C.A. Milson's Blog, page 154

VBT – Mortal Foe

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MORTAL FOE by Marty Roppelt, SupernaturalThriller, 213 pp., $14.99 (paperback) $4.99 (Kindle)

 

Title: MORTAL FOE

Author: Marty Roppelt

Publisher: Dragon Breath Press

Pages: 213

Genre: Supernatural Thriller









A picture is worth a thousand words… But what if that image can only bee

seen through the lens of one camera? What is the snapshot can only be

seen by a select few? What if the photo has its origins in the pit of

Hell? What is that face belongs to an enemy bent on destruction? This is

Buddy Cullen’s fate when he first dreams of his grandfather’s death and

then inherits his grandfather’s antique camera and captures an image

that haunts him and seeks his death. Can Buddy survive the curse that he

sarcastically dubs “Popcorn”—a curse that no one wants to believe

exists and stalks the city of Cleveland, beginning with its baseball

team—a mortal foe?
ORDER YOUR COPY:
Amazon

 

Excerpt:












My eyes snap open wide.

A shadow faces me from beyond the

foot of my bed. I shiver, holding my breath. The tall, bulky intruder seems

oblivious. My sleep-hazy mind tells me to lie still. I’ll make myself smaller

that way, so the invader won’t see me.
I’m making myself small…
My brain stirs slowly. A minute

passes, then a few more. My eyes take their time adjusting to the darkness.

Across the room, the sinister hulk takes the shape of my antique cherry-wood

armoire.
My girlfriend, Kelly, lies next to

me, undisturbed. She faces away. Her chest rises and falls with each breath,

her body radiating warmth.
I don’t move. Dread still freezes

me in place. A voice in my head, my own voice, whispers a warning to me. The

warning is so primal it would wear a bearskin if it had a life of its own.
Don’t show the darkness any

fear, any weakness.
A familiar neon green beacon, my

alarm clock, demands my attention. A quarter past midnight. The glow helps me shake off the drowsy

panic. My eyes scan familiar, dark shapes around me—the armoire, the

dresser, the doors to my closet and to the hallway, the rumpled down comforter

covering my girlfriend.
Despite the need for rest, my eyes

won’t stay closed. This irritates me. The frustration of not being able to

sleep keeps me awake even longer. I can deal with the frustration. But I can’t

shake this sense of dread.
A dream. Just a weird, stupid

dream.
The clock’s digits change without

remorse, mocking and exasperating me. Twelve

forty-seven, eight, nine… Tomorrow won’t be good. I risk coming off

like a yawning zombie. Twelve fifty-five… I consider pummeling my pillow. My

legs swing out of bed instead. The cold of the hardwood floor against my bare

feet chases away the last of my drowsiness.
I amble into the kitchen. Sitting

in silence in its cradle on the kitchen counter is my cordless phone. My eyes

lock on the handset. An urge brews up to call someone close to me, but who

should I call? My mom, my dad? Neither of them would answer at his hour, for

different reasons, and neither should, of course. Now I expect the phone cradle

to light up and ring, as my roused senses try to decipher the dream that woke

me, that somehow signaled to me something is wrong…
A dream has me waiting at a

ridiculous hour for a phone call from someone in my family.
I grumble to myself. “This is

nuts.”
The opened refrigerator bathes me

in a sudden glare. Unguided hands fumble past paper bags and Styrofoam

containers of restaurant leftovers. I finally find a bottle of beer. My fingers

close around the long neck, I twist off the cap, and take a swig. The light

cord of the ceiling fan dangles near my head. I ignore it. Something about the

darkness is important. Not comforting, but…
But what?
Raising a cigarette to my lips, I

open the window a few inches, then sit at the table. My old Zippo lighter’s top

pops open with a metallic clink, the flint makes a quick, scraping rasp, and

the flame whooshes to life. I cringe. Did the noises rouse my neighbors from

their own troubled sleep?
My gaze wanders past the flame.
Don’t show the darkness any

fear.
Darkness dominated the kitchen only

a moment ago. This flame, this puny, solitary sliver of light defeats the

darkness. My Zippo can’t signal ships at sea. My ‘fridge probably could. Both

lights can expose shadowy shapes, however, and the night cannot overcome either

light. The only thing that can extinguish the light is me.
Don’t show it any weakness.
I light my cigarette and kill the

glow of the Zippo.
“Join you?” A voice,

half-awake, issues from the doorway behind me. I hope I didn’t jump too high.
“Sure. Beer?”
“No. You can fire up a smoke

for me, though. Thanks.”
Kelly glides past. A wisp of

vanilla, musk and flowers, Chantilly, her favorite perfume, follows her. She

sits opposite me and takes the lit cigarette I offer. “Should I turn on

the light?”
“If you like.”
She keeps her seat, apparently

liking the darkness better.
I jerk my chin toward the open

window. “You want me to turn the heat up?”
“I’ve got my robe on.”
I chuckle. My own total nakedness

doesn’t concern me. Kelly, on the other hand, wears her gauzy emerald green

“robe” only, untied. She might as well be naked, too. I understand,

of course. The sheer silk garment’s function was never to keep the wearer warm,

but to light a fire in someone else.
Kelly toys with her cigarette,

rolling it between her thumb and fingers. “Worried about tomorrow?”
“About my department head?

He’s audited my classes before.”
“So, why the stress?”
“Im that transparent?”
Her laugh drips playful sarcasm.

“You light up every hour and a half when you’re awake. You only smoke more

at a bar, when you’re bored, or when you’re stressed. We’re not at a bar. And

when I do things right you’re definitely not bored.” She leans over the

table. Her lips pucker into her best Marilyn Monroe pout. “Didn’t I do

things right tonight?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Several hours ago, Kelly left her

Downtown Cleveland office after work to meet me at an upscale bistro on the

west bank of the Cuyahoga River. A glass each of Chianti Classico turned into a

whole bottle. She asked after glass three if I could spend the night with her.

I toyed with the idea. After a few minutes, though, I finally decided to beg

off.
But Kelly doesn’t often take long

to get what she wants from me. Tonight was no exception. The wine shot straight

to my head. The low lights hid the dainty foot that nudged and rubbed my calf

under the table. The aromas of Italian cooking mingled with Chantilly in an

irresistible wave of sensuality. We passed on dessert. Kelly promised something

much more stimulating at my apartment.
Now she sits back in triumph,

blowing two perfect smoke rings toward the ceiling. “So, this is

stress.”
“Yes and no,” I mumble.
“Nightmare?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m surprised.”
“Why?”
“It’s just a dream. You’re a

bright college professor…”
“Journalism, not psychology.

Who said I put stock in that stuff, anyway? I woke up, that’s all.”
“What did you dream

about?”
“Funny. Now that I’m awake, I

don’t remember much.”
Why did I just lie to her?
The truth is I remember every

detail. The odd nightmare burned itself into my consciousness like a glowing

cattle brand.
In the nightmare, my grandfather,

photographer Jimmy Cullen, pulled a photo print off the wire that runs the

length of his basement darkroom. Grandpop—I’ve always called him that—held the

photo as far from his face as possible. His eyes widened. His ruddy complexion

drained of all color. His lips quivered. He acted as if he’d been handed a live

hand grenade.
“Grandpop?” My tongue

lolled in my mouth with Novocained sluggishness. “What is it?”
 A sudden wind blew. Dried fallen leaves

scraped across the pavement outside. Our heads snapped in unison toward the

sound. The basement’s bare cinderblock walls gave the place a fortress’s

ambiance, but they didn’t blot out the rattle of dead leaves. Grandpop stared

for a long moment. He froze as if expecting the walls to give way to the

leaves, or to worse. The still house seemed to invite the whispery sounds of

death inside and embrace them.
Grandpop spoke. But like a badly

dubbed foreign movie, the words his mouth formed didn’t match the words that

came out. “Alone tonight… Darn it, Maureen… doggone kids’ Halloween

dance…”
Grandpop plopped down on a tall

stool at his work table, exhausted by his outburst. A complaint? The words, the

whining and grousing, were out of character. I had no response for him, which

is also unlike me.
“No Grandma?” Invisible

marbles rolled around inside my mouth.
Grandpop blinked hard, jumping as

though he’d been electrically shocked. He jammed the print into a large manila

envelope that already bulged with something else inside. The package bore a

number written in green ink: nine-eight-five-nine.
Grandpop rose from his stool, a

barstool I recognized from my dad’s Downtown tavern. He strode toward the

walk-in closet at the back of the darkroom. He muttered at the envelope as he

passed me.
“Caught you again, didn’t

I?”
“Caught who?” My voice

changed. I sounded like a Munchkin from Oz.
Grandpop disappeared into the

closet, leaving me in the darkroom alone. I couldn’t bring myself to move. My

curiosity was the kind a child suffers when he’s told never, ever to do a

certain thing. The curious kid in me wanted to see what was going on. The adult

in me feared for life and limb. My fear rooted me to the spot.
A “pop” and loss of light

announced the death of one of the darkroom’s two light bulbs.
“I don’t spook so

easily,” Grandpop hollered.
A car cruised up the driveway. The

engine’s hum filtered through the fortress walls. The side door to the kitchen

creaked open and banged closed.
We were no longer alone.
My heart raced, my joints froze. I

wanted to run. My muscles fought against me. Stark terror turned my feet to

lead. Footsteps headed our way from the basement stairs.
“Jimmy?” my grandmother,

Maureen, called.
My heart slowed but I still

couldn’t move, despite my relief.
Grandpop met Grandma in the doorway

and gave her a peck on the cheek.
“How’s my Lass?”
“Missed you.” She

scrunched her face into a silly expression, a kind of mock pout,

uncharacteristic for her. “Atlanta? The Series?”
“Too much traffic. The Indians

lost. Missed you, too.”
They held each other, their embrace

a subtle dance. The surviving forty-watt bulb above us threw weird shadows into

the corners of the darkroom. The sounds of our breathing, and the scraping,

rustling leaves grew louder in the otherwise silent murk.
Grandma pulled away, cackling.

“Cup of hot chocolate and a ghost story for you?”
I almost laughed out loud at her

bizarre behavior.
“Nah,” Grandpop said.
“I’m going to bed.”
Grandpop answered in a

melodramatic, fearful tone. “Just a couple more things to do. Then we’ll

be together again.”
His stony expression was the

lawyer’s before a murder trial, or the soldier’s on his way to deadly combat.

His demeanor only made his words to Grandma more jarring, more frightful to me.
They kissed. Grandma wheeled and

left the darkroom. We heard the groan of well-worn wooden stairs, first to the

kitchen, then further above to the bedroom of their old colonial-style home.

Grandpop settled again on his stool. He reached across his work table for his

Kodak Medalist 620, the camera he used since his enlistment in the Navy two

generations ago.
Every once in a while, a dream

becomes so surreal that, despite still being asleep, some distant part of the

brain announces “This is a dream!” I remember the exact moment, a

sort of “out-of-body” experience. I became Grandpop. I sat on his

stool and held his camera, but I was still an observer, too, watching myself

play his part. I gripped the antique as if shaking a frail old friend’s hand. This

friend accompanied me—him—through everything from the best of times to the most

harrowing hell.
No more experiences would be shared

and captured on film. A hot, sharp pain ripped up my left arm. A giant fist

squeezed my chest and I gasped in vain for breath. My mind raced away from the

Medalist 620 to my grandmother lying in bed, likely dozing while trying to read

a book. She would wake, sensing Grandpop was still in the house, and yet gone.

She would find him here later. Sadness engulfed me.
I’m sorry, Lass…
I slumped to the work table. As

Grandpop, I wanted my last thoughts on earth to be of Grandma, to take the

memory of my gentle, devoted wife’s face with me on my way to meet God. But my

last glance caught a shadow that was not Grandma’s, moving toward me from beyond

the darkroom doorway.
Then I woke to the strange shadow

at the foot of my bed…
“Yeah, I’ve had that happen

before. It’s so frustrating.”
Kelly’s voice, from behind the

glowing cigarette tip, jars me back to the waking present. I shake the

nightmare out of my head.
“Had what happen?”
“Dreamed something and then

forgotten it only a couple of minutes after waking up. Frustrating.”
“Yeah.”
Kelly takes a drag from the

cigarette and stabs the ash tray with it. She shoves her chair aside, composes

herself, and glides back around the table, tracing her finger up my bare arm.

Her nail scratches a light reddish trail on my skin.
“Know the best way to get rid

of frustration, Buddy Cullen?”
“Tell me.”
“Showing’s better than

telling.”
I crush my own cigarette out and

glance at the phone. Nothing happens, of course. The phone’s not going to ring

tonight. Not for this. I rise and lay foolish superstition aside. A colleague

at Case Western Reserve University, a science professor, once assured me that

to attach meaning to dreams is unscientific, a bogus exercise. Dreams, he

theorized, might be nothing more than a mash of random thoughts and memories.
Kelly breezes ahead of me, tugging

me by my hand. Her urgency mounts. My gaze consumes her. The wispy robe

caresses her perfect form. Her cat-graceful step entrances me. She pirouettes,

sits on the edge of the bed, and leans back, pulling me down toward her.
Ghosts and demons and other

unexplainable things lose their fascination. I lie far less gracefully beside

Kelly. Her lips explore the base of my neck, but I still keep one ear cocked

toward the phone. She nips lightly at my ear lobe, with a deep-throated

chuckle. In a few short moments, she commands my full attention…
The phone rings. I gasp, irritated

by the interruption. I’m dismayed, too. I know what the call is about.
“I have to get that.”
“No, you don’t.” Kelly

tangles her fingers in my hair and pulls my face back down toward hers.

“That’s why God gave us answering machines.”
I’m conflicted, keyed up but

powerless, able to break free but unwilling to try. The machine answers the

call, the phone stops ringing. I feel Kelly’s smile in the darkness as her lips

brush against mine. I lose myself in her, lose every part of myself.
Every part, that is, except the

faraway corner of my mind that wonders if Grandma just woke from the same

nightmare, and found Grandpop dead in his darkroom.

 

 

 

 

 

Marty Roppelt was born and raised in Cleveland, Ohio. His original

profession was acting on stage, in local commercials and training films

and in film. This means that he has experienced life through a wide

variety of day and night jobs, from barista to waiter and bartender to

security guard, amongst many others. He lives in Illinois with his wife,

Becky, and their eccentric cat, Fritz.

Mortal Foe is his debut novel.

WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:
WEBSITE | TWITTER | FACEBOOK

 

 

Visit us at Pump Up Your Book!

 

 

 

VBT – Alien Contact for Runaway Moms

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

When her abusive lover tries to take custody of her baby, Audra flees where even he can’t follow: the aliens’ forbidden cities underneath Kwadra Island.

But can the safety she wants for her daughter survive a search party, violent alien criminals—and the love of an emotionally damaged Kwadran?

Read an Excerpt:

“Are you sure you want to do this?” As soon as the words fled his mouth, he realized how stupid they were. Of course she was sure. Nothing could stop such an elemental force of nature. She was Spirit Mother, walking amongst humans to teach him, Tal Pelletier, some of the many lessons he needed to learn.

“I…” She caressed her baby’s head. “No, I’m not sure. I lost all my certainties somewhere back in the tunnel.”

Belying her words, she reached for one of the massive, marrel-plastic door handles. Pulled. It was too heavy for her.

When he grasped the handle to help, his finger grazed hers. She froze. She was a slight woman with delicate, haunted features; she had to tip her head back to meet his eyes, almost as though asking for a kiss. Just as he needed her spirit’s strength, she needed his physical strength—but not his lust, which was tainted with anger and despair. Never that.

So he kept his lips to himself. Together, they pulled open a door onto the ghosts of a past that had never existed.

He blinked. Although the cavern’s lights were dim, they were too bright after the ventilation tunnel. The cavern smelled and felt different. The air in the ventilation tunnel was raucous and angry, but out here it was still with resignation.

Audra moved, startling him. She touched her forehead, the baby on her chest, then both shoulders. He puzzled over her movements for a moment but then recognized the sign of the cross. The gesture was perfect, showing that she realized the mystical power of the world of his ghosts. She was indeed a Spirit Guide, sent to help him overcome his demons.

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About the Author: Edward Hoornaert is not only an author of science fiction, romance, and non-fiction, he’s also a certifiable Harlequin Hero; he inspired N.Y. Times bestselling author Vicki Lewis Thompson to write her favorite Harlequin Desire, Mr. Valentine, which was dedicated to him. In the past, he wrote contemporary romances for Silhouette Books, but these days he writes science fiction adventures—usually with elements of romance. In addition to novelist, he has been a teacher, technical writer, salesman, janitor, and symphonic oboist.

After having 30 different addresses in his first 28 years, his rolling stone slowed in the mountains of British Columbia and stopped in Tucson, Arizona. His high school sweetheart has been his wife for more years than he has fingers and toes to count. Ed and Judi have three sons, a daughter, a mutt, and the Milky Way Galaxy’s most adorable grandsons.

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Email: edhoornaert@yahoo.com

Website: https://eahoornaert.com/

Join Ed’s World newsletter: http://eepurl.com/Psqmn

Twitter: https://twitter.com/edhoornaert

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FRRMPCG/

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/881160

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/alien-contact-for-runaway-moms-edward-hoornaert/1129141675?ean=2940155343998

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/alien-contact-for-runaway-moms/id1415551883?mt=11

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/alien-contact-for-runaway-moms

The author will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

VBT – Tail of the Dragon

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Tail of the Dragon

by Connie di Marco

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GENRE: Mystery

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BLURB:

San Francisco astrologer Julia Bonatti never thought murder would be part of her practice, but now, Julia’s former boss and current client has asked for help. He has serious problems at his law firm. Three people have received death threats and the only common denominator between them is a case long settled — the infamous Bank of San Francisco fire. Julia’s convinced a woman is behind the threats, perhaps even the widow of the man who died in that same fire, but no one wants to believe that astrology could provide a clue. Before Julia can help her client, two lawyers are dead and her own life is threatened. Can she unmask the killer before he (or she) takes another life?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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EXCERPT

I followed the curve from Sutro Heights down to the Great Highway. Here, the road runs parallel to Ocean Beach. Sheets of sand had blown across the highway and formed dunes every so often high enough to block the ocean view. Waves crashed against the concrete abutment sending salt water spray across my windshield. I turned east on Ulloa away from the roiling Pacific and spotted Sarah Larkin’s address on the opposite side of the street. The wind off the ocean picked up, blowing east. Particles of dust and beach sand hit my face as I climbed out of the car. Keeping my head down for protection, I hurried across the street.

I climbed the long stairway to the front doors where a sign indicated 3102-3104. At least here, in the shelter of the entryway, there was respite from the wind. I pressed the buzzer to the door on the right. After a moment, a woman called out. “Who is it?”

“Hi. My name is Julia Bonatti. I’ve come from Meyers Dade & Schultz.”

The door was quickly yanked open by a woman in her late forties. Her face was round and slightly puffy. She wore no makeup and was dressed in a nondescript brown jumper over a black sweatshirt. Her long hair, streaked with gray, was combed back behind her ears.

She peered at me. “For God’s sake. What now? I told him I didn’t want anything from him or his damn law firm.” Her eyes were thin puffy slits.

“I . . . I’d just like to talk to you about your brother. I was hoping maybe you could help us in finding his murderer.”

“His murderer . . . I’d give his murderer a prize if I knew who he was,” she sneered. She looked me up and down and finally decided she’d talk to me even if it was only because I offered a sounding board for her bitterness. “Come on in,” she said resignedly.

“I gather you and your brother weren’t close, but I am sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be. Wasn’t a loss. Believe me. I haven’t talked to Jack for years. Since my son died.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” A familiar pain flickered in my chest. My loss seemed small in comparison.

“Nicky was sixteen when he died. He had a drug problem. He got mixed up with the wrong kids and they were into some heavy stuff. I was sure if he had one more chance . . . a good chance, he might make it.” Her voice trailed off. “I begged Jack for the money. I never asked him for a thing in my life. Never. But I begged for that.”

“He refused?”

“Said he didn’t see why he should pay for rehab or counseling. The other places hadn’t done Nick any good, so what difference did it make?” She looked at me, her eyes betraying a deep well of pain. “Jack never really loved anyone in his life. How could he possibly understand what it’s like to love a child? I didn’t have anyone else to ask. My husband was killed in a car accident when Nick was seven. Our parents are dead, and Jack had plenty of money. Big, successful lawyer . . . but he didn’t give a damn about me or Nick. Yeah, I hated him. I still hate his guts. I don’t care if he’s dead, I only wish he had suffered more.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Connie di Marco is the author of the Zodiac Mysteries from Midnight Ink featuring San Francisco astrologer Julia Bonatti. The Tail of the Dragon, third in the series, will be released on August 8, 2018. You can visit her at conniedimarco.com, at Facebook.com/Connie di Marco Author or Twitter @askzodia.

Writing as Connie Archer, she is also the author of the national bestselling Soup Lover’s Mysteries from Berkley Prime Crime. You can find her excerpts and recipes in The Cozy Cookbook and The Mystery Writers of America Cookbook. Connie is a member of MWA, Sisters in Crime and International Thriller Writers.

Tail of the Dragon

Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/Dragon-Zodiac-Mystery-Connie-Marco/dp/0738751065/

Barnes & Noble:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/tail-of-the-dragon-connie-di-marco/1127149243

IndieBound:

https://www.indiebound.org/book/9780738751061

Mysterious Galaxy:

https://www.mystgalaxy.com/book/9780738751061

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY

Connie di Marco will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

Enter to win a $20 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway

Movie Review – #Captured

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#Captured

Director: Joe Homokay

Writer: Lizze Gordon

Stars: Lizze Gordon, Gabrielle Romanello, Megan Medellin

Plot: A group of privileged high school kids run an illicit chat room where they livestream their drug fueled sex parties to paying viewers on the internet. Little do they know there’s a murderous zealot on a mission to rid the internet of sin.

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Review: I managed all of 10 minutes before I had to stop watching this monstrosity of amateur softcare wanna-be porn film. Budget must have had a grand scale of ten dollars as none of these people could act to save their lives.

Don’t waste your time on this one.

My Rating: 0/10

Time with Bub

Today spent some quality time with the pet lamb, whom we named “Bub”.

After a few hours I even managed to teach him to jump up on my lap

VBT – Kings and Queens by Anarie Brady and Jae El Foster

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Kings & Queens

by Anarie Brady and Jae El Foster

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GENRE: Romance

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB

As I Follow – Blurb by Anarie Brady

Princess Orla must first learn to follow if she is to lead her homeland once her evil step mother is dethroned. Who better to teach her than Prince Darcy, the leader of the rebellion against Queen Ena and a strict but fair Dominant who would love nothing better than to take the beautiful Orla in hand and return the kingdom of Athas to its former glory.

The Man With the Kind Eyes – Blurb: by Jae El Foster

Bridgette Mahoney just wanted a better life for herself and the people suffering under a corrupt president. What she gets is nominated to be Queen of the country whether she wants the position or not.

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EXCERPT

As I Follow, So Shall I Lead excerpt:

“Princess, might I have a word?” a deep voice startled her out of her thoughts.

“Prince Darcy!” she squeaked, jumping to her feet. “Of course.”

“Shall we take a walk? I understand you have only seen this room of the Chateau. I’d like to give you a tour,” he said, holding his hand out to her.

Hesitantly she reached out her own hand and nodded. Ever since Gala shared some of her experiences in the Chateau’s training rooms, Orla had been curious. Actually, she had been dying to know more. While Gala had not gone into details, she had spoken of the feelings evoked by some of her sessions. Orla longed to experience such feelings of freedom, power, and something indescribable. During the past few weeks, she had witnessed the beauty of a woman kneeling before a man, the protective gentleness in the eyes of a dominant, and the glow of pride when a dominant praised his submissive. Orla felt a tingle deep within her body and had to admit that she longed for such feelings as well.

“Do you understand the dual nature of this facility?” Darcy asked as he led her down an ornate hallway.

“I believe so,” she answered. “The Chateau trains people in the arts of dominance and submission. Submission primarily, because, according to Gala, every good dominant understands what it is like to be a submissive.”

“That’s right.”

“People pay handsomely for the privilege of coming here to learn. The tuition then pays for the training of warriors who are in resistance to Queen Ena. They wish to overthrow her and place me back on the throne,” Orla said quietly.

“Indeed. Orla, it was your father’s last wish that you also be trained,” Darcy stated. “I am more than willing to help you learn how to become an effective ruler, but to become an applicant, you must yourself request it. We do not force anyone here. We abide by the dictums of Safe, Sane, and Consensual.”

Orla stopped walking and turned to face Darcy. “I understand and greatly respect you for following those dictums. Over the past few years, I have had no choice in what I wear, what I eat, when I speak, what I do, not even when I sleep. I’m ready for freedom of choice. My father also taught me that freedom is possible only when everyone agrees to follow certain guidelines. I don’t know if I’m ready to consent to this training yet, but let’s finish the tour and then I’ll decide.”

Darcy smiled and Orla breathed a sigh of relief. Despite Gala’s assurances, she hadn’t been sure that Darcy would respect her decision.

“Princess, I see you are wise as well as cautious. Both excellent characteristics in both a ruler and a submissive. Shall we continue?” he asked before tucking her hand into the crook of his arm.

Orla’s eyes widened and her heart began to beat erratically as Darcy showed her every room of the Chateau. First, there was the Medical Room where applicants were given a thorough medical exam to determine their overall fitness. “No one is excluded because of a physical difficulty,” he explained, “but it is essential that a primary be intimately familiar with any limitations. For example, if an applicant has respiratory difficulties, then the primary knows never to engage in breath play and to be very, very cautious about gags.”

“Good to know you take safety seriously,” Orla commented.

“It’s the first S of our motto – Safe, Sane, and Consensual.”

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AUTHOR Bio and Links

Anarie Brady writes hot, happily ever after love stories filled with strong men and strong women who choose to submit to their own desires. She also loves scratching her chinchilla in all his itchy spots, sipping tea, and savoring whiskey. She absolutely adores hearing from fans, so don’t be shy!

https://anariebrady.blog/

https://www.facebook.com/Anarie-Brady-1419912908242821/

https://twitter.com/anariebrady

Jae El Foster is an author with whom you question going to bed with at night, but you dare to venture beneath the sheets with him anyway. As the venture concludes, you are perhaps romanced by it, or perhaps you are frightened by it. Don’t worry, because you are always satisfied by it. Despite the title or genre of the book, Jae El sets out to please you with climatic and unexpected conclusions that will make you tremble with emotion. Hop aboard the Jae El train and give it a good ride.

https://www.jaeelbooks.com/

https://www.facebook.com/authorjaeelfoster/

https://twitter.com/jaeelbooks

Buy Links:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/kings-and-queens-anarie-brady/1128740431

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RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY

The authors will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

Enter to win a $25 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Q&A with…. Anarie Brady

Tell us about you as a person.

I’m afraid of granddaddy long legged spiders. SERIOUSLY afraid!! I KNOW they can’t really hurt humans, but I don’t care. Lifting their entire bodies with those hair like legs – YIKES!!!

If you could hang out with one famous person for one day, who would it be and why?

I’d like to hang with Helen of Troy. I really think she got a bad rap for that whole Trojan War thing. She has always seemed to me to be a victim, but I don’t really know, so I’d like to ask her a few questions, share a glass of wine, and just chat. Did she really WANT to leave with Paris? Which guy did she love? Did she love any of them? So. Many. Questions!

What’s the story behind your latest book?

I’m always been a fan of fairy tales, even as an adult. The basic tales, though are skeletal, so why not flesh them out with interesting, updated, adult details! I took the basic story of Snow White and ran with it, turning the seven dwarves into seven cabins, the huntsman into a strong dominate trainer, and Snow into strong willed woman who will do anything to help her kingdom and find her own happiness.

What is your writing process?

I need quiet and nice scents. When my youngest moved out on his own, my husband converted his room into an office for me. It’s painted using an umbria blue theme so it’s ocean like. I have two walls painted with chalkboard paint to jot down ideas and lots of scented candles. A nice glass of wine or whiskey doesn’t hurt either.

Tell us about your main character.

Orla is the Snow White character. Snow White, though, is often seen as sweet and helpless. If Orla was going to be a leader for her kingdom, she couldn’t be helpless. She needed to be disciplined, kind, and intelligent. Those where the main characteristics I tried to portray

If your book was to be turned into a movie, who would play the lead role and why.

For Orla – Saoirse Ronan with a dark wig. Her skin tone is incredible, love the accent, but mainly because she is an incredible actress.  For Prince Darcy – Cillian Murphy. Because – well – Holy gods above he’s sexy!!

What are you working on next?

I’m actually taking a bit of a break, but hopefully not for too long. My mother is in the late stages of Alzheimer’s Disease and so right now, she takes priority over everything else.

What advice do you have for other writers who want to get the word out about their book?

Talk. Talk. Talk. Talk on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and every other social media possible!

What is your favorite book on your shelf right now?

I just finished Before We Were Yours. ABSOLUTELY loved the book!!! As an adopted child, it struck a chord with me. Beautifully written.

Do you have any special/extraordinary talents?

I am a fabulous cook!! I’m a terrible knitter, but I love it anyway. I’m also considering going into storytelling!

You are given the choice of one super power. What super power would you have and why?

I would love to be able to half the calories in chocolate and whiskey. Why? Isn’t it obvious!

List 5 things on your bucket list:

Visit Scotland
Hold a grandchild
Dance with my husband on our 60th wedding anniversary
Pay off all of my debts
Have a book on the New York Times bestseller list

Where can readers find you on the web?

I’m on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and I write a blog at https://anariebrady.blog/

Any final thoughts?

The Romance genre takes a bad rap sometimes, and erotica is often given even less respect. I don’t pretend to write the next great American novel. What I write is pure enjoyment and escapism. The world is hard. Why not escape to a place where you know the ending will be happy?

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Q&A with…. Jae El Foster

Tell us about you as a person.

Here are some interesting facts that you might enjoy. I come from a line of storytellers on both sides of my family. My paternal grandfather was an excellent poet, whereas my maternal grandfather could weave the greatest tales imaginable. Even my brother has his hand in the comic book industry with excellent are and scripts. I accredit much of my talent to my genes. Another note is that Jae El Foster has only been my pen name since around 2009 or 2010. The late and great author Eric Arvin – rest in peace – interviewed me about the name change for his blog. Before that, I had been writing under my initials J. L. Foster. During this time, the great digital publishing movement was taking off, and a ton of new writers were being introduced – many of which were using their initials as their author names. I wanted to stand out, and I had been in the game long enough that I knew I could survive it. I chose the name Jae El Foster coyly. Jae El is my initials J. L. spelled out. Sadly, I’m not related to Superman, as I am commonly asked.

If you could hang out with one famous person for one day, who would it be and why?

I would enjoy a day with the Pope. I have so many questions considering the books excluded from the Bible that are kept at the Vatican. Our current Pope also holds so much great wisdom and advice. I could tell him about all of the horrible things that I write, and he can tell me about his early days as a priest and his rise to his current position. The Pope is a man in which people should feel easy speaking with, as by now, he has already heard it all and will not be easily shocked.

What’s the story behind your latest book?

In the Kings & Queens anthology, I had two days to create an entry before the submissions deadline ended. I found out about the anthology late – it was my own fault – but I really wanted to come through for DCL Publications. They’ve been a fantastic family to me for a decade now. So, I sat down, stared at my blank word document, and considered the subject. I needed to write something different; I cannot simply write what was expected, any of the time. I decided to write about a future America and its first Queen, and so my contribution was originally titled ‘The First Queen.’ Yet, as with everything I pen, this was not merely a romance. In fact, to see the romance, one must look at romance with whole new eyes and through the vision of the lead character Bridgette. Bridgette’s romance in this belongs with the trust that she holds in a man that has no name. He is simply the man with the kind eyes. This character, originally intended to be minimally used, grew with Bridgette’s trust in him, and he was so poignant that his role brought a change in name to the story – a renaming to ‘The Man with the Kind Eyes.’ Again, this is not your typical story, and it certainly has elements of horror, suspense and science fiction that wave a thin veil over any romantic aspects. Yet, I feel it is a story that had to be told, and my hope is that it will make the readers think further than what they see or know, and that it will shock them with its unimaginable ending.

What is your writing process? 

When I write, I zone everything out. Music can be playing, or not. The television can be off or on. It doesn’t matter, as my brain become one-track and my project becomes my only mission. I do not start anything without a tentative title. I must have a name to begin with – even if that name will change later on as the piece progresses. For instance, I am working on an upcoming story now that I know will have a new name by the end, as I am not happy with its current title. Once I have a title in place, I know what I’m in for when I let go of myself and allow a new voice to take over in my head. This new voice is always unexpected, and it changes from book to book. Some people call it a muse. Either way, I allow it to do the writing. I write at rapid paces since a car accident in 2015 changed the way my brain operates. I am never without a story anymore or the inability to translate thoughts to paper, and thusly I have become greatly more productive with my literary works than I was before my accident. Whereas the accident caused brain injury, it also somehow opened up my mind in creative ways like I’d never known. However, there is a downfall to this swift production of some of the best written books I’ve ever penned. Once I have finished with a story – once the edits are completed and the book is published – a new voice with a new story takes over, and I have trouble recalling what I’ve written prior without reviewing it. For instance, I would be of little help answering questions to most anything that I wrote before my accident.

Tell us about your main character.

Bridgette is your average young lady. She is no more suited to lead an army of rebels than you or I, but she does what she must because – frankly – there is no other choice. She is a survivor, determined to help free her people and avenge them for what has been done. Bridgette does not want power. She wants her people to have the power, but when a crown is placed on her head and she finds that she has no choice but to accept it, she does her best to fulfill her new destiny. Bridgette sounds like a terrific person. I will let the readers be the judge on that.

If your book was to be turned into a movie, who would play the lead role and why.

I wouldn’t care who they cast for any other role, but for Bridgette, I would like to see an unknown actress play the part. Hollywood has so much power that I believe they should use some of it to help the unknown thespians out there that can’t afford to join SAG, agents or managers. There are a lot of talented people out there, and some of them are dirt poor. A lot of them are on YouTube. I think producers and casting directors would do the world a blessing by surfing some of the talent out there and casting more unknown actors and actresses that need and deserve a break.

What are you working on next?

In production, I currently have Beauty Within arriving electronically and in print this September. This highly anticipated book is a dark, edgy retelling of Beauty and the Beast with an iconic twist that even I never saw coming. Beauty Within also incorporates a character from ‘To Adventure,’ another fairy tale of mine out right now in the anthology Enchanted Fairy Tales, available all over the place. That character is Madame Howell, and I believe you will enjoy her. In October, DCL Publications will release Restive, the long awaited sequel to my 2012 paranormal hit Restless. The story will once again follow best-selling romance novelist Nicola on another thrilling adventure. Restive takes place on one of the most magnificent islands imaginable and will reincorporate the use of the vampire genre from the first book. Restive is sure to swoon and delight lovers of romantic fiction and horror alike. Then, in November, DCL will release The Greatest Gift of All, a winter anthology of romance, holidays, family love, and good times. Whereas most of the stories in the anthology will be brand new, my contribution will be a rerelease of my 2008 story ‘Elisabeth’s Holiday Gift,’ which was originally published way back then in DCL’s When the Snow Lay Round About winter anthology. ‘Elisabeth’s Holiday Gift’ has received a full revision and facelift and is even more heartwarming than before. I’m extremely proud to see this story return, and in an anthology with an amazing cast of authors. DCL Publications has some new blood joining me, along with some beloved known names from our castle.

What advice do you have for other writers who want to get the word out about their book?

Work, work, work! Utilize social media. Utilize Twitter – that’s where I am most of the time. You’ll find that word of your book will travel greater distances through Twitter than with other social media networks. All it takes is building up your followers, and all that takes is work. If you have one, two, even three followers – post like you have a thousand. Use commonly visited hashtags like #amwriting or #writerslife and let people know what you have to offer. Another word of advice – don’t spam your new followers. It is bad play to send them a private message promoting yourself immediately after they follow you. Let them know what you offer through your tweets. Lead them to your website or through the buy pages for your books through your tweets. And remember: Twitter is character limited. I use http://www.tinyurl.com to make my links shorter. Also, hit me up on Twitter @jaeelbooks – I retweet often and will be happy to help spread the word.

What is your favorite book on your shelf right now?

Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin. It’s a great inspiration to me and my writing. I would not be who I am today without Mr. Levin, Robert Bloch, and Walt Whitman.

Do you have any special/extraordinary talents?

No judging, but I’m one heck of a medium. I’ve been reading tarot cards since I was a child, and I’ve been communicating with the spirit would through séances, board readings, and eye readings for years. I’m also my town’s go-to person for house cleansings.

You are given the choice of one super power. What super power would you have and why?

Hypnotic influence. I would like the power to will individuals into doing the right thing.

List 5 things on your bucket list

To write more books than humanly possible
To finally discover the true meaning of energy’s existence
To live by the ocean with soft sand between my toes as I walk the shoreline
To visit Italy and pretend like I’m in Under the Tuscan Sun
To see one of my books turned into a film – I wouldn’t even care if it sucked.

Where can readers find you on the web?

I am all over the internet. The easiest way to find me is to visit www.jaeelbooks.com – there, you will find links to my Twitter, Facebook and Instagram pages, as well as other fun things like contests, free stories, and essays that will take you behind the scenes of my books. Don’t forget to sign up for my monthly newsletter while you’re there so that you can stay on top of everything that’s going on – all in a single monthly compact email. I host contests for my followers on Twitter every now and then too. All the more reason to follow me. As for the contests, you can currently enter to win a chance to be in one of my upcoming novels. I will also be introducing a rather huge contest in September. Details on that will be released in the September newsletter and through a blog posting that will be announced on Twitter.

Any final thoughts?

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for hosting me, for enduring me, and for allowing me to entertain you. Remember to spread love wherever you go, as love is the most contagious thing in the world.

VBT – PERFECT MISTAKE

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Perfect Mistake

by Sophia Karlson

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GENRE: Contemporary Romantic Suspense

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BLURB:

Simone Levin had a dream job as a safari pilot until an unexpected pregnancy clipped her wings. Tired of juggling motherhood with her demanding flight schedule, Simone applies for an office job, unaware that her new boss is Carlo Carlevaro, the man who’d ditched her before finding out he’d knocked her up. Carlo returns to East Africa only to kill another fire—Ivory trafficking from his lodges threatens to destroy his company. Finding Simone back on the payroll comes as a pleasant surprise. As his employee, Simone is off-limits, but she is the only one he trusts to help with his undercover investigation. With time running out, Simone and Carlo strive to expose the trafficking ring, but working together rekindles their mutual desire. When Simone is implicated as a trafficker, revealing her daughter’s existence to Carlo seems inevitable. Acting on her instincts might come too late as the syndicate retaliate and hone in their threat. Will they survive to give their love a chance?

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EXCERPT

Carlo pushed away from the doorframe, took a few steps towards them and stuck out his hand. A sharp pinch from Michael snapped her out of her flustered state, and she offered hers. Carlo’s hand was cool and dry, sending a tremor through her as he wrapped it around hers.

“Simone.”

“Mr…Carlevaro.” She cleared her throat as he let go. She couldn’t help but rub her sweaty palm against her jeans. Touching his cool skin had felt like a disgrace.

“I’m glad you’ve finally arrived.” Carlo’s gaze traveled over her face. It rested on her lips for a moment before it shot back to her eyes. “I want to take off in the next thirty minutes.”

Simone’s heart, which had, for those treacherous few seconds, stood still, started to pound.

“I just landed from a long-haul flight. I’d like to take a quick shower.”

Carlo raised an eyebrow. “A quick shower?” His gaze traveled over her body, mapping the route the water would take.

God, he remembered.

Heat rushed to her cheeks at the potent memories that flooded in her mind. Years ago they had shared many showers that were everything but quick.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links

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Sophia Karlson has lived in France, Germany, East Africa, Madagascar (not the movie, the country) and now finds herself back on home ground in South Africa. As a teenager, she devoured romances with far flung settings, loving to travel through books. After school her itchy feet took her around the world, but now she doesn’t get much further than the school run and the daily walk with her very demanding beagle. She writes contemporary and erotic romance, wanting to take readers on a journey of their own. She loves hearing from readers.

Follow her on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sophia.karlson.5,

Twitter: @SophiaKarlson, on the web at www.sophiakarlson.com

https://twitter.com/sophiakarlson

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Perfect-Mistake-Sophia-Karlson-ebook/dp/B07CXWFKQ2

BN: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/perfect-mistake-sophia-karlson/1128760824

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY

One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.

Enter to win a $50 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Book Blast – MUSING MEDITERRANEAN

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Musing Mediterranean

by Beth Daigle

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GENRE: Memoir

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BLURB

A trip to the Mediterranean—who wouldn’t be thrilled? Beth Daigle should be doing back flips as she prepares to escape her humdrum suburban life, but travel anxiety gets the best of her. This is a trip of a lifetime, something to look forward to, yet Beth is dreading it.

The daughter of an Italian mother and Greek father, Beth has always dreamed of visiting Greece and Italy. Her Type A husband, Tony, revels in planning every detail of their two-week vacation. The plan expands to include not only Beth and Tony’s two tween daughters, but Beth’s parents, sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew.

As her family’s excitement mounts, so does Beth’s trepidation. She experiences serious anxiety about the flight itself, plus spending two solid weeks with her extended family.

Despite her worries, Beth manages the eight-hour plane ride to Rome, and the adventure begins.

If you’ve never experienced the beauty of the Mediterranean, or even if you have, Musing Mediterranean will take you there through Beth’s eyes, page by page.

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EXCERPT

ROME

Our first tour of Rome took us on a romp through the city on a guided golf cart tour. That’s right, I said golf cart.

At one point along the tour, I was positioned on the back seat of the cart facing oncoming traffic. This didn’t faze me, as I don’t experience motion sickness.

Hanging off the back of our cart, I held on for dear life as we attempted to keep pace with traffic and simultaneously not lose our caravan. It wasn’t until I was faced with one particularly anxious bus driver that I began to worry that we might not end our excursion with the same number of people as we began. As traffic slowed and my cart came to a near stop, the bus pulled up behind me so closely and so quickly I could’ve leaned over and kissed it.

As the bus approached, I didn’t know what else to do other than to squeal in horror and cover my eyes—I was sure I was about to meet my fate. It all happened so quickly that I froze, unable to think of a better way to save myself and others on board.

“What is going on back there—why are you screaming?” Tony shouted.

“I’m about to be flattened by a bus!”

When Tony looked back to see how close the bus really had come, all he could say was, “Holy crap!”

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AUTHOR Bio and Links

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Beth Daigle is a lifelong New Englander residing north of Boston with her husband and daughters. Prior to settling into her role as a writer, Beth was a marketing professional whose favorite part of the job was writing. As a freelancer, Beth has enjoyed contributing to numerous lifestyle and home publications, yet she yearned for something more than a magazine article. Then along came Musing Mediterranean. Beth quickly became immersed in chronicling this travel event and articulating her perceptions of the places she visited, the people she met, the foods she enjoyed and the crazy moments she encountered. The idea that someone who may never travel to Greece, Italy or Turkey could appreciate this experience through Beth’s eyes became a driving force behind the story. Revealing her struggle with travel anxiety helped Beth move forward and embrace, once again, how very wonderful it is to travel the world.

“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.” St. Augustine.

Beth is a creative soul who finds joy in art, home design, gardening, reading, writing, a good laugh and an even better television show.

Website: BethDaigle.com

Blog: 3OlivesandaTwist.com

Instagram: 3olivesandatwist

Facebook: @3olivesandatwist

Twitter: @3olivesnatwist

Available at Amazon https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1947966073?pf_rd_p=d1f45e03-8b73-4c9a-9beb-4819111bef9a&pf_rd_r=W3MJ4WHBPK1MTJC8KW6Y

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RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY

Beth Daigle will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

Enter to win a $25 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway

VBT – Path to Passion

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Path to Passion

by Nana Prah

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GENRE: Contemporary Romance

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BLURB:

Heir to his family’s global empire, branding genius Miguel Astacio turns everything into marketing gold. Only his best friend’s sister seems immune to his magic touch. Until Tanya Carrington comes to him to save her floundering nightclub. Miguel is ready to rectify past mistakes. But will his supreme sacrifice win the heart of the woman he loves?

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EXCERPT

Miguel and her brother had been close since the moment they’d met. It had taken effort to tamp down the jealousy she’d had of sharing her sibling with Miguel. “Thank you. But I’ll pay you for your consultation.”

He cocked both his head and brow.

“I don’t have the money now, but with your Midas-branding touch, I’ll be rolling in dough soon enough.”

She had missed his contagious laughter over the years. “I still won’t take your money. This is a favor to a friend. And his sister.”

Tanya bowed her head to hide the sting. So they weren’t even friends. Sure they’d spent ten years not speaking, but it sounded harsh for him not to acknowledge what they’d once been. She’d always wanted more from him, but hadn’t been able to get it, so she’d ended up with nothing. Now they’d be working together. Would she be able to keep her heart locked up and safe? Did she have a choice? She looked up to have his glorious eyes fill her vision, and for a moment, her hands itched to hold his face still so she could feel his luscious lips against hers just one more time. Maybe the need for his touch would go away if she indulged her whim.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links

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Nana Prah first discovered romance in a book from her eight grade summer reading list and has been obsessed with it ever since. Her fascination with love inspired her to write in her favorite genre where happily-ever-after is the rule.

She is a published author of contemporary, multicultural romances. Her books are sweet with a touch of spice. When she’s not writing she’s, over-indulging in chocolate, enjoying life with friends and family, and tormenting nursing students into being the best nurses the world has ever seen. Nana loves to connect with her readers on Twitter @Nana Prah and Facebook at Nana Prah, author.

Buy Links:

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Path-Passion-Astacios-Nana-Prah-ebook/dp/B0778RGL2Q

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Path-Passion-Mills-Kimani-Astacios-ebook/dp/B079KLFH7H

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Path-Passion-Astacios-Nana-Prah-ebook/dp/B0778RGL2Q

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/path-to-passion-nana-prah/1127454529?ean=9781335216809#/

Harlequin: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781488081910_path-to-passion.html

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/mt/book/path-to-passion-the-astacios-book-2/id1345049748?mt=11

Contact Details:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/NanaPrah

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/NanaPrah.Author

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/nanaprahauthor/?hl=en

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Nana-Prah/e/B00E9ILIPA/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1517833825&sr=8-1

Blog : www.nanaprah.blogspot.com

Newsletter: https://www.nanaprah.com/newsletter-sign-up

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RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY

Nana Prah will be awarding a $20 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

Enter to win a $20 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway

VBT – Monsterland Reanimated

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Monsterland Reanimated

by Michael Okon

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GENRE: Young Adult Fiction/Thriller

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BLURB:

After Monsterland has imploded, the entire world is thrown into chaos. World leadership is gone, economies have collapsed, and communications are non-existent. Wyatt must go beyond the boundaries of his small town to reestablish contact with the outside world, and alert the government about a traitor-in-chief.

During his journey he discovers a new threat released from the bowels of the defunct theme park.

When an army of relentless mummies, a life-sucking ooze called The Glob, and a hybrid reanimated Behemoth rise from the depths of Monsterland, who will survive?

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EXCERPT

A bright moon painted the desert’s surface pewter. Here and there, dark spots soiled the landscape like oil spills. Most of the bodies had been taken before the troops were ordered to leave. They carted away the corpses, bulldozing the zombies into mass graves, until radios chirped with urgent orders deploying the soldiers to the bigger threats that erupted in the main cities like a chain of angry volcanos.

Monsterland was extinguished, its carcass left for the vultures to pick, the exhibits silent as a tomb.

The dead president and his equally dead entourage were whisked away on Air Force One, along with the dark-clad special operatives that came and left like the brisk desert wind that now howled through the empty streets.

A gate screamed in the silence, slamming with a reverberating smash. The uneven gait of someone with a physical challenge filled the void. The scrape and plod of his limp echoed against the wall of mountains framing the theme park. His labored breathing huffed as he made his way down the streets.

A door creaked loudly as it was blown by the wind. He stopped, his distorted figure silhouetted in the pale moonlight, his body turning silver. He looked at the broken glass littering the pavement like diamonds, then up to the still, pre-dawn sky. He considered the sun peeking over the jagged horizon in the east, its golden light painting the dips and hollows of the hills. Soon the coming day would chase the darkness away.

Time was the enemy now. He had to move faster, or it would be too late. He picked up his pace, lurching along the winding road. A keening howl ricocheted through the streets, bouncing off the walls. It sounded like a … no, he thought, it couldn’t be. The werewolves were all dead. Destroyed by Vincent Konrad when he made their heads explode.

The old man paused, listening for it again, and was not disappointed when the animal whimpered. He gauged it to be inside the defunct vampire exhibit. He moved toward the entrance. The storefronts had been destroyed. A few body parts lay on the pavement, as if people had discarded them in a rush. He heard the scraping of paws on the street and a shiver went down his crooked spine.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links

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Michael Okon is an award-winning and best-selling author of multiple genres including paranormal, thriller, horror, action/adventure and self-help. He graduated from Long Island University with a degree in English, and then later received his MBA in business and finance. Coming from a family of writers, he has storytelling in his DNA. Michael has been writing from as far back as he can remember, his inspiration being his love for films and their impact on his life. From the time he saw The Goonies, he was hooked on the idea of entertaining people through unforgettable characters.

Michael is a lifelong movie buff, a music playlist aficionado, and a sucker for self-help books. He lives on the North Shore of Long Island with his wife and children.

Website:

http://www.michaelokon.com/

Amazon Link:

https://www.amazon.com/Michael-Okon/e/B0752THRZV/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

iBooks Link:

https://itunes.apple.com/us/author/michael-okon/id1292020808?mt=11

Kobo Link:

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/search?query=Michael Okon&fcsearchfield=Author

Barnes & Nobel Link:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/monsterland-michael-okon/1126998959?ean=9781614755944

SmashWords Link:

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/MichaelOkon

Email:

michaelokonbooks@gmail.com

Twitter:

https://twitter.com/IAmMichaelOkon

Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/iammichaelokon/

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/iammichaelokon

Snapchat:

https://www.snapchat.com/add/iammichaelokon

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Interview Short

Who would play you in a film of your life?

Someone with a ridiculous six pack. Maybe Channing Tatum or Chris Evans.

Have you ever read or seen yourself as a character in a book or a movie?

Yes. Many of my characters share traits I have, like being terrified of flying.

What is the single most powerful challenge when it comes to writing novel?

Completing your characters arcs. If you don’t, you fail.

What do you consider your biggest failure?

Being overweight in my 20s. I wish I would have learned about diet and health in my 20s. I would have never touched sugar or carbs.