Bewitching Book Tours Magazine Issue 31 January 2015
Bewitching Book Tours Magazine is a publication of Bewitching Book Tours and Bewitching Books. Editor: Roxanne Rhoads Design Editor and Layout: Lisa McGeen Contributors include Bewitching Book Tours Authors and Tour Hosts learn more at www.bewitchingbooktours.blogspot.com Ad space rates are: $40 full page ad $20 half page ad $10 quarter page ad You can subscribe to this magazine at http://issuu.com/bewitchingbooktours ÂŠ Copyright 2015 Stock images from www.123rf.com
Contents Silk Words Remote Feature An Author’s Guide to Writing a Great Guest Blog Victim Souls Feature Clarabelle’s Custom Creations Destiny Calling Feature Of Sentimental Value Feature Cherry Blossom Feature Advice For Authors—Kay Dee Royal Monthly Feature: Banewolf Bear and Bear Alike Feature Sisters of the Prophecy Feature Feast of Fates Feature Demon Fare Feature Rory’s Love Feature Blood Prophecy Feature The Relics of Gods Feature Naughty Nook Glenwood Cemetery Scene From Hex and the Single Witch Tamar Rising Pinup Files
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SilkWords is the go-to source for interactive romance and erotic fiction. With gorgeous custom covers and a clean, sophisticated design, the SilkWords site offers a secure, upscale reading environment. In addition to content on their web site, they offer stories for purchase in the standard ebook formats.
SilkWords is owned and operated by a full-time mom with a background in genetics and an RWA RITAnominated, multi-published sci-fi romance author. Their technology guy and site designer was the founder of Microsoft Xbox Live. SilkWords features two formats that allow readers to choose how the stories will proceed. Pick Your Path: Will she or won't she? With which man (or woman) in which location? With Pick Your Path romance, you decide. Romance and branched fiction are made for each other, like picking your favorite flavor of ice cream...positions, partners, and paraphernalia, oh my! Reader Vote: Readers vote at choice points and decide how the story will continue. These stories are a great way for readers and authors to connect. Itâ€™s exciting to be part of a developing story!
Brandi Evans Genre: Contemporary Erotica When Gen learns her best guy friend is going back to Afghanistan, she arranges a sendoff he’ll never forget. Will it be an intimate dinner at her place or an adventure at an exclusive erotic club?
Storm at SEA Skyler White Genre: Contemporary Erotica w/paranormal hints A journalist accepts an assignment to investigate the Society of Erotic Adventurers. She infiltrates its flagship hotel and, experiencing SEA’s legendary eroticism, discovers her own capacity for pleasure.
The Harem Club
Jane Nin Genre: Contemporary Erotica Married young, recently divorced, she thinks she's ready to get back in the game. But when she receives an invitation to an exclusive, adults-only club, she wonders is she ready for this?
Fetish Fair Erzabet Bishop Genre: BDSM Erotica Kari’s best friend tricks her into attending a fetish convention, then promptly abandons her. Exploring on her own, Kari finds herself with a closer-than-front-row vantage point for her first lessons in the art of domination.
Toxic Love Jax Garren Genre: Science Fiction Romance Future Las Vegas is as crazy as ever â€” even after toxic gas bombs have poisoned the air and moved the party inside.
Hired as an entertainer, Chloe moves from the heartland with big dreams of fame and fortune...until an accident exposes her to the gas, and it's discovered she's genetically immune to the poison. breeding.
Now Vegas wants her enrolled in a dating program created to encourage immune
Will she opt out and return to the rich ex she left behind? Stay and play for the chance at fame on the stage? Or can a gorgeous scientist who's also immune tempt her heart?
Temptation Resorts: Marnie's Tale Temptation Resorts Erzabet Bishop Genre: erotic/BDSM/ m/f, f/f Glamorous Jess lures her BFF Marnie to an exotic resort where everything's on the menu. Follow Marnie for hands-on fun in Dungeon Play and Spanking 101.
A Heart for Copper Sharon Lynn Fisher Genre: Steampunk romance An automaton created by an inventor's son, Copper has finally been given a heart by her young master. Her choice of whether to keep the key or give it to him will determine what happens next in this "pick your path" steampunk fairy tale. Will she join his family in their English country manor, where she'll be forced to consider the question of whether she's really human? Or will she search out the quirky alchemist responsible for giving her life? Will her master hold onto her heart, or will she be tempted by the charms of an automaton man?
Painted, Lady Skyler White
Genre: Contemporary Erotica
When even the monthâ€™s rent spent on new brushes isnâ€™t enough to inspire the painter she loves, Sadie offers her body as bait for his muse.
But modeling is more revealing and more pleasurable, riskier and more erotic than she ever expected. And muses can be monstrous.
Marketing Missteps Lisa Acerbo I admit it. I’ve done everything wrong when it comes to marketing. After releasing my fist book, Apocalipstick, I thought it would sell itself. I had labored long and hard to complete it. Sleepless nights and weeks of revision and editing. Should it not just sell itself? Well, it did not, and I had to learn about marketing. I made a few mistakes along the way (okay many mistakes), but now with my second book, Remote, I have a few helpful suggestions. Build a Community It was a beautiful day in April. Blue sky and eighty degrees. Unusual weather for so early in the year. I was stuck inside a library with eleven other authors. Because of the wonderful weather outside, no one was coming inside to look, let alone buy books. Instead, the authors mingled and learned about each other. That day, I gathered information on local writing groups, writing associations, marketing tips, and upcoming events that I never knew existed. While I didn’t sell many books, I walked away with a friends and authors willing to provide support and help me succeed. Be Prepared for Anything My first local arts festival could have been a disaster. Who knew you were responsible for tables and chairs? My husband and I arrived, my books in hand but with nothing else. The people in the grass next to us, who had obviously been in the business for years and had already set up tent, tables, and display, couldn’t hide their smiles as they explained we were only given the spot. We needed to supply everything else. Luckily, the arts festival was in my hometown and my husband and I were able to run home to grab the needed items and set up in time for the opening of the event. But that day, I learned an important lesson. Expect the unexpected. Something is bound to go wrong. Have a Plan Now that I have been to comic conventions, libraries, books shows and craft shows, I have learned the value of an organized plan. My books and corresponding paraphernalia reside in artfully arranged boxes, easy to carry and ready to go. I have gifts for children -- stickers for the toddlers and zombie pencils and brain erasers for the older children. I have handouts and bookmarks for adults as I attempt to draw them in by standing in front of my booth or table. While I’m naturally shy and promoting my book has been tough, having an established plan of action makes the day much more enjoyable.
Remote Lisa Acerbo Genre: Science Fiction, romance Publisher: Etopia Press ISBN: 978-1-941692-34-9 Number of pages: 207 Word Count: 71,000 Book Description: When technology fulfills every dream, reality becomes a nightmare. Below the streets of New State, the undergrounders fight to remain free of the technological control of the world above. Every night, Yara risks her life fighting New State’s deadliest weapons, the drones. Half human and half machine, their living half tortured until everything human is gone, the drones have only one objective. Kill. And they do it with exacting precision. Yara is good at her job and committed to her raids on New State. Until one of those raids brings her face-to-face with Joshua, a New State citizen who doesn’t quite fit her preconceived expectations. After a couple of awkward encounters, he shows her the meaning of hooking up—a computer simulation that allows people to live out their fantasies—without the complication of emotional entanglements or physical reality. But what Yara feels for Joshua is very real. And it’s punishable by law. As she and Joshua grow closer, she convinces him to leave New State for her underground cause. But as the unrest between New State and the underground escalates, and the drones move in to destroy her world, nothing goes as planned. Families are arrested, loyalties are strained, and Yara’s forced to choose between her people and her feelings. The wrong choice could mean the end of her people, and reality could slip away—forever... Available at Etopia Press Excerpt
“Hi,” he called out.
Yara’s heart hammered, and adrenaline coursed through her limbs. She turned to run. “Wait,” the stranger whispered. “I won’t turn you in. I’m out here too.” He obviously didn’t realize that Yara was a rebel. He might not know it yet, but he would soon. Still, he didn’t sound dangerous. Maybe Yara could take care of him. She had never had to kill anyone totally human, but she had trained to do so. At this point, she didn’t think she would need to. The skinny boy didn’t look like a real threat, either. She turned back toward him and attempted what she hoped was a look of death and destruction. Instead of being scared, he smiled at her and brushed the hair out of his eyes. Even in the shadowy street, Yara could see the color was a beautiful emerald green. She had a hard time looking away, until his voice jarred her back to reality.
“I’m Joshua15111,” he said robotically. “What are you doing out here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” “Enjoying the night sky,” he replied, each word clipped and succinct. Unable to make prolonged eye contact, he looked toward the stars. “Aren’t you supposed to be hooked up to an alternate universe, enjoying battle, boobs, or whatever perverted fantasy you want to conquer tonight?” Yara asked, and then instantly regretted her words. “Hey, it’s not like that. You know how it is.” For the first time, his voice took on a more humanistic quality. He sounded peeved. She grunted in response. She didn’t know anything of the sort. bels?”
Joshua15111 looked at her briefly, quizzically. “Wait, do you know that? Are you one of them? The reOh no. “What rebels?” “Are you for real? Everyone knows about the rebels. You must be one. Are you a rebel? That’s so cool.”
Me and my big mouth. Fear finally overtook her. Vague ideas about running away from or fighting the stranger flitted by, but Yara’s feet felt like concrete blocks. She wasn’t even sure she’d be able to form a coherent sentence if he asked her something about the underground. About the Author: Lisa Acerbo is a high school teacher and holds an EdD in Educational Leadership. She lives in Connecticut with her husband, daughters, three cats, and horse. She is the author of Apocalipstick and has contributed to local newspapers, news and travel blogs including The Patch and Hollywood Scriptwriter. Twitter @Apocalipstick_ https://www.facebook.com/lisa.acerbo.5
An Author’s Guide to Writing a Great Guest Blog What is a Guest Blog? Think of a guest blog as a personal essay, article, or blog post about anything related to you and/or your book. The key to a good guest blog is to make it interesting and entertaining without being overly promotional. You want it to tie into your book or series without being a post that says nothing more than “buy my book”. Entertain readers, grab their attention-connect with them. Some authors blog about their road to being an author, or the creation of the book, the inspiration behind it. Many authors tie in popular topics to their books; for instance the popularity of vampires, recent crime, upcoming holidays, current events, etc. You could also focus on a specific character or the location setting. Some people use pictures and images from places that are actually images from the town the book is set in or they find great images to represent them. One way to think of the guest blog is as bonus material for the book. Think of the bonus material you would find on a movie DVD- deleted scenes, bloopers (fun stuff), soundtrack, interviews with characters, book trailer, etc. You can also use other materials in place of the traditional essay style guest blog: lists, recipes, character profiles, character interviews. Anything fun that ties into your book. The average length of a good guest blog is between 300-500 words. Anything shorter and it seems rushed, longer and you may lose attention unless you have it broken up with bold headers, sections or numbered lists. Writing the Guest Blog No matter what style of guest blog you choose to write, whether a traditional essay post, an article, a character interview, or a list- it should always have a beginning, middle and end. Always provide an intro, something that introduces you, your book, or your guest blog topic. Here’s an example of an intro for a top ten list style post: Hello my name is Author Supernatural and I write vampire romance novels. Today I’d like to discuss some of my favorite vampires in television and movies.
The middle section would be your list of favorite vampires- it would be good to discuss them a little and tell
readers why they are your favorite.
After your list you should provide a closer, an end to your guest blog. A good way to close it is with a question that will engage readers and encourage them to comment on the post and interact with you. A closer question for this vampire top ten list could be: “Who are your favorite vampires from TV or movies?” Popular Guest Blog Topics Fun, Bonus Material Topics: Music Playlist (book soundtrack) Character Profiles (including photos or artwork is great for visual effect) Character interviews Deleted scenes Alternate Endings The Story Behind the Story The Book Setting (do you have fun details or interesting visuals that can help readers connect to the setting of the book) 5 Facts about My Book That Might Surprise You Author Centric Topics: When I’m Not Writing (do you have any fun interests, hobbies, or things you do when you’re not writing) Authors That Have Inspired Me My Favorite Books of all Time My Inspiration: The Things in Life That Inspire Me A Day in the Life of…(you could also do this for a character) Creating a memorable character Create (or find a recipe for) a cocktail based on one of your characters. Create a Pinterest-type board of pictures that are meaningful to one of your characters or the story in general. Your dream movie cast if it became a film Tips for novice writers Things I Love to Hear My Readers Say Your ultimate leading man Top 10 Things You Need to Write Fun Topics That Are Genre Related: Top 10 Fictional Book Characters of All Time Top 10 Vampires in Books Top 10 Vampires in the Movies Sexiest Vampires of all Time Sexiest Shifters of All Time Top 10 Favorite Books Top Ten Favorites (Paranormal, Vampire, insert your topic) Movies (or Books) Hottest Vamps on TV The Best Witches on Television and in the Movies The Fictional Characters I Would Invite to a Party Vampires with Style: The Best Dressed Vamps of All Time Animal Appeal: Why We Love Shifters If I was A Shifter What Animal Would I Be? The Alpha Male: Why We Love Him If I Could Have One Magic Power It Would Be…
How have dragons gotten a bad rap over the years? What makes your dragons different? Your love of dragons History of dragons Top 10 Dragons in Literature Top 10 Fairytales Holiday Ties Ins: Vampire Valentine Gift Guide Book Characters I Would Invite to a Halloween Party Halloween Party Costumes Christmas Gifts for Vampires Christmas Gifts for Vampire Lovers Witchy Holiday Gifts Ten Ways Witches Celebrate Halloween Werewolf Holiday Shopping Guide Character Focused Guest Blogs: An Introduction to (a character from your book) A Day in the Life of My Character 5 Things I Could Give My Character for (His/Her) Birthday The Author Vlog If you have a webcam and are tech friendly (and not camera shy) I suggest trying a vlog. Itâ€™s not as scary as it sounds. If you have a webcam and high speed internet itâ€™s fairly easy. Record the video and upload to youtube. This is a fun way to interact with readers. You can record a short piece about your book, perhaps include a short reading from the book and upload to youtube where tour hosts can grab embed codes and add it to their site for a guest spot along the tour. If you wish to try a recorded vlog we could also do a feature where readers send in questions about you or your book beforehand and you can answer the questions in your recording. If you are interested in this option we can make arrangements to have the recorded Q & A as one of your tour stops.
What inspired you to become an author? I’ve been intrigued by writing fiction since high school. I dabbled a bit in college, and would often tell people it was a dream of mine. However, it was just talk until I met my wife who pushed me to start making that dream a reality. I’m a huge consumer of horror fiction (film and written). As much as I love the genre, I’m often disappointed with the product, or feel I could take the same premise and make it better. I’m inspired to create content that will effectively scare, entertain, and/or incredibly disturb people. I like the idea of putting something on the page that can get a visceral reaction. I’m in a writing workshop where I get to share a lot of my work before it’s complete. The best motivation is watching the people in my group squirm in their chairs over something I wrote. Do you have a specific writing style?
I tend to lean towards character studies. The best plots are ubiquitous. Every time I write anything, people tell me: “Oh did you see/read BLANK? It really reminds me of BLANK.” I almost never have any idea what they’re talking about, so I obviously didn’t steal the idea. I try to invest a lot of energy in creating interesting characters that readers will have strong feelings about. I tend to create characters that are detestable at times (if not all the time). That’s one of the issues I’ve run into with V ictim Souls—the characters you’re supposed to root for aren’t very likeable. If you’re a horror fan you’ll probably get it, but I find that a lot of people want a real hero. I don’t like heroes. They seem disingenuous. Is the book, characters, or any scenes based on a true life experience, someone you know, or events in your own life? Aside from a handful of interactions within the book, it is largely a figment of my imagination. There is an interaction with a librarian that I wrote in as an F-you to a bookstore employee who refused to tell me where I could find books by Aleister Crowley. She tried to discourage me from even looking and directed me to the bible. Is there a genre(s) that you’d like to write that you haven’t tackled yet? I’m really intrigued by writing science fiction (with a horror slant of course). I’m toying with putting the sequel on hold and writing a sci-fi horror novel based on an idea I had for a short story. My only hesitance is that I’m not too tech-savvy and science was always my worst subject. My fear is putting a lot of energy into writing something and getting it torn apart by a bunch of sci-fi fanatics who care way more about quantum physics than me. I have a few writer friends who are awesome sci-fi writers, so I may just tap them on the shoulder for some assistance. It’s a tough mountain for me to climb, but I think I’m going to write a little bit and see where it takes me. Of all the characters you’ve ever written, who is your favorite and why?
There’re several that come to mind. I think my absolute favorite is this character Azazel I created for a script some writing friends and I were working on. It takes place in a prison and I created this character that is deliciously evil, terrifying, yet oddly likeable and funny at times. We had four of us writers working on the project and Azazel was often the one we had the most fun with. He was the kind of character that stood out as the clear villain amongst 9 violent sociopaths. Probably the richest character I’ve ever created. If this book is part of a series…what is the next book? Any details you can share? It’s not part of a series like Harry Potter or Hunger Games, where there’s a clear development of a large storyline form book to book. Rather, there are at least two other books I’m working on that take place with these characters in this world. One is a prequel that follows Joe Riley (Riley) in his high school days and chronicles how he became who is in V ictim Souls. Then, there’s a sequel that focuses heavily on the FBI agent from the end of V ictim Souls and brings back Sam and Riley. No timeline on when all of that will be written and put together, but someday at least those two will be out there. What books/authors have influenced your life? Stephen King’s On W riting was probably the most inspirational and helpful book I’ve ever read about writing. It definitely shaped my writing practices in a big way. Personality Plus at Work by Florence Littauer was an amazing book. I was running a psychiatric hospital at the time and my Medical Director gave it to me. It was an amazing tool for learning how to work with and manage different personalities. It shaped me as a leader and improved my personal interactions as well. Ghost Story by Peter Straub and The Lost by Jack Ketchum both have elements and writing styles that I found to be incredibly effective and have attempted to learn from. Can you share a little of your current work with us?
A group of my writer friends and I are going to be putting out an anthology series called Room 427. It’s an experimental idea where each writer writes a limited story that takes place in the same hotel room. The writer leaves an object behind and the next writer has to write a story that focuses on that object. It was awesome writing, and we got a lot of different types of writers and genres mixed in. There’s a ghost story, hard drama, comedy, absurdities, love stories, horror, artsy… it goes all over the map. Do you have any advice for other writers? The simplest advice: Just write. If you have an idea, write it out. I’ve never had writer’s block. My first draft is often a pile of shit, but that’s what editing is for. What would your readers be surprised to learn about you?
That I’m a total wuss when it comes to overly dramatic movies and TV shows. I can watch people get tortured and hacked to bits without blinking, but I’ll tear up during almost every dramatic film or TV show, especially when a loveable character dies. And I’ll be damned if Dawson’s Creek isn’t one of my favorite shows of all time. That shit turns me into an emotional wreck. Note to self: consider deleting this answer. When you’re not writing what do you do? Do you have any hobbies or guilty pleasures? I love to golf. It re-charges me. Every Saturday I play with my golf partners Chuck and Dave. It’s hard because they’re a bit older than me and I have to dial it down a few notches so I don’t embarrass them out there. I let them think they’re better than me. I have to show some respect for my elders. I’m also a huge football fan, so six months out of the year my weekends are pretty sacred. My guilty pleasure is watching ESPN. I’m obsessed with talking heads screaming at each other about sports drama. It’s like gossip magazines and TMZ for guys.
Seven Quality Horror Stories Guaranteed to Scare
As a horror writer, I am first and foremost a horror fan. I have seen pretty much every horror film worth watching and am well read in the horror-fiction genre. In fact, it is my love of consuming the genre that propelled me to dip my toe in the water and produce something of my own. My novel, V ictim Souls, is a passion project that spawned from the influences of some of my favorite novels and films. As a lover of the genre, I am also aware that is hard to find quality content. So if you’re a fan of horror, or maybe just interested in experiencing something that is legitimately scary: Here are seven works of horror (in no particular order) that you may not know about, but are guaranteed to scare and entertain. 1.The Exorcist (novel) written by: William Peter Blatty I know what you’re thinking: This is not exactly a hidden gem. Well, that’s why I’m getting this one out of the way. The Exorcist will hit the top three, if not number one, of any “Scariest Films of All Times” lists. But I’m not talking about the film. I’m talking about the book. I’m shocked at how few people I’ve met that have never read the book. Yet most of them have seen the film, or at least know its infamous reputation. Do yourself a favor: forget that you’ve even seen the film, and pickup the book. The two can’t even be compared. This is the only book I’ve read that truly kept me awake at night. 2. Devils Pass (Film) directed by: Renny Harlin A found footage film that delivers something unique to this oversaturated subgenre of horror. A crew sets out to make a documentary about a notorious incident that happened in the aptly named Dyatlov Pass in Russia’s Ural Mountains. The true-life incident is bizarre and terrifying by itself, but the film adds to the terror by revealing its own truth as the documentarians stumble upon the horrifying reality of what happened on February 2nd 1959. This film is not only fascinating from a historical standpoint; it also delivers an imaginative explanation for one of Russia’s most unusual and inexplicable events. 3. Absentia (Film) directed by: Mike Flanagan
There are two major reasons I chose this awesome, little independent film for this list: First, it’s an original story, which is rare these days. Second, it has effective, unpredictable twists that will shock the crap out of you. However, what I love the most about A bsentia, is that it has an artistic tone and style that I believe makes it a solid film in and outside of the horror genre. This film left me with a chill slithering down my spine. I immediately grabbed my wife and re-watched it with her. She loved it, and I loved it even more the second time around. I can also credit a line in the movie as the inspiration for the title of my novel. Watch and you’ll see what I
4. The Lost (Novel) written by Jack Ketchum I don’t remember how or why I stumbled upon this book, but it opened my eyes to an incredible author whose works have been made into several films (including this one). The Lost is one of the most uncomfortable books I’ve ever read. There’s a building of tension from the very first page that never stops growing. Ketchum portrays one of the best character unraveling’s I’ve ever experienced, and the crescendo at the end does not disappoint. If you’re the type that get’s your scares from what can actually happen The Lost is a must read.
5. The Terror (Novel) written by Dan Simmons
A story depicting the fabled Franklin Expedition in 1845. Historical accuracy? Check! Terrifying? Double Check! Dan Simmons not only delivers a story that gives a truly accurate (well researched) account of what happened to these ill-fated explorers, but he adds in just enough supernatural horror to raise every hair on your body. Reading The Terror will fill you with page after page of dread. Plus, you’ll actually get a history lesson in the process. 6. Session 9 (Film) Directed by Brad Anderson A story that centers on a HAZMAT crew hired to clean up an old insane asylum. The “insane asylum” premise may seem cliché but I can guarantee you that this film does not paint by numbers. It will crawl under your skin and slowly and methodically maneuver itself over every nerve ending. Session 9 is a sincerely terrifying film. However, if you’re idea of scary is blood and guts then this won’t do it for you; this is a thinking-man’s horror. Turn off the lights, put the volume way up and absorb. It’s hard to find good filmmaking like this. Don’t miss out. 7. Ghost Story (Novel) written by Peter Straub A defining supernatural novel. If you’re a fan of the genre, you’ve probably read this. If you haven’t, you should. If you’re a writer of the genre this is an absolute must read. Ghost Story inspired me to want to become a better writer. Unlike The Exorcist the scares are delivered quietly. Y ou will not have trouble closing your eyes, but don’t be surprised when Ghost Story creeps into your nightmares, jolting you awake in a cold sweat. It would be an injustice to boil this epic story down to a few sentences, so I’m going to spare the plot synopsis for this one. Just trust me.
Victim Souls Andrew Terech Genre: Supernatural Horror ISBN-13: 978-0692330234 ISBN-10: 0692330232 ASIN: B00PEASG6Q Number of pages: 386 Word Count: 91,000 Cover Artist: Brianna Strawn Book Description: Sometimes, only bad guys can beat the Devil… The plan is simple: get the money and deliver the car. What could possibly go wrong?
Things start to go south when Sam Drake realizes that his brother Johnny is hiding something, a secret about Sam’s troubled childhood that goes beyond his most feverish nightmares… Then Johnny’s girlfriend, Ash, starts sending Sam the kind of mixed signals that can only lead to big trouble… As the trio of small time crooks falls deeper into an abyss of betrayal and violence, they will discover that the greatest danger they face is not of this world. With everything he believes about himself and the world around him shattered, Sam will become the unlikely champion in a battle with true evil, a fight to save a soul that has already been forfeited to darkness. His own. Available at Amazon Excerpt: The silver barrel of the Colt .45 glimmered in Johnny’s hand. The obese clerk behind the counter held his arms up, eyes darting to each of our faces. His brown-stained, white t-shirt clung to his sweaty man tits. Moisture dripped off his scraggly goatee onto his protruding gut. The ceiling fan above him worked hard, trying to cool down the un-air-conditioned, Arizona shit-hole that smelled like armpits and rotting cheese. A large bullet hole from Johnny’s warning shot sat two feet from the clerk’s head, along with the standard wall of cigarettes and liquor bottles acting as a reminder of the poor bastard’s purpose in life. Johnny’s smirking mouth twitched with excitement. He had a scary look in his eyes—a man possessed with rage. Ash clung to him, her blond hair draped over his shoulder. Her hand gently palmed his shaved head as she leaned toward the side of his face. She whispered something in his ear. Butterflies sliced the inside of my stomach with razor wings. This wasn’t the way we did things. We were escalating. Normally, I kept everyone cool, levelheaded. All control had gone out the window. Simple Bob behind the counter sobbed, looking terrified. Part of me felt pity for the guy, but it was too late to turn back. “I don’t wanna be a part of no trouble, now,” he said. “Why don’t y’all take what ya need and go? Please, I got a family.” He glared at Ash. Four kids.” Johnny cackled. “Family? You hear this guy, Sammy? He’s got a fuckin’ family.” Johnny gestured toward me. “That’s my family over there. My little brother. I practically raised the pecker. Parents were killed… come to think of it—by a fat, drunk piece of shit like you. So don’t talk to me about family.” I glanced at the clock above the entrance—eight minutes had passed. “Johnny, come on man.” Ash sneered at me. “Not now. This is grown up time. Go grab us some food or something.” Her dismissive tone dug into my nerves. “Go fuck yourself!” I spat. The last thing I needed was that crazy bitch feeding Johnny’s frenzy. “Quit it, bro. I got this,” Johnny said. As usual he sided with the short jean shorts and tight, red tank top—a little cleavage and ass were all it took for him to forget about his own brother. “Get the cash and let’s go,” I said. “Stop messing around.” Johnny glanced at me. “You think you could do better?” I froze, unable to come up with a response, probably because I knew I couldn’t. Johnny took care of the holdup. I collected the goods and kept us on point. That was our system, and it worked. Ash, on the other hand, was new to the mix. All she managed to do was waste time and get Johnny more amped than a rabid pit bull on cocaine. How he decided that was helpful, I have no idea. Things ran smooth before she stuck her pretty ass in the mix. Now instead of in-and-out with hands full of cash, we were wasting time scaring some poor, fat slob half to death. And for what, I wondered, shits and giggles? I glanced back at the clock. Ten minutes in, and we were still dicking around. I started to tell Johnny our time was running out. From the corner of my eye, the clerk reached beneath the counter. “Hey!” Ash shouted before I could react.
Johnny swung his arm, smacking the butt of the gun across the fat bastard’s face. “What did I tell you? Huh!” The clerk stumbled back. The weight of his body slammed into the wall of cigarettes and cigars. He slid to the floor as dozens of boxes rained down around him. My heart pounded. I took several deep breaths. We’d never had a close call like that before. Ash pulled out her butterfly knife and flipped it open. “We need to deal with him.” Johnny clenched his jaw as he leaned over the counter, pointing the gun. “Get up! Now!” The blubbering man slowly rose up, his hands in the air, snot dripping from the pubes on his chin. “What’s your name, buddy?” Johnny asked, switching to a calmer tone. “T-T-Tony.” With a big smile on his face, Johnny slammed his fist on the counter. “Tony! That’s a strong name. Like Tony fucking Soprano.” Tony jumped and backed into the wall behind him again. His flabby arm knocked down a couple liquor bottles. He flinched as the glass shattered on the tile floor. I reminded myself to at least swipe some good booze when we were done. Johnny grabbed the knife from Ash’s hand and gave her the gun. “Hold this for me, baby.” I glanced at the clock—twelve minutes. “Bro, we’re coming up on fifteen. Forget him. You don’t have to do this.” “We’re in the middle of nowhere. We’re fine! And for the record,” he twirled the blade in his hand, “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want!” I’d had it with Johnny’s unchecked arrogance. He always screwed with people, but he didn’t hurt anyone unless he had to. Tony may have been a liability, but if we’d stuck to the plan it wouldn’t have come to this. Thirteen minutes. Ash put her arm around Johnny, resting the gun on his shoulder, conveniently pointing it at my face. I took a step toward the counter, out of the line of fire. No way I trusted that bitch with a gun in her hand. She flashed a smile in my direction. “Put your hand out on the table.” Johnny said. Tony extended his shaking arm. Johnny grabbed his wrist, pulled him forward, and slammed his hand onto the counter. Tony yelped. “Please.” My heart raced as my brother hovered the knife over Tony’s hand. “Come on bro…” Johnny’s finger shot up, motioning me to be quiet. “Tony. I’m going to teach you a little lesson in trust.” About the Author: Andrew’s a horror fiction writer who is also a massive fan of the genre. He’s been writing short stories and working on his novel for over 5 years. He has several short stories published, as well as some editing credits. He moderates a writing workshop in Phoenix, AZ where he’s been exposed to many different forms of fiction, which have broadened his influences. He aims to write stories that creep out his readers, while offering well-developed, rich characters they can sink their teeth into. He’s also a fan of experimenting with form and structure to create something uniquely my own. Andrew grew up on Long Island in New York, and has lived in Arizona for the past 7 years. His professional background is in psychology where he’s carved out a nice career for himself. However, writing has always been his passion. Currently, he’s hard at work, developing additional content to publish. He hopes to find an audience that loves the genre, and is up for a good scare. http://www.andrewterechwriting.com
Book Tours is now offering custom book swag creations that can be added on to tour packages or ordered separately. We are offering high quality, hand crafted, one of a kind items made to match your book. Currently we are offering beaded bookmarks, beaded keychains, purse charms, belt loop charms, wine glass charms, and earrings. These items can be created with colored beads to match the colors in your book cover.
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Where do you get your ideas? The question most authors dread because they can’t explain where the story came from or what inspired them, especially for someone like me who’s a self-proclaimed panster; writing by the seat of my pants. Usually I hear my main character speak up with a single line and I have to pay attention to see where the story goes from there. Although telling someone the voices in my head told me might elicit a raised an eyebrow, unless they know it’s a writer talking. That makes it okay. (Hopefully) As for Destiny Calling, I can remember the exact moment the story called out to me. I was sitting in the parking lot of a convenience store and a rusty, old payphone attached to the side of the building started to ring. I’d never noticed the phone before, because no one used them anymore in the age of cell phones. I fought the urge to run out and answer it just to find out who was calling and what they might say. Instead I watched to see if someone picked up the receiver but no one did. The ringing subsided, the message left unspoken. Then Hope, from Destiny Calling, spoke to me (in my head, of course). “Today was the day I stopped being a redhead.” You’ll find the payphone made it into the story with a snippet of Chapter 2 of Destiny Calling. A phone rang, shattering the silence. The birds called out, then exited en masse from the treetops. I absently patted my cell phone in my pocket, but it wasn’t my ringtone, and my battery was dead. Scanning outside the bar, I located a lone payphone barely hanging on to the corner of the building as if in homage to a past era. I struggled to stand, moving my legs toward the summoning ring. The scent of cinnamon began to lessen and subside. The ache in my head faltered, and the assault on my senses reached a plateau. I’d found my pain reliever. Unable to restrain the unexplainable urge any longer, I sprinted to the phone. Once I placed my hand on the phone, it stopped ringing. The headache subsided like a beast retreating into its cave until summoned again. I put the receiver to my ear. “Hello?” “Hope. Don’t trust him.” A soothing and somewhat familiar male voice whispered. “Who? Don’t trust who?” Static filled the line. “Who is this?” I pressed the receiver tighter, squinting toward the woods and around the parking lot. “Come to us. I’ll show you the way,” the caller beckoned. “How?” “Take a chance. You’ll see it’s your destiny.” Chief opened the bar door. “Just what in tarnation are you doin’?” The line went dead in my hand. I stared at the silent receiver. “I was on a call.” Chief scowled. “That darn phone hasn’t worked in years. I reckon the whole side of the building would cave in if I tried to take it off, so I leave the bucket of rust there.” He spit tobacco on the ground. “How could it work since some critters done chewed through the cord a while ago?” He eyed me with suspicion. “A call you say, um, who was you talkin’ to, then?” My anger deflated as the severed, twisted wires from the cord brushed against my leg. “I don’t know.”
Destiny Calling The Enchantlings Volume 1 Maureen L. Bonatch Genre: Paranormal Romance subgenre: suspense, fantasy. Theme: New Adult, demons Publisher: The Wild Rose Press Date of Publication: December 22 2014 978-1-62830-666-8 Paperback 978-1-62830-667-5 Digital
Number of pages: 310 Word Count: 80,630 Cover Artist: Debbie Taylor (DCA Graphics) Book Description: Hope only wants to find out if her ability to infuse euphoria or despair with her touch makes her the devil's spawn, or his exterminator. But when the woman who raised her is murdered by something not human, she loses the only family she knew and discovers one she might wish she hadn’t.
Drawn back to the home town she vowed never to return to, her ability is seen as an asset to everyone but Hope, and she doesn't know who to trust. Her family wants her to help them overcome an enemy oppressing the human population, while the man of her dreams is courting her for the Underworld. Time is running out, and Hope’s choice may be made for her, as she discovers she’s a pawn in a bigger game played by a merciless ruler who doesn't lose. Tagline: Hope Doesn’t Know If The Man She Can Touch Is A Dream Come True, Or A Nightmare Just Beginning. Amazon Kindle Amazon Paperback The Wild Rose Press
About the Author:
Growing up with four siblings had Maureen familiar with escaping into a good book, or the recesses of her mind. She realized later in life everyone didn’t have characters telling stories in their heads, or weren’t envisioning magic and mayhem within the everyday. This, and long walks in the beautiful state of Pennsylvania spawned a love of writing.
Since her desire to become a Solid Gold Dancer was thwarted when the show was discontinued, Maureen opted to pursue other paths. Attempting to conquer new endeavors proved fruitful with her first novella, while other attempts, such as challenging a fear of heights with parasailing, were unsuccessful.
Therefore sheâ€™s chased other interests, though none-the-less-daring, but closer to the ground, such as bellydancing, becoming a self-proclaimed tequila connoisseur, fulfilling her role as biker babe to her alpha hubby and surviving motherhood to twins (so far).
Penning stories boasting laughter, light suspense and something magical in the hope of sharing her love of finding the extraordinary in the ordinary world.
How did you come up with the title for your latest
Great Question. December 25th 2005 marked a day I will never forget in my life. At 12 mid-night, I received an eerie call from Africa, Nigeria to be precise from my family. As I picked up the phone, I heard a lot of wailing in the background! I instantly knew something was wrong! My 22-year-old niece had passed during childbirth. The pain I felt that day, I don’t think I have words to describe. What made the pain worse was knowing that it was such a senseless death, if the boyfriend she left home to be with would have taken the time to quickly take her to the hospital rather than keep her at home for 3 days hoping things would be better! For years and till now, I still feel guilty that the promise I made to come back for her and bring her to America I never got to fulfill because I as dealing with my own divorce! I often wondered if Yemisi knew how much she was loved. I began to think about the impact of one event changing my life forever! Suddenly, I began wondering how many women or people out there who know how valuable their lives are… how may understand that their present circumstances does not dictate their future… how many know that they are “Of Sentimental Value?” Hence, the title: Of Sentimental Value, which is now my speaking platform. My niece son is now 10 years old and it is my desire and my hope that shortly I will finally get to meet him and be there for him. Time is too short to waste on our individual pain. May I add that as of today, Of Sentimental Value the Novel shuffles between #1 and #4 on Amazon Bestseller’s List! Thanks to all of my readers, bloggers, reviewers. You are allowing my message to continue on. Is there a genre(s) that you’d like to write that you haven’t tackled yet? My husband, Dr. David Hancock loves to read historical pieces. We have both toiled around coming together to write one, which of course will require massive research work. Someday, hopefully very soon, we will get around to it. If this book is part of a series…what is the next book? Any details you can share? Of Sentimental Value, the book and the novel is a stand-alone. As of today, I am busy concluding the sequel to my last Young Adult Fantasy novel, The Adventure of Jewel Cardwell: The Sorcerers’ Purgatory. I am having a blast with it.
What book are you reading now? The Principles of Success by Jack Canfield who wrote the seemingly endless Chicken Soup Series. It is a powerful tool to have as an arsenal in trying times. What books are in your to read pile? The Divergent series by Veronica Roth is definitely one. Now have them closer to my bedside table. It means I am warming up to reading it. I have however watched the wonderful movie. If you had to choose, which writer would you consider a mentor? For non-fiction work, Maya Angelou will be my choice I only wish that I had met her before her passing. Her works however remain timeless and continues to be a source of inspiration. For fiction in the RomanceSuspense category, Sandra Brown author of Lethal is a great one to watch. Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing? The revision part can be very tedious. For me, once I have written and read it once; I no longer wish to read it again. But when asked to by my editor, that it is the most challenging ordeal anyone could ever put me through. I don’t know why, it’s just it. Who designed the cover of your latest book? Thanks to Phatpuppy Art’s Claudia (http://www.phatpuppyart.com), she was tremendous help at capturing my thoughts on Jewel Cardwell’s look, in The Adventures of Jewel Cardwell: Hydra’s Nest. She repeated her magical touch again with Of Sentimental Value Do you have any advice for other writers? WRITE! WRITE! WRITE! And argh yes READ! All of these are components of writing. Be willing to educate yourself about the genre you are interested in, even it if means paying to take some classes. Get involved in several writing online community to you and your work can be visible. Never give up even with it is add. It will eventually pay off. Do you have a song or playlist (book soundtrack) that you think represents this book? Diana Ross, He Lives in You. It is just an incredible piece of song. Check this video out for my non-profit organization, Adassa Adumori Foundation has the music embedded: http://youtu.be/jaDQ389N6_Y What would your readers be surprised to learn about you? I believe some know that I was born into a royal family in Nigeria while many do not yet know that. My grandfather, His Royal Majesty King Odundun Ogunleye was a king. Now, my cousin, His Royal Majesty King Emmanuel Adebayo rules the Emure Kingdom today, while I work alongside him to help build the communities. Here is a quick peek into his coronation, an experience on those who are Africans may be familiar with and others are not: http://youtu.be/pyZ-HOcSL_o When you’re not writing what do you do? Do you have any hobbies or guilty pleasures? I love to watch movies with my husband. Because of my busy schedule, we have made it a standard occurrence to always watch at least one movie every night together. I also enjoy cooking, particularly African dish-
es. Just recently, I was approached my one of my local newspapers to write an article on holiday dishes from my part of the world. It should be released shortly. My sinful pleasure, argh is chocolate cake. What is next for you? Do you have any scheduled upcoming releases or works in progress? FEATURE FILM TO BE RELEASED: 2005~ Get Ready! Industry Review:
“Of Sentimental Value” does a super job demonstrating the worth of every individual who lives on this planet. The film is unique in that it opens with actors in the movie sharing painful moments of their past, including abuse and health issues, and how they moved forward to find their “worth” as people of value. One actress tells of her manic depression and suicidal thoughts, but how she pushed through after hearing the voice of God speaking to her spirit, telling her she had a purpose and a reason to live. The themes of perseverance and faith are to be commended. We are awarding our Dove Family-Approved Seal for ages twelve plus to “Of Sentimental Value.” This film has many inspiring moments!” Princess Fumi Hancock’s Book tour continues (Oct. 20 – Dec. 22nd, 2014). For detailed information, please check out: www.ofsentimentalvaluenovel.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
PRINCESS FUMI STEPHANIE HANCOCK, RN, Ph.D. BESTSELLING AUTHOR, NAFCA AFRICAN OSCAR PEOPLES’ CHOICE WINNING & INDIEFEST FILMS MERIT AWARD FILMMAKER, TV HOST, TRANFORMATON INTERVENTIONIST & PHILANTHROPIST are just few accolades to describe this dynamic woman. Born in the heart of Nigeria, Lagos State; Princess Fumi Hancock was raised to appreciate her royal roots from the South Western region of Nigeria, Emure Kingdom, where her family, the Adumori Nigeria Royal Household have ruled since the 1800s’. After acquiring her first degree in English from one of the most prestigious colleges in Nigeria, Obafemi Awolowo University; she stormed the United States of America with a pen, a script and the dream to change the world. Little did she know that it would take her over thirty years to finally fulfill her dream of becoming a prolific writer and most importantly, one who would have the ability to translate her literary works into movies. As an author, she has written several inspirational books for women, Beyond Idol Worship: A Diary of an African Warrior Princess; Starting Right Now to name a few! After writing these inspirational books and her return back to African after over 25 years absentia; she reaches out to help her community through her US based nonprofit organization, Adassa Adumori Foundation, Inc. (www.adassafoundation.org); she also decided to venture into the world of young adult fantasy. To her surprise, her very first young adult fantasy, The Adventures of Jewel Cardwell: Hydra’s Nest became an amazon bestseller! There has been no stopping her since then. Her new novel, Of Sentimental Value, a suspense romance with a tinge of mystery is yet another landmark for her. The book was made into a feature film which is scheduled for release soon (www.ofsentimentalvaluemovie.com ). In the advent of its release, it has garnered multiple award interest. It was nominated in the NAFCA African Oscar Peoples’ Choice category for Favorite Trailer & Original Score while the Princess took home the winning trophy as Favorite Screenwriter. Since then, the movie itself has been nominated in the following categories: Best Diaspora Drama & Best Make-up. One of our supporting actors, Malik Yoba was also nominated as Actor in Foreign Film category. Keep reading about the author: www.ofsentimentalvaluenovel.com
“There has been a possible sighting of Willoughby.” Constantine motioned at Liza, and she hurried to refill his teacup. Gag. “I can’t say more at this time, but you should be getting ready for a trip at short notice,” he said. Alex nodded, unperturbed as always by Constantine’s exaggerated air of mystery. I wasn’t that big a person. “You got us out of bed to tell us someone’s seen the bad guy, but not who or where? What’s next?” I deepened my voice to a basso. “It will rain one day in the near or distant future.” In my normal pitch, I asked, “Was that doomsday-worthy enough for you?” “Cherry, this is all I can tell you right now. You have to trust me. What matters is we may have a clue as to his surroundings, if not his intentions.” “A clue you won’t share with the class.” “I’m sure he’ll tell us more when he knows more.” Alex placed one hand over mine, which I’d apparently fisted without realizing it. His effort at soothing me had the opposite result. “He knows more now.” I locked my gaze on Constantine’s. “Don’t you?” Constantine shook his head and smiled ruefully. “When did you become so cynical?” I scrunched my face in mock concentration, then widened my eyes. “I know! Must have been about the same time I found out you’d been lying to me for years, and our entire relationship was a sham. Yup, that was the exact moment.” His eyes were a stormy midnight blue that usually meant anger or extreme pain. Yes, the man came with preinstalled mood-rings on his face. I wasn’t being fair. His maker had appointed him my sponsor. She wanted me to fall for him, and it hadn’t taken long for that to happen. But at the time, Constantine didn’t know Ádísa had ordered my turning. And contrary to her wishes, he’d really loved me in return. Just weeks ago, he insisted he still did. Liza walked up behind Constantine, and laid both hands on his shoulders. Until that moment, I’d only thought of her as Head Concubine. I’d assumed all they shared was sex and blood. Apparently, I’d been at least partially wrong there. How well she knew him astounded me. Even though Constantine’s posture didn’t change, Liza noticed the subtle increase of tension in his body, just like I did. Thing was, I couldn’t tell if Constantine’s discomfort was out of guilt over the lies he’d told me in the past—for which he’d atoned by killing his own maker—or because he really knew more about Willoughby than he let on. I didn’t want it to be the latter. Not when he’d been regaining my trust. My stomach clenched at the possibility. Instead of asking him, I said, “Fine, be mysterious. But while we’re here, can you remind Alex we’re not supposed to keep in touch with our families?” Might as well get one problem out of the way. The tiny lines of tension around Constantine’s eyes smoothed out, and his jaw relaxed. Was it me, or did my ex seem relieved by my change of subject? Before Constantine could speak, Alex piped in. “I want Cherry and me to meet each other’s folks. I know it’s not something vampires do, but I’m still alive as far as my mother knows, and I don’t see how Cherry’s family would be anything but ecstatic to see her again. She was never declared dead, just missing, so she can tell them she was off finding herself or something.” I didn’t expect the matter-of-fact way he’d presented his case to do him any good. What he was asking went against council policy. No way would Constantine condone it. Constantine smiled, his irises now faded to their normal light blue. “We have been doing things our
own way for a while now.” He shrugged, apparently oblivious to how my mouth gaped at his response. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t do as you please, as long as you’re careful. I will, however, be joining you when you visit Cherry’s parents. As a precautionary measure, in case things go awry. I’ll have to make some arrangements first, but we should be able to leave by the end of the week.” It was obvious from Alex’s eager expression that he’d go along with anything to get the go-ahead for his silly fantasy. I didn’t exactly view things the same way. It was weird how readily Constantine had agreed. “Precautionary measure?” I asked. “You plan to mind-wipe them, if our little reunion is threatening to the vampire community?” Meaning if my parents somehow realized I was undead, freaked out, and threatened to tell the world about our existence. The look he gave me was full of scorn. “No.” The word sounded like it was mentally accompanied by several non-flattering adjectives. “What I had in mind was that you’ll have a member of the council with you, in case another vampire realizes what you’re up to. My presence will make your visit legitimate.” I could swear I heard him finish his sentence in my head with, “You idiot.” “Oh.” Because, what else could I say? He only had our best interest at heart, and I really should stop being so suspicious of him. If he said it was all right, it probably was. “Okay then, I guess.” Constantine grinned. “Besides, a road trip with just the three of us? Think how much fun it will be.” Yeah, he was hiding something, all right. All this cheer wasn’t normal. “What’s in it for you?” I asked. “Just the pleasure of your company.” His mocking tone and arched eyebrow didn’t exactly vouch for his sincerity. Cherry Blossom Vampire Cherry Book II Sotia Lazu Genre: Erotic Urban Fantasy Publisher: Acelette Press ISBN: 978-0692291986 ASIN: B00OS4WZ7U Cover Artist: Sotia Lazu Book Description: With her murderous maker still on the run, Cherry has enough on her mind even before her newly turned boyfriend, Alex, demands they meet each other's parents. Constantine, her ex and now member of the vampire council, is suspiciously quick to allow this breach of vampire law. It soon becomes clear there's a lot Cherry doesn't know about her family's past. And it's threatening her present and her future. Alex is changing, Ádísa is dead but not as gone as she should be, and feelings forced aside are reconsidered. Back in her hometown, and faced with an overabundance of new information, Cherry is determined to fight for herself, her family, and her man. That's when her world is turned upside down. Again. Available at Amazon BN Kobo iTunes Smashwords ARe
Kay Dee Royal Discusses Her Book Tour Experience I use Bewitching Book Tours -Roxanne Rhoads owns and operates the service - she lives in Flint, MI, and we met online and became fast friends. She has a top notch graphics designer (banners and buttons), puts together professional media kits, pulls tour stops together, and also promotes all the time throughout your tour. She has a great business sense for the service, being an author and an editor herself. I recommend a two-week tour (although she offers other great packages to be considered)...two weeks seems to be long enough to give me a few reviews and some nice exposure. Be ready to offer some prizes though...I think that's part of what calls in readers initially. I usually give one or two Gift Cards for book stores and a few e-copies of some of my ebooks. Prizes you can give on-line are the best for international giveaways. You'll need to prepare some guest posts...I've learned that it's easier to write up generic posts (to any blog) and then once it's posted, go into the comment area and give your thanks to the host of the blog. Before, I had visited each blog to determine what kind of post I'd write...well, I didn't need to do that. I spent more time than necessary trying to make it all perfect. The next tour went a whole lot smoother by not personalizing the posts, and then I followed up with the blog hosts in the comment area. Some blogs will want interviews - they have their own question form that you'll receive. If you go to the Bewitching site and follow someone's tour to read their blog posts, you'll see what I mean: ) Once in a while there's a blogger who signed up to host and doesn't follow through - I've had a couple on my tours - don't worry about them...it happens sometimes. Not because of your book, but because of the blog owners circumstances. I'm a blog that posts for Bewitching Book Tours - I offer my blog to my author friends and I also pull in authors on-tour through Bewitching...it keeps my blog busy and offers it exposure from the author's fans: ) It's a win/win for both blog and author by getting them both new exposure: ) On the book sales...I've connected some of my book sales to the tours using dates (quarters) - I've not found a good way to follow my sales however, to pinpoint what worked best for me - which drives my husband crazy. And it drives me crazy too. What I have decided is getting those book reviews helps no matter what - and having the exposure matters also...and sometimes I make a good friend from one of the blogs that hosts me - it's all worth it - reviews, exposure, networking. I tried another book tour service, but liked Roxanne's system better. I know there are more out there, and some offer Facebook parties or chat forums or radio talk shows (which Bewitching also offers). I'm not really into either of those things - but anything different is a chance at different avenues of exposure. Okay...there's my scoop on book tours. Do one, see for yourself how it goes...whatever happens gives you exposure, but whether you feel it's worth the time and prizes you give is something you have to determine for yourself. Personally, I'm all for it: ) Kay Dee http://kaydeeroyal.wix.com/Kaydeeroyal http://www.kaydeeroyal.blogspot.com
Can you tell readers a little bit about yourself and what inspired to write in this particular genre? I’ve pretty much always loved things that are a little spooky. Growing up my parents wouldn’t let me watch the X-Files no matter how much I begged because they thought the show was too scary for me. Sometimes, I’d sneak and watch it anyway. Mom was right about it being too scary, but the resulting nightmares were worth it. It seems that my love of the supernatural/paranormal eventually migrated from determining my entertainment choices to influencing my writing. The stories I love most always have a strong romantic thread in them. I don’t know at what point I became a hopeless romantic, but if there’s love and weirdness, I’m all in! So far, it seems to be a natural fit for me to write the same kind of stories that entertain most me. What inspired you to write this book? I’d read so many books and fell in love with so many characters, my wildly overactive imagination would create new scenarios for old favorites, and I could easily spend hours daydreaming about what would happen if those same characters encountered the situations I’d created for them. Eventually that evolved into the invention of my own unique characters with storylines they could call their own. Please tell us about your latest release. My latest release is actually a novel entitled Blood Chained, the third book of the Dark Siren series. It picks up a few months after the events that conclude Banewolf and answers a lot of questions readers will be dying to know by that point. Do you have a special formula for creating characters' names? Do you try to match a name with a certain meaning to attributes of the character or do you search for names popular in certain time periods or regions? While I wouldn’t say that I have a particular formula, many times the names do end up with meanings that accurately describe certain attributes of the characters. Sometimes that is intentional due to various baby name websites, and other times it is a complete coincidence! For example, I decided to name the male MC of the Dark Siren series Rhane before I wrote a single concrete word. Later on, I discovered that the Germanic meaning of Rhane is “deciding warrior.” I’m pretty sure I pumped my fist on reading that. As soon as you meet the guy you see how much that description suits him. But no matter what the name means or where it originates from, I won’t use anything that doesn’t feel right. Was one of your characters more challenging to write than another? In each of the books the narrative is split between Kali’s POV and a character from the pack POV (usually Rhane). It definitely took me longer to settle into writing from a male POV, especially when trying to channel
heavy sexual tension. (Laughs). I interviewed a few gracious male friends and started paying closer attention to other books written in a male narrative. Once I got down the basics, it started to be a lot easier to shift gears in storytelling from Kali to Rhane. What is the most interesting thing you have physically done for book related research purposes? I went to a shooting range and fired a gun for the first time. That was exciting. With the book being part of a series, are there any character or story arcs, that readers jumping in somewhere other than the first book, need to be aware of? Can these books be read as stand alones? The journey of Rhane and Kali’s love and redemption is one big, tangled web of intricate and interlocking threads. The story also evolves and matures with the female lead. Secrets run rampant and the suspense is thick, promoting a gradual reveal of character motivations, the worlds they come from, and the hidden pasts they protect. If you’re going to read this lovely series, you’ll have to start with the first book, Dark Siren, or you’ll be chronically lost. Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? How do you deal with it? I have yet to suffer from the infamous writer’s block. I am curious as to what it feels like and how I’ll handle it when it inevitably happens. Do you have any weird writing quirks or rituals? While brainstorming, you might catch me waving my hands around in public like I’m conducting an orchestra. Other times, I may just pull some blankets over my head, emerging only when I have found the perfect words or plot direction. Where is your favorite place to read? Do you have a cozy corner or special reading spot? Oh man, I can read anywhere. I have this uncanny ability to shut out anything and everything around me whenever my head is in a book. I’m also one of those people who carry paperbacks in her purse to sneak in a few pages at any chance she gets! What can readers expect next from you? The fourth and final book of the Dark Siren series, Primed Son, will be released fall/winter 2015. I’m also working on a completely different fantasy romance project. Hopefully, I can get it done next year too!
Where can readers find you on the web? http://edenbynite.blogspot.com/ https://www.facebook.com/EdenAshleyAuthor https://twitter.com/Eden_byNite
Banewolf Dark Siren Series Book Two
Genre: paranormal romance, young adult ISBN: 9780989963237 ASIN: B00GTT3RDI Number of pages: 395 Word Count: 90,000 Cover Artist: Nathalia Suellen Book Description: New enemies are made. New allies must be forged. Kali is beginning to regain her memories. In doing so, she discovers old secrets and betrayals that threaten to unravel her present and shake the foundation for Rhane’s belief in her innocence. While her maturing abilities present unique challenges, a bigger problem arises when Kali learns her ex-boyfriend has made a misguided deal with the enemy in order to win her back—a decision that may ultimately cost him his humanity. Keeping Kali safe has become a full time job for Rhane. And struggling to gain control of the immortal Banewolf isn’t making that task any easier. The power to eliminate the growing threat against Kali lies at Rhane’s fingertips, but using it means risking his friends to the insatiable blood lust of a monster. So Rhane is forced to forge a shaky alliance with creatures he has sworn to destroy. Despite these new allies, the danger pressing on their borders intensifies, culminating in a heartbreaking and shocking finale. The strength of the bond between young and ancient lovers will be tested…and if Kali and Rhane are to survive, they must find a way to be unbreakable. BN
Excerpt from Banewolf
I Want You to Remember…
After seeing the Cal who wasn’t Cal, Kali’s mind was far too harried to focus on class. Skipping the last block of the day, she went to the swimming pool and sat at the bottom for a long time. Her eyes were closed. Her body was motionless. The pressure of the water became a loving caress, helping to relax everything except her mind. Those anxious thoughts just wouldn’t let go. Even with all Rhane had revealed, the past remained hidden like it had never existed. But you didn’t forget.
That was right. An entire lifetime…taken. And it wasn’t just her life with Rhane. Kali had lived well over a dozen lives in stolen human bodies. Yet she couldn’t remember a single one of them. Each of those little girls had been stripped from the arms of a family who loved them, only to be replaced by a soul-sucking, firesetting siren. And for what reason? If Rhane knew, he wasn’t telling. Why won’t he talk to me? I’ve proven my trust. Well, she amended the thought. I did push him away at first, but only for like fifteen minutes. Then Gabriel showed up and started ripping more of my life to pieces. Kali took a breath and then another, but not with her lungs. Her skin absorbed oxygen from the water and exchanged it for carbon dioxide waste in her blood. The process didn’t come automatically. It took a lot of focus to make underwater breathing happen. In her two weeks on the lam, she’d discovered this new talent. And it had proven very useful, practically allowing her to live in the water. Holding her breath was certainly easier, but that came with time limits. After twenty minutes, she had to surface. She was determined to master underwater breathing. Concentrating on the task left her brain severely limited in the number of other things it could worry about. And that was a plus. Feeling the faintest tremble in the water, she opened her eyes. The lights were flickering. After a few cycles of an ebbing and surging glow, they went out completely. She tried not to panic in the darkness, expecting the underwater lighting to illuminate soon. But instead, there came a muted thud. All of the lights suddenly flooded the pool arena. And Kali screamed. Bodies were everywhere. Hundreds of them littered the swimming pool floor. Parts of their skin were burned. Charred chunks broke apart from decaying flesh. Tentacles of black liquid snaked into the water. The body of a child rose up, a bloated mass set adrift in a nonexistent current. Kali stared into the film of the corpse’s dead eyes with absolute horror. Black hair floated around his head in a dark halo of death. Even with blanched, greying and puckered skin, Kali saw in the child a startling resemblance to Rhane. Bubbles spurted from her mouth as she screamed again. She kicked hard, trying to get as far away from the corpse as fast as she could. When her back slammed into solid concrete, she turned to scramble up the pool wall. Fingers slipping on the wet ledge, she finally managed to pull herself out and flop onto her stomach. Trembling with a dozen more screams welled up inside, Kali shook with the effort of not releasing them. Pushing to her feet, she looked down into the water, needing desperately to believe she was not going crazy. There were no dead people. There was no dead boy. The pool was empty. # Icy water pounded from the showerhead, streaming into her eyes as it washed the chlorine from her body. All Kali could see was the boy. His lifeless face floating before hers, dark and grey and distorted in death. It took both hands to smother her sobs. She couldn’t understand what was happening. Was it possible that the vision was a real memory like the nightmares of the horseman had been real memories? The lights in the shower room flickered and went out just as they had in the pool auditorium. Her breath caught in her chest as she waited for what would happen next. She didn’t have to wait long. “Kalista,” a male voice sighed into the darkness. She backed away. She was naked and blind. And in the shower was a stranger who probably meant her harm. The vulnerable state made Kali’s movements very clumsy. “Darkesong.”
This time the voice was closer. So close, she could feel the whisper against her skin. She knew it was the thing pretending to be Cal. Kali bit her lip. She was too frightened to scream. But screaming wouldn’t have helped anyway. At first, his touch was light. Kali reacted, flinching away violently. Then “Cal” grabbed her. He was an irresistible force shoving her against the wet shower wall. His hard body pressed against hers. The heat from him completely dispelled the cold that fell around them. Kali felt his face against her skin. His hot breath steamed next to her cheek. “Don’t,” she whispered. Strong fingers slipped around her throat, but their hold was gentle. The lights partially returned, and she could see him. Physically, everything was the same…except for the eyes. Gone was the shocking blue of Cal’s stormy stare. In its place were two red orbs that reflected abnormally in the dim light. She would have recognized those eyes anywhere. “Gabriel.” He nodded. His body still had her pinned. His right hand grasped her throat, while the other rested idly against the wall. She waited for him to say or do something, but he didn’t. Nothing happened. Open malice and rage emanated from Gabriel’s still form, but Kali wasn’t entirely sure those emotions were aimed at her. Cal?”
She inhaled a shaky breath. The action squashed her breasts against his chest. “What did you do to Another unnerving smile slashed his face. “He’s still here.” “What do you want?”
Pressing his nose into the curve of her neck, Gabriel inhaled a dramatic whiff of her scent. Trembling, Kali tried to push away, wedging her body painfully into the wall. When Gabriel’s left hand moved, she went rigid. But the hand never touched her. It hovered next to her head, holding a tiny yellow stone. “I want to help you remember.” The events that followed would remain a blur of varying shades of grey darkness for some time. When Kali came to, she was standing in the rain, completely drenched. Rhane stood in front of her, lips moving soundlessly as he shouted, the words swept away by an unforgiving wind. She had never seen his eyes so black or so deadly focused as he leveled a gun directly over her heart.
About the Author: Cynic, realist, and hopeless romantic all rolled into one, Eden was born and raised in a small, sunny town in South Carolina, but thunderstorms have inspired her best ideas. There are few things she loves more than curling up with a good book and a cup of coffee on a rainy day, (except maybe chocolate cake. She loves cake.) often reading into the wee hours of morning when something really grabs her attention. She pretty much loves anything with supernatural elements, so writing paranormal romance and fantasy romance seems to be a natural fit.
Excerpt: They were mates, but mates who knew almost nothing about each other. Ryland knew better than to rush her, so he eased into the kiss, tilting her head and aligning their mouths. His bear huffed at each hitch and shudder of her breath as he deepened their connection. His senses were attuned to every subtle movement her body made in response to his touch and he gloried in the shiver that ran though her and the softening of her body as she gave into her needs and leaned into him. He finally gave into the temptation and swept his tongue into her mouth to taste. He sipped at her mouth, letting the flavors of his mate collide on his tongue, ensuring that he would never forget her. He’d thought he’d known what to expect. Strength. She had that in spades. Caution. Sweetness. Innocence. Passion. Orange blossoms and honey. Her taste exploded in his mouth. The heat grew with each velvet slide of his tongue over hers. He smiled into the kiss when her hand rose and fisted in his hair. He obeyed the command behind the gesture to deepen the kiss, to drive them both a little crazy, and closer to the edge. The edge of no return where he took his mate, fucked her wet pussy and branded her as his. She offered no resistance as he plundered her mouth. He thrust his tongue between her parted lips and took what he wanted. He licked at the roof of her mouth, skimming the along the row of her teeth before dipping down deep inside again. Finally, her tongue came out to tangle with his. Emma knew she would soon be a goner. The feel of his mouth and tongue was doing wonderful things to her body. Her pussy moistened and her nipples pebbled and hardened. Goodness, how she wanted him. And she couldn’t have him. She tried to ease away, to break off the kiss but he growled and she sank back into his heat. Why couldn’t she have this moment? This night? Body shaking, she pulled back from the kiss. Kiss, huh. That was too tame of a description for what they had just shared. His lips were wet and moist, and redden. She knew if she looked in a mirror, hers would look the same. She licked her bottom lip, her tongue finding the slight cut where he had scraped it with his teeth. “I, umm.” Not only did her legs feel like wet noodles, but her brain was fried from the heat of their passion. Ryker’s smile was smug. No doubt he could smell the arousal he’d created as well as see the effect of his touch. Her eyes were dilated and her body was shivering. She wanted him and he knew it. He continued to smile as he ushered her up the stairs. Two more flights and they were in front of the apartment.
Bear and Bear Alike Blackwood Brothers Book Three Marie Mason Genre: paranormal, romantic erotica, bbw romance, werewolves, shifters Date of Publication: November 17, 2014 Word Count: 70,000
Book Description: Ryland and Ryker Blackwood were twins. Identical, thigh clenching bear shifter twins who had no trouble getting women into their beds. Or bed. They’d shared just about everything in life, even women. The scent of the cat shifter they found on their construction site was driving both Blackwood brothers crazy with lust. Or was it? Every time they thought they were getting closer to finding the woman who would be their mate, one of their bears backed away. The hot and cold feeling they were getting from their animals was confusing the shit out of them. Was the cat shifter meant for one of them or both of them?
About the Author:
Marie Mason has loved writing and reading her whole life. Everyone knows when you start to hear voices in your head, you’er destined to be admitted to the nearest mental ward—or become a writer. Marie decided to become writer instead of waiting for the men in white coats to come carry her away. She loves books about alpha males and especially alpha males who just happened to be a demon, wolf or a bear. https://www.facebook.com/marie.mason.395017 https://twitter.com/mariemasonwrite
The Portrait’s Story – by Jude Pittman The character of Katherine Shipton floated into my mind fully completed, right down to hair and eyes, a talented artist with a runner’s body and deep love for her family and ancestors. Katherine’s grew up on her grandmother Mina’s stories, stories about her late great ancestor, the dubiously renowned Mother Shipton of English prophecy fame—just as I did. Mother Shipton really is my late great ancestor. Katherine heard the stories so often, heard the dozens of prophecies Mother was reputed to have penned so many times that she couldn’t help but feel a certain kinship, even though she’d never been able to actually convince herself in all that prophecy stuff. Again, just as I did. If you google Mother Shipton, this is what you’ll find: “Mother Shipton exhibited prophetic and psychic abilities from an early age, writing prophecies in the form of poems, not much different than the cryptic Quatrains of Nostradamus - all subjective. At age 24 she married Toby Shipton, a local carpenter, near York in 1512 and told fortunes and made predictions throughout her life. They had no children, but she became known as Mother Shipton because of all the people she helped. They lived in Knaresborough England. Her power to see into the future made her well known not only in her home town but throughout England. Her legend was passed on through oral traditions and is perhaps sometimes embellished a bit. Since 1641 there have been more than 50 different editions of books about her and her prophecies. Many of her visions came true within her own lifetime and in subsequent centuries predicting important historical events well into the future including: - the Great Fire of London in 1666, the defeat of the Spanish Armada in 1588 - as well as the advent of modern technology. She even forecast her own death in 1561. Today her prophecies are still proving uncannily accurate.” The idea that Katherine, an artist, would want to paint a portrait of Mother Shipton to give to
Grandmother Mina for her 80th birthday really clicked with Gail and I, and as we worked on the story, the idea of the portrait being the vehicle by which Mother Shipton would actually enter into the current century really caught hold of both of us. The portrait of Mother Shipton depicted on the cover is, in fact, supposedly a sketch of the real Mother Shipton. From that point on Katherine took a hand in the story herself. She brought her best friend Sylvia back from the New York fashion world and together they set out on a series of journeys that took them back into the 16th Century, girls on a mission, their assignment straight from Mother Shipton. The portrait and Mother Shipton and her prophecies grew into a major part of the story we were telling and set the foundation for the series we plan to write about the descendants of Mother Shipton and their experiences with the century travelling ancestor. And certainly, few covers ever fit the inner story as perfectly as this one. After all, it had a unfinished portrait just waiting for it. Sisters of Prophecy – Ursula Sisters of Prophecy Book 1 Jude Pittman and Gail Roughton Genre: Paranormal, Time Travel Publisher: Books We Love, Ltd. Date of Publication: September 29, 2014 ISBN: 978-1-77145-310-3 ASIN: B00O2DTE1M Number of pages: 164 Word Count: 50,000 Book Description: What’s a girl to do? Katherine Shipton has a painting that talks, an ancestor who won’t stay in her own century, and a former boyfriend with a serious ax to grind against her new fiancé. She already has a full plate, but when said ancestor sends her tripping back and forth between the 15th and 21st century without benefit of psychedelic drugs, the poor girl begins to doubt her own sanity. Then her best friend, a high fashion model with more than her own share of psychic energy, and her troubleshooting aunt show up on her doorstep in response to a psychic SOS Katherine swears she didn’t send. Life couldn't get more complicated. At least, that's what she thinks until her oilman fiancé disappears in the Gulf of Mexico and a DEA agent knocks on her door.
Available at Books We Love and Amazon About the Authors Jude Pittman emigr ated from Canada to the United States with her mom and brother when she was 14. Her time there included 12 years in Texas where the genus for her first murder mystery, “Shadows Are Deadly” now part of Jude’s “Murder on My Mind” trilogy first took root. In 1992 Jude returned to British Columbia where she met her husband John. The couple moved to Calgary, Alberta where they continue to live. Descended from the Shipton line, Jude has always been fascinated with the historical and legendary stories about her late and often maligned ancestor, Mother Shipton and her gifts of prophecy. The Sisters of Prophecy series is a fictional account of those Shipton sons and daughters who inherited Mother Shipton’s gifts.
Gail Roughton is a native of small town Geor gia whose Deep South her itage features prominently in much of her work. She’s worked in a law office for close to forty years, during which time she’s raised three children and quite a few attorneys. She’s kept herself more or less sane by writing novels and tossing the completed manuscripts into her closet. A crossgenre writer, she’s produced works ranging from humor to romance to thriller to horror, sometimes in the same book. She’s never quite sure herself what to expect when she sits down at the keyboard. Now multi-published by Books We Love, Ltd., her credits include the War-N-Wit, Inc. series, The Color of Seven, Vanished, and Country Justice. Currently, she’s working on Black Turkey Walk, the second in the Country Justice series, as well as the Sisters of Prophecy series, co-written with Jude Pittman.
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What inspired you to become an author? I’ve always wanted to be a writer. My earliest—and still kept—toy is a Chambers Etymological English Dictionary. I didn’t have the time (or chose to tell myself that) to dedicate to writing until my life took a serious turn when my mother became ill with lymphoma. I quit my job to care for her, and the long hours in the hospital and downtime that cancer patients have proved the perfect silence and opportunity in which to write. She was able to read a first draft of Feast of Fates before she passed away—although it was called something else at the time, and nearly unrecognizable from what exists today. Do you have a specific writing style? Yes. I grew up reading classic fantasy literature: Tolkien, Brooks, Bradley, LeGuin. As a result a lot of the lengthy, ornate prose of those works has influenced me. I would say that I am an evocative writer. I really like a reader to feel a scene and its characters. Do you write in different genres? I do. In fact, I’d say that each of my stories straddles aspects of fantasy, magical realism, horror and romance. Life is never one “genre”. Why should our stories be? J How did you come up with the title for your latest book? Feast of fates appears as a phrase in the book. When I was working on a second draft—and deciding on a real title—it struck me. Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp? “Love it what blinds us in hate, binds us in brotherhood and makes us soar with desire.” I think that’s a tagline somewhere. Love is a powerful motivator, it can drive us to sinful and heroic extremes. Feast of Fates is an exploration of the many shades of that emotion. In the book I travel—with the reader—to both incredibly dark and light places. Is the book, characters, or any scenes based on a true life experience, someone you know, or events in your own life? Well, writers tend to infuse their personal experience into their work. I’d say that Feast of Fates is about love, as previously mentioned. And death. I learned a lot about these two forces during my mother’s treatment. Is there a genre(s) that you’d like to write that you haven’t tackled yet?
I have the framework laid for a YA horror series, but I won’t get around to an actual manuscript until the first four books of my current series are complete. Of all the characters you’ve ever written, who is your favorite and why? Hmm…That’s tricky, since I grow attached to all of my characters. Even the ones I’m going to kill off! The Iron Queen is a delight to write, since she’s so motivated by self-preservation and ruthless logic. Readers seem to find her villainy and reactions hysterical. Elissandra is also quite captivating with her strangeness. Either those two, or, of course, Morigan and the Wolf. Their epic story and devotion to each other plays on my heart strings. Feast of Fates Four Feasts Till Darkness Book One Christian A. Brown Genre: Fantasy Romance
Date of Publication: September 9, 2014 ISBN: 978-1495907586 Number of pages: 540 Word Count: 212K Book Description: "Love is what binds us in brotherhood, blinds us from hate, and makes us soar with desire.” Morigan lives a quiet life as the handmaiden to a fatherly old sorcerer named Thackery. But when she crosses paths with Caenith, a not wholly mortal man, her world changes forever. Their meeting sparks long buried magical powers deep within Morigan. As she attempts to understand her newfound abilities, unbidden visions begin to plague her--visions that show a devastating madness descending on one of the Immortal Kings who rules the land. With Morigan growing more powerful each day, the leaders of the realm soon realize that this young woman could hold the key to their destruction. Suddenly, Morigan finds herself beset by enemies, and she must master her mysterious gifts if she is to survive. Available at Amazon and Createspace Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/8E_RVXgpqB8 Feast of Fates, Excert #2 Menos was darker than usual: its clouds as black as the shadow of fear that haunted Mouse. The city felt more menacing to her. She saw shadows in every corner, noticed the glint of every ruffian’s blade or slave’s chain as though they were all intended for her. The warning of Alastair played inside her skull on a loop of nightmare theater. A hand over her mouth startles her awake, and she twists for the dagger in her pillowcase until she recognizes the shadowy apparition atop her, who hisses at her to calm. “Alastair?” she gasps. dark.
The hand unclenches and the willowy shadow retreats to more of its own; she can only see the scruff of his red beard in the “Get up, Mouse. Get dressed.”
Her mentor sounds annoyed or confused; she is each, but finds her garments quickly enough anyway. “I don’t like good-byes, so let’s not call this that,” Alastair says with a sigh. “But it will be a parting, nonetheless. You need to go low. Lower than you’ve ever been before. A new name won’t be enough. You’ll need a new face. I don’t know how or who, but the sacred contract of our order has been broken. Your safety has been bought.” Mouse knows the who and how, and as she glances up from her boot-lacing to explain to her mentor her predicament, she sees that he is gone. Just empty shadows, echoing words, and the sound of her heartbeat drowning out all the rest. She expected the dead man and his icy master to emerge from the dim nooks and doorways of the buildings she passed at any instant. With a hand on her knives and a fury to her step, she swept down the sidewalk; no carriages for her today, as they were essentially cages on wheels—too easy to trap oneself in. With its sooty storefronts and their wrought-iron windows, its black streetlamps that rose about her like the bars of a prison, Menos was constricting itself around her, and she had to get out. You’ve survived worse than the nekromancer, she coached herself, though she wasn’t certain that was true. She hurried through the grimness of Menos, dodging pale faces and quickening her step with every sand. By the time she arrived at the fleshcrafter’s studio, she was sweating and stuck to her cloak. She looked down the desolate sidewalk and up the long sad face of the tall tower with its many broken or boarded-over windows. When she was sure she wasn’t being pursued by the phantoms that her paranoia had conjured, she pulled back a rusted door that did not cry out as it should have, given its appearance, but slid along well-formed grooves through the dust. She raced through the door and hauled it closed. It was dark and flickering with half-dead lights in the garbage-strewn hallway in which she stood. Mouse picked through the trash with her feet, tensing as she passed every dark alcove in the abandoned complex. Hives, these places were called, and used to house enormous numbers of lowborn folk under a single roof. In Menos, even the shabbiest roof was a desirable commodity, so the building’s ghostly vacancy meant that it likely was condemned by disease at one point. Soon the stairwell she sought appeared, and she tiptoed down it, careful not to slip on the stairs, which were slick with organic grunge. Couldn’t have picked a nicer studio, she cursed. I’ll be lucky if this fleshcrafter leaves me with half a lip to drink with. Lamentably, speed and discretion were her two goals in choosing where to have her face remodeled. Such stipulations cut the more promising fleshcrafters off the list and left her with the dregs. She hadn’t put much thought into what she would have done, or even if she would end up hideously disfigured. Monstrous disfigurement could even work in her favor, as she bore an uncanny resemblance to that crow-eviscerated woman whom she suspected was the object of the nekromancer’s dark desire. I’ll take ugly over dead. Over whatever he has in mind for me.
About the Author Christian A. Brown has written creatively since the age of six. After spending most of his career in the health and fitness industry, Brown quit his job to care for his mother when she was diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma in 2010. Having dabbled with the novel that would eventually become Feast of Fates for over a decade, Brown was finally able to finish the project. His mother, who was able to read a beginning version of the novel before she passed away, has since imbued the story with deeper sentiments of loss, love, and meaning. He is proud to now share the finished product with the world.
http://christianadrianbrown.com https://twitter.com/AuthorChrisAB https://www.facebook.com/ChristianAdrianBrown https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8422242.Christian_A_Brown https://plus.google.com/u/0/105782095673393074893/about
The Joys and Challenges of Writing Urban Fantasy Cory Dale I've always been a huge fantasy fan of both film and books. I remember when the Wolfman and Dracula were considered horror, and now horror is totally redefined as something else. We're not so horrified of vampires and werewolves anymore. They, among other beasties, have become our fantasy. Urban Fantasy has been around for a while, but I remember when there used to be some confusion as to what it meant. Most people understand epic fantasy, those magical realms with medieval settings. So when you classify fantasy as "urban," it may raise a few eyebrows. Or at least it did when the genre was still new. Urban Fantasy continues to baffle those who haven't yet been introduced to the imaginary world of contemporary magic.
I think one of the most intriguing aspects of urban fantasy is that stories are set in the present, and typically in a modern city (vis-Ă -vis urban). It's kind of mind blowing when you think about it. Many readers associate sorcerers and dragons and elves with thatch-roofed villages and horse-drawn carts. But in an urban fantasy we see these characters juxtaposed with modern cars, nightclubs, gangsta rap, computers, iphones, television, skyscrapers and everything else we associate with city life. It shakes up the fantasy genre and that's what I like about it. It's unexpected. There's something special about everyday people confronted by extraordinary circumstances. Not all urban fantasies are romances. Most stories may have romantic elements, but romance is not the focus of the plot. Romance is typically used as a subplot portrayed in varying heat levels from sweet to hot enough to melt the fillings in your teeth. An urban fantasy is more like a mystery-suspense with magic and supernatural creatures. Some stories have absolutely no romantic elements at all. I enjoy writing urban fantasy because it allows me to open up creatively and gives my imagination the opportunity to do just about anything it wants. That being said, it's not an easy genre to write well. Writing fiction is hard no matter what the genre, but when you invent magical systems with their own unique set of rules, and then have to explain your world in a way that doesn't sound like an explanation, you have a huge challenge on your hands. Everything has to flow seamlessly at a fast pace and not be overly heavy with information. Concepts must be easy to grasp for any reader. It takes several drafts to get right. The market for tried and true urban fantasy--meaning the kind that features traditional monsters like werewolves and vampires--is rumored to be tapering off. Readers are looking for something that transcends the genre and presents a unique story, something that stands out in a crowd of books. A new twist on an old saw. So not only should urban fantasy writers be at the top of their game as far as craft, their stories must also be on the cutting edge of originality. Demon Fare, the first book in my Spawnstertown Chronicles, is an urban fantasy set in a alternate history New York City. A hundred and fifty years ago, a powerful earthquake trampled the entire planet, destroying almost
everything in its wake. Millions died, cities crumbled, and progress came to a screeching halt. It’s now the twenty-first century and civilization still relies on steam-powered energy, but there’s help from a magical species unearthed by the quake. The people have named them demons because of where they came from, but these amorphous creatures of energy are gentle and want only to serve humans by possessing their machines to make them run. Though global resurgence is slow, the new world has enjoyed a century and a half of peace. At least until one greedy man—part human and part demon—forces the city’s demons to turn against their human masters. The city is blessed with two unlikely saviors: A Hellspawn taxi driver and an exorcist. Can these two sparring partners work together to take down the menace biting the Big Apple before it spreads worldwide? Thank you for reading! Demon Fare The Spawnstertown Chronicles Book One Cory Dale Genre: Urban Fantasy Publisher: Karen Duvall Date of Publication: 12/20/2014 ISBN: 13: 978-0692342633 ASIN: Number of pages: 324 Word Count: 86,000 Cover Artist: Karen Duvall Book Description: In an alternate history New York City—one hundred and fifty years after an earthquake from hell nearly destroyed the planet—the twenty-first century clings to an industrial age. Steam engines rule, and demonpowered technology is the up and coming thing. Henry Paine, a half-demon taxi driver, is the go-to guy for just the right demon to possess your machine and automate any mechanical gizmo with or without an engine. The creatures are tame as pets. Or at least they have been… until now. Wanda Snow is an exorcist who grudgingly admits to having a few drops of demon blood herself. She's come to New York to rid the city of demonic vermin as well as any other demons that get in her way. Wanda and Henry are naturally at odds, but the two are forced to become partners in a mutual goal to round up the rogue demons biting the Big Apple and take down the sinister tyrant who started it all. Available at Amazon Excerpt: Wanda Snow fastened a row of buttons on her coat. Damn, it was colder than a banker’s heart out here. She studied the park across the street, watching leafless branches waggle their twiggy fingers in the fog. Drawing back a sleeve, she checked her watch, its large, visible gears a weight around her wrist. Four in the morning. Two hours until sun-up. Leaning against a lamppost, she gazed up the street, her senses tuned in to the demon energy flowing
through the city. She sensed a Bringer coming her way. Unclasping the tin choker from around her neck, she opened it just wide enough to let the voices in. Eyes closed, she focused on the whispered thoughts of a hundred demons that confirmed the identity of the Hellspawn she waited for. He was the Bringer, and although he didn’t know it yet, he would help her stop the evil that conspired to take over New York City. “How doin’?” A real voice came from the foggy dark, the words sounding burned as if by coal dust. She knew that sound. The raspy voices of coal-digging Spawnsters had filled the patch towns of her Kentucky home. She still heard them in her sleep. “Spare a dime for a man down on his luck?” Wondering if she’d been followed, she turned to face him, her spine stiff and booted legs poised to kick what would hurt most. Wanda welcomed some trouble if it would warm her up. But the half-breed was a head shorter than her six feet, and his top hat had no top, his gloves had no fingers. The only threat he posed was the stink coming off him in waves strong enough to choke a skunk. Her gaze raked him up and down as she said, “I’m poor as you, mister. You won’t hear no coins clinkin’ in my pocket.” “I be a pig’s uncle. You’s a woman, ain’t ya?” “Last I looked.” He chuckled. “You dressed too manly to be one of Hell’s Belles. What you doin’ out in Central Park all by your lonesome?” “Waitin’ for someone. How ’bout you?” His brown-toothed smile spread his mouth wider than normal for a human. He was a Spawnster, all right. And a drunk one at that. “Makin’ new friends.” He took a swig from a bottle wrapped in a paper bag and held it out for Wanda. “Wanna be my friend?” She grimaced at the smell of rancid olive oil that was like a hundred proof grain alcohol to a Spawnster. Pushing the bottle away, she shook her head. “I’ll pass, thanks anyway.” He frowned, his dark eyes starting to glow. Just her luck. A drunk Spawnster with a temper. “I’m sure you’re a nice guy and all, but I ain’t interested. Share your oil with someone who can enjoy it, ’kay?” She turned toward the street. “Fuckin’ human.” Venom deepened his voice. “You think you’re better ’an me?” Strong fingers gripped her arm above the elbow and tried to spin her around, but she didn’t budge. The drunk yanked again and she took her time turning to face him. “You don’t wanna do this.” He swung back a fist, aiming his scaly knuckles at her face, but she stopped the blow with one open palm. Wanda slapped him hard in the face and he staggered backward, eyes wide. “Did no one ever teach you manners?” She slapped him again. “It ain’t nice to beat up on a lady.” A solid punch to his left temple dropped him face down in the gutter. “Not that I’m a lady, you understand, but you still shouldn’t go ’round beatin’ up on people. It ain’t polite.” She smiled down at the unconscious Spawnster who was too dumb to be a spy. Even if he were, she’d left a clear message for whomever he worked for. His hat lay in the street about ten feet away. She picked it up, dusted it off with the sleeve of her coat, and set it on the ground beside him. He didn’t move. “Have a nice night.” As she crossed over into the park, twin headlamps from an oncoming car forced her into the shadows. About the Author: Karen Duvall, who wrote Demon Fare as Cory Dale, lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and four incredibly spoiled pets. Karen is represented by Elizabeth Winick Rubenstein of the McIntosh & Otis Literary Agency. Her Knight's Curse series was published by Harlequin Luna in 2011 and 2012, and her post apocalyptic novella, Sun Storm, appeared in Luna's 'Til The World Ends anthology in 2013. Karen is also a professional graphic designer who designs book covers and book interiors for self-published authors, and creates original 3D graphics for computer gaming. Demon Fare is the first book in her Spawnstertown Chronicles. http://www.karenduvallauthor.com/ http://www.karenduvall.blogspot.com
Excerpt: When we got back to the hotel, he was still amped up and wanted to make love in the Jacuzzi in our suite. What should have been a romantic interlude turned into a lot of playful splashing, dunking and laughing. We’d wrestle for a little, then make love, start wrestling again and suddenly that would turn into more lovemaking. By the end of it, we were soaked and exhausted. Later that afternoon, I spoke to Bella again and we settled on dinner at her boyfriend’s restaurant at seven. On the drive over, Curtis and I were cuddled in the backseat of the rental car like childhood sweethearts when suddenly I felt a familiar tightness in my chest. Breathing deeply didn’t help. Predictably, I started trembling and began to feel weak. “Are you shaking, baby?” Curtis asked. “Dave, throw me one of those bottles of water.” Unable to speak, I watched, as if from a great distance, as Dave passed a bottle of water to Curtis. Curtis grabbed my purse and pulled out several bottles. He selected one containing the fast acting, anti-anxiety pills. “Open your mouth, baby,” he told me. He slid a pill into my mouth, opened the bottle of water and held it to my lips until I drank. Then he held me and stroked my forehead until the pill took effect. “Any idea what caused it?” I shrugged. “I feel like it has something to do with this dinner. Or Bella. I don’t know.” I sighed. “I just got a bunch of warning signals all at once.” “Do you want to call her and cancel?” Curtis asked. “No,” I said, pausing to cough. “I need to be there.” When we walked in, Bella was waiting at the hostess station looking camera ready in a form fitting, black mini dress. Her bright red locks had been flat ironed to perfection, and her makeup was flawless. She grabbed a stack of menus and quickly ushered us through several elegant dining rooms and up a small flight of stairs. On the way, I noticed the brass railings that edged the upper level dining rooms. “You okay?” Curtis asked when I stumbled on the stairs. “I’m fine,” I said as we continued to a private dining room near the back of the restaurant. I knew that brass railing. I knew it from that awful dream. Now that Curtis had gotten through the place unrecognized, there was time for greetings and introductions. “I’ve seen you work,” Curtis told Bella as he removed his sunglasses. “You’re very good.” “Thank you,” Bella said with an enchanting smile. “I’ve seen you in concert six or seven times. Australia, England, Germany, New York. You rock, man. You just get out there and spit fire. And the things you do with beats are sick. Hey, why don’t you guys have a seat and I’ll let the chef know you’re here.” She grinned and headed off to the kitchen. When she returned with her boyfriend, I reached over and grabbed Curtis’s hand as we stood for the introductions. My heartbeat was so violent, I imagined it was visible through my dress. “Rory, Curtis, this is my boyfriend Cliff Wexler.” I took in the dark hair on his head and on his knuckles when he reached out to shake my hand. I nearly drew back my hand when I saw the manicured fingernails. Cliff. Cliff? How could Bella have ignored that? “Pleased to meet you,” I said as a sea of blood roared through my ears. He was pleasant looking, in the way a conservative Republican politician can look pleasant. He had dark brown hair, a high forehead, close set brown eyes and thin, thin lips. “Yeah, pleased to meet you Cliff,” Curtis said as he instinctively took my arm and allowed me to sag against him. To me, his voice sounded like it was coming from the far end of a ten mile tunnel.
Cliff’s eyes widened as he stared at me with speculation. Suddenly, two female spirits appeared on either side of Cliff. They were nude and foggy white. Each wore a gruesome necklace of blood that dripped down, past their breasts. As my eyes moved lower, I saw that, unlike the white hair on their heads, their pubic hair appeared in lifelike shades. One woman had been a brunette and the other had had black hair. Then I noticed huge clots of blood sliding from between their legs. “Rory is such an awesome medium,” I heard Bella say, from what seemed like a thousand miles away. “Dead people contact her all the time with warnings for the living. She’s amazing.” Every ounce of strength left my legs as I blacked out. Rory’s Love Aurora, Psychic For the Stars Book One Donna Butler Genre: Paranormal Romance ISBN: 13-978-1503377257 ASIN: B00PUDMXMA Number of pages: 197 Word Count: 60,547 Cover Artist: Donna Butler and Sander Cha Book Description: As a psychic medium to the stars, Aurora Alexander believes her life is about as full of glamor and excitement as it can get. Until she falls in love with a client, the multi-platinum selling performer and record producer, Curtis Love. Even though Curtis has a girlfriend, he and Rory share an attraction that proves to be irresistible. Once Curtis breaks up with his girlfriend and they give in to their passion, the story takes them from St. Tropez to Manhattan, Maui, Paris, Milan and elsewhere. Rory’s life becomes every woman's dream come true, filled with designer clothes, jewels, glam squads and a personal bodyguard. But in spite of all the glamor and globe-trotting, Rory can’t outrun the suspicion that Bella, one of her clients, is in grave danger. Rory's devotion to her sometimes dangerous line of work begins to cause friction in her relationship with Curtis. Despite Curtis’s warnings, when the ghostly victims of a serial killer come to Rory for justice, she can't help but chase down their killer. But as she puts her life in jeopardy to expose a killer and rescue Bella, she also jeopardizes the greatest love she's ever known. About the Author:
Available at Amazon
Donna lives in the Kansas City area with her husband and three cats. She wrote her first novel at fourteen and has had a love affair with writing ever since. In addition to writing, she loves gardening, laughing at reality television and playing with her three-year-old granddaughter. Blog: www.blog.donnabutler.com Twitter: https://twitter.com/leftwingeddove Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Donna-Butler-Author-Page Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4447413.Donna_Butler
Some authors write following an outline while there are those that don’t. The ones that don’t are called “pantsters”. I know, it’s a funny word for something that seems to be so creative. I happen to be one of those “pantsters”. I don’t know why, but if I am not writing a paper for something like school, I can’t follow an outline. In my college days, I would outline the subject in complete detail for a thesis paper or something to that effect. Queen’s Destiny, the first book of The Blood Prophecy series is an example of me being a “pantster”. What really is a pantster? A pantster is someone who “writes by the seat of their pants” per se. A writer, or author, if you will, who just lets creativity take them on an imaginable journey from the beginning of the novel to the end. Well, that is me! True and true. When I started Queen’s Destiny, it started from a dream that I had and it just continued. As I was writing, I noticed that my tone in the novel was becoming more and more of a bloody, romantic and suggestive content. I was careful to not let my novel take me in one direction more than another. So, again, I let my creative juices flow!
By the time Queen’s Destiny was nearing the end, I really had no idea how it would end or what would happen to the characters that I began to love and admire. What I envision for the book and the series may not be what others would like to see. That is the most frustrating part for me. The second book, Queen’s Enemy is coming to an end and as a pantster, I have no idea of how it will end. In my mind, I already have four very different endings, possibly a fifth. I’m even starting a Street Team to see what my fans’ thoughts are. I find it very interesting to read an email from a fan that told me how much she loved the book but was unhappy that Amber, the Queen, became a vampire. She was hoping for a witch! But overall, these are the things that I find interesting when it comes to different perceptions and all. My creativity is part of why I relate to the word “pantster” more than the type of author who needs to outline everything. My imagination runs wild and sometimes gets the best of me! As a rule of thumb, my process of writing will require some music, maybe the TV on, or other noise in the background. I just need to hear things in the background while I write. No headphones or anything. Just the regular noise of the house – kids running around playing, TV, you name it. While I hear the “noise” – the pantster keeps writing! Queen’s Destiny was written to a variety of noise, but one thing remained true. While writing, I usually took a break to call one of my many friends in Seattle each night. I’m from Seattle and I needed a little bit of “home” while writing. The rest, my friends, is me just being a pantster! I don’t know how one book will end, how the next one will begin or what will happen to
Blood Prophecy: Queen’s Destiny Blood Prophecy
Book 1 Barb Jones Genre: Adult Paranormal Publisher: World Castle Publishing, LLC Date of Publication: October 1, 2014 ISBN: 978-1629891521 ASIN: B00NCN1CJU Number of pages: 211 Kindle 282 Paperback Word Count: 71,417 Cover Artist: Kip Ayers Book Description: Amber Stone, once a child prodigy, has just become curator of a special collection of Macedonian artifacts for the Seattle Museum of Natural History. Chloe, a prodigy of a different sort, holds a position at the museum focusing on tribal art. The two become fast friends, united by Amber's unsettling dreams and Chloe's unorthodox ways of dealing with them. Two strangers arrive in town, bringing with them a prophecy recorded more than three-thousand years ago, a prophecy that places Amber directly in the midst of a battle that has spanned a millennia. Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/79ydZ0W26tk Available at Amazon and BN
About the Author: Barb Jones is a multi-genre author with a very vivid imagination. She writes with an uncanny ability to draw you into the supernatural world. She also carries the talent to write for children and allows them to feel as if they belong to the magical world of King Arthur. Barb is also a successful IT director in addition to being a mother. Her world is filled with imagination, creativity and passion. She made her debut in the paranormal genre with the start of an amazing series called Blood Prophecy for adults and The Adventures of Little Arthur and Merlin the Magnificent for children. Currently residing in Sarasota, Florida, she enjoys the beaches and sunshine. www.thebloodprophecy.com
Most of the time, authors write what they know. Lo and behold! I also happen to be writing what I know as well…except what I know is Chinese culture. Sort of. Let me first rewind a little to explain why I chose to write a fantasy fiction set in historical China. Japanese manga, which is primarily created for a Japanese audience, is being enjoyed by people all over the world, and I am jealous. I am envious of how many people have learned about Japanese culture through anime/manga, and in contrast there aren’t many stories depicting Chinese culture that are available in English. I mean, I’m pretty proud of my own culture—the culture, not history, has been accumulated from about 6000 years of (supposedly) unbroken history, which means I have a wealth of material to draw upon. Thus, I set out to write stories set in ancient China with the grand vision of sharing my culture with others. Having written a wuxia/ palace fic (for the lack of better word) and an alternate history fic, this time, I chose to write a Chinese (Daoist) (epic) historical fantasy. Since I spent over half my childhood overseas, I can’t say what I write is completely Chinese, but my story, “the Relics of Gods”, is inseparable from Chinese culture. It is completely reliant on existing Chinese mythology, folklore, cosmology, metaphysics, and so on—even the magical system I used is more or less based on Chinese metaphysics, you know, with the typical ying yang and five elements stuff. Additionally, the story is a historical set in Ming Dynasty China, so the entire history of China is the story’s background. Even the way I tell the story—up to the atmosphere and stylistic choice of the cover—is quite Chinese. I’m writing a story I may as well publish to the Chinese fiction community for an almost entirely ethnic Chinese audience. Of course, I do take some liberties and invent some of my own stuff, but that doesn’t change the fact that my story is completely reliant on Chinese culture. In terms of plot and perspective, however, I think there is a mixture of Chinese and Western-influences, which has to do with my personal experience. I don’t take the usual plot route with my story. I think one of the more interesting (to me) differences my story will have with Western fantasy is the cultural value.
the Yellow Emperor is considered the first Daoist by some Daoists Becoming a god or an immortal? Usually a blasphemous ambition in Western fantasy, often depicted as something only arrogant and evil villains would aspire to. Well, in Chinese culture, this aspiration is quite acceptable indeed. The Yellow Emperor, for example, was supposedly the first human who became a god in mythical history, and he is considered the father of all Han Chinese people so he has a special place in terms of ancestor worship. A big branch of Daoism is all about achieving immortality, as Traditional Chinese Medicine and martial arts have their roots in the desire to achieve immortality. Thus, good things came out of this lofty goal. Moreover, Chinese also worship many humans as gods—Guan Yu, for example, is this dude back in the Three Kingdoms period and pretty much revered as a god by all religious Daoists even today. What is so blasphemous about another human becoming a god? Nothing, as long as you don’t harm innocent people in your quest. This may contrast with what Western cultures are familiar with, because even with polytheistic Greek mythology and Norse mythology I don’t have any impressions of any of them featuring humans becoming gods or being worshipped as gods. Westerners are used to having a clear line drawn between gods and humans, while in Daoism the line is a bit blurred.
Mount Heng is a mountain the characters visit I have to add, however, that even though I heavily rely on Chinese culture, I think readers who are looking forward to reading about an “exotic”, new world would be a little disappointed, depending what they were hoping to read. I am writing about something I am familiar with and sharing what I know with those who are interested in learning about it (I can’t claim to be completely accurate of course). I am not writing this story to tell readers how different my culture is from a Western one, not “introducing” readers to an “exotic” world. So, even though the entire story is probably a big bag of culture, you won’t find me going into all the cultural details. In fact, I probably don’t spend enough time explaining things, even though the mythology & cosmology is practically the story’s backbone. Since I do hope to educate somewhat, I would go out of my way to include certain elements and explanations I probably would not have included if I wrote the story in Chinese, but I have this nagging worry that readers unfamiliar with Chinese culture will find it difficult to keep up with the story or immerse themselves in it.
Well, stereotypes have some truth to them. I think we all secretly wish we were kung fu masters, so we get pissed off if you ask us if we know kung fu and we don’t. Personally, I take all the cultural concepts I’ve used for granted, so I just use it without thinking much since many elements I’ve used are pretty much a shared cultural property you’d find in most Chinese Daoist fantasies. I’ve researched, and hell did I research my ass off to check my facts, but I end up not going in depth about many things. I just mention what I think readers need to know at the moment but might not know, and then I move on. I keep hoping this is enough for readers who aren’t familiar with Chinese culture, and that they can still enjoy the story, but I am not sure. Non-Chinese readers have not really complained to me about how the lack of prior knowledge detracts from their enjoyment of the story, but I always wonder how the story would read to those who aren’t even vaguely familiar with Chinese cultural concepts. For example, the concept of feng shui should be something non-Chinese have heard of before, so I don’t even bother explaining what it is. Yet what if readers don’t know what feng shui is or how Chinese have used feng shui?
Chinese invented the compass just to study feng shui of the world around them Feng shui was used since 4000 BCE, where it was used to orient architectures such as homes and tombs. There is good/lucky feng shui and bad/unlucky feng shui, so it is considered important to build architectures at places with good feng shui and adhere to good feng shui practices. Even today, businessmen in my country prefer to choose offices with good feng shui. They don’t necessarily believe it, but they’d rather not take the risk of disregarding the feng shui of their office.
By the way, feng shui (風水, literally wind-water) is thought to the metaphysical architecture of how this mysterious and invisible force called qi (氣) binds things together in the universe. Qi is considered the life-force of the universe. Confused already? Well, there is more. Feng shui uses the concepts of ying/yang and the eight trigrams (also known as bagua). The trigrams themselves are derived from astronomy, and there are 64 combinations of bagua in total, which is used for general divination. The origin of bagua get a bit mythological and I somewhat touch upon it in my book, but everything I mentioned so far is implicit knowledge pretty much every ethnic Chinese who grew up with the culture would know. Unless they have been somehow living under a rock. In my story, however, I don’t really go into detail on how feng shui actually works because admittedly I myself don’t understand it. It is too cryptic so you’d have to spend years studying it, and I’d probably still mess it up— not many ethnic Chinese really understand how feng shui works, either, since I think the knowledge was purposefully shrouded in mystery. You could write a thick book just on feng shui, but in general feng shui was not that central to my story; it was something I casually mentioned and integrated. There are, of course, more cultural and historical things I use just like I did with feng shui, but that was just an example of how Chinese culture plays into the story. All in all, I know I am not the most skilled English writer out there, but I hope my writing weaknesses won’t be annoying enough to detract from most readers’ enjoyment of the story. Ideally, readers unfamiliar with Chinese culture and are looking for something different will enjoy the “freshness” (I hope it’s fresh to them anyway) Chinese culture has brought to the story, and they’ll also learn a bit about the culture. It would also be great if ethnic Chinese who can’t read Chinese but are fans of things like wuxia would identify with the story and appreciate seeing elements they are familiar with. Thanks for reading my longwinded ramblings.
The Relics of Gods Between Heaven and Earth Book One Yeyu Genre: Fantasy Chinese Historical/Mythology/Paranormal Fantasy Publisher: DSP Publications
Date of Publication: January 6th, 2015
ISBN Ebook – 978-1-62798-779-0 ISBN Paperback – 978-1-62798-778-3 Number of pages: 350 Word Count: 119,000 Cover Artist: Reese Dante
Book Description: What is worse: Being so broke you can barely afford food, getting hired for dangerous missions way out of your league, suffocating under mountains of unanswered questions—or wanting to sexually dominate someone who can kill you without lifting a finger? Lu Delong is a mercenary who evaluates antiques most of the time, and deals with the paranormal on rare occasions—even though it’s supposed to be the other way around. When he joins a dangerous quest for an ancient artifact, he meets and becomes strongly attracted to a mysterious and powerful immortal named Cangji. Despite his friends’ warnings and Cangji’s icy, unsociable demeanor, Delong is unable to resist befriending him. However, Cangji is deeply involved in a matter beyond mortals, and Delong is drawn into a chaotic struggle by both visible and invisible forces. Always the pacifist who wanted to live a simple human life, Delong never imagined he’d end up involved in a conflict that will affect everything from the lowest insects on earth to the highest gods in heaven.
Excerpt: Chapter 1 AS USUAL, the market was bustling and crowded on a hot summer day. Chickens clucked, pigs snorted, and citizens of Great Ming screamed over one another at the top of their lungs, deep in heated bargaining battles. Naturally, Lu Delong was no exception. “Fifteen wen for a bundle of sorry-looking water spinach? You must be joking!” Delong complained as he examined the bunch of tasty greens with a disgusted look. The shop owner was likely from a village outside the city, since Delong had never seen her in the markets before. “This is outrageous!” he accused, staring straight into the woman’s eyes. “You operate a blackhearted business here, madam—I daresay this bundle is only worth three wen.” The tall, muscular woman’s face turned a bright shade of red. “What in the world are you talking about?” She had a strong accent and was probably one of the refugees who had moved south to escape the drought up north. “Look at how green these plants are, how beautiful and flawless the leaves are—these vegetables are planted in the richest soil in these lands and are fed quality water. Fifteen wen is actually a bargain!” Her gaze swept up and down Delong, and her lips thinned. “I don’t know how a beggar like you grew this big, but if you can’t afford the price, go away! Don’t go off slandering my shop’s vegetables!” Delong took a step back and glared at her. “Excuse me, madam. How rude of you to assume things from my attire! I am more educated than you think, thank you very much for the discrimination.” He leaned
closer and continued, “Have you heard of the story of the Orange Seller before?” “What Orange Seller?” the woman growled, but she was unable to hide the curiosity in her eyes. Delong snickered inwardly, pleased to find this woman a typical gossip-lover with nothing better to do with her time. “There once was this Orange Seller who was good at storing oranges so they did not spoil. The oranges were beautiful, with a golden color and jade texture. In the markets, they sold at ten times the price of average oranges, but people still fought to buy them because they believed the fruits to be of exquisite taste. However, when they brought the oranges home to eat, they realized the oranges were all rotten and dried inside. The moral of this story? Never trust appearances,” Delong finished. “But I’m not selling oranges!” the woman argued, exasperated. She pointed at the spinaches. “You can cut these apart and they’re obviously not dried up and rotten!” “How do I know you’re not selling poisonous vegetables?” Delong inquired. “They’re so green, I find it very suspicious! If someone dies in this village and they bought vegetables from you, we know who to blame, don’t we? So I’m being nice already to actually offer to buy your vegetables at all. Three wen for one bundle, and I’ll buy two. What say you?” By now the shop owner was pale. “Fine, fine—but promise you won’t tell anyone else the story you just told me?” Delong grinned wide. “Deal.” He then proceeded to buy a few more vegetables at a great bargain, and with a basketful of beautiful, delicious vegetables, he hummed on the way back to his house. What a way to start his day—he only had fifteen copper coins in his purse, and he had bought five times his money’s worth. He eventually arrived at the least organized section of the prefecture, where walled residences of not-so -great condition were squished closely together. Like all commoners with little money and no extended family to care for, Delong lived in a sishuiguitang with a tiny courtyard cramped by one main building and two secondary buildings. He pushed open the creaky gates, stepped into the courtyard, and paused. He glanced at the building to his left, where the kitchen was, before he turned to stare ahead. It didn’t take long for him to figure out what to expect, so he continued whistling and walked into the main building. “I see you haven’t changed much, Delong,” said the lady at his table, who had already helped herself to a cup of alcohol. Unlike the other guest who sat humbly beside her, Yaqin easily garnered attention. Her robes were made of orange silks lined with beige-colored fur, scantly covering her lithe body and leaving her pale breasts and thighs exposed. Her reddish dark hair was arranged in a complex knot secured by an intricate golden hairpin, and fox fangs dangled from her ears. Any average man would be taken by her stunning beauty and sensual allure, but her charms had little effect on Delong. Yaqin glanced around the room, her gaze sweeping past the shelves that somewhat divided the place to contain a living room and sleeping quarters, his uncomfortable bed, his study table, and the broom next to it. “Still, your house depresses me,” she sighed. “Only cheap alcohol and less than a catty of rice left? The rest of your belongings are merely old tattered books! You even have a building stuffed full of useless pieces of paper! What in the world have you been doing for the past few months?” “Nothing,” Delong admitted with a shrug. “Hey, it is not easy finding work,” he said in his defense when Yaqin shook her head with disapproval. “It’s not as though people run into paranormal problems all the time! Even if they do, they’re probably just going to ask for help from prestigious Daoist sects that deal with those problems instead of a freelancer like me. My sole income is from being Old Li’s assistant....” His voice became smaller when Yaqin gave him a pointed look. “Well, of course I have you and Zhaoyang to thank,” he added hastily while he nodded at the thickbrowed man sitting on the chair beside Yaqin. “Old Li always talks fondly of you two, and he takes care of me because he knows we’re good friends. Still, I’m not that bad myself—I helped him greatly with evaluating the goods people like you sell him to give the prices a competitive edge. I have to say, those history books I’ve read paid off!” “Evaluating antiques, are you?” Yaqin said, unimpressed. “Listen to yourself. All the skills your master taught you, the art you’ve learned at Cloud Fortress Sect—wasted.” She got to her feet and crossed her arms, examining Delong with narrowed amber eyes. “Old Li isn’t going to be around forever, Delong. You know how short human lives are! Do you really plan to spend the rest of your life cooped up in this pathetic shed?” Delong shrugged. “Hey, it is not nice to call my house a shed! And what is wrong with being an antique seller? You need someone to sell your spoils, don’t you? Old Li already told me that he wants to hand the shop to me, since he has no sons,” he finished proudly. “That’s—” Yaqin stomped her fur-lined boot, her hands balled into small fists. “Argh! I have never
heard of a half-yao selling antiques! You should be out there training to become an immortal xian, causing problems for humans, or exploring the world—not selling antiques, wasting time and money on useless books, and being satisfied with some measly grocery bargain!” “Now, now, Yaqin, calm down,” chuckled He Zhaoyang as he raised a hand and patted her thigh. Unlike Delong, who chose to tie half his coarse brown hair up only to keep it out of his face, Zhaoyang had his black hair combed into a neat, tight bun, which accentuated his sharp jawbone. Like all who were in his profession, however, his skin was on the pale side. “There are benefits to knowledge, and not every shifter has to lead extraordinary lives, never mind training to become celestial beings, hmm? You know how few mortals, human or yao, can actually succeed in transcending mortality. Besides, we actually could use Delong’s help in our next case.” Smelling money, Delong straightened his back. “How can I help you two?” A warm smile spread across Zhaoyang’s face. “Yaqin and I have been invited to participate in what will perhaps be the biggest operation in history, and we need someone who we can trust to come with us and watch our backs.” “Wait—what?” Delong’s great smile faltered. He wasn’t too comfortable with doing what the couple before him did for a living, even though he was perfectly fine with selling what they brought back. “Well, if you ask, of course I’ll help, but I hope I won’t drag you two down...,” he said carefully. “I have never fought in that sort of... environment. I don’t know what to expect.” “You’ll be fine,” Yaqin said, waving her hand in dismissal of Delong’s protest. “You’re not exactly human, either.” “I’m still half-human,” Delong argued. “Unlike you, fox lady! There is nothing wrong with me wanting to live an ordinary life as a human!” Yaqin merely yawned. “Spare me the cliché. How many times have you used your otherworldly abilities to get your way? How many times have you used your powers during... say, sex? Don’t tell me you don’t use them to boost your stamina.” “Wh—How can you be so direct and say such things without a shred of embarrassment?” Delong said with disbelief, feeling a little hot now. Shrugging, Yaqin smirked like the fox she was. She stood, though her full height only reached Delong’s chin. “Why should I be embarrassed?” she inquired, looking up at Delong as she poked the center of his chest. “Still, I hit the target, didn’t I?” Her smile widened when Delong felt the heat spread from his cheeks to his neck. “Despite how harmless and upright your face tends to fool people into thinking you are, with your thick eyebrows, large eyes and all... I knew someone who got kicked out of Cloud Fortress Sect for breaking the celibacy rule would use his powers during sex. But still. Stop using your human lineage as an excuse.” She lifted her hand and placed it on her human husband’s shoulder. “Zhaoyang here leads a far more interesting and extraordinary life than you do!” As though taking her cue, Zhaoyang added, “Anyway, Delong, I’m asking you to come with us also because I caught wind that, ten years ago, your master was investigating our destination. This may have something to do with her disappearance.” “Are you serious?” Delong’s eyes widened. “Why would my master investigate tombs? It definitely does not seem like a mission from Cloud Fortress Sect, since defiling the dead is not exactly the best way to become immortal. Even though my master already became a xian and isn’t stuck- up like the rest of the daoshi out there, I can still hardly imagine her barging into some noble’s tomb without good reason.” “Perhaps,” Zhaoyang said in a lowered voice. “But this tomb she was investigating isn’t by any means an ordinary tomb.” He licked his lip. “This tomb... belonged to a god.” “You’re planning to rob the tomb of a god?”
About the Author: Yeyu wrote her first story when she was 7, and she has been creating stories on-and-off ever since, be it writing fanfiction or drawing original manga. She finally ventured into writing original fiction in high school, and stuck with the form. Most of Yeyu’s childhood was spent overseas, but by the age of 16 she moved back to the
small East Asian island most commonly known as Taiwan, where she was born. When Yeyu isnâ€™t writing in her spare time, she is probably reading, gaming, or sleeping. No cats, sadly. Web: https://autumnleafrain.wordpress.com/ Twitter: @QiuxiaoYeyu Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6903476.Yeyu Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/QiuxiaoYeyu
Glenwood Cemetery Scene From Hex and The Single Witch By Roxanne Rhoads “Satinka spotted some activity in Glenwood Cemetery. A real fire and a circle. Someone was doing magick, but by the time Satinka landed they were gone. She said it was like they disappeared into thin air.” “I thought being able to teleport was one of those urban legend powers, no one can really do it?” “Very few can, but Wyn, rumor has it Roark could teleport and supposedly he could take others with him as well. That really adds fuel to the demon fire. Demons can teleport. If Roark is back and he can teleport, then we definitely have a demon on our hands. A pissed demon gunning for Galen.” “Galen? Oh my goddess, Mel, you said he disappeared out of his quarters at Satinka’s, disappeared into thin air. Mel, Roark took Galen, I know it. We’ve got to get to the cemetery now. I have to find out if I can get any visions.” Mel grabbed a bag and reached in, searching for something, she pulled up a set of car keys. “I got my keys, let’s go. We’ll sneak out the back, now is not the time to have Malone following us.” Mel looked freaked out, which freaked me out, because Mel was the calm one when it came to things like this. **** Satinka waited just inside the main cemetery entrance off West Court Street. She climbed into the backseat of the car and told us to drive around past the old tombstones and beyond many of the plots, all the way around until we reached the creepy mausoleum covered with vines and leaves. I guess at night everything in a cemetery was creepy, during the day the place probably appeared quite stunning especially with all the fall colors brightening up the stone gray of tombstones and grave markers. Nestled in the middle of a residential neighborhood surrounded by black wrought iron fencing, Glenwood was the oldest cemetery in Flint. In it lay all of the influential people whose names still adorned street signs, buildings and landmarks: Mott, Crapo, Dort, Whiting, Atwood, Whaley, even the founder of the city, Jacob Smith was lain to rest in Glenwood.
I spotted a lot of gravestones that looked like miniature Washington monuments. Weird. Some monuments were so old they had fallen over, others completely crumbled. The place held a still but powerful energy and a quiet reverence one could find in places filled with history. But I could tell the energy had been disturbed tonight, the power hummed painfully like something had ripped through the once seamless and peaceful fabric. “Do you feel that?” I asked Mel and Satinka quietly. “Yeah, someone has disrupted the peace here. The energy of this place was used for something dark. We better get out and find out what happened here.” Mel shivered making no move to open the car door. Finally, I opened my door and stuck my foot out. A dark cloud filled the air, my mouth suddenly tasted like sulfur, I almost choked on it. The dark magick was so thick, so strong it threatened to gag me. Mel pulled me back into the car. “Wyn, you okay?”
“Whatever was done, it is bad, Mel. Once I get a solid read on it you are going to have to do a cleansing, the serenity of this place has been soiled. I’m not sure if it can cleanse itself.” “Let’s find out exactly what was done. Let me and Satinka get out first. We’ll help shield and ground you against this so it doesn’t take you over as you try to read it.” In theory it sounded good but one foot in and I was overwhelmed, pain rippled through me. I really didn’t know if I could do this. Mel squatted down in front of the open car door. “You can do this Wyn. You have the power to get through it. Come on girl, this will help us find Galen.” With the mention of his name, it reminded me of why I was doing this in the first place, to save him. Whether or not we ended up together didn’t matter right now, what I cared about was making sure he was alive and keeping him that way. However alive a vampire could be. I had to connect, read the energy no matter how dark, see the vision. I needed to find Galen. With the help of Mel and Satinka I made it out of the car and into the charred remains of the fiery circle, now just smoldering ashes. I knelt and put both hands on the ground while Satinka and Mel each had a hand on my shoulder to ground me. I knew Mel was casting a protective circle around us. I could feel their energy surround me, protect me, making my own shields stronger, my own magick work harder. Normally, we would need salt and tools but since Mel was more powerful than your average witch, she cast spells with nothing but the magick within her and the power she tapped into through the elements around her. She spindled it through her, pulling on the elements, combining them with her own strength then pushing them out to create a powerful circle to shield us from all of the negativity. I let go of my puny shields I had automatically thrown up when the blast of negativity rip through my foot. As soon as I let go of my shield I probed the locale to see what I could learn. I sifted through old tears, grief, decades, even centuries of pain and sorrow. Some so old they were barely whispers, some so fresh I could feel the grief threaten to tear through me. I pushed past those emotions until I found a flash of Devlin. But the new memories were blocked. Devlin used the same old magick to mask his activities that he had with the murders. Bastard. My shoulders slumped in defeat. I wouldn’t be able to break through his mysterious dark magick. Then hands were on my shoulders, both Satinka and Mel reached out to me, lending me their power.
I again focused on the image of Devlin and Galen while pulling energy from Satinka and Mel. Images flashed through my mind like a slide show: Galen with Devlin, Galen tied in silver cords, Devlin casting the circle, Devlin morphing into something else, and then fire, lots and lots of fire… like the gates of hell opened. I pushed, trying to see more. I put my palms to the earth drawing on the magick and memories of the cemetery. I
held the link to Satinka and Mel and pulled more from them. Power filled me, more power than ever before, I hummed with it. My body almost ached from all the energy flowing through it. I couldn’t hold it for long. I pushed at the visions trying to see more. But nothing more came.
I couldn’t hold the power any longer. As I pulled my hands away an image of Galen writhing in agony flashed in my mind. I told Mel and Sati what I had seen as pain spread throughout my body. Darkness filled me, my brain fogged up and I couldn’t think straight. “Filthy bastard,” Satinka cursed. “I should have known he was up to no good. Devlin has always been a power hungry fool. He’s trying to cross Roark over, to bring him back to the flesh in this dimension. I just don’t understand why he needs Galen.” That was all I heard before the wave of darkness washed over me and I passed out. The images included with this excerpt were a few captured at a custom photo shoot for this excerpt of Hex and the Single Witch and for the upcoming Vehicle City Vampires Book Two. If you have ever considered having a custom photo shoot for your book- especially for a cover- consider using the services of Steven Jon Horner Photography. You can find him at https://www.facebook.com/ StevenJonHornerPhotography and http://www.stevephoto.me
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Let's Exorcise I love watching horror films, and one of the very first ones I saw was "The Exorcist". It's influenced dozens of possession flicks with its head-spinning, projectile-vomiting and demonic, cursing voices. So, when I came to write about a possession and exorcism in "Tamar Rising", it was only natural that "The Exorcist" - as well as its many relations - would be foremost in my mind. But I didn't want to write just another exorcism with incantations and screaming. I wanted to make it different. More importantly, I wanted to make it matter. In too many of these films you find yourself detached from the proceedings. The exorcist is an external party with no connection to the victim, while the family stand at a distance wringing their hands. And you never really get a sense of what's at stake. To the exorcist, it's all impersonal. Not in this case. I wanted to make it clear that Hana's situation matters to Tamar, my inexperienced medium. An early attempt at exorcism fails because Tamar's limited powers buckle in the face of a demon willing to inflict bodily harm on his victim. But there's no-one else to do it - even though Tamar is terrified and has never done it before, she has no choice. The stakes are high - the future of their investigative team as well as Hana's life. And then Tamar discovers that sex on haunted ground can increase her power... will that give her the strength to defeat the demon? One thing's for sure - when the only ritual involved in an exorcism is sex, and the only chanting is an orgasmic yell, that's an exorcism scene I definitely haven't seen before. Well, I like to be original... Tamar Rising Tanith Davenport Genre: Paranormal erotic romance Publisher: Totally Bound ISBN: 9781784303389 Number of pages: 64
Word Count: 15031
Cover Artist: Posh Gosh Book Description: Sequel to I Heard Your Voice Tamar Steele’s star is on the rise. Her relationship with boyfriend Jason Bray is blossoming, as is her bond with her spirit guide, the ghost of Jason’s brother Matt, who has been training her in mediumship. And, newly installed as the medium for her crew of paranormal investigators, she is already receiving press attention, which brings her to the notice of Scare Seekers – a paranormal entertainment show keen to film an episode with Tamar’s team. But when teammate Hana is violently possessed, filming is thrown into disarray. The dark spirit seems to disappear at first, but when a frenzied Hana attacks Tamar on the drive home, Tamar realises that her mediumistic abilities may not be strong enough to fight the demon. Until one day Tamar discovers her powers are increased by having sex on haunted ground, and finds that maybe she and Jason can save Hana, their team’s reputation, and themselves…
Available at Totally Bound Excerpt: God, he was good at this. She could already feel relaxation flowing through her body, followed by tingles of excitement as his tongue went to work, tormenting every sensitive spot. Her pleasure mounted, spiralling in her gut as she pushed her hips forward, aching for more movement, harder, faster, but Jason was still goingslowly and her breath raced in anticipation of the climax to come. Tamar moaned, lacing her fingers into Jason’s hair as he pressed soft kisses to her pussy, alternating with tender licks until she could barely stand it. Jason slid his fingers inside her, grazing her sweet spot over and over again— “Jason!” Jason’s lips tightened around her clit, sucking, and Tamar threw back her head and screamed as the pleasure hit her. Through the waves of ecstasy, she heard a loud pop from above her, followed by a sprinkling sensation on her skin. “What the fuck?” she heard Jason say, and Tamar opened her eyes. Her chest and stomach were covered with shards of glass. Jason was sitting back on his ankles, staring up in irritated confusion as he brushed fragments out of his hair. At least, it looked like he was. The room was in almost complete darkness, broken only by the bedside lamp and the street light outside the window. “Did the light bulb blow?” “I think it shattered.” “Jesus.” Together they got off the bed to sweep up the pieces of broken bulb, Tamar shaking her head in bemusement. Now that had never happened before. What did that mean?
About the Author: Tanith Davenport began writing erotica at the age of 27 by way of the Romantic Novelists' Association New Writers' Scheme. Her debut novel "The Hand He Dealt" was released by Total-e-Bound in June 2011 and was shortlisted for the Joan Hessayon Award for 2012. Tanith has had short stories published by Naughty Nights Press and House of Erotica. She loves to travel and dreams of one day taking a driving tour of the United States, preferably in a classic 1950s pink Cadillac Eldorado. Tanith's idea of heaven is an Indian head massage with a Mojito at her side. www.tanithdavenport.com www.facebook.com/TanithDavenport
The January issue of Bewitching Book Tours Magazine contains: An Author’s Guide to Writing a Great Guest Blog by Roxanne Rhoads, Marketing...
Published on Jan 17, 2015
The January issue of Bewitching Book Tours Magazine contains: An Author’s Guide to Writing a Great Guest Blog by Roxanne Rhoads, Marketing...