Readers & Support

Hi Everyone, and once again I welcome you.2(1)

Reviews are so important to an author, and as you all know a good review…an honest review is like gold and the thing is they are so hard to come by…why? Not because the book in question is bad but because most readers out there in this big wide world of our do not have the time to go back and do a review or else do not realize just how important their feedback is to the author.12003371_700178953446259_1368152052017028245_n

Word of mouth is one of the most powerful tools that an author can hope for. It is all well and good shouting out from the top of a skyscraper about the books that you have written…but in reality that does not drum up sales, after all you are beating your own drum…far better if someone else beats it for you.11224052_1075405575804918_3075480545506251439_n

That brings me to my point for today…SUPPORT.

By way of this media I would like to say Thank you to all that are Friends on Facebook and all that are out there on Twitter. The support that I have received has been mind boggling…the number of shares my books get on Facebook…the number of RT’S and Likes on Twitter is really awesome…plus a huge Thank you to everyone out there that follows me on Twitter.

Now just a bit of news regarding my sixth Piet van Zyl Adventure Thriller…Cry of the Fish Eagle…CotFE CVR 1dFsoon to be released by Vanilla Heart Publishing. There is no need to get any feathers ruffled…the book is due for release soon…by the 24/8/2016 and just too wet your appetite…here is a small taste of what is to come.


 The wind whips up dust devils, throwing the burnt ashes up into the clear blue African sky as the convoy of trucks slowly move into the area behind the burnt out remains of what was once David and Adele’s home, to be greeted by the bark of baboon high up on the kopjes surrounding the area.

The work on the smallholding is slow under the burning sun, as the men labour their bodies gleaming with the perspiration running in rivulets down their bodies. The sound of singing fills the air as brick by brick; the remains of the house are removed, until all that is left is the foundations and concrete flooring.

The first pickaxe hits the foundations; the shock of the blow runs up the handle. Vibrating in the hands of the man that holds the instrument, the pickaxe is raised up high, and brought down again, bits of brick and concrete flying. Soon there is a line of men attacking the foundations, striking again and again the vibrations sending ripples of shockwaves down into the soil beneath the foundations.

The earth below shifts slowly moves and then settles, small stones fall into the cavern below, striking the rocky floor, and bounce like marbles, the sound echoing along the dark lightless passage.

Something stirs in the darkness, a rustle, the sound of dry leaves being rubbed together, a hiss like gas escaping and then silence falls once again joining the pitch blackness of the underground tomb.


The man wakes with his body covered in perspiration, looks about the gloomy interior of the hut catching his breath as if he had been running from something; something in his dream. The smell from the wood fire fills his nostrils as he breathes in deeply allowing his head to clear, remnants of his dream hanging in the air.

He feels fear, not for himself but for the others, the white hunter will die if he is not warned. The one that walked in the darkness is in grave danger for he has the strength that the other one will seek.

The wizard pulls his crippled body from the bed, drags himself over to the remains of the fire, starts to feed the flames and as they dance in the gloom of the hut he chants, his body swaying like a cobra waiting to strike.

A powder is added to the flames, blue and green colours mingle with orange and red, and a strong stench fills the hut as the wizard inhales the smoke. His eyes roll back in their sockets his body goes into a spasm as he sees what the ancestors reveal.

The man loses consciousness, drool running from his mouth as his body twitches in spasms. The words “Venit diabolus” hang in the stillness of the hut.

Outside in the clearing the hyenas howl their anguish and flee into the dense African bush.



There you have it…I hope that you are ready…it could be a touch scary, but then again you never know what is watching from the shadows….and this is Africa where death lurks in the dark…so, Take Care and Stay safe.images (31)


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