Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 132
April 22, 2021
Apocalipstick by Lisa Acerbo #Horror #Dystopian #RomanticFantasy #NARomance
ApocalipstickHell in a Handbag SeriesBook OneLisa Acerbo
Genre: Horror, Dystopian, Romantic Fantasy, NA RomancePublisher: DLG Publishing PartnersDate of Publication: March 24, 2021ASIN: B08TQKG3TTNumber of pages: 264Word Count: 66, 000
Tagline: Life is bad after the apocalypse . . . the undead just made it worse.
Book Description:
“My dreams pre-pandemic included a high school graduation party before attending college and marrying an attractive future lawyer. Instead, I'm praying for a long, sharp knife and a big gun to survive the undead.” —Jenna
Jenna Martin lives in a world gone insane after a mysterious pandemic kills much of the population. Being alive after an apocalypse is bad, but it is made worse when the multitudes killed by the disease return ravenous for human flesh. Jenna, in serious trouble and pursued by undead, heads to the safest place available, a cemetery.
Ready to give up, she finds the strength to persevere for one more night and meets a group of survivors willing to take her in. The group caravans to Virginia, where they plan to inhabit an isolated inn called High Point, but the undead are always close behind. Packs of zombies, known as Streakers, attack, leaving Jenna and the other survivors battling for their lives and racing toward safety.
Once safely isolated at the inn, the group rebuilds society and Jenna begins a relationship with Caleb. Although he withstood the virus, he has not come out unscathed. He and some others now labeled the New Rave have changed into what many would call zombie kin—vampires. Jenna's falls hard and fast for Caleb, which causes more problems that she ever expected in the fledgling society. But there are worse things than vampires and zombies searching for her, and they arrive at the inn's door ready for destruction.
Amazon
Excerpt 2
REMNANTS OF TOPPLED CASH REGISTERS, broken carts, card‐ board boxes, and plastic bags littered the floor.
“Paper or plastic,” Quentin kicked a white bag. It flew across the room like a specter.
Brazen vermin squealed and scurried in front of Jenna’s feet. Most of the shelves were not only empty but badly deteriorated. Still, Emma and Jackie were able to gather a few cans that had hidden in dark corners or under filth.
She stepped over a long-dried puddle. It was hard and black.
“Clean up in isle four.” Quentin’s voice rang out behind her. They wandered through the maze of aisles—skirting empty. molding containers, broken shelving, and avoiding the darkest of places. A noise caught her attention and that of the group, signaling for everyone to stop. Jackie motioned for Jenna and Quentin to fan out. Quentin gave her a thumbs-up before he prowled ahead. A broken sign dangled. The words cereal and bread still attached by thin chains.
Quentin pulled out a wallet and handed Billy a one-hundred-dollar bill. “Go crazy. Buy whatever you need.”
“Gee, thanks.” Billy took the money, but a moment later let it slip through his fingers. It sailed to the floor, landing gently.
They could be dead soon. Why had she never tried to get to know Quentin?
Everyone loved him and his off-beat sense of humor. Something she didn’t understand and shied away from. He’d been part of the group for more than two months. One of the last human survivors she and the rest of them had run across. It was their first scavenging party together.
Always friendly since day one.
Did his antics make her feel protected? She couldn’t remember how that worked.
Why had she remained aloof?
“Attention shoppers.” His hands cupped his mouth, so the words echoed in the emptiness. “Today’s specials include dented cans of long-expired veggies. Don’t forget those condiments. A bottle of ketchup can spice up any type of zombie brains.”
“We don’t eat zombie brains,” Jenna blurted.
He smiled at her. “I know.”
Exactly the reason staying quiet is best.
She studied him. He stood at least five inches taller than Jenna, and when he turned back, hoisted his bat, and winked at her, the tight, long-sleeved T-shirt highlighted muscled arms. Tousled brown hair fell into his blue eyes. She’d seen it all before, but it was as if today she took it in and etched his features in her mind.
He waved her forward and she joined him. “The town’s been quiet since you and Caleb vanquished the last batch of Streakers.” Mice, frightened of his voice, surged forward, leaping over Quentin’s steel-toed boots. “Free of the undead types and humans.”
Jenna jumped back before huffing out a breath. “Yup.”
So much for practicing those social skills.
“Looters cleaned this place out long ago.” He ran a long, straight index finger along a shelf, picking up a layer of dust mixed with animal hair. “Nothing’s here but the stench.”
“And the rodents.” Jenna pointed to the boots the vermin had just run over.
“Those too.” He held her gaze.
“We should have searched houses. You know how people stockpiled at the end.”
“Staking out each house, ensuring there are no Streakers, and then searching takes so much longer. Grocery stores are a one and done deal.”
“Does it make sense to split up?” Emma peeked around a corner.
“It will make the search go faster. I doubt we’ll find much in here.” Jackie smoothed a lock of hair behind an ear.
“Not too far apart.” Emma headed away from the group and Jenna. “We can see each other from the ends of the rows. Let’s stay in sight when possible.” “Come on.”
Emma grabbed Billy and followed Jackie. “You two take the rows at the other end of the store. We can meet in the middle. Yell if you need us.”
Quentin bumped shoulders with Jenna. “Partner.”
She ignored him. He repeated the contact. This time more forcefully.
“Stop.” The growl emerged from deep in her throat. She strode away until she found an interesting store aisle and then meandered through it; Quentin followed a few steps behind. His breath hit the back of her neck and she stopped short. “Do I need to yell over to Jackie for a rescue, or are you going to behave? I like my personal space.”
What does he mean by all the close contact?
Quentin didn’t take the prior hint and started a drumbeat on the back of her jacket.
“Stop,” she protested.
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Are you ten years old?” Posture rigid, exasperation leaked out. “We’re on a mission here.”
“I’m old enough.” Quentin’s blue eyes twinkled.
“Good to know you’re so seasoned and battle ready.”
“Look at these arms.” Muscles bulged under his shirt. “Do they look like the arms of a pre-teen? I’m ready for battle… and other things.”
“All I see are the lovely and appealing stains on your shirt.” She did a double take. “Actually, I recant my statement.”
His smile was wicked. “I knew you would.”
“They look like the arms of a small child. Someone needs to be hitting the gym a little more often.”
“Ouch.” He shoved her.
Catching her off guard, she stumbled. He reached out and drew her in. “Sorry.” His whispered word tickled her ear.
He didn’t let her go and she stood cocooned in his warmth. The heat of his body, close and warm, was confusing. It’s been such a long time since physical closeness with anyone was normal.
“There’s a pharmacy at the end of the next row we should check out.” She tried to break the spell of the moment.
“Really?” He didn’t take the hint and relinquish her. “There’s a lot going on right here I want to examine.”
“I take it back.” She wiggled out of Quentin’s grasp, then punched his arm.
“What?” His arms went limp at his side.
“You’re acting like a toddler.” She inched closer to the pharmacy, placing more distance between Quentin, the confusing emotions, and herself.
“Everyone okay?” Emma’s voice echoed from the next row.
“We’re good. At least Quentin is good. I’m suffering through his antics.” Jenna wasn’t sure what was going on or why, and she didn’t want to begin to address the sensations careening through her.
“Try your best not to judge him too harshly.” Muffled laughter filtered through the ramshackle shelving.
“I’m trying my darndest.” To be over there with the rest of them. Why am I stuck in a teen dating movie? She chalked her bewilderment and awkwardness up to the recent near-death experience with Streakers and nightmares. After some quality sleep, everything would be fine and dandy. “Come on.” Jenna tugged the arm of his T-shirt. He remained planted like a tree. “We have a job to do and not a lot of time to do it.” Jenna edged back. “Let’s get moving.”
He groaned but followed, kicking at the discarded face masks littering the floor, some flaked with dried blood. She checked the nook of a shelf on the way to the pharmacy. Vermin squeaked, scurried, then scattered.
About the Author:
Lisa Acerbo is a high school teacher and adjunct faculty at a local community college. She lives in Connecticut with her husband, daughters, two dogs, and horse. When not writing, she mountain bikes, hikes, and fosters dogs.
Website: https://lisaacerbo.com/Twitter: https://twitter.com/apocalipstick_Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lisa.acerbo.5Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/laft100/
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Kindle Freebie - The Death Sparrow’s Shadow: The Assassin of Acreage Book One by R. L. McIntyre #Fantasy
Kindle Freebie April 21- 25
Saving her homeland will cost everything, including her heart.
The Death Sparrow’s ShadowThe Assassin of AcreageBook OneR. L. McIntyreGenre: New Adult Dark Fantasy
Date of Publication: 2/27/21
ISBN:978-1-7365182-0-5
ASIN:B08T933J8Y
Number of pages: 317
Word Count: ~ 80,000
Cover Artist: Getcovers.com
Book Description:
For Serena Nightshade, the infamous Death Sparrow everything has come down to this. Templarians stole her homeland, killed her people, and outlawed her culture. For nineteen long years, Serena has survived as her homeland's best assassin trying to get close to the King who destroyed everything and have her revenge. However, new invaders threaten the little safety she has.
Samorians are infiltrating Acreage and now the Death Sparrow must trade in her daggers for ballgowns to save it. As if infiltrating the castle of a tyrant is not hard enough, shadows of her harrowing past and the man who broke her heart warn her never to trust again, but war is not won alone. She must team up with the Heir Prince, Daryl Merriweather, and his handsome Captain of the Guards, Wesley Trylo to navigate her precarious position at court. That is if she can keep her meddling heart from getting in the way of her mission. If not, even her skills as an assassin won’t be enough to survive this nightmare, especially if the strange gargoyle-like creatures haunting her don’t reveal her darkest secret.
The Gods may be gone but magic isn’t. Especially not hers.
This title includes intense scenes of violence that may be disturbing to some readers.
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April 21, 2021
The shadows are speaking, Death is waiting - Shadowspeak by Raven Eckman #VikingLegend #NorseMyth #Fantasy
Once there was a girl who spoke to shadows…
ShadowspeakRaven Eckman
Book Description
Rune’s mother is uncaring and her brother is too young to protect her, so when Rune’s father sells her to the depraved city of Wraith at the young age of ten, no one stops him. His last words to her are of a debt he cannot pay. The shadows who’ve kept Rune company as long as she can remember seem to know what he speaks of and yet they keep their silence.
And so Rune grows up living in servitude to Wraith’s brothel and its manipulative mistress, Agata, all while having only the faintest recollections of her forgotten childhood. Years later when she finally escapes Wraith, a wild place wrapped up in hedonism and old world ritual, she vows to never return…
When a child prince is kidnapped by a masked killer in a neighboring kingdom, however, Rune no longer has a choice. Joined by Weylin, her old love and a fellow Wraith runaway, she returns to the accursed city and the shadows of her past. Not all is as it seems as threads of memory begin to unravel, revealing old lies and dark secrets. The debt of her past may be too high to pay.
The shadows are speaking. Death is waiting.
https://raveneckman.com/
eBook https://amzn.to/3uL732c
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#Fantasy #NorseMythology #NordicMythology #NordicLegends #Mythology #NorseFantasy #NewAdult #NewAdultFantasy #NA
A Bewitching Wednesday
Apocalipstick: Hell in a Handbag Series Book One by Lisa Acerbo
https://www.instagram.com/p/CN7IM6OpO9C/
Book Series Spotlight & #Giveaway ~ Karma Series by Laura Simmons @LauraSimmons37 ~ Reincarnation/Paranormal Romance #PNR Supernatural Thriller https://saphsbooks.blogspot.com/2021/...
The Liminal Chronicles by Amy Winters-Voss #UrbanFantasy #JapaneseMythology
https://fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com...
Kindle Freebie April 21- 25
Saving her homeland will cost everything, including her heart.
The Death Sparrow’s Shadow: The Assassin of Acreage Book 1 by R. L. McIntyre
Free at https://amzn.to/2QJoWzH
#darkfantasy #NA #fantasy #indieauthors #booklovers #indiefantasy #FreeBook
The shadows are speaking. Death is waiting.
Shadowspeak by Raven Eckman
eBook https://amzn.to/3uL732c
Paperback https://amzn.to/3aqVwxF
#Fantasy #NorseMythology #NordicMythology #NordicLegends #Mythology #NorseFantasy #NewAdult #NewAdultFantasy #NA
April 20, 2021
The Liminal Chronicles by Amy Winters-Voss #UrbanFantasy #JapaneseMythology
The Liminal Chronicles
Book OneAmy Winters-Voss
Genre: Urban fantasy and Japanese Mythology Publisher: Shy Red Fox PublishingDate of Publication: April 30, 2021ISBN: 978-1-7366720-0-6ISBN: 978-1-7366720-1-3 ASIN:B08WTK6XWPNumber of pages:312Word Count: 97,000Cover Artist: Odette.A.Bach
Tagline: A myth come to life may be worth far more than his freedom.
Book Description:
Will a former gangster dare to protect the elderly woman who antagonizes him? He must choose between breaking a promise to his parole officer or the old lady. Each choice carries a hefty price.
Umeji Tatsuya moves from Tokyo to a small town after leaving the yakuza, the Japanese mob. He knows all too well that his past can't stay buried.
‘Once Yakuza, always Yakuza. The tattoos mark you for life.’
Nakamura Hisako, the town’s beloved dowager, learns about Umeji’s past and tries to oust him, but Umeji just discovered her own long-held secret. If he keeps it for her, the cost is his recently regained freedom. If he doesn’t, Nakamura might have to leave her home, and he risks angering forces he barely understands… and barely believes in.
As the mundane and Spirit Realm intertwine, so do the modern-day and the Pre-Meiji eras. Centuries-old rivalries flare up again, and the past returns in the present. Umeji’s second chance is only the first step of his journey to discover myth, social redemption, and found family.
Rise is the first book in the Liminal Chronicles series.
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/I2YoMKWt4IQ
Mid-November
Kneeling to stock the low shelves at TaniMart makes my knees ache. Though I’ll give no complaint. I’m lucky to have this job, even if it’s mind-numbing. Someday, I’ll have my own business. Right now? I have to save up since the feds took every yen of my savings when they threw me in the slammer.
Pain shoots through my forearm as something bounces off. Crash! Years of fight-or-flight reflex have me jumping to a defensive stance. What the…
Shattered glass and pickled plums litter the polished floor. Reflections of the overhead lights glare at me in the puddles of brine. Then the green, spicy scent of shiso hits my nose. Breathe, Umeji. It wasn’t an attack.
“Sorry, Mister!” The boy and his mom bow.
“I’ll clean it up. Please, finish your shopping.” When I reach to pick up the remaining shards, my heart sinks as the distinctive blue-black wave and red maple leaf designs of my tattoo sleeve show through the transparent wet fabric of my shirt. Despite the deafening silence, the hint of the ink that marks my past wails like a siren, warning all in my vicinity. Why the hell does our uniform have to include a white shirt?
Eyes with huge black pupils are framed by the woman’s ashen face. She hunches, tensed as if ready to run. Backing away, she wrenches her son along in a white-knuckled grip.
My hand crushes the shards in my palm as heat fills my core. Only when she’s out of sight does my head hang.
When I report the injury to Satou, my volunteer parole officer and boss, he drives me to the doctor to get stitches in my hand. He made me promise not to lie to him when he took me on as a parolee, so I fess up the cut wasn’t an accident. It was that or punch something.
I opt for the hour walk home, then he doesn’t have to waste any more time on me. So much for blending in. My attempts to ditch the Tokyo accent are probably worthless now. Satou said there are fewer than 1,300 people in Nonogawa, so everyone in town will know by tomorrow. Something in the mix of traditional and modern housing looks less friendly than it did at first. Letting the old swagger back into my step lacks the feeling of control it used to give.
My insides continue to twist as I wait for my boss to return home. Tomorrow’s gonna suck. Might as well get in a good soak to relax, instead of pacing. I’d place good money down that Satou picked this old traditional house based on the big wooden tub. When I can afford my own place, a good bath will be a priority for me, too.
It’s been years since I had daily access to one of the most relaxing aspects of Japanese culture. First, because of my jail sentence. Second, most public bathhouses ban gangsters. They say our ink threatens. The previous generations won’t forget the yakuza heydays, and sporting ink was part of the tough guy act.
Naked and settling onto the low wooden stool beside the tub, I scrub and fill the bucket at my feet to rinse off. I could use a shave. Should I ditch the mustache to fit in better? It covers the knife fight scar. So either way, I don’t fit the norm. Shit.
With a slam, I flip the small hanging mirror over. Don’t want to see the reflection that stared back. Before everyone knew I had been a mobster, could they tell I was just trying not to stick out?
Splashing water on my face rinses away the questions. Despite the chill of the tile floor on my feet, I revel in not having to hurry as I scrub and rinse. Damn, it’s good to not have the prison guards timing me anymore. My chin-length hair needs some attention, but I don’t have the cash for a trim. It was used up after the incident to pick up a dark long-sleeve T-shirt to go under my work’s white button-up. I was lucky the prison didn’t make me get a buzz cut. Most do.
Finally, I slide into the tub. A hiss escapes my mouth as the fire-heated water contacts my chilled skin. The tattooed kitsune frolicking in their traditional designs over my shoulders and back seem to enjoy the warmth, too. Soon the heat seeps into stiff muscles, and I lean on the edge, soaking it in.
Satou said the community is hard to break into. So, I’ve got to avoid sticking out any more than I already do. In a small town, once you’re known for something, it’s never forgotten. With a determination to focus on one day at a time, I sink deeper into the water.
Created with Sketch.
On my next shift, whispers and side glances greet me. The yakuza taint broadcasts its presence stronger than the stench of diarrhea. Everyone gives me a wide berth. Not even a week in town and I’m an outcast again. The only way out is hard work and humility. I will endure.
The mom returns just before my shift ends. She avoids the aisle I’m stocking, but her little boy points, announcing, “Mama! There’s the guy with the tattoos!”
Her shushing causes him to insist all the louder. Focus on the task at hand, Umeji. I force myself to look away as she lugs him out of the building.
That’s the moment Satou’s elderly aunt gives me the stink eye. Shuffling up, she waggles a crooked, accusing finger right in front of my nose, causing me to back into the shelves and knock several plastic tubes of mayo on the floor.
“Get your head out of the sand, boy. Don’t bother playing stupid. You saw that. I advised my nephew not to take in a stray like you. To make things worse, yesterday I heard you’re covered in irezumi tattoos. Nonogawa may be in the sticks, but we all know what that means here.”
I blink. Why’s she so aggressive? Aren’t little old ladies supposed to be sweet and polite?
“Well? Are you?” she presses.
While I deserve the disdain, why is this woman putting down her family in public? “Ma’am, the community respects Satou-san. I’ll do my best for his sake.”
She draws out the syllables. “You dodged.” As she crosses her arms, her sharp eyes shift to a predatory glint. “If you won’t answer, roll up your sleeve. I know yakuza ink when I see it.”
My head swivels. Satou, where are you? Make your vicious aunt heel. I don’t wanna do something stupid, because she’s really making my hackles raise. “Ma’am?”
In the mob, I was good at remembering names, because the alternative could be costly. What did my VPO say her name was? Oh yeah—Nakamura Hisako, the town’s beloved matriarch. As part of the Hiragi clan in Tokyo, I would have never let a little old lady corner me or make my palms sweat. But I’m caught flat-footed because I can’t use any of the in-your-face phrases that bubble up to get her to lay off. I haven’t done a damned thing to her. What gives?
I take a breath. No attitude. “Nakamura-sama, it’s becoming more common in the cities. People keep ‘em out of sight to avoid the stigma.”
As if I’ll tell this biddy the full truth. Later, I can scream rebellion in gokudou drawl all I want. But her outburst is the proverbial piano hanging overhead, threatening to crash down on the little hope I have in this town.
At twenty-four, I should have a high school diploma and a college degree or employment experience. This is my only chance. Suck it up, Umeji. So, I bow deep. “I apologize that my tattoos offend. If I could turn back time, I’d not have done it. How may I help you?”
Harrumphing, she turns on her heel with the grace of a ballerina. How does an old lady move that fast?
When I finish stocking, I grab my baseball-style jacket with its embroidered fox on black and gold silk and beeline it to Satou. Just my luck, his aunt beats me there. Don’t look cocky.
I wait behind her and examine my shoes. Faint reflections of fluorescent lights show on the tile floor.
“That tattooed punk is bad for business.” She points, doubtless aware of how rude she’s being. “He dares to flaunt his past wearing that rebel jacket, instead of considering this store’s reputation. I’ve heard all manner of rumors. Mark my words, Kazuo, people will stop shopping here.” Full-to-the-brim grocery bags strain her arthritic knuckles.
While Nakamura’s concern is understandable, does she care that this ‘rebel jacket’ is the only one I own? I was fortunate someone dropped it by the penitentiary after emptying my apartment. My fists clench, pulling on the stitches from yesterday’s wound. Why does this town love her, anyway?
Satou clears his throat and tilts his nose toward me. “Aunt, tattoos or not, he’s being much more polite than you. I’ve never seen you in such a state.”
Umeji, the mob taught you the tenants of bushido. The honorable way of the warrior. It’s one of the few things I can carry over from the yakuza. Give it your all. My voice almost cuts out as I ask, “Nakamura-sama, may I carry your groceries?”
She grumbles, lumbering off. Where’s the grace she had?
“Aunt Hisako is opinionated and protective of our community. But she’s almost always reasonable. Wish I knew what got her undies in a bundle.” With a raised eyebrow, Satou says, “You rendered her speechless. That’s quite the feat.”
Shoving my arms into the sleeves ruthlessly, I shrug on my coat.
“It’ll be ok, Umeji-san. FYI, I need to stay late, but you can wait in the break room.”
Most days I remain beyond my assigned hours to assist with the day’s tasks. Every dutiful employee does. But I mumble, “I’ll walk.”
“Suit yourself.”
In the parking lot, a shitzu puppy breaks loose from its owner’s grasp. The mutt charges for Nakamura as it barks its head off to warn of an intruder in its domain. Nakamura, calm as a windless day, lifts her index finger toward the potential attacker, halting it in its tracks.
The owner scoops up the stiff, silent pet and bobs. “I’m so sorry, Nakamura-san! I can’t imagine what little Taro-chan was thinking.”
“Thank you for catching him. I think he intended to bite my leg off. Didn’t you, pup?” Satou’s aunt flashes a wry smile that must have created most of the lines in her wrinkled face. It causes the other woman’s eyes to widen in horror. She bows again, scurrying off.
Unperturbed, Nakamura sets her groceries in her red Nissan sedan. But a can drops and rolls, causing her to mutter under her breath.
Here we go again! Scooping it up before it’s flattened under a moving van and jogging over, I hold it out in my hands—a peace offering. Her lips purse and she snatches the item as if my touch might poison the food inside.
Fine. If this is a war of attrition, I’ll fight it to show regret for what I’ve done.
Mid-afternoon, I’m almost to the house. Strolling through the forested farmland, sunshine and the warm, late fall day breathes life into me again. The dense, fiery landscape of reds, oranges, and yellows set off by the evergreens of bamboo, cedar and cypress has me grabbing for my cellphone. I’d seen parks like this, but not horizon to horizon beauty. Then my shoulders sag. The damn feds took my cell, too.
Compared to the compacted cityscape I’d grown up with, the open farmland leaves me exposed. Tall buildings always surrounded and protected me before I came here. A weight fills my chest. Despite being in the middle of nowhere for a week, I keep half expecting to see some tall structure around the next bend. Out of habit, I shove my hands in my pockets to fiddle with the dog-eared collection of Japanese myths. My breathing slows upon contact with the book from my father. The one connection I have left with him.
A glint of vermilion in the trees stands out even in the bright foliage beyond the rice field, so I squint against the sun to get a better look. Beckoning me, a path leads through the paddies and over the river to a torii gate.
My mob leader insisted our clan appear to be dedicated followers, though I only ran through the motions to appease him. Shoving belief into a shoebox in my mind, I labeled it as ‘Umeji’s too unclean to deal with this stuff’. That box got pretty damned full.
My stride turns to a jog as I’m greeted by the fox statues with red bibs at the top of the stairs. Pausing for a brief bow at the gate, I bound up, skipping every other step. I shouldn’t run because I’m entering a sacred area. But a tug on my heart invites me to peek at what I’ve avoided so long.
Memories flood in as I climb. When I was a child, my dad would read to me. My favorite stories were of the kitsune. Whether they were the messengers of Inari or the shape-shifting trickster spirits, they fascinated me. Mom also fed my obsession with the mythical animals by buying me a fox mask and taking me to the Ouji Inari shrine to be in the Kitsune Parade when I was ten. After that, I drew foxes on everything and devoured every myth I could find.
When my mob brothers went to get inked, dragging me along, I hoped the artist would agree to my plan. Traditional tattoo artists are picky and may refuse an idea. On top of that, they charge a fortune.
I’d printed a picture of a Meiji era photograph with a man showing off his tats—a nine-tailed fox on each shoulder with them chasing each other, one red with a flame above it and the other white with a scroll in its mouth.
My brethren teased me because kitsune aren’t the typical symbols gangsters pick. They quit when the tattooer was so intrigued he did the initial outlines of the ancient design for free.
At the summit, I follow the dirt path through the foliage to find a squat shrine building that probably never had a lick of paint. Moss covers sections of the tiled roof and footings. Yet, the steps and floor are spotless. A bell and a few crisp white paper ornaments, hanging from the rope that demarcates the spiritual space, decorate the simple place of worship, urging me to pray.
Do I want to open that jam-packed shoebox? My fingers shake. The things I’ve done. The offering coffer makes me look away. I won’t get paid for a while. No coins to throw. Nothing to offer. Coming here was a mistake.
As my fists slide into my coat pockets, there’s a crinkle—the salmon onigiri that was supposed to be my lunch. Unwrapping it releases the scent of the fish, rice, and vinegar, making my stomach growl. I’ve gone without meals before. This time it’s my choice.
With reverence, I place it at the doorway to avoid stepping inside and sullying the building. Then, after a deep bow, two claps, and ringing the bell, I pray. My throat constricts as I dare to voice my request to the kami. “Help me stay on this new path and assist others as Satou-san has me.”
Heading back down the trail, my tally of all the things that could go wrong tomorrow is interrupted by prickles forming on the back of my neck. I’m being watched? A glance behind me doesn’t reveal anyone, but someone is definitely there.
After passing under the torii, I hear a rustling. The tail of a gray fox disappears into the dense foliage. Did it enjoy my meal?My love for the creatures drives me to follow it, but I stop after my first step past the gate. Idiot. I shouldn’t follow superstitions, but years of experience taught me to trust my instincts. The animal is long gone and knows this area. I’d not seen a wild one before. Despite the unease, I hope to spot it again.
About the Author: Amy is a former programmer turned author after her first trip to Japan in 2017. Now she writes Japanese myth-based urban fantasy to reconnect with the country and culture that captured her heart.
She lives in South Dakota with her supportive husband, two wonderful kids, a mellow old cat who adopted the family, and three wily and crazy ferrets.
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A Bewitching Tuesday
INTERVIEW WITH LISA ACERBO (APOCAL'PSTICK) #bewitchingbooktours
https://supernaturalcentral.blogspot....
The Liminal Chronicles by Amy Winters-Voss #UrbanFantasy #JapaneseMythology #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/mDLz50EsZ0R
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Whoever possesses the Great Library of the Underworld rules Hell itself & threatens the destiny of both the Heavens & Earth.
The Underworld Library: Hellbrary Book One by Laura Bickle
Free with Kindle Unlimited https://amzn.to/3du2jXU
#DarkFantasy #FantasyBooks #KindleUnlimited
The Karma Series by Laura Simmons - Book Tour + Giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/3quG50EsYY8
April 19, 2021
Excerpt 3 The Underworld Library by Laura Bickle
The Underworld Library: Hellbrary Book One by Laura Bickle
Free with Kindle Unlimited https://amzn.to/3du2jXU
#DarkFantasy #FantasyBooks #KindleUnlimited
Excerpt 3 The Underworld Library by Laura Bickle
Azarr’s head crested the waves, and he gasped for oxygen. The river roared around him, now whitewater, with caps of pale foam cresting the brown waves. He could make out the edge of the shoreline, and little else but the dark sky stretching above him.
He gasped, thinking that he should swim to shore and find his compatriots…
Something grabbed him. Still in the shape of a snake, he wriggled and lashed out to bite, but something—someone—grabbed him just behind his neck, and he was helpless. He was torn away from the sack containing the book, and he found himself staring into the grey eyes of one of the Ker. The Ker smiled with a mouth of serrated teeth.
He thought that the Ker meant to eat him, but he was jammed unceremoniously into a large bottle. He writhed within it as the Ker capped it. He hissed and made to change back into a man and break the glass.
But he couldn’t change back to the shape of a man.
He flopped in the bottle, panicked, as the Ker drew him below the surface of the water. The Ker pulled him down to the quiet floor of the river, where the current did not buffet them. Two more Ker had gathered among the rusty cans, wheels, and bicycles. Maeje sat on one of the bicycles sidesaddle, as if it were a throne. Her hair floated around her head like a cloud, and her eyes glimmered.
The Ker handed her the sack and the bottle. Maeje tucked the sack under her arm and gazed at the bottle. She tapped on it with her webbed fingers.
“That was a very noble try, little snake. But you must understand, I have my own magic over shape and form.” Her voice was clearer underwater than it had been in air; her gills fluttered, and her mouth sounded as if it was full of bells.
“Where are the rest of the people I came with? The librarians?” he demanded, though he knew he was in no position to demand anything of her.
“Ah, little pet.” She shook her head, and her hair drifted lazily in the water. “The river has taken them. You shall not see any of them again.”
A Bewitching Monday
The Liminal Chronicles by Amy Winters-Voss #UrbanFantasy #JapaneseMythology #bewitchingboktours http://ow.ly/IUSh50ErVNG
Darkness Awaits by Jamila A. Stone #UrbanFantasy #LBGTQ #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/b2gj50ErVKQ
Karma Series [Book Tour with Excerpts] #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/jVEn50ErVMf
Darkness Awaits by Jamila A. Stone #UrbanFantasy #LBGTQ #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/tW2T50ErVJX
Whoever possesses the Great Library of the Underworld rules Hell itself
& threatens the destiny of both the Heavens & Earth.
The Underworld Library: Hellbrary Book One by Laura Bickle
Free with Kindle Unlimited https://amzn.to/3du2jXU
#DarkFantasy #FantasyBooks #KindleUnlimited
Darkness Awaits by Jamila A. Stone - Book Tour + Giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/Harw50ErVIS
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The Character's Court: Lisa Acerbo's characters face off + giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/MoLl50EohCs
April 16, 2021
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Their Romance book newsletter is live now with a Mystery Thriller newsletter coming soon.
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A Bewitching Friday
Author Interview - Darkness Awaits by Jamila A. Stone #UrbanFantasy #LBGTQ #AuthorInterview
https://serenasynn.blogspot.com/2021/...
INTERVIEW WITH AMY WINTER-VOSS (RISE The Liminal Chronicles)
http://supernaturalcentral.blogspot.c...
Please Welcome Laura Simmons as She Tells Us About Her Reincarnation/Paranormal Romance, Little Bits of Karma, a Karma Series Prequel #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/aS9H50Enlnc
Apocalipstick: Hell in a Handbag Series Book One by Lisa Acerbo
https://www.facebook.com/RoxanneRhoad...
Darkness Awaits Virtus Academy Book 2 by Jamila A. Stone ----- Updated with an interview with the Author -----Urban Fantasy, Contemporary Fantasy, LGBTQ - Unexpected secrets stand to change two witches’ lives forever...
http://jbbookworms.blogspot.com/2021/...
Bookbundant introduces readers to fantastic authors and book deals in a free newsletter you can’t wait to open.
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Death moved through the forest in silence.
But the living howled.
The Underworld Library: Hellbrary Book One by Laura Bickle
Free with Kindle Unlimited https://amzn.to/3du2jXU
#DarkFantasy #FantasyBooks #KindleUnlimited
The Character's Court: Lisa Acerbo's characters face off + giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/MoLl50EohCs
Karma Series by Laura Simmons
http://www.roxannerhoads.com/2021/04/...
