Monday, November 18, 2013

New Release

Book One of The Chosen of the Light Series
Spirit Summoner
By Matt Campbell
Coming December 3, 2013 
Darr has the ability to hear the disembodied voices of the spirits. Unfortunately, the spirits have nothing useful to say. A young, inexperienced Spirit Summoner, Darr often wonders at the purpose of such a useless ability. When an unnatural fire sweeps through his village, Darr sets out on a mission of self-discovery and curiosity.
As a Spirit Summoner, Darr learns he can enter the spirit realm. There he has access to the elemental magic contained within the Sephirs, legendary artifacts that once promised balance for a world turning towards chaos. Now, the Sephirs’ powers are dwindling since their untimely disappearance, and Darr is at the center of the quest to find and recover them. Suddenly, Darr’s curiosity is a whirlpool threatening to drown him, but his compulsion to see things through locks him into a journey attracted to disaster.
For the Sephirs do more than restrain the primal forces of magic. The Devoid, an evil long caged and hungry, has begun to loosen the bars of its prison. If the Sephirs fail, the Devoid will escape and feed on the Light of the living until nothing remains.
And the Devoid knows Darr’s lack of confidence is the key needed to free itself completely.
Pre-order now from Wild Child Publishing!

Monday, October 28, 2013

Next Round of edits.

Hello Fellow Hunters,
Well this weekend I sent back another round of edits to my wonderful editor that is causing more carnage to my book that is in the book.:) But I am seeing it transform into a good story. It is wonderful to see the changes in the work from the first scribble to now. I just can't wait for the finished copy. Excitement is building.
Stay tuned, it won't be long now......

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Life Flight by Shaunna Wolf

Cover Reveal -- Life Flight by Shaunna Wolf

Cover Reveal

Life Flight

Erotic Romance/Mystery 

Malachi Blackfeather has spent twenty years in the Army. Two of those years as a Vietnam POW. Now that he's out, all he wants is some peace and quiet to figure out what to do with the rest of his life. Between the flashbacks, and an over interest in sex that is now being called sex addiction, finding his path isn't easy.

Kat is trying to escape an abusive marriage. Her soon to be ex is a master at manipulating the system, and her family thinks she should stay with him, "because no other man will want her". She's looking for escape in any form she can get it.

When they meet, sparks fly. Trapped by a blizzard, can two damaged people, who think there is no chance of love in the world for them, find each other, and survive an unforeseen circumstance that puts both of them in danger?

Mystery, romance, and danger, fill this novel, with a story that will draw you in and not let go.

**Warning: This is a mature adult novel. Recommended for readers 18+ due to sexual content and adult language.

December 2013

Friday, October 4, 2013

Just waiting around.

Hello Fellow Hunters? Its been a few days since I have been around, Sorry for that. Still waiting on the next instalment from my editor. But while we wait make sure you go to Wild Child Publishing to see what is going on with the new releases.I will keep you posted as well. Until next time. Happy Hunting.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

WCP Blog Hop.

Hello Fellow Hunters!!. Make sure you visit Wild Child Publishing for the latest information on the up coming Blog Tour. You don't want to miss that.  No new news on the edits. Waiting on the latest round from my fabulous editor, who is helpful and kind....

Monday, September 9, 2013

Hello Fellow Hunters,
I have just sent back another round of edits ...WOOOHOOO. getting closer.
Stay Tuned for further updates.

Friday, September 6, 2013

Tin roof new Release

Check out the new Book Cover for WCP Terri Tally Venters
Coming Soon,  So Pick one up. Releasse date Oct, 16th

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Return to Work.....

Good Morning Fellow Hunter! Well I hope everyone had a great long weekend. The first day back to work is always a drag..... I did not win the lottery soI too had to return to the salt mines. No new news on the edits yet, still waiting for the next round, and from what I hear will be a tough one. But all in good time. While we are waiting, there will be upcoming post for other WCP authors so keep checking and do some blog hopping. Until next time......

Monday, August 26, 2013

Writing and Golf????

Hello Fellow Hunters! You know I have been thinking just how much writing is like golf. No matter how good you get, there is always a better way to do it. I once heard a editor say that "If there is another way to say it, then rewrite the sentence." Now that would leave you to believe there is no perfect way to write a sentence. Just like golf you can keep guessing every shot, but unless it goes in the hole off the tee every time, it was not perfect! So, is it a game that can't be won and a book that is never finished???????

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Hey Fellow Hunters< check out the new sale from WCP. Too Cool to Miss!!!!!
Wild Child Publishing Medicine Man: Book 2: Raven [wcp000431] - by S.R. Howen Us...e coupon code Medicine Man at checkout for a 25% discount when you buy the eBook versions of Medicine Man I and Medicine Man II together. It is strictly believed and understood that a child is the greatest gift from Waka...
S.r. Howen
Steve Barber says: Every book I've ever read about huge Indians was exceptional....
Make Sure you don't miss a thing.....

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Thanks To All

This is to all the people out there who don't even know they helped my complete this book. From family and friends to people I have never met except for post on writing groups like " " and horror enthusiasts. Way too many to list. But you know who you are. Thank you for the inspiration.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Waiting around.

Good Morning Fellow Hunters!! You know the worst part of writing a book and getting a publisher???? Waiting in line to get an edit complete. Not saying that the editors are slow, they have many books they are working with at the same time. But the anticipation of getting this all done and out is just insane. But having patience is the mother of all anxiety attacks. We spend all our lives waiting on something, women to get ready, (for anything), children to grow up, even new shows. But the main thing we wait on is to die and that sucks, but I will wait, not in any hurry for that one. So all of you along with me will have to wait patiently.......But while you are waitng join me on Face Book. Just look for allencurrier with the picture above.

Sunday, August 18, 2013


Tour Stops

August 19: Emraz :The Spark
August 20: From Me to You ... Video, Photography, & Book Reviews
August 21: Book Bling Blog
August 22: Journey of a Bookseller
August 23: Must Read Faster

"The old one will come. When he comes, his one true wife must carry within her a child of the old one who would be king. Only then can the heart be found and the evil of the world kept in its bounds." –The Prophecy of the Land

Sorann is the queen's daughter and training to be an empathic healer. Javert is a member of the wandering tribe called the Zingari and their future king. When Sorann's failed healer's magic test brings them together, they discover the prophecy governing the land is false. In order to prevent magic, and the Zingari, from being wiped from the land, Sorann must become Javert's wife and leave everything behind that she once held dear.

Tricked by demons, and followed by the queen's soldiers, they must find the fabled Wizard's Heart in the frozen Winter Valley.

What sacrifices will they have to make along the way, and will Javert ever discover the true meaning of the Wizard's Heart before his people and the love of his life are lost?


Standing in the makeshift shower, peace descended in a comfortable blanket. Nighttime birds sang and whistled to each other, a frog croaked bass, and the crickets formed the string section. Conceivably, Cryant lived far enough away from the city for the emotions of those in the city not to carry into his compound, to reduce the overflow from battering at her shell.

Sorann let down her guard, expecting a deluge of energies to cause her to feel dirty again. A dog barked and went silent. The pig grunted in its pen, perhaps upset at having its mud rearranged. But no feelings invaded her. In her palace rooms, a shield stayed in place to protect her from the invasion. Could the same be true of Cryant’s canvas?

Dim moonlight spilled in when she pushed the flap aside. She stepped outside marveling at the emotional vacuum she found herself in. Silly to think Cryant could afford the spell needed to empower a canvas to keep out the extended aura of others.

The sky above her wore a sprinkling of bright stars on an inky background. The cool night air caressed her skin. Goose flesh rose over her entire body. The hard ground under her feet felt warm with leftover heat from the day. The stones she stood on glowed in the faint luminosity of the yard light, wet here and there, the water from the shower ran in twin streams on each side of the stone path.

The clarity of her mind extended beyond her in the absence of others emotions and feelings. The world came to her in clear brightness--a veil of gauze lifted. She ran her hands over her stomach, her own skin felt different. The bumps caused by the cold felt alien and as she ran her hands over them, she could feel the tiny hairs on her skin, a chill shook her. She hadn’t even realized a barrier existed between her own hands and her flesh before.

Animal smells came to her, the scent of the soap was even stronger. Why did everything feel magnified? Perhaps subdued?

A result of the shell she kept in place? She’d lowered the shell before, and it wasn’t like this--not even in her rooms with their encasing spell. She spun around holding her arms out in the moonlight. She caressed her own arms, enjoying the feel of the gooseflesh on them. She laughed at the feel of the mud between her toes. She stepped off the path and took slow steps with her toes spread, so the mud curled as it squished between her toes. More laughter escaped her. Her hands traveled to her breasts, her nipples went hard in the cool breeze--had that ever happened to her before? Perhaps she hadn’t felt it?

Sorann, you dressed?”

With a gasp, Sorann scrambled into Cryant’s robe. It stuck to her wet shoulders; luckily, it was over large for her. With quick movements, she wrapped her hair in the towel.

“Yes,” she called back. “I just need to re-rinse my feet. I . . . I accidently stepped off the path.”

“I’ve got soup on.” Cryant stood holding up the door flap. “Stay on the path.”

She quickly rinsed her feet in a clear puddle that remained on the platform under the barrel--the water mixed with mud creating patterns as it ran off her feet. Still puzzled, but prepared for the onslaught of Cryant’s life,
she moved to the slice of light coming from Cryant’s doorway.

Cryant moved back so she could enter without touching him. Sorann almost tripped over the threshold. Nothing came from Cryant, no feelings, no buzz singing along her nerves in a stinging assault.

The upper wall revealed how the home stayed warm. Inside, plaster coated it, and, going through the door, she saw the wall consisted of two parts with what looked like straw stuffed in between.

The inside of his home held the aroma of potato soup and fresh bread. A slightly musty smell road on the tail of the soup. She rubbed her nose. Things in the room, a small wooden table with two chairs, a handmade broom leaning in the corner, two glow lamps, and a braided rug jumped into clarity. Things in her life were always fuzzy, smells, sizes, shapes, colors--all made so, she assumed, because of her constant battle to keep out the everyday life of others.

Perhaps the hog knocked her unconscious and this was the result? A dream? She pulled Cryant’s robe up around her neck, aware of how low the neckline rested over her breasts. The fabric carried a slight scent--a slight male scent. Cryant’s robe hadn’t been laundered since the last time he wore it.

“Here, sit by the fire,” Cryant told her. He stood near a makeshift clothesline stretched across the room. Using wooden clothes pins he hung her now clean clothes so they would dry.

Sorann carefully sat on the chair nearest the fire. Cryant finished hanging the clothes before he retrieved two wooden bowls from a homemade shelf hanging over a tin washtub. He spooned soup into both of them and set them on the table.

“Thank you,” Sorann managed. Questions tumbled through her mind. Why could she let her guard down in Cryant’s house? Why had she been so overwhelmed at first, but now--now since Cryant touched her in the pig pen--skin to skin, she didn’t need to be on her guard? Was it possible Cryant’s left over aura on his clothes allowed her a measure of control? Maybe Cryant himself?

Cryant picked up a small crate from near the fireplace and brought it to the table. He set the box on the floor in front of Sorann and set the thin towel covering the top aside. Small bird voices started up in a demand for food. Sorann pushed the chair back ready to spring away from the birds. She stopped.

“You saved the birds?”

“Some of them,” Cryant answered.

She peered back into the box. Birds. Young birds. The way they looked--one with a bandaged wing, another laying with its neck outstretched and its sides heaving as it tried to breathe.

“I can’t heal them,” Cryant said. His voice carried a note of sadness.

Slowly, Sorann reached into the box. She touched the gasping bird and almost shrieked when she felt its young body hit the pavement. Instantly, she knew about the bird’s broken bones, its injured ribs--the bird struggled in her grasp. She set him back in the box where he strutted around the other injured birds squawking and chattering at her.

“You healed him,” Cryant blurted. “But . . .”

Sorann reached into the box and one at a time she picked up the hurt birds. When she set them down they strutted about whole and healed. Cryant leapt to his feet and brought out a small cat from behind a curtain hanging around his bed.

He held the tiny black cat out to her. Sorann took the kitten in her hands and saw from the cat’s point of view the cart coming towards it and felt a flash of pain as the cart ran over the kitten’s leg and hip--her body didn’t feel as though she’d been run over. The cat’s feelings didn’t overcome her. She used her hands to completely surround the cat and in moments it struggled to be free. She let him go, and he ran to the box of birds and began batting at them. Cryant picked the kitten up.

“Out you go, but not in the street this time,” he said. He shut the crooked door over the curtain after he scooted the cat outside. “What they say about you, it isn’t true.”

Sorann looked up into his blue eyes. Lines creased his forehead, his thin face betrayed his puzzlement. She’d never noticed the shadow of stubble on his face before, or the tiny scratches, perhaps inflicted by an injured animal, like the kitten.

“It is true. I can’t heal. I get caught up in the emotions and can’t even diagnose what’s wrong because I feel as if all the things are happening to me. I don’t understand this at all. With animals, you aren’t supposed to receive the clarity to diagnose and heal the way you attain it with a person, but I didn’t expect to simply hold them and poof they are back to normal.” Her stomach rumbled, and she felt as if she’d eaten her last meal weeks ago.

“Eat, eat,” Cryant said and shoved both bowls of soup toward her.

She picked up the slightly bent spoon and touched a small bite to her tongue. Flavors exploded across her mouth, rich deep flavors of spices and onions she’d never experienced before. Spoonful after spoonful, each one a new adventure in taste and satisfaction until she cleaned both bowls of soup without a thought.
“Do you think the stories, you know from the Lost Lands, the ones about The Dark Towers are true?” He spooned more soup into the bowls.

Sorann glanced up at him and continued to shove food into her mouth. Her stomach kept begging for more with rumbles and demands she couldn’t ignore.

“I mean, the orange cat, outside, the one with three legs, sometimes, it almost feels like she is trying to talk to me.”

“The stories about those dark wizards turning their enemies into animals?”

Cryant nodded.

Sorann chewed more food. She let out a small laugh. “I don’t think there is enough magic left in the world, dark or otherwise to turn people or animals into something else.”

“But isn’t that what we do with our gift?” He sat back and spread his hands on the table in front of him. He snapped his fingers shut. “Isn’t what we do magic of a sort? We take broken bones and turn them into whole bones, something other than what they were.”

Sorann stared at him a moment before she spooned more soup into her mouth. Around the food, she said, “Broken bone that was once whole bone, not something entirely different. Take the cat, where would all the difference in mass go?”

“Still, I think I would like a cat who could talk to me and could understand what I say.”
“I had a cat once, when I was small, I used to think she understood what I said. I think they do on many levels, if I can feel what they have eaten and their enjoyment, then . . .” Sorann shrugged. She looked up at Cryant after her spoon scraped the bottom of the wooden bowl.

“I’m sorry. You lied when you said you weren’t a good cook. I’ve never tasted anything, well, anything so full of flavors. I didn’t mean to eat all of it,” she added with a glance at the empty pot.
“Never mind. I have more friends in need, will you . . .?”

Sorann laughed, energy jumped along her nerves--she could heal. A miracle had happened this night--the speck of dust that sparkled with light--a wish fairy, if any still lived with the bounty on most things magic? Sorann laughed again, whatever had happened, she could heal. “Yes, yes, I will.”

Good Morning fellow planet dwellers!  Looking over some more of the editing that is being worked on, and I find myself wanting to go back thirty plus years and actually listen to what the teachers were trying to put into my thick head. But then I remember everything else that went with it and I tell myself "Its not so bad, just needs a little work." Now understand that when I say it just needs a little work I mean like a sweeping job after MT. Saint Helen's went up!!! Bless editors, She is going to need it!!
Till next time......Also0 check this out , a new release by one of my fellow writers a must read

Saturday, August 17, 2013

Good Day all,
I have been trying to add some links and favorite web pages but as of yet not so good at this.
I think I need help.... Anyone reading this I will take all the advise I can get. There is a new release
from WCP I have been tring to get posted herebut not having any luck. Keep checking,,,,,,

Friday, August 16, 2013

Hunting Monsters

I really need to learn how to proof read my writing.... But I get a pass on the first blog. I expect many notifications of my spelling now and in the future from all the critics out there. I welcome them all...
Let the games begin!!!

It Begins

Hello World! Let me introduce you to Me! I am Allen Currier and my New Novel "Hunting Monsters" Will be coming out soon. I am not experienced in the "Blog" world, but just diving in has always worked int he past, so here we go.

My work is about the most interesting "Serial Killer" that the world has not yet heard about. I join an outstanding Publisher and cast of talented writers at "Wild Child Publishing". I am excited to be added to the fold and pray I live up to the standards set up by such a group. We are now in the editing phase of the process, which is some fun but mostly head slapping. All in good fun. As soon as I figure out how to add links, all will be available to see along with the new releases. If you are reading this I have successfully created  my first "Blog." Leave me a note and tell me what you think. Until next time....