin and proceeded to move my computer mouse to bring the screen back in view. Austin looked at the picture as he sat at my desk chair. “And this was the one at the end of your driveway?” “Yeah,” I answered, hoping he would tell me he knew the guy, and he wasn’t some ax murderer roaming my woods. “Pretty good pic,” Austin muttered. He clicked to zoom in on the face. “Still…it’s hard to make him out.” “Do you recognize him or not?” “Nope. Can’t say I know him. It’s not like I know everybody. It’s a big school. And he might not even be a college student. I can barely tell anything about the second person.” Austin clicked the forward and back buttons in the photo software program. “Why are they only in one frame?” “I guess they’re really fast. I have the timer set to take a picture every six seconds after motion activation.” He nodded. “Let’s go down and take a gander. Maybe they dropped something. Or maybe we can figure out why they were down there.” Austin led the way out of my room while I covertly studied him. If I tried to forget that he was like a brother to me, I could see that he was good-looking. He was a little on the lanky side, and that made him look younger to most people. His dark hair always hung into his eyes, which made him seem a little derelict. His new sword tattoo covered about two inches of his right forearm. I had tried to talk him out of it, but he had grinned and said that I’d want one exactly like it. He looked back at me as I stood there and smiled a I just caught you checking me out grin. I wasn’t really looking at him like that, but I felt myself blush and quickly found something else to focus on as I followed him out the door. We left the house and took Austin’s car to the waiting booth. He drove an old black Jeep that was still minus the shell since the weather was warm enough. We jumped out to examine the area. On the same side of the drive as the wooden structure, saplings tangled with briars and brush as far as the eye could see. In the years before I was able to drive myself to school, my dad had kept the area fairly clean and bare with the aid of a tractor. Now, this area had become overgrown and weedy. In the middle of the stalks of high grass, a circle of flattened brush marked where the people in the photo had been standing. “Holy cow, you’d really have to be dragging something heavy to make this dent in the ground.” I gasped, suspecting that the marks were new and the people in the photo had created them. Austin walked around the flattened circle. “This is too weird. See how the grass swirls in a pattern? Maybe that dude had set something down here.” “He wasn’t dragging anything in the picture. Maybe I need to look at it again.” I estimated the diameter of the circle to be about five feet across. I caught my breath as I felt a reverberating tickle pluck my spine like a tightly wound cello string. Avoiding the circle, I walked into the brush past it to see if I could find more evidence of the intruders. Nothing. The weather had been fairly dry with no rain this month, but I bent to look for footprints. I started feeling silly, because even if I found footprints, I wouldn’t be able to tell anything from them. I shivered, trying to rid myself of the willies.

Publisher: Etopia Press
Genres: Young Adult, Paranormal


PURCHASE LINKS AND MORE INFO from:
  
ETOPIA


AMAZON kindle

BARNES& NOBLE

BIO:

Brinda Berry lives in the southern US with her family and two spunky cairn terriers. She has a BSE in English and French and a MEd in Learning Systems Technology. She's terribly fond of chocolate, coffee, and books that take her away from reality.  She doesn't mind being called a geek or “crazy dog lady”. When she's not working the day job or writing a novel, she's guilty of surfing the internet for no good reason. 

She can be found at:

www.brindaberry.com
www.twitter.com/brin145
www.Facebook.com/BrindaBerryAuthor

and finally - Brinda wants to tell you about her

CONTEST!

Want to have some fun? Follow me on my summer blog tour. I'm celebrating the  release of The Waiting Booth with some prizes. Readers can win multiple prizes and enter at each blog stop.  I'll be adding some more tour dates and places soon!

Here are the rules: 

• I'll be giving away an ebook at each tour stop. You may enter at each site by leaving a comment on my guest post. Unless noted by the blog/site owner, selection will be made within seven days of the day I visit.
• The first five commenters at each stop will win a romance trading card. Aren't collecting them yet? They are absolutely cool.
• If you like me on Facebook, tweet my site, or subscribe to my blog, I'll add your name in additional times for connecting with me (up to 3). You must let me know in the comments about your tweet, Facebook like, and/or blog subscription. 
• There's a grand prize at the end of the blog tour, August 30th.  I'll put all the commenters from the stops in random.org for selection of the winner for the grand prize. Grand prize is a $25 gift certificate to Amazon.
  
• Winners may be listed at the site I visit if the blog/site owner chooses. Winners of all prizes will be listed on my blog.

Killian Mc Rae's Guest Post and Amazon Gift Card Giveaway

Yesterday I reviewed Killian McRae's thrilling and thought provoking novel 12.21.12.

 I'm delighted to have Killian herself here today to talk about some of the research she did while writing 12.21.12

Over to you, Killian.

From Amun-Ra to Zipacna and back again: Researching across cultures and across time

Many thanks to Hywela Lyn for hosting this stop on the blog tour.

Ever heard of the book “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” by Robert Pirsig?  Chances are, if you haven’t, the title has taken you aback. Two competing images may come to mind: the first, a scruffy-haired, bandana-wearing, leather-clad Hell’s Angel; the second,  a wrapped-in-orange, balder-than-a-baby, thin-framed Eastern monk. They don’t exactly fit, do they? Like some incomplete set “one of these things is not like the other,” your mind searches to connect their realms of existence, finding a bridge that makes their pairing make sense.

But what brings these seemingly divergent beings together is what is so basic in the commonality that not only do they share it, but it’s a constant of human nature: the nature of existence.

When I try to explain what my book is about, I often find myself saying, “It’s sort of The Mummy meets Tomb Raider meets The Da Vinci Code, with a little splash of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.”

“All in one book?”

I nod. “Yup, one book.”

The reason I’m able to hit upon so many cultures in 12.21.12 (including Ancient Egypt/Rome, Olmecs, Maya, and modern Western Civilization) is because in my scope of experience and in my research, I focused on what these cultures shared rather than what made them different.  All civilizations have sought to understand the mechanics of the world around them as well as themselves. What they were able to reach consensus on was that most things in nature had a pattern of regularity, whereas people in their talents, weaknesses and temperaments were highly diverse. That both Mesopotamian and Mesoamerican civilizations, then, should have developed polytheistic religions in which many of their gods and goddesses bore stark resemblances is not so surprising.

Ancient Egyptian resources, both academic and casual, are ample. Mesoamerican resources, however, are fewer and far between. Again, because my research base for the Olmec was limited, I delved into its study with the intent to focus only on that in common with Egypt. Unfortunately, I learned that very little is known about the Olmec, especially when compared with the more contemporary Maya, Inca and Aztecs. However, what was interesting is that most researchers believe the Olmec served as a proto-society for both the Aztec and Maya. Insofar as cultural  similarities exist between the two, much of this is believed to be due to the example created by the Olmec.

Olmec Pyramid

For an author of fiction, this sort of ambiguity could not have been more fortunate. In writing  12.21.12, I was able to paint around the edges of truth, and to generate or extrapolate  my world’s realty. The best fiction is grounded in truth, even if the truth is somewhat fictional. As Robert Prisig said, "For every fact there is an infinity of hypotheses."

BLURB

The Death of Cleopatra - Juan Luna, 1881

Archaeologist Sheppard Smyth has staked his career and the honorable memory of his deceased wife and partner on proving his widely-panned theory: Cleopatra VII, last ruler of Ancient Egypt, was murdered. When a statue of the doomed queen is discovered in an Olmec excavation site in Mexico, Shep rushes to investigate and, hopefully, find the proof that has evaded him for so long. Soon, he finds himself in the middle of the rivalry between the sexy, enigmatic international thief, Victoria Kent, and infamous rumored Russian mobster, Dmitri Kronastia. Both hold pieces to the puzzle that will finally shed light on Cleopatra's death, as they vie for Shep's trust and assistance. 

As he is drawn further into their world of ancient gods, supernatural powers, and alternative history, little does Shep know that the fate of all humanity may hinge on his ability to discover the truth in between Victoria and Dmitris' fragmented claims and hidden identities. Working to decode the past while in order to save the future, Shep becomes a common pawn played by forces working to see out a quest older than the pyramids and cloaked by the Mayan prophecy of 12.21.12. 

          EXCERPT

       “Do you think I’ve had it poisoned?” Octavian asked with a snicker.

    Sekhmet leaned forward and smirked. In one fell swoop, she raised the goblet to her lips and downed the entirety of its contents.

    "I know you did, Octavian,” she returned as she lowered the goblet, smacking her palette. “Cyanide, I would wager. Enough to kill a man. Luckily for me, I am no man.”

    She let the goblet fall, the metal clang on the floor alerting the guards standing right outside the doorway. They ran in, their pila at the ready. With a wave of his hand, Octavian dismissed them.

    “She will not harm me,” he assured them. With reluctance, the soldiers eased and exited. “You would find no fault in my efforts,” he added to Sekhmet.

    “Indeed, Caesar, I would be insulted if you had attempted anything less.” 

     Octavian understood; if it were to be a battle of wits, they were too equally matched. Whatever tolerance the woman’s body had to the poison, it meant likely that any measure of pain short of death would have no influence on her. All that was left was to hear her out.

    “Your name, Lady?”

    “I have many, sire. Your father by law called me as do the people of this land: Sekhmet.”

    Octavian chuckled, sitting back in his chair and raising his own goblet to his mouth. “Yes, he spoke of you. Consort of the queen, he said. Quite the scandal, if word of this ever reached Rome. Tell me, is it not heretical to take on the name of a goddess?”

   “No more so than to take on the title of Caesar.”                 

 

BIO

Born and raised in rural Michigan, Killian used the local library- a single room in a her village's firehouse- as an escape to visit distant worlds, meet brave heroes, learn of classic mythologies, and develop a lifelong love of learning and reading.

Though she had written three novels before graduating high school, she never thought of trying to publish until much later in life. 12.21.12 was her first published work, released in late 2010. A second work due out in Fall 2011, "A Love by Any Measure," is a historical romance set in 1860's Ireland. 

Killian is a member of Stanford University's Writer's Certificate program and PRO member of RWA. Her other interests include musicology and history. She currently lives in the San Francisco Bay area. 


Thank you so much for a fascinating  insight into your equally fascinating novel, Killian.  I am so glad to have been able to read it and I can recommend it highly - readers, if you like a mystery/SF/thriller/romance put it at the top of your wish list now! (And please don't forget to leave a comment if you have a moment, every comment on Killiane's tour will make you elligible for the draw.)

Find Killian at her:

WEBSITE  
BLOG  
TWITTER  
FACEBOOK
GOODREADS

AMAZON

GIVEAWAY 

Dianne will be giving away  to one randomly drawn commentator, a  $20 Amazon gift  card;

 Tomorrow Killian will be visiting

http://lisahaseltonsreviewsandinterviews.blogspot.com/

stop by and give her some love - the more comments you make the more chances you have of winning a prize!

Contest ends 17th June and is open to all.
GOOD LUCK!
All Killian's tour dates can be found here:
 http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2011/05/vbt-122112-by-killian-mcrae.html. 

 MY REVIEW OF '12.21.12'