Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 247

A Bewitching Thursday

Day Reaper by Melody Johnson #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/3pbr30jztK8

When A Vamp Falls by A.M. Griffin Tour & Giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/yaru30jzu5y

PREORDAINED by David L. Wallace
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Interview, Excerpt and Giveaway: Day Reaper by Melody Johnson (@MelodyMJohnson, @RoxanneRhoads) #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/2Hck30jztEU

When A Vamp Falls by A.M. Griffin #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/Rvxt30jzu3Y

Heart of a Wolf by K.D. Friedrich #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/Vs9F30jztVK

A Bewitching Wednesday

Top Five Vampire Series (Not Written By Me), Guest Blog + Giveaway: Day Reaper by Melody Johnson
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Interview - When A Vamp Falls by A.M. Griffin #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/qcDl30jyiqL

Heart of a Wolf by K.D. Friedrich w/ excerpt & giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/CE0D30jyi46

Preordained by David L Wallace - Excerpt - Giveaway! #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/92Nk30jyibY

When a Vamp Falls by A.M. Griffin - Book Tour + Giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/3Deh30jyioF

PREORDAINED by David L. Wallace #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/9d2u30jyi6n

Double Book Review: Day Reaper (Night Blood Book Four) by Melody Johnson #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/sAQo30jyhSm

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A Bewitching Tuesday

INTERVIEW - Enchantress (Giver of Life Trilogy, #2) by Kristy Centeno
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Interview with Enchantress Author: Kristy Centeno
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Release Blitz & #Giveaway ~ Bound A Magnus Blackwell Novel Book Two ~ Alexandrea Weis with Lucas Astor ~ Paranormal Suspense, Paranormal Romance #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/HFXy30jwXsX

Day Reaper by Melody Johnson excerpt with giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/nRpH30jwVy7

When A Vamp Falls by A.M. Griffin #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/nVQo30jwVQT

Threshold - Book Tour and Giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/jSkW30jwVN8

Since We fell by Ann Gimpel #contemporary #romance #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/Yb1730jwVL0

Preordained by David L. Wallace #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/lJBc30jwVJI

Heart of a Wolf by A Wicked Series Book 2 by K.D. Friedrich Book Tour and Giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/hiQU30jwVzz

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RELEASE DAY GIVER OF LIFE TRILOGY by Kristy Centeno #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/yVCu30jwWHs

Bound by Alexandrea Weis w/ excerpt & giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/cDDD30jwXDH

Release Day Blitz Enchantress by Kristy Centeno #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/4NXd30jwWBC

Release Blitz & #Giveaway ~ Enchantress (Giver of Life Trilogy, Book Two) by Kristy Centeno ~ Paranormal/Young Adult/New Adult #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/tQyW30jwVWf

When A Vamp Falls by AM Griffin: Book Tour Spotlight with Giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/J5g530jwVOQ

Vampire Boyfriend Knockout with Melody Johnson

Bill Compton vs. Eric Northman Dead Until Dark/ True Blood
In reality, I would almost always advise against the bad boy, but in this fictional instance, it was Eric, not Bill who stole my heart. Eric. 
Lestat de Lioncourt vs. Louis de Pointe du Lac Interview with a Vampire
Louis was such a tortured soul, and although having a strong conscience and moral compass is admirable, lamenting over every meal when your food source is human blood could become tedious after a few hundred meals—let along a few hundred years. And let's face it, there's something to be said for self-assured confidence. Lestat is a man who knows the creature he is and isn't ashamed of it. In fact, he revels in it. Lestat all the way. 
Edward vs. JacobTwilight
Edward. Obviously. 
Damon Salvatore vs. Stefan SalvatoreVampire Diaries
Damon, not obviously. 
Angel vs. SpikeBuffy the Vampire Slayer
Arguably the most controversial knockout round of them all, Long before team Edward and Team Jacob was ever a thing, fans across the nation thought they knew best for Buffy's love life. (She couldn't seem to make up her mind, but we certainly could!) Angel was dark and broody. Spike was the hilarious bad boy. Angel was the "good" vampire despite the fact that Spike loved Buffy even without a soul and Angel without a soul just wanted to torture and kill her. Although Angel was her first, I can't deny that I wanted Spike to be her last. Team Spike, baby!



Day ReaperNight Blood
Book Four
Melody Johnson

Genre: Paranormal Romance


Publisher: Kensington/ Lyrical Press
Date of Publication: April, 2018
Number of pages: 414Word Count: 116, 525
Tagline: A dangerous choice for the chance to live.
Book Description:
On the brink of death, Cassidy DiRocco demands that New York City’s master of the supernatural, Dominic Lysander, transform her—reporter, Night Blood, sister, human—into the very creature she’s feared and fought against for months: a vampire. The pain is brutal, she'll risk the career she’s worked so hard to achieve, and her world will never be the same. But surviving is worth any risk, especially when it means gaining the strength to fight against Jillian Allister, the sister who betrayed Dominic, attacked Cassidy, and is leading a vampire uprising that will destroy all of New York City. . .
When she awakens, however, Cassidy realizes the cost of being transformed might be more than she was willing to sacrifice. The overwhelming senses, the foreign appearance of her new body, and the lethal craving for blood are unrecognizable and unacceptable. But if Cassidy hopes to right the irrevocable wrongs that Jillian and her army of the Damned have wrought on New York City, she’ll need to not only accept her new senses, body and cravings, but wield them in her favor.
Irresistible and enigmatic as Dominic is, he no longer has command over the city or its vampires. Only Cassidy has the connections to convince the humans, Day Reapers, and the few vampires still loyal to Dominic to join forces, and maybe, if Dominic can accept her rising power over the coven he once commanded for the past several hundred years, the two of them together might forge a bond more potent than history has ever known. . .
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Excerpt: A bird was squawking, and after several minutes of attempting to ignore its repetitive, shrill, bleating, I came to grips with the fact that it didn’t seem inclined to stop on its own. I snapped open my eyes, prepared to reach out the window and stop it myself, with my bare hands if necessary—I’d never heard such an obnoxious bird in my life, not in the city, not on the west coast, not even on my one excursion to visit Walker upstate—and froze. There was no window. And if the vents Bex used to filter fresh air into her underground coven were any indication, there was no bird. Despite the similarity of the vents to Bex’s coven, however, I didn’t recognize the room as the inviting, well-decorated step-back in time that Bex had created, either: no extra furniture for lounging, no scented candles, no Gerbera daisies, and no kerosene lamps pulsing in a hypnotic, romantic beat. This room contained only sparse necessities: vents for underground air filtration, a bare bulb for light, a door for privacy, and of course, a bed. I was in a strange room in a stranger’s bed, its dimensions and décor familiar only by its unfamiliarity, and suddenly, the last moments of my memory smashed into my brain like a semi.            Jillian tearing out my throat. Dominic healing me. The blood and burning. The transformation.Someone was speaking in the room outside this bedroom’s door, and despite the distance, the scarred door, the cement wall, and my disorientation, I could hear every word being said, and I recognized the voice speaking: Ronnie Carmichael. “Lysander said he would. There’s no reason to think he won’t, so I don’t think—”And following Ronnie’s voice was the squawking of that damn bird.“Exactly. You don’t think,” Jeremy snapped.“Lysander said that he would try,” Keagan said patiently, his voice nearly drowned out by the bleat of that insufferable bird. “His priority is Cassidy and our safety. He won’t take unnecessary risks, like remaining above ground, away from Cassidy longer than absolutely necessary.” “Yes, he said he would try,” Ronnie insisted, but her voice was faint now. “Lysander doesn’t say anything lightly.”The bird squawked even louder, in time with Jeremy’s audible groan, triggering a memory of Ronnie’s little girl voice and something she had confided in me: I never even knew he thought of my voice as grating. I never knew someone’s annoyance had a sound let alone that it sounded like a squawking bird.I was right about the bird not being underground, but unlike anything I’d ever heard, the sound wasn’t a bird at all. The squawking was the sound of Keagan’s annoyance at the grate of Ronnie’s whining voice. Unlike Jeremy, Keagan was too well-mannered to audibly express his frustration with Ronnie, but among other vampires, he could no longer hide his true feelings. His unspoken annoyance had a sound—as loud, obnoxious and obvious as Jeremy’s audible hostility—and Ronnie could no doubt hear it, too, despite the calm, reasonable tone of his words.I could hear it.I could hear the sound of Keagan’s annoyance. The weight of the sheets covering my body was suddenly suffocating. I raised my hand to tear them from my body, but someone else’s hand whipped into the air. I gasped at the skeleton-skinny joints of each finger, the knobby protrusion of its wrist and the elongated talons sprouting from each fingertip instead of nails. I ducked under the hand, trying to avoid its attack and swallow the scream that tore up my throat, but the hand moved with me, moving with my intensions, attached to my body. I froze again, for the second time in as many seconds, and raised the hand in front of my face. It looked lethal. With one wrong move, it could eviscerate me. As I ticked each finger, the long talons swept the air as I counted—one, two, three, four, five—and each moved on my command. Like the inevitability of a pending dawn with the rising sun, I realized that the hand was mine. Fear of that hand turned to horror and then to a kind of giddy resignation. Hysteria, more likely.I had ducked against the attack of my own hand.A swift peal of laughter burst from my mouth.              I stopped laughing just as abruptly. Even my voice was different: guttural and sharp, like shards of glass scraping against asphalt.             The voices outside my door and the squawking bird had abruptly stopped, too, and in the sudden silence following my outburst, an uncomfortable, aching vise circled my chest. The pain wasn’t physical, but its presence triggered a dull burn in the back of my throat. I had the immediate urge to destroy everything, to pound the cement walls into crumbs with my fists and tear the sheets into ribbons with my nails—my talons—and fight my way free from this prison. I held myself motionless, resisting the urge, and I realized with a belated sort of curiosity that the aching vise was panic. Without a beating heart to pound and without a circulatory system to hyperventilate, I hadn’t recognized the emotion without its physical symptoms, but even so, it felt the same in one way. It felt horrible.             I took a deep breath to dispel the panic, purely from habit, but the action wasn’t calming. My heart that wasn’t pounding didn’t slow, and I couldn’t catch a breath that I hadn’t lost. The vise around my chest tightened. I squeezed my hands into fists, trembling from the force of my will to remain still and silent. Something sharp pierced my hands, and I gasped, the raging panic stuttering until I looked down at my bleeding fists. My talons were imbedded in my own palms.             A door slammed somewhere outside this room, further away than the voices directly behind the door, but I didn’t hear it slam with my ears. I felt it slam from its flat slap against my skin. Never mind that the door wasn’t near enough for me to see, nor in this room, nor the impossibility that I could feel its sound waves, my entire body felt its sting as if I’d been smacked from all sides.             “Why are you just staring?” Despite the impatience and aggravation in those words, hearing his voice made the aching around my chest both loosen and worsen.             The clip of his tread across the cement floor stung like the warning barbs of a wasp. I knew the physical pain on my skin was only the tactile manifestation of sounds— first, the door slam, and now, his walking—but that didn’t change the fact that the sounds really did hurt my skin. I tried to rub away the lingering sting and realized my hands were still fisted, my talons still imbedded in my palms, so I just sat on the bed, motionless and bleeding, like someone trapped without an EpiPen, waiting for the inevitable swelling, choking and death: trapped within a body that had betrayed me.             “Did you have time to—” Ronnie began, but her voice was too small and too fragile not to crumble under the weight of his will.             “You heard her waken,” he accused. “Don’t you smell the blood?”             I could actually taste the pungent, freshly sliced, onion musk of their silence.             The door swung open, and suddenly, inevitably, Dominic entered the room. He didn’t need permission to cross my threshold, not anymore, and he didn’t bother with the perfunctory acts of knocking or requesting my consent to enter. He simply strode inside and slammed the door behind him with a final, fatal bee sting.            He’d recently fed. I could tell, as I’d always been able to tell, by the bloom of health on his cheeks, his strong, sculpted figure, and the careful calm of his countenance, but my heightened senses could now also smell the lingering spice of blood on his breath and hear the crackle of it nourishing his muscles. From the top of his carefully tousled black hair to the soles of his wing-tipped, dress shoes, Dominic was insatiably sexy, but his physique was an illusion of his last meal. I knew his true form. Upon waking, before feeding, he appeared more monster than man. Although not many people look their best in the morning, Dominic by far looked his worst.             The way I looked now.             That thought made my fists tighten, embedding my talons deeper into my own flesh. Despite his grievance with Ronnie, Keagan, and Jeremy for their inaction, he too just stared, immobile after entering the room, but his gaze absorbed everything. I felt the slash of his eyes slice across my face, down my body, and eventually, settle with dark finality on my fisted palms. He didn’t move, and that I could tell by the stillness of his throat, he didn’t make a sound, but despite his still, silent stare, I heard the unmistakable rush of wind. There were no windows underground, and in the stagnant stillness of the room—the tension between our bodies like an electric current stretching to complete its circuit—no relief from the heat of his presence. The sound wasn’t wind, it only sounded like wind, but whatever it was the sound of, it was emanating from the only other person in the room. I blinked and Dominic was suddenly, but no longer impossibly, beside the bed. His movements were just as inhumanly fast as ever, but with my enhanced vision, I could track his movement, see his grace and fluidity. I heard the slide of air molecules parting for him, felt the electric snap of his muscles flexing, and smelled an emotion he wouldn’t allow me to interpret on his carefully neutral expression. Whatever he was feeling was spiced, sweet, strong, and dangerous with overuse, like ginger.             He reached out and carefully wrapped his palms around mine to cup my fists. His voice was steady when he spoke, but I knew better. The rush of wind emanating from him heightened, the smell of ginger became chokingly poignant, and his heart that didn’t need to beat to keep him alive, contracted just once. I could both hear the swoosh of his blood being pumped through each chamber and taste the silky spice of that sound.My hands were injured yet his trembled.             “Relax,” Dominic murmured. “I’m here. I should have been here when you first awakened, but I’m here now.”            I blinked at him. With him here, everything was somehow simultaneous better and horribly worse.             “Mirror,” I growled. I tried to form a complete sentence, to demand, Get me a mirror, so I can see the horror of a face that matches these hands! but my throat was too dry. Even that one word rattled from my vocal cords like flint scraping across steel, and the resulting sparks flamed the back of my throat. I sounded dangerous and angry and monstrous. If I had stumbled upon me in an alley, I would have run.            Then again, I’d stumbled upon Dominic in an alley, and look how that had played out.            Whether Dominic saw my anger or thought me a dangerous monster now wasn’t revealed by his carefully masked countenance. He stroked the back of my hand with the soft pad of his human-feeling thumb. “You need to calm down.”            Calm down? I thought. I jerked my hands free from his gentle hold and shook my fists between us, in front of his face. All things considered, this is calm!            Dominic sighed. “I can’t see your claws from inside your palms, but did you happen to notice their color before stabbing yourself with them?”            I frowned. I had claws, for Christ sake. Claws. No, I didn’t take note of their color.             “I’ll take that as a no,” he said, still gentle, still careful, and so fucking infuriating.             A comforting flood of hot anger blast-dried my shock and sorrow. I spread my fingers, tearing said claws from my palms and ripping wide my self inflicted wounds, but I didn’t take the time to note their color. I swiped at Dominic.            My movements were lightning. Dominic’s movements were just as fast; he leapt back, dodging my claws. I lunged off the bed after him. A familiar sound rattled from deep inside my chest, a sound I’d heard emanate from Ronnie, Jillian, Kaden, and Dominic, a sound that coming from them had raised the fine hairs on the back of my neck. Now, that sound came from my throat. I was growling.             Dominic summersaulted out of reach. I watched his movements, fascinated by the strength of his muscles as he leapt into the air, his coordination as his legs tucked and his arms caught his knees, and his athleticism as he stuck the landing and raised his hands to block my advance. He was the epitome of power and grace under pressure, and with the enhanced ability of my heightened senses, I could actually see it. He wasn’t just a blur of movement but a perfectly choreographed symphony of muscle, control, and honed skill. I watched, and unlike the jaw-dropping awe of impossibility that Dominic’s physical feats would normally inspire in me, I was just inspired.             I attempted to mimic Dominic’s movements with a matching forward summersault of my own, but instead of landing on my feet, like I’d intended, like Dominic had stuck so effortlessly, I landed in an awkward, bone-jarring, heap, flat on my back.            Dominic leaned over me, his mouth opened with concern, surely about to ask me if I was all right. My pride was more injured than my body, and the hot embarrassment fueled my anger, as every strong emotion could fuel my easily provoked temper. Taking advantage of his concern and close proximity, I raked my claws down the front of his shirt.            Buttons severed from their threads, but before the pops of their little plastic heads hit the floor, Dominic was airborne again, back flipping away from me before my claws could do any real damage. I lunged after his leaps and twists and rolls, milliseconds behind his acrobatics, but even without the advantage of his fancy gymnastics, my body’s newfound abilities were astonishing. Each muscle contraction burned beneath my skin, but not like human muscles burning with fatigue. Mine sparked to life, twitching with power and reveling in unleashed speed and strength. I’d never been particularly athletic; my entire life, even before being shot in the hip, my skills were better served in an intellectual capacity—interviewing witnesses and writing articles. After being shot, my physical abilities had shriveled to the point where I could barely walk. Now, I could not only walk, I had the potential to fly. I was a force in both body and mind, and the limitlessness of those abilities after being physically limited for so long was intoxicating.             Time suspended. Our battle raged in the timespan of a blink, but within that blink, we fought and danced and completely trashed the little utilitarian room in what felt like years—a lifetime of limitations revealed and obliterated with every movement and newly discovered capability. Our movements were lighting, the evidence of our devastation scattered across the room—Dominic’s torn clothing, upended and smashed furniture, pillows gutted and their insides fluffed over the rumpled comforter and upended mattress—the cause unseen. I made a move of my own instead of following Dominic, cutting him mid-leap and smashing him face-down into the box spring. He was vulnerable for the split of a millisecond, me at his back, my razor claws splayed across his shoulder blades, his neck bared as he craned to look over his shoulder at me, and I had him. If I chose to, with a swipe of my hand, I could sever his head from his body. My claws were sharp, his skin was soft, and unlike any other physical battle I’d waged in my life, I had the advantage.            My body’s speed and strength were new to me, but the feelings of rage and intoxicating addiction were not. I knew those emotions intimately; they had been the very core of my personality and shaped a person who, despite my former physical limitations, had unbeatable mental strength, evidenced by my winning battle against Percocet addition and an ability to entrance vampires as a night blood. Memories of addiction and the bone-deep reasons I’d fought to overcome it, kept me grounded when I would have taken advantage of Dominic’s weakness. I nearly let the strength and power overwhelm reason, but I knew when to stop. I knew when the need and heat felt too good to be good. The rage reminded me that despite the claws sprouting from each fingertip, despite the fact that I might look like the devil and have the strength of God, I was the same flawed person I’d always been. I was still me, and despite his flaws, I loved Dominic. I jerked my hand from his back, ripping fabric with my movement but not skin, and fell to my knees. Dominic summersaulted over me. He landed at my back, but I didn’t turn to face him. He knew I’d resisted the opportunity to kill him. Our battle was over, but mine had just begun.He fell to his knees behind me, wrapped his arms around me, holding my hands, cradling my body, and it was only then, with the steady press of his cheek against mine, that I realized by the solid stillness of his arms holding me that I was shaking.I burst out weeping. The sobs wracked my body and bathed my cheeks. Dominic’s arms tightened. He stroked my hands and murmured promises into my ear that I knew better than to believe, promises that no one could keep, but having him hold me, his lips moving against my ear and the familiar tone of his voice resonating like a blanket cocooned around my body, was comforting anyway. I sobbed harder at first, relieved that he was here, that I wasn’t alone, that he’d experienced this, too, and had survived and eventually thrived. Buoyed by the knowledge that I, too, could survive and eventually thrive, I calmed. My weeping slowed, the sobs wracking my body lessoned, and my tears eventually dried. I relaxed into Dominic’s embrace—my back flush against his chest, his arms cradling my arms, our fingers entwined. His breath fluttering my hair wasn’t winded, and I noted with a detached sort of astonishment, that neither was mine. I was suddenly struck by a wary sort of certainty that my new, debatably improved physical form would continue to astonish for a very long time. I stared at our entwined fingers—his perfectly formed human hands still larger than my emaciated fingers but not nearly longer than my elongated claws—and I pulled into myself, embarrassed that he was touching them. “Don’t,” he murmured, tightening his hold. “Some aspects of the transformation might take some getting used to. You’re already becoming accustomed to your heightened senses and increased strength, which is impressive. In a few days, you’ll land that summersault, I assure you. And eventually, you’ll look into a mirror and recognize yourself, but for tonight, let me be your mirror.” He raised his hand and urged my face to the side to meet his gaze. “Let me show you how beautiful you are.”My physical appearance wasn’t the only aspect of the transformation that shook me, but when he cupped my cheek in his palm and ducked his head, pressing his lips to mine, I kissed him back. My lips felt foreign against the long protrusions of my fangs, but his lips were soft and the texture of his scar familiar. His Christmas pine scent enveloped us, and with my enhanced senses, I felt its chilled effervescence simultaneous heat and create goose bumps over my body. I turned in his arms, angling for more access, and a rush of blood filled my mouth. Dominic stiffened. I jerked back, startled by the blood coating my tongue, a taste which wasn’t entirely unpleasant, was in fact, not unpleasant at all. The blood was absolutely delicious, which was also startling, not to mention disturbing. Dominic had a gash across his lower lip, and I realized that I’d cut him. I swallowed the blood in my haste to apologize and choked. Dominic covered my lips with a finger and shook his head. His thumb swiped back and forth over my cheekbone as we stared at each other, and before my very acute eyes, I watched the intricacy of Dominic’s body heal. The split sides of his lip filled with blood, and that blood pooled in the crevice of his cut, coagulated, scabbed, and flaked to reveal new, shiny, pink skin. That skin darkened to a faint thread, and if he’d still been human, the healing might have stopped there, but his body healed the scar, too, until his lips bore not one sliver of evidence of my clumsy lust. What had once seemed to occur instantaneously and magically was now a simple bodily function, but I suppose, that in itself was a kind of magic. I touched his lips, grazing my fingertips carefully over the perfection of his newly healed skin to the divots and pucker of the permanent scar gouging through the other side of his lower lip and chin, a reminder of his human lifetime, and for me, a reminder of the few things we had in common. Although looking at the skeletal, talon-tipped hand touching him—the hand that I controlled but didn’t resemble anything I recognized as mine—we had much more in common now than I’d ever anticipated having.He touched my lips with his fingertips, mimicking my movements with the human-looking version of his hand, and I couldn’t help it. Despite the impossibility of this situation and the state of my hands and what I could only imagine was the state of my face, I smiled. “Sorry,” I murmured. Dominic’s blood had moistened the scratch in my throat, so it didn’t feel like my vocal chords were raking my esophagus with razor blades anymore. “I’m not myself this morning.” Dominic grinned—full and genuine and lopsided from the pull of his scar—and the warmth and affection in his expression widened my own smile. I let that warmth soak into me, filling my unfamiliar body with hope, reminding me that I could survive. That I wanted to survive.“No one looks or acts their best upon waking, not even you when you were human.” Dominic reminded me. “Not even me.”I sighed. “I will miss working on my tan though,” I said, only half-jokingly. The feel of the sun’s warmth on my skin had become a safe haven after discovering the existence of vampires. Having become one, I supposed the necessity was moot, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t miss it.Dominic grunted. “Many things about you will never change despite the transformation, including your ability to enjoy the sun and your stubbornness it seems.”I raised my eyebrows. “My stubbornness won’t cure a fatal sun allergy.”“Look at the color of your claws,” Dominic said dryly. Despite my said stubbornness and the urge to resist looking at my claws just to defy him, I looked. The skeletal appendages coming from my body were long and knobby and honestly grotesque, a monster’s hands with four-inch, lethal talons sprouting from their tips. And those talons were silver.Dominic was right, as per usual, and unfortunately, so was our dear friend, High Lord Henry. I was a vampire, but I wasn’t allergic to the sun.
I was a Day Reaper.

About the Author:
Melody Johnson is the author of the gritty, paranormal romance Night Blood series set in New York City. The first installment, The City Beneath, was a finalist in several Romance Writers of America contests, including the “Cleveland Rocks” and “Fool For Love” contests. Melody graduated magna cum laude from Lycoming College with her B.A. in creative writing and psychology, and after moving from her northeast Pennsylvania hometown for some much needed Southern sunshine, she now works as a digital media coordinator for Southeast Georgia Health System’s marketing department. When she isn’t working or writing, Melody can be found swimming at the beach, honing her newfound volleyball skills, and exploring her new home in southeast Georgia.
Website: http://authormelodyjohnson.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authormelodyjohnson
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MelodyMJohnson
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10707142.Melody_Johnson
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/melody-johnson-20ab7334   




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Interview and Release Day Blitz Enchantress by Kristy Centeno

What inspired your story?
The inspiration for the Giver of Life trilogy came in the form of a simple idea that I molded into a story little by little. When writing, I tend to explore concepts that don’t always follow the norm. I like to push myself outside the box and go outside my comfort zone and I believe that with this trilogy, I did exactly that.
Enchanters are magical beings that are neither immortal nor immune to the dark powers or influence of their enemies. While the trilogy itself was Leah Parker’s journey into the magical aspect of her life she knew nothing about, it was also a story about personal growth. Like so many people, she’s insecure and often doubts herself, and as she is forced to face scenarios that push her limits, she has no choice but to fight for what’s right even if it hurts others. Or it breaks her heart.
As the reader goes through the books they will have insight to how dramatic her changes are and how she decides to deal with each situation as they come.
Is the setting to your story important?
The setting is important. Absolutely. Leah Parker is trekking through uncharted territory and not only is her life at stake, but that of hundreds of humans who depend on her survival to live themselves. Every scene and what ensues in each scenario is important to move the plot along to the next twist and turn. 
The settings in this trilogy have some kind of connection or link to one character or another. And the more the reader explores their world the more every scene or setting will make sense.
What genres do you normally write in?
Paranormal Romance, Young Adult, and New Adult.
Is there a genre you haven’t written in that one day you’d like to tackle?
Yes, I would like to write historical fantasy. I have wanted to dive into a particular project in that specific genre but previous commitments have taken precedence for now. I haven’t abandoned the desire to write that book, but I’ve put it off for now.
What was the first book you ever published?
The first book I ever published was Enchanter (Giver of Life, book 1). It was published by a different publisher back in 2012. I never got around to finishing the trilogy as after I tackled other projects, I was simply very unsatisfied with Enchanter and couldn’t bring myself to complete the trilogy. So I moved on to write Secrets of the Moon, Bound to the Moon, Full Moon, The Dark Side of the Moon, Blood Moon (Secrets of the Moon saga). I also published Keeper of the Lost Souls, Keeper of the Innocents, Blood in the Shadows, Midnight, Deliverance and Dissension.
After these books were completed and the rights for Enchanter were returned to me, I decided to rewrite Enchanter and finally get it to where I wished I had taken it five years prior. Once Enchanter was rewritten, I made it my goal to finally finish the trilogy after waiting for so long to finish Leah Parker’s story and journey into the magic world she was once oblivious to.
What was the craziest thing you’ve ever done when it came to a storyline in your book?
I’ve killed a favorite character in the Secrets of the Moon saga for which I’ve received emails for readers kindly voicing their displeasure for it.
However, the plot twists I threw in the Giver of Life trilogy might top that. Maybe. Or maybe readers will enjoy the difference in pace and how the story develops. I don’t know, but I had fun during the journey and I hope it’s well received.
Enchantress
Giver of Life Trilogy
Book Two
Kristy Centeno
Genre: Paranormal/Young Adult/New Adult

Publisher: Inkspell Publishing

Date of Publication: April 17, 2018


ISBN: Ebook: 978-1-945910-56-2Print: 978-1-945910-57-9
Number of pages: 325Word Count: 90,000
Cover Artist: Najla Qamber
Tagline: She gave him hope. He gave her life.
Book Description:
Fate brought them together. Will evil break them apart?
Leah Parker’s visit to her hometown is supposed to bring her closer to the truth behind her identity. What she doesn’t anticipate is the handsome stranger with almond eyes claiming to be her Pair.
Her world once again upturned with the arrival of the man chosen to be her life partner, Leah is pulled between the feelings she’s always had for the friend she left behind, and those for the compelling stranger determined to save her from certain death—at whatever the cost. 
With an ancient evil out to finish what it started twenty-one years before, will Leah find peace within her troubled mind and heart to fight back and win? Or will her disconnection with her newfound powers hinder her only chance at survival?
His sacrifice…is her salvation.

Amazon     Kobo      BN



Excerpt 1:
I opened my mouth to shout out a warning as the Soul Devourer leaped from the roof. The man-beast made no sound, gave no warning, though the promise of death was written on his ethereal face. Swift on his feet, Jae swung the flaming sword around as he pivoted. The shiny blade sliced through the man-creature’s neck in midair, just under the chin, decapitating him with a clean cut a butcher would be proud of—all before I could spit out a single, cautionary word. The head went one direction while the body crumpled to the ground in a heap of unmoving limbs, inches from Jae’s shoes. The Soul Devourer’s emaciated frame began to disintegrate into a pile of black ash mere seconds after it touched the ground, its chest bursting open like a piñata to reveal a glowing blue light within the hollow cavity. Several white orbs flowed out of the hole in rapid succession, forming groups of three or more. The spheres danced around Jae for a mere fraction of second, as if to thank him for his good deed, before soaring up toward the sky, vanishing within a few blinks.Souls, I realized. They were souls stolen from countless victims, trapped within the grotesque body of the Soul Devourer and forced to endure a cruel torment. And what of those that were never released? Where did they end up? The Soul Devourer’s entire body turned to ash and was blown away by the wind by the time I snapped out of my shocked surprise. One down. How many more to go? A furious hiss resonated from somewhere behind the tomb situated to my right. I rotated to confront the oncoming night freak, fan gripped tightly in my hand. He came barreling around the corner so fast, I nearly lost my nerve and bolted. Instead, I shimmied to my left two seconds before it reached me— disgracefully tripping over my own feet in my haste to avoid its elongated talons.


About the Author:
Kristy Centeno is the author of the Secrets of the Moon saga and Keeper Witches series.
She has always had a passion for books and after years of being an avid reader, she decided to transform her desire to write into a reality and thus, her first novel was born. When she’s not busy taking care of her five children or holding down the fort, she finds time to sit and do what she loves the most: writing.
https://booksbycenteno.com/
http://www.facebook.com/KristyCenteno
http://www.twitter.com/KrissyGirl122
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6580510.Kristy_Centeno
http://therightbook4u.blogspot.com/
https://www.amazon.com/Kristy-Centeno/e/B00BR7KQ4U
https://www.pinterest.com/krissygirl122/
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Release Day Blitz Bound by Alexandrea Weis with Lucas Astor

BoundA Magnus Blackwell Novel
Book Two
Alexandrea Weis with Lucas Astor

Genre: Paranormal Suspense/Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Vesuvian Books
Date of Publication: 4/17/18
ISBN: 978-1944109615ASIN: B079L1Q1KM
Number of pages: 313Word Count: 93,000
Cover Artist: Sam Shearon
Tagline: You can’t escape the darkness
Book Description:
Magnus Blackwell’s past is about to catch up with him.
An evil force has seized New Orleans. Pestilence, suffering, and darkness cloak the city. The citizens are scared and need their mambo to guide them, but Lexie Arden can’t help anyone. A diabolical presence has taken Lexie’s power and severed her ties with the other side.
Magnus Blackwell is fighting demons of his own. Torn between his devotion to Lexie and a spirit from his past, Magnus’s loyalty is put to the test. He must revisit his sins to uncover the key to the hatred ripping the city apart. If he doesn’t, Lexie’s reign as mambo will end.
Their search for answers leads them deep into the darker realms of voodoo—until a desperate Lexie does the unthinkable, and Magnus can do nothing to spare her from her fate.

Amazon       Books2Read       Goodreads
Excerpt
Magnus waited outside the cottage, anxious for Lexie. Vulnerable because he was cut off from her. Something had changed between them. The thoughts, emotions, and even the actions of the living left impressions in his head. In the beginning, he’d only connected with Lexie; now it appeared as if every person he encountered touched him in some beguiling way.   Confounded by what was happening, he went to the green water at the swamps’ edge along the side of the house. Raindrops created ripples on the stagnant water. Their concentric circles grew, intersecting in swells, releasing voices in their wake. Magnus waited at the slimy green bank, attempting to make sense of the strange sounds. The cries of men, women, and children rose up and overwhelmed him. “Save us!” a woman shrieked.“Please, help me. I want to be free,” a man’s husky voice entreated. “Take me away from this hell,” a high-pitched wail begged.     The voices built around him, crowding his ears, imploring him to rescue their tormented souls. He had never heard such noises from anyone.A vision of his Frannie hurtling over the cliff’s edge at Altmover Manor replayed in his head. The sound she made as she toppled to the rocks below resembled the pitiful cries of the spirits around him. Magnus closed his eyes, disgusted by the memory.When his eyes opened, he scampered backward. In the boggy water, hundreds of bodies floated in various stages of decomposition. Arms, hands, legs, and torsos bobbed on the surface. The woman in black he’d seen with Lexie stood at the water’s edge, calling to the dead to wake from their soggy tombs.Horrified by the agony he saw on their contorted faces, Magnus wanted to obliterate the vision by returning to his shadowy realm, but he couldn’t tear himself away. The images of body parts and broken souls held him captive as bitter waves of anger and anguish rolled off the water. “Your master’s in danger.”Magnus spun around.A little girl in a long white nightgown trimmed in yellow ribbon stood next to him. Down the front, a stain of burnt red went all the way to her bare feet. She held a dirty teddy bear in her arms, but when she peered up at him, a gaping wound across her throat exposed the bone underneath.Magnus didn’t know if he could believe the phantom before him. Spirits had never reached out to him before. This was Lexie’s realm. Why did he suddenly have her gift? “Are you real?” “Yes, sir. Very real, just like you.”He knelt down beside the child. “What is your name?”“Mattie. I died in the swamp when I was six. The mistress has enslaved my soul to do her bidding.”He touched the nose of the teddy bear in her arms. His fingers passed through the toy. “What mistress?”“The Lady La Fay. The one who called your master to her side.”Magnus examined her gray skin and sunken eyes. “I don’t have a master.”She pointed to the porch steps of the cottage. “You’re bound to the woman who went inside. She’s your master and the one who controls your fate. We are all bound to those who work the dark realm. You’ll see.”Magnus was about to question the child when her eyes went black and rolled back into her head.Her mouth opened, and her lips stretched, expanding painfully beyond her chin and cheeks. The gaping, black hole spread and almost split her face in two. It covered her entire face, leaving only her flowing brown hair untouched. Alarmed, he stood up. Then the child dropped the teddy bear and held her arms out to her sides. He searched the swamps for an escape. He found the souls in the water, their dismembered bodies rising from the surface, coming toward him. A parade of legs, arms, torsos, and heads covered with algae and muck approached his spot on the shore.He faced the girl, her toes floating above the boggy ground.A soulless, wretched cackle came from the blackness covering her face.    “Welcome, Magnus Blackwell,” a woman’s whiny voice echoed from the darkness. “Welcome to my world.”  

About the Author:
Born and raised in New Orleans, Alexandrea Weis grew up in the motion picture industry and began writing at the age of eight. After finishing her Ph.D. in Nursing, Alexandrea decided to pick up the pen again. She has published a number of award-winning novels, and won countless national awards for fiction. A certified/permitted wildlife rehabber with the La. Wildlife and Fisheries, when not writing, Alexandrea rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She and her husband live in New Orleans.
Visit Alexandrea Weis online at: www.alexandreaweis.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authoralexandreaweis/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/alexandreaweis
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alexandreaweis/
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Alexandrea-Weis/e/B0028OJO6C/

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Interview - When A Vamp Falls by A.M. Griffin

What is it about the paranormal, in particular vampires, that fascinates you so much? 
I love the paranormal genre. I also love sci-fi, regency romance, fantasy, urban fantasy and contemporary. I’m an avid reader and will usually engulf just about any good book that I can get my hands on. I’ve been a big vampire movie fan since I was little but never really thought about writing a vampire book until the mood struck me last year. When it struck with this fantastic story about a vampire who was in the midst of questioning his mortality and getting his affairs in order for his death and a woman who awakened a part of him that he thought was long gone, I knew I had to write it.
What inspired you to write this book? 
I was at Romancing The Capital Ottawa (RTC) and dreamed two nights in a row about the characters and their first meeting. I’m not a plotter, I usually write by the seat of my pants, but in order to make sure that I got it right, I put my dream to paper and later had to go through and finesse it a little (meaning I had to take out all of the crazy dream-y stuff).
Do you have a special formula for creating characters' names? Do you try to match a name with a certain meaning to attributes of the character or do you search for names popular in certain time periods or regions? 
I. Do. Not. Lol. It’s more of a roll of the dice. Literally. I use an app called “Name Dice” and I roll it until I find something that sticks and fits the character. Since the character changes a few times during the writing process, I may have to use the app a few times until I have the final name. I wish I had a better formula, but there you go. lol
Do you have a formula for developing characters? Like do you create a character sketch or list of attributes before you start writing or do you just let the character develop as you write? 
The characters develop as I write them. I’ll be writing a scene and BOOM! The character will reveal a secret and I’m sitting there floored. It’s weird to explain because as the writer you would think that I know every part of a character since I created them, but nope. It doesn’t work that way for me. I’ll get notes from my editors or from readers saying, “I did not see that coming!” and my reply is always, “Neither did I!” I love that part of writing. I’m writing like I’m reading a book. I don’t now know what’s going to happen yet. For an avid reader this is the best feeling!
Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? How do you deal with it? 
As any other author, I do suffer from writer’s block. Usually it’s due from me trying to force my characters to fit a certain mold or do something that they don’t want to. The characters have a mind of their own so being forced into scenarios just so I can wrap a scene in a nice bow usually leaves my fingers not moving and me staring blankly at my computer. Once I give up whatever idea I have about a character or scene and move to something else, is when the characters start talking to me again.
Do you write in different genres? 
Yes! I write whatever I fancy. That practice doesn’t really allow me to take over one particular genre, but it keeps my heart happy. I write sci-fi, paranormal, contemporary, urban fantasy and YA.
Do you find it difficult to write in multiple genres? 
Not at all since I write what I want to read. I would love to be able to stick to one genre just for the sake of the readers, but since I write because I love to read, I’m unable to keep it to one box. So there’s good and bad to jumping all over the place. I love it, but no one can pin my writing style down so that might be frustrating for readers. I’m just going to pretend that it all adds to my complexity. lol
What are your guilty pleasures in life? 
Traveling and reading! I love traveling and reading. I take 2 vacations a year and weekend trips sprinkled in-between and I also read 2 books a week. I read so much that I often have to use it as a bargaining chip to finish writing. If I finish two chapters in my WIP this day, I get to finish reading the book that I’m reading. SCORE!
What was the last amazing book you read? 
There are sooooo many! Currently, I’m actually re-reading the Immortals After Dark Series by Kresely Cole. Yup, all 17 books. I really, really need to be committing more time to writing my own stuff, but those books are so good. So, so very good.
What can readers expect next from you? 
I’m currently working on the second book of the War of Blood and Bonds series. Which is about Vallus and Bride, two of the characters that we met in When a Vamp Falls. I’m only a quarter into it so I can’t give too much of the plot away, but will be able to say that Bride does not want to be caught up in the world of vampires and Vallus, bent on fulfilling a promise, can’t leave her alone (the sparks are flying!)
Where can readers find you on the web? 
They can find me on Twitter (@amgriffinbooks) talking about any and everything (usually cracking myself up) or on FaceBook (Author A.M. Griffin) asking for people to explain the ending of books or discussing books that I’m reading. Come find me!
Would you like to leave readers with a little teaser or excerpt from the book? The door opened.Ramsey stared in awe at the beautiful woman in the doorway. Danya’s dark hair hung past her shoulders. Her bangs were severely cut above her eyebrows. Generous lashes framed vibrant green eyes. He’d thought that he’d imagined how pretty she was. But no, she was even prettier.While he looked at her, drinking the sight of her in, she however, startled, screamed, then tried to slam the door in his face. A well-placed foot stopped her before she could.
“You. You.” She grunted as she pressed her body against the other side of the door.When that didn’t work she kicked at his foot, trying to dislodge it. “No. No. No. You aren’t real.”He glanced down at his body. “I’m very much real, sweetheart.”Her eyes fluttered closed. “This is all a figment of my imagination. I am delusional. This is a symptom of anemia. One. Two. Three.” She took a deep breath, then opened her eyes again.He gave her a wicked smile. “Still here.”Danya screamed.Ramsey cupped his hand over her mouth and wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her body close to his. She smelled of vanilla and brown sugar. He leaned in to take another languidly whiff. Delectable.She opened her eyes wide, and panic was behind them. He didn’t allow himself time to enjoy how her soft body was against his. He had to get her back inside before she had everyone on her floor spilling into the hallway to see what all the commotion was about.Ramsey walked her back into her room and used his foot to kick the door closed behind them. He stopped only when her back was pressed against the wall. She shook with terror.First attack her. Then scare her to death. Perfect.A sharp pain hit his palm. He pulled away from her mouth to see the red bite mark. “You bit me.” Her bite didn’t do any damage, and the pain was gone already. His body worked quickly to make the repair. It was confusion that made him pull away. He hadn’t expected that.
Another pain, worse, like lightning, hit his groin. He doubled over and backed away.Being kneed in the balls felt the same whether he were human or vampire. It hurt like hell. “Why did you do that?” he asked in disbelief.The scared woman that she’d been just moments before was gone, replaced by spit and hellfire. She balled her fists and took a step forward to kick him in his chin. He’d let her beauty distract him but recovered quickly and caught her bare foot mid-air and pushed it, slamming her back against the wall. Before she could react, he was against her body again and in her face.“Why. Are. You. Trying. To. Hurt. Me?” His nose was less than an inch from hers.Her stare turned icy. “Because. You’re. Trying. To. Hurt. Me.” She punched his sides then winced. “Ouch. What the hell are you made of? Steel?”“Dammit. Stop that.” He pinned her hands above her head.She wiggled in vain, doing nothing but making his body react to hers. He lifted her arms higher, raising her to her tiptoes. She tried to knee him again, but he blocked her by maneuvering his hip and sliding his leg between hers.He tried to ignore her warm heat spreading over his thigh. “I’m not here to hurt you.”She stopped struggling long enough to glare at him. “Really? What do you call this or what you did last night?”He let out a curse. “If I let you go do you promise not to attack me again?”“Sure.”He didn’t believe her. “I only came to make sure that you had recovered from last night. I didn’t mean to take as much blood as I did.”“Everyone thinks that I’m crazy because of you.”“And for that I apologize.” She relaxed a little. “So can I let you go now?” He really wanted to keep her where she was, pinned against him, and take her. And if he didn’t create space between them that’s exactly what he would’ve done.She gave a short nod.He let go of her hands and stepped away and kept going until he was against the wall, giving them both space. He needed it so that his cock would go down, and she needed it so that she wouldn’t feel threatened anymore. He also wanted to put room between his balls and her knees.“You bit me,” she said again. “Why? I was just trying to help you.”“And you did, by giving me your blood.”She held up a finger. “Let’s make things clear. I didn’t give you anything. You took it.”Yeah, that sounded about right. Hearing her say it made him feel even worse. “If I had asked?”“The answered would’ve been no.”“It was a life or death situation. Without you I wouldn’t be standing here now.”She snorted. “And that’s a good thing?”“That I’m alive? I should think so.”“Alive and coming back to finish what you started?”He raised a questioning eyebrow.She pointed to her neck. “To kill me.”“I hardly have intentions to kill you.”She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. She looked causal, even relaxed, buther muscles were tight. She was getting ready for a fight.“Thank you for saving me.”“I could’ve died. You left me with a hemoglobin of 4.4!” Then she pulled her eyebrows together in thought. “What is it supposed to be normally?” she mumbled.“Humans should have a hemoglobin of—”“I’m not asking you, mister,” she snapped.“Ramsey Moreau.”“Huh?”“That’s my name.” She clenched her jaws. He let out a light chuckle. “Nice to meet you,Danya Evans.”She took a step to the side, sliding further away from him. “How do you know my name?”He winked, giving her a devious smile. “I heard your conversations with the officers last night.”“Creep much?”“Sometimes.”“And I suppose that you couldn’t have found it in your heart to corroborate my story to save me from the humiliation of being labeled crazy?”“Ah, no.” She cursed under her breath and kicked at the carpet. “But if you would let me,I’d like to make it up to you.”She turned her head. “And how could you do that? You can’t give me my blood back.The transfusions took care of that.”“I want to take you out to eat.” That hadn’t been his plan, but suddenly he didn’t want to leave her. Yet.


When A Vamp FallsWar of Blood and Bonds
Book One
A.M. Griffin



Genre: Paranormal

Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Date of Publication: 15-MAR-2018
ASIN: B07BGDFGZC
Number of pages: 250Word Count: 72k
Tagline: Ramsey will stop at nothing to keep Danya safe from harm—even go to war to protect the one he loves.
Book Description:
Danya Evans’s normal everyday life is turned upside down when one good deed lands her on the opposite end of fangs. The fangs happen to be attached to the sexiest man she’s ever seen.
She knows that she should stay away from the vampire who almost kills her, but everything about Ramsey calls out to her heart and soul.
Ramsey Moreau, a Vampire who has walked Earth for thousands of years has two regrets. The first is underestimating the two new vampires who’ve found their way into New Orleans and the second is stealing blood from the trusting human he can't get off his mind. His world is mundane to say the least, but when Danya is around he finds a reason to live and love again.
He'll stop at nothing to keep her safe from harm—even go to war to protect the one he loves.
Amazon       BN       KOBO

About the Author:
A. M. Griffin is a wife who rarely cooks, mother of three, dog owner (and sometimes dog owned), a daughter, sister, aunt and friend. She's a hard worker whose two favorite outlets are reading and writing. She enjoys reading everything from mystery novels to historical romances and of course fantasy romance. She is a believer in the unbelievable, open to all possibilities from mermaids in our oceans and seas, angels in the skies and intelligent life forms in distant galaxies.
For more information please visit www.amgriffinbooks.com
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/TZzXv
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AMGriffinbooks
Facebook: www.facebook.com/amgriffinbooks
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/amgriffinbooks

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A Bewitching Friday the 13th

Interview K.D. Friedrich, Author of Heart of a Wolf #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/2qBX30jty4c

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Patricia J. Anderson Discusses Threshold
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Review of Flesh by Laura Bickle
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Since We Fell by Ann Gimpel - Book Tour #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/YIem30jtymO

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Protecting His Alien Mate by Clare Dargin
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Prologue Salem Burning by Daniel Sugar
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Read the Prologue of Salem Burning by Daniel Sugar

Salem BurningDaniel Sugar
Genre: Historical Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Daniel Sugar
Date of Publication: February 20th, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-7752675-0-8 ASIN: BO79YZL9L
Number of pages: 151 Word Count: 34,289
Cover Artist: ebooklaunch.com
Tagline: If Only They’d Known…You Can’t Burn A Witch.
Book Description:
Salem Burning, a magical re-telling of the Salem witch trials, is now available exclusively on Amazon.
In 1692, disreputable Kyle Edwards breaks his engagement by accusing his fiancee, Lilly Parris, of witchcraft.
Kyle is a liar - he does not really believe in witchcraft, he is simply trying to get rid of Lilly. But Kyle is in for a shock because, as it turns out, Lilly really is a witch.
“Salem Burning is a fast-paced, brand-new take on the Salem witch trials.
Amazon


                                   PROLOGUE
ISLE OF SKYE, SCOTLAND. 1550
     The late-afternoon sun was slipping away and storm clouds and darkness were rapidly approaching as the happy eight-year-old girl carrying a straw basket filled with freshly-cut roses ran towards Delaney Castle.     Suddenly out of breath, Sarah Delaney stopped, sat down on the soft green grass and looked at her home. Delaney Castle was truly beautiful. Its stone walls and turrets so white they almost shimmered in the rapidly setting sun. It was hard to believe that a magnificent castle perched on top of a hill was actually her home. Hers!  How lucky she was to live there and how blessed she was to have such wonderful parents. Parents who loved her so much they were making a magnificent birthday party for her that very evening. Overcome with happiness, Sarah could not help herself and as she stood up and ran into the castle she started to sing. “The birth day is the loveliest day. The birth day is filled with charm.”     Sarah’s beautiful, dark-haired mother, Evelyn Delaney, was clad in a breathtaking saffron gown and she was waiting for her daughter as Sarah ran into the castle.       Evelyn smiled, lifted a rose from Sarah’s straw basket and inhaled the flower’s scent. “Come along, Sarah. Everyone wants to see the birthday girl.”     Sarah kissed her mother on the cheek and said, “I am ready, mother.”     Sarah took her mother’s hand and together they walked into an enormous dining hall which was filled with relatives and friends who began to clap and cheer the moment Sarah entered the room.     Sarah scanned the room. The crowd was thick. There were so many people, too many people - but she only wanted one of them. Yet she could not find him. It was so frustrating. Where was he? Where was he?  Suddenly she spotted him – her tall, handsome, blond father, Patrick Delaney, (clad in his finest tartan kilt and a velvet jacket). Sarah rushed into her father’s arms and he laughed and tossed her playfully into the air as Sarah squealed with delight. “Now we eat!” Patrick yelled. “Now we sing and dance as we let it be known to all that eight years ago, on the first of June, fifteen hundred and forty-two, my daughter, this young beauty named Sarah Delaney, was born in Scotland!”     The assembled guests cheered and, as if by magic, servants suddenly appeared in the vast dining hall, some carrying trays of food, some holding musical instruments which they began to play.     Delighted, the guests began to eat and sing and dance to the lively music which was almost drowned out by the sound of approaching thunder.      Sarah took her parents’ hands and the three of them sang along with their guests; raising their voices as the sounds of distant thunder grew closer and louder.     Suddenly, thunder exploded overhead, cold, impenetrable sheets of rain dropped from the black sky and long branches of lightning illuminated the castle as soldiers rushed into the dining hall with swords drawn.     Sarah Delaney screamed as a soldier cut off her father’s head.     Evelyn Delaney grabbed her terrified daughter and ran to the large portrait of Patrick Delaney that hung on one of the dining hall’s stone walls.      Soldiers ignored all cries for mercy and massacred the party guests, savagely, brutally, sparing no one.     Trembling, Evelyn pushed the portrait and the stone wall moved, revealing a secret passageway.     Evelyn quickly kissed her daughter. “Hurry now, Sarah. Save yourself.”     Suddenly, a soldier drove his sword into Evelyn’s chest and Sarah, still clutching the basket of roses rushed down the dark stone passageway.     “Run, Sarah!”     The soldier pulled the sword from Evelyn’s chest and then plunged it into her throat.     The moment Evelyn Delaney fell to the ground, dead, the soldier turned his attention to Sarah and rushed into the stone passageway.     As Sarah ran, she turned and looked behind her. The soldier was too fast. She was running with all her might but the soldier was getting closer.     A bright white flash of lightning illuminated the end of the passageway; illuminated freedom.     Sarah, exhausted, managed to squeeze through the passageway’s narrow opening just as the soldier lunged and tried to grab her.     The soldier was able to grab Sarah’s left shoe and tear if off her foot but Sarah was suddenly free.     The soldier was unable to fit through the passageway’s narrow opening and he screamed and swore and waved the child’s raw leather shoe as Sarah Delaney ran and ran and disappeared into the wet Scottish night.

About the Author:
Daniel Sugar has written for a number of celebrities and for several TV shows, including “The Tonight Show, With Jay Leno”. He has always been fascinated by witches, witchcraft, the Salem witch trials, and the French Revolution. “Salem Burning” is his first novel. He is currently working on the sequel, “The Witch And The Guillotine”.
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