Book Tour: Hobbes Family by Dan O’Brien

Welcome to the third day of the Hobbes Family blog tour. It will run until September 2nd and will feature excerpts and new author interviews each day. But first, here is the obligatory blurb about the novel to settle you into this strange world:

The world had ended abruptly and without warning. How will a family navigate a world that seems bent on destroying them? Follow them in this exciting new serial adventure.

A few questions for the author:

What’s the thing you’re most satisfied with?

I am most satisfied with continuing to move forward in pursuit of my dreams. I love writing and I love helping people see their work in print (or digitally) and I could not be happier with the way it makes me feel.

When was the last time you laughed and what did you laugh at?

It was probably some comedy on TV. I am easily amused, though I don’t always laugh until I cry. Honestly, I can’t recall.

Are you doing anything which makes you and people around you happy?

Pursuing what I love makes me happier, and therefore makes the people who love me happy. Starting a consulting business and putting together an anthology have really helped other writers feel happy about their dream to be published.
Here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:
As Michael looked out the broken window of the convenience store, he recalled the last remnants of humanity that been flushed from him like so much waste that day.
Winter had set in.
The tall blue oaks that surrounded the building on two sides were dusted with frost; the ground was an amalgam of crystal sheets broken only by brave stalks of undergrowth that dared the frigid touch of the gales.
The interior of the building would not serve as a long-term solution. However, it would be useful until the weather broke.
The trek out of the suburban areas, even ones as small as those in the Sacramento Valley, had begun in the family Subaru. Highway 99 had been so congested, so overrun with smoldering and abandoned vehicles that the Hobbes family was forced to make the remainder of the trek on foot. Winter had not been as absurd as it had been during the past month. Often the snow levels came down into the valley for a day, sprinkling unsuspecting areas with brief, beautiful moments of frozen precipitation.
This was different.
A storm had settled in the valley, trapped and angry.
When the sun managed to peek through the clouds above, there was a moment when it almost felt bearable. But the great star was soon obfuscated behind a gray wall once more, bloated and teeming with fury as a fresh zephyr of snow and blinding particulates dragged the valley.
Before the fall of civilization, Susanna had begun to gain a little weight; the difference now was drastic. Her high cheekbones were prominent and the sallowness of her cheeks from periodic starvation saddened Michael as much as he was capable.
He had not fared much better.
His beard had grown in with dark clumps and gray patches that had no doubt taken residence from the stress that had become everyday life. His neat hair had become bedraggled and curly in places despite its length. Had it been on purpose, he could have imagined Susanna running her long fingers through it and calling it cute.
The store had weathered the apocalypse.
Shelves remained intact for the most part, though they were barren fields. The coolers had been left open and the power had long since faded. Overturned cans, smashed and left for dead, littered the floor.
It had served as a last stand for someone.
The doors and windows were adorned with long wooden planks cast in random patterns. A length of coiled chain looped through the front doors––chime removed. The open register was a dusty beach before the sunglasses tree, broken lenses covering the counter.
Susanna approached slowly.
Clara walked beside her mother in silence.
As they neared Michael, the young girl reached out her arms and wrapped them around her father’s neck. Patting her back, he felt emotion surge in for just a brief moment. He pushed it down and looked at the wide eyes of his wife––the distance there saddened him.
She had been vibrant before the world went to shit.
Susanna had what could modestly be called a sunny disposition. She was always laughing and hugging people, a bright smile painted on her simple features. That beauty made her perfect in a way that Michael could never properly articulate, especially now that such simple joy was gray-washed by despair.
 
 

Bio: A psychologist, author, editor, philosopher, martial artist, and skeptic, he has published several novels and currently has many in print, including: The End of the World Playlist, Bitten, The Journey, The Ocean and the Hourglass, The Path of the Fallen, The Portent, and Cerulean Dreams. Follow him on Twitter (@AuthorDanOBrien) or visit his blog http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com. He recently started a consultation business. You can find more information about it here: http://www.amalgamconsulting.com/.

Bitten (US) 

End of the World Playlist (US)

Cerulean Dreams (US)

The Journey (US)

The Path of the Fallen (US)

The Twins of Devonshire (US)

Mondays with Mephistopheles: 9 am – Rhys (US)

Publish Your Dreams (US)

Hobbes Family (US)

Hobbes Family (UK)

The End of the World Playlist (UK)

Bitten (UK)

Cerulean Dreams (UK)

The Journey (UK)

The Path of the Fallen (UK)

Mondays with Mephistopheles: 9 am – Rhys (UK)

Publish Your Dreams (UK)

Follow My Blog

Follow Me On Twitter

Like Me On Facebook

All of his books are only 99 cents on Kindle right now!

Download Hobbes Family for free on Kindle from 8/28 until 9/1!

Would you like to win a Kindle Fire?

Visit http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com/ and follow the blog for a chance to win a Kindle Fire!

Book Tour: Mondays with Mephistopheles: 9 am – Rhys by Dan O’Brien

Welcome to the second day of the Mondays with Mephistopheles: 9am – Rhys blog tour. It will run until August 9th and will feature excerpts and new author interviews each day. But first, here is the obligatory blurb about the novel to settle you into this strange world:

Abraham Rogers has an unusual psychotherapy practice: monsters. This first installment is a session with Rhys, the IT vampire who can’t quite connect with the modern world the way he would like.

A few questions for the author:

When have you been most satisfied in your life?

Right this moment. I have been moving toward writing full-time and consulting for publishing and writing. I married my best friend and I am publishing on a consistent basis. I couldn’t be happier. 

Who is your role model, and why?

From a writing perspective, I really respect Neil Gaiman. He knew what he wanted out of writing and life and pursued it. I think that kind of commitment is important no matter what you want out of life. Go out and get it. 

What things do you not like to do?

I like everything to be planned out and organized, at least a sketch of what is going on. Even if there is a single constant, I am a happy guy. Whenever I attend completely unplanned events, I find that I do not have a good time. As I get older, I find that I like well-defined goals and only certain activities. 

Here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:

As he took the seat across from the couch, Abe gestured with his hand. There was something to the necessity of pleasantries in his particular profession. 

“How are you doing this morning, Rhys?”

The leaner man seemed not to acknowledge Abe’s presence in the room; instead, he seemed keen on a sliver of light that emerged through the thick drapes behind Rogers’ desk. “Can we do something about that light?”

Abe nodded and attended to the drapery, tugging and moving it until the shaft of luminance was expunged from the room. “Is that better?”

“Quite,” came the terse reply.

With a huff, Abe was seated once more. He crossed one leg over the other and placed a tattered notepad on his knee. “Where would you like to start today?”

“Must you use such a raggedy journal, my good doctor?”

“Abe.”

Rhys waved a dismissive hand, his pale fingers tracing the air irritably. “Of course, we must maintain a conversational tone here.”

“Would you prefer to call me Dr. Rogers?”

Rhys exhaled and adjusted one of his legs underneath his body. “I would prefer to accomplish something during this session, Abe.”

Abe knew that Rhys grew impatient with a surprising quickness, though the vexation passed after a moment if allowed to marinate in the darkness.

“Have you given any further thought to the treatment we discussed?”

If Rhys had wanted to speak about a course of treatment, it was not revealed in the pursing of his pink lips. “I understand your propensity to use the flavor of the day, Abe, but I fear my affliction cannot be overcome with simple exposure.” He paused for effect. “It is that precise contact that causes me harm.”

“Do you feel like you are afflicted, Rhys?”

Rhys took off his sunglasses, revealing equally pale eyes that swam in shadow. “Do I not appear afflicted to you?”

“Who has burdened you with this affliction, Rhys? Who do you hold responsible for this suffering?”

Rhys’ long throat did not pulse, nor did his heart beat faster. One would have to have the appropriate equipment to have elevated blood pressure. 

Vampires lacked the requisite parts.

Bio: A psychologist, author, editor, philosopher, martial artist, and skeptic, he has published several novels and currently has many in print, including: The End of the World Playlist, Bitten, The Journey, The Ocean and the Hourglass, The Path of the Fallen, The Portent, and Cerulean Dreams. Follow him on Twitter (@AuthorDanOBrien) or visit his blog http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com. He recently started a consultation business. You can find more information about it here: http://www.amalgamconsulting.com/.

Bitten (US) 

End of the World Playlist (US)

Cerulean Dreams (US)

The Journey (US)

The Path of the Fallen (US)

The Twins of Devonshire (US)

Mondays with Mephistopheles: 9 am – Rhys (US)

Publish Your Dreams (US)

The End of the World Playlist (UK)

Bitten (UK)

Cerulean Dreams (UK)

The Journey (UK)

The Path of the Fallen (UK)

Mondays with Mephistopheles: 9 am – Rhys (UK)

Publish Your Dreams (UK)

Follow My Blog

Follow Me On Twitter

Like Me On Facebook

All of his books are only 99 cents on Kindle right now!

Download Mondays with Mephistopheles for free on Kindle from 8/21 until 8/25!

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BLOG TOUR: The Twins of Devonshire and the Curse of the Widow by Dan O’Brien

Aug12_Dan

Welcome to the third day of The Twins of Devonshire and the Curse of the Widow blog tour. It will run until August 17th and will feature excerpts and new author interviews each day. But first, here is the obligatory blurb about the novel to settle you into this strange world:

A plague has covered the land, a single word on the lips of the frightened masses: the Widow. Washing a wave of terror over the countryside and then disappearing like a thief in the night, the Widow holds a kingdom in the palm of her hand. The eyes of Chaos have settled on Prima Terra and heroes must rise. Xeno Lobo, enigmatic and cryptic, hunts the Widow, seeking an object taken from him years before. Will he be able to stem the tide of violence and horror that sweeps the land?

A few questions for the author:

When is it time to stop calculating risk and rewards, and just go ahead and do what you know is right?

This is an interesting question because without any kind of preparation, we doom ourselves to failure without understanding why. I think there is a time and a place for organizing your plans, but then the real work begins. You need to be willing to go as far as your possibly can, even push the limits of what you consider comfortable.

If we learn from our mistakes, why are we always so afraid to make a mistake? 

I think it is the pressure from others to live up to how they perceive us. Often, we trade in self-esteem for group perception and it becomes all that matters. When we are concerned how people will judge what we have done, we want there to be as little ammo for a public humiliation as possible.

What would you do differently if you knew nobody would judge you?

I do things even though I know I will be judged by others. To me, stepping outside of your comfort zone and challenging the static ideas about who you is at the core of really living your life. People will always let you know how they would do it, or how they think you should live your life. The reality is pretty simple: You decide. In the end, if it doesn’t hurt you or others, then why not?

Here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:

The Nighen, an unnatural creature spawned of evil, consumed and murdered all along the western providence for the weeks after the emergence of Chaos. Its appetite had grown astronomically since its birth.

The blood moon of Chaos drove it forward.

Swollen clouds drifted lazily overhead. Bruised and disfigured skies threatened to drench the land in rain and storm, something in which the slowly-aging hills would find great comfort. The mixture of deep shadow and moonlight allowed the cloaked figure to move through the dense forest unnoticed––his hood wrapped tightly and his decadent robes drifting out behind him.

He hummed quietly. Along his back was the outline of a sheath, the blade hidden. The moon made a kaleidoscope of images across the paths of the forest, and the man moved through them. His figure melded and conformed to the bizarre shapes. His features were hidden beneath the hood, the bitter winds that periodically slapped against his frame could not loosen the bond the cloak held over him.

The forest around him shifted in the winds. Branches scraped against one another. The gales howled, creating sounds in the night far more morose than the ones that truly haunted the rich shrubbery. The man did not hesitate as he walked, not even when the unnatural sounds of forest silenced and the low, throaty growl of a night terror emanated from beside him.

Amber eyes were translucent in the darkness. The lack of iris was eerie as if shifted, watching the man move past its vantage point. The creature groaned loudly and stood. Scaly claws dug deep into the already-frozen earth as it moved forward in leaps. It hit hard upon the ground, shaking the earth as it rose from a crouch.

The man’s pace quickened now. He moved with renewed speed, head lowered. The blade upon his back protruded from his hunched frame like a sore that had grown from his spine.

The creature moved alongside him, the crashing sounds as it charged through the forest thunderous. The man threw back the tight folds of his cloak and moved with the grace of a practiced runner. His shoulder-length hair emerged from beneath the hood, cascading off his back.

The creature ran on all four limbs, end over end like a feral animal. Its breathing was ragged and intense. Cold air exhaled from his nostrils as it charged after the dexterous man dodging through the forest.

He jumped over a dislodged collection of roots, and then spun past a tree that stood directly in his path as he landed. The creature just slammed its gigantic horned frame into the trees, splintering the wood and knocking them from its path.

The forest ended abruptly. The thick mass of roots and trees disappeared from sight. The sheet of grass, stained brown, extended for a few feet until it ended in a monumental plunge to the canyons and plains below. The man skidded to a stop and threw back his cloak, drawing his blade from around his back.

The hilt of the sword was cast in ivory––the pearly construction was crafted like a dragon’s head. Its guard was formed of the beast’s hellish wings, the spiraling, sinewy protrusions spreading symmetrically on each side.

His brown hair was thrown across his face, hiding his cold blue eyes buried behind sleep-deprived circles. A beard carved his jaw line, his lips drawn tight in apprehension. The winds tore at his frame, the fold of his cloak whipping like tendrils in the cold gales.

The creature emerged from the forest and rolled to a stop, rising on its hunches and glaring at the man. It opened its maw, licking at exposed, rotten teeth. Black, soulless eyes were obscured in the darkness. It tilted its head and made a thin sound, like a bird chirping.

“Man flesh,” spoke the creature.

The words were guttural and strangled.

The man looked at the creature, its shoulders rising far above him. Grayish skin covered its entire body juxtaposed with black, spiked scales. Its arms were long like an ape. Claws were sharpened into half the length of the sword the man wielded.

“Not much for conversation, are you?” the warrior spoke breathlessly.

“Kill. Eat. Man flesh,” growled the creature once again. The creature took a few steps forward.

The warrior turned his blade out and it glistened in the half light of the moon. The flash captured the soulless sockets of the creature. His feet parted slightly, rooting him as he prepared to lunge. In one motion, he leapt forward. The point of his blade sung through the air as he did so.

The creature roared. Swinging one of its massive claws across the front of its frame, it tried to catch the man mid-flight as he descended. The man shifted in mid-air, his body tightening and then rolling to the ground. His blade was tucked tight with his body and as he landed; he lunged forward. Catching the creature across its mammoth legs, the creature howled in pain as it reached down to block the strike.

It glowered at the man as he returned to his stance. His blade was held across his chest at an angle, eyes set firmly at the throat of the beast. They circled each other, the beast snarling and sputtering as its green puss oozed from the wound and covered its leg.

It burned the earth beneath them.

The creature roared––its mouth agape, saliva glistening as it strung from fang to fang. Its stale breath was like a fog from its mouth. The man moved forward again, the blade slamming into the flank of the creature. Blood splattered across his cloak and the stricken ground.

He turned as he remained crouched beneath the haunches of the beast and drove his blade through its chin. The creature groaned as the crack of the splintered skull echoed in the hills. Sliding down as the man pulled his blade free, it was no more. The creature’s face was a macabre death mask.

The warrior stood over his prey.

The lifeless eyes of the beast were listless, departed. He raised his blade and decapitated the creature in one smooth movement. Reaching down, he grasped his prize: the head of the Nighen.

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Bio: A psychologist, author, editor, philosopher, martial artist, and skeptic, he has published several novels and currently has many in print, including: The End of the World PlaylistBittenThe JourneyThe Ocean and the HourglassThe Path of the FallenThe Portent, and Cerulean Dreams. Follow him on Twitter (@AuthorDanOBrien) or visit his blog http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com. He recently started a consultation business. You can find more information about it here: http://www.amalgamconsulting.com/.

Bitten (US) 

End of the World Playlist (US)

Cerulean Dreams (US)

The Journey (US)

The Path of the Fallen (US)

The Twins of Devonshire (US)

Mondays with Mephistopheles: 9 am – Rhys (US) 

Publish Your Dreams (US)

The End of the World Playlist (UK)

Bitten (UK)

Cerulean Dreams (UK)

The Journey (UK)

The Path of the Fallen (UK)

Mondays with Mephistopheles: 9 am – Rhys (UK)

Publish Your Dreams (UK)

Follow My Blog

Follow Me On Twitter

Like Me On Facebook

 All of his books are only 99 cents on Kindle right now!

Download The Twins of Devonshire and the Curse of the Widow for free on Kindle from 8/13 until 8/17!

  Would you like to win a Kindle Fire?

Visit http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com/ and follow the blog for a chance to win a Kindle Fire!

BLOG TOUR: The Journey by Dan O’Brien

Welcome to the fourth day of The Journey blog tour. It will run until August 9th and will feature excerpts and new author interviews each day. But first, here is the obligatory blurb about the novel to settle you into this strange world:

The Frozen Man. The Translucent Man. The Burning Man. The Wicker Man. The guide known only as the Crossroads, together these are the signposts and totems of the world that the being called the Lonely inhabits. Seeking out the meaning of his journey, the Lonely is a being consumed by philosophical inquiry and adventure. Filled with exotic places and age-old questions, the Journey is a book that seeks to merge the fantastical and real. Join the Lonely as he seeks out answers to his own existence and perhaps the meaning for us all. 

***

A few questions for the author:

Have you been the kind of friend you want as a friend? 

Absolutely. I am a friendly person who will always help out. I make time for others and I have tendency to go out of my way to make sure things go smoothly. Also, I watch a lot of Doctor Who.

Which is worse, when a good friend moves away, or losing touch with a good friend who lives right near you? 

I think losing touch with a good friend who lives close because you run the risk of seeing them and having nothing to say. Or worse yet, you engage in that awkward, bland conversation that both sides know is lip service. A very sad state of affairs indeed. 

What are you most grateful for? 

My family and the group of close friends who I have maintained for most of my life. I am always surprised to meet new people who fit into the slowly shrinking circle of close confidants, but it is always welcome.

***

Here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:

IV

The Northern Chamber

The cold winds assailed the Lonely, yet he continued on despite the bitter touch of nature. As he was beginning to feel that he could travel no more, he came upon something he had not expected: the city of the North. The place known as the Northern Chamber, the house of those devoted to the ideals of the North. Upon entering this place, he felt the cold wash away and the storms stop. And as he turned back to see the trail by which he had come, he saw the veil of snow and wind through which he had ventured remained just outside of the city. 

It was suspended as if frozen in time. People passed by him as if he were not there at all. Their features were pale and cold, as though they were not human at all. The city possessed no sheen, no shine, just a cold, desolate existence in which each man walked as if it were an interminable death march.

The Lonely approached the first building which harbored an open door and entered. A feeling of nothingness washed over him as the dim interior of the room absorbed him. He approached the counter. What resided behind it was a machine––a machine resembling a man. Cold, calculating eyes bore into the Lonely’s flesh from behind its chiseled, soulless features. Its movements were restricted and linear as it placed its arms on the counter and cocked its head to the Lonely.

“You are waste,” the machine called.

“What are you?” the Lonely queried, bewildered by the machine-man.

“I am perfection, the pinnacle of man.”

“You are a machine.”

“Better to be logical as a machine than random and undisciplined as an animal,” returned the machine. Cocking its head back once again, it watched the Lonely with a cold gaze.

The Lonely turned away and looked around the room. All of the patrons resembled the machines, their features identical––and all men. “Where are the women?”

“Women possess the flaw of emotion, their ways unstable and unpredictable. We have found no use for them here in the North. We care only of the perfection of oneself, the attainment of the goals of the individual.”

The Lonely shook his head, confused by the blatant, cold mentality of the machine-thing. “Life cannot be lived as thus. You must seek the middle way. A life without emotion and bonding is one lived in complete darkness. Even logic can understand that.”

“The unpredictability of emotion makes it unusable in the equation of success and profit. Emotion clouds judgment, which leads to disaster and chaos. The North does not allow such things. We thrive on consistency, usefulness.”

“I have come seeking answers. The Crossroads said that answers could be found here in the North––a piece of the puzzle for which I search.”

“The Frozen Man is the wisest among us. His logic is dizzying.”

“Where can I find this Frozen Man?”

“He is at the farthest reaches of the tundra. We were too flawed for his science.”

***

Bio: A psychologist, author, editor, philosopher, martial artist, and skeptic, he has published several novels and currently has many in print, including: The End of the World Playlist, Bitten, The Journey, The Ocean and the Hourglass, The Path of the Fallen, The Portent, and Cerulean Dreams. Follow him on Twitter (@AuthorDanOBrien) or visit his blog http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com. He recently started a consultation business. You can find more information about it here: http://www.amalgamconsulting.com/.

Bitten (US) 

End of the World Playlist (US)

Cerulean Dreams (US)

The Journey (US)

The Path of the Fallen (US)

The Twins of Devonshire (US)

Mondays with Mephistopheles: 9 am – Rhys (US) 

The End of the World Playlist (UK)

Bitten (UK)

Cerulean Dreams (UK)

The Journey (UK)

The Path of the Fallen (UK)

Mondays with Mephistopheles: 9 am – Rhys (UK) 

Follow My Blog

Follow Me On Twitter

Like Me On Facebook

All of his books are only 99 cents on Kindle right now!

Download The Journey for free on Kindle from 8/5 until 8/9!

Would you like to win a Kindle Fire?

Visit http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com/ and follow the blog for a chance to win a Kindle Fire!