Sunday Snippets - Excerpt of ASHES FOR THE ELEPHANT GOD

ASHES FOR THE ELEPHANT GOD
by Vijaya Schartz
http://amzn.com/B00486UG24


To scatter her brother's ashes over the Narmada River, Fabienne leaves France for the mysterious India of her childhood dreams. As she awakens to a newfound spirituality, unexpected visions of a former life during the Raj stir ancient yearnings for a long lost passion. Mukunda, the palace architect Fabienne loved a century and a half ago, lives again as an American engineer and works on the local dam project. As Fabienne falls in love again with India and the man of her destiny, the tapestry of her previous life unfolds. But, in the karmic land of the blue gods, a ruthless foe lies in wait. The Kali worshiper, who murdered the two lovers in a faraway past, has come back through the centuries to thwart their dream once more.

"... passionate... love, lust, faith and deception... a magnificent offering to the world of fiction..." Charlotte Austin Review - 5 stars


"...rich, sensual... multilayered... a thriller... magical, mystical book..." - Writer's Digest

"... a broad-stroked, magnificent picture of a lavish India of the past and the present... a vivid tale of suspense... a gripping account of a woman coming to terms with heightened awareness... a destiny that yields true fulfillment." The Book Reader

"... entertaining, fast-paces yet deeply spiritual... Here is a superior metaphysical novel!" Richard Fuller - Metaphysical Reviews

"I was hooked... major talent... the type of villain everyone loves to hate... An extremely satisfying read!" Huntress Book Reviews

"...Vijaya Schartz brings the sights and smells of India alive..." Carrie Miner, The Glendale Star

EXCERPT:

A guest sat next to Baba on the elevated patio of the Ashram's courtyard, a rare honor reserved only to Living Saints, international good Samaritans, show-business celebrities, movie stars, Maharajahs, and high-ranking government officials.

The young man looked American, German or Nordic, tall, blond, blue eyed. In a tan safari shirt and western slacks, he sat cross-legged and talked with natural ease, smiling and laughing at Baba's stories. I took my place in the second row, on the tile of the courtyard below, behind the Bhramacharyas in yellow robes. Amazed, I realized then that the striking man spoke Hindi.

After a look at the clock, Baba interrupted his chat, cleared his throat, switched on the microphone, then tapped it and laughed at the sound, marveling as he always did at the wonders of modern electronics.

"Sadgurunath, Maharaj Ki Jay!" The devotees intoned in respectful greeting.

"I am delighted to introduce our guest." Baba smiled and turned toward the blond man. "His name is Mukunda, and he's looking for a bride."

Startled by the name, I stared while the ashramites laughed. The young man blushed fiercely, obviously taken aback by this unexpected introduction. He looked at the ground, gave an embarrassed laugh, then raised his head and faced the crowd for the first time.

I caught my breath, lost in his clear blue eyes. My heart stopped. Mukunda's frank stare riveted me to the ground. Overwhelming sensations flooded my senses. As he brushed long fingers through his hair, probably to hide remnants of embarrassment, I recognized the familiar gesture from a vision. Then Mukunda smiled, and the world around me reeled.

I grinned back. From a warm jungle pool, the frolicsome youth of my visions smiled at me over a lifetime, and I could feel that he recognized me too. I wanted to call him, touch him. I wanted to feel his embrace. We belonged to each other...

"Of course, this is not the whole reason for Mukunda's visit." Baba's voice brought me back to reality.

Suddenly, I remembered where I was, who I was, and my recent commitment to the spiritual path. In the greater scheme of things, Mukunda must represent the supreme temptation, the ultimate sacrifice for me to make, the one thing to renounce. In order to become a nun, as I should, I had to overcome my irresistible attraction to this man, let go of the past, and free myself from earthly bondage. 


Hope you enjoyed this Sunday Snippet. Visit the blogs of the other authors involved in this tour for more exciting excerpts.

http://triciamg.blogspot.com (Tricia McGill)
http://authorjamiehill.blogspot.com/ (Jamie Hill)
http://connievines.blogspot.com/ (Connie Vines)

MAD MAX - Fury Road - the movie

 See the trailer HERE

It was violent, full of heart-stopping action, and I loved that part. As far as post-apocalyptic worlds go, this one was quite believable. I loved that Charlize Theron (Imperator Furiosa) had an atrophied left arm and wore prosthetics. I also liked the slant on widespread physical defects due to radiation fall out, and the great value placed on perfect women, in hopes to bear perfect children.

I loved  that Tom Hardy (who plays Mad Max) broadened his acting scope and is finally an action hero, although he did have a stunt double (cannot blame him there). It bothered me that he wore a metal mask hiding most of his face for two thirds of the movie. It probably made it easier for the stunt double to take over in those horrifying scenes, but it took away from the actual acting. Strangely enough, this new Max didn't seem mad at all, compared to the old version played by Mel Gibson. He was the sanest person in the bunch. The ghosts of his past seemed added on as an afterthought. His guilt at losing his wife and child didn't seem to color his present life.

The vehicles, old cars, big war rigs and motorcycles charging across the desert in a cloud of sand were awesome, very imaginative, and obviously could take a lot of punishment. I especially liked the porcupine cars. No lack of hard steel in this post-apocalyptic world. Even the toughest military tank of today wouldn't last very long on that road.

I didn't care as much for the plot. Okay, it's a race through the desert to reach the green place. Three quarters of the movie are a breathtaking escape. Then they reach the salt flats, realize the green place is no more, and while she wants to push East, he convinces her in one sentence to return to where they came from and take over the empire. Really? Three warriors and a few pretty girls, half naked, with no skills, driving a big rig through three entire armies of raging lunatics? I didn't buy it. I didn't find their victory at the end believable. Nope. That was a let down.

At times I wished for an opportunity for the two main characters to express their affection and respect for each other. There would have been room for some caring. What I did believe though, was him walking away after the victory and leaving her in charge. Mad Max cannot be tied down. But then again, this Mad Max was way too sane and even tempered for his own world.

 Still, very much worth seeing.

Vijaya Schartz, author of sci-fi romance with a kick

http://www.vijayaschartz.com

Sunday Snippets - Excerpt of KICKING BOTS, Ancient Enemy Book 3

KICKING BOTS:
Ancient Enemy Book Three

by Vijaya Schartz

http://amzn.com/B004NEW1HO

Dr. Melissa Campbell, researcher at the San Francisco Center for Disease Control, requests help to protect her precious vaccine, one that could end the deadly alien plague. She didn't expect a crazy renegade like Bennett for a bodyguard. She hates military types, and this genetically enhanced super-soldier is pure testosterone, hot-headed, quick-tempered, impulsive, and downright impossible. But these are dangerous times with riots in the streets, and rumors of alien invasion. In a breathless race against time, experience the decisive battle for humankind, one that will decide whether Earth belongs to humanity, or to a powerful alien race.

"Begins with a bang and keeps the fireworks coming. As much as Melissa and Bennett try to fight their feelings for each other, it is too strong for them to deny... but he cannot let that prevent him from doing his job.... Can they override their programming in time to save the human race? - Sensual Reads - 4.5 stars - Sultry

"... Bennett. Sexy, balls to the walls Bennett. Ladies man, his own military militia and a devilish sense of humor. A sensational and fantastical alternate universe, painted and laid out for me with every wondrous word. I really enjoyed being taken away into the lives of the characters as they wove their way through imminent death, every lie and betrayal, every scary new path on their journey to get to the truth and save the world as they know it." Book Junkie - 4 stars

"I really enjoyed this book. Even though I hadn't read the previous two... I have always been interested in the mysterious disappearance of the Anasazi and this story nicely filled in the blanks... exceptionally well written. I am definitely going to have to find the previous books and check them out as well." - The Romance Studio - 5 hearts - rated very sensual

EXCERPT:

How the doll-face doctor fired the bazooka without training was beyond Bennett. Had she gone to Bot fighting camp? Right now, she worked like a team mate. Weird. A jolt seared his left thigh. Bennett braced himself and bit his lip not to scream. When he fired back, he noticed a slight power decrease in the Thunderbolt. "Shit!"

 Amazingly, the half-dozen Anaz-voohri vessels still in the air withdrew, probably realizing they had become vulnerable. Not only that, but by returning fire, they risked killing their own agent in the person of the pretty doctor standing next to him. Obviously, she did not know who she really was. The shot that damaged his thigh had hit too close to their precious mole.

As Bennett checked the load on the Thunderbolt, the power cell read almost empty. He needed to reload, and only in a Mythos facility could he find the equipment to do that.

"Hang on tight!" Revving the engine, Bennett sat in the stern, extending his leg to release the pressure on his wounded thigh. He ignored the pain as he swerved west, toward the Golden Gate Bridge then raced between the red metallic piles out of the bay. He hoped the military, busy with the aftermath of the battle, wouldn't pursue him.

Once in the open ocean, Bennett angled south along the California coast and set the engine to stealth mode. The boat slowed a bit, but the sound wouldn't attract attention.

Dr. Campbell sat in the bow, the thick jacket enveloping her completely as she tucked it around her legs like a poncho. Somehow she had managed to return all his equipment to the bag.

She stared at him with wide misty eyes. "Where are we going?"

"Someplace safe." Bennett didn't like anyone, much less a woman in heels and a skirt, touching his arsenal. At least not that arsenal. He nodded toward the bag. "How can you even balance that big bazooka? You work out?"

Dr. Campbell smiled briefly. "Just because I have a brain doesn't mean I'm not fit. I do practice Yoga."

"Yoga?" His attempt to laugh turned into a grimace due to the pain in his thigh, but Bennett didn't change position. He didn't want the doll face doctor to notice his wound. A soldier never revealed his weaknesses. So he humored her. "And just because I bench press doesn't mean I have no brains."

"Touché!" She chuckled. "That's why you read comic books?"

"Graphic novels." Bennett struggled to remain calm. "And there is much more in these books than most people know. It's also art, graphic art."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stereotype."

"Why not? Everybody does." He didn't tell her he'd labeled her as a stuck up know-it-all goodie-two-shoes before he even met her. Before she blew his mind by shooting a bazooka.



Hope you enjoyed this Sunday Snippet. Visit the blogs of the other authors involved in this tour for more exciting excerpts.

http://triciamg.blogspot.com (Tricia McGill)
http://authorjamiehill.blogspot.com/ (Jamie Hill)
http://connievines.blogspot.com/ (Connie Vines)

Did aliens visit us in the past? by Vijaya Schartz

Have we been visited by alien species in the ancient past? Are we the product of genetic manipulation by technologically advanced ancient visitors in need of labor? Are the gods of so many different Earth cultures aliens who, in ancient times, came down from other star systems to teach, nurture, and facilitate the evolution of the human race? All these questions might seem outrageous to many people

Of course, the mainstream scientists refuse to examine the evidence, and governments are quick to dismiss any theory that doesn't fit the accepted standard. Few have enough courage to tell the world that our history books should be rewritten. But if you research and consider the evidence, it's not farfetched at all.

Ancient texts, like the Mahabarata in India, describe the gods waging war in the sky, flying Vimanas, shooting arrows of light and thunder that destroyed their flying chariots of fire. Ancient cities of India, like Mohanjo Daro, are still radioactive from their destruction by a nuclear blast thousands of years ago.

The ancient Vikings believed their gods came from another world through a rainbow bridge reminiscent of a wormhole. Could Odin, Thor, and the entire Viking mythology be relating events in the past, where powerful beings came to Earth from another planet?

Could it be that the ancient texts we consider as mythology, are actually records of historical events lost in the night of time? Even the ancient testament speaks of beings coming to Earth from the heavens. God came with legions of angels and archangels organized in a very military order... not so different from a modern space fleet.

Why is it that ruins in Puma Punku, in South America, dated 20,000 years ago, show stones cut with a precision we cannot achieve even today with the most sophisticated instruments? The traditions of the local tribes say these were built not by human hands, but by the gods.

structures on Mars

Are the structures on Mars left over from an ancient civilization, dating from when the red planet was green with life? What caused its atmosphere to thin and its water to dry up? Is it what will happen to Earth if we are not careful?

I am only scratching the surface here. This world is full of mysteries, and if we bother to investigate them, we might very well discover the secret of our origins, and embrace the fact that we are not alone in the universe.

As a science fiction writer, I find this inspiring, uplifting, and I sincerely hope the people of this world start looking closely at all these clues. Now that we have the technology to analyze the evidence, we should not be afraid of the results. The truth will prevail in the end, so why resist it?

In the Archangel books, bad boy Michael is in deep trouble, and being half alien doesn't help at all. Find these books and many more by Vijaya Schartz at:

http://www.vijayaschartz.com

AMAZON  -  B&N  -  SMASHWORDS  -  ARE

Sunday Snippets - excerpt of CHECKMATE - Archangel Book 2 by Vijaya Schartz

CHECKMATE - Archangel Book 2
by Vijaya Schartz
http://amzn.com/B004KKY6CY

To quench his vengeful lust for the Archangel who scattered his remains at the edge of the universe, the Reptilian ruler orders the sacrificial death of Michael's teenage daughter. Half human and a full-fledged Archangel on his father's home world, Michael and his mate must return to Earth to save his daughter from fiendish claws, and his native planet from enslavement or worse... But the way home is fraught with dangers, some more insidious than others. Nothing prepared Michael for the kind of trial he must face, when his rambunctious past catches up with him at the worst possible time...

"Sword-and-shield adventure... aliens and angels and dreams truer than life and depraved shapeshifters and evil sorcerers and parallel universes... Funny and sad and very intelligent." The Book Reader

"...charm that keeps you reading... A fun piece of escapism... hours of sheer entertainment." Rapport Magazine

"You will be hooked... a good read from start to finish." Alan Caruba - BookViews

"Rollicks right along at a good clip... a fun concoction and a fast, zippy read... Really, this one is among the most pleasurable." Writer’s Digest

"Wickedly insightful. Grab this today along with the prequel, Crusader, Archangel Book 1." Five stars - Curled up With a Good Book

EXCERPT:

"Welcome home, my Archangel!" Veronica kissed him lightly on the nose. She was tall, but not as tall as Michael, and she had to stand on tiptoe to kiss him. Auburn hair brushed his cheek and her green eyes sparkled with gaiety. Except for the loose hair, she looked like a ballerina in white flowing silks.

Nothing ever affected her good spirits. Veronica's vibrancy added to her allure... She was the most beautiful woman he had ever wanted, and God, how he wanted her! A few years earlier, he would have seized the moment and made passionate love to her. Today, he felt weighted by responsibilities. Knowledge had a way of killing spontaneity.

"Don't regret it," Veronica chided, picking up his train of thoughts. "I love you more now than I did then. I thank Amrah in my heart every day for the transformation that made you so lovable." She hugged him dropped a feather kiss on his lips.

Michael snorted. Their linked minds allowed no secrets between them. "I guess, I was some piece of work. I've often wondered how you could take it, my drinking, fighting, and carousing all night... I mean, I wasn't exactly a nice guy."

"That was a lifetime ago, Michael, in another world. I understand now why you acted that way." The slight frown on Veronica's face quickly faded. "Now, you better get ready for the ceremony. Archangelhood doesn't call to duty every day. Are you going to appear with wings, Earth-style? This is very formal, you know, you can't wear jeans."

"Well, I'll stand out, as usual. After all, I'm a barbarian upstart from an underdeveloped planet. How about this?" As he spoke, Michael transformed into a luminous being of liquid silver, in full body armor, with majestic wings, flaming sword in hand. He made his cobalt eyes and turquoise aura radiate strength and righteousness.

Veronica laughed but approved. "For the first time, I find you very conventional, dear. I like it though, my knight in shining armor. Go get'em, Tiger!" She patted his rear and chuckled.

"Are you coming?" Michael asked, although he already knew.

"I wouldn't miss it for the entire cosmos." Veronica smiled mischievously.



Hope you enjoyed this Sunday Snippet. Visit the blogs of the other authors involved in this tour for more exciting excerpts.

http://triciamg.blogspot.com (Tricia McGill)
http://authorjamiehill.blogspot.com/ (Jamie Hill)
http://connievines.blogspot.com/ (Connie Vines)

SUNDAY SNIPPETS - CRUSADER - Archangel book 1 - by Vijaya Schartz

CRUSADER - Archangel Book 1

by Vijaya Schartz

http://amzn.com/B004HO69RS

Michael Tanner, proud, brash, irreverent, half Native American, and single father, doesn't believe in aliens. When a Blue Angel claims to have fathered him, Michael knows his drinking has gone haywire... But a seductive Prince of Darkness born of a nightmare now targets Michael’s family. When his girlfriend disappears and characters from his dreams suddenly materialize to threaten his daughter, Michael must come out of denial and overcome his weaknesses, to face the unbelievable mystery of his birth and fulfill his unique destiny.
"...relationships, angels, aliens and seduction... even Satanism... kept this reviewer riveted... compelling fantasy... you won't want to put it down... superior... enthralls, and, at the same time, awakens!" Metaphysical Reviews
"A mighty fine tale primed to read through in one sitting." Curled Up With a Good Book.

EXCERPT:

Philadelphia, 1998

"Eh Blondie, two more pitchers!" a tall customer yelled over the music, slurring the words, while the three heavyweights at his table nodded approval.

At the bar, Michael Tanner nursed his bourbon, observing the room through the smoke. "You have to be bad just to have a good time," blared the country song in the background, though he could hardly hear the lyrics above the din. The young waitress in cut-off jeans and western boots smiled at him and he smiled back. Michael knew her by sight only. The girl was new, just a kid. In a few years, his own daughter would be old enough to wait tables. A frightening thought.

"Coming right up!" The girl loaded the tray and wove her way around the tables, straight and sassy, flaunting firm breasts through a white peasant blouse.

The big man watched her every move. Holding the tray high above her head, she pushed the ashtray aside, but he seized her wrist and pinned it to the table. "I bet you don't wear a bra under that flimsy shirt," he snarled.

The young girl blushed. "Let me do my work," she pleaded, struggling to free her hand while balancing the heavy tray on the other.

Michael didn't like the big Yankee who'd sneered at his southern drawl earlier. He couldn't let that cur bother an innocent girl, so he started toward the table.

"You can't fight me, Blondie!" The man leered. "Don't look for the bouncer, he went to take a leak. Why don't you show us your tits?" The Yankee grabbed her waist.

The girl dropped the tray with a cry. It crashed to the floor, glass and beer scattering the sawdust on the concrete. The man's paw on the girl's breast closed and ripped her blouse. She screamed.

Michael pushed himself between the girl and the man. "You need a lesson in good manners!"

"No ignorant Southerner will teach me anything!" The Yankee aimed a fist at Michael's face.

Michael stepped aside, avoiding the impact. When three heavyweights joined the fight, the bouncer tried to intervene, only to find himself buried in chaos. A punch missed Michael's left ear. Applying a ju-jitsu move, he sent his opponent to the floor, into broken glass, sawdust, ashtrays, and cigarette butts. The bartender reached for the phone while the waitress, disheveled, rather nude and pale in her torn blouse and cutoffs, cowered against the bar, protecting her small breasts.

Through the orange light, a booted foot flew to Michael's face. He caught it in mid air. A sharp twist to the right and his opponent's shoulder smashed a table, breaking it in two. A beer bottle sailed through thick haze and shattered on the heavy wall mirror, cracking it.

The kaleidoscope of jeans, cowboy hats, silver buckles, spurs, back kicks, sweat, and blood, made Michael's adrenalin pump faster. He felt happy as a fish in cool water among the toppled tables and chairs, in the smell of whiskey and stale cigar. Although past thirty, tonight he felt eighteen, as wild and passionate as ever.

When Michael leapt onto the bar to get a better view, his long hair caught the breeze from the ceiling fan. A smoky reflection in the cracked mirror revealed his tall stature, chestnut hair, good shoulders, strong jaw, high cheekbones, and strikingly blue eyes... A hard body from packing lumber and driving nails all day.

His balance, he'd acquired from walking on catwalks, scaffolding and ladders, and a few beers and bourbon on the rocks didn't upset his timing by much. That son-of-a-bitch stepfather, who taught him martial arts as a kid, would be proud.

There was the muscular Yankee. Michael jumped down and headed in that direction. Blocking a strike, he dodged a chair, kicked another out of the way then leapt over a table. The man had cleaned up one side of the room and stood, waiting.

Michael felt the Indian half of his blood stir. He feinted to the right then threw a left punch to the chin. The target moved just in time to avoid the blow and sneered back. Mad as hell, Michael nevertheless controlled his anger. He turned as if to walk away. Another feint. In a blur, he kicked high and hard, left heel connecting with the man's face. A jawbone cracked. The Yankee tumbled down and slid all the way back through the open front door.

The lights went out. A cold draft chilled the place as an eerie silence fell. Michael stopped moving and listened. Darkness hovered like a disquieting presence. A shadow reflected in the mirror, and his heart stopped for a second. When he looked around, dim light returned and the bar came back to life. Michael tasted blood. It was dribbling from his brow, although he felt no pain and did not remember being hit. Front row, an oblivious drunk stared through the smoke screen in a daze.

A siren sounded in the distance. Michael had to get out before the police arrived. He could ill-afford getting caught, even in a simple brawl. Too many similar incidents already tainted his record. Who'd take care of his family if he went to jail? He headed for the restrooms, discreetly exiting through the back door. He needed a drink.

Ignoring the nip in the air, Michael ran up the dark alley and headed for the white Ford van with ladders and lumber on top. Sirens blaring, a flashing red and blue motorcycle entered the passageway.

"Damn cop!" At the brink of panic, Michael heard a loud whisper.

"To your left!"

To the left, he glimpsed a narrow opening between two buildings. Michael dove into it and flattened himself against the wall, hardly daring to breathe. Sweat chilled his hands. The police motorcycle drove by without slowing down. Michael let out a sigh of relief.

A strange music startled him. He turned to meet blinding blue light... Blinking, Michael protected his eyes with one hand while his vision adjusted. In the blue halo, he faintly distinguished a frail silhouette. His jaw fell open.

"What the hell?" Michael scratched his head. The blue being was gone, but a voice echoed in Michael's mind: "Do not thank me, Son." No one stood there. He stared at an empty spot.

It took Michael a few seconds to realize, or rather to doubt what he'd just seen. Or had it happened at all? Although sober now, he felt hesitant to take the wheel.

Maybe he should see a shrink. What if Dave was right and all these years of carousing finally caught up with him? But hell, if you let go of booze and women, what would be left in life?

Wearily, listening for any sign of pursuit, Michael reached the white van. The Ford Econoline fit his needs. He'd just had the wrinkles ironed out of it and the new white paint made it look clean. He stepped inside through the sliding door.

Rummaging in the tool chest, Michael caressed the steel barrel of a sawed-off shotgun and picked up an empty can of Pepsi. He crushed the flimsy aluminum with one hand and threw it in the recycle cardboard box in the back. Since Veronica still worked the graveyard shift, he felt in no hurry to get back to a lonely bed.

When Michael turned on the ignition, the radio blasted loud country rock. He winced, lowered the volume and turned the dial until he heard Bruce Springsteen. On the drive home, the empty streets of Northeast Philly glided past the windows. Letting a patrol car slide by quietly, Michael slowed down to resume speed on Roosevelt Boulevard. All the lights switched to green on the main artery.

"Michael, stop!" a voice blared in his mind.

Startled, he jammed the brakes and smoked the screeching tires. A front tire blew up. Fighting for control, Michael brought the van to a stop.

Out of the darkness, a black Mercedes crossed the intersection in front of him, against the light, without even slowing down. The ruthless vehicle with dark windows, all lights off, vanished silently into the night.

"Holy shit!" That was close... Michael hadn't seen it coming. What madness was this? Why did he slam on the brakes? Thank God he did. His heart thumped, and sweat streamed down his back as he looked around, shaking. Michael stepped out of the van to check the damage. "Damn!" The flat was beyond repair.

Frustrated, Michael threw the keys on the ground and ran sweaty fingers through his hair. Of course, he had no spare. Since the nail in the Lumberyard yesterday, there had been no time to get it fixed. Dejected, Michael sat on the curb, feeling the chill from the concrete crawling through his jeans.

A cold mist started to fall, forming halos around the yellow mercury lights. Michael shoved his hands in the pockets of the sheepskin vest. In the haze, he caught a glimpse of a blue light like the one in the alley, a frail silhouette. He rose and called out. "Eh! You! Yes, you!"

Hope you enjoyed this Sunday Snippet. Visit the blogs of the other authors involved in this tour for more exciting excerpts.

http://triciamg.blogspot.com (Tricia McGill)

http://connievines.blogspot.com/ (Connie Vines)