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📚📚📚 GIFTED BOOK REVIEW: ‘Sherlock Bones and the Curse’ of the Pharaoh’s Mask by Tim Collins and illustrated by John Bigwood 

29 Thursday Sep 2022

Posted by waynemullane in book cover, Book Review, Buster Books, Children's Book Reviews, Fiction, new author, puzzle books, Sherlock Bones

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Book Review, Buster Books, children's books, Egypt, puzzle books, Sherlock Bones

Big thanks to @lovebookstours and @busterbooks for my gifted copy of the book. I wish the author all the success in the world with the book.

Please see photos for the blurb.


📚📚📚 MY REVIEW 📚📚📚

This second offering in the Sherlock Bones series doesn’t disappoint. Sherlock and Dr Catson are taking in the sights of Egypt, but things take a turn when they have to solve a case of a missing mask.

The variety of puzzles make this story really come alive, and make the reader feel they really are a part of the story. Just like with the first book, my nephew loved solving the case.

A brilliant read with plenty of brainteasers. Super learning and super fun – Sherlock Bones is a book series that offers any parent and child loads of fun!

RATING: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘Driftworld Atlas’ by L. Bell – Book Review

01 Thursday Sep 2022

Posted by waynemullane in book cover, book launch, book marketing, Book Review, Creative Writing, debut novel, Driftworld Atlas, Fantasy, Fiction

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book blog, Book Review, Books, Fantasy, fiction, Humour, Indie Author

 GIFTED BOOK REVIEW 

‘Driftworld Atlas’ by L Bell.

Big thanks to @lovebookstours and L.Bell (author) for my copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Please see the photos for the blurb.

MY REVIEW

As an avid reader of fantasy, there are some books that blow my mind when they introduce you to a whole new world that you’ve never experienced before. And then there’s ‘Driftworld Atlas’!

How the author has vividly described the settlements among the high cliffs and vines at the edges of civilisation intrigued me. Reading this book was like nothing I’d read before. I could place myself beside the Lost Traveler as he journeyed through the places described in this book.

There’s a number of familiar fantasy creatures, and plenty of new ones – such as a shape-shifting lady made of paper – that make  this read all the more enthralling. I even found myself having empathy for the main demon character – which is a complete first for me.

This book offers us a snapshot into such a wonderfully created world and characters. I can’t wait to read more as this universe expands in future books.

RATING

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

PURCHASED BOOK REVIEW: THE COURT OF MIRACLES BY KESTER GRANT

29 Monday Aug 2022

Posted by waynemullane in Alternative Historical Fiction, book cover, Book Review, Fantasy, Fiction, France, French Revolution

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book blog, Book Review, Fantasy, fiction, France, French Revolution, historical fiction, Kester Grant, new author

 PURCHASED BOOK REVIEW 

‘The Court Of Miracles’ by Kester Grant.

***Please see the photos for the blurb ***



MY REVIEW

The first thing that grabbed me about this book was the cover – it oozed intrigue to me. Then, I read the blurb and became curious. I wasn’t disappointed: this book was a joy to read.

This is a work of alternative historical fiction set around forty years or so after the 1789 revolution failed. With the royals still in power, the poor and immigrants of the city have formed guilds to survive. In order to protect Nina, her older sister has to make the ultimate sacrifice for her safety. As Nina takes refuge with the Guild Of Thieves, she begins her long journey of revenge against the Tiger, the Lord of the Guild of Flesh.

This book deals with sensitive themes in a very considered way that drives the plot well. The list of secondary characters gives enormous depth to the plot; the lives of each is well worth a separate novel of its own. This book has sacrifice, revenge, friendship, shifting allies and betrayal. The author writes with such imagination that I couldn’t help but believe I was on the murky streets of this alternative Paris each time I picked the book up.

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘Cold Snap’ by Codi Schneider – Gifted Book Review

10 Thursday Feb 2022

Posted by waynemullane in Author, blogging, Book, book cover, book launch, Book Review, Cats, Colorado, debut novel, Fiction, Indie Author, new author, Writing

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blogging, Blogging community, Book, Book Review, Cats, Codi Schneider, Colorado, Fantasy, fiction, Humour, new author, Vikings

With big thanks to @lovebookstours and @codi_schneider for the free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. What a great book it is!

Blurb

Tucked in the cold Colorado mountains lies the remote village of Gray Birch, a place where outsiders are frowned upon. In this village lives a cat named Bijou. But she’s no ordinary house cat; her ancestors were mousers on Viking longships, and their blood runs through her veins. Since her battle skills are hardly needed in this modern age, however, she spends her energies running the Fox Burrow Pet Inn with her human, Spencer, and her assistant, Skunk, a mentally negligible Pomeranian. Together, the happy trio has created a safe haven for their four-legged guests.

But when Eddy Line, a handsome baker from California, comes to the inn—along with his piglet and pit bull puppy—everything changes. Spencer falls for Eddy, Bijou is unhappy with the sudden changes to her clan, and the townspeople are anything but welcoming; in fact, threats are made against Eddy when he buys the town’s historic firehouse in order to open a bakery.

Then a shocking murder/dognapping occurs on the night of the bakery’s grand opening, and Bijou finds herself thrust into a tangled mystery. To solve it, she will have to summon her inner Viking—and fight tooth and claw for her new clan.

My Review

I was super intrigued to read a mystery novel told from the point of view of a cat called Bijou. Her crime-solving powers are aided by her innate Viking abilities, and her animal friends.

This honestly has to be one of the best books I’ve ever read. Codi Schneider is a very talented writer with a mastery of word play. This novel is such fun – I didn’t want to stop reading. The book has a good dose of humour and an engaging plot full of suspense. The cast of characters gives the story depth and diversity.

I really look forward to reading more from the author.

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Daily Prompt: Kindness of Strangers: Space and Time

01 Wednesday Jul 2015

Posted by waynemullane in Blogging101, Blogging201, Creative Writing, Daily post, Fiction, Writing, Writing201, Writing201Poetry

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blogging101, Blogging201, creative writing, fiction, writing, Writing201

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Kindness of Strangers.”

It had been a stressful and testing day at work. The unbearable heat made it all the more insufferable. By the time I got home that evening, I was ready to flop on the sofa. I flicked mindlessly through the TV channels; I was so tired that I was as indifferent to a news story on a famine as I was to a cartoon.

I looked up to the ceiling, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened my eyes again I found myself floating upwards through the ceiling, through the roof, above the houses. I could see the streets and lights below getting smaller and smaller until….

I was rising through the clouds. I could see the outlines of continents, the movements of the oceans. Night turned to day and back again. It was clear to me that I wasn’t just floating upwards; it was as if I was being swept by the winds across the world. But I couldn’t feel the winds or the heat of the sun, or the rain or snow.

I was just there.

And soon, I found myself floating through the outer layers of the atmosphere until I was high above Earth in space itself. I could see our planet, suspended like a teardrop in the dark abyss. I looked around, spinning on the spot as if in a gyroscope. Stars and planets and galaxies and black holes and supernovas and nebulas whizzed around at unfathomable speed.

As I slowed I looked at the Earth again. I could see every person as if I was right next to them. I knew their thoughts, felt their breath, understood their hopes and fears. I came to understand why good and evil existed and the importance of hope. I saw there was a solution for everything, no matter how big or small a problem; at the same time, I witnessed how and why people in different corners of the globe make mistakes, but never truly learn.

I learnt a lot, I saw a lot, but then I forgot it all. As I came to, my mind ached, my mouth was bitter and dry. All in a moment I understood how, what, when and why; but, all in a moment, my new found knowledge and wisdom had dissipated into the depths of space.

I flicked off the TV and went to bed. I would wake the next morning only to make the same mistakes as today, not having learnt a thing.

Together

25 Thursday Jun 2015

Posted by waynemullane in Blogging101, Blogging201, Creative Writing, Daily post, Fiction, Writing, Writing201, Writing201Poetry

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blogging101, Blogging201, creative writing, fiction, writing, Writing201

You taught me to see how it could happen

The truth only you did see.

And when we join our hearts and minds together

We know we can be free

But the day-to-day takes over and

We run around in despair.

One step into the beyond, though,

And we know we could be there.

These shackles of responsibility may chain us

To these uncertain times.

Step back, take my hand, move forward –

It’s all going to be just fine.

Quote

Daily Post: Toy Story: Subbuteo

22 Monday Jun 2015

Posted by waynemullane in Blogging101, Blogging201, Creative Writing, Daily post, Fiction, Sport, Writing, Writing201, Writing201Poetry

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blogging101, Blogging201, creative writing, fiction, football, writing, Writing201

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Toy Story.”

Ah, Subbuteo, my fantastic, plastic, flick-to-kick hobby. Little plastic men sliding around a cloth soccer pitch after a ball that was bigger than them.

My mates and I had are own street league. I was one of three Manchester United fans, so I had to fall on my back-up plan: Luton Town FC. The night before the start of our summer tournament I would polish the bases of the players to get that extra glide. Cheers Mr Sheen!

During one summer I entered the national UK tournament. My mum pulled the plug on that – I honestly would have been slaughtered – but not before the local newspaper had got word of my entry. I made the left margin of the  front page of the newspaper that week. Unfortunately, it didn’t help that the main story’s headline read “Forced to Flee By Psycho Attacker”, as my face beamed out to the local readership.

Like most of my teenage passions – grass hockey, tennis, and topiary* – Subbuteo is now confined to the vaults; it may make a return now and again if it takes mine and my brother’s fancy to play – but that is a rare event.

Has it had an effect on how I am today? Well, I’m quite nostalgic, so it fills me with happiness when I take a trip down memory lane.

* I’ve never been in topiary, really; although, I do think it should be an Olympic Sport.

I’m Starving!

22 Monday Jun 2015

Posted by waynemullane in Blogging101, Blogging201, Creative Writing, Daily post, Fiction, Writing

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blogging101, Blogging201, creative writing, fiction, writing, Writing201

If you were to take a walk through Highdown Road in Barnton the only thing that may strike you as odd is how similar all the houses are: small and terraced with neatly trimmed front gardens. Symmetry is this street’s outstanding feature. Potholes provided the only crack in an otherwise perfect urban vision. However, if you were to look more closely (and I mean nose-pressed-to-the-window close) you’ll find that Highdown Road in Barnton is privy to some peculiar goings-on.

At number seven, for instance, Helen Jacobs was becoming increasingly exasperated with her eighteen year-old son’s downright offbeat behaviour.

‘I’m starving,’ whined Gareth.

‘Well, eat that sandwich,’ said Helen, as she picked up clothes spread about the bedroom floor.

‘I’m starving,’ he said again.

‘Just eat, Gareth.’

He fixed her a stare akin to a tiger about to pounce, and was about to say his new catchphrase again when she slammed the door behind her. The door provided an ineffective barrier against Gareth’s repetitious ramblings, though, as Helen could still hear him as she cleared the stairs into the kitchen.

This pattern of behaviour had been the same since Gareth had left school the week before: plates of food were brought at first to his bedside, and then left outside the room, whilst he continued to protest about his apparent hunger. By Sunday evening, Helen Jacobs was exhausted and defunct of any reasonable explanation. Gareth normally scoffed a plate of food in record time, only to be admonished by his mother. Why, then, would he suddenly be rebuffing his mother’s tasty grub?

‘I’m back at work tomorrow,’ she said to him before bedtime.

His reply was obvious and expected: ‘I’m starving.’

‘It’s the start of the summer holidays. Start your job search.’

Helen couldn’t settle to sleep at first; she needed to give this predicament due consideration. Her first instinct was, indeed, to think that her son was trying to get out of looking for work now he had finished school. Then she realised that Gareth had not seen any of his friends this weekend. He normally went clubbing on a Saturday; she hadn’t heard him on his phone making arrangements for the night before. Or, was there maybe something physically wrong with Gareth that prohibited him from eating?

Playing back over the events of the past week only served to deepen her worry and make way for a sleepless night. Helen took consolation in that tomorrow would be the day she would take action against her son’s affliction – and the fact that she would play hardball with him, if needs be.

‘He’s just being stupid,’ she said, covering her ears with a pillow as Gareth bellowed out for the umpteenth time.

Monday morning presented as a mixed blessing for Helen. For, although she savoured a rare moment of peace at breakfast, her mind had ground to a halt. Her movements were as slow and deliberate as a lack of sleep allowed. She repressed her anger, instead trying to focus on the working day ahead. Today was not a day to drive, today was a day to catch the bus into town.

Helen worked as a receptionist at a hotel next to the train station. Throughout the day she tried to maintain her usual upbeat attitude – at which she had become a master at faking when the need arose – as periodic phone calls from a perpetually undernourished Gareth began to wear her down. By five o’ clock Helen sported a Halloween mask expression that had left some customer’s grief stricken when encountering her.

‘Is everything alright, Helen?’ her supervisor, had asked before she left.

‘I’m fine, thanks.’

‘Only you’ve looked shattered all day.’

‘I just didn’t sleep well. I’m sure I’ll catch up tonight.’

With that, she left in haste to the bus stop.

The effects of her spirits being lifted by the late July sun were only temporary once she noticed her son’s curtains still pulled tight. The overwhelming tiredness she experienced wrestled her from any ideas of confronting Gareth, and putting a solution into action right away. Instead, Helen turned the key in the front door, and made to console herself with a bowl of soup and the TV.

‘I’M STARVING!’

Helen nearly spilt the hot liquid in her lap.

‘And I’ve been working,’ she harrumphed.

Gareth was stood in the doorway in the same boxer shorts and t-shirt that he had worn for the last two days. His blond hair stood to attention, dank from not being washed. The look was completed with bloodshot eyes and stubble.

‘Look at the state of you. Have you looked for a job today, Gareth?’ said Helen.

‘I’m starving.’

‘Maybe I should call the doctor. I’m starting to worry now.’

‘No doctor. I’m just starving.’

‘I’ll make you some chips now,’ she huffed.

‘Aarrggh, I’m starving,’ Gareth screamed.

With that he turned and ran to his room.

As she put down the empty bowl, Helen reflected it was strange how no food had been touched in the kitchen, nor did Gareth have the cash to order a take-away – and yet, there he was looking far from famished.

 

 

2.

This same cycle continued for a few days – Gareth phoning his mum at work to tell her of his rumbling tummy, a trade-off as soon as Helen arrived home and Gareth still refusing to eat – but Helen had slept better and was, therefore, more well-equipped to deal with the shenanigans. By Thursday evening, she had called the doctor in, who had surmised that Gareth was not necessarily in need of a good feed and that he was, indeed, trying to pull a fast one. Gareth had rolled around on his bed clutching his stomach reciting the trusted – but well-worn – phrase over and over.

‘Get a grip and think of your mother,’ had been the doctor’s final words.

Gareth ignored this professional opinion and continued his war on food. Helen, relieved and satisfied that there was no apparent underlying medical cause to her son’s current condition, commenced level two of her plan: blackmail.

Gareth’s dad, Ian, was also Helen’s ex-husband. The divorce had happened two years before and had been quite amicable. Ian had preferred to spend more time at his used car lot than with his family, but always provided for his family’s needs, and still did. He and Helen had grown apart, but remained close friends.

‘I’ve got work waiting for you, Gareth,’ he began.

‘Starving!’ was the monotone reply.

‘Paid work means holidays.’

‘Empty stomach means starving.’

Ian had swung by after Helen had called him explaining the situation. After another debrief in the kitchen, they had gone upstairs attempting to deal with Gareth tag-team style. The initial softly-softly approach had been in vain, and now the motivation of guaranteed employment had been cast aside by their duplicitous, bedbound son. Helen gave Ian the nod to ramp up the attack.

‘Right, sonny Jim, I’m certainly not going to pay for your holiday this year.’

‘My name’s not Jim and I don’t need a holiday. I’m starving,’ retorted Gareth, turning away from them to stare at the wall.

‘Your bedroom’s a mess and you are too. Sort it out for your mother,’ rasped Ian, his face becoming redder. ‘I won’t be paying for your driving lessons on your nineteenth birthday.’

‘Money, money money. I’M STARVING!’

‘Gareth…’

‘Starving.’

Helen squeezed her ex-husband’s arm, calling time on his fruitless endeavours. The scene was descending into what resembled a stand-off between a middle-aged rapper and his protégé.

‘I’ll return on Monday. If you haven’t made an effort to find work, things will be very different.

Gareth put his finger in his ear and closed his eyes.

On the way downstairs his parents reflected on the episode. Gareth had been fine in the last week of school – he was a very dedicated student – and he had a close group of friends; Gareth had always planned to start looking for work once he’d finished his exams as well. Ian Jacobs said that he agreed with his ex-wife that their son was pulling a fast one, but, like Helen, he was confused as to how to progress.

‘The threats haven’t worked. Maybe you should call his friends,’ were Ian’s parting words.

Helen agreed that she would do that first thing in the morning; tonight, though, she just wanted to turn the tv on, lie back and drown her son’s moans out.

The next evening saw Johnny and Kelvin come over at Helen’s behest. Having both been debriefed at length by their friend’s mother, they came armed with Gareth’s default post-clubbing treat: a chicken shish kebab smothered in garlic mayonnaise. Forty-five minutes after arriving, however, and they were sitting in the front room with Helen adding their concerns to Gareth’s plight.

‘The kebab’s untouched. He don’t wanna come out tonight,’ Kelvin began. ‘We told him it’s been weird him not being about.’

In fact, Gareth hadn’t been in touch at all. Helen had been concerned that her son had fallen out with his mates, so the fact they were here was a relief.

‘Do you think he could be this way because you two are going to uni and he isn’t?’ she said.

‘Naaa, Mrs Jacobs. He was only saying last week at school how he’d come and visit us,’ remarked Johnny. ‘Don’t like seeing him like this. He just kept saying he was…’

‘Starving?’ interrupted Helen.

‘Yup!’ said the friends in unison.

She thanked the boys and paid them for the kebab. Seeing them both leave with their tousled hair and designer clothes made her pine for her son to get back on track – even if it did mean her worrying until he got in at 6am on a Sunday morning.

Over the next few days, Helen soldiered on: work, Gareth, work, Gareth. She had returned to her normal level of function at work, having invested in a pair of earplugs to restore sleep. Still, she lacked a plan to resolve this matter, and this ate away at her as much as the vision of her hungry hermit of a son.

Ian Jacobs and Gareth’s friends visited again over the next few days, but could offer no new insights. It had been noted by all that Gareth looked remarkably well-fed and probably had a secret stash of food somewhere.

On the Thursday of the second week – which was the first day of July and day eleven of Gareth’s hunger strike respectively – Helen was talking to Kelvin about the whole shoddy affair at the kitchen table when a strong raw onion-like smell hit them. It was an unwashed Gareth.

‘I’m starving. What’s he doing here?’

‘Kelvin’s as concerned about you as I am, my love,’ Helen said.

‘Your love? I’m starving.’

‘Boring, more like,’ Kelvin blurted.

‘STARVING!’

‘There’s food in the fridge, son.’

‘Star…’

‘Shut up!’

Gareth stood in the doorway as wild and weary as a lost soul. Helen was about to make cups of tea, when Kelvin jumped out of his chair and raced past Gareth, up the stairs and into his friend’s bedroom. He slid the chest of drawers tight behind the door and fired up the computer. A few seconds later Gareth thumped at the door barking all manner of obscenities at his friend. It wasn’t long, though, before Kelvin had re-entered the main hall, clumsily bolting past his seemingly ravenous friend.

When Gareth appeared back in the kitchen, Kelvin was stood next to a perplexed Helen, gripping a freshly printed piece of paper.

‘Da-da-da-da-da-da,’ sounded Kelvin, his hands positioned in front of his mouth playing an invisible trumpet. He thrust the piece of paper at Gareth, who grabbed it with a growl.

It read:

‘This is to confirm that Gareth Thomas Jacobs has changed his name. From this day forward he shall be known as STAR VING.’

A smile spread across Gareth’s face.

‘Yes, that’s it. I’m Star Ving,’ he commented, opening the fridge door. ‘Star Ving is my name.’

‘You mean…and how did you figure that out Kelvin?’ whimpered Helen.

‘Once I knew Gareth was being a complete tool – begging your pardon Mrs Jacobs – the idea just came to me.’

‘Right then,’ said Star Ving with a pork pie in his hand. ‘I’m off to take a shower, then look on the internet for work.’

As Helen Jacobs threw a vexed expression to the skies, she understood that the ripples which had unsettled life at 7 Highdown Road, Barnton, would soon thin out, and life in the street would return to the way it was.

Except for having to call her son Star Ving, that is.

Quote

Blogger with a cause: Following a dream

03 Wednesday Jun 2015

Posted by waynemullane in Blogging101, Blogging201, Creative Writing, Daily post, Fiction, Writing, Writing201, Writing201Poetry

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blogging101, Blogging201, creative writing, fiction, writing, Writing201

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Blogger With a Cause.”

I would write. I would finish those half-baked ideas lurking at the back of the drawer. Then I’d send them away to be proofread.

I’d then send them for publishing, but I’d have to learn to make myself bulletproof to cope with rejection.

I’d plan for the lifetime holiday to Japan I’m always dreaming of.

And I visit family and friends and spend proper time with them.

Bad Joke of the day

03 Wednesday Jun 2015

Posted by waynemullane in Blogging101, Blogging201, Creative Writing, Daily post, Fiction, Writing, Writing201, Writing201Poetry

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blogging101, Blogging201, creative writing, fiction, writing, Writing201

This is off the beaten track for my website, but I’m chuffed with this dodgy joke I made up yesterday:

Arnold Schwarzenegger was walking around my back yard yesterday. He was wearing a police uniform and holding a tablet.

That’s right. He was recording his new film: ‘Kindle Garden Cop’.

Cheers xx

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