Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 333

Cover Reveal Dancing with Flames by Susan Illene

Dancing with FlamesDragon’s Breath SeriesBook TwoSusan Illene
Genre:  Dark Fantasy/New Adult/Post-apocalyptic
Date of Publication:  June 24th, 2016
Cover Artist: Jeff Brown and Claudia McKinney
Book Description: 
Four months ago, fire breathing dragons invaded Earth from an alternate dimension, wreaking havoc on modern civilization.  Bailey Monzac has been training to kill them ever since discovering she was impervious to their flames, but when some of the beasts begin targeting children, she can’t hold back any longer and must hunt them down.
Her ally, Aidan, would help, except the shape-shifter has his own troubles.  His clan is battling for territory against the pure dragons and his father—their leader—is dying.  As the shifters fight for the pendragon position, fierce rivalry takes over. Aidan’s own brothers aren’t above blackmail and murder if it will get them to the top.  He must stay one step ahead if he is to survive and keep his clan safe from the pure dragons who threaten them all.
Bailey and Aidan may be natural-born enemies, but working together might be the only thing that saves them from the danger that lies ahead.

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/VjxCyQLsBkg
About the Author:
Susan Illene served in the US Army for eleven years and worked as a human resources specialist and an Arabic linguist. She served two deployments to Iraq, and after leaving the army, she studied history at the University of Oklahoma. She and her husband currently live in Oklahoma with two high-maintenance cats doing their best to help her write her books.
Website:  http://www.susanillene.com/
Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/SusanIllene1
Twitter:  https://twitter.com/susan_illene
Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6889690.Susan_Illene

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A Campfire Nightmare by Jeffrey Stagg

A Campfire NightmareNightmare SeriesBook OneJeffrey Stagg
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Stagg Literature, LLC
Date of Publication:  March 1, 2016
ISBN: 978-1517744441ASIN: B01CRQKFZO
Number of pages: 344Word Count: 117,824
Book Description:
IN AGES PAST, the Flathead Native Americans fought a war against a monstrous force that stalks the woods surrounding Flathead Lake. So says William Rox, legendary musician and director of the prestigious Colman’s Amateur Music Program, known as CAMP.
Jimmy Downs is thrilled to be attending CAMP—or he would be, if he weren’t being bullied by campers who seem to think wealth can buy talent. Jimmy doesn’t have money, but he can drum like no one else. As for the bullies, at least his best friend, Michael Munday, is with him. The two have had each other’s backs all of their lives.
But bullies are about to become the least of Jimmy’s worries. Dark, hulking figures begin surrounding the woods around camp…figures that bear more than a passing resemblance to Rox’s campfire stories.
Jimmy and Michael are about to become players in a very old war—assuming they survive.
Amazon       BN       Createspace



PROLOGUEThe black-cloaked figure knelt by the lake, examining the muddy soil. A great northern storm had rolled through hours ago, but the air was still frigid. Waves crashed against the stony shore, waterdrops splashing up against his waterproof black covering.His fingers traced along the print clearly pressed into the mud. It was a large paw print, something like the shape of a wolf’s but the size of a bear’s. He examined the mark on the ground and then moved to where he should have found the creature’s front paws, but not surprisingly, he instead found what appeared to be humanlike handprints, with long, triangular fingernails jutting out from the tip of each finger. The cloaked man placed his own right hand within the print, knowing that the muddy outline was easily twice the size of his own pale hand.His left hand tightened around the shaft of his bow as he stood up.Even though it was nearing one in the morning, his eyes clearly made out the many prints that had been made throughout this particular clearing.He had warned the other guardian that something was going on.“Why so many?” the man asked aloud as he pulled down the hood of his cloak. “There shouldn’t be this many here anymore.”“What’s that?” a British man’s voice called from the darkness.A flashlight’s beam bobbed through the trees, weaving back and forth until it fell upon the pale man’s form. The man lifted one of his hands to block his sensitive eyes from the somewhat dim beam. He indicated the soil in front of him that marked the passing of their quarries.“A pack,” the pale man told his companion, moving the tip of his weapon to indicate how many individual creatures had passed through there. “You should keep the camp closed this year.”“No,” the huge British man answered, snapping his response a little more testily than he had wanted. “It needs to be open. You know just as well as I do that we need to stay open.”“Even at the risk of the lives of hundreds of people?”His companion stepped forward and jammed a double-edged longsword into the ground as he examined the pathway. The flashlight was a head lamp, mounted with a pair of bands that wrapped around his head. As his head shifted from one set of prints to another, a feeling of anger began flooding into his soul.“I need you to thin out this pack. You can shoot the sods from afar, and with that horse of yours, you’ll be able to stay ahead of them.”“I can do that,” the pale man agreed, pulling his hood back up, still watching the back of the big man.“There’s something going on this year that we don’t understand quite yet,” the British man told his friend, standing up and pulling the sword from the moistened ground. “Something feels different. It feels wrong…and right at the same time.”“Maybe the legends are true, and the natives’ stories are coming to pass,” the archer suggested, beginning to stroll into a particularly dark portion of the forest, his fingers tightening on the dark wood of his bow as he disappeared into the night.Finding himself alone, the swordsman stood and peered up into the sky at the bright round moon hanging in the air, twinkling stars engulfing the night. This was Big Sky Country, and it was true to its name. His eyes searched the heavens, hoping that an answer would reveal itself.He let out a huff of hot breath, and the air clouded before his flashlight dimming the light slightly.Shaking his head and turning to stare at the spot where his companion had disappeared, he whispered to himself, “I hope not. We’re not ready for them yet.”As his words disappeared into the night like his breath, a clear rumbling sound thundered through the night on his left. Reaching down slowly, he drew his sword once more, its silver blade sparkling with the light of the moon.“God above, keep me safe that I might be able to open the camp.”The rocky growl turned into a mix of a scream and a roar as the furry eight-foot monstrosity leaped at the man, humanlike hands reaching out with razor claws. Swinging the sword out wide, the man pivoted to meet the demon in the darkness.


About the Author:
Jeffrey was born in Ogden, Utah in 1989.
Born to a podiatrist from Utah and a rancher's daughter from Montana. Stagg was able travel throughout his childhood finding solace and inspiration in the wild.His interest in nature has made Stagg realize that the melding of natural world with magic was where he could excel. To keep ideas alive, Stagg is an avid nature photographer, imagining book scenes wherever he travels.
While attending Weber State University, Stagg was able to work as an artisan cheese maker for the award winning Beehive Cheese Co. in Ogden, Utah. It was there that the details of A Campfire Nightmare came together. During the 5 years he was employed at Beehive, Stagg has created story lines for many series he is in the process of writing.
Now, Stagg works as an educator and works with students in reading and writing. Encouraging those around him to spend more time in books.
www.staggliterature.com
https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/53416743-jeffrey-stagg
https://www.facebook.com/staggliterature
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Interview, Excerpt, Giveaway - Grey by Christi J. Whitney

Can you tell readers a little bit about yourself and what inspired to write in this particular genre?
Well, I’m a former English and drama teacher, and I’ve always loved telling stories. Directing shows and writing novels are very similar in that way. I’ve also always had a soft spot in my heart for fantasy. Reading fantasy novels is an escape from normal life for me. When I decided to write, it was an easy plunge into YA fantasy. It felt the most natural.
Please tell us about your latest release.
Shadow is the second book in my YA fantasy series The Romany Outcasts. I’m really excited about the novel, because it continues the stories of Sebastian and Josephine.
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?
Names are extremely important to me when writing a story, and Grey was no exception. I chose the name Sebastian Grey for very specific reasons, which are revealed throughout the course of the entire story arc. I also like to name characters as homage to other things. I have two characters in my series whose names were inspired by The Hunchback of Notre Dame – but I can’t tell you more than that!
Is there a character that you enjoyed writing more than any of the others?
Oh, definitely. Sebastian has been my favorite character to write, without a doubt. There’s just something about him I truly connect with, and it’s been so much fun to travel down his very difficult and transformative road during the course of Grey and Shadow.
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?
Honestly, the process varies depending on the character and the story I’m writing. Sometimes I sketch them out ahead of time, detailing their appearance, personality, and character traits. Other times, I have an essence of who they are in my head, and the character continues to grow and deepen as I work my way through the story. I love using dialogue to help me understand my characters as well.

What is your favorite scene from the book? Could you share a little bit of it, without spoilers of course?
Oooh, so difficult to choose just one! I loved any scene in Greywhere Sebastian had to directly confront what was happening to him. He’s dealing with quite a lot! There are a couple of scenes where Sebastian is rehearsing for the school play with Josephine and he’s finding it extremely difficult – for some pretty unusual reasons. Those were great fun.
Did you find anything really interesting while researching this or another book?
I did a good bit of research on the Roma culture as I was writing the first two books in this series. I’ve always been fascinated by this rich and diverse culture, but it certainly deepened my appreciation for it. Even though the Gypsies in my series are fictional, I wanted them to feel real, and I wanted to be respectful of the culture as well.
What is the most interesting thing you have physically done for book related research purposes?Book three of The Romany Outcasts Series takes place in the beautiful coastal town of Savannah, which is located in the southern part of Georgia. I asked my husband a couple of years ago if we could spend an anniversary weekend there because I wanted to do bit of research for the book. I really love the city, and I’m hoping to go back there again before I finish Midnight.
Can you tell readers a little bit about the world building in the book/series? How does this world differ from our normal world?
There are really two worlds that exist in The Romany Outcasts outside of the normal world. The first is the world of the Outcasts Gypsies, who keep a low profile and live fairly hidden wherever they go. They don’t interact with the outside world more than they have to. But there is also another hidden world within the Gypsy one – a world that has a long history and is steeped in fairy tales and legends. Sebastian is pulled into one world and forced to confront another in Grey.
With the book being part of a series, are there any character or story arcs, that readers jumping in somewhere other than the first book, need to be aware of? Can these books be read as stand alones?
When writing a series, I’ve learned you have to give enough information in each book to clue the reader in, while at the same time, not getting bogged down with exposition. Even if a reader has read the first book, details can get fuzzy, and the author needs to solidify key points from the first book with the second. I believe that the reader would understand Shadowenough without having read Grey, but The Romany Outcasts is certainly a chronological story, and it was written to be read in that order.
Do any of your characters have similar characteristics of yourself in them and what are they?
I relate to Sebastian because he and I share some personality traits and a similar sense of humor. I also see a little bit of myself in Ms. Lucian – but honestly, it’s because I wrote her as sort of a representation of my own experience as a high school teacher. She was originally meant to be just a bit character, but she took on a life of her own as the story progressed, and she became something much different.

Other than writing, what are some of your interests, hobbies or passions in life?
I’m a theatre director on the side, and I direct plays and musicals for local theatres. I’m also a pretty big geek. I love watching anything sci-fi or fantasy, and I tend to get fan-girly about a lot of things. Oh, and I make costumes to wear to sci-fi/fantasy conventions. I’ve attended dressed as everything from Jack Sparrow to Bofur the dwarf from the Hobbit. Some of my favorites have been the White Queen from Alice in Wonderland and Missy from Doctor Who.
What can readers expect next from you?
I’m currently writing the third book of The Romany Outcasts Series, which is due out in the spring. And I’ve got a couple of other projects in the works.
Where can readers find you on the web?
I love to connect with readers! You can find me here:Twitter: https://twitter.com/christiwhitneyInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/christijwhitney/Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/Christi-J-Whitney-220577227350/Tumblr:  http://theatrepirate.tumblr.comPinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/christijwhitney/
Would you like to leave readers with a little teaser or excerpt from the book?

Most definitely! I’ll leave you with a little bit Chapter 2 of Grey, the first book in the series.
‘Sebastian, are you still there?’            I transferred my phone to my other hand as I buckled the seatbelt. ‘Yeah, I’m here.’             ‘Weren’t you listening to me?’ Katie asked.            I paused, trying to remember what we’d been talking about. The two hours since lunch had been a blur, and my brain was mush. ‘Um . . . ’            Katie sighed on the other end. ‘The project Ms Lucian talked about in class today,’ she continued impatiently. ‘When are we going to work on it?’            ‘I’m sorry,’ I replied, starting the engine. ‘The pounding in my head’s making it difficult to think.’            ‘Another headache?’            ‘You know me and sunny days,’ I said dismissively. I stepped on the gas and coaxed my old van onto the road. ‘But about the project. I don’t know if I can do it this week. Can I get back to you?’            ‘Yeah, just don’t wait too long. I know we’ve got almost a month to work on it, so Ms Lucian’s not going to cut us any slack, and the rest of our group is totally avoiding me about the whole thing.’            Katie hated procrastinating on anything related to schoolwork. This was probably killing her. ‘Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to the guys, and we’ll come up with a day to work on it. I promise, we won’t let you down.’            ‘Thanks, Sebastian,’ she replied, sounding relieved. ‘You’re not nearly as much of an idiot as the rest of your species.’            I chuckled. ‘I think you mean gender.’            She giggled. ‘No, I don’t.’            ‘Talk to you later, Katie.’            ‘Bye.’            I tossed the phone on the passenger seat and rubbed my temples. By the time I made it through town and steered my van into the parking lot of the Gypsy Ink, my headache had traveled, setting up residence between my shoulder blades. The last thing I felt like doing was homework.            I shuffled through the waiting room, giving a brief wave to Kris, who was busy behind the counter. I’d grab a quick snack and then lay out flat on the floor of the apartment for a while. Just until the aching eased. I paused in the hallway just outside the door of Hugo’s workspace. I didn’t have to say anything. My brother knew I was there.             ‘Hey, Sebastian.’ He glanced up from his sketchbook. ‘What’s up?’            ‘Do you have any sports cream?’ I leaned against the wall and squinted as a sharp pain lanced through my shoulders. ‘My back’s killing me.’            Hugo’s brows settled low over his dark eyes. ‘In the drawer beside my bed.’            ‘Okay, thanks.’            I continued down the hallway, followed by the weight of my brother’s stare. He probably thought I was trying to get out of work, which wasn’t a bad idea. I chucked my bag on the bed and rummaged through Hugo’s nightstand until I located the tube of medicine. I worked the cream into my back, but it felt as if someone was digging long fingers between my shoulder blades, attempting to separate muscle from bone.            I gave up with the cream and stumbled to the bathroom on a quest for aspirin. Just as I reached for the medicine cabinet, another shock of pain doubled me over. I gripped the edge of the counter and straightened. My gaze flicked to the mirror. For a moment, I almost didn’t recognize the face staring back. I was crazy pale, even for me, and my skin made the hazel color of my eyes look dull. But then I noticed something else. Another chunk of gray was poking through my disheveled hair.

GreyThe Romany Outcasts SeriesBook OneChristi J. Whitney
Genre: YA Fantasy / Urban Fantasy
Publisher: HarperCollins/HarperVoyagerUK
Date of Publication: E-book - 4/30/15Date of Publication: Paperback 10/22/15
ISBN:  9780008120450ASIN: B00MT9E66E
Number of pages: 344Word Count: 91,640
Cover Artist: Cherie Chapman
Book Description:
Can you still love with a heart of stone?
Sebastian Grey always thought he was a fairly normal teenager – good friends, decent grades and a pretty sweet job in his foster brother’s tattoo shop.
But when Romany gypsies arrive in town, Sebastian discovers that his world is not what it seems. There is an age-old feud between his family and the gypsies – and this isn’t the only secret his brother has been keeping from him. His life is not his own. The girl he’s been dreaming about has just turned up at school, and he feels compelled to protect her at all costs.
Even if that means life might never be normal again.
Book Trailer: https://vimeo.com/125617735
Amazon    BN    Kobo


About the Author:
Christi J. Whitney is a former high school theatre director with a love for the arts. She lives just outside Atlanta with her husband and two sons. When not spending time with them or taking a ridiculous number of trips to Disney World, she can be found directing plays, making costumes for sci-fi/fantasy conventions, obsessing over Doctor Who, watching superhero movies, or pretending she’s just a tad bit British. You can visit her online at www.christijwhitney.com or connect on Twitter (@ChristiWhitney).

http://christijwhitney.com
https://twitter.com/christiwhitney
https://www.facebook.com/Christi-J-Whitney-220577227350/
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8299600.Christi_J_Whitney

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Steampunk in the Gold Rush - A Midsummer Night’s Mechanical by Kirsten Weiss

Though steampunk tales – sci-fi set in the Victorian era – are generally placed in England, the genre’s setting is rapidly expanding to other parts of the world. And hooray for that! Yes, Victorian England lends itself to improper ladies and toffs in top hats. All that overblown civility! But sometimes, the most exciting adventures take place in the world’s most uncivil places.
Since I’m from the San Francisco area and was force-fed stories of the California Gold Rush as a child, that time and place seemed a natural fit for the Sensibility Grey series of steampunk suspense. The California Gold Rush was chaotic, anarchic, and dangerous – the ideal setting for a steampunk adventure. (It was also much easier for me to research and imagine what old California looked like than Victorian London.)
Another great thing about the California Gold Rush? Since gold was discovered in 1848, and the rush got started in 1849, it takes place at the beginning of the Victorian and, therefore, the steampunk era. So for my characters, the technology they experience is new and marvelous. Readers get to experience that sense of wonder and excitement through the characters’ eyes. My heroine, Sensibility Grey is an inventor of mechanicals. She’s still in the “figuring things out” stage, and the reader can go right along with her discoveries – both mechanical and magical.
The California Gold Rush also provided an interesting mix of cultures, and frequent tension existed between them. The Spaniards oppressed the indigenous peoples. Then the Americans came in, pushed out the Spaniards… and also oppressed the local populations. These culture clashes add a tension-filled backdrop to the Sensibility Grey series of steampunk suspense novels.
Where the government fails to provide law enforcement, vigilantes will inevitably step in. When I lived in the former USSR, I saw this sadly often. The police were corrupt and allowed the successful criminals to pay them off and go free. So men would band together and administer their own justice to make their neighborhoods inhospitable to crime. Results were as could be expected – vigilantes went too far, innocent people got hurt. But I confess I felt some sympathy for those vigilantes – the police were criminals themselves. If you were neither criminal nor cop (same difference), life felt very out of control. And that’s not a good feeling.
However, I feel zero sympathy for the vigilantes who patrolled Gold Rush San Francisco’s streets. A group called “The Hounds” pretty much ran San Francisco in early 1849, when San Francisco lacked any real civic leadership or even a jail. Though the Hounds claimed they were a “safety committee,” they were anti-immigrant and criminals themselves. By the summer of 1849, the citizens of San Francisco had had enough and formed a “real” government, setting up a legal system and driving out the Hounds.
For all these reasons, the California Gold Rush was a ripe setting for a steampunk adventure. 
Would your home make a good spot for some steampunk madness? Let us know in the comments below!

A Midsummer Night’s MechanicalSensibility Grey Series of Steampunk Suspense Book 3Kirsten Weiss
Genre: Steampunk/suspense
Publisher: Misterio Press
Date of Publication: May 1, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-944767-00-6ASIN: B01DOKO6CA
Number of pages: 224Word Count: 69,000
Cover Artist: Kirsten Weiss
Book Description:
A Midsummer MurderThe California Territory, 1849
Blamed for burning down the San Francisco wharf, clockwork inventor, Sensibility Grey has spent the last three months in hiding. Now all she wants is to depart the gold-crazy boomtown for a new life in the East. So when the owner of a traveling theater offers her work embellishing his mechanical stage, she turns him down. Then he turns up dead on her doorstep along with his enigmatic stage.
An explorer of the mysteries of aether, Sensibility has her own secrets to keep, and adversaries who’ll stop at nothing to learn them. Is the mechanical stage a part of a bigger game? Or the key to unlocking her true, magical potential?
A Midsummer Night’s Mechanical is book three in the Sensibility Grey series of steampunk suspense.
Kobo      Amazon
CHAPTER ONE
San Francisco, California Territory, June 1849.
Sensibility sat cross-legged upon her bed and tried not to think. She tried not to think of the ache where her stays pinched her back. She tried not to think of tomorrow’s journey across the American wilderness. She tried not to think about the clamor of banging drums and tootling fifes and—“Oh, good gad!” She clenched her fist, pieces of quartz crystal biting into her flesh. Sensibility sprang from the bed and threw open the boarding house window. Oppressive heat, acrid from the nearby outhouse, rolled into the room. Wrinkling her nose, she leaned out over the fenced back yard and craned her neck. The afternoon sun streamed through the laundry, hanging limp on the line. From her position, she couldn’t see the street procession. But neither could she avoid hearing their blasted parade.Something scuttled near her elbow, and she jerked away, slamming her head on the window frame. White pain arced through her skull. A baby raccoon, not much larger than the palm of her hand, cowered on the other end of the narrow sill. It scrabbled, hunching into a tight ball, trapped on the high ledge.“Ow.” She winced, rubbing her throbbing head and glad her chignon had taken the brunt of the blow. “How on earth did you get up here?”The raccoon mewled. “You shall have to make your own way home, for you cannot come inside. Mrs. Watson has a strict rule about animals inside her boarding house.”Gently, so as not to disturb the creature, she shut the window. The raccoon peered over the ledge then looked at her, his expression plaintive. Attempting to ignore the animal, she paced the denuded room, her brown skirts swishing. They had ample space to swish. Nearly all her belongings lay compressed into a single carpetbag, set before the empty wardrobe. The bedroom had an air of abandonment. Unsettled, Sensibility rattled the quartz crystals in her hand and glanced to the window. The animal stared inside, forlorn.She tugged at her collar. It was such a small thing. But rules were rules. “You found your way onto the ledge. You can find your own way down.” Sensibility turned to the journal open on the desk. Her sketch of an unworldly creature she’d once encountered scowl from the page. Frowning, she slammed the book shut. It had been careless of her to have left it open. Strange, she couldn’t remember examining the journal before she’d gone downstairs to retrieve her luncheon.The crystals pressed into her palm. She was so close to a breakthrough in aether technology, but the clues remained buried. Buried in the remains of her father’s last journal. Hidden in a journal from a traveling occultist. Scattered throughout her own notes and theories. One day soon, she would fit those pieces together. It was madness to hope she could solve that problem today.Sensibility opened her hand and gazed at the quartz crystals. She’d mastered the use of aether to power small devices. But aether had other applications, such as distance control and distance vision. These applications eluded her. “There has to be a way…”She glanced at the window. The animal raised itself on its hind legs and pressed its tiny black paws to the glass. Sensibility groaned. “I know I’ll regret this.” Pocketing the crystals, she opened the window. The raccoon cowered. “You,” she said, “being a wild animal, will attempt to bite me if I rescue you. But I will have none of it. I shall pick you up, I shall take you outside, and you shall neither bite nor scratch. Do you understand?”In a swift motion, she grasped it by the scruff of the neck and lifted it inside. It writhed, and her grasp on it loosened.She gasped. “Don’t….”
The raccoon dropped to her desk and shook its head. Whiskers twitching, it scuttled to her abandoned luncheon tray and made free with a bit of toast.

About the Author:
Kirsten Weiss worked overseas for nearly fourteen years, in the fringes of the former USSR and in South-east Asia.  Her experiences abroad sparked an interest in the effects of mysticism and mythology, and how both are woven into our daily lives.
Now based in San Mateo, CA, she writes steampunk suspense and paranormal mysteries, blending her experiences and imagination to create a vivid world of magic and mayhem. Kirsten has never met a dessert she didn’t like, and her guilty pleasures are watching Ghost Whisperer re-runs and drinking red wine.
Sign up for her newsletter to get a free copy of the full length urban fantasy novel, The Alchemical Detective, and updates on her latest work at: http://kirstenweiss.com
Blog: http://parayournormal.wordpress.com
Twitter: @KirstenWeiss
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kirsten.weiss/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5346143.Kirsten_Weiss

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Memorial Day the Baltimore Way -Payable On Death by Rachel Rawlings

Memorial Day weekend is upon us and is the unofficial first day of summer around Maryland. After honoring our fallen heroes and remembering the true reason for the holiday, people around here open the pools or head down to the boardwalk in Ocean City- also known as going down the ocean (pronounced oh-shon) hon, For those of us not water bound, we tend to gather around a pile of Maryland Blue Crabs and corn, steamed to perfection with a family recipe that definitely involves Old Bay seasoning. Cookouts with great music blaring on the radio and a cooler iced down and filled with NattyBo beer are jam packed with friends and family. Somewhere amidst the bowls of macaroni and potato salads you’re sure to find a bag of Utz chips- maybe two! 
I’m pretty sure Jax has spent more than one Memorial Day with a crab claw in one hand and a beer in the other. After all, she’s a Bal’more girl. 
My family and I like to keep things casual with burgers on the grill, a game of frisbie and some cold Redds Hard Cider- green apple preferably, lol. With three kids, whether we have friends and family over or not, it always feels like a full house! 




Payable On DeathThe Jax Rhodes SeriesBook OneRachel Rawlings
Print Length: 207 pages
Publication Date: April 5, 2016
ASIN: B01C1U2TZ0
Genre: New Adult Urban Fantasy
Book Description:
A deal with the Devil. Demons haunting your every step. When an Angel offers you the chance to redeem yourself, you take it. Because eternal damnation isn't all it's cracked up to be.
But the Devil always gets his due.
On the streets of Baltimore redemption is..... Payable On Death.

Amazon      BN    Kobo      Itunes

FORWARDHell.Some people say there is a HellWhere wicked souls are doomed to go.But this, by others, is denied,Who hold there is no Hell below.I've often heard the place described By certain preachers in my day,And trembled like an aspen leaf,As they its horrors did portray.
That such a place does not exist I will not undertake to say;Nor, from the knowledge I possess, Can I assert the other way.That there's a Hell, or that there's not, Is more than mortal man can know;And in the soul's eternal flight There's none can say where it shall go.
Were I to say there is a Hell, Can I, with proof, support the plea?Did I allege there's no such place? How can I prove it so to be? J. H. Stevenson 1890

Have you ever found yourself at a crossroads? You can't go forward, you can't go back. There's only bad and worse. Those were the options facing me the day I sold my soul to the Devil. Sure, it seems like a bad decision now, but at seventeen I thought it was my only salvation. I've spent every day since trying to earn my soul back and reserve my spot in Heaven because eternal damnation isn't all it's cracked up to be.
About the Author:
Rachel Rawlings was born and raised in the Baltimore Metropolitan area. Her family, originally from Rhode Island, spent summers in New England sparking her fascination with Salem, MA. She has been writing fictional stories and poems since middle school, but it wasn't until 2009 that she found the inspiration to create her heroine Maurin Kincaide and complete her first full length novel, The Morrigna.
When she isn't writing, Rachel can often be found with her nose buried in a good book. An avid reader of Paranormal/Urban Fantasy, Horror and Steampunk herself, Rachel founded Hallowread- an interactive convention for both authors and fans of those genres.
More information on Hallowread, its schedule of events and participating authors can be found at www.hallowread.blogspot.com  and www.facebook.com/Hallowread .
She still lives in Maryland with her husband and three children.
www.rachelrawlings.com
www.authorrachelrawlings.com
www.twitter.com/@rachelsbooks
www.facebook.com/themaurinkincaideseries
www.facebook.com/hallowread
www.tsu.co/@rachelsbooks
www.hallowread.com  
Goodreads  Author Page http://goo.gl/FZW0RN
Amazon Author Page http://goo.gl/Q6Ubn1

Where’s Sailor Jack? By John Uttley

Where's Sailor Jack?John Uttley
Publication Date: April 15, 2015
ASIN: B00W851QLM
Print Length: 324 pages
Book Description:
A family saga that takes in three generations of two families and all the struggles, tribulations and fireworks that you would expect as well as plenty you wouldn’t. Where’s Sailor Jack is the story of Bob Swarbrick’s journey from Northern-grammar-school-boy to business magnate through the break up of his marriage, the arrival of a new lover and an unhurried, consistent search for meaning in his life.
Bob and Richard are grammar school boys ‘done good’. Starting life in similar working class homes they have progressively climbed the ladder until they are able to both sit comfortably as champions of industry, and look back on their achievements and failures with the keen Northern wit that never left them, even after years of exile life in the south.
As they reflect on their lives, loves and business decisions both try to find an explanation to fit their lives: Bob seeks purpose, Richard meaning. While soul-searching, the reader is witness to an exemplary part of British history - from their childhoods in post war Northern England to the boom years in a prospering South (before survivors guilt starts to bite in their latter years and they wonder just how their opportunities would have worked out if they were born a few decades later).
The book covers and takes a unique look at romance, religion, business sense and social mobility but does so with wry tongue in its cheek whilst looking for a laugh, not a deep and meaningful conversation.
Amazon


Excerpt from Where’s Sailor Jack? By John UttleySecond edition, published by Matador, released April 28th 2016
Chapter OneOn a Sunday soon after his move north-west, Bob was flying high on Virgin, to LAX, as everyone but he knew Los Angeles airport was called. His last long-haul flight had been on Atomic Futures’ business in the bulkhead with British Airways. At over six foot and heavily built, he could make good use of the leg room. In an unflattering lavatory mirror he saw receding, grey hair and many wrinkles above a jaw line a boxer could break a fist on. He’d never quite understood how his rugged looks had charmed the several-to-many women along the way. The seating arrangement in Virgin’s best seats made the cabin look like a beauty salon, but he’d played safe and eschewed the offer of an on-board facial. The Journey Information on the monitor told him there was about an hour of the flight to go, confirmed by something looking like the Grand Canyon out of the window, though it looked bleak enough to have been the surface of another planet.
He was trying not to sleep on the way out, nor to go to be until at least ten o’clock Pacific Standard Time. He’d flicked between the films on the in-flight entertainment system, and found nothing he’d wanted. He’d then settled down to listen to some music, first Elvis, then Ray Charles and finally Abba, who’d bounced along merrily at first until a cold sweat told him that he was the loser standing small alongside seventies woman. He switched Agnetha off to pick up the book he’d brought, Ian McEwan’s Saturday, which he immediately put down again. His eyes were tired.
He reclined the chair to be alone with his musings on his return to Lancashire. Blackpool was making a good fist of doing itself up, despite New Labour lousing up the Las Vegas style casino scheme, the place was alive with young ladies joyfully, sometimes even decorously, celebrating their hen nights with like-minded friends. The folk who lived in St Chad’s hadn’t changed that much. The young people at church had the same freshness that he’d once had, full of their multimedia world and excited about their opportunities, though the ladder had been pulled up since his day, leaving cows from the Fylde fields with more chance of going through the eye of a needle than any ordinary kid entering the kingdom of riches he’s inherited. Lancashire wasn’t at the centre of things the way it had been back then, with Blackpool the Mecca for comedians, Liverpool the capital of music, the mighty Granada television like a second BBC, and the Manchester Guardian thinking about what the world would do tomorrow. He saw The Guardian moving to London as an even bigger betrayal than John Lennon’s sleep-in.
The summer of 1963 with Freewheelin’ on his turntable and the Mersey sound on every radio was forever to remain his Archimedean point. Martin Luther King was dreaming his dream accompanied vibrator by Joan Baez and civil rights were coming. Bras weren’t being burnt though. Much later Jane challenged him why not. He’d answered that women’s liberation hadn’t come out of nowhere. She’d generously agreed that it was only fair for apes like him to have had their day in the sun before the real business got done.
He’d had a vacation job in Stanley Park and that had given him an affinity with the old codgers from the Great War who came for the brass band concerts. Though they were sitting in God’s waiting room, they were cheerful, talking for hours about space travel and the like but not of course about their health problems or the trenches. He thought of his never-liberated Grannie who died at the start of the pivotal year. She’d make him green jelly with bananas whenever he went round as a kid and had knitted most of the jumpers he was still wearing through university after he death. His sister had in her kitchen the old milking stool from Grannie’s farm-girl days, with more than a thousand years of history stored in its battered wood. Like the religion his ancestors had shared, its purpose had been endorsed by the long passage of time. To lose either would be to lose his soul. He didn’t want to live so long that his memory of Grannie dimmed.


About the Author:
John Uttley was born in Lancashire just as the war was ending. Grammar school educated there, he read Physics at Oxford before embarking on a long career with the CEGB and National Grid Group. He was Finance Director at the time of the miners' strike, the Sizewell Inquiry and privatisation, receiving an OBE in 1991. Shortly afterwards, he suffered his fifteen minutes of fame when he publicly gave a dividend to charity in the middle of the fat cat furore. More recently, he has taken an external London degree in Divinity while acting as chairman of numerous smaller companies, both UK and US based. This is his first novel. He is married to Janet, living just north of London with three grown children and dog.
http://www.wheressailorjack.com/
https://www.facebook.com/Wheres-Sailor-Jack-1562096457363973/
https://twitter.com/JohnRUttley

Release Day Blitz The Queen’s Dance by Jamie K. Schmidt

The Queen’s DanceThe Emerging Queens SeriesBook ThreeJamie K. Schmidt
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Entangled
Date of Publication: 5/23/16
Number of pages: 267Word Count: 63,000
Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde
Book Description:
After newly shifted dragon Queen, Margery Cooper, is rescued from smugglers she has a choice to continue to hunt down the story that nearly killed her when she was an investigative reporter or embrace her royalty and build a court of protectors and studs.  Remy “Champ” Champlain is first on the scene and assigned her protector while she sorts out her affairs.  He wants nothing more to get back to his solitude and his small town, but as an unclaimed dragon he doesn’t get a choice. 
The Queen is his responsibility until her court is formalized.  He wants to settle her down right away, but she has this wild hair up her Queenly butt to find out who is smuggling dangerous drugs into the country. 
Sparks fly between them, but as she's a sky dragon and he's a water dragon, well she can't swim and he can't fly and those aren't the only differences they're facing.

Excerpt 2:
The healing burn of the sun pinned Margery to the ground. Her eyes wouldn’t open, but she could see the blazing orange from under her lids. She’d been saved. Pressing her cheek against the sun-warmed grass, she took a deep breath of fresh air for the first time in a week. Coughs racked her body. She was still so weak. A tear leaked out of her eye.“Please don’t cry, chérie. You’re safe here.”That was the lake dragon. The one who’d helped rescue her. Margery’s hands clutched the ground. She was no longer on the water, trapped in a smuggler’s hold hidden under the deck of a yacht. No longer lying in her own waste, dying a slow and painful death.“Where am I?” she asked, her words coming out as a strangled whisper.“You’re at my home in North Hero, Vermont. It’s very private here.”He had a sexy way of talking. French Canadian accent, if she wasn’t mistaken. It was comforting, nonthreatening. Margery stretched as the healing sunbeams sank into her core.“Your kidnappers have been brought to justice.”They were more than kidnappers. In return for pimping Margery out to Champ, they had wanted him to turn a blind eye to their smuggling operation on his lake.The doll!Margery bolted upright and regretted it immediately. “Where is it?” she cried. The sun blinded her, but she didn’t care. She groped around with her hands.“What?” he said, panic in his voice.“The Smooshie.”“What the hell is a—” Champ cut himself off and continued in a more polite tone. “I don’t understand, my Queen.”Queen? Oh, right.“The red dragon doll. I had it in my hand when you rescued me. It’s very important.”“Uh, hold on. Let me check my truck.”She heard him run.Great. He probably thought she was an idiot looking for her little dolly. Rubbing her eyes, Margery tried to stand up. But her legs refused to obey her, muscles trembling as she strained to rise.The pirates had grabbed her when her camera’s flash malfunctioned and went off while she was taking pictures of their illicit activity—stuffing the dolls with drugs. When they saw her, they tried to kill her. If she’d been human, they would have. But when the bullets tore into her, she had instinctively shifted into her sky dragon form.
She’d only been a dragon for three weeks. Actually, she had always been a dragon, but an ancient curse had stopped her shift at puberty and blocked her dragon magic. When that curse was shattered, all the suppressed Queens shifted into their true forms. It took a lot of getting used to. The first week, all she did was cry and break things. The second week she flew around the world over and over again until sheer exhaustion claimed her. By the time the third week rolled around, Margery figured she’d better get over herself and return to her career as an investigative reporter.
About the Author:
USA Today bestselling author, Jamie K. Schmidt, writes erotic contemporary love stories and paranormal romances.  Her Club Inferno series from Random House’s Loveswept line has hit both the Amazon and Barnes & Noble top one hundred lists.   She has two other series with Loveswept: Hawaii Heat, in which the first book Life’s A Beach is the perfect staycation to Maui, and The Sentinels of Babylon, about members of vigilante Motorcycle Club and their old ladies. Her dragon paranormal romance series from Entangled Publishing, has been called “fun and quirky” and “endearing.” Partnered with New York Times bestselling author and former porn actress, Jenna Jameson, Jamie’s hardcover debut, SPICE, continues Jenna’s FATE trilogy.
An avid knitter and jewelry maker, Jamie is never bored.  She can often be found with a mug of tea on the computer flanked by her little dogs & fluffy white cat.  You can follow her on twitter at @Jamiekswriter or on her author page on Facebook. When she's not writing or crafting, Jamie loves playing games, everything from board games to strategy card games, console and online MMORPGs.
Website http://jamiekschmidt.weebly.com/
Facebook www.facebook.com/jamie.k.schmidt.1
Twitter  https://twitter.com/Jamiekswriter
Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/jamiekswriter
Blog http://jamiekswriter.livejournal.com/
Amazon Page http://www.amazon.com/Jamie-K.-Schmidt/e/B00B7CKKO6
Pinterest http://pinterest.com/jamiekswriter/



Tour giveaway:

Enter to win a dragon coloring book -go to www.jamiekschmidt.weebly.com  and scroll down the first page and add your email address to the subscriber list.

Background Noise (Or Why There’s So Much Screaming Coming From My Apartment) - Guest Blog with LM Pruitt

Most writers tend to work with music—that is to say, you often hear or read about the playlist which served as background noise or inspiration for a book. I get it—I understand it—but for me, music is too distracting. I’m apt to close my eyes and start daydreaming and then hours have passed and I’ve accomplished nothing. No, for me, background noise has to come in the form of a movie or television show.
Netflix changed my life. But I digress.
For the majority of my time spent writing SILK, I switched back and forth between straight horror movies and Criminal Minds. I could write an essay on my love of the latter buy I’ll limit myself to a paragraph. Without giving away too much or being too long-winded, Criminal Minds is about a team of FBI profilers/behavioral analysts. They deal with all sorts of criminals and crimes and it gets dark—like call your favorite person and make sure they’re okay dark. So in short, perfect background noise for a twisty psychological thriller/mystery—and Matthew Gray Gubler is adorable (seriously, trust me on this).
As far as horror movies go, I have a fondness for the late nineties/early oughts—think Scream, I Know What You Did Last Summer, and so on. I’m not a fan of torture porn—the Saw sequels, Hostel, Tourista—if you’re going to kill someone, at least let there be a somewhat compelling reason. Having said that, if there’s even a tiny reason, I’m on board. Cursed ship harvesting/collecting souls? I’m there. Two strangers die in a car crash and one of them is reincarnated/possesses the other? Sign me up. The Boogeyman is real? Not only will I watch, I’ll sleep with the lights on afterward. So not all the screaming and crying during the editing phase is me—a lot of it is the television.

Like I said before, my version of background noise isn’t for everyone. And it probably wouldn’t work if I was writing romance. But for plotting murder and mayhem? It’s the only way to go.
SilkL.M. Pruitt
Release Date: April 19, 2016
Genre: Horror
Book Description:
They called it the murder tree.
In 1995, twenty kids went in to the woods. Only three came back.
There are monsters in the woods.
Twenty years later, what happened is still a mystery.
The monsters are back.
Now, the town of Silk faces its greatest threat in over two hundred years. No one is safe.
Not even the monsters.


Available at Amazon

November 1995
They called it the murder tree.
The kids did, anyway. To the adults, those people who no longer believed in ghost stories and things that went bump in the night, it was known as the old Litz tree. The last living monument to the family who founded the town before Georgia was even a state, giving their money and lives in the process.The adults liked to gloss over that particular part of the story when discussing the history of Mulberry.
The kids preferred to linger on it.
Most of them knew the story of the night the Litz family lost their lives before they were even able to read the decades old textbooks grudgingly provided by the Department of Education. By the time they graduated to junior high, all the kids—the cool ones, at least, the ones you wanted at your party or it wasn’t reallya party—had camped out next to the murder tree. More than one high school girl had allowed her boyfriend to “comfort” her in the shadow of the ancient mulberry after listening to the story of the Litz family yet again.
You weren’t a part of Mulberry until you had spent your time at the murder tree.
It was the only reason Elias Crenshaw could think of for why he was freezing his balls off on what was shaping up to be the coldest night of the year.
That and the fact Mandy Jones had promised him she’d be there. The way she’d told him, with just the tiniest smile of her bubblegum pink lips and a flutter of lashes, was enough to keep him warm.But only for another hour. After that, he was going home. The guys could rag him all they wanted on Monday morning. They’d be the one with bug bites and frozen fingers and all the other stupid things that happened when you spent the night in the frickin’ woods. He’d be warm and rested and all studied up for the big biology exam in sixth period.
Man, if he didn’t get at least a C his parents were going to flip. They’d already been on the fence about letting him camp out the Friday before a test. If he failed, they wouldn’t let him out of the house again until the end of the school year. He’d be the only kid not allowed to go the eighth grade prom.
Mandy Jones would never go out with him if he was the loser kid who didn’t go to the prom.“Your face is going to freeze like that.”
Elias snorted. “No, it won’t.”
“Yeah, it will.” Shephard Jackson widened her already big brown eyes—bug eyes, Mandy called them—and nodded solemnly. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Probably the wrong thing to say when we’re next to the murder tree.” Elias tilted toward her, leaning in with his whole body before hunching his shoulders and shivering. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t allowed in the woods after dark.”
“I’m not.” She huffed out a breath, the puff of frosty air doing nothing to dislodge the white blonde hair seemingly glued to her forehead. She’d bleached it the week before on a dare, just like she’d pierced her nose last month and broken in to the library the month before that. “But that’s Kelly’s stupid rule. She keeps trying to act like she’s my mom or something.”
“Well, she married your dad.” Elias winced when she reached over and smacked him on the back of his head. “Jesus, Shep.”
“You’re not supposed to take her side. You’re supposed to take mine.” She sniffled and swiped her hand under her nose. “That’s what best friends do.”
“Fine, whatever.” When Shep sighed, Elias rolled his eyes. “It’s a stupid rule and she’s a bitch and she should stop trying to act like she’s your mom.”
“Thank you.” The pseudo sniffling immediately stopped and she leaned in to him, her slight frame weighing next to nothing. After a moment, she said, “What are you doing here?”
“Rite of passage.” He nodded at the small group clustered around the carefully constructed fire. Albert had insisted they follow all the safety rules for lighting a fire in the woods, reminding everyone of Smokey the Bear’s immortal saying. “Supposed to be more people coming. Real party.”
“Oh, please.” She scoffed, the harsh exhalation shaking her entire body. “You’re here because Mandy Jones said she was going to be here. Her and her little group. They’re so… ugh.” She shook her head before turning to scowl at him. “You couldn’t fall in love with some girl who can actually have a conversation for longer than five minutes without mentioning cheerleading or makeup?”
“First, I’m not in love with her.” Elias returned her scowl, narrowing his eyes to slits. “We barely know each other.” Truth, even though he’d spent countless hours imagining what it would be like to kiss her. “Second, just because she’s not fighting the power or whatever you do when you’re not pissing off your stepmom doesn’t make her stupid. She’s really smart.”
“Eli, she said it was ridiculous to have the term ‘african-american’ because if you were born in America you obviously couldn’t be from Africa.”
“Well.” He paused, racking his brain for an explanation even as he winced. “You know, there are a lot of adults who feel the same way. Like we should all just embrace our current culture and let of our heritage.”
“Right.” Shep snorted and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She jerked her chin at the fire. “Let’s go. Story time.”
“Oh, come on.” He groaned, digging in his heels half-heartedly when she tried to drag him toward the group. They both knew it would be impossible for her to move him unless he helped. She was a hundred pounds soaking wet, barely topping five feet while he’d gained twenty pounds since school started. The only reason he wasn’t as fat as a turkey was the corresponding growth spurt, the new six inches putting him dangerously close to six feet. “Not again. We’ve heard this thing a million times.”“So this will be a million and one. Come on.” She yanked his arm harder, grumbling something under her breath about ogres. “It’s tradition to tell the story at every campout. Besides….” She trailed off, smiling up at him and batting her lashes. “I’m pretty sure Mandy finally arrived.”
“Well, in that case.” He laughed when she gasped, using her moment of feigned shock to scoop her up and toss her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. “You know what’s really great about having you as a best friend? You’re easy to pick up when we’re fighting.”
“You’re such a troglodyte.” Shep pounded on his back with her fists, biting back a scream when he took a step forward. “If anybody sees me, I swear—on my mom’s grave—I will make your life miserable for the rest of the year.”
He paused, not at the threat, but the oath. After a minute, he dropped her back to her feet, brushing a speck of something off the shoulder of her jacket. They stared at each other, the awkwardness of the silence nearly tangible. Finally, he said, “Sorry, Shep.”
“Whatever.” Spinning on her heels, she stomped toward the far side of the group, the laces of her combat boots slithering over the dead leaves like a snake. She slid between Albert and Jacob, sneering at something one of them said. Elias watched for another minute before shoving his hands in his pockets and trudging over to join the growing group.
“Hey, Elias.” Mandy half walked, half skipped up to him as he neared the fire, linking her arm with his. “I thought you were going to spend all night talking to that weirdo.”
“She’s not a weirdo.” The defense was as automatic as breathing. “Her mom died, remember? Like, right in front of her. She’s just, you know, grieving.”
“Right.” Mandy sighed, the sort of huge, exaggerated sigh Elias knew meant annoyance at his supposed ignorance. His older sister made the same noise every time he asked her a question. 
“Whatever. I didn’t come out to these stupid woods to talk about her.” She smiled at him, the fire casting shadows over her normally light and bright face. “I came to hang out with you.”
“Dude, we’re waiting.” Isiah Graves, Elias’s second best friend—but number one guy best friend, as Isiah was quick to point out—raised his voice to an almost shout. Since he’d been the one to propose the campout, he’d insisted he get to tell the story of the murder tree. Elias didn’t bother reminding him it was a hollow honor. “Story and then party. Rules are rules, man.”
“Nobody cares except for you.” Jacob Wesson had the honor of being the oldest person in the group by a month and the first to have a voice which didn’t crack at random moments. “Just get this boring ass shit over with before I die of fucking boredom.”
“Okay, okay.” Isiah hunched his shoulders and shuffled his feet, shooting a glare around the group at large before straightening to his full height. “The year was 1748. The town of Mulberry was struggling, just as it had been since the Litz family arrived from Germany with a dream of producing silk and other luxury goods.”
“He sounds like a really dorky version of Mr. Young.” Mandy’s breathy whisper smelled like cinnamon and Elias closed his eyes for a split second, inhaling deeply. When he opened them again, she was watching him with a knowing look.
“Everybody else in the town wanted to use the land for rice, something they could use and sell. But the Litz’s refused to give up their dream.” Isiah paused, drawing out the attempt at suspense. “Finally, the people of Mulberry decided enough was enough.”
Even though everybody knew how the story went, how it ended, every last one of them inched closer. The next part of the tale was always told in a voice barely above a whisper, as if the long dead participants would hear and interrupt to correct the teller on some minute point. Tonight was no exception.
“The entire town, everybody except the children, marched out to the Litz homestead. Josiah Litz tried to talk them down, make them see reason, but he failed.” Isiah stepped back and pointed up at a thick limb jutting out from the trunk in a crooked line. “They strung him up here but the fall didn’t break his neck. So he watched while the town slaughtered his entire family.”
He paused again, the group holding its collective breath. The leaves, long dead but stubbornly clinging to their branches, shivered as a faint wind blew through the forest. Mandy moved closer to Elias and he put his arm around her, ignoring Shep’s eye roll.
Isiah waited a beat longer. “Or rather—almost his entire family.
“They forgot the oldest son was returning from New York. Franz Litz had been gone so long, it was possible the town had forgotten he even existed.” Isiah rapped his knuckles on the tree trunk, nodding solemnly. “But Josiah hadn’t. And while he slowly suffocated to death under the weight of his own body, he swore his family would have their revenge. And they did.
“While the town burned the house and the trees and buried the bodies of the Litz family, Franz, who’d witnessed everything from the safety of the woods, rode in to Mulberry.” Isiah stepped back in to the circle, his low voice forcing everybody to move closer in order to hear. “And hung every last child.”
The wind gusted through the woods again, stronger this time, the trees rattling their limbs in protest. Somewhere in the distance, some animal let out a single short cry, quickly cut off by the crunching of something larger and more dangerous. Elias glanced around the circle, surprised at the number of pale faces and large eyes, even as he reminded himself it was only a story.
“The townspeople caught him right after he hung his last victim, a baby barely a month old. They hauled him, kicking and screaming, back to the murder tree.” As one, they turned to look at the ancient mulberry. “Even as they put the rope around his neck, he fought. His last words before the noose broke his neck were ‘A cursed ground bears only poisonous fruit’.”
“Or so they say.” Jacob snorted and shook his head. “Whatever, dude. Stupid story about a whole bunch of dead people.” He nudged Shep with his shoulder and laughed. “Fuck’em. Let’s party.”
The circle broke up in to smaller groups, twos and threes and fours, each cluster wandering away from the murder tree. Mandy gripped Elias’s arm tighter and shivered. “That was so scary, right?”
“Right.” He wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not and the smell of her floral perfume was too distracting for him to try and figure it out one way or the other. “So, uh, did you want to go for a walk or something?”
“A walk?” She laughed and shook her head. “Uh, no.” Still laughing, she slipped away from him, reaching up and pushing her shiny lemon-yellow hair behind her shoulders. “I actually need to go talk to Shanna about the routine for the game tomorrow.”
“Right.” Elias nodded dumbly. “Uh, right. Good luck with that. I’ll just… go… talk to Isiah.”
Elias hunched his shoulders, stalking over to the base of the murder tree. Isiah studied his face, rocking on his heels before sucking air through his teeth. “Man, that was an epic crash and burn. Epic.”
“Shut up.” Elias punched him, pulling back at the last second. Isiah was nearly as skinny as Shep but more fragile looking, as if a good solid blow would break him in two. “She had to go do cheerleading stuff.”
“Cheerleading stuff.” Isiah snorted. “She’s such a fucking tease.”
“Dude, stop.” Elias looked up as another gust of wind shook the branches, a handful of leaves falling down around them like confetti. “Did you have to pick the coldest night ever to do this thing?”
“Nah, that was just luck.” The other boy grinned and attempted to wiggle his eyebrows. “Pretty spooky, right?”
“Whatever.” Elias nudged him with his elbow. “You bring any good snacks or what?”




About the Author:
L.M. Pruitt has been reading and writing for as long as she can remember. A native of Florida with a love of New Orleans, she has the uncanny ability to find humor in most things and would probably kill a plastic plant. She knows this because she's killed bamboo. Twice.  She is the author of the Winged series, the Plaisir Coupable series, Jude Magdalyn series, the Moon Rising series, and Taken: A Frankie Post Novel.
http://www.lmpruitt.org
https://www.facebook.com/pages/LM-Pruitt/364776895104
https://twitter.com/lmpruitt
http://www.amazon.com/L.M.-Pruitt/e/B00427WOW4/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4320796.L_M_Pruitt

Interview and Giveaway - The Way of Escape by Kristen Reed

Can you tell readers a little bit about yourself and what inspired to write in this particular genre?
Growing up, I was always fascinated by horror books and vampires in particular. When I accepted Christ as my savior in 2013, I wanted to write a book that would appeal to both Christians who enjoy vampire lit and vampire lit fans who are open to the Christian faith. It’s a very unique crossover. Haha.
What is it about the paranormal, in particular vampires, that fascinates you so much?
I think what fascinates me is that different authors have different takes on vampirism. For some it’s just a physical change and for others it’s a physical and spiritual transformation. I wanted to delve into that two-pronged change and what it means in light of Christianity. Are vampires demons themselves or are they humans possessed by a malevolent spirit? Also, what does it mean for someone’s afterlife if he or she becomes a vampire? The concept of a supernaturally altered/enhanced human who drinks blood to survive creates a lot of questions that the average person would really struggle to answer.
What inspired you to write this book?
Everything I said above. I wanted to write a book that explores what would happen if a Christian woman collided head on with the vampire world. As followers of Christ, we still have our struggles to deal with even after salvation, so how would those struggles and even doubts come to light in a high-pressure, dangerous situation? Clara might be a Christian, but she—like all believers—is still imperfect and makes mistakes. It makes for an interesting dynamic.
Please tell us about your latest release.
In The Way of Escape, Clara Robinson and two of her friends get kidnapped by a vampire coven during a mission trip in Haiti. Clara finds out from the coven leader, Emmanuel, that she’s actually half-vampire. Instead of just enslaving her with the humans, he lets her choose between slavery as a mortal and freedom as a full vampire. As if that wasn’t stressful enough, another vampire named Augustus tells her that she can fulfill a centuries old prophecy and free the humans by giving up her humanity to become a vampire. Clara has to decide how she can best serve the oppressed humans on the island and figure out what the spiritual ramifications would be if she became a vampire. It also doesn’t help that she starts growing closer to Augustus and has to face the added temptation that comes from being attracted to a man who is both a nonbeliever and a vampire. I would not want to be in her shoes. Haha.
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?
For my protagonist, I wanted her name to tie in with her calling as a Christian (to be a light to others), the prophecy in the book, and the fact that humans live in the light. So, I named her Clara, which means “clear” or “bright.” For Emmanuel and Augustus, I gave them names that corresponded with their countries of origin, France and Italy.
Was one of your characters more challenging to write than another?
Writing Clara was surprisingly difficult. Some aspects of her are inspired by my own life, but the research that went into writing her thought process in whether or not to become a vampire was a bit laborious.
What is your favorite scene from the book? Could you share a little bit of it, without spoilers of course?
I really enjoyed writing the scene where Clara sees her friend Leah for the first time. It addresses some of the ways we can fail each other as friends, the damage that it causes, and the truth that can help us overcome that pain. I won’t say how the conversation turns out, but it may really hit home for some people.
Did you find anything really interesting while researching this or another book?
I had to do some digging about demon possession and how that works (or doesn’t work) if you’re a Christian. After all, if becoming a vampire means that you’re opening yourself up for some dark force to dwell in you, what does that mean for people who have the Holy Spirit? Is it a permanent internal struggle or does one force triumph over the other? Another possibility is that maybe there isn’t a malevolent spirit inside you at all and you just become more uninhibited or less willing to fight the darkness that naturally dwells in you. You’ll just have to read the book to find out what I decided on.
What is the most interesting thing you have physically done for book related research purposes?
Well, I didn’t do this to do research for The Way of Escape, but I wound up going on a mission trip to Haiti during the editing process. I spent a week sleeping in a bunk bed with mosquito netting over it, sweating profusely during service projects, and going door to door in Haitian villages to give water safety training and share the gospel. Most of the book doesn’t involve that part of Clara’s trip since it begins with her awakening on Emmanuel’s island, but my experiences had an impact on how I edited the book.
Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? How do you deal with it?
Writer’s block isn’t a huge struggle for me because I usually write out a plot outline before I start writing and update it as I go. I also spend time reading fiction as I write (usually not the same genre), so that helps keep my imagination nice and active.
Do you have any weird writing quirks or rituals?
I like to edit my book in different formats. One round will be printed on letter paper, another I’ll listen to an audio version, and I’ll print a paperback or hardback version later on. It helps keep things fresh and listening to the audio is really valuable because there are things that I may write on paper that sound really weird spoken out loud, and that round of editing helps me weed those sentences out.
Do you write in different genres?
I’ve written in the fantasy genre as well as a book that could be considered historical Christian fiction or a fairytale. I’m also a marketing copywriter, so I spend a lot of time writing about makeup and skin care.
Do you find it difficult to write in multiple genres?
No. If anything, it’s refreshing to switch back and forth and spend time in different worlds with different characters. It keeps me on my toes.
What are your guilty pleasures in life?
I know it’s not the most sensational guilty pleasure, but I’m in love with RA Sushi’s green tea ice cream. I usually try to go there once a week to get sushi, but I’m really after the ice cream. It’s so good!
Other than writing, what are some of your interests, hobbies or passions in life?
Writing is a huge part of my life, but my faith is number one. I serve at several ministries in my church because I want to show Christ’s love to other believers and people who haven’t accepted Him as their Savior yet. I’ve been serving in a recovery ministry for over a year, and it’s so encouraging to see how much healing Jesus brings people through the gospel. Accepting that Jesus died and was resurrected for all of our sins really helps people get over the guilt and shame that’s been holding them down whether they’ve struggled with substance abuse or a porn/sex addiction. It’s so powerful and encouraging.
What was the last amazing book you read?
An Echo in the Darkness by Francine Rivers. Her Mark of the Lion series basically took over my life for a week, and the second book in the series really stuck with me.
Where is your favorite place to read? Do you have a cozy corner or special reading spot?
In my bed or on my couch. I love lying down with a nice candle burning and diving into a good book.
What can readers expect next from you?
I released a surprise book The Jilted Bride: A Footnote to Cinderella’s Happiness last month. It’s a historical fiction fairy tale in which a prince leaves Demetria at the altar to be with Cinderella. The book centers around her finding healing and a new purpose in the wake of her greatest humiliation and disappointment. The second book in that series, Eirwen’s Dream: Inside Snow White’s Sleeping Mind is currently being edited. The premise is that Eirwen (nicknamed Snow White) has a fantastical dream after being poisoned by her stepmother. The things she experiences in the dream help her handle her envious stepmother when she finally awakens.
Where can readers find you on the web?
I’m on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Blogger. The links are all below.
https://www.facebook.com/Kristen-Reed-630784070408396/http://www.twitter.com/kristenreedtxhttp://www.instagram.com/kristenreedtxhttp://kristenreedtx.blogspot.com/








The Way of EscapeThe Clara Robinson SeriesBook OneKristen Reed
Genre: Vampire/HorrorChristian Fiction
Date of Publication: May 1, 2016
ASIN: B01DQ1V314
Number of pages: Appx 255Word Count: 67,196
Formats available: Kindle eBook
Cover Artist: Photo by Galyna Andrushko
Book Description:
When the leader of a vampire coven tells Clara Robinson that she's a dhampir, he gives her an impossible choice: Keep her mortality and live as a slave or become a vampire be free. A vampire visiting the coven complicates matters by revealing that she can liberate all of the slaves by parting with her humanity and becoming a vampire. This news forces Clara to examine her faith and decide if she should risk her eternal soul to save the humans or give up her freedom to serve by their side.
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/zfNA-vCEE24
Amazon
Excerpt:“Come in,” a male voice called.Lisette pushed open the door and gestured for me to enter. I hesitantly tiptoed into the room and jumped slightly much as the other woman had, my heart skipping a beat when she shut the door behind me and left me alone with the two strange men who occupied the large living area. The first man stood by the fireplace taking a sip from a glass of red wine. Long black curls cascaded down his back and nearly blended in with the expertly tailored tuxedo he wore just as his button down shirt almost disappeared into the pale skin of his neck.When the man set the glass on the mantle, I finally got a good look at his surprisingly youthful, heart-shaped face as he licked the wine from his Cupid’s bow lips. After he finished savoring his wine, which he barely seemed old enough to drink, he opened his blue eyes and fixed me with an inquisitive yet predatory stare that made me shiver despite the heat coming from the lit fireplace. I suddenly knew how a gazelle felt after capturing the unwanted attention of a cheetah during a stroll across the savannah. In an attempt to evade his chilly gaze, I gave the second man a once over. He sat in a Queen Anne-style chair that was just a shade whiter than his fair skin. Though his green eyes were trained on me, his stare wasn’t as unsettling as his companion’s had been. I thought that his wavy auburn hair was short until he turned his head to glance at his phone and I saw that he’d just swept his locks away from his face in a low ponytail. As I took in how the minimalist hairstyle showed off his deep-set eyes, high cheekbones and square jawline, I realized that I would have been attracted the man if I hadn’t been terrified of him.While he didn’t exude the same threatening aura as his slightly younger companion, I still felt as if I was a fly that he could swat easily and remorselessly at any moment. I hadn’t felt that powerless in over a decade, and I hated the feeling just as much then as I had growing up.“Bonjour, Clara,” the raven-haired man greeted in a smooth French accent. “My name is Emmanuel Géroux and this is my guest, Augustus Damiani.”“Hello,” I replied hesitantly.“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve brought you here,” he presumed. “Let me begin by apologizing for the lackluster room you awakened in. I wasn’t quite sure what I should do with you when you first arrived.”“I’m more concerned about what I’m doing in your house than the quality of the room I woke up in,” I said carefully. “Why did you bring me here?”Emmanuel walked over to the wet bar nearby and poured himself another glass of wine as he spoke, his friend’s eyes never leaving me as the conversation continued.“My men found you lying unconscious near the village of Manonette last night. Apparently a fire broke out at the facility where you were staying, and you passed out after the evacuation.”When I struggled to recall the events that transpired earlier that night, I vaguely remembered smelling smoke and hearing an alarm blaring. The memory was so indistinct and brief that I’d brushed it off as a dream, but that hazy memory was enough for me to believe that Emmanuel was telling the truth about the fire at Gospel Gateway. However, I should have awakened in a hospital and not on a private island with two men who looked like they’d just gotten home from a night at the opera.“Is everyone else alright?”“Yes, no one at the facility was injured in the fire.”The relief Emmanuel’s news brought gave me a brief respite from my suspicion. Alas, that break didn’t last long.“Not that I don’t appreciate your help, but why didn’t your men take me to a hospital if I was unconscious? I might have needed treatment for smoke inhalation or burns,” I pressed on. “And who are you that you have people prowling around Gospel Gateway and Manonette at night?” “The sooner you tell her the whole truth, the better,” Emmanuel’s Italian counterpart said.My host nodded and took another less leisurely swig to polish off his wine before giving me a more fleshed out explanation.“Well, mademoiselle, I am the leader of the vampire coven that resides on this island. I sent the men who found you to Haiti to bring more humans to the island to be our servants. When they discovered you and a few of your missionary friends near Manonette, they took you to fill my open positions,” Emmanuel explained nonchalantly. “One of the first tasks my men complete with new humans is pricking their fingers and tasting their blood to see if they are worthy of being one of our personal attendants. However, when they tasted your blood, they realized that there was more to you than meets the eye. Your blood had the sweetness of life and the bitterness of death, which means that you are half vampire — also known as a dhampir. Since you aren’t fully human, I wanted to give you the opportunity to choose your fate. You can either live with your fellow mortals and toil on my island for the rest of your days or enjoy the luxury and privilege that comes with being a vampire.”I gaped at Emmanuel in stunned silence as I attempted to process his ridiculous explanation. Although my first instinct should have been to laugh at him and look for hidden cameras, something inside of me told me that he was telling the absolute truth. While I’d never contemplated the existence of vampires and had only seen them as fictional characters in books and movies, I’d spent enough time in the Bible to know that demons and other nefarious creatures existed. Jesus himself had even cast a legion of demons out of a man and into a herd of two thousand pigs.If people can be possessed by demons, is the existence of vampires really that far off, I wondered. Either this guy is telling the truth or he’s insane. I can’t decide which one is worse.“You’re being awfully quiet, Clara,” Emmanuel remarked. “What are you thinking?”“I need proof that you’re telling the truth.”“Then proof you shall get,” he agreed with a smile as he set down his drink.Emmanuel took a step forward, but I backed away before he could reach me.“Can you prove it without coming any closer,” I revised.“Of course.”The Frenchman stood his ground a few yards away and his blue eyes underwent a frightening transformation. His pupils bled outward as if someone had dropped ink into his eyes until I found myself gawking into two completely black orbs. Once that change was complete, Emmanuel opened his mouth to show that his top canines had extended into a pair of gleaming white fangs. He let out a feral hiss that sent me sprinting for the door, which I quickly realized was locked. I tried to force the door open, but the hair-raising tickle of his breath on my neck paralyzed me as he placed a frigid hand on mine and removed it from the doorknob.
“Don’t be frightened,” he said in a tone that would have sounded reassuring if not for his newly terrifying appearance. “If I truly wanted to hurt you, you would not be standing here with your pretty neck untouched and your blood still in your veins.” 
About the Author:
Kristen Reed, a graduate of the University of Texas at Dallas, is an artist, filmmaker, and author from Dallas, Texas. As a Christian, her faith influences her writing and is the driving force in her life.
www.facebook.com/thewayofescape
www.clararobinsonseries.com   
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Escapee by Edward Hoornaert

EscapeeRepelling the InvasionBook TwoEdward Hoornaert
Genre:  Science fiction romance
Publisher:  MuseItUp Publishing
Date of Publication:  April 19, 2016
ISBN:  978-1-77127-794-5ASIN:  B01BUI0T60
Number of pages:  262Word Count:   63,000
Cover Artist:  Eerilyfair Design
Book Description:
The African Queen in outer space
Catt Sayer just wants to survive.  The working-class fugitive delivers military supplies on her decrepit airship, but her hard-won livelihood vanishes when invaders overrun her harsh moon. Now an idealistic, upper-class officer wants her to risk her life on a hopeless voyage to attack enemy headquarters – manned by 10,000 soldiers.
Edward Hoornaert’s romantic space opera, Escapee, continues the saga of the Dukelsky family (begun in The Guardian Angel of Farflung Station).  If you like The African Queen and the thrill of underdogs finding love while battling a hostile environment, you’ll love Escapee.
The books of the Repelling the Invasion series can be read in any order or as standalones. The first book of the series is The Guardian Angel of Farflung Station.
Amazon      Amazon Canada      Amazon UK      Amazon Australia
MuseItUp Publishing      iBooks      BN    Kobo
Excerpt:
“You see no bodies, Miss Sayer, because I buried them over the past seven days."
Catt waited for him to continue, but he didn't. “Oh yeah?” she scoffed. She knew he was lying, because she’d crawled over the twisted remains of the fortress’s backhoe, whose micro-explosives enabled it to burrow into Banff’s rocky ground. “You dug graves by hand in solid rock. Yeah, right.”
“Enemy bombs blasted the graves. I just filled the holes with bodies and rubble.”
For one body, that was believable. For more than a hundred, though? Catt bit back a retort. From anyone else she’d suspect sarcasm. From him, she didn’t know what to expect.
Then she noticed how red his skin was, as though exposed far too long to the moon’s corrosive atmosphere. Lighter patches marked where he’d worn goggles and a respirator. “You did all that without a bio-suit?” Like most people, she didn’t trust respirators for more than a few minutes at a time. The man was either suicidal or insanely devoted to duty.
“I’d left my bio suit here while I went on leave, and it was destroyed in the attack. As for leaving before the Proximanian army returns, I thought of that long before you did, which was why I hastened to finish my reports.”
The entire moon had fallen into enemy hands and yet this officer wrote reports? Her opinion must’ve shown on her face, because his flinty expression slipped, revealing exhaustion, despair, and a plea for understanding.
“I know I’ll never be able to send them, but…” He ran a hand over his eyes, and the unfeeling martinet was back. “The reports are letters to my men’s families, explaining how they died at their posts, defending New Ontario’s interests.”
Catt opened her mouth. Closed it. Felt her face flame. Facing Dukelsky was like staring into a furnace. She lowered her gaze. “I didn’t know…”
“Yet you assumed the worst of me.”
Without thinking, she had slumped into the submissive, hunched posture of a peasant being scolded by a patroon. Now, though, she straightened. Embarrassment warred with anger, yet she wouldn’t let him or any other patroon humble her, ever again. “Turnabout’s a bitch, eh?”
She expected him to ask what she meant. He didn’t, though a narrowing of his eyes told her he remembered his cheap prostitute comment. Their eyes locked. She refused to back down first.


About the Author:
What kind of guy writes romance? A guy who married his high school sweetheart a week after graduation and still lives the HEA decades later. A guy who’s a certifiable Harlequin hero—he inspired Vicki Lewis Thompson’s Rita Award finalist Mr. Valentine, which is dedicated to him.
Ed started out writing contemporary romances for Silhouette Books, but these days he concentrates on science fiction romance. He’s been a teacher, principal, technical writer, salesman, janitor, and symphonic oboist. He and wife Judi live in Tucson, Arizona. They have three sons, a daughter, a mutt, and the galaxy’s most adorable grandson.
http://eahoornaert.com
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1237266.Edward_Hoornaert
http://www.amazon.com/Edward-Hoornaert/e/B001K8HWVQ/
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