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Ash, former prince of the Winter Court, gave up everything. His title, his home, even his vow of loyalty. All for a girl… and all for nothing.

Unless he can earn a soul.

To cold, emotionless faery prince Ash, love was a weakness for mortals and fools. His own love had died a horrible death, killing any gentler feelings the Winter prince might have had. Or so he thought.

Then Meghan Chase—a half human, half fey slip of a girl— smashed through his barricades, binding him to her irrevocably with his oath to be her knight. And when all of Faery nearly fell to the Iron fey, she severed their bond to save his life. Meghan is now the Iron Queen, ruler of a realm where no Winter or Summer fey can survive.

With the (unwelcome) company of his archrival, Summer Court prankster Puck, and the infuriating cait sith Grimalkin, Ash begins a journey he is bound to see through to its end— a quest to find a way to honor his solemn vow to stand by Meghan’s side.

To survive in the Iron realm, Ash must have a soul and a mortal body. But the tests he must face to earn these things are impossible. At least, no one has ever passed to tell the tale.

And then Ash learns something that changes everything. A truth that turns reality upside down, challenges his darkest beliefs and shows him that, sometimes, it takes more than courage to make the ultimate sacrifice.

Theodore Ramsey Kneebone, the worlds leading forensic anthropologist, upon a cursory inspection of the remains of the burial of an old man found with three heads placed on his chest, discovered in the jungle of New Guinea, declared his expert opinion. “Here we have what might appear to be an ancient find with considerable implications to the advancement of archeology. Contrary to what my colleagues may believe, the truth is that this site contains the remains of a shipwrecked Swede prone to saccadic eye movements, who was often considered to be whimsical or quirky, smoked discarded cigarette butts off the street, was opinionated and outspoken concerning past Miss Sweden contestants, had a mischievous sense of humor, and a predilection to cannibalism.”

The news of winning the Cooley-Mead Award, given annually to an individual who has made lifetime contributions to distinguished scholarship in sociological social psychology, for his work on Glossophobia, caused timorous uncertain agitation in W. de B.P. Batty-Smith. For poor Batty-Smith had to accept the award in front of an audience of his peers.

During a recent meeting, studio executives were bandying names about for the role of Gideon Chickenstalker in a film version of The Hillbilly Vampire Chronicles, which is in the development phase. When asked my opinion (as author of the novel), I immediately said—Chris Farley.

Their response was, “He’s dead, dude (they love that term of endearment in Hollywood). What, have you been living in a cave or something?”
I could only speak the truth, and said, “Well, actually I have been living in that cave in Lascaux, Corrèze for awhile. At first I was taking part in an isolation experiment for the Laboratory for Physiological Psychology at the Sorbonne, where Tonto was cut off from communication with other people. After ten years of delusions and loss of reality and personal identity, my thinking became less directed, and was eventually replaced by highly personal fantasies and hallucinations. This was something that turned out to be not that unpleasant. Anyway, my intimate knowledge of the cave came in handy at the end of the experiment and I was hired to do some touch-up work on the Paleolithic cave paintings, for the Werner Herzog documentary, Cave of Forgotten Dreams.”

Their response was something like, “tchea, right!”

Tonto could only respond with a little bit of dactylology. Small minds will never be able to understand the free lance.

Tonto Fielding’s idea for a fundraiser, when teaching at a school for blind children in Tanzania, had a minor glitch. I thought it might be a cool idea to put together a donkey basketball game, hoping to take in $1,500 for the purchase of a Kurzweil Reader. Unfortunately my man showed up with several rhinoceros instead (something obviously was lost in translation). The result was a catastrophe. The less said the better.

One of history’s hushed up literary disputes is in the process of being investigated by Tonto Fielding. At Magdalen College, Oxford, Oscar Wilde openly scorned "manly" sports though he occasionally boxed. It was during this period that Wilde happened to overhear fellow student, John Cawte Beaglehole, disparage Walter Pate’s “Studies in the History of the Renaissance,” which Wilde had claimed, “has had such a strange influence over my life.” What Tonto has uncovered, is that Wilde knocked Beaglehole out with one punch. I have concluded after much research, that in fact it was not a fixed fight, as some have suggested. In retrospect, it has become quite clear throughout boxing history that some of its greatest fighters have all had a propensity for languishing attitudes and showy costumes, a tradition that Wilde clearly originated.

Tonto was trying to follow the advice of his marketing people, in regards to the promotion of my new novel. I had been advised to not appear too snooty, yet not too low-class either. I was to find some middle ground. I wasn’t too keen on this idea though, since there is no middle ground with Tonto. It was at this time an epiphany occurred and I came upon my most successful discovery. “We should never underestimate the power of the voice.” And by this, I mean—LOUD. It connotes strength and sincerity. So Tonto has procured a megaphone and has started a new campaign which might involve breaking a few eardrums.

It was only a natural jump from the profession of circus barker to writing crime fiction, after Tonto found himself the victim of one of the most heinous crimes one could possibly imagine. I called in all of my markers to get the investigation the attention it deserved. No stone was left unturned as the finest detective minds in my debt unraveled the mystery of who stole my newspaper from the front porch.

There are some defeats more triumphant than victories. I walked away from this wreck after the engine burst into a fireball, exploded, and blew the body of the car high into the air and over the retaining wall. That night, I drew strength from the poetry of the Alliterative Revival School. Stylistic and dialectic, it focuses on repetition of a particular sound in the first syllables of a series of words and/or phrases. I then wrote the poem, Shit.

Shit, shit, shit/ God damn it, shit.

One Journal declared the poem to be the work of a genius.

When I emerged from Mine No 2, in Kentenia, after getting lost for several days in that infernal labyrinth, I was really hungry. For some strange reason, I was craving grubs. It turned out that Chin Ho’s over in Wallins Creek served a delicious stir fry that satisfied my appetite. And this was how I obtained the nickname, “Mole.”

Omar Khadafi’s female bodyguard unit is really not new or unusual. Tonto had the unique assignment several years ago of putting together an elite commando unit to safeguard HRH Prince Carl Philip of Sweden, otherwise known as the Duke of Värmland. With my vast amount training from the time I had served as a mercenary in the Falklands, along with the fact that at one time having served as an unofficial liaison between Sweden’s top modeling agencies and several famous professional athletes (all done with complete discretion), hooking Phil up with “protection” was a drop in the hat, so to speak.

At a very early age the Koch brothers learned to contribute to causes and organizations that opposed those they believed caused them intense aggravation and don’t share their views. The Our Gang talent scouts were conducting large-scale national contests, where thousands of children (often at the behest of their parents) tried out for an open role. The Koch brothers believed that they had wowed the scouts with an interpretation of a scene from The Mandrake by Niccolo Machiavelli. These contests had brought in the likes of Norman "Chubby" Chaney, Matthew "Stymie" Beard, and Billie "Buckwheat" Thomas. The actor who ended up getting the part was Robert "Wheezer" Hutchins, who perished in a military plane crash at age 19. The Koch brothers went on to build a business empire based on oil refining that became the largest privately owned company in America, in spite of the allegation that the company has been taking oil from federal and Indian land.

Poor Alfred Heathfield developed a life long phobia of Volvo’s after an incident in childhood, when his window malfunctioned during a family trip to the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge in Assateague Island, Virginia.

Tonto has been brought in as a Resolution Mediator, by the Egyptian Military. Having built a reputation from when I was considered the premier bartender at the Club Privé in Badrutts Palace, the top members of the Intelligence arm have asked me to determine which the best recipe for a perfect Tom Collins is. After serving up some of my signature cocktails, I asked what was happening in Tahir Square. One of the Generals raised his glass and said, “Some people see, and don't care... others don't see because they don't care... and a small percentage really....ooh, this a good Tom Collins.

"Pardon me, but would you happen to have any Grey Poupon?”

Tonto’s heart goes out to all the people of Egypt rising up against an authoritarian ruler who has been in power too long. I can remember the time I had to stand up for revolution. Dr. Haggage was left in charge of our frozen arctic outpost. The two of us were left by the team to maintain operations, while the others went in search of supplies. The power soon went to the doctor’s head. It became clear after awhile that his reign had to come to an end. As Trotsky said, “If the leaders seek only to preserve themselves, that is what they become; preserves, dried preserves.” So I took to the streets (which happened to consist of a path from the tent to the outhouse) and proclaimed that, “Haggage Must Go!”

First of all I have to say that I have not yet read the first 2 books in this series, Tantalize and Eternal. That being said right off the bat I was a bit confused, but quickly caught on. The book was very easy to follow without having read the previous two. That is sometimes hard to do, but Mrs. Smith pulls it off! Second, I love Quincie! She is such a strong female character! She is running her parents restaurant, dealing with becoming a vampire and fighting her emotions over her best friend and true love, Kieren. To read more of my review, click here.

The recent phenomenon of multiple performer injuries on the stage, which is plaguing the Broadway production of Spiderman, is not new. Several years ago, the producers of the hit show Stomp, had to halt production of their new show Slam, when numerous members of the cast were sent to ER’s, after mosh pit accidents, during initial rehearsals. Tonto was one of the unfortunate. My left eye socket was broken along with two ribs. Shame too—it would have been a big hit with the kids.

Tonto Fielding will be teaching a course this winter at his new on-line University (The Tonto College of Empirical Premises and Political Prescriptions), called “Political Vitriol 101.” The object is to teach the students, through exposure to certain electronic and print media, that specific facts as well as general values can be manipulated in order to reinforce power, success, and dominance of the ideologue. Nothing can help orient the screaming animist better than learning the political symbols that will help him or her to evoke a response from the generally apathetic. Course work covers tactics such as the hijacking of potent words like “democracy,” and “federalism”. By steering political stories, in the media, into perspective, interpreting them according to the tenants of acrimony, students will learn how to assign meaning to the information and indicate the values by which they should be judged.

Tonto had an inspiration in the middle of the night. I came up with a new sandwich, which I am sure is going to be a great hit and make me rich. It consists of a ground beef patty inside a bun. You can put any kind of cheese that you prefer on it, along with an assortment of condiments. I am now on the way to the patent office. Wish me luck! What do you think I should call it?

Here is my champion, Archimedes, in training. Are you looking Santa Claus? This is the stud that’s going to kick your best reindeer’s butt. Yes, Tonto challenges any of your crew to a race. Winner takes all—that means toy factory, elves, Mrs. Claus, you name it. So, what do you say?

Tonto has been doing some undercover investigative journalistic work recently, which has uncovered the new favorite past time of the worlds elite Billionaire’s Club. Bored with purchasing English football clubs, they now prefer to buy islands and blow them up with nuclear weapons procured from financially strapped scientists in the former Soviet Republic. Here we have St. Bartholomew as it is lit up. The members of this club watch from a safe distance, in their mega-yachts, and hold up signs with scores after the explosion. St. Bartholomew garnered a rating of 8.5.

Tonto Fielding’s first play, “Oy Vay, My Son Moved to Athens,” showed great promise, but closed on the first night anyway. I thought that my premise was sound. A young man from Cleveland goes to Ohio University, and remains after graduation, because he makes a wager between God and Satan about the material world's false promises. The allegory that I meant to portray showed that you need to beware when money sounds sweeter than music. In the play I caution that those who win lotteries stand to lose all, including their spiritual treasures, families, communities and religion. My student, Hershel Dubrovner, was living a good life until he meets a young white man with dread locks who shares a mutual affinity for the band Phish, and turns Hershel into a greedy, dishonest taco vender whose success desecrates both his religion and his community. Betrayal and abandonment replace serenity and familiarity; the instruments of good fortune become instruments of death. Not even the band Phish, previously Hershel’s joy, can heal these rifts.

As the KGB could tell you, when Tonto was in high school he stole a kiss from one of the cheerleaders, just before her father came at him with a machete, an M-16, two grenades, and a laser-sighted blow dart (Czech made). My escape was narrow but later received an anonymous letter, stamped from Moscow, saying “Nice escape kid. Хорошо выглядящий птенец тоже.”

Spunky III was returned to the pet store when his test flight turned into a battle of the wits. Fortunately Tonto had the foresight to remove all ammunition from the machine gun mounts on the vintage bi-plane I had borrowed from the WWI Historical Flight Society. Spunky thought it would be fun to dive bomb his patron and scare the bejebus out of him. Sidebar: I told the store manager that Spunky hated Ecotrition Essential Blend Hamster & Gerbil Food, and preferred just plain old lettuce leafs. The last laugh was obviously mine.