Listen Inside - Daily book previews from Readers in the Know by Simon Denman

Synopsis

A Letter to My Mother is the harrowing, true story of Nomanono Isaacs, a young girl born at the height of South Africa’s cruel and oppressive Apartheid regime. Forced to endure cruelties that were beyond measure, the brave young woman manages to fool the brutal Special Branch police force and makes an arduous and dangerous getaway to neighbouring Swaziland, where she hopes for a brand new start. Told as a long and loving letter to her mother, this book is a must-read for anyone who wishes to experience the strength of the human spirit at its finest.

Excerpt

Synopsis

The book’s   title, Clouds in the Wind, is an expression that means futility, and nothing is more futile than war.  In the 1970s  in Southern Africa, successful business man Andrew Mason is drawn into the Rhodesian bush wars. With great narrative energy and a keen visual sense of detail, Ian Mackenzie guides us into the fray. He describes skirmishes with blood-curdling accuracy where the Rhodesian side wins every battle, but as we all know, they eventually lost the war. White supremacy is defeated.

Excerpt

The laboured rasp of Stuart’s breathing sounded like the dregs of a milkshake being repeatedly sucked from the bottom of a glass through a straw. The sound was unmistakable – Stuart had taken a lung shot and was breathing through his own blood. Twenty metres farther ahead, Rob had gone down and the manner of his falling indicated that he was dead – probably without ever knowing what had happened.

Sergeant Andrew Mason had taken cover thirty metres away and, in the time he’d been lying there – somewhere close to an hour – he had become immobilized in the grip of rising horror, in the face of an unfolding catastrophe.

Mason could hear movement close by, just ahead of where he lay. The unseen peril was drawing closer, but the darkness was absolute and for what he could see he may as well have been blind.

All he could be sure of was that the slow, soft disturbance of dead leaves and twigs only metres away was not Vern. The fear had slowly crept through him, and it was now a consuming wave of terror. It welled up from his groin, through his tightened guts and chest, and into his throat where it threatened to explode in an anguished scream..

It was five years since Mason had left South Africa to join the Rhodesian army, and in this African theatre of war he’d faced down death in scores of engagements. It was death, in fact, that had driven him from South Africa to Rhodesia – the tragic demise of two people whom he’d loved. He had faced the grim reaper with something very near to flippancy, a confidence born of anger and a desire for retribution. He’d been commended and decorated for his conduct under fire, and he had the emotional ability to endure danger and fear. But this was different. Never before had he been so vulnerable. He was trapped, hunted, and alone in a hostile and foreign country, facing unknown odds in the dark, with no immediate possibility of support or escape.

The emotional control was utterly gone. He had broken out in a sweat that soaked his shirt and denim fatigues, and he trembled as if he’d been lifted from an icy sea and dumped naked onto a cold windy beach. He had involuntarily pissed and shat himself, and the stench assailed his senses and the remnants of his dignity.

There was absolute certainty in Mason’s mind that this night he would die; and he was so unprepared for it. A thousand thoughts and images, events and people, raced through his mind. So much left incomplete, so many thoughts unspoken, so many dreams and desires cut short, like pages left permanently and unalterably blank between the covers of a half written book. The present reality held him helpless and his fear blended with a deep sense of profound sadness as he pondered sudden and final oblivion.

And then, through the rush of images and the gripping panic, there came on him a sudden and overwhelming will to survive. It was like the cracking of a whip, and it brought him back to the situation.

‘It mustn’t happen!’ he thought. ‘Not now, not here, not like this! Focus,

Synopsis

Dave Currick was everything Matty Brennan wanted for as along as she could remember. Right up until he broke her heart six years ago. Now that she's returned to Wyoming for good, what she wants more than anything is to save her family's ranch. Even if that means swallowing her pride and asking Dave to marry her.

Matty's up to something - Dave knows that much. Just as he knows that Matty needs help, so of course he'll provide it, just as he has all her life. Doing what's best for Matty is second nature, and part of the cowboy code. Even when it comes to marrying her in name only. Although he can't resist one hot-blooded kiss after the I-dos.

Maybe - just maybe - his Matty will become more to him than Almost a Bride.

Excerpt

She took a breath and leaped.

"I want to marry you."

For a second, she could almost believe she'd really jumped into the swimming hole. She felt the same shock of cold surround her and the same sensation that all sound in the world was muffled and distant. The only thing she could hear clearly was the beating of her own heart.

Then a single word from Dave brought her back.

"Pardon?"

He hadn't moved an inch and his expression hadn't changed. He sounded as if he was certain–as only Dave could be certain–that he'd heard wrong.

"I want to marry you. In fact, I have to marry you."

He seemed to come out of a trance. He pushed his cowboy hat back off his forehead, and leaned against the pole that held up the roof over the sidewalk, crossing one leg over the other.

"Have to? You sure it's me you're thinking of?" The amusement was back in his voice. At least she thought it was amusement. It had an edge to it and the look he was giving her didn't strike her as a laughing matter, but maybe that's how he showed amusement these days. "Darlin', either I missed something in the past few weeks that I'd truly hate to think I'd missed or you're setting to make medical history. Unless there's someone else more, let's say, recent?"

"Don't be an idiot, Dave. I'm not pregnant."

"That's a relief. I'd hate to have you be the subject of all those tabloid newspapers for bearing a child six years after the fact. As for the more usual time frame, well a gentleman doesn't like to think he's forgotten things like that. And if someone else–"

"Oh, shut up, Dave. It's nothing like that."

"Nothing to do with oh, say, an affair of the heart?"

"Why would it have to do with an affair of the heart?"

"Well," he drawled, "marriage sometimes does."

"Not this time. I told you, it's business."

"Business?"

"This is all beside the point." She barely gritted her teeth at all; she was proud of that.

"And what is the point, Matty?" His mouth twitched.

"The point–" She figured she couldn't be blamed for a little teeth-gritting now. "–is that I want us to get married. Right away. But only temporarily."

"Temporarily?"

"Of course,

Synopsis

Forced out of the DEA after twenty years, Hardin Steel, Stainless to his close friends, has managed to get himself elected Sheriff of Cameron County, Texas. Twice divorced, with a bit of a drinking problem, he’s now dating Rory Roughton, a fiery sixth-generation Texan who’s as rich as she is beautiful—and hell-bent on keeping Steel on the straight and narrow. But then his best friend, Wes Stoddard, is nearly shot down flying in a load of pot, Rory is kidnapped by a Russian mercenary working for the most dangerous cartel in Mexico, and the Cuban Mafia decides they’d like the former DEA agent—dead.

Steel is forced to take unsanctioned, unconventional—and mostly illegal—action in order to save himself and those closest to him . . .

Excerpt

Two days later, I put on some civvies, jumped in my Jeep Laredo, and headed for Matamoros.

Wes was supposedly in the produce transport business and kept an office and condo in Brownsville, but he was seldom there. He felt more comfortable south of the river. He’d bought a walled compound from a dead drug dealer’s wife in an upscale, or as upscale as one could find in a war zone, part of Matamoros. And he pretty much stayed put, except for his smuggling forays.

When I crossed the International Bridge into Matamoros, I was pretty sure I saw the late Rod Serling leaning against a lamppost, smoking a cigarette. As I passed by he smiled, took a deep drag, and flipped the butt into the Rio Grande. And then he was gone.

Wes was waiting for me on the other side of the bridge. He got out of his white Ford Explorer and waved. I pulled in and parked as near to the Mexican Immigration office as possible. I really liked my Jeep and hoped parking near Immigration would keep it safe.

As an extra precaution, I paid a kid five bucks to keep an eye on it. Then I walked over to Wes’s SUV.

Wes was about six feet tall with straight brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and a perpetual tan.

"Stainless," Wes said, extending his hand. "Welcome to Dodge City."

I smiled and looked around. "I don’t see many Yankees," I said, shaking hands

Wes frowned and looked at the nearly empty border crossing. "Yeah, things are a bit out of hand down here, I’m sorry to say."

"Ochoa?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

Wes nodded. "Yeah. FreddieO has definitely upped the ante," he said, opening the driver-side rear door of his Explorer. A large Mexican wearing khakis and a white Guayabera shirt was driving. A second, slightly smaller man, dressed in jeans and a crisp white shirt, was riding shotgun. Except he had an AK-47 across his lap.

I glanced over at Wes. "Expecting trouble?"

Wes shrugged. "Nowadays, you never know. How about a little lunch? I know a place with great cabrito, and only sporadic gunfire."

I nodded and rolled my eyes. "Sounds good."

Wes gave me a wink, leaned forward and spoke to the driver in Spanish. "Los Cuatros Amigos." He turned back to me. "Best damned grilled goat in town."

Wes was right. The cabrito was some of the best

Synopsis

This sparkling memoir gives a personal view of Irish rural life from the Economic War of the 1930s to the farming boom and recession of the 1970s. It describes the upbringing of a Protestant only child on a farm in north Tipperary-an idyll interrupted by two years at school in Dublin during the 1940s. Taking over the farm on her father's death, working the land and animals the author recounts with great humour, acuity and poignancy her dealings, from the age of seventeen, at fairs throughout the country-Limerick, Kilrush, Cahirmee, Ballinasloe, Spancilhill -a lone woman in a man's world. With rare brio and eye for character, incident and idiosyncrasy, Quarton lovingly documents a world of country people, eccentric relatives, home cures and recipes, and unaffected living. Breakfast the Night Before is both entertaining and enduring.

'It makes riveting reading and I was desperately disappointed when I reached the final page. Marjorie Quarton is a natural storyteller'-Grania Willis, The Irish Field.

'I defy anyone to dip into Breakfast the Night Before and put it down without reading to the end. This special blend of humour crosses the divides of age, sex, religion and social standing.'-The Irish Times.

"Mrs Quarton writes with wit. Her experiences are related in a lovely, dry style, which does not conceal her deep love for horses and understanding of that strange animal which is the human being. Breakfast the Night Before is a passport to another world that anyone can enjoy, and I recommend it highly. -- Morgan Llwelyn, author of Lion of Ireland and The Horse Goddess.

Excerpt

Life wasn’t all buying and selling horses in my early farming days. I of course had to grow crops. The war years had seen a boom, when you could throw any kind of wheat into a bag and it would end up as flour – optimistically called ‘white’.

We had ploughed out a lot of extra land, bought an extra horse and paid extra labour in order to produce more wheat. Modern strains of wheat ripen early; hay-time and harvest overlap. When I was growing wheat it ripened in mid September or, if the weather was unkind, even later. Times got very hard in the early fifties, when I was running the farm for my father and working on it along with three workmen. I wasn’t allowed to give orders, so I had to indicate to Paddy, Edmund and John what I wanted without telling them to do it.

In April 1958, my father died, after a desperate illness, lasting about three months. My mother was asthmatic and I tried my hand at nursing. My father wouldn’t hear of hospital, although he grumbled about my methods. ‘You’re not dosing a bullock,’ he would say. Neither would he allow anyone else to look after him. My mother couldn’t possibly heave a big heavy man about. I could and did. For the last fortnight, I don’t think I left the house once.

The summer which followed my father’s death was one of the worst on record. The farm was under-stocked, over-staffed and had long ceased to be a paying enterprise. I had hastily ploughed out an extra ten acres and sown it with wheat in order to meet my commitments. It was ready in mid September, but most of the field was too wet to carry machinery. Many farmers lost all their wheat that year. We would have lost most of ours except for industry born of desperation. Edmund and I scythed the last and wettest two acres, and my mother helped to tie the sheaves. We dragged the sheaves by hand to higher ground, where we could take a trai

Synopsis

WHEN YOU’RE A BRAIN WITHOUT A BODY, CAN YOU STILL BE CALLED HUMAN?

Marc Gregorio wakes up paralyzed. He can’t feel his own body, and he doesn’t know why. Accident? Stroke? Did someone slip him an overdose of Botox? The answer, he discovers, is much, much worse. He’s only a copy of Marc, a digital brain without a body, burdened with all Marc’s human memories, but without access to human sensual pleasures. Now he has to find a reason to keep on, um, “living.”

The Mindclone (Adam 2.0 as he dubs himself) meets the real Marc Gregorio--and Molly Schaeffer, the prickly, brilliant cellist Marc met and fell in love with just days before his brain was scanned. Adam loves her, too. But how does a digital entity experience love? He can’t even experience pizza, the aroma of fresh-baked apple pie, the burn of exercise, a plunge into an icy stream, sex. But there is one compensation: his digital brain can instantly absorb, understand and remember peta-, exa- and yettabytes of data. He keeps himself busy sulking and surfing the Internet in search of happiness. However, Adam’s existence must remain a secret while the Memento Amor lab struggles to replicate their one success. Years ago, Memento Amor launched itself on the dubious promise that by scanning the brain-waves of the soon-to-die, it would “one day” be possible to digitally resurrect them so their loved ones could bask in their warmth and wisdom through video calls. An ad-man, enthralled/appalled by their claim, quit his job and joined the firm on the proviso that they hire real scientists and engage in serious research. Thanks to his pushing, they’ve achieved their first successful upload--Adam. Now Marc and Adam both struggle to win the heart of Molly Schaeffer. One day, feeling an excess of self-pity, Adam asks Molly why he should go on. She teases that he has the Pinocchio problem: he wants to be a real live boy--with a conscience. Why not use his astonishing digital skills to combat evil in the world? Encouraged, Adam unearths terrorist plots, aborts schoolyard mayhem, exposes congressional malfeasance and Wall Street chicanery. However, his good deeds as the mysterious “superhacker vigilante” gain publicity--and the attention of Dynasine, a military contractor. A struggle for freedom and his very survival ensues.

Mindclone, 92,000 words, is a serio-comic speculative fiction romance about the first successful upload. It’s a book of ideas that explores looming advances in computer technology, and what it means to be human even if you don’t have a body. Plus there’s a carbon-carbon-silicon love triangle, a redeemed ad-man, adventure, humor, frustrated romance, human and digital foibles, and as an extra added bonus, the defeat of death itself.

Excerpt

My name is Stanley Eldridge. I’m here to let you in on a little secret. You might call it the story behind the story. It’s not my story, understand, but none of the things that happened--the brain-scan and upload, the creation of the super-intelligent digital entity, the TV appearances and all the mind-blowing events that followed--none of it would have taken place without me.

Who am I? I’m neither the computer genius nor the brilliant neuroscientist who teamed up to create the breakthrough; I’m not the fellow who allowed his brain to be scanned; and I’m sure as hell not his super-intelligent digital twin. Me, I’m just an advertising man. In fact, it was an ad that sparked all this. A quarter-page ad in a magazine called Mortuary Times.

My ma had just passed, you see, and I was at the cemetery office to make the funeral arrangements. So there I am, si

Synopsis

Like any significant career move, this one happened by accident. Karen spent a lot of time planning what she was going to do with her life, but Fate had other plans for her, as she often does for most of us.

As a single mother who’s struggling to make ends meet, Karen stumbles into the worst job on earth: transporting souls into the afterlife. To make matters worse, she is contractually bound to continue the job indefinitely, and her difficult employer is none other than Fate. It doesn’t take long for Karen to learn that Fate may be fashionable, but she’s also heartless.

In bondage to Fate, but in love with Fortune, Karen struggles to find a way out.

Excerpt

Synopsis

Ten-year-old Dina Frydman lives a comfortable middle class life with her family in Radom, Poland in the summer of 1939, just weeks before the Nazi invasion. The love of family and friends offer no protection against the menace of the Nazi regime that begins to siphon off the worldly and spiritual goods of Radom’s Jews. We witness Dina’s battle to survive and understand the deadly apocalypse that transforms her from an innocent child to a teenage/adult. When her family is deported and murdered at Treblinka she finds safety at a forced labor facility where she experiences her first taste of love when she at thirteen meets Natek Korman, a passionate sixteen year old who rekindles her will to live. Forced by the Nazis to separate, the young lovers vow to find each other after the war. From work camps to death camps, Dina survives against all odds. The aftermath of six years of death and destruction presents a new obstacle, how to live? With the war over Dina travels from a German castle to a DP facility and finally a school for orphans as she struggles to reclaim her life. In 1945, she is reunited with Natek Korman only to face the most important decision of her life. She chooses to follow her dream.

In the Face of Evil is a timeless story of the upheavals of war, the tenacious endurance of love and the resilience of the human spirit.  It is an epic journey through the nightmare of the Holocaust—the single most defining moment in modern history, as told through the eyes of a young girl.

Excerpt

“Arbeit Macht Frei” - June 1944

It is dawn and a kapo has come to tell us that we have been ordered to

come to the platz naked for a special appell. Surely the end has come

and we will be marched straight to the gas chambers. There is a relief that

seizes my heart knowing that the fight to live will soon be over. We line

up, maybe five hundred women, naked in front of a platform where a high

ranking Nazi accompanied by two other Nazi’s glare out at us. The tall

man as handsome as a movie star is a vision in his finely tailored immaculate

uniform jacket that is embellished with medals and ribbons of military

valor. He wears riding pants that are tucked into his freshly polished black

boots and wears his hat dashingly off center completing the picture of perfection

and confidence. I am struck by his white gloved hands that would

be more appropriate if worn by someone attending a dance instead of one

about to make a selection of who will live and who will die. I hear one of

the women whisper that it is Mengele, the infamous doctor and master of

Auschwitz. We all have heard what a cold blooded murderer he is and of the

secret diabolical experiments he is conducting on Jewish prisoners who

upon arrival are given a choice of being his guinea pig or the gas chamber.

It is difficult to reconcile his reputation for indescribable cruelty with the

good-looking man that stands before us.

We stand shivering not from cold, but with fear at what is about to come

as the three Nazis proceed to walk down the rows of women. Some of the

women, in vain, try to cover themselves in modesty. Stopping now and

again to inspect the teeth of a woman he clearly relishes the moment when

he makes his selection of “right” or “left”.

After what feels like an eternity he stands before me. I can smell the luxurious

spicy scent of his cologne. He is so close to me that I am tempted to

touch his perfectly coiffured hair that is brushed back off his high forehead,

every hair in place. His blue eyes drift down my body with a penetrating

gaze inspecting

Synopsis

Six science fiction short stories written by the author of Pearseus, the epic fantasy series that has reached #1 on Amazon. This edition includes one extra story, written by Amos M. Carpenter.

Although they seem to be concerned with various themes, there are certain passions that run through them, almost obsessively.  What is the nature of reality; digital and corporeal?  Is there more to the world than we can see?  How far can we trust our senses?  What are the consequences of our actions, and is it possible to change them?  And if so, would we simply repeat same mistakes, or make new ones?  

The anthology includes “I Come in Peace”, an award-winning short story that deals with a tortuous question: how far would man go to alleviate his loneliness?  Readers of Pearseus will certainly recognize here the birth of the Orbs.

Humorous and poignant, these short stories are exciting, intriguing and imaginative.

Excerpt

The bartender rubbed a soiled glass with a dirty towel, not quite sure which one was cleaning the other. The bar might be a dusty, crummy drinking hole, but it was the closest one to the Academy. As such, it was busy every evening, as soon as the cadets were allowed to leave the walled premises. He stole a glance at his watch; soon the bar would fill with uniforms.

A chuckle made him look up at the only full table. A bunch of cadets had gathered around the Veteran to listen to his story. The bartender had to admit the old man knew how to hold a crowd’s interest. He’d better; he must have told that story a million times in exchange for a drink.

The Veteran had just started his tale. Staring into his empty glass, his eyes opened as if he was watching the Beasts approach once more.

“You see, girls, things were different back then. Nowadays, each colony has its Academy and barracks in every major city. Back then, mankind had built a vast fleet of transports, but only a handful of military ships, safe in the illusion of its uniqueness.”

A cute redhead with freckles interrupted him. “Surely you suspected we were not alone.” She scrunched her face as a blonde with short hair dug her elbow into the redhead’s ribs to stop her.

The Veteran continued as if he had not been interrupted. “We were finally at peace after millennia of conflict. No one was prepared for the shock of encountering a hostile alien species; so alien, that communication was impossible. When we lost contact with the more remote colonies, we thought it was a glitch with our transmitters. As one colony after another fell silent, we sent ships. Not military ones, either. We had too few of those.” He took a napkin to his forehead to wipe beads of sweat and looked suggestively at the empty glass.

“Can we have one more over here?” the blonde yelled across the bar, without even bothering to look at the bartender.

A sweet smile played on the Veteran’s lips, and he licked them in anticipation. “Thank you, my love. Now, as I was saying, when the ships disappeared as well, we realized we had become complacent. I still remember the day we first saw the Beasts. A boy had beaten the odds to send us a video of their attack. I was a designer back then, waiting to go into a meeting. One of the secretaries rushed into the meeting room to switch the vid on. The poor thing aged ten years in a single moment.”

The girls around him leaned away to allow the barman to deliver the man

Synopsis

Joshua is small for his age. He has been bullied relentlessly for years, and all of his friends have drifted away from him. Eve is a pretty girl who has just been recruited into the popular clique. The two couldn't be more different. 

As they begin their final year of middle school, the unlikely pair find themselves partners in Science class. At first reluctant to work with him, Eve soon discovers hidden truths about not only Joshua but their school that turn her world upside-down. 

The two form a relationship that will teach them both the true meaning of friendship, loyalty, and love... a relationship that will end up changing not only their lives, but the entire complexion of their school.

Excerpt

I was on the ground writhing in pain from two gut-punches within seconds. They were there, all four of them, laughing at me. I didn’t look at their faces; as terrified as I was, I always tried to never let them see it. I just clutched my stomach, trying like hell not to vomit.

I looked around to see who else might be watching, hoping I might catch sight of a faculty member in the distance … but no, only a few familiar faces had stopped to watch. Random classmates, people I’d once freely socialized with, now chose to stand well back and observe my humiliation from a distance. That always happened. It was sad, but I’d gotten used to it.

Then I saw Eve. She was standing on the upper concourse with Rhonda, looking down at me. Rhonda was smiling that shark’s smile she always did. Oh God, did she know about our study session? Is that what this was about, or was this pounding just business as usual? I locked eyes with Eve for a brief moment, but then the bully squad surrounded me, blocking out the light.

“How was lunch, dog turd?” Brent asked, laughing cruelly. “Here’s your dessert.”

He put his filthy sneaker on my head, pinning it to the sidewalk for a full minute. Then he kicked me once in the stomach before calling it a day. They left me lying there, beaten and humiliated, for all to see. No one came and offered me a hand, or even asked if I was okay. That, too, was normal.

Ten minutes later, I was in Science class being handed my test. I’d washed Brent’s shoeprint off of my face as best I could, but the emotional impact of my first real beating in months was causing me to tear up. I could feel my hands shaking, and my mind was going a million miles a minute.

Nothing’s changed. Not a goddamn thing. It’s not fair! Why does this keep happening to me? Why am I so weak? Why doesn’t anyone care? I hate this place so much …

I tried not to look at Eve. I couldn’t stand the thought of her seeing me like this. As we began the test, she gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

I was only able to half-concentrate on the test. All I could think about was … how much did Eve really know about me? Had she seen me getting beaten up before? What was I going to do? Wait a minute, did she really just squeeze my hand, or did I imagine that?

* * * * *

Later that day, I was still in a fair amount of pain as I took my customary seat on the bus, thinking paranoid thoughts that maybe I was bleeding internally or something. I was so lost in thought, I didn’t even notice when Eve sat down in the seat next to me. She w