Giving Away Books is normal for me. But am I ever normal? Check my bio here or my free short story on how I got my pet phoenix if you have any thought I’m your average comic paranormal animal author.
So what’s the deal on free books? I gave away three books to three people at Penned Con. I’ve given away forty books to eager fans since I first published Zombie Turkeys on October 31st, 2016.
What do you have to do? Just subscribe to my newsletter by clicking right here. Now. I’ll hold my monthly drawing for an ebook or paperback and an audiobook tomorrow, October 4th.
What Does Andy Do When He’s NOT Giving Away Books?
Write! I’m working on a novel about four disabled children who acquire super powers–but remain disabled. This should be fun. Look for Advanced Reader Copies from this site Real Soon Now!
Post! I put fun links on Facebook and Twitter every day. Check these out.
Moving on from science fiction, this next one is pure fantasy.
Do you want more? Here’s one more:
Andy Zach Reviews Books Too
You can find my reviews on my Goodreads profile page.
Here’s one of my recent reviews:
A wonderful example of historic young adult fiction set in the 50s of small-town US. Author Bertrand Brinley wrote these stories for Boys Life magazine and then compiled them in this book.
He depicts the adventures of a teen boy club, ‘The Mad Scientists Club’ and its rivalry with another group of boys as they engage in adventures, pranks, and exploration. One adventure involves bidding on and buying a scrap Japanese midget submarine and then rebuilding it.
A prank they pull is making a flying saucer-shaped airship, remotely controlled, which causes a townwide sensation.
The closing story involves battles with their rival club, as each seeks to outsmart the other.
I read the first volume as a Scholastic paperback in about fifth or sixth grade in the 60s. The second volume is more of the same. I wonder how much of today’s YA fiction will still be read in fifty years?
Generally, I don’t like shorter fiction (short stories, novellas) as much as longer, but this anthology may be the best I’ve read since ‘The Best of Science Fiction’ series in the 70s. The stories are longer than short stories, novellas or longer and of universally good quality.
All the stories are associated with the ‘Honorverse’, the story world created by David Weber for his beloved spaceship captain, Honor Harrington. The authors are Jane Lindskold, writing ‘Ruthless’; Timothy Zahn writing ‘An Act of War’, and David Weber writing ‘Let’s Dance’. Ms. Lindskold and Mr. Zahn have co-authored books with David Weber previously.
Finishing up the collection is an interesting and technical examination of military technology by Andy Presby.
Any fan of David Weber will enjoy reading all the stories in this book. They’re all very creative and add interesting wrinkles and details about events referred to in the Honorverse, but not explored in depth.
Thursday, September 20, my assistant Tori Smith and I arrived at the Red Lion hotel in City Center block of St. Louis. The hotel is a repurposed block of downtown St. Louis, complete with three thirteen-story atriums. The Penned Con convention resided on the lucky thirteenth floor. Gander at these pictures from the outdoor lounge:
3 Fun Links 3 Writing Tips — Fun first! Here’s the first fun link:
Now for the first writing tip. What is it? Nothing less than the secret of writing success!
3 Fun Links 3 Writing Tips – Your Next Fun Link
3 Fun Links 3 Writing Tips – Your Next Writing Tip
Your Third Fun Link of 3 Fun Links 3 Writing Tips
3 Fun Links 3 Writing Tips -Your Last Writing Tip
And One More Fun Thing
What could be more fun than the 3 Fun Links 3 Writing Tips you’ve already read? How about an excerpt from Chapter 5 of Paranormal Privateers?
Here it comes!
Paranormal Privateers Chapter 5 – London
“What’s your situation, Lulu?” I asked.
“I’m using a cutting board as a shield. When the Taser hits it, I cut the wires with my katana.”
“Are they going to rush you? Where are you?”
“I don’t think so. One tried sneaking past me, and I bowled him down by throwing a mixer at him. I’m guarding the exit to the dinnerware room. They can’t leave past me, but I can’t advance. I can’t leave Sharon anyway. How long until you get here?”
“We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”
“We’ll need about ten more minutes,” said General MacGregor, who was in charge of the backup forces.
“Good! Double backup! Lulu, hang on. We’re bringing in the heavies!” Diane said.
“What do you mean?” MacGregor asked.
“Let’s see if Tasers can stop zombie bulls!” Diane yelled.
“No! You can’t take bulls into Harrods!”
“You shouldn’t have Tasers or C-4 explosives in Crock-Pots in Harrods either!”
“It’s the appropriate response, General.” I tried to calm him.
“Like hell it is! You wait until our backup forces get there!” General MacGregor was losing it. I’d never heard him yell like that.
“There’s no way in hell I’ll leave my friends in danger, General!” Diane yelled back.
I’d never heard Diane swear like that.
“You hold off until we get there! That’s an order!”
Diane snatched off her headset as we pulled up to Harrods entrance on Basil Street. “Tell the general I lost my headset!” she shouted as she ran to open the lorry.
“Diane’s having a communicator problem right now,” I told the general.
“What kind of problem?” he barked.
“It seems to have fallen off her head.”
“Arrgh! Tell her I order her to not enter Harrods with her zombie bulls!”
Paranormal Privateers Chapter 5 – London – Part 2
“Will do, sir,” I said, knowing the orders would not affect her.
Diane, already astride her bull, Whip, led three others on Kevlar reins. “Here’s your bull, Durham, George. I also have Lulu’s bull, Toro, and Sharon’s, Wallstreet.”
“Can’t have too many, I suppose. General MacGregor orders you to not enter Harrods with the bulls, by the way.”
“Bull! He’s got to work through my superior officer, General Figeroa! I know my chain of command!”
“Why don’t you tell him that?” I held out her headset to her.
“I’d better not. He might get him to issue the order! It’s better to get forgiveness than ask permission! Let’s go!”
On Durham, I followed her and the other bulls through the sliding electric doors of the Basil Street Entrance.
“Uh-oh.” Diane perched on her one-ton bull, looking at the narrow, winding stairway to the next floor. “We’d better take the escalator.”
The store had been evacuated by this time. Each bull followed Diane up the escalator, brushing the handholds on each side with their huge chests.
Up one floor, two, then three. The moving stairs didn’t faze the bulls, who negotiated them as nimbly as gymnasts.
We left the escalator on the third floor and raced through the luggage department. The bulls’ horns snagged fine luxury calfskin bags. Festooned by fashion, we raced down a broad hall across the store toward the housewares department. We thundered through the Halcyon Gallery, the exhibit hall where Harrods displayed artworks. Expensive paintings rattled on walls as we rumbled past them, the bulls’ rush randomly depositing expensive leather goods everywhere.
We saw Lulu and Sharon crouching outside a doorway labeled Entertaining at Home. Lightning bolts flashed through the archway.
Whoa! I thought. That was no Taser. That was artificial lightning! It was entertaining, I supposed.
Paranormal Privateers Chapter 5 – London – Part 3
“I’ve brought your bulls! Jump on!” Diane yelled. She charged directly into the lightning.
Her sheer audacity saved her. The giant Taser’s first shot missed her, singeing the bull’s tail off. The pain drove the bull into an all-out sprint. The terrorists behind the Taser saw the two-thousand-pound bull ten feet from them and dove aside. The bull lowered his head and smashed the Taser with an explosion of sparks.
Diane put the bull into an emergency four-footed stop. He skidded, tearing up the carpeting with his hooves and knocking aside heavy, expensive Italian furniture, like Styrofoam blocks. Diane wrenched Whip’s head and body around to get back to the terrorists, but I picked up one by the nape of his neck and Lulu picked up the other.
“Where is your boss?” Diane asked.
He spoke something unintelligible in Arabic.
“That’s not really credible, that you worked as a clerk in Harrods and don’t speak English.” I shook him. I intended to shake until he changed to English.
Then Sharon said something in Arabic.
“I’ll talk! I’ll talk! Don’t turn me into a zombie!” he screamed, hanging from my hand.
“Our boss is defending his position in the Cook Shop, the next room over!” squealed the other one, held aloft by one of Lulu’s arms. Her other arm held her razor-sharp katana at his throat.
“We know where he is now. Follow me!” Diane reared her snorting bull and charged into the next room.
We followed while Lulu tied up the terrorists using zip ties.
Paranormal Privateers Chapter 5 – London – Part 4
The next room held beautiful displays of fine china in glass cases. There were also complete dining room settings of Wedgewood china and crystal. Unfortunately, the interior designers had not planned for four one-ton bulls charging through the store.
The bulls made the aisles of china accommodate their long horns by swinging their heads back and forth. The glass cases and their precious contents flew backward like KOed fighters. Glass and china alike dissolved into fragments, covering the floor in a random mosaic.
The heavy hardwood dining tables had no greater luck against the rampaging bulls’ torsos. Tables and chairs flipped over like cardboard. Oak and cherry splinters joined the glass puzzle pieces on the floor. Champagne flutes flew high into the air like little glass rockets. Sadly, they had no reentry vehicle. Vintage china plates soared like flying saucers and then landed and split into broken wedges like pie pieces.
People’s lives are more important than a few thousand dollars of dishes and furniture, I thought as Durham ran over the luxurious rubble.
Then a Crock-Pot zoomed at Diane and Whip from the far wall of the room. It exploded into fragments, shredding Diane and the bull. Covered in blood and stunned, Diane managed to shout at the assailant, “Now you’ve done it! Now, you’ve got me REALLY mad!”
Shaking their heads and spraying blood like two sprinklers, Diane and Whip charged down an aisle of Aga ovens toward their attacker. With a stupendous flash of light and heat, one of the large ovens exploded. The concussion knocked me off Durham, hurling us both back into the broken dining merchandise. I had a midair glimpse of seeing Sharon and Wallstreet flying through the air next to me in an oddly graceful ballet. Then everything went black.
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