Category: Supernatural, Historical Fiction, Literary Fiction
Release Date: January 2015
Available In: ebook, 280 Pages
"Jonah" is a work of literary fiction, a period piece written in accented vernacular. The story is staged in small town Louisiana in the 1930's during the great depression.
An elderly black hobo "Jonah" shows up begging at the door of two ladies humble shotgun shack.
Though they are poor, they feed him. So he returns the kindness doing a couple of odd jobs to repay them. They take a somewhat mystical trusting, and immediate liking to Jonah and offer him a job.
Throughout their time together many amazingly good outcomes happen for the ladies and their families as they are touched by turmoil after turmoil. The story unfolds a murder and cover up involving a prominent Judge who turns out to be responsible for the hit and run death of one of the ladies husbands.
There is tragedy and death involved, but in the end, the human spirit is triumphant when they realize, only after Jonah has left their midst, that he had been an angel sent to help them through some otherwise horrible times.
RATING: 4 STARS
Review: I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
This book is a heartwarming story of an elderly black man who ends up at the door of two widows begging for food in rural Louisiana towards the end of the Great Depression. They can't afford much, but what they have, they generously offer to share with him, and in return, he offers to do odd jobs for them they have been unable to do themselves. Strange things start happening when he is around that help the women that he is with. It also happens to be where he is the only eye-witness to the murder of the husband of one of the widows.
Having grown up in Louisiana, and having my grandmother live through the Depression in New Orleans, I always wondered what it was like for them.I imagine that it wasn't quite as bad for my grandmother as it was in this story, as she held down a job and her husband was working at a well to do job as well. However, I saw a lot of that same kindred spirit of helping other people out in need in the women of this book that I knew in my grandmother growing up.
This is a wonderfully written story that will leave you scratching your head. Who is Jonah? An angel? He's definitely something more than what he appears and you will keep reading just to see what happens next with him.
About Vince Lane:
Vince Lane has been writing most of his life, he first began seriously writing literary material around 1980.? At the time he was a musician, singer/songwriter, poet, and professional entertainer living and working in Los Angeles, California.? As a writer he has always maintained an unabashed style, paying little if any attention to convention. Unlike many writers, he has never settled down into any particular genre having written sci-fi, horror, supernatural, literary, mystery, action adventure, justice, and experimental fiction in iambic pentameter.
"I have enjoyed writing what I like, what I want, the way I want, and I stay true to that artistic freedom to this day."-Vince Lane
From the International Award Winning EMILY STONE THRILLER SERIES:
Vigilante detective Emily Stone has covertly hunted down killers and closed more serial cases than most seasoned homicide cops combined. Her exceptional profiling skills and forensic techniques, along with deductive crime scene investigations, have made her a compelling force that cannot be beat.
She has reached her ultimate breaking point and now must face her toughest opponent yet – her biggest fears.
With preciseness, the Tick-Tock Killer has taken his next child victim and promised to dump the body precisely four days later, mocking police and the community. Stone struggles to balance her inner demons and ghosts from the past, against the wits of a brutal and cunning serial killer in an all-out battle of psychological warfare.
Can Stone save the next child in time? Dark Pursuit is an action-packed cat and mouse game that will take you to dark places rarely explored.
Twelve clocks hung on the wall in the living room, dining room, and kitchen areas. Each timepiece was precisely set to coincide with one another down to the exact second. Some clocks had chimes; some had high-tech sounding strikes, while others emitted the incessant click of the second hand. The chronometers proved an important part of any endeavor to be on time.
The clocks collaborated, announcing it was 4:00pm on Friday.
Kevin Werner had a daily ritual. His day began when most were leaving their jobs and heading home. He preferred the late afternoon and nighttime to perform his best work.
He spent exactly one hour each day making sure that everything in the house was neat, in its proper place, and organized. His personal grooming regime of shaving, teeth brushing, and shower was included and took up exactly fourteen minutes of the designated hour. Eating a meal was a separate ritual and earned the leisure time of a separate fifteen minutes.
He moved frequently and it took him a considerable amount of time to reorganize the house to his exact requirements. Most houses he occupied were large, remote, and not occupied in months. On some occasions, the large dwellings were vacant for years. All homes had basements, strong structures, more than three bedrooms, and heavy-duty hardware at the doors and windows.
His thoughts and strategies were never far from his next intervention. The replicas, thepretenders, were everywhere and growing exponentially. They were no better than the cold blooded reptiles that crawled along on their bellies.
Carefully gliding the straight razor over his face, he counted the seconds in his head. Numbers meant nothing to him, but time was everything. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. It never became mundane or a daily chore to gaze at the outline of his impression. He enjoyed studying the perfect contours of his face, smooth skin, and the way he looked after the grooming.
Perfection steeped in its rarest forms.
His entrance into the world was on time, exactly at the stroke of midnight thirty-one years ago. The doctor had predicted his birth. Most marveled at the accuracy, but Werner knew that he was special. Not special in how the media portrayed certain people by garish television shows, or by the amount of wealth one person obtained, but special in an exceptional and profound way, that made him the real thing.
He smiled. Small creases appeared at his mouth and eyes.
Werner’s mother was one of those rare individuals that were indeed special and she had passed the yet undiscovered gene down to him. No other child could, or ever be, compared to him. She made sure of it and taught him everything he knew. She made sure that she would never have another child again.
One winter night Werner recalled with vivid color detail, after she had become pregnant, he had helped her fall down the stairs to miscarry. The thumping sound as his mother’s body tumbled down the stairs remained ingrained in his memory. Her explanation was that no other child would outshine his special qualities. Other children were only replicas, imitations and facsimiles of a person. Death and extermination was the only recourse and females were the worst replicas because they beguiled most into believing that they were good.
Werner and his mother had spent hours together, learning, talking, sleeping, and experimenting. With every passing second, the level of their extraordinary beings morphed together and had become extraordinarily magnified, they were complete. It pained him deeply that she passed away to cancer three years ago. She was his mentor, confidant, and his only true love.
Werner brushed his teeth, exactly twenty brushings per section. He spit into the sink and marveled at the precise mouth discharge around the drain. It too had a special quality to it, foaming and glistening like a rare piece of artwork from a true master. He turned on the cold water and washed it away.
Next, he carefully combed his dark brown hair in place. The last and final piece of the grooming ritual was getting dressed. He could have stayed in front of the mirror naked and admired his physique for another hour, but he had work to do. His mother showed him why he was special many times, and encouraged him to experiment with his body.
After contemplating for exactly one minute, he decided to dress and get to work. Forced to vacate his favorite visiting place, the newest obstacle, a full-grown replica, made him frown. The small cabin was a place where he and his mother visited frequently and it had a sentimental value for him.
He knew that nothing ever stayed the same, and it was his time to evolve into his next new time period. The part that angered him was that he wanted to make the decision to move to another location on his own direction – not under someone else’s timeframe.
Werner sat down at his desk, tapped the spacebar on the keyboard, and the flat screen awoke. The brightness filled the room. The monitor projected a blank background with a large digital image of the day, month, temperature, and time. He clicked on a folder labeled new project.
A photo gallery appeared.
Additional computer folders alphabetically organized were by a pseudonym and date of extermination. He knew the names of the little girl replicas, but he preferred naming them what he felt was appropriate and not their phony birth names.
He clicked on his last file entry.
An array of photographs appeared and exhibited expressions of a little girl from happy to terrified. He documented his victims with care and with the eye of a well-seasoned police photographer. The computer gave the evidence of his work from stakeouts to death. He loved to look at them when he was feeling down and missing his mother.
Jeannie Sanders was a smart little girl and tried many ways to deceive him with her pleads and even well placed compliments. She was crafty and could manipulate with her lies. Werner decided that her pseudonym would be reptilia because she spoke of honest words, but was completely cold on the inside. His favorite image was after he slit her throat – peaceful and quiet. He had contemplated whether or not cut her snake-like tongue out, but the timing was not absolute. Perhaps another time would present itself.
His eyes scanned the folders and stopped on one titled stranger. He stared at the screen for more than two minutes until it became blurry and his eyes stung from not blinking. Slowly he moved the mouse and pressed his index finger against the button to open the file.
A photo of a blonde woman lying on her side came into view.
Werner marveled at the sight of her. He had never seen a grown woman look dead before except in the movies. Her athletic body, curvy figure, firm breasts, and her bloody face kindled something deep within him. His mother warned him about women like her, clever, beautiful, resourceful, but even he could see that she was different. He thought he had taken care of her on the road. He loved the sight of the car careening over the edge. That imagery kept him fulfilled in the dark hours.
She had surprised him with her stealth and ability to find his hideout. The gun barrel pointed at him with the look of determination on her face, but he could sense that she was scared. She appeared driven, but haunted. It reflected in her dark eyes as if she had seen a ghost. Of course, no one would be able to get the upper hand against him ever because his mother watched over him, and she made sure of his safety.
Thank you Mama.
His mother had told him to act quickly and he seized the moment without hesitation. With a punch to the face, the woman fell instantly to the ground. He beat her several times and was going to kill her, but something had stopped him. A strange prickly feeling flooded through his body. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before. In an unexpected way, he felt that she was a small part of him or at least understood him. It occurred to Werner that the woman was a part of something much bigger. He spared her life and dumped her in the grave.
He knew she would be coming after him.
Werner pushed the print button on the keyboard. The buzz of the printer ejected an eight by ten photograph of Emily Stone. The piece of paper slid into the tray. He snatched up the image and studied it for exactly one minute, scrutinizing every detail from her position to the curves of her body.
“What’s your name pretty lady?” He smiled as he ran his index finger over her outline. “Don’t you worry; we will see each other again.”
Next time he would not spare her life.
About the author:
Jennifer Chase is an award-winning author and consulting criminologist. She has authored five crime fiction novels, including the award-winning Emily Stone thriller series along with a screenwriting workbook.
Jennifer holds a Bachelor degree in police forensics and a Master's degree in criminology. These academic pursuits developed out of her curiosity about the criminal mind as well as from her own experience with a violent sociopath, providing Jennifer with deep personal investment in every story she tells. In addition, she holds certifications in serial crime and criminal profiling. She is an affiliate member of the International Association of Forensic Criminologists. Twitter:https://twitter.com/JChaseNovelist Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Jennifer-Chase/208188122534165 Blog/Website:http://authorjenniferchase.com/
What you do tomorrow, you'll pay for today.
Life was easier in the cage, now Lara Crane’s life is under a microscope.
She thought she was out, ready for a normal life, but with the Feds endless questions and tests, Lara realizes she might never be free.
Things would be worse if not for Donovan. They promise to ride it out together as Lara is fitted with a time travel restraint, designed to not only stop her, but to save her life as her mind spirals out of control. No more second chances. No more time travel to revert everything back the way it was once before.
As the danger increases, so does Lara’s headaches and nightmares. Her brain is desperate to be free, loose, and as the future begins to flash all around her, Lara is terrified the end might be near.
And maybe she doesn’t have a future at all.
I could write this in the third person. I could tell you what I like, where I was born, and what my favorite things are.
But instead, I'll say I don't want to write like everyone else. I don't want to craft stories you've read a thousand times before. I want my novels to be a cinematic experience, blending themes, genres, and situations unlike any you've ever read.
I want to break the rules. I want you to break out in a cold sweat as you read my books out of fear, love, and excitement. I want my books to be an experience. When you finish, I want you to feel something. Good or bad.
If there’s one thing that Bridgette Reynolds has learned recently, it’s that the perfect shoes, the perfect hair, and the perfect dress do not make for the perfect proposal. In fact, sometimes they make for the not-so-perfect breakup.
Now, Bridgette must do everything in her power to win Adam back. She knows they are meant to be. And nothing will stand in her way—not her friends, not her grandmother, not even the fact that Adam is now engaged to Serene after a whirlwind romance.
Focused on her plan to win Adam back, Bridgette isn’t expecting Ian—her college best friend, her love, her big regret—to come back into her life. They sink back into their comfortable friendship as if no time has passed at all, making Bridgette start to question her feelings for Adam. But Ian has a few secrets of his own . . . secrets that could shatter their friendship once and for all.
Bridgette has to make some major decisions—should she speak now? Or forever hold her peace?
“Oh! Speaking of Ian,” I interrupt, remembering I haven’t told Gram about seeing Ian last night.
“Sorry to cut you off, but you’re never going to believe who I ran into last night,” I smile, thinking about seeing those beautiful, green eyes again.
“Well, don’t leave me wondering. Who?”
“Ian Davies! Remember from college?”
“Well, isn’t that interesting,” she says, cocking her head thoughtfully to the side.
“You don’t have a clue who I’m talking about, do you Gram,” I know the look on her face well.
“I think I just need a little reminder. The mind isn’t so stable these days.” She taps the side of her head with her index finger.
I guess I shouldn’t find it incredibly disconcerting that she doesn’t remember. She only met him once or twice. Although, all I talked about for the first year I lived with her was Ian. But then Adam came along, and he’s pretty much all I was able to talk about after that. Poor Gram. Who wouldn’t want to repress all this boy crap I spew? I need to work on finding other things to discuss besides men. But not now.
“Ian was the guy who was my best friend in college.” I look to see if her memory has been jogged. Apparently not sufficiently.
“Remember, we were friends freshman through junior year, and then it turned into something more when we were seniors? I brought him to Goshen a few times.”
“Okay, yes, yes I do remember now. Handsome fellow, with the green eyes.” Her face lights up as she remembers. I think as you get older, your mind starts to pick and choose what information can stay in and what needs to go to make room for more. For her, Ian was just a blip in my life, a memory that could be easily replaced. For me, Ian is one of those people who will be burned in my brain forever. Just like Adam. You never forget the people you love. Especially the ones you give your heart to. About the author: By day, Becky Monson is a mother to three young children, and a wife. By night, she escapes with reading books and writing. In her debut novel, Becky uses humor and true-life experiences to bring her characters to life. She loves all things chick-lit (movies, books, etc.), and wishes she had a British accent. She has recently given up Diet Coke for the fiftieth time and is hopeful this time will last... but it probably won't.
Content Warning: Violence, adult language, and minor sexual content
Recommended Age: 14+
Synopsis:
Cain Foley committed his first murder before he could even drive a car. Not that he would've had anywhere to drive to. When he was fifteen, America was one of the poorest countries in the world, and its’ citizens took their hatred of that fact out on each other through gangs and violence. Children barely tall enough for carnival rides peppered the streets selling drugs (or themselves) so they could buy their next meal.
Every night on the news, Cain watched as an angelic blonde woman who lost her own child swore she’d end it. She assaulted America’s televisions with praise for the Parental Morality Law: a set of rules that spells out exactly what it takes to be a parent in the eyes of the government, and the consequences of breaking those rules. He prayed every night that she’d come to rescue him before his father took off his belt again.
Before she could save him, Cain faced a fatal choice: fight back or die on the basement floor.
He chose life.
Now on the run, he finds himself being hunted by a police officer with his own special brand of torture. Before he can save even a handful of the children who have been swept up in the gang life, he must first cover up not one, but two murders: his father’s and one committed by a teenage madam who is either the love of his life, or his final undoing. As he feels himself being pushed further and further to the edge, he realizes that surviving his father was just the beginning.
Excerpt from Burning Doors (The Extraction List #2) by Renee N. Meland:
The first time I killed someone, it was an accident. Though I guess it was the kind of accident that happens when you squeeze your hands around someone’s neck for too long, or when you shove someone who is standing too close to the edge of a building. In my case, I accidentally killed my father when I beat him to death with a pipe.
He had set me up that night, I’m sure of it. I was always careful to leave the TV volume down so I wouldn't be caught. But when I flipped the power on that night, the news roared. The woman I wanted to see was there, giving a speech like always, but her voice came out with the force of thunder. Sweat drenched my body when I heard the door to my parents’ upstairs bedroom fly open and hit the wall. The foundation shook and so did my limbs. I sat frozen in a seated position as I heard his footsteps. All I could focus on were his shiny patent leather shoes coming toward me. Even in the middle of the night, he took the time to slip them on.
I could smell him before I even saw his feet. He constantly stunk of mouthwash and old cologne; it was some putrid mix of sandalwood and beach vacations that we would never take. He cackled as he stepped toward me, so the minty air from his breath reached me before his hand did. I felt my head hit the floor before I felt the familiar sting in my cheek.
“You’re so stupid. You really think you’ll ever leave here? Where do you think you’re going to go, huh? You need me. She hasn't come for you and she never will!” He kicked me in the side with his foot.
My stomach clenched from the impact.
I usually kept quiet when he hit me. At most, I would agree with whatever he was saying to stop him before he did real damage.
It never worked.
No matter what I said, or didn't say, the blows would keep coming. My mother was always conveniently upstairs, but no one can tell me she couldn't hear the snap of his belt or the furniture rattle as he shoved me into it.
That night was different. Maybe it was watching the woman from the television, or maybe it was the way his smile stretched across his face as he struck me, I don’t know. But when he was finished and heading back upstairs, I spat towards him.
My cheeks burned as I did it. In fact, my whole body felt like it was on fire. But I’d be lying if I said I wished I could take it back. Even when he turned, eyes wide when he noticed the wad of saliva glistening on the concrete floor, I didn't regret it one bit.
I may have even cracked a smile.
About the Author:
Renee N. Meland lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two dogs. Her favorite obsessions are Rome, learning new recipes, and exploring the world around her. She is an avid reader of speculative fiction, and believes that telling stories is the best job in the world.
Synopsis: Wife to
a gambler who took one too many risks, Rahab finds herself sold as a slave to
cover her husband's debt. Forced into prostitution by Dabir, counselor to the
Syrian king, Rahab despairs of ever regaining her freedom and her self-respect.
But when Israelite spies enter Jericho
and come to lodge at her house, Rahab sees a glimmer of hope and the
opportunity of a lifetime. In one risky moment, she takes a leap of faith, puts
her trust in a God she does not know, and vows to protect the spies from the
authorities. When the armies of Israel arrive weeks later, Rahab hopes they
will keep their promise, but she has no idea what kind of challenges await her
outside Jericho's walls--or if she will ever know the meaning of love.
My Review: I
received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I have completely fallen in love with Jill Eileen Smith as
an author of Biblical fiction. It started with Sarai, the story of Sarah, and
from there I was hooked. She does such an incredible job of bringing each of
the characters to life and introducing them to the reader. After finishing one
of her books, the readers truly feels as if they know the character personally
and have walked beside them. Her characters stay with you long after the book
is put away.
From the first page I was transported into biblical Jericho,
the famed, walled city that no one could get past. The story of the spies and
Rahab is dry, as is most of the Bible. The author brings these rather boring
stories into beautiful color and life, giving each character depth and beauty,
even the ugliest of characters.
If you have never read Jill Eileen Smith before, this is an
author you really should add to your bookshelf.
Synopsis: SwanLake meets Robin Hood when the
beautiful daughter of a wealthy merchant by day becomes the region's most
notorious poacher by night, and falls in love with the gamekeeper.
Jorgen is the gamekeeper for the wealthy margrave, and he is
in pursuit of the poacher who has been killing and stealing the margrave's
game. When he meets the lovely and refined Odette at the festival and shares a
connection during a dance, he has no idea that at night she is the one who has
been poaching the margrave's game.
Odette is caught up in a ring of black market sellers of
poached animals. She thinks the game is going to feed the poor, who are all but
starving, both in the city and just outside its walls. However, most of the
animals are being sold by the greedy leader of the ring-her stepfather. When
Odette discovers what he is doing, she threatens to expose him, putting herself
in great danger.
The gamekeeper finds her poaching one night and shoots her,
wounding her. When he realizes who she is, he hides her to keep her from being
executed by the margrave and also to protect her from her stepfather. Jorgen
and Odette will band together to stop the black market poaching ring . . . as
they fall in love. But what will the margrave do when he discovers his
gamekeeper is protecting a notorious poacher?
My Review: I
received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I enjoyed this retelling of SwanLake. I have never read the actual
fairy tale, only watched the animated movie with my children many, many, many
times. I enjoyed the story itself, though I could have put it down a few times
and walked away. It didn’t capture me so wholly that I couldn’t put it down.
As like the previous books from this collection, just
because the protagonist happens to like to read the Bible, and calls on God a
lot, I don’t see how this makes it into a Christian fiction book. It’s just
part of the character make-up. I didn’t see a lot of inner character
development of Odette or Jorgen. That disappointed me.
Overall, it was a nice book to read as a loose retelling of
a fairytale, but it could have been better.
Category: Supernatural, Historical Fiction, Literary Fiction
About Vince Lane:
