Wednesday, 12 November 2014

Cities of Luna Blitz!!!!

Title: Moon Dragons
Series: Cities of Luna
Author: AmyBeth Inverness
Publisher: Distinguished Press

Uncle Dave has told his nieces and nephews stories about the moon dragons for years. Can there be some truth behind the legends?


Opening Scene Excerpt

Dave recognized the look in his nephew's eye. This was a delicate situation. One wrong word, and all would be lost.
"I thought those gasses came from radioactive decay within the crust and mantle?" Levi said, standing at the back of the group of siblings and cousins, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.
"No, Levi!" shouted Levi’s six-year old cousin Bunny. "It's moon dragons! Tell him, Uncle Dave, tell him!"
"Yeah Uncle Dave..." said one of the older boys, a grin on his face that was almost as bad a giveaway as Levi's logical train of thought. "Tell them about the dragons..."
“Another time,” Dave’s sister said, appearing in the doorway. “Time to go home.”
A chorus of disappointment sounded from both the tots, teens, and tweens. “Just one more song, please?” Bunny asked, using her large baby blue eye and long lashes to their best advantage.
Dave’s sister put her hands on her hips, scanning the crowd. When they were all quiet, looking at her expectantly, she sighed indulgently, smiled, and winked at Dave.
“All right. One more song.”


Title: Cities of Luna
Sub-Title: Collection One
Author: AmyBeth Inverness
Publisher: Distinguished Press


12 great short stories about life on the moon.

Fun engaging tales weave every day life on the orb above for those who inhabit the colonies of the future. Join the Loonies on their numerous adventures in low gravity, high enjoyment, active environments and tales that will dance into the imagination.

Excerpt 1:

The Day Lorinda Flew

Generations of chickens have been hatched on the moon, and they never even tried to fly. That was before a little girl named Etta Jane decided they should.

Opening Scene

“Fly, Lorinda! I know you can do it!” Etta Jane cried out, tossing the chicken off the hen house roof. Lorinda squawked in panic, but managed a long fluttering descent and landed in the yard uninjured.

 Soichi watched his daughter from the kitchen window. Etta Jane seemed to be making progress; usually Lorinda just flapped like a maniac until she reached the ground.

“Something’s not quite right with that child,” said Earl, Etta Jane’s maternal grandfather. It seemed like a cruel thing to say, but Soichi knew what Earl meant. It wasn’t a commentary on Etta Jane’s special needs, it was a commentary on her ferocity.

Etta Jane was fierce. She applied that ferocity to every aspect of her life, from the way she approached little everyday tasks to the way she loved her family and pets. She refused to believe anything was impossible. “They can fly, Papa, I know they can!” she reasoned. “They just don’t know it yet.”

Soichi had to admit, it did make sense. On the moon, with one sixth the gravity that held their ancestors to the earth, chickens could quite possibly get the lift they needed to stay aloft. But a hundred generations of chickens had been raised on Luna, and not a single one had ever done more than flutter up to the top of the fence.

However, those chickens didn’t have Etta Jane to encourage them.

Excerpt 2:

From Hippie Freaks

Catharine accepts that her life will be nothing better than slogging herself to and from work at a dead end job. She can’t understand how the hippie freaks in her poor neighborhood can be so happy. Then a starving artist steals her heart and she discovers that she might have been wrong about life in The Cube all along.

She let herself into his loft quietly, hoping he was asleep. Sure enough, a dozen or more canvasses were leaning against the walls. A plate of half-eaten blini with smoked salmon sat on the floor next to the mattress, which was covered with a jumble of sheets and one hairy-toed foot sticking out.

Catharine tsked silently. He had a perfectly good bed upstairs. She’d made sure of that. He just hardly ever actually made it there before he fell asleep.

Quietly, she sorted the paintings against the walls. Some were obviously warm-ups for the larger piece that stood by itself in the middle of the room, unfinished. But there were at least a half dozen pieces that were perfect for the mass market.

Something grabbed her ankle. She had ventured too close to the pile of sheets, pillows, and boyfriend. She pulled away. His grip tightened and he tugged back. “I ate! I promise I did. And I finished all my vegetables. And I slept. Sort-of. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what I was doing here.”

“Good,” Catharine said, switching her tactic to poking him with her foot, trying to find his ribs in the pile of sheets.

“I need a snuggle bunny,” the groggy voice from under the bedding mumbled. Catharine continued poking. Finding a body in the blankets was harder than she thought.

“You need to get up,” Catharine said.

“Why?” Matthew asked, peeking out at last.

Catharine opened her mouth to reply and realized she didn’t have a good answer. She’d left him less than ten hours ago. Yes, he’d eaten, but she was willing to bet he’d spent several hours painting before falling asleep.

“You know, you have a perfectly good bed upstairs…”

“I’ll go to the perfectly good bed if you’ll come with me,” he said, continuing to tug at her ankle.

Catharine let him pull her down, and after a brief wrestling match she was ensconced inside the pile of blankets with him. This was her starving artist. This was the boy whose puppy-dog eyes had won her heart. The mattress stank of oil paints and sweat but she didn’t care.

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