What was your inspiration for your novel?

Basically, I served in the military for nine years, then the police for twenty-three years. During that time, I lost count of the incidents I attended or had to deal with where someone’s life was changed forever by the unexpected!

Life is a very fragile thing, and “out of the blue” tragedy can strike when people least expect it, bringing untold calamity and suffering.

Attending those incidents often used to make me think, “What would have happened if we had got here sooner? Or if we had the resources or training to undo all this suffering and damage? What would it be like to have the technology and training to not only anticipate such accidents and disasters, but prevent them happening in the first place?

The one accident that inspired me to actually put my thoughts together into a more coherent form involved the death of a young boy on his way home from school.

Rush hour traffic is hazardous at the best of times. When you add in the factor of a little boy with little appreciation of the dangers involved who is desperate to get home, well…you can guess what happened.

I shan’t describe the horrendous scene. Nor the terrible sobs of the woman driving the vehicle he ran out in front of. She was a mother herself, and her anguish was heart rending, even though there was nothing she could have done to avoid him.

That’s why the opening chapter of Guardian Angels involves a young boy stepping out into the path of a truck. It describes what ALL the Emergency Service personnel there that day wish could have happened if the Guardian Angels had been there to help.

It describes what we ALL yearn to see for the people we serve.

Can you imagine it?

The science fiction of today – is very often the science FACT of tomorrow…IF ONLY…

Andrew P Weston was born in the city of Birmingham, UK and grew up in the towns of Bearwood and Edgbaston, eventually attending Holly Lodge Grammar School for Boy’s where he was School Captain and Head Boy.

He was an active sportsperson for the school, college and a variety of rugby, martial art, swimming and athletics teams throughout the city.

On graduation in 1977 he joined the Royal Marines fulfilling a number of roles both in the UK and abroad.

In 1985 he became a police officer with the Devon & Cornwall Constabulary, and served in a variety of uniformed and plain clothed departments until his retirement in 2008.

Over those years, he wrote and illustrated a selection of private books for his children regarding the life of a tiny kitten, called, “The Adventures of Willy Whiskers”, gained further qualifications in Law and Religious Studies, was an active member of Mensa and continued to be an active sportsperson, providing lessons free of charge to local communities.

An unfortunate accident received on duty meant Andrew had to retire early from the police force, but after moving to the sunny Greek island of Kos to speed up his recuperation, he was at last able to devote time to the “Guardian Concept” he had developed over his years in the military and police.

When not writing, Andrew enjoys Greek dancing and language lessons, being told what to do by his wife, Annette, and hunting shadows in the dark.

Andrew is now contracted to Pagan Writers Press for two books.

“Fairy Tail”, is a dark and gritty paranormal thriller with a twist.

The second book, “Guardian Angels” is the introductory book to the “Guardian Series”, a sci-fi/fantasy epic set in the near future.

Further work on the Guardian Series and a new paranormal series has been completed and will hopefully be presented soon.

Author Links

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 Guardian angels

By

Andrew P. Weston

Guardian Angels, book 1

Science Fiction/fantasy

August 31, 2012

In a series of terrifying events, otherworldly beings intervene to save innocent lives. The world community reacts with relief as they realize that angels may in fact exist, and they are diligently protecting us.

But there are those who would seek to stop what they feel is a threat against their livelihoods. How far will some go to battle the Guardians? Is the fairy tale over before it even begins?

Guardian Angels is a powerful and compelling story about the catalyst that has the power to unite society in the hope for a better future. The spark of hope is fragile—can it last?

Buy Link

Pagan Writers Press 

Excerpt: (Unedited)

Luigi decided to toast himself and his accomplishments again. Finding his glass empty, he rang the bell for a top up, and continued to gloat, firmly believing he was beyond accountability.

When the door to the study opened a few minutes later and Gianni, the housekeeper, came in with his favorite Black Pearl Louis XIII cognac on a silver tray, he insisted the old servant stay with him and drink to his success. “Come, Gianni, stay, celebrate with me. Good times should be shared with trusted friends.”

The gesture wasn’t missed by Gianni. At fifty-five thousand dollars a bottle, the cognac was one of the most expensive in the world, and he quickly poured a generous helping into two glasses. As he handed one to his boss, he paused momentarily to savor the bouquet of the blended flowers, fruits, spices, and the deep amber color of the aromatic liquid. “You’re looking particularly pleased with yourself today, young Sir. Good news?”

“It’s the very best of news, Gianni, and one that appears to be maturing with age.” He replied without looking away from the screens.

The old housekeeper tossed down his drink in one and shuffled to stand deferentially behind his employer. He listened as yet more reports of the suffering caused by the missile detonations were announced. “That mess doesn’t look like there’s much to be happy about, Sir. Surely that doesn’t please you, does it?”

“Aah, Gianni, sometimes, when you need to make a point, you have to catch your enemy’s attention,” Luigi replied. “You have to ensure they not only respect you, but fear you. I’m pleased because I’ve done just that. Wouldn’t you agree, my old friend?”

When no reply was forthcoming, Luigi naturally assumed the old housekeeper must have been unable to hear his question. Turning in his seat, he felt a peculiar throbbing, tingling sensation in his teeth and sinuses. “I said ‘wouldn’t you agr . . . .’”

Luigi’s voice choked off in his throat as he caught sight of Gianni’s eyes. The distinctive, familiar, lazy old eyes of his long-time employee seemed to be undergoing some kind of metamorphosis. Gone was the semi-vacant, un-focused faraway look he always seemed to display as he pottered about. Instead, Luigi was looking into the hardest, most piercing eyes he had ever seen, eyes that seemed to glow with an inner furnace to match the cold look of rage chiseled onto his face.

The shock made him drop his glass onto the carpet, spilling about three thousand dollars worth of the deep amber nectar. 

Transfixed he watched as Gianni’s body straightened, grew, and bulked out. As the years fell away from his face, he realized without a doubt that he was going to fully shoulder the burdens his choices had wrought.

Before him stood his own personal living nightmare made flesh, dressed from head to toe in black. Instantly he felt the fire rising within him, straining for release.

The Guardian stepped forward, making the barest of gestures with his finger as he did so, and Luigi found himself lifted into the air by some unseen force. He was held motionless, helpless as a puppet awaiting the commands of his master.

Nodding at the screens, the Guardian spoke. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Andrew, Guardian Lord of Shadow Operations. Did you seriously think you’d get away with something like this?”

Luigi stared defiantly back, fighting to overcome his shock at the Guardian’s presence, and surprised at the lack of access to his ability. “Do what you want, asshole, at least the world sees you as the frauds I knew you were!” he hissed.

“Do what I want? I’d love to, but unfortunately my boss won’t let me.”

Luigi stared impotently back at his nemesis as he strolled closer. Once he was standing in front of him, the Shadow Lord said, “As for exposing us as frauds? Well, I really don’t know why you would think that. We never said or intimated we could be everywhere at once. The world’s a sad enough place as it is without you adding to it. All we are doing is trying to help people avoid as much heartbreak as possible.”

Andrew pointed to the repeat bulletins on the screens. “So, once the world finds out that all this was the deliberate act of some sick and twisted psycho who didn’t care how many suffered, just so long as he could score some points, how do you think they’ll react to you, Luigi?”

The point struck home. Luigi struggled in an attempt to slap the Guardian across the face, to do something to help vent the building fury inside him. 

Helpless, he continued stewing as the Guardian moved so close he was able to whisper in his ear. “And when they find out about your abilities, can you even begin to imagine how they’ll react to that? You worthless, spineless, pathetic little man. I really wish they’d let me play with you before we throw you to the wolves.”

“Fuck off, asshole, you don’t scare me.”

“Scare you?” Andrew smiled wickedly. “Oh no, Luigi, that’s not my job. That’s hers!”

The Guardian gestured behind Luigi at the same moment he let go with his telekinesis. Although Luigi only dropped about a foot, he crumpled to the floor, becoming acutely aware that the strange throbbing in his teeth was even more pronounced than before.

Turning, Luigi was met with a vision of such barely contained power and fury that he immediately soiled his pants.

Andrew squatted beside him. “Allow me to introduce you to the head of our investigations branch. This is Victoria, our Lord Inquisitor, and she’s very pleased to meet you after all the suffering you’ve caused.”

Victoria stood in front of the TV screens, wreathed in a visible static discharge that blew the circuits of all the electrical equipment in the office and made the hairs on Luigi’s arms and head stand on end. Her eyes, so similar to those of the Shadow Lord, intensified in luminosity and turned from grey to white hot. Luigi shielded his eyes and cowered on the floor in his own excrement.

What a fool I am. He thought.

In reply to his thoughts, the Shadow Lord said, “Yes Luigi, what a murderous, cowardly fool of a man you are. I think the whole world will agree when they find out, eh?”

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New Release!!! SciFi/Femdom-FemDocs

It's the near distant future...and women are tired of being passive, of doting on men. It's time to put the cooking pots away.

A group of top-notch woman doctors plan to eliminate the male population one man at a time, luring them to sperm banks, using man's lust and greed against them.
By the time they are done, only the good, the kind-hearted, and the easily malleable will be left, allowing the women to form a new, respectful race of men.

But when one doctor falls for an agent, can she save him in time, or does it mean going against all she believes?

Excerpt:

“I thought that mofo would never die.” Chacelyn tossed her hair and cast one look through the peephole located right behind the sofa.

“Shh. Someone may hear you.” Cassanna glanced around the hallway. Thankfully, at the moment, it was empty of patients.

“Did you see the line out there? I don’t think I can do that awful pole dancing for all those dirt bags.” Chacelyn raised her eyebrows at her friend and partner. “Why don’t you take over? That afro is pure hotness. You look like a young Pam Grier. If I have to lick my lips seductively one more time…”

Cassanna giggled. “Pam Grier? That was…centuries ago.” She placed her hands on her hips. “But thank you. On a serious note, do you want to fondle their balls? It’s pure nastiness. Some of them stink, I tell you. If I have to smell that musty, stale ball odor…”

“Ladies.” Cassanna and Chacelyn immediately turned at the stern voice coming from behind them. Chacelyn gulped loudly, and Cassanna patted her afro nervously.

“Doc,” Chacelyn acknowledged the woman before them. “Sorry, we’re just—“

“Don’t worry about it.” The woman waved her hand impatiently. Her dark hair was pulled back in a chignon, doing nothing to harshen her lovely features. Her hazel eyes pierced them. “I know it’s distasteful to say the least, but it must be done. For the good of us all.”

Cassanna murmured an amen, nodding her head in agreement.

“Just keep it out of the hallway and get that room ready for the next one. They’re coming in like crazy. Got a line in the waiting room.”

“Yes, Doc.”

As the woman they knew as Doc clicked her heels down the hallway, Chacelyn flipped a small, almost hidden panel and pressed a button. She and Cassanna waited a few beats, Cassanna watching the dial of her watch. When Cassanna gave Chacelyn a nod, signaling enough time had passed and the room was safe to enter, Chacelyn opened the door with a shove.

As quickly as possible, both women grunted, heaved, and worked together to remove the patient’s dead body, dragging it from the sofa to a hidden trapdoor under the removable stage.

The body landed below the building with a thump, and both nurses immediately withdrew wrapped squares of disinfectant wipes from their jackets, proceeding to scrub their hands clean, noses wrinkled with distaste.

“Well,” Cassanna said as she tossed her wipe into a nearby trash bin. “The crematorium is going to be busy today.”

About the Author:

Sonia Hightower is a pen name for Tara Chevrestt, a deaf woman, former aviation mechanic, writer, and an editor. She is most passionate about planes, motorcycles, dogs, and above all, reading. That led to her love of writing. Between her writing and her editing, which allows her to be home with her little canine kids, she believes she has the greatest job in the world. She is very happily married.

Sonia writes the racy stuff and argues that she was here first. She just wasn't allowed to be unleashed until the last year.

While Tara and Sonia continue to fight over the laptop and debate who writes the next book, you can find buy links, blurbs, and other fun bits on their website: http://tarachevrestt.weebly.com/index.html or their Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tara-Chevrestt-Sonia-Hightower/218383211513877

Character Interview-Ameilia Hamilton from

What’s your favorite color?

Yellow, especially the pale buttery color of my bedroom walls.

What type of vehicle do you drive?

Big Red. He’s a rusty pickup truck that I haven’t been able to part with. He’s like family to me.

Describe yourself to me.

At 22 years old, I’m short with dark curly hair and hazel eyes. I’m accident prone and sarcastic. I love art and hate math and asparagus. Also, I’m cursed.

How would your mate describe you? 

With how distant he’s been lately, I doubt he wants to describe me at all. If I had to guess, Connor would say I’m stubborn, determined, creative, naïve, willing and sarcastic.

What really moves you, or touches you to the soul? 

Compassion, loyalty and the truth.

What's the one thing you have always wanted to do but couldn't? What would happen if you did do it?

Find my parents. I’d ask them why they left me. 

Describe your ideal mate.

Loyalty is very important to me. I want someone who can surprise me and they must be trustworthy.

What are you most afraid of?

Needles, mosquitoes and my grandfather.

What's the most important thing in your life?

Right now, staying alive.

What do you consider your special talent?

“Special” is a stretch. I call it a curse. You’ll need to read the story to learn the details.

How did you meet the hero/heroine?

I’m the heroine of the story, but another hero is Nick. I met him through the IA.

Was it love at first sight or did it develop slowly?

It’s far from love at first sight. He had a lot of reservations about me. Sometimes, I think he still does.

What did you like/dislike about him/her when you first met?

He’s a jackass, rude and closed off. I could go on for hours. Underneath his many levels of “bad boy” exterior, I know there’s more to him.

If you were granted three wishes, what would you ask for?

People I’ve lost to be returned, The Physician Coalition to disappear and the cliché wish for additional wishes.

Thank you for interviewing me! I had a great time! 

A conversation with a stranger changes Amelia Hamilton's life forever. When she learns her grandfather faked his own death, normalcy slips from Amelia's grasp. To make matters worse, he is coming for her in less than seven days. What she hasn't determined is why.

Amelia's grandfather, Marius Benedict, once headed The Physician Coalition, an elite group of doctors who threw the Hippocratic Oath out the window. Years ago, they used a low-risk medical research study as a front for their experiments. Without their consent, innocents were injected with JackRabbit7, a hazardous substance used to alter their DNA. The victims were left with less-than-desirable super-human powers or excruciating death. Years after he disbanded the group, Marius has a new plan and is reforming The Coalition.

Max, a mysterious stranger from the Insurance Agency, offers to help keep Amelia safe. He introduces The Agency as an underground government organization that contains and eliminates those who intend to harm the world. To protect The Agency, the truth of their activities are concealed and replaced with sugar-coated stories in the media.

Over the course of the next week, Amelia has to accept the truth and learn who can be trusted. At midnight on her 23rd birthday, a contract between The Coalition and The Insurance Agency will expire, giving Marius full rein to approach his granddaughter and finish the project he started with her so many years ago.

Sarah Carr is a novelist who can be found most evenings with a cup of tea in-hand and her imagination racing from plot to plot. When away from her work, part of her mind is constantly brainstorming her next story and she always has writing paraphernalia within reach.

She wrote stories as a child, but became more serious about her passion during her twenties. In her spare time, she likes to read, splash in mud puddles, smell bookstores and eat Honeycrisp apples. Yearly, she participates in NaNoWriMo and has mentored others through the program. Due to her dedication to National Novel Writing Month, she is part of an amazing writing group.

Born and raised in Washington State, Sarah still resides in the area. Her life is richly filled with her supportive, yet swashbuckling husband and their golden Nugget.

Website / Facebook / Twitter

Book Spotlight-Rock Killer by S. Evan Townsend

Space Resources, Inc. (SRI) mines asteroids for the riches a populated Earth needs without degrading the planet.  Yet there are those opposed to progress in whatever its form such as the Gaia Alliance, a front group for eco-terrorists.  During a violent attack on the Moon, the terrorists steal an exploration ship, arm it, and rename it the Rock Killer.

Charlene "Charlie" Jones of SRI security is trying to infiltrate the Gaia Alliance's cabal to find evidence linking them to the murder of her fiancé.  But a run-in with the law threatens to reveal her identity to the dangerous men of the Alliance.

Simultaneously, SRI Director Alexander Chun is traveling to the asteroid belt to bring a kilometer-long nickel-iron rock back to Earth orbit to mine for its valuable metals.  Following him and his multi-national team is the Rock Killer.  Without armaments, millions of miles from help, Chun must stop those who threaten him and the lives of his crew.

S. Evan Townsend is a writer living in central Washington State. After spending four years in the U.S. Army in the Military Intelligence branch, he returned to civilian life and college to earn a B.S. in Forest Resources from the University of Washington. In his spare time he enjoys reading, driving (sometimes on a racetrack), meeting people, and talking with friends. He is in a 12-step program for Starbucks addiction. Evan lives with his wife and two sons, aged 17 and 20, and has a 22-year old son attending the University of Washington in biology. He enjoys science fiction, fantasy, history, politics, cars, and travel.

Website / Facebook / Twitter / Trailer

Excerpt: 

DeWite moved into the observation room and Prince followed.

The room looked almost exactly like a bar since it was a VIP lounge for watching ships land and take off. A large window looked over the shipyard, where various types of spacecraft were resting on the lunar dust. The window, made of Crysteel, invented by SRI's orbital laboratories, began about half a meter from the floor and extended to the ceiling and was about five meters wide. Crysteel, made in a factory in Earth orbit one atom at a time, was almost as strong as aluminum. Its one weakness was a very high index of refraction due to tightly packed oxygen atoms. It made great lenses but was not good for use where a clear view was needed such as spaceship windows and pressure suit helmets. But the picture window in the lounge would have been impractical without the Crysteel.

Four pressure-suited figures were moving across the plain. The suits were not SRI issue and they were carrying submachine guns. DeWite recognized them as a South African made 9 millimeter caseless that were favored by criminals who bought them on the black market.

One, carrying a 40-millimeter recoilless rifle, knelt just a few meters from the window and aimed. Fire shot out of the rear of the weapon, dying almost immediately in the airless environment. A flame licked a small intra-lunar shuttle followed by an explosion. The ship's skin crumpled and it folded in on itself in a slow, macabre death dance. An explosion marked the rupture of the fuel tanks. Fire burned until the oxygen ran out.

"Goddamnit!" DeWite exploded. "We need to get to the airlock."

Just then one of the four figures outside noticed the two Security guards. He tapped the others on their shoulders and pointed. The other three turned and again the recoilless rifle spat a fleeting flame. DeWite dived behind the bar—an easy task in the low gravity. The window exploded inward. Prince was thrown against the rear wall, his body shattered by the impact. Then the window exploded outward as the room decompressed. Prince's body was slammed against the bottom of the window and sucked out into the harsh sunlight.

DeWite heard the emergency door slam shut locking him in the room. He knew it would never open until the pressure in the room equalized with the pressure in the hall.

He stood, aimed his shotgun, braced his leg behind to compensate for the low gravity, and fired. He was surprised he heard it at all. Must still be a little air in the room, some part of him thought.

The figure with the recoilless rifle was thrown back and blood ejaculated from its torn body. It was freeze-dried before it hit the lunar plain. The remaining figures turned with their weapons firing. DeWite barely heard the bullets hitting the wall behind him. His ears felt as if they were going to explode. He screamed, not in fear, but to empty his lungs to prolong his already forfeit life a few more seconds.

Pump, FIRE, Pump, FIRE, Pump was DeWite's whole existence. Another figure crumpled, spouting blood. Then the bullets ripped into DeWite. Blood flowed like a fire hose. FIRE—DeWite could no longer stand, even in one-sixth gravity. He sank to the floor and died in a puddle of his blood that was boiling and freezing simultaneously.

Book Spotlight-The Zurian Child by Jessica E. Subject

Lindsay Beckett longed to be reunited with her first love, Quinn Montgomery, until she learns the secret that sent him fleeing from her in the first place. He's an alien, a Hemera, and she's half-Hemera herself. As if that wasn't enough to ruin her dreams of a perfect life, when their child is born, they discover she fulfills a prophesy told twenty light years away and many years ago. Lindsay wants to ignore it, until her husband is murdered and suddenly believing becomes a matter of survival. 

Lindsay and her young daughter are forced to rely on another Hemera, her husband's partner and best friend, Bryce Beuermann as more and more of the Hemera are slaughtered. Bryce will do anything to help his best friend's widow—including suppressing his own deep feelings for her. But he must prove they can trust him, even pretending he doesn't want her with all his heart. 

Buy Link: Silver Publishing

Jessica Subject started writing to encourage her daughter to read. Now she writes to keep herself grounded. Although she reads many genres, she enjoys writing Science Fiction Romance the most and believes everyone in the universe deserves a happily ever after. She lives Southwestern Ontario, Canada with her husband and two kids and loves to hear from anyone who has enjoyed her stories.

Website / Facebook / Twitter / Goodreads

When Bryce and Lorne removed their socks and set their feet on the coffee table, she flushed. She'd had many opportunities over the summer to look at his feet, particularly when he wore only his swim trunks. But she’d kept her distance, catching only the occasional glimpse of his broad, bare chest or other parts of his body, wondering if they matched what she’d seen in her visions.

Both Bryce and Lorne's toes remained held apart by skin, noticeable skin. Unlike the translucent and pliable tissue which formed between her own toes, theirs appeared thicker, widening the total width of the front of their feet.

"We are not from around here," Lorne said. He removed his feet from the table and brushed them across the plush carpet. "Your mother, Quinn, and your father, Lindsay, as well as Bryce and I, are from another planet located twenty light years from Earth."

She turned to her husband, waiting for his reaction. They were his guests telling the ridiculous story. If they were friends of hers, she would have told them to leave.

Quinn only raised his eyebrows. She couldn't read his expression as he stared at Bryce. "This is not the time to be discussing this. We've just returned from out holidays, our honeymoon at that."

"No, this is the time. We should have talked about this long ago."

Her gaze shifted between the two of them. This has to be some kind of gag, but this is more likely to come from Michael and Francis, not Bryce, not based on anything Quinn had ever said about him. The punch line didn't come and Quinn gripped her hand tighter. This is no joke.

Maintaining his dry expression, Bryce continued. "I've known all along. I remember my trip to Earth and being placed with the Beuermanns. I don't remember my parents though." His chin fell to his chest. "It's not easy living with a secret like this. I figured my best friend should know."

Bryce told what he believed to be the truth, but despite her belief in aliens, she refused to accept anyone in the room came from anywhere but Earth.

"I'm sorry, Lindsay." Quinn refused to look at her, but maintained his hold on her hand.

She'd never felt more uncomfortable than this moment. What did Quinn believe? That he's an alien?