As a Multiple Sclerosis patient, it has become necessary for me to reinvent myself. I have ... and continue to ... refuse to lie down and die, or in this case, follow the normally prescribed drugs and treatments that do nothing to defeat my disease. I am not only surviving by pursuing alternatives, I am thriving. I do the things specialists told me I would never be able to do. I walk and hope to one day even run regularly. I retain my cognitive and creative abilities for the pleasure of my readers. Although you may never see me on my daily walk, you are welcome to read my novel(s) and in doing so, come to ask yourself, "How can the 'out of the box' protocol she has followed, help my loved one with an autoimmune disease like Multiple Sclerosis?"

Fiesty Friday with Dave Butler

Excerpt from Liahona is used by permission of the author.

He clambered down into a kneeling position between the two bunks and dug for a box of lucifers in his pocket. With a practiced twitch of the wrist, he snapped a match along the outside of the box, and it sputtered into flame—

a hard-toed boot kicked Jed Coltrane in the face, and his vision exploded into stars.

“The hell!?” he yelled, and tried to roll away.

For his trouble, another kick crashed into his ribs and he spun through the air, slamming hard into the iron door of the cabin.

Forget the knife. Jed pulled the Pinkerton’s gun from under his arm and squeezed the trigger. Zing! Zing! The odd weapon only flared slightly in the pitch black cabin, but as the bullets clanged off the room’s walls and bit their way into the furniture, they threw up sparks, enough for Jed to see a shadowy form looming up in front of him.

Damn thing didn’t seem to have legs—
the boot, or maybe it wasn’t a boot after all, smashed Jed’s gun hand and his lost his grip on the pistol, which disappeared into the gloom.

“Damn you—” he shouted, and then a strong hand with long nails, almost like claws, grabbed his throat and threw him bodily to the floor, a knee on his chest and something cold and hard against his cheek.

He smelled lavender. And soap. Some sort of cloak fell around him, covering his chest and legs.

“Hold still, shorty, or I’ll cut out your eyeball.” The voice was so incongruously sweet that it took him a few seconds to realize that it was feminine.

Coltrane, you just got beat down by a woman.

The hand—the soft, sweet-scented hand—came away from his throat and he heard a click. A blue light sprang into being a few inches above his face, a glimmering globe held in the palm of a woman who was graceful, fierce, freckle-faced, cute as a button, and kneeling on Jed’s sternum. She wore dark goggles on her eyes and held a curving, vicious-looking knife to his face.

Not a woman, dammit. A girl. Poe’s gonna kill me.

Here is the Liahona Amazon link

And here is the Liahona Smashwords link:

I am happy to announce that Deseret will be released this month as well.
  (Links below picture.)



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