Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 146
December 6, 2020
Tail of a Feather by Melanie Snow ~ Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza
Winter Solstice Almond Butter and Gluten Free Cookies for Dogs
A Winter Solstice celebration is not complete without some magical and delicious treats for your canine familiar. This recipe is Addie’s favorite and Sarah in The Spellwood Witches series often bakes extra. This way during the solstice festivities, all the canine pals in her and Addie’s life have some treats as well.
When your feed your dog treats it is important to choose healthy and real ingredients. If you can get organic and fresh. I don’t recommend additives like artificial colors. If you would like these cookies to be festive, you can add some lightly browned rolled oats which adds a pleasant touch. Or using cookie cutters you can cut them into stars and bones, etc.
These cookies are fun to make. With prep and cooking, it will take about one hour and forty minutes. This recipe yields about two dozen cookies.
Ready to conjure up some Winter Solstice Almond Butter and Gluten Free Cookies for Your Canine familiar?
Here are the ingredients to get started.
Ingredients
2 ½ cups organic almond flour
2 large eggs
2 TBS of egg white
½ cup organic canned pumpkin
2 TBS unsalted almond butter (crunchy or smooth)
½ tsp salt
½ tsp ground cinnamon
@¾ cup of uncooked oatmeal (for decoration)
Directions
Step 1
Preheat oven to 350 degree F (175 degrees C)
Step 2
In a large bowl whisk together the flour, eggs, pumpkin, peanut butter, salt, and cinnamon (minus the oatmeal and egg white). You want to make the dough workable, but it should be on the dry side and stiff. If it is too dry, you can slowly add water. Then roll the dough until it is ½ inch thick. Use cookie cutters to express the magic of the Winter Solstice, such as pine cones, stars, and bones.
Step 3
Bake in your preheated oven until hard, which is about forty minutes.
Note:
If you want to add a healthy decoration to your cookies try this. About five to eight minutes before they done, open the oven and brush the cookies with egg whites. Then lightly sprinkle with uncooked oats and cinnamon. Watch them closely so they don’t burn.
There you have it. As you celebrate the Winter Solstice with your doggo familiars make sure you have some of these delicious Winter Solstice Almond Butter and Gluten Free Cookies for Dogs straight from the magical recipe book of The Spellwood Witches.
Tail of a FeatherThe Spellwood Witches Book ThreeMelanie Snow
Genre: Paranormal Cozy MysteryPublisher: Spirit Paw Press, LLCDate of Publication: 10-6-20ISBN: 978-1-7324375-8-6ASIN: B08K4S9D9TNumber of pages: 225Word Count: 44644Cover Artist: Molly Burton
Tagline: A witchy sleuthhound. An enemy from the past. A threat to everything she loves…
Can Sarah stop the mayhem of Witchland before it is too late?
Book Description:
A mysterious portal. Eight crows with a message. A missing police chief.
Sarah Spellwood feels she maybe too late to save her beau, the handsome police chief Eli Strongheart, from disappearing from Witchland forever. But with the wisdom of eight crows, she and her collie sidekick, Addie, focus on their mysterious task ahead. Yet time is running out and the tension rises when they discover there is more to the mysterious portal than they expected.
As the clues fly, Sarah is shocked to learn that Madras Spellwood is trying to get back into Witchland to take over its beauty and magic. But Sarah and Addie are vowed defenders of the forest, and they will not let Madras succeed, or Eli get away.
Can Sarah save Eli and beat Madras at the same time?
Tail of a Feather is book three in the magical Spellwood Witches cozy mystery series. If you like paranormal puzzles, charming canine companions, and a bit of flirty romance, then you will love Melanie Snow’s crafty quest.
Buy Tail of a Feather and take flight into the magical world of Witchland today! Amazon
Chapter 1
Sarah snuggled into her jacket and relished the slight sting of the cold on the tip of her nose. Autumn was washing Witchland in rich oranges, browns, and yellows, and little frost crystals coated the ground in the morning. The scent of pumpkin pie and pumpkin spice espresso treats wafted continuously out of Javacadabra, where Susie and Karen worked tirelessly to delight the taste buds of the town with the help of their familiar, a talking white cat named Zeva.
Holding her tea latte between her palms to warm them, Sarah kept pace with Eli as they began the trek up the Mount Katribus trail. Sarah’s canine familiar, Addie, padded along at her side. “I wonder why I love autumn so much.” Sarah sighed contentedly.
“Because you’re a witch,” Eli teased, his gorgeous blue eyes twinkling as he smiled at her.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled in close. Addie looked up at them, love in her soft brown eyes. “I must say your warmth for each other is keeping me warm,” Addie joked.
Though Eli couldn’t hear her, he was starting to get to know the loyal collie mix well, and he asked her, “Where is your boyfriend, Kelvin, huh, girl?”
Addie barked happily when she heard the name Kelvin. “He’s in the woods, hunting rabbits,” she answered, which Sarah repeated to Eli so he could hear.
“Girls always love the bad boys. Or, in your case, the bad wolves,” Eli said.
“So Jenna did the rounds this morning? There’s no sign of Madras?” Sarah asked as the trail they were walking on began to incline up the mountainside. Eli Strongheart was the police chief of Witchland, and Jenna Mora was his deputy.
“Not a sign,” Eli replied. “Tonight is my turn . . . I imagine these woods make you a bit nervous now, don’t they?”
Sarah shrugged. “Not at all, actually. I love the woods so much that I won’t let my wicked great-great-great-whatever-aunt ruin them for me. Besides, I feel so much more confident knowing that I defeated her. That she’s banished for good.”
Eli smiled. “We always try our best to keep these woods safe. Even the greatest demon witch of all time can’t defeat our team.”
“So . . . I was thinking. I invited my parents to my house for a little dinner in two days. Would you like to join us?” Sarah went on. She had felt slightly apprehensive about inviting Eli, since they were a new couple. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him off. But she knew in her heart that Eli was in it for the long haul, and that made it easier to come out and say things, even things that made her nervous.
“Of course,” Eli said, looking slightly taken aback. “Any weird quirks I should prepare for?”
“Um, definitely don’t talk politics with my dad.” Sarah laughed. “It could get pretty heated. Also, let’s keep the magic talk to a minimum.”
“I thought you told them that you’re practicing witchcraft?” Eli said.
“I did. But it’s a touchy subject. You know that my father tried so hard to put distance between himself and the Spellwood legacy.” Sarah shrugged. “They’re accepting, but I just don’t want to make them super uncomfortable.”
“I think you should just be yourself,” Eli said gently. But then he added, “Although, I probably wouldn’t talk about witchcraft to my mom, either. She’s probably a far worse denier than your parents.”
“Well, my parents don’t deny it. They just don’t practice it. The last time was at my aunt Beth’s when we visited her, right before she passed away and I started seventh grade.” Sarah suddenly stopped in the middle of the trail. Addie, who was wandering slightly ahead, turned back and looked at her expectantly. “Let’s go visit Aunt Beth’s. I haven’t been able to bring myself to go since I moved here,” said Sarah.
“Your aunt Beth’s house? Well, sure,” Eli said, again taken aback. He laughed as they changed course and began to walk toward the small goat farm Beth Spellwood ran. “I love how spontaneous you are.”
“I haven’t seen her farm in so long, and I really miss that place. That was where I first discovered I had powers, and I was very close with my aunt.” As Sarah attempted to remember her way through the maze of trails to the farm she had not visited since she was twelve, she regaled Eli with tales of Aunt Beth, including Aunt Beth’s talking pet goat.
“So that was the original Addie,” Eli commented.
“Hey! No one is like me,” Addie protested.
“That is true. You are one unique dog,” Sarah assured Addie, who blinked at her happily.
They finally broke through the tree line and came upon a fence, which was sagging with the weight of the ivy growing on it. It enclosed a generous pasture with a goat shed in the center of it. Now, in place of the milk goats Aunt Beth had raised, there were two cows chewing cud listlessly. Beyond that, stood the modest farmhouse where Aunt Beth had lived, and where she and Sarah’s father had grown up. Smoke curled from the chimney.
“So many memories.” Sarah exhaled, feeling both joy and sorrow at the sight of her long-gone childhood. “I hope the family living here is happy.”
“Too bad we can’t go inside,” Eli commented.
“I suppose we could always knock and ask.” Sarah shrugged. She glanced at Eli, and when he agreed, she led him around the fence to the front door of the house. “Ah, I forgot about this knocker,” she said, tracing the bronze gargoyle knocker with her fingertip after knocking. “I always thought it was so cool, but now I realize how out of place it was against this modest little house.”
A woman carrying a baby on her hip opened the door. The minute she saw Sarah, her face softened in recognition. “You must be the little girl in all of those photos we found in the attic,” she cried. “Beth Spellwood’s niece?”
“Yes,” Sarah said happily. “You found pictures?”
“Well, yes, we did, and we have them. We tried to send them to family, but we couldn’t find an address. Come on in!” The woman stepped aside and ushered Sarah and Eli into the house. “Oh, hello,” she greeted Addie, also welcoming her inside.
“Puppy!” several kids cried as they flocked around the dog. Addie rolled on the floor and showed her belly happily as the kids scratched it.
“My kids love dogs, as you can see.” The woman laughed. “I’m Meg, by the way.” She set the baby down and shook Eli’s and Sarah’s hands as they introduced themselves. Then she excused herself to retrieve the pictures. “You can take a look around, if you want,” she called over her shoulder.
Sarah stepped into the kitchen. “The cauldron is gone.” She sighed, noticing the open fireplace with its hanging cauldron was now replaced with an oven. The fridge was also new and covered in kids’ art, with none of the strange recipes and spells that Aunt Beth kept on it.
Eli placed a comforting hand on her elbow. “You can’t expect it to be the same.”
“I know. It’s just so different.” Sarah sighed, breathing in the smell of the macaroni bubbling on the stove for lunch. “Well, actually, it seems like a happy home, and I’m just glad these people love it.”
Meg reappeared with the photos. “Here you go!”
Sarah smiled as she sifted through them. “That was my goat!” she cried, showing Eli the photo of the black-and-white goat hanging his head over her shoulder.
“You were cute,” Eli said. “So many freckles.” Teasingly, he touched her cheek, pretending to count the freckles she still had.
“She sure was,” Meg said, nodding her head in agreement. Then she added in an undertone, “Do you want to go upstairs? I have to ask you about some things about this house . . .”
Sarah and Eli followed Meg up the narrow staircase to a landing. Meg paused in front of a door. “Um, I hate to mention this, but . . . I know the reputation of Lativia Spellwood.”
Sarah smiled and nodded. “That is my ancestor, and the founder of Witchland.” Then she narrowed her eyes knowingly. “Let me guess, weird things happen around this house?”
“Yes, well, Neil and I don’t—well, we didn’t believe in that stuff. Not at all. But after moving here . . .” Meg bit her lip, looking nervously from Sarah to Eli.
“We don’t think you’re crazy, don’t worry,” Sarah assured her. “Weird things happen in Witchland, and especially in this house. It did house three generations of witches.” She and Eli exchanged knowing glances and then laughed, sharing memories of the many magical misadventures they had been on together in their efforts to protect Witchland from both Madras and greedy developers.
“Oh, good. I wasn’t sure where you stood with all of that.” Meg laughed nervously and gathered her hair into a ponytail. “Well, you see, we took the master bedroom here and . . .” She opened the door and pointed within.
Sarah stepped into her aunt’s old bedroom. As if she were a child again, she could remember the four-post bed that took up most of the space, and the rolltop desk where Aunt Beth sat to pay her bills and write letters. Though the décor was different, the atmosphere of the room still felt like Aunt Beth: calm, sweet, earthy, loving. Tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes.
“We keep cutting them back.” Meg led them to the window, where several flowers emerged from the wooden frame, vibrant and colorful. They were growing without soil and without water. “We’re not really sure how they keep growing.”
Sarah touched one of the blue flowers gently. “My aunt Beth loved her flowers, her garden, her goats. She was part of nature—so it seemed.” She turned to Meg. “These are enchanted flowers that she grew because she thought they were pretty. The only way to remove them would be to break the enchantment.”
“Oh.” Meg looked worried. “I have no idea how to do that.”
“I can bring some friends of mine by who can do that. If you don’t mind, can I have them?” Sarah imagined planting them in her own room and always having a piece of Aunt Beth near her.
“Of course! I would hate to kill them, but it’s just, well . . .” Meg shrugged haplessly. “Not our choice of décor. I hope that doesn’t offend you.”
“I get it.” Sarah nodded. “It is your home now.”
“Um, there’s one other thing.” Meg led them into the bathroom next and pointed to the blue tiles over the clawfoot bathtub, where Sarah had spent many afternoons pretending she was a mermaid in a frothy ocean of soap bubbles, with an army of rubber duckies to do her bidding.
Sarah smiled softly as she ran her fingers along the porcelain of the tub, entranced by her memories. Eli watched her, vicariously enjoying her reminiscing through the expressions on her face.
Meg turned on the shower. Gradually, words began to form across the tiles as the steam started to bloom from the water. Sarah squinted and realized that it was a spell for making the room smell like roses. Just as soon as she read the spell in her mind, the bathroom flooded with the flowery scent. “Aunt Beth’s scent,” Sarah murmured. “I always just thought it was a perfume.”
“It’s strong, like Margaret and Hua’s greenhouse,” Addie complained, backing away toward the door.
“Any way you can break this enchantment? We love this scent, but . . .” Meg again looked hapless.
Sarah acquiesced and said a quick spell to erase the enchantment.
Spell be gone,
You have grown wan.
You have done well,
But it’s no time to dwell.
Instantly, the words began to unfurl and stretch until they made a popping sound like bubbles and ran down the walls in streams of black ink. Then the ink grew clear and disappeared. The rose scent began to gently fade. If only I could capture that scent in a bottle, Sarah thought. I have to enchant my bathroom to do that so that I can always smell Aunt Beth’s rose scent.
“I’m so sorry, and thank you so much,” Meg said profusely as she showed them out. She handed Sarah the pictures in a bundle.
“Thank you for letting us inside and these pictures. I’ll definitely treasure them. I’ll come back with my friends, Margaret and Hua, later. They will transplant the flowers for you and remove the enchantment,” Sarah promised.
As she, Eli, and Addie walked back into town, Sarah sighed. “It’s so hard to let go of the past and watch things change. I sure miss my aunt Beth.”
“Can you visit her, you know, in that ghostly clearing?” Eli inquired. He was referring to the place where ghosts communed with Lativia Spellwood’s ghost on the top of Mount Katribus.
“She moved on to the other side,” Sarah said sadly. Then she interlaced her fingers with Eli’s and cuddled against his muscular shoulder. “I miss her, but I know she’s in a good place. And I’m very happy with how my life is now. I can only embrace the present.”
Eli kissed the top of her head, and Sarah felt happy. “I think Aunt Beth would have adored you,” she told Eli.
About the Author:
Melanie Snow is the pen name for Wendy Van de Poll, a bestselling author, pet loss grief coach, and animal medium. She is the author of The Spellwood Witches, a paranormal cozy mystery series.
Her books weave together positive magic, snarky forest faeries, and insightful animals with fun and eclectic humor. True life adventures and intuition are woven into her stories laced with unbridled imagination. She has been followed by wild wolves in minus sixty degrees, hissed at by a mama bobcat, and played ball with a wild owl—among other animal encounters.
Find out more about her work at:
https://wendyvandepoll.com/melanie-snow
https://www.facebook.com/melaniesnow.cozymysteries
https://www.instagram.com/melaniesnow.cozymysteries
https://www.facebook.com/groups/melaniesnowcozymysteries
https://amazon.com/author/melaniesnow
https://www.goodreads.com/melaniesnowcozymysteries
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My Sweet Vampire by Arabella Holmes #PNR #ParanormalErotica
My Sweet VampireArabella HolmesGenre: Paranormal Romance EroticaPublisher: Little WillowDate of Publication: 29th November 2020ASIN: B08N66SBMKNumber of pages:478Word Count: 170,000Cover Artist: E L Savage
Tagline: One night with a vampire hypnotherapist is an experience no woman will ever forget.
Book Description:
Meet Dr Nick Craven – a renowned hypnotherapist who works in London’s affluent Harley Street. Tall, dark and debonair, Nick is everything a woman could want. Except for one thing – Nick Craven is a vampire with an insatiable blood lust.
When the beautiful Carly Singleton books a session with him to help her quit smoking, Nick is overwhelmed by desire and will do anything to get her into his bed.
One night with a vampire hypnotherapist is an experience no woman will ever forget.
Can Carly resist Nick’s devilish charms and will she live to tell the tale?
My Sweet Vampire is a steamy page turner that will keep you guessing right until the end.
Amazon
Excerpt:
Our suite is on the second floor of the hotel. As soon as we get inside, Nick switches on the lights, and I feel a flutter of apprehension. My legs are weak and it’s a struggle to put one foot in front of the other. I can’t believe I’m about to do something I’ve dreamed of constantly since the first day we met. And yet, a part of me is petrified I’ll end up disappointing him. It’s been so long, and I’m so out of practice. What if this is all a big mistake?
Folding my arms across my chest, I step into the bedroom area of our suite. It’s breathtaking, with a king-size bed, leather-panelled walls, a plasma-screen TV and a balcony with a panoramic view of the River Thames. By the window is a large cocktail cabinet, a gas fire and an ornately carved walk-in wardrobe. To my right, a glass partition slides back to reveal a spectacular bathroom with marbled walls, a huge stone bath and a gold-plated shower.
Suddenly, I start to panic; things are moving too fast.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this.” I turn to go, but before I reach the door, Nick’s in front of me, barring my exit.
“Please don’t go,” he begs, slipping his finger under my chin so he can see my eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen if you don’t want it to. We can just sit here and talk, or watch a movie. I don’t want this night to be over. Please, stay. Is that too much to ask?” I stare up at him and for the first time, I see a desperation that almost matches my own. “Nothing’s going to happen,” he repeats. “Scout’s honour, I promise to be on my best behaviour. I just want to spend some time with you, Carly.”
My head is screaming for me to get out of there, but his eyes hold me entranced and my body is refusing to take instruction.
At last, I let out a sigh. “All right, I’ll stay.”
Bowing my head, I allow him to lead me over to the bed, and for what seems like forever, the two of us sit side by side, looking away from each other, the air thick with unspoken tension. My arms are still folded across my chest, putting up an invisible barrier between us. The screeching silence pulsates through the room like an electric current.
I start getting heart palpitations; Nick’s giving me long, lingering looks that make my body tingle. He’s probing me deep, reading my face like my features are hieroglyphics.
Suddenly, he leans forward and whispers, “You’re so beautiful. Can I touch you?”
I catch my breath then nod slowly.
Cautiously, he reaches out and tenderly caresses my cheek with the back of his hand. Then he gently strokes my hair and the dip and hollow of my ears, his fingers warm and slightly shaky. With a shock, I realise he’s just as scared as I am, and this knowledge makes me feel a little less insecure.
Slowly, his hand travels down the side of my face, then down to my neck, and lightly caresses the sculpted base of my throat. As he works his way back up, tracing the outline of my veins, I marvel at the silky softness of his fingers.
“Shall I take off your jacket?” he breathes.
I swallow hard. “Y-yes.”
With deliberate slowness, Nick eases off my coat and drops it to the floor. Then he takes off his own and I find myself becoming aroused as he fixes me with an expression so hungry, it’s like he’s got me paralysed. Desire spreads under my skin and burns me all over as he sits back down next to me. His sweet cologne is making my head spin.
“You’re trembling,” he observes.
I drop my hands into my lap. Damn. He wasn’t supposed to see that.
“Don’t be afraid …” He reaches out again and delicately touches my lips, my nose, my eyelids. I arch my back and moan softly as his strong hands slither down to my waist and pull me closer to him.
“Can I kiss you?”
I nod mutely.
Tentatively, Nick presses his lips against my cheek and breathes in my scent. Lightly, he kisses his way from the corner of my mouth to my neck and runs his hot tongue in and out of my ear hole. The heat from his breath makes me crazy and I utter a low groan of pleasure.
Goaded by my desire, he gently but firmly tilts my face toward him. His lips brush the periphery of my cupid’s bow, teasing me into a frenzy that shoots straight to my crotch. With trembling hands, he cups my cheeks and takes my mouth in his, pulling on my lower lip with his teeth. I whimper as he kisses me hard and deep, his long, agile tongue plunging down my throat with reckless abandon, igniting an inferno of longing inside me. The force of his need leaves me breathless, his soft lips eating me out like he wants to consume every piece of me. No one has ever kissed me this way before, and the depth of his passion tips me to the brink of insanity.
For what seems forever, our tongues glide together in a flurry of unrelenting lust. Finally we pause for air, and the room is quiet except for the sound of our heavy breathing. Nick stares down at me, his body shuddering in a way that indicates he’s trying mighty hard not to act on a violent impulse.
Instinctively, I raise my fingers to my lips; they feel all puckered and bruised.
“It’s been so long,” he murmurs. “So very long …” His hand snakes around my back and starts to lower the zipper of my dress. I moan as he brings his face level with mine and whispers, “I promise I won’t go too crazy.”
About the Author:Arabella Holmes grew up in Wandsworth, South London. From a young age she developed a great love of horror films and gothic romances. Her favourite director is Stanley Kubrick and her favourite authors include Charlotte Bronte, Sarah Waters and Mark Edwards. When she isn't writing, Arabella enjoys directing short films for the festival circuit and looking after her cat, Mambo. An avid tea drinker, Arabella can be found hanging out in cosy London cafes in search of new brews to tease her taste buds. My Sweet Vampire is her first Paranormal Romance novel.
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December 4, 2020
A Bewitching Friday
THE MAGICAL POWER OF THE WINTER SOLSTICE with MELANIE SNOW (Tail of a Feather) #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/kHin50CCGiU
Morrigan’s Blood Crow’s Curse Book One by Laura Bickle - Urban Fantasy, Dark Fantasy - Garnet has the blood of the legendary Morrigan – and legions of vampires and witches will go to war to possess that power.
https://jbbookworms.blogspot.com/2020...
Queen’s Ascension Blood Prophecy [Book Tour Excerpt] #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/EPOz50CCGhd
Mystic UnRealized by S. Peters-Davis ~ Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/tBC850CCGfm
Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza & #Giveaway ~ Strong Woman Word Search ~ Fighting for Home: Descendants of the Amazoi Book One by Kim Richards @Kim_Richards ~ Fantasy/Historical Fantasy #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/6mVe50CCGcX
The Journeys of a Different Necromancer by James J Crofoot #bewitchingbooktours https://www.facebook.com/bookpimpette...
Death Masks by Kim Richards #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/HJLR50CCGb2
Full Moon in Leo by Brooklyn Ray - Queer Holiday Romance - Small-town magic, two heavy hearts—one unforgettable winter solstice #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/h6zU50CCG5U
Black Oak The Loveless Chronicles Chapter 1 by Titus Murphy - Horror, Fantasy - WELCOME TO BLACK OAK! #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/Ieab50CCG7g
A Demon’s Witch by Tena Stetler ~ Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/PwYv50CCG43
Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2020 AT 1 PM EST
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The Reaper Collection by Jade Royal
http://www.roxannerhoads.com/2020/12/...
December 3, 2020
A Bewitching Thursday
The Journeys of a Different Necromancer by James J Crofoot #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/oZx250CBxVu
Mystic UnRealized [Book Tour with Excerpt] #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/e5FI50CBxR5
Victor Lewellyn’s Honey Cakes ~ Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza ~ Full Moon in Leo Brooklyn Ray ~ Queer Holiday Romance #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/u5yy50CBxOI
DECK THE HALLS HOLIDAY EXTRAVAGANZA - THRILLER - DEATH MASKS by Kim Richards #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/tOQy50CBxCt
SPOTLIGHT - PARANORMAL THRILLER - THE REAPER COLLECTION by Jade Royal #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/xvrM50CBxB8
A Demon’s Witch by Tena Stetler ~ Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza
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Black Oak : The Loveless Chronicles Chapter 1 by Titus Murphy
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Crow's Curse Series by Laura Bickle ~ Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza
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Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza: Tail of a Feather by Melanie Snow
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Deck the Halls With Books Holiday Extravaganza: Fighting for Home by Kim Richards
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Holiday Extravaganza Queen’s Ascension Blood Prophecy Book Three by Barb Jones
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December 2, 2020
Crow's Curse Series by Laura Bickle ~ Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza
Winter SolsticeBy Laura Bickle
The Oak King rules in sunshineOver the lush green of spring and summer’s heatLeaves and grasses whisper his nameWhile young birds chatter in treesAnd frogs murmur deep in rivers, surroundedBy cicadia song.The Oak King rules in a cacophony of sound,The seething, shimmering swirl of life.
The Holly King stalks himAs the chirps of crickets fadeGrowing stronger as the leaves fall from the treesAnd the days grow short.The Oak King, his power dwindling, walks among bare trees.His birds are silent, the frogs hibernating. Life has gone to slumberBlanketed by the cold glitter of frost.
The Holly King strikes the Oak King down.The Oak King exhales his last steaming breath As snow muffles the world.This is the Holly King’s realm, SoundlessStill Stars shining down on a field of snow.
But on the Winter SolsticeThe Oak King awakens.His power is dim, quiet.But he grows in strengthAs the sun moves north in the sky.In the coming months, he will hunt down the Oak King.And summer will rule once again.
So it has ever been, the war of sound and silence.
Morrigan’s Blood Crow’s Curse Book OneLaura Bickle
Genre: Urban Fantasy, Dark FantasyPublisher: Syrenka Publishing LLCDate of Publication: Sept. 25, 2020ASIN: B08B9TJ4V9Number of pages: 188Word Count: 57000
Cover Artist: Danielle Fine
Tagline: Garnet has the blood of the legendary Morrigan – and legions of vampires and witches will go to war to possess that power.
Book Description:
Garnet has the blood of the legendary Morrigan – and legions of vampires and witches will go to war to possess that power.
As a trauma surgeon, Garnet Conners has seen more than her fair share of blood. But when one of her patients walks off the operating table and disappears into the night, she finds herself caught in a war between legions of vampires and witches in her city.
Garnet has dreamed of bloody battlefields for years – and a mysterious lover who controls a kingdom. In her waking life, Garnet is shocked to meet that man in a club. Merrel knows her from another life, a life in which she was the legendary Morrigan, goddess of death and war.
Garnet rejects the notion of magical incarnations altogether. But she falls in with Sorin, a handsome warlock who’s determined to protect the former bootlegger city of Riverpointe from a secret society of vampires. Haunted by crows and faced with undeniable proof of magic, Garnet scrambles to protect her career and loved ones from magical violence.
Abducted by vampires who seek to turn her into a vampire against her will, can Garnet seize the power of the legendary Morrigan to forge her own path in her embattled city? Or will she be forced to serve as a fearsome weapon in a deadly nocturnal war?
Amazon
Excerpt Book One:
“What have you got for me tonight, folks?” I asked.
I backed through the doors of the operating theater, butt-first, gloved hands lifted before me to keep them clean. I took small steps, mindful not to lose traction. Those thin booties were slick, and I’d fallen on my ass on more than one occasion when I made sudden moves. Tonight, I was determined to get through surgery in an upright position and not have to scrub in twice.
One of the nurses read from notes on a computer terminal. “This guy was found in the parking lot of a closed bowling alley. Speculation is that he took a trip or two through the pin setting machine and got badly torn up.”
“Well, that’s a first.” I turned toward the operating room table. The light was so bright that hardly any shadows were cast in the room. They focused on the unholy mess on the middle of my table.
This. I’m supposed to fix this.
A man lay, unconscious, on the table. His chest was torn open, flaps of skin oozing onto wads of gauze and a paper sheet. His face was a mass of blood, now being daubed at with sponges. The anesthesiologist had found his mouth to thread a tube down, and someone had managed to get an IV started in one of his scraped-up arms.
My nose wrinkled under my mask. “What do the X-rays show? How deep does the damage go? Did he get a CT?”
A nurse clicked on a flatscreen monitor that displayed a carousel of CT images. I squinted at them, muttering dark oaths.
“Radiologist says it looks like a lacerated pancreas, punctured lung, and two rib fractures,” the nurse said. The image switched to the head, and he said: “Also the bonus of a fractured orbital bone.”
I stared at the CTs. “Let’s start with that lung. We leave the pancreas, and call plastic surgery on that orbital bone. This guy’s going to need all the king’s horses and all the king’s men to put him back together again.”
“Will do.”
I gazed down at the poor suffering bastard. I liked seeing the imaging, but I preferred to get a good visual with my own eyes on my patients. Sometimes X-rays and CTs didn’t tell me everything I needed to know about what to start sewing where. Something about seeing where the blood moved and pooled in an injured person gave me an idea of where to begin. The blood always led me to where I needed to direct my attention. Where it spurted required my immediate expertise. Where it clotted or moved lazily, I could wait a bit. When blood drained out of a limb and had left it white, I needed to add more. I noted with approval that he was already receiving a transfusion. As long as blood was moving, there was a chance for him
I frowned at his chest and touched the edges of the rends in his flesh with gloved fingers. Those were ragged and would have to be cut clean before I sewed him back up. I could see the edge of one of those protruding ribs, sticking up like a finger. I glanced over his limbs, counting the usual four. Hey, it pays to count. Count twice, cut once. I mentally cataloged bruises and scrapes, nothing that needed my immediate attention, though I flagged the palms of his hands to get a few stitches from the surgical resident. Looked like defensive wounds, like the guy had tried to fight the pin machine, but lost.
My eyes moved up to his face. One blackened eye was swollen shut. My fingers and gaze wandered over his scalp, checking for major wounds, when I spied a laceration at his throat.
I gently probed it with gloved hands. Some kind of puncture…the machine must have caught him near a seeping vein. It had nearly dried up, smelling rusty and not like the bright, coppery blood of his more critical wounds. It could still take a few extra stitches.
I stared down at the unfortunate guy’s oozing chest. Peeling back a flap of skin, I felt around for the collapsed lung. My finger quickly squished around and found the hole, and I extended my free hand for a scalpel. Time to get this party started…
…when the patient sat bolt upright on the table. His good eye was open, rolling.
I yanked my hands back and yelped at the anesthesiologist, “Curt, what the actual hell?”
The OR erupted in a flurry of activity. The anesthesiologist arrived at the patient’s side with a syringe, while nurses tried to push the patient back down.
But he was flailing, windmilling with his arms like a pro wrestler in the ring. The IV ripped out of his arm, and the line slashed back at the anesthesiologist, whipping across his face. The patient reached up and ripped the tube out of his throat. His foot caught an instrument tray, sending scalpels flying. His blood line yanked away, spewing crimson all over the floor.
I held my hands out, using my most calming voice. Not that I had a particularly calming voice; I was a surgeon. We don’t talk to patients. But I tried: “You’re safe. I’m your doctor, Dr. Conners. If you just lie back, we’ll make you comfortable and—”
The guy shrieked and launched himself off the table. The paper sheet tangled around his legs, and he grasped it around his waist as he put his shoulder down and aimed for the door. His shoulder hit me in the arm, and I slipped on my booties, landing on my ass on the tile floor. The patient launched through the swinging doors and disappeared down the hall.
I swore and ripped my booties off my sneakered feet. I clambered to my feet and punched the intercom at the door with my elbow. “Security, code orange at OR 6.” I couldn’t say: I’ve got a runner taking off down the hall. Please send somebody to stop him, because anyone listening to that would freak the hell out, and I would get a talking-to from HR.
I straight-armed the door and took off after the guy. I had no idea how the hell this man was still walking around. Those injuries should have flattened him, and he’d been anesthetized. I had graduated med school with Curt a few years ago, and knew him not to be a careless anesthesiologist who played on his phone in the OR.
The patient skidded down the hallway, landing at a dead end, where a window overlooked the parking lot. The sun had just set, and the sky was the violet color of a fresh bruise. I approached him slowly, like I was herding a feral cat. I tugged my mask down to try and give him a human face to look at.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” I murmured soothingly. I wanted to keep him here until security arrived. If he got even further loose and hurt himself, that would be one obnoxiously long incident report. And an even more involved surgery after that.
“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not gonna be okay. The bloodsuckers found me…and the Lusine couldn’t protect me.”
“I don’t know who that is,” I said, thinking that the guy had probably run afoul of some loan sharks. Maybe the mob? “But you’re safe here. We can protect you.”
“No,” he gasped, his face twisted in agony. “No one can protect me. And no one can protect Emily.”
He turned toward the window, backed up a few steps.
“No, wait…” I could see what he was trying to do, and I was helpless to stop it.
He rushed the window, aiming for it with his shoulder. All the latches on the hospital windows on patient floors were welded shut, but this wasn’t an area where conscious patients had access, and the window was not secured against suicide attempts. The glass buckled under his shoulder, the window crumpled away, and he pitched through in a hail of glass into the falling darkness.
I rushed to the window and stared down at the parking lot in horror. Three stories down, the patient sprawled on the parking lot blacktop, flattened like a bug under a shoe.
Curt had come up behind me. “Oh, my god, Garnet…did he…”
“He jumped,” I said, my heart in my mouth. I turned and ran to the stairwell, barking at him. “Get a gurney and the ER team.”
I burst into the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. As I rounded the third curve, my path was blocked by a tall, dark-haired man in a brown velvet blazer and jeans. He was the type of guy that I might have liked to meet in my off-time—he had a kind of scholarly intensity in his hazel gaze and a bit of roguishness in the stubble that covered his sharp jaw.
“Stand aside,” I blurted. “Emergency!” As if my bloody gloves and surgical gown weren’t warning enough.
But he blocked my path, one hand on either stair rail, his long arms spanning the length of the stairwell. “That man is dangerous,” he growled softly.
“That man is under my care,” I announced, lifting my chin. I walked into the man, figuring that he would give way to my outstretched bloody gloves. Like a normal person would.
. But he didn’t. My sticky gloves nearly mashed into the velvet of his jacket, and he didn’t flinch. This close, he smelled like old books and moss.
“You can’t go down there,” he said. His voice was soft, but insistent.
My eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to tell me where to go,” I chirped petulantly. I ducked under his arm, darting out of his reach, and barreled down the steps the remaining way to ground level.
I rushed out into the parking lot and stopped short.
“What the actual hell—”
The patient peeled himself off the ground and crawled to his feet. He reminded me of a half-dead insect when he did so, shaking and rickety and dripping blood.
That’s impossible, I thought. There was no way that a human being could do that. I took two steps toward him…
…and a dozen people flitted out of the darkness, from the shadows beneath cars and behind shrubs. The overhead parking lot lights, haloed by moths, illuminated their long shadows on the pavement.
I breathed a sigh of relief. The squad was here and would get him stable, get him back to my OR.
But…my brow wrinkled. That wasn’t the squad. Nobody was in uniform. They converged on him as he turned, screaming.
“Stop!” I shouted.
Heads turned toward me. Their faces were moon-pale and glistening in the lamplight.
The man in the velvet jacket grabbed my arm, dragging me back. “You want no part of this.”
“Don’t tell me what I want,” I growled. I stomped on his instep and twisted my arm to break his grip at the weakest part, the thumb. I whirled and ran toward the fracas.
The shadowy people had plucked my patient off the pavement, clotting around him.
I yelled at them, the way I might yell at pigeons in the park who were eating my dropped French fries.
Overhead, the parking lot lights shattered, one by one, in a series of pops. Someone had a gun. I flinched back, shielding my face from flying shards of plastic with my hands, as I was suddenly plunged into darkness. I heard fighting, yelling, as if a gang war had broken out in front of me, roiling in the dark where no one could see.
Or at least, as dark as things could get in Riverpointe. Riverpointe was a decently sized city, and ambient light filtered back quickly from the freeway, headlights on the access road to the hospital, and the hospital’s helipad above.
As my vision adjusted, I realized I was alone. The people who were trying to abduct my patient, my patient…even that fascinating-smelling velvet guy…all were gone.
Ambulance lights flashed at the end of the parking lot, approaching me. Behind me, I heard the hammering of footsteps on the stairwell. Security spilled out behind me, along with a few cops who’d been hanging out in the nurse’s lounge. The EMTs pulled up to the curb, and there were all of a sudden a couple dozen people churning in a uniformed cloud around me.
“Where’d the guy go?” a security guard asked me.
A moth that had once orbited the parking lot lights flitted down and smacked my face. I batted at it, grimacing.
“I don’t know,” I whispered, stunned. “He was just…taken.”
The moth landed on the ground on its back, wiggling.
With bloody fingers, I picked it up and placed it gently in a nearby shrub. Lights, voices, and radios crackled around me. Questions rose and fell, directed at me in a tide of inquiries I couldn’t answer. But I stared at the bloody moth, stained by my touch, as it sought a safe place among the churning shadows and light.
Morrigan's Bite
Crow's Curse Book 2Laura Bickle Genre: Urban Fantasy, Dark FantasyPublication Date: October 23, 2020Publisher: Syrenka Publishing ASIN: B08B9GVMZM
Book Description:
Becoming a vampire was the worst thing to ever happen to Garnet Conners. But does she have to become a monster, too?
Garnet had a beautiful life…and it was stolen from her when she was turned into a vampire against her will. Once a successful trauma surgeon with good friends, she now finds herself hiding out in the basement of a coven house governed by hostile witches. Struggling with her vampiric urges, she despairs of ever returning to her former life.
Garnet’s discovered that she’s an incarnation of the legendary Morrigan. She dreams in blood, of the Morrigan’s other bloodthirsty incarnations over the centuries. Garnet’s dreams reveal her previous existence as Erzebet Bathory, and Garnet fears becoming that monster once again.
With the help of the witches, she attempts to learn to use her magical powers to control her vampiric nature…an experiment that ends in disaster. When her sister and friend go missing, Garnet knows she’s being hunted by vampires who will stop at nothing to bring her back into their fold.
Merrel, the vampire who turned her, offers her a bargain. He will return the abducted women, but Garnet must agree to spend three nights with him, training as a vampire. Garnet reluctantly accepts, but she fears giving in to her vampire nature and becoming the killer of the previous lifetime she’s reliving in her dreams.
Amazon
Morrigan's Bond Crow's Curse Book 3Laura Bickle Genre: Urban Fantasy, Dark FantasyPublication Date: November 19, 2020Publisher: Syrenka Publishing LLC ASIN: B08B9KRLKZ
Book Description:
To end the war between vampires and witches, Garnet must battle the queen of the vampires, a woman who the Morrigan narrowly escaped in the skies of World War II.
Garnet Conners, incarnation of the legendary Morrigan, has pieced her life back together. After being turned into a vampire against her will, she’s quit her career as a surgeon and taken a job on the night shift at the city morgue. To her dismay, victims of vampires are piling up at the morgue…including the body of the vampire who turned her, Merrel.
Merrel’s faked his own death to set into motion a plot to wrest control of Riverpointe’s vampires from their queen, Varya. If Garnet helps him, he promises to move the vampires away from Riverpointe entirely, leaving Garnet and her lover, the warlock Sorin, in peace.
But Garnet’s haunted by dreams of her prior incarnations as Alix, one of the pilots of the fabled Night Witches in World War II. Alix fought Varya during the war… and was nearly destroyed by her. Varya held a magical artifact hostage, the magical sword Durendal, which she still uses to control the Asra hive of vampires.
When the vampires burn down the witches’ coven house, Garnet and her allies must locate the vampires’ stronghold. She, Merrel, and the surviving witches must rip Durendal away from Varya…or the city and all its supernatural inhabitants will be devoured in flames.
Amazon
About the Author:Laura Bickle grew up in rural Ohio, reading entirely too many comic books out loud to her favorite Wonder Woman doll. She now dreams up stories about the monsters under the stairs and sometimes reads them to her cats. Her books have earned starred reviews from Publishers Weekly and Kirkus. Laura’s work has also been included in the ALA’s Amelia Bloomer Project 2013 reading list and the State Library of Ohio’s Choose to Read Ohio reading list for 2015-2016. The latest updates on her work can be found at authorlaurabickle.com.
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The Reaper Collection by Jade Royal
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The Reaper Collection by Jade Royal
The Reaper CollectionJade RoyalGenre: Paranormal ThrillerDate of Publication: 10/29/2020ASIN: B08KC7237ZWord Count: about 80KCover Artist: V Designs
Tagline: Death will soon find you...
Book Description:
They're coming without mercy…
The OptimistThe ChildThe Scorned WomanThe Best Friend
They want revenge...
A chain of lies spoken by trusted parents, stolen possibilities from a lover, the wrongful conviction of a stranger, and betrayal by the greatest ally. Pain corrupts their minds, twists their souls, and schemes a plan for death. Their victims will face karma, delivered as retribution.
And nothing will stop them…
Amazon Books2Read
Excerpt 1
“Thirty,” Remi blurted.
“Thirty what? It’s going to take more than a measly thirty bucks to get you out of this, Remington.”
“Thirty seconds,” Remi pushed anxiously. She needed more time.
“Fourteen. No more. No less.”
Remi mumbled to herself. Maybe this was just a sick joke that would reveal itself after the fourteen seconds were up.
“Ready, little rabbit?” Zachary’s voice was low and threatening. Danger.
About the Author:When the voices begin to speak, Jade Royal sits down in her lab to write the tale. The story unfolds with each keystroke as she listens to her instincts bring the words to life. For as long as she can remember, Jade has always expressed her creative nature artistically, especially by writing. She refers to herself as “Slave to the Pen” because it’s difficult for her to resist the call to write.
Jade resides in Cincinnati, Ohio where she was born and raised. She has many siblings and is very family-oriented. She spends Sunday evenings eating dinner with them keeping the bond between family nice and strong.
As an international bestselling author, Jade hopes to pull in her readers to experience a community of stories that they can relate to on various levels. The emotional roller coaster that is bestowed will hopefully make her readers stalk her words and provide literate entertainment.
For more information on Jade Royal, follow her on her website and social media avenues.
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