5 Star Review – “The Red Hand”
Reply
Check out Jerry Gerold’s interview about Faith Lost today on The Author’s Show. A contemporary fiction about “faith, love, and history.”
https://wnbnetworkwest.com/WnbAuthorsShow3.html
Imzadi Publishing author Marc Cullison was recently interviewed by The Authors Show (www.TheAuthorsShow.com) about his book The Other Vietnam War: A Helicopter Pilot’s Life in Vietnam.
UPDATE! We now have a copy of that interview to share with you…
This book is available in paperback, ebook, and audiobook on AMAZON.COM today!
This was so much fun to read!
“She…”
Who’s that?
What?
Who’s she?
The woman in the story. I don’t know. I haven’t named her yet.
How are we supposed to like her if she hasn’t got a name?
How do you know you’re supposed to like her? Maybe she’s a thief.
Is she going to be a thief?
Possibly. Maybe I want to save that detail as a surprise to the reader.
Readers don’t like surprises.
Um, “Marylyn…”
That’s a weird spelling.
“Alright. “Marilyn…”
No. Too Marilyn Monroe-ish.
What?
You’ll need a male character who looks like Clark Gable.
I’m not writing a 1950s black-and-white movie.
Nice hyphens.
Look, I’ll call her George or Bill. It disguises her sexuality.
Oh, how au currant.
Could I just write something?!
Sure. Go head. We’ll wait.
Alright. “She banged her head…”
Name!
“George banged her head on the locked front door glass when she realized she had left her…
View original post 433 more words
We couldn’t agree more with this review! 5 Star all the way!
The Other Vietnam War is available today, buy your copy and let us know what you think too!
Each of us who served in Vietnam was the guy next door, the average Joe, not a hero. The boy who might date your daughter or sister. The young man who might mow your yard. In Vietnam, we weren’t out to be heroes. We just did our jobs.
For a helicopter pilot, each day was like all the others. You flew the mission and never stopped to think that it might be…
View original post 1,086 more words
“Outside, a steady rain washed away all other sounds; just the splash of water on asphalt and cement, tapping on roof tops and drumming metal car roofs; a perfect wall behind which to hide.
We walk through this wreckage, seeking what does not exist: wholeness. This is the weight of what we are, he thought. The weight of living.
A few cabs and delivery trucks splashed through the streets left damaged by winter’s wrath. Walking again. I wish I could walk this all away. What did Del say the other day: You see how deep the poison goes, how strong is the wrong in what they doin’.”
https://www.amazon.com/Michael-Stephen-Daigle/e/B00P5WBOQC
Kirkus Review Pro Page : https://wp.me/p1mc2c-zY
AuthorBookings.com: https://wp.me/p1mc2c-zY
Have you read Dragon Bone yet? Well, if you enjoy fantasy dragons, magic and mages you should! Also, if you are willing to read and review contact us here at Imzadi Publishing and we will provide you with a galley copy for review.
Siblings Aliedori and Maldar, heirs to the throne of the Southern Realm are attacked by an unseen assailant while camping in The Sacred Forest. Aliedori’s brother Maldar and his golden dragon, Keidrop, are trapped by a powerful binding spell; a spell that leaves Aliedori strangely unaffected.
In an attempt to track down their unseen attacker Aliedori uses her natural gifts and casts a “Seeker” charm enabling her to pursue a chase to a shadowy figure through the dark woods until he mysteriously disappears without a trace…and the adventure begins!
As the trio sets off in the direction the mysterious figure disappeared they encounter mysterious creatures formed from dark magic, a mage powerful enough to incapacitate dragons and other threats only ever spoken of by the Chronicler.
As they journey East more of the Chronicler’s prediction come true, Aliedori’s destiny lay ahead along with … the battle for the four realms!
FORWARD
Before they came to be, they were the whispers of the wind, the sparks of the fire, the mist of the ice and the dust of the caves. They dwelt within the caves of magic and were happy as they danced like sparks caught in the breeze and faded away only to bloom brighter again. Before they had form, before they had thoughts, before they could breathe, before they awoke, they were of fire, ice, wind and dust. Then they were given form, breath, and life and they carried inside themselves the elements of their birthplace.
They grew too big for the caves and ventured forth in search of new homes. Four Elements in the shape of dragons North, East, West and South they were the first, the brothers and sisters of the elements floating away on the breeze of the wind cave. As they floated and fluttered in the breeze the wind split their sides and wings grew from the lacerations. The dragons grew more beautiful as they flew, and as they flew elements dropped to earth. From each breath, great mountain ranges sprang up, while great lakes, rivers, ponds and streams were formed from the melting ice.
The breath of the wind dragon became the breeze and the breath of the fire dragon became the sun. From the gentle breath of the fourth dragon, trees, flowers, plants and animals were formed and all four dragons breathed life into them. Each dragon found a new home and settled. Their homes became their namesake and they lived happily. After many thousands of years, the four dragons returned to their birthplace to rest and reverted to what they had once been. The caves of magic saw what their firstborn had created and sent forth new life. Anterian led her people from the caves of elements into the Realm.
SNEAK PREVIEW…
Marc Cullison’s compelling book about his experiences as a helicopter pilot in Vietnam is now at #264 in it’s genre for Kindle downloads. Download your copy today and see why so many people are downloading and responding to this soldiers unique approach to telling his story, it has already received fifty reviews!
To participate in this blog tour, hosted by Sage’s Blog Tours, visit the following blogs and see what they post.
July 17th Review Tales ~ BOOK SPOTLIGHT
July 18th Breathe, Love, Create & Display ~ GUEST POST
July 19th Mythical Books ~ BOOK SPOTLIGHT
July 20th Rosepoint Publishing ~ REVIEW
July 22nd Celtic Lady’s Book Reviews ~ AUTHOR INTERVIEW
July 23rd Reecaspieces ~ REVIEW
If you have read this book read the reviews and let the blogger know your thoughts. If you have read this book and haven’t left a review for it yet….what are you waiting for? Go directly to the bottom of this page (do not pass GO), there you will find a link that will take you directly to Amazon’s review page….leave a few words, it means more than you can imagine to the author.
If you have not yet read this compelling story, here’s a sneak preview for you!
SNEAK PREVIEW…
THE MISSION RIDE
It was the mortar round that exploded just behind us that shattered my concentration. If I had drunk any more coffee before we left LAH, I would have pissed my pants. My stomach tied itself into a knot and I think my asshole did too. I checked my chicken plate, that protective slab of whatever it was that covered my torso. I had never worn one before. I wanted to know that the heavy hunk of armor was still resting in my lap protecting my chest. It was held in place with two Velcro straps that wrapped around my body. I had already sweated out what beer I had downed the night before and now I was working on the coffee. My Nomex flight suit, as thin as the fireproof material was, still felt like the inside of an oven. The chicken plate just added more insulation and turned up the heat. Somehow, I didn’t mind just then.
For nearly a week I had been assigned to Suds, the units IP (instructor pilot.) He showed me the layout of the AO (area of operations) and drilled me in safety procedures. We would go to an abandoned airstrip in secure territory and practice autorotations, much like I did in flight school. He would roll back the throttle, simulating an engine failure, and in the few seconds before we hit the ground, I would have to bottom the collective, reduce airspeed, find a safe landing area, and aim for it. At about fifty feet from the ground, I’d flare the aircraft nose high to bleed off forward airspeed. Then of course, it would begin settling and just before the ship hit the ground, I’d shove the cyclic forward and pull more pitch to cushion the landing. I got pretty good at it after the fifth time.
This is one of the most important safety procedures a helicopter pilot must know. Without power, as my instructor in flight school used to say, “The Huey has the glide path of a streamlined crowbar.” You can fly only a short distance, and you have one shot at setting the bird down. If you’re lucky, you’ll walk away from it.
We also practiced tail-rotor failures. Suds would keep his feet locked on the foot pedals and I would have to make a safe landing. Since I had no pedals to counteract the yaw of the bird when I reduced collective, the idea was to reduce throttle and keep forward motion during landing so the tail of the aircraft would maintain alignment with the direction of motion. So about three feet above the runway, I had to control the direction of the bird with the throttle while flying it onto the runway and letting it slide to a stop, just like landing an airplane. You just hoped the skids didn’t catch on an obstruction on the runway. Then you’d be trying to figure out how the aircraft turned over. I got pretty good at tail rotor failures, too.
The hydraulic failure, though, was a bitch. Without the assistance of hydraulics on the flight controls, flying a Huey is like wrestling a grizzly bear. I’ve never actually done that, but I’m pretty sure I know what it would be like after flying a Huey without hydraulics. I should have done some weight lifting before shipping over.
While all of this was going on in between the rains, I got my orientation about RPGs (rocket propelled grenades), which would make mincemeat out of a Huey, and the radar controlled .51 caliber guns that Charlie kept hidden around the area. You could monitor their frequency on the radio and listen for the squeal. The first one detected you. The second one tracked your path. The third one was followed by a stream of bullets. The whole process took just a few seconds. Then there were the 122 mm rockets. You didn’t ever want to be in the path of one of those babies.
A week of that shit wore me out and bored me to death. I imagine Suds got his fill of entertainment from all of my screw-ups. I was no longer in flight school trying to satisfy the instructor. I was in Nam and this was getting ready for the real deal, whatever that was going to be. Not once did Suds yell at me or chew my ass. I don’t know if that’s because I was good enough that he didn’t see the need, or he was just a nice guy. I did find out later that Suds was, in fact, a nice guy. That didn’t make me feel real good about my performance. Or my confidence, for that matter.
After he’d had his fun with me, I got word the next morning that I was to report to operations with flight gear. I walked in and looked at the assignment board, a large Plexiglas sheet behind the operations desk that listed aircraft numbers, pilots, crews, times, and missions. I wasn’t on it. I looked at Captain Latham, the Operations Officer, his fatigue shirt already soaked with sweat around his armpits and back this early in the morning.
“They told me I was supposed to be here,” I said.
He glanced at me. “Hang tight. Maybe something will happen.”
Lieutenant McNally stuck his head in. “Latham, put Cullison with Suds.”
Then he looked at me. “Oh, Cullison. Hey, first mission ride today. You ready?”
I looked at him, his buck teeth hanging over his lower lip and those wild eyes like some cartoon character trying to pull an answer out of me.
“Hell yes,” I said. I thought I saw a glimmer of doubt in those big eyes, not that I could really tell. Most of the time his eyes looked the same, big and wild. I’ll bet if the little bastard cried you wouldn’t know it, except for the tears, if he had enough compassion in that egocentric little body of his to produce them.
After a week of hanging around and flying circles in the sky and practicing not crashing a UH-1H, I was ready for something. Everybody looked at me, the FNG (fucking new guy), wondering if I could cut it. That made me wonder if I actually could. It was time to test my mettle. I just hoped I didn’t screw everything up.
That’s what it was all about, right then. Screwing up, or worrying about when you would. I faced a lot of challenges in flight school, but this was no longer a practice session. Actual combat. Real, live bullets. I had always wondered what it would be like. To get set for battle, I mean. It wasn’t like I was going to go charging into enemy lines or anything like that. I was going to be flying a helicopter in an enemy fire zone, or at least I would be the peter pilot. I would still be up front behind all of that Plexiglas and thin sheet metal. Not much protection, except for the armor plates around the seat. The knot in my stomach got tighter and the thought of real bullets just got more real. You think about this stuff, but not really. Not in the sense that you actually think about it. It’s just there in the back of our mind giving you doubts about your worth as a pilot while you wonder what it’s like to be dead. And if you really are worth a shit as a pilot.
Reviews:
Autobiography
Local reporter Derek Mainly was assigned to cover the political campaign party of the year for federal prosecutor Cassie Blondell, but soon found himself being drawn back into the morning’s front page headline – the murder of an unassuming college professor.