Tuesday, October 31, 2017

S. M. Soto ~ presents ~ The Darkest Hour

Title: The Darkest Hour
Author: S.M. Soto
Genre: Romance

Aliza Anderson’s whole world imploded three years ago, in a devastating accident that took her entire family. Her life is now filled with the lingering pain and tearful memories that continue to haunt her day and night. She’s merely existing. Barely living. Barely breathing.

She picks up her semblance of a life and leaves a small town in Pennsylvania that holds nothing but painful memories and the excruciating weight of guilt for her past transgressions. With her pain like a black shadow lulling her into the darkness she finds herself more vulnerable than ever in a new city across the coast. San Diego, California.

In one of the most desirable cities in the world, she crossed paths with a man whose intensity frightened her and blue eyes captivated her. The alluring stranger was none other than the handsome, well- known playboy, Chase Roland. He’s irresistibly charming, and intensely domineering. Aliza doesn’t want to feel. She can’t. It’s safer that way.

Aliza’s already imperfect world is turned upside down when she finds herself drawn to Chase forcing her to reopen old wounds that haven’t properly healed. Through her chink of armor, Chase Roland finds a way into her cold heart, rekindling her ability to open up and love again. Soon enough, Aliza realizes she’s not the only one broken; hiding a past filled with guilt and secrets.

S.M. Soto was born and raised in Stockton, California where she currently resides with her son. Her love for reading began when she was just a young girl, and has only continued to grow into adulthood. S.M. lives for reading books in the romance genre and writing novels with relatable characters. She refers to herself as a bit of a romance junkie. S.M. loves to connect with readers and eat copious of donuts that will surely lead to her demise (carbs are life).


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Monday, October 30, 2017

Al Stone ~ presents ~ Talisman of El


Talisman Of El
T.O.E. Trilogy, Book 1
Author: Al Stone
Genre: YA Fantasy
Publisher: Centrinian

Book Description:

One Planet.

Two Worlds.

Population: Human ... 7 billion.
Others ... unknown.

When 14-year-old Char­lie Blake wakes up sweat­ing and gasp­ing for air in the mid­dle of the night, he knows it is hap­pen­ing again. This time he wit­nesses a bru­tal mur­der. He's afraid to tell any­one. No one would believe him ... because it was a dream. Just like the one he had four years ago - the day before his dad died.

Char­lie doesn't know why this is hap­pen­ing. He would give any­thing to have an ordi­nary life. The prob­lem: he doesn't belong in the world he knows as home.

He belongs with the others.

On Sale for $0.99 for a limited time on Amazon!

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Friday, October 27, 2017

Alissa York ~ presents ~ Notes & Confessions

Title: Notes & Confessions (The Broadway Series Book 3)
Author: Alissa York
Genre: Romance

Briggs Layton is the underdog, it’s been that way since birth, but coming in four minutes behind his superior brother, Beck, has never bothered him. Briggs being burned, literally and figuratively by Beck is a different story. With a failed almost marriage, a sick mother, and a party-boy brother, Briggs goes through life in a bit of a haze. Work, home, and taking notes about everything he observes takes up all his time. Until he sees her.

Harriet Wolfe is homeless, carless, loveless, and alone. And all in one week. What else is a girl to do when Karma kicks her down again? She starts over. With a couple of bags, a scrap of paper reminding her what to do, and one single friend across the country, Harriet gets on a bus and doesn’t look back. A fresh start far away from her former life is just what she needs. She quickly acclimates and makes a family of her own, but one notebook and a dark cloud from her old life threaten to tear it all apart.

Alissa is a mom, wife, and dog groomer by day. At night she is posted at her laptop writing contemporary romance. She has a soft spot for gooey romance, over-creamed coffee, and anything cute and furry.

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Thursday, October 26, 2017

Maya Hughes ~ presents ~ Rocked

Title: Rocked
Author: Maya Hughes
Genre: Rockstar Romance


When you go on tour, you have to expect to rock the bus.

Keira Weston is screwed. Her art is flopping. Her teaching job dries up. And now she's losing her apartment. A girl should be allowed to have a night of fun to forget her troubles, right?

What she doesn’t expect is to meet Eric Newcastle, the panty-melting guitarist she's always crushed on. And she definitely doesn't expect him to ask her to join him and a rowdy headlining band as a tour photographer. She knows better than to turn down that kind of opportunity.

Eric even offers wild nights in his bed as a perk. But she’s determined to keep things professional. She's had her heart broken by an passionate artist before, and she's not getting burned again.

Still, she can’t help but be tempted by the dirty talking guitarist with magic fingers. Especially when he undresses her with his eyes from the stage, Eric makes it clear. He’s interested in more than her skill with a camera. He wants Keira to himself so he can prove what they have is real.

So long she doesn’t uncover any of his family secrets…

Rocked is a standalone novel filled with a lot of HOT romance, a little heartache, lots of fun... and a HEA guaranteed! This rockstar romance is approximately 67,000 words!

Maya has always loved romance novels, one look at her Kindle will confirm that. She started writing her first romance novel while pregnant with her third child. One of her best friends said she should go for it and she hasn’t looked back. Now her romance writing addiction has replaced her romance reading addiction.

You can find her writing on her foldable keyboard and phone anytime inspiration strikes. Her stories range from sweet and sexy to dark and dirty contemporary romances with even more on the way. When she’s not writing, she’s playing with her three kids, running errands or vegging on the couch with the love of her life and biggest fan, her husband.

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Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Warren Chazan ~ 2nd guest post and his novel ~ The Waterhole

TITLE: The Waterhole
RELEASE DATE: April 10, 2017
AUTHOR: Warren Chazan
CATEGORIES: Science Fiction/Fantasy
ISBN: 978-1543044768
IMPRINT: Devil’s Tower

BOOK PAGE: http://ravenswoodpublishing.com/bookpages/thewaterhole.html

KEYWORDS: Alien, Physics, Parallel universe, Cataclysmic, Apocalyptic, frequency, decryption, thriller

Will our technology and quest for knowledge ultimately result in our destruction?

The year is 2051 and NASA, the US military and Australia have launched EMB, an incredible machine that can compress the fabric of space-time, providing us with previously unimaginable detail of the Big Bang and Janine Fuller, a pushy, headstrong anchor for CNNA has just been given the momentous story to break.

Following the launch, an alien internet signal is located coming through the wormhole in an electromagnetic region known as the “Waterhole”. Baffling NASA scientists, the source of the signal does not even appear to emanate from within the known boundaries of our universe.

Concurrent to this, animal migration patterns change, satellites malfunction and a reversal of the magnetic poles takes place. EMB is blamed, but despite official denial from General Smith, a brutal psychopath, with a frightening agenda of his own, Janine is unconvinced. In a world, where escalating mechanical failures, huge tidal surges and mass extinctions are becoming commonplace, Janine, using all resources known to her, goes into espionage mode in search of the truth.

What she discovers is a new reality more terrifying than she could possibly ever have imagined.

My writing process.
Hmm, what can I say about this?  I guess there are three ways to write. The first way, is to start with a brilliant premise and plan literally everything. I call these people the planners. They spend the first few weeks of their writing mapping out their story, and I mean the entire plot, subplot, and characters in all their detail and glory to the point whereby all they need to do afterwards is to go back and fill in the dots, so to speak.

Then there are the ad libbers. These are the cool dudes. They have a vague idea in their mind about the plot, the characters and where they want the story to go, but they barely write any of it down. They simply start on page one and keep writing until they finish their story, probably a story that they never knew they were actually setting out to write. I like the ad libbers. Their characters take the story wherever they want it to go, and have none of the limitations that the obsessive planners have.

Well, I can’t do either of those , so I guess that I  kind of fit in somewhere in between. I start with my premise, map out a rough plot on paper, and create my characters mostly from the traits of people that I know and that I find most interesting. I’m never short of this. I have some relatives in fact that are perhaps even too eccentric and unbelievable for my story, that I have to trim them back somewhat, give them a kind of haircut, so to speak. That’s always fun to do. I especially enjoy putting together a back story for them, lives that are profoundly more interesting than my own, although often sadder or harder than what I’ve personally endured,

Characters that I enjoy writing about?  That’s easy. Give me an evil character, or antagonist anytime over a goody two shoes. The weirder and sicker they are, the more I enjoy writing about them. But don’t worry, I never get too carried away, and always remember that someone has to actually enjoy reading what I’ve written, and no normal human being wants too much sick detail, so I’m always very wary of that.

I find that working out the main plot for a story is relatively easy to do, but I often struggle with tying in a decent subplot, as a good subplot needs to be not just relevant to the story but interesting too. I often can get one of these right, but it can be a struggle to get both, and I feel I am letting the reader down if I don’t.

Let’s talk about rewrites and edits. “The Waterhole” endured almost a dozen or so rewrites, after it had been reviewed by 3 or so Beta readers, before it even made its way onto an editor’s desk. Then there was another rewrite and then a proofread before I gave it to one more Beta reader to look at one final time before it went off to the publisher.

A lot of work I know, but I truly loved every step along the way. I think we as writers owe our readers a polished manuscript, if we are asking them to invest their money and time in reading it. I hope you enjoy reading mine.

My name is Warren Chazan. I was born and raised in South Africa, emigrating to Sydney, Australia in 2005, where I obtained my qualification as an anesthetist. I am very fortunate to live in a beautiful beachside town called Terrigal. I took to writing late in life, when I decided about eight years ago that although medicine was a good career choice, it was not where my ultimate passion lay. It was then that I began to write, submerging myself in creative writing courses, workshops, seminars and fairs. The “Waterhole” is my debut novel that blends together three of my pet interests; astronomy, the possibility that we are not alone in the universe, and humanity’s quest for knowledge (which could ultimately be used for both good and evil).

I hope that with this novel, readers will enjoy what I’ve written, just as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Being an amateur astronomer myself, and the proud owner of a 9.25 inch Cassegrain telescope, I have tried as much as possible to remain true to real Science, while still trying to capture the attention of the average reader, who is simply seeking a fast paced story that they can immerse themselves in and escape the reality of life for a while.

I am now working on my second novel, "Lucifer's Pill,"(a medical thriller) which is in the final stages of editing. I hope to publish this in the near future.

AMAZON US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XK13NTP
AMAZON UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XK13NTP
AMAZON CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B06XK13NTP
BARNES & NOBLE: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-waterhole-warren-chazan/1125980595?ean=9781543044768
CREATESPACE: https://www.createspace.com/6925373
PAPERBACK: https://www.amazon.com/Waterhole-Warren-Chazan/dp/154304476X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1490193046&sr=8-1-fkmr0


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Tuesday, October 24, 2017

Dan Sofer ~ presents ~ An Unexpected Afterlife: The Dry Bones Society 1

Page count: 284
Publication Date: March 28, 2017
Amazon Rating: 4.6 (http://amzn.to/2vpopVc)
Genre: Fantasy / Adventure / Magical Realism
Content: no sex or graphic violence.

Target market: fiction readers who enjoy magical realism and are curious about other cultures and beliefs; I find that the book also appeals to mystery readers too.

When he wakes up naked and alone in the Mount of Olives Cemetery,  Moshe Karlin doesn't remember dying two years ago, nor does he realize how hard he'll have to work to win back his perfect old life... and his wife. In fact, he'll be lucky to survive his first week on the streets of  Jerusalem.

Meanwhile, other changes are afoot in the Holy Land. A reluctant prophet prepares to deliver a message of  redemption–and the end of life as we know it–when a freak accident changes the course of history.

Moshe Karlin emerged from a deep and dreamless sleep with a premonition of impending doom. The world seemed out of place. The dawn chorus of summer birds filled his ears, but louder than usual, as though an entire flock had perched on the windowsill above his bed. The mattress pressed against his back, hard and coarse. A chill breeze tickled the hair on his bare chest.

Bare chest?

His eyelids snapped open. The endless blue velvet canopy of heaven stretched overhead, and as he gazed, a star winked out. His heart thumped in his rib cage. He was not in his bed. Or his bedroom. Or even his house.

He craned his neck forward. He lay on his back in a stony field, as naked as the day he was born.

His head slumped to the ground.

Moshe Karlin, you are in deep trouble.

Galit would kill him when he got home. That is, if she ever found out.

As his bold plan for sneaking home unnoticed grew flesh and sinew, the crackle of a loudspeaker jarred his thoughts, and a nasal voice boomed: Allahu akba-a-ar! Allahu akba-a-ar!

Moshe heard the East Jerusalem muezzin most mornings but always from a safe distance. This morning, however, the blaring call to morning prayers seemed to issue from only a stone’s throw away.

Correction. You are in very deep trouble.

He rolled onto his side and scrambled to his feet, covering his privates with his hands. The field was perched on a hilltop. In the valley below, streetlights still burned and the Dome of the Rock glowed golden behind the ancient walls of Jerusalem’s Old City.

A low rock wall snaked along the edge of the field and around the gnarled trunk of a large olive tree. Above the wall, rows of rounded headstones poked at the sky like accusatory fingers.

Moshe knew the cemetery well. His parents’ twin graves lay a short walk away. He hadn’t visited them lately but he was in no state to do so now.

How in God’s name had he spent the night—naked—in the Mount of Olives Cemetery?

Hayya alas sala-a-ah! Hayya alal fala-a-ah!

A ball of searing pain burst behind his right eyeball. He fell to one knee and released a hand from modesty duty to massage his temple.

Of course! His birthday party last night. He had sipped a glass of Recanati Merlot as he discussed his business plans with Galit’s grandmother. He had looked about for Galit and then… a black interplanetary void. He had never drunk to blackout before, not even in his single days, but that would explain the headache. It might also help explain his current predicament.

The muezzin call ended.

He glanced at his wrist and swore under his breath. His watch—his dear father’s Rolex, the heirloom from his grandfather—was gone. Moshe took it off only to shower. One person alone would dare take his watch. One person alone would abandon him overnight and buck naked in an East Jerusalem graveyard. Moshe would deal with him later. For now, he had to get home.

He hobbled in the twilight toward the access road—rough and lacking shoulders—that bordered the field. Sharp stones bit into the tender soles of his feet. The headache spread to his left eye and throbbed with his every step.

With luck, he’d avoid early-bird terrorists. With more luck, he’d slip under the covers before Galit got up to dress Talya for kindergarten.

He quickened his pace. A truck whooshed along a hidden street far below. Thankfully, the access road had no streetlights. As the road fell, walls of stone rose on either side.

Through a breach in the wall, he spied a yard with a clothesline. He reached through the hole and, with some effort, snagged the edge of a bedsheet. After brushing dirt and leaves from his goosefleshed body, he fashioned the sheet into a crude toga. His new attire would still draw stares but the sheet was dry and covered the important bits. He lacked only a laurel wreath to complete his Roman emperor costume. Pity it wasn’t Purim today. He would have blended right in.

The road meandered around stone houses with dark windows and emptied into a two-lane thoroughfare. Sidewalks. Streetlamps. Civilization. He flagged down a white taxi and climbed into the back seat.

“Shimshon five,” he said.

The driver, a young Israeli in a leather jacket, started the meter, and the car pulled off.

Moshe inhaled the sweet scent of new leather. He had worked with taxis all his life but he had not hired one in years. The upholstery felt soft and smooth through the thin sheet.

Eyes watched him in the rearview mirror and they crinkled at the edges. “Wild party, huh?”

Details of the previous night surfaced in Moshe’s bruised brain. “My fortieth birthday,” he said. “My wife threw a party at the Botanical Gardens.”

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. Karlin & Son ran the largest taxi dispatch service in Jerusalem and he did not need this story circulating among the city’s cabbies.

The driver, however, did not seem to recognize his voice. Newbie. Of course—who else drew the graveyard shift?

The eyes in the mirror narrowed. “Botanical Gardens?” he said. “That’s the other side of town.”

Newbie or not, he knew the lay of the land. The Italian restaurant at the Botanical Gardens overlooked a large pond in western Jerusalem. Moshe had sipped his merlot and told Savta Sarah of his plans to extend Karlin & Son from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv. They already controlled the shuttle routes to Ben Gurion Airport. He had looked around for Galit. He had wanted to raise a toast in her honor. They had hardly spoken with each other all day and, with his recent work schedule, they had spent little quality time together. He had wanted to tell her how much she meant to him. Where was she? And then… another gaping abyss in his memory.

“Avi,” he said. He spat the word like a curse.


“My friend.” The word “friend” dripped with sarcasm. “He’s always trying to drag me to nightclubs like the old days. Last night, I guess he succeeded.”

Moshe massaged his temples with his fingers. He needed an Acamol.

The driver laughed. “With a friend like that, who needs enemies, right?”

After a short, annoyed pause, Moshe laughed as well. In the safety and comfort of the backseat, on his way to his warm home, the stunt seemed harmless enough. Hilarious. A juicy story for the grandkids. Did I tell you the one about my fortieth birthday? Now that was a bash to remember. Or not!

The road rounded the high crenellated walls of the Old City, hugged Mount Zion, and dipped through the Hinnom Valley.

Avi, you crazy bastard. They say you can choose your friends—but that wasn’t always true. Moshe could never shake off Avi, practical jokes and all. Too much history. And Moshe had given him a job at Karlin & Son. They ran the business together.

You overaged rascal. The time had come for the eternal bachelor to settle down. A wife. Kids. He’d have a word with him later in the office, if he even showed up after last night. He was probably hung over too. Ha!

The trickle of cars thickened on the triple lanes of Hebron Road. God turned His great dimmer switch in the sky and the heavens brightened.

Forty years old. How time flew by! He didn’t feel forty. The Israel Defense Forces had released him from reserve duty, all the same. He had many reasons to be grateful: a loving—if stormy—wife; a delightful little girl; a booming business and a beautiful house; and a best friend who moved mountains to create an unforgettable fortieth birthday surprise. Perhaps unforgettable was not quite the right word.

The cab turned into the suburbia of the German Colony, past the sleepy storefronts, apartment buildings, and houses in white Jerusalem stone.

He’d sneak another hour of sleep before heading to the office. He’d drive to Tel Aviv and nudge his list of cab operators and independent drivers to sign on the dotted line. First, we take Jerusalem, he thought, channeling Leonard Cohen’s baritone, then, we take Tel Aviv.

An invisible hand moved him, pushing him harder and farther. After Tel Aviv, he’d spread north to Haifa, and south to Beersheba. Within a few years, he would conquer the entire country, one cab at a time.

A dark cloud settled over his mind. What then? Was that to be his sole “dent in the universe”?

He yawned and shook the dreary thought from his head. The hangover—or an on-schedule midlife crisis—had hijacked his brain. A national dispatch network would be a fine achievement. His father, of blessed memory, would be proud.

The car pulled up beside Moshe’s duplex on Shimshon Street. The driver stopped the meter and printed a receipt.

Moshe reached for the wallet in his back pocket and got a handful of buttocks. No wallet. No underwear either. He decided to keep that information to himself.

“Wait here a moment,” he said. “I left my wallet at home.”

He skipped up three steps of cold stone and slid the spare key from beneath a potted plant. A row of purple cyclamens caught his eye. When did Galit get those? Takeaways from the Botanical Gardens?

He unlocked the door, tiptoed inside, and padded down the hall. In a drawer of the telephone table, he found a fifty-shekel note among the memo pads, pens, and car keys. He handed the driver the money through the open car window, told him to keep the change, and hurried back indoors. All he needed was an insomniac neighbor to spot him wearing a borrowed sheet. People loved to talk.

He closed the door behind him with a soft click. Silence in the dim entrance hall. So far, so good. He climbed the staircase tile by chilly marble tile, then eased down the handle of their bedroom door and slipped inside.

Shutters down and door closed, the room sank in Egyptian darkness. He inched over the cool parquet toward the sound of soft breathing until his leg touched the hard edge of the bed frame.

He let the sheet slip from his shoulders to the floor and kicked the pile under the bed. Never mind pajamas—the creak of a closet door might wake her. He lowered his rump to the soft bedsheets, transferring his weight ounce by ounce. Not a single spring squeaked. The mattress upgrade had proved to be a good investment.

He leaned back, slipped his legs beneath the covers, and rested his head on the pillow.

Mission accomplished!

He exhaled a lungful of pent, anxious breath and shifted further onto the bed. The surface of the mattress sank. Galit must have rolled onto his half of the bed. He turned toward her. The warmth of her body radiated through her pajama shirt. He pressed his shins against her hairy legs.

Hairy legs?

A reflex fired in his brain stem. With a primordial cry—wooo-aa-ahh!—a mixture of terror and revulsion, as though he had snuggled up to a large cockroach, he sprang out of bed.

Moshe stood barefoot in the darkness of his bedroom. His entire body quaked.

“What’s that noise?” said Galit’s voice, thick with sleep.

Before Moshe could answer, a man said, “Who’s there?”

There was a loud click. Yellow light flooded the room and seared a horrifying image in his brain. Two figures lay in his bed: Galit and another man.

Moshe froze, his eyelids shuttering in the bright light. The two sleepers gawked at him. Their eyes moved from his face to his nether regions. Moshe didn’t care about that—he had other things on his mind right now.

The man brushed a fringe of oily hair from his face.

“Avi?” Moshe said. Shock gave way to disbelief. Then rage shoved them both aside. He stood over them, a lone accusatory presence. “What the hell are you doing here?” he roared, as though he hadn’t figured it out for himself.

His ex–best friend blinked at him as though Moshe had just stepped off the ramp of a steaming spaceship. He didn’t grab his clothes and flee out the window. He didn’t beg for his life or claim that this was “not what you think.” Instead, he slunk out of bed and reached a quivering hand toward him. When his fingers touched Moshe’s forearm, he recoiled. “Dear Lord!” he gasped.

Moshe turned to his cheating wife. “Galit, how could you?”

She sat in bed, silky black hair falling over her shoulder, her eyes large and white, her mouth open. She didn’t cry. She didn’t beg for forgiveness.

That deep, dark pit opened beneath Moshe’s feet again. Something was wrong with the scene. Something besides the fact that he had caught his best friend in bed with his wife—in his bed and on the day after his birthday. The entire scene felt wrong, like an Escher sketch where the floor had become the ceiling and he could not tell which way was up. Why did he, the only non-adulterer in the room, feel out of place?

He did not ponder the situation for long. Galit screamed—a loud, high-pitched banshee shriek—and the two men cringed. When her lungs emptied, she sucked in air and screamed again.

Avi rose to his full height, a full head shorter than Moshe. “Get out!” he shouted.

“What? Me?” The bastard sure had chutzpah! “You get out!”

Galit bounced on the bed, screaming her head off. She wore the Minnie Mouse pajama shirt he had bought her for her birthday. She ran to the far corner of the room and clawed at the walls, like a hamster trying to escape her cage.

Avi swiped at him with a black shoe. “Get out! Get out!”

Moshe almost fell over backwards. Avi charged forward, opened the door, and herded him out of the room and down the corridor.

Moshe glanced around for a suitable weapon and found none. The heel of the shoe pummeled his head and arms. “Hey! Stop that!”

Avi halted the barrage to put a finger on his lips. “Keep it down, or you’ll wake Talya.”

“What?” Waking Talya was the least of their problems.

Avi came at him again with the shoe, and Moshe retreated down the stairs. “Out! Out!”

“This is my house! You get out!”

Avi grunted as he thrust and swiped. “Get out now or I call the cops.”

“Call the cops!” Moshe staggered into the entrance hall. “This is my house, and that is my wife.” Did he even recognize him? “It’s me, Avi. Moshe Karlin.”

Avi paused to catch his breath. He shook his head. He stared at Moshe with wild eyes. “That’s impossible.”

“Oh yeah? Why?”

“Because Moshe Karlin is dead.”

“Excuse me?” He might as well have slapped Moshe. That had to be the lamest excuse in the history of cheating friends.

“Dead and buried. Two years ago.”


Avi swung the shoe again.

It was the shock of those words. Or the conviction with which Avi delivered them. Either way, Moshe found himself outside his front door. He slipped on the steps and sprawled on the cold hard stone.

“Wait!” he cried. But the door slammed shut and bolts shifted into place.

"An amazing read... a masterful storyteller. Five stars." - Readers' Favorite

"Hard to put down. Fascinating. You've got to read it to see for yourself." - ESRA Magazine

“This is one of the best books I have read in a long time. The premise was different and the story was both heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time… Totally loved the book and highly recommend it.”
Embam, Amazon reviewer

Moshe Karlin wakes up one morning, naked and alone, in the Mount of Olives Cemetery. According to his family and friends, he died two years ago, but Moshe is not about to accept his demise lying down.

Is his new lease on life a freak of nature or the start of the long-awaited Resurrection? Moshe doesn’t really care. He vows to beat his “afterlife crisis” and win back his life–and his wife–if it is the last thing he does.

“Grabbing you from the very first page, An Unexpected Afterlife takes you in unexpected directions, combining a page-turning mystery with discussion of one of the fundamental beliefs of Judaism.”
Ellis Shuman, author of Valley of Thracians

But the road ahead is full of unexpected dangers. Along the way he gains insight into life, love, and the Jewish State, as well as the suspicion that perhaps his perfect first life was not so perfect after all.

Meanwhile, other changes are afoot in the Holy Land. A reluctant prophet prepares to deliver a message of redemption–and the end of life as we know it–when a freak accident changes the course of history.

“An intriguing, and entertaining story. I love the unique concept and the satire!”
Linda, GoodReads reviewer

“This story was fun, endearing and a page turner...This book will delight”
Dale, GoodReads reviewer
ISBN: 0986393231

The sequel, An Accidental Messiah,  is scheduled for release October 24th, 2017.  TODAY!


Author Bio:
Dan writes tales of romantic misadventure, many of which take place in Jerusalem. His novel, A Love and Beyond, won the 2016 Best Books Award for Religious Fiction.

Dan was born under the sunny blue skies of South Africa in 1976.

A traditional Jewish upbringing and warm community moved Dan to study and volunteer in Israel as an adult.

In 2001, Dan made Jerusalem his home and the city's sights, sounds, legends, and spirit of adventure fill his stories.

Dan lives in Israel with his family. When not writing tales of romantic misadventure, he creates software for large corporations.

DAN SOFER is a pen name of Daniel J Miller.

Why the pseudonym?
Dan's given name has been adopted by thousands of impostors around the world.

Alter ego to the rescue.
Sofer - (Hebrew) scribe, writer

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