Goddess Fish Promotions - Neurogarden By Bryon Vaughn

NEUROGARDEN

by Bryon Vaughn

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GENRE:  Science Fiction, Techno-thriller

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 BLURB:

Where can you run when there is no place to hide?

Brenna Patrick is a brilliant technologist specializing in neural-cognitive functions and AI. She has cracked the code to solve one of the most troublesome problems in the field, and turned that into the multi-billion dollar NeuralTech Corporation.

 Working quietly with the U.S. Department of Defense, NeuralTech is poised to leapfrog the competition with a revolutionary system for tracking people, starting with the world’s most wanted terrorists. But there are only so many terrorists in the world, so who’s next?

 When a pair of Columbia graduate students, Jenny and Leo, stumble on the dark secret of NeuralTech’s success, it kicks off a tense game of cat and mouse. As they fight to defeat the powerful forces arrayed against them, nothing less than the fate of humanity hangs in the balance…

 NEUROGARDEN is a roller-coaster ride of a thriller, one that will have readers pondering the nature of memory, and of reality, long after they've read the last page.

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 Excerpt:

Every morning for Brenna Patrick began with a hot shower and a hotter cup of Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee in the same oversized mug she had stolen from a cabinet while studying at Oxford. Some poor British sod probably spent days looking for his ever so clever black-and-white yin and yang mug, and now, here, it played a part in the daily rituals of the world's most renowned expert on artificial intelligence.

 Halfway through her coffee, Brenna's usual routine of morning news about the weather or the latest political storm was interrupted by a story on the previous day's event at NeuralTech.

 "According to sources, yesterday, in an impressive display of technical wizardry, the notorious Ethiopian strongman, Azim Dibaba, was eliminated by the U.S. military in partnership with NeuralTech. Stay tuned for exclusive video footage from the NeuralTech facility coming up after the break."

 With a dismissive wave of her hand, the television powered off, and she downed the last of her coffee. Explicit rules about keeping cameras from the Observation Deck were put in place to stop this kind of leaked footage, not so much to keep it a secret, but to control how the message was released. There was no way NeuralTech would have built such an elaborate display of lights and gadgetry if the world was never going to see what they were doing. The fanfare was all a show, a carnival for the masses to distract from the visceral heart of what they were witnessing. Hell, they used to run the ops from a small conference room in the basement of NeuralTech HQ with two laptops and an iPad. The spectacle was created for virality, but she wanted the first glimpses to be better than some shaky cell phone video from a reporter behind glass.

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INTERVIEW:

If you could apologize to someone in your past, who would it be?

This is a tough one since it dredges up old feelings of regret, and my case of the loss of somebody very dear to me. About four years ago, I moved from California to New York City to pursue a new opportunity that was just too good to pass up. My immediate family came with me, so the only person left behind that really mattered to me was my grandmother. She raised me from a child, and she was the only mother I knew. In the years that followed, she aged as we all do, and her mind slowly drifted. Our coast to coast phone calls became increasingly incoherent and it pained me that I wasn’t there to help her through it. She passed away earlier this year.

I would give anything to have a conversation with the grandmother I left behind, and though I know she supported my move more than anybody else. She always said I “was like a son to her,” but when I think back, I feel like I fell short of that high bar. I would apologize, she would most certainly say there was nothing to be sorry about, and then give me a big, warm, grandma hug.

If you could keep a mythical/paranormal creature as a pet, what would you have?

I would say unicorn, but the cleanup would probably be awful, not to mention there is no way I could get it up to my high-rise apartment. I guess I would then have to settle on a fairy. It would have to be a male fairy, because my wife is a jealous sort, even if we are talking about a different species. He would be small enough to get to my apartment, he wouldn’t eat all of my food, and as long as he wasn’t one of those mischievous tortured fairies, he would add some happiness and wonder to our lives.

Now, since the premise is that he would be my pet, that may require a bit of work. I doubt that many fairies are going to be cool with that whole ownership thing. My guess is we would need to re-define what it means to be a pet for this while thing to work.

 How do you keep your writing different from all the others that write in this particular genre?

While I think it is essential for every author to find their own voice, I honestly believe it is impossible to be completely different from others in the genre. It is rare for an individual to truly innovate in any of the primary genres, but that doesn’t mean we should be complacent and blatantly emulate each other.

In my case, I try to come up with unique story premises and then assemble a cast of characters that are not obvious choices for the situation. I would love to be inspired by an idea that breaks new ground, or even spins up an entirely new sub-genre, but until that day I will work with this approach to keep my material interesting in a field of extremely talented and unique authors.

 What are the best and worst pieces of writing advice you ever received?

The best advice, which I totally did not follow was to keep writing regardless of the feedback or roadblocks that compelled me to give it up. It took me over twenty years to realize that I should have stayed the course.

The worst advice was to write only what you know. I agree that writing about familiar settings or people is easier, but it is through the exploration of the unknown and unfamiliar that we are all able to grow. If somebody asked me today whether or not to write about what you know, I would say use what you know to inform, but don’t limit yourself to one person’s reality, there is so much more to be discovered.

 Are the experiences in this book based on someone you know, or events in your own life?

So, now I will contradict my last answer and tell you that my latest book, Neurogarden, is based loosely on things that I know. It is set in New York City, where I live. It involves students at Columbia University, where I work. Two characters are actual professors at Columbia, and their depictions are pretty spot-on. Other than that, it is a fantastical fiction that I hope is not true, though with the deep tendrils of technology probing our lives daily, who knows?

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

 

Ever since reading Douglas Adams back in my formative years, I have had an interesting relationship with humor, science fiction, and technology. My first computer was a TI-99/4A, so yeah, I’m old, but only until scientists have cracked the code on transplanting our brains into shiny new vessels.

 My body may be showing signs of wear, but I’m keeping my brain tight.

 When I am not dreaming of far off worlds and writing, I am living a semi-normal life working in New York City, and watching movies with my wife and her spastic cat, Moss.

 Relevant Links

Web site: https://www.bryonvaughn.com

Facebook: https://facebook.com/bryonvaughnauthor

Instagram: https://instagram.com/bryonvaughn

Twitter: https://twitter.com/bryonvaughn

Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Neurogarden-NeuralTech-Corporation-Book-1-ebook/dp/B08F7BWCDZ

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GIVEAWAY:

The author will award a $50 Amazon/BN GC to one randomly drawn commenter via rafflecopter.  Enter below.

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Goddess Fish Promotions - Retaliation By Haley Cavanagh

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will award a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Sakota saved Astraeus and her friends from certain death, but in doing so, she gained the attention of the Oreck, who will stop at nothing to destroy everything in their path. With their ship severely damaged, Sakota and her crew land on a nearby planet and seek sanctuary while they make repairs to return home. But nothing on this perfect planet is as it appears, and Sakota soon learns they've traded one danger for another. Hunted and targeted, will Sakota be able to carry out her mission, or will everyone she cares about be destroyed?

Read an Excerpt




“No .”


Sakota bolted up in bed in the middle of the night.


Her dreams of blood and fear were monopolized with pointed teeth, cartilaginous faces, long, double-jointed arms and legs, and cruel, black alien eyes. The Oreck. They haunted her, perpetual alien God-ghosts with their eerie, electromagnetic glow beneath papery, gray skin.


Beside her, Astraeus slept, his arm flopped over the groove in the bed where she’d lain as he held her. He stirred, frowning. Was he having a nightmare too? She reached her hand out and searched with her emotions, as she’d learned to do.


He tossed, fitful, in the clutches of a nightmare to do with Upsilon’s destruction. She couldn’t remember what her nightmare had been about, but it had ended violently. Peace, she sent silently. Tranquility . Calm . Rest .


Astraeus sighed in his sleep, relaxed, and rolled over. She feathered hair out of his face. His existence had blown her away, and it still did. Astraeus’s genetic code far outstripped her own. He had defense mechanisms in place to protect him from climate extremities that she could never even dream of having. But more so, for the first time in her life, she’d fallen in love. It went against her pragmatic nature, but his comforting presence anchored her amid the wreckage.


She scrubbed her face with her hand in the darkness and swung her legs over the side of the levitating bed, careful of the bed’s height when she stood.



Humans were either a lot shorter than most of the visiting interplanetary delegates, or for some strange reason, they liked their beds high.


Her limbs ached, fatigue from the action of the last several days. She suspected healing from microgravity had something to do with it too, but she’d been through the wringer. The way she walked, the weight of her lips when she spoke, her arm and leg muscles seemed heavier and more visceral, like someone had injected them with a heavy drug. Ridiculous, of course. She was in the best shape of her life.


In the center of the room, she stretched and did some yoga until the tightness lessened. She rotated her neck. In a day or two, the slight dizziness and disoriented inertia would subside. As a physician, she knew the symptoms. She’d be fine. But telling a patient about them versus experiencing them were two different things.


She padded barefoot out onto the balcony, drew a silver cup from the shelves, and dipped it into the fountain. Distant light illuminated the Chuleron buildings along the skyline in the distance. She brought the brim of the cup to her lips and drank. Cool and refreshing, much cleaner than the sterilized water she’d had back on Earth. Tastier too. Earth water had to be purified at least five times before it could be considered healthy enough for consumption. Bacterial pathogens ran rampant in food and the polluted streams and springs back home, so sterilizing was essential. The delightful coolness soothed her throat.


She twisted her hair and pulled it over her right shoulder, taking in the strange, tantalizing city. Did her suspicions about this place come from her subconscious, because of the death and violence she’d experienced? Or was Hisoka right and something seemed off?


About the Author:

Haley Cavanagh is a military veteran, wife, and mother. She is an alumna of Columbia College, a musical theater nut, and she loves to dive into any book that crosses her path. Haley resides with her family in the United States and enjoys spending time with her husband and children when she’s not writing. She loves to hear from her readers, and encourages you to contact her via her website and social media.



Website: http://www.haleycavanaghbooks.com

Newsletter: https://haleycavanaghbooks.com/vip-readers-group/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/1769243778

Twitter: https://twitter.com/haley_cavanagh

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/haleycavanaghbooks/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/ambitioushales/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42207961-astraeus



Buy Links:



Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B082MB9VPV/

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/retaliation-haley-cavanagh/1135488266

iTunes: https://books.apple.com/us/book/retaliation/id1491106031

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/retaliation-20



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The author is also running a separate giveaway to celebrate the release of the book Enter here for a chance to win a $25 Amazon Gift Card and Autographed Paperback/Swag Bundle (ends January 15):


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Goddess Fish Promotions - Inanna Phantom By Hawk MacKinney

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.  

Author, Hawk MacKinney will be awarding a $20 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Inanna Phantom

by Hawk MacKinney

GENRE: Science Fiction

 The threat of rift invasions seem long passed. Plentiful harvests abound. The Murian first-contact Terato Outpost has grown into the sprawling Terato-Murian Terminus Terato with a hub of relay portals reaching across the vast uncharted galactic expanses and connecting with its eon-extinct Lantaraan prehistory.

An exploratory Terato-Murian Jupiterr outpost is established on the gas giant seventh planet, and its quantum and gravitational energies are used to power outpost portals for an archeological survey of the fourth planet, Eorthe.

The Lantaraan database aboard Terato’s ancient Downday moon shows that one or more planets of the Solaris planets have apparently been lost. Expanded archeological records on other Lantaraan orbital bodies in the Solaris system show the fourth planet from the star—Eorthe—to be a sterile wasteland. Except it is not. Eorthe’s civilization is not to the level of the Murian Empire, but it is far advanced to those of a pastoral Terato. Terato and Eorthe form the confederated United Terran League under the nominal figurehead leader of League High Judikarr Eklam a’Qoc.

Jupiterr outpost expands into a major League stronghold, Jupiterr Base, when civil unrest erupts in the League, the unexpected return of rift intrusions threatens, and the Murian Emperor Klarvko Celo is assassinated.

As they prepare for confrontations with an unknown ancient enemy, the internal tensions on Myr and Eorthe push Murians and Teratoans to dangerous discords.

Read an Excerpt

The following morning Eklam had a Terminus skimmer shuttle standing by, as he told David. “I want you to see the mining complexes with the new designs in operation.”

As the skimmer sped away, it was the last time David saw Charlotte alive. It was a last time and a first time for more than either of them could imagine. The marauders struck swift and brutal.

           

Eklam and David returned late as evening daylit paled into eventide twilit. As the skimmer shuttle slowed; eased to stop and powered down to a faint-hum idle, David said, “Very impressive.”

           

Eklam barely heard him, as he stepped out of the skimmer and in that moment sensed something amiss. His premonition was quickly shattered by a child’s brittle scream in the deadly stillness.

Stavris burst from the tumble of boulders up the hill where he'd hidden, “Fæder!”

           

The fear in Stavris’ voice told Eklam something was bad wrong. Eklam’s short summer tunic whipped his thighs, the small replica of the Judikarr’s crux ansata thumping his chest, as he ran toward his terrified son. Stavris slammed into his father’s arms clutching tight as tears streamed down his face. A frantic Eklam held his son close and whispered, “What’s the matter?”

           

With short choked breaths and arms tight around Eklam’s neck, Stavris pointed toward the house, “Blood all over—”

           

Eklam flung a look beyond the outer wall, and flinched at the crumpled wreckage of the scarred servmo and the fused jagged blast scars and gouges of debris along the entryway. More blast scars on the lopsided double doors of the main entrance with one door crumpled askew. Nozzles of the bug-scrim emitters on two side windows were twisted, the curls of smoke backlit in the afternoon sunlit. Marleen hated bugs in the house. She never left the bug-scrim deactivated. He took in the blood-splashed scene so different from what he and David had left earlier that morning.

           

“My god,” a fearful David gasped, as he rushed toward a horror getting worse everywhere they looked.

           

Stavris buried his face in the crook of Eklam’s shoulder and neck, “I don't want to go in there.” He pulled tighter into Eklam. “Aunt Charlotte's got blood all over her. She’s not moving and she won’t answer when I call her name.”

           

Eklam held Stavris tight, trying to reassure him even when he wasn’t sure of anything himself. His eyes fastened toward the sprawling rooms facing the canyons, not wanting to think of what the blood spatters on the front doorways and along the foyer could mean.

           

Eklam met a stunned gaunt unseeing David staggering out of the house and stopping at the crumpled entrance. A gray shroud on David’s face, “They blew Charlotte apart. Pieces are everywhere.” Blood-smeared hands propped against the doorframe, steading himself against what he couldn’t make real. Vessels in his neck throbbed, his heartbeat hammered thumps in his ears. “She doesn't have a face.” As he tried to distance himself from the unspeakable, he wheezed more words from a strangling throat, “I can’t find Jeffry.”

           

Stavris pointed up the hill toward Jeffry stumbling around boulders toward them. “Me’n Jeffry hid in the rocks.”

           

How?” Eklam grasping for any kind of meaning into the unacceptable, “Why in the name of Terato’s two suns would anyone do something like this?” His fear choked at him, “Marleen?” Afraid to ask, “The boys?” Not wanting Stavris to see more of the slaughter, Eklam said, “Stay here with Uncle David.”

           

Eklam ran across the slab-stone patio and around the fountain with its pink-tinged splashes. He called out, “Marleen? Ek? Korve?” A harsh crack deepened his voice as he called each name again and again and got no response. When he got to an inside doorway, he stopped. The grisly scene of bloody smeared clots splotched across the walls, ceilings and floors hit him full force. Sprawled in front of him was what was left of Charlotte Martin. Beyond Charlotte were three barely recognizable bodies of the house staff. He searched the rooms and the verandas. There was no sign of Marleen or his other two boys.

A Word From The Author:

AND YOU WROTE A BOOK

Paper, pen, keyboard – whatever tool & notes, letters, memoirs were used, you strung the words into a manuscript. Fiction/nonfiction, plot, setting, reference & research and characters – you birthed your tale. Your masterpiece is finished. You can sit back, rocking chair, porch swing, go on vacation – all the work and rewrites are finished. NOT!

First step was the disciplined time & the doing it. Next comes the discipline of editing. Put your work on the shelf & let it collect dust. Let your brain rest. The hard work of editing begins with brutal honesty with the person in the mirror. If you don’t like to edit you’ve got a work-in-the-rough that no one will enjoy reading – friends, family, acquaintances don’t count. They’ll be sweet so not to hurt your creative feelings. This writer likes editing his own work. Sometimes as many as 12-20 edits of 700-page works, and I never fail to find some sentence, paragraph, chapter, or word that is so bad I wonder who wrote the ‘stuff’.

Fancy big technical words have their place, but they are b-o-r-i-n-g. Never forget your readers. Delete & rewrite a problem section, chapter, sentence – it’s easier & cleaner. Editing teaches one a lot about self & tools & syntax & word structure & the simplicity of good clean storytelling.

Build you a marketing team of trusted advisors. This author can’t stress that enough. There’re 24 hours in a day – you can’t do it all. Build a reputation of quality work – part of which is dealing with the unvarnished truth with those you respect. Bending the truth & making royalty & money ruins those who are not well grounded. Thank the powers that be for my upbringing among rock-hard principled people – I wouldn’t be where I am without every one of them helping. You can’t achieve that in the publishing world, or any profession, without honesty.

About the Author:

Hawk has authored several works of fiction including a historical romance Moccasin Trace which was nominated for both the prestigious Michael Shaara Award for Excellence in Civil War Fiction and the Writers Notes Book Award. His Cairns of Sainctuarie Science Fiction Series and his Moccasin Hollow Mystery Series have received national and international attention.

With postgraduate degrees and faculty positions in several medical universities, Hawk MacKinney has taught graduate courses in both the United States and Jerusalem. His professional writing includes articles on chordate neuroembryology, and aerospace research on muscle metabolic behavior in multi-orbital environments.

www.hawkmackinney.net

Book Video: https://youtu.be/MUnhN8U0Zp0

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ HawkMacKinney

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/698008.Hawk_MacKinney

Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/Inanna-Phantom-Cairns-Sainctuarie-Book-ebook/dp/B07Y2DQRT3/ref=sr_1_1

Barnes&Noble.com: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/inanna-phantom-hawk-mackinney/1133914447?ean=9781732918252

Hawk MacKinney, author of Inanna Phantom, will be awarding a $20 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.  Enter For A Chance To Win.

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