2nd Novel Sale! “The Recluse Storyteller” – 99 cents – Limited Time!

The Recluse Storyteller HERE

My mysterious and interesting 2nd novel is having a Kindle sale. Only 99 cents through January 5! You can check out the blurb below. Also, don’t forget about the concurrent sale of my debut novel “Beauty Rising” – also on sale for 99 cents for just a couple more days. Beauty Rising HERE

recluse storyteller cover med

The twins, beckoned by an ominous streak of light across the sky, climb Harper’s Hill to encounter an apparition of their missing father.

The reverend stands on a muddy ridge, the barrel of a rifle in his neck, looking down on a Vietnamese village, scarred by war and regret.

The brash terrorist, Red Hat, desperately tries to walk away from life unscathed and unattached.

The stories haunt Margaret every waking moment, but they are anything but random. A fractured view Michael Cheevers’ red hat through a discreetly cracked door sends her off on adventure. A glimpse of the Johnson twins from apartment 2D transports her mind to the lonely hill on a Midwestern prairie in 1887. The regular letters from Reverend Davies bring her to the brink of exhaustion as she stares intensely into the heart of war, deep in the jungle of Vietnam.

Margaret is not insane, at least not in a clinical sense. She’s like a midnight raccoon, painfully aware of her surroundings, gleaning crumbs of information at every turn. Her eyes peer incessantly in the night, stealing glances of the neighbors through partially opened doors.

But the tales she weaves were not meant to merely hold empty court to the receptive dead air of her apartment. Her stories were meant to embolden the lives of the inhabitants of that drab apartment block because her story is also their story–and everything would be different if they could only hear the prophetic words of the rambling recluse.

The Recluse Storyteller weaves five stories into one as the loner, Margaret, not only searches for meaning from her reclusive life, but also gives meaning in the most unexpected ways to the troubled souls of her apartment complex. Part adventure, part tragedy, and part discovery, The Recluse Storyteller bridges genres, bringing hope, life, and redemption to the broken relationships of modern society.

 

A Steal of a Deal! 99 cents! “A Love Story for a Nation” – LIMITED TIME OFFER

My newest novel will be on 99 cent promotion on Kindle from December 19 – December 26.

Where else can you get hours of riveting entertainment for 99 cents?

I may be biased, but check out the independent reviews and decide for yourself. I think you’ll agree, this is a great deal!

Get your 99 cent copy HERE! Read reviews! 4.8 stars on Amazon!

I received an email this week that said the following (no I didn’t make this up):

“I just finished A Love Story and thought you should know that I think it is wonderful! Any story that makes you think about your own life; what you could do better; what you should do more or less of to affect positive change…that’s a winner to me.”

There you have it. Anonymous email person said it better than I could.

Please pick up a copy, share with others, write a review, and enjoy!

ALoveStoryforaNation Cover LARGE

Kindle Book Sales Promo 1: The Recluse Storyteller only 99 Cents!

From March 31 through March 6, “The Recluse Storyteller” is only $.99 on Kindle!  There’s never been a better time to pick it up and enjoy it.

Please CLICK and read some great reviews (They’re real! I promise. I don’t have several alias Amazon accounts.)

I’m also going to be offering an exclusive excerpt later this week as well. Watch for it. Thanks for your support. Much appreciated.

recluse storyteller cover med

 

 

New Excerpt from “Banyan Tree” in honor of 99 cent Kindle sale!

The Reach of the Banyan Tree – only 99 cents on Kindle. Now through December 7. Pick up your copy HERE!

And to celebrate this sale, here’s a fun excerpt from one of my favorite characters, the loud brash C.R. Carson. Enjoy!

All the Air Sucked out of the Room

Charles Regal Carson II, CEO and majority owner of Carson Oil Subsidiary, never talked. He yelled everything; a troubadour announcing Christ’s second coming, or so everyone around him had to act. He stood a caricature of every loud-spoken American who ever lived. He had a red, chubby face, with a large beer belly that took up the half of the room not already occupied by his ego. His silver-gray hair, parted on the side and slicked back like a greasy car salesman’s, would have made him seem regal if his ego would have let him stoop that low. A half-chewed cigar would have felt at home in his mouth, and he had the aura of a master black marketeer, comfortably sitting in a dimly lit room at a table with stacks of cash on it. But he made his billions the legal way—paying off cronies and cuddling up to lobbyists. A force of nature who always wore a blue sports jacket with a white collared shirt, unbuttoned at the top, with no tie.

C.R., as everyone called him, had no idle, whether walk, talk, or do. Everything was full-tilt in overdrive. His administrative assistant had been taking stress counseling for three years now, and her therapist insisted that she quit working for the human hurricane. She would have quit, too, if he didn’t pay her so handsomely and piled her perks high enough to offset the abuse she had to endure. Billie went everywhere with C.R., as did his accountant and publicist, Fuller, who had learned to just keep his mouth shut and try not to ruffle the feathers of a bird already engaged in a daily war of survival. It was the oil business, after all, the greasiest of them all.

C.R. and Chip had had their share of disagreements; everyone knew that. When Chip left the company two years ago and ended up in Vietnam, C.R. threatened every sort of banishment and exile possible from a father to a son. He didn’t mean any of it. He rarely meant anything he said; he just talked like he breathed, in and out, not knowing up from down or left from right. He could charm the fur off a malevolent cat on the same day he could coax a frown out of a bride during the processional. He had rare verbal magic, the kind that most people avoided, except for Billie and Fuller. And so it was no shock when he cursed his son for quitting the company. But when he heard that Chip was in prison, he was on his private jet as soon as visas could be secured, ready to take on the Vietnamese bureaucracy and legal system with nothing but a loaded mouth and a pile of cash.

The jet landed without incident at Hanoi’s Noi Bai Airport, and C.R., Billie, and Fuller whisked through immigration to meet an assistant of the chief minister of the Department of the Interior, which had sent a car to pick up the three. A young professional, Nguyen Thi Thanh, charged by the minister to ‘handle’ the ugly American on his visit to his son in prison, waited patiently for them outside the exit. She had no idea what she was about to encounter as she greeted them politely as they walked through the immigration doors and into the airport’s small concourse.

“Mr. Carson, welcome to Vietnam,” she spoke in proper and clear English.

“If you want to be welcoming, you can release my son from prison. He didn’t do anything, and you have no idea what you are dealing with.” C.R. charged right past her. “Where’s the damn car?”

Thanh, completely taken back, drew a complete blank and couldn’t say anything.

“What kind of translator are you? Do you speak English or not? Fuller, what the hell kind of arrangements are these?”

Fuller came up to C.R. and spoke in his relaxed, accommodating manner. Billie introduced herself to Thanh and told her not to mind C.R. and that he didn’t mean any offense. It was the first of many lies that Billie would have to tell about her boss in Vietnam.

Thanh finally composed herself and pointed over to a black Lincoln sedan sitting by the curb.

“The car is over there, sir.”

“Well, it’s about time. Do you think I’m on vacation here? I’m here to save my son from the antiquated, communist legal system that shot the hell out of all the G.I.s I ever knew that were stuck in places like this.”

C.R. made his way towards the car as Fuller and Billie scrambled behind with the suitcases. Thanh looked on the scene in a bewildered manner.

“I’ll never understand how my idiot son could be stupid enough to walk away from his responsibilities and come to a third-world country. Vietnam. A country that killed over 58,000 of our soldiers. I should know. I was here. Right, Fuller?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Which car is it?”

“Here, sir,” spoke the intimidated Thanh.

“Black Lincoln? Well, I am impressed. Somebody got the message.”

“I informed them, sir, that an American car from the airport would show their grace and goodwill towards you and your company.”

“Good job, Billie. It’s about time somebody does something right. Fuller, if it was up to you, we’d probably be in a Yugo.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll try better next time, sir,” said Fuller, juggling the suitcases.

Thanh stood in shock. She had translated for numerous Americans before and had found every single one of them courteous and friendly. She couldn’t understand the vulgar man who put his nose down at everything he saw. The forty-five minute trip to the hotel was a complete rant and rave from C.R., who was on a jet-lag high, wound tighter than usual. Billie and Fuller felt great sympathy for the milquetoast Thanh, who sat in the corner of the limo, sulking and nodding politely at the force of nature.

Eventually, they walked into the lobby of the Hanoi Opera Hilton. All eyes seemed to be on the man who pronounced the supremacy of American neo-colonialism with every foot forward. Charles Regal Carson II was exactly the type of person Vietnamese immigration would have been happy to deny a visa to, except for one important fact: he controlled one of the largest oil companies in the world, the same oil company that in the last year had secretly signed multiple agreements with the Ministry of the Interior to build a dozen oil platforms off the coast of southern Vietnam in the disputed territory of the Spratlys. They had dug their heels in deep with a man who could give the Sicilian mafia a run for their money. Carson Oil had huge investments in China, so the Vietnamese government thought that C.R.’s leverage might be to their benefit as they explored the oil capacities of the disputed territories off their coast. They had not anticipated a personal matter getting in their way. Now they had a mad dog inside their borders, cornered and ready to attack.

PICK UP your Kindle copy for only 99 cents! Very limited time offer! ON SALE HERE!

“Beauty Rising” – A Beauty of a Read – Kindle 99 cents – Limited Time!

“Beauty Rising” – A Beauty of a Read – Kindle 99 cents – Limited Time!

I’m sure I’ll always have a soft spot for my debut novel, Beauty Rising, which is still less than two years away from its release date.

I’m happy to offer it on Kindle for only 99 cents for a very limited time! Please pick up a copy if you haven’t read it yet, and pass on word to fellow readers. It has 85 reviews on Amazon to peruse, so you should be able to get a good idea whether its your kind of story or not.

I think it will be. Many have described it as a late coming-of-age-story. That’s a fair description. It’s all about Martin, his dying Vietnam vet father, and, My-Phuong, the lady he inadvertently meets on his unexpected trip to Vietnam.

It’s a quick, gripping read that will keep you guessing and thinking. Especially the explosive ending.

Give it a try, and thanks for your support!

Read reviews and purchase Beauty Rising HERE!

Beauty Rising Mark W Sasse