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Pablo Michaels interesting novel JACK and the MAGICAL BEANSTALK is on promotion from April 4th to April 8th 2016

In this adult fairy tale young, awkward, Jack sells their prize cow Pearly White for magical beans to a strange man in a red bikini. Little does Jack’s mother, Lorene, know that the beans grow into a giant, magical beanstalk, high above the clouds?

Jack ascends the beanstalk to a land where a Giant Slave serves his larger Master, Jack begs Slave for food to satisfy his hunger from his long journey. But Jack finds Master hoarding treasures.

Attempting to escape the wrath of Master and Slave with the treasures, Jack encounters a handsome, engaging normal sized human man. Sam lives with others that live naturally without clothing deep in the forest. As Jack ages he becomes a handsome man, just like his father, attracting many men, including the two farmhands, Zeke and Adam.

Even though Jack has enabled the farm to prosper with the treasures he stole from Master and is met with increasing danger, he climbs the magical beanstalk again and again to find more treasures and pursue Sam.

http://www.bit.ly/pabmic

Join Rukia’s successful team of authors and readers and YOU could Win 20 E-Books including #1 Best sellers

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Are your Book sales slower than you would like?

Lock Publishing has linked up with Rukia Book Promotions to give Authors far greater coverage using low-cost but extremely effective Book promotions.

Are you a reader? then check out our FREE and 99p/99c deals here

http://www.lockpublishing.com/ruk99.html

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Dog Days in the Fortunate Islands by John Searancke

Book Synopsis On the brink of retirement, John and his wife Sally are determined to end a life at the grindstone in grimy and wet Lancashire. Together with their beloved Jack Russell/Staffie cross, Freddie, a rescue dog from the local RSPCA, they embark on the journey of a lifetime and relocate to the island of Tenerife.

Selling up, they make the move to the north of Tenerife, a part almost unknown to the casual tourist – their very own hidden paradise. Relaxed and surrounded by stunning coastal views, life in their new home, set amidst orange groves and banana plantations, is very different indeed! The weather is fantastic, the temperature idyllic, the people so friendly and the cost of living outrageously low… what more could they ask for?

Adjusting to life abroad, and all of the costs that come with it, are explained in the book – from buying a new home and sorting out living taxes, to integrating into the local community and taking the dreaded Spanish driving test. Follow John and Sally as they learn a new language and take on a couple of new hobbies, while Freddie takes off on some unbelievable (but true!) exploits with his new canine friends.

With a colourful collection of characters, travelling anecdotes that stretch from the English Midlands and all the way through mainland Spain in an old classic car, and some not so perfect moments that bring us back down to earth from time to time, this is a series of adventures that you will not want to miss.

Dog Days In The Fortunate Islands is an ideal read for those contemplating retirement, moving to the Canary Islands or an extended trip through Spain. The book will also appeal to any dog lovers and holidaymakers who enjoy an interesting story.

Normal price $6.99 but on promotion from 29th April to 3rd May 2016 for $1.99

http://www.lockpublishing.com/JSpromo.html

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Dog Days in the Fortunate Islands (normal price $6.99) will be available for just $1.99 from April 29th to 3rd May 2016

http://www.lockpublishing.com/JSpromo.html

Take two -inspiration needed, hard to find.

S. E. Marley-Walton is one of our new authors. Read one of her blogs here.

Take two - Inspiration needed, hard to find

Well, babbling introduction (Or babbling idiot as I think it should have been) got a few views, so I'm happy with that.... So lets give a second one a shot shall we?

So today, being the author that I am (a newbie) needed some inspiration, so I took some friends (visiting form Bishops Stortford and Dorset) to see The Welsh Life Museum at St Fagan's. Now, I personally love this place, growing up my parents always took me to the National Trust places ( I still remember telling a volunteer at one of the houses who came to ask if i needed help with answering one of the questions on my question booklet, that I had already answered the questions before I had come in the room and no, I really didn't need her help, at the age of seven I knew everything, or thought i did, and thought it was ludicrous that she would think i needed her help) Anyway.... once again....going off topic and babbling...see told you i was good at that! Anyway, where was i? Oh yes, St Fagan's, I love visiting old historical places it reminds me how far backwards we seem to have gone since then, really technology, yes we are amazing at it now, but when you look at the detail that went into some of the houses and stuff in history, very few could do that now a days. which is a shame, these days all it seems to be is let's get this up and let's get this up quick, no love goes into designing buildings like they use to.

Again I've gone off on a tangent, St Fagan's is such a beautiful place to visit, it's so nice to see the Welsh heritage preserved in such a way as they have here, and the staff are so helpful in explaining about the different places, its nice to walk in as well and a nice warm fire burning, which not many places will do in fear of ruining the house.

So, inspiration, It has helped a little, maybe i could do a story line set in the grounds of a nice house, like St Fagan's castle, but we will have to see, I have more inspirational visits to tide me over with for now, I am off to visit Cardiff Castle tomorrow, and do some shopping, this is a very inspirational thing, a little bit of the ol' retail therapy, can't fault it in the least. Then back home to Peterborough for a signing and spend some time with the rents and the siblings.... Should be fun... then a week of staying on a farm before returning for the hockey.

Hockey - Now this is an inspiring sport indeed, I love the Ice Hockey, it's such a fast paced interesting sport, I regularly go and help out as an off ice official with the NIHL Cardiff devils, and every time I watch a fight or listen to the crowds cursing the Ref's ( I admit, I'm a bad one for this, the Ref's never listen to my advice...which is so rude lol) It makes so many plot lines run through my head, there is so many ways to write a murder using an Ice rink.... so watch this space.

So, I think I have done my fair share of babbling for tonight, hopefully I will have more to babble about soon

Take care!

http://www.lockpublishing.com/bloggers.html

#LPAU

Do you understand the concept of, “Ugly People," and/or the “Dance” of Life?”

The following is a blog by one of Lock Publishing's authors Lorene Stunson-Hill

Do you understand the concept of, “Ugly People," and/or the “Dance” of Life?” I always write on my second novel, “Ugly People Can't Dance,” as much as I possibly can. I am not “fixed” on that Title, though, because I am using “Ugly People,” and “Dance,” again. Why? The "To Dance with Ugly People," story carries on and you met my main character, “Niecy,” in, “To Dance with Ugly People,” plus I have a slight fear of those who don't get the concept Of Ugly People nor the Dance. Reading Jenny's Blog, I related completely to her use of “knitting,” As she states, “We all have techniques that we feel comfortable with and come to trust.” In a prior conversation with John Lock, Publisher, (who was curious as to how far I'd gotten in writing my second book) I stated my writing is like putting puzzle pieces together. I just create the pieces and as time goes on begin to slide them into the different areas of the big story puzzle as they fit. I can't even explain how that actually works, as eloquently as Jenny describes her “knitting,” but it does work for me. As Jenny referred to, I also wake up in the middle of the night and struggle with fitting the pieces of the story in, or to create a new piece or to struggle with what direction my storyline is going. But, I carried around the title, “To Dance with Ugly People,” for years before I ever wrote a single word. Not so with, "Ugly People Can't Dance," I struggle with that. I've also found that occasionally the public does not understand the concept of, “Ugly People,” or the “Dance.” A few want to laugh. One example was when I submitted my manuscript for a book evaluation by Green Leaf Book Group. They wrote: Your current title, To Dance with Ugly People, is eye-catching and spirited. While the title does not clearly establish the overall content of the book (this is not actually a book about dancing with people who could be called “ugly”), this supporting content could be communicated with a strong subtitle. Seriously, who is going the write about Ugly People dancing, unless it is a comedy! I was shocked at first and realized I hadn't included my Preface. I had a glimmer of suspect that may happen, in the public, so that is why I wrote the Preface. I had a glimmer of suspect that there would be those who did not get the concept of the African Dance Chapter Titles, so I wrote the preface. I will post it at the end of this blog. But, I finally decided that if that is all they found wrong – I'll take it. They wrote: Content: To Dance with Ugly People balances the three major types of conflict (man vs. man, man vs. self, and man vs. society) very well. Structure : Strategic use of letters, emails, or directed text (as is the case here, when each To Whom It May Concern is not necessarily a letter sent to a character) are a good way to show the passage of time within a text Platform and Market: Obvious audiences include readers of New Adult fiction and African-American readers, primarily females, w omen’s fiction, and coming of age markets. The following is the Preface to, “To Dance with Ugly People.” “This novel is the book in which I was able to express a new divine awareness. I realized I had experienced a lot in life that had left me strewn and unsettled, the book brought about the resurgence of a strong feeling of cohesion. In this book I have tried to present some of the elementary principles of human nature that can be outside of perceiving but not outside of holding dear, I call it “Ugly People.” For example, the violence of feelings, the slave of passion; and the dark tyranny of despair. My life might not have been full of ease and luxury; but I preferred to glorify my existence, as I lived it, enticed by the wealth of experiences placed in my path. Watching the world around me I became interested in Fate. Stories, of the sudden deaths of the rich and famous awakened even more trains of thought on Destiny. We strive to travel, what we think, are the right paths in life but does destiny have to have the final say? Or, is fate everywhere we are, involved in everything we do and not only just an end result? What do you think? On, that same note I would answer, “Yes, it does!” and so this book was born. I could feel my heart glow with excitement and enthusiasm as I wrote this book. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.” - Lorene Stunson Hill - “This novel does not deal directly with Africa; instead it uses the Art of African Dance as a beautiful premise for this author’s fiction novel. An African Dance is used as the Title of each chapter. I love African Dance and chose to do so to honor my heritage and to place the musing of life into deeper dimensions. In its usage and content – a definition listed after each Title – every dance is both treated as a theme and used as a dramatization to bring forth an enchantment of visual images on a non literal basis, to highlight the drama (Dance) of each stage of my protagonist life. The chapters may seem, to some, to show a bleak interpretation of the dance, if taken too literal, but is not the true intention of this author. The characterization of each chapter is not a representation of the actual Artful meaning of each of the African Dances depicted. - Lorene Stunson Hill - In conclusion, Please enjoy, “To Dance with Ugly People,” and get to know “Niecy.” What would you do if your drunken husband embarrassed you in front of all of your co-workers at your own Tupperware Party? What would you do if your new man beat you all the way home from the grocery store you'd just walked to, with neighbors standing on the porch watching? With her as the lead character, of, “Ugly People Can't Dance,” would you change the Title? [email protected]. Let's talk! http://www.lockpublishing.com/lorene.html

Lilian's Moon River

The following is a blog by one of Lock Publishing's Authors - Jenny Dunbar

Lilian’s Moon River - Jenny Dunbar ‘I’ll travel you in style one day’ Danny Williams’s words sang out into the summer night. The Mancini strings guiding their soaring poignancy and then diminishing as the transistor radio and its companions, holding it like some precious mantra between them, continued down the street. She lay in her Mother’s bed in the room at the front of the house. A Victorian semi. She was getting over flu and had been allowed the luxury of sleeping there. Tomorrow she was hoping to be well enough to join the others on an outing to the city. She had saved up for a year, a few pence each week so the cost could be spread. Every Monday she and the rest of the class would hand in the small brown envelopes, containing the carefully husbanded coins, to the teacher, who would collect them and keep them safe somewhere until the appointed time. Like seeds in a packet they would germinate and come to life. The miracle would bloom one day. Tomorrow, the group would assemble and make for the station where the great train stood waiting, just for them. But now she was in another world, cradled and carried into the summer night by the voice and the words. She imagined the couple, for they were, she was sure, a couple, walking on listening to the story in that beautiful tune. As she did, the street turned into that blue river while she lay in her wakeful dream. She wondered where life would carry her, she such a small thing, vulnerable, yet unusually conscious of how the years would continue and the soft warm blankets and sheets she rested in now only a fleeting indulgence. The house was full of photographs and she had listened to her Mother as they turned the pages of the albums together, imprinting the generations and the accompanying anecdotes. At this moment she could indulge in the thoughts from a place of safety and be, or go with the song, walk by that river. She watched the beam from the street light shed its narrow ribbon of soft orange through the top of the long curtains at the bay window. It gave the objects in the room a gentle, twilight glow and their outlines comforted her. The suitcases on the top of the wardrobe had softer edges because of it, the dressing table mirror seemed like a piece of liquid. It was the end of the weekend, a Sunday full of home and summer perfume, enough to make you weep in its embrace. She suddenly felt homesick for this place, and tomorrow was not here yet, she would make the hours last, but the song had disappeared. She made it come back by remembering the words and the tune in her head and singing it inside her mind. She had always been able to do this. Half of her did not want to leave the bed, redolent of her Mother’s scent and powder. Another part of her did want to join the others for the trip tomorrow. The first big outing she had been on without familial companions. She would go and she would come back. This time tomorrow she would be in the same warm place again, but would she be able to make the song return? Summon the Sunday night moment she had indulged in so safely? Life would have come between she and it. For the first time, she felt the unrelenting ache of real tiredness that day in the city. She began to learn to carry it patiently and without complaint. The day passed. ‘Rainbow’s end……my Huckleberry friend ……….and me’. Later, in moments of reflection she would remember glimpses of phases in her life, places and people, the invisible eaves dropper at the edges of conversations as they came back into mind. In retrospect she could change the emphasis and the outcome at will, in her imagination. A distant fly on the wall instead of a partaker in the toil of the day and all its undulations. Avoiding the tangle and the fall out she could turn over and choose another moment from another time. Yet the toil persisted, it pursued her. She, in spite of it, proud, wise, loyal and gently accepting. The day comes when the child is not the child anymore and looks at the days and the hours in acknowledgment that midnight beckons and, in time, our already fragile hearts will become dust and break. She had learnt to put those childish things to one side long ago, those transitional objects of immaturity. But their mark had touched once, making aloneness more sharply present. She distracted herself and poured a glass of the golden water, malt, strong velvet and warm, and closed her eyes. Shutting out the room and remembering another day somewhere at the back of her mind. The voices, so crystal clear in her head. She recollected waking in another climate and the sounds of morning, the smell of the red earth, the fresh linen dried out in the sun, feet along the veranda, her belly against her lover’s warm back. So many journeys, and the years. She danced and the years passed as she stepped, some days it surprised her that she was still here amongst the clamour of time’s chimes. Upon waking she assumed the shape of the child in its cradle again. The window opposite the foot of the bed and the curtains met so carefully, edge on edge, though still the light entered through the space at the top near the rail. She stretched her limbs and was completely herself. The eternity of being was her treasure and her plight. As she walked and lingered a moment in the strong, warm light, holding it close as it touched her arms, picking up the laughter and hearing the notes following after, the conversation dying on the warm breeze. She kept it fast, like a fawny peach, subtle and soft in her mind’s eye, for it would soon be time to make a move. The suitcases on the top of the wardrobe, blurry in the gathering dark, ignited the song she had heard long ago, and in her mind the street outside was all summer night. The lovers walking together to the blue, starry strains of the song, coming back to her as she fell softly and deeply. Jenny Dunbar

To read all of Jenny's blogs visit http://www.lockpublishing.com/dunbar.html

NO COST publishing for New authors and get 50% of all profits

Free Webpage. Free Cover design. Free formatting. Free basic editing. Free E-book publishing on Amazon World-wide. Free paperback publishing. Free marketing support - and lots more!

Give me an idea and I'll give you three more.

John Lock

SKATERS AND THE DISPOSSESSED an ongoing blog

The following blog is from Jenny Dunbar, one of our newest authors.

SKATERS AND THE DISPOSSESSED an ongoing blog

‘Out of desperation they had carried, built and covered.Then discarded again or abandoned. The marks remained as flimsy flags in the air, attached to undergrowth, bramble and tree or embedded into the earth. Bronagh recounted how she had reached a stretch of water near some woods one time. She stopped her story at this point and left it until the next day. She had become overawed with the telling, but her audience, the following evening, had doubled and sat in the eerie gloaming inside the upturned boat, listening as the fire flickered and cracked.’

Bronagh, the story teller at the end of the book, recounts her experiences as she has travelled through the dregs of the world. Sometimes as a solitary nomad or with others she has met along the way. I had left the impasse in the writing, closed the book for a while and travelled to a different setting, unaware of what might inspire or detract. Clearing the dust and opening myself to another blank canvas. Out of serendipity, on a winter’s day in London, strolling pre matinee performance, we came upon the skaters dancing. The joyous troupe existed in harmony within their icy pearl. Some alone and fluid in their progress, others in less confident pairs, yet smiling to each other and to the music. All were wrapped in simultaneous concentration and flow. It seemed that the action evoked a time of cooperation and mutual care. It was a world apart, we existed outside the frozen circle, yet sat at its edges absorbing the dance as it wove its flowery cadences between the subtle threads of the skaters’ melody, in accord with its own. No urgency of time bore down, we were free to leave or stay and on leaving were enlightened by the possibility of something unique and positive inside that space where no enmity existed. Neither a dysfunction of form nor malady of mind set encouraged alienation. Rather it united us in a possibility of a beginning. An idea for the next passage in my story became viable and gave me food for reflection as the day continued from juxtaposition to juxtaposition. We left the skaters and their eternal dance to meet ‘John’, a piece of theatre whose filmic style astonished and provoked. A mayhem of a world at the edges of society, whose individuals fell on the dark ice, afraid and cold. I had walked in that world too, but had been able to leave or stay, a temporary fixture making theatre with the long term detainees. Perhaps we had spun a melodious thread, equal, therefore different, from the skaters’ tango? My dilemma still continued as I evolved a new turn in the tale as the headlines shot out and the train departed. Bronagh was about to tell the next chapter.

Jenny Dunbar

http://www.lockpublishing.com/dunbar.html

10 posts!

#10 posts #tumblr milestone

No Cost publishing for new authors

A Place to Belong

Lorene Stunson-Hill is one of the authors at Lock Publishing. The following is one of her blogs which can be found at http://www.lockpublishing.com/loreneblog.html

A Place To Belong

I wrote Chapter Two of, “To Dance with Ugly People,” - Klama – Puberty Rites – Youthful entry into adolescence, remembering my search for a place to belong. I was thrown out of my home at the age of thirteen. I spent a few years bouncing between my divorced Mother's and Father's houses. As an adult I have rented apartments, owned a home I lost to foreclosure, lived in my car – homeless and stayed at an old, Haunted Hotel. Now I live in a “Little House on the Prairie.” I live in a small town build in 1888. It's called a “Village.” The current population is 2700 and the whole town only 24 square miles. Wild Turkeys roam around the town, often strutting through the open field that is my front and back yard. Cats sit at the back door hoping I will throw a scrap of food out and sometimes a Deer springs out of the woods in back, startling me, but so beautiful. Often, at the tiny local Post Office, a “Bear Sighting” will be posted as a note of caution. Neighbors ride to the General Store on Horseback and drive by my house and with a single “toot” of their horn to signal, Hello!” There are no street lights. There is only one small library, recreation hall , fire station, police department, pizza parlor and ice cream shop. If you want to do any “Real” shopping you have to drive to the nearest “Town.” If you want to have any "Fun," you are forced to drive miles to Orlando, Fl. or Daytona Beach, Fl. But in my Small Town, Fl. everyone knows everyone. The residents are proud of the well preserved Victorian architecture and small-town atmosphere. You'll always get a friendly wave and a smile. A nearby church distributes food to the “Needy” of our village the first Monday of the month. Another distributes toiletries the last Saturday of the month. My house, you ask? I rent it. It's an old, ugly wooden house that needs painting. I see character! The windows are sealed tight, so tight, you cannot open them. Yet, they are so aged, when the wind blows they rattled and the curtains rise. The floors snap, cackle and pop as you walk through, but some how, that is comforting to me. No one can sneak up on me. Perhaps, my lifetime of dealing with “Ugly People,” has left me a little jumpy. I've added wind chimes to the front porch and love the melodies of the breezes. A melodic message to the “Heavens” above as a “Thank you,” for a place where I belong.

- Lorene Stunson Hill -

http://www.lockpublishing.com/lorene.html

There are places I remember all my life, though some have changed.

The benefit of running Lock Publishing is that I get to read some very interesting and informative text from some of our participating authors. The following is from Jenny Dunbar's Blog which can be found at http://www.lockpublishing.com/dunbarblog.html

‘There are places I remember all my life, though some have changed.’ Inspired by Lorene’s blog, ‘A Place to Belong’, some notions came to mind.

I often sense that we are turners of pages throughout life and acclimatise ourselves accordingly, one way or another. Where we find we belong and how much we belong, or for how long, are impermanent fixtures in a volatile world. To find, after time and many energies spent, a pleasant space whose provenance cohabits equably with one’s own and nurtures well-being, is a gem to cherish. The presence of others in the room is a palpable dynamic and to each of them can be attached a history, and a story around that history. The occupants of a railway carriage are some of the most effervescent vessels of tales. Some too weary or too internet focussed to catch the eye, those who travel expectantly, together or alone. The taffeta wrapped, tattooed young with gothic eyes, people out for the day, for a night, voyagers from the dark and light. What has happened before the camera snapped, and what was to occur afterwards? The possibility of absence. People sleeping, others awake and dreaming, the blossoming, the wasted, the juxtaposed and the spontaneously well met, coincidentally entwined for a defined moment in time. Departure and arrival equidistant, and the space in between a limbo land, trapped in its own amber, impossible to crack. The room that Gwen John might have made in ochres and immaculate economy, who went there? And what for? To whom? From whom? The lost conversations still encased within the filmy veil of a remembrance, a corner where the light catches. How different the conversation between the visitors to the salon or the café bar and the waiting rooms, either full or bereft of their members. Why is there no one in the room? Who left first? There used to be a time when the dining car resembled the trappings of a hotel in the classic style, and the journey might have been punctuated pleasantly by the comfort of the set menu. Especially if one was returning from a disappointing day, many miles away from familiar reference points and the reassuring scaffolding of life. To eat and be merry was a good thing, and certainly absorbed the hours. To me the process of conversation and food still does. A glass and good bread. We may even begin to crack the amber if we are lucky enough to stay the course. And what of the ghosts in the room? They vanish with their season, set free by their carriers who become as silent as ghosts themselves. Lifted up with the chatter into the air, becoming semi decipherable echoes of experience and function. Flights of perfumed innuendo and shadow. Courtly dance is as removed from a bransle as salt is from sugar, yet we take our part in these rituals and display celebration and hope for safe returns and continuity quite naturally, often with smiles on our faces. The ending is entirely out of one’s control, all we can do is construct our own meaning out of the detritus, using our imaginations here or there in the places we belong.

http://www.lockpublishing.com/dunbar.html

How price sensitive is your product or service?

If we are running a business then we have to pitch our product or service at the right price, to get the required volume of sales, which when multiplied by the profit margin will give us the positive income needed.

That first sentence was a bit of a mouthful but we have to, eventually, show a profit for our investment. There are exceptions to the rule, such as ‘lost leaders’ where we temporarily sell a product at sometimes less than cost to increase our market share and increase our customer base, or various marketing promotions, but for a standard product or service we have to evaluate supply and demand.

Demand is determined by the type of product or service and the price attached to it. We can do our market research, look at similar products or services in the marketplace, offer enhanced features to entice competitor’s customers away but still maintain the price level, or we can reduce the selling price to make it more attractive. In the latter case we would have to increase the number of sales so that the greater volume, multiplied by the smaller profit margin, would give us the positive income needed – but how do we decide on the optimum price?

If you are in a vertical type market where your product or service is aimed at a niche marketplace then you have more flexibility to offer extra features which can be portrayed as benefits over your competitors and still maintain your price/profit margin. However, if you are in a wide ranging marketplace where everyone is offering the same features and benefits, then the market is split between the ‘established suppliers’ and the price sensitive competitors – but we still have the same question - how do we determine the right price for our product or service?

Obviously marketing plays a big part in our pricing, but in a price sensitive environment most people’s marketing budget is very limited and any paid for marketing has to be covered by the increased volume at the reduced profit margin.

I publish books for new authors and with over a million new books published per year in the States alone, it is a very competitive market. The established authors have a ready-made following, and their new releases normally have a large pre-order list just waiting for the next published book to be released. The new authors on the other hand, having told all their friends and relatives they are a published author, soon run out of ‘ready-made’ sales and then have to start competing with the millions of other books available to readers. Authors need to get their book in front of readers and this is done by advertising, social media and word of mouth – but it is also price sensitive.

With the advent of E-books then it is far easier to instantly get books over the internet and they are usually at a far lower price than, for example, a paperback. The ease of obtaining books over the internet means that readers have instant access to purchasing books and tend to read, and buy more books. They also become more price sensitive and tend to spend longer looking for appealing books in their genre, but at a more acceptable price so that their increase in reading matter does not necessarily increase their book buying budget.

We also have to take into account customer’s perception of price and if we pitch the price too low, apart from greatly reducing profit levels it could also give the impression our product or service is cheap and not up to standard.

Word of mouth is the most effective way of increasing sales but it can be a long term premise so we need to encourage more people to buy in order to start spreading the news.

One of the ways that we accomplish this is to offer quality books, at a very low price, for a short period of time. The low price, together with the short purchase window, encourages sales whilst the time sensitive offer still gives the customer a sense of quality.

http://www.lockpublishing.com

The Kindle version of Presidential Trail is on Special offer from 11th July to 18th July 2014 at only 99 cents/ 99 pence = but hurry - it will revert to full price after 18th July.

http://www.lockpublishing.com/johnlock.html

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