Tales of Science Fiction: The Standoff Issue 1 of 5 John Carpenter and Sandy King @jeanbooknerd #nerdblast #contest #comics #sf


Tattersall Prison. Max lock. The baddest of the bad. Until something from the night sky crashes into the complex, trapping cons and guards on the inside, cops on the outside, and the escapees in-between. All of the threatened by a hideous invader who needs to take over nice, warm human bodies. It’s a hostage situation. It’s a battle between species. It’s the Earth’s most serious standoff.

2002 | Vampires: Los Muertos (Executive Producer)
2001 | Ghosts of Mars (Producer)
1998 | Vampires (Producer)
1995 | Village of the Damned (Producer)
1994 | In the Mouth of Madness (Producer)
1988 | They Live (Associate Producer)
1987 | Prince of Darkness (Associate Producer)

1993 | Body Bags (TV Movie) (Executive Producer)
1983 | Key Tortuga (TV Movie) (Associate Producer)

2017 | John Carpenter’s Christine (Music Video) (Producer)
2006 | Christa McAuliffe: Reach for the Stars (TV Documentary) (Consulting Producer)
1989 | Street Aid USA – 27 Hunger Awareness Public Awareness Ads (Producer)

Praise for John Carpenter and Sandy King’s Work
“It shares plenty of common ground with Hellblazer and even Robin Furth and Peter David’s Dark Towerseries, adding in its own intriguing blend of fatalism and Catholic guilt. With the odd flourish of light relief to temper the weird, Asylum is the best horror comic you’ve never read.” ―Starburst magazine



With a background in art, photography and animation, Sandy King’s filmmaking career has included working with John Cassavetes, Francis Ford Coppola, Michael Mann, Walter Hill, John Hughs, and John Carpenter.

She has produced films ranging from public service announcements on Hunger Awareness to a documentary on astronaut/teacher Christa McAuliffe, and major theatrical hits like John Carpenter’s Vampires. From working underwater with sharks in the Bahamas to converting 55 acres of New Mexican desert into the vast, red planet of Mars, new challenges interest and excite her. The world of comic books is no exception. It allows her to bring her art and story telling experience to a new discipline with an expanded group of collaborators.

She is married to director John Carpenter and lives in Hollywood, California.


WEBSITE: https://www.stormkingproductions.com/
GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7391064.Sandy_King
FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/Sandy-King-731339513597486/
INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/stormkingskc/

FANTASTIC NEWS BOOK NERDS!! We have something Amazing coming your way! Sandy King and John Carpenter will SIGN any comics ordered during the duration of the NERD BLAST. Starting AUGUST 20th until 11:59 PM (PST) on SEPTEMBER 14th.

All you have to do is CLICK the BANNER above and write NERD BLAST on your payment and your copy will be SIGNED by Sandy King and the LEGENDARY John Carpenter. Don’t miss your chance, this offer will not last long.

Rafflecopter Link (Needs to be added on your post)
Giveaway is open to International. | Must be 13+ to Enter

– 2 Winners will receive a Copy of TALES OF SCIENCE FICTION: THE STAND OFF by Sandy King and John Carpenter

– Winner will receive a $25.00 Amazon/PayPal Gift Card.





#ThePrince by @jlarmentrout


From #1 New York Times Bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout, comes THE PRINCE, a new novella in her Wicked Series, brought to you by 1,001 Dark Nights! Be sure to grab your copy today!


From #1 New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout comes a new story in her Wicked series…

She’s everything he wants….

Cold. Heartless. Deadly. Whispers of his name alone bring fear to fae and mortals alike. The Prince. There is nothing in the mortal world more dangerous than him. Haunted by a past he couldn’t control, all Caden desires is revenge against those who’d wronged him, trapping him in never-ending nightmare. And there is one person he knows can help him.

She’s everything he can’t have…

Raised within the Order, Brighton Jussier knows just how dangerous the Prince is, reformed or not. She’d seen firsthand what atrocities he could be capable of. The last thing she wants to do is help him, but he leaves her little choice. Forced to work alongside him, she begins to see the man under the bitter ice. Yearning for him feels like the definition of insanity, but there’s no denying the heat in his touch and the wicked promise is his stare.

She’s everything he’ll take….

But there’s someone out there who wants to return the Prince to his former self. A walking, breathing nightmare that is hell bent on destroying the world and everyone close to him. The last thing either of them needs is a distraction, but with the attraction growing between them each now, the one thing he wants more than anything may be the one thing that will be his undoing.

She’s everything he’d die for….


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My entire body jerked at that comment, striking too close to home for comfort. “Let go of me.”

He held my gaze as he slowly lifted one finger after another, releasing my wrist. That bitter knot was back in my throat. The Prince had let go and his heavy lashes lowered, shielding his powerful gaze, but I swore I could still feel it. “My apologies,” he murmured. “That was uncalled for.”

A feather could’ve knocked me over right then. He was apologizing? The Prince? “Yeah, it was.” I swallowed hard, taking a step back from him.

“Even if it is true,” he added.

“Wow. Way to ruin an apology,” I muttered. “Not that you probably even know why you just apologized.”

“I do. It hurt you. Those words.”

“What? You can smell that, too?”

Those heavy lashes lifted, and the intensity of his gaze pierced me. Suddenly I thought back to the day I woke up in the hospital, to those eyes. “I can sense many things.”



I had the distinct impression that he was talking about earlier, when I was thinking about the dream I had. And boy, didn’t that make me want to crawl up in a hole somewhere. At that moment, I made a mental note to legit not feel anything when I was around him or any other fae.

One eyebrow, several shades darker than his golden hair, lifted.

“Wait. Can you guys read minds?” I asked, voice hushed and thinking I didn’t know nearly as much about the fae as I thought I did.

“We don’t need to.”

Relief hit me, but it quickly faded when his words cycled back through my head. We don’t need to. Meaning picking up on our emotions probably gave them enough insight on what our thoughts were.


“Well…” I held the folder closer to my chest. “That’s freaky.”

His lips twitched.

“And I need to go.” I started to turn once more, ordering myself not to run out of the lobby like it was on fire. But I stopped, facing him again. “I do care about these younglings. I will find them or I will find out what happened to them.”

The Prince inclined his head. A moment passed and then he nodded. Thinking this super awkward face to face was now, thankfully, over, I started to turn away again.


Desperately ignoring how the way he said my name made me think of stormy summer nights, I faced him, even though common sense screamed that I shouldn’t. I just couldn’t help myself. It wasn’t a compulsion. It was apparently really bad self-control. My wry gaze flickered over his face, and I bit back a sigh. He was the strongest, the deadliest of his kind, and that knowledge did nothing to dampen my appreciation of his masculine beauty.

“The red hair was a nice touch, but I prefer it this way.”

And then with those parting words, he turned and stalked off, leaving me standing there knowing one thing only.

The Prince knew it was me Saturday night.



Mama Says:
Wower wower pants on fire, or however it goes.  The Prince is ridicu-hot y’all, and I just loved Brighton.  I really didn’t feel like I knew her at all from the main Wicked books, but now we are best friends. Her sense of righteous vengeance but desire to stand on her own are something I’ve definitely experienced, and the fact that she’s trying so hard to heal from her loss, while still not understanding why it happened, makes this a powerful book.  It’s fun, fast and still maintains a serious air while having said fun.
I’d definitely recommend reading the trilogy first, but you can absolutely read this and enjoy it on its own.

4 stars and my sincere thanks to the publisher and tour host for the review opportunity.

About Jennifer L. Armentrout:

# 1 New York Times, USA Today and international bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout lives in Martinsburg, West Virginia. All the rumors you’ve heard about her state aren’t true. When she’s not hard at work writing. she spends her time reading, working out, watching really bad zombie movies, pretending to write, and hanging out with her husband and her Jack Russell Loki. Her dreams of becoming an author started in algebra class, where she spent most of her time writing short stories….which explains her dismal grades in math. Jennifer writes young adult paranormal, science fiction, fantasy, and contemporary romance. She is published with Spencer Hill Press, Entangled Teen and Brazen, Disney/Hyperion and Harlequin Teen. Her book Obsidian has been optioned for a major motion picture and her Covenant Series has been optioned for TV. She also writes adult and New Adult romance under the name J. Lynn. She is published by Entangled Brazen and HarperCollins.


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SHIVA by @simonsloane spotlight and excerpt on tour!


Title Information

Title: Shiva (Hugo Hyde #2)

Author: Simon Sloane

Release Date: 24th July 2018

Genre: Thriller

Publisher: Clink Street Publishing




When disgraced scientist Hugo Hyde is abducted by Secret Service agent Diana Holborn, they pick up the trace of a powerful artificial intelligence that is bound to annihilate humanity within twenty-four hours. Fighting their way to Mumbai, Hyde and Holborn must unveil the secrets of an ultraconservative dynasty and their Shiva temple before facing the indestructible AI. Led astray by heiress Maya Singh, will Hyde unlock Shiva’s mystery before the clock runs out?


Friday, 10:30am CET (12:30am local time)


Diana Holborn smiled. They had fleeced her, only to hand her a weapon. The Venetian mask would be sufficient to deal with her target.

“The sheik will love you,” Farid said with a barely concealed grin as he pushed the top button on the chrome elevator panel. “His taste is exquisite.”

“What is his taste exactly?” A grainy five-second video was all she had seen of the man.

“You’ll see,” the staffer said, tight lipped once again.

Diana let her hands glide down the snakelike patterns on the amethyst-coloured dress that had been tailor-made for the occasion. She feigned a shrug. “I just wonder how to address my client properly.” Surely, someone in the hotel had to know his bloody name!

Farid tilted his bald head. “I’d be surprised if there was much conversation.” He squinted as if deliberating whether to let her in on a secret—a small secret in any case. “You’ll meet a man of extremes,” he said in a hushed voice. “The sheik even commissioned a life-size replica of the Holy Kaaba for his suite.”


Diana received the sort of leering grin she had seen too often from middle-aged Arabs. “The ceiling height of the penthouse is in excess of fifty feet,” Farid said. “It has a private pool, a gym, even a tennis court. That’s how we attract the most illustrious clients in the world.” The concierge grabbed Diana’s arm as they stepped out of the elevator. “We protect their privacy at any cost. And you better do the same.”

Diana nodded. The five-quid-an-hour servant probably didn’t know he had provided more insight than her Oxbridge-educated analysts. Maybe he shared her suspicion that the sheik was the terrorist financier whom everyone had believed dead for months.

The camera on top of the leaden gate swerved around and zoomed in on Diana’s face. Then the door unlocked with a click, and she put on her Venetian mask.

“You’re on your own now. But it would be a privilege to meet you again.” Farid gave her an effusive bow after handing her a textured business card with his private number. “All my clients are distinguished gentlemen.”

“I’m sure they are.” Diana’s high heels clicked on the Peruvian marble as she walked away.

She dropped Farid’s card on the floor the moment the door closed behind her. Having expected an army of aides, instead, she was hit by a wall of silence. A musky scent filled the air, freshened by a whiff of lemongrass and jasmine. She ignored the dimly lit bedrooms to the right of the corridor as well as the pool on her left.

Having walked through a maze of antechambers, she arrived at the lounge. Farid had told her the truth: the cube at its centre was as daunting as the one in Mecca. Wrapped in a silken black cloth like the original, the religious artefact was surrounded by a golden band of Arabic scripture: There is no god but Allah. Muhammad is the messenger of Allah. Allah is great, powerful and sublime . . ..

The monolith’s sheer size pointed to a man whose capture would catapult Diana to the upper echelons of her profession. Her heart pounded at thought of standing within a few yards of Nassor Sharkhor.

She was taken aback when a young woman moved against the backdrop of the shrine. No one had told her this was going to be a threesome! Only when she approached the blonde from a slightly different angle did she spot the projector. The girl was a hologram, although a strikingly realistic one.

“Over here!” a youthful voice called from the far end of the lounge.

The sheik’s pronunciation revealed at least a few years of boarding school in southern England. Diana tried to place its melancholic timbre when a tall man in a thobe emerged from behind a U-shaped arrangement of computer monitors. She almost caught a glimpse of his face, but then he put on his Venetian mask as well.

The sheik’s fingers ran through his waves of jet-black hair as he examined her with a predator’s smile. His beard was more fashionable than religious. After a moment of silence, he gestured at the beige leather sofa in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Maybe it was the panoramic views of Dubai that turned him on, making him feel like the king of the Gulf.

Diana’s smartwatch vibrated. There was no message, but its background colour switched from black to violet.

Damn! A rival team was closing in.

But then anyone with state-of-the-art wireless decryption tools could have picked up the video and traced it to the oasis of luxury on the artificial island.

Surely, Control would terminate Diana if she let her prized target slip away now. She smiled at the sheik as she held her watch close to the router beneath the glass table. Her team would require only moments to hack his network.

Only then did she notice the water pipe beneath his desk. The sweet scent of opium revealed that the sheik had used it during the last half hour. Even men of great wealth and power needed to soothe their nerves sometimes.

A humming sound drew her gaze back to the Kaaba replica. The noise reminded her of a data-processing hub she had visited in Vauxhall’s vaults.

And then it hit her.

The artefact didn’t serve a religious purpose. On the contrary, it was a powerful new technology, and the “sheik” was one of its most ardent purveyors. They would reward her beyond imagination if she brought him in. Even better, she would make the French look like a bunch of amateurs.

Slowly, Diana’s target disposed of his thobe. Its V-shaped golden embroideries testified to his elevated social status. The scars on his torso revealed his struggles, adding to his masculinity. His toned body might have pleased her in other circumstances, even though she rarely enjoyed the act itself. Coitus felt like five minutes on a treadmill, but it was often the only way to place a prominent man in a vulnerable position while removing his security staff from the scene. Satisfaction in her job was the sight of life draining from her target’s eyes.

Alas, not today.

The sheik ogled Diana as she leaned against the sofa, her spine arched to enhance his view of her curves. He grabbed her waist and pulled her close.

Her palms glided up his biceps as he unbuttoned her silken dress. “I’m Lucrezia.” She spooled off her introduction with the smoky voice she had practiced for years. She smiled when the garment slipped off her shoulder.

The sheik responded in the non-verbal manner to which Farid had alluded. Diana knew she had to hurry when the distant clattering of rotor blades revealed she had only a couple of minutes left. She kissed her target but then withdrew her mouth when she spotted a Glock 17 beneath the sofa pillows.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, slightly bemused. He must have sensed he was in danger. His tint lightened closer to his hairline, making her wonder why an Arab would use spray tan. He was even more attractive than he had seemed on the low-resolution video, but . . ..

Diana realised her intuition had been wrong. Someone else must have taken over Nassor Sharkhor’s network—a younger cousin, perhaps?

Pressed for time, she grabbed the sheik’s shoulders and pushed him down on the sofa. Pinning down his torso with her thighs, she seized the Glock, pointed the barrel at his forehead, and ripped off his mask.

No! This couldn’t be . . .

Author Information

Simon Sloane resides in London at the moment but has previously lived in seven countries on three continents and visited dozens more—including a highly insightful assignment in India. These places have helped to inspire his books. SHIVA is the second book in the Hugo Hyde Thriller series.

Website: https://simonsloane.com