Tuesday, August 21, 2018

Hitler and His Secret Society

The Vril Society, a secret society in which Hitler and his top officials believed in, was made famous by an old book, The Coming Race (1871) by Edward Bulwar Lord Lytton.  The book is about an underground world of aliens that use a power source called Vril.  The aliens call themselves the Vril-yas and have special powers of healing and telepathy.  The Vril-ya were also descendants of Atlanteans.  Hitler linked his Aryan ideology around this race of aliens.  The Coming Race was considered a 'cult-classic' among occult elite circles of Europe.  
Still today, there is little evidence about the Vril Society that Hitler made so famous.  Some believe it never existed.  Others believe it was the precursor for the Thule Society.  
The Vril Society used mediums such as Maria Orsic to channel aliens before and during World War II.  She and the other mediums were women who grew their hair as long as they could, believing the hair helped communicate with aliens from other planets.  She and the other mediums received futuristic technological blueprints for super-weapons.  
No one can argue that Hitler and his engineers were ahead of world in terms of their air program.  Were extraterrestrials helping them?  After the war, some say that Maria Orsic and her followers took a flying saucer to another planet. Others say she and other Vril members took up a residence in Antarctica.  
Does the Vril Society exist today?  I had a very difficult time finding an answer one way or another.  There are links with the Black Sun Society, Albert Pike (American Freemason), and the Theosophical Society, but no proof of the group's continuation from Germany.
The Best Seller and The Sequel fictionalize some of the occult linked with Hitler and his Nazi Party.

The Sequel: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B076VXT46B/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1509065720&sr=8-3&keywords=dina+rae
The Best Seller: https://www.amazon.com/Best-Seller-Dina-Rae-ebook/dp/B01G2AKGMS/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1509065793&sr=1-2
Blog: https://dinaraeswritestuff.blogspot.com/
Facebook: Dina Rae Books

Broken Arrow
Azaria M.J. Durant
(Darkened Destiny Saga #1)
Publication date: July 29th 2018
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
An ancient power long kept dormant stirs in the shadows once more as one boy embarks on a quest to earn his freedom and the freedom of his world!
Magic has turned to myth, the Vaelhyreans of old to legend, and the power wielded by the ancients has long been forgotten. However, with Ealdred, a mere half-breed slave boy, myth becomes real, the forgotten remembered, and the power of legend is reborn within him.
Ealdred is merged into a world of mystery, brimming with deceit, where the remaining Vaelhyreans are in a desperate fight for their very survival. When Ealdred is kidnapped by the power-mongering dark lord Zeldek himself, he must make a choice; to commit his newfound magic to Zeldek’s service or die. But when he meets Bellator, clever yet treacherous servant of Zeldek, an alternative is presented to him: to escape from Zeldek’s stronghold and embark on a quest to find a cursed arrow and free the Vaelhyreans from the spell that keeps their powers at bay.
Yet how can he survive in a world where magic is illegal, half-breeds are hated, and the four countries are on the brink of war?
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“That time is already upon us,” the Master stated, rising to his feet. “Many nights now, my gaze has been turned to the stars. The constellations Heroi and Retsu are aligning for the first time in two and a half millennia. Prophecies connote these coming years as the last of mankind. This is the opportunity I have been waiting for. I must not fail!”
His eyes glowed with the passion his words expressed, and murmurs of agreement echoed through the room.
“Our toils have been rewarding and our preparation has been long,” the Master went on. “Yet we must not deceive ourselves into thinking that our position is secure.”
The murmurs fell to silence. The Master had never spoken so freely of such things before. The most this council had ever discussed were the brief updates concerning the progress of each respective country and its assets. There was the occasional new order from The Master, but such a thing was rare, and was always followed by a long, tedious discussion concerning the politics of the task, and thus was never interesting.
“It has been predicted that there is one who has the potential to stand in my way; one who may have the power to end my supreme rule before it has begun.”
“My lord, who could possess the power to rival you?” Valamette asked, bewildered.
The Master lifted his gaze to glare at Valamette from beneath the shadow of his hood. “You of all people should know.”
Understanding dawned on Valamette. He nodded slowly. Bellator glimpsed the other figures, looking to find a shred of understanding among them. But they too turned to look at Valamette, hoping to glean what they could from his bearing.
“The boy, my lord?” he asked.
“Yes,” the Master replied. “The boy.”
Bellator was intrigued. When had a boy ever entered their conversation?
“But my lord, how could he be a problem? Didn’t we do away with him as an infant? How is it possible that he still draws breath?”
“Does it matter how?” the Master snapped. “What matters is that he lives and that he will pose a threat if we aren’t careful to hone his abilities to our favour.”
“I can do it.” Valamette took a breath. “I can kill him, if you wish it. I will not fail you.”
“No!” The Master’s fist slammed on the altar. “If I wanted him dead, I would have let him die! I wouldn’t have kept him safe all this time.”

Author Bio:
Azaria M. J. Durant is a young, passionate writer of fantasy with plans to branch out into sci-fi and dystopian. She enjoys writing stories with action, adventure, unexpected plot twists, and fleshed out characters that challenge gender roles and expectations.
Azaria lives in Atlantic Canada with her family, cats, and dogs, and her big dreams to travel the world. In the moments when she isn’t writing, she is sketching concept art for her stories, participating in community theatre, or curled up with a good book and a bag of mint chocolates.

Meet the Characters:

Into the Veil of Shadow – Annalyn’s Story

            The tavern was a buzz of excitement as the midday rush neared its close, but Annalyn’s thoughts were elsewhere as she stared out the window. Beyond the docks, the waters of the lake shone in the sunlight, and the forest on the outskirts of town whispered her name. She stood, transfixed, only coming out of her stupor when the mug of ale on the trey in her hands toppled over.
            “Oy, miss!” a disgruntled customer exclaimed, leaping up as his table was soaked with the stuff.
            “Oh!” The white haired maiden grabbed a fold of her apron and rushed to dry the mess. “I’m so sorry, Mister Dowel. I’ll get a replacement for your meal right away. On the house.”
            The crankily old man grumbled, but accepted her offer with a nod. “Best keep your head outta the clouds, little miss.”
            “Yes,” she agreed, taking his food. “I’ll have the replacement out in a moment.” She walked around behind the counter and into the scullery.
            “What happened out there?” the tall, pale woman with equally as white hair as Annalyn asked as she scooped beans onto a plate.
Della was the most gossiped about woman in town, not only for her unnatural appearance and the fact that she’d appeared out of nowhere, but also for the grace and beauty that she carried herself with. A lot of people said she was the only thing that held the town together sometimes, for her motherly nature extended beyond her own family. If someone was in need, she’d be there, and never once did she expect anything else in return. She was the kindest, most sensitive woman in town, and despite the townspeople knowing nothing about her or where she came from, they loved her nonetheless.
            “I got carried off again,” her thirteen-year-old daughter replied, dumping the ale soaked food into the slop bucket. “It is so lovely outside today. I wish I was out in the forest instead of stuck in here.”
            Her mother laughed, her silver eyes twinkling. “Is that so?”
            “It’s so hot and stuffy.” Annalyn tugged at the collar of her dress.
            “I’ll tell you what,” her mother said, moving a strand of her daughter’s sweaty hair behind her ear. “Why don’t you finish cleaning up the mess, and then you can go out and pick blackberries this afternoon? Does that sound like a good exchange?”
            Annalyn’s lightly freckled face lit up. “Yes! Thank you, mother!”
            Della laughed, and handed her a plate of food. “Alright. You bring this to poor Mister Dowel, and then you can run along.”
            “Yes ma’am!”
Annalyn took the plate and hurried out into the tavern. Handing the plate to a now appeased Mister Dowel, she headed for the nearest exit. She undid her apron as she pushed open the door, and pulled it over her head, leaving it hanging on the railing outside of the tavern. She hovered about long enough to retrieve a basket from the stables, and then hurried up the road and out of town. The breeze caught her as she neared the top of the ridge that surrounded the town, and the sweet scent of the forest filled her lungs.
            She entered, swinging her basket care-freely, and searched the underbrush for the juicy clusters of berries.   Hours passed as she hummed happily to herself in the peace and quiet of the forest, listening to the birds chirping in the treetops as she wandered further and further north. Annalyn was a smart girl, and kept track of where she was going as her basket was quickly filled with berries. She had a set destination in mind; a small glade with a little brook running through it, which was the home of her childish fantasies of fairyland, where she reigned as queen. Her pace quickened as she heard the soft bubbling of the brook, which soon swept into view. She set down the basket of blackberries beside a tree and went to the water’s edge, washing the berry stains from her fingers in the cool flow.
            All at once, a shadow fell over the water, and she glanced up. Across the brook from where she knelt stood a figure, wrapped in a dark cloak and peering at her from under a deep hood. She froze, looking right back at him. The two stared at one another, him with his dark eyes, and her growing both frightened and curious.
            “Hello,” she greeted at last, her voice hesitant. “Are you lost?”
            He shook his head once.
            “Forgive me, but do you live around here? Is this your brook?”
            A bit of a smile turned the corner of his mouth. “No, child,” he said, his voice quiet. “I am simply passing through.”
            “I live in an inn,” she said. “I can show you where if you are looking for somewhere to stay.”
            “That would not be wise,” he replied. There was a slight breeze, which blew aside the hood of his cloak, revealing a scarred, wrinkled face and long, white hair. “I am on my way to my home.”
            “Oh.” Most of her fear had vanished by now. “Where do you live?”
            “A castle, far from here. To the north.”
            “The north?” she echoed. “There’s nothing north of here. Nothing but wilderness.”
            “You think not?” He smiled. “I see I have succeeded in hiding my castle quite well, then.”
            Annalyn returned his smile, but then grew suspicious. “Why were you watching me?”
            He hesitated. “You remind me of someone. Someone I knew a long time ago.”
            “Oh.” This surprised her. “Did she have hair like me?”
            All feeling left his face. “She did.” His eyes fell to the necklace that hung around Annalyn’s throat. “Where did you get that?”
            She reached up to touch the pendant. “My mother gave it to me.”
            “Is that so?” He vanished suddenly, appearing right beside her. Bending to one knee, he took the pendant carefully between his long fingers. Kneeling down, he was as tall as she was. “… how lovely.”
Annalyn stared at him, surprised and even more curious. “How did you do that?”
He looked at her, and she noticed that his pupils were dark red. “Magic,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “You’re a sorcerer?”
            “Are you afraid?” he countered, letting go of the necklace.
            She hesitated. “Should I be?”
            The man rose to his feet, observing her. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he seemed to decide. “I will take you to see my home.”
            Annalyn hesitated. She’d always wanted to see a castle. But… her mother and father would worry. “No thank you,” she said politely. “I need to get home. But it was nice meeting you.”
            He watched, looking a little disappointed, as she turned to leave. He raised his hand, his fingers moving in a ripple, and a black veil of mist stretched in the girl’s path. Annalyn gasped, backing away from it. But before she could speak, it had swallowed both her and the sorcerer whole.
The shadows cleared moments later, and she stood in the midst of a large, empty scullery. Everything around her was dark and gloomy, and the air smelled of sulphur instead of pine.
            “What have you done?” she cried, frantically turning in a circle. “Where have you taken me?”
            “To my home,” he responded, turning his back on her. “You are my servant now. Do as I tell you, and I will return you to your family in time. Disobey me, and you will never see them again.”
            Annalyn couldn’t breathe. She clutched her hands to her chest to keep them from shaking. “No. P-please... sir…” She couldn’t go on.
            He glanced back at her, his eyes now glowing in the darkness. For a moment, his stone heart softened as he saw the likeness of the girl he’d once known. But it hardened up again when he remembered the fate he’d brought upon her. “You should have been afraid of me.”
            Then he turned and walked out, leaving her alone. Annalyn’s breathing grew louder as she tried to stop the sobs from coming, but it was no use. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her knees gave out. She stumbled, catching herself against a table, and held onto it, her body trembling.
            A loud clatter came from behind her, and she turned with a cry of alarm. A boy peered at her from the scullery’s garbage chute.
            “Who’re you?” he asked, climbing out. He was filthy, and smelled of rotting matter. “Ain’t never seen you before.”
            She sniffed, trying to wipe away her tears. “… A-Annalyn.”
            “You must be new,” the boy said with a crooked grin, brushing rotten onion peels out of his curly orange hair. He extended a hand. “The name’s Uri.”
            Annalyn looked at his hand, not moving to take it.
            “You’ll get used to it here. Really, it ain’t that bad so long as you remember four things. One, you ain’t never gonna see the sun, so get used to it. Two, yes, the ezixs always smell like that. And three, stay clear of Bellator. She’s a nasty one.”
            She frowned. “What’s number four?”
            “Four?” Uri’s smile faded. “You’re gonna be stayin’ a while.”

Tuesday, August 14, 2018

XPresso Presents: Marty Thornley's Painless

Marty Thornley
Publication date: January 12th 2018
Genres: Adult, Horror, Psychological Thriller
The debut psychological-horror novel from author Marty Thornley is a page-turning ride, a front row seat to a clinical trial gone horribly wrong.
For Greg Owens, this was supposed to be a chance to end years of back pain and escape his reliance on pain pills. If it all worked out, he could maybe even get back the life he left behind as the pills took control.
Instead, as the patients are cured of their physical pain, they encounter a different sort of pain building inside them – obsessive thoughts, depression, self-destruction. The side-effects grow worse, and the suspense ratchets tighter. The patients want answers and violent revenge, setting them on a collision course with a crazed doctor, determined to protect his life’s obsession.
What readers are saying…
“…most definitely a recommended read, though it’s probably not the best choice for those with a weak stomach.”
Gruesome and twisted. Awesome!!!”
“OMG this book. Holy heck the gruesome descriptions of blood and gore and guts was SO RAD. I found myself cringing and fidgeting and yes, even feeling a bit nauseous in some spots – but totally in a GOOD WAY! Painless was exactly what I wanted in a super-unique, creepy, shocking horror-thriller.”
PAINLESS – Excerpts

Author Bio:
Marty started writing short stories as a teenager, inspired as much by favorite books and movies as the environment and characters that define the South Shore of Massachusetts. The pull of the movies dragged him first to film school and finally to Los Angeles, where he poked at the outskirts of the industry with screenplays and short films.
As his interest in a film career fizzled, he rebuilt himself bit-by-bit as a programmer. He spent the next decade building websites, finally realizing that something had been lost. His stories were collecting dust in the back of his brain while he sat through conference calls and code reviews.
So he returned to the woods of New England and the calming darkness under the trees. He returned to find the things that crawl in the undergrowth and turn them into words on the page. He dusted off one of his screenplays and turned it into his first novel. In the process, a dormant storyteller was awakened and is now seeking the next blank page to fill.


Saturday, August 11, 2018

RABT Presents: Triangle of Hope by Michael Myer

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Contemporary Fiction
Date Published: December 1, 2014
Publisher: Pacific Books

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If one person can make a difference, just think what three can do.

Clint Westerly was a success until a fateful choice he makes tears his world all apart. Tanya Wilshire is broke but hell-bent on committing to her mother's final deathbed request. 84-year-old Seamus Harrington needs to right an ancient wrong before time runs out.

Filled with grit and determination, these three people with three different problems, an unlikely trio of unexpected allies, converge in a small Irish town to form a Triangle of Hope against all odds. Together they take a courageous stand that will forever change their world and that around them.


If you love feel-good reads with happy endings, then TRIANGLE OF HOPE is for you. "If an author can make you cry for his characters then want to hug them close and then want to do an Irish Jig with them to celebrate overcoming that much pain then you know you have read a book that will stay with you forever."- Wanda Hartzenberg, Wanda's Amazing Amazon Reviewers

It is a "fantastic read that will pull at your heart." - Lauren Alumbaugh, Goodreads librarian


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His impending death hung in the air like thick smog, smothering everything in its path, obscuring a parade of ups and downs, the unevenness of thrills and chills that defined his life’s existence. It was eerie and scary, but also rather comforting, much like being in a warm bed on a cold night, like shivering while being filled with excitement at what was going to happen next. The news could very easily have been broadcast to those of his past and present, but he had made certain that all the speakers had been turned to mute. He had made the firm decision to meet his destiny without any chance of intervention by anyone. He was all alone in this, his final act.
The hotel room was a bit dark with all the lights switched off, but outside the window the sky was as bright blue as Cinnamon’s eyes had been. At least that’s the way it looked to Clint Westerly. For some reason his mind had suddenly flashed on Cinnamon of all things. Cinnamon had been the perfect cat. Paul Newman eyes, he had called them, which sparkled in the sunlight and glistened in the dark. Such beautiful eyes. Such a wonderful cat. Such a pity that eighteen years was all the time he had had to frolic through the world. Cinnamon had been the perfect cat, the perfect companion. The little cat had been much more than a friend. He had actually been like a son to both him and Sheila. Anybody who knew them would surely concur. That’s just the way things were in their wonderful world.
Their world. What a crock! What world? Everything gone now, vanished, disintegrated into thin air, the tiniest particles vaporized into non-existence. Not a remnant remaining except for the tortured thoughts brought about by that one memory that refused to disappear no matter how painfully the ever increasing toll that it took on his physical body and on his ever working brain, overwhelming him in the process, the remembrance bringing him to his knees, shutting out all other thoughts as well as the rest of the world. Darkness and clouds made up the present, and there would be no future. How could there be? Not with the ever painful memory tearing at his innards, wreaking havoc with the person he had once been. Obliterating the world he had once known. Snuffing out all that he had loved, all that had made up the world in which he had once so happily lived.
 He took a big swig from the large snifter of XO Remy Martin he held in his right hand, the cognac warming his throat at it snaked its way into his stomach, his left hand resting on the windowsill. There was so much beauty in the world. Just look at the trees gently blowing in the breeze. Look at how the leaves seem to glisten as they sway in the gentle breeze. See how the clouds out on the horizon take on the never-ending shapes of the imagination, slowly changing shapes and colors in an endless kaleidoscope of wondrous features, a galloping antelope, a smiling child, a mighty elm. All one had to do is look, and wonderful scenes could be seen and imagined, constantly evolving from one glorious image to the next.
Remember the giggles of little tots’ faces, the tail wagging of puppies, the sound of rain on the roof, the softness of a newly made bed, the warmth of a fire on a winter night, the smell of coffee in the morning, the moonlit sky, a beautiful sunset, the sound of waves crashing against the shore, the first gulp of water on a thirsty day, the move-it-forward power of a smile from a total stranger.
Yes, life could be so good…so why did it have to end this way? He had had it all, the most wonderful wife in the world, a job he loved, the house of their dreams, and the financial know-how that had provided them the opportunity to partake in the pleasures that good food, drink, and leisure activities of their own choosing afforded the most fortunate, which, of course they had been. Laughter had reigned in their little world. It had been dancing, prancing, and singing all the way, not caring who was looking or who saw. It just did not matter. All that mattered was that they had each other, and, of course, little Cinnamon.

About the Author

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Michael Meyer is the author of mysteries, thrillers, humorous fiction, and non-fiction: Love and romance, laughter and tears, thrills and fears.
As a recent retiree from a forty-year career as a professor of writing, he now lives in Southern California wine country with his wife, Kitty, and their two adorable rescue cats.

Contact Links

Purchase Link

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Friday, August 10, 2018

XPresso Presents: Laire McKinney's Destiny Fulfilled

Destiny Fulfilled
Laire McKinney
Publication date: August 7th 2018
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
Only love can save them…
Wren O’Hara is waiting for the day she succumbs to mental illness like her mother. When she is attacked by a psychotic client at work, and saved by what must be an angel, she fears the time for insanity has come.
Little does she know, her savior is an immortal warrior druid named Riagan Tenman, and that he will challenge everything she ever thought she knew about reality.
Now Wren must decide if the fantasy unfolding before her is true, or if she has finally lost her mind.
Guest Post by Laire McKinney:
Best and Worst Things About Being a Writer, and Ten Things I Wish Every Aspiring Writer Knew
The best things about being a writer are seeing my name in print, fulfilling a childhood fantasy, and letting my mind run wild, knowing it will only make a story better.
The worst things about being a writer are the slow pace of publishing, the uncertainty of any outcome, and the at-times debilitating self-doubt.
Ten Things I Wish Every Aspiring Writer Knew:
1. Your first attempt at a novel will not likely be the one. (There are always exceptions, but I know several authors who did not snag the publishing contract until book #2…or #3…or #4…). As for me, I was offered a contract on the second full-length novel I wrote, but that was already two years into the writing experience. One year was spent writing the novel that will never been seen. The second year was writing the one that got published. It is not a quick-turnaround business so reevaluate if that’s what you seek.
2. Community matters. I am as introverted and socially-awkward as they come, but I do venture out to writers’ groups and conferences, and am active on online forums. Having a peer group is essential to survival. I use them to bounce off plot ideas, to beta read, to cheer me on when I’ve been given good news, to cheer me up when I’ve been given bad news.
3. And there is a lot of bad news, so thicken that skin. Rejections. Rejections. Rejections. Then if you do land the contract and sail your way (via tumultuous seas) to the published novel, then there are the reviews—hopefully good, sometimes bad, occasionally downright mean. Then, if you’re one of the few, you’ll sell a lot of copies and make a lot of money. Most of us are somewhere in the middle, and this can vary month to month. Sometimes you might very well find yourself at the bottom and that sucks but it’s reality.
4. Do not be competitive with your peers. My writer friends have been some of the most supportive and encouraging and non-competitive people I could hope to know. A perfect example: I was at a workshop and the speaker wanted those in attendance to create a story together. Her disclaimer: do not worry that someone will steal the idea you’ve thrown out. Even if they started with that idea, their story will be vastly different from yours. Not to say there isn’t plagiarism and piracy, but among the writers you choose to call friends, be supportive and encouraging. You’ll appreciate that when it’s reflected back to you.
5. Be fearless. There is something to be said for writing for the masses. Agents and publishers know what’s trending, what has sold in the past, what is expected to sale in the future. But there is always the break-out novel that’s just different. In a cookie-cutter world, be a free-styling carver and you’ll land on your mark. (I hope that last statement makes sense!)
6. Enjoy the writing. I know from personal experience if I get bogged down in the business of writing (which you must learn), then I lose the creativity. It’s a balance. You can’t have one without the other, and if you no longer find you enjoy it, take a step back and write something for your pleasure only. There is a chance it might very well be your best yet.
7. You will have to spend money marketing, even if you have a publishing contract with a big agency. You need a website, social media, head shot, etc. It helps to join one or more organizations. I’m a member of Romance Writers of America (an excellent place to begin), as well as Women’s Fiction Writers. If you write YA, there is Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators.
8. If you want to write a genre but are embarrassed or afraid of how it’ll impact your day job or your image, use a pen name. It’s all good, but it’s best to decide that before you get published. If you want to write erotica, it’ll be hard to turn around and write YA under the same name. Not impossible, but tricky.
9. Understand there will be times when the words do not flow, the mind will not concentrate, and the writing timeline falls by the wayside. This happens to me all the time. I have three children, a dog, a hubs, a job, and sometimes it’s just not happening. What do I do? I don’t stress about it. It could be a day, a week, sometimes a month. That recharging period will help you come back renewed.
10. Writers are often introverts. I know I am, and I love to live in my head, to watch tv alone. I love to be in my house when it’s as quiet as an early morning in snowy December. But living your life is essential to good writing. We need experiences to draw from, ideas that simmer and stew and eventually become plot…we need to live life so we can retreat and create.
If you’ve already stepped onto the writerly path, what suggestions would you give to a new writer?
Many thanks for hosting me today. Cheers, Laire.

Author Bio:
Laire McKinney is the author of contemporary and fantasy women’s fiction. She believes in a hard-earned happily-ever-after, with nothing more satisfying than passionate kisses and sexy love scenes, endearing characters and complex conflict. When not writing, she can be found traipsing among the wildflowers, reading under a willow tree, or gazing at the moon while pondering the meaning of it all. She lives in Virginia with her family and beloved rescue pup, Lila da Bean.


Saturday, August 4, 2018

Book Review: The Last Nazi by Andrew Turpin

The Last Nazi by Andrew Turpin is about a-CIA-agent-turned-Nazi hunter who gets a case relating to a suspicious suicide.  A reporter hires him and the two of them make their way to England in search of two Holocaust survivors' jewelry store.  As the plot unfolds, the two brothers who escaped Rosen Work Camp in Poland are taking gold that Nazis once stole during World War II.  The brothers have an interesting back story.  As prisoners, they were required to hide the gold deep within tunnels that they helped build.  SPOILER ALERT: The brothers get their revenge by selling the gold to a former Nazi at a set price.

My Review: The story is loaded with facts as well as conspiracy theory.  I loved the story, the research, and the historical angle the author used throughout the story.  Although the plot could be complicated and confusing at times, the author would quickly review parts of the story so you were up to speed while reading..  I enjoyed the book immensely and will probably read more of this talented writer.  I highly recommend this book for WWII buffs and conspiracy freaks like me!

Thursday, August 2, 2018

RABT Tours Presents: Snafu by Bob Dixon

Adult Humor
Date Published: Oct 2016

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If you are easily offended, then this is NOT the book for you. Please put it down and back away slowly. However, if you have a warped sense of humor, please read on.

In the town of Lost Hope, Florida reside two heroes unlike any others. These champions of justice go by the names of Snafu Fubar and General Nuisance. Nightly they patrol their fine city to protect it from evil's grasp. And by 'patrol' we mean they sit on a porch, appropriately nicknamed 'The Fucking Nuisance Cave', drinking beers, smoking cigars, and talking about sex.

About the Author

Bob Dixon is a two-time Guinness World Record holder for the World's Longest Cartoon Strip. He is the author and creator of a number of comic book titles for Pocket Change Comics, including Assassinette: The Mind Stalker, Psyco Duck, Jester's Dead, The Holy Knight, Riplash, Shadow Slasher, and Warzone 3719. Bob has written two children books, Rooty the Tree Troll and Holiday Bunny; two young adult books, Mouch and Company: The Dream Psychic and Rags and Ruins; An adult humor book Snafu Fubar : Nothing Heroic; and is the co-author of Will Jones' biography A Tough Call. Bob is also the Writer/Director of the movie Dr. Prozak's Office. Additionally, he is a certified special education teacher who works with children who have autism and intellectual delays.

Contact Links

Twitter: @authorbobdixon

Purchase Links

The Bifurcation of Dungsten Crease

    Science Fiction Date Published: March 15, 2021 Publisher: Del Sol Press In the course of a morning, Dungsten Crease resurrec...