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Hellfire, Holy Fire
ISBN/GTIN

Hellfire, Holy Fire

eBookEPUBDRM AdobeE-Book
CHF4.50

Beschreibung

Killed in a car-motorcycle collision, young Deborah Kennicut finds Heaven very different from what her ultra-Fundamentalist Bible creed had prepared her for. But it must be Heaven, because even while dying herself, she watch the motorcyclist plummet down in the other direction. Still, she finds Heaven filled with agnostics like her Aunt Myrtle, Catholics like new employers Corwin and Angela, pets and other animals who can all but talk, even pagan goddesses like Demeter! People can enjoy so many things her preacher back on Earth strictly forbade ? coffee, movies, Harry Potter books. And every so often, somebody "glows up" and just disappears. Adjusting to her "saved" immortality, and long unable to remember either the name or the face of the young man she was to have married, Deborah strikes up a dating friendship with her not-quite-boyfriend Jamie who also died young. She finds herself most drawn, however, to her married employer Corwin, and learns that under certain circumstances polygamy is permitted in Heaven. And she has recurrent nightmares of that motorcyclist suffering in Hell.
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Details

Weitere ISBN/GTIN9781005820954
ProduktarteBook
EinbandartE-Book
FormatEPUB
Format HinweisDRM Adobe
Verlag/Label
Erscheinungsdatum13.03.2022
SpracheEnglisch
Dateigröße324 Kbytes
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Autor:in

Born 1944, death date not yet established. Lifelong fictioneer, primary publisher for the last few decades Wildside Press. Savoyard (fan only, non-singing), Droodophile, etc.

Pictured with my beloved husband Clifton Alfred Hoyt, who among other things invented a means of measuring gas in tenths of a gallon when pumped into your car. He moved out of his body in 2005. (Note: that's ALFRED, not "Albert," as some places seem to have it erroneously.

I once had a poor little website. It got eaten by some Japanese(?) concern peddling -- as nearly as I could make out -- cosmetics. As nearly as I could see, it had never profited me; and as of today, it seems as nearly as I can see to have vanished. Now I leave it all to Wikipedia (which may not always be reliable), Amazon, and Smashwords.

Throughout my life (77 years and counting), every time I have tried to blow my own trumpet, somebody has thrown heavy lumps of discouragement into its bell. Now I am like someone shipwrecked on a desert island with several cases of pop, reams of paper, and sharpened pencils, who, after drinking up each bottle, puts in a message and tosses it into the ocean. A few of these messages may eventually be picked up; and, since it will probably be too late for the writer, at least let the message itself give a little enjoyment to the finder.

in February 2022 I was appalled to find that somehow -- who was responsible for the goof may never be known -- the dollar ninety-nine cents I thought I had listed for my "Polifonix Poems" message-in-bottle had got transmogrified to a hundred and ninety-nine dollars!! I don't think there is any newly published and/or currently available volume of verse anywhere in the world worth that kind of asking price, unless perhaps it were privately printed on thin sheets of beaten gold and bound in unicorn hide. Apologies to anyone who may have glimpsed that absurd $199.00 and pictured me as endowed with an ego bigger than Mount Everest. Although leaving the price to the purchaser amounts to "free," that's much better than risking such a ridiculously out-of-line price tag by mistake; and I am, after all, pretty well just tossing out messages in bottles.

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