Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Dreamspring Gazette

Hey all!

Dreamspring Design has a mailing list! I was looking for a better way to stay in touch with my authors. My own eclectic system of posting on Facebook, here, LinkedIn and sometimes Google + isn't really working. So, I came to the conclusion that a mailing list and monthly newsletter was the way to go. So, that's the plan. A monthly newsletter with updates, notice of sales, probably some exclusive coupons, etc. So, I thought I'd post about it here and let everyone know what's up! I'm also putting the form here, so you can sign up if you like. The form is also in the sidebar, just under my bio, so you can sign up there, too.

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Sunday, July 28, 2013

Summer Sale!

For the next week, until August 2nd, I'm offering 25% off all my pre-mades!  That includes premade original art covers, premium premades, and even the ones already in the sale bin! 

Come and check them out!

Monday, July 22, 2013

Book Debut: Where Wild Ponies Ran by Bil and Bon Franks

Guess what's just come out?  Where Wild Ponies Ran by Bill and Bon Franks, the fourth book in their enchanting Twilight of Magic Saga!  You can find it at MuseItUp or Amazon, but if you buy it on the MuseItUp you also get a free copy of the Caylith Songbook!

Back Cover Blurb

 Now a beautiful young lady of seventeen, Caylith has several admirers. In spite of personal attractions and heartaches, she leads the first wave of of Faerie and Britannia immigrants to the shores of Éire (Ireland).

In this untamed pagan land now lives the one faithful person she has set herself to helping on his mission—the venerable priest Father Patrick. Once there, she meets a mysterious clansman who proves to be almost irresistible. Even the kindly Patrick warns her about the dangers of letting her “wild pony” run free.

But there is more to this land than romance, for rumors speak of an evil cattle baron who keeps slaves and another man bent on destroying her happiness. Finally, if Caylith and her band wish to live here in peace, she will have to seek out the throne of the high king himself.

Will Caylith succumb to the young men who seem too immature to understand her mission? Will her heart seek the mysterious, handsome man whom she may never see again? Or will she turn from love in order to help her friend Patrick?

One thing is certain—Caylith will live in the beautiful place called Ireland where she has brought her people, in the land WHERE WILD PONIES RAN, the last of The Twilight of Magic sagas.


I saw Liam, his athletic form stretched out beneath the canopy of a stand of young rowans.

“Liam. Dia duit,” I said guardedly. I stood still, but I did not approach him, still mortified at our earlier misunderstanding.

“Come.” He sat up, his back resting against a rowan trunk. He patted the ground next to him.

Without a translator, I felt helpless. Even with Brother Mark next to me this morning, I had managed to create a small disaster.

“Very well.” I sat at least two feet from him and waited for him to say something—anything—for I was suddenly speechless.

He held his hand out to me. I pretended not to notice. “Mo chara. Friend.”

“Yes, friends.” I smiled a little. It was getting hard to see his face in the quickening twilight, and I would have to either move closer or lose the thread of understanding that his eyes and face afforded.

He leaned forward then, and his surprising height allowed his face to get within six inches of my own. “Póg dom,” he murmured, and I knew right away what he had said. I moved my face away, but his hand caught my chin gently, and he directed my mouth onto his own.

Here was the fourth man I had ever kissed—but the very first mustache. I felt somehow pleased, somewhere between a tingle and a tickle, and I let myself yield to the delight. His lips were very warm. I let the sensation continue for a few heartbeats, for his slow, sweet tongue was just beginning to force my mouth open just a little…

“Oh!” I pulled back and stood.

I could just see Liam in the twilight, leaning back on one elbow, regarding me with amusement.

“Oh!” I fled into the gathering dusk.

At last back under my own little tree I had picked out earlier, I sank to my knees and expelled a great sigh. I wished I could learn to keep men’s attentions away until I was ready to handle the consequences. What was I doing wrong?

“My friend,” came a tiny bell-like voice. “Your eyes give you away.”

I straightened instantly, wary, knowing that my very thoughts had been plucked like ripe rowan-berries. “Magpie?”

“Yes, darling Caylith,” she said. “I will draw nearer.”

And then I saw little Magpie Feather; her freckled face, little snub nose, and jade eyes were slowly taking shape from somewhere behind my rowan tree.

“Ah, SoothTeller, I need your counsel.”

“I know.” Her carefree red hair, so much like my own, flew about her face.

“I wish I had you to talk to three weeks ago when I wondered at the nature of a kiss,” I confided. “Now it is well nigh too late, for I think I have kissed every kind of kiss there is.”

“I doubt it,” she said drily. “But please—ask me what you need to know.”

“Magpie, why does it seem that now of a sudden men want…something from me? I am no different now than a week ago or a month ago. But something has changed.”

“Caylith, what has changed is your way of looking at certain men. And they can see in your eyes that you, um, want them, at some level.”

“Then I must school my eyes to lie.”

“Then the trust will never have a chance to grow.”

“So what should I do, Magpie?”

“First, until you are more sure of your, ah, growing up, lean away from those same men, and toward something else.”

“But will they not think I am cold and uncaring?”

“Perhaps, but I think there needs to be something, or someone, that matters right now more than those men. They will see it, and they will respect it.”

“And what would that something be?” But of course I knew the answer.

“I want you to discover that for yourself, Caylith. And I am sure you will.”

Her little voice had become no more than a Faerie wind chime. I sank to my grassy bed, thinking about my old friend Father Patrick, and let her words follow me into sleep.

About the Authors

Bil Franks was born near Boston, Massachusetts. He studied at the University of Texas (Austin, TX). Bil is a USAF retiree who has learned the finer points of small arms, martial arts and military history. He is also an avid reader of Fantasy literature. Bil has loaned his extensive knowledge of these fields to the three books of The Twilight of Magic saga. His insights into military matters means that males as well as females will enjoy reading the series.

Bon Franks hails from a small Nevada town. She earned a BA (English) and MA (Comparative Literature) from the University of Southern California. Bon’s interests include language and literature--especially the junction of the two. Her other interests in herbology, mythology, and folklore are revealed also throughout The Twilight of Magic Saga.

Bil and Bon now live in a small town in central Texas with several rowdy cats.

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Looking for Resource Recommendations!

Hey everyone!

I'm looking to create a few resource posts on here on Dreamspring. I'd like to get recommendations from y'all for freelance professionals: editors, marketers, formatters, reviewers, bloggers, printers, anyone you've worked with in the creation of your books, that you would like to let other writers know about! And, if you do freelance work of any kind, I'd love to hear from you as well!

Friday, July 19, 2013

Book Debut: Time Out by C.E. Chessher

Released today we have C.E. Chessher's newest!  It's the next book in the South Texas Mystery Series and it's called Time Out!  You can check it out over on MuseItup!  Or watch the trailer!


Back Cover Blurb

An investigation of Pettrolius Schools Athletic Director Ray Willis’ murder exposes a bed-hopping trail that shocks and titillates Coast Bend oil town Pettrolius.

Described by critics as “a womanizer who can’t keep his zipper closed,” Willis is found shot dead in his office.

As the deadline approaches for the first annual Oil Jamboree Parade, Boycott Mayvale organizer Ruthanne Heggeman, enters the fray, pressuring newspaper editor Glennis Dunning and Deputy Sheriff Jake Briggs to “get the lead out.” A killer and an arsonist are terrorizing Pettrolius, and if the mayhem continues, county-seat Mayvale threatens to pull the plug on the Oil Jamboree.

Continuing petroleum industry labor strife and racial tensions add to the volatile mix in this troubled town plagued by the shadowy aftermath of long-simmering rivalries, political intrigue, and a lingering pall cast by an old Indian curse.


On the west side of Pawnee, a town of three hundred people, Glennis’ reverie dissipated when a gray Crown Vic darted from a side street and began following her. Her heart leaped in her chest.

Damn. Someone is tailing me. Again?

On a desolate stretch of highway between Pawnee and Oakdale, she floored the Belvedere until the Crown Vic was a mere speck in the rearview mirror. A moment later, she crossed a knoll, and the Crown Vic disappeared. She breathed a sigh of relief, but past a curve, she noticed a HiPo cruiser idling at a roadside park.

She let off the gas, but it was too late. The cruiser flipped on its dome light and took out after her.

Damn. I don’t need this—please.

Resigned to a citation, Glennis pulled off the highway and waited for the officer to approach the car.

It was Ron Kidman, the same officer who had helped investigate the Ray Willis murder scene in Pettrolius.

“Evening, ma’am,” Kidman said, lifting his hat as he peered inside the Belvedere. “You seem to be in a hurry this afternoon. Do you have some kind of emergency?”

Glennis wanted to blurt out the whole sordid truth.

You bet this is an emergency. A man in a Crown Vic is tailing me, and I don’t have the slightest idea who it is. A shooter is running loose in Pettrolius, and no one knows if it’s the same man who killed Ray Willis. An arsonist is torching buildings and no one knows who that is, either. It’s too much, too soon, and I don’t know who to deal with it, okay? I’m not a trained investigator; I’m just a lowly newspaper reporter, and I’m tired.

“Hello, officer. I guess my foot got a little heavy,” she heard herself say. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately…”

He peered at her for a few moments, as if examining a science specimen. “You need to take it easy, Miz Dunning. We all know the pressure you’ve been under lately…with the murder and all.”

Kidman’s words and his manner sliced through her like a dull knife, reopening old wounds that had never healed. Her heart went into overdrive as clashing thoughts fought for dominance.

Tell him.

No, he’ll never believe you.

Tell him. What do you have to lose?

Finally, it was too late to stop the words that escaped her mouth. “Someone is following me.”

That got his attention. He glanced toward the section of highway that led east toward Pawnee. “Who’s following you, ma’am?”

“I don’t know who it is. A man driving a gray Crown Vic. He followed me all the way to San Antonio one day.”

He glanced back at the highway again. “I don’t see anyone, ma’am.”

Her cheek flinched from an involuntary spasm.

Damn. He’ll think I’m lying.

“The car came out of nowhere. I tried to outrun him. That’s why I was speeding.”

This time, he eyed her compassionately, a look a preacher might use with a wayward congregant. Flipping open his ticket book, he began to write on it. “I’m going to give you a warning this time, Miz Dunning.” He tore off the ticket and handed it to her. “But I want you to take it easy, okay. Take it from someone who’s been there. You need to get away from Pettrolius for a day or two. Longer, if you can swing it.”

He tipped his hat again. “Good day, ma’am.” Then he walked back to his patrol car, crawled inside, and waited for Glennis to pull back onto the highway.

About the Author

Charles Chessher, MLS, MA, works as a librarian at Rogers State University in Claremore, OK.  Charles has worked in newspapers, technical writing, and teaching.  He lives in Tulsa, OK