Oh frapturous day! Kaloo Kalay! He chortled in his joy.
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=Dragon%27s+Source&x=0&y=0
Now I need to get some sales from the eastern half of the country!
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Dragon's Source Now Available at Amazon E-Books
Posted by Christine and Ronnie Brown at 6:25 PM 1 comments
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Dragon's Source Published at Barnes and Noble!
As of this afternoon, after almost 2 1/2 years, countless rewrites and endless editing, 'Dragon's Source' has been published by Barnes and Noble in their ebooks division also known as their 'NOOKbook' dept.
http://search.barnesandnoble.com/books/product.aspx?ean=2940012106179
Here is a short excerpt:
The voice she heard in her damaged mind was impossible to ignore. It came from the North so that was the direction her unrelenting rage pulled her. The vestige of her sanity remaining was no longer capable of thinking in words, so the only sounds that came from her tortured throat were the moans and shrieks that she would sometimes punctuate with a sustained scream of unfulfillable frustration.
When her body’s hunger became insistent, she fed it whoever was available. No longer satisfied with small animals, the bean-shidh searched for food that would feed both her body’s demands and the unrelenting craving in her blood for human flesh. After she fed, there was always a place for her to hide before the day could find her. Tumbled walls, large rocks, or old trees with gnarled roots provided spaces into which she could crawl. There was always a place.
With each passing day she looked even less human, and the tidings of her plague began to spread before her face. The Isle of Skye became a fear-filled place where people spoke softly of old legends made new, and the whispered dread of her became more than just a story to frighten children.
Men made bold by peat-smoked whiskey took their dogs and guns onto the moors, but the dogs refused to follow the scent and when any of the men chanced to hear the soft penetrating chill of a low moan, or the gut piercing shock of an enraged shriek wavering through the night’s mist, the boldness in their blood turned cold and they found themselves uncomfortably sober and alone. Most of them made it back home in time to bolt the door.
Posted by Christine and Ronnie Brown at 8:59 PM 2 comments