Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 155
October 4, 2020
Music Playlists for Dreams of Thunder by Christian Cura #urbanfantasy #playlists
This is a playlist dedicated to my main character, Kara Hartman. Dreams of Fire follows her story as she finds love, copes with the loss of her brother and lives out her new beginning in Washington D.C. She actively pursues her dream of being an artist while hiding her magic from her non-magical friends. But when she falls for a beautiful demon-hunter, it soon becomes apparent that the universe has other plans for her. Kara finds that she can't hide from her past as an old foe rises up and threatens all that she holds dear.
These songs express the personality of my character Nora Van Dyke. She's a wild party girl who can really hold her liquor. (Don't challenge her to a drinking game, you will lose.) Nora is brave, tough and goofy. She is always the first one to crack a joke and make someone laugh (or roll their eyes). Unfortunately, she is not the most faithful person in the world. Three years ago, she dated Selene, a badass demon-hunter from Brooklyn. They killed demons together as a duo and made an amazing team. But one day, Selene caught Nora cheating on her with one of their clients. A bitter break-up ensued. Selene left New York and Nora's heart was broken. Ever since then, she has tried to make amends, but her ex-girlfriend has remained resentful.
Dreams of ThunderDreamsBook TwoChristian Cura
Genre: urban fantasyDate of Publication: 10.03.2020Number of pages: 225Word Count: 59,000
Cover Artist: Christian Cura
Tagline: And if you wrong her, shall she not revenge?
Book Description:
Magical outlaws roam free on the West Coast. The enforcers are stretched thin in their efforts to stem the tide of chaos.
The Council headquarters is on the brink of assault and the lives of the Council members hang in the balance.
At the center of it all, is Saba Qureshi, a woman scorned by the draconian measures of the Council. They executed her grandfather and robbed her family of their status and fortune.
Now Saba is coming for them, and she’s not alone…
Amazon Goodreads
Excerpt:
“Guys. We’ve just been spotted,” Kara called over their skirmish.
The bickering halted as the two women swiveled their heads, looking for the threat.
Four reptiles exploded out of an alley and scrambled across the brick facades as “Another One Bites the Dust” played in the background.
“Shit!” Selene shouted. She stomped on the gas pedal, but the jeep barely accelerated.
“The food is weighing us down!”
Nora intersected her fingers, spoke a magical word, and the food glowed with her purple energy. It lifted off the floor a few inches and the jeep sped up.
Wind blew through the open cabin while the demons gave chase.
Kara’s heart pounded as malevolent creatures glared at them from above.
Their muscular legs sprinted over the windows and ledges, their long tails whipping behind them.
Selene veered around a corner and the inertia knocked Kara into the door.
Another group of lizards emerged onto the street and scuttled after the jeep.
Kara unbuckled her seatbelt and stood up. Her clothes rippled in the wind and her golden hair lashed against her cheeks. A set of glowing knives appeared in her hands and burned like stars as the evening settled. She hurled a knife at the closest reptile and buried it in the demon’s eye.
The creature tumbled to the street and before it hit the ground, Kara struck down another. One of the demons took the lead on the right and pushed off the wall.
The lizard twisted its body and lunged at her with claws outstretched.
She gasped and ducked beneath it and watched as it flew over her head.
It landed on the opposite sidewalk and bounded after them. The creature dove for the jeep, but she pierced its throat with a dagger.
She ripped her knife free just as another demon dropped from the air and latched onto the vehicle.
Talons raked across Kara’s chest, and she cried out. She staggered backward and repelled it with a rippling shockwave.
Warm blood seeped through her sweater as she hurled a dagger at the falling demon and finished it off.
Glowing serpents leaped out of the front passenger seat and strangled two more lizards.
Kara struck down the last demon just as five more lizards scrambled around the corner.
She let her weapons dissolve and brought her hands together at her middle. She muttered a magical phrase as the wind drowned out her voice. Her center of power roared like a furnace and unleashed waves of fire that surged into her hands. A white ball of flame appeared between Kara’s palms and she pushed it forward, unleashing a steady stream of fire over the street.
The roofs of the buildings were instantly ablaze.
Demons were consumed by the flames and Kara watched as their fiery corpses tumbled through the air.
About the Author:Christian Cura is a new author who just recently published his debut novel Dreams of Fire. Ever since he read Lord of the Rings as a teenager, it has been his dream to write and publish a novel of his own. His favorite authors include J.R.R. Tolkien, J.K. Rowling and Robert Jordan. Christian lives in Northern Virginia where he lifts weights at home and creates artwork. He is a Gryffindor, an Earth-bender, and a loyal follower of Optimus Prime. When he is not writing, he can be found drawing or getting beaten up at his MMA gym.
Author Website: https://www.authorchriscura.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/artistchriscura/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/55027407-dreams-of-thunder
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Recipe for New Moon Honey Cakes- Full Moon in Leo by Brooklyn Ray with Exclusive Excerpt #holidayromance #queerromance
New Moon Honey Cakes
Honey Cakes are perfect treats for faerie friends! Celebrate new beginnings with dashes of cinnamon, scrumptiously sweet friendships with a sprinkling of sugar, and a dollop of honey for happiness.
What You’ll Need:
½ Cup of Almond Milk
1 Egg
2/3 Cup of Flour
½ Tablespoon of Cinnamon
1 Teaspoon of Salt
2 Tablespoons of Sugar
1 Cup of Honey
¼ Tablespoon of Nutmeg
Vegetable Oil for Frying
What You’ll Do:
Beat the almond milk and egg in a medium sized bowl
Stir the flour, cinnamon, salt, sugar and nutmeg together in a separate, larger bowl
Add the almond milk-egg mixture to the spiced flour
Pour your vegetable oil into a frying pan (½ inch deep!) and heat to 350°F
Drop the batter into the oil one tablespoon at a time and fry until golden brown
Drain on paper towels
Coat your Honey Cakes in honey and sprinkle with sugar
Full Moon in LeoBrooklyn RayGenre: Queer Holiday Romance
Date of Publication: October 1, 2020ISBN: 9798681122579ASIN: B08H1P6X2RNumber of pages: 210Word Count: 65,000
Cover Artist: BookCoverZone
Tagline: Small-town magic, two heavy hearts—one unforgettable winter solstice
Book Description:
Cole Morrison left Jewel's snow-covered fir trees ten years ago. But after a disastrous family Thanksgiving, Jewel seems like the only place left to go. When a run-in with a gorgeous stranger leaves him with debt to pay, Cole’s escape from his past turns out to be much more than a lonely Christmas vacation.
Jesse Carroway, the local Jewel witch, has been running his family's successful, small-town Apothecary ever since his grandmother passed away. When Cole stumbles into his shop and accidentally wrecks a good portion of his inventory, Jesse does the only thing he can possibly think of—offers Cole a job and himself some help for the upcoming holiday rush.
Cole’s clumsy with candles and doesn't trust easily, but soon Jesse gets a peek at the guy behind his bad-boy reputation. As the nights lengthen toward Yule, Jesse wonders if magic is to blame or if Cole might've fallen into his life for a reason…
Amazon
Excerpt
Honeycomb littered the counter.
Jesse sprinkled golden shards into the scrub and closed his eyes, imagining prosperity and hope and truth, the ingredients needed to solidify the spell, cocooning around each piece of salt. The spell shifted. Strengthened. Like a lock, the honeycomb sealed everything in place.
“Will that work?” Cole asked. He crouched next to the reassembled shelf, scratching idly behind Waffles’ ear.
A smile pulled his mouth upright. “Yeah, it’ll work.”
“What happens now?”
“We package everything, tie a pretty bow around the jars, and put them out. Here, I’ll show you how to shelve product. Use the wooden spoons and scoop the salt into the jar. Fill it to…right about”—Jesse tapped the jar an inch below the top—“there.”
Cole followed directions easily. Every movement was slow, deliberate and precise, mirroring Jesse as best he could. Once they’d finished, Jesse showed him how to tie a bow around the lid with thin-cut burlap.
“I’m not great at this,” Cole said through a grimace, fiddling with a sad, droopy bow.
“Don’t think too much.” Jesse batted his hands away and undid the bow, retying it with practiced ease. “If you try to make it perfect it’ll look forced and…” He smoothed out the burlap, tipping his head back and forth as he searched for the right words. “Disingenuous. I mean, that’s pretty solid advice around here. Magic is messy and weird, but it’s honest. It never tries to be something it isn’t. Same with candle making and bath bombs and everything else. Don’t dwell on making your gift wrap look exactly like mine, just do your best to make it pretty.”
“I don’t exactly know how to make things pretty, Jesse.”
Jesse tied a bow, a little crooked, but good enough. He untied it again and handed the burlap to Cole. “Try again.” Cole held the ribbon so tight his hands quivered. Jesse could almost feel it—bones apprehended, too tense and strained to do any good. “Okay, hold on. You’re, like, ridiculously tense.” He heaved a sigh. “Can I try something?”
Cole’s flighty gaze swept to Jesse’s face. “Something?”
Jesse pushed the packaged jars aside and placed the stone bowl on the counter between them. He glanced over one shoulder. Then the other. There. He snatched the water bottle. “Can I see your hands?”
Cole didn’t move at first. His jaw flexed. Caution flared behind his eyes. Jesse waited, nodding from his open palm, dangling over the bowl, to Cole’s, twitching on the counter. His hesitation remained, even as he unbuttoned his cuffs and let Jesse take his hand.
Carefully, Jesse smoothed the leftover salt scrub over Cole’s knuckles, pulled one hand closer and pressed his thumbs to the center of Cole’s palm. Like this, guarded and entirely human, Cole gentled. His shoulders relaxed. Tension drained from his fingertips. Jesse focused on his hands, each one, pushing and kneading while Cole stood entirely too still, attention fixed on him.
The apothecary went quiet. Sometimes pressing trust through skin held more power than smiles or stories. As he worked the salt into Cole’s calloused hands, Jesse realized he probably hadn’t been touched this tenderly in a long, long time.
“Do these mean anything?” Jesse traced the edge of the koi fish tattoo on his left hand. Laced their fingers. Squeezed.
Cole’s throat bobbed when he swallowed. “Apparently they bring good fortune. Figured I could use some of that.”
“And this one?” He took Cole’s other hand, touched the wolf on his forearm, then went back to massaging the base of his fingers.
“I’ve been a lone wolf since I was young.”
“Wolves usually run in packs, right?”
“Usually,” Cole said, voice hushed and low.
Jesse wanted to read his palm. He wanted to map Cole’s past and future, find where his heart line met his destiny, just to test the universe. Is this a coincidence, he wanted to ask. Is there even such thing? He poured water over Cole’s hands and washed the scrub away.
“Better?”
Cole wrung his hands. “Yeah, much better.”
“Try again.”
This time, Cole’s hands moved fluidly, pulling a pretty bow into place. He smiled at the jar. Pride looked good on him. “Did you cast a spell on me?” he asked, grinning.
Jesse’s stomach fluttered. Don’t blush. He aimed his laughter at the ceiling and shook his head. Don’t you dare. “Not yet.” He reached for the keys in the drawer below the cash wrap and twirled them around his finger. “See you tomorrow?”
Cole’s brows twitched and his lips parted, but he cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see you in the morning.”
Jesse wanted to ask him what he’d planned to say—what he wanted to say. “Goodnight, Cole.”
Cole knelt to pet Waffles before he shrugged on his jacket. He tossed a smile over his shoulder, footsteps crunching through snow on the sidewalk.
Jesse let out a deep breath. He glanced at Waffles, who sat on her haunches, staring back at him.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered, and rolled leftover salt between his fingers.
About the Author:Brooklyn Ray (they/them) is a fan of fresh brewed tea, long walks through the woods, and evenings spent reading sexy books. They write Queer Paranormal Romance and Erotica about witches, necromancers, and other magical creatures, and moonlight as a tarot and palm reader in the Pacific Northwest.
Find them on Instagram @ brooklynrayauthorhttps://www.instagram.com/brooklynrayauthor/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16971356.Brooklyn_Ray
October 2, 2020
Virtual Trick or Treat for Books Event
Do you have a free book to share for Halloween?
Drive readers to your website by Trick or Treating with Bewitching Book Tours
This virtual trick or treat for books event will take place October 30.
The cost to participate is $5.
Sign up here: https://forms.gle/Rt5sgYsjXQcJwnKw5
#trickortreatforbooks #trickortreattrail #Virtualtrickorttreat #halloween #halloweenbooks #booksforhalloween
A Bewitching Friday
ORIGINS by Celia Breslin - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular
https://www.abewitchingguidetohallowe...
A WARRIOR’S KISS HAUNTED HALLOWEEN SPOOKTACULAR #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/pnXk50BHC1F
Witch’s Tail The Spellwood Witches Book One by Melanie Snow #bewitchingbooktours https://www.darkwhimsicalart.com/blog...
Hidden Gypsy Magic by Tena Stetler - Book Tour + Giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/FGra50BHCvR
‘Rise By Moonlight’ by Nancy Gideon Haunted Halloween Spooktacular Book Tour with Guest Post from Author Gideon on Pine Enshrined Reviews
https://pineenshrinedreviews.wordpres...
Alpha’s Revenge by Catherine Stine Spooktacular #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/QZne50BHC5d
Halloween Flash Fiction from S Peters Davis #bewitchingbooktours
https://serenasynn.blogspot.com/2020/...
Fighting for Home Descendants of the Amazoi Book One by Kim Richards #bewitchingbooktours https://vocal.media/geeks/fighting-fo...
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 21, 2020 AT 10 AM EDT – 10 PM EDT
Bewitching Book Tours Haunted Halloween Spooktacular
https://www.facebook.com/events/77121...
Queen’s Ascension Blood Prophecy 3 by Barb Jones
https://www.lisasworldofbooks.net/202...
Jealousy’s a Witch by Louisa West - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular Flash Fiction https://www.roxannerhoads.com/2020/10...
October 1, 2020
A Bewitching Thursday
YA Fantasy Character: Jordan’s Tips in Evading the Fallen (The Genesis of Seven #1) by Sara M Schaller + giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/DTQx50BGsEi
October is Halloween Books All Month Long! Spotlight: Witch's Tale by Melanie Snow #HalloweenCountdown2020 #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/bnAE50BGsHh
Haunted Halloween Spooktacular: Rise By Moonlight by Nancy Gideon #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/Zqao50BGsCh
HAUNTED HALLOWEEN SPOOKTACULAR GUEST BLOG: THE PERFECT MONSTER PARTY FOR KIDS with BARB JONES (Blood Prophechy) #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/Eu1j50BGszl
Jealousy’s a Witch by Louisa West - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular Guest Blog #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/EBa050BGstk
Halloween Flash Fiction from S Peters Davis
#bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/maZP50BGsnL
Fighting for Home: Descendants of the Amazoi Book One by Kim Richards - fantasy/historical fantasy - A Haunted Halloween Spooktacular #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/rnXA50BGsly
HAUNTED HALLOWEEN SPOOKTACULAR: DOUBLE ALCHEMY #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/2Asm50BGsiT
Alpha’s Revenge: Royal Alpha Wolves Club Book Three of the Shared World Series by Catherine Stine #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/2axJ50BGsfV
A Warrior’s Kiss by Celia Breslin - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular
#bewitchingbooktours https://serenasynn.blogspot.com/2020/...
ORIGINS by Celia Breslin - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular
https://serenasynn.blogspot.com/2020/...
Come out to Fenton's Witches Night Out and stop by Fenton's Open Book to grab signed copies of Pumpkins and Party Themes and Haunted Flint.
https://www.facebook.com/events/56390...
Short Story- With Feathers by Laura Bickle #urbanfantasy #fantasy #shortstory #flashfiction
https://fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com...
Short Story- With Feathers by Laura Bickle #urbanfantasy #fantasy #shortstory #flashfiction
“With Feathers”By Laura Bickle
My mother spoke with the dead, but I only talked to crows. It was that way ever since I was a little girl, hiding under the tablecloth of the table where my mother told fortunes and murmured to lost ancestors. Men and women would come to our door, seeking voices from the past and hints of the future. My mother offered both with a cup of coffee and warmth, a spoon clinking slowly against her silver wedding ring and the rim of the cup. I wanted to inherit her gift so hard as a child, but the dead never so much as uttered my name in a dream. But not the crows. The crows were my familiars. My earliest memory was of a great black bird tapping at my window. I crawled to it and hauled myself up to the sill, holding out a sticky hand of cereal. The pieces fell, and the crow gobbled them right up. I clapped in delight, startling him away. I fed them ever after from my window. I learned to tell them apart, their shapes and the way their feathers lay. I gave them names and met their children when the parents brought them to wolf down my toast crusts. In return, they brought me treasure, shiny things. Usually, they were coins, some of them silver. Sometimes, it would be a bit of broken costume jewelry, a straight pin, bobby pins, the face of a watch. All these things were filthy. I cleaned them carefully and hid them away in a shoebox. My favorite crow was a beautiful bird with one leg. She had a caw so loud that she could shake the lightbulb in my bedside lamp. I named her “Peg,” because I was young and not very creative. My grandmother and aunts would come to visit every few years and whisper after I’d gone to bed: “She hears no voices? None at all? Perhaps that’s just as well. Though, she might grow into it…” I never did. As I grew into a teenager, I became convinced that my mother was a charlatan, that she took money for magic from the weak. To my reckoning, if the dead were speaking, they never spoke to me, and therefore they must not speak at all…at least not in my little world. Business slowed. My mother wanted us to move to a cheaper apartment five blocks away. I despaired…how would I feed my crows? How would they know where I’d gone? I spent my last dollar on a big bag of dry cat food. When all the boxes and furniture were gone, I waited outside, below my window, for Peg to come. She eventually arrived, perching on the sill on one leg and turning her head to look at me quizzically. “You must follow me,” I told her. “You and all the others.” I dropped two pieces of cat food on the ground. Her favorite treat. After almost a minute, the crow fluttered down to gobble the bits up. I walked away six feet, then dropped another piece. She hop-fluttered over to me, clumsy on earth as she was graceful in the sky. I backed up to the sidewalk and put down some more. She followed, with a great hoarse caw that summoned her children. My heart pounded. They followed me down the block, seething black shadows on the pavement. They tracked me all the way to the new apartment. It seemed I’d been holding my breath the whole time. I climbed the fire escape, up to my new bedroom window, where I’d set out a piece of plywood. I dumped the last dregs of cat food on the surface. A dozen crows descended on the snack. I caught Peg’s eye. “Please understand. I’m here now. Please come back.” Peg said nothing, taking wing into the blue sky. I worried the whole next day if she would remember. I ran home from school, up to my room. I rushed to the window and breathed a sigh of relief. Six crows perched on the fire escape rail, while Peg hop-paced on the plywood. The corn flakes I’d left out that morning were gone. I hurried to empty my pockets of a crushed granola bar and a stale pretzel, which they descended upon greedily with their sharp beaks and talons. The next day, they brought me a thimble, encrusted with dirt. Money, which was never plentiful, grew even scarcer. My mother took a job as a secretary, which barely covered rent. I went to work as a cashier at a donut shop. I was allowed to take home any food that was left at the end of the day. Many days, my mother and I and the crows had glazed donuts for supper. One month, we came up short. Shorter and later than usual. My mother’s boss decided to go on vacation and gave all her employees a week off – without pay. I felt this, heavy in my heart, at the end of the month as I sat on the fire escape. I didn’t want my mother to see me cry. But the crows would listen. Peg hopped beside me. They never got close enough for me to actually touch them. But I could see the confusion in her dark eyes. I wiped my nose on the sleeve of my sweatshirt. “You birds are lucky,” I said. “You can build your own homes.” At least, I assumed that. I had never actually seen a crow’s nest; I only knew that they flew west with the sun at the end of the day, beyond the bus stop and the hospital and the graveyard. Next day, there was a gift waiting for me on the plywood feeding station. I didn’t know what it was, at first. I scrubbed it up and turned the piece of metal over in my hand. A cuff link. Like the kind that men in suits would sometimes wear when they came into the donut shop. This one had a blue stone the size of a pea in it. I bit my lip. Maybe it was worth some money. I took it to the pawn shop. Worries roiled in my skull: What if they laughed at me and told me it was plastic? What if it really belonged to someone, and they were looking for it? What if..? I shook my head. If it was worth something or not, it was mine. A gift. I would not feel guilty for this. The pawn shop gave me two hundred dollars for it. Enough to make the last bit of our rent and order a pizza. I saved the crusts for the birds. I lay awake that night, certain the cops would come pounding on our door, searching for a cuff link. Who would believe that a bird had given it to me? My mother believed me. She asked me where it came from, and I told her. She just nodded and slid the crisp twenties into an envelope to go under the landlady’s door. I came home the next day to see blue and red strobe lights flashing before our apartment building. My heart leaped into my throat. It had been stolen. I was caught. I felt the urge to run. But I knew that there was no use in that. My mother would lie to protect me and place herself in trouble. I squared my shoulders and walked to the corner. A cop stopped me. “Are you Jordan?” I lifted my chin. “Yes.” “We need for you to…” The last thing the cop said was obliterated by the rush of blood in my ears. I looked past him, at a stopped car. At an ambulance. At a sheet-covered figure lying in the middle of the crosswalk, a figure wearing my mother’s shoes. I screamed, louder than any crow.*** It was a hit-skip, they said. Someone plowed my mother down in the crosswalk. Witnesses caught a partial license plate, and the police were searching for a guy who seemingly never drove without at least a six-pack under his belt. The apartment was so empty without her. For weeks, I tried to talk to the dead, yelling and sobbing at the walls. Only the crows answered me with their hoarse chatter. I remembered to feed them, but I did little else. I couldn’t bring myself to touch my mother’s unmade bed, to wash a fork that she’d used, or even to throw away the pizza box that contained our last meal together. The crows came and went, in fluttering shadow. They brought me a new assortment of baubles: buttons, a hair comb, an earring. I collected them without much thought, except to wonder if the earring might be worth something. It was crusty, but it looked like it real gold. Or how I imagined real gold would look if I had any experience with it. I pressed my fists to my eyes as I sat on the fire escape. Why couldn’t I talk to the dead just this once to tell my mother that I loved her? The beat of wings disturbed my hair. I looked down beside me. Peg held something in her beak. I waited for her to drop it and fly away. Except she didn’t. She stood still, looking at me with bottomless eyes. I opened my hand and extended it gingerly to her. She dropped the thing into my palm and took off with three beats of her wings. I stared at the lump of mud. I chipped away at it with my fingernail. A ring, I thought. I spat on it and rubbed it against my shirt. I held it up to the sun, and my heart dropped. It was my mother’s silver ring. The one she’d been buried with. My mind flashed back to all the dirty treasures, and I stared at the sky, where the crows were flying west, toward the graveyard.
Morrigan’s BloodCrow’s CurseBook OneLaura BickleGenre: Urban 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:
“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.
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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September 30, 2020
A Bewitching Wednesday
Garnet has the blood of the legendary Morrigan – and legions of vampires and witches will go to war to possess that power. https://amzn.to/2FXALxv #vampire #urbanfantasy #themorrigan #crowscurse #witches #paranormalfiction
Kendra Spark series Book 4 - Oblivious: Kendra, Jenna, & Derek, specialized FBI force of the supernatural, face-off with a Voodoo Priestess turned evil witch in deadly vengeance-mode… https://books2read.com/Oblivious #NewAdult #PNR #Suspense #KendraSpark #Supernatural #GhostShifters
A nameless slave is rescued from demons, hunters, and the worst of her own kind.
Fearless: Fated Mates Book 5 by Lilli Carlisle
https://amzn.to/33PwQuD
#FatedMates #PNR #shifters #LilliCarlisle #paranormalromance #Fearless
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 21, 2020 AT 10 AM EDT – 10 PM EDT
Bewitching Book Tours Haunted Halloween Spooktacular
https://www.facebook.com/events/77121...
This SUNDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2020 AT 8 PM EDT – 10 PM EDT
Chat with Author Sara M Schaller
https://www.facebook.com/events/67238...
Morrigan’s Blood by Laura Bickle
https://www.lisasworldofbooks.net/202...
September 29, 2020
A Bewitching Tuesday
MORRIGAN'S BLOOD-CROW'S CURSE by LAURA BICKLE
#bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/d1VC50BE9tx
Kendra Spark series Book 4 - Oblivious: Kendra, Jenna, & Derek, specialized FBI force of the supernatural, face-off with a Voodoo Priestess turned evil witch in deadly vengeance-mode… https://books2read.com/Oblivious #NewAdult #PNR #Suspense #KendraSpark #Supernatural #GhostShifters
A nameless slave is rescued from demons, hunters, and the worst of her own kind.
Fearless: Fated Mates Book 5 by Lilli Carlisle
https://amzn.to/33PwQuD
#FatedMates #PNR #shifters #LilliCarlisle #paranormalromance #Fearless
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 21, 2020 AT 10 AM EDT – 10 PM EDT
Bewitching Book Tours Haunted Halloween Spooktacular
https://www.facebook.com/events/77121...
This SUNDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2020 AT 8 PM EDT – 10 PM EDT
Chat with Author Sara M Schaller
https://www.facebook.com/events/67238...
September 28, 2020
Trick Or Treat with Bewitching Book Tours
Authors, have a free book to share for Halloween?
Sign up to Trick Or Treat with Bewitching Book Tours
This trick or treat for books event will take place October 30.
This will work like a combination blog hop and scavenger hunt.
A list of links will be provided to readers where they can "trick or treat". You post the Bewitching graphic which will alert readers where to look for their treat then share your freebie details.
You will need to have a free book available to giveaway on October 30. You can also give away other freebies like printable coloring pages and other downloads. You are welcome to offer physical freebies as well.
The cost to participate is $5.
Sign up here: https://forms.gle/Rt5sgYsjXQcJwnKw5
Loading…Trick or Treat for Books
Sign up to Trick Or Treat with Bewitching Book Tours
This trick or treat for books event will take place October 30.
This will work like a combination blog hop and scavenger hunt.
A list of links will be provided to readers where they can "trick or treat". You post the Bewitching graphic which will alert readers where to look for their treat then share your freebie details.
You will need to have a free book available to giveaway on October 30. You can also give away other freebies like printable coloring pages and other downloads. You are welcome to offer physical freebies as well.
The cost to participate is $5.
Sign up here: https://forms.gle/Rt5sgYsjXQcJwnKw5
