The Owl of the Sipan Lord: A paranormal mystery by Viv Drewa

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Martin and Clare Montgomery worked together as an archaeological team until Martin mysteriously died. Fearing the rumors of a curse Clare vowed to never return that was until a rare blue eyes owl began to haunt her dreams. Was this a sign from her beloved Martin or something more sinister?

WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING ABOUT THTHE BOOK!

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Watch out Indiana Jones!, October 31, 2014
This review is from: The Owl of the Sipan Lord (Kindle Edition)
Clare Montgomery is an Archaeologist, she used to go to digs with her husband Martin. When he dies she stays away from the place where he was killed. She is drawn back to find some answers. Teaming up with Cord, a man who has always secretly loved her, and a few others the group heads to Peru to discover the secrets of The temple of the moon, El Brujo and…

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Midnight owl by Viv Drewa featured in MYSTERY GONE MAD

               MYSTERY GONE MAD                                 MIDNIGHT OWL

EXCERPTS FROM MIDNIGHT OWL

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Carole didn’t understand it. She just said it was a ‘gut feeling’ and left it at that. The only thing she didn’t like about this ‘gift’, was knowing when people were going to die. No matter how hard she tried to ignore the signs they always haunted her. What was she going to do with it anyway? She didn’t want it and didn’t like it. And, unfortunately, that was all her gift was, knowing when people would die. Her mother, on the other hand, could tell when something was going to happen; good or bad. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, even though her family and Karen knew, but the real reason she didn’t want to get involved with anyone was because she saw her fiancée’s death. The vision upset her and when the car crash actually happened, she was devastated. Brent and Carole had dated for almost two years before he proposed. They set a date and had started making all the arrangements when the accident happened. From that time on she decided she wouldn’t get involved with anyone. She didn’t want to feel that pain ever again.

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Carrington, who was slightly leaning over the arm, jumped a little and turned to see Leverette. “Hi,” was all he said as he gained his composure. “Think it’s from the same gal?” Leverette asked as he looked at the right arm. “Nails are painted the same red, and the cut looks the same. I think it might be. Won’t know for sure,” he said as he straightened himself. “I heard they found another arm at a home,” Leverette said. “Yeah, Marcie’s at that one. Barb called just now and said she’s pretty sure it’s the same woman. The other leg, that is.” “I wonder how much more he cut up,” Leverette said. “I was wondering the same thing,” Carrington said. “He might have removed the head and cut the body into pieces. Won’t know until, or if, we get the rest of her.”

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“Let me put the other tape in,” he said, ejecting the first one and putting in the second. He fast forwarded to just before the time stamp on the first tape. As he got closer to the time, with Leverette and Marsden looking over his shoulders, he stopped the tape. “There’s a figure there,” Marsden said. “Can you wind it back a bit?” “You bet,” Andy said and wound it back about ten minutes and let it play. The three watched as a dark figure approached and looked up into the camera. It held up the arm as if taunting them. Then it walked the few steps to the pallets and laid it right on the top palette. It turned, looked back up at the camera, saluted and walked away.viv drewa

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Owl & Pussycat promotions presents:TIMELESS HOPE by Jamie Lynn Boothe

jamie cover Timeless Hope A Collection

A collection of Romantic and Inspirational short stories that will reach into your soul and deeply into your heart. Walk with the characters and see what they have to say.

littleredshoes2    Little Red Shoes…a young widowed mother who has an angel for a six-year-old daughter. Her father, who was killed in Iraq talks to her in her dreams and stays connected with her. A day comes when she sees an opportunity to do something good and she doesn’t pass it up.

   pizap.com14701512172551.jpg  A Fireside Request…a love story about an older man and woman who live in a retirement community. Both are alone and both are in love, but neither has had the courage to tell the other. Read what happens as love arrives again when you think you may be too old for it.

pizap.com14701532598771.jpgThe Miracle…a touching story of hope and faith during a man’s struggle with what life has thrown at him. He’s given an opportunity when he doesn’t even realize it. Does he make the right choice and what happens when he chooses? Take a moment and see what unfolds when a Higher Power steps in.

A petal from a rose    A Petal from a Rose…Can a dream really become a reality? When Steven dreams every single night of the woman he has always hoped for he thinks he is losing his mind. When she begins to leave him something on his pillow he’s almost convinced until something unimaginable happens.

butterfly2.jpg       Butterfly…a young woman struggles with pain and loss and lives within personal boundaries that hold her down. Can she overcome the pain, transform and find her true meaning in life?

TIMELESS HOPE

AMAZON:

https://www.amazon.com/Timeless-Hope-Collection-Jamie-Boothe-ebook/dp/B01IQOBJC4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1471878304&sr=8-1&keywords=timeless+Hope

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

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Jamie Lynn Boothe is from the south and will always be a southerner at heart. He currently lives in Connecticut. Jamie loves to write stories that will touch someone’s heart and soul to the depths and at the same time have them sitting on the edge of their seat. He is currently with Limitless Publishing and is excited about what the future holds. Along with writing he also enjoys reading, art, music, movies, cats, naps on occasion, coffee and time with friends and watching sports. His favorite teams are the Dallas Cowboys and New York Yankees.

CHECK OUT OWL & PUSSYCAT PROMOTIONS

ON FACEBOOK:

https://www.facebook.com/owlcatproduction/

CONTACT VIV DREWA AT:the-owl-lady@att.net for information.

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FEATURING CHUCK LOVATT

 

THE CHARLIE SMITHERS COLLECTION

 

THE ADVENTURES OF CHARLIE SMITHERS

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Harry Flashman, step aside, old son. Make way for Charlie Smithers.

“Poetic prose and humorous undertones that are wildly entertaining.” ~ Serious Reading

The time is the nineteenth century. The place, the Serengeti Plain, where one Charlie Smithers – faithful manservant to the arrogant bone-head, Lord Brampton (with five lines in Debrett, and a hopeless shot to boot) – becomes separated from his master during an unfortunate episode with an angry rhinoceros, thereby launching Charlie on an odyssey into Deepest Darkest Africa, and subsequently into the arms of the beautiful Loiyan…and that’s where the trouble really begins.

Maasai warriors, xenophobic locals, or evil Arab slavers, the two forbidden lovers encounter everything that the unforgiving jungle can throw at them.

CHARLIE SMITHERS ADVENTURES IN INDIA

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Book 2 of the best-selling Charlie Smithers Collection

Flashman’s alter ego returns!

Four years after Charlie returns from Africa, having survived a charging rhinoceros, ravenous crocodiles, fierce Maasai warriors, and evil slavers (not to mention inadvertently discovering the source of the Nile,) we find him in India. Yes, that’s right, his master, Lord Brampton, accompanied by his beloved guns, appalling aim, and the ever-faithful Charlie Smithers, has decided to go adventuring again.

Unfortunately not everything goes according to plan and, in an effort to prevent a war, our hero finds himself on a madcap expedition to the reclusive kingdom of Bhutan, saving the life of the ravishing Charula Khaur along the way.

With (amongst other things) ferocious tigers, sweltering jungle, snow-packed mountains, hostile natives, and the undying gratitude of a beautiful woman, Charlie has his work cut out for him!

CHARLIE SMITHERS ADVENTURES DOWN UNDER

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Flashman never experienced anything like this, not even remotely!

Whether it’s because of his gift of the ‘sight,’ inherited from his dour old Hebridean mum, or simply a sorely battered noggin (a result of his master’s appalling aim)the Australias hold one of Charlie Smithers’ most intriguing adventures to date.
Pirates, great white sharks, mermaids, scorching deserts, cannibals and a small army of sadistic bushrangers are only part of the story. A mysterious gunslinging sheila with emerald green eyes, and a shocking vocabulary, is another adventure all on its own.

And throughout the tale there is the innocuous message from a ghost from Charlie’s past: “You must learn to forgive…”

JOSIAH STUBB: THE SIEGE OF LOUISBOURG

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It is 1758 and The Seven Years War is raging. The military might of the British and French empires collide in a desperate bid to control the key strategic Fortress of Louisbourg and, in turn, Quebec and French-held North America.

One man caught amidst the bloodshed is the young grenadier, Josiah Stubb. Raised by a whore amidst poverty and incest, Josiah seemed doomed from birth to a life in the gutter. His attempt to leave his sordid past behind leads him to Louisbourg, but it comes back to haunt him in the form of a gifted officer, battling his own inner demons.

As the siege blazes towards its inevitable bloody climax, will Josiah live to overcome the formidable obstacles that keep him chained to his past, or will his aspirations for a better life die with him on the brooding shores of Ile Royale?

AND THEN IT RAINED

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A collection of award-winning short stories.

Rain, that natural wonder, so natural, in fact that often it comes and goes scarcely noticed. However, metaphorical or otherwise, there are times when rain brings with it great change, causing the breath-taking beauty of rainbows or the cataclysmic destruction of floods, with equal indifference. This collection – an eclectic mix of humour, drama, and fantasy – is about those uncertain times. Dark clouds are forming, so you had better be prepared for the coming storm…

ABOUT CHUCK LOVATT

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CHUCKS AMAZON PAGE

C. W. Lovatt, the author of the best selling Charlie Smithers Collection, and the critically acclaimed “Josiah Stubb,” began his writing career in the short story field. Some of these have been included in his latest release, “And Then It Rained,” an eclectic collection of novellas and award winning tales.pizap.com14711208950281

 

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COMING SOON~~PREORDER NOW!

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A SNEAK PEAK AT SWAMP GHOSTS

                                          MYSTERY GONE MAD      AND    SWAMP GHOSTS

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PROLOGUE

THE CAR BUMPED and rocked as he drove down the rutted dirt road, steering by a wash of silver light from the gibbous moon. Only a few more nights until it was completely full, making the road nearly as bright as it would be by day, but there was still enough light tonight to see that the way ahead was clear—except for the tall grasses and weeds, indicating no one had driven the road in a long time. That was all the visibility he needed. Not much chance of meeting anyone along such a remote stretch of river, anyway, especially since the state had bought this entire tract of land a few years ago, and chained off all the roads, posting No Access signs everywhere. Still, he wasn’t going to tempt fate by turning on his headlights. Not with what he was carrying in the back on this summer night.

Should be nearing the old canoe launch any time now.

He squinted, peering at the road ahead, waiting to see moonlight on water, and sure enough, there it was. Slowing down, he pulled the SUV into the small turn-around, cut the engine and climbed out, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders to release the tension from the long drive.

The drive’s always the most dangerous part. Too many ways for something to go wrong. Too many things I can’t control. But no need to worry about that now. No one stopped me. No one even noticed me. And here I am. Just me and the mosquitoes.

Of course, that wasn’t true. There were plenty of other things in his immediate vicinity, but he paid no attention to the sounds of a Florida river at night. Green tree frogs and narrow-mouthed toads sang in a shrill chorus, punctuated now and then by the loud “Kronk!” of the much larger pig frogs. Small animals slipping through the palmettos and underbrush rustled here and there. The high-pitched chirps of flying squirrels sounded from the trees, until the soft trill of a screech owl made them take cover. The night was full of noises, all ignored, as he walked to the rear of his vehicle and opened the tailgate. He eyed the bundle inside with irritation.

Hate hauling that dead weight, dammit! May as well get to it, though. It’s not gonna get any lighter while I stand here wasting time.

And with that thought, he dragged the bundle halfway out and lifted it up over one broad shoulder, bending slightly under the load. Then he walked down to the water’s edge and stopped for a brief moment, considering.

Nope. Way too shallow here. Too easy to spot, in case someone ever does paddle this way again.

Instead, he turned to his right and made his way down a narrow and heavily overgrown path that followed the curve of the stream. It was slow going for a hundred yards or more, with branches and palmetto fronds slapping him in the face and scraping at his arms. Sweat trickled down into his eyes, stinging like fury, but even as hot as he was, he was glad he had thought to wear long sleeves. They at least afforded him a bit of protection from scratches and the relentless mosquitoes, which swarmed his head in a hungry cloud. Repellent kept most of them from biting, but it was hard to breathe without sucking them into his mouth or nose, and their humming grew louder with every slow step he took.

Gritting his teeth, he shifted the weight on his shoulder, and plowed ahead.

Seems to be a longer haul each time, but it can’t be much farther now.

He pushed his way through the worst of the underbrush, and there it was—a small open area on a raised embankment, about four feet above the water. He walked to the edge and dumped his burden on the dirt beside him. Taking a deep breath, he stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders once more.

Damn. Ought to be an easier way to do this. Probably is. But not likely to be as efficient.

Untying the lengths of white rope from each end of his bundle, he opened up the blue plastic tarp. For a moment, he admired his handiwork, once again congratulating himself on his hunting skills, and his ability to outsmart the law. Those clowns had no idea who they were up against.

Snickering, he dragged the tarp closer to the water’s edge. He snapped it sharply toward himself, lifting up on the edge of the plastic, and spilling the contents down the bank, where they landed with a splash in the shallow water below. He stood there, folding up the tarp and watching the moonlit surface of the creek. Within seconds, ripples appeared on the other side, rushing toward him, but slowing as they neared his offering. He waited just long enough to watch the huge head come out of the water, jaws wide, before he turned and walked away. The sounds of thrashing and tearing followed him halfway back to his car.

Alligators. Nature’s best garbage disposals. Soon, there won’t be much left of that little package for anyone to find.

He tossed the folded tarp into his car, and climbed in, just as the first fat raindrops began splatting against his dusty windshield. Within seconds, the water was coming down like only a Florida rainstorm can, heavy and fast. It would be over just as quickly as it started, but not before wiping away all traces of his visit.

He snickered again. Right on time, and thank you, Mother Nature. No need to worry about evidence left behind now. It will all be washed away.

He turned the SUV around, and headed back to civilization, smiling the whole way, and wondering how much longer it would be before some sharp-eyed detective or reporter began to connect the dots. He almost wished they would hurry it up, so he could find out what they would call him.

After all…Son of Sam, The Boston Strangler, The Night Stalker…all the good ones have names.

th

 

 

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A sneak peek at DEAD END

MYSTERY GONE MAD                                                DEAD END

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FROM DEAD END THE 13TH CARSON RENO MYSTERY

A filthy mixture of snow, ice, Arkansas mud and blood filled my mouth – the gritty mess was making it almost impossible to breathe.  Eyes still closed, and trying not to choke, I rolled my head to the left and spit the nauseating mixture onto the bright snow.  Apparently my nose was broken, because after relieving my mouth of the irritation, it quickly filled with the warm and sweet taste of blood – my blood.  Oddly, despite the trauma of the last few minutes, my thoughts and head were remarkably clear – making me wonder if I might be in the early stages of shock.  I’d never been there before.

Silence was everywhere, only disturbed by the sound of light snow falling, and thankfully covering my dry lips. I licked at the welcome moisture and slowly opened my eyes, not knowing what I might see.

A fuzzy gray sky, white falling snow and fading daylight stared back at me – looking down at where I lay – in a dirty, wet ditch, somewhere in Arkansas.

The human body is a smart and complex machine.  When any of the five senses aren’t working properly, it directs another to pick up the slack.  Without sound or vision, my suffering nose was receiving input about my current situation and relaying that information to the brain, it didn’t like what it was hearing! The smells of burning rubber, radiator fluid, raw gasoline and the heat associated with a crashed car engine were reminding me of why I was in this ditch and why my mouth was full of blood. The real world was coming back and it wasn’t pretty!

Our getaway was cut short by the wrong turn down a dead end road, but pursuers had left us no choice. The dark, snowy, lonely roads of rural Arkansas weren’t familiar to the driver, and what seemed like the perfect opportunity for escape, quickly turned into disaster.

Straining to add vision to the messages from my nose, I looked to my right and confirmed what I already knew. The car was resting nose down in the ditch and only a few feet from where I lay. Steam rose from a broken radiator, and its warm fluids dripped onto the snow; then the melted mess found its way to the bottom of the filthy trench I was in.

The engine stopped running with impact, but somehow bent and crushed headlights remained on – dimly shining against the ditch bank and tall grass. Light reflecting back on the destroyed car, painted a surreal and bizarre picture for my weak eyes.

An open passenger door was the reason I was in this ditch, and my ejection spared me most of the shock from the crash. I knew my nose was broken, and I certainly had other injured parts not discovered; but I was alive – for now. Somehow I’d managed to avoid the bullets, and only escaped the violent collision by choosing the peril of jumping from a moving vehicle.  Unfortunately the driver wasn’t that lucky.

The head and face made a perfect imprint in the smashed windshield – open and lifeless eyes staring at me through the bloody glass and asking for help. I had none to offer. Impact from the sudden stop against the ditch bank was enormous – however, I don’t suspect the body felt a thing.  Moments before running out of road, a bullet crashed through the driver’s side window; taking most of their head with it, before slamming into the dashboard.

Even knowing it was useless, instinct told me to get up…get up and go check on my friend, the one I had promised to protect. Whoever fired the bullet that removed most of my friend’s head was probably only a few yards away and already rushing over to finish their work.

Unfortunately, my .38 wasn’t in its holster where it belonged – I knew that.  During the short and speedy chase I had managed to fire two rounds at our pursuer, neither one having much effect on their aggressiveness. The gun was in my hand when I left the vehicle, but it wasn’t there now – apparently separating itself from me somewhere in the process.

Weapon or no weapon, I needed to get out of this ditch and on my feet – stand up to run or stand up to fight.  Either way, I needed to stand up!

Putting my right arm against the soft ground, I rose slightly before moving my left – the pain was deafening! I slumped back into the mud, cursing myself for letting this happen. My left arm was useless, either broken when I left the vehicle or from another bullet that I never felt.

Looking away from the carnage I closed my eyes to help tolerate the pain and tried to recall recent events. Events that led me to a ‘one horse’ town in Arkansas, events that had killed my friend and events that put me in this dirty snow filled ditch without the ability to get out.

It started only a few days ago, which now seemed like forever. A client I was hired to protect – a simple task – had gone badly.  Now, I have a dead friend, a dead client and a task not so simple.

 

CARSON RENO

CARSON RENO

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