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KND Free Book Alert: Tim Sandler’s SKIPPED PARTS is one of those rare must-read Kindle Freebies! plus … A true 5-star novel for just 99 cents, with A CHANCE FOR CHARITY by S.L. Baum (Today’s Sponsor)

This morning’s latest addition to our 200+ Free Book Alert listings is “a lighthearted, amusing and tender story of preteen wisdom, adult immaturity and the fine line between” by the author of Social Blunders and Western Swing….

But first, a word from … Today’s Sponsor

 Don’t want to judge a book by its cover, even when it’s a great and telling cover like this one and the price is just 99 cents? That’s okay, because you can check out the Amazon reviews and find 23 straight good reasons to download A CHANCE FOR CHARITY….

Emily isn’t really Emily (she’s Charity), and Charity has an even bigger secret. Charity and her family are not like other people, they have “skills” that mere mortals cannot begin to comprehend. Are her family’s secrets endangered by her love for Link? 

A Chance for Charity (The Immortal Ones)
by S.L. Baum
4.9 out of 5 stars   23 Reviews
Text-to-Speech: Enabled 
Don’t have a Kindle? Get yours here

20 readers give it 5-star reviews (and the other 3 are 4-star reviews)

“[This] is a true Telluride locals’ novel… It’s as if the secretive and supernatural Elliot family in Ray Bradbury’s novel From the Dust Returned lived in the San Juan Mountains instead of the Illinois prairie.” –John Nizalowski, Telluride Magazine

Here’s the set-up:

If you live LONG enough… love (and danger) will find you.

A new family has just arrived in the isolated mountain town of Telluride, Colorado. Welcome the Johnstons – Jason (a doctor), Rachel (a designer), and their niece Emily (a current High School Senior).

Emily has lived the life of a quiet loner in the past, trying to go unnoticed. But with Telluride being such a small and welcoming town, she finds a group of friends at school almost immediately. When Emily meets Link (another new transplant in town) her world turns upside down. She doesn’t understand why she feels a magnetic pull toward him, or why she unknowingly lets her guard down around him. Link is just as confused by his own need to be with her.

Emily knows she is playing with fire. She should be doing whatever she can to keep herself isolated, to keep Link from getting too close. Danger has a way of finding Emily’s family – that is what keeps them on the move. They arrive in a new town every few years – it is safer that way.

Because… Emily isn’t really Emily… her real name is Charity – and Charity has an even bigger secret. Charity and her family are not like other people, they have “skills” that mere mortals cannot begin to comprehend.

Before long, Charity is struggling with the reality that her two lives are coming closer to each other with each passing day. Soon Link will find himself wrapped in a supernatural world that he never knew existed – and discover that mortals are not the only beings that walk this earth. 

What the Reviewers Say

“S.L. Baum quickly draws us into the intriguing life of Emily and her family. Why do they keep moving every few years? The story unfolds at a pace that allows the characters to be fully developed. The intense relationship between Emily and Link unfolds to divulge … I won’t tell! S.L. Baum’s style is elegant and easy to follow. I enjoyed reading this book, as did my ten-year-old daughter. We are looking forward to the sequel!”
–Imogene Rose, author of The Portal Chronicles

I loved this book. It was very well written. It was just a great, entertaining story. I am definitely not of the YA demographic so this book should appeal to people of varied ages… You can’t go wrong by buying this book. It is a steal at the current price, but would have been a steal at a higher price.”

 “What would it be like to be immortal? Always on the run, forever hiding from vigilantes? Charity, and her “family” have moved outside of Telluride. She’s supposed to be 17. Along come Link and instantly there’s an attraction. This is really well written, with just enough tease to keep you going, but at a good pace…  Very good read. “
–L. Mihay

Don’t miss the next novel in this series, My Link in Time (The Immortal Ones).

Girl meets boy, falls in love, becomes engaged, and walks down the aisle. Oh, if only life were that simple. When an Immortal girl meets a Mortal boy, life is a little more complicated.

When Charity accepted Lincoln’s marriage proposal, she thought they could handle anything that came their way… Link’s newly acquired lust for blood became the first problem to tackle… saying “I do” came next.

Is a no fuss wedding in Las Vegas too much to ask? It seems so when a Witch from their past is not what she seems, mortal friends from Telluride become thorns in their sides, and staying alive is harder than Charity has ever imagined it would be. What is an Immortal girl to do?  

About the Author

I have had a love of Science Fiction since I was a child (watching Star Trek with my dad). That love expanded to the mystical, supernatural, and paranormal as I hit my teen years. Vampire and Witch novels (and movies) consumed me in my late teens and early twenties. I thank Anne Rice and Lestat for introducing a whole new genre to me. I always get a surge of delight when delving into new and interesting novels. I went to college, got married, had three gorgeous kiddos, and lived the life of “mom” for quite awhile.

In late 2006 I was involved in an off road accident and woke up to the realization that “life is short” so you should do what you love and not put things off for another day. I had always wanted to write, but had never finished any project I’d started. About two years after that accident, I decided to start again, and I have enjoyed every moment of the creative process.

I am still writing and am thankful that Amazon has provided the tools for me to become an “indie” author.

Click here to download A Chance for Charity (The Immortal Ones) (or a free sample) to your Kindle, iPad, iPhone, iPod Touch, BlackBerry, Android-compatible, PC or Mac and start reading within 60 seconds!

UK CUSTOMERS: Click on the title below to download
Each day’s list is sponsored by one paid title. We encourage you to support our sponsors and thank you for considering them.
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KND eBook of the Day + Free Sample: Demonspell, Book 1 of award-winning novelist Phoebe Matthews’ Sunspinners series

“We all have relatives we don’t want to think about moving in. But what if you had relatives that’d been around for hundreds of years and invisible to all unless they’re shown in just the right light?”

Here’s the set-up for Demonspell, by award-winning novelist Phoebe Matthews:

Along with a big house and income, Elaine inherits five immortal relatives who need constant attention. Try keeping a husband with that set of in-laws. Yes, she has tried. Twice. And failed. Now, just when she meets a new guy, a band of demons demands that Elaine and her family leave Seattle immediately, alive or dead.

From the author of the award-winning urban fantasy Mudflat series, here is another series set in contemporary Seattle, across town.

Phoebe Mathews says:

For several years I was a contributing editor and wrote several articles a month for an astrology magazine. So toss that background together with my love of contemporary fantasy and paranormal books, then hang out at my favorite Seattle hangouts, and from that background came the Mudflat series. 

The first book in the series, TARBABY TROUBLE, won the 2009 EPPIE for Best Fantasy. The second book, WELCOME TO MUDFLAT, BABY, was a 2009 EPPIE finalist. And recently the third book, MUDFLAT TOY BOY,was named a finalist for a 2010 EPPIE. 

With two hits and a home run, Mudflat is batting a thousand.

And now the 4th and 5th books are available:

Check out my website at 
http://phoebematthews.com for more information about my books. It includes a backlist of earlier works, a page of Claire’s astrology predictions, first chapters, excerpts, reviews, videos. My weekly blogs will show up via the link on my website.

And here’s a free sample:

Free Kindle Nation Shorts — March 28, 2011: An Excerpt from INITIATE, the first novel in Tara Maya’s series, The Unfinished Song

Now here’s a woman with timing …


and courage …


and a generous 5700-word free excerpt from Initiate, the first novel in her series The Unfinished Song


By Steve Windwalker


In a post on her blog today, author Tara Maya calls herself “a big coward.”


But what do I think?


Not so much.


it takes courage to publish a novel, and frankly, the better it is, the more you pour your heart and soul into it, the more courage it takes. And it’s especially courageous, on the release date for the second novel in a series, to offer a 5700-word free excerpt from the series’ first novel.


That’s what Tara Maya has done here, with excerpt and release timed together in perfect synchronicity. And once you’ve read the excerpt, I suspect you will agree with me that this apparently rather shy and tentative author has scored a marketing masterstroke, because there’s really nothing left to do at that point but to buy both books and download them while they are both available at this unbeatable price of 99 cents each!



Here’s her blog post from this morning:

Cowardice and Sequels

The second book in my series, The Unfinished Song: Taboo, launches today. It’s all about being brave enough to break rules if those rules are wrong. Which makes it especially ironic for me to make this admission: I’m a complete coward.


I wait with trepidation to see if anyone will buy the sequel, and if they buy it, if anyone will like it. It’s ridiculous, I’m sure, but I’m really terrified no one will. What if the people who read Book 1, Initiate, hate book 2? Also, in this book, more than the first, I edge ever so gently toward more controversial subjects. (Book 3, Sacrifice, will be the real doozy, though.) It’s all very well to tell myself I will remain true to my artistic vision no matter what anyone else says, but then I am faced with real reader reaction, and I can’t help shaking.


Like I said, I’m a big coward.


It’s so much easier to write when you are unpublished and don’t have to worry about whether anyone will actually like it.


It’s deadly to a writer to fret over what people think, or try to anticipate it. (You can’t, anyway.) Some readers, even if they don’t like every last bit about the book, will like enough that they will trust me to take the rest of the journey down the road to the concluding volume. Some readers will fall by the wayside. I have to hope that I can more eager readers as more books come out, not lose them, but there’s not any guarantee. I have to be true to the story, even if I am afraid.


If you see someone stumbling around on a road, moving forward even as she has her hands over her eyes, that’s me, going ahead with the revisions on the next book, Sacrifice, which is due out at the end of May.

by Tara Maya

Kindle Edition

List Price: $0.99

Buy Now




UK CUSTOMERS: Click on the title below to download




And now … just released today at the same great 99-cent price  … the sequel!



The Unfinished Song:



by Tara Maya

Kindle Edition



List Price: $0.99

Buy Now


UK CUSTOMERS: Click on the title below to download






Enemy tribesmen attacked the Initiates during the ritual Test to find magic users. Dindi’s dreams are in shambles. In despair, she decides to step into the forbidden faery ring, and dance herself to death with the fae. Then she discovers another choice that saves her life…but breaks the ultimate taboo.




After being unfairly exiled from his own people, Kavio may have found a new home, but only if he can protect it from another attack by the enemy. He gathers a small group to venture deep into the heart of enemy territory in search of the ultimate prize…peace.


But by the harsh laws of their land, one cannot both break taboos and keep the peace. They will have to choose, what, or whom, to betray.


excerptFree Kindle Nation Shorts – March 28, 2011


An Excerpt from


the first novel in Tara Maya’s series

The Unfinished Song



Copyright © 1995, 2011 by Tara Maya and published here with her permission



Chapter One



Dindi scanned the crowd, hoping to slip into the plaza unnoticed. Barter Hill swarmed with people because aunties from the three clans met here to trade every half-moon. A kraal at the bottom of the hill held aurochsen and horses. Interconnected rectangular adobe buildings created a square around the top of the rise. The old uncles, to suit their dignity, leaned against the wall on a log bench, under the shade of the eaves of the buildings, drinking corn beer, chatting amiably. They hid their thighs with waist blankets and caped themselves in shoulder blankets that reached the ground. Dindi slithered by them.

Unfortunately, the first person Dindi locked eyes with was Great Aunt Sullana. Though the whole plaza separated them, Great Aunt Sullana tore across the market like a tornado on the Purple Plains. She would demand to examine Dindi’s basket, and finding nothing in it except a kitten, pinch her cheek until Dindi stuttered some explanation. The natural and obvious defense would be to lie, but frankly, Dindi had always been a terrible liar. Her whole face ripened like a tomato, her eyes slid this way and that, she couldn’t convince a child honey was sweet never mind fool Great Aunt Sullana, who ate secrets for morning meal.

Evasion her only option, Dindi darted past a couple of elder women haggling over an exchange of vegetables for pottery. Married women, with their salt-and-pepper hair coiled in stacked rings atop their heads, sat with their wares on blankets arranged all around the dancing platform. Dindi wove a path around multifarious piles of tubers and bone awls, behind bunches of water gourds hung like grapes over racks of smoked venison. Aunties shouted and tried to call her attention to bargins by slapping her calves with horse-hair whisks.

Great Aunt Sullana changed course to track her. Dindi hopped behind a group of bare-chested warriors who mock-fought one another, to the annoyance of an auntie whose tower of baskets they upset. A gaggle of girls giggled at their antics. Great Aunt Sullana kept walking in the wrong direction. Dindi sighed in relief.

A slow drumbeat reverberated throughout the market square. The Tavaedies! No one could see the drum, but each beat shook the ground like earth tremors. Heads jerked up and eyes began to sparkle. Rattles and flutes supplemented the drumbeat. From a hole in the ground in a clear space just in front of the dancing platform, a line of masked dancers emerged. Each costume was slightly different, determined by the dancer’s color of magic and the dance the troop performed that day. A large headdress and a matching mask of either cloth or paint disguised each face. Each Tavaedi wore a costume entirely dyed and painted in shades of one of the primordial six colors.

Dindi had never told anyone she aspired to become a Tavaedi. She wasn’t interested in reaping snickers or commiseration. Besides, what did she care what the others thought of her? She knew how hard it was, but she had a plan.

Every head in the square was riveted on the Tavaedies. Drum, rattle, and flute flared into dramatic music. The masked men and women leaped into motion. Occasionally, to emphasize the moves, the dancers chanted or shouted as well.

Dancing wove magic. Some ritual dances, or tama, ensured bounty, others averted drought. This tama, Massacre of the Aelfae, recalled history. The Tavaedies only performed it once a year, and as a child, it had been her favorite-until she understood what it was really about.

Half the Tavaedies wore wings. “We are the Aelfae, we are the Aelfae,” they chanted.

The other half of the dancers carried spears. “We are the humans, we are the humans.”

The dance showed a clan of Aelfae, the high faery folk who had lived in the Corn Hills before humans came. High fae were not like low fae, pixies and brownies and sprites and such, but possessed grace and grandeur beyond anything human. In form they were as tall, or taller, than humans, although more beautiful, a strange, glowing people, with wings like swans. There had once been seven races of high fae, and of them all, the Aelfae had been the most beautiful and powerful and wise.

The fake Aelfae took the stage first. They flapped imitation wings. To pretend they were flying, they engaged in numerous acrobatic flips, handsprings, handless cartwheels, and somersaults over each others’ backs. The fake Aelfae flitted about the platform until the “human” dancers with spears arrived.

She had to focus. She had to get this right, every move, every detail. She intended to teach herself everything she could from watching them, so when the time came they would invite her to join their secret society. She wasn’t supposed to know, but she had eavesdropped on enough conversations to learn one secret about the Initiation. Each Initiate would be asked to dance a tama, and only those with magic would perform it correctly.

The two sides began to mock-fight. They punched and kicked and crossed spears, they threw one another and made dramatic vaults over one another’s heads to attack from the rear. The humans began to slaughter the Aelfae. Maybe the dance exaggerated the humans’ prowess, but the Aelfae fled, wailing, across the stage. None escaped the humans.

While they danced, Dindi reproduced tiny imitation movements with her hands and feet-nothing noticeable to anyone watching her-to help her commit the steps to memory so she could practice them on her own later. At first, when Dindi had started observing the dances with the object of learning them, she had missed most of the steps. Every moon, she noticed more.

Lately, as the Tavaedies danced, she had begun to see the most amazing thing. The interactions between the dancers were not random. They formed rows and columns, circles and chevrons, shaped arrangements of dancers. And these patterns glowed. It was as if the dancers created ribbons of living light by their movements, tracing out incandescent symbols with their bodies. The dancers themselves glowed too, in the same color as whichever costume they wore. Even now that Dindi knew what to look for, she couldn’t see it all the time, only if she concentrated.

The human dancers encircled the last of the Aelfae dancers, who fell into an artful pile of corpses.

“The Aelfae are no more, the Aelfae are no more,” victors and corpses droned in a mournful dirge.

The chant hit her with a wave of melancholy. The interlocking patterns of light the dancers had created rippled outward like disturbed water, and when the light hit her, vertigo robbed Dindi of her balance. She stumbled, nearly fell.

For a moment, instead of the Aelfae dancers, she saw beautiful beings with wings like swans, and instead of stylized flips and leaps, she witnessed atrocities she could barely comprehend. Aelfae men forced to eat their own intestines, Aelfae women with bloody thighs pinned down under grunting human males, Aelfae babes clutched by their tiny wings and smashed face-first into walls…. Underlying it all, she sensed not one battle, but decades of skirmish and ambush, truce and betrayal, wearing the Aelfae down, driving them to their final extinction, not just in the Corn Hills, but across all of Faearth.

She blinked, and the double vision cleared. Tears streaked her cheeks. It was not just a dance. Though the events reenacted had happened long ago, they were real. Her people had done this, wiped out the most beautiful and powerful faeries in the world, pushed them all to extinction save one. In all the world, except for the White Lady, who was the last of her kind, the Aelfae were no more.

On stage, the triumphant humans split into three groups. One carried a full basket, another a basket split into two halves, and a third a swan feather. They represented the three clans who now lived in the Corn Hills-the victors in the war with the Aelfae. That was the end of the dance. The Tavaedies formed a line and snaked back down into their hole, to their kiva beneath the square.

“Ooooh, look, it’s the goose from Lost Swan,” said a catty voice.
Dindi whirled around.

Kemla and a few of her cousins stood there, young women from Full Basket clan who were always harassing Dindi.

“Crying because when Initiation comes, you won’t be invited to become a Tavaedi like me?” Kemla taunted. She always wore as much scarlet as a non-Tavaedi could get away with, and had arranged cardinal feathers in her breast bands to show off her cleavage.

Hastily, Dindi wiped her face. “You don’t know that.”

“It’ll never happen, goat-legs,” snickered Kemla. “No one in your scraggly clan has ever been chosen as a Tavaedi. The closest Lost Swan clanholders come to dancing magic is to go mad and run off with the fae.”

The Full Basket girls laughed. Dindi flushed.

“Goat-legs! Goat-legs!” The girls formed a circle and shoved Dindi back and forth, finally pushing her into the dust. They laughed and flounced away.

The dust tasted like dung. They were right. No one from Lost Swan Clan had ever passed the test given during the year children disappeared for Initiation rites. She could be taken for Initiation any day now, Dindi thought. And all omens indicated she’d fail miserably. Like her mother. And her grandmother. And every single person in her whole clan since the days of the Lost Swan Clan’s great-mother.

Her basket had fallen. A tiny meow and skritching came from inside. She pulled her kitten out of the basket. His fur stood on end and he looked outraged. She’d rescued the kitten from a grolwuf, a cat-eating goblin, who had already devoured mama cat and the other kits. The little thing had been snow white, eyes sticky shut, but since then his ears, nose, paws and tail had darkened to black, as if he’d pranced in mud, so she’d named him Puddlepaws. She petted and kissed him until his fur settled and he purred to let her know the upset basket was forgiven.

The purring kitten on her shoulder and the beauty of the day rinsed away her gloom on the walk home. Rolling green hills stretched out in every direction under a perfect blue sky marked only with the V of migrating swans. Everything smelled fresh. The corn was shoulder high, while inside the pale green husks, the kernels flushed deeper gold with each passing day. Innumerable clouds of tiny willawisps hazed the fields like sparkling mists. Maize sprites clambered nimbly to the tips of the straight-backed stalks to wave at Dindi when she brushed by them. Pixies of every color fluttered on luminous wings around her head, making her dizzy. Puddlepaws batted at them.

“Wait up, Dindi,” called her cousin, Hadi, puffing behind her. “Aunt Sullana asked me to find you.” He posed with his spear, in an attempt to look stern. Unseen by Hadi, a pixie banged the butt of Hadi’s dangling spear on his knee.

“Ow.” He dropped the spear and hopped about on one foot. He glowered suspiciously at his spear when he picked it up, and then at Dindi. “There aren’t any fae around, are there?”

“Hardly any,” Dindi assured him.

The pixies laughed as he plowed right past them without seeing them. Most people could not see the fae. Kittens could. Puddlepaws leaped from her shoulder, trying to catch a pixie, missed, of course, and flipped in the air before landing in the dirt.

“I’m not a wayward goat,” said Dindi. “I don’t need herding.”
“I’m older than you and I’m the closest you have to a brother, so yes, I am your keeper,” he said, brandishing his spear. “Once I pass Initiation, and I am a Man, my duty will be to protect your honor from all who threaten it-“

The mischievous purple pixie crouched at his feet, fiddling with the laces to his legwals. While Dindi tried to guess what the fae was up to, the pixie untied two pairs of laces on either of Hadi’s legs, then retied the wrong strings together. Meanwhile, another pixie buzzed around his ear to distract him. Though Hadi couldn’t see the fae, and couldn’t make out the words, he could hear the hum of pixie voices.
“You little fiends!” Hadi waved his spear. “I know you’re here somewhere! I’ll get you!”

“Hadi, don’t…!”

When Hadi tried to lunge, he tripped because his calves were tied together. He fell face first into the moist soil.

“You mucky faeries!” He pounded the mud where he’d fallen. The pixies cheered and jumped up and down on his back while congratulating each other on their victory over the foe. Puddlepaws pounced on the pixie. Very proud of himself, he held the pixie by the back of its little tunic and brought it to Dindi.

“Bad kitty! Bad kitty!” cried the pixie.

Dindi scooped up the kitten, freed the pixie, and shouted back over her shoulder, as she took off down the row of maize, “I’ll just go on ahead.”

“Dindi! You are not to leave my sight!” He squirmed in the mud but only managed to dig himself into a shallow trench. “Dindi! Dindi, get back here this instant! I’m in charge of you!”

She just laughed. The empty basket bounced on her back as she ran. The fae followed Dindi in a cloud.

“Come dance with us! Come dance with us!” they urged in a babble of flute voices.

“I can’t this afternoon, friends,” Dindi apologized. “I have to gather soap roots, tallow and ash to make soap and pick and juice blueberries, all by middle meal.”

A purple pixie fragile as a butterfly, landed on Dindi’s shoulder. She twined her tiny lavender hands in Dindi’s black hair.

“Chores are boring, Dindi,” she said.

“That’s why they call them chores.”

“Don’t let those humans tire you out, Dindi,” chided a green pixie.
He landed on Dindi’s other shoulder. A red shoved him off and claimed the shoulder for his own. That enraged the purple, who raced over Dindi’s nose to attack the red pixie. All this activity excited Puddlepaws, who squirmed in Dindi’s arms. She kept her grip firm on the furry pixie-hunting predator.

“Do you mind?” Dindi said. “It’s very difficult to walk when you’re using me as a battleground.”

“Then come dance with us!”

“Yes, yes!” agreed a yellow dandelion sprite. He parted the corn stalks to skip at Dindi’s feet. “You dance with us and in exchange, we’ll do your chores for you.”

“Mm. Just like you milked the bull for me and winnowed the sugar out of the gravel for me, and wove a sitting mat I was to give to Uncle Lubo out of prickly pear thorns?”

“Friends,” the green pixie said to the others, “anyone would think she wasn’t grateful for all our help.”

“Impossible.” The purple one giggled. “She just can can’t express herself because she’s so overwhelmed with joy that with her chores out of the way she is now free to dance with us.”

Dindi frowned.

“Are you sick, Dindi?” asked the orange.

“We won’t do your chores for you anymore if you stop dancing with us,” blustered the yellow sprite.

That would be a big loss. “Soon, I might not be dancing with you anymore at all. If I fail the test to become a Tavaedi, I must stop dancing.”

The fae were stunned silent for a moment. Then they all began to shout at Dindi at once.

“Enough!” cried Dindi, making the Dispel hand-sign in earnest this time. The clouds of willawisps scattered, the pixies were flung away as if by gusts of heavy wind, and the sprites all went rolling like tumbling stones. Corn stalks were flattened around Dindi in a perfect circle three yards out.

From the perimeter of the circle of dispellation, the fae peered at her with hurt expressions.

“I’m sorry,” Dindi said. “You know I don’t want to abandon you.”
The fae crept back towards her until at last they huddled as close as before, murmuring her name.

“Uhm.” She was abashed. “Could you help me fix the corn?”

“Hurrah! She will dance with us!” squealed the purple pixie.

What harm would it do to share one more teensy weensy dance with her friends? After all, who knew when Initiation might come? She might never have another chance. She would sip one last taste of wild faerie magic. She shrugged away the basket and let Puddlepaws down in the grass. Dindi let the fae lead her into their circle.

The pixies began to fly in circles over the ruined crops. The cob-sized corn sprites whose stalks she’d knocked over joined in next. Willawisps were drawn to all the activity. They all began to twirl and shuffle and skip and jump in a ring around and around, Dindi dancing right along with them. As the corn stalks began to right themselves, the dancers changed the pattern and started to weave in and out of the stalks. Wild swirls of color trailed in the wake of all the fae dancers, strange and marvelous.

Dindi laughed with exhilaration despite herself, abandoning herself to whatever moves her body wanted to make. The corn was upright again. If anything, it was greener and more fragrant than before.
Dindi slowed down, signaling the fae to stop too. They refused to take the hint. They kept whirling.

She danced alongside them, but she knew it was their magic at work. If she didn’t stop them from getting carried away, they would continue dancing and possibly start to do more damage than good.
She had seen them summon storms, uproot trees, start geysers from bare rocks. It was one reason she normally only danced with them out on the heath, far past the cultivated fields. Mama had warned her never to let other humans see her play with the fae.

The swarm of whirling faery dancers moved up the mountain, without ever missing a step. Dindi moved with them, keeping up easily with their improvised patterns of skips, turns, kicks and leaps.
Soon they emerged onto a patch of flat heath with a view of the whole valley below. The sky seemed to pull back to give them more room.

She spread her arms and drew in a drought of the fresh air. Then she closed her eyes and envisioned again the shinning swirls of light patterns created by the Taevaedis on Barter Day. In her mind, she recreated the role of every single dancer. What steps had each player in the pattern made? One by one, she danced each person’s role as best she could remember it. First, she played the ‘human’ parts.
Then, saving and savoring them for the end, she played the Aelfae parts. But when she came to the finale, when the last Aelfae in the dance was to fall and die, she decided to change the ending. Instead, she leaped up again, spread her imaginary wings behind her and vaulted across the field in a full twisting double back leap.

The fae laughed in glee. They much preferred her new dance to the dance of the Tavaedies. Satisfied now that she had run through all the steps of all the dancers in yesterday’s dance, Dindi finally abandoned herself to free-form dancing. That delighted the fae even more.

The low hum of faerie voices, the sparkle of pixie wings and her own pounding blood wrapped Dindi in a trance of pure feeling. Movement inside her itched to spill out.

A pixie curled a small hand around Dindi’s ear, whispering, “You never have to go back, Dindi. You could dance with us forever and ever…”

Their voices hummed hypnotically, enticing her forward step by step. The lullaby lure of the faery ring shimmered all around her, a mixture of light and song. The fae clasped hands together, closing the circle about her. A chain of pixies undulated in the air, the sprites linked up, and then, in the last gap in the circle, a heron-winged kinnara soared toward the dancers to close the circle. “Come dance with us, Dindi. Come dance with us forever…”

“Nice try, but I’m not yours yet!” Regret tinged her amusement, but her resolve was firm, as it always was when the fae played this game with her. Dindi somersaulted through the air with an aerobic leap that catapulted her right out of the gap. She rolled away on the moss, laughing.

“You can’t catch me in a faery ring that easily,” she teased them. The fae responded in delight.

“Again, again!” they urged her.

“My family needs me. Oh, mercy!” She clapped her hands over her face. “Soaproot and blueberries! I haven’t had time…”

Boast waved his little scarlet arms in an expansive gesture. “Fear not, friend Dindi! We have taken care of all that silly human stuff for you!”


Oh, no.

“How, um, exactly?” Dindi asked.

“How else? We juiced the blueberries and sudded the soaproot.”

“Here it is now,” said Kippy. A goat legged satyr with tawny fur and an Orange glow, skipped up to Dindi. He carried a covered basket in one hand-the soap-and a jug in the other hand-the blueberry juice. It was the same jar she had broken this morning. The fae had stuck the cracked shards back together. After Kippy placed these on the grass before her, he bowed solemnly and pranced away.

“We did it just like the humans do,” Giggles said.

Dindi had her doubts, but just at that moment she heard Hadi shouting. He appeared around a bend in the path and glared at her with exasperation.

“There you are! An important guest has arrived for middle-meal and Great Aunt Sullana will chop off your toes if you miss it. And on top of that, I’m starving. If you make me miss middle-meal, I’ll tell her you went off dancing with the fae again.”

An important guest?

“I have to go,” Dindi told the fae. She rescued another pixie from Puddlepaws, shouldered her basket, and followed Hadi back down the hillside.


Kavio smelled the costumes of his accusers before he could see them-corn-husks, horse hair, quilt skirts and shoulder blankets soaked with years of dancers’ sweat. He heard the rustle of many bodies, the clicky-clack of shell and chalcedony bracelets jangling upon wrists and ankles. The susurration of disapproving voices rose in pitch as people noticed his entrance.

Stone spearheads pricked him in the shoulders. Tiny trickles of blood coursed down his back, mingling with his sweat as a testament to his guards’ enthusiasm to see him judged for his crimes. The warriors guarding him had told him nothing. He had been blindfolded, stripped to a loincloth, and bound with his hands behind his back. Still, Kavio didn’t need to see to know he had been brought to his trial.

The cool, musty air, crisscrossed by rays of warmth, told him this must be the kiva where the Society of Societies convened for the most serious of deliberations. The underground amphitheatre was one of the few kivas with windows in the upper reaches of the room. Otherwise, the texture of the walls and floor-volcanic rock daubed with adobe and dung whitewash-felt no different from the rest of the Labyrinth.

The guards shoved him to his knees before one them tore off his blindfold.

Three dyed reed mats had been placed at intervals down the center of the rectangular room, one white, one black, and one orange. A large polychrome pottery vase painted in patterns of those same three colors had been placed beside the middle, black mat. Kavio knelt in front of the white mat.

Tiered adobe steps around three sides of the rectangular room provided seating for the Tavaedies and Zavaedis, the men and women of the secret societies. From the squeeze of costumed bodies, it looked as though every dancer in the Labyrinth was in attendance. All were masked. Many of the masks sprouted huge fans of woven cane, feather tufts, or carved wooden animal faces. Others sported horns, manes, or false beards. Still others displayed abstract shapes, ovals or diamonds, or a cascade of beaded fringes. It wasn’t easy for so many masked dancers to fit in the tiers. Feathered and beaded shoulder blankets, necklaces coiled as thick as snakes, and full corn-husk skirts took up space.

Only his mother, indifferent as ever to convention, wore no mask, just a simple white beaded dress. She sat stiffly on the lowest tier, face-to-face with Kavio. Even at her age, she was the most beautiful woman in the room. She was also the only one in the tiers who had no closely-pressed neighbors. No one quite dared sit next to her.

Opposite her, behind Kavio, rose an adobe platform taller than any of the tiered seats. He had to twist his head to look up the seven steps to the top of the platform to see the man who stood there in full regalia, holding a rain stick. Paint divided the man’s already severe features into an interlocked pattern of sharp edges and boxes.
Colorful matching mazes were woven into his shoulder blanket and outlined in beads of obsidian and pearl. His massive headdress consisted of numerous coiled cords, horned and feathered and shelled. Beaded hoops rested around his neck, as did a gold coiled torque. The pin that held his shoulder blanket in place had also been beaten from gold, into the shape of a stylized wild horse.

The man pounded his rain stick on the platform. He had a voice of gravel and stone.

“Let it be remembered on the Memory Stick, that in This Year, yet to be named, I, the War Chief of the Rainbow Labyrinth and head of the Society of Societies in the absence of a Vaedi, have called all of the secret dancing societies together to sit in judgment at the trial of Kavio . . .”

He paused to make the ponderous trip down the seven steps to the floor of the assembly room. Even so, because Kavio had been forced to his knees, the other man had to look down to glower at him.

“. . . Kavio, my own son.”

Even though he’d expected it, his father’s contempt stung.

“Who will cast the first stone?” asked Father.

The men and women in the tiers shuffled, whispered. Most of them removed their masks from their sweat-drenched heads, and a few went so far as to fan themselves.

A woman in amber necklaces removed an orange eagle-feathered mask before she rose to her feet. She was an elder from Father’s generation, his brother’s wife and Father’s bitterest political rival. As a child, Kavio had nicknamed her “Auntie Ugly.”

“I will cast the first stone on behalf of the accusers,” Auntie Ugly said with ill-concealed relish. “Kavio committed the most serious crime of which a Zavaedi dancer is capable. He concocted his own Pattern, a dance unknown to our ancestors. He cannot name the teacher that taught it to him, nor the society who held its secret. That is hexcraft.

“That in itself would be reason to discipline him. But on top of that, he used this Pattern for the vilest of purposes, to harm the community that bore him and to deprive his neighbors of their very livelihood.”

Kavio glanced involuntarily at Mother. He had never seen her so ashen. Though a part of him wanted to spit in Father’s face, the knowledge that he had disappointed Mother burned like chili pepper in his mouth. But no matter what happened, he’d be cursed before he’d show how he felt in front of this assemblage of vultures and jackals. Or in front of his father.

He lifted his chin and faced his accuser with his most insolent smile.
As he’d known it would, his smile infuriated Auntie Ugly. She jabbed a bony finger at him.

“Three days ago, Kavio, you went into a room here in the Labyrinth and performed a hex that diverted a part of the river upstream from the Valley of the Aelfae. By doing so, you have lowered the water level in the fields, making it possible that not enough silt will be deposited by planting season.

“As witness, I call my own son, Zumo the Cloud Dancer.”

Kavio’s cousin, a young man of similar age, build, and height, stood. He removed his mask of blue shells. While Kavio seethed inside, Zumo repeated the lies that had led to this trial in the first place. Not that anything Zumo testified was false; his deception lay in what he didn’t say.

After Zumo, a second witness repeated the story of having found Kavio dancing alone in a kiva in the Labyrinth.

“Thank you both,” Auntie Ugly said smugly after the second witness sat down again. “Kavio, do you deny these charges?”

“I don’t deny what I did,” he said. “I deny that I invented the Pattern, I deny that it was hexcraft, and I deny that it was intended to harm our people.”

When Auntie Ugly sneered at him, the anger that had been pummeling his belly these last days bettered his sense, and he added sarcastically, “I do not deny that there are times I wish I had let you all drown.”

He knew it was a mistake as soon as he said it. The masked Tavaedies and Zavaedies hissed and shouted.

“Zavaedi Kavio’s guilt is plain,” said Auntie Ugly. “I cast my stone with justice. I call for Kavio’s death!”

She glided to the pottery jar and pulled out a smooth, gray stone, then tossed it on the black mat.

Big surprise there, thought Kavio. You’ve always hated me, you old toad. I never even understood why.

“Zumo?” Auntie Ugly asked her son.

More slowly than his mother, Zumo picked a stone. He threw it on the black mat. He had to walk by where Kavio knelt on the adobe floor to reach his seat again. Just as he passed, Kavio looked up and met his eyes.

“Is that what you really think I deserve, cousin?” Kavio asked in such a low voice that only Zumo heard him. “For what crime? The lies you told here or because I know the truth about you?”

Zumo flushed, whether with guilt or anger, it was impossible to tell.

“No one will listen to anything you have to say now, Kavio,” Zumo replied, also too quietly for anyone else to hear. “They’ll know you’re just clawing at worms to try to save your own hide.”

He stomped back to his seat, where he replaced his mask.

Auntie Ugly had sentenced the son of her rival to death; all eyes now fell upon Father to see if he would defend his son.

Father’s heavy shoulder blanket seemed to weigh him down as he walked to the jar to pick up a stone. He stood there a long while, turning the rock round and round in his hands.

“I would like to speak,” he said finally, looking straight at Kavio, “on behalf of the accusers.”

Surprise stirred the onlookers. Kavio just smiled grimly. He wasn’t surprised at all. He’d known from the day his father had called for the trial that Father would put political need above family sentiment. Sure enough, Father gave a pretty little speech, distancing himself from his son. He locked his jaw when he finished and clutched his fist around his stone. “I too must cast my stone with justice, even if it means the death of my own son, my only child.”

He threw his rock on the black mat. He met Kavio’s eyes without flinching, but when Mother gasped, Father would not look at her.
Mother stood up next and pleaded on Kavio’s behalf. Even she would not declare him innocent. Instead, she simply begged for mercy-exile instead of death. Mother picked a stone out of the jar and placed it on the orange mat.

Kavio felt his face burn with shame. He wouldn’t beg for his life himself, and he didn’t want her to crawl for him either. Besides, death would be easier than exile. He didn’t think he could bear the humiliation of wearing ash. Exile meant fleeing his home like a vole from a prairie fire. Exile meant scorn would meet him wherever he went. Exile meant he would not have the opportunity to finish unraveling the puzzle he had discovered in the heart of the Labyrinth, the only magic he still cared about.

Far, far better to die.

One by one the rest of the Zavaedis came to cast their stones for either exoneration, exile, or death. Some spoke to the assembly of their reasons why, others simply placed the stone according to their choice.

Unfortunately, his mother’s plea moved many people to pity him. When all the rocks had piled up, the orange mat held the most stones.


Kavio swallowed hard to conceal his reaction. You have murdered me all the same.

Father pounded the rain stick.

“Kavio, you have been found guilty of the most heinous of crimes-hexcraft. Though you remain a member of the secret societies that initiated you and are therefore spared death, nonetheless you are forbidden to enter the Labyrinth, to take with you anything from the Labyrinth, or to study with any dancing society of the Labyrinth. Do you understand and acknowledge your punishment?”

“I understand it all too well,” Kavio said through gritted teeth. “But I will never acknowledge it as just.”

“So be it,” Father said tonelessly. “Bring the pot of ashes.”

Two warriors hefted a ceramic pot from where it had rested in the shadow of the tall platform. They forced Kavio to lean back while still on his knees. They smeared him with a paste and rubbed in the gray-black powder. His bare chest and clean shaven face disappeared under a scum of grey crud. Humiliation itched, but like poison ivy, he knew it would be worse if he scratched it. He forced himself still as stone while the warriors slapped on more mud.

“You must wear mud and ash for the rest of your days,” the Maze Zavaedi concluded. His voice broke. “I am ashamed to call you my son.”

Kavio struggled to his feet. The warriors escorting him surrounded him with a hedge of spears. Did they fear him, even now?

“You never could just trust me, could you, Father?” Kavio asked.

Father’s jaw jutted forward. A muscle moved in his neck. Otherwise, he might have been rock. “Escort my son out of the Labyrinth.”






by Tara Maya

Kindle Edition ~ Release Date: 2010-12-22

List Price: $0.99

Buy Now




UK CUSTOMERS: Click on the title below to download

New York Times Offers “Free” Access to Its Website to Kindle Owners Who Pay $20 a Month

Trying to follow the New York Times’ various pricing policies for electronic access makes my hair hurt.

When the Kindle was first launched, you could subscribe to the Kindle edition of the Times for $13.99 a month.

Then, a year ago this week, the Times announced it was raising its Kindle price to $19.99. Kindle owners could be excused for feeling just a week bit picked on, since the announcement came at roughly the same time that the Times began making a special iPad and iPhone/iPod Touch edition available absolutely free.

That wasn’t very nice, but reading the Times on the Kindle is pretty convenient, and sufficient numbers of Kindle owners paid the higher price that the Times was able to hold on to its position as #1 bestselling newspaper in the Kindle Store.

Then, last Fall, Amazon and the Times worked out a confusing deal that made the Times available free to new Kindle subscribers for two months. Old Kindle subscribers got nothing. Except the price increase.

That wasn’t very nice, or even particularly logical. (Meanwhile, the Times app for the iPad says it will remain free until early 2011. We’re not sure what “early” means, but it is still free.)

Now, today, we have an announcement from Amazon that the Times will make its website free to its Kindle subscribers. That’s the Times website that has always been free, but for which the Times announced recently it will soon begin charging. So, I guess you’d have to say that this is nicer than some of the Times’ treatment of Kindle owners over the past few years. But it does strike me as a strange benefit, because after all, if you are paying $20 a month to read the Times on your Kindle, doesn’t that indicate that the Kindle edition is working pretty well for you, so that you might find yet another online edition sort of redundant?

It’s entirely possible I am missing something here. And I guess I will be pretty surprised if the Times doesn’t announce very soon that there will be a charge for its iPad and iPhone/iPod Touch apps. But far be it from me to predict what the Times might do next, when I can’t see the shaping force of reason or reasonableness behind anything it has done in the past.

In any case, here’s today’s press release from Amazon on the subject:

Kindle New York Times Customers to Receive Free Access to NYTimes.com

Kindle New York Times subscription will include online access at no additional charge

(NASDAQ:AMZN)–Amazon.com, Inc. today announced that customers who subscribe to The New York Times for Kindle will be receiving access to The New York Times Web site at no additional charge. The date for Kindle New York Times subscribers’ free online access is yet undetermined; subscribers will receive further communication via e-mail in the coming weeks.

“Customers love reading The New York Times on their Kindles,” said Russ Grandinetti, Vice President of Kindle Content. “Given The Times’ transition to a digital subscription model, we’re excited to be able to offer Kindle subscribers online access to all the digital content available at NYTimes.com at no additional cost.”

“The Times’ digital subscription plan was designed to offer access to our high-quality journalism across a variety of platforms,” said Yasmin Namini, senior vice president, marketing and circulation, and general manager, reader applications, The New York Times Media Group. “New York Times readers on Kindle are a very loyal and important audience, and we are pleased be able to include online access as part of their subscription experience.”

The New York Times is the bestselling newspaper in the Kindle Store.

For more information and to order The New York Times for your Kindle, visit www.amazon.com/nytimes.




Guest Post by Susan Moody Prieto of WorldReader.org: “Win a Kindle Lover’s Dream Trip to Ghana!”

Regular readers of Kindle Nation may recall our past efforts to help get the word out about a terrific non-profit organization called WorldReader.org that is doing all it can to spread the Kindle Revolution worldwide:
So we’re especially pleased to welcome WorldReader.org’s Susan Moody Prieto for this guest post to tell you about a very cool opportunity for the more adventurous and globally oriented among the citizens of Kindle Nation!
Here’s Susan:

All’s great here at Worldreader – the kids in Ghana are reading up a storm and we’re moving into Kenya.

Just a quick note to share with you this contest: http://blog.worldreader.org/2011/03/21/win-a-volunteer-trip-to-ghana/ The contest ends at 12 P.M. Eastern time this Friday, April 1, but I was thinking that your Kindle-loving readers might be interested.
A little more info:
eDreams.com, Worldreader’s travel partner, is sponsoring a once in a lifetime contest to spend a week in late May/early June volunteering with Worldreader in Ghana.  eDreams will cover the flight, food, and lodging- the winner will only need shopping money (and the market is quite cool!)

The winner will fly into Accra and will be met by a Worldreader team member, spend the night and next day in the capital touring historic sites and visiting the market.

Then they’ll be driven out to Ghana’s Eastern Region– to Adeiso and Kade, where Worldreader has 500 e-readers in 6 schools.

They’ll spend the next two days volunteering in the schools doing reading exercises and helping teachers.  The days will be long, and there might be issues that Worldreader will be working on (see iRead Challenges).
Then winner spend two days accompanying a film crew into some of the homes of the children who Worldreader filmed last time-  to talk to parents about how the e-reader is being used by the family.

The hotel is Ju’niel Lodge in Osenasi- it’s rustic and overall the trip is not “relaxing” in a vacation sense–it’s working long hours in a hot climate, but the winner will be making a huge difference in a child’s life.

Thanks, Susan! And of course I’ll my two cents for our readers here at this end:
  • If you’d like to help but you’re just not sure about a trip to Ghana just now, don’t hesitate to click on this Donate button for WorldReader.org.
  • If a Kindle Nation reader does enter the contest and wins, please send an email with your contact information to kindlenation@gmail.com and Kindle Nation’s parent company Windwalker Media will donate a free Kindle for you to bring with you to give to one of the participating schools through the auspices of WorldReader.org!


Kindle Nation Daily Free Book Alert, Monday, March 28: 220+ FREEBIES including Aftershock: The Blast That Shook Psycho Platoon plus … Gary Ponzo’s A Touch Of Deceit is just 99 cents (Today’s Sponsor)

But first, a word from … Today’s Sponsor
A Sicilian FBI agent, Nick Bracco, recruits his mafia cousin to chase down the world’s most feared terrorist in this award-winning, heart-thumping thriller from Kindle Nation fave Gary Ponzo – the first volume in the Nick Bracco Series, for the bargain price of 99 cents!

“This book grabbed me and wouldn’t let go.”
–Stephen Carpenter, author of the screenplay “Ocean’s 11” 

A Touch of Deceit (Nick Bracco Series) 
by Gary Ponzo
4.7 out of 5 stars   44 Reviews
Text-to-Speech: Enabled 
Don’t have a Kindle? Get yours here.

(Editor’s Note: If you’re one of the many Kindle Nation readers who has sent a quick email to kindlenation+touch2@gmail.com so that we can let you know when the sequel is available, Mr. Ponzo has told us he is now expecting a release date about May 1. -S.W.)

Here’s the set-up for A Touch of Deceit… 

FBI agent Nick Bracco can’t stop a Kurdish terrorist from firing missiles at random homes across the country. The police can’t stand watch over every household, so Bracco recruits his cousin Tommy to help track down this terrorist. Tommy is in the Mafia. Oh yeah, it gets messy fast. As fast as you can turn the pages.

The reviewers are raving about it…
“Gary Ponzo is simply the best new thriller writer out there.”
–Judith L. Pearson, author of Wolves at the Door and Belly of the Beast

“Author Gary Ponzo has dashed off a fast-paced political thriller with the skill of a Tom Clancy or Ludlum. Loved the characters and the relationships and the insights into the world of counter-terrorism. Great book. Couldn’t put it down and now I want more. Bravo.”
–Stephen Carpenter, author of Killer

A Touch of Deceit” is a cleverly written thriller with plenty of twists and turns, action, and strong dialogue to keep you turning the pages well into the night. The characters show strength and depth. The plot moves quickly, leaving the reader to want more. The dialogue is direct and well written. Gary Ponzo is an author that everyone should add to their reading list. I highly recommend for thriller, suspense, and mystery fans.”
–Jennifer Chase, author of Dead Game & Compulsion

About the Author

Author Gary Ponzo began his writing career over a decade ago by writing short stories. He quickly discovered a knack for the short form. In just five years he’d published seven short stories in various publications, two of which were nominated for the very prestigious Pushcart Prize.

His first novel, “A Touch of Deceit,” took five years to write and one to pick clean. The story was born from his childhood experiences working in his father’s candy store in Brooklyn, NY. His father was Sicilian and became friendly with some local members of a different kind of Sicilian family. Since Gary was just fifteen at the time, these family members would make sure he was protected whenever he would work late at night by himself. He soon discovered a side to the mafia not many people knew. It was these relationships which caused him to write about Sicilian FBI agent, Nick Bracco, who recruits his mafia cousin to chase down the world’s most feared terrorist.

A Touch of Deceit went on to win the 2009 Southwest Writers Novel Contest, Thriller category. He is working on the sequel to the novel as well as continuing to publish his short stories. Gary currently lives in Phoenix, Arizona with his wife Jennifer and two children, Jessica and Kyle.

Click here to download A Touch of Deceit (Nick Bracco Series) (or a free sample) to your Kindle, iPad, iPhone, iPod Touch, BlackBerry, Android-compatible, PC or Mac and start reading within 60 seconds!

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Free Contemporary Titles in the Kindle Store 

Just use the slider at right of your screen below to scroll through a complete, updated list of free contemporary Kindle titles, and click on an icon like this one (at right) to read a free sample right here in your browser! Titles are sorted in reverse chronological order so you can easily see new freebies.

Aftershock: The Blast That Shook Psycho Platoon (Kindle Single)
By: T. Christian Miller
Added: 03/22/2011 4:03:03pm
Get Some
By: Daniel Birch
Added: 03/22/2011 4:02:55pm

KND Free Sample! ACCIDENTS WAITING TO HAPPEN: Josh Michaels is worth more dead than alive. He just doesn’t know it yet … Simon Wood’s Accidents Waiting To Happen is as streamlined as a bullet from a hit man’s gun. Here’s a free sample of our eBook of the Day!

With time running out, Josh had better figure out who wants him dead and why … before it’s too late. Here’s the set-up for Accidents Waiting To Happen, just $2.99 on Kindle:

Josh Michaels is worth more dead than alive. He just doesn’t know it yet. He has no idea why someone would try to kill him, clearly that’s exactly what happened. When an SUV forced Josh’s car off the road and into a river, it might have been an accident. But when Josh looked up at the road, expecting to see the SUV’s driver rushing to help him, all he saw was the driver watching him calmly…then giving him a “thumbs down” sign. That was merely the first attempt on Josh’s life, all of them designed to look like accidents, and all of them very nearly fatal. With his time–and maybe his luck–running out and no one willing to believe him, Josh had better figure out who wants him dead and why…before it’s too late.

“One of the most riveting first chapters I have read in some time. The pacing is spectacular and gets progressively faster as the reader nears the finale. An unqualified recommendation.”
— Deadly Pleasures Mystery Magazine

“An impressive debut.”
— Mystery Scene Magazine

“Simon Wood…delivers a suspenseful, brisk tale in his debut.”
— South Florida Sun Sentinel

“What a thrill ride!”
— Literary Editor for the East Bay Express

“A smashing, rip roaring success.”
— Over My Dead Body Magazine

“Events escalate in ACCIDENTS WAITING TO HAPPEN at break- neck speed. The thought that the plot could be a reality in today’s world is shocking, to say the least. The suspense builds in each chapter, the plot thickens, and I could not put it down. Debut author Simon Wood is a welcome addition to the thriller/suspense genre.”
— Fresh Fiction

“ACCIDENTS WAITING TO HAPPEN is a thriller at its best.”
— I Love A Mystery

“ACCIDENTS WAITING TO HAPPEN is a briskly plotted thriller that uses point of view shifts better than any novel I’ve read in quite a while in his debut.”
— CrimeSpree Magazine

“Simon Wood has fashioned an exciting and well-written novel of suspense, with a nail-biting conclusion during which this reader held her breath in anticipation of what new horrors might be in store!”
— Mystery Morgue

“Accidents Waiting To Happen is loaded with suspense and I didn’t want to put it down.”
— Mysteries Galore

“Accidents Waiting To Happen is as streamlined as a bullet from a hit man’s gun.”
— Horrorworld

“Simon Wood opens with a breath-taking scene and never lets up…a must read.”
— Mysterical-E

“Twists and turns that keeps the reader guessing till the last page.”
— All About Murder Reviews

“Enthusiastically recommended.”
— The Midwest Book Review

About the Author:

Simon Wood is an ex-racecar driver, a licensed pilot and an occasional private investigator. He shares his world with his American wife, Julie. A longhaired dachshund and five cats dominate their lives. He’s had over 150 stories and articles published. His short fiction has appeared in a variety of magazines anthologies, such as Seattle Noir, Thriller 2 and Woman’s World.

He’s a frequent contributor to Writer’s Digest. He’s the Anthony Award winning author of Working Stiffs, Accidents Waiting to Happen, Paying the Piper and We All Fall Down. As Simon Janus, he’s the author of The Scrubs and Road Rash. His latest thriller, Terminated, is out in mass paperback with a new short story collection, Asking for Trouble, out later in the year. Curious people can learn more at simonwood.net.

Simon is a transplant from England, residing in the San Francisco Bay Area. Simon is a proud member of both the Mystery Writers of America and Horror Writers Association. 

Here’s a free sample: