Book Description:
Mitchell didn't really believe the story
the Man told him, Just take a sip and speak a year. He whimsically chose a
historic event to witness. Little did he know he would become part of that
history. Faster than you can say Teithwyr Amser our man Mitchell is chasing a
bona fide assassin not only across America but across time.
Amber Prelude will require Mitchell to
travel from the America he knows to France and Africa. He will travel to
decades and centuries he is unfamiliar with. Mitchell will chase authentic
villains and make historic friends, all in an attempt to set history back the
way he remembers.
About the
Author:
From an early age, Kevin B. Henry was a
voracious reader. His collection of science fiction, fantasy and mystery books
bring tears of envy to the eyes of many small community libraries.
Kevin has worked as an educator,
technology specialist and day laborer most of his adult life. During all that
time he lived the life of a frustrated author. That it took 30 years for him to
piece together the series, Amber Gifts is a testament that the best meals need
slow cooking to bring out the flavor.
The Amber Gifts Series begins with Amber
Gifts. The second story, which is really the first, is Amber Prelude, and is
available now. The third story, Amber Legacy continues where Amber Gifts left
off. It will be available in November 2015. All are published by the wonderful
folks at the Champagne Book Group. A fourth story is in the process of being written.
Kevin is a natural story teller, so it’s
logical that he lectures occasionally. Topics range from the implementation of
cutting edge technology hardware to the creation, modification and use of
e-books within education. He constantly pursues research to expand his range of
possible topics. His most recent research revolved around the aerodynamic
properties of reindeer. He’s also been known to include little known facts and
trivia within his presentations. Did you know just 146 years ago today the Union
Army marched into Atlanta. It took longer than anticipated. They were delayed
by a traffic jam on I-75 and the toll booth on Ga. 400
He continues to live in the Mid-West
without human or domesticated mammal companionship.
Blog/Wesbite: www.ambergifts.blogspot.com
Twitter: @Kevin_Henry
Facebook: www.facebook.com/AmberGifts
Excerpt from the book:
I got over my initial
anxiety of the twinkle man and sat on the far side of the fire. We had been
sitting before the fire for fewer than five minutes. I was dazed, confused, and
overwhelmed. Less than an hour ago, I was sitting in a dingy, two-bit hotel
room.
Now, here I was, in some
large expanse of desert in the company of someone who looked like Ray Teal,
that quintessential sheriff on so many TV westerns and movies. He wore standard
blue jeans, a simple button-front dress shirt, and a light-gray jacket. This
twinkle man had a slouch hat, not exactly cowboy, but not a fedora either. He
was half a foot shorter than me, stockier, and a minimum of twenty-five-years
older, if I had to guess his age. There was salt and pepper stubble covering
his face. His voice was deeper than mine, but not so deep that I envied it.
“Okay,” I began. “Where
am I?”
“New Mexico,” he
answered without hesitation. “You’re about three miles east of Tucumcari.”
I considered that
answer. “When am I?”
“It’s November, 1963.”
“What’s the date, the
day?” It concerned me I might miss my reason for picking this year.
“It’s the sixth.” A wave
of relief swept over me. I wasn’t too late.
His answers were
rapid-fire, no pauses or measurable moments that I would have considered
creative thinking. He was either telling the truth or extremely well prepared
for my random questions. I tried to think of the relevant questions I should
ask. The standard ones, who, what, when, where, seemed a good place to start.
“How did I get here?”
“Well now, that’s an
obvious answer to a poorly considered, ill-thought out question.” He shook his
head. “You took a drink from that vial you have tucked away in your jacket
pocket.”
A sudden gust of wind
caused me to wrap my windbreaker tighter around my body. Maybe it wasn’t the
night air. I was a little hurt. It wasn’t an attempt at sounding stupid; just
understand what had happened to me.
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