In 2015 Safkhet Publishing Closed


Safkhet Publishing was an independent fiction publisher. Safkhet Books Ltd was incorporated on 09 Nov 2012 and is located in London. The company's status is listed as "Dissolved". It had 2 directors at the time it closed. The company's first directors were Kim Maya Sutton, William Banks Sutton.
Content is from the site's 2010 -2015 archived pages.



Safkhet Publishing was founded in Cambridge, England, in 2010 by Dr. jur. William Banks Sutton and Kim Maya Sutton, after they worked in publishing one way or another since 1988.

Safkhet Publishing is privately-owned and proudly-independent, with editors in the United States, the United Kingdom, and Germany.

Kim Maya Sutton
Kim Maya Sutton

Will Sutton
Dr. jur. William Banks Sutton

Our Attitude

Safkhet Publishing is dedicated to a completely paperless office. We are fully Adobe PDF-compatible and are digitally signed.
We are also environmentally conscious; we strive to reduce our carbon footprint as much as possible. You can rely on us not making unnecessary printouts, and we have chosen short print runs and print-on-demand services.
We will never knowingly harm an animal.
We are open, honest and straightforward. Our no-nonsense approach lets people understand what we do.
We believe in people helping themselves, so we support other independent businesses and non-profit endeavors.

About the goddess Safkhet


Safkhet is the Egyptian goddess of wisdom, books and libraries and the consort of Thoth, the Egyptian god of writing. Accredited with the invention of writing, she was seen as a scribe and record-keeper. She is symbolized as a standing or sitting woman holding a palm stem, which is used to keep a record of the passage of time. A six-pointed papyrus plant is above her head, her holy symbol. Her connection to papyrus is significant, as the Egyptians used derivatives of the papyrus plant to write upon.

Since the owners of Safkhet Publishing met in Egypt in 1993, the name is almost self-evident.


We take care of your publication

You supply us with the content, Safkhet produces the book for you and gives it an ISBN number. The rest is up to you. We can also set up the printing for you and deliver the finished product in your specified quantity to whichever location you determine.

Our services include

  • Writing: developing content, always tailored to your needs and audience (newsletters, conference papers, reports and web pages, or indeed entire books)
  • Editing: reorganizing and rewriting text
  • Copy-editing: checking for errors and ensuring consistency in spelling, grammar, punctuation, language usage and phraseology
  • Proofreading: last review of a document that has already been copy-edited, checking it for any remaining errors and inconsistencies
  • Translation: transfer of literary works and specialty texts (court documents, IT manuals, cookery) from one language into another


We are now accepting submissions for Romance, Romantic Comedy, Science Fiction, Fantasy, Thrillers and Suspense Novels.

  1. First, check in our news section which submissions we currently accept.
  2. Send by email only (we really love the paperless office!):
    A brief synopsis of your book (around 250 words headlined by the genre you place your book in) along with your working title, details about yourself including a short biography, information on any of your previously published material, and a short explanation as to why you chose us.

    If you send us printed manuscripts, we will not return them and most likely disregard them, so please save the paper and effort.
  3. Give us a little bit of time without asking every day whether we will publish your book. We need about ten days or so and we will get back to you!
  4. Submit your full manuscript only after we ask you to do so. Submit a digital form only; at this point we prefer a PDF. If you have images, makes sure they are included so that we get the whole picture.
  5. When we agree to publish your book, we will need an editable digital copy of your manuscript, as a DOC or something similar.

Every book we decide to publish on one of our lists is caringly edited, designed with your input, manufactured with the environment in mind, and creatively marketed and publicized.


Race your heart around the bend with Racing Heart!

By June Moonbridge

At age twenty-five Desire Hart has experienced almost too much.

Taking drastic measures and changing everything in her life; her identity, her hometown and the country of residence, she hopes her new life will help her find her kidnapped son. Desire is determined that nothing will prevent her achieving her goal. Not even love which has led her to skate on thin ice in the past once too many times.

One spring evening she meets the golden boy of F1 racing, Lorcan Shore, and finds herself falling for him. Struggling to suppress that feeling, she realises he might help her get closer to the child she starts to undoubtedly believe is her long lost son.

But nothing goes according to, what she believes, so well planned actions. Everything goes wrong. Her identity is revealed by the press, Lorcan experiences the unexpected racing accident and she finds out that the trail she was given leads her to another dead end. In despair she does, what she does best; she runs away.

Set against the glamorous backdrops of Monaco, Paris and Nice, 'Racing Heart' mixes romance and mystery as Desire struggles to come to terms with her past and learns how to accept love into her life once again.

Get your copy of Racing Heart now!

Available in the Amazon Kindle store.


Monday, September 14, 2015 /

Book review of Racing Heart by June Moonbridge

Today I am taking part in a virtual book promotion event for Racing Heart by June Moonbridgevia Brook Cottage Books

Racing Heart June Moonbridge

To her colleagues, Desiree Hart is a Formula 1 fan who lives in Nice and works in a perfume boutique in Monte Carlo, however there is so much more they don’t know about her and so much intrigue that is hinted at to the reader. She certainly gave me more questions than answers to begin with, felt a rather cold and unfeeling person and there were some things that made me quite uneasy, including the ever-controlling character of her boss Harry. I found him a hard one to relate to, until I got into the book and things started to fall into place. Desiree is not who she seems to be, having run away from her old life and started again in an attempt to get back her son who was kidnapped in Paris.

When she meets Lorcan Shore, the Five Times F1 World Champion, their encounter is everything but ordinary. Out of pure fear for her life, she loses her temper, turns her back on him and hopes (despite her feelings) she will never meet him again. He, of course, has other ideas and turns out to be very persuasive and a better detective than any of the ones she has employed over the years to find her son. I love a screwed up heroine and Desiree was perfect in this role with so much emotional baggage from the past she seemed unable to see the love now being offered. Will the man of her dreams be able to fulfill them all? Including the most important, will he help her find her missing son?

I found this to be quite a slow moving book to begin with, despite the underlying F1 theme, but once it got going and things began to heat up then so did the speed. Towards the end my heart really was racing trying to keep pace with the action and the passion, and I really enjoyed the behind the scenes insights the world of Formula 1 racing. This is a romance with added glamour from the locations and F1 connection, but it’s also a book with a plot you have to concentrate on.

About the Author:

French Village Diaries book review Racing Heart June Moonbridge Brook Cottage Book tours

June Moonbridge

The person behind the name of June Moonbridge, has many names and many faces too. Although living in the same area, she was born and raised in one country and now living in another.

She studied economics, and quickly realised she hated it. Afterwards, she found herself working in mainly male businesses; at first in automotive and later - steel products productions. She can choose for you the best steel you need, but don't, please don't, ask her which lipstick to use.

She started to write in her high school and was negatively criticised by her teacher. Stubborn as she is that didn't stop her. Under different pen names for her stories she tried to get some independent opinions, which came back as good reviews in magazines and later she published three books.

Giving birth to two children, and learning that her second child has Autism, she married the father of them and continued to work. All that together took all of her free time. But the desire to write didn't die. When life somehow sorted itself out, she decided to write her novel in English and her first submission to Safkhet was rejected…

For what happened later… read third paragraph, second sentence.


Death Sentence

He's killed your child and kidnapped your wife. What would YOU do?

Detective Inspector Matthew Adams and Patrick Sullivan, drug dealer, pimp, murderer: two men on opposite sides of the law. A history that goes way back. A bully even in his youth, Sullivan had made it his mission in life to make the goody-two-shoes copper's life a misery. Now Matthew has made it his mission in life to make sure the pimping scum responsible for prostituting young girls, abusing them, and beating them to death, is locked up for life.

When Matthew's child becomes a casualty of the war between them, does Matthew want justice? Or does he want retribution? When Patrick's brother is shot down like a dog in a drug bust gone wrong, Patrick wants payback. He wants Matthew. Or the copper loses his pretty, pregnant wife. As far as Patrick is concerned, it's quid pro quo.

Death Sentence: an edge-of-your seat story of revenge.

On sale now!

Click on any Amazon button that corresponds with your country - or thereabouts. Asian countries should use US links. If you want to order with a different bookstore other than Amazon, just call them up, send them an email or go there and ask for it by name! We distribute through most major distribution channels, so they can order it for you.

EBooks available with Amazon and most other eBook retailers.

Sheryl Browne

Excerpts from Death Sentence

Matthew walked purposefully, his breath freezing and flying into the crisp air like a soft white djinn. He'd debated hard whether to make the call. One call, and air surveillance could be hovering overhead in minutes, armed officers despatched and homing in on their target, ready to shoot Sullivan down if they caught so much as a glimpse of him. And where might that leave Becky and Ashley? His thumb hovering over his mobile, he'd factored in that Sullivan would use them as a human shield.

Matthew hadn't made the call. Those were exactly the tactics the coward would resort to, and Matthew had no idea whether Becky was in there. Depending on the soundness of the roof, thermal imaging might have indicated how many people there were and pinpointed their location, but it couldn't have identified who was who. Ashley he'd heard. Matthew's heart sank afresh as he recalled her soul-crushing scream. Becky though … The thought of her imprisoned in some dank, confined space … an underground sewer, a box buried somewhere … and the only man who knew where shot down and killed before he'd disclosed her location? That was the unbearable scenario that had decided him.

The gun, bought with one specific aim in mind, to destroy Sullivan like the vermin he was, was now useless. Matthew had it with him. Biting rain now slashing down, obscuring his vision and soaking him through to the skin, he checked his jacket pocket for the lump of cold metal. He'd abandoned the shoulder holster, thought about trying to secrete the gun, but then abandoned that idea too. Sullivan would search him. He'd find it in seconds. Ditto any other weapon Matthew had considered. He had no plan. His only hope, he knew, as did Sullivan, was to do as instructed. Turn up at the designated time. Wiping a hand over his eyes, Matthew squinted at his watch. Thereafter, offer himself in exchange for Becky and Ashley, beg Sullivan to release them, take whatever crap the sick bastard dished out. Nothing could be worse than the pain tearing Matthew apart now, except to lose the woman he loved. To know that she and Ashley had suffered and he'd been able to do nothing about it.

Rage smouldering steadily inside him, Matthew stopped directly in front of the property making sure he was in full view. One clear shot and Sullivan could take him out in an instant. But Sullivan wasn't about to do that. He needed to satiate his depraved appetites, play his perverted little game, and in the nightmare this game had become, Sullivan was winning hands down.


Bedroom, he instructed himself, foreboding at what he might find there ratcheting his fear to a whole new level. His limbs heavy, his heartbeat now sluggish, Matthew located the main bedroom. Faltering for a split-second, his hand visibly shaking, he pressed down the handle and took a tentative step inside. Wall-to-wall mirrors, he noted. Triple bed. Upholstery: black and grey silk. In the middle of the bed; placed strategically centre-duvet …

Matthew's heart stopped dead.

One single shoe, red leather, suede panels, zip front, Lolita ankle boots: bought for Becky's birthday. His stomach lurched, Matthew turned instinctively for the en suite, where he was violently sick.

Where was she? Dear God … Please don't do this. Glancing at the ceiling, sweat saturating his shirt, Matthew swallowed back the acrid taste burning the back of his throat, rammed on the taps, and threw cold water over his face. Please don't, he prayed harder, to a god he didn't much believe in, clutched the sink for support, and squeezed his eyes closed. Still they came, staccato images, seared into his mind: Lily, life extinct, eyes vacant. Becky …

No! Emitting a guttural moan, which ricocheted distortedly off the tiled walls around him, Matthew panted out short, heavy breaths, tried to still the walls which seemed to be closing in on him, to stave off the imminent asthma attack, and then froze, as his mobile rang in his pocket. Sullivan? Matthew groped for it and pressed it shakily to his ear. He didn't speak. Couldn't.

'Cat got your tongue?' Sullivan enquired, causing the walls to shift in another inch. 'Or do you need a minute, Adams, is that it? Take your time.' His tone grew sickeningly more gloating by the second. 'Slow breaths, Matthew, just like you did when you were a shit-scared, snivelling little kid.'


'Not very gentlemanly, keeping ladies hanging around, Adams, is it?' Patrick watched with interest, as the copper turned a pale shade of white. Reeling on his feet, he was, poor sod. He actually looked as if he might pass out. Didn't take him long to recover himself, though. Patrick watched on as Adams pulled himself up, bracing his shoulders in that bloody annoying Bruce Willis nothing-gets-to-me way he had. It obviously did though. He might be trying to keep a grip, but the little tic going in his cheek was a dead giveaway. Patrick had noticed it when Adams had paid him a visit in the nick. Seen it many times, when the pathetic little runt had tried to stand up to him as a kid. Most recently, before the bastard had kicked him to the floor like a dog, for which the copper was about to get payback. Oh, yes, his fuse was lit all right. The man was a ticking time-bomb, far too reactive to be on the force, in Patrick's humble opinion.

Patrick barely had time to free himself of the girl before the copper exploded.

'You fucking animal!' he seethed, lunging towards him.

But Patrick was ready. 'Down!' He levelled the shotgun, ready to blast Adams to kingdom come if he didn't back off. Clearly realising he might be at a disadvantage, Adams stopped, his expression pure thunder, his chest heaving. Oh, dear. Was that a little wheeze Patrick could hear in there? Quietly amused, he noted how Adams was struggling to control his breathing, another giveaway as to the copper's high state of anxiety. Patrick probably knew the signs better than Adams did.

'I said, down, Adams.' Lowering the gun, Patrick indicated the floor, which is where he wanted Adams. No one, but no one constantly refers to Patrick Sullivan as an animal and gets away with it.

'Unless you want your wife and Snow White to see your blood splattered all over the walls, that is?'

Adams didn't budge. Taking slow breaths, he stayed exactly where he was, his fist clenched at his side and in his eyes … pure murder. Patrick felt the tiniest flicker of apprehension run through him.

'We can play the waiting game if you like, Adams,' he made sure to hold his gaze, 'but I'm not sure your good lady will be very keen on the idea. Are you?'

Patrick's gaze flicked in the direction of the man's wife.

'Do it,' he ordered. 'Face front and get down on your knees, copper, if you value her life.'

'You bastard.' Adams took another laboured breath and ran his hands over his face. Then, glancing heavenward, finally, he did as instructed.

Got him, Patrick thought, hugely satisfied that the copper seemed to be getting the message. Patrick had the upper hand now. This time, it would be Adams, defenceless on the floor, while he broke his fucking jaw. Quid pro quo, as far as Patrick was concerned.


War 2.2

An action packed investigation, from Delta mud to the palaces of Merchant princes, Haldar is back in War 2.2


Haldar Drom is starting to worry. The long running insurgency in the Zala Delta suddenly starts to spiral further out of control. Who is arming the insurgents? How and why? Then a leading local politician who is using his influence to try and keep things calm is threatened with assassination. It's obvious that things are moving to a climax.

All Haldar has immediately available is a third year university student who gets given a dissertation project she'll never forget; young journalist who he convinces to investigate the situation of the ground; and a retired marine librarian whose job is to keep the politician alive. As the investigation proceeds, from the mud of the Delta to the luxurious surroundings of the Drake Islands, Haldar comes to realise that he may be facing Wayland Strang's counter-attack. Faced with a coup d'état spearheaded by off-world mercenaries Haldar has to react quickly to stop a major war.

Help stop an intergalactic war - Get your copy now!

Click on the link for your country - or thereabouts. Asian countries should use US links. If you want to order with a different bookstore other than Amazon, just call them up, send them an email or go there and ask for it by name! We distribute through most major distribution channels, so they can order it for you.

Jim Webster

Excerpt from War 2.2

The flitter was hardly luxurious. It was a battered Steg and Snorsin D20, the open topped utility model. The engine labored; the elderly craft was badly overloaded. Alpan, the pilot, glanced over his shoulder. There were a dozen men of the Delta Gendarmerie sprawled on the bench seats. Scattered around them was the panoply of war: personal weapons, support weapons, cases of ammunition, cases of ration packs, water containers, water sanitizers, hastily rolled up camouflage sheeting, and miscellaneous items Alpan couldn't recognize.

The men were largely asleep. Dirty, disheveled, unshaven; in spite of the noise of the engine, they slept in helmets and long armor coats. The one concession to sleep was that they had all ignored the seat belts.

They weren't the only reason for the laboring engine. Along the sides and rear of the flitter were the hastily applied panels of ceramic armor, a recently adopted field expedient.

Alpan turned his attention to the view in front; they were the second flitter in line, with three more flitters following them, flying low but not particularly quickly above the Zala Delta. Below was one of the major channels, its silt-rich water a green-brown. He spared time to check on his two crewmen. One to the left of him, one to his right, each sat in a little barbette, their light power cannons covering the riverbanks as the convoy flew onwards.

The flitter ahead dropped lower, closer to the water and Alpan followed suit. They were coming in to land at Maggville, the small village that had been turned into a forward operating base. Now they were close to the water, Alpan could see the clumps of slowly floating debris which cluttered the Delta channels in low season. The vegetation on the riverbanks was a green wall, occasionally broken where someone had felled trees to make way for a rice paddy. A voice came over the vehicle comm. "Yessa to all flitters, you hear me?"

Alpan pressed the stud on the throat mike. "Hear you Yessa." He heard other voices over the comm, all confirming their presence.

"Swampies, attacking camp perimeter: we're going in wide to get behind them, follow me."

The lead craft swung right, climbing slightly, Alpan eased the controls to match its course. He turned and shouted behind him "Wake up boys, Swampies attacking the camp, we're going to get behind them and spoil their day." Men stirred quickly to action, grabbing weapons, checking them. He turned back and noticed a bright light speeding towards the lead flitter. He hit the comm, "Yessa, missile lock."

He hastily checked his own instruments; nothing locked onto his craft. He looked forward again, just in time to see the lead flitter explode in flames. He swallowed nervously, but the lessons of his officer training came back to him. 'If you start swearing and sound worried, your men are more likely to panic.' He tried to keep his voice steady. "Barbettes, any missiles on us?"

There was a brief pause then his left barbette suddenly called out. "Incoming and bluidy fast."

Still no systems notification of a missile lock; Alpan acted instinctively, he spun the clumsy craft round and shouting, "We're swimming home," he rolled it.

As men and equipment fell into the water barely fifty feet below, Alpan fumbled with his own harness. There was an explosion as something struck the rear of the flitter and Alpan felt a wave of heat sweep over him. At last, the harness lock came undone and he plunged into the water. The silt-rich liquid swallowed him and he could taste it as he struggled to orient himself and get back up to the air. His head broke surface and he looked round. His flitter, still upside down, was breaking up, scattering blazing fuel and fragments across the surface of the river. Over the sound of burning and exploding flitter, he could hear power cannon fire. Looking up he could see the other three craft of their patrol hosing down the area from where the missiles had come. It didn't look as if they could expect any other help from them in the near future. There was also someone shouting.

To his left, between him and the nearest bank, were the infantry he'd unceremoniously dumped in the river. He could see someone wave and then disappear. A lot of these 'Dry Land' conscripts couldn't swim. Almost instinctively Alpan headed in that direction. He couldn't see anything, and then a flailing arm struck him. Alpan grabbed the arm before the arm could grab him and pulled the panicking man to him, rolled him onto his back with his face above the water and then got onto his own back to support him.

Sharply he said, "Don't panic, you'll drown both of us. Lie still."

His tone obviously worked, the man stopped and lay, shivering. Kicking strongly Alpan swam backwards towards the bank.

The three craft were now circling above him. One peeled off and spiraled lower, the barbette power cannons laying down covering fire on the riverbank where the swimming men would come ashore. The other two stayed aloft, still putting down suppressive fire into the trees. Alpan kept swimming until someone tapped him on the shoulder. "You've arrived, pilot."

Alpan stopped and stood up in water that was over his waist. He helped his companion stand up and looked at the man who had stopped him. Helmet missing, his body armor, a long jacket with ceramic panels sewn into it, hung open; it was the sergeant who'd led the conscripts onto his flitter.

The sergeant opened the breech and peered down the barrel of his combat rifle. "Clear." He closed the breech and twisted the cocking handle, chambering a round. He shouted, "Check your rifles before you fire them, now get onto the bank before our air support gets bored and leaves us." Alpan looked along the line of the riverbank. Most of the infantry had already arrived and were huddled under bank. He reached down for his pistol, still buttoned into its holster. He opened the breech, and blew into it. Water dribbled out of the end of the barrel. He looked down it. It seemed clear. He pulled the slide back and then pushed it back into place. His weapon armed, he followed the sergeant up onto the bank.


Forgiving Nancy


An action packed investigation, from Delta mud to the palaces of Merchant princes, Haldar is back in War 2.2

Two marriages real bloopers, the third one is going downhill. Nancy went from just getting by to lady in a seriously wealthy household and threw it all away. Will Maxwell forgive her?

Left alone in London, finally Stella found a reason to move to Edinburgh. She tried to win Maxwell over, but to no avail. Will she find her love in the end?

One wrong decision a lifetime ago. Now Madam Melody chances upon her daughter in Edinburgh. Will she find forgiveness?

Forgiving Nancy draws pictures of rich Edinburgh and the poor parts of town. It conjures up images of scrumptious foods and homeless shelters. It weaves together the lives of people and will make you want to continue reading and, one day, visit Edinburgh and all its wonderful hotels, cafés, gardens, and, of course, the castle.

Available now!

Click on the link for your country - or thereabouts. Asian countries should use US links. If you want to order with a different bookstore other than Amazon, just call them up, send them an email or go there and ask for it by name! We distribute through most major distribution channels, so they can order it for you.

Janice Cairns

Excerpt from Forgiving Nancy

'I think you must have really loved Maxwell,' he said quietly.

'I did, Vincent, and I do and I will forever and, for your sake, I am so sorry to have to reveal such a thing to you because I know, dear Vincent, that in your own special way you love me— and I dearly wish I could reciprocate a more full kind of love for you—but you see—I cannot,' breathed Stella.

As her tears fell, he understood fully all the emotions she was feeling about Maxwell. He could even begin to see how she could feel such bitterness towards Nancy Elliot. Nancy had, in a sense, stepped into the magic slippers she had always believed belonged to her, the magic slippers which would have allowed her to tip-toe alongside Maxwell on the soft highways of love.

The tears dropping softly onto her linen napkin spoke louder than any words ever could. For several minutes, Vincent completely understood Stella in a way he had never understood anyone in his life before. She had let him into her private world, into the private garden where she revealed her true and pure love for Maxwell Elliot.



Sheryl Browne

Sheryl Browne

Sheryl Browne grew up in Birmingham, UK, where she studied Art & Design. She wears many hats: a partner in her own business, a mother, and a foster parent to disabled dogs. Creative in spirit, Sheryl has always had a passion for writing. She has previously been published in the US and writes Rom Com because, as she puts it, "life is just too short to be miserable."

Sheryl is a member of the Romantic Novelists' Association.



Death Sentence
The Edge of Sanity

Janice Cairns

Janice Cairns

Born in Ayrshire and educated at Ayr Academy, Janice Cairns has had an assortment of jobs. She's worked in child-care, law, insurance, media and creative writing. Janice lives in Edinburgh now; the city has been home to her for the last thirty years. It is here that her dream of becoming a writer is coming true. Janice's life could be described as a happy mix of active marketing for her first novel and laying some foundations for what is to come. She finds time in her busy schedule to enjoy walks at the Botanic Gardens or by the sea or even in the busy beautiful city she lives in. She has always considered her walks as important to her as she thinks these activate her creative thoughts and actually inspire her to write.



Forgiving Nancy

Michael Datcher


Michael Datcher did his undergraduate work at UC Berkeley and his graduate work at UCLA. He is the author of the critically-acclaimed New York Times Bestseller RAISING FENCES—a TODAY SHOW BOOK CLUB Book of the Month pick.  The film rights were originally optioned by actor Will Smith's Overbrook Productions, who hired Datcher to write the screenplay.  He is co-editor of TOUGH LOVEThe Life and Death of Tupac Shakur.  Datcher's play SILENCE was commissioned by and premiered at the Getty Museum. He is co-host of the weekly public affairs news magazine BEAUTIFUL STRUGGLEon 90.7 FM  KPFK in Los Angeles. His writing is widely anthologized, including appearances in the volumes What Makes A Man (Penguin), Brown Sugar (Simon Schuster), Soulfires (Penguin), Testimony(Beacon Press), Another City (City Lights), and Body and Soul(Crown), among others. He has curated and/or presented his work at the Brooklyn Museum of Art, Museum of Contemporary Art, The Hammer Museum and other art institutions. Datcher is the former Executive Director of The World Stage, a literary and jazz education and performance nonprofit in Los Angeles' Crenshaw District. He is Editor of THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FACT: International Journal of Literary Nonfiction. Datcher teaches in the English Department at Loyola Marymount University.




Bonnie Glee


Bonnie Glee's sixth grade teacher, Mr. Orville Nelson, observed her constantly writing during recess. When the school year came to a close, he mailed her a handwritten note encouraging her to follow her passion for words. Her maternal grandmother, a newspaper columnist, and her mother, a published poet, greatly influenced her. As a single working mom of five children, her publishing career began with poetry when four Utah State University professors, one by one, took her under their wings and mentored her. She held leadership positions with the League of Utah Writers, Utah Poetry Society and the National Poetry Society.

Family stories often leave a compelling image in Bonnie Glee's mind; an image that drives her to expand such one liners as ... 'Your Aunt's husband was killed by his business partner'. Bingo, Satin Murder was written. She writes about people, diverse people, and how they conquer everyday life.

Simon Holloway

Simon Holloway

Simon Holloway gave up a promising school career because he doesn't like golf. He took instead to the worlds of music, Italian food and coffee, in that order, before accidentally moving to North Wales, where he deliberately stayed to get married and do a PhD. He's written many poems, three novels, a screenplay and co-written two sitcoms, under several different names. He currently teaches creative writing at The University of Bolton, where he also researches the actions and processes of creativity, publishing articles and essays on the subject. He is a firm believer in the wisdom of capybaras, and collects small plots of land around the world, for no reason at all. He craves silence above all else, that and for words to do what we wants them to, and always to have less light and more fountain pens than he needs.



The Words We Use are Black and White

Debbie Ingram

Debbie Ingram

When Debbie was a little girl, she always wanted to be either a mermaid or a fairy when she grew up. When harsh reality struck and she realised she could neither breathe under water nor fly, she was a little bit crushed. She amended her plans somewhat and decided instead not to grow up. This was a cunning plan that worked, as she is still somewhat hobbit-sized in stature. She decided she would create her own magical world to live in, and this she did through writing stories. It was a comfortable, happy place for her.

Sometimes reality would intervene alas, and she dabbled in earning a living for thirty odd years or so. Debbie also managed to marry and produce two sons. She is still a bit baffled as to how that happened, but the boys grew up around her while she loved them; and she managed to scribble away whenever she could.

She spends her days now at home in East London either happily writing or, if she is particularly energetic, wrestling various items from the jaws of her two kleptomaniac dogs.



Forest of Brambles

Guy T. Martland

Guy T. Martland

Guy T Martland has been writing Science Fiction since he was a teenager. The flow of adolescent words was interrupted by a medical degree at Trinity College, Cambridge. He subsequently qualified and then became a pathologist, because he had a thing about cells and microscopes.
Guy's stories have been published in various places, including Noesis, Xenos, Lexikon, Jupiter SF, Bento Box and Albedo 2.0. He is an alumnus of the Milford SF course. He has also occasionally been known to publish poetry.
He lives in Bournemouth, close to where Robert Louis Stevenson wrote The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and a few miles from where Mary Shelley is buried. Also living under the same roof are his fiancée Darya and a grumpy Scottish fold cat called Gordon.
At 6'8" Guy is one of the tallest Science Fiction writers in the world. He can sometimes be seen riding around Bournemouth and Poole dressed in unfashionable fluorescent clothing on an extremely large bicycle, which has been likened to a gate. On Friday evenings he usually scrapes away at a 19th century fiddle with a local orchestra, before going to the pub to sink a few pints of Boondoggle. His collection of vinyl records is extensive, and he has a Cure T-shirt for every day of the fortnight.



The Scion

Kim Maya

Kim Maya

Kim Maya Sutton was born when there were no bike helmets and smartphones and the Internet didn't exist yet. Surprisingly, she grew up anyway, but has also remained a child in many ways. Having moved more than 20 times certainly added to her spontaneity, as have her multiple career changes. She has an insatiable appetite for new things.

Kim needs at least one dog around her, loves the ocean and mountains and is happiest when she has at least three projects going at any one time. Right now, she's director of a publishing company, author, wife, cook, lecturer, host mother, foster mother, and artist.

She twitters (@KimatSafkhet), edits and publishes books for Safkhet Publishing and is planning one of her life dreams: visit Alaska.



Entschuldigung aber ich bin nur Kinderarzt
Recipes for Disaster

June Moonbridge

June Moonbridge

The person behind the name of June Moonbridge, has many names and many faces too. Although still living in the same area, she was born and raised in one country (ex Yugoslavia) and now living in other (Slovenia).
She studied economics, and quickly realised she hated it. Afterwards, she found herself working in mainly male businesses; at first in automotive and later steel products productions. She can choose for you the best steel you need, but don't, please don't, ask her which lipstick to use.
She started to write in her high school and was negatively criticised by her teacher. Stubborn as she is that didn't stopped her. Using different pen names for her stories, she tried to get some independent opinions, which came back as good reviews in magazines and later she published three books.
Giving birth to two children, learnt that her second child has Autism, she married the father of them and continued to work. All that together took all of her free time. But the desire to write didn't die. When life somehow sorted itself out, she decided to write her novel in English and her first submission to Safkhet was rejected… 
For what happened later… read above, third paragraph, second sentence.



Racing Heart

Paul Robinson-Kamp


Born in London, Paul grew up in rural Cambridgeshire and later read philosophy at Manchester University. Subsequently, he returned to his native Cambridge where he applied his philosophical outlook while employed as a dish-washer at Gonville & Caius College. Inspired by this experience, Paul fled the UK in '95 and has since lived as an itinerant editor, teacher or layabout in wonderful places such as Sri Lanka and Israel, as well as in democracies, such as India, New Zealand, Portugal and the Netherlands. He presently lives in Goa, where, with his wife and two children, an attempt is made to recreate 'The Blue Lagoon'.



This Scheme of Things

W.A. Rusho

W.A. Rusho

Many people have a day when they come into their own. Sometimes it was when they first played a sport, others when they found a calling. For W.A. Rusho, it was when he was in the military, where he discovered the dedication and commitment that he lacked earlier in life. Through dedication he found confidence. This sense of commitment and confidence he applied to everything.

Following his military career, he pursued degrees in Criminal Justice and Communication Arts, and became a private investigator. W.A.Rusho is also a professional wrestler, a 3-time inductee into the United States Martial Arts Association Hall of Fame.

Bill believes in applying real life knowledge and experience to writing, and that it is important to be true to reality as much as possible, even when writing fiction.



Legend of the Mystic Knights

Sam Smith

Sam Smith

This Sam Smith predates the lately arrived singer, but not the North American sports journalist of the same name. Nor does this Sam Smith have anything to do with a Yorkshire brewery. The Sam Smiths who sculpt, play tennis and present TV programmes are also not what he does. No, almost the whole of this Sam Smith's adult life he has written. He began with novels, belatedly stepped sideways into poetry, received his first rejections in the late sixties (plus enough encouragement from publishers' readers and editors to keep him going), and 23 years later he got his first words into print. His first published novel was then entered for the Booker and one of his poems got picked for the Forward. He went on to win other awards. Now he is himself editor of The Journal (once 'of Contemporary Anglo-Scandinavian Poetry') and the publisher of Original Plus books.

As for the biographical nitty-gritty… Sam was born in Blackpool 1946, is now living in Maryport, Cumbria. These last couple of decades he has worked as poetry and fiction editor for 4 publishers. Prior to that he has been gainfully employed as a psychiatric nurse, a residential social worker, milkman, plumber, laboratory analyst, groundsman, sailor, computer operator, scaffolder, gardener, painter & decorator. working at anything, in fact, which has paid the rent, enabled him to raise three daughters and which hasn't got too much in the way of his writing.




Ursula Smith

Ursula Kennedy Smith

Ursula spends quite a bit of time in Kent, and in her garden she has a shack. There is a blue plaque on this shack as her mother was the author Lena Kennedy and she sometimes used to write there, even under candleight. But these days, Ursula writes there and on her laptop. Ursula has been writing seriously for ten years and perhaps, too, has the `writing bug` that her mum used to call it. The `blue plaque unveiling` was in May 2011 and it is on YouTube. This year, she has given two talks about her mother, spent time at the RNA meetings and joined a new writing group.

Ursula likes to walk with her dog and sometimes swim. She seems to keep busy with many activities, including drawing and spending time with her grandchildren and her friends.



Queen of the Harbour

Suzie Tullett

Suzie Tullett

Suzie Tullett is an author of contemporary humorous fiction and romantic comedy. As well as The Trouble with Words, her novels include Going Underground and Little White Lies and Butterflies, which was short-listed for The Guardian's 2013 Not the Booker Prize. She has a Masters Degree in Television & Radio Scriptwriting and worked as a scriptwriter before becoming a full-time novelist. And when she's not tapping away on the computer creating her own literary masterpiece, she usually has her head in someone else's.



Little White Lies and Butterflies
The Trouble with Words

Jim Webster

Jim Webster

Jim Webster was born in Barrow in Furness on the 24th March 1956, the same day that Devon Loch fell at the Grand National and Dick Francis turned his attention to writing. With a teacher for a mother and a farmer for a father, Jim was thus able to read before going to school, could drive a tractor by the age of eight and was feeding calves somewhat earlier than that. Jim's been farming since 1975 and milked twice a day, at least 290 days a year for the next thirty years. Since then, he's farmed, written freelance and acted as a consultant, sometimes managing to do all three in the same day. Jim is happily married since 1985; his wife Brenda and he have three daughters scattered about Northern England.

He has held sundry community positions, including chairing the local Police Liaison Committee, chair of the county branch of the Country Land and Business Association, and has written more articles on wargaming and military history than he can count and is a Church Warden. He is immoderately proud of the fact that he has no CV, having been self-employed his entire life.



Justice 4.1
War 2.2

Carol E. Wyer

Carol E. Wyer

Carol E. Wyer is an ex-teacher and linguist who began her working life in Casablanca where she used to race around the streets on a clapped out VéloSoleX bike, avoiding donkeys. She changed career to become a fitness instructor in her forties and appeared in Zest magazine as a 'success story'. No longer able to touch her toes with her hands, she has now become a full-time writer. Having written a series of educational yet amusing books for children, she turned her attention to the adult market in 2010 when her son flew from the nest.

Her first two novels Mini Skirts and Laughter Lines and Surfing in Stilettos won several awards for humour and much attention from the media. Since then, she has appeared on numerous BBC radio stations, several international radio stations, Sky News, NBC and BBC Breakfast television discussing age-related subjects such as 'Irritable Male Syndrome' and 'Grumpy Old Menopause'. Her writing style has been described frequently by the media as 'witty' or 'humorous' and has even been compared to the acerbic wit of Jeremy Clarkson and the humour of Robin Williams.

Carol has written articles for and featured in several national women's magazines including Take A Break, Choice, Woman's Weekly and Woman's Own who also wrote about her journey to becoming a best-selling author.

Currently writing a series of novels and articles aimed at the 'older' woman and man, Carol is also engaged in writing by-line articles and posts for magazines and websites including the Huffington Post.

In 2015 she won The People's Book Prize Award for Grumpy Old Menopause.

Carol is also a regular Loud Mouth on BBC Radio Derby.

Recently, she took a crash course in stand-up comedy and is currently doing a comedy tour entitled Smile While You Still have Teeth to sell-out audiences, proving you're never too old to try a new experience.