Publisher: Wildside Press
This is the end of the world. It did not come through fire or ice, with a bang or a whimper, from solar catastrophe or man’s suicidal mis-use of atomic power or any of the other fearful possibilities with which the Sunday-supplement writers once terrified us. It came through the exposure of an age-old conspiracy.
Rosemount Cottage was exactly as her grandmother left it… Hat on the coat stand. Slippers by the chair. Poisoned tea leaves in the strainer… Tamsyn Pride knows someone – or something – killed her grandmother. But every attempt she makes to catch the killer is met with whispers behind her back and suspicious looks. In the sleepy village of Much Wenlock, everyone has a secret. Everyone has something to hide. Meanwhile, in the churning depths of the River Severn, a lost soul has been summoned – and they will stop at nothing to exact their deadly revenge. Yet there is only one person the villagers are terrified of. They just have to pray she doesn’t remember she was once a witch with the power to destroy them all. The Winter Crone is a contemporary dark fantasy series filled with folklore, witchcraft and myth. If you love A Discovery of Witches and Her Majesty’s Royal Coven, pick up the first gripping instalment from The Arcane Tales of Tamsyn Pride.Show book
The Engineer by Frederik Pohl and C. M. Kornbluth - The Big Wheels of tomorrow will be men who can see the big picture. But blowouts have small beginnings.... It was very simple. Some combination of low temperature and high pressure had forced something from the seepage at the ocean bottom into combination with something in the water around them. And the impregnable armor around Subatlantic Oil's drilling chamber had discovered a weakness. On the television screen it looked more serious than it was—so Muhlenhoff told himself, staring at it grimly. You get down more than a mile, and you're bound to have little technical problems. That's why deepsea oil wells were still there. Still, it did look kind of serious. The water driving in the pitted faults had the pressure of eighteen hundred meters behind it, and where it struck it did not splash—it battered and destroyed. As Muhlenhoff watched, a bulkhead collapsed in an explosion of spray; the remote camera caught a tiny driblet of the scattering brine, and the picture in the screen fluttered and shrank, and came back with a wavering side-wise pulse. Muhlenhoff flicked off the screen and marched into the room where the Engineering Board was waiting in attitudes of flabby panic. As he swept his hand through his snow-white crew cut and called the board to order a dispatch was handed to him—a preliminary report from a quickly-dispatched company trouble-shooter team. He read it to the board, stone-faced.Show book
Our favorite Fairy Godmother is on her own in an enchanted cave that has more twists and turns and most of them deadly. She has an enchanted oversized dog with her, but will that be enough? No help is coming. Alex, the police detective, is still under a sleep curse and Sir Thomas, a talking cat banished from his realm, has left to defend him. Can Charlotte get her wand to work in the weird world of Cincinnati? Or does this spell doom for the duo? Violent earthquakes rip through the cave, trapping Charlotte and her furry companion in a deadly battle with only one option. Fight the magical realm's idea of a video game. The Fairy Godmother and Cat vanquish one obstacle after another on their quest, till they run headlong into a world-eater. That bad boy with a breath problem was supposed to have been defeated by a league of fairy godmothers long ago. And that demon isn't her only challenge. Someone has rigged this game, and our fairy godmother is starting to catch on. But who was it? This wicked cave holds even darker secrets and discovering them might just be her undoing. With her friends' lives at stake and the fate of Cincinnati and EverAfter in her hands, can Charlotte save them?Show book
The black witches are gunning for me, but I’m ready to hit back.Someone is trying to kill me. It’s been happening for a while, so death threats and murder attempts are getting mundane. When a rogue fire elemental throws a fireball at my head, I’m not surprised, but I’m not thrilled either.Luckily, I currently have a live-in-protector; Bastion, the preeminent assassin of the magical world, has become my bodyguard and tormentor. The former because the coven council have paid him a princely sum to keep me alive, and the latter because he keeps strolling around in his underwear. How is a witch supposed to think with all of those muscles flexing about?Unfortunately, thinking is rather necessary in my line of work. I can’t afford to be distracted. I’m a rune and potion mistress, and it’s going to take all of my skills to concoct an antidote to save the life of one of my witches who got led astray by the black coven. She tried to quit, but the black coven doesn’t believe in notice periods. Her life hangs in the balance and I’ll do everything I can to save her life – even consult with my sentient grimoire.I’m ready to give the finger to the black witches and save her young life, when I get summoned to Edinburgh. My acolyte isn’t the only one who is in the black coven’s crosshairs. The Crone – my Aunt Abigay – has been targeted too.I have to choose.Do I save my young charge, or my aunt?Don't miss this witchy series if you like humour, heart and a strong heroine with a slow burn, enemies to lovers, fade-to-black romance. Written in British English.Show book
A revolution is afoot in Sparta! And not just any revolution: an industrial revolution.Water wheels and mechanical hammers have come to replace primitive labor. That means more ploughs in the fields and more arms for the soldiers.After all, the enemy grows by the day, too.Show book
A Message From Our Sponsor by Henry Slesar - The foot-in-the-door technique would work perfectly for any salesman—if he had an invisible foot! "And that was Smoky Donahue's Western Swingsters, playing Red Dust for all you Martian fans out there. Now let's take a look at the new recordings, hot off the presses this week from all over the system. Looks like we have a real treat for you tonight, folks! There's a brand-new label from way out in outer space. Yes, sir, the very first record put on wax by the Martian Recording Company, and it ought to be a lulu. We'll spin it for you in just a minute, but first, here's a message from our sponsor, the Oxygen Corporation of America—Earth's oldest and finest manufacturers of compressed oxygen equipment. "Friends, when you're scooting around in your little rocket roadster, do you ever stop to think that your fine vehicle deserves nothing but the best in equipment and accessories? Well, next time, take a look at your oxygen tanks. Are you still using the cumbersome, old, outmoded tank, with ugly valves and low capacity? Wouldn't you rather have the new, streamlined Oxco tank that gives you months of service without refilling? Models cost as low as four thousand dollars, and they're guaranteed up to a full year. Call your local rocket supply store today, and get all the facts. When you see the new Oxco, you'll know why we say ... Oxco never leaves you breathless! "Well, I see Jonesy, our control board operator, waving at me like mad, folks. He wants to hear this new disc from Mars, too. So—without further ado—here we go. It's on the Canal label, and it's called ... Melancholy!" The boss slammed the file drawer shut in disgust. The Martian, standing before his desk, shuffled his feet and rotated his cap with his third hand. "Displeasing you?" he said. "Come back other time do?"Show book
