Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 336

Forrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter Vol. One by Leonard D. Hilley II

A Typical Writing DayBy Leonard D. Hilley II
Forrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter is my ninth novel.So what is the writing process like for an author, and how does one get from page one of a novel to ‘The End?’First, let me simply say that all writers are different. No two authors come from the same mold. We’re all eccentric in our own ways.Currently, I am a full-time author. In 2014, my epic fantasy novel, Shawndirea, was released. I was blessed to see this novel remain in the Top 100 Fantasy Novels on Amazon for ten weeks. Shawndirea qualified me for membership with the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America, which had been a dream of mine when I first starting writing years ago. The second book in this series, Lady Squire: Dawn’s Ascension, was released in January.My writing day starts around 2-3 a.m. I have an Espresso machine so it’s caffeine first. While drinking coffee, I check all my social media sites for messages and emails. I reread the pages I’ve written from the day before, revise, and add more description or dialogue. At 5 a.m. I go to the gym for a little over an hour and then eat breakfast. Generally, I begin writing new material around 7 a.m. and stop around 4 p.m., Monday through Friday. Depending upon my mood, I write in my home office or in the living room. I unplug the router and disconnect the Internet while I work. This is an absolute necessity. Otherwise, I don’t get as much writing done. For example, with the Internet running, I write approximately 6-8 pages. Without the temptation of the Internet, I can write 16-22 pages. My best day produced 28 pages.For most of my projects I need to research, so while I am writing, I jot down any questions or topics to look up at the end of the day. I love to research, so this is why the Internet can become a time-suck for me during the hours when I need to be writing, as I overindulge in finding information.“How long does it take you to write a novel?”Honestly, this depends upon the characters and the flow of the story. Forrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter was written in 22 days. This book simply gushed out. I have a science fiction novel that I have been working on for over ten years now (Finally finished!). Predicting how easily a book can be written is impossible. No two authors are alike, and no two books evolve in the same manner.As an author, I have never outlined a book. I follow the characters, which was the advice Ray Bradbury gave years ago. A predetermined outline constricts the characters’ leeway. Forcing the characters to do something often brings about their own sense of rebellion. Without an outline I get the same “Ah-ha!” moment as the reader when a character does something unexpected. Elements of surprise keep readers reading, and this writer writing.When I taught English courses at a local junior college, I explained my writing process to my students. I am simply the note-taker. I write down what I see and what the characters say. It’s their story. A good writer has to know his or her characters inside and out. Discover their likes, dislikes, and what makes them tick. Trust me, if you know your characters, they can sort through their own dilemmas and find a resolution that neatly wraps up a novel.“Where do your ideas come from?” is another common question.If you wish to become a writer, keep a notebook on hand at all times. Snippets come from time to time and if not written down while fresh in the mind, these words can become lost later when you want them the most. I also keep a daily journal; listing the number of words I write each day, so I have an accurate page number. This is good for tallying progress over time.Here’s a reason why a notebook is handy: In 1996, I was getting ready to go to sleep when an opening sentence for a science fiction novel came to me. “Dropping a cat from the top of a ten-story office building was not the best way to remain hidden, but it was necessary.” (Before anyone frets, the cat isn’t a normal cat. It’s a genetically created shifter that lookslike a cat. It isn’t killed or injured from the fall.) The sentence intrigued me, so I wrote it down. I didn’t have any characters, no plot, and essentially no idea where that line would take me. But from this one sentence, five books in the Predators of Darkness Series have evolved with two more planned in the near future. And the cat, by the way, is one of the most beloved characters in the series.The beauty of a writer’s life is getting the unexpected. Shawndireawas never meant to be an epic fantasy. It was intended as a novella backstory for Devils Den, but these characters were over twenty years old in my mind. When the opportunity was presented for them to come alive on the page, they took over. I had anticipated a 40,000-word novel but ended up with 148,000 words. Lady Squire: Dawn’s Ascension was even longer—200,000 words. A third novel for this series is in the works.“I work full-time and never have the time to write.”Almost a year ago, I was teaching full-time. Two years earlier, I contacted one of my professors from graduate school, complaining that I was too exhausted to write and didn’t have the time to write. His reply? “A true writer will find the time to write regardless.”That line hit home, and I’ve never looked back. While teaching, I’d write before classes began, during quarter breaks, between day and night classes, or on the weekends. Whenever I could squeeze in time to write, I did. I finished two novels in two years during my spare time. Books don’t write themselves. Words become sentences. Sentences become paragraphs, and paragraphs become pages. Over time the pages add up and you have finished a novel. But it never happens if you say, “One day when I have more time I’ll . . .”
___________________Leonard D. Hilley II is the author of nine novels. If you enjoy epic fantasy like The Lord of the Rings or The Game of Thrones, check out Hilley’s Chronicles of Aetheaon Series: Shawndirea[Book One] and Lady Squire: Dawn’s Ascension [Book 2]. Devils Den is set twenty years after Shawndirea.
For sci-fi and end-of-the-world enthusiasts, check out the Predators of Darkness Series. Predators of Darkness: Aftermath, Beyond the Darkness, The Game of Thrones, and Death’s Valley.
For paranormal romance/urban fantasy: Succubus: Shadows of the Beast.

For updates about future novels, LIKE Leonard D. Hilley II author page on Facebook. Author website is coming in the near future and will be announced on the author page.
Forrest Wollinsky: Vampire HunterVol. OneLeonard D. Hilley II      
Genre: YA Friendly; Urban Fantasy/Paranormal
Publisher: Nocturnal Trinity Press
Date of Publication: March 13, 2016
ASIN: B01CZ4LKBQ
Number of pages: 266Word Count: ~83,000

Book Description:
"Killing Vampires Since 1888."
I was born in Bucharest in 1880 in the heart of the vampire population. At eight years old, I was considered a freak of nature since I was already the size of an adult male. Other children my age, and some of my teachers, shunned me.
Being rejected by one’s peers cuts deeply. Then I met my first werewolf and discovered a master vampire was plotting to kill me because of what I am. From that moment, my destiny stole my future aspirations all men grow up wanting.
This is how my destiny begins.
Amazon



Excerpt: Chapter One
The Beginning
Bucharest, 1888
The wind howled like an awakening banshee as it swirled and lashed around our snow-covered cottage nestled in the barren trees at the edge of the forest. I was only eight years old, but it was the harshest winter in my one hundred and thirty-odd year memory.My father had been gone for several days, which wasn’t unusual. Mother had said that he was hunting and should return soon, but the blizzard had set in with a fury, burying the roads, fields, and the forest floor beneath several feet of snow. Wherever he was, he’d be stuck for quite some time.Snowdrifts lined three sides of our meager cottage and the snowstorm had barely started. The outside layers of snow helped insulate our rugged home. The warmth of the fire felt like the heat of summer, making it almost easy to forget about the freezing howling winds outside.The hearth fire crackled softly under a black bubbling pot of rabbit stew. Garlic cloves were strung together above a basket of dried yams. We had enough food to last out the week, which made me wonder why my father had chosen to hunt during the worst of the blizzard.My mother sat in her creaky rocker and was sewing a new coat for me from rabbit hides. Only eight, I was as husky and tall as a young man in his teens. It seemed that I outgrew my clothes about as quickly as she could make new ones.While she sewed, I sat near the fire and sharpened a long curved dagger my father had given me. He had traded fox hides for the blade, and I expected to soon use it whenever my father returned with his kill.A slight pause in the winds caused my mother to stop rocking. She leaned slightly forward and cocked her head to the side. The curious frown on her face caught my attention. I set down the whetstone and rose to my feet.A gentle rapping at the door was faintly noticeable since the winds had quieted, and probably would have gone completely unnoticed had they continued to whistle. But there it was again.Rap-rap-rap.A bit bolder, but not overly pronounced or with desperation.With my dagger gripped in my hand I eased toward the door. Confusion furrowed my mother’s brow. She set her quilt aside and held her scissors to her side, ready to help fend off whatever danger awaited outside that door.Stepping to the side of the door, I lifted the metal latch that secured the door and eased it against the door panel, careful to be silent.Rap-rap-rap.Without fear, I grabbed the large oval handle and yanked open the door. A whoosh of cold air sprang forward, sucking out our much-treasured heat.On the path directly outside the door, the snow was stained crimson beneath the gray overcast sky. A trail of blood cut farther down the path into the forest. Large heavy snowflakes dropped, steadily trying to erase the blood path. No other tracks were in the snow. No bandits or attackers were visible amongst the snowy tree trunks. The bloody path ended at the door where the body lay.A desperate weak hand shook, reaching up for me.“John!” my mother shouted, running across the room to the door.In terror I stared down into my father’s haunted eyes, barely recognizing him. His face was battered, and his eyes were swollen nearly shut. Blood caked in his graying beard. His useless legs twisted behind him. How far he had crawled or how he had managed to do so with the amount of blood he had lost? It was a mystery then, and remains so even to this day. By every means he should have been dead, long before he got to the door, but his stubborn determination enabled him to ignore his pain and fight to pull himself back home.I sheathed my dagger and grabbed his nearly frozen hand, heaving him out of the snow and across the threshold. Mother quickly closed and secured the door when we were safely inside.My father’s cold hand fell from my grip and a huge sigh gushed from his mouth as he lost consciousness.“Father?” I asked, dropping to my knees in front of him. Blood trickled from his nose. I glanced toward Momma. “What happened to him?”“Get him to the bed,” she said, wiping away tears.Placing my hands beneath his underarms, I lifted, pulling him up enough to wrap my arms around his chest until he was upright. His body was cold, but the heat of his leaking wounds stuck to me. I cringed. So much blood. I fought tears. He was dying. Had to be. Nothing lost so much blood and survived.My father wasn’t a massive man, like he and my mother always insisted I would become. He actually weighed less than I and was several inches shorter. In spite of his stature, he was a crafty fighter, capable of defending himself against men twice his size. Stout and thinly muscular, he had incredible strength and feared no one.For once, I was proud of my abnormally large size and his lack thereof. I hefted him and walked toward the bed, his boots scraping the wooden floor as I moved. Gurgling sounds rumbled in his throat.“A bear?” I asked, looking at her. “Was he attacked by a bear?”Mother brought a pail of lukewarm water and set it by the bed. She shook her head and tore strips of cloth.I eased my father onto the bed and laid him back. He gasped and groaned in pain, but his eyes never opened.“Strip off his coat,” she said. “His boots, too.”I quickly obeyed.She peeled back his shirt, revealing long gashes across his chest and abdomen. The lacerations were too narrow to be from bear claws, but the cuts were dark and deep. Older white scars were visible. On his chest above his heart was the singed outline of a cross. Two puncture marks near his shoulder were swollen, bruised. Two dark dots.“What did this?” I asked, pointing at the wound. My fingers almost touched the marks, and she slapped my hand away.“No!” she gasped.“What kind of animal could do this?”Her dark eyes were hollowed from fear. She was paler than normal and seemed more delicate.“Mother, please tell me what did this to Father?”She took a damp cloth and washed blood from his nose and beard. With another cloth, she washed his forehead. Tears heated her eyes. She spat out a word with complete contempt as she whispered, “Vampire.”My chest tightened. Anger rippled inside me. “A vampire attacked him while he was hunting game?”“No,” she replied. “He was hunting the vampire.”“Why?”“It is his calling, his duty. Magistrates and governors seek him out to kill vampires. They pay in gold and silver coins.”I stared at my father’s frail body. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. “Why has he never told me?”“To protect you.”“From what?”“Them.”“Vampires?”She nodded.Frowning, I asked, “Why would they wish to harm me? My schoolmates tell tales that are quite scary. I’d never venture into one of their lairs.”“You’re like your father, but you’re too young. In time you’ll be as fearless as he.”“Too young for what, Mother?”“To train to hunt the vampires.”My eyes widened and fastened upon my father’s incapacitated body. He was barely alive. The possibility that he would die during the night was greater than the chance of him surviving his injuries. I didn’t think I was foolish enough to pursue the fanged demons of the night. Trained or not, hunting vampires was destined to become a short-lived profession.“His legs are broken,” I said.She nodded. “I know.”Tears streamed down my mother’s cheeks. She cried quietly without calling attention to herself. I took a damp cloth and pressed it against one of the lacerations across my father’s stomach. I hoped the pressure might stop the bleeding. Some of the cuts were scabbing, but the two puncture wounds pulsed softly, in rhythm with his faint heartbeat. It was unnerving to witness, as if the injuries were alive, feeding off of his body.While I held the cloth, her eyes widened. She rushed from the side of the bed and ran to black water pot near the hearth. She was back in seconds.“What’s wrong?” I asked.Momma was too frantic for words. She turned my father’s head to the side, pried open his mouth, and black blood oozed out. She took the damp cloth and inserted it into his mouth with her finger. She swirled her cloth-covered finger around the inside of his mouth like one washed a dish. When she pulled out the cloth, it was saturated with more of the dark blood.“Is he bleeding that badly?” I asked.She shook her head. “It’s not his blood.”“What?”“Under the bed,” she said softly. “Get the box.”I lowered to my knees and peered under the bed. I grabbed the handle and pulled the heavy suitcase box out, scraping the floor loudly.I lifted the heavy box and set it on the edge of the bed.“Open it,” she said.I did.Inside of the box were several sharp wooden stakes, a wooden mallet, a silver cross, glass vials filled with powder, and more glass vials filled with clear liquid. My mother took one vial of the liquid, read the label, and popped the cork. She walked around to the other side of the bed.“What are you doing?” I asked.“The puncture marks have to be purified and cleansed. Or your father will become a vampire.”“How?”“The bite somehow causes the victim to turn. Don’t ask me how. Your father would know but—” Her voice broke into sobs.I wanted to tell her that he was going to be okay, but I couldn’t tell a lie that convincingly. His condition was severe. No way to deny it.Then the revelation gripped me. I suddenly realized his injuries were intentionally far worse than I had imagined. The vampire who had inflicted the damage upon my father intended for him to die so that he, too, would become a vampire.“What’s in the vial?” I asked.“Holy water.”“That will cure him?”Mother replied, “If we can fully cleanse the wound, it’s possible that we can save him. But, it’s painful for him to endure. In his weakened condition, the cure might well kill him.”“And if that should happen?”“You will have to drive a stake through his heart. I can’t . . . I simply can’t do it.”
Stunned, I looked into her eyes with uncertainty, questioning. She nodded solemnly. I knew the depth of her love for my father prevented her from killing him, even if he were to turn, but I wondered if I was capable. Could I drive a stake through the heart of my father? In the matter of age, I was still a boy, struggling with a problem that only an adult should have to consider. I had to shoulder the responsibility but how?

About the Author:
Leonard D. Hilley II grew up in Fort Payne, AL, where his never-ending curiosity introduced him to the world of biology and books. During his youth he was an avid insect collector and reared butterflies and moths. His love for science eventually merged with his writing. He currently resides in Marietta, Ohio, where he writes science fiction thrillers, epic high fantasy, and YA mysteries.
Education: B.S. Biology; MFA in Creative Writing
Leonard D. Hilley II is the author of Predators of Darkness: Aftermath, Beyond the Darkness, The Game of Pawns, Death's Valley, Shawndirea, and Devils' Den.
Leonard D. Hilley II also writes short stories for YA. Two books were inspired by his love of biology: Rearing Dragons in My Backyard and Fiddling Worms. He also writes a mystery series for YA: Dee's Mystery Solvers.
@Deimosweb
http://deimosweb-hilley.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/Leonard-D-Hilley-IIauthor-page-157289854329916/   
a Rafflecopter giveaway

The Blue Ridge Project by Neil Rochford

The Blue Ridge ProjectThe ProjectBook OneNeil Rochford
Genre: Dark Suspense/Paranormal
Date of Publication: May 6 2016
Number of pages: 260Word Count: 65,500
Cover Artist: ebooklaunch.com
Book Description:
Conspiracy. Murder. Secret experiments. Mind control. A detective, a journalist and a rich deviant struggle with their pasts as their actions set them on a collision course with each other and The Project.
Detective Andrea Nox has been asked to quietly investigate a bizarre and violent murder-suicide that could have consequences for Beacon City and the people in charge. Dead ends and odd clues are hindering her efforts, and when another similar murder occurs, she has to juggle the investigation and her own troubled past with the Beacon City Police Department.
Journalist Robert Duncan is visiting home after a personal crisis when the unthinkable happens, and secrets are unearthed about his family and his place in it. His involvement in a dangerous and far-reaching conspiracy grows as he uncovers information that implicates powerful people in horrible crimes.
Frank Mortimer, disturbed son of a wealthy and influential family, is taking part in an experimental program that has promised to make him better. However, with the shadowy and powerful group known only as The Project behind the program, what he is getting better at could prove disastrous for everyone else, as a dangerous power is unlocked inside him...
Their paths will converge in a shocking story of murder, conspiracy and clandestine experiments taking place that could change the world.

Amazon
Excerpt: The car that had followed Frank’s van out of the city rolled down the same route Frank had taken, belching exhaust occasionally. It was a gray sedan, with a bumper sticker that said 'If You’re Reading This, You’re Too Close!' As with Frank’s van, the driver had chosen a car that wouldn’t draw attention or stick in a memory. It was as if the owner had used the word “nondescript” when the salesperson asked what type of car he wanted.Said owner was Graham Turner, a self-made journalist according to him, a bottom-feeding paparazzo according to almost everybody else. His purview was the lifestyles of the rich, the famous, and the mentionables, especially their bad habits and indiscretions. The most money was to be made in the latter and Turner had made his meager living through catching people of note with their pants down, figuratively or otherwise.His mission today was to catch a Mortimer doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. A picture of the son, Frank, doing something untoward could pay out massively. Turner didn’t care if it was through sale of the picture or blackmail, just as long as he got his payday.He was sure the squeaky-clean bachelor was up to no good, driving out here in the middle of nowhere in a busted-up van when his family was rich enough to have a foundation in their name. Turner parked a good distance from the van, reached around to the back seat to grab his camera with the long-distance lens, and stepped out onto the tarmac.He began to feel ill immediately. He broke out in a sweat and his stomach churned like a washing machine at the start of a spin cycle. He stood leaning against the front of the car for a second, a headache thumping behind his eyeballs, and a loud ringing in his ears. He wiped his soaked forehead with the sleeve of his shirt and started to make his way through the grass, searching for a decent vantage point.Around forty paces in, close to the warehouse, his headache intensified massively. The pain shot up and down his body, and he felt a pop inside his skull. His left leg went dead and useless beneath him, and he groaned as he fell to his knees. The camera fell and smashed apart on the ground. He heard another pop, like a tiny balloon being pricked with a needle inside his ears, then he fell forward onto the remains of his equipment.The man with 'SECURITY' written across his cap came sauntering over the grass toward Turner’s body. He rolled it over with one boot-clad foot and saw the burst capillaries in Turner’s eyes: They were as red as the eyes of a B-movie vampire, and just as dead.Hell of a tune they play, the man thought as he went through Turner’s pockets for the keys to the gray sedan. As he stood up, he double-checked his earplugs, as he often did after finding someone who had come too close, and strolled over to the car to put it out of sight. The body could wait. He couldn’t even see it from the car, the grass deep enough to hide it. He saw a small flock of birds flying overhead, wheeling to make a wide detour around the building nearby.
Birds are smarter than people. He chuckled, proud of his philosophical revelation, and got into the driver’s seat of the almost unnoticeable car.

About the Author:
Neil Rochford is a freelance writer who loves fiction where bad things happen. After more than five years traveling from continent to continent and a few short stories, he finally got to work on his first book, and hopes to continue writing as many as he can. Originally from Ireland, he speaks three languages and has lived in Estonia, Brazil, France and Spain. He is a staff writer for the popular Irish podcast and website Those Conspiracy Guys.
http://neiltr.com
http://twitter.com/NeilRochford
http://facebook.com/neiltrwriting
https://www.goodreads.com/NeilTR
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Release Day Blitz Sex and Sorcery by Sarah Hyde

Sex and SorcerySex Magic Book OneSarah Hyde
Genre: Steamy Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Sarah Hyde
Date of Publication: May 9th, 2016
ASIN: B01E2SR19S
Number of pages:  212 Word Count: 60k
Cover Artist: Sarah Hyde
Book Description: Morgan Wright has just been dumped by the biggest jerk in the world. All she wants to do is sulk in bed while devouring all the ice cream on campus, but her friend has a different plan to cheer her up—break into a secret all-boys university.
According to rumor, the school trains sorcerers who are crazy good in bed. Even though Morgan’s never had an orgasm, she’s not interested in anything more than an adventure. But when cape-wearing guard, Edric stops them at the wall, Morgan finds herself drawn in by his syrupy sweet smell.
There’s only one small problem, the sorcerers at this school take their vow of celibacy seriously. But Morgan can’t stay away, and as Edric tests the limits of his vow, magic-fueled orgasms may change everything.
Amazon

Excerpt:
His grip tightens and he lifts me off the ground. He’s literally holding me up by my upper arms. Now I’m scared. I let out a little squeak. My breath comes in rapid pants. “I’m going to carry you out of here.” I nod, shivering in his grasp. I’d agree to walk, but I don’t really want him to let go of me. Part of me likes that he’s probably leaving bruises on my arms. His nostrils flare again. “And stop breathing,” he commands.“I’m pretty sure I can’t do that.”He starts to walk and I’m still dangling. He’s about ten inches taller than me and easily carries my 120lbs. His quads flex under the lightweight pants he has on. I’m inches from his face, but I can’t look into his eyes. Both of us are focusing off to the side, like I’m an offending bit of debris that must be tossed back into the woods. I lean forward, gulping down the cinnamon flavored air. If he would only pull me closer to his body I could nibble his neck. I strain against his grip, but he holds me completely immobile. He licks his lips. His boot catches on a branch and he stumbles. Without thinking, I wrap my legs tightly around his waist. The sudden pressure the seam of my pants provides against my crotch is a relief. He grunts as he fights for balance and one hand leaves my shoulder to grab my ass before we topple over. He’s glaring at me. With his hand on my ass. I try to keep from smiling but fail when his scowl intensifies. His fingers flex once and I know he’s about to drop me. The moment drags out. I shift my gaze up to the moon in an innocent expression, but the space between us is throbbing. My pulse has relocated itself to my clit and every orgasm that I never had is waiting to burst out of me. “Get off of me,” he says as he removes his hand. “Okay.” In one fast motion, I lick the side of his neck and untangle my legs. I drop to the ground in front of him. My tongue literally tingles with the flavor of his skin. He stares down at me. “Why did you do that?”“I had to know.” We’re close to the woods now. Almost out of sight. He stares at my lips. Does he want permission because I’ve been fairly clear that I want him? He’s the one protesting, but we’re away from the school now. His hand is visibly trembling. I step further under the tree cover. Shadows fall across his face making him more mysterious. “What did I taste like to you?” I exhale slowly. I feel like if I don’t pace my breathing I’m going to pass right out. “Like cinnamon syrup. Did you eat pancakes earlier?” He chuckles and stares at my lips again. “You can, if you want to . . . kiss me that is,” I offer. He looks back toward the wall, but there’s no one there. “Or if you just want a taste, you can lick me too.” He sucks air in through his teeth in a hissing gasp. “If it wasn’t for your smell, I’d be convinced you were another test. But no one can fake this.” He leans into me and I go perfectly still. His tongue flicks out and draws a soft wet line down the opening of my shirt. We both moan simultaneously. A million nerve endings I didn’t know existed flare to life. My nipples go crystal hard and jut out from my shirt. Do that again. “I shouldn’t have done that.” “Hmmm, that was not what I was thinking at all. Why don’t you take me back to your dorm room?” “Mostly because if you tried to cross the boundary you’d be fried to a crisp.”I choke and cough. “What?”“Don’t mess around with Bronson’s School. Promise me, you and your friend won’t try to get in again. I’m not joking. The wall will set you on fire if you try to cross it.”
“I promise,” I lie. Because I will do whatever it takes to get to him if he crosses that wall.
About the Author:
Sarah Hyde combats the cold Maine winters by writing very steamy romances. She loves berries, happy endings, and tea. Sex and Sorcery is her adult debut.
Twitter: @fancypantssarah
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sexandsorcery/

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Interview with AJ Tipton Author of Her Valiant Dragon: A BBW Interracial Paranormal Romance

1. Can you tell readers a little bit about yourself and what inspired to write in this particular genre?

AJ Tipton consists of two writers: Annie and Jess ("AJ" Get it?). We met in college and have been friends for over a decade. Since AJ Tipton was born in 2014, we've written over 25 novellas together, all paranormal romance (immortal Vikings, sexy fairy tales, shifters, and many more). We started writing together after we read an article about self-publishing romance on one of our favorite blogs. Over drinks, we talked about some of the more bizarre  scenarios we'd heard of: dinosaur and Bigfoot erotica, for example, and how the original writers were making great money. The drinks kept flowing and what started as "that's so funny" became "we should totally do this!" That night we started talking through the concept of the series that became the Her Elemental Viking series. 


2. 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 our gender swapped fairy tale series, “Sexy Gender Swapped Fairy Tales”, we named one of the protagonists in each book after a character from the TV show, Leverage. It’s a show we both love and it was really fun finding ways to slip sly references in for fans. In our other series, we’ll typically grab names out of thin air, trying to find one that best fits the character. But if you know our favorite nerdy TV shows, (Supernatural, Doctor Who, Once Upon a Time, etc, you'll start to recognize a lot of the names).

3. Can you tell readers a little bit about the world building in the book/series? 

We have three paranormal romance series all set in what we call "Audrey's world," which is the universe of AUDREY'S bar. AUDREY’S caters to supernatural creatures and is run by a witch, Audrey, and a mysterious and powerful bartender named Lola. 

The world is contemporary, so the characters have access to cellphones, cars, the Internet, actual cities and known landmarks, and recognizable clothes. But supernatural creatures (vampires, shape-shifters, werewolves, swamp monsters, witches, pixies, etc) all exist and live in this world openly with jobs, trade agreements, laws, and the search for love. Each species is also consistently-portrayed across all of the books set in this world. Tiger shifters, for example, are highly promiscuous (they have a lot of orgies), while centaurs are easily distracted. 

With each book, we build out the world a little farther, with more complex power structures, magical tools, and types of family groups. It's been really fun to explore the world, stretch its limitations, and also return to familiar landmarks. The Winter Wondernasium, for example, is a winter-themed theme park which is the setting for Her Winged Viking (from the Her Elemental Viking series), but shares property with the ice hotel in Alpha's Domain (from the Bear Shifter Billionaire series). Main characters of some books also have walk-throughs in others, even if they're not in the same book series. They're fun shout-outs to folks who have read all of the books and start to recognize people and places.

4. Please tell us about your latest release.

Our latest release is Her Alpha Dragon, the fifth and final story in the Her Biker Dragon series which starts with Her Valiant Dragon. This latest book follows the leader of the Iron Claws as he squares up against the Dragon High Council in the final showdown. Here’s a taste of what’s coming, below: 

The exciting conclusion of the Her Biker Dragon series! 

The badass dragon shifters of the Iron Claws motorcycle club will risk everything for the people they love. Cast out from their dragon clans, they must use their cunning and strength to defy the laws of their people and stay one step ahead of those determined to keep life-saving cures out of the hands of humans. 

Big Joe Silver is the Alpha of the Iron Claws and a man with a secret. When Joe's past catches up with him, he is forced to face the decisions he thought he outran long ago. Joe would do anything to protect his family, the Iron Claws, from the Dragon High Council’s constant attacks, but their final strike may be too much for him to bear. Will the mistakes of his past drive him away from the Iron Claws and his forbidden love, Emma? 

Emma Hernandez is the badass ex-military strategist of the Iron Claws who’s been in love with Joe since the day they met. She knows she can never be with him, but that doesn’t stop her from being by his side every step of the way. When Joe’s past roars back into their world, Emma finds herself pushed away from Joe and the Iron Claws. But everything may not be what it seems. Forced to put everything on the line, can Emma save her club and her man from the Council’s greatest threat? 

5. 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?

We like to have it both ways. Each book can be read standalone, and can be appreciated as a full story without the context of the series. However, with the Her Biker Dragon, knowing the overall arc of the series as a whole (and reading them in order) will bring additional appreciation to the events of each individual story.

6. When did you consider yourself a writer?

Annie: When I was in first grade we started learning to write sentences. One of the first things I did when I strung words together for the first time was start making up a story about the Mad Hatter and his wife who fought all the time and thrust each other into teacups. Making up stories has been what I've done ever since.

Jess: The second we hit “Publish” on our first story.

7. Other than writing, what are some of your interests, hobbies or passions in life?

Annie: Reading, watching TV shows and movies (Netflix binging is a problem, I won't sleep when the latest season of Daredevil is released), hanging out with friends at bars and comedy shows. 

Jess: Video games, archery, playing with my dog. I have the best dog and anybody else who says that is wrong (but hey, there’s no shame in second place). 

8. What can readers expect next from you?

We’re dipping our toes in the nonfiction waters for the first time! It’s always exhilarating to take on a new challenge like this. We’re writing a book on how to co-write romance, based on our own experiences, mistakes, and challenges. It’s a joy to be able to look at the pages and pages of lessons we’ve learned throughout the self-publishing process.

After that, we’re returning to the much-beloved Bear Shifter Billionaire world, where we’ll have lots of new adventures and crazy cocktails at the AUDREY’S bar. 

9. Where can readers find you on the web?

You can find the latest AJ Tipton news on: 
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AJTiptonAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AJTiptonAuthor
Blog: https://ajtiptonauthor.wordpress.com/
Or, for an insider view, you can sign up for our newsletter! -- http://eepurl.com/bbxrvL

10. Would you like to leave readers with a little teaser or excerpt from the book?

Sure thing! Here’s where we meet the male lead, Dylan Masters in all his hunky glory: 

Dylan Masters took another swig of beer and slammed the mug down on the bar top's stained surface. He wasn't a large man, just well built, with Asiatic features and long dreadlocks, but there was enough force behind his blow to chip the mug's edge.

“The Dragon High Counsel denied my plea. By the time I got home, my wife was dead.” Dylan tilted the mug back to capture the last inch of beer, now slightly warm and watery with backwash. He coughed and slid the mug across the counter for a refill.

He wasn't sure how the AUDREY'S bartender, Lola, had gotten him to talk about what happened to his late wife three years ago. He hated to talk about it. His inner dragon was curled in a tight ball under his skin, quiet and still like it had been for the past few years since that horrible night. Dylan remembered walking into the house after flying the week-long journey home in dragon form, practicing how to tell her about the Counsel's rejection, when he realized the house was too still, too quiet to be inhabited. He tore through each room calling out her name. He found her in his favorite chair, wearing his sweatshirt and curled up with a book. She had been dead for days.

“Would you have gone against the Counsel's decree and given her your scales to cure her?” Lola asked, refilling his beer and sliding it back to him. The bartender was beautiful in a way that was alarming rather than alluring. Her mass of small braids stood out from her head like a sea of swaying snakes moving in different directions around her face. Her purple eyes had an ageless wisdom Dylan was only used to seeing in the most ancient of dragon clan leaders. The wicked curve of her smile matched the red rose tattoo curling across her chest and down into her ample décolletage. Dylan couldn't shake the feeling she already knew everything he was about to say.

“Of course I would have saved her. She was the love of my life. The doctors told us she still had months. If I knew just how little time we actually had, I would’ve--” His voice broke, thinking back to those dark days. Knowing what he knew now, he wouldn't have bothered to beg the Dragon High Counsel for permission; he would have shed a few scales, ground them into a powder, and fed them to her. It was a carefully guarded secret among dragon shifters--Dylan couldn't fathom how Lola knew--but dragon scales, ground to a powder called Puff, could cure humans of most illnesses. Back then, Dylan had still believed in the clan rules that forbade giving Puff to humans. He believed in the system. He'd thought the Counsel would protect and care for him and his family because that was what they were supposed to do. Now he knew the truth.

A scuffling sound came from behind him, and Dylan's body was turning to address the threat before his brain caught up. A fireball was halfway up his already-shifted throat, ready to be unleashed in a furious blaze that would probably raze the bar to the ground.

A pixie stared at him with enormous blue eyes, flowers growing from her head, and bright green vines curling in her blond hair. Her dress was overlapping pink and blue petals and her dainty mouth had dropped open in warning, a swarm of bees waiting right in front of her mouth to retaliate if he attacked.

Dylan held up his hands and deliberately sat back in his seat, shifting his face back to human, feeling foolish.

“Sorry about that,” he said to the pixie. “It's been a rough few years.”

The pixie made a little chirping sound, ordered her drink, and went back to her table. Dylan's eyes widened as he looked at the pixie's companions: a tiger shifter in a leather bodysuit, a ten-foot tall troll with so many warts his green skin was barely visible, and a red-haired witch juggling balls of ice and fire, giggling when she dropped them to the scorched floor. A couple of vampires nursed blood cocktails in the corner, and two leprechauns made out enthusiastically, stumbling and giggling as they made their way to a door labeled “Back Room”.

“Is this, um, normal around here?” Dylan asked, tying back his long dreadlocks.

“This is AUDREY'S, sweetie,” Lola smiled, showing a few too many teeth. “We don't do normal.”
Dylan sipped his beer, thinking. The last few years had felt like an unending series of dive bars and unanswered questions. After his wife's death, he'd spent the first year mourning and trying to carry on despite the enormous hole in his life where she used to be. He'd sold their house, quit his job as an investigator, told the clan leaders exactly where they could shove it, bought a motorcycle, and hit the road. It was in the middle of the second year after her death that he started to hear the rumors. The stories were almost too good to be true, but the possibility the Iron Claws might be real kept him moving, hunting for the elusive outlaw motorcycle club. Looking around at AUDREY'S, Dylan figured this bar seemed like exactly the kind of place where he might get some answers.

“Maybe you can help me,” he said, trying to keep his face a mask of nonchalance. “I heard a rumor about a biker club, the Iron Claws. Apparently they’re a group of outcast dragons who distribute Puff.”

“That sounds admirable of them,” Lola said, her hair waving around her head in extra agitation like a cat's thrashing tail.

“I've been searching for them for the last couple of years, but I've always been a step behind. They keep moving so fast after each distribution that by the time I find where they've been, they've already gone.”

“What are you going to do if you find them?” Lola said, her voice disinterested as she mixed something bright green and glowing for the troll.

Dylan's dragon rolled and stretched inside him, roused by the rare feeling of hope beginning to stir in Dylan's chest. Could they really be close? Lola obviously knew about them. The careful way she stood, the way she avoided his eyes for the first time since he walked in the door…she knew something. And if his deductions were correct, she was deciding if she could trust him with this information.

Dylan could understand her hesitation. The High Counsel would love to find the elusive motorcycle club and shut them down. He'd seen signs of the Counsel’s goons in a few towns he'd been in, heard rumors of violence in bars that sounded like the kind of awful the goons got up to when they stretched the Counsel's leash. But he needed to find the Iron Claws.

Lola caught his eye, waiting for his answer.

“If I find them, I’ll join them,” he said. For the first time, he wondered if they’d have him. He had many skills to offer as a fighter and investigator, but would his past blind obedience to clan tradition make them not trust him?

Lola grinned. “Well, sugar, in that case, you might want to check out the flea market tomorrow at the Winter Wondernasium. Ask for the special brownies. They pack a little extra kick.”




Her Valiant Dragon: A BBW Interracial Paranormal Romance
AJ Tipton

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Book Description:

So hot it's criminal: dragon shifters on motorcycles bring the heat. 

The badass dragon shifters of the Iron Claws motorcycle club will risk everything for the people they love. Cast out from their dragon clans, they must use their cunning and strength to defy the laws of their people and stay one step ahead of those determined to keep life-saving cures out of the hands of humans. 

Sexy dragon shifter Dylan Masters seeks redemption for his dark past. Running out of hope, he finds the Iron Claws, an outlaw dragon motorcycle club. When Dylan decides to join them, he is thrown into a world of shady dealings and powerful enemies. But even in the midst of danger, he believes he's found what his wounded soul needs: the Iron Claws’s brilliant Latina nurse, Marie. 

Curvaceous Marie rides alongside the Iron Claws as their human medic, journeying from town to town dispensing magical remedies to those in desperate need. Experience has taught her to shield her heart, but when the dashing Dylan joins the club, she may have finally found a reason to open herself up. Will her dangerous past cut her happiness short once more? 

This adult novella includes naughty nurses, dramatic dragon brawls, and a passionate love that heals all wounds. 


Available at Amazon 

About the Authors:
AJ Tipton is the pseudonym for a writing team: Annie and Jess (Get it? "AJ"). We spend our days in Manhattan working for our corporate overlords, and during the evening we're in Brooklyn writing fantasies to astound, amuse and arouse. 
Our ideas for future books--everything from sex-robots to ghost brothels--will keep us busy for many decades to come, so be sure to join us for the fun! Let us know what stories you like best, we love to hear from readers. 
You can get in touch with us through:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AJTiptonAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AJTiptonAuthor
Blog: https://ajtiptonauthor.wordpress.com/
Sign up for our newsletter for the latest news, free promotions, and discounts! http://eepurl.com/bbxrvL

Review - A Toxic Trousseau by Juliet Blackwell

A Toxic Trousseau by Juliet Blackwell
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Another fabulous installment of Blackwell's Witchcraft Mysteries series. Murder, mystery, and romance all rolled into another page turner that I couldn't put down.

Lily Ivory is once again embroiled in a murder investigation- this time the victim is a rival vintage clothing dealer who just happened to serve papers to Lily regarding a personal injury lawsuit claiming that Oscar made her fall and get hurt.

Lily goes to speak to Autumn about the lawsuit and discovers Autumn is very ill, she is taken to the hospital where she passes away. Poor Lily becomes a suspect once again. The police even close down her store to investigate.

But that might be a good thing because Lily has her hands full as the temporary witchy leader of San Francisco while Aiden is away. Plus she has to investigate this murder with a little help from her friends. She discovers there may be witchy things at play in this murder thanks to a cursed trousseau.

Clues are all over the place, she's connecting dots wherever she goes...but who is really involved in the murder and who has other ulterior motives. How can Lily get a clear picture of what is going on with so many coincidences and connections? In the end the murderer might be someone she never even suspected.

Blackwell is a mystery master. I'm never disappointed by her mysteries. I rarely ever guess who the murderer is. She leads you on twists, turns and subterfuge to keep you guessing and reading. Once I finish one of her books I am always eagerly awaiting the next.

If you love cozy mysteries with paranormal elements, I highly recommend Juliet Blackwell.


View all my reviews

Princesses in Space - Guest Blog-Starr Valentine by Wende Dikec

Princesses in Space
I’ve loved sci-fi since the moment I opened Madeleine L’Engle’s “A Wrinkle in Time” and was forever hooked. Because of that book, I wanted to be a physicist some day (until I discovered there was math involved) and I also wanted to meet a boy just like Calvin O’Keefe. I wasn’t keen on the red hair, but adored everything else about him. He was my first book boyfriend.



Fast forward to the present time. I’m a sci-fi geek and a trekkie, but my unhealthy obsession extends far past pondering which captain I love more – James Tiberius Kirk or Jean Luke Picard (don’t even get me started on Kathryn Janeway – she was okay, but I never really connected).



I’ll admit my deep, dark secret now. I like the new Star Trek movies too. I think Chris Pine makes a fine Captain Kirk, and, truth be told, I almost fainted when Benedict Cumberbatch said his name was Khan.



I didn’t faint, though. I didn’t even drop my popcorn. Instead I just let out an unholy scream and scared the lady sitting one row in front of me in the theater.
Now some people say I’m not a purist since I like those movies, but I think it just proves the purity of my emotions. I adore everything Star Trek, Star Wars, Battlestar Gallactica, Firefly, Stargate, The Fifth Element, The Last Starfighter – all of it. I even liked Flash Gordon, Buck Rogers, and Lost in Space (both the series and the movie), and I loved (gulp – don’t judge me) Jupiter Ascending. Unlike most people, I honestly thought it was fabulous. I was never big on astronaut flicks or monster alien movies, but anything else with a journey, a voyage to the stars, and maybe just a touch of romance, and I was in.


When I became a writer, I didn’t start out writing sci-fi. Of course I read a steady diet of it, everything from Asimov to Zelazny (with a heavy dose of Bradbury).  But I wrote young adult and romance. Lots of romance. It wasn’t until I saw an advertisement for a sci-fi short story contest, that I even considered trying it. I gave it a shot, and Starr Valentine was born.
Starr is the story of a beautiful, popular cheerleader who finds out her parents are aliens and she has to return to her home planet, Vega. When she gets there, she realizes the standard of beauty is different and she isn’t pretty anymore. On Vega everyone fawns over her dorky older sister Astra, ignoring her completely, and Starr has to figure out who she is if she isn’t beautiful


I’ll be the first to admit it - my book is not hard-core sci-fi. If Asimov’s work is a Red Bull, then mine is a caffeine-free diet Coke. But it’s the book I wish I’d been able to read when I was an awkward teenager dreaming about faraway planets and mysterious aliens. It’s light hearted, but conveys a powerful message. And it involves a princess - even if the fairy tale is told in reverse.
And I do love princesses.




Starr ValentineWende Dikec
Genre: Young Adult/Sci-Fi
Publisher: Inkspell Publishing
Date of Publication: March 10, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-939590-76-3ASIN: B01AO8XJRI
Number of pages: 176Word Count: 64,000
Cover Artist: Najla Qamber
Book Description:
What happens when the beautiful swan becomes the ugly duckling?
Starr Valentine has a perfect life in Middleton, Ohio. She was named captain of the cheer squad, her mother finally allowed her to get highlights, and the cutest boy in school asked her to homecoming. But everything comes crashing down when she finds out her parents are actually monarchs in exile from a mysterious planet called Vega. Starr doesn’t want to leave, but loves the idea of being a princess, and decides moving to an alien world might not be so bad. When she gets there, however, she discovers that something is terribly wrong.
Starr has always been the winner of the family, but now everyone is fawning over her chubby older sister, Astra. And everyone, even a handsome and annoying young duke named Julian, seems to hate her. That is when she realizes the awful truth. Astra is now the pretty one. Astra has all the friends. Astra gets all of the attention. And Starr Valentine, voted Miss Perfect, is now the ugly duckling. Her biggest fear is…will she be able to turn back into a swan, or is she doomed to be a loser forever?

Amazon     BN    Kobo     iTunes     ARe

"First Wende Dikec grabs you with her fresh writing, then she keeps you in the throes of her story with an incredible voice and a gifted talent for spinning tales that will amaze and delight. I am stunned. Tiger Lily will consume you, and before you know it you are fighting for air yet begging for more. You've been warned!" --NY Times Bestselling Author Darynda Jones
Excerpt:We all met in the captain’s lounge just after the transport ship had safely landed. My father wore some sort of military uniform, and he was completely dashing, as always.“Girls, you both look lovely.”I smiled up at him. “So do you, Daddy,” I said, and he patted my cheek.My mom fluttered up to us in a cacophony of lime green lace and feathers. A large gold medallion was pinned to her breast and she had on the crown she’d worn for the nightly news. She reached for our hands, tears swimming in her eyes.“I have something for you,” she said, her voice trembling. Captain Augustus stood behind her, looking just as handsome as my father. He held open a wooden box. Inside were two small, yet perfect, tiaras.I gasped. “Diamonds.”“These are not your true crowns,” my mother explained. “Those went missing during the confusion when we were trying to escape. These are just a substitute until we can find something better.”I couldn’t imagine something better. The tiaras seemed perfect. I leaned over slightly so my mom could slip it onto my head, glad I’d decided to wear my hair up in a French twist. The tiara was beautiful. I admired myself for a few minutes in the mirror before looking at Astra. She and my mother stood side by side, their hair a riot of dark curls, their dresses positively painful to the eyes, and I sighed. I really hoped they didn’t humiliate themselves too much at the ceremony. They looked like clowns from a circus performance.My father, of course, didn’t seem to notice. He bowed and kissed my mother’s hand gallantly before linking it through his arm and leading her out the door. I could tell it was a very emotional moment for both of them. They were returning to the home they loved after being exiled for so many years. Even I could feel my throat tightening up.Astra walked up and took my arm. “Are you ready?” she asked, and I nodded. It was time to face the music, or the Vegonians, as the case may be.We stepped out into a warm, sultry evening on Vega. Lights had been set up all around the landing bay, and we followed my parents to an elevated platform near the ship. People waited as far as the eye could see, and as soon as my parents stepped up to the podium, the crowd roared.I stood arm in arm with Astra, taking in the moment. The city of Celesta glittered in the light of the fading sun, just beyond the crowd of people assembled before us. It sparkled like it was made of glass. I could see what must have been the royal palace on one side of the city on top of a small hill, and it made me think of Aladdin’s castle, all gilt and white marble. I decided I could definitely get used to living there.As I stared at the people in front of me, I started to notice something odd. The women here were not at all what I’d expected. Supposedly the most beautiful women in the universe, they all looked a lot like my mother and sister, with short, oddly shaped bodies and large behinds. They also dressed just like my mother and sister, in a riot of colors and patterns.A quick assessment told me that I was the only pretty girl around, other than Maya, and definitely the best dressed. Maya had been forced by her parents to wear some sort of Vegonian monstrosity made out of a hot pink iridescent fabric. Torture. I, on the other hand, felt like an elegant swan dumped into the middle of a bunch of plump, gaudy, peacocks.I heaved a sigh of relief. I’d been a little teeny tiny bit worried when I’d heard about how beautiful Vegonian women were. It was good to realize those rumors had been pure exaggeration. No one in this crowd could hold a candle to me.Another quick look around told me that there wasn’t a single bad looking guy here. I was completely devoted to Adrian, of course, but I couldn’t help but admire and appreciate male beauty when I saw it. The boys were all works of art. It was as if I’d been dropped into a huge candy shop full of the most delicious boys I’d ever seen, and knew I could have my pick. Of course I would never cheat on Adrian, but it felt like a candy shop here, nonetheless.My joy proved short-lived. None of the boys even looked at me. At first I thought that several of them stared at me, which made me happy, but soon realized it wasn’t me they stared at. They had their eyes locked on Astra with the same sort of enraptured expressions boys usually reserved for me.A cold wave of shock crawled over my entire body. Boys never looked at Astra like that, especially when I stood right next to her. Something was very wrong here.I smoothed my hair, which was perfect and didn’t need smoothing. I stuck out my chest and turned my body so they could see my best angle, but none of them even noticed me. Astra had suddenly become the center of attention.My mother gave a very lovely and heartfelt speech, which I barely paid attention to. The crowd roared and screamed her name, but I hardly even heard it. People waved and cheered with tears streaming down their faces, but I felt numb to everything.When we were introduced to various dignitaries, everyone said “lovely,” and “a vision,” when they met Astra. When they saw me, they looked a bit confused and then mumbled something boring like “nice to meet you.” Something very strange was going on, and I had to figure it out.I searched the crowd for Adrian, but he was nowhere to be seen. One sexy, appreciative look from him might have been enough to restore some semblance of balance and order to my universe. But he wasn’t around and I’d been cast adrift in a sea of beautiful boys to whom I was invisible.“Art thou okay, Princess Starr?” asked Captain Augustus. “Thou art pale.”I blinked as I digested his words. The Vegonians spoke English, but a weird form of archaic Elizabethan English mixed with modern slang. The only people who had spoken like that on the transport ship were the captain and the crew. All of the Vegonians who been on Earth for the last fifteen years spoke standard, modern English, although I’d heard a few “thou’s” and “thee’s” begin to slip into the language of the older passengers, including my own parents.“I’m fine. Thank you.”As the captain bowed and turned away, I realized I wasn’t fine at all. I stared around at the sea of happy, glowing, faces, including those of my parents and my sister, and understood that suddenly, and without any explanation, I had become the outsider.
“Thou art in hell, Starr Valentine,” I murmured to myself.
About the Author:
Wende Dikec has spent her life traveling the world, and collecting stories wherever she visited. She writes in several romance genres, and her books are quirky, light, and fun. Fluent in several languages and married to a man from Istanbul, Wende is a trekkie, a book hoarder, master of the Nespresso machine, and mother of three boys. A puppy named Capone is the most recent addition to her family, and she blogs about him as a way of maintaining what little sanity she has left.
http://www.wendedikec.com
https://www.facebook.com/wendedikecwriter
https://twitter.com/WendeDikec
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14735786.Wende_Dikec
https://www.pinterest.com/wendedikec/
http://wendewrites.tumblr.com
https://www.instagram.com/wendedikec/


Tour giveaway
$25 Amazon Gift Card to a Newsletter Subscriber,to be awarded June 1, 2016.

Subscribe to Wende’s Newsletter Here:  http://madmimi.com/signups/177092/join

Interview - The Devil's Disease by L.J.K. Oliva

What inspired your story?
Honestly? Seneca Lynch. He's a vampire, and the newest addition to the Shades Below cast. His character really drove what happened in this book.
Is the setting to your story important?
Absolutely! Take The Devil's Disease - or any of the Shades Below books - out of San Francisco, and there would be no Shades Below series. They city is a character in its own right.
When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?
I'll let you know what I start considering myself a "writer".
What were your goals as an author and have any of them come true?
My goals as an author were to write books people looked forward to reading, and to make a living at doing so. Part One has come true. Part Two is a work-in-progress, but progress is steady.
What genres do you normally write in?
When I first started out, I wrote in romantic suspense. Over the past year, I've shifted my focus to urban fantasy and paranormal romance.
Is there a genre you haven’t written in that one day you’d like to tackle?
Historical mystery. I've got this great idea for a series...
What was the craziest thing you’ve ever done when it came to a storyline in your book?

So far, "sexually fluid vampires" takes the cake.


The Devil's DiseaseShades BelowBook TwoL.J.K. Oliva
Genre: urban fantasy
Date of Publication: March 31, 2016
Word Count: 93,338
Cover Artist: Amy Mateyka
Book Description:
In the city by the Bay, things are about to get bloody...
Psychic medium Lena Alan always sticks to what she knows, and what she knows are dead people. When her brother Cyrus agrees to look into a troubling incident for local vampire Seneca Lynch, Lena finds herself in unfamiliar territory.
One thing is clear: she needs a detective, and there's only one she trusts.
Private investigator Jesper MacMillian is ready to get back to business. Between his duties as leader of the city's Romani community and the stack of unfinished paperwork on his desk, he doesn't have time to think about ghosts, witches, or Lena Alan. After nearly a month of no contact, he's starting to think she's forgotten about him...until she waltzes through his office door and hands him a new case.
Still reeling from his last encounter with the subversive world, MacMillian is tempted to turn it down. But this is Lena, and he can't bring himself to tell her no. He soon finds himself drawn even deeper into the shadows, into a part of the demimonde where folklore is real and nightmares are born.
This time, there are more than just ghosts walking the streets of San Francisco.
There are monsters, too.


Amazon

Excerpt #2
By the looks of things, the rest of the party was winding down.  People poured into the front garden, everyone from fishnet-clad goths to silk-swathed Victorian ladies.  MacMillian moved off the path to let one motley group pass.He shook his head.  "Bet you anything half those people are going to work in an office tomorrow."Lynch stood beside him and watched as still more people emerged from the house.  "I need to tell you something.  Kasey Chaplin, the young lady Lena communicated with; there's something about her you should know."MacMillian looked at him.  "What is it?"Lynch's eyes locked on a raven-haired woman in a corset.  "She was a black swan."MacMillian blinked.  "You mean like Stella?"A smirk dusted Lynch's lips.  "I've met very few people like Stella." His face grew serious.  "I knew Ms. Chaplin.  She was part of my circle.  She'd been here for blood drives.  She was actually a very lovely girl."MacMillian snorted.  "A lovely girl who hung out with vampires." He remembered himself too late, winced.  "Sorry.""Say what you will about us, Mr. MacMillian, but every human you saw tonight was here of their own free will." Lynch watched the people still trickling past.  "They seek us out.  They flock to us in droves.  Do you know why?"MacMillian didn't speak."Because we give them something." Lynch turned back to him.  "They give us their blood, and in return, we give them a place to belong.  We give them an identity.  You'd be surprised how many humans have never had either of those before."MacMillian shook his head.  "I'm sorry, but I don't see people with an identity.  I see people playing dress-up, so desperate to belong they'll believe anything you tell them."  He tightened his jaw.  "They have no clue what's really going on."  "And now you do." Lynch shifted.  "You may be right.  It is in our best interests to facilitate certain...fantasies.  But really, isn't that what identity is?  The stories we tell others, the names we call ourselves?"MacMillian didn't have an answer to that.  He gripped his cane a little tighter.  "And what about you?  What do you call yourself, Lynch?"Lynch smiled into the darkness.  "Why, my dear detective.  I am a monste

About the Author:  
L.J.K Oliva is the devil-may-care alter-ego of noir romance novelist Laura Oliva. She likes her whiskey strong, her chocolate dark, and her steak bloody. L.J.K. likes monsters... and knows the darkest ones don't live in closets.
http://ljkolivabooks.com
http://writebitches.com
Newsletter Signup- http://eepurl.com/xRJuD
Amazon- http://www.amazon.com/author/lauraoliva
Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/writinginthenight
Twitter- https://twitter.com/writermama
Goodreads- https://www.goodreads.com/LauraOlivaBooks
Pinterest- http://www.pinterest.com/authorljkoliva/
YouTube- https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCbIlibC_pgv-Oa-J4hRW2fA

Cover Reveal Worthy of Song and Story by Neal Chase

Worthy of Song and StoryStian the Viking SeriesBook  OneNeal Chase
Middle Grade Fantasy
Publisher: Fiery Seas Publishing
Winter 2016
 Book Description:
Twelve year-old Stian’s plans to be The Greatest Viking Ever appear to be over before they even begin. He’s captured by Dahlia—a dark elf and a girl. If that wasn’t bad enough, he discovers he may be the son of Loki, the greatest enemy of the Viking gods and the one foretold to bring about the end of the world.
Knowing he is meant to be extraordinary, Stian decides to discover the truth for himself and free Loki from the clutches of Odin. Only then, will he discover who he is and what he is meant to do.
Stian must out-think, misguide, and defeat Thor’s children. To do this he will need the power of Gram—a sword with magical powers. There is one catch, only one pure of heart with the desire to help others, is worthy of wielding it. If Stian succeeds, he will become the world’s most famous Viking, but if he fails he will fall victim to the gods’ merciless justice.

About the Author:
Neal Chase lives in San Antonio, Texas, with his wife, two children, two dogs, and a bird, which strangely has the same name as his dad. He is a member of SCBWI and the Writers’ League of Texas. When he is not writing and reading, you can find Neal coaching football or adventuring with the help of his PlayStation.
http://ncchase.com/
https://twitter.com/ncchase

Defying Destiny by Shelly Morgan

Defying DestinyForsaken Sinners MC SeriesBook ThreeShelly Morgan
Genre: MC Romance/Suspense
Publisher: Limitless Publishing
Date of Publication: May 3rd, 2016
Word Count: around 74K
Cover Artist: TOJ Publishing Services
Book Description:
Twenty-six-year-old Louie Creighton knows there is something inside him he can’t control…
Ever since he can remember, Louie has had a short fuse. People always said he’d amount to nothing. He wasn’t smart enough to get into college. He wasn’t tough enough to be a Marine. No one believed in him.
No one except his father, Mike Creighton…
Louie’s father always taught him to turn the other cheek. He was a true mentor, teaching him how to be a man in a world of cowards. But when his father is murdered the day after scratching a winning lottery ticket, Louie’s inner monster can’t be contained. He becomes determined to track down the suspect at any cost. All along, he struggles to live by his father’s motto—To find out what you live for, you have to discover what you’d die for.
Then he meets Harlow McPherson…
Her entire life has been a battle. Harlow grew up in the system, bouncing from one foster home to the next. Most weren’t that bad, but some were hell.
The only comfort was the fact she wasn’t alone. Her twin brother, Hendrix, was always there—until he took his own life years later, abandoning Harlow in a cruel world. Unable to forgive, it’s Louie who reminds her there’s still hope.
When Louie unleashes his inner monster, and Harlow finally faces her demons, will they lose themselves to the darkness, or risk it all Defying Destiny?


Amazon

Chapter One Louie Age 17 
One more hour, then I can finally go home and be away from this shithole. Then it’s just one more month until graduation.
I fucking hate school—and I don’t mean that in the way that most kids would probably say they hate school. I hate it because of the pieces of shit that roam these halls. They all walk around like they know everything and are the kings and queens of the town. But they ain’t royalty. They are the shit on the bottom of my fucking boot. The pesky mosquitos that want to suck you dry. 
My dad and I may be trailer park trash in their eyes, but we are better than everyone in this God forsaken town. Better than the mayor who fucks his assistant on the side. Better than the preacher man that has a thing for little boys. And better than the teachers, the townsfolk, and their spawns. 
I grew up without a mother and even though I wish I would have known her; I can’t say that my life would have been any better or I would have felt more love in my life. My father provided everything for me. He was the one who taught me how to walk, talk, and ride a bike. He played catch with me when he wasn’t working, helped with my homework when I needed it, and always made sure I had a hot meal at least once a day. My dad means everything to me and I’ll wipe the floor with anyone who disrespects him. He was a God damn fucking Marine—served five tours overseas, took more than a dozen bullets throughout his service to this country, and saved more men than anyone will ever know. My dad is a fucking hero—my hero. 
The bell ringing brings me out of my thoughts. One more class to go.
Getting out of my seat, I put all my books into my bag and make my way into the hall and toward my locker. Since my last period is Shop, I make sure to grab everything I need so I can leave right after class. Any extra time spent here is time wasted in my eyes, even if it’s just to walk back to my locker. No fucking thank you.
I’m the first one into the shop, as usual, since I have no need to delay. I get right to work on the old Chevy Mr. Peterson brought in for us to work on. Today, we’re starting to work on the engine.
Shop is actually one of my top favorite classes, the other being gym. Those are the classes I get to use my hands. In here, it’s tearing shit apart, finding the problem, then fixing it. In gym, it’s pushing my body to the limit and working my ass off. Usually, no matter what the activity is for that day, the gym teacher will let me do my own thing in the weight room. I think he’s learned that I don’t play well with others. Either that, or he just doesn’t want to have to deal with me, like everyone else in this fucking place. 
Five minutes later, the rest of the students show up. Not like they will actually do anything. But as long as they stay the fuck away from me, I’m good. 
I’ve been finding it harder and harder to hold my tongue and I can only be pushed so far before I’ll pull my hands out of my pockets and knock one of those fuckers out. Sometimes the beast inside me takes over and the rage is just too much. It’s been there for as long as I can remember, waiting for the opportunity to bare its teeth and draw blood. But, for my dad’s sake, I do my best to just let things slide. My dad taught me to turn the other cheek, but told me to stand my ground. Called it bein’ a man. Said that if someone was wrong, to never back down and prove my point by driving it home. And if that meant throwing the first punch and whooping their ass, then so be it.
I told my dad that once I graduated, I wanted to move to the east or west coast. We’ve lived in Iowa my whole life, but I’ve always dreamed of being close to the ocean and away from this shit town. I want to find a good trainer wherever we find a decent place and start fighting for money. I’ve done a good job training myself in my homemade gym in my room and watching any video I can find, but if I want to make it professionally and make the big bucks, I’ll have to find someone willing to train me. I know I can do it too. I’m good enough even without professional training, but I’ll need that to take me to the next level. Plus, in order to get signed up for the big money fights, it’s easier to do if you have a trainer in your corner. Especially if that training has a big name.
Dad wasn’t too open to the idea of moving away at first, but now that he knows I’m serious, I think he’s warming up to the idea. It’s not like he’ll have anything holding him here after I graduate and leave. I don’t want to go without him, but I’ve told him that I will if I have to. I can’t be here anymore. If I stay for even a day longer than necessary, I know I’ll end up just like everyone says I will—dead or in jail—and I will not let that happen.
Feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket, I wipe off my hands and pull it out. It’s a text message from my dad. He rarely ever messages me and for him to do so during school hours must mean it’s important. I turn around to make sure Mr. Peterson isn’t watching, then pull up the message.
Dad: Things are finally turning around for us, son. This should help for the big move, don’t you think?
Attached to the message is a picture of him holding a lottery ticket and a huge fucking check for fifty thousand dollars.  
Me: Is that for real?
Even though my dad has never played a trick on me, at least not to this extent, I have to ask. I don’t want to get excited, but looking at the picture, I know it’s real before I even read his next text.
Dad: It’s real and it’s ours. So here’s to the future.
I don’t even bother responding. Instead, I grab my bag and am out the door before my teacher even realizes I’m leaving. 
Sprinting out to my banged up truck, I throw my book bag inside before jumping in after it. I burn rubber as I press down on the accelerator and speed home. I only live about five minutes from school, but today, I make it there in two.
As soon as I pull in front of the house beside my dad’s old Harley, the door opens and I see him standing there with the biggest smile I think I’ve ever seen on him. “You just couldn’t wait an hour, could ya.” It’s not a question, but a statement.
Getting out of the truck I walk up to him and pull him in for a tight hug. Most kids my age, guys especially, don’t hug their parents anymore, but not me. I love my dad more than anything and have never been shy about showing it to him or anyone else.
“What the fuck you think, old man?” I answer him anyway.
My dad laughs and shakes his head. One of the best things about him is he never scolds me for swearing. He always said that if you’re man enough to swear in front of your elders without fear of being punished, then you’re man enough to actually say it. Yeah, my dad’s pretty fucking awesome, I know.
“So we going out to celebrate?” I ask. Things have always been tight in our house—he works almost sixty hours a week to make sure we can make rent and that I have food in my stomach and clothes on my back. It would be nice to go out and have a nice meal for a change, instead of eating ramen noodles or Hamburger Helper.
“You read my mind, boy,” he says before heading back into the house.
“I was thinking we’d go to that steakhouse downtown and then I was thinking of stopping by the bar for a celebratory drink.” He’s hesitant when he says this, but it’s only because I know he feels like he shouldn’t waste money on something as trivial as alcohol when he could put it to better use. Usually that better use is something for me or paying bills.
I look at him with a stern look. “Don’t you even think about taking that back. Hell yeah you should go get a drink. Shit, maybe you can get me a six-pack before you go and I can have a celebratory drink too.” I end on a laugh, which has him laughing too.
“Yeah. I can do that, son. But no driving, ya hear?” Now it’s his turn to use a stern look. The one major rule my father has is no drinking and driving. He’d say, “If you want to have a drink here and there, that’s fine, but I need to know where you are and I better not ever catch you behind the wheel after you’ve even had a sip. You call me, I don’t care what time it is, I’ll come and get your ass. Better me than the police or the morgue.” I don’t go out drinking a lot because let’s face it, I couldn’t care less about going to any of the parties the kids my age attend, but I have on occasion gone out to the bluffs with a few cans of beer to just clear my head and think about the future. And I’ve never once gone against his word—I either walk home or I call him. He’s never gotten mad when I’ve asked him to come get me, even if it was past two in the morning and he had to be up at five.
“I hear ya, old man. Now let’s go. I’m fucking hungry and I can hear a big ass steak callin’ my name.” Even though it’s barely four, we’re used to eating early whenever we’re both home at night. Dad usually goes to bed around six-thirty since he has to be up at the ass crack of dawn. He doesn’t have to work tomorrow since it will be Saturday and it’s his weekend off, but I figure we might as well keep with our usual eating schedule. I’m also hoping there won’t be a lot of people there since it’s earlier than most people eat. I don’t want anyone to ruin our good mood and a good meal.
Since I know he wants to stop at the bar later, we both hop into my truck. He’s an adult but he’s never driven after he’s had a drink. I think that’s one of his best qualities; he won’t do something that he tells me or others not to do. He says if it’s important enough for him to tell others, then he needs to take his own words to heart too. Most people will tell others what to do just because they enjoy feeling like they are the boss, but then they don’t do the same. Fucking hypocrites.
On the drive over, we talk about mindless shit, like how his work week went or how school and training is going for me. I’ve never had a problem talking to my dad about anything. I guess you could say we’re closer than most father/son relationships usually are. I will always think of him as my father, but he’s my best friend too. I know that he would never judge me and he’ll always give me advice or direction when asked or if he feels it’s needed. 
Once we park and head inside, we’re immediately seated. 
“Out celebrating, eh, Mike?” I hear someone say from behind me as we sit down. 
I look over my shoulder and see that it’s Marcus Brindel. He’s the town attorney and father to Jimmy, who is my age and the star quarterback for the high school football team.
My dad laughs, though it’s a little strained. He hates these people almost as much as I do, maybe sometimes even more. “Well, can ya blame me? It ain’t every day you win a few thousand dollars.”
Marcus looks at him with a twisted sneer on his face. “A few thousand, huh? I thought for sure someone like you would think it’s more like a few million.” With that said, he gets up and walks toward the bar. 
“Fucking prick,” I say, looking at my dad.
“Now son, what have I always told you?” he asks, but he’s smiling so I know he’s not mad. Shit, he probably thought worse than what I did, he just isn’t saying it out loud.
“Hm, let me think…” I pause and tap my finger on my lower lip. “Oh, I remember. That you should always respect your elders…unless they are sorry pieces of shit that deserve to be put in their place.” I add the last part in with a smile on my face. Like I said, he’s taught me right and wrong, it just may not be in the traditional sense. But it’s the way we live and it’s honorable than most people.
He laughs and nods his head. “Damn right, son.”
The waitress walks up to our table and asks if we’re ready to order. Since we already knew what we wanted before we even got here, we don’t even need to look at the menu. I order a twelve-ounce T-bone steak with a side of mashed potatoes and Dad orders a New York Strip steak and a baked potato. We both decline the salad. Salads are for girls and pussies. Real men eat meat.
“So tell me again what you want to do after graduating? Do you have an idea where you want to go?” he asks after the waitress refills our sodas and walks away.
Since I was a teenager, I always knew I wanted to leave this place, but I never really knew where I wanted to go. I just thought that maybe I’d tour the US for a while and settle wherever seemed right. Now though, I know exactly where I want to go.
“I was thinking we could take a little detour down to Florida, check out the beaches on the east coast, and then head west until we reach the beach in California.” 
“California, huh? Why there?” he asks, genuinely interested. That’s another thing I love about my dad—he’s always interested in what I think, even if he doesn’t understand it.
“Well, I’ve done a lot of research about fighting professionally and California seems to be the place that always pops up. They’ve got some amazing trainers out there and it seems like all the big names come from California. So I figure if I want to make it in the business, that’s where I should go. You’ve got to learn from the best to be the best, right?”
He’s quiet for a few minutes, thinking about what I said.
“What about the Marines?” he asks, though I know he isn’t trying to push me to do something I may not want to do. He knows that was something I have been interested in, but wasn’t really sure if it was for me. When I was little, I would always dress up in his old uniforms and play Rambo. Since I was probably five years old, that’s what I wanted to be when I grew up—a soldier, just like my dad. But now, I’m not sure if that’s what is meant for me. I mean, it still interests me, but I think fighting is the best bet. At least for now.
“I’m not sure, Dad. I mean, it’s still a possibility, but I want to see where this takes me first. I figure I could fight for a few years and then re-evaluate where I’m at. Maybe fighting isn’t for me, but maybe being a Marine isn’t, either. How will I ever know if I don’t try?” 
I wait for him to think about what I just said and hope that he agrees with me. He always told me to never let anyone dictate my life and to always do what was best for me, what I wanted to do. He’d say I could be anything I wanted to be, and I believe him. But I still want his approval and support. I suspect I’ll always want that, even when I’m old and grey.
He stares at me for a few moments, then he looks down at the table. “I’m proud of you, son. I’m sorry I don’t say that enough, but I am. I know life hasn’t always been easy on you and life can be so hard that sometimes you just want to quit, but you never did—and you never will. I wish I could go back in time and do a few things different so I could have given you a better life and I wish I could have stopped your mother from leaving us. But we can’t go back and change the past. We can only move forward and pray we’ve learned something. So no matter what you choose to do, I’ll be right there with you—to guide you when you are uncertain, stand beside you when you just need someone there, and I’ll walk in the shadows to look after you when you can walk the road of life on your own. I may not have done a lot in my life or have a lot to show for it, but I do have you. You are my one amazing thing in the world and I’m so damn proud to call you my son.”
Listening to him talk has me almost choked up. My dad has always told me he loves me and that he’s there for me and that’s something a son always wants from his father. But hearing those words—that he’s proud of me—does something inside of me. I don’t know if I want to cry or laugh.
The waitress saves me from having to choose when she delivers our food. “Can I get you gentlemen anything else?”
My dad shakes his head and smiles at her, then she walks away.
Still a little flustered, I just stare at my plate. I feel like I should say something, anything, after what he just said, but I have no idea what. I have a billion things rolling around in my head but none of them seem to add up to how I feel.
“It ain’t going to eat itself. Dig in,” he says, then he follows his own advice. Deciding that my words can wait for another day when I don’t feel so raw, I shake my head and do just as he says.
My steak is cooked perfectly. I practically inhale everything on my plate. It’s not often I get a meal like this and I feel like if I don’t finish it fast, it could all get taken away. I’ve felt that way about a lot of things in my life—that they are too good to be true and it will never last. Most of the time, I’m right. But not this time.
I finish my meal before my dad, but he’s close behind me.
“Damn, that was good. How was your steak, son?”
Leaning back in my seat, I pat my stomach. “Fucking delicious.”
We are both quiet while we digest the good food and wait for the check. I start to think about what I should do tonight. I know there are parties going on because there are parties every Friday night, but I don’t think I could stand being around anyone who frequents those parties. Even with the knowledge that I’ll be leaving this place behind soon and that my life is finally starting to look up for the first time in forever, I won’t risk it. Knowing the fuckers that will be there, someone will say something to piss me off and I won’t be able to stop myself from beating the fuckers down. Yeah, I think I’ll just have dad pick me up a six pack and go find a spot to be alone and start planning for the future.
“You ready to get out of here?” he asks as he stands up.
“Yup.”
My dad slaps me on the shoulder as we walk outside but he doesn’t say anything. Though, he doesn’t need to. This is the happiest I think I’ve ever seen him. And it’s not just because he won the money, though that might be a part of it, but it’s because he’ll be able to give me the life he has always wanted to give me. Little does he know, whether he won that money or not, I’d still be happy. Things would be harder for us, sure, but as long as he was with me and we were living our dreams, it doesn’t matter how long it would take us to get there as long as we get there eventually…or at least do our best trying. Enjoying the ride, that sort of thing.
“Pull into the gas station. I gotta grab a few things, then you can drop me off down the street.” I don’t answer and just watch him while he walks into the store. I see him grab something out of the beer cooler and then walk to the other side of the store where they have the grocery items, pharmacy stuff, and other little odds and ends. Then he makes his way up to the front to pay for everything.
As he walks outside, I see him holding a twelve pack of Bud Light and him stuffing something into his back pocket.
“All right, now remember what I said. I give this to you and you better not drive anywhere or do anything stupid, ya hear?” he says as he gets into the truck.
“Yeah, old man, I hear ya.” I laugh and pull out of the parking lot.
When I park across the street from the local watering hole, he pauses before opening the door and looks back at me. “I love you, Holden.” He doesn’t wait for me to say anything back before he’s out of the truck and walking into the bar.
I have no idea what’s making him say all the things he’s said tonight and there is a part of me that is a little boy again, jumping for joy at the approval from his father. Then there’s the embarrassed teenage boy who can’t find the right words to say back.
I sit in my truck for a few minutes and just think back on everything he’s said tonight. I always knew deep down that my dad loves me and is proud of me, but hearing him say it tonight makes me want to be better—for him. He doesn’t deserve a sulking boy who gets pissed off at the littlest things. Starting tonight, I’m going to be different. I’m going to be the man he’s always taught me to be. From now on, if someone does something that pisses me off, I’m going to turn the other cheek and think about all the things me and my dad are going to do when we leave this place behind.
Putting the truck in drive, I head toward home to drop my truck off. Then I’ll have a couple beers out by the quarry before going to bed. Tomorrow I want to tell my dad all the things I’m sorry for and how I’m going to be better. Then we can talk about the things he wants to do when we leave after graduation. I now understand that it’s not all about me. It’s more than just needing my dad with me on my journey, but wanting to go on a journey with him—together. We’ll do things that we both have always wanted to do, but couldn’t.  
*** 
I wake up to the sun heating my face and my back aching. Cracking one eyelid open, I’m blinded by the sun. Closing my eye again, I try to remember where I am and why I’m outside but the last thing I remember was sitting down at the rock quarry and drinking. I must have drank more than I thought and passed out. Shit.
Sitting up slowly, I stretch and open my eyes. It hurts like a motherfucker, but it’s manageable now that I know what to expect.
Looking around, I see the empty twelve pack sitting beside me and crushed beer cans littered everywhere. I usually never drink more than six, but last night, they were going down so good, I must have drank the whole damn thing without even realizing it. At least I didn’t get into any trouble and no one found me out here. That would be a bitch to explain where I got the alcohol and would have Dad pissed at me for a long time, let alone willing to buy me beer anytime soon.
Once I’m standing, I’m happy that I’m not hungover. I have a little bit of a headache, but that I can handle. I start picking up the cans and placing them back into the box, before starting my walk home. Don’t want to leave any evidence I was here.
It only takes me five minutes before I’m walking through the front door. Not really sure what time it is or what time my dad got home, I try to stay as quiet as possible, but when I walk past his open door, I see that he’s not there.
I head back toward the living room. I look at the couch, thinking maybe I missed him sleeping there when I walked in, but he’s not there either.
Maybe he went somewhere, but I could have sworn his bike was outside. Looking out the window to confirm it is indeed there, I decide to just wait for him. I can’t wait to tell him the revelations I had last night. Not just about wanting to be a better son, but of what I want to do with my life. I thought for sure fighting was what I really wanted, but now I’m not so sure. I still don’t think I want to go to the Marines right away, but I’m keeping that option open for now. What I really want to do is travel with my dad for a while. We could tour the US and see all the places we always dreamed of seeing but never thought it’d be possible. I think California is still where I want to go, but we could move to Canada for all I care.
Heading into my room, I grab some clean clothes and jump in the shower. I think sitting under the hot spray will help ease the pain in my back from sleeping outside last night.
Once I’m done getting dressed, I walk into the living room, checking to see if Dad came home while I was in the shower, but that’s a no go. I wonder where he is. I hope he’s not out looking for me. Maybe I should text him to tell him I’m home. Digging my phone out of my pocket, I shoot out a quick text.
Me: Hey old man, I’m home. Where are you?
Walking into the kitchen, I look around for something to eat, but don’t find much. Shit, we should have gone shopping last night. We have nothing to eat around here. Digging in my pocket, I pull out some cash I had left over from last week when Dad gave me some money for gas, so I decide to head down to the gas station for a slice of pizza or a bag of chips.
Making my way toward my truck, I see a police cruiser pull up. Not sure why they are here, I wait for them in front of my truck. Hopefully no one saw me out at the quarry last night or leaving this morning.
“Holden,” Officer Jacobs says as he stops in front of me. 
I can’t read his face so I’ll just have to tread carefully. If he’s not here because of last night, then I’m not telling him.
“Officer. What can I do for you?” I try to sound relaxed and calm. He doesn’t like me very much since that night a few months ago when he was trying to break up a fight and I “accidently” elbowed him in the nose. Fucker got me back by making me spend the night in jail though.
He looks down at his feet while rubbing the back of his head like whatever it is that he needs to say is painful for him. “I need you to come down to the station, son.”
I feel a prickle of irritation at the word “son” when he’s referring to me, but I hold my tongue. New leaf, remember?
“Sure thing. Lead the way.” I go to open my truck door, but he reaches a hand out to stop me.
“I’ll drive.” 
I let out a sigh and instead of answering him, I just follow him over to his squad car. 
We don’t talk the whole way to the station and I still have no idea why he’s bringing me in. Usually, if he thinks I did something wrong, he would gloat and rub whatever it is in my face— whether I actually did it or not.
He parks on the side of the street right in front of the door. He gets out and waits for me to catch up to him. At least I didn’t have to ride in the back of the cruiser. I feel like a caged dog when that happens. Thank God that’s only happened once. Okay, maybe two or three times. Four max.
Officer Jacobs leads me to a small office toward the back of the station. When I walk in behind him, he closes the door and sits down behind his desk.
“Please sit down, Holden. I’m afraid I have some bad news.” 
Wanting to get this over with as fast as possible so I can get something to eat and find my dad, I sit down and wait patiently.
“It’s about your father.” He pauses and rubs the back of his neck again.
Before he can go on, I laugh and shake my head. “What did the old man do? Public intox? OWI? Or wait, don’t tell me, he got into a bar fight?” I laugh again, thinking about the last option. My dad is usually a mellow guy, but if you push him hard enough, he’s one mean sonofabitch. I’ve never seen him in action, but I’ve heard stories and have seen him lose his temper a few times with some of the neighbors. Man, I’m going to have fun giving him shit for this for a long time. He’s never going to live this down.
“Well, yes, there was a fight, but—”
“Maybe I should let him sit in the tank for the day. That’s what he’d do for me.” I laugh again just thinking about his homecoming later tonight. 
“Holden. Please, let me finish.” 
He waits until he sees that I’m not going to interrupt again, but that doesn’t stop me from laughing on the inside.
“Like I was trying to say before. There was an altercation at the bar your father was at last night. We got a call from the bartender around one this morning. He said there was a group of men fighting in the alley and that it looked like a few of them had weapons. We got there as fast as we could, but by then the fight was already over and everyone was gone. When we went into the alley to take a closer look, we found your father.” He stops again and looks down. I know my dad can handle himself in a fist fight, but knowing there were weapons, it makes me worried. How badly injured is he?
“Is he going to be all right?” I ask quietly.
He takes too long to answer, so I get up and head toward the door. Fuck it, I’ll go to the hospital and find out myself.
“Holden, wait. Holden!” he shouts as I ignore him and make my way through the building to outside. The hospital is only about a mile away. I don’t have my truck, but I can walk there. It would be faster than going home to get my truck.
Just as I get outside, I feel someone grab my arm. I yank out of the grasp and turn around. Officer Jacobs is standing there, looking a little uncertain, but determined. He has every right to be uncertain. I’ll drop his ass if he keeps me from getting to my dad.
“Let me go.”  I turn to go, but the next words out of Officer Jacobs mouth stops me cold.
“Holden. He’s gone, son. I’m so sorry.” 
I just stand there. I couldn’t have heard him right. My dad isn’t dead. He must mean he’s not at the hospital anymore. Yeah, that’s it. He’s probably already home, waiting for me.
“By the time we got there it was already too late. He suffered a blow to the head, probably from a tire iron, and a gunshot wound to the chest. I’m sorry, Holden, but he’s dead.”

It’s with those last words that every piece of thread that was holding me together snaps. No longer able to hold the beast that lies in wait at bay, I was no longer Holden, a seventeen-year old boy. I was no longer anyone’s son. I was now a man that had been wronged. A man that would do whatever it took to find the people who did this. I didn’t even recognize who I was anymore, but I knew nothing would ever the same again.

About the Author:
Shelly Morgan grew up in a small town in Iowa. She has 2 older sisters and amazing parents. Growing up, she was always a daddy’s girl, hanging out with him in the garage, fishing, and building stuff. She loved to play softball and swimming, but reading, telling stories, and writing were her passion, even at a young age. She took a break from writing for a while, but you could always find her with a book in her hand.
Shelly has three children – two boys and a girl. They are her whole world. Even when she’s having the worst day ever, they brighten up her day and can always put a smile on her face.
A few years ago, Shelly had this story in her head that wouldn’t go away; it would always play over and over. No matter how many times she went through the idea—from beginning to end—the story never faded. So Shelly decided to put it on paper. She never planned to publish it, but when her story was almost done, a friend read it and said that it need to be shared. And that’s what stared Shelly’s writing career.
Shelly loves all genres of books, and even though she started with writing MC Romance, she has a whole book of ideas, so you can expect more from her than just MC, though romance is in her blood.
Shelly currently works part-time, but her ultimate dream is to become a full time author. She wants to be able to spend her days filling pages with stories. To be the reason people find a reason to smile or laugh from lines on a page. Reading a book always allows her to live in someone else’s shoes, even if for a few minutes. She thinks it’s a way to leave her life and troubles behind, so she wants to be able to help others do that as well with her words.
www.facebook.com/AuthorShellyMorgan
www.twitter.com/@Shelly_Morgan34
http://www.limitlesspublishing.net/authors/shelly-morgan/
http://www.tsu.co/ShellyMorgan_Author
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10914599.Shelly_Morgan
http://www.amazon.com/Shelly-Morgan/e/B00T9SHYM6


a Rafflecopter giveaway

Spotlight and Giveaway A Lover of Men by Julia Talbot

A Lover of MenJulia Talbot
Genre: Historical menage romance MMF, MFM, MM
Publisher: All Romance eBooks
Date of Publication: May 1, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-943576-814
Word Count: 23k
Cover Artist: Erin Dameron Hill
Book Description:
A former soldier, a spy, and a spinster…three people, three lovers.
For spinster Lelia August, first came the small fortune then came the hoard of unscrupulous characters wanting a piece of it—or more specifically, a piece of her.
She decides to find a suitable man to marry, someone who won't want her to submit to the marriage bed. She settles on ex-soldier Phineas Moore, who has a reputation as a lover of men.
Phineas is intrigued by Lelia’s offer and thinks a marriage of convenience might just work for them. But when someone tries to kill his future wife, Phineas vows to protect her and find who’s responsible. He hires the irresistible spy Rafe Gaudi to investigate, and soon realizes he's outsmarted himself. Can Rafe and Phineas figure out who's plotting against the woman they’ve come to love, and can they even hope to dream of a future where the three can become one?
ARe    Amazon
Excerpt:
“I have a business matter to discuss with you, Sir Phineas.” Lelia August studied the man who sat across from her, his large body stuffed into the tiny black lacquer chair stationed across from her desk. Somehow he should have appeared quite as ridiculous as all of the recent suitors who had wiggled their way into her library intent upon sweeping her, and her fortune, off her feet.
Contrarily, Phineas Moore appeared perfectly at ease, masculine, even somewhat predatory. His hair, black as a rook, was cut ruthlessly short, and his neckcloth was simple and unfashionable.
Had Lelia not done her research she would have thought him the simple country baronet he appeared. Instead, she knew his unfashionable appearance hid a complex man with a soldier’s mind and a surprising reputation among his peers.
“I confess I am curious, Miss August. That is why I find myself here, answering your summons.” His green eyes gleamed when he smiled slightly, lines around his eyes and mouth crinkling.
“I am glad you have that to satisfy. Makes you far more interesting. Tell me, what have you been able to discover about me in the last six hours?” She had sent her invitation to him at eight, which meant he would have received it around nine. He had arrived at five until three. She approved of his promptness.
“That you are a spinster. That your father was the third son of an Earl. That your uncle passed away leaving the title to a cousin who has a great fondness for you, and he’s settled upon you a stipend of some considerable wealth. In a trust, so it cannot be siphoned off by his miserable, whoring, gaming brother.” His expression never changed during the telling, but he did study her closely.
Gracious, she was outclassed here. Lelia curled her hands together, keeping them from fluttering like nervous birds. No sense giving away her sudden nerves.
“That’s quite a lot,” she said. “If you know all that about me, then you know that since I have come into said fortune I have been deluged with suitors.” All shapes, sizes, and classes of men had been calling, so much so that she’d taken the knocker from the door of the modest townhouse her cousin had also settled upon her. He liked her company, he said, and preferred she stayed in Town. Dear Eustace. Still, some of the men had been rather more forceful in their attentions than she felt necessary.
“Indeed.” Sir Phineas tilted his head. “I imagine your cousin hopes settling a fortune on you will erase your spinster status.”
“Hmm.” She wasn’t sure at all that had been Eustace’s intention. However, now he saw her difficulty, he had turned his eye toward that idea, if only to give her relief. Having just gained her independence from reliance on men, Lelia had no desire to go back. “Hence my proposal to you.”
“I am on pins and needles,” Phineas murmured.
“Yes. Well.” She squeezed her hands together so hard her knuckles turned white. “I realize we do not know one another, but you must realize, I have viewed my situation from every angle and I believe this is the best possible solution to my dilemma.”
“I see.” Phineas sat back, the chair creaking alarmingly. “By all means, enlighten me, Miss August.”
“I want you to marry me.” The nausea left her as soon as she said it. Better to have it right out in the open.
The chair cracked, the two pieces of it falling away to either side while Sir Phineas crashed to the floor. His well-polished boots kicked the air for a moment before he sprang to his feet. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said, I wish to propose marriage. To you.”
Shock overtook his expression, and Phineas placed his hands on her desk, leaning into her space. This close she could smell the deep scent of tobacco and freshly pressed linen. “Why?”

About the Author:
Julia Talbot lives in the great Southwest, where there is hot and cold running rodeo, cowboys, and everything from meat and potatoes to the best Tex-Mex. A full time author, Julia has been published by Samhain Publishing, Dreamspinner Press, All Romance eBooks and Changeling Press. She believes in stories that leave a mark, and that everyone deserves a happy ending, so she writes about love without limits, where boys love boys, girls love girls, and boys and girls get together to get wild, especially when her crazy paranormal characters are involved. Find Julia at @juliatalbot on Twitter.
For more information on other books by Julia, please visit her official website: www.JuliaTalbot.com
http://twitter.com/JuliaTalbot

https://www.facebook.com/juliatalbotwriterpage/

a Rafflecopter giveaway