First Fantasy Novella by Best Selling Author Christopher Rice

One Thousand and One Dark Nights--Once upon a time, in the future… I was a student fascinated with stories and learning. I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast library at my father’s home and collected thousands of volumes of fantastic tales. I learned all about ancient races and bygone times. About myths and legends and dreams of all people through the millennium. And the more I read the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually become part of them. I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I would not be telling you this tale now. But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off with bravery. One afternoon, curious about the myth of the Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar (Persian: شهريار, “king”) married a new virgin, and then sent yesterday's wife to be beheaded. It was written and I had read, that by the time he met Scheherazade, the vizier's daughter, he’d killed one thousand women. Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had never occurred before and that still to this day, I cannot explain. Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to protect herself and stay alive. Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales. And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more. And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that he might hear the rest of my dark tale. As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before you now.

I loved the idea of participating in a series based upon the concept of the ancient stories--so fantastical that they kept alive the storyteller just so that the King would keep Scheherazade alive to tell another one...

When Christopher Rice was asked to participate, he chose a fantasy story that is quite lovely and romantic tale as its characters meet what could be a ghost, a genie, or other magical person who offers a candle to the young woman who happens to visit his store one day... This erotic tale has just three characters--that are humans that is...Cassidy, Shane and Andrew... This is their story...

Two-and-a-half-years, she reminds herself, keenly aware, once again, that ever since she became a business owner she’s tended to round down her every accomplishment, accomplishment, as if no achievement of hers will be good enough until Cassidy’s Corner is out of the red and fulfilling Internet orders from all over the world. Then everything will be better; then she will earn the respect of her husband’s fellow architects at Chaisson & Landry, men and women who currently see her as nothing more than a housewife with a love of long novels and a codependent friendship with her gay best friend. And then she will never have another insecurity in the world. Ever. If she’s not careful, this cruel, self-defeating line of thought will wash away her ambitions with the speed and ease of the rain sluicing through the gutters overhead. She’s not a teenager anymore. She has no business blaming others for the terrible pressure she places on herself at the start of every workday. And if she doesn’t watch herself, she’ll make it Andrew’s fault, too. If he weren’t so driven and successful, she wouldn’t feel the need to compete. And if he weren’t so goddamn handsome, then she wouldn’t constantly feel like she didn’t deserve him, that other women were whispering things behind her back, things like, “What’d she do to land that one? Does it involve splits?” It is fear that tricks her into seeing the blessings in her life as obstacles. It is fear, plain and simple, that twines its black fingers through the love and respect she has for her husband, pulling it apart until its strands look like chains. And nothing good in her life has ever come from treating fear like a teacher. Worse, these thoughts are just painful distractions from uncomfortable, everyday realities. Owning a business is a lot harder than she thought it would be. That’s the long and short of it. And it’s just easier to indulge paranoid fantasies than it is to balance the books, conduct bi-weekly inventories, and stay abreast of trade conventions where she might find that rare, expensive specialty item that will snag the attention of a tourist from Atlanta or a Garden District housewife wandering the Quarter after brunch at Galatoire’s. And then there’s what happened during Mardi Gras...

~~~

Since I had just finished reading Rice's latest book, I remembered that I had one other story on my long TBR list by this author...and pulled it up! It is superb...

Was it the stress Cassiday was feeling? Or was there something that was beginning to happen within her home life--with her two men--her best, and gay, friend, Shane, since childhood and her husband, Andrew... Perhaps she was so tired when she feel asleep that she entered into a magical fantasy dream... But as each moment continued, Cassday was questioning, this can't be real, even though they were all quite surprised at what had happened after drinking too much at the Mardi Gras... Now her heart and mind were torn...

If it was a dream, it was so real... It started when she was hurrying to pick up materials for a job and it had begun to rain...As she was passing a shop delicious smells flowed out to her and she stopped...The shop keeper quickly saw her and invited her in to wait until the rain slowed... As soon as she was in the shop and her materials were stacked on the floor, she turned and went to a specific candle--it was as if she was drawn into the flame itself as it produced smells she at first couldn't identify. Then she realized that there were hints of both of the men who were important to her. How strange that she would think that, because surely it was made of various scents to produce this unique assault on her senses...

The shopkeeper talked to her and immediately insisted that she take the candle as a gift--that he made candles for specific people and, surely, this one had been created for her... Later, he gave instructions...and she followed them...

And that's when the magic began and the three gold-sprinkled spirits visited...

Do you enjoy erotic fantasies? I would quickly tell you that, in my opinion, it was the writing of the author that made this story so fascinating... Setting the story within a fantasy allows readers to consider how the story affects them. The story, the timing, are elusive, suspenseful... How do we define and reveal love to those closest to us? And is attraction the basis of love, or does love evolve from friendship and caring? Readers will undoubtedly be left with thoughts--intriguing thoughts...

I think I was most interested in the inner introspection of each of the three characters as each chapter changes from one person to another. Do we ever really share our most intimate thoughts, needs, desire? If not, can true intimacy occur? In what form? The story is more exploratory in psychological musings than the average erotic tale... To me that was surely a bonus which makes me highly recommend it for those who read explicit erotic fantasies...

GABixlerReviews

The Case of the Hobo's Son: A Sam Cloudstone Novella by Jimmy Martin

As the last rays of the sun shrunk down below the trees, a white mist seemed to Sam to appear in the corner of the kiva. As he concentrated on the mist, it slowly formed into the visage of an elderly Indian man. It was Grandpa and he'd come to talk with his favorite grandson.
"Hello Yanny-va-oo'ah." This is the name Grandpa had always used for Sam, which meant "laughing child" in Comanche, and it was based on the fact that Sam was the happiest baby Grandpa had ever seen. Sometimes he simple called him Yanny for short.
"Hello Grandpa. As usual I'm very glad to see you!" Sam said. "How are things in the great beyond?"
"Fine. And I'm glad to see you too. But you must stop this, it's not right. Besides, I have told you over and over that you are doing this all wrong. You should eat the Sacred Cactus, not drink a tea made from it. And you are not using enough, you cannot see your spirit animal at such a level. All you are doing in conjuring me."
"My spirit animal is an idiot. He is a magnificent White Wolf, so regal and majestic, but when I ask him questions he always disappoints me" Sam lamented. "Every dialog we have degenerates into a discussion of the Kennedy Assassination! I'm asking questions that to me should lead to the reasons for my very existence, and he keeps going on about the Grassy Knoll and multiple shooters.. Do you understand how disappointing that is to me?"
"Maybe you are to discover something about that. Maybe that is what he is trying to tell you. You ARE an investigator, aren't you?" Grandpa asked him.
"That I am. But mostly, I'm just a wondering spirit, and you are the only one from the other side of the spirit world that ever makes any sense to me. For that matter, you are one of the only ones that ever made any sense on this side of the spirit world too."

~~~

The Case of the Hobo's Son is the second book in the Sam Cloudstone Series by Jimmy Martin. The debut proved to be a fun book so I was happy to move forward with Cloudstone, a quite unique character. I encourage you to check out the first novel to taste the flavor! Sam's a PI by profession, but there is a lot of fun time that takes place, it seems, no matter what particular mystery he is asked to work with...

Sam and Melissa have continued to live together, so in this book, we actually get to participate in two adventures as each plans a trip to gather with friends. Interestingly, Sam's ex, Sandra, has become friends with Melissa and it is a delight to watch what interaction occurs among the threesome. Melissa and Sandra are heading out for a girl's weekend trip that has been a tradition for 8 years...They're heading to a dude ranch!

Sam is headed to Arlington to stay with his friend Richard Serling, with the obvious nickname of Twilight Zone  (or Zone)...but when Sam gets there, Zone has a semi live-in that immediately gets on Sam's nerves... "Don't get me wrong, man, I like her but, damn!" Zone just looked at him with that look that two race car drivers might have across a crowded bar that say "I get you!"


Zone's crazy girlfriend named Luz was there when Sam first got there and hung out with them for a little while. She came from Columbia, and she had the type of personality that reminded people of the comedienne Charo, the famous "cuchi-cuchi girl." She left after about 30 minutes in order to let them catch up on old times. Sam was actually relieved! spending 30 minutes with someone of her ebullient personality tended to wear Sam out. Actually, Luz tended to wear most people out so Sam wasn't in any minority. When she kissed Zone goodbye and went out into the ever present rain, both men looked at each other with a certain relief on their faces.

Kicking back Sam and Zone caught up...and invariably brought out the guitars--Sam remembered when he used to live in a tent and wrote songs for beer.

Somewhere in the middle of their rendition of "Whisky River" Sam decided to give Melissa a call...but after one no answer he got an answer, berating...Sam had played a dirty joke on her and she was fuming! Oh well...we'll be seeing how that works out!

I've always been intrigued by the spiritual relationship with ancestors and spirit guides by Native Americans. Sam had been discouraged by his new partner to use the drugs that sometimes accompanied those connections. Still, Sam was really confused when his spirit guide kept talking about the Kennedy Assassination...But when things later came about that he was being shown to the Dallas Underground, pieces of the puzzle began to come together...
Years ago, I visited old Underground Atlanta Georgia and enjoyed a delightful dinner with a companion, although I would not wish to live there if I had a choice... But it seems from Sam's informant, there were hobos living underground during the 60s and they were going to meet the son of one of those who were there in November, 1963...

OK, it's a story that's has been used many times, but there is sufficient background and character development by Martin to allow readers to enjoy once again playing "what if..." with a fresh, alternative history story for the Kennedy Assassination, like no other! For instance, on continuing the search they discovered a false wall and behind it they found the message: To solve the riddle, and be a good learner, Take a water trip, to the falling castle...Mr. Turner... Who was Mr. Turner, how long had that message been there, and many other questions occurred to Sam as he willingly decided to enjoy a scavenger hunt with history being the theme...

While the hunt begins for Sam and others, Melissa and her group of friends have run into a little trouble... Seems one of the group has a real delight with her Tequila which she takes everywhere she goes... and she had gotten into a hassle with the male friend of a woman who was a member of a Mexican Girl gang who thought nothing of taking out anybody that crossed them...and when she saw the woman that had done her wrong, the whole gang started out after The Coven, which was what Melissa's group went by...Funny yes, but also not so much since the gang member was aiming to rid herself of her perceived enemy!

And all the wild happenings took place in the rains that caused the Great Texas Springtime Floods of 2015!

And if all that is not enough to keep you interested, you'll be visiting a casino for craps, learn some language about playing such as a Little Joe or a Yo, all of which I hadn't a clue how to interpret, LOL, listening to guy stories from the past and sometimes leaning in on some music...

Then I heard the Kinks were coming to town and I decided I needed to go see them! Anyway, like I said I was broke, but I found out through a guy down the hall that there was a little known "Distressed Student Fund" available to students to use in an emergency. Well, like I said I hadn't been laid lately so I figured this qualified. I made up some sob story and got $175 from the school on loan. I then bought two Kinks tickets and then proceeded to try to find some girl to go see them with me."

"Which I have always maintained is a mistake." interjected Sam, "Women in my experience will go with you to a concert, but they will usually just go to be seen there, or just go to get trashed there. Which is fine if you just want to get laid, but if you actually want to enjoy the band I've always found it's better to go with a buddy or at least a girl that truly loves the band!"

!!!

You might think it is a guy book, but it was fun and when Melissa believes Sam is in trouble and rides in to save the day, well, in my opinion, it doesn't get better than that. Enjoy!

GABixlerReviews

Dog Gone Ghost by Angie Fox is Dog-Gone Great!

...I grabbed my bowl of strawberries and headed for the woodpile. I’d probably need every last one of them to coax Lucy out this time. I was searching for that tuft of tail when I heard a car crunching down the side driveway. Interesting. I wasn’t expecting anyone. 
Then again, this was Sugarland, where friends and neighbors felt free to drop by anytime. It was one of the things I loved about this place. But I didn’t recognize the gray Honda Civic that pulled up on the opposite side of the ghost car, or at least where I believed it to be. It was interesting how the living instinctively tended to avoid the dead. 
An African American girl with natural hair and cat-eye glasses slid out of the car. I tried to place her and knew I recognized her from town. She smiled at me and slammed the door, showing off thin arms and a honey badger tattoo. 
“Hiya!” she said by way of introduction. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I’m Bree LaMont.” 
Now I remembered her. She was friends with the woman who owned the New For You resale shop downtown. I’d solved a haunting there a while back. I lifted my bowl and then glanced at the woodpile. “I’ve got a little critter I’m trying to catch.” 
Her gaze darted to the logs. “Friendly or feisty?” she asked, growing serious, careful. 

“Both,” I said, smiling. “It’s my pet skunk, Lucy. We were trying out a harness for the first time and she got spooked.” I’d leave out the part about the ghost. Bree crouched in front of the woodpile as if she’d done this before, which was… impossible. She tilted her head. 
“I see little Lucy,” she said, her tone warming. Bree smacked her lips. Once. Twice. It didn’t make any sense. I saw the flash of a tail. That’s it, love,” she murmured, graduating to a harsh purr that sounded like part skunk, part cat. Lucy’s nose poked out from under a log. Bree purred deeper, and Lucy wriggled out from under the woodpile. A grin tickled the side of Bree’s lips as my little skunk toddled straight into her arms. “That’s it,” she said, embracing her, “Good girl.” 
“How did you do that?” I asked, crouching next to her to pet my skunk. Bree stroked Lucy’s silky fur, stopping to flick out the occasional piece of tree bark. 
“I called her like her mamma would. It helps that Lucy’s the adventurous sort.” She stroked the soft spot behind her ear. “You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” 
“And you’re the skunk whisperer,” I told her, amazed to see them both perfectly content. Believe it or not, some folks in town had issue with Lucy being a skunk. They labeled her as a menace before they even bothered to get to know her. 
“I work for the Sugarland Animal Sanctuary,” Bree said, standing, with Lucy in her arms. “But in college, I volunteered with the Smoky Mountains Wildlife Rescue Center in Gatlinburg. We saw a fair number of Lucy’s country cousins.”
“Let’s sit up on the porch,” I suggested. Lucy was going to get heavy in a second and Bree showed no sign of putting her down. “I don’t have any sweet tea brewed.” In fact, I didn’t have any tea or sugar in the house. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. Southern hospitality called for me to have something to offer my guest, but the money for extras this month had gone toward securing Lucy a bit of exercise. “I can get you a big glass of iced water.”
“I’m fine, thanks,” she said, joining me on the porch. She winced a bit and seemed to hesitate for a moment. “What I really need is a favor.” 
“All right,” I said, sitting on the swing with her. I’d do my best. She drew Lucy a bit closer to her chest and the skunk snuggled in tight. “We have a dangerous situation at the animal sanctuary. A ghost. Word around town is that you handle that sort of thing.” 
“I do. In fact, I just started a new ghost-hunting business,” I told her. Even before I’d gone pro, Frankie and I had done a lot of good. We’d caught more than one killer, we’d reunited a World War Two soldier with his sweetheart, and we’d even solved a decades-old mystery at a haunted mansion. 
“My boss forbade me to call you,” she admitted, her fingers twining in Lucy’s fur. “We don’t have the money for this sort of thing and he doesn’t even believe in ghosts. But I saw something last night that needs fixing, no matter what he thinks.” 
“You can tell me,” I assured her. 
Lucy curled her soft tail around Bree’s arm and the woman stroked it. “We’ve had trouble this past week with animals getting out of their cages at night. Dogs, mostly. But sometimes cats and rabbits. We had a guinea pig go loose last night and that’s dangerous. The animals could hurt themselves or each other. My boss thinks it’s the cages or that we’re not locking them tight enough, but it’s not. Someone or something is letting the animals out.” 
I believed her. Bree didn’t seem like the type to forget to lock the cages. “What did you see last night?” I pressed. She drew tight and then blew out a breath. 
“I brought a sleeping bag to work last night and I stayed. I’ve done it before for sick animals or for an animal that’s having trouble adjusting.” She seemed unsure and I nodded for her to continue. “We have a separate area for the dogs. I set up in the hallway outside the dog kennels. I kept the lights on and even managed to get a few hours’ sleep. But at about three in the morning, the kennels started opening by themselves. It was as if someone was unlatching them, but I didn’t see anybody.” 
“It’s okay,” I said, placing a hand over her trembling one. “I believe you.” Her eyes had gone glassy. “You’re probably the only one who would. It was freaky. And it’s bad for our animals and I don’t know what to do...”

~~~

Dog Gone Ghost:

Southern Ghost Hunter Mysteries Novella

By Angie Fox

If you are reading the series...or if not...this is a delightful, heartwarming story about a boy and his dog...Ok, the boy happens to be a ghost - of a missing child Verity had learned about...

But still when the cages at a local animal sanctuary began to be opened at night, Verity had not yet put the two issues together...Since the book description tells the basic storyline, I'm not giving anything away, except the wonderful vibes you'll be feeling as you read...

First we meet a skunk whisperer who can handle Lucy better than Verity! But she didn't get jealous, because she'd also found the perfect person to help train the skunk...to walk on a leash...which, of course, is not really in a skunk's nature. Of that, I'm just guessing since I only know that I have skunks when I accidentally discern that certain smell...😉 Since there are raccoons, 'possum and cats around my cabin, I guess a skunk could get entangled with a potential enemy once in a while, but I've never really heard animals fighting when that smell is around...guess the other animals have the right reaction! Run!

Bree LaMont works at the animal shelter and knew it had to be a ghost--she'd stayed one night and actually saw the cages being opened and could see nobody doing it... Her main fear was that the animals could get hurt, or even hurt each other. 

And so Verity and Bree went to the Sanctuary to begin the investigation: (Now I just had to share this excerpt--you'll guess why!)

“We’re pressed for space,” Bree said. “Our vet recommended this setup. It was never a problem until…” Until someone began opening the cages. “Show me where you were when it happened,” I told her. She nodded and opened a door at the back. We stepped outside for a moment, under a covered walkway. My eyes had barely adjusted to the dark when we entered the cement-block building I’d seen earlier. We were greeted by a cacophony of dog barks and Lucy startled. “It’s okay,” I said, stroking her. “They’re just saying hello.” We stood at the beginning of a long hallway with fenced-in play yards to the right, eight in all. Most had dog noses pressed against them. I reached through the nearest one and stroked the wet quivering

nose of the small gray mutt who leapt for joy in between pets. She wriggled under my hand, licking me as I tried to stroke her head, her shoulders, whatever I could reach. “That’s Glenda,” Bree said. “I was sleeping here,” she added, standing halfway down the hallway, “when Glenda’s cage just opened.” “Was she scared?” I asked, taking a break from the Glenda love-fest to check the latch. It appeared sturdy. “Glenda was overjoyed,” Bree said, “as were Marvin and Shep— both bassets— and Boomer. We’re not sure what he is.” Her voice caught. “Then I heard a crash in the small-animal room. I rushed in to find Ninja the guinea pig running from Stripe the cat and then Glenda followed me and brought in the hounds.” “Calm down.” She sounded overwhelmed again. “We’ll fix it.”

Wellll, I'd never met a dog named Glenda...and I do hereby swear I've never even read Angie Fox's books before this series... But, really, it's nice to come across your name used for a character in a book, even if I'd prefer to have had a cat named after me!😍

I loved this story... It's a short sweet ghost tale that certainly highlights how the love between animals and their humans can become so important to children... It's, well, Dog-Gone Great! And highly recommended!

GABixlerReviews 

Ghost of a Chance, a Novella, is Next in Ghost Hunter Mysteries Series

The smell of fresh-baked sugar cookies filled my kitchen, and the tinny sound  singing “White Christmas” echoed from my outdated iPhone. Behind me, the ghost of a 1920s gangster hovered while I pulled the last hot tray from the oven. “Move. I don’t want to burn you,” I said automatically, realizing only afterward how ridiculous it sounded. Any object—hot or otherwise—would pass straight through the specter. 

Frankie appeared in black and white, his image transparent enough that I could just make out the cooling trays on the kitchen island behind him. He wore a pin-striped suit coat with matching cuffed trousers and a fat tie. He inhaled as if he could smell the crisp, warm cookies. 

“That’s a killer batch, right there,” he observed while I jockeyed around him, “but I gotta tell you, most of the gun barrels are crooked.” 

I winked, surprising him. “Everybody’s a critic.” 

I’d given in to holiday cheer and let him tell me how to shape the last of the dough, and he’d chosen the things he loved most. Which meant I had a baking sheet full of revolvers, cigarettes, and booze bottles—all oddly shaped because, truly, who has cookie cutters for that sort of thing? I placed the tray on a rack to start cooling, glad I’d included the surly gangster in my holiday festivities. 

He was technically a house guest until I could find a way to free him. Although I had no clue what I was going to do with his contraband cookies. I couldn’t eat them all or explain them away to guests. 

“What’s next?” he asked before I’d even transferred one cookie off the baking tray, never mind the dough-flecked countertops or the dishes. The man obviously hadn’t spent much time in the kitchen before. 

“Why don’t you go outside and look at the holiday lights?” I suggested. Perhaps that would get him into the spirit of the season. My sister, Melody, had lent me a few strands of white ones in the shape of magnolia flowers. I’d foraged some lovely greenery from the woods and done up the front and back porches with pine garlands and homemade balsam wreaths. I’d been too broke to buy ready-made decorations, but these looked nicer anyway. anyway. 

He snarled at the suggestion that he might be entertained by pretty decorations. “I’m Frankie the German,” he clipped out, as if his words themselves should command respect. “Men fear me. Women want me.” 

“I’m very happy for you,” I said, trying to straighten out a revolver barrel as I gently transferred the cookies to the cooling rack. “But this is the holiday season. It’s the perfect time to take a break from inspiring fear. Try to live a little,” I suggested, ignoring his scowl. 

“How about I finish cleaning the kitchen, and afterward you can challenge me to a game of chess.” Otherwise, he’d get bored and start making cold spots all over my kitchen. It felt nice in the summer, but right now, it would ruin the yeast bread I had rising. 

He clenched and unclenched his hands a few times. “All right,” he said, eyeing me as he glided through the stove and out to the back porch. His voice lingered in the air behind him. “You know I won’t go far.” 

“Do I ever,” I murmured. It was my fault he couldn’t leave.

~~~

Ghost of a Chance:

Southern Ghost Hunter Mysteries Novella

By Angie Fox

Verity was just finishing up making Christmas cookies when she heard a

knock at the door. Her sister Melody normally came right in, so she called out, thinking it was Ellis. Only to find that a ghost was standing at the door! This ghost, by the way, was very powerful and was able to leave his home and even touch items in the mortal world. Still, Verity was quite surprised to have her friend, Major Matthew Jackson of the Union Army, visiting!

I didn't introduce you to Josephine yet, did I? Well, she was a young woman who had been befriended by Verity in an earlier book. And when Matthew and Josephine first met each other, it was instant...attraction...

So with Christmas coming, Matthew wanted help in getting a present for Josephine. A very nice gesture, Verity thought... But he didn't want to give her just any present. He wanted to give her a pearl necklace that had belonged to his mother and which was promised to Matthew for the woman he fell in love with. Verity guessed; and Matthew confirmed that he was going to ask Josephine to marry him at Christmas...

By the way, most of the ghosts in this series are earth bound for one reason or another, but others, when they've died, automatically have gone into the light...

There was only one problem, the necklace was in the 7th generation home of the Jacksons, one of the most important families in Sugarland!

This is another heartbreaker story, since there had been a final disagreement between Matthew and his mother, when he had chosen to fight for the Yankees, and she had banned him from ever coming back home!

One of the best things about this series is Verity and how she now has an ability to talk to ghosts, but it is the action and dialogue created by the author in her ghost hunting activities that makes the series a winner. Sure, she's scared, but she's gutsy and won't go back on a promise once she says she'll help. In this case, she helps not only Matthew and Josephine, but... well, I highly recommend you get this short story if you haven't previously read any of the series. It's an excellent example of what Verity is all about in both helping her town of Sugarland and in helping earth-bound ghosts find happiness! 

And there're all so much fun to read, with an underlying humor between characters Verity and Frankie...and with the various ghosts, at least after they get over trying to be scary...😟 Enjoy!


GABixlerReviews