Showing posts with label Tegon Maus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tegon Maus. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 23, 2019

The Gift by Tegon Maus (Spotlight, excerpt, review, and GIVEAWAY) GFT ADULT title





by 
Tegon Maus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GENRE:  Fantasy, Action/Adventure

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:

Tucker Littlefield is a liar, a thief, a con-man. In an attempt to take advantage of a party thrown by the King, he becomes involved in a kidnapping – the King’s niece, Elizabeth, to be exact. Because of his fear of the dark as well as heights, and a good many other things, he finds himself stabbed and bleeding to death. To save him, a Shaman for the Jonda – Daneba – turns him into a soul bearer for the Kindred. In an effort to find Lizie, Littlefield finds the Norha instead and their leader Tahki - a cannibalistic tribe the lives under a volcano that will leave no stone unturned to find Lizie. Littlefield is blackmailed into her recovery. Will the help of his companion, Enon, help them save Lizie...and themselves?

"Transformed by a primitive magic beyond a civilized man's understanding, I was given a horrible gift that no man should possess... It held me, twisted me, turning me at its bidding. I was enslaved by its power, compelled to devour the souls of the dead until I became the monster of my fears. I have seen things I wish never to see again. I have done things of which I wish never to speak. Yet I must if I am to find the answers to fulfill my hope. I have walked upon blue ribbons of molten stone to peer into the depth of a man's soul. I watched as a promise made at birth brought my friend Enon to sacrifice everything to become whole again - all in an effort to save the life of his child. I have cried without shame for the loss of all I hold dear and for fear that the future will hold more than I can bear. I am Tucker Littlefield. Know all that I say now is true-spoken."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

EXCERPT


She grabbed my right hand, holding it tightly. I was frozen with fear and could not escape. The dagger suddenly flashed in her hand and she drove it deep into my palm. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out of my mouth. If it did, it was drowned out by the wails of Enon’s dog. It howled, pained as deeply as I, as the flames of the fires became fingers, rippling out to tear open the dog’s chest. They responded to Daneba’s voice, doing her bidding, and peeled layers of flesh, laying open bone and hide alike, exposing the animal’s beating heart.

A second unholy scream filled the air, deeper, wilder than that of the creature laid open at my side. It was Enon, and all that had happened to the dog began to repeat itself with him.

He, still kneeling, screamed as his chest turned inside out, his beating heart exposed to my gaze.

I was next to be disemboweled by her spell. The tearing of cloth and the sizzle of the fire as it pulled open my skin was deafening. The snap of bone wrenched at my fear and as I looked down, there beat my own heart. Blood ran freely from the hole in Enon’s hand. Daneba’s chant gained volume as she collected it in a silver bowl and the wind blew harder. As she chanted and the fire licked out repeatedly toward me, she poured Enon’s blood into the fresh wound in my palm and between my fingers. She raised the bowl higher and the blood that streamed from it thinned to a single strand.




~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR Bio and Links:


I was raised pretty much the same as everyone else... devoted mother, strict father and all the imaginary friends I could conjure.

The first thing I can remember writing was for my wife. For the life of me I can't remember what it was about... something about dust bunnies under the bed and monsters in my closet. It must have been pretty good because she married me shortly after that. I spent a good number of years chasing other dreams before I got back to writing.

It wasn't a deliberate conscious thought it was more of a stepping stone. It was the eighties, my wife and I had joined a dream interpret group and we were encouraged to write down our dreams as they occurred. "Be as detailed as you can," we were told.

I was thrilled. If there is one thing I enjoy it's making people believe me and I like to exaggerate. Not a big exaggeration or an outright lie mine you, just a little step out of sync, just enough so you couldn't be sure if it were true or not. When I write, I always write with the effort of "it could happen quirkiness" very much in mind and nothing, I guarantee you, nothing makes me happier.








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GIVEAWAY


a Rafflecopter giveaway



The tour dates can be found here




*********************


My review:



3.5 out of 5 stars





The Gift by Tegon Maus is the first book in ‘The Chronicles of Tucker Littlefield’ series and features Tucker as he becomes embroiled in a desperate rescue attempt aimed at retrieving the queen’s young niece who has been kidnapped. Forced into close proximity with a primitive Jonda, Enon Tutelo, and his fearsome dog, Tucker manages to fumble his way through quite a few adventures, some of which net him far more responsibilities than he ever dreamed of coping with and which may prove fatal if he doesn’t find a way to control them.





This madcap fantasy story is full of exciting and sometimes gory adventures. One is taken on a whirlwind adventure where something is constantly going wrong and it is sometimes difficult to tell friend from foe. I love the imaginative situations (not so fond of the weird rituals that involve so much pain and gore) and the intense devotion between some of the characters, but I didn’t feel that I really got to know any of the characters or establish a rapport with them. I have lots of questions that remain unanswered, including why there is such antipathy toward the Jonda and why the kidnap victim was so essential to certain rituals.



The story-in-a-story technique was a nice twist, but it would have been helpful to get a clearer look at the world and learn how all of the people interconnect. This book is a great showcase of the author’s fertile imagination and I hope that the second book in the series ties some of the loose ends up even as it continues to awe and entertain those following Tucker’s adventures.



A copy of this title was provided for review
 
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Monday, September 26, 2016

The Gift - The Chronicles of Tucker Littlefield by Tegon Maus (Spotlight, excerpt, review, and GIVEAWAY) GFT








by Tegon Maus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GENRE: Fantasy Action / Adventure

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:


Tucker Littlefield is a liar, a thief, a con-man. In an attempt to take advantage of a party thrown by the King, he becomes involved in the kidnapping of the King’s niece, Elizabeth. Injured, he is saved by a shaman who turns Tucker into a Soul Bearer who is enslaved by its power, compelled to devour the souls of the dead. "I am Tucker Littlefield. Know all that I say now is true-spoken.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~



EXCERPT


In his right hand, he held a bent stick. He waved it at the dog and grunted at it to frighten it away. Lifting his head high, he sniffed at the air and turned slowly.

"Norha. Where there is one, there is three," Bowen whispered.

We sat motionless for what seemed like forever, watching the creature with the stick. The dog made a wide circle around him, no bark, and no sound. The man refused to make eye contact with it, pretending it wasn't there.

He kicked at the dirt, searching for what? At last, he bent to pick something up. He held it in a clenched fist over his head and howled. From about his waist he took an object, tied to a piece of sinew. As he spun it, a deep, low throng, something akin to a roar arose, filling the air.

"Roar of the Bear," Bowen whispered, nodding toward the man and his signal.

We sank lower into our hiding. Just as he had predicted two more of the Norha appeared from the trees. They sniffed at the air just as the first had done and turned suspiciously. Satisfied, they inspected his find. He held out his hand to them as they spoke in low grunting tones to one another. I didn't understand their language but apparently Bowen could. His body stiffened.

I tried to divide my attention between the three and the look now spread over his face. He pressed his hand to my shoulder, pushing me lower, indicating I should stay hidden.

"Each is blaming the other, they're looking, they're looking for Elizabeth," he whispered, getting up.

Something was moving toward me through the underbrush. I held my breath and pushed as low as I could. It was Enon's dog, Noget.

He snuffled his way to me and leaned against me, protecting me with his body just as Bowen had before disappearing into the trees.

Buy links:

Amazon link
Barnes & Noble
Tirgearr Publishing


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AUTHOR Bio and Links:


I was raised pretty much the same as everyone else... devoted mother, strict father and all the imaginary friends I could conjure. Not that I wasn't friendly, I just wasn't "people orientated". Maybe I lived in my head way more than I should have, maybe not. I liked machines more than people, at least I did until I met my wife.

The first thing I can remember writing was for her. For the life of me I can't remember what it was about... something about dust bunnies under the bed and monsters in my closet. It must have been pretty good because she married me shortly after that. I spent a good number of years chasing other dreams before I got back to writing.

It wasn't a deliberate conscious thought it was more of a stepping stone. My wife and I had joined a dream interpret group and we were encouraged to write down our dreams as they occurred. "Be as detailed as you can," we were told.

I was thrilled. If there is one thing I enjoy it's making people believe me and I like to exaggerate. Not a big exaggeration or an outright lie mine you, just a little step out of sync, just enough so you couldn't be sure if it were true or not. When I write, I always write with the effort of "it could happen" very much in mind and nothing, I guarantee you, nothing, makes me happier.



Publisher's author site



********************************

GIVEAWAY


a Rafflecopter giveaway

The tour dates can be found here


*********************************

My review:

3.5 out of 5 stars


The Gift by Tegon Maus is the first story in the ‘Chronicles of Tucker Littlefield’ series. Tucker is swept into a series of very challenging experiences that are set into motion by the kidnapping of the king’s niece. A combination of mystic experiences and the challenge of overcoming a plethora of foes with arcane powers and evil intentions force Tucker to reluctantly accept the burdens placed upon him while he struggles to not only rescue the king’s niece but stay alive long enough to do so.

This fantasy tale is filled with action and adventure with plenty of imaginative creatures and exciting and oftentimes gory battles. Things were a bit hard to follow and the sequence of events is somewhat chaotic, in my opinion, and at first I thought that I had started with a sequel instead of the beginning of the series. There are fun elements, including the way the narrative starts and the way it ends, and memorable characters such as the very perceptive dog, with magic and mysticism sprinkled in, but I wonder whether a glossary that listed key characters and cultures would make it easier to understand the reasons behind some of the conflicts and quests. I had trouble establishing a rapport with any of the characters and I think this is because the action is so frenetic, I never got an idea of who the characters really were. Hopefully, subsequent stories will begin to untangle some of the ongoing threads while continuing to showcase the fertile imagination of this author.

A copy of this title was provided to me for review
 

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Machines of the Little People by Tegon Maus (VBB, excerpt and GIVEAWAY) GFT


Machines of the Little People
by Tegon Maus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:

When Ben Harris' sister passes away, her husband, Roger Keswick, is mysteriously absent from her funeral. It's not until 6 months later that Ben is pulled back in to Roger's life, only to find that he's moved on. His new wife may be called Jessica, but she's the spitting image of Ben's sister. Things escalate when Roger claims there's a factory under his house run by little people called the Katoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~










EXCERPT


He had run to the end of the house with the garage.  There, in that corner of the building, was a small offset in the design that held six or seven medium sized bushes.  In the side wall of that corner, the opposing inspection vent.  The soil was damp here as well.

"Stand right here," Roger said, bouncing in place on the balls of his feet.

I stood were he asked.

"Feel it?" he asked expectantly.

"Feel what, Roger?"

"The machines."

My mind raced to find the right response.

"Their machines.  Feel it?  The hydraulic vibration?  They're running full bore," he said with admiration.

"I don't feel it," I answered but I wanted to.  I wanted to feel it for Roger's sake.  I wanted this to be more than just in his head.

Dressed in his business suit, he removed his jacket, throwing it to the ground.  He sprawled out, pressing his ear to the dirt.

"Listen to them.  Listen to the power.  My God, it’s exhilarating," he yelled as if speaking over the drone of some powerful, massive machine.  "Come on, Ben.  It's only dirt."

I moved to lay next to Roger, pressing my ear to the soil.

At first, all I heard was the rhythm of my breathing and that of Roger.  I held my breath breaking the pattern.  Faintly, barely audible came a steady even pulse.  I pressed my ear harder to the ground, trying to sort out what I heard.  It did have a faint, repetitive, mechanical sound.



Buy links:
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Tirgearr Publishing





~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR Bio and Links:




I was raised pretty much the same as everyone else... devoted mother, strict father and all the imaginary friends I could conjure. Not that I wasn't friendly, I just wasn't "people orientated". Maybe I lived in my head way more than I should have, maybe not. I liked machines more than people, at least I did until I met my wife.

The first thing I can remember writing was for her. For the life of me I can't remember what it was about... something about dust bunnies under the bed and monsters in my closet. It must have been pretty good because she married me shortly after that. I spent a good number of years after inventing games and prototypes for a variety of ideas before I got back to writing.

It wasn't a deliberate conscious thought it was more of a stepping stone. My wife and I had joined a dream interpret group and we were encouraged to write down our dreams as they occurred. "Be as detailed as you can," we were told.

I was thrilled. If there is one thing I enjoy it's making people believe me and I like to exaggerate. Not a big exaggeration or an outright lie mine you, just a little step out of sync, just enough so you couldn't be sure if it were true or not.  When I write, I always write with the effort of "it could happen" very much in mind and nothing, I guarantee you, nothing, makes me happier.

Website
Facebook
Twitter
Amazon author page
Goodreads
Shelfari
LinkedIn
Pinterest


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GIVEAWAY


a Rafflecopter giveaway

Monday, November 24, 2014

Bob by Tegon Maus (c/o Lucy Felthouse)




It is my pleasure to share a few words from author Tegon Maus:



Are you a SLIder ?     Do you have H.V.S.  ?       

In my Sci-Fi Series… The Eve Project… Ben Harris is and does.  He destroys any unshielded electronics, sets fire to ATMs, coffee machines and unwittingly sends devastating arcs of electricity to anything metal.   He suffers from B.C.E.D.  He has spent his entire life trying to hide his ailment from prying eyes.   

What many readers are unaware of is the fact that his condition is a real one.  In my book I called it B.C.E.D.  or Bio-Chemical Electric Discharge to make it sound more… interesting and official.

As it turns out, depending on the severity of the condition it has two names.  The first and less life transforming is S.L.I.  or Streetlight Interference. These poor souls are often called SLIders.  

As you might expect, they affect streetlights, turning them off  simply by walking under them only to have them reignite after they pass.  In addition they frequently do not wear watches or jewelry because their bodies generate enough electricity to destroy them within a matter of days, making cameras and cell phones out of the question. Research into the phenomena has been slow but the little that has been done shows women hold a much higher static level than men. Their bodies absorb more external electric charges. This is usually caused by an Alkali-Acid imbalance.  How is this possible you ask ??  It is the by-product of eating fresh fruit and vegetables! Who Knew ?

For those that have passed the line of humdrum static electricity there is H.V.S. or High Voltage Syndrome.  This condition has ruined many a life, ranging from starting fires shocking those that come to close and destroying any metal object. Computers, microwaves, televisions, radios, light bulbs, and the rest don’t stand a chance. They are completely destroyed without desire or intention.  And worse, many of the people who are afflicted with this condition become magnetized.  Metal objects cling to their body unwanted as if they themselves have become a magnet. Others are able to push objects like heavy furniture away from themselves with but a touch. Others are blamed for haunting like experiences, making lights and appliances turn on and off by themselves, things floating through mid-air with no desire intended. It has been tied to a heightened  psychic or telekinetic ability. 

So if you thought you had problems in your life that made you feel like you didn’t fit in or like an outsider; consider these people and the lives they lead…   do you have H.V.S. ??  Are you a SLIder ?  Thank God everyday if you can say no !

Here are some sites with more info…
H.V.S. – High Voltage Syndrome /  SLI – Streetlight Interference
 http://paranormal.about.com/od/telekinesispsychokinesis/a/aa052508.htm
 http://amasci.com/weird/unusual/wots050399.html
http://theparanormal411.blogspot.com/2010/12/high-voltage-syndrome-caroline-clare.html
http://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=1309&dat=19850608&id=2udLAAAAIBAJ&sjid=yY0DAAAAIBAJ&pg=6826,2027732





Bob

Blurb :
The first time I heard it, I thought nothing of it at all... nothing.  I've been in the newspaper game for more than twenty-seven years and that kind of experience gave a guy an edge but even that didn't prepare me.

I'd been beaten, shot at, even stabbed a couple of times over the years but I always got the story... always.  But this one... this one was big... too big perhaps...  Maybe we were ready, maybe not.

Either way, it wasn't my call.

None of which filled me with the fear, the trepidation... the anguish of five little words that still haunted me today... 

             "Is okay.  I have cousin." 



Excerpt

I blinked in disbelief, too stunned to speak.

Standing in front of me, dressed in black jeans, a dark blue tee shirt with a picture of Bob Marley and a backward baseball cap was a small, no more than 5' 2", twenty something, black man.

"Hi.  I'm Pete," I said, offering my hand.

"Ahh, is sad story.  Bob's cousin not speak English," Bob said pushing my hand away.

"Awhhh," the little man breathed hoarsely, turning away, his arms swung loosely in response.

"Bob, he just said dude to me when he came in," I said, pointing an insistent finger at the little man.

"He tries, broken English not so good.  Is Fred," he answered, spinning his hand playfully in the air, pointing, draping a large, affectionate arm over the man's shoulder.

"Fred... your Russian cousin?"

"Da," he answered simply without blinking.

"Bob... he just spoke to me and it wasn't Russian," I protested.

"Ahh, Bob's friend generous, not make Bob's cousin self-conscious.  You good man, but Fred speaks no English," he argued, folding his arms.

"Ahhh, damn it, Bob.  You promised me... you said I could talk this time.  Shit man," Fred cursed in a raspy whisper, stomping his foot, turning away.

"Nyet, nyet," Bob scolded, grabbing Fred.  He began to speak Russian, shaking his finger in the other man's face.

Fred's shoulders slumped.  His head swung loosely from side to side, avoiding Bob's gaze.

"Da," he said dully, turning in my direction once more.

"His English not so good," Bob added, wiggling his hands dismissively.

"Sounded damn good to me," I said honestly.

"Bob understands.  Bob's friend speak Spanish?" he asked with a little annoyance in his voice, threading his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"Nope.  Can't say as I do," I answered, folding my arms.

"How you say... no speak Spanish?" he asked, folding his arms as well.

"No habla Hispano."

"AAAHHH, to Bob, Bob's friend sound like native.  Bob thought he smelled burritos, heard waves on beach.  Very impressed.  Bob's friend has gift for language.  Sure not speak Spanish?"

"Fred," I said flatly, stepping directly in front of the little man.  "Do you speak English?"

"Da. Fred speak no English," he responded dully, tilting his head from side to side, his arms hung slack, swinging loosely as he spoke.

"Very sad, like Bob say.  Fred's parents live too close to nuclear plant.  Sure, sure, rent very cheap but Fred... no brain for English," Bob said, closing his eyes, shaking his head in a pretentious, melancholy way.

"Bob," I started.

"Very late.  No time for Fred's story.  Bob's friend want to see house tonight or no?" he asked, pushing himself to stand between me and Fred.

"Alright, have it your way.  Let's go," I demanded now irritated, angrily grabbing my coat off the back of the chair.

"Nyet, nyet.  Bob's friend almost forget," he said, turning his back quickly, wriggling his fingers.

"Dear God.  Money?  Now?"  I said, throwing my coat across the back of the chair again.

"Business before pleasure... makes good fences."

"The saying is, 'good fences make good neighbors' not..."

"Bob's friend knows what Bob say.  Not want money to be sticky bug between us."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it.  How much this time?" I asked aggravated, removing my wallet.

"Bob not know about such things.  Must speak with cousin," he said, wrapping a huge arm around the tiny man, pulling him to the other side of the room.

"Bob, you gave me your word," Fred whispered forcefully, sending a pointed finger into Bob's chest.

"Fred say, must think about it.  Fred likes Bob's friend Peter, wants give good price," he said, smiling in my direction and then began to speak rapidly in Russian.

"Damn it, Bob.  You promised me," Fred whispered disappointedly.

"Fred say, four hundred dollars," Bob said, holding up four fingers of his right hand, all the while maintaining his grip on Fred's shoulder. 

"Three hundred," I countered, folding my arms, returning my wallet to my hip pocket.

"Oooh, Bob's friend breaks Bob's feelings.  Bob's friend would steal bread from Fred very mouth?"

"It's not in Fred's mouth just yet... three hundred," I insisted.


Author Bio:
            I was raised pretty much the same as everyone else... devoted mother, strict father and all the imaginary friends I could conjure. Not that I wasn't friendly, I just wasn't "people orientated". Maybe I lived in my head way more than I should have, maybe not. I liked machines more than people, at least I did until I met my wife.

        The first thing I can remember writing was for her. For the life of me I can't remember what it was about... something about dust bunnies under the bed and monsters in my closet. It must have been pretty good because she married me shortly after that. I spent a good number of years after inventing games and prototypes for a variety of ideas before I got back to writing.
         It wasn't a deliberate conscious thought, it was more of a stepping stone. My wife and I had joined a dream interpret group and we were encouraged to write down our dreams as they occurred. "Be as detailed as you can," we were told.

         I was thrilled. If there is one thing I enjoy it's making people believe me and I like to exaggerate. Not a big exaggeration or an outright lie mine you, just a little step out of sync, just enough so you couldn't be sure if it were true or not.  When I write, I always write with the effort of "it could happen" very much in mind and nothing, I guarantee you, nothing, makes me happier.


Website
Facebook
Twitter
Pinterest
LinkedIn
Goodreads
Shelfari
Amazon Author Page
B&N page
Smashwords




***********************

GIVEAWAY


a Rafflecopter giveaway

Other stops on the tour are at this link