Author of Suspense, Ghost stories, Speculative Fiction, and More . . .
Thursday, April 6, 2023
Wednesday, February 15, 2023
SEEKERS: Apocalypse in Eden Book 2
From Wordcrafts Press
CHAPTER ONE
Jack
We came on across the dry land in our second Chrysler 300 with our trunk stuffed full of food and water. Every time we saw a market, or a farm with a greenhouse, we stopped to investigate and take whatever we could store and carry.
Snake stood for hours with his back paws on the floorboard and his forepaws on the broad console between the front seats. Turq, the turquoise-shirted Taker who had saved me from a painful death, occupied the shotgun seat to my right. He was my wingman. Carlos, my buddy the Harley rider, lay in the back seat on a mound of pillows and quilts, still healing from some of his burns even after all these weeks.
Thad, the attorney from my hometown of Eden, Texas perished in the firestorm we started in New Mexico. That’s also where we picked up Turq. We lost an attorney but gained a monster. Some would say we made an even trade. I wish Thad was here to appreciate the joke. He had a wicked dark sense of humor when he wasn’t drinking.
My mind wandered back over the last few days. The monotonous sand-toned landscape wanted to sing me to sleep. The hot air punching through the wide-open windows wanted to roast me.
We’d all grown accustomed to riding in the first car with no windows at all, thanks to the battle at the buffalo jump, so even though we’d picked up another Chrysler in Levelland—silver this time—we sometimes rolled down the windows instead of running the AC.
Carlos said the wind rushing through the car made him think he was back on his Harley before the battle that almost killed us. It made sense to me. Without radio or music of any kind, the sound of prairie wind probably seemed the same as riding on a motorcycle.
I stuck my head out the window to test my theory and to try and stay awake.
That’s when I saw the tall man in the distance. He stood beside a gray Dodge Challenger that had seen better days. His long scraggly hair fluffed around his face like cotton candy. His skin was pale.
Night traveler, I thought. No sunburn. No tan. Why’s he out in the daylight now? I had learned to be suspicious of everyone and everything.
I let the Chrysler slow.
He appeared to be filling the Challenger’s gas tank from a red and yellow plastic container exactly the way we’d been doing.
We were still a little way off, but on this stretched ribbon of earth, it was easy to see the man and his task.
“Whaddya think, Snake,” I said. “Good guy, or bad guy?”
My four-legged buddy whined in response. I believe he understands everything I say even though he is stone deaf.
Wednesday, January 18, 2023
Where Were You When You First Read Your Favorite Book?
Here's a question:
Do you remember where you were when you read certain books?I ask because I saw this picture on Pinterest and it took me right back to my childhood and Amelia Earhart:
It was in the early 70s and I was in a new home in a new neighborhood, with a different elementary school, and spending my first night in my new attic bedroom. It looked very similar to this picture from Pinterest, except there was only one narrow bed and my flower-power bedspread and curtains were purple and pink with hints of turquoise and yellow. They were quite psychedelic, truth be told, made by my seamstress mom who could whip up anything on her Singer sewing machine.
The tiny room was so cozy. So cool. I’ll never forget the feeling of sitting on the floor under my very own reading lamp, back against the bed, legs criss-crossed in the middle of the giant orange floor pillow I’d asked Santa to bring me from last year’s Wishbook. Yep, it was my world, all my own.
I read a lot of books in that attic bedroom over the years, but it’s that first book, a biography of Amelia Earhart, that sticks with me the most. Maybe it was being the only person on the second floor, able to gaze out my small window and see the entire sleeping neighborhood, that made me feel somehow connected to, AE, the legendary pilot. Maybe it was just the room and the book ... I'm not sure.
There were many other books after that, Silver Chief, Dog of the North being one of my favorites, but it was downstairs in a different bedroom--okay, my sister's bedroom, long story--that I discovered my love of scary books. Come back next week and I'll tell you more about that.
And please, by all means, leave a comment and tell me about your book memories.
Till next time, stay cool and read everything you can while your eyes are young.
Ann Swann
Afterthought: I've got some books to give away ... stay tuned.
Thursday, December 1, 2022
TAKERS: Apocalypse in Eden - Audio Book!
"A fast moving book, dark, and bloody."
Jack is in the school basement looking at a nerdy website on a laptop computer when the lights go out and the world as he knows it comes crashing down. When he makes his way upstairs after "the rip," monsters are everywhere. He seems to be the only survivor ... but will he survive the Takers?Leave a comment if you would like a REVIEW copy of the audio book (a few US and UK copies available).
Audible: https://www.audible.com/pd/B0BLMFV77D?asin=B0BLMFV77D
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BLMDFQK7/
Apple iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/audiobook/takers-apocalypse-in-eden-book-1-unabridged/id1653411414
Net Galley review of book
Horror meets mysticism
Takers, by Ann Swann, surprised me.
Our main character is a kid named Jack. He’s in his school’s basement, sent to get some supplies as he and his friends do a little decorating before a big event. When he comes out of the basement, everything has changed. Suddenly, Jack is on his own in a very dangerous world!
Now, if you read horror or apocalyptic fiction, you’ll start by feeling like you read this before.
But soon, you notice that our critters are doing some really odd things. You’ll notice that the level of violence (which is huge) is tempered by a an underlying mysticism. And you’ll soon notice that you have NOT read this one before.
This is a fast moving, bloody, and dark book – and it’s got some awesome musical references. Aside from the aforementioned underlying mysticism, there’s a religious aspect to it. It’s not a preachy book, but the religious aspect plays a very direct role in what happens here. Note further that, even though our main character is a kid not yet in high school, this is by no means a kid’s book or even YA. This is Horror/SF for adults.
The book does end on a bit of a cliffhanger. I hate those, normally, but in this case I have some suspicions about a certain strange character and I really want to know if I’m right. I would happily read the next book in this series!
Our main character is a kid named Jack. He’s in his school’s basement, sent to get some supplies as he and his friends do a little decorating before a big event. When he comes out of the basement, everything has changed. Suddenly, Jack is on his own in a very dangerous world!
Now, if you read horror or apocalyptic fiction, you’ll start by feeling like you read this before.
But soon, you notice that our critters are doing some really odd things. You’ll notice that the level of violence (which is huge) is tempered by a an underlying mysticism. And you’ll soon notice that you have NOT read this one before.
This is a fast moving, bloody, and dark book – and it’s got some awesome musical references. Aside from the aforementioned underlying mysticism, there’s a religious aspect to it. It’s not a preachy book, but the religious aspect plays a very direct role in what happens here. Note further that, even though our main character is a kid not yet in high school, this is by no means a kid’s book or even YA. This is Horror/SF for adults.
The book does end on a bit of a cliffhanger. I hate those, normally, but in this case I have some suspicions about a certain strange character and I really want to know if I’m right. I would happily read the next book in this series!
BOOK TWO, SEEKERS, will be here SOON!
Saturday, September 24, 2022
CHRISTMAS ROMANCE
A CROSSBOW CHRISTMAS
Loneliness is a hard task master. Can Carina write herself a better Christmas?
You know how it is, life breaks your heart, but you survive. You work at stitching things back together and after a while it begins to seem better. Until sometime in the quiet curve of the day or in the middle stretch of a lonely night, you realize blood is still seeping. Just a little. Seeping out between the stitches. Drowning you in sorrow.
Carina read what she had written, frowned, then closed the journal. Geez. Talk about a pity party. Even my teenage journal wasn’t this bad.
Turning the page, she wrote, Dear Lord, please direct me back to my happiness. This pity stuff is pathetic.
She underlined the word pathetic three times for emphasis, then she pushed the pen into the little elastic holder on the side of the journal and stared out the picture window at the still-green grass of the front lawn.
There had been very little winter in West Texas this year. January, that’s when the freeze will hit. Maybe even February, but not December. Nope, not December. No white Christmas for us. Not in Landon.
Order now at www.5Princebooks.com/annswann.html
or directly at Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BFRV2K8Z
A CHRISTMAS TO REMEMBER
A
CHRISTMAS ANTHOLOGY
OF NOVELLAS BY
BERNADETTE MARIE
ANN SWANN
AMY L. GALE
S.J. REISNER
JESSICA MEHRING
EMILY BYBEE
EMERSYN KANE
PreOrder now at www.authorAnnSwann.com
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Friday, August 26, 2022
National Dog Day - Snake, the Dog
In Honor of National Dog Day
Snake, the Dog
When I was a little girl, we were given a German Shepherd pup named Droopy. I don’t remember who gave us the big, sweet mutt, because we only had him a few days before he got distemper and died a horrible, puking death.
That’s when Snakeman entered the family. I was only five, and Mom said she was just plain ignorant. We didn’t know distemper lived in the soil for up to six months after an infected animal has been there.
The Snake was six months old when my stepdad, Bull, brought him home. Snake was a big reddish-brown dog, half boxer, half pit-bull, and when he was happy, he smiled and wiggled from the top of his broad, black nose to the tip of his short, stub tail.
Bull named him Simon, but the dog wiggled so much, as most boxers do, that Bull often commented, “that silly dog has hips like a snake.” So in the course of a few days, he went from being called Simon to being called Snakehips, then Snakeman, and later just Snake, or The Snake.
He got distemper immediately. It made Mama furious. The vet hadn’t told her about the germ living on in the soil, and he hadn’t been able to save Droopy, so she took it upon herself to save The Snake.
She rubbed his chest with Vicks VapoRub, gave him baby aspirin for the fever, and force fed him chicken noodle soup to rehydrate him after he began throwing up the same way poor Droop had done. I don’t remember what she did for the diarrhea, but I’m sure he had that, too.
In addition to the VapoRub and soup, Mama wrapped Snake in a blanket and slept with him on the couch. She also informed him that he was not allowed to die because there was no way she was going through that again, so he’d better get it in his head that he was going to live. It took about three days of Vicks, baby aspirin, and chicken noodle soup, but he pulled through. And brother, let me tell you, that dog knew he was part of the family by the time he’d knocked on Heaven’s door and no one answered. He would have laid down his life for Mama, or for any one of us. I like to believe we would have done the same for him. In short, that old Snake was “some dog.”
©AnnSwann
If you would like to read more about Snakeman, here is a link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1535056681/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i15
Oh, my goodness – one used copy in paperback.
The photo on the back of TAKERS (the cover below) is the fictionalized version of Snake. He is also in that novel. I dearly love his judgmental expression. www.authorAnnSwann.com
Friday, August 12, 2022
YA HORROR NOVEL LAUNCHES APOCALYPSE IN EDEN TRILOGY
Takers: Apocalypse in Eden Book 1
PURGATORY SPIT OUT ITS SOULS ON EDEN, TEXAS. NOW THERE’S HELL TO PAY.
Popular Young Adult novelist Ann Swann and WordCrafts Press are thrilled to announce the relaunch of the intense new YA horror series, Apocalypse in Eden, with the re-release of Swann’s 2016...
TAKERS - BOOK 1
Instead of searching for crepe paper to decorate the gym for the dance, I pulled over an empty bucket to sit on, opened Cade’s computer, and pulled up one of my favorite nerdy science websites. Dr. D’s Adventures in Dimensions was run by a university professor who tried to use physics to explain the unexplainable.
The website sprang to life. Then the lights went out.
For a moment, my skin tightened up around me like an old leather glove, but then I remembered the wind. It sometimes messed with the power in our little town. Thankfully I still had the laptop’s screen light. I figured the power would come back on in a few minutes like it always did.
Amazon https://tinyurl.com/3bdbb5e4
Wordcrafts https://www.wordcrafts.net/ann-swann/
B&N https://tinyurl.com/2p94hd7k
Sunday, August 9, 2020
EXCERPT ~ TELEPHONE ROAD
Chapter One: Twenty-Three Steps
When I walked into the long narrow art gallery behind my roommate, Joanna, it felt as if I were being funneled toward him. Preston Stevensen. Perfect hair and a smirk for a smile, he appeared to be the man of the hour. Even gazing at me over the head of a ponytailed patron in a slick, yellow shirt, he somehow made me feel like the center of attention.
Twenty-three steps.
His eyes were on me the whole way.
My name is Marlena Matthews. Joanna calls me Marlena “Miss Priss” Matthews. She thinks I’ve led a sheltered small-town life and she’s right. That’s why I felt so fortunate to be accidentally paired with her my freshman year. We were both serious students.
Joanna’s friend, Antonio, is the one who invited us to the Visual Arts Gallery. He had several pieces of his beautiful high-glaze pottery on display.
But nothing compared to Preston’s art. It took up the entire back wall. Every piece featured some sort of wide-slashed mouth or other wide-open gash. Some of the mouths were created from melted red lipstick and some were splash-painted on canvas; a couple were fashioned of metal, then shellacked onto blank mannequin faces made of charred or broken plastic. I overheard a girl walking ahead of us refer to the mouths as Freudian. “Yeah,” her companion snickered. “All about sex. Weird sex." They both laughed behind their hands.
Twenty-three steps. Each one carried me closer and closer to the guy who would change my entire life. In hindsight it seems obvious that Preston’s art should have been a big red flag. But Joanna didn’t call me Miss Priss, The Sheltered One, for nothing.
Tuesday, August 4, 2020
RELEASE DAY ~ TELEPHONE ROAD ~
"You can't always depend on others.
Sometimes you have to save yourself."
Stalked, assaulted, and left for dead, Marlena thinks her life is over. Then she meets Destiny and they decide to take matters into their own hands. For these two, justice has a new meaning. It's called revenge.
 |
| http://www.5Princebooks.com/annswann.html |
Stalked, assaulted, and left for dead, Marlena thinks her life is over. Then she meets Destiny and they decide to take matters into their own hands. For these two, justice has a new meaning. It's called revenge.
REVIEW:
I started this book at 10 am and put it down for the first time when I read the last word at 7 pm. Wow. What a genre-bender! Twists and turns I didn't see coming kept me turning pages - that the writing was wonderful. I felt like I traveled with the flawed characters on that roller coaster. The ending will stay with me a long time, wondering what I would have done.
Highly recommend it!
Highly recommend it!
NEW EXCERPT:
I pulled my sweater close. The air grew crisp as the sun went down. The giant moon rose even higher.
“How about a cup of hot cider?” Jimmy asked.
I nodded. “I’ll lay claim to a table before they’re all gone.” I couldn’t believe how quickly they were filling up. It appeared the entire town had turned out. I’d heard about these dances, seen them mentioned in the weekly newspaper and on Facebook, but I’d never attended one. My high school friends had called them lame. Said they were for the old folks. The old “settlers.” Guess something had changed my tune. Perhaps it was just being away from home for the past few months, or maybe it was Jimmy. Nothing seemed lame with him.
He proved to be an excellent dancer, too.
“Do you have to know how to waltz and two-step when you own a ranch?” I asked as he steered me around the floor.
“Oh, sure.” He swung me in a tight circle. “I practiced on the steers every night growing up.” When the song ended, he said, “And what about you, Miss I’ve-never-been-to-a-Settlers’-Day-dance? You’re holding your own pretty well for a newbie.”
I felt a little heat rise to my cheeks. “If I tell you, will you promise not to laugh?”
He crossed his heart and held up his fingers like a boy scout. “I would never laugh. Dancing is serious stuff.”
I elbowed him in the ribs as we made our way back to our little table. There had been a Sharpie marker tucked in amongst the tiny pumpkins and we’d immediately decorated the round gourds with mustaches and triangular eyes, then Jimmy signed his with a flourish so of course I did the same. I think that’s why no one sat there while we were dancing. The little pumpkins turned out to be excellent placeholders.
“So? Are you going to fess up or do I have to tickle it out of you?” He made crawly fingers in the air.
“No, no. You don’t have to bring out the tickle-spiders. I’ll tell you.” I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one was listening, and then I leaned toward him and whispered, “Lana and I took dance lessons one summer. We learned all the basics plus a few line dances, too.”
Jimmy threw his head back and laughed out loud.
“Hey!” I slapped his knee. “You promised not to laugh.”
He couldn’t seem to stop. “Sorry. It’s too good not to laugh.” Grinning, he leaned back in his folding chair and tried to get control of himself. “At least now I know why you had the cowgirl footwear.”
I looked down at my beautiful turquoise-inlaid boots. “You didn’t think I bought them just for tonight, did you?”
That shut him up. “Well, maybe I did. I mean—”
I let him off the hook. “Oh, it’s all right.” I patted him on the arm. “You can’t help it if you’re a guy.”
AFTERTHOUGHT: Leave a comment on this post to be entered to win a FREE Ebook ~ or go to https://www.authorannswann.com and sign up for my reader's list to be entered to win a paperback.
Wednesday, July 8, 2020
TELEPHONE ROAD ~ Revenge Fiction
Available for Preorder Now through Aug. 4th
Stalked, assaulted, and left for dead, Marlena thinks her life is over. Then she meets Destiny and they decide to take matters into their own hands. For these two, justice has a new meaning. It's called revenge.
Stalked, assaulted, and left for dead, Marlena thinks her life is over. Then she meets Destiny and they decide to take matters into their own hands. For these two, justice has a new meaning. It's called revenge.
Excerpt:
The remains of the sunset reflecting across the rippling water drew me to lean down and dip my fingers into the cold, bubbling flow. The sounds lent a storybook feel to the scene. The air was cool and still, fragrant with the loamy, nose-tickling scent of damp earth and fresh water. Multicolored leaves and drifts of pine needles carpeted the ground, softening our steps and turning the whole area into a painter’s fall palette.
I sat cross-legged on the plaid blanket he’d spread. “This is kind of amazing,” I admitted around a mouthful of pizza. “How’d you find it?”
Preston looked into the distance. “I spend a lot of time in the woods,” he said. “It’s my refuge. I just needed you to share it with me.”
He looked at me and I knew, suddenly and without a shred of doubt, that I had made a huge mistake. His light blue eyes had gone as cold as the water in the creek.
I tried not to panic, tried to keep my suspicions in check, but alarm bells clanged inside my head. “It’s really beautiful,” I said. “Thank you for sharing it with me.” I put one hand down to push myself to my feet. “Now I’ve really got to get bac—”
He grabbed my shoulder, forcing me to remain seated on the blanket. For a moment, I had a ridiculous hope that he was playing, roughhousing the way Jim and I had done. But when he held me there, when his other hand clamped down on my opposite shoulder, when he smashed me backward onto the remains of the pizza, I knew this was no game.
“Stop!” I cried. “What are you—?”
His face came closer and closer, his lips questing.
I jerked my head from side to side. “Preston, stop! What’re you doing?”
His weight pinned me to the blanket, his hard chin dug into the side of my neck. He tried to hold my face still without using his hands.
“I love you.” His voice had gone as hard and cold as his eyes. “I know you love me, too. I don’t know why you won’t show it.”
His lips found mine and he let go of my right shoulder long enough to tangle his fingers into my hair.
My head was trapped. Anger crashed through my body. I jerked my head aside to get his mouth off mine. Strands of my hair were ripped out of my scalp, but suddenly my hands were fighting, clawing, raking at his face, his clothing, his skin. Anything to get him off me.
He tightened his grip on my hair, but his other hand came up holding the campfire lighter. Just as he depressed the trigger to ignite it, my right hand found the wine bottle lying on its side. I wrapped my fingers around the neck of the bottle and swung it through the air, smashing it into the side of his head with as much force as I could muster.
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