Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 356

Strange Magic: A Yancy Lazarus Novel by James A. Hunter

Strange Magic:A Yancy Lazarus NovelPilot EpisodeYancy Lazarus SeriesBook OneJames A. Hunter
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Shadow Alley Press, Inc.Date of Publication: January 16th, 2015
ISBN: 978-1507706923ASIN: B00R7QEFN8
Number of pages: 221Word Count: 75,000
Book Description:
Yancy Lazarus is having a bad day: there’s a bullet lodged in his butt cheek, his face looks like the site of a demolition derby, and he’s been saran-wrapped to a banquet table. He never should have answered the phone. Stupid bleeding heart—helping others in his circles is a good way to get dead.
Just ask the gang members ripped to pieces by some kind of demonic nightmare in LA. As a favor to a friend, Yancy agrees to take a little looksee into the massacre and boom, he’s stuck in a turf war between two rival gangs, which both think he’s pinch-hitting for the other side. Oh, and there’s also a secretive dark mage with some mean ol’ magical chops and a small army of hyena-faced, body-snatching baddies. It might be time to seriously reconsider some of his life choices.
Yancy is a bluesman, a rambler, a gambler, but not much more. Sure, he can do a little magic—maybe even more than just a little magic—but he knows enough to keep his head down and stay clear of freaky-deaky hoodoo like this business in LA. Somehow though, he’s been set up to take a real bad fall—the kind of very permanent fall that leaves a guy with a toe tag. Unless, of course, he can find out who is responsible for the gangland murders, make peace in the midst of the gang feud, and take out said dark mage before he hexes Yancy into an early retirement. Easy right? Stupid. Bleeding. Heart.
Available at Amazon

PRAISE FOR STRANGE MAGIC:
"Move over Harry Dresden because there's a new wizard in town. Yancy Lazarus a chain-smoking, take no prisoners S.O.B. with a heart of gold and a fistful of primal power. A stellar debut novel from James Hunter, the next big name in Urban Fantasy."  —Rick Gualtieri, Author of Bill the Vampire (The Tome of Bill)
Excerpt:
The piano keys bobbed and danced under the pressure of my fingers. Music—low, slow, and soulful—drifted through the club, merging and twirling with wandering clouds of blue-gray smoke. So many places have no-smoking laws these days, it seems like there’s nowhere in the country where a guy can take a drag from a cigarette in peace. Everyone is so worried about their health, they make damn sure you stay healthy by proxy.Not Nick’s Smoke House, though. Nick’s—like some rare, near extinct animal—is the kind of bar where you can die unmolested by laws or ordinances. You can burn yourself up with cancer, drown yourself into liver failure, or binge on a plate of ribs until a heart attack takes you cold, and no one will say boo. And you can die to music here: the beautiful, lonely, brassy beats, of the like only ever found in New Orleans.The house band was on a break, so I sat thumping out an old Ray Charles tune in the interim while I watched the man standing offstage in a pool of inky shadow.I’d never met the guy before, but I instinctively knew he was looking for me, or rather The Fixer—a shitty alias I’ve been trying to ditch for years. It was in the way he stood: chest forward, back straight, arms crossed, chin outthrust. He was a man used to intimidating others, used to being obeyed. In short, he was a thug. A thug sporting an expensive suit, a three-thousand dollar watch, and a pair of loafers that probably cost more than most people paid on rent. At the end of the day, though, he was still just a thug—somebody else’s trained pit bull.I don’t know why, but thugs are always looking for The Fixer. Either they’ve got something that needs fixing or they’re looking to fix me. I didn’t know whether this guy wanted option A or option B, but I figured he’d get around to it in his own sweet time. So, instead of tipping my hand prematurely, I continued to pound out melodies on the black and whites. My Ray Charles faded out, and I started up a gritty, ambling version of Meade “Lux” Lewis’ famous “Honky Tonk Train Blues.” My left hand hammered out the thudding, rhythmic, rock-steady pulse of a driving train pushing its bulk across the rolling open space of some forgotten Midwest wilderness; the bass notes offered a mimicry of the ebb and flow of pumping gears. My right hand flitted across the keys, touching down here and there, sending up a rusty whistle blowing in the night. The dusty clatter of track switches being thrown. The braying of hounds, while bullyboys searched for stowaways. If there was ever a song to make a man dance his way onto the boxcar of a rolling train, it was this funky ol’ honky-tonk rhythm.I let the beat roll on, hoping the thug would hop and jive his way right out of Nick’s Smoke House and out of my life, no harm, no foul. Though a whole helluva lot a people think of me as The Fixer, really I’m just an old rambler trying to get by and enjoy the time I have on this spinning little mud ball. All I wanted was for this overdressed clown to walk away and leave me be.The man in the black suit just glared at me like I’d offered him an insult, and I knew then things would not end well between us. Still, I mostly ignored him. I should’ve been worried, but I wasn’t.I’ve been around for a good long while, and I don’t scare easy.After what felt like an age, the hulking suit stepped up to the stage and into a pool of soft amber light, illuminating his features for the first time. He was enormous, six and a half feet of pro wrestling muscle, with a pushed-in nose and military cropped blond hair. His face was a mosaic of scars, though the thick tissue on his knuckles put them all to shame. One meaty paw lifted back a coat lapel, revealing the glint of chromed metal: a Colt 1911.A Colt 1911 is a big gun, not the kind of thing a person normally chooses as a concealed carry. The things are too large to conceal easily, and they can be awkward to draw on the fly, so he probably wasn’t here to assassinate me. A pro assassin would never have used something as ostentatious and conspicuous as this McGoon’s 1911. A hitter would’ve chosen a sleek, nondescript .22. The kind of gun that’s easy to hide, would go off unnoticed, get the job done without much mess, and could be disposed of in a dumpster somewhere. This guy’s choice of weapon told me he was intimidating muscle, but likely better with his fists than with his piece.“Yancy Lazarus?” he asked with a low voice like grating cement. “You the guy who fixes things?”Yep, a thug.I could’ve denied it, but the guy had found me fair and square, so it was safe to assume he already knew the answer. I nodded my head a fraction of an inch. That was all. I went right on playing as though I hadn’t noticed his veiled threat or didn’t care. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not suicidal and I’m not a pompous jackass—at least that’s not how I see myself—but I knew I could take this guy. I had an edge, although Macho Man Hulk in the other corner didn’t know it.I can do magic and not the cheap kind of stuff you see in Vegas with flowers, or floating cards, or disappearing stagehands. People like me, who can touch the Vis, can do real magic. Although magic isn’t the right word: magic is a Rube word, for those not in the know, which is precisely why we who practice call it the Vis in the first place. Vis is an old Latin word meaning force or energy, nothing fancy about it.There are energies out there, underlying matter, existence, and in fact, all Creation. As it happens, I can manipulate that energy. Period. End of story.







About the Author:
Hey all, my name is James Hunter and I’m a writer, among other things. So just a little about me: I’m a former Marine Corps Sergeant, combat veteran, and pirate hunter (seriously). I’m also a member of The Royal Order of the Shellback—‘cause that’s a real thing. And, a space-ship captain, can’t forget that.
Okay  … the last one is only in my imagination.
Currently, I work as a missionary and international aid worker with my wife and young daughter in Bangkok, Thailand. When I’m not working, writing, or spending time with family, I occasionally eat and sleep. Strange Magic is the first novel in the Yancy Lazarus series—the third, full-length novel, Wendigo Rising, just released on November 3rd, 2015.
www.JamesAHunter.Wordpress.com  
www.twitter.com/@jamesahunter13
www.facebook.com/WriterJamesAHunter  

The Soulfully Sexy Men of Lost Reaper by Shelley Russell Nolan

The Soulfully Sexy Men of Lost Reaper
From the moment the idea for Lost Reaper came to me, I knew the men who would vie for Tyler’s heart had to be pretty amazing. First I came up with the names, Detective Sam Lockwood and Chris Bradbury, and made notes about who they were and what they looked like.
Sam – handsome, steadfast, honest, his calm and considered manner makes him an oasis of safety in a world that is rapidly spinning out of Tyler’s control. But can she ever tell him the truth about being a reaper?
Chris – gorgeous, wealthy and powerful, he knows what he wants and makes it quite clear that what he wants is Tyler. But is his interest more for her or the power contained in the necklace that makes her a living reaper?
Two very different men staking claim on Tyler’s heart, both dangerous but for different reasons.
Then, as you do, I got to thinking about who would play them if Lost Reaper were ever to be made into a movie and realised that inspiration was already present in their names.
Sam (Worthington) Lockwood and Chris (Hemsworth) Bradbury.
Who better to portray Tyler’s men than two of the hottest and talented actors in the world? How could any woman not be thrilled to have those two men fighting over her?
Okay, so there is no movie planned (Hey, Hollywood, anybody there want to make a movie?) and my Sam and Chris are different men from the actors I would choose to play them, but I can totally see it. So, as you read Lost Reaper, reading on as both Sam and Chris fight for her heart, I want you to picture Worthington and Hemsworth playing their roles on the big screen.
FYI – Nina Dobrev would make a fantastic Tyler. After all those years on The Vampire Diaries, she got a lot of practice being torn between two totally different men. (I was Team Damon)
So, who else thinks Dobrev, Worthington and Hemsworth would make a great love triangle? On-screen only, of course. I would love to hear who you think would be great playing Tyler, Sam and Chris.




Lost ReaperReaper SeriesBook OneShelley Russell Nolan
Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Ormiston Press
Date of Publication: 23rd October 2015
ISBN: 9781311053688ASIN: B0169KUNCO
Number of pages: 240 KindleWord Count: 83,000 words
Cover Artist: Two Decade Designs
Book Description:
The first dead body I ever saw was my own
For twenty-five year old Tyler Morgan, being murdered was easy. Easy in comparison with working for the Grim Reaper. Jonathon Grimm may have brought her back from the dead in exchange for working as a reaper for her home town, Easton, but she has to find his lost reaper before she can enjoy her second chance at life.
Only … the lost reaper isn’t actually lost. He has a new body, a new life, and no intention of turning himself in.
Tyler begins the grisly task of reaping the souls of Easton’s dead while searching for the reaper. He could be anyone – the intriguing detective, Sam Lockwood: the handsome, wealthy Chris Bradbury; or the serial killer stalking the women of Easton. Women who bear an uncanny resemblance to Tyler.
As the killer closes in and Grimm’s deadline draws closer, Tyler discovers she is fighting a much bigger threat than the Grim Reaper and time is running out for everyone.
Amazon    SmashwordsExcerpt:
I opened my eyes and found myself somewhere else, looking through a window at my body on the service station floor. Blood coated the front of my t-shirt, darkening the cloth. My caramel-coloured skin was pale, heart-shaped face slack, long black hair matted with blood.  I put a hand on my chest. My heart beat faster and faster. It should have reassured me, but I couldn’t ignore the evidence of my own eyes. I was dead. I clutched my stomach and found my ruined clothes had been replaced by a long white gown, the silken fabric soft and cool against my body. My feet were bare but I could feel nothing beneath my toes. Around me was a dark void, the only light coming from the room where a horrible scene was playing out.Behind the counter, the owner had pulled himself to his feet and was frantically pushing buttons on an ancient telephone, gnarled hands shaking, horror etched on his face when his call wouldn’t connect. To the left of my body, the man who’d tried to give me a chance to escape slumped at the end of the aisle closest to the counter. He struggled to his knees, oblivious of the monster standing over him.   I heard the knife thud home and wanted to turn away but my body seized up. Helpless, I watched the owner scramble out from behind the counter, making for a door marked ‘Staff Only’. The monster got to his feet and stalked after him, whistling as he prepared to kill again.I sobbed, hands covering my mouth, tears streaming down my face.‘It doesn’t have to end this way, Tyler.’I dropped my hands and spun around.A man shrouded in mist appeared out of the darkness, the light from the service station creating shadows that cloaked his features as he glided towards me. The mist flowed around him like a living thing, keeping his shape indistinct until he stood in front of me. Then it parted.





About the Author:
Shelley Russell Nolan is an avid reader who began writing her own stories at sixteen. Her first completed manuscript featured brain eating aliens and a butt kicking teenage heroine. Since then she has spent her time creating fantasy worlds where death is only the beginning and even freaks can fall in love. With books for both young adults and adults in the works, Shelley plans on writing for as longs as she has the power to type and looks forward to the day when her stories will be published.
http://shelleyrussellnolan.com/

https://twitter.com/ShelleyRNolan
https://www.facebook.com/ShelleyRussellNolan
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14018397.Shelley_Russell_Nolan

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Fantastical Settings with Purpose with Falguni Kothari

Hello Dear Reader, let me tell you a little bit about my world-building process in Soul Warrior , my new urban fantasy series based in South Asian mythology. Now, to use mythology in a novel in itself is a fantastic proposition. Most myths from anywhere in the world are pregnant with magic, supernatural beings or elements, alien and ancient settings and high concept inbuilt plots like epic moral struggles between good and evil, life and death etc.



India’s mythology is old and vast and seemingly limitless—all excellent sources for my novel’s premise. But, I didn’t want to simply retell the old tales. I had this image in my head of a Hindu God wearing jeans and talking on a cell phone, and this question in my head: if Gods exist even now…what are they doing every day? And what in hell do Heaven and Hell look like?


The next factor in my world-building was personal. I try and incorporate a civic message or two in my novels. I feel rather strongly about saving our environment and going green and better education for everyone, especially children. So, in my imagined world those elements will play a part. And that’s how my hero, Karna’s two abodes were manufactured.




In the first half of Soul Warrior, Karna lives in a bungalow on a hidden island off the shores of North Mumbai. Mixing fact and fiction, I made up this extra island that should have been part of Mumbai city—Mumbai is (in fact) an amalgamation of seven islands connected together over a period of a thousand years—but isn’t because of its supernatural squatters. The island is covered in a lush, environmentally-protected, mangrove forest. Sad reality: Too many mangroves have been destroyed by humans and the world’s coastlines and marine life are bearing the brunt of our stupidity.









Click HERE for a YouTube video on why Mangroves are important.





In the second half of the book, Karna and his entourage move to the Valley of the Gods. It’s what this valley in the Lower Himalayas is known as by the local highlanders. It is high up in the clouds with a natural protection wall of jutting mountains. It’s verdant with flowers, and forests and waterfalls. It seemed like the perfect setting to house a demi-god. The area has a rich history and an almost mystical connection to the mythology that I’m reimagining in my books. As I said, a perfect setting that inexplicably fell into my lap as I was researching ancient forts and mythological cities.


To add to my little green crusade, I have both these abodes completely running on green energy: wind and solar.
So, Dear Reader, that’s how I built my fictional world taking the three things that I love—mythology, this world and our environment—and mixing them together.

What fantastical fantasy settings do you love?

Soul WarriorThe Age of KaliBook 1Falguni Kothari
Genre: Mythic fantasy or urban fantasy
Publisher: Falguni Kothari
Date of Publication: November 5th, 2015.
ISBN: ebook 9781944048006  ISBN: print 9781944048013ASIN: B0160TBA44
Number of pages: 404Word Count: 120,000 words
Cover Artist: Hang Le
Book Description:
Fight fate, or succumb to destiny?
In the dark Age of Kali, the Soul Warrior alone stands guard over the Human Realm, protecting its denizens from evil-willed asuras or demons. When a trick of fate appoints him guru to a motley crew of godlings, he agrees to train them as demon hunters against his better judgment. Suddenly, Lord Karna is not only battling the usual asuras with sinister agendas, but also rebellious students and a fault-ridden past.
Spanning the cosmic realms of mythic India, here is a tale of a band of supernatural warriors who come together over a singular purpose: the salvation of Karna’s secret child.
Kobo    iBooks
Amazon US    Amazon UK    Amazon Canada

About the Author:
Falguni Kothari is a New York-based South Asian author and an amateur Latin and Ballroom dance silver medalist with a semi-professional background in Indian Classical dance.
She’s published in India in contemporary romance with global e-book availability; Bootie and the Beast (Harlequin Mills and Boon) and It’s Your Move, Wordfreak! (Rupa and Co.), and launches a mythic fantasy series with Soul Warrior – Book 1, the Age of Kali.
Website: http://falgunikothari.com/
Blog: http://falgunikothari.blogspot.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/F2tweet
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/falgunikothari.author
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/falgunikothari

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Interview- Fall of Heroes by Jennifer Harlow

What inspired the premise for your story?
I can never pinpoint the inception of the idea. Justice came from a lot of places. My childhood obsessed with Batman, my teens obsessed with comic books, my bitchy side needing to come out in the form of a different type of character. And this book is a mash-up of a ton of genres I love to read. Thrillers, comic books, unconventional romances, paranormal, action and adventure. I just put them all together in my subconscious, mixed them up, and out came the book.
Did you always wanted to be a writer?
I’ve been storytelling in some manner ever since I was a child. Barbies just morphed into pen and paper. So I’ve always been a writer, but I’m one of the luck few who gets to be an author. There was a time     I wanted to direct movies. I’m very bossy, I have a clear vision, and I adore the cinema. Never going to happen but I fell in love with writing more.
What have you learned about the publishing industry since you’ve signed that first contract?
Sad but true, you are mostly on your own when it comes to marketing, even if you have a publisher. And for someone who hates drawing attention to herself it’s like pulling teeth. You’re meant to post multiple times a day on every social media site, post responses on blogs, spend thousands on advertising sometimes just to give books away for free, and that’s if you’re lucky and they’ll accept you onto their site/list/etc. Building a readership is excruciating work and you’re on your own. It is not for the thin skinned or impatient.
Now that you have a feel for the publishing world, would you do anything different if you had to do it all over again?
Start self-publishing earlier. I got my first writing contract the same year Amazon set-up the Kindle platform. I wish I’d gotten in on the ground floor. Legacy publishing has its merits without question but there is definitely more freedom with self-publishing story-wise.
Is there a genre you haven’t written in that one day you’d like to tackle?
Sci-Fi. There are just so many possibilities to explore in the genre. It’s like a blank slate for the imagination. Plus you have to exercise the logical side of your mind as well. How do spaceships get around? You create a new planet, how do people get their basic needs like water and air? Maybe someday I’ll get around to it.
What was the first book you ever published?
Mind Over Monsters, the first in my F.R.E.A.K.S. series. It follows a former schoolteacher with telekinesis recruited by a secret branch of the FBI tasked with putting down supernatural threats. I’m actually working on the fifth book now. My Midnight Magic Mystery Series stemmed from that series, so Bea and her team have served me well. I hope to keep writing the series for a long time.



Fall of HeroesThe Galilee Falls TrilogyBook ThreeJennifer Harlow
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Devil on the Left Books  Date of Publication: 10/31/15
ISBN: 9780989394482ASIN: B015L4D9IE
Number of pages: 253Word Count: 100,000
Book Description:
 "Show me a hero; and I'll write you a tragedy." -F. Scott Fitzgerald
Hero and Villain.
Good and Evil.
Love and Hate.
Would that the world were that simple. Nothing is ever simple in a world filled with superheroes and villains. She may not wear a cape or have superpowers, but no one would say Joanna Fallon isn't a hero. At great personal cost she's saved the city of Galilee Falls from two supervillains, but has finally found a measure of peace. But whatever rises often falls, and even the city's champion may not be able to fight the cataclysm about to befall not only her city but the whole of the world...or even want to.
Read the conclusion to the critically acclaimed Galilee Falls trilogy from the imagination of the IPPY award winning author Jennifer Harlow.
Amazon     KoboExcerpt: Chapter One-Wedding Bell Blues
I swear to fucking Christ, if he’s late for this wedding, a supervillain won’t kill him, I will.If your boyfriend is the premier superhero in the city with the highest concentration of the super-powered in the country, you get used to situations like this. Dinners where you find yourself sitting alone in a restaurant, cancelled vacations, missing birthdays. I’ve endured them with a smile and forgiveness, but not today. I’ve stressed to him a thousand times how important this day is to me. Just this morning, before my hair appointment, I told him three times. But no, when I got home to put on my dress, he was nowhere to be found. I had to start up the comms on Doris Jr. to track him down. Sure enough he was out in the field fighting Hexen and more of the villains damn zombies at a war reenactment. Still, he swore he’d be here on time. Trust me, he said. Damn superheroes. Guess it’s partially my fault for falling in love with one. Again. I should have learned the first time around. Damn you for being so amazingly brilliant, Jem Ambrose. Damn you.“What are you still doing out here?” my old partner Cam, Detective Terrence Cameron to you, says behind me. I spin around just as he reaches me on the bottom of the church steps. He looks damn fine today, the white shirt off-setting his dark skin, and he’s even sporting the paisley blue silk tie I bought him two Christmases ago. “You should get inside. It’s freezing.”“I’m not going inside without him.”“You catching pneumonia won’t make him show up any sooner,” Cam points out.“If he shows up at all,” I mutter. “Fucking Hexen.”“He’ll be here,” Cam insists.Two stragglers hustle toward us from the overflowing parking lot. I recognize the man, former plainclothes now Detective Conover, who worked the Alkaline case with me. He and his date both smile and nod as they pass us up the church steps.“Seriously, Jo, come on. The ceremony’s supposed to start soon. And—”“I can’t go in there without him, okay? This shit’s awkward enough for me already. Just…I’ll give him a few more minutes then I’ll come in. These things never start on time anyway.”“Fine. I’ll just tell everyone…I’ll figure something out.” I nod at my friend who nods back before returning inside the warm church.Dead. Jem is so fucking dead. And I get he’s saving people’s lives, I do. Most of the time I’m on the comms in our apartment, guiding him, literally watching his back on the surveillance feed. Hell, I’m the one who suggested he become the new Captain Moonlight. I should have kept my damn mouth shut. It’s not as if we had tons of free time on our hands before. I had to cancel my fair share of dinners too. Being the figurehead of an international billion dollar empire with the board meetings, charity events, and general boring day-to-day business bullshit leaves little time to sleep let alone spend quality time with the man I love. Add to that Jem’s day job at the hospital, his research for his new virus project, and the city constantly being in peril from asshole villains, we’re lucky to spend a few hours a week face to face just being a damn couple. At least we make those few precious hours count. And we do work damn well together. Just last week we stopped an eco-terrorist cell from releasing a toxin in the meat packing district that would poison anyone who consumed the meat. If this were any other day I’d be on Doris Jr. helping him bring down Hexen, but this isn’t any other day. He needs to be here. He has to be here. He will be here. He will. Unless of course he’s…no. God, why does my mind always go there? I have personally seen him survive multiple gunshots, being impaled by a rod, being beaten to a pulp, and an explosion. He has super-healing, super-intelligence, has a black belt in Judo and Karate, knows Krav Maga, not to mention the suit I commissioned for him is bullet, knife, and flame resistant. But every time I lose contact or he’s a minute late, that is my first damn thought. I should be used to this by now. I knew what he was before I fell in love with him. Hell, I had a front row seat to that side of his life. I ended up in the hospital twice because of it, well three times if you count the plastic surgery needed to fix the scar on my face left by his brother. Not to mention the horrible minute when I thought he’d died that day. I lost my soul mate, my best friend to a supervillain, I couldn’t handle another man I loved dying for me.We should have learned our lesson then. Jem killed Lord Nightingale right along with his psycho twin brother, and that should have been it. No more capes and cowls. No more kidnappings, attempted murders, and torture for either of us. Yeah, that lasted all of three months. The crime rate skyrocketed again, there was a supervillain attack every week, and despite his assurances he was content fighting crime behind our supercomputer Doris, I knew he was lying. It was in the way he’d stay glued to the computer and news. The way he’d stare out the window down at the city when he couldn’t sleep. How he spent more and more time in his dojo beating up the punching bag and dummy. He couldn’t help it. He’d fought the good fight for almost a decade. Before me, it was all he had. It was what got him out of bed. Something else we had in common. He couldn’t deny that part of himself, it was literally in his blood, and I know the longer he repressed that for me, the more he’d resent me down the road. So one night I shoved his new black and yellow costume at him, and told him I wanted him back before dawn. That was three months ago. Crime’s gone down twenty-two percent, two new villains are now rotting in Xavier Maximum Security Prison, they’ve just released the new Captain Moonlight action figure, and I’m freezing my ass off worrying about the man I love. Doing the right thing sucks balls. Shit. He’s not coming. He’s not. I’m going to have to go in there and face all those people alone. All their whispering, their looks, their stares. How am I going to explain his absence? Fuck. Damn it. I need to get in there. Me being out here just looks worse. With a sigh, I start up the steps. Jem Ambrose you are—“Joanna!”Here. Thank Christ. Never had a doubt.





About the Author:
Jennifer Harlow spent her restless childhood fighting with her three brothers and scaring the heck out of herself with horror movies and books. She grew up to earn a degree at the University of Virginia which she put to use as a radio DJ, crisis hotline volunteer, bookseller, lab assistant, wedding coordinator, and government investigator. Currently she calls Northern Virginia home but that restless itch is ever present. In her free time, she continues to scare the beejepers out of herself watching scary movies and opening her credit card bills. She is the author of the Amazon best-selling F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad, Midnight Magic Mystery series, The Galilee Falls Trilogy, and the steampunk romance Verity Hart Vs The Vampyres.
For the soundtrack to her books and other goodies visit her at www.jenniferharlowbooks.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/jenharlowbooks
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jennifer.harlow.52
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4708453.Jennifer_Harlow
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/jenharlowbooks/
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Brewing by Julia Talbot and B.A. Tortuga

BrewingRainbow BrewBook OneJulia Talbot and B.A. Tortuga
Genre: M/M, Magical Realism/Contemporary Fantasy
Publisher: ARe Books
Date of Publication: November 1, 2015
Word Count: 18,000
Cover Artist: Erin Dameron-Hill
Book Description:
Harris must learn to believe in magic before it’s too late.
Harris, a buttoned-up Santa Fe architect, is having a crappy day until he ducks into the Rainbow Brew coffee shop to get out of the rain. He meets a quirky artist named Jayden and embarks on a four-day binge of sensual adventures, leaving the real world behind.
Jayden knows he can't live in the world Harris inhabits, but for this wonderful man he'll try, even if it ruins him.
Jayden is like no one Harris has ever met, but can Harris let go of the real world to love him?
Excerpt:
There was a…tall bird of a man behind the counter, head bobbing and hair tied up in a gigantic tall ponytail like some sort of samurai warrior. The guy caught sight of Harris and waved. “Come in out of the rain! It will stop soon.”
“Yeah, as soon as I’m not in it.” He tried for a smile, but Harris knew it was sour.
“Well, you’re welcome here, and we’ve got all the things to make a bad day better.”
“Promise me something amazing in the way of pastry. Nothing plastic.” He did grin then, looking at the coffee menu.
“I have a chocolate croissant that’s made in-house. It’s like sex in pastry form.”
Sex? Harris wasn’t sure he remembered that anymore.
“Yeah? I’ll take it.” He was so tired of bad doughnuts and shitty pseudo-Danishes from big box stores.
“What would you like to drink?”
“Mexican chocolate latte?” Harris asked. A little spice might warm him.
“Absolutely. I’m on it. Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” Harris sat at the counter, taking the pressure off his sore ankle. The chrome and vinyl was more diner than coffee shop. He really liked the vibe.
A wild man pushed through the door, dark hair interspersed with tiny strands of pure silver. He wore a t-shirt and a pair of jeans that appeared three sizes too big and patched with at least two dozen colorful pieces of fabric. “Jack! Jack, I need coffee! Stat!”
The barista chuckled, the sound fond and warm. “Jayden. Sit.”
“Seriously. Inspiration has struck. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak!” The guy flopped on a stool next to Harris.
“Poor flesh.” Jack winked at Harris, handed him the most luscious-looking pastry in known history and a coffee that smelled like heaven. “Drip coffee, honey?”
“A triple espresso with a float of hazelnut, please.”
“You’re on a mission, Jayden.”
“Uh-huh.” The man pulled out a sketchbook, opened it up and started drawing everything. The coffee maker appeared, then the pastry case. It was like magic.
Harris knew he was being rude with the staring, but he couldn’t help it. He’d always wanted to be artistic but he’d ended up imminently practical.
The cup landed in front of Jayden, the hazelnut syrup floating on the top almost glittering. Kind of mesmerizing the way it swirled.
“Hello, beautiful,” Jayden said, grabbing the cup.
Harris took a sip of his drink, closing his eyes at the flavor.
“It’s like magic, huh?” Jayden nudged him with one elbow just as if they were old buddies.
“Yeah. I mean, wow, that’s good.” Harris was amazed.
“No shit.” One paint stained hand was offered over. “Jayden.”
“Harris. Nice to meet you.” Harris didn’t talk to people in coffee shops. He usually brought his laptop and buried his head in plans and schematics.
“Harris. That’s a cool name. Sort of tough, totally masculine.”
“Thanks. My dad is a Leslie, so he wanted me to have something chest beating, manly good.”
Jayden nodded. “Leslie is a softer name. My father is a Daniel. Biblical.”
“God is my judge,” Harris said, pulling that arcane knowledge right out of his ass. “You’re an artist, huh?”
“Yeppers. I’m a painter. You?” Those eyes were almost black, like obsidian. Stunning combination with Jayden’s pale skin. And the man’s face was unlined, but he had silver in his hair.
“I do restoration architecture. Structural stuff mostly.” Sounded so boring.
“Oh, cool. Architects are hot. They understand lines and curves.”

Harris blinked, then took another sip of coffee. “Want to share my sweet?”
About the Authors:
Once upon a time, Julia Talbot and B.A. Tortuga fell in love and got married. Texan B.A. and mountain girl Julia live in the high desert of New Mexico with their two basset hounds, a crazy house full of rainbows and collections, and a lot of yard art. Together they’ve published more than 400 stories.
For more information on other books by B.A. and Julia, visit their websites:  www.batortuga.com  and www.juliatalbot.com
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/283274.Julia_Talbothttps://www.goodreads.com/author/show/538830.B_A_Tortuga
https://twitter.com/juliatalbothttps://twitter.com/batortuga
https://www.facebook.com/BATortugaBookshttps://www.facebook.com/juliatalbotauthor
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November 2 Nautical Star Books http://nauticalstarbooks.com/
November 3 Vampires, Werewolves and  Fairies, Oh My  http://vampireswerewolvesfairiesohmy.blogspot.com/
November 4 Roxanne’s Realmwww.roxannerhoads.com
November 5 The Creatively Green Write at Home Momwww.creativelygreen.blogspot.com
November 6 Lisa’s World of Bookswww.lisasworldofbooks.net
November 9 Fictional Real World (review)http://www.fictionalrealworld.blogspot.com
November 10 Houston Havens  http://houstonhavens.com/blog
November 11 Fang-tastic Bookswww.fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com
November 12 Zipper Rippershttp://zipperrippers.blogspot.co.uk/
November 13 Deal Sharing Auntwww.dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com
November 16 Spectra (review)https://childofthespectrum.wordpress.com

DIY Christmas Inspiration Board

Raven Familiars in the Dark Alchemy Series with Laura Bickle

Raven Familiars


Ravens play a pretty large part in alchemy. Classical alchemy sought to conjure gold from base metals and to create the elixir of eternal life. There are seven processes the alchemist must accomplish in order to achieve a perfect transformation: calcination, dissolution, coagulation, sublimation, mortification, separation, and conjunction. Ravens are the symbol of the mortification stage, the stage of alchemical death. 

While creating the magical world of MERCURY RETROGRADE, I was pretty fascinated with the history of ravens in alchemy. In MERCURY RETROGRADE, ravens became familiars for a group of undead ranch hands called the Hanged Men. The Hanged Men have haunted the small western town of Temperance since the Gold Rush days. The town was founded by an alchemist, Lascaris, and they were one of his incomplete experiments on the road to figuring out the secret of eternal life. 

The Hanged Men were made at the feet of the Lunaria, a magical tree standing in an empty field. The scarred tree stands above a warren of tunnels that creep miles underground – so deep that the no one really knows their full reach. The Lunaria symbolizes the “as above, so below” alchemical principle, as its roots dig into the earth and the branches brush the sky in perfect symmetry. The Hanged Men were executed at this tree, and the tree grants them immortality…of a sort. An archaic term for a gallows is the “raven-stone,” a place they can never escape.

As far as being undead goes, these guys got a raw deal. Some of the early Hanged Men have retained most of their memory and self-awareness, when it isn’t being partitioned off into the bodies of ravens to spy on their enemies. But later generations received less consciousness as the power of the tree waned. Some can’t talk, and a few aren’t even passably human. 

The men must return to the tree each night to decompose and regenerate, and they can’t wander very far from it. And that decomposition and regeneration? Not a pretty process. They’re stuck in the mortification stage of alchemy, experiencing death over and over each night. 

Gabriel was one of the first of the Hanged Men. He came to Temperance more than a hundred years ago, as a Pinkerton agent sent by Lascaris’s investors to figure out where all the gold was coming from. His specialty was the arcane and supernatural – the nineteenth century’s answer to the X-Files. Alas, things did not go so well for him. He was hanged by Lascaris from the branches of the Lunaria, and has remained in Temperance ever since, pretending to be a ranch hand for successive generations of cattle barons. It’s like a coating of dust on a rattlesnake – camouflage that works right up until someone steps on the snake. 

But times have changed. The tree is dying. It’s shedding leaves out of season, dropping branches, and the energy slips away from its brittle roots. The Hanged Men have tried all they know to feed it, but it is clear that it will not last much longer…and neither will they.

Their last hope is to find a magical creature – a basilisk, awakened by seismic tremors in the backcountry of Yellowstone National Park, leaving a trail of poisoned bodies in its wake. The blood from the right side of the basilisk grants eternal life, while blood from the left is certain death. The Hanged Men send their ravens far and wide, hoping to find the creature before humans capture it for their own purposes. 

It’s a terrible risk, with a terrible price – the Hanged Men are as vulnerable as any other men to the basilisk’s venomous powers. But they must find it and make an offering to the tree before it dies…and the Hanged Men, along with it. 


Mercury RetrogradeA Dark Alchemy NovelBook TwoLaura Bickle
On-Sale 10/27/2015 ISBN: 9780062437617
About the Book:
Geologist Petra Dee and the citizens of Temperance, Wyoming come up against a venomous enemy, not to mention a biker gang that’s hell on wheels, in the second book in Laura Bickle’s Dark Alchemy series.
Something venomous has come to Temperance…
It’s been two months since Petra Dee and her coyote sidekick Sig faced off against Temperance’s resident alchemist, but things are far from quiet. When an Internet video of a massive snake in the backcountry of Yellowstone goes viral, a chase for the mythical basilisk is on. Monster hunters swarm into the area, and never one to pass up the promise of discovery, Petra joins in the search.
Among the newcomers is a snake cult on wheels - the biker gang Sisters of Serpens. Unlike some, the Sisters don’t want to kill the basilisk - they want to worship it. But things get complicated when the basilisk develops a taste for human flesh that rivals the Sisters’ own murderous skills.
Meanwhile, the alchemical tree of life is dying, and the undead Hanged Men of Temperance who depend on it know the basilisk may be their last chance for survival.
With time running out for everyone around her, Petra will be forced to decide who survives and who she must leave behind in this action-packed sequel to Dark Alchemy.
Amazon    BN   iTunes


About the Author:
Laura Bickle grew up in rural Ohio, reading entirely too many comic books out loud to her favorite Wonder Woman doll. After graduating with an MA in Sociology - Criminology from Ohio State University and an MLIS in Library Science from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, she patrolled the stacks at the public library and worked with data systems in criminal justice. She now dreams up stories about the monsters under the stairs. Her work has been included in the ALA’s Amelia Bloomer Project 2013 reading list and the State Library of Ohio’s Choose to Read Ohio reading list for 2015-2016.
More information about Laura’s work can be found at www.laurabickle.com
https://twitter.com/Laura_Bickle   
https://www.facebook.com/Author.Laura.Bickle



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Top 5 Pirates- Guest Blog Pirateship Down by Suzanne Johnson

Arrrr: Why We Love Pirates


When I started my Sentinels of New Orleans series several years ago, I wanted to bring some famous New Orleanians into my urban fantasy tale. And no one is more famous in New Orleans than the early 19th-century French-born pirate named Jean Lafitte.
               Originally, Lafitte was going to be kind of a morally shady character who’d be in one scene. Then he came back for a second scene…and a third…and a fourth. Now, as the standalone novella and story collection PIRATESHIP DOWN comes out, it might as well be his series. Fact is, the more I researched the real Jean Lafitte, the more fascinating he became.
               Luckily for me, readers also fell in love with the wily (and oh-so-sexy) scoundrel, which made me think about another famous pirate—the fictional Captain Jack Sparrow—and why women find pirates sexy.
               Because we do. Right? Tell me it isn’t just me!
So here are my 5 Reasons We Love Pirates:
1) They’re alpha bad boys. This cannot be stressed enough: Women love Alpha Bad Boys. Less so in real life, where they often end up being abusers or jail material, but a sexy bad boy with an air of danger that we can tame? Oh yeah. (Of course we don’t want to tame him TOO much.) I mean, my undead Jean Lafitte might profess his desire for heroine DJ, a wizard, but she knows as well as he does that he never leaves home without a few hidden daggers and a mean-looking pistol. And the cutlass. And sometimes a sword.
2) They are exotic. I mean, they live for months at sea. They mete out their own kind of justice. Oh sure, they’re thieves, but they’re thieves in the middle of the bounding main and all that stuff. No office jobs or farm work for these guys. The exotic nature of their work and lifestyle adds to their wildness, their bad boyness. See No. 1. Jean might brush elbows with the social elite of the preternatural world, but at the end of the day he goes home to his mansion on the beach furnished with lavish furnishings stolen from Spanish galleons. Not to mention the cannons in all the second-floor windows. You know, in case the gendarmes show up.
3) They dress like, well, pirates. They wear tight pants and tall boots, and those open, flowing tunics always show tantalizing glimpses of six-pack abs. I mean you have to be strong to engage in swordplay and hoist sails in the same day, right? Well, okay, I don’t know that Jean Lafitte actually wore this outfit, but my undead Lafitte does, and he looks damn fine in it.
4) They’re morally ambiguous. In real life, no sane woman wants a morally ambiguous man, but in our book boyfriends, well, they’re incredibly unpredictable. When Jean drags DJ and their merman friend Rene into his scheme to steal a sunken ship in the novella PIRATESHIP DOWN, we know he’s going to get in trouble. He’s probably going to get arrested. Will he go along quietly in handcuffs or will he kill someone to go free? And if he does allow himself to be arrested, it simply means he’s plotting more mayhem for later. Is he a good guy or a bad guy? Yes and yes. Such moral ambiguity makes for an exciting relationship. As long as it stays in the land of fiction, anyway.
5)  They’re socially unattached. Rules don’t apply to them. They are vagabonds of the sea. They’re free in a way many of us wish we had the guts to be, able to follow the whims of the wind, visiting foreign ports. They do everything at a hundred percent—from drinking to fighting to women. We love pirates for the same reason we love cowboys. Well, okay, larcenous and sometimes murderous cowboys. Well, okay, let’s forget the cowboy analogy.

So there you have it—the reason that I, at least, love pirates. Or at least one particular French pirate who captured my heart and imagination and doesn’t seem to be in danger of releasing them.



Pirateship Down: Stories from the World of the Sentinels of New OrleansSuzanne Johnson
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Suzanne Johnson
Date of Publication: November 2, 2015
ISBN: 978-0996822008ASIN: B0169K0YW8
Number of pages: 278Word Count: 55,000
Cover Artist: Robin Ludwig Designs
Book Description:
French pirate Jean Lafitte is tall, cobalt-eyed, broad-shouldered, and immortal. What’s not to love? But New Orleans’ most esteemed member of the historical undead is headed for trouble. He’s determined to reclaim Le Diligent, his gold-laden schooner lost at sea in 1814 and recently found at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico near Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana.
The U.S. Coast Guard and the Terrebonne Parish Sheriff’s Office might beg to differ.
New Orleans wizard sentinel DJ Jaco and her merman friend Rene Delachaise can either lock up their friend Lafitte or join him on a road trip to Cajun country in order to save him from himself. Terrebonne Parish—not to mention its jail—might never be the same after the events of the all-new novella Pirateship Down, presented here along with a collection of urban fantasy stories and essays.
Wizards and Cajun merfolk, sexy shapeshifters and undead French pirates. Welcome to the world of the Sentinels of New Orleans in this collection, along with a little Louisiana lagniappe. No previous knowledge of the series required!
Available at Amazon
Excerpt:
About five minutes passed before I heard Jean Lafitte in the hallway of the prison, having a spirited, if one-sided, argument about Spanish fruit. I definitely heard the words orange and Spaniard. And the pirate never had anything nice to say about Spaniards since he’d spent most of his human life plundering their ships.The door opened, and he strode into the room, sending my empathic senses into overload with the force of his outrage. I closed my eyes and tried to squelch the urge to bray like a donkey, because the source of his anger was obvious.They’d taken away the cord he used to tie back his shoulder-length, wavy black hair, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was his fluorescent orange jumpsuit with Terrebonne Parish Prison stamped on the back. The suit was tight across his shoulders and baggy across his hips, obviously not tailored for the pirate’s athletic build, and the pants were three inches too short and flashing bare calf. He wore short white athletic socks someone had scrounged up for him. Obviously, his pirate boots had been confiscated. It wasn’t an outfit designed to please a man as arrogant and aware of his good looks as my undead pirate.Jean shifted his commentary from his guard to me. “Drusilla, a grievance must be made against these ruffians and thieves. They have stolen my clothing and given me only this…this….” He ran out of words.“Ugly-ass orange jumpsuit?” I offered, always ready to help Jean with his command of modern English. “Oui, exactement. I demand that you obtain my release, tout de suite. And you must know, a woman who allows her husband to remain in such conditions for an entire evening must face reprimand.”I leaned back in the chair and crossed my arms. “And you must know that, in this day and age, should a man reprimand his wife too much, said wife might leave her husband to enjoy a longer time in his prison cell wearing his ugly-ass orange jumpsuit.”The guard who’d accompanied Jean into the room listened to this exchange with no expression. Now that Jean and I were both in silent mode, he leaned over to fasten the handcuffs to a ring on the center of the table, which forced the irate pirate to sit down. “You got half an hour,” the guard said. “I’ll be right outside. If I hear or see anything through that door that I should not hear or see, visitation will be ended. That includes shouting, moving of furniture, excessive use of profanity, or sexual activity. Do you understand?”I nodded. “Not a problem.” I had a confusion potion with Jean’s name on it in my shoe, and I wasn’t afraid to use it.

About the Author:
Suzanne Johnson is the author of the award-winning Sentinels of New Orleans urban fantasy series for Tor Books, including the 2014 Gayle Wilson Award-winning Elysian Fields. Writing as Susannah Sandlin, she is author of the Penton Legacy paranormal romance series, including the 2013 Holt Medallion winner for paranormal romance Absolution, as well as The Collectors romantic suspense series, including Lovely, Dark, and Deep, 2015 Holt Medallion winner and 2015 Booksellers Best Award winner for romantic suspense. A displaced New Orleanian, she currently lives in Auburn, Alabama, and loves SEC football, fried gator on a stick, uptown New Orleans, all things Cajun (including a certain Cajun merman named Rene), and redneck reality TV.
website: http://www.suzannejohnsonauthor.com
blog: http://www.suzannejohnsonauthor.com/blog
facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authorsuzannejohnson
twitter: http://www.twitter.com/Suzanne_Johnson
goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/Suzanne_Johnson
pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/sj3523

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Guest blog- No Trouble at All by Lisa Acerbo

Halloween night my husband and I sat down to watch a scary movie. It was late and all the trick-or-treaters had retired. A shiver of excitement ran through me as I switched off the porch light and retreated to the couch.  The television screen projected an eerie glow.  I was ready to be scared. And after spending a few hours with my eyes peeking out from behind my fingers, watching stories about evil and death, I started reflecting upon why I write about the same things -- zombies, vampires, ghosts, creepy characters, and murders.  I came to the realization, I loved to be scared, and I’m not alone.

My first book, Apocalipstick, explores true evil after humanity is lost in the chaos of a zombie apocalypse. Remote focuses on the horrors of technology replacing people, and No Trouble at All tackles the evils people do to one another in a murder mystery. With all of the books, scenes with blood and gore are often easier to write than the romance. Could it be that horror is more understandable and evident than love in the world and, therefore, easier to translate through the written word? This question left me wondering why people are so happy to be horrified?Horror, whether on the big screen or in a paperback novel, helps people confront and embrace their fears. By empathizing with others going through terrible, scary situations, an individual can better deal with small fears occurring on a daily basis. Through the horror genre, people can also better understand society’s taboos or at least get a glimpse into them.
Reading and watching something scary gives people the chance to be terrified while knowing they are, in reality, completely safe. Sitting next to my husband, being able to close my eyes against the glare of the television or having the ability to put down a book when it gets too disturbing allows me to feel the thrill of horror and leave it when I need to. My safety net -- my home, my husband -- lets me to embrace the thrill of fear, but only to the extent I am comfortable with.
Finally, horror is often used to teach lessons.  Think about the urban legends such as Bloody Mary or the Hookman, and, of course, the original Grimm’s Fairy Tales. The Hookman is one example of an urban legend used to teach a moral lesson. It dissuades teens from getting too crazy at lover’s lane.  The version I heard growing up told the story of a boy and girl making out in a car. The girl hears a noise. The boy investigates. A man with a hook for a hand chases him.  In some stories the boy is caught and killed, but in others he and the girl escape.  When they make it back to safety and check the car for damage, they find the hook embedded in the door. Teens, beware the Hookman! He will dice and slice up a car and those inside, if society’s rules are ignored.
The world is a scary place, and by addressing horrors in a movie or story, people can acclimate to and accept the fact that evil exists. So the next time you are purposely pick up a Stephen King novel or slip The Conjuring into the DVD player, consider why you are doing so. 
No Trouble at AllLisa Acerbo
Genre: Romance/Thriller
Publisher: Destiny Whispers Publishing
Date of Publication: October 31, 2015
ISBN-10: 1943504016ISBN-13: 978-1-943504-01-5
Word Count:  74,810
Book Description:
Trouble from the Past can Kill your Future.
It's a bad day for Sophie Carter when she stumbles across a dead body in the woods. But when the suspected murderer turns out to be a leather-clad vagabond who died in 1889, her carefully controlled quiet life explodes. Not only is Sophie in the wrong place at the wrong time, but as a local history buff who loves old legends, she knows too much about the past to remain uninvolved. Trouble is a killer and no one can escape.
Detective Jackson Lynch asks Sophie to help him decipher the legend of the Old Leather Man and unravel the mystery of the murdered woman. Going against her best judgment, Sophie joins forces with the distractingly sexy detective on the police investigation and in pursuit of a killer. Jackson is hot to solve the case as they follow the clues through Connecticut and New York State, uncovering both legend and fact.
As they move closer to solving the murder, a series of missteps shove Sophie into Jackson’s arms and straight into the media. Trouble is everywhere. Jackson’s career begins to crumble and Sophie becomes a suspect in the heinous crime. The case unravels. The past and present collide. Sophie is swept into more danger than she could ever imagine when the Old Leather Man comes looking for her hide to tan.

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/S-OlifkUsZM
Amazon    BN    DestinyAuthor
Excerpt: Sophie loved to hike and run, continuously finding new trails to explore in the vicinity. She enjoyed the convenience of living forty-five minutes outside New York City, just over the New York border in Glenville, Connecticut. The town was far enough away that she could still immerse herself in nature, but close enough to the city that she could attend concerts, events, and culture when she needed a change. She explored the abundant state parks and open green spaces that abounded close by, enjoying the diversity found in the change of seasons.
Today was a little different. Sophie had departed for her run from her home in southern Connecticut much later than anticipated. A fender bender at the local Starbucks in Greenwich delayed her further.
In her defense, she had just tapped the back of the other car when she backed out of her parking space. There had been minimal damage. The white haired older couple, Fran and Frank Bunkowsky, while a tad grouchy about what the dent might mean for their insurance, were overall relatively pleasant.
They even invited Sophie for tea the next day.
Then Sophie had driven the thirty odd miles to the Pound Ridge Reservation, looking forward to an energizing run.
But her morning continued to be troubled.As she locked her car and began to stretch, sweat streamed from her brow in large droplets. The autumn day in the forests of the outer suburbs of New York City had turned muggy. At the entrance of the trail where she planned to begin her run, the day turned angrier and even more unseasonably hot for September. The threat of thunderstorms darkened the skies. To top it off, she had forgotten both bug spray and bottled water, making the jaunt through the woods not nearly as relaxing or therapeutic as expected.
The sky was troubled; her day was troubled.
She could not shake the premonition that things were about to get worse.
This wasn’t the first time she had felt that way. Probably would not be the last. Nature, at least, offered solace and peace.
She began to run the trail.
For the last few years since she had quit her job at the hospital because she just couldn’t handle watching people die anymore, Sophie regularly came here to watch the maple, beech, and birch trees turn shades of leafy avocado green in Springtime and then morph to bright yellows, reds, and oranges in the Fall.
This was one of the prettiest areas to visit year round. She loved the changes that came month by month making each trip unique. While a few tree leaves had swapped green for yellow, it was still too early in September for a dramatic seasonal display.
Gnats, on the other hand, were in full force, swarming around her curly brown ponytail like tiny fighter jets while leaving every other hiker she passed on the trail alone. They must like her shampoo. The ecstatic bugs were drawn to her chestnut curls like it was irresistible gnat candy.
Sophie ran faster. The crazy bugs kept up.
She swatted at them, vowing to change her hair products as soon as she returned home. She tightened her ponytail in the elastic that had come loose, without slowing her steps. A few long curls she missed drooped down her back.
She needed this run. The exercise opened her lungs and stretched lean athletic legs until the energy flowed through her toned body like liquid fire. It was invigorating. In a crazy troubled world, it kept her sane. She picked up the pace and ran and ran, not stopping.Being in good shape had its advantages. While other hikers huffed and puffed after a while, turning around before coming this far into the forest, Sophie could run for miles without stopping.
As a nurse always battling injury, disease, and death it was important to remember you were healthy and alive.
Finally, Sophie saw the cave.
The reason she had decided to visit Ward Pound Ridge.
She had first heard of a crazy old man called the Old Leather Man at the Greenwich Audubon Society a while back, when she attended a presentation and hike. His presence in these woods in the mid 1800’s was an unsolved mystery and being a naturally curious woman who loved history, she wanted to learn more.
By today’s standards, he would be considered a homeless vagabond, but the Leather Man had a home. His home had once been the numerous wild spaces of Connecticut and New York. Still, he would have accurately depicted the description of a vagabond or wild man. He made his clothes out of thick leather scraps, carefully hand stitched together to form a durable outfit that helped him survive the elements.
The heavy suit was how he got the name.
No one knew his real one, not for sure. He lived for many years in caves. One happened to be at the Greenwich Audubon property and another right here.
After the lecture at the Audubon, Sophie had read all about the Old Leather Man, fascinated that a man could live alone in the woods without the normal creature comforts most needed to survive.
Today she was revisiting another of his caves.
Moving closer, she again wiped the sweat from her brow and then ran her damp hands along the material of her athletic shorts.
The gnats still wanted to be friends.
Slowing to hike the last uphill area, she swatted them away again.
Of course, they were too fascinated with her curly ponytail to actually leave. They liked her too much.
A few more steps climbing up the dirt and twig laden path, she found herself at the entrance of the cave. Her heart pounded with excitement. The cliff directly behind her was a high point on the trail, but she wasn’t going to scale it. As she looked around, she noticed many outcrops and smaller shelter-like formations.
Directly ahead, large chunks of rock, which at one point in time had broken away from the cliff, now hung above her head at jagged angles, creating an inscrutable pyramid-shaped entrance. Sophie found it easy to envision the Old Leather Man coming to one of these caves just before dark, starting a small fire with precisely placed kindling waiting in the fire pit, and then preparing a meal and resting.As she entered, the interior was tighter than remembered, fostering claustrophobia. She was a tall slender woman and had to duck down to make her way inside where large slabs of schist and gneiss formed ceilings and walls. Crouching slightly, she moved forward only to be engulfed in the cool, murky shade. The interior fell back into a rich mosaic of darkness.
While most of the cave remained dark, the space directly in front of her was lit by the sun. Smaller than she remembered, it was not a gaping cavern but more like a cozy protected nook. It was a safe place to sleep for the night, large enough to stay out of the weather and be warm from the fire.
“What the hell?” she murmured as a horrid stench stung her nose.
It reeked as if something had died. It had.
As her eyes adjusted quickly to the dim interior, Sophie looked around, ready to see a decaying carcass of a raccoon or squirrel. Instead, she saw a bloated body propped sitting in the far corner, half hidden by a jutted rock outcrop.

About the Author:
Lisa Acerbo is a high school teacher and adjunct instructor at the college level, holding an EdD in Educational Leadership. No Trouble at All is her third novel. Her first novel about zombies, vampires and romance, Apocalipstick, was published in 2013 followed by a young adult science fiction novel title Remote in 2014. In addition, she has contributed to local newspapers, news and travel blogs including The Patch and Hollywood Scriptwriter. She lives in Connecticut with her husband, two daughters, three cats, and horse.
www.DestinyNovels.com
www.DestinyAuthor.us  – Meet the characters, Sophie and Jackson, read teasers from future books, and learn more about author, Lisa Acerbo  
Blog: www.apocalipstickthebook.wordpress.com  
Facebook: www.facebook.com/lisa.acerbo.5
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/6191261.Lisa_Acerbo
Twitter: @Apocalipstick_
Website: https://www.facebook.com/lisa.acerbo.5

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Top Ten Best Hollywood Witches- Guest Blog Tremble by Rosa Lee Jude

Top Ten Best Hollywood Witches
Hollywood has put their own spin on magical people for decades. Some characters have been beautiful and smart characters who use their powers for good. Others have helped reinforce the stereotypical evil witch image in not so attractive ways.

The enchantresses in my new series, The Enchanted Journey, are smart, beautiful, and powerful. Some focus on good, others evil, but all have their own sense of style and class.


Here are my top ten favorite Hollywood witches. Do you remember these memorable ladies?
10. Agnes Moorehead as Endora on Bewitched

9. Angelina Jolie as Maleficent in Maleficent


8. Cher as Alexandra in The Witches of Eastwick

7. Lana Parilla as Regina, the Evil Queen in Once Upon a Time

6. Elizabeth Montgomery as Samantha Stephens in Bewitched

5. Meryl Streep as The Witch in Into the Woods

4. Emma Watson as Hermione Granger in the Harry Potter series

3. Sandra Bullock as Sally Owens in Practical Magic

2. Bette Midler as Winifred Sanderson in Hocus Pocus


1. Margaret Hamilton as The Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz


Who are your favorite Hollywood witches? Who do you suggest for the roles of Tremble, Jasmine or Belladonna from my series?

I hope you enjoy meeting all of my magical characters in the three books of The Enchanted Journey.

Tremble
The Enchanted JourneyBook OneRosa Lee Jude
Genre: Fantasy -magical
Publisher: Ink On My Fingers Publishing
Date of Publication: September 18, 2015
ISBN: 978-1942994008ASIN: B015L5VMEG
Number of pages: 262Word Count: 67,916
Cover Artist: Pink Ink Designs,Cassy Roop
Book Description:
There’s magic in the air.
Tremble Dawson thinks her biggest worry is completing her college internship at a mega successful advertising agency. That is, until she discovers her seemingly normal upbringing has all been an illusion. Her life is turned upside down when a handsome stranger pays a visit and offers to be a special kind of bodyguard to protect her from an evil force bent on making her fulfill a twisted prophecy.
Perhaps, she should have paid more attention to her unusual bosses or the sparks that uncontrollably fly out of her fingertips. Despite the clues along the way, Tremble is not prepared to learn that her existence is full of secrets—secrets from another world. As she discovers her true identity and the mystery that surrounds her heritage, Tremble realizes there’s a bounty on her future and she is the one who must pay the price.
Join Tremble on a bewitching adventure as she begins her journey to another world full of enchanting surprises.
TREMBLE is Book One in The Enchanted Journey trilogy. Book Two, JASMINE, and Book Three, NEVERWRONG, are also available.

Available at Amazon

Get it Free Tuesday, November 3 - Thursday, November 5
Excerpt:
The normal view from the front window of Tremble’s house was of a large brick Colonial home across the street where the Garland family used to live. Their oldest daughter, Tabitha, had been Tremble’s babysitter. But, as Laken pulled back the drapes, Tremble did not see the edge of a Japanese maple on the left hand side of the window or the evening sun setting on the right. Instead, she saw the most beautiful place she had ever seen. The sound of her mother gasping seemed far away as Tremble took in the view.The colors were so vibrant. They glistened like fresh paint on a canvas. Only nothing seemed to be the color that Tremble expected. The grass was purple and the sky was yellow. The bark of a tree was red and the leaves were black with silver. The flowers did not have stems. Instead, they seemed to be floating on air and were constantly moving. One such flower kept floating closer and closer. Its center was a deep green and its petals were chocolate brown. She wanted to taste it. She wanted to touch it.“Go ahead. Reach out, Neverwrong is not just to be viewed, it must be felt.”Laken walked up behind her. Tremble momentarily let her gaze leave the window as she felt Laken’s hand gently touch the small of her back. She wondered what color sparks were emitting from his hand, as she could feel them on her back. He nodded as he met her eyes.“Go ahead.”Tremble reached out her hand.“Tremble, I don’t know if you should.” Her mother’s voice instinctively made her stop.“Don’t worry. I would never allow anything to harm her.” Laken removed his hand from Tremble’s back and extended it to Dana. “You can touch it, too.”“How will I possibly be able to have the same experience as Tremble?” Dana walked up behind her daughter.“You will not. You will have one that is uniquely your own. Tremble’s experience will be natural. You shall experience the magic of Neverwrong a different way.”“How will that be?”“You are able to see Neverwrong now because I have cast a spell allowing it. The same shall be true of this portion of the experience.”As Laken finished answering Dana, Tremble took hold of her mother’s hand, pulling it up toward the window. As Tremble’s right hand and Dana’s left touched the glass, something extraordinary began happening to Tremble, she started to be absorbed into what she had been seeing. She looked down and the purple grass was under her feet. Multicolored flowers were falling all around her. Bubbles floated by with little insects inside. A hundred fragrances came at her at once; it was overpowering. It seemed to Tremble as if she could smell every living thing around her separately and all together at the same time. Her eyes were becoming one with the color. She felt as though her body was absorbing the experience. She was feeling it from the outside in and from the inside out at the same time. The spell was broken when she realized she was no longer holding her mother’s hand.





About the Author:
Rosa Lee Jude began creating her own imaginary worlds at an early age. While her career path has included stints in journalism, marketing, hospitality & tourism and local government, she is most at home at a keyboard spinning yarns of fiction and creative non-fiction. She lives in the beautiful mountains of Southwest Virginia with her patient husband and very spoiled rescue dog.
The Enchanted Journey is Rosa Lee’s second series. She is also the co-author of the award-winning time-travel series, the Legends of Graham Mansion.
Learn more about her writing life at www.RosaLeeJude.com
http://www.twitter.com/rosaleejude
http://www.facebook.com/rosaleejudeauthor
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4041806.Rosa_Lee_Jude


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