Tag Archives: new release

Alas for the time gone by in a flash

Right now, the first major dump of December.

Why the missing time? Stuff happened, some good and more not so good. I have worked on writing but have flitted from one project to another, unable to concentrate properly as I got a good dose of the glums. I think the thing that started that off was waiting forever for a cover for my new book. I’d see a half done version and loved it, but then came the long silence. I will not bug my publisher constantly as it isn’t their fault so I waited and fretted and got glum. The upshot is the project was ditched for some unknown and unexpressed reason so my wonderful publisher scrambled to get a truly wonderful and very busy cover person, Ken Dawson, to do a new one for me. This is by far my favorite cover ever, by a long stretch and I love it to bits. 

Isn’t it brilliant?  So book published and the glums start to recede only to get another negative boost. This is personal stuff mostly about loosing people from this mortal coil, quite a few this year as it happens. It makes for writing xmas cards that bit more difficult because of the omissions as these were people I cared about a lot. Then this month came news that a former friend had died suddenly. I am sad for their family at the unexpected even, albeit I shed my tears years ago when this person chose to walk away from friendship with no explanation. I was over that years back and yet this is still sad. The person was a month younger than me. It makes a person feel a tad vulnerable although my tally of years isn’t that great as yet. 

Then there was sickness. The dh and I caught a very nasty chest cold that lasted a good month. Yuk. The foul thing is doing the rounds as other family members are currently sick with it, although we stayed away from them while infectious. So…having failed to do Nano (the writing marathon for November), this year I am resolved to stop procrastinating and start listening to all the characters who are screaming at me to get on with their stories. Maybe I’ll get a book done by xmas? We will see. 

By the pricking in my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.

I hear Sword of Shadows will be live on Sunday. Yay! This being the case, there is another little snippet of the first chapter.

Five hours later, Arthur and the exhausted Submariners finished dragging all the Terran warriors into a vast, air-filled cavern under Dozary Lake. Looking up, he just managed to grab the wrist of a weary man about to remove stasis devices.

“No. Leave them, Huber. They are getting the rest they need.” Arthur’s hand shook where it gripped the Submariner. He forced it to stillness. “They have just lost a battle advantage. They do not need time to brood over it.”

“Will you leave them here, Arthur?” Huber sank to his knees, trembling with the same fatigue. The raw scent of ketones, the by-product of protein breakdown, wafted through the air around him.

“All of us must rest.” Arthur looked around at what he could see of their dank and noise-some bolthole. It offered little beyond safety. He faced a decision he did not want to make. “Then we visit Avalon.”

When his Submariners crawled to sleeping places in the sand, Arthur used every last ounce of his willpower to stand and walk to his own bedroll. He knew it as a pointless gesture when he added to the scent of ketones on the air. He also guessed at the nature of the reception he could expect from the rulers of Avalon and his mother after an absence of two years. Tomorrow they would board the submersible vessel and return to the place of its theft, under the southern ocean. Sleep came as a soothing blanket of darkness.


Transport lights gave the empty ocean a blue hue, for at this depth few life forms could withstand the crushing pressure. Arthur’s thoughts drifted as Kai piloted the craft. Their journey, with Terrans still in stasis, from the cavern to this transport had further drained his Submariners. They lay sleeping at the back of the cabin. Arthur felt his own need, yet resisted. Guilt colored his reasons because he wanted a genuine excuse to escape from his mother’s expected chilling wrath.

Over the past two years, many messages from her regarding his abrupt departure reached him through a variety of messengers. However phrased, each one held the same command, ‘Come back immediately.’ He knew Kai shouldered a similar burden of demands from her. Neither of them replied and so risked giving a clue to their location. Now they must face her.

A brighter blue glow appeared ahead, signaling their proximity to Avalon. He glanced across at Kai. His brother’s face remained expressionless. Information of their discovery must be shared despite any personal cost. The lethal storm had remained anchored over the earrings while the group made their escape. Without the earrings and their strange emissions, all the Outcasts were helpless to fend off a mind attack from the Nestines. If the earrings no longer worked, then the Outcasts might be used to kill their Submariner allies.

“Avalon wants an identification code.” Kai passed the information relayed through his earpiece in an offhand tone as if it didn’t matter. The sound of his voice roused Submariners into reluctant wakefulness.

“Break comm-silence.” Arthur glanced back at his unit, seeing the strain and fatigue showing on each face. “Tell control who we are. At least some of us can hope for a shower and a hot meal.”

“Commander?” Haystack, an Outcast with untidy blond hair edged closer to Arthur. “What will happen to us now?”

“You all get a respite for a time.” Arthur looked towards Kai, who only shrugged. Respite was their personal code for nothing changed.

“No.” Haystack looked tense, unusual for any of the Brethren. “I meant this unit including our leaders.”

“Unknown.” Arthur pushed aside his own misgivings to appear confident. “No Brethren, whether born into the state or created an Outcast, can function on the surface without risking his comrades until this is resolved.”

Haystack looked back towards the others. Subtle adjustments of posture among Brethren and slight nods from Submariners seemed to give him input. “We won’t go to Rowan. We will share whatever punishment is decreed for those we trust.”

“The strength of the valorous,” Kai quipped, catching Arthur’s eye.

“Sir?” Haystack raised one eyebrow.

“Keys to the Kingdom.” Arthur struggled to keep his voice steady as a fierce pride in his fighting men surged through him. “One mainstay of any kingdom, however small, is the strength of the valorous.”

“The cries of the oppressed demand the wisdom of the wise,” Stalker joined in, coming to stand beside Haystack.

“Who dares lock the doors of wisdom?” Merrick, a Submariner, continued this surface-world game of children’s logic, gaining himself a startled glance from the Brethren.

“Those who wish to suppress truth,” Kai continued on to the next phase, looking hard at Arthur.

“Shall the truth be hidden from those oppressed?” Stalker jumped a level, leading them closer to the final gambit.

“The people cry out for justice from those who must judge,” Haystack responded, also looking at Arthur.

“The valorous must fight to ensure truth is given to the one who must hold the keys to the kingdom.” Kai smiled the slow smile of Brethren.

“Who is the one?” Haystack matched Kai in expressions.

“He who would sacrifice his all for the sake of the oppressed.” Merrick finished the game.

“We will not stand down. We will not be dispersed. We will continue our mission together.”

Arthur looked from one trusting and resolute face to another, aware of the same commitment from all. For the first time, it hit him how much they knew of the burden he bore. Looking into those eyes, he saw acceptance. It made him want to kneel before them and beg their forgiveness. A lump formed in his throat.

Kai’s console began blinking with an incoming message that diffused the moment. He reattached his earpiece.

“They say they are sending a security detail to ‘assist’ us in debriefing. Once we dock, we are to exit the submersible and wait for further instructions.” Kai terminated the connection. “How much assistance are we prepared to let them give us?”

“We stay together,” Merrick answered for all of them, and then a slow smile peculiar to Brethren lighted a Submariner face.

A slight thud warned them all of docking clamps securing their transport. The faint hiss of airway breathers activating brought a smell of dust and mold to Arthur. His nostrils flared in protest at this contamination of their clean if recycled air, with Avalon’s best offering. It smelled of home to him and his Submariners, but he knew how much the Brethren Outcasts hated this stink of ages as he also did now. He suppressed a yearning for the fresh bite of a keen, crisp wind on his face, bringing with it a rich aroma of growth and life. How many years must he live without experiencing the full array of natural odors this time?

Automatic processes thudded, entrapping their craft and preparing to open it like a hapless clamshell. Faint stirrings behind Arthur told him the men formed up into position for disembarkation. Tiny betrayals of sound indicated that they moved into fighting triads. He isolated the creak of Brethren leather clothing from the almost soundless rustle of Submariner water-repellent garments. Not one footfall though, not from these stealth-trained warriors. By the deeps, he must be wound to snapping point to notice these niceties.

Kai closed down all engines and came to stand at his side, an unspoken question in those violet eyes that matched his own, down to the color and shape. He guessed Kai sensed his tension since he shared the concerns and consequences. Even as he took that first deep breath to start a calming mantra, Kai’s muscles slid into the fluid stance of battle-ready Brethren. They turned to move as one as if sharing the same soul. Icy chills washed over Arthur as he recalled when this happened in fact. No one had ever survived a gestalt before.

The main doors opened onto a deserted docking bay. Metal walkways gleamed in the perpetual day of Avalon. Buildings cast harsh shadows in their thrust upward to the transparent bubble of plas-glass that kept out the crush of water, fathoms deep and fading into blackness. Arthur moved his hand in Brethren sign language to order halt and scan.

His flesh crept in the unnatural quiet of the area. No ground runners rumbled by carrying workers. No railpods hissed from overhead tracks. No people walked to their destinations as they should during a day split into multiple shifts. Faint sounds in the distance warned him of an area cleared for combat.

“I can’t sense any change, yet there is something.” Kai caught at his arm, looking as if he concentrated. “I’m beginning to feel very sleepy.”

“Stop probing ahead.” Arthur caught sight of a partial shadow in an alleyway. “We have a shy welcoming committee. Some of them are Seers.”

“They set an ambush?” Kai hawked and spat. An action calculated to upset the social instincts of any Seer. He grinned at Arthur.

“If I find that a primitive example of coarse behavior, the Seers who witnessed will want to roast you over a slow fire.” Arthur matched his smile. “We wait.” Behind him, he heard similar expulsions, normally against his expressed orders. Brethren knew how and when to disgust others to their own advantage. Liquid sounds splashed against a hard surface and the smell of fresh urine made his nostrils flare.

With hypersensitive olfactory organs possessed by most of the Seers, the aroma must reach them soon if they hadn’t already connected the sound with the action. No one in Avalon had ever before witnessed Brethren living up to their role of insentient animals ascribed to them by forts. The sound of a similar splashing to the right of the first sound caused him to check a laugh. This aroma held the pheromones of a Submariner. Was it going to take the formation of an outside urinal to make Seers break?

Pile all your weapons in a heap and move away from them, a multi-toned voice in Arthur’s head whispered. An octet of Seers and he guessed Elite trooper backups. He eased his hand behind his back to sign for more offensive behavior. Two more of his unit obliged.

We can order you shot down where you stand.The tone of the multiple voices held a note of anger.

And forgo the benefit of information brought to you at personal risk?Arthur let traces of amused irony infuse his return thoughts.

A scream of pain spun him around. Haystack thrashed on the ground, frothing in his agony. Arthur linked with him to feel a white-hot rod of flame piercing into his head for the moment it took to trace the attack back to its perpetrators. Then he counter-struck.

Two howls sounded from around the corner of a building. A brief glimpse of a leg in spasm appeared, to be pulled back from view with some speed. Haystack groaned shaking his head and easing up to his former battle stance.

Care to try that again? Arthur taunted his unseen enemies.

We have a combined psi factor strong enough to destroy you,the multi-toned voice warned.

Interview with Hunter. S. Jones, author of September Again.




Hi Hunter and Welcome. Would you like to begin by telling the readers something about yourself?

The art form I create when writing is much more interesting than anything you will ever know or learn about me. However, since you ask, I have lived in Tennessee and Georgia my entire life, except for one “lost summer” spent in Los Angeles. I was always a complex kid. My first published stories were for a local underground rock publication in Nashville. Since then, I have published articles on music, fashion, art, travel and history.

October 2013 saw the launch of a novel collaboration, SEPTEMBER ENDS, contemporary fiction laced with romance, erotic and supernatural elements, bound by poetry. This novel is written with an anonymous English poet. SEPTEMBER ENDS has been labeled an “Indie Sensation” due the critical reception and international recognition the novel has received.  The book has been downloaded in every Amazon domain on the planet. It has achieved #1 status on Amazon for World Literature, #1 in British Poetry and #1 in Contemporary Poetry.

The first installment of The Fortune Series, FORTUNE CALLING, released in January 2014, is the story of Dallas Fortune, a musician from Nashville who has been dealt a bad hand by fate, but finds a way. It has been #1 on Amazon in Contemporary Fiction featuring Performing Arts and #1 in Contemporary Short Stories.

Look for the next September story, SEPTEMBER AGAIN, released on Amazon on April 15, 2014

What is your book about and what inspired you to write this?


September Again, second in the series, September Stories, is the follow up to the hugely popular indie sensation, September Ends. September Again finds Liz Snow Savage leaving England. She follows her daughter Zelda Savage back to America after Zelda’s betrayal of her. More drama ensues as Liz looks for meaning in life while Zelda finds her direction after the tragedy of losing Jack O. Savage, The Poet. Set mainly in Chattanooga, Tennessee, September Again chronicles the rhythm of life’s cycles. The ebb and flow of love unravel the mystery of Liz’s past. September Again allows a further glimpse into the intricate web of passion and desire which have entangled Liz Snow, Pete Hendrix and Jack O. Savage for years. Will a chance encounter finally reveal the truth?  What act will change the destiny of Liz and Zelda forever? The story of sin, salvation and redemption continues in Book 2 of the September Stories, told through a mosaic of prose with a smattering poetry.

According to Cherokee beliefs, opportunity will bless you twice.

Magic happens when you least expect it.


The concept for the September Stories began last year at a very specific point in my life where I needed a project to get me through a tumultuous season  The anonymous English poet that I write with recommended that I write a book. Next thing you know, he’s writing the poetry, I’m writing prose and we are writing a book. It’s the most artistic experience and I highly recommend it.

What do you consider the hardest part of writing?


Editing is tedious and absolutely wears on my nerves, but it has to be done, doesn’t it? All that detail can seem a bit overwhelming at times.

Did any particular book/author inspire you to become a writer?


No,there’s not really one book or author specifically. It’s more like every book I’ve ever seen by all the writers who have written them that have inspired me. I love books and the minds behind the words.

How long did it take and how many times did you go through it before it was finally done?


I had to turn SEPTEMBER AGAIN in to our editor before telling my collaborator, otherwise we would still be in edits and rewrites. He is a perfectionist. I’m more of a raw emotion person. We balance each other.

Where do your settings come from? Are they taken from real places, made up entirely, or a conglomerate of the two?


Usually, the settings are part of the story that comes through. Everything is fictionalized and embellished. One item that has been great fun with September Ends and September Again is the setting in the American Southeast. Th anonymous poet has never visited here. I’ve recorded sounds, such as our Mockingbirds, our rainfalls, night sounds of Atlanta as well as from rural areas, in order to give him an idea of what it’s like here. Also, our trees and landscape are so lush. I’ve attempted to capture photographs of mimosa trees, magnolias and the terrain for him as well. You can see everything on my Pinterest boards for the books: http://www.pinterest.com/huntersjones/september-ends/


Who is your favorite character and why?


Jack O. Savage totally rocks. He is a rascal with a heart of gold. He is brave and crazy enough to know that love is the only thing that matters, the only thing that lasts. However, Pete Hendrix would be irresistible to me. I understand why Liz would fall head-over-heels for him.

Are you an outliner or a pantzer when it comes to start a book? If the latter, do the ideas come to you in one big lump, or are they piecemeal?


I outline everything, but the Story always has it’s own way, doesn’t it?


Finally, where can the book be purchased?




Amazon US http://amzn.to/1jFNfUF


Amazon UK http://amzn.to/1iPjJJ9


Out today, by Hunter. S. Jones


Book Description

 April 13, 2014
According to Cherokee beliefs, opportunity will bless you twice.September Again, second in the series, September Stories, is the follow up to the hugely popular indie sensation, September Ends. September Again finds Liz Snow Savage leaving England. She follows her daughter Zelda Savage back to America after Zelda’s betrayal of her. More drama ensues as Liz looks for meaning in life while Zelda finds her direction after the tragedy of losing Jack O. Savage, The Poet. Set mainly in Chattanooga, Tennessee, September Again chronicles the rhythm of life’s cycles. The ebb and flow of love unravel the mystery of Liz’s past. September Again allows a further glimpse into the intricate web of passion and desire which have entangled Liz Snow, Pete Hendrix and Jack O. Savage for years. Will a chance encounter finally reveal the truth? What act will change the destiny of Liz and Zelda forever? The story of sin, salvation and redemption continues in Book 2 of the September Stories, told through a mosaic of prose with a smattering poetry.

Magic happens when you least expect it.


I fully admit I get my best book ideas from dreams, but not this latest one. This was a no no from the get go.

Imagine a very nasty resort in a very swampy region with very unclean water. Now add nasty ‘things’ just below the surface with bodies like giant slugs that are dangerous and will eat people. Add to that filthy, dirty cabins and no fun things to do for tiny kiddies. This would be us and our daughters and they would be five to months old at the time. For some strange reason, only logical in dreams, we had taken the baby’s wooden cot with us. Now add a black, mist like presence to haunt the cabin and us trying to get the aforesaid cot out of the cabin so we could pack the car to leave early from this nightmare vacation. 

Nope, not one I will be using. It fails, not from the yuk factor, but because it has no ongoing plot or structure, aside from the factoid that I never write about real people. 

On the flip side, as there always is one, my next dream, after I woke from the nightmare and drifted off again, gave me the plot for the fourth book in my Shadow series. I have the main character and all the whys and wherefors. I have these written down now. 

Nope, I will not be working on this any time soon. I have the finishing touches to put to the third Shadow book and also I have Serpent of the Shangrove to finish as a sequel to Darkspire Reaches. Added to that, I am working on a very dark science fiction stand alone book I would like to finish before I start on any new projects. Shadow three, probably entitled ‘Chalice of the Shadows’, although that does depend on what my publisher thinks as to the title, and Serpent of the Shangrove, ditto,  are high priority. I am working on the three at the same time as I can get more wordage out.

 The good news is I am told Sword of Shadows is set for release in September of this year. Yay!!!!!

Shadow Over Avalon live for Halloween

Shadow Over Avalon

Fortune twists in the strongest hands. This is no repeat; this is what happens next.

A man, once a legend who bound his soul to his sword as he lay dying, is now all but a boy nearing the end of his acolyte training. Stifled by life in the undersea city of Avalon, Arthur wants to fight side by side with the air-breathing Terrans, not spend his life as servant to the incorporeal sentient known as the Archive. He is determined to help the surface-dwellers defeat the predators who are determined to ensure their own survival, no matter the cost.

Ashira, War Maid princess of the surface-world, is ready to sacrifice her life to defend her kin, but when she is betrayed and cast out of the life chosen for her, she must choose whether to die with honor or become one of the creatures her kinsmen fear and loathe.

Following two threads of time, CN Lesley’s new incarnation of the Arthurian tales of old delivers the perfect blend of science fiction and fantasy.


Shadow Over Avalon Release.

This is coming out on Halloween and I am so excited. However, just to set some matters straight, as I can anticipate howls of outrage that someone from Canada has dared to write an Arthur book, I am owning up to holding dual Nationality. I have indeed visited all the Arthurian sites . I have also extensively travelled in the UK. All the settings, aside from those offshore,, and off planet, are places I have personally visited.

On another note, I have invested a great deal of time thoroughly investigating the legends, going right back to the original Welsh stories. It is so interesting how politics of the time flavor historical accounts. The Mallory tale comes from Geoffrey of Monmouth, who took it upon himself to discredit all women of power in order to establish the supremacy of men. Now what a chaste monk was doing, having thoughts about incestuous relationships beggars the question and blows the mind. Needless to say, none of this politically motivated bunk will appear in Shadow Over Avalon, or any of the upcoming books in this series. I stay true to the original legend.

That being said, this series is not about what has gone before. This is what happens next, when the king promised to return in their time of greatest need for his people. Nothing is as it seems. The release date is very appropriate. Prepare to be scared. Enjoy.

Guilting strategy from the cat continuum.

Position fluffy selves on coffee tables, were we know we are not allowed to sit and stare at the humans in a wistful way until they cave.

Both Casper the cat and Ollie the ho did this tonight. Why do we call her Ollie the ho? Apparently, her fixing didn’t remove everything,, so she gets these urges. I really hope menopause sets in soon as I do not want my grandkids to see the exhibitionism happening on our picnic table. Yes the outside boys are interested, but not Casper, who prefers inanimate objects. No, I don’t want to go into details. I guess I must remove all inanimate objects of the squishy sort when my grandkids are old enough to notice and ask questions, Dies. I am NOT having that sort of conversation with my grandkids. Fine, I only have one so far, but birds and bees stuff is strictly for his parents. Been there, done that and have gotten the t-shirt.

The cats decided they needed treats and were going to die entirely without them. No, they are not starving to death of the hunger. They have a constant supply of dry food and water. They just like the treats and will guilt us out until they get them. Yes, they are now satisfied and have both jiggered off until the next time. There is a reason for the expression ‘greedy as a cat’.

Needy cat.

The VBC, (very bad cat), was extra needy today. I think it might have been the snowfall outside, which is apparently our fault. His morning excursion on his leash in the back yard came to a screeching hold at the back door. No, he did not appreciate all that cold, wet white stuff we had dumped on the deck.  No, he no longer wished to go out, and he held us responsible for this loss of freedom.

My writing time was slashed by a board cat leaping into my arms at repeated intervals. He requires his pillow to be put into place so the hard edge of my desk doesn’t distract from his comfort when he sprawls. Oh yes, he sprawls. He wriggles and kicks his human into the correct position and then rolls on his back with his hind legs over one arm and his head resting on the other. His human trying to type elicits irritated hisses as this is disturbing his sleep. Being put on the floor means he will leap up from other angles. Putting him outside my office and shutting the door will result in frantic paddling on the door and howls of anguish.

We think his previous human might have croaked on him, which is why he needs to be with us constantly. Yes, he does get booted out of my office occasionally, but then I feel like a heel. Sometimes he will curl up on a blanket and sleep while I work. Not today, though. Today, we had messed up his plans by dumping the white stuff all over.