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Book I of
The Tales of Earthenstone Series
E. Tara Scurry
a novel
sneak peak synopsis
Due to her mother’s untimely and expensive death, Laoria McGarnett returns home early and distraught from her kitchen mastery apprenticeship. Floran’s world is further distorted when she learns that the creditors have obtained papers to enslave her immediately in lieu of systematic payment of the debt. Having no other choice but to run or leave her mourning and vulnerable father, Laoria remains. She becomes Floran, dressing as a young man to evade the creditors until she can earn the funds on her own. Laoria’s life quickly takes a dangerous turn as she is meticulously chosen for her kitchen mastery skills as one of the three new husbands of Queen Xerah IV of Earthenstone. Can she keep her identity a secret forever or tell it without being killed for deceiving the entire realm?
Amaron
VelKoina
was a rugged and bold specimen, the eldest son of Queen Vivilan of the neighboring Queendom of Lemonring. He had prospered in their army, mastering hunting, problem-solving, and the broad sword. As a young man in waiting, he had been kept chaste from women and prepared for becoming a King to a powerful Queen. As Xerah’s first husband, he had given her three sons and none of the daughters she needed as heirs. It was common for Queens to take multiple husbands, so when Xerah took three Amaron bit his tongue and held his head high. But there was something strange about Floran. He was hiding something under those delicate features and soft voice. What sort of man was not excited about becoming a King? Xerah must have chosen him for his kitchen mastery and nothing more; it was obvious he was of the more...delicate and gentle type of men, not good for much else, like the breeding of daughters. He failed miserably at trying not to stare at Amaron’s chiseled body.
This was amusing and...could prove quite interesting, considering Amaron was not a novice at initiating carnal attention from other men; yet when Floran was not staring, he seemed dejected, paranoid and lost in thought.
Only when secrets are revealed and love distorts logic can Amaron fulfill his destiny.
In this world of queendoms and royal
polyandry comes the first in the Tales of Earthenstone series of uniquely tantalizing tales of suspense, gender-play, and the infinite and complicated facets of love.
* Historical Fantasy *
* A sneak peak of the first chapter can be found in the back of any copy of Storm Of Roses: A Compilation of Poetry and Short Stories
Status: Draft 1 Manuscript in Process
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Crack of Dawn
E. Tara Scurry
a novella
sneak peak excerpt
Marcus was gazing toward the floor, leaning back casually against the wall with his head back and hands semi folded. Her silence didn’t seem to bother him. He was a light skinned black man. He might have been called a pretty boy except for his thick muscular body and hard face. Despite drug use, he looked younger than his 40 years. His patient file read that he hadn’t had a job in over ten years – a legal job that is. He had been linked to a disgusting multiple murder, where he was found fleeing the scene. He always claimed he had little to do with it - that a vampire had killed them for harassing him. This man was crazy. Yet somehow he managed to completely bludgeon seven armed men by himself and without a scratch, or did he? In a hole of a dark alley, these men had their bodies broken, dislocated, and shattered leaving them twisted in a field of blood. The jury could not find him guilty, albeit delusional. He would stay at Watercrest Mental Hospital on an inpatient basis until it was clear he proved no potential harm to the public or to himself. If he were lucky and the murders solved, he would be treated as an outpatient. But until the killers were found, he’d be forced into therapy. Drug rehabilitation had also been part of the order. Marcus had been clean since his arrival over a month ago. Additionally, the prosecution had found blood on his clothes. He claimed it had splattered over him when the vampire slashed open one of his attacker’s throat. He obviously couldn’t have done it alone, but no weapons were found that could match the wounds on the dead. No one else had yet to be firmly connected to the incident and people were afraid. Mr. Marcus Sanders had plenty of money. He must have be one of those gangsters or drug dealers.
“A vampire gave you the money?”
“Yeah,” He finally looked up at her. “Look, I don’t give a damn if you don’t believe me. Frankly, I prefer if you don’t.” He pushed himself off the wall with his heel.
“Can you tell me more about this vampire?” she asked gazing hard at him as if it might bring him back down to his seat.
“On the real, I’d rather not talk about him.” He rung his hands together and his knuckles turned white.
“Mr. Sanders, I’m sorry, but we have to. We’ve allowed you to put this off for weeks. We have no choice but to move forward. That’s where all of this begins.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Then where does it begin, Mr. Sanders?” She leaned back and straightened her shoulders, challenging him with her eyes.
He cursed under his breath and shook his head. This white lady didn’t have a clue! He knew she wouldn’t believe a word he said. What was the point of all of this talking bullshit? He’d do anything just to get the hell out of here. Actually, this place wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t crazy, just like the other richies in here. The people were decent enough; he even played pool with them and watched football in the entertainment room. What kind of punishment was this? Everyone could pick from at least three different desserts a night and they had cable in the main room. He didn’t feel any racism from the majority of the white folks either. It was all about money and everyone here had it. Money obviously dissolved any racial barrier that could have been. If you have money, you’re in the club. Obviously you’re rich enough or know someone powerful enough to get into this place. And just about everyone else was white save for a few hip-hop rappers with distorted priorities and a couple black business folks who thought they could get away with the same stuff some of the white folks did. They all either committed some petty assault or got caught up in white collar crimes, claimed insanity and somehow ended up here. Fine, he’d tell her. He’d lay it out for her, raw and with no bullshit for her to pick at with her little fucking degree. He’d be damned if he was going to sugar coat anything for her. She looked like the type to scream at the sight of a spider or even at picking up a dirty bucket, like those two rich blond girls on that country reality show. But this was her fault for wanting this, for forcing him. If she wanted it, he’d give it to her. He’d tell it to her; his story. He decided to get comfortable and poured himself into the large translucent couch with the expensive trim, like Remy Martin into a crystal glass.
After being chosen by Jared - the fervent, passionate and crack addicted vampire, Marcus Sanders roams Maryland, battling with his own crack addiction which had first drawn Jared to him, his own reality and himself. Gruesomely sexy and unapologetically raw, this novella is absorbing and not for the easily disturbed.
* Contemporary Urban Horror *
Status: 1rst Draft Manuscript is complete. C.O.D. is currently going through general edits, then I will be sourcing Subject Matter Experts (SME) specializing in addictions and addiction medicine. Afterwards, C.O.D. will go through another phase of edits based on the SME edits and suggestions. Expected Final Draft Date 2009, Expected Publication: TBA
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Forgive Us Our Trespasses
E. Tara Scurry
a novella
sneak peak excerpts
Trailer #1:
“Another dream?”
He nodded. “It’s the same one, always. It’s always about that day. The day when…”
“Shh. I know.” He lifted his large hand, touching his knuckles to Anael’s cheek. “Anael, it’s been century after century after century. Things are good for us here and it’s time to move on from it all. Your fate is with me.” He moved his hand to the back of his neck and pulled him near.
Anael lowered his eyes and turned his head. “No, not now. Leave me be.”
“No?” his brow raised, taken aback. “Leave you be?” His eyes narrowed and it seemed his spirit stiffened then cracked like a whip. “Then why did you come with me?”
“I would have followed you anywhere.”
Trailer #2:
“…Today is a special day.”
“Oh?” he grinned, tucking his wispy hair behind his ears. He still clung to his lover.
“We’ve won and had Jesus crucified. He’s dying and he’ll be here shortly. He’s ours now. You’ll have a lot to write about tonight.”
“Jesus? How could God let it happen?”
“Let it? It was our doing and our victory.”
“Do you mean to torment him?”
“No, that’s not my duty. Satan will give me his keys and I’m to reinforce the prisons and increase security just in case he tries any of his fancy tricks. He’ll see to Jesus’ torture if that’s what he means to do. Even some of us down here are afraid of him.”
“Are you?” he whispered.
his eyes flickered like the moon peeking behind a swarm of clouds before his head tilted to the side as if he might throw his head back with laughter. “No, why should I be? He’s no more a son of God than we are. He’s even less so because he came through a penniless mortal chit. He wasn’t made from the pure spirit of God as we are. His human soul makes him weak! He’s on our turf now. He’ll cry in our dungeon like he cried in Gethsethamy, but they’ll be no second death to end his tears! Jesus was his chosen one, but you see how God had him tortured! Torture has no place in love and that is why God is flawed, despite his power. Everyone of God’s faithful has been tortured in one way or another. He calls it ‘testing’, but he’s as sadistic and egotistic as Satan. As all of us down here. Where do you think Satan inherited it from? Where do you think Satan mastered it from? Who was Satan’s teacher of all things? Who is more like God than Satan? God’s every bit of a murder as we are.” His jaw clenched and he slowed his speech, jabbing his own chest with his finger. His eyes had grown dark. “But we don’t deny our truth by speaking of our evil with sweet words. So no, I have no fear of Jesus! With his withered human blood he is less of my brother than the lowest of angels! And if Satan tortures him, he will not tell him he loves him with every switch of the whip! We are the truth and God is the lie.”
Anael swallowed and took in a deep breath. He fought to suppress his urge to argue or speak of things that might anger him, instead he managed a voice not much more steady than a sputter. “I want to see him. See Jesus.”
He threw his head back and finally laughed. “When he comes then, I’ll take you to see him. But you can not touch him.”
“Why?”
“Just don’t. His soul reeks of God and like dye it sticks into you and doesn’t come off.”
Love. War. Forgiveness. Peace.
When the Archangel Anael follows his lover into Hell during the rebellion, his world is literally turned upside down. Can love truly stand the test of time?
* Supernatural Fantasy *
Status: 1rst Draft Manuscript in process
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