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Interview with David S. Brody, author of The Oath of Nimrod

Title: The Oath of Nimrod

Author: David S. Brody

Publisher: Eyes That See

Pages: 283

Genre: Historical Suspense

Format: Paperback/Ebook

A mysterious race of North American giants.

An ancient Hebrew inscription in a Cherokee burial mound.

A blood oath made by blindfolded Freemasons.

Are these three historical oddities the reason the CIA is trying to brainwash historian Cameron Thorne and his fiancée Amanda Spencer-Gunn? The answer lies buried in the legends of the Knights Templar, within the rituals of the secretive Freemasons and, most significantly of all, inside the bowels of the Smithsonian Institution. The problem for Cam and Amanda? If they go rummaging around the Smithsonian, they may find themselves buried alongside the ancient giants.

For More Information

  • Oath of Nimrod is available at Amazon.

Q: Welcome to The Writer’s Life, David S. Brody. Can you tell us a little bit about yourself and how long you’ve been writing?

A: Most people know the line, “Paul is a real estate novelist,” from Billy Joel’s song, “The Piano Man.” That’s me. I’m a real estate attorney by trade, one of those frustrated lawyers who always wanted to be a writer. I had been writing off and on since college, but I became serious about it not long after my oldest daughter was born in 1994. Suddenly my wife and I found ourselves tethered to our home. We both had always wanted to write, so we put together a schedule (alternating writing with diaper duty) and each pounded out our first novel. The Oath of Nimrod is my seventh novel. That Billy Joel song still makes me smile.

Q: Can you please tell us about your book and why you wrote it?

A: The Oath of Nimrod is a continuation of the “hidden history” themes I began exploring in Cabal of the Westford Knight. These novels are set in modern times but are triggered by artifacts scattered around North America that seem to point to European explorers arriving here long before Columbus. I call this series the “Templars in America” series as many of these artifacts point to the Knights Templar as being foremost among these early explorers.

I was first inspired to write this novel when I came across dozens of newspaper accounts from the 1800s recounting the unearthing of giant human skeletons by farmers and other American pioneers. (When I say ‘giant,’ I am referring to skeletons ranging from 7.5 feet to 12 feet in height). There were simply too many of these accounts to dismiss them all as hoaxes or mistakes. Further, these skeletons seemed to be consistent with Native American legends of a race of warlike giants centered south of the Great Lakes. My research came full circle when I discovered that the Freemasons, whom many believe were heirs to the outlawed Knights Templars, conduct secret rituals and possess ancient customs honoring one of the Biblical giants, Nimrod. Who were these giants, I wondered, and how did they get here? And are they related to the Biblical giants revered by the Freemasons?

Q: What were some of the biggest challenges you faced writing it?

A: Trying to find evidence of ancient giants can be frustrating—there are many newspaper accounts of unearthed skeletons, but most skeleton bones have decayed over the decades and a 1989 federal law required that all bones still extant be reburied. Likewise, gaining access to Masonic secrets and rituals is always a challenge. So I had to do a lot of digging—for both bones and secrets.

Q: Do you have a press kit and what do you include in it? Does this press kit appear online and, if so, can you provide a link to where we can see it?

A: My press kit includes a book synopsis, book description, author bio, cover shot, and author photo. All of these items can be downloaded from my website,

Q: Have you either spoken to groups of people about your book or appeared on radio or TV? What are your upcoming plans for doing so?

A: I have a number of speaking engagements scheduled with Masonic groups around New England. In addition, I will be appearing as a guest expert on the History Channel series, Search for the Lost Giants (premieres November, 2014). I will also be appearing as a guest expert on an episode of New England Legends, airing on PBS channels in Rhode Island and Massachusetts (October-November, 2014).

Q: Do you have an agent and, if so, would you mind sharing who he/is is? If not, have you ever had an agent or do you even feel it’s necessary to have one?

A: I do not have an agent. I was fortunate enough to have success with my first novel without the assistance of an agent, and have never retained one since.

Q: Did you, your agent or publisher prepare a media blitz before the book came out and would you like to tell us about it?

A: New Shelves, out of Troy, New York, is handling the promotion and media blitz for this book. Their work includes social media, virtual touring, media outreach, review solicitation, and author page management.

Q: Do you plan subsequent books?

A: I have written four novels in this “hidden history” series and am currently working on a fifth.

Q: Thank you for your interview, David. Would you like to tell my readers where they can find you on the web and how everyone can buy your book?

A: The easiest way to buy this book, and my previous ones, is on Amazon: . They are also available on Kindle and Nook.

For More Information

David S. Brody is a Boston Globe bestselling fiction writer named Boston’s “Best Local Author” by the Boston Phoenix newspaper. A graduate of Tufts University and Georgetown Law School, he is a former Director of the New England Antiquities Research Association (NEARA) and is an avid researcher in the subject of pre-Columbian exploration of America. He has appeared as a guest expert
on documentaries airing on History Channel, Travel Channel, PBS and Discovery Channel.


Contact David.

Interview with Daron Kenneth, author of Pieces of Me

Title: Pieces of Me

Genre: Poetry

Author: Daron Kenneth

Publisher: AuthorHouse

Pages: 108

Language: English

ISBN – 978-1-46852-289-1


Pieces of Me, is Daron Kenneth’s newest offering of poetry that takes the reader on the real and often surreal ride through the mindscape of the author’s soul. Pieces of Me is an electric journey into some of life’s richest and most memorable moments.

Purchase your copy:


Can you please tell us about your book and why you wrote it?
My books are merely my personal reflections on the things that I observe and that they were things that inspired me to write about.
What were some of the biggest challenges you faced writing it?
The biggest challenges are being able to retain a books interest and to try to have the reader see things from the point of view even after it is finished.
Do you plan subsequent books?
I’ve written seven books now and even though they are all different from each other they are all similar. I plan to write more short stories, they are my favorite.
When and why did you begin writing?
I began writing in high school when I took a creative writing course and started writing poetry. I’ve never stopped writing, I write every day.
What is your greatest strength as an author?
My ability to write in a way that is describing something in an interesting (or hopefully interesting way).
Did writing this book teach you anything?
The writing of this book has taught me that I need to write things from points of view. I write when I am manic as well as depressed but should only write when I am in a manic state as it is when I am most descriptive.


Author, Daron Kenneth, a teacher, writer, play wright and poet gives us his current collection of poetry and insightful observations about the things that mean the most: life, love, friendships and relationships.

Would a Maharajah Sleep Here? by Stephen and Leanne Troy Book Feature

Title: Would a Maharajah Sleep Here?

Author: Stephen and Leanne Troy

Publisher: iUniverse

Pages: 324

Genre: Memoir

Format: Paperback/Kindle

Inspired by a movie, television show, book, or stories from friends, we may find ourselves daydreaming about trips to exotic locations with exciting adventures. For some lucky ones, these dreams become reality.

Would a Maharajah Sleep Here? presents firsthand stories of luxury travel and discovery by two fun and experienced travelers. Authors and travelers Stephen and Leanne Troy provide accounts of historic exploration, luxury hotel stays, and encounters with interesting people around the world. Each trip is private and planned in great detail to make sure each and every adventure is unique and experienced in five-star luxury. Chronicling their exploits at the end of each day, the Troys describe checking into the finest hotels in the world and getting whisked away for incredible tours of some of the world’s greatest treasures.

In addition to personal anecdotes, this travelogue shares information about sites, history, culture, and food in countries around the world. The Troys reveal the good, the bad, and, of course, the fun and funny events that they encountered on their trips around the globe.

Stephen Troy earned a BBA from the University of Miami in Florida. He is the founder, owner, and CEO of AeroFund Financial. He is also the author of Business Biographies: Shaken, Not Stirred … With a Twist. He and his wife, Leanne, have visited six continents and more than forty countries. They have three children, two grandchildren, and live in Carmel, California.

K-9 Cop First Chapter Reveal & Win Audiobook!

K-9 Cop 2Title: K-9 Cop: Case #1 The Dreck Report
Author: Erna Mueller
Publisher: Erna Mueller
Pages: 220
Genre: YA
Format: Paperback/Kindle

Purchase at AMAZON

No one thought as highly of Lieutenant Spencer Watley as he did himself. This selfish cop met 14 year-old Justin Andrews during an important stakeout. Determined to nab a group of cyber killers, he wasn’t going to let anything get in his way, especially a smart mouthed teenager like Justin.

After Spencer bids him good riddance, he is killed by the hackers and stands before the gates of heaven. But – what’s this? After a life of putting dangerous criminals behind bars, he’s locked out?

He yells at the angel blocking his entrance, only to find out he needs to go through the J.R.P. program before he can enter. That’s the Jerk Redemption program, otherwise known as sensitivity training boot camp, which to his horror consists of non-stop Oprah and Dr. Phil reruns. Or he can go back to earth and help Justin’s dysfunctional family. Spencer opts for the lesser of two evils, to help Justin.

But the Angel pulls a fast one on Spencer. He can only go back to earth in the body of his K9-Partner. Spencer refuses, but like it or not, Spencer becomes a dog. He falls back to earth and is slowly morphed into a dog that closely resembles a mop.

And if being a dog wasn’t bad enough, Spencer also swallowed an important microchip his killers need to hack into PC’s and steal millions. Now the criminals are hot on his trail for the only existing microchip that’s logged in his belly.

Justin and Spencer butt heads constantly; both are stubborn and willful, neither one wanting to give an inch. Spencer needs to find out what the killers are up to, so he swallows his pride and forms a bond with the boy. Spencer relays to Justin his past and together with the help of Justin’s girlfriend, Shahla; they discover the hacker’s plans. Spencer has broken down Justin’s reserve and he finally learns the meaning of unselfish love.

But it’s too late, the hackers have captured them.

Can Spencer maul the shins (and other choice areas) of his kidnappers and stop them from their evil plan?

Can a selfish man find a heart?

You bet. He just has to become a dog first.

First Chapter:

Justin Andrews’ heart pounded so hard he thought it would punch out his throat. He trudged across St. Ignatius High School’s elm tree shadowed lawn, trying to keep up with his father who strode briskly. The half hour spent in the principal’s office sent ruts of adrenaline coursing through Justin’s veins. Even the balmy Seattle afternoon didn’t lighten the day’s heavy mood. The skin peeking out the back of Mr. Andrews sport coat collar was already flushed red. It wasn’t sunburn.

A spring wind blew through the private school’s grand hall window. Solitude and long shadows contrasted with another day of classes and activities. The daily exodus of uniformed schoolboys took place an hour ago, without Justin.

He opened the computer lab door and politely stepped aside as his father entered the flower-scented room. Baskets of bright, freshly cut bouquets covered every flat surface, including half the floor. Condolence tags hung on most.

“You were lucky to get a scholarship to this school,” muttered his father, Eugene Andrews, as he steepled his hands and assumed a confident expression.

Mr. Andrews was thin as a rule, which even his hair obeyed, and his business suit hung on his spare frame in straight-ironed lines.

“We can barely afford their activity fees, and how do you show your appreciation? By spending valuable time in Principal Hammersmith’s office because of your usual antics!

I hope you were as embarrassed as I was.” Mr. Andrews’ red face had grown haggard, but he returned to his normal tone. “I’m trying my best to understand you, but it’s difficult when you act before you think.”

Justin stopped tapping the keys of one of the classroom computers. He brushed back his sandy colored hair and tried hard to look unruffled by his father’s venting. Tall for his thirteen years, his even features were dappled with impish freckles, and his deep blue eyes sparkled. He frowned, recollecting that Principal Hammersmith had accused him of having “an understated confidence that bordered on impudence.”

Vicky Andrews, Justin’s sixteen-year-old sister, lounged in a computer lab chair, black backpack on the floor, waiting to go. She plucked a daisy from one of the bouquets, broke off the stem and stuck the blossom in her hair. She casually twisted the hem of her black T-shirt and listened to the scolding, ready to spring in as mediator if needed. Her eyebrow ring and bright pink hair screamed independence; an attitude she freely cultivated in her public high school.

“Chill out, Dad,” Vicky said, as she chewed away on a sizable wad of gum. “You’re making such a big deal out of this.”

“Big deal? It’s a disgrace. Your brother pasted Principal Hammersmith’s face on a picture of a mountain goat.”

Vicky tried to muffle her giggle with little success.

Her father glared at her. “So you think it’s funny, do you?” he asked as he continued to pace the floor.


“Not how your mother and I raised you. Did you see his screensaver?”

Justin had photoshopped Sister Constance’s face on a female goat in a very compromising position with the Mr. Hammersmith goat. Eugene glared at the twenty- nine monitors of goat love, floating red chubby hearts and Cupid with a compound bow and lots of arrows, then he and Vicky high-fived one another behind their father’s back while he gazed once more at Justin’s computer animation.

Justin’s fingers tap-danced across keyboards. He deleted another goat screensaver and set it back to the original portrait of Principal Hammersmith’s stony face sternly guarding the entrance of St. Ignatius. More clicks, another computer, another step closer to undoing his creation. His father walked over to the window and his voice rose as he spoke to Vicky.

“It would be one thing if his disrespect was limited to the school, but . . .” He yanked the curtains wide open and pointed at the athletic field. The computer lab famous goat love played on the new billboard-sized screen looming over the football stadium. And at Main Street’s busy intersection. And on Interstate Five.

“This is an offense punishable by a year of kitchen duty.”

Justin’s father bobbed his head back and forth in that parental duck-neck way.

“I’m not even going to ask how you accomplished that.”

“It helps to know the operator.”

“You mean an adult helped you do that?”

“Yeah. A guy who works here at the school who operates the billboard liked it too. He downloaded The Love Hammer’s-”


“It’s the file name! Okay, Hammersmith. He had him as a teacher when he was in school, before Mr. Hammersmith became principal. Anyway, he wanted to pay me for the file of the screen saver image he saw in the lab.”

“You received money for that?” his father asked outraged. “No. I gave it to him for free.”

The veins in Mr. Andrews’ thin neck stood out in vivid ridges.

“Ah, come on, Dad, you know The Hammer, I mean Mr. Hammersmith had it in for me. It’s just not fair what he did to me.”

“You still need to have some respect for authority, Justin. Do you really believe your revenge was justified? That any revenge is justified? What if someone had done that to your mom’s picture?”

“No fair.” The words sank into a dark place within Justin’s mind where rationality always triumphed over emotion, and his breath caught. “Yeah, no, I was wrong, I’m sorry.”

“You’d better be sorry, though that’s not a big help now!” Mr. Andrews stopped pacing, leaned in and whispered, “I have to pay to have the whole newsletter reprinted and I still need to buy groceries. Do you want to know where the cash is coming from? Remember that allowance you had?”

Vicky’s slouch perked straight up. “Newsletter? What newsletter?”

“Justin put an obituary of Principal Hammersmith in the school’s newsletter.”

“Those weren’t supposed to get mailed. Besides, I’m writing a letter of apology, and you’ve got to admit,” he gestured to the bouquets, “the school did receive a lot of flowers. Aren’t they beautiful?” Justin smiled nervously then returned to de-goating the computer lab.

“You’re lucky they’re not going to expel you!”

Vicky raised a challenging pierced eyebrow. “The reason Justin wasn’t expelled was because of the special grants this school receives. His high test scores sure bumped up the school average. They’re not going to get rid of him.”

Mr. Andrews sighed and rubbed his face. “Maybe your Mom and I shouldn’t have let them put Justin two Grades ahead.”

“But he still gets straight A’s, Dad. Academics aren’t the issue. It’s Mom.”

“He still needs to learn discipline.”

“Come on now, it’s tough for Justin. Put yourself in his place. He’s only thirteen. Most of the other guys are already sixteen. They give him a hard time.”

“I’m almost fourteen, and I can take care of myself.” Justin puffed up as one more pair of amorous goats disappeared.

“He misses Mom,” Vicky sighed. “We all miss Mom. Don’t be so hard on him.”

Mr. Andrews’ cell phone played a disco jingle. He sighed before answering, “Eugene Andrews. Yes Ma’am. Sales projections ready by tonight. Fine.”

Vicky winced and gave a pained expression as the call ended.

“Look, I have to get back to work before I get fired,” Mr. Andrews said to Vicky and blew a heavy sigh. He straightened his tie, and picked lint off his sleeve as he crossed the room.

“As for you, young man,” Mr. Andrews said looking back at Justin, “you’ll receive your punishment tonight after dinner.” Dad slammed the classroom door behind him.

A vision of stacks of dirty dishes and a lonely soapy sink hovered in Justin’s mind. “I know Dad’s going to ground me until I’m eligible for Medicare. After I finish changing these screen savers I’m going to the park. I need to be alone.”

Vicky patted him on the shoulder. “If I want to find you, you’ll be in your tree, right?”

Justin’s mind drifted again. He gazed through an unseen window in the fabric of space and time. Sister Constance and The Hammer – how dare they attack his family? Especially his mother!

Memories of her replayed so high-res in his mind, he almost smelled her favorite lilies-of-the-valley scent perfuming the room’s air. He remembered when he had run into snags building a model airplane. His mother had drilled into him how one can do anything if one only sets their mind to it. He built the plane. Quick to punish Justin when he blew up the plane, she was just as quick to forgive him as he stood before her with his guilt-ridden face. She knew he hadn’t thought through the danger and that he really was sorry. She loved him unconditionally.

Mom had been a devout Catholic all her life, and she never lost that all-important cool factor, making the Andrews home an extremely popular sleepover spot with young people in the neighborhood. Once, Dad had pulled over to help change a mini-van’s flat tire. By the time Mom had finished chatting up the family, everyone was laughing. The guy said, “I’m almost glad I had the flat.” They got a Christmas card from them last season.

And music, she had loved music. One could find her strumming her guitar in church with the priest (who sported dreadlocks) and grooving with the choir to the newest rock music. She sang her heart out. If she hadn’t met Justin’s dad, she most certainly would have become a great nun, probably one of those wisecracking ones whom the parishioners loved to be around.

She even invited strangers to her sing-alongs, Jews, Protestants, Muslims and even an Atheist or two “for good measure,” she would say, “God made us all and we all need to feel loved. It’s the meaning of life.” Then her eyes sparked like Justin’s.

Mother’s belief in giving people a second chance sat with the older traditionalist members of the church, such as Sister Constance, like Jack Sprat on a candlestick. The anti-guitar crowd, she called them. So it started with the lecture in Sister Con’s Middle Age church history class. Justin scribbled notes.

The nun’s stone-cold face never cracked a smile, and her fire and brimstone passion for the subject gave Justin the impression that her eyes swelled when describing torture or suffering and that she relished the horrible punishments imposed upon anyone called heretic.

He would have loved to shout out, “Why don’t you get Freddy Krueger, or better yet, Jason, armed with his trademark hockey mask and chainsaw; to finish off those nasty Atheists and Muslims, Sister Con?” If only.

Justin knew all the answers when Sister Constance drilled the class on historical dates, and the saints, but he spat them out with cynicism. The Sister’s face pruned in disapproval and venom dripped from her tone.

“I know your problem, Justin Andrews. Your mother was in my class when she was your age. What a disgraceful student! Oh, the trouble she stirred. How she questioned the tried and true values of the church was shameful. It is because of people like your mother that the church has turned into the liberal wasteland it is today and lost its rich history of traditions and disciplines.”

“You mean like the Spanish Inquisition?” Justin asked with a righteous passion.

So there he stood in front of Principal Hammersmith’s office, searching for a seat, fighting the queasiness in the pit of his stomach. He would never forgive Hammersmith for not hearing him out; for taking Sister Con’s side.

“I hunt troublemakers, young man. Some spirits need breaking.” He sat in his desk chair, stoic. “You are wasting your God-given talents in technology for mischief and scandalous behavior.”

Justin survived this hour-long lecture on obedience and reverence, and even prevailed against The Hammer’s angry looping finger, which was famous for “going off” once he started shifting foot to foot. That was when you knew that whatever you had done was not worth it.

At a pause in that scolding sermon, Justin attempted to wedge in an explanation, “But–”

“Don’t you interrupt me, young man. This is another example of your impudence.” The Hammer’s finger wagged higher and looped with greater fury.

“Hey Justin, you awake?” Vicky snapped her fingers in front of Justin’s face.

He blinked and stammered.

Vicky looked scared. “Justin, are you okay? You’re always drifting off into never never land.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking about Mom again.”

“They say as time goes by it doesn’t hurt as much. But time has gone by, and we still miss her,” sighed Vicky.

One thing about Vicky, Justin thought as he continued to destroy another example of his digital artwork, was that she understood him, which was more than he could say for his father.


Erna is giving away one audiobook of K-9 COP!

Terms & Conditions:

  • By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
  • One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter.
  • This giveaway begins October 6 and ends Dec 19.
  • Winner will be contacted via email on Monday, Dec 22.
  • Winner has 48 hours to reply.

Good luck everyone!


a Rafflecopter giveaway