Sci-Fi Christmas greetings
Regardless of where you are in the world, you can invite Jamie Poole to be part of your holiday tradition. For the historical sci-fi reader on your list, here is a series guaranteed to hook you. It begins "I resurrected a Druidess." How it ends? You'll have to read to find out. But a cautionary tale: Everything changes when you resurrect a Druidess. Scoff if you like. Jamie learns the hard way as Time imprints on her and she finds she can slip through Time. It might sound like fun, but she's not so sure about that. Read and find out why.
Here is a brief reading from the latest paperback release. After that, details will show you how to get your own copy.
From Battle of the Beanfield:
Near Stonehenge, England
June 1, 1985.
Police Constable Bernard Tompkins was up earlier than normal. He took little time to eat breakfast before dressing in his police uniform in front of the bedroom mirror. He struck an odd figure. He’d been called Frankenstein in school because of his height and square features. Having broken his nose in a skirmish a year ago when he arrested three drunken men single-handedly had only accentuated the appearance. He had gotten an award for the arrest. He wished the doctor had done a better job setting his nose, but there was nothing to be done.
He strapped his truncheon to his hip. Perhaps he’d get an award today for acts of bravery. The Stonehenge Free Festival would be stopped this year. The hippies were nothing but a nuisance. Last year there had been over 65,000 of those alternative thinkers on the fields around Stonehenge doing drugs, listening to loud rock music, and generally disturbing the peace. Not that anyone lived around there.
That wasn’t the point.
What they did was illegal. They were a counterculture, eating at the fabric of everything his country stood for. Groups like the New Age Travellers, Tibetan Ukrainian Mountain Troupe, Tepee People, Circus Normal, and The Peace Convoy: it all sounded very 1960s, if you asked him.
They claimed they came because it was the culmination of the summer solstice. He knew better. It was just an
opportunity to get high and turn this place into nothing but another Woodstock. It would be stopped and he would be part of it. The police had planned this for four months. There was no way they couldn’t succeed. He turned and exited his house.
Tristan stepped from the shadows on the side of Police Constable Bernard Tompkin’s house near where he kept the rubbish bin in time to watch the police constable climb into his car and drive away.
“And so it begins,” Tristan grinned to himself. He extracted a comb from his back pocket and carefully combed his feathered hair before disappearing again into the shadows. “Time for some chaos. Time for some fun!”
And he vanished behind the bin.
Linda woke up cranky. Maybe it was because a rock had poked through her sleeping bag, digging all night into her back. Maybe it was because Daddy snored like a grizzly bear. Or maybe because Mother wouldn’t stop talking. All. Night. Long. They’d been on the road over a month. It wore on her.
“Linny, have some breakfast,” Mother called from outside the Winnebago. “You need to eat.”
Always the not-so-subtle comments about her weight. “Quit calling me that.” She dragged on a shirt and a pair of cutoff shorts. It was too cool for shorts, but she didn’t care. She brushed her long light brown hair and twisted it into a braid. It sucked she couldn’t have a shower, but such things didn’t happen when you were traveling across Europe apparently. At least, not the way her parents preferred to travel. Hippy-dippy Winnebago with peace symbols, rainbows, and slogans in Russian all over it.
“Just come eat some oatmeal. We’re heading for the festival in a few minutes.”
With a huff, Linda slapped the door open. The field they parked in was a mass of vehicles, and everyone was packing up. Daddy read a newspaper, ignoring the noise. What would they do with the Winnebago when they returned to Illinois?
“Isn’t this wonderful. Just look at it!” Mother exclaimed.
“That from the blind woman,” Linda said into her bowl. Already Mother had put on those stupid goggled sunglasses. Old lady glasses. Sunlight hurt her eyes, but surely there was something more respectable she could wear to shield her eyes against the sun!
“Hush now. I can see enough.”
A dog barked in the distance. A baby cried in answer. Not everyone was as old as her parents. There were young people here too. That hadn’t improved her mood. She slid eyes to her mother. “Then do you realize how ridiculous you look? All dressed in orange like you’re a giant traffic cone.”
Mother pursed her lips. “How many times must we talk about your attitude? I have looked forward to attending this festival for years. With my health and raising you, this has been my first opportunity. I want to share it with you!”
Her fault again. “I know. I know. God, how I know. That’s all you’ve babbled on about since we left Illinois. God, I wish you’d shut up.”
Mother flinched as if she’d been slapped. “I thought—I know—you’ll enjoy the bands as much as me. There’s something divine in our coming here. The Cosmic Force that guides us ordains that we be here. It’s been guiding me all my life.”
Since she and had Anna Eudora started spending more and more time together, that was all Mother talked about. Cosmic Force this and Cosmic Force that. What the hell was it anyway?
“Why does it want us here?” Linda slung her spoon into her half-eaten oatmeal. “So you can introduce me to smoking weed and I can listen to bands through a purple haze. Or orange haze, in this case.” Her gaze slid down her mother’s orange dress to orange shoes. “Just like you did at Woodstock. No, wait. I remember. You conceived me at Woodstock in some sort of drugged stupor. Why do I have to be the responsible one here?” Anna Eudora had introduced her to pot, or some blend she called something weird. Mother would never admit to smoking ordinary marijuana.
“Child, if today weren’t so important, I would leave you here. You wait and see. Something revolutionary is going to be revealed today. Today will go down in history.”
“Yeah, I doubt that very much.” Linda clapped on a pair of headphones, clicked on her Walkman, and stomped off to find an outhouse.
Dolly turned to her husband. “Why don’t you step in when she talks to me like that?”
Ivan Davis scratched his head. “I though you handled her very well.”
“Handled her? She’s a nightmare. We brought her on this trip in hopes of straightening her out. I’m all for sending her to boot camp. I’ve had it with her attitude. If the Cosmic Force doesn’t reveal itself and enlighten her, I don’t know what I’ll do. Do you think she needs to see the psychologist again? Why is she always so angry?”
Ivan simply shrugged. “Beats me. She’s not cutting herself. She’s even worn short sleeved shirts since we left Sweden.”
“You’re full of answers. Now be my eyes. She wears nothing but black. I can barely see her. Why won’t she wear the cheery clothes I got her in Sweden?”
He shrugged again.
“Never mind. We’ve got to get going. Is she coming back?”
Ivan scanned the sea of cars. “Looks like everyone’s loading up. Yup, here she comes. And she’s smiling. That’s a good sign.”
Get your copy! All eBook Jamie Poole books can be purchased at your local Amazon store.
Readers in the United States can use this link to find a list of books, including those available in paper.
Readers in Canada have options. Amazon.ca also provides all eBooks. If you want signed copies, I will ship books at your cost within Canada. Or, if you live in Nova Scotia, Dartmouth Book Exchange and Cape and Cowl Comics & Collectibles can assist in getting you signed copies. We will also deliver to some areas in and around the HRM. For questions, please contact these stores or the author at JamiePooleBooks@gmail.com.
If you purchase through either store or directly from the author, the Yule Sale is running now until Christmas. This sale is not available outside Canada.