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Wednesday, 19 November 2008
Be Inspired by Neptune's Gift
Topic: Blog Tours

Today I am sharing with you an wonderfully inspirational excerpt from Neptune's Gift, by CJ Scarlet.  Tomorrow, I will introduce you to a group you will definitely want to take part in -- this group has me so excited I want to share it with the world!


Even Dylan's desire to be a big, beautiful wave dimmed over time.  It wasn't that he didn't want to be big and beautiful; it just seemed to him that he was only a middling wave, and he believed he had neither the time nor the ability to reach his cherished goal.

As the ocean rolled ponderously beneath him, Dylan tried even more desperately to cling to the peaks, and was even more disappointed when he dipped into the troughs.  Staring dully at the sky, Dylan watched the cormorants and pelicans glide to freedom overhead. He envied their safety up in the air and wished he could fly too. Sometimes Dylan roiled with jealousy and anger at the birds for reminding him that he was chained to the sea and would never reach as high as he had once dreamed.

One day a quick, fierce storm churned the waves.  The storm was over in a flash, and as it swept out to sea, Dylan ran smack into a big, beautiful wave, sending foam and sea spray in every direction.

"I'm sorry," he said, bowing low to the big wave.

"That's alright. You didn't hurt me a bit," she said, smiling kindly.

"How could I?"  Dylan asked, looking downcast.  "I'm just an average wave. I could never make an impact on a magnificent wave like you."

The big wave looked at him with concern.  "You seem very sad," she observed. "What's the matter?"

"I'm sad because I'm going to crash into the shore." Dylan said morosely, weeping salty tears.

"I see," she said.  "And why does that make you sad?'

Dylan blinked in disbelief.  "Because I will cease to exist! I will leave the surface of the ocean and be gone forever!" He waved his froth dramatically about to make his point.

The big wave laughed, confusing Dylan even further. "You silly droplet," she smiled gently, "you aren't merely a wave! Don't you know that?"

Dylan was caught off guard and suddenly unsure of himself. "I thought I was just an ordinary wave," he said in a tiny voice.

"Where in Neptune's ocean did you get such an idea?" she asked.

"Well look at me," Dylan said.  "I'm a wave.  This is my crest and this is my foam and these are my water droplets.  I'm not big or beautiful, and I can't touch the sky or make rainbow veils like you do."


"And, my crest is separate from your crest and that crest and that crest way over there," he explained impatiently, pointing to waves a bit further out. Dylan lowered his crest and heaved a defeated sigh. "We're all separate from each other."

The big wave looked amazed.  "You mean all this time you thought you were only this little wave right here, all alone on the surface of this tiny patch of ocean?"

"What else is there for me to be?" he asked.

The beautiful wave shook with warm laughter, flinging snowy white foam in all directions.  Dylan felt embarrassed and even more insignificant next to the big wave. Seeing his distress, she tried to put Dylan at ease.

"Let me introduce myself.  I'm Serena."  She touched her crest to his and beamed a friendly smile.  "Who are you?"

"My name is Dylan," he answered shyly.  "It means ‘child of the ocean.'"

"Hello, Dylan."  Serena smiled even wider. "I'm so pleased to meet you."

Dylan bowed again.

"Forgive me for laughing, dear," Serena said.  "I wasn't making fun of you; I was just surprised by what you said. If you really believe you're just a solitary little wave, I can see how you would think you're going to die when you meet the shore."

"How can I think any differently?" Dylan asked.  "I am going to crash on the shore and that will be the end of me."  He let out a resigned sigh.

"That's not true, Dylan.  I mean it is true that you're going to wash to shore, but that won't be the end of you.  It will be a reunion."  Serena offered him a reassuring smile.

Dylan was mystified.  "A reunion with what?"

"With your True Nature!" Serena proclaimed.

"My True Nature?"  Dylan asked, puzzled.  "I don't know what you mean."

"Your True Nature is who you really are," Serena explained.

"And who am I?"

"Why, Dylan, you're the ocean!"

Dylan looked at Serena with big eyes full of wonder and hope.  "Really? I'm the ocean?"

Serena smiled and nodded.  "You most certainly are."

Dylan said slowly, "So, if I'm a wave and you're a wave, and if I'm the ocean, then you are..."

"I am the ocean too!" she smiled radiantly, making a graceful bow over the small wave.

He frowned uncertainly.  "I'm confused.  How can we both be the ocean? We're two different waves.  I don't see how we can be the same thing."

"Separation is an optical illusion, my friend. Your eyes see only the superficial differences between us, leading you to think we are unconnected," Serena said patiently, rolling slowly at his side.

Dylan shook his head.  "That may be true for you; you're a big, beautiful wave. You don't know how lonely and terrible the ocean is for the average wave."

"I am exactly like you, Dylan."  Serena tilted her crest and looked at him with a calm, clear gaze. "After all, I'm part of the ocean too.  I've crashed on the shore many times. Yes, I'm bigger, but otherwise we are the same."

Dylan looked at Serena with skepticism and she could see that he didn't believe he was the ocean and not a mere wave, separated from everyone else. She tried a new tack.  "Look closely at your crest," she said.  Dylan did his best to look around, unsure of what he was looking for.

"Can you see the water droplets in your crest and inside your wave?" Serena continued, "Each one is its own little world, with a separate view of its tiny life.  From their perspectives, these droplets seem to be separate from one another, but in fact, each one is part of you; they are what make you into one being."

Serena watched as Dylan closely examined his crest, his foam, his bubbles. He couldn't see the individual droplets, although he knew they were there.  He hadn't thought about it before, but Serena was right; all those separate droplets combined to make him "one wave."

"It's the same for you and me," Serena explained. "You and I have separate views of the world and appear different, but we both are actually elements of the ocean-we are One with the ocean. A trillion bubbles, a million waves. A million waves, one ocean. Without each and every one of us, there would be no ocean.


For more information on CJ Scarlet and Neptune's Gift, please visit:


Posted by joyceanthony at 3:39 AM EST
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Tuesday, 18 November 2008
The Kindness Cure Has Arrived
Topic: Blog Tours

Happiness expert and author CJ Scarlet is starting a kindness revolution and she wants YOU to join her! Over the next year, CJ will personally perform 365 acts of kindness and recruit a legion of everyday people like YOU to perform similar acts in their own communities, such as babysitting for a busy mom so she can take a break, taking neighbors' trash cans off the street and leaving them an anonymous note, personally thanking our teachers and police officers, and buying a bus ticket for a stranded homeless person to return to their family. CJ's actions will be digitally recorded and made available on YouTube ( as well as her own online social network site (

CJ learned about the power of kindness the hard way. At the age of 12 she was sexually assaulted. Then as an adult she was diagnosed with Lupus and Scleroderma. When she was told her long-term disability had become life threatening, her world fell apart. Then a Tibetan lama commanded her to "stop feeling sorry for herself and focus on the happiness of others" and her life was transformed. The lama next ordered CJ to teach others the secrets to happiness that she had learned and the idea for the Kindness Cure Campaign was born.


CJ Scarlet, M.A., CCP, is an award-winning author, motivational speaker and certified life transitions coach. CJ has been named one of the "Happy 100" people on the planet, and is featured in the bestseller Happy for No Reason by Chicken Soup for the Soul author Marci Shimoff. CJ's new book, Neptune's Gift: Discovering Your Inner Ocean, is being heralded by mega author Jack Canfield as the "Jonathan Livingston Seagull for the new century." (
With seventeen years as an advocate for individuals facing tragedy and trauma, and a Humanities Master's Degree with an emphasis on Human Violence, CJ has a solid understanding of the myriad physical and emotional challenges people face and how they habitually-and often ineffectually-respond to them.)


CJ is the mother of three wonderful children, and resides in North Carolina with her devoted husband and two very spoiled Cocker Spaniels.


About Neptune's Gift:

When Dylan, an average wave of middling ability, realizes he is about to crash on the shore, he is terrified and miserable.  But when he encounters a magnificent wave named Serena, Dylan learns that he is a mere wave bobbing haplessly alone on the ocean surface, but One with every wave and every creature in the ocean.  In fact, Dylan learns that he is the Ocean itself. Abounding with thoughtful ideas for readers to consider and apply directly to their own lives, this fun and profound allegorical tale will leave you touched and inspired as you travel with Dylan on the greatest discovery of his life.

Posted by joyceanthony at 12:43 AM EST
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Monday, 17 November 2008
Sandy Lender let Nigel loose!!!!
Topic: Character Interviews

I ran this particular interview back in August, but Nigel Taiman was feeling a bit put out that he wasn't part of this book tour--so I told him I'd allow him to talk with your wonderful readers.  Take it away, Nigel!

1. Can you tell us your name and the title of the book you live in?

I'm Nigel Taiman and I live in Onweald in the novels Choices Meant for Gods and Choices Meant for Kings by Sandy Lender, and in the anthology What Choices We Made by Sandy Lender. Currently.

2. Describe to our readers what your role in the book is.

Oh my. I have several roles. My first priority, in my eyes, is to help Amanda Chariss, who has come to my family's home for protection. I also run my family's estate and school. I've been offered a position of leadership that my father coveted, and I believe I'll be better able to help 'Manda if I accept it. Wait a author is yelling something at us. Oh. Chariss. I'll be better able to help Chariss if I accept it. Sandy doesn't want me to call my bride Amanda when I'm out marketing like this.

3. How did you convince your author to put you in this book? For example did you visit in a dream or make yourself known some other way?

Sandy didn't really have much say in the matter. The evil Lord Drake showed Chariss to Sandy many many years ago, I think because he wanted her to rewrite the tale to his liking, and Sandy just couldn't look away from the story. Chariss and her guardian and some of the other players have told it over the years and introduced me when the time was right. So I sort of met Sandy through Chariss.

4. Is your author easy to work with or controlling?

You know, that depends on when you approach her. If you can wake her at 2 or 3 a.m., her thoughts are really malleable. But she has this idea that she knows how to end the trilogy, you see. I'd like to influence that...

5. Would you tell us about one of your favorite friends from this book?

I'm going to have to pick Henry Bakerson. He was a friend of mine when we were young boys sneaking cookies out of his father's bakery and when we were stupid youths drinking every tavern in Arcana City dry. We're lucky we didn't get killed in some stupid, meaningless brawl. When we started getting our lives straightened out with military training, my father stepped in and screwed up my part of the plan. Henry ended up with a real career, though, which is surprising considering he remained a ruffian and a rogue. I can't imagine the number of children he must have scattered about Onweald and Bellan - and the number of angry fathers ready to hang him for ruining their daughters. But he's such a fast talker that I guess he can get out of the noose often enough. I thought I'd never see him again when he went off to sea with his shipping business a few years back, but, he surprised me and showed up during the summer festival in 7220 and tried to sweep Amanda, I mean Chariss, off her feet. Old rogue. She's a sly one, too, you know, and ended up getting him to work for us in helping The Master Rothahn. Turns out Henry's got a responsible streak in him. It's buried in there, of course, but Chariss knew it was there. Henry can still drink a tavern dry...

6. Do you plan on appearing in another book or are you happy to be where you are?

Well, if I can keep Sandy from killing me off in a fit of rage - you really ought to see her when she gets frustrated with my suggestions - I'm going to pen a sort of epilogue novel to the Choices trilogy. She announced that to a group at a convention where she did a reading back in May and the ladies around her got very excited, so I think she's got a reason right there to keep me alive.

7. What would you like our readers to know about you?

I'm nothing without Chariss.

8. Did you learn anything during your adventure in this book?

By the gods, yes. Hrazon and Chariss showed up and it's as if a new world dawned at my family's estate. My mother always demonstrated unconditional love for me, but these two...these two are the epitome of love and devotion. Their relationship is a testament to what love is supposed to be. And then they've both been training me in the use of my geasa, which is a power you'd have to read the book to understand fully. My father would never let me develop my geasa so I never understood the responsibilities behind it, but Hrazon and Chariss have opened that world to me. I could go on and on but Sandy's fussing at me.

9. Can you tell us what you think is the most exciting thing that happened to you in your book?

Exciting is a word loaded with meaning. The good exciting thing was falling in love with Chariss the moment I set eyes on her. There were several not-so-good exciting things that I dread coming between us.

10. Is there anything in your story you wish you had not done? Why?

No. All my actions are justified.

11. What was your main motivation?

Protecting my family and Chariss is my motivation for everything now.

12. Introduce us to your main adversary.

The main one? That's a toss-up. My main adversary is Julette, The Dragon, The Betrayer. She is more to me than I realized, and she has partnered with Chariss's nemesis to threaten not only Chariss, but Chariss's charge, The Master Rothahn. It's become a huge mess for us. Julette is problematic for a number of reasons, the main being she's an ancient goddess who turned evil about five thousand years ago. So she's had quite some time to perfect being bad.

13. Is there anything you would like to have done but your author stopped you?

I may have to keep quiet on this one. You know. To protect Chariss's honor.

14. Here's your chance to speak your mind. What do you want to tell everybody?

Oh, I'll get censored for sure. Sandy's paying attention, you know. Something not directly related to Chariss's story that I'd like to tell everybody is that I've started to actually enjoy this marketing business out here in your society. Learning how to use a computer, how to post to a blog, how to answer's all new to me, but very interesting. And even though I started doing it because Sandy threatened me into it, I continue now because I enjoy it. I run a blog where she lets me make fun of her at, but I'm at a point where I don't really want to make fun of her unless she's in on it. She has a pretty good sense of humor, which I think she got from Chariss.

15. Please tell everyone where they can find out more about your story and where they can purchase it.

Sandy keeps a blog of her own where she puts updates about the books from time to time. It's at What's frustrating is she's also marketing other books she's worked on there, so you hear about other characters besides Chariss. If you want to get the books, they're available at Amazon (well, Choices Meant for Kings isn't available until November and her anthology What Choices We Made isn't available until late October), but you can get the first novel in the trilogy, Choices Meant for Gods, at the publisher's site or at Amazon. Or you can go to a bookstore and see if it's still on the shelf. Special ordering it is expensive, so you might want to go straight to her publisher's site. There's a discount there. Click on:

Thank you for the opportunity to talk about Sandy, Choices Meant for Gods, and, of course, my lovely Chariss. It's been a pleasure.

Posted by joyceanthony at 1:03 AM EST
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Sunday, 16 November 2008
Getting to Know Sandy Lender
Topic: Author Interview
Sandy Lender the person:

1. What three words do you think describe you as a human being?




2. How do you think others would describe you?

I've actually had a bunch of people tell me that I "inspire" them, which freaks me out. But I think most folks would tell you I'm obsessed with Duran Duran and I'm usually fairly smart.

3. Please tell us what you are most passionate about outside of writing.

Stalking Duran Duran

Saving sea turtles

4. Do you have any pets? If so, introduce us to them.

Joshua, the 20-year-old red-eared slider (that's a water turtle); Josh went to college with me

Buttermilk, the pancake tortoise

Petri, the sun conure-Petri is the love of my life. He's very smart, very demanding and very loving. I owe him everything because he's the reason I didn't commit suicide one horrid day back when I was still stuck in unemployment and marriage hell. He squawked before I took a bottle of migraine pills. It was a very sobering moment. He's a special little bird with a quirky personality. Anyone who's thinking about getting a bird as a pet should seriously consider the lovable nature of conures because, wow, these little guys are just tops.

5. What is your most precious memory?

The most precious one has to be feeding Petri when he was still a baby bird. (I didn't have to regurgitate. Baby bird food can be mixed with water and fed through a syringe-like tube. No barfing necessary.)

6. What is your most embarrassing moment?

Holding a note too long. I was in marching band in high school and for one semester, the director asked me to play the F-horn. So I taught myself to play the thing over the summer but I failed to stop playing it at a competition one night. Ugh! So the whole band stopped-except me.

7. If you weren't a writer, what would you be doing with your life?

I think I would have kept up the musical instruments. Maybe I'd be playing the violin somewhere.

8. In two paragraphs or less, write your obituary.

The winner of the Pick Sandy's Drop Date is Laura Crawford. Ms. Crawford correctly guessed that world-renowned fantasy author Sandy Lender would die from exhaustion while on tour with her latest release, It Wasn't the Percocet.

Fantasy enthusiasts and movie-goers from around the globe celebrate Ms. Lender's life and works with viewings of the movies based on her best-sellers in fantasy and paranormal fiction. Fellow sea turtle conservationists are planning a sea turtle walk each night this weekend to party on the beaches she patrolled during her many years of work with different conservation organizations to raise awareness and funds for sea turtle research. Of course, her massive estate goes in part to continued sea turtle research. Her beloved feathered friend Petri is now selecting which of her friends to live with.


Sandy Lender the writer:

9. Can you describe the time you realized you were indeed a "real" writer?

I'm not sure that I ever had that moment. I've always written stories that people liked to read...since I was a kid.

10. What is going on with your writing these days?

Absolute chaos.

11. What are your future goals for your writing?

A near-future goal is to get back on a regular schedule.

Another near-future goal is to get another short story anthology in addition to What Choices We Made published so some more of these stories from the Choices trilogy can stop driving me insane.

A more long-term goal is to finish a few of the WIPs I have on the desktop and get an agent who'll help me find appropriate homes for them. Not all of them will be full-length novels that my current publisher will be interested in.

12. Can you describe a typical writing day for you?

I used to be able to, but there's so much chaos in my life right now that the weekdays have become random. My writing schedule is in upheaval, which affects my ability to think straight in other areas of my driving.

13. Why do you write?

I love spending time with the characters.

14. What writer most inspires you? Why?

Charlotte Bronte. Hands down.

She overcame incredible family tragedy and a horrific case of unrequited love to write some of the greatest stories in English literature. Jane Eyre is the single greatest book I've ever read, and it amazes me that Charlotte, who saw adversity at every turn, was able to take the characters she dreamt up as a child and come up with novels that we still teach in universities today. I learned how dialogue should work by reading Charlotte Bronte. I learned how passion should grow by reading Charlotte Bronte. I learned how a leading man should hide a secret by reading Charlotte Bronte. Criminy, I just think every author who wants to include mood in his or her work should read the Bronte. Those sisters knew what they were doing.

15. How do you define your writing?

Straight-up fantasy. Dragons, monsters, sorcerers, wizards...I love that stuff and that's what I like to write best.

16. In one sentence-what do you want people to say about your writing in fifty years?

Fantasy Author Sandy Lender's work mixed shadow, mood and world-building with a pace unmatched in the genre while subtly nudging the reader's sense of purpose in the real world.


Sandy Lender the details:

17. Can you tell us where to find more information on you? Website? Blog?

Nigel Taiman's blog gives info about me at

My publisher's site gives some info about me.

My amazon page gives reviews and whatnot.

18. Is there a place where readers can reach you?

I run my own blog, mostly for writers, at

19. Can you list all your book titles so people can look for them?

Choices Meant for Gods (March 2007)

What Choices We Made (November 2008)

Choices Meant for Kings (late 2008)

20. For new readers-what can they expect when they read your book(s)?

Straight-up fantasy. Dragons, monsters, sorcerers, wizards...

My Choices trilogy is a very girl-power sort of story because Amanda Chariss is empowered, but no one should expect one of those abrasive, harsh heroines that you see in some novels these days. She's a pleasant young woman with a quick wit and a strong sense of self. Of course she has flaws-this makes her human and likeable. No one should come in expecting the heroine to be perfect and all-knowing. But you should expect good entertainment. There's a bit of humor, a bit of a sweet romance, a bit of scary stuff, a lot of action-adventure, a lot of plotting and conniving, a lot of sword and sorcery, a lot of character-driven action, a lot of character growth...but it's all wrapped in a structured fantasy world.


In conclusion:

21. Take as much space as necessary to speak to our readers-what would you like them to know about you and your writing?

Honestly, I'm not sure. I just keep plugging away...

Posted by joyceanthony at 12:32 AM EST
Updated: Sunday, 16 November 2008 1:38 AM EST
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Saturday, 15 November 2008
An Excerpt from Sandy Lender
Topic: Blog Tours

As promised, today you get to taste Sandy Lender's writing :-) Enjoy this excerpt:

Dunny & Quill

From the History of Onweald ca. 7100

By Sandy Lender

Dunny groaned some more, rolling to lift himself off the floor. "You're a bad man, Quill Valiant."

"You knew that coming into this. What do you think of fire?"

Dunny glanced to the crystal barrier. "How solid you think that is?"

"You're not up for asphyxiation today?"

"It's a small cavern. I think it'd fill up before all that ice melted."

"Agreed. So it's back to the box of rocks." Quill opened the little wood box and set it on the floor between them. Dunny crouched down to peer in.

"I wouldn't get that close to them," Quill whispered.


Quill shrugged.

They both leaned back.

From her imprisonment in suspended animation, the dragon did the only thing she could. She rolled her eyes in impatience. Stupid mortals, she thought. The green one!

"So d'you know what all they do?" Dunny asked.

"Well, he talked kinda fast. . ."

Dunny rose to his full height of three feet four inches then and scowled at his human friend. "You cannot be serious. We came on this quest to get a dragon and her chalice out of an ice prison in an ice cave, and you knew that coming in, yet you forgot which crystals would help when we got here?"

"No, no, now I didn't say that. I'm just remembering that he talked pretty darn quickly."

The green one! The green one! Stupid idiot mortal human male! The green one!

"All right. How about the red one there. It looks like it would produce fire. We should avoid a fire one."

"Agreed," Quill said. "And I think you're right. I remember him mentioning fire."

"How about the yellow ones? He gave you several. What're they for?"

"Yellow. . .yellow. . .more fire?"

"Quill. So help me."

"I'm just kiddin' with you. I think the yellow ones raise what you throw them at. For instance, I fling one at the cave floor and shards of dirt and rock come up."

"Useful. We could use them around the base of the wall."

"Agreed again. But let's see what else we've got. There's this pretty blue one. I think that summons faeries."

"Okay. What's this peachish brackish one?"

"Oh, yeah, don't touch that. Pig's testicle."

"What? Whatever for?"

"Edras love 'em. Throw that among a horde of edras and they'll stop to fight over it every time."

Old wives' tale, the dragon thought. Get to the green one.

"Great," Dunny said. "What about this green one?"

"Hmmm. I don't remember. Let's try a couple of the yellow ones."

The dragon had wanted many times in her years of imprisonment to get free of the ice, but never had she been so filled with the desire to get out and eat a human. And so she watched in absolute fury as the human and the dwarf each took a yellow crystal and stood what they thought would be a safe distance from the ice before flinging the stones, full force, toward the base of her prison. She fumed as she waited for them to regain consciousness.


You can read the rest of "Dunny & Quill" and other short stories in the upcoming release What Choices We Made, Stories From the History of Onweald, Volume 1 by Sandy Lender. With monsters, magic, romance, humor, sword and sorcery, What Choices We Made will be available at starting on the busiest shopping day of the year!

From Fantasy Author Sandy Lender

Check out Choices Meant for Gods,

What Choices We Made, available Nov. 28 at


See what Nigel's saying about me today at


Posted by joyceanthony at 4:31 AM EST
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Friday, 14 November 2008
Visiting With Sandy Lender
Topic: Blog Tours

For the next few days, we will be visiting with author, Sandy Lender, and taking a look at her book, What Choices We Made. Today I will give you a short summary of the book and tomorrow we get to read an excerpt.  Later this weekend, Sandy joins us here for an interview :-) Please come back often to see what all we have in store for you!

Would the world of Onweald be the same if Enara had acted differently all those years ago? Join Chariss's early ancestor on the shores that become Arcana. Rescue a dragon and flee a screaming horde of edras demons. Step into a fantasy realm where romance and humor meet sword and sorcery-where choices of the past shape the world of a powerful heroine. Step into What Choices We Made.


By Fantasy Author Sandy Lender

Available at

Posted by joyceanthony at 4:25 AM EST
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Thursday, 13 November 2008
Conor and the Crossworlds by Kevin Gerard--A Review and a Contest
Topic: Book Review

Before I get into today's post, I want to thank Kevin Gerard for visiting with us the past few days.  I have thoroughly enjoyed geting to know him and discovering his books.  Thank you, Kevin. 

Please continue reading this entire post to find out about a spectacular "treasure hunt" that will be taking place starting in January. 


In today's fast-paced world, it is often difficult to get kids to be still long enough to read.  Kevin Gerard has solved that problem wonderfully with his series of fantasy books, Conor and the Crossworlds.

The Crossworlds is a place similar to a corridor from which many parallel universes can be reached. Some of these worlds are inhabited by human-like creatures while others boast animal-like creatures with human qualities.  All the worlds are looked over by The Circle of Seven.  As with every instance of good, there must be a counterforce of evil and this comes about in the form of The Evil Circle.

We first meet Conor when he is ten and each of the books in this series see him a couple years older.  With the help and guidance of a large winged cougar, Conor is taken to the Crossworlds to help fight the evil that threatens to destroy all the worlds.  In his adventures, he learns not only about the world but also about himself and what he is capable of achieving.

Readers from 10 to 110 will find themselves instantly transported into the Crossworlds.  The characters are so realistic and well-developed, I found myself forgeting they were merely creations of Kevin Gerard.  This series is destined to give Harry Potter and the Warrior series a run for their money.

The books are written so that readers as young as ten can easily comprehend what is happening, yet adult readers will be entranced. This is truly a family series and would make a wonderful gift for all those readers on your gift lists, male or female.  I have already added it to my "to buy" list for my son's sixteenth birthday.


Kevin has buried five treasure chests with five different keys around the country. The clues to where the treasure chests are have appeared in the first three books and they will be followed by more clues online

( ). Whoever finds the treasure chests keeps the keys and wins other prizes.

Visit: to learn of the meaning of the five keys and then visit the above link for more information on the treasure hunt and a downloadable ebook from Kevin Gerard.

Finally (after leaving a kind thank you comment for Kevin) please visit one of the following links to get your own copies of the first three books in the Conor and the Crossworlds series.  Christmas shopping was never this easy!!!!

Posted by joyceanthony at 2:35 AM EST
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Wednesday, 12 November 2008
A Special Guest Post by Kevin Gerard
Topic: Blog Tours

Today I have the honor of sharing with you a story writen by Kevin Gerard-please enjoy!



Kevin Gerard


Without raising my eyelids, I reached over the rumpled bedcovers. In the early hours of another solitary morning, I searched for the warmth of her companionship. Finding nothing but cold bedding and a lingering wisp of her scent, I elevated my senses beyond their ability to resume sleep.

I listened for a familiar sound. The slightest whimpering tickled my eardrums. I waited a moment longer before opening my eyes. I wondered how long tonight's grief had lasted. Had she been scrunched up in the bay window only minutes, or had she been sobbing for hours? I couldn't possibly know, having awakened only a moment ago.

Part of me wanted to give her the time to plow through her anguish alone. After all, most doctors recommended that course of action. So many months had passed, they said, with no real recovery, no ability to resurrect herself from the terrible pain of her loss, that the time had come for her to face her sorrow head on. Some of the therapists feared she may never return from the deep, spiritual canyon that swallowed her on that dreadful day.

I felt utterly lost. I had no idea how to nurture her soul back to the world of the living. For months I followed the doctor's recommendations. After convincing her to try everything; medication, group and individual therapy, and even psychiatric treatment, I withdrew into myself, into my own misery. Every night the same scenario occurred. We would go to bed, hold each other closely, stare into each other's eyes and eventually drift off to sleep. Later, between two and three in the morning, I would wake to find myself alone.

Swinging my feet onto the floor, I checked the pillows on the dresser by the window. Jesse and Toby, our young Abyssinian males, lay curled up together, comforting each other with shared warmth. Toby lifted his face an inch above his cushion, blinking his eyes drearily.

"Don't worry, son," I whispered. "I'll only be a minute."

The golden beauty lowered his head, placing it in the exact position it previously occupied. I pulled the curtain across the front of the dresser, giving them partial shade from my bed lamp. Donning my sweatpants, moccasins and robe, I walked through the extensive master suite. Kicking cat toys out of the way with both feet, I found the top of the stairway and descended into the family room. I stopped momentarily, listening before continuing my nightly vigil. Sure of my wife's whereabouts, I proceeded through the kitchen and into the solarium. She sat in the bay window, as she did every night, dark hair tumbling down in chaotic bouquets, some strands tucked into her plump, terrycloth robe, and others finding their own path above and beyond the collar.

She stared quietly through the large, spotless pane directly in front of her nose. Her body resembled a figurine, unmoving and focused. Only her intermittent sobbing proved her identity as a living being.

I watched the lapels of her robe move slowly in and out. Then I stared at her eyes, alive and animated, darting around the spacious grass yard.

"I can see him," she said sullenly, without moving.

"What's he doing?" I inquired, grateful for the communication.

"Every time I come down here he comes back to play. He runs around and around the yard, happy as the first day we brought him here."

"Have you called to him," I asked softly.


"Maybe he'll come up on the deck. Maybe he'll even come to the door."

"No, he won't."

"Have you tried?"

Her body stiffened. Her head fell forward as her hands reached up, briskly massaging her neck.

"He might run away. I can't risk that, I can't lose him again."

The torrent began anew, as it did every morning. My wife, the woman I love more than life itself, began torturing herself again. I moved quickly to her side.

"He's dead," she wailed. "Chipper's dead and it's my fault, oh God why did I do that, why, why?"

"Shhh," I whispered softly while wrapping my arms around her waist. She let her head fall to my chest, weeping like a mother who'd lost her only child. I held her as I did every night, trying desperately to soothe the pain and provide her a moment of peace.

As I held her cheek tightly against my chest, I looked out into the yard, seeking a glimpse of our boy, Chipper, racing across the grass with his tongue slapping against his cheek. As many times as I tried, however, I never once saw him since that awful day. It was enough that he appeared for Sharyn every night. Though a horrible memory for her, at least she could spend a little time watching him in the darkness of the early morning.



* * * * *

We found Chipper at the humane society in Eureka, California. We often visited the animals, just to give them a moment's comfort and nurture ourselves in the process.

We lived modestly in Fieldbrook, a densely forested area east of McKinleyville. Our combined income afforded us a small home, perfect for cats but not fit for any canine companions. As a part-time professor and writer, I did my best to keep up with my wife's salary as a nurse in the local outpatient center. Although we wouldn't subject a dog to such small living quarters, we often went to the pound to cheer up the residents a bit.

One day fortune smiled upon me. Out of the blue a publishing house in New York picked up one of my series. Our lives changed overnight; the advance and the pledge toward the first printing convinced me we could shop for a larger home.

I received the call while working in my office at the University. Immediately thereafter I called my wife, telling her the incredible news. She sounded excited but guarded. I asked if she could talk. She answered by telling me she was at the shelter crouching in front of the most adorable Australian Shepherd she had ever seen. A male and only ten months old. He had a great name - Chipper. She asked when I could meet her at the shelter.

Twenty minutes later I passed through the front door of the Humane Society office in Eureka. After answering the greeting from the shelter volunteer, I walked quickly toward the dog enclosures. I called out for Sharyn. In return I heard an adorable little yip. Following the direction of Chipper's call, I turned a corner and found my wife sitting on a patch of soiled, wet floor in front of a canine cage. A smallish, multicolored ball of fur leaned against the opposite side of the bars, pressing his little body against my wife's thigh.

"We're getting this dog," said Sharyn.

"You bet we are," I said, rushing over to the cage. I fell to my knees and reached through the bars. Chipper didn't shy away at all. We struggled to see who could comfort the other first, with Chipper trying to lick my hand and I trying desperately to scratch his ear. I immediately felt a deep connection with him. I knew all the years of waiting for a special companion had led us to this moment. We'd adopt Chipper and save him from the shelter, but I felt sure he would rescue us in return.

Life became a whirlwind of activity over the next few months. I took a leave of absence from the university; we bought the home of our dreams, moved our meager possessions from the rented house in Fieldbrook, and had the time of our lives relocating. We celebrated every night in our new home; my wife, Toby, Jesse, Chipper the wonder dog, and me.

The home was custom contemporary on ten acres of stunning Trinidad beachfront property. It was the house I'd always imagined, a two story, four thousand square foot hideaway with six bedrooms and endless views up and down the northern California coast. It was the last property on a long, meandering, unmarked road. There wasn't another home within a quarter mile of the driveway.

As you walked from room to room, every aspect of the house swallowed you in absolute comfort. The kitchen, dining room and living room were expansive and tranquil, the master suite equally so. Sharyn insisted on decorating the bedroom and bathroom first. I remember days when I'd emerge from my writing study for a cup of tea and find her sprawled out on the living room floor with stacks of home improvement magazines. Logical as always, she systematically sifted her way through the advice of dozens of experts, finally settling on what she believed we would both enjoy.

We spent a great deal of time lounging in our bedroom. Toby, Jesse and Chipper approved of her renovations. I spent countless hours staring at the three of them, curled up in the folds of the down comforter in the wintertime.

A vast yard split the ocean view acreage between the house and the bluff. Sweeping around the deck by the large viewing windows, the emerald lawn provided Chipper with endless hours of lively fun. Left to his own devices, he would race back and forth across the thick grass until exhausted. At that moment he would plop down on the grass, forepaws stretched out in front of his body. He would enjoy a proper respite before starting his routine again. If one of us came out into the yard, however, no amount of fatigue could keep him from demanding a game of fetch.

Chipper grew into a handsome Aussie. That little puff of downy fur mushroomed into a fine looking coat, a mixture of black, brown, and white that reflected his luminous eyes. He had one mesmerizing white eye; the other was the soothing golden brown of a Labrador retriever.

With ears hitched on top of his head, and a mouth always open and grinning, Chipper made you feel better just by walking into a room. He loved attention, but sometimes feigned a snooty attitude, forcing Sharyn or me to work for his affection. Of course this posture always led me to scoop poor Chipper up in my arms, invert him, and hold him like a baby. I would kiss his nose again and again, telling him what a handsome boy he was, thoroughly embarrassing him. During these exchanges Chipper would fix me with a perplexed look, finally dropping his head to the side while searching for his mother to save him.

More than anything else, Chipper loved playing fetch. He would chase tennis balls until the crimson sun sank into the sea and then wonder why the game had ceased. He would walk around the house for another hour, holding a ball in his mouth, hoping we would get the hint that he hadn't finished playing.

As a herding animal, he possessed uncanny speed and agility. If a ball wasn't thrown with great velocity, he usually caught it within two bounces, loping back with a bored look on his face.

We established a rule early on. When playing catch with Chipper, Sharyn or I would stand toward the cliff's edge and throw the ball toward the house. Even though we installed a wooden fence along the property line, it served as a mental barrier more than a true impediment. As intelligent as Chipper seemed to us, we wouldn't hazard the chance that he might make a mistake some day.

And so it went. I worked hard on my writing projects, Sharyn worked half time at the surgical center, and we spent as much time as we could with our three boys. We'd waited a lifetime to get to this point and couldn't have been happier.

One day, late in the summer when the northern California coast becomes a true paradise, I sat in my study suffering a severe case of writer's block. Sharyn knelt in her vegetable garden, nurturing her tomatoes and cauliflower. Chipper came outside, full of energy and in a particularly mischievous mood. He jogged to the lawn, picked up his tennis ball and trotted over to Sharyn. He knew better than to walk into her garden, so he crouched at its edge, whimpering for her to play with him.

"Not now, Chipper," she replied. "I want to work here a while longer."

Chipper would not be dissuaded. He inched toward the edge of the vegetable patch, nosing the ball an inch or two closer.

"I promise I'll play with you later, okay?"

Chipper noted an optimistic tone in her response. He picked up the ball, advancing past the carrots into precious territory.

"Chipper!" my wife said, angry and frustrated. "Look what you've done. Here, give me that ball!"

Chipper offered it to her gladly. She flung it away without thinking, forgetting where she was in her fit of anger. Chipper raced away toward the ball, eager to make his mother proud.

Sharyn had just begun to feel ashamed of her outburst when she sensed something amiss. Chipper would have returned with the ball by now, anxious for another throw. Subtle apprehension quickly morphed into severe anxiety. When she heard Chipper's terrified yip, she knew without thinking what had transpired.

"Kevin!" she yelled while running toward the bluff. Chipper called out again, clearly frightened. "Kevin!" she shouted. "Come out here! Now! Hurry!"

I glanced out the window upon hearing her calls. For a moment I didn't move, but when I saw Sharyn heading toward the bluff wearing a look of utter panic, I flew downstairs toward the kitchen. Pushing through the French doors, I heard for the first time our son's horrible cries. Ignoring the creaks in my middle aged body, I vaulted over the wooden bench, hitting the lawn in full stride. I reached Sharyn just as she swung her leg over the simple fence by the bluff. I met her at the edge of the grass; together we fell to our knees and peered over the side.

Chipper gripped the loose rock of the cliff edge with petrified determination. Holding the ball in his mouth, he lurched forward when he saw us. The move proved fruitless, however, for he slid another three feet down after his attempt to climb up to us. He began crying as he slid; he seemed to know he wouldn't make it back home.

"Hold my legs," I said to my wife as I got down on my stomach. I stretched as far as I could, but I still couldn't reach Chipper. I called to him, asking him to climb a couple of feet toward my hands. He tried valiantly, crying the entire time. Unfortunately, every time he moved he slid back to his former position.

Suddenly, I felt my body moving toward Chipper. Frightened at first, I turned to see Sharyn lying on her stomach as well. Holding onto my ankles fiercely, she gave me another three feet of distance.

"Don't let him fall," she pleaded. "Oh, please, Kevin, bring him back to me."

I nodded once before turning back to Chipper. I didn't have the heart to tell her he had slipped to the very edge of the cliff. One step past that point and he would fall a hundred and fifty feet to the rocky coastline below.

Pressing forward one last time, I reached out toward our frightened child, elated as I touched his fur. Bolstered by this occurrence, I lunged forward and grabbed as much of him as I could.

Still holding his ball, Chipper tried one last time to move closer to his father. His right rear leg failed to connect with land, however, and the momentum of his kick propelled him over the edge.

"No, no, NOOOO!" I screamed as I felt the warm fur slipping through my fingers. I was losing him, there wasn't a thing I could do. I heard him whimper one last time before he tumbled over the edge of the bluff. I screamed his name, calling to him, telling him how much I loved him.

Sharyn watched in horror as the son she loved so deeply disappeared over the crest of the bluff. She nearly let go of my legs before realizing she had to pull me up or lose me too. When we finally collapsed onto the grass by the fence, she screamed hysterically.

"It's my fault!" she shrieked, holding her hands to her cheeks. "I killed him! I killed Chipper!"

She began to wail and keen in a way I'd never thought possible. Her soul boiled with grief and shame. She blamed herself for losing him; as I looked into her eyes I wondered if I might lose her as well.

"Sharyn," I said, gently but firmly. "Honey, listen to me. I've got to go down to the beach. I have to see if he survived the fall. Stay here for me; I'll be back as soon as I can."

She looked at me and nodded, her bloodshot, tear soaked eyes understanding what I had to do.

I ran toward the edge of the yard, to a small deck we'd built a few months prior. A stairway with over a hundred steps led to the ocean below. I took them three at a time, gauging my speed and balance as I prayed to the heavens for high tide. If the sea had swelled over the rocks, I thought, there was a small chance Chipper would have hit water. Weighing less than fifty pounds would decrease the impact, and maybe, just maybe...

I hit the sand running, calling for Chipper every few seconds while I raced to the spot where I thought he might be. Breathing heavily, I found the area of the beach beneath our yard.

"Chipper," I yelled. "Come on, boy, come to father!"

I heard nothing, saw nothing. The ocean looked to be at the midpoint between low and high tide. The water surged forward and receded, following its time worn pattern perfectly. I looked along the rocks, out into the water, and up and down the coastline for a hundred feet in both directions, but I didn't see him anywhere. I held my breath, wondering if it could be a sign of hope. Maybe he had miraculously survived the fall, and was now loping along the sand looking for his parents.

I searched for another fifteen minutes, and then ran out onto the beach. I called for him, yelling as loudly as I could. After waiting as long as I dared, I returned to the stairway and the long climb back to my wife.

I found her lying on the day bed in the solarium, staring up at the ceiling. She heard me come through the door but didn't stir. She had put her life on hold until I returned with news about Chipper.

"I looked, Sharyn, but I couldn't find him anywhere."

Her eyes closed, shutting the pain away from the world.

"I thought maybe he might have survived and ran down the beach, but I looked everywhere. Maybe the tide took him away, I don't know. I'm sorry."

She sucked in a deep breath, disguising a woeful sob. "No," she said, "I'm sorry. It's my fault, Kevin. In a fit of anger I threw the ball away without looking. He went after it, and now he's dead. I killed him."

"No," I said, moving to the side of the bed. "You didn't kill him. It was a horrible mistake, but you didn't kill him, Sharyn." I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, drawing her close. The flaccid state of her body frightened me; it seemed as if she had gone over the cliff with him.


* * * * *

From that day until this moment, I came to the solarium every night to find her, wrapped in a terrycloth robe, staring out the window at an image she could not banish from her mind. After all the therapy, medicine, and feline nurturing from Toby and Jesse, I realized what she needed more than anything else. She needed to spend time with Chipper in her own way; she needed to see him frolicking in the yard. She wanted desperately to watch him running as fast as he could, tongue swinging wildly on one side of his face, utterly happy with his life.

"Ready to go back to bed?" I asked quietly.

"No," she said, recoiling into the bay window. "He'll come back, I know he will."

"I know two little boys who miss their mother. They're upstairs by the bed waiting for me to bring you back to them."

She pulled the lapels of her robe together, believing she could hide from any unpleasantness in the soft thickness of the terrycloth. Sighing, she leaned forward, using her body's momentum to stand. She leaned into me, placing her cheek against my chest.

"Don't worry, Hon," I whispered. "He'll be back."

She sagged upon hearing this. The tears came, along with the admonitions. I feared some day her guilt might consume her completely.

"What was that?" she asked.

"What, what do you mean?"

"That noise, it sounded like an animal."

I was just about to say I hadn't heard anything, when the faint cry of a very young kitten floated across our yard.

"There," she said. "Did you hear it?"

"It's a cat," I said, "and young, too, by the sound of it."

"Where?" asked Sharyn, suddenly alert.

"Outside, in the yard I think."

She opened the solarium door. Another cry sailed above the grass. It was a kitten, only weeks old by the sound of its mewling. We couldn't pinpoint its location, but there was no doubt it was out there.

Sharyn ran across the deck, calling in the high pitched voice she used when speaking to our sons. Immediately the kitten's cries amplified; it knew that someone had heard it. It called out frantically, pleading with her to save it.

"It's on the bluff!" she cried. I ran to her side, grabbing her hand as we listened to the terrified animal. Sharyn hadn't been farther than the deck since the day we lost Chipper. Her vegetable garden had long since died. The grass lay as a perfect expanse, untouched by human or canine feet since that day.

"We have to save it!" she cried, peering out into the morning darkness. I could see the horrible uncertainty pounding away in her mind.

"I'll go out to the bluff," I said. "You stay here and wait for me."

"No," she said. I looked into her eyes, gazing at a part of my wife I hadn't seen in months. "I'm going too."

She clutched my hand like a lifeline. Together we walked onto the grass, following the sound of the frightened cat. When we reached the fence I thought her fear would keep her from advancing, but the cries of the tiny kitten drove her forward. Soon we were both lying on the edge of the cliff, looking over the side at a two week old calico kitten. A rush of horror passed through me as I saw the poor animal sitting in almost the same place Chipper had been the day we lost him.

The cat surged forward when it saw us. It couldn't make any real progress because of its age, though, so when it climbed a few inches it would invariably stumble back toward the edge.

"Oh, God," said Sharyn as she threw herself forward. I nearly missed her ankles as she scrambled by me. Holding her securely, I inched toward the edge slowly.

"I can't reach it," she said, frustrated. She cooed to the little cat. "Come on, come up here, you can do it."

I gave her as much slack as I could without putting both of us in danger. I heard her anxious cries as she tried to coax the cat up into her arms. Suddenly, she became excited, asking the cat to come up a little more, a little farther, just a little closer.

"I've got it!" she said.

I told her to hold on while I dragged her up the cliff. When we reached the fence she rolled over. A white, black, and brown Calico kitten sat securely in her arms. Sharyn cradled the tiny cat, listening to it purr contentedly. It looked up into her eyes, blinked once, and then buried its head into her robe.

I helped her up, brushed her off as best I could, and walked her back into the house. She sat on the day bed, cooing to her newest child.

"It's a girl," she said. "Calicos usually are girls."

"That was very brave, Sharyn," I said. "You could have been killed."

"I know, and I'm sorry. At that moment I really didn't care. I just had to save this cat."

"Looks like we have a new daughter," I said, smiling.

* * * * *

It wasn't until weeks later, when we took our youngest for her second round of shots, that Sharyn told me the truth about the night we found her.

"I thought I wasn't going to be able to reach her," she said. "I had this horrible feeling that she would end up like Chipper."

"But she didn't," I said.

"You don't understand, Kevin. I kept calling to her, asking her to come to me. She wanted to, but she couldn't. She was too frightened."

"Then how did..." I stopped in mid question, knowing what she would say next.

"It was Chipper," she said. "All of a sudden he was there, beneath her, prodding her little body forward with his nose. He saved her by pushing her into my hands."

"Have you seen him since that night?" I asked.

"No," she answered. "Not once."

We drove in silence for a while. Sharyn held our purring daughter close to her breast. She kissed her small head, cooing to her in that squeaky voice cats seem to love so much.

My wife grew stronger as the weeks passed. She toiled in her garden again, found joy in her work and began playfully interacting with Toby and Jesse. She slept through the night regularly, with a beautiful brown, black and white cat tucked into her breast. After so many months of uncertainty, I believed she would finally come through her terrible ordeal.

"I think," I said while placing my hand on hers, "Chipper gave you your life back that night."

She nodded quietly, stroking the cat's furry tail.

Posted by joyceanthony at 10:33 AM EST
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Tuesday, 11 November 2008
A Look at Conor and the Crossworlds
Topic: Blog Tours

Today's young adults are more discerning when it comes to reading material. Conor and the Crossworlds is a series that will keep the interest of girls and boys alike.  Let's take a brief look at what the books are about.

Conor and the CrossworldsTM - Breaking the Barrier

Conor: an innocent ten year-old boy, not unlike other boys anywhere

Purugama: immense, powerful, magical, a towering champion of the crossworlds…

Following the death of a favorite uncle, Conor unconsciously calls forth the power of the crossworlds creators. They send the mystical beast, Purugama, to accompany Conor on a fantastic journey. After revealing the knowledge of the crossworlds to his small companion, Purugama prepares to return him to his home world. His plans are interrupted when Drazian, Purugama’s mortal enemy, faces the immense cougar in a combat to the death. The prize? Conor’s life, or death, depending on the outcome of the battle
Conor and the CrossworldsTM - Peril in the Corridors
Conor, the brave young lad from earth, awakens to a summons from the creators themselves. The Lady of the Light appears before him, requesting his service for a perilous journey…

During his adventure with Purugama, Conor and his huge mentor disturbed the integrity of the crossworlds corridors. Conor must accompany the Lord of the Crossworlds Champions, Maya, on a mission to repair them, with all of creation hanging in the balance…

Conor finds himself transported to the Glade of Champions, where he meets Maya, Eha, Ajur, Surmitang, and mighty Therion, all champions of the crossworlds. After learning about his mission, Conor departs with Maya to do battle with the warriors of the Circle of Evil, experiencing wondrous and terrifying surprises at every stop on his amazing journey…


Conor and the CrossworldsTM - Surviving an Altered World

Conor Jameson and Janine Cochran, two everyday high school students caught in a race to save an altered world…

After divulging secrets about his past, something his mentors strictly warned him never to do, Conor’s world turns upside-down. He and Janine watch in horror as a powerful warrior sent by the Circle of Evil destroys their world and imprisons everyone they know, including the crossworlds champions and the creators…

Before fleeing the onslaught, the Lady of the Light appears before Conor and Janine. She explains that she and her kind deposited the five keys of the creators on different worlds just before the chaos began. If Conor and Janine can recover the keys, the crossworlds will be restored. There are others looking for the keys, however, those who will use any means to destroy the two teenagers and keep the crossworlds in disarray forever…


Visit to read about books four and five in this series and to learn about your chance to win in the upcoming search for the Keys.

The above three books are available at

Please come back tomorrow when I will be sharing a special guest post from Kevin Gerard.

Posted by joyceanthony at 1:53 AM EST
Updated: Tuesday, 11 November 2008 2:51 AM EST
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Monday, 10 November 2008
Conor and the Crossworlds by Kevin Gerard
Topic: Blog Tours

Over the next few days, we will be visiting with Kevin Gerard, author of the Conor and the Crossworlds series.  Today we get to meet Kevin Gerard and get a general idea of what this YA fantasy series is all about. Tomorrow, I'll go a bit more in depth about each book and introduce you to a contest that will be coming soon.  Wednesday, I am honored to share with you a guest post by Mr. Gerard.  Finally, on Thursday, I will share my views on this series.  To keep you occupied until tomorrow's post, please visit Kevin's website to download a free Conor and the Crossworlds ebook to get background information.

About Conor and the Crossworlds

Conor and the Crossworlds series. This series opens with book 1, Conor and the Crossworlds, when 10-year-old Conor Jameson unconsciously calls forth the power of the Crossworlds creators who send the mystical beast, Purugama, to accompany the boy on a fantastic journey into the realm of the crosswords. This immense collection of mystical worlds connects by organic "corridors" that allow creators, champions, seekers, and at the other end of the spectrum, destroyers, shadow warriors, slayers and keepers to travel between worlds as easily as Conor walks between the rooms of his home. In book 2, Peril in the Corridors, the story continues when Conor and his huge mentor disturb the integrity of the Crossworlds corridors, and must join the Lord of the Crossworlds Champions, Maya, on a mission to repair them, with all of creation hanging in the balance. In book 3, Surviving an Altered World (due to be released in December 2008), Conor and Janine Cochran, two everyday high school students find themselves caught in a race to save an altered world after Conor ignores his mentors' warnings and divulges secrets about his past.

About the Kevin Gerard:

After running three companies and working a variety of jobs during his life, Mr. Gerard returned to school and earned a master's degree in sociology from Humboldt State University. He returned to San Diego after completing the program and worked with two professional research organizations over the next seven years. In 2004, he resigned from the second position in order to pursue a writing career. While still teaching at the university, he spends the bulk of his time writing for publication. The Conor and the Crossworlds series provided the main impetus for his decision to permanently extricate himself from formal employment.


"Stepping away from full-time work was the best decision I ever made. Writing this story has given me tremendous personal satisfaction, and it has shown me an avenue for expression I will always treasure."


Kevin Gerard lives in San Diego, California, with his wife and four children. He teaches sociology and statistics for the California State University. When not writing or teaching, Mr. Gerard enjoys walking the grounds at the San Diego Zoo, golfing with his father, hitting the waves and his favorite pizza hangout with his brother, nieces and nephews, and loving his wife and kids. He also enjoys playing Halo on the internet; look for him in the rocket games as Drazian, the destroyer in the first Conor and the Crossworlds adventure, Breaking the Barrier.

Books from this series can be purchased at:

Posted by joyceanthony at 12:24 AM EST
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