Review of Piercing the Fold by Venessa Kimball

Piercing the Fold (Piercing the Fold, #1)


Review of Piercing the Fold


Rating 3.5 Stars

I was given this book by the author for an honest review.

The concept behind this story was very well thought-out, with truths mixed with fiction. There are parts where you questions could it be possible?  From wormholes to the quantum theory all the way to the Bermuda triangle, Yes these are all linked in the book for a fascinating reasons.

I loved the main character Jes, she is strong willed, and a real fighter. She makes a judgement call in the book whether to help someone or use them, and she chooses the latter, later to regret it. But I loved this about her, I would have done the same, she was flawed but had a conscience all the same.

I can see a love triangle arise and I hope to god it isn’t Nate that she chooses, I just didn’t like him or take to him, not my cup of tea.


So overall I loved this book and can’t wait to read the second one so why did I rate it only 3.5 stars.

Well this is why.


The first 30% is watching Jes learn all about herself we see her life, her powers. Just loved it got me straight away.

Then she has this one conversation with her professor that goes on chapters long. It was like a science lessons (yes it was relevant as it told you all the background) but  I would have preferred if it was far more spread out as I had to re-read it, because I kept zoning out, this happens several times. Until I reached 61% I think and then it took off and I couldn’t put it down. We get to meet Xander, and O did I love his character. That’s why I can’t wait to read book 2 as I feel it will really lift off.



Interview with Robin Leigh Morgan Author of I Kissed A Ghost



Question: What have you published recently and where can we find it?

I self-published my first YA Paranormal/Time Travel/First Kiss romance novel, “I Kissed a Ghost”; it got released on December 20, 2012 and is available on Amazon at  It is also available on  and

If anyone would like to read some UNEDITED SNIPPETS from the book, you can do so under the category of “GHOSTLY WHISPERS” on any of my blog sites:  or or [my website/blog]

Question: How, and when, did you decide to become a writer?

I actually began to write back in June 1995, where until June 2006 I wrote over 450 commentary type items for a community newspaper.  Along the way I decided to see if I could write something else. I didn’t own a computer back then, but I did have access to one where I wrote my commentaries, and it was on this computer I wrote about two pages a week. Once I got my computer I began to write what I wanted to be a contemporary romance with a paranormal element running through, but I never seemed to get the sense it would be good enough to be read by someone else.  Eventually, someone suggested I write for a younger audience, which how I came to write my debut novel, a YA [Young Adult] Paranormal/Time Travel/First Kiss romance entitled, “I Kissed a Ghost.”

Question: What is a typical day like for you as a writer?

I don’t have a set routine. I set goals each day which I strive to meet. Right now I’m not doing any writing in regards to my second romance novel. I’m writing Flash Fiction prompts and commenting on other people’s endeavors, I’m look to increase the number of followers I’ve got on the various sites I have a presence. and I’m also working on the marketing of the release of the Kindle version of  “I Kissed a Ghost.”

How did you come up with the title for your book

Selecting a title for a book had been a very challenging experience for me; but after racking my brain over it, I decided to merely summarize the premise for the entire story in as few words as possible until I had something which could be used as the title for my book. Hence, since the story is about a girl [Mary] and her kissing the ghost [George] she had living in her house, the story had to be called, “I Kissed a Ghost.”

When you write do you consider yourself to be a plotter or a pantser?

I’d probably say a little of both. As I said in the above, I made a skeleton of an outside, writing down the basic plot points I’d like to hit as the story unfolded; and as a sculptor starting with a wire base of what they’d like to have, I added material, then took some away, until I had the finished product I had in mind.

Question: What are your favorite characters that you have created? Tell us about them.

Mary Elizabeth Williams is a young girl who’s just beginning to learn about boys. She’s rather plain looking, and resents to some extent the way the boys in her class treat her, using her brains to help them to better so they can stay on the various sport teams the school has. A new boy, Jonathan, joins her class and begins to treat her the way she has always wanted to be, for liking her for being the person that she is. The relationship is short-lived because her father gets a promotion which meant she has to move away at the end of the school year. Just before she does she decides to give him a kiss at the mall, away from all the prying eyes of their friends.

At her new school things return to the way they used to before she met Jonathan. This time, in addition, everyone at school tease her continuously about her house being haunted. The thing is, it is haunted by a ghost named George, who she can see and who treats her, the way Jonathan did.  George takes Mary on trips to the past and even does her homework.

The thing I like most about Mary is that, she’s never downtrodden by the way she’s gets treated by everyone at school.

Question: do you find you “mentally edit” other writers’ works as you read them? Does doing this help you or bother you?

When I read I book, I believe I do what almost every other authors, which is mentally commenting on what I’m reading, saying to myself I’d have written this—this way or that way.  As I tend to be an individual when I write, I do everything possible not to be influenced by someone else.

What advice would you give new and aspiring authors?

Ever give up living your dream of becoming a writer, as you can from reading about me, I never did.  Before you start looking for a publisher or even an agent you MUST have your manuscript edited, granted the editor you select might miss a few minor points, but at least it’s now in a much more presentable condition.  Publishers want manuscript which can be easily edited by their own editing staff, without them having to correct countless misspellings and grammatical errors.

Question: What music do you listen to, while writing?

Either I play some of the CDs I owned, or I listen to a variety of stations on AOL Radio – depending on the mood I’m in at the moment.

Question: What do you eat while writing?

I never eat while I write; to start with it would always be messy

Five for Fun:

What is your favourite non-alcoholic drink? 

Diet Lemon-Flavored Iced Tea

What is your favourite cartoon character?

SpongeBob SquarePants

What is your favourite movie of all time?

Musical – My Fair Lady

Comedy – Blazing Saddles 

Fantasy – Harry Potter Series 

Other – The Ten Commandments

What do you like to do for fun or just to relax?

Watching old television shows on NetFlix from the days when I had been much younger.

Where else can we find you on the web?









In “I Kissed a Ghost”, Mary gets a new classmate named Jonathan who’s a great baseball player and to get on the team, he needs Mary’s help to improve his grades. Six months later when she learns she’s moving, she decides to give him something special–a first kiss. Moving into her new home she soon discovers it has a ghost named George, her age, who takes her on numerous trips to the past of a hundred years ago. As she meets children her own age, everyone teases her about her house being haunted, but no one will go inside. Mary likes his help doing her math homework, writing her reports, and taking her back in time. George and Mary’s interaction grows and she eventually gives him a quick peck on his lips while they’re in the past, which is the only place George is a real boy, for having done something special for her. Can Mary kiss George again at the special date and time he needs to be kissed? What happens afterwards if she does? The answers are all in the book!



 Where you can Purchase this book: 













The Author Exploitation Business

David Gaughran

penguin (1)Writing is a glamorous occupation – at least from the outside. Popular depictions of our profession tend to leave out all the other stuff that comes with the territory: carpal tunnel syndrome, liver failure, penury, and madness.

Okay, okay, I jest. I love being a writer. Sharing stories with the world and getting paid for it is bloody brilliant. It’s a dream job, and like any profession with a horde of neophytes seeking to break in, there are plenty of sharks waiting to chew them to bits.

Publishing is a screwed up business. The often labyrinthine path to success makes it much easier for those with nefarious intentions to scam the unsuspecting. But it doesn’t help that so many organizations who claim to help writers, to respect them, to assist them along the path to publication are actually screwing them over.

Before the digital revolution made self-publishing viable on a…

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Winner of a short story competition is Pakizer, Ariel Hannah

This piece was written based on a picture of an eye with a tear drop. 

Well done Pakizer, Ariel Hannah

   “The sky was filled with lightening. Bolts cut across the grey gloom slamming into the earth. Rain pour from the clouds in wrath and despair. Wind shrieked and spun through the air breaking branches and skewing arrows from their targets.

            “Below the enraged sky, man fought man. Armies crashed with the sound of steel and the dance of death. Destriers screamed falling beneath their riders. Men pleaded for their mother’s as their life’s blood watered the ground.

            “For three days shields shattered and lives ended. Victory rose with the dawn and the blade of Serafine, the woman warrior and shield of Nudar. Her steel tasted blood, biting flesh and bone. Her courage unfaltering, her skill unmatched.

            “The song of the battle ended. The dead were burned, and the victors honored. But Serafine was never seen again. The shield of Nudar passed into legend, though many songs were written of her and the battle of Murel.

            “On that day, Luvina was defeated; Nudar were finally free.” Mother smiled, brushing her fingers through my hair.

            “What happened to Serafine?”  If anyone knew, my mother would.

            “No one knows, Asta. Some say she was wounded in battle and disappeared, too prideful to die. Darker rumors believe she was born Luvinain and left to keep her secret. I think she was done with war, vowing never to kill again.”

            I didn’t understand why my mother would think that. Serafine was a warrior, honored for her glory in battle.

            The door opened and I grinned. “Daddy!” I jumped from my mother’s lap and screamed.

            Steel shone in the dark. Three tall men covered in armor. My father’s head dripped blood onto the floor. His skin was pale blue.

            My mother pushed me. “Run,” she whispered. I could see one of her hazel eyes shining with a single tear. “Run!”

            I ran.

            The night was cold, the chill sinking into my bones. Terror and anguish made me dizzy. I stumbled. Wind brushed against my skin. The sky laughed. It crooked a dark finger glittering with stars. “Why did you run, little girl? Why did you let your mother die?”

            I screamed.

            Darkness surrounded me. I whipped sweat from my forehead and threw my wool blanket onto the floor. Stupid nightmares. They’d plagued my sleep for nine years and haunted my steps, tormenting me with my biggest regret. I abandoned my mother to die that day. Not that I could have changed her fate if I stayed.

            I closed my eyes, but my mother’s hazel eyes invaded my thoughts.

            I grunted and left my barracks.

            Dawn was near, the darkness of night ebbing away. Soon the drums would sound and everyone’d wake up. We were at war, and soldiers had to be alert. The war was nine years long with no sign of victory. It started the night my parents died, the red night we called it. I wasn’t the only child orphaned then. And we orphans were the lucky ones. We survived.

            The army took all us in, teaching the dance of bows, arrows, axes, and swords. They never let us forget what happened to our parents. Old songs about Sarefine, the battle of Murel, and our hatred of Luvina were our lullabies. The marrow of my bones hated that country now. I’d sworn to see my parents avenged.

            “Asta, don’t you ever sleep?” Ziazan stepped up behind me, quiet as a shadow. He was a night owl, and always on night guard. With dark hair, blue eyes, and sharp cheekbones he was unfairly attractive, and the star of many day dreams.

            “What do you want, Zan?”

            He shrugged. “To end the Luvinain, revenge for my parents, own the sun, number the stars, conquer the world. Not too much to ask do you think?”

            “Is this what you call patrol? Harassing soldiers who can’t sleep?”

            “But you never sleep. Honestly, I’m not sure how you’re alive.”

            “You’re one to talk.”

            He laughed. “The sun makes me tired. Seriously, Asta, why can’t you sleep?”

            I sat on the grass, watching the mountains in the distance. They were pale and tall with peaks that hide in the clouds. They separated Luvina from Nudar. Long ago at the last council of Luvar, the country was divided in two by the mountains. The elders thought they were tall enough to prevent war. They were wrong.

            I sighed. “I’m having those nightmares again.”

            “The one with your mom? Her hazel eye?”

            “Yes. There’s never any fear in that eye, only grief.”

            Ziazan sat down beside me. “She was brave then, till the end.”

            “I’d rather she was alive.”

            “Hey me too. I watched both my parents die. The bastards who did it gave me this.” He brushed his finger across the scar on his eyebrow.

            “I didn’t see my dad die, but I saw his severed head in the hands of the enemy.”

            “We’ll get them back. We’ll kill them all.” He took my hand and squeezed it.

            “Ziazan!” Commander Tal voice was gritty for a woman. “Is this why you always want the nighttime shifts? Trysts underneath the stars?”

            I laughed and Ziazan smiled. “Commander, it’s dawn.”

            Tal’s eyes narrowed. “Back to work. Now.”

            He sighed dramatically. “Very well. Catch you later, Asta. Try and get some sleep.” He bowed to Tal before strolling away.

            “You can tell that one hasn’t bloodied his sword.”

            I stood up, brushing dirt of my butt. “Most of us haven’t. I haven’t.”

            “You’re damn good in practice though. If you can keep your nerve when Luvinain’s come at you with murder in their eyes and steel in their hands, you’ll be a terror on the field.”

            I had doubts about that. Last time I was faced with steel I ran. I ran and my mother died. Next though, next time would be different. It had to be.

            “Thanks. But don’t forget, Ziazan’s our best shot. Even among bloodied warriors.”

            “Are you judging off his skill or his cute smile?” I rolled my eyes and Tal laughed. “He can hit a still target, but can he aim for a man’s heart? Talking about war and actually killing are two different things, Asta. Can you do it? Could you take a life?”

            I thought about shoving steel into flesh through muscle and bone, watching the light fade from the eyes as I twisted my sword into a gut. I closed my eyes and saw my father’s head weeping tears of blood. My mothers hazel eye shining with a single sad tear. “Those Luvinain bastards killed my family. They never stopped hating Nudar and never will. History is proof of that. It has to end. Here. With us.”

            Tal smiled. “You’ll be a warrior yet.”


            I shivered. The horn of Nudar. The sound echoed through the camp and something stirred deep in my bones, like a monster ready to wake.

            The enemy was here. We were under attack.

            Tal and I looked at each other.

            “To arms!” she cried. “We’re under attack!”

            I ran into my tent. “Wake up!” I grabbed my breastplate. “Everyone get up!” Groggy faces shifted and groaned. The horn rang out again. People sat up, eyes wide with fear. They jumped from their beds donning armor with trembling fingers. Metal clinked and clanked as hearts raced.

            I buckled on my sword sheath and pulled the blade free.  Outside the tent people were running in every direction. Some with purpose, others in terror. The camp was a mixture of chaos and organization. Not everyone could remember orders.

            Soldiers ran to the ramparts, arrows ready. Others ran to the gate. Something slammed against it. The wood shook like thunder. I joined the cluster of men. Our fortress was rock and stone; our only weakness was this gate. It’s where the battle would be decided.  

            I clutched the sword. My heart was wild. My breath short. Fear and anticipation battled inside me. Men shouted outside the gate. Beating on their chests. Stamping to their song of war. Sunlight rose behind me, hot and bright

             The wood trembled.

            The gate burst open.

            Men poured in.

             Arrows flew from above. Bodies fell but it didn’t stop the tide. Luvinain’s crawled over the bodies, axes and swords glittering under the sun.

            Tal cried out. We rushed to meet their attack.

            Steel kissed steel as the song of battle filled the air. The dance had begun.

            I brought my sword down, embedding in the neck, driving it to the bone. Blood flew from the wound and splattered my face. I jerked twice before my sword was free. I swung around and blocked a blow to my back. The impact jarred my arm. I drove forward, plunging my blade into his chest. I ripped it out. Parried. Stabbed. I cut my way towards the gate, my sword flying in silver arcs. Cut. Block. Kill. Kill. Kill.

            Blood wet the ground. People slipped and were defenselessly cut down.

            A sword slammed against my back. It didn’t cut through my armor. I whirled around and kissed his neck with the tip of my sword. I jerked to the side, cutting through half of his neck.

            Someone screamed my name. I turned as a man fell dead at my feet, an arrow planted in his chest. I spot Ziazan firing from the ramparts.

            I danced with my blade. Bodies piled around me. My sword cut up and into the enemy. I spun and swung. My steel biting flesh over and over until blood dripped from my fingers. I sliced open a stomach. He fell his body spilling out onto the ground.

            Steeling stopped singing. The dance was done. We were victorious.

            I looked at the dead. Luvina and Nudar, women and men, young and old. Blood covered the ground like grass. Bits of bone, flesh, and muscle scattered like macabre flowers. An arm was lying far from its body. A head with a gapped mouth was stared at nothing. The eyes were hazel, shining with a single tear.

            I dropped to my knees falling into grief, weariness, and darkness.


            I woke with the blue eyes of Ziazan watching me.

            He smiled and grabbed my hand. “You’re alive.”

             “I’m alive.”

            He looked down. “You gave everyone a scare passing out like that.”

            “I’m ok. I was just…overwhelmed.”

            He kissed my hand. “I’m glad you’re ok.”

            I smiled. “Me too.”

            “We won. You know, right?”

            “Yeah, I know.”

            “They’re calling you a shield of Nudar now. Just like Sarefine.”


            “You were a terror out there. We would have lost without you.”

            “I’ll led us to victory.”  I lifted my chin.

            “Not right now you won’t. Try and get some sleep.”

            I rolled my eyes. “I’ll try.”

            “I’d stay, but I’ve got to tell Commander Tal you’re awake.”

            “Go on then, you can’t get in more trouble because of me.”

            He laughed and left the room.

            My heart was heavy. I wanted to defend my people—and I would—but death wasn’t something I could celebrate. Even the death of Luvinain’s. I understood Sarefine now, why she vanished after the battle of Murel. Protect without relishing in death. The Luvinain’s were people, fighting with the same vigor as the Nudar. That was what my mother meant to tell me on the night her hazel eye closed with a tear.


CompetitionImage ran from 







Kyra Halland Author of Urdaisunia



 Rashali, an Urdai peasant, has vowed to destroy the Sazars who conquered Urdaisunia. Prince Eruz, the heir to the Sazar throne, walks a dangerous line between loyalty to his own people and doing what’s best for all the people of Urdaisunia. Then a chance meeting between prince and rebel and a bet between two gods set Eruz and Rashali on intertwining paths of love, danger, and war.


Where can I purchase this book?

Barnes and Noble


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 Kyra Halland is a writer of darkly emotional tales of fantasy and romance. She lives in southern Arizona and has a very patient husband, two less-patient cats, and two young adult sons of whom she is very proud. 

Her writing career began in 2nd grade with the story of Daisy the Horse-Farm Horse. It got sidetracked when she went into music, ultimately ending up with a Master’s in Music History, then got back on track soon after that when she began writing fantasy novels as a new stay-at-home mom with a young baby. Now that that baby and the other baby are adults, or close enough, she has turned more of her time to her writing career.

Where can we find you?


Author Website