
Christian Romance Novels
by author Dan Dooley
I'm not a big fan of AI art. But sometimes, as authors, and others involved in visually creative work, we need some digital tools to help out in projects.
So I invested in ArtSpace as it provides a wide capability of images created from your own words, unlike the free ones I tried before.
But this one is close to free. It's affordable. And, unlike others, it's a one time purchase. Lifetime license. Not a monthly subscription.
I needed an image for the cover of one of my books. Not being good at art, myself and not wanting to pay the big bucks most illustrators demand, I decided to give AI art a try. Actually, this is two images, each created as a result of entering the description in text form. Then I used my photo editing tool to merge the two images. This is just an example of what can be done.
Do you want to see more information on the books? Yes?
Look Here
Follow the Author on Social Media
'Abigail, A Short Story Prequel' is the background, and introduction to the novel 'A Ship Called Abigail.' the first in the 'Legacy of Abigail' series.
The story is in PDF format, and free to download read and share. In fact, I hope you will share it.
He laughed. Someone else laughed in return. It was not a woman’s laugh. Upside down in the fireplace under the mantel, a round, freckled face with red hair hung down, and was laughing.
“You do look strange sitting there upside down,” the head said.
“I’m not the one upside down, ye villain,” Elijah replied.
“Are you sure that you are not upside down?” the genie asked. “From here, you certainly appear to be upside down. So I say you are.”
“‘Tis ye who is mad,” Elijah exclaimed, now much irritated at the harassment. “Ye’re the one upside down. A fig on ye! Be off with ye an’ leave me be.”
“Oh my,” the genie stated, still upside down in the fireplace. “Grateful we are for good favors rendered.”
“What good favors have ye rendered?” Elijah demanded. “Ye be givin’ me nothin’ but ruin and sore feet.”
“I could make your fortune go much worse,” the genie threatened.
“It makes ye happy t’ torment me?” Elijah asked.
“Hmmm. I cannot say that it does. Or is it, I cannot say that it doesn’t?”
“Ye make nay sense,” Elijah accused.
“Begging yer pardon, Sir?” The voice was that of the housekeeper. Not the genie. “Who makes nay sense?”
“Him,” Elijah answered. She was now in the room. Looking around, she saw no one other than Elijah.
“Hrumph,” she exclaimed. “Whoever he was, he’s gone now.”
The author's books are also available from the following book stores.
And for those readers in Europe
One day a strange package arrived. This one did not come by the normal mail channels. Instead, it was simply left on the front steps of the Post Office building.
The crudely paper wrapped package contained no forwarding address. Nor did it contain a return address. Written on the paper was simply two words. "Miss Penny."
Open opening the package, the two men discovered it contained nothing more than a faded old fashioned wedding dress. But the dress came with a dark and sinister secret. And, to Jonathan's horror, a frightening presence. One to make him even question his own sanity.
Jonathan lost his girl, his best friend, and his employment. No longer an employee of the Post Office, he now lives on a meager income as a city bike currier. His prospects for the future are bleak. But at least the haunting sounds of weeping from Miss Penny no longer trouble him at night.
All is about to change with a chance encounter with the grey man.
-----
“Join me. Sit,” he insisted.
Jonathan took his place on the chair opposite him. “Had supper yet?” he asked, revealing his own finishing with the empty plate on the table before him. Jonathan shook his head in response.
The man seemed giddy with excitement. He nodded his head, and his entire body seemed to follow. “I remember you, young man. I do. Recognized you right off. I did.”
“I remember our meetings as well,” Jonathan replied. But I never learned your name, Sir.
“Silver, Sir,” the old man answered. “That was my father’s name too. Of course. Of course. Why not?” He broke into a laugh. “Horace bein’ my given name too. Oh. And your name?”
Writer of Steampunk Romance books with a Christian message and theme. Author, novelist, and short story writer, Christian fiction with a touch of Steampunk romance. Stories of new love found and of love lost. Humorous and sometimes oddball tales.
The Legacy of Abigail series consists of four novels. Beginning with, 'A Ship Called Abigail,' that novel is followed by three sequels. 'Voyage of Abigail,' 'When Love Finds Hannah,' and 'An Empty Quiet Place.'
Miss Penny's Wedding Dress
Miss Penny's Wedding Dress
He awoke with a start. He remembered the dream being broken, and suddenly he was awake. Somewhere within the flat, he heard a sound. The sound was faint. He listened.
Then fully awake, he heard it again. It was not from within the dream, as is often the case when dreams seem to blend with waking memories.
Faint, but there it was again. It came as the sound of weeping. It was the sound of a woman weeping. Somewhere, within his flat, a woman was weeping.
But he was alone in the flat. Thus the sound could not be real. Then it ceased. There was no further sound. Only the sound of the ticking of the clock on the wall of the parlour.
He lay awake, listening. The desire for sleep now lay behind him, yet the morning was hours away.
He walked inside. His table where he customarily sat was empty. There he sat.
“Sir! You’re back,” the waiter greeted him. “Have you been ill, Sir?” And Stemmons’ face brightened at the sight of him.
“Aye. I think I have,” he answered.
“I’m sorry to hear that Sir. Will it be the usual, Sir?”
“Aye. The usual, Stemmons.”
“Aye, Sir. Tell me something Sir. If I may be so bold. What was it you found in the paper which gave you such an excitement? If I may ask.”
“Was but a clock, Stemmons. A bloody clock.”
Stemmons felt a disappointment. He had anticipated telling his wife, but upon returning home that evening, he would have nothing of interest to tell her. It was just a clock?
Mr. Weatherspoon had been so giddy with excitement that he thought, something of more importance than a clock. “It’s a good clock, I’ll warrant,” he replied.
“Good!” Elijah retorted. “Anything but good. It’s been me bane. Me ruin. Would I’d never seen it.”
“It’s an unfortunate clock,” the waiter agreed. “Unfortunate indeed.”
Do you need your own website but you don't need to spend an arm and a leg for hosting and web building tools? Website Builder
Mister Weatherspoon's Unfortunate Clock
Mister Weatherspoon's Unfortunate Clock
Miss Penny's Wedding Dress