Weird Science – SFR Brigade’s Summer Cafe – Main Course Needs a Beverage


Our Rafflecopter giveaway

And there’s the links I need. Please check out all the other awesome authors, you’ll love them. I’ll be giving away at least two Kindle copies of my current novel The Vista.

All you have to do is leave a comment here and you’re in!

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Many of us are familiar with the fact cops live on coffee. So what if coffee as we know it simply didn’t exist? Here’s a great recipe for campfire coffee or a tasty treat right in your home.

Strong Campfire Coffee
(adjust to your taste)

1 cup water
2 tbsp ground Chicory
2 tbsp ground coffee beans
1/4 cup clean egg shell
1/4 cup woodchips (hickory, apple, your choice)
optional – a pinch of cinnamon
optional – ground vanilla bean
optional – cream
optional – honey

Step 1 – combine Chicory, coffee, cinnamon, and water in a pot. Bring to a boil and remove from heat.
Step 2 – in a cloth bag , add egg shell, vanilla, and woodchips. Steep in the hot liquid for a few minutes (to taste; the longer it steeps, the richer the coffee). Remove bag.
Step 3 – filter coffee through a clean cloth. Add cream and honey if desired. Enjoy hot.

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The Vista, available now.

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The Vista

The Vista: Book 1 of The Wildblood series takes place in the near-future where the Earth has been nearly emptied of human beings by a short and devastating world war. Venturing beyond the safety of their valley may be the best move Security has ever made; it’s absolutely the most dangerous.

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Excerpt from The Vista

Something worked around the edges of his thoughts, distracting him already and it was before breakfast. The sensation became a little clearer, then it was gone. There was no point trying to ignore it. Vance gave in, heading to the City Center on a day he’d hoped to get away from it.

“Get Caulder and Cooper in here to see me as soon as you hear from them,” he told his sentry. Then he sat down for a cup of tea. Chamomile, fairly appropriate, considering. He’d need more than tea to calm things down if what he believed he’d sensed had actually happened.

There was a soft rap on the door shortly and both men appeared. “What’s today’s objective?” Caulder, JT, wondered for both of them.

“No, nothing so organized as that,” Vance said. “It’s my day off.”

Cooper knew better. “That means something unexpected has reared its ugly head and we get to go clean it up.”

They were damned near half his age. Going out for weeks at a time didn’t bother them. Getting into a fight didn’t either. “JT, do you remember that recurring problem we had up north?”

“Up north,” he repeated, crossing his arms and thinking about it.

“Up north,” Vance agreed.

“Do you mean that little enclave with a batch of active Altereds?”

“I do.”

“How many are a ‘batch’?” Cooper wondered. He barely remembered the big war, but the smaller ones, hell, he’d been involved in a lot of those. This didn’t sound good on any front.

“I don’t know. We tend to be drawn to each other, or at least, after civilization left us. The part that concerns me is the active part.” Vance had no illusions that this wouldn’t become a problem. “At the very least there are two.”

“Two?” Cooper repeated. “Are two a concern?”

“These two are,” JT said.

Cooper put together conversations he’d heard. “Are these the ones in Montana?”

JT and Vance nodded. “Except sometimes they aren’t in Montana,” Vance continued. “Sometimes they wander about to see the sights. We try to keep tabs on them, but clearly it’s not an easy thing to do because of a lot of reasons, not the least being distance, weather and the fact they are active.”

“And that’s why we’re here,” JT said.

“Where are they now?” Cooper asked.

“If the weather stays good, you could probably have lunch with them tomorrow,” Vance said.

“Ah, Christ, tell me they aren’t snooping around NORAD,” JT groaned.

“I could tell you that,” Vance said. “Or I could tell you they were there yesterday.”

“What do we do about it?” Cooper wondered.

“Nothing,” Vance said. “For now. Nothing may come of this. It all depends on Rafe.”

“He took up residence damned close to NORAD a few years ago,” Cooper remembered.

“A few,” JT agreed. “He won’t react well to this.”

“If he even knows,” Cooper said.

“He knows,” Vance said. “He has eyes everywhere.”

“So we wait for Rafe to make a move?” Cooper asked.

“We stay the hell out of his way,” JT said. “We’ll live longer.”

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S. A. Hoag is an author, lapidary artist, very amateur astronomer (“I just look at the stars, I can’t name ’em.”), and accidental desert-dweller. Born in the middle of the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, more specifically Salida, she has lived in a number of cities in a number of states before crash-landing in the New Mexico desert. Not Roswell, however. Science Fiction has always been her first interest in reading and writing; many other genres sneak into the novels and that’s alright with her.

Where to find her –


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The Vista, available now.

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Just added! Release date set, here’s some promo for the new one.

Backlash is the prequel novella to The Wildblood series by S. A. Hoag. Set on a near-future Earth mostly devoid of humans, this reveals some of the harsh realities facing people of The Vista, and how Team Three began.


Blurb – Backlash

Before Team Three became Team Three, there was The Blackout.

Vista Security is used to the feral bands of human wandering the landscape since a brief and devastating war wiped away civilization. Sixteen years later, they’ve adapted to dealing with the challenges facing their safe haven.

That is, until a new threat appears, one they never expected and one they have little defense against. Security throws in everything they can muster; it quickly takes a toll. Their advantage – an untested team of officers barely more than children themselves; officers with dark secrets and a hidden agenda.

In a free-for-all battle to preserve one of the last sanctuaries of man, Team Three discovers their secrets are their strength and that their future will take them far beyond what they’ve ever known.

Action, a bit of romance and a good splash of sci-fi set the scene for Backlash, the prequel novella of The Wildblood series.

Backlash has a release date of June 22, 2015.

The Hardest Love Blog Tour

The Hardest Love Tour Banner

Having discovered how unreliable everyone’s memories are, I no longer trust anything I remember.

When I was a kid, I had a photographic memory and could also recall any conversation I’d had, even months after the event.

Now, I can barely remember the names of my characters in one of my books and characters from other books keep trying to creep in the new book.

So now I have to question if I really did have such a great memory when I was a kid, or did I just make that up to feel better about myself. If it was the later, it didn’t work, for I recall my brother pummeling me to the ground several time as I recited conversations we had in the past to prove him wrong on whatever we were fighting about. (We were constantly fighting—or so I recall.)

You see my problem, right? Once we start questioning the foundational memories of our lives, where does it stop?

Memories such as:
I was raised by feral cats.
Demented Cat

Okay, not REAL feral cats, just parents who were terrible at parenting. My mother was a bloody nightmare. Alcoholic, mistrusting, vitriolic, destructive…etc etc etc. Given my siblings agreed on these points, I’m thinking I remember that right.

But surely she was nice at times? Yet, I don’t have a single memory of her being so. However, one of my childhood diaries makes mention of a moment of loving her, so she must have had her nice moments, only I don’t remember any. I may have refused to remember the nice moments to protect my heart from her, for I barely survived with a solid barrier of mistrust and anger between us.

However, I remember a lot of great times with my dad. Yes, he did have the most frightening temper of anyone I knew, save my brother, who inherited his temper, poor fellow. When my dad wasn’t smashing some uncooperative device into smithereens, hitting some poor old man for driving too slow, or going off from one of the other thousands of triggers that could set him into a freaking madman, he was really funny, loving and playful. He would create really weird bed time stories that always had Uncle Sam as the villain robbing the hero blind. (If Dad were alive, he’d be a Tea Partier). The reason I call him a feral cat is because he had no sense of child safety and it is a wonder any of us survived. In total, he helped raise 5 kids and somehow managed not to lose any of us due to his poor childcare, so maybe he wasn’t as bad as I remember. I did learn to be fearless from growing up under his dubious care, because in my memory he seriously lacked safety sense.

Once, when I was about six, a doctor declared I had no chance of making it to adulthood. By that point I’d already required stitches under my chin when Dad let me ride in the tractor bucket, had my nose broken with a sickle, the muscles and tendons in my left ankle sliced by gardening shears, and gotten countless long rusty nails in my legs. Once he let us swing by a rope into the river, only there were big rocks to kill us if didn’t release and fall at the right time. Almost lost my little sister on that one. And these are only the incidents I remember. I’m pretty sure there were plenty more bleeding moments. My older sister has her own list which includes a lot of scary events before I born.

(Now, child welfare would have gotten involved. Back then, the doctor just made a joke about it.)

In The Hardest Love, Sam starts out hating his mother and dad. However, upon talking to others about their parents, or lack thereof, he discovers that he’d had the best childhood of anyone he knew. Why was he so angry at his parents? He’d been loved and cared for as a child. He still had those memories.

The Hardest Love (400x640)

The Hardest Love
A Long Road to Love Series
By Liza O’Connor



Sam has a new theory as to why his relationships with women never work. The problem is he’s constantly falling in love with women that he rescues from serious situations. He reasonably believes saving one from great harm should result not only in good sex afterwards, but never ending gratitude.

But it hasn’t been working out that way.

Sam’s conclusion: damsels in distress are incredibly ungrateful. So he decides the next woman he gets involved with will not require rescue. She will be strong and self-reliant.

Only problem: he’s never met a woman like that.

They do exist Sam. They really do. And just maybe, she’ll just rescue you instead.


mars Sam Aggie

“We will deal with this matter later. Sam, you are wanted elsewhere, and since you are off duty today, Miss Agnes, may I suggest you leave the campus and sharpen up your martial art skills so this incident never needs to repeat itself?”

Mars managed to remove her beautiful smile with his reprimand, which pissed Sam off. Before he could comment, his former boss gripped his arm and marched him down the hall.

“You didn’t have to be such a jerk,” he muttered.

“I let her off easy.”

“How’s that? She’s off duty and I’m neither a staff member nor a patient. I’ll admit I may have chosen a less than appropriate place to make my move, but damn it Mars. I really like her.”

Mr. Stick in the Mud stopped in a hall painted in bright yellow and challenged his declaration. “She’s not anywhere close to your type.”

“I agree. There’s no physical reason why I should be interested in her, but I am.” He ran his hand through his hair. “She makes me want to smile. Kind of like this hallway, and the kittens and puppies on the cafeteria wall.”

His captain’s eyes softened as he let out a long sigh. “If that is the case, you may see her on her days off. But on her working days, you will not see her until she is off the clock and you will leave her room by 9 p.m. so she will be amply rested before her shift begins at 6 a.m.”


“I’m serious about the time constraints,” he warned.

“I’ll abide by them.”

They continued down the cheery hall. “If it’s of any value, I think you two are well matched. However, if you dare look at any other woman in my employ, I will send you from the house. I have this place running much too well to allow you to run havoc among my female employees.”

Released May 5, 2015
A Long Road to Love
The Hardest Love
Book Five

Other books in the A Long Road to Love series
Book One
Worst Week Ever
“Love this book and couldn’t stop laughing from beginning to end.” 5 stars – Alves – Amazon

Book Two
Oh Stupid Heart
“Be warned though, this book is completely different from The Worst Week Ever. Yes, there is still humor, dry wit, situations that you would think…NOT AGAIN but this one humanizes Trent more.” 5 stars – Brian’s Mom – Amazon

Book Three
Coming to Reason
Once again, Ms. O’Connor has written a brilliant book about the complexities of relationships, good and bad. Again, to me, the book is the best break up book EVER and it left my heart singing in the end. Best.Book.Ever…

Book Four
Climbing out of Hell
“In typical @Liza0Connor fashion, crazy things happen which make you laugh outloud.”


Liza O’Connor

Liza lives in Denville, NJ with her dog Jess. They hike in fabulous woods every day, rain or shine, sleet or snow. Having an adventurous nature, she learned to fly small Cessnas in NJ, hang-glide in New Zealand, kayak in Pennsylvania, ski in New York, scuba dive with great white sharks in Australia, dig up dinosaur bones in Montana, sky dive in Indiana, and raft a class four river in Tasmania. She’s an avid gardener, amateur photographer, and dabbler in watercolors and graphic arts. Yet through her entire life, her first love has and always will be writing novels. She loves to create interesting characters, set them loose, and scribe what happens.


Blog and Website:

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Blog Tour – Alliances – S. Usher Evans

About the Book

Lyssa Peate has found a tenuous balance between her double lives – the planet-discovering scientist and space pirate bounty hunter named Razia. No longer on probation, Razia still struggles to be thought of as more than a chocolate-fetching joke, and Lyssa can’t be truthful to those closest to her. But both lives are turned upside-down when feisty government investigator Lizbeth Carter shows up to capture the same pirate Razia is after.

Lizbeth’s not interested in taking Razia’s thunder; rather, she convinces the caustic bounty hunter to help solve a mystery. Somebody’s hiring pirates to target government ships, and there’s a money trail that doesn’t make any sense. From the desert planet of D-882 to the capital city on S-864, the investigation leads them deeper and deeper into a conspiracy that reaches to the highest levels of the Universal Government – and to one of the most painful chapters in Lyssa’s past.

Purchase on Amazon


Preview from Chapter One:

The room was dark, with a single, dingy lamp hanging over a table where three men sat, each holding a hand of cards. They said little, except for the occasional grunt or movement to tap their grungy mini-computers to up their ante. The first sighed and rubbed the scruff around his chin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter.

“You hear that Llendo is running for re-election?” he said, cigarette dangling from his mouth.
“What else is new?” The short, squatty man and whose toes barely brushed the floor, threw a few chips into the virtual pile using his mini-computer. “The guy’s a puppet. There ain’t nothin’ that comes out of his mouth that ain’t been sent through the ringer about a million times.”

The other two men chuckled and shuffled around their cards. The third man, with a long face and sallow complexion, pulled two more cards for his own hand and shuffled them together and apart again.

“But who else is there to vote for?” he asked, counting his cards and stacking them together again.

“That general? You know that buffoon Peate works for him. He ain’t getting my vote until I know he’s gonna play along.”

The second shrugged and said, “Nobody’d vote for him in a million years.”
“You and your millions.” The third rolled his eyes. “Everything you say has been done a million times.”

“Bah, can it,” the first barked. “And hurry up and make your move.”
“I’m taking my time. Don’t want to get fleeced again,” the third said. “You’re all a bunch of crooks.”

“Takes one to know one.” The second man peered at his cards through a pair of thick glasses, hunched over.

“I am retired,” the first man said, sitting back and taking a long drag of his cigarette. “None of that piracy crap for me anymore. Getting too dangerous for me.”

“Gonna break a nail?” the second snorted. “Bad enough you got that girl. Whatsherface.”

“I hear she’s doing all right,” the third said. “Kidnapped Jukin Peate’s brother and held him for ransom last year.”

“And what’s she done since then?” the second said.

“More than you’ve done.”

“I’m just saying, it’s unnatural to have a woman out with the men,” the first said. He paused for a moment and began to smile. “Although I can’t say I hate seeing her scamper around ‘882.”

“Shame she doesn’t wear tighter pants,” the second said. “I seen pictures. She wears these baggy things. I bet if she wore something that made her look like a girl, she wouldn’t even have to fight nobody.”

“She could come capture me any day of the week. I don’t care what she looks like,” the third said. “I’d lay down and let her do whatever she wanted to me.”

“Care to test that theory?”

The three glanced up sharply at the sound of a distinctly female voice in the doorway.

“Hey, hey,” the first man said, standing up. “We don’t want no trouble. We’re retired here, lady.”

“You are,” Razia said, stepping into the light with a smirk on her face. She turned her eyes on the third man in the room. “He isn’t.”

About the Author

S. Usher Evans is an author, blogger, and witty banter aficionado. Born in a small, suburban town in northwest Florida, she was seventeen before she realized that not all beach sand is white. From a young age, she has always been a long-winded individual, first verbally (to the chagrin of her ever-loving parents) and then eventually channeled into the many novels that dotted her Windows 98 computer in the early 2000’s. After high school, she got the hell outta dodge and went to school near the nation’s capital, where she somehow landed jobs at National Geographic, Discovery Channel, and the British Broadcasting Corporation, capping off her educational career with delivering the commencement address to 20,000 of her closest friends. She determined she’d goofed off long enough with that television nonsense and got a “real job” as an IT consultant. Yet she continued to write, developing 20 page standard operating procedures and then coming home to write novels about bounty hunters, teenage magic users, and other nonsense. After a severe quarter life crisis at age 27, she decided to finally get a move on and share those novels with the world in hopes that she will never have to write another SOP again.

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