Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 151
October 26, 2020
Spiritwalker by Tanith Davenport #PNR #eroticromance
SpiritwalkerSome Like It Haunted
Tanith Davenport
Genre: Paranormal erotic romancePublisher: Totally BoundDate of Publication: 20 October 2020ISBN: 978-1-83943-443-3Number of pages: 58Word Count: 15010
Cover Artist: Totally Bound
Tagline: By night she walks with spirits. By day they turn her world upside down.
Book Description:
Tamar Steele, a successful medium for a paranormal investigative team, should be happy with her life—but life seems to be against her. Her psychic field is being mysteriously blocked, causing her physical pain and, worse, making it more and more difficult for her to come, creating stress in her relationship with long-term boyfriend Jason.
But then, during the filming of a paranormal TV show, Tamar picks up on Leslie, the recently murdered sister of her co-worker Hana—who later tells her the murderer was in the room with them. Knowing the best way to enhance her psychic ability is through sex, Tamar must rekindle her troubled relationship with Jason and rebuild their passion as she fights to solve the murder. Can she find the killer in time?
Sequel to “I Heard Your Voice” and “Tamar Rising”
TotallyBound Amazon
Excerpt:
“Tamar?”Adjusting her headset, Tamar Steele shifted the microphone closer to her mouth as another chair flew across the room in front of her.“It’s all right. I’m on it.” There was the sound of breaking glass above her as a light bulb shattered. Tamar moved forward to avoid the falling shards, holding her torch out in front of her.She’s here. I can feel her.Her back was starting to ache. Through the darkness she could see a spirit beginning to form, long white robes and flowing hair framing a thin figure and pointed face. Terrified eyes fixed on hers.“Tamar.” Hana’s voice crackled in her ear. “You need to get out of there. This is getting too dangerous. Jason’s worried.”“Tell Jason to calm down. I know what I’m doing.”A newspaper shot across the floor, scattering pages everywhere. Tamar took another step towards the spirit girl, holding up her hand, focussing on the energy she could feel around her.“Matt, I need your help here.”She felt a light tug on her hair and knew Matt, her spirit guide, had been listening.“Listen to me,” she said firmly, holding the girl’s stare. “I can help you.”Fear. Panic. A name. Emily—her name is Emily. Died sometime in the 1920s.“Let me help you, Emily.”A sudden rush forward and the girl was right in front of her, arms outstretched, mouth open, gasping for breath. Automatically Tamar caught her wrists, keeping the reaching fingers away from her face as she saw Matt’s blond head manifesting behind the girl.“We can help you,” she repeated, then Matt’s arms were wrapping around the girl from behind, his face close to hers as he whispered soothing words into her ear.The girl froze, then collapsed back against him, her arms falling.“I don’t want to be here! I don’t know why I’m here.”“It’s all right.” Tamar’s gaze met Matt’s over the girl’s shoulder. “We can send you home.”She concentrated. “Light. Bring light.”A glowing white light slowly formed between them, growing until the girl was engulfed. A small smile formed on her face before, in a bright flash, she was gone.“We’re done here, Hana.”“Okay. Asher’s on her way.”Already Tamar heard the heavy footsteps of their newest team member coming down the stairs into the cellar. A strong smell of sweet smoke entered the room, closely followed by a short girl with rose-pink hair in a bob, her tattooed arms emerging from her T-shirt.“Hey, Tamar.”“Hey, Asher.” Tamar gestured to the space in front of her. “Let’s get the room cleansed and we can get out of here.”“No problem.” Asher moved forwards, holding the burning incense out in front of her. “Another satisfied customer upstairs.”“Glad to hear it—”Tamar’s voice broke off as her headset was filled with an ear-splitting scream.“Fuck!” Asher gasped. “What was that?”Struggling to regain her composure, her heart pounding, Tamar focussed hard on the room, stretching her energy field outwards, trying to find something… There was nothing.
Whatever it had been, it had come and gone.
About the Author:Tanith Davenport began writing erotica at the age of 27 by way of the Romantic Novelists' Association New Writers' Scheme. Her debut novel "The Hand He Dealt" was released by Totally Bound in June 2011 and was shortlisted for the Joan Hessayon Award for 2012.
Tanith has had short stories published by Naughty Nights Press and House of Erotica. She loves to travel and dreams of one day taking a driving tour of the United States, preferably in a classic 1950s pink Cadillac Eldorado.
Tanith's idea of heaven is an Indian head massage with a Mojito at her side.
http://tanithdavenport.blogspot.com/
https://twitter.com/TanithDavenport
https://www.facebook.com/TanithDavenport
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October 23, 2020
A Bewitching Friday
In the Kitchen with Kaylin McFarren - Green Smoothie Recipe #inthekitchen #greensmoothie #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/9Yq950C0FPw
Author Interview- Residual Magic by Suzanne M Sabol #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/vsCE50C0Geu
Please Welcome Tanith Davenport as She Tells Us About Her Paranormal Erotic Romance, Spiritwalker, Some Like It Haunted #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/ENSI50C0Gkv
INTERVIEW WITH SUZANNE M. SABOL (RESIDUAL MAGIC) #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/h97O50C0Ghj
The Genesis of Seven The Empyrean Trilogy Book One Sara M Schaller #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/gmBr50C0GlU
The Queen of Harlem Commandments by Michelle Smalls #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/2isi50C0GAm
It’s Halloween Party Time! with Nancy Gideon
https://bewitchingbooktours.tumblr.co...
HAUNTED HALLOWEEN SPOOKTACULAR FEATURE - HIDDEN GYPSY MAGIC by Tena Stetler #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/Azts50C0G51
Double Alchemy by Susan Mac Nicol - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/3HHi50C0FTv
Ghost Guardians Book One S. Peters-Davis- Bri intends to work for her father, but ghosts, an old high school flame, a downtrodden best bud, and a deceitful tormenter play havoc with her future.
#bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/MNdI50C0G07
Haunted Halloween Spootackular ~ Halloweenish Playlist by Catherine Stine @crossoverwriter ~ Alpha’s Revenge: Royal Alpha Wolves Club Book Three, Shared World Series by Catherine Stine #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/GCoa50C0FNX
A Warrior's Kiss by Celia Breslin - Book Tour + Giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/qGv850C0FKo
Queen’s Ascension by Barb Jones - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/oM1c50C0FQZ
Seeking reviewers for Black Oak : The Loveless Chronicles Chapter 1 by Titus Murphy http://www.bewitchingbooktours.com/sa...
Fictional Characters To Invite to a Party- Trick or Treat at Caynham Castle #PNR #paranormalromance
https://fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com...
Jealousy’s a Witch by Louisa West - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular Guest Blog
https://fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com...
Fictional Characters To Invite to a Party- Trick or Treat at Caynham Castle #PNR #paranormalromance
The Authors of Trick or Treat at Caynham Castle are here Discussing Which Fictional Characters They Would Invite to a Halloween Party
Jeanne Adams:
Hello to all the Fang-tastic books readers! If I were to invite fictional characters to my annual Adams Family Halloween party (alas, no real party this year, but virtual? You bet!) I'd definitely invite Tony Stark because even reformed by Pepper Potts and his responsibilities as an Avenger, he's still the life of the party! I'd also invite Captain America, because anyone who looks like Steve Rogers is worth having at any party just as eye candy! Ha! Lastly, I'd invite Eve Dallas, Roarke, Delia Peabody and Ian McNabb from Nora Roberts's In Death series. Eve wouldn't want to come, because party, but Roarke, Peabody and McNabb would be amazing guests and seeing what kind of costumes Dee and Ian would come up with? Perfect.
Morgan Brice:
Sam and Dean Winchester (Supernatural) to make sure the monsters aren’t realLucifer (Lucifer) because he knows how to have funSabrina (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina) because she also knows how to have a good time
Nancy Northcott:
Fictional characters I would invite to a Halloween party and why:
I'm a comic book geek, so I would invite Superman because I would love to talk to him about his loyalty to his adopted world.
I would also invite Robin Hood so I could talk to him about how a nobleman developed such archery skills when the bow was a common weapon.
Finally, I would ask Illona Andrews' Kate Daniels so I could learn how she carved out something resembling a normal life in a world of shifters, magic, and vamps and with her own unusual heritage.
Caren Crane:
I would invite all the cast from Criminal Minds. I think they are all probably insanely funny in real life, but I would want to see their reactions to people in costume, drinking and acting goofy. I think Paget Brewster would be my new bestie!
Trick or Treat at Caynham CastleJeanne Adams, Morgan Brice, Caren Crane, Nancy NorthcottPublisher: Rickety Bookshelf Press
Genre: PNR, Paranormal Romantic Suspense
Date of Publication: 9/25/20
ASIN : B08JZJ69YN
Come to western England’s Welsh Marches and the wickedly, spookily fun Halloween Ball at Caynham Castle. Let the Earl of Caynham and his fiancé welcome you into Halloween fun.
Lovers from Cape May, New Jersey, take a Halloween holiday at the magnificent Caynham Castle in Secrets and Ciphers. As their love and trust deepens, they also stumble across and solve a 700 year old mystery! Enjoy this M/M Romance with Morgan Brice’s Erik and Ben from Treasure Trail.
Follow an archeologist witch from Idaho as she tangles with a sexy photographer from the witchiest town in America, Jeanne Adams’s Haven Harbor, Massachusetts. In Trouble Under the Tower, they discover a hidden chapel, fend off thieves, and help put a dark entity to rest. Somewhere in all that trouble, love sneaks in!
In Mr. Never Again, spies from Nancy Northcott’s Arachnid Agency come to Caynham Castle to guard a weapons designer and her family. When her son goes missing, her loyalty may be at risk. Hunting for him offers Blaine and Dana a second chance at love if they’re brave enough to take it.
In Caren Crane’s tale, Murky Waters, a landscape architect from Massachusetts finds much more than he expects, both in a floral designer from his friend’s shop, and in the woods south of Caynham Castle. Discovery of an evil waterborne spirit threatens the new love he has found, unless his lover figures out how to set him free.
Four spooky, witchy, spirit-filled stories set against the stunning background of Caynham Castle’s epic Halloween Ball and Bonfire Night!
Excerpt Secrets and Ciphers by Morgan Brice:
“So when you said ‘castle,’ you really meant—holy shit! That’s a friggin’ castle!” Ben Nolan’s eyes went wide as the hired car pulled into the parking area at Caynham Castle.
Erik Mitchell laughed. “What did you think I meant?”
Ben shook his head, still staring at the large stone building partially hidden within the inner bailey walls. “I thought you meant like Biltmore. Or San Simeon out in California. You know—a big, fancy house built by a gazillionaire. But this is an actual castle!”
“Parts of it date back to the eleven hundreds,” Erik replied, nudging Ben to get him to open his door so their driver could retrieve their luggage. “The fortifications were meant to withstand warfare. It’s been continually inhabited by the Mortimer family for nine hundred years.”
“Wait until I tell my sister-in-law. She thinks it’s extra special that she lives in the same house her grandparents built.”
Erik paid the driver, and then he and Ben stepped to the side of the lot, awaiting the golf cart that would take them closer to the entrance. Caynham Castle had been converted to a hotel back in the 1930s, combining history, fine food, exceptional comfort, and aristocratic flair for those who yearned for a memorable destination.
“For the U.S., that’s an accomplishment,” Erik said with a shrug. “Different places, different times.”
“And you’re friends with the guy who owns it? The duke?”
“Earl,” Erik replied distractedly, checking his text messages to assure that they were in the right place to catch their ride.
“Oh, earl. My bad.” Ben rolled his eyes.
“And I’d say we’re more friendly colleagues than drinking buddies,” Erik answered. “He was the patron of the task force I served on around a fraud investigation in a major museum. We hit it off. He’s very down-to-earth. You’ll like him.”
“Are you on his Christmas card list?”
Erik gave him a weird look. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“I get a holiday card from my mailman too. It’s a polite fiction. Doesn’t make us besties.”
“So you do get a card from the earl?” Ben pressed.
Erik sighed and gave him a look of fond exasperation. “Yes. Are you happy now? It’s a very fancy card with foil stamping and laser die-cuts, and the signature is printed on the card. In case you were keeping track.”
“My dad always got a Christmas card from Earl Denning, the guy who ran the lawnmower repair shop near our house in Newark,” Ben said. “Not quite the same thing.”
Erik laid a hand on Ben’s shoulder as if he could guess what was bothering him. “Relax. I never thought you’d feel uncomfortable. I just wanted to spoil you a little.” He gave Ben a coaxing look that usually melted any hesitation.
“I’ve been to fancy places, just not quite this fancy,” Ben admitted, wondering if any of the clothing he had brought with him would be suitable. Well, at least there’s the tux Erik had me get for Jaxon’s big gala. But I don’t think I can wear that all week.
“Think of it as a museum,” Erik cajoled. “And remember what I told you about the food and the cake at the castle tea shop.”
Ben smiled, forcing his insecurities to the back of his mind. Erik had planned this trip to give them both some much-needed time off together, and Ben didn’t want to dim that glow.
“I’m looking forward to all of it,” he assured Erik. “The castle part just took me by surprise.”
“Because I totally tricked you into coming to a castle by telling you we were coming to a castle,” Erik said, but Ben could see his partner’s worried frown had eased.
“Yeah. You’re sneaky like that,” Ben teased.
About Morgan Brice:
Morgan Brice is the romance pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy male/male paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the happily ever after. Gail writes epic fantasy and urban fantasy, and together with co-author hubby Larry N. Martin, steampunk and comedic horror, all of which have less romance, more explosions. Characters from her Gail books make frequent appearances in secondary roles in her Morgan books, and vice versa.
On the rare occasions Morgan isn’t writing, she’s either reading, cooking, or spoiling two very pampered dogs.
Series include Witchbane, Badlands, Treasure Trail, Kings of the Mountain and Fox Hollow. Watch for more in these series, plus new series coming soon!
Facebook Group: www.Facebook.com/groups/WorldsOfMorganBrice
Pinterest www.Pinterest.com/Gzmartin
Twitter: @MorganBriceBook
Sign up for my newsletter and never miss a new release: http://eepurl.com/dy_8oL
Read a copy of my Badlands short story Restless Nights here for free: https://claims.prolificworks.com/free/js6x0fq8
Follow me on BookBub https://www.bookbub.com/authors/morgan-brice
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/morganbriceauthor/
Amazon profile: https://www.amazon.com/Morgan-Brice/e/B07CKVZSR1
ExcerptTrouble Under the Tower by Jeanne Adams:
“Good afternoon, sir.” The desk clerk greeted him with a broad smile. The warmly lit area boasted stone walls, rich wood and a softly burning fire. It was also gaily decorated for Halloween with carved pumpkins and a dish of candy on the desk. “Checking in?”
“Yes, thank you.” The dark-haired woman smiled as he gave his name. “Alden McDonald.”
“Oh! A double welcome then as you’re here as the guest of the earl and Dr. Alden.” Obviously connecting the names, she frowned. “Are you related?”
He grinned. In Haven Harbor, most of the families were intertwined in one generation or another. “A very long time ago, someone married someone. My family resurrected the name.”
The Alden name kept hanging around in most Haven Harbor families.
“I didn’t think people celebrated Halloween this much in England. I thought that was an American thing.” He gestured toward the ghost.
The receptionist grinned. “It’s catching on over here a bit more. You may already know, we’re hosting a 1920s themed Halloween Ball for charity..”
Ah. That explained it.
“Welcome to Caynham Castle, Dr. McDonald. Do let us know if there’s anything you need. Patrick will drive you up to your room in the castle proper.”
Nodding, he retraced his steps to the waiting golf cart. “Tell me about the towers,” he said to Patrick as he gave the young man his room number.
Patrick grinned. “Which ones? The one you’ll be staying in? The one the ghost of Lady Alice Neville’s daughter haunts? The one with the bar?”
“All of them.”
He listened in delight as Patrick pointed out Caynham Tower. Secret passages and hidden doors. What was not to love about that, especially this near Halloween?
“Now the tower you’re staying in, sir,,,” Patrick pointed at the bulk of the main building after they came out from under the second curtain wall archway into the inner ward. “That one’s the Challenge Tower. Some say they hear the ring of swords on the landing as you go up the stairs.”
“Swords?”
“Yes, indeed. See, the sixth earl caught his daughter’s suitor in her room.” Patrick wiggled his eyebrows to give extra meaning to the statement. “The earl challenged the guy to a duel. They battled up and down the hall. You can still see the sword marks.”
“Did the earl kill the suitor?”
“Nah.” Patrick’s youthful enthusiasm was infectious. “The man kept saying he wanted to marry the daughter––so the earl disarmed him and ordered the young scallywag brought to the library.” Patrick used a growly voice to mimic the sixth earl’s demand. “They wrote up the marriage documents then and there.
Laughing, Alden got out of the cart and headed into the main castle building. Patrick would follow with his luggage, so he headed up a set of stone steps with a thick glossy wooden railing.
He paused on the second landing and opened his magical senses. As if summoned, the faintest clash of swords rang in his ears and he felt the rush of cold that indicated ghosts were afoot.
Once settled in the room, Alden took time enough to wash up and change into jeans. Slipping on his well-broken-in hiking boots, he headed out for a meal.
Sebelle trotted up the stairs, heading for her room. It had taken every ounce of control she had to stop work for the day on the archeological site under Caynham Tower.
When they’d cleared the floor of the hidden rooms, they’d found a trap door in the floor.
A. Trap. Door.
Who knew what they would find beneath it?
“A trap door!” she exulted dancing over the expansive landing. She bounced up the stairs, only looking up at the last minute when she sensed something.
“Whoa!” The absentminded guy in the tweed jacket took a step down into her path. He was looking at the tapestry on the opposite wall.
“What? Oh, sorry,” he exclaimed, catching the railing to steady himself. His hand brushed hers and she felt a warm glow.
Uh-oh. He had magic.
“No, I should have taken the other side. My mind was elsewhere…” She stopped. He was perfectly still, his brow furrowed.
“You’re Dr. Sebelle Turturro. The head archeologist for the Caynham Tower project.”
“Yes.” She braced herself. He could be a reporter. Most guests were unaware of the study. Absolutely no one but her team knew about the trap door.
“Fascinating stuff. Hidden passages. Leaping ghosts. Secret rooms.” He stopped, his gaze unfocused. “You’re…”
Oh, no. This could be a mansplaining moment––a losing proposition––or questions about her visibly multiracial heritage––black, Polynesian and white––her gender, or her curvy body, or some other obtrusively asinine thing. Knowing about magic, and having enough for a spark, frequently turned men into assholes.
“I’m?” she finally asked, because she had to break the tension.
“The Dr. Turturro who wrote the paper on the disappearance of the Etruscan.”
Surprised––shocked, really––she smiled. “You read it? She wracked her brain for who he might be. Her study team was already assembled.
“Dr. Alden McDonald. Your photographer.” He extended his hand and they both gasped at the magical current that ran through the connection. “And a fellow practitioner, I take it?”
Their hands still joined, she gave a cautious nod. Hard to argue you weren’t into the woo-woo and witchy when you met someone who made your hand spark like a live wire.
“I generally don’t admit it.”
“I get that.” Alden opened his mouth to say more, but instead he cocked his head. “Do you hear it?”
She stilled her surprise at his easy acceptance, and listened.
Harsh, panting breaths. The ring of steel on steel. A thump. A gasp of pain or surprise.
“What the hell?” She broke their connection and pivoted. The noise from the landing. faded. Only a ripple of the tapestry gave a hint of something mysterious.
About Jeanne Adams:
Jeanne Adams writes award-winning romantic suspense, paranormal and urban fantasies, as well as space opera that’s been compared to the works of Robert Heinlein and Jack McDevitt. She’s also a sought-after speaker, teaching classes on body disposal for writers, worldbuilding and collaboration, plotting for pantzers and how to write a fight scene that works!
Jeanne lives in Washington, DC with her husband and two growing sons, as well as three dogs – two Labs and an Irish Water Spaniel. Don’t tell, but she’s prone to adopting more dogs when her husband isn’t looking.
Featured in Cosmopolitan Magazine, and other publications, her books have been consistently hailed as “One of the best Suspense Books of the Year!” by Romantic Times and “Stunningly realistic space adventure” by Amazon reviewers.
You can find her books on all major platforms, and connect with her on the web at:
Twitter at www.twitter.com/JeanneAdams
Facebook www.Facebook.com/JeanneAdamsAuthor
Excerpt Mr. Never Again by Nancy Northcott:
Even a babysitting assignment could go horribly wrong. Especially when you were watching an engineer to be sure she didn’t illegally sell a government-backed weapons system. In the wrong hands, well…World War III, anyone?
Even so, there would be tiny moments to enjoy the perks of the situation. Like several days staying in an actual castle, The Caynham Castle Hotel, on the boss’s dime.
Dana Gresham swung her rented sedan around a curve, and the town of Caynham-on-Ledwyche came into view. A few minutes later, she was driving through a charming mixture of half-timbered, medieval buildings interspersed with Tudor brick, Georgian stone and more modern styles. If she didn’t get to see more of it while on duty, she would stay a day or so after and explore.
There was only one fly in the ointment, and she absolutely would not think about him until she had to. Which would be when she checked into the hotel in approximately ten minutes and informed him she was here. Until then, no harm in admiring the quaint little town. Or the castle now looming above the trees ahead on her right.
Her cell phone buzzed, the tone a signal that the call came from her employer, the multinational, covert agency known as Arachnid, or from another employee. The car’s dash display read, Harris, and Dana grimaced. She’d jinxed herself by thinking about him.
Pressing the button on the steering wheel, she took the call. “Gresham.”
She turned left on Caynham Castle Road. The castle drive lay a little way ahead on her right.
“What’s your ETA?” Blaine Harris’s deep voice still sent ripples through her, and wasn’t that aggravating? Dana grimaced. She needed to get her hormones under better control.
It wasn’t like him to be so abrupt, though. Frowning, she replied, “About ten minutes. I just drove through town. Why?”
“Vidhur Mahajan has gone missing.”
The ten-year-old son of their subject. Personal considerations dropped away, and Dana mentally summoned an area map. “How long ago?”
“Nobody’s sure. Apparently, he wanders off every once in a while. The family was in the group touring the castle garden and beehives—lots of shifting positions to see things, a bunch of kids along, and everybody feeling safe on the Earl of Caynham’s private land. With his private bees.”
That dry tone hinted that he found Caynham-on-Ledwyche’s bee products industry baffling. She swung into the car park for a church and stopped.
“When they returned to the hotel,” he continued, “they realized Vidhur and this other kid had taken a powder. The family seems more exasperated than worried.”
The family being Dr. Kara Mahajan, her widowed sister, Bhavna Chaudry, and Vidhur’s fourteen-year-old sister, Aaliyah.
“She feels safe here,” he added. “Even the kid wandering off doesn’t especially worry either her because he likes to do that. She encourages it as fostering his independence.”
“Yeah, well, there are limits.” As the eldest of five, having been responsible for the younger ones while her widowed dad worked two jobs to keep food on the table, Dana wasn’t exactly lacking experience with kids.
“Maybe they just wandered off, but how do we know?” she asked. “Could the group who want to buy his mom’s weapons system be looking for a little insurance? We know they want to buy, but nothing we’ve seen gives me a strong feeling she wants to sell.”
“Wouldn’t you at least think about it in her shoes?”
“Probably. Wouldn’t you?”
Mahajan’s husband had been tortured and murdered by Pakistani intelligence. If she carried a grudge, nobody could blame her. Acting on it by selling India a weapons system underwritten by the British government, however, would take that too far.
“But if she doesn’t want to sell,” Dana continued, “what better leverage than one of her kids?” If that was the case, this assignment had just become a clusterfuck.
“Yeah. So we need to find that kid asap. If we can’t, well…”
“I know. I’m at the church. Where should I go from here?”
“Officers from MI5 masquerading as local detectives are questioning the family while the rest of their team fanned out to search,” Blaine said.
The Security Service had point on this with Arachnid, meaning Dana and Blaine, as backup. The British government thought no one would suspect two Americans of working with them.
“I’m on the path to Saxon Hundred, northwest of Caynham-on-Ledwyche,” he informed her.
“Because Vidhur Mahajan’s into gaming and there’s a game store there.”
“Got it in one. Meanwhile, you swing through Caynham and see if you spot them. One more set of eyes always helps.”
“On it. Keep me posted.”
“Back atcha.”
Blaine wasn’t one for phone etiquette, so the sudden absence of sound was her only cue that they were done.
Heading back onto Caynham Castle Road, Dana frowned at the picturesque buildings. What in this quaint town would draw a ten-year-old interested in robotics and gaming?
Was searching in the town a waste of precious time?
If someone had snatched the boys, any useful information lay back at the castle.
About Nancy Northcott:
Nancy Northcott’s childhood ambition was to grow up and become Wonder Woman. Around fourth grade, she realized it was too late to acquire Amazon genes, but she still loved comic books, mysteries, science fiction, fantasy, history, and romance. A sucker for fast action and wrenching emotion, Nancy combines the romance and high stakes (and sometimes the magic) she loves in the books she writes.
She’s the author of the Light Mage Wars paranormal romances, the Lethal Webs and Arachnid Files romantic suspense series, and the historical fantasy trilogy The Boar King’s Honor. With author Jeanne Adams, she co-writes the Outcast Station space opera mystery series.
Twitter: @NancyNorthcott
Facebook: https://facebook.com/nancynorthcottauthor
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3468806.Nancy_Northcott
Excerpt Murky Waters by Caren Crane:
Jason Wetherell eyed the limestone castle walls with a weary, appreciative gaze. As a landscape architect, he appreciated how Caynham Castle rose in stately elegance from its environs on the hill. As a traveler, he was grateful for the staff that opened the door of his airport transport, pulled his luggage from the trunk and escorted him to a waiting golf cart.
“Welcome to Castle Caynham, Mr. Wetherell,” the smiling porter said. Though the fact that he knew to expect Jason at this time was a surprise. “Ben will see you to Reception and they’ll get you checked right in.”
He gave the man a baffled nod and folded himself into the golf cart. The young man wasted no time getting him through the imposing stone archways and down the passage to set of very modern-looking entry doors. He saw signs directing guests to Reception on the driver’s side and a busy-looking gift shop on his own side.
“I’ll stay with your bags until you get checked in, sir,” Ben said. “The Reception desk is right through those doors.”
Jason figured he probably should have done some research on Castle Caynham before he got here, but he trip had come up so suddenly he hadn’t. He’d been waiting for an opportunity like the one the Mortimers had in mind for the Caynham property for a long time. His whole career, really. When his old college roommate, Tom Greenbury, called to tell him what the Earl of Caynham had in mind, Jason felt like it was the chance of a lifetime. Even if it meant he had to attend a costume gala happening on Halloween, of all things.
Jason approached the substantial desk and the smiling receptionist, whose name tag read Angela. “Jason Wetherell, checking in,” he said with a smile. “Or did you know that already?”
“Actually, I did know that, Mr. Wetherell,” she said with a smile of her own. “Lord Mortimer gave us your itinerary, so we were tracking your progress. I know there were delays leaving Boston, but we’re glad you’re with us now.”
That explained the personal attention, at least. Jason found it disconcerting to be the center of attention, but he understood the Earl’s interest in his arrival. He was anxious to meet the man. He’d never met anyone with a title before. Then again, he’d never taken on a project with the scope of what the Earl wanted, either.
“You’ll be staying in the Challenge Tower, Mr. Wetherell, which is to the left of the Great Hall,” Angela said, marking his room’s location on a handy map of the Castle. “As you can see, you’re on the top floor of guest rooms, so you’ll have a splendid view of the grounds.”
“Very good,” he said, not knowing enough about the area to appreciate what the view should be. “Who do I need to see about when I’ll be meeting with Lord Mortimer?”
“Ms. Wellbern, Lord Mortimer’s assistant, has left information for you regarding your meeting,” Angela said. “It won’t be until tomorrow, though, so you’ll have today to rest and familiarize yourself with the Castle. And with Caynham-on-Ledwyche, if you’re feeling like going into the town.”
“I think I’ll try to get settled in first and get my bearings,” Jason said, taking the slim folder of information she handed him and tucking it into the inner pocket of his coat. He hadn’t been sure he would need the overcoat, but brought it from an abundance of New England caution. He was glad he had. Not only was the sky gray and threatening more rain, but there was a distinct chill in the air outside. It reminded him of home.
He shook his head and headed back out to the golf cart, not wanting to ruin his first day here with memories and regrets about his home and family. Ben was waiting on him, just as he had promised.
“So where are we headed, Mr. Wetherell?”
“The Challenge Tower, apparently,” Jason said. “I’ll admit to being curious about that name. I’m sure there is a story attached to it.”
“Indeed there is, sir,” Ben said, navigating carefully through the light foot and golf cart traffic to a broad path leading toward a formidable-looking set of towers set into a looming walled fortress.
Jason was a bit floored by the sheer scale of the place, not to mention the impressively-maintained stonework. It had to take a full-time crew just to keep up the point work. Amazing.
“Back in the late 17th century,” Ben said, driving slowly and carefully, “the 6th Earl challenged his daughter's lover to a duel on a landing of the staircase in the Tower. They battled long and hard, up and down the stairs. The young man kept telling the Earl all through the duel that he loved the girl and wanted to marry her, but the Earl wasn’t swayed. The Earl won the duel, but he didn't kill the young man. He was so impressed with his sword work that he had the man bandaged and brought to his library. The men had some brandy and the Earl agreed to the marriage. Ever since then, that tower has been the Challenge Tower.”
“That’s quite a story,” Jason said, amused. “Any grain of truth in it?”
Ben threw him a surprised look. “Of course. You can see the cuts their duel left in the stone for yourself.”
Jason shook his head, astonished that a place with that sort of history was still standing and occupied. At times like this he realized how young America was, even the old parts, like his hometown in Massachusetts.
He was glad to be here and for this chance to do the work he’d dreamed of since he decided to study landscape architecture. But finding project suited to his degree in cultural landscape studies and design was apparently a challenge. He huffed a laugh to himself at the irony of staying in the Challenge Tower.
About Caren Crane:
Caren Crane began writing warm, witty contemporary romance and women's fiction to save herself from the drudgery of life in the office. An electrical engineer by training, she longed to create worlds where things were any color except cube-wall gray. She still works in a cubicle, but gets to hang out with witty, fabulous people whenever she's writing, which greatly encourages butt-in-chair time.
Caren lives in North Carolina with her wonderful husband. She has three fiercely intelligent, gorgeous grown children, having neatly side-stepped her mother’s threat that she would have children Just Like Her.
You can find info and excerpts at:
https://www.facebook.com/CarenCraneAuthor
https://twitter.com/carencrane1
October 22, 2020
Jealousy’s a Witch by Louisa West - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular Guest Blog
What is Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Anyway?
A Conversation with Louisa West
Buffy. Sookie Stackhouse. Elena Gilbert. Bella Swan. If you know one or all of these characters, then there’s a pretty good chance that you like to read paranormal romance. These women range between being kick-ass, plucky, and just plain special—but there’s another thing they all have in common: really hot supernatural love interests. I’m the first to admit that there’s nothing I love better than a Buffy re-watch, or curling up with a Charlaine Harris novel to whittle my time away in a land where Eric Northman exists. But as I get older (sigh), I find myself wanting more out of my paranormal romance.
I want to relate.
I want to feel as though my real-life struggles of bills, and raising a child, and the body-image issues I have are real for the characters I’m reading as well. I want to be able to laugh because I’m not the only one who has problems with her neighbors, or can never fold a fitted sheet (that’s another kind of witchcraft, friends!), or because sex after twenty can sometimes be a little awkward and hilarious at the same time. Life after 35 just gets even more real. At best, you start thinking about long-term plans for your retirement. At worst, you need to be careful about how many cups of coffee you have before you drive to the grocery store fifteen minutes down the road.
Paranormal Women’s Fiction is a rising genre thanks to the collective efforts of a group of women known colloquially online as ‘The Fab13’. The genre touches on what it’s like for ‘mature’ heroines to get by in a modern world, with all the hurdles that life throws in their paths. These women are dealing with issues like divorce, potential homelessness, toxic relationships, and other really gritty, grown-up stuff. But the sparkling platter that these themes are served on comes in the form of literal magical circumstances, witty one-liners, love interests that are hotter than Hades and women who are empowered to not only move forward but to do so while coming fully into their own power.
Typically, the heroines of these books are over forty. It’s kind of that golden age where you’ve lived enough of life to know what’s what, but also you’ve seen enough to know that you just don’t have the time or energy to put up with any more crap from anyone. It also means that you’re probably not as perky or unwrinkled as you once were (if you are, leave your skin-care and exercise routines in the comments below!). For me, reading these books and getting to know these women who not only face who they are but fly that Older and Fabulous flag proudly has been an absolute joy.
So it made sense that my next series would be written in the same vein.
The main character in my Midlife in Mosswood series is Rosemary Bell, a thirty-nine year old mom who finds the courage to finally leave a toxic relationship. While she’s petrified of starting over again, Rosie and her young daughter Maggie soon settle into the slow rhythm of life in a small town. Rosie is resilient hard-working, and desperate to raise her daughter right. She’s also emotionally damaged, untrusting, and determined to hold everyone except Maggie at arm’s length. Throughout the series Rosie must face not only her past with her ex, but also her family history. She learns how to be a better mom, and how to navigate the challenges of living in a small town when you’re obviously different and more than a little out of your depth. And she also finds a way forward for herself, finding out that she’s actually a witch and that there’s possibly and handsome Irish witch King in her future.
The Paranormal Women’s Fiction genre has set up new expectations for books about older women written by older women. I’m thrilled to be part of it!
Jealousy’s a WitchMidlife in Mosswood Book TwoLouisa WestGenre: Paranormal Women’s FictionPublisher: Louisa WestDate of Publication: September 30, 2020ASIN: B087KYLF3NNumber of pages: 170 (eBook)Word Count: 50,000Cover Artist: Louisa West
Book Description:
She thought the thriller part of her life was behind her. But when the man she’s falling for has a sinister secret, she’s no longer sure whether he’s a trick or a treat.
Rosemary Bell is a witch for Halloween… and every other day of the year. And that’s not even the weirdest thing about her life. Her ex-husband is a turtle, her daughter Maggie's new best friend is an imaginary kangaroo, and the guy sleeping on her couch is a King—as well as her fated lover.
Just as she’s starting to fall for Declan, Rosie gets spooked by a revelation that leaves her wondering whether she is really meant to be his Queen. And as a new houseguest quickly proves, promises don’t always mean forever. When a sexy choir girl arrives in town with her eyes set on Rosie’s King and crown, she will have to decide for herself what her destiny is, and soon.
Struggling between caring for Declan and caring for herself, Rosie has better luck advising her friends what to do about their love lives than tending to her own. But when Maggie goes missing on All Hallow’s Eve, Rosie is forced to admit that jealousy’s a witch - literally!
The Good Witch meets Hocus Pocus in this short novel about stepping into new shoes, choosing who you’re going to be, and never letting fear decide your fate, even on Halloween.
Jealousy’s a Witch is the second book in the heartwarming new Midlife in Mosswood series by Louisa West. Available exclusive to Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited.
Amazon US Amazon CA Amazon UK Amazon AU
Excerpt – Jealousy’s a Witch
The sounds of the hot summer afternoon seemed dulled by the arrival of Tammy. She looked sheepishly between Declan and Rosie, her knuckles tight around the laundry bag of clothes she held like Santa Claus’ sack over one pudgy shoulder.
“I hope I’m not imposin’,” she said softly, even though it was clear that she knew she was. “Only that...well!” Unshed tears suddenly welled in her eyes, and she tried a combination of blinking and fanning her wedding-ring devoid hand in front of her face to stop them from falling.
Declan looked from Rosie to Tammy and then back again, as though trying to weigh up how useful he might be in a situation like this versus how much damage he might cause by way of a poorly timed and probably inappropriate joke. “I think I better check on the painting crew,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck as he took off for less emotional turf.
Rosie crossed over to the table, set down the potato salad she had been carrying. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll pour us some lemonade,” she suggested. Tammy nodded mutely, swiping at the tears now streaking down her face. Two sips of lemonade seemed to give her the confidence she needed to carry through with the story.
“I’m so sorry to barge in on y’all like this,” she sniffled, “but I didn’t know where else to go.”
Rosie thought back to the day Tammy had rolled up to the cottage as part of Prissy’s entourage. She had seemed like the only genuine woman out of the three. Rosie had felt terrible when Tammy had seen her husband Terry making a pass at her the day he’d come out to the cottage to ‘offer his services’ as a handyman. She hadn’t seen her since that day, but it didn’t look like things had improved for her any.
“You don’t need to apologize,” Rosie told her, “so let’s get that out of the way right-quick. We’re havin’ a cook-out, and you’re officially invited.”
Tammy offered a weak smile in return, sipping her lemonade. “Thank you.”
Rosie smiled back. “You’re welcome. Now,” she added, glancing up at the cottage. “I feel duty-bound to tell you that at any minute we’re likely to be infiltrated by a rush of starving teenage boys, an Irishman with a huge appetite, a girl who can put away three hotdogs in one sitting, and a turtle that—”
“—a turtle?”
“Long story,” Rosie grinned.
About the Author:Author by day, Netflix connoisseur by night.
Louisa likes Pina Coladas and gettin’ caught in the rain. Determined to empty her brain of stories, she writes across several genres including fantasy, speculative fiction, contemporary and historical fiction, and romance.
She lives in Mandurah, Western Australia, and drinks more coffee than is good for her. When she’s not writing or researching projects, Louisa enjoys spending time with her family, and Harriet The Great (Dane). Hobbies include playing video games, watching copious amounts of tv, and various craft-related initiatives.
She strongly believes that the truth is still out there.
Website: www.louisawest.com
Reader Group: www.facebook.com/groups/magicalmayhem
Facebook: www.facebook.com/louisawestauthor
Instagram: www.instagram.com/louisa_west
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com.au/louisawestauthor
Amazon: www.amazon.com/Louisa-West/e/B088C2BD4F
GoodReads: www.goodreads.com/louisawest
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A Bewitching Thursday
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Trick or Treat at Caynham Castle by Jeanne Adams, Morgan Brice, Caren Crane, Nancy Northcott - PNR, Paranormal Romantic Suspense #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/RxCO50BZz5X
Spiritwalker #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/yLPo50BZz2o
Residual Magic [Book Tour with Excerpt]
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Rise By Moonlight (By Moonlight Book 15) by Nancy Gideon + giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/WU8c50BZyYv
Haunted Halloween Spooktacular ~ Shifter Shakedown by S. Peters-Davis @spdavis788 ~ Ghost Guardians, Book One by S. Peters-Davis #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/nb5g50BZyDi
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Please Welcome Susan Mac Nicol as She Tells Us About Her Paranormal/Urban Fantasy MM Romance, Double Alchemy #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/oYP950BZyhE
Alpha's Revenge by Catherine Stine - Book Tour + Giveaway #bewitchingbooktours
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Playlist- Spiritwalker by Tanith Davenport
https://unchartedroutes.com/2020/10/2...
A Warrior’s Kiss by Celia Breslin
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Residual Magic by Suzanne M Sabol
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Haunted Halloween Spooktacular: Jealousy's a Witch by Louisa West
http://mommasaystoreadornottoread.blo...
Trick or Treat at Caynham Castle #PNR #paranormalromance
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Soul Seeker by Kaylin McFarren #SupernaturalThriller
http://www.roxannerhoads.com/2020/10/...
October 21, 2020
A Bewitching Wednesday
Author Interview - Soul Seeker by Kaylin McFarren #SupernaturalThriller #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/GDd250BYuMi
Playlist- Spiritwalker by Tanith Davenport https://unchartedroutes.com/2020/10/2...
Trick or Treat at Caynham Castle #bewitchingbooktours
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The Genesis of Seven by Sara M Schaller @saramschaller ~ #YA #Fantasy ~ The Empyrean Trilogy, Book One #bewitchingbooktours
https://saphsbooks.blogspot.com/2020/...
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#bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/4QTT50BYuTx
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Spooktacular Spotlight on #Paranormal #WomensFiction: Midlife in Mosswood by Louisa West #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/H6K350BYuFV
Ghost Guardians by S. Peters-Davis - Book Tour + Giveaway #bewitchingbooktours
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Fighting for Home by Kim Richards - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/Maev50BYuyb
Double Alchemy by Susan Mac Nicol - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular #bewitchingbooktours
https://paranormalists.blogspot.com/2...
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Residual Magic by Suzanne M Sabol
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Residual Magic by Suzanne M Sabol
Residual MagicBlood and Bone LegacyBook TwoSuzanne M Sabol
Genre: Urban Fantasy, New AdultPublisher: Soul Mate PublishingDate of Publication: 10/21/2020ISBN: 978-1-64716-143-9ASIN: Number of pages: 357Word Count: 104,215Cover Artist: Rae Monet
Tagline: To save Ev and Tag, Brittany must master the powerful magic of a goddess to stop a sorcerer from raising the Goddess of Carnage from manifesting through the cauldron.
Book Description:
Brittany is a long way from the scared witch who watched a necromancer murder her mother. She’s grown and more powerful than even she realized as the sorceress she truly is. But all the magic in the world doesn’t mean anything if her best friend and werewolf, Everett Cooper, rejects her again. How many times can a person’s heart break? Brittany isn’t willing to find out. So, when another werewolf asks her out on an actual date, she jumps at the invitation.
Caught between two werewolves, Brittany will need all her friends when one of the pack goes missing. But nothing is ever easy, and magic has a cost that they may not be willing to pay. A trail of disappearances follow in Brittany’s wake, as someone tracks her every magical movement. But to what purpose? To what end?
Brittany has been powerful.
Brittany has been patient.
Now, will Brittany be enough to save her friends . . . and the world?
Amazon
Excerpt:
Chapter 1
Caught by Surprise
“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” I mumbled, as Tag’s question tumbled around in my head. My brain hitched, unable to follow. The kitchen island was a hard edge at my back as I clutched the sweating glass of soda tight in my hand. Huh, the refrigerator door was open. Did I leave that open? That’s such a waste of energy. Why was I worrying about the electric bill and the energy? God, Brittany, pull it together. Focus!
“I asked if you would like to go to dinner with me,” the werewolf asked . . . again. “On a date,” he clarified as if I hadn’t understood the first time. In all honesty, I hadn’t. I was staring at him with my mouth gaping open wide enough to catch flies but I couldn’t seem to snap myself out of a stupefied shock. His lips turned up in a teasing smirk that made my gut tighten and my brow crinkle in confusion.
“A date?” I asked, my voice uneven and hesitant as I considered. As many times as I’d dreamed of being asked that question by a werewolf—and I had, many many MANY times—the werewolf in my daydreams had never been Tag.
Stewart Taggar was long and lean, towering over my five foot six inches. I wasn’t a giant but I wasn’t tiny either. His red hair was more carrot than auburn but it seemed to shimmer when set against his bronzed skin. He was muscled but not bulky like a lot of the werewolves in the pack. He gazed down at me now in a way that was new or maybe it wasn’t and I just hadn’t noticed. He’d always treated me—I’d thought—like a little sister. Honestly, most of the pack did. Yes, I was only twenty-two and decades or centuries younger than most of the wolves and vampires but that didn’t mean I was a child. Tag wasn’t looking at me like I was a kid, that’s for sure. And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that development.
“Aren’t you a little old for her?” a gruff, clipped voice called from the kitchen doorway. Without my knowledge or permission, my body reacted to that voice in ways that made heat creep into my cheeks. Everett Cooper was three or four inches taller than me at most; lean and muscular. He seemed to be gaining bulk every day and it looked good on him. His sandy blond hair was styled away from his face, exposing the deep navy-blue of his eyes. His gaze fell on me like a weight, not crushing or overwhelming but comforting and all too familiar.
“That’s for her to decide, pup,” Tag responded, with an edge of condescension in his last word that surprised me.
Tag and Ev were friends, or at least had been, I’d thought. I wasn’t sure what was going on between them lately, but something was definitely up. Standing between them, I was ridiculously uncomfortable. Tension boiled in the kitchen until it was a physical heat against my skin as the two werewolves faced off. Sweat beaded on my upper lip. I was waiting for one of them to pee on me and mark their territory or something dumb like that. To be honest, I only wanted one of them to pee on me. Oh God, that didn’t sound right.
“She’s not going anywhere with you, old man,” Ev growled, squaring his shoulders. I perked up at that statement. I may be desperately in-love with Everett Cooper in a shameful and embarrassing sort of way, I wasn’t fool enough to lie to myself anymore about that fact. I was head-over-heels in-love with the idiot. That didn’t mean he could order me around like a piece of property. Because he couldn’t. I did not belong to him.
“Whoa whoa whoa!” I huffed out, throwing my shoulders back in irritation and raising my chin in defiance. I was a strong independent woman, darn it, and even if Ev was the man of my dreams, I wasn’t going to let him talk about me like a piece of meat.
Yes, Ev had kissed me a couple of weeks ago. Yes, it had been a-maz-ing. And yes, I’d said I would wait for him to figure his stupid, insecure, man-baby crap out. But it had been more weeks than I’d like to admit since our kiss and I was tired of waiting for this grown man to figure out what he was going to do with me. If anything. Maybe a little fire under his rear end would move his addled brain along. Or maybe he’d decide I wasn’t worth the effort and let me go. Either way, it was good to know . . . wasn’t it? That’s what I told myself, anyway.
Both men turned, meeting my heavy—okay, angry—stare. I was too young and too cute for heavy. I just didn’t have the menace behind any stare to classify as heavy. Feisty anger though, I could do.
“First,” I started, meeting Ev’s deep, dark, and penetrating gaze. Ugh, he was so cute. Shake it off, Britt. Pull yourself together. “You’re not the boss of me,” I hissed. Tag snorted in laughter and I turned on him, “Second, don’t provoke him.” Tag had the good sense to drop the grin on his face and appear suitably apologetic. “Third,” I said with a bright and cheerful smile that was actually true, and my smiles hadn’t been true for a very long time. “Tag, I would love to go to dinner with you.”
“What?” Ev erupted, wide-eyed surprise clear on his face as he took an aggressive step in my direction.
Ignoring Ev’s apparent surprise, Tag stepped in front of me with his back to Ev, blocking my view of the angry werewolf. “I’ll pick you up tonight at seven.” Clutching my hand in his, Tag squeezed reassuringly and smiled down at me in a way that made me feel like I was his whole world. Something about that expression made my insides flutter and I couldn’t help but grin back at him. I hadn’t expected that look in his eyes or my reaction to his attention. Did that make me an attention-starved idiot? Ugh, maybe it did.
“I’ll be ready,” I said, feeling giddy at the prospect of just being wanted. Yep, attention-starved idiot right here. He squeezed my hand again and strode by Ev, his head just a little bit higher.
“My shift starts soon, so I’ve gotta go but dress up tonight,” he said over his shoulder. “We’re going someplace upscale.”
“We don’t have to,” I said, suddenly feeling awkward at the thought of Tag spending money on me. Somehow, I didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of a fancy date. I could clean up, for sure, but I wasn’t very comfortable—like it wasn’t me but a bizzaro-world version of me.
Tag stopped, maybe hearing the uncertainty in my voice or wanting to drive the knife into Ev a little deeper, I don’t know. He turned to me and said, “You deserve the best, Brittany,” meeting my uncertain gaze with a self-confident grin. I blinked hard at him, seeing the man instead of my friend. It was the first time since we’d met—that I could remember, anyway— that he’d called me anything but “G”. He liked to refer to me as Glenda the Good Witch of the North because, by his own words, I had been all pink-fluffy-witchy-goodness when he’d first met me.
Tag continued, “You deserve so much more than anyone can or has ever given you.” With that last parting jibe, he left to go to work at the coroner’s office.
The front door closed behind Tag and silence descended on the kitchen. Uncomfortable and now, suddenly anxious, I turned and made my way around the overly large island toward the stairs. I took the long way around the island, clutching my soda close to my chest and letting the condensation soak into my shirt in an effort to keep as much space between me and Ev as I could.
“You said you’d give me time,” he whispered, sounding pained, or maybe that was anger. I couldn’t tell. Living in a house full of werewolves and vampires meant that nothing was really private unless you worked really hard to keep it that way. At that moment, I couldn’t decipher if he was protecting my privacy or his own.
“I did,” I agreed, turning to meet his now sea-foam green eyes. His wolf was close to the surface, magic flooded his irises with his wolf’s power. That show of power would have worried most people. But not me. I knew in my gut that neither Ev, nor his wolf, would ever hurt me. “I also told you not to wait too long or you might miss your chance.” I was so proud of myself, managing to get the words out without my voice shaking too much. I made my way around him with my shoulders back and my head high, looking to escape as quickly as my two feet would carry me.
“Brit,” he sighed, reaching for me, he caught my hip with the tips of his fingers. I froze at the touch as heat pooled in my center. My breath hitched in my throat and my fingers tightened around the glass. He made me stop and meet his questioning gaze instead of retreating up to my room like I desperately wanted. Ev and I lived in the same house with the vampire colony liege, the werewolf pack alpha, and their significant other—The Blushing Death. It’s a long and complicated story. Our living arrangement had made the last few weeks . . . awkward at best. “Brit, I—” he started but didn’t seem to know how to finish.
“Ev,” I said, wanting very much to ditch this mostly embarrassing and gruesomely uncomfortable conversation. “I’m not your mate. We both know it,” I said, the words sticking in my throat a bit. Werewolves had a mystical fated mate. Some werewolves found that mate over the course of their lifetime and some didn’t. Kurt, the pack Beta, had described it as a string tugging in his chest that linked directly to his mate’s heart.
Voicing the unequivocal fact that I was not Ev’s mate, made my heart break a little bit more each time I said it. Actually, a lot. It crushed me to my very soul. I cannot overstate this fact. Knowing I wasn’t his mate broke me on a foundational level. But the reality was, werewolves had fated mates and I wasn’t Ev’s.
He closed his eyes and breathed deep.
“It’s not fair to me to keep beating around this bush when nothing will ever come of it,” I said around the defeat lodged in my throat.
“You’re not Tag’s mate,” he growled as if that solved everything.
“No, you’re right about that,” I said, very proud of myself for not bursting into tears. “But I don’t love him,” I whispered, wishing desperately that I could suck those words back in. But I couldn’t. I’d said them out loud and to his face. There was no going back now.
His gaze narrowed on me in question and what I thought might be pity. I don’t think I could stand it if he pitied me. Before I could let that thought sink in, he asked, “Then why?”
“Because HE can’t crush me,” I answered succinctly. Blinking back the hot tears now flooding my eyes, I shifted my hip out from under his soft touch and made my way up to my room. Carefully, I closed the door behind me and finally released the tears I’d managed not to shed in front of Everett Cooper.
“Crying again?” a distant voice teased from my desk.
“Stay out of it, Cerridwyn!” I hissed, not wanting either of our voices to be heard by anyone. Everyone pretty much thought the succubus-witch that had killed ten people across Columbus and almost destroyed our house was dead. I hadn’t had the guts or the stomach to kill her. But I had managed to drag her soul out of her body and shove it into an amber amulet. Thinking back on it now, I’m not entirely sure I chose the kinder option. Maybe this was why the preternatural community thought sorceri were evil. Wynne certainly didn’t like being confined to the amulet. I was working up to telling everyone that I’d messed up on that one. Actually, I was trying to find a way to banish her so I wouldn’t have to confess my mistake to anyone. That seemed like a better idea. It was just taking longer than I’d thought. Especially if I didn’t want to destroy her soul in the process which I didn’t.
“So young and stupid,” she muttered loudly, clearly wanting me to hear her.
“I don’t need your two cents, Wynne,” I snapped. I’d come to my room for quiet but had forgotten about the nagging succubus currently residing in the amulet on my desk. How had I ever forgotten? The woman took every opportunity to gripe, badger, harass, or simply voice her opinions. I’d tried silencing her with my magic but it hadn’t worked. Sometimes my magic just did what I wanted with a single thought. Other times, I couldn’t do the simplest parlor tricks. My whole life, all I’d ever been told was how powerful I was. But since my mother’s murder, I haven’t been able to get anything to work right. It was either all or nothing at all. Unless, that is, I was cornered. Then everything seemed to work just fine.
“What two cents? I have no money,” Wynne replied, confused.
I smiled to myself at her confusion. Having been stuck in a vast wasteland of desert and mirrors the succubus-witch had dubbed the In-Between for more than a millennium, sometimes Wynne’s understanding of colloquialisms wasn’t up to scratch. I don’t know why I thought it was funny, but I did.
“Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that you are young and stupid. How many times have you cried over that boy? Too many to count by my opinion.” She huffed at me as if I was wasting her time. All she had was time. Plus, I was pretty sure she secretly loved it. I’d come to understand that Wynne liked to be needed. Who didn’t though? That was the point, wasn’t it? I wanted to be wanted and needed and it didn’t seem like Ev wanted or needed me at all. But maybe Tag did.
“Well, you’ll be glad to know that I have a date tonight,” I said, my chin high. I couldn’t keep the pleased grin from my face, even through the tears. When she stared at me, the words clearly not registering in her mind I added, “I’m going to be spending time with someone tonight in a romantic way . . . a man.”
“The boy finally became a man,” she grumbled and this time I wasn’t so sure she’d intended for me to hear her.
“Ev?” I asked, confused but continued on, “No, Tag. I’m going to dinner with Tag.”
“The soul stealer?” she asked, and I could hear the surprise and disgust in her voice. She almost spat to ward off evil spirits. I could almost see her bright blue eyes the size of saucers in astonishment from the small amulet.
“Wynne,” I said. “Redheads don’t steal souls. They just don’t.” I sighed. “But you know who does?” I asked and she was quiet for a moment, waiting. “Succubi. Succubi steal souls and that’s you.” When she didn’t respond—because I had her on that one—I said, “Tag is a nice guy. He’s steady. And he wants me.”
“Ahh,” she responded in a way that made my blood boil, as if she saw everything and I saw nothing.
“Ahh? What does ahhh mean?” I hissed, angry now. It felt good to be angry and show it. Turns out, I’d been angry for a while and keeping it pent up wasn’t doing me any favors. For some reason though, I felt completely comfortable showing anger to Wynne.
“Nothing,” she clipped, pleased with herself. “Just . . . ahh. Have fun on your . . . date,” she said with a snide lilt. And in the blink of an eye, she was gone, retreating back into her amulet to let me stew. I hated when she did that. She put just enough doubt in my head to make me second-guess everything. Wynne was just mean.
“I will!” I snapped at her, knowing full well she wasn’t listening. I plopped down on my bed and sighed. I would have a good time with Tag. I always had a good time with Tag. We were friends and I wouldn’t let Wynne’s nagging doubts cast a shadow on our date. This wouldn’t be weird at all.
About the Author: Suzanne M Sabol is the author of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance. She is a graduate of The Ohio State University and has two Bachelor of Arts degrees with majors in Criminology, International Studies, Russian, and Political Science. She has a Master’s degree from The Ohio State University’s John Glenn School of Public Affairs. She is married with one child and lives in Columbus Ohio.
The Blushing Death Series and the Blood and Bone Legacy are published through Soul Mate Publishing. Editor, Debby Gilbert, can be contacted through their website at www.soulmatepublishing.com
Blog: https://suzannemsabol.com/blog/
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Soul Seeker by Kaylin McFarren #SupernaturalThriller https://fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com...
Soul Seeker by Kaylin McFarren #SupernaturalThriller
Soul SeekerKaylin McFarrenGenre: Supernatural ThrillerPublisher: Creative Edge PublishingDate of Publication: Oct 27, 2020ISBN: 9798665284903ASIN:Number of pages:308Cover Artist: Amanda Yoshida
Book Description:
The battle between good and evil resides with...
While awaiting his execution for murdering his son, Benjamin Poe confesses to his lawyer the true story behind his crime, a harrowing tale of a manipulating, soul-collecting demon named Crighton.
Following Poe's death, Crighton continues his malevolent duties, until he's kidnapped by members of The Sovereign Sector. This group of scientists, notorious for experimenting on supernatural creatures, forces Crighton into a soulmate relationship with the very angel he was sent to capture for Lucifer.
However, with secrets revealed and loyalties shifting, Crighton soon becomes the target of Lucifer's revenge, and his journey to redemption and freedom–or eternal enslavement–begins.
Book Trailer 1: https://youtu.be/ZdopUKpfHpM
Book Trailer 2: https://youtu.be/yJG9_9xUQUA
Excerpt:
"Are you aware of our situation?"
"Of course, I'm aware," Poe snapped. "The date is approaching fast and we're running out of options."
Beaudoin sighed. "It would seem so. But I haven't given up hope just yet. We can still try for an insanity plea, although I know how you feel about that." He paused a moment to study Poe's tired eyes. "I've seen it work even this late in sentencing. If there's one chance to keep you alive, Ben, then we need to–"
"Counselor, it's over. You and I both know that. I'm done fighting. If I plead insanity, they'll send me away to the State hospital...and I don't want to spend what time I have left in that place. But I don't want to go home either. There's nothing left for me there." He leaned forward, resting his elbow the counter. "I know I'm not crazy, and I understand the seriousness of it. But I swear to you it was never my intention to kill him." He paused. "Not Gabriel. Not my son."
"Can I be frank with you, Ben?"
He nodded.
"Any ordinary case would have resolved itself by now, but as you're very well aware, this is far from ordinary. Your son's blood was found on your clothes. The same caliber revolver found in your possession matched his wounds, and you never denied firing it. Yet you continue to claim your innocence. Which begs the question..." Beaudoin paused briefly, choosing his words carefully. "If you didn't kill your son, as you'd like me to believe, then who did?"
Poe tipped his head to the side. "I never claimed he was killed by someone else, Mr. Beaudoin. If you read the transcripts, my story has never changed. Not one iota." The crease between Poe's eyebrows deepened. "I was the one who pulled the trigger. I was the one who fired all six shots. My son Gabriel died by my hand, but like I said, it was never my intention to kill him. The six rounds I fired were meant for someone else."
Beaudoin slapped his hand on the counter. "Right! That's what you said before. Someone else was there. But who, Mr. Poe?" He paused, exasperated. "And why? Because you refuse to admit your guilt. You refuse to take responsibility for your actions. Yet here I am...trying my best to keep you alive."
Poe sighed. "I've accepted my fate, Mr. Beaudoin. I don't expect any favors, but after everything you've done for me, you deserve to hear it all. The whole truth. I've never shared this with anyone because no one would ever believe me. But there's no point now in keeping it a secret any longer. I just want to leave this world knowing I held nothing back."
Beaudoin shook his head. "And you wait until now to share this?"
"I know, but I swear the story I'm about to tell you is the God's honest truth."
Beaudoin could see his own reflection in the Plexiglas barrier and it looked as shocked as he felt. He shrugged and said, "Very well then, you've got my full attention, Mr. Poe."
"You'll think I'm crazy. That much is certain. You might even demand that I plead insanity after you hear my explanation. But all I ask from you is to hear me out. Nothing more. Then you decide if the devil was there...or if he's sitting in this room right now."
Beaudoin eyed Poe, trying to decide if this bit of storytelling was worth his time. He tugged on his shirt sleeve and glanced down at his watch. It was 10:58AM and he had more than forty minutes to spare before his next meeting. So what did he have to lose, aside from his patience? Blowing out an exaggerated breath, he answered, "Okay, I'm listening."
Poe shifted on his seat and appeared to be collecting his thoughts. Or maybe he was formulating his story. Then he began.:
"It happened two weeks before Christmas. The fire at College Inn. Do you remember that?"
Beaudoin nodded and waited for him to continue.
"It was the night that everything was destroyed, including my life. You see, Mr. Beaudoin, up until then, I was a good Christian man, a loving father. I made an honest living. I provided a comfortable life for my family. I did everything by the book...everything that was expected of me." Poe rubbed his eyes and before he pulled his hands away, he continued, "I didn't know until that night that the world is full of monsters. Monsters with dark souls and claws, waiting for the chance to tear you apart."
About the Author:
Kaylin McFarren has received more than 50 national literary awards, in addition to a prestigious Golden Heart Award nomination for FLAHERTY'S CROSSING - a book she and her oldest daughter, New York Times/USA Today best-selling author Kristina McMorris, co-wrote in 2008. Prior to embarking on her writing journey and developing the popular THREADS psychological thriller series, she poured her passion for creativity into her work as the director of a fine art gallery in the Pearl District in Portland, Oregon; she also served as a governor–appointed member of the Oregon Arts Commission.
When she's not traveling or spoiling her two pups and three grandsons, she enjoys giving back to her community through participation and support of various charitable, medical and educational organizations in the Pacific Northwest. Her latest time-travel adventure, HIGH FLYING, asks challenging questions that will linger long after the final twists are revealed. Recently jumping to the supernatural thriller genre, Kaylin's clever SOUL SEEKER series leads readers into the pit of Hell, through the mechanisms of secret societies, and across the earth's crust, ever raising the stakes for her leading duo—a wicked demon and a saintly angel with secret earth-shattering agendas. With each story she writes, this author delivers unexpected twists and turns and keeps her readers on the edge of their seats, leaving them guessing and thoroughly entertained.
http://www.kaylinmcfarren.com/home
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3184417.Kaylin_McFarren
