Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 357

Thinking of a Very Scary Christmas

So I'm participating in a Secret Satan Exchange this year - it's a Secret Santa for Horror Lovers and I am looking for inspiration for some possible DIY depending on who I get and what they like.

(Don't worry I'm also participating in a regular Secret Santa exchange as well- I'm not all dark and demented, just a little bit LOL)

Check out the very scary things I came across.











Speaking of scary Christmas....who is going to see Krampus??


 

A Review of Grave Visions by Kalayna Price

Grave Visions by Kalayna Price
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This book was a long time coming but finally....it's here (official release date February 2, 2016). I was lucky enough to receive an ARC from the publisher. I was so excited I put aside the book I was reading and cracked this one open immediately.

I was not disappointed.

Alex is back and in more trouble than ever. Her newly discovered Fae heritage is draining her She needs a tie to Faerie to keep her alive but who should she trust, who can she tie herself to? The Winter Court? The Shadow Court? Everyone seems to want her for her planeweaving abilities but she can't afford to align herself with the wrong Fae.

Poor Alex, her world is exhausting - trying to navigate her ties to Faerie, solve cases, raise shades, be a part of Tamara's wedding, and keep her love life straight (as she's currently twisted into an odd love triangle).

Her love life is so messy. She's involved with Death, yet really knows nothing about him and she still has feelings for Falin but can't trust him because he is bound to the Winter Queen as her Knight- and he's currently sleeping at Alex's place because he was ordered by the queen to stay where Alex stays. Awkward situation when her current lover, Death, shows up. Yikes.

Adding to Alex's non-stop to-do list, is the police. They call her for help on a weird new case that turns out to be tied to Faerie and quickly becomes tied to Alex. She has to find out who is behind the new glamour laced street drug, Glitter...her very life depends on solving this case.

Twists, turns, and dramatic action ensue...as the clock ticks. Alex is fading fast. Can she solve the case before fading...or before the Winter Queen decides Alex is a threat that needs to be eliminated?

Totally worth the wait. I am glad the author was finally able to complete this book and I hope more are in the works.

Price's world is unique, an intriguing orginal world of Fae, magic, and witches that I can't get enough of. She blends fantasy and urban fantasy with a touch of paranormal romance seamlessly. Every book will make you want more.

View all my reviews

The Origin of the Lights: The Svatura Series by Abigail Owen

One of the more unique characteristics in the Svatura series (at least in my opinion) came from two random suggestions, both from a somewhat unexpected source – my parents.
First, a little background. The series features a group of people – known as the Svatura – who have extraordinary powers, each one a little different from any others and can be physical, mental, etc. Some of my characters have the ability to manipulate other Svatura’s powers. For example, Ellie can use another’s gifts if she’s touching them. Or Selene can turn off powers as will. When Ellie and Selene are doing these activities they see those powers manifested as lights glowing inside the person they’re focused on.
Each Svatura’s light is as unique as their gift. For example, Ellie, my main character in the first book, Blue Violet, has a glow that is a violet blue color matching her eyes. Selene, the main character in Hyacinth, the second book, has a fuchsia colored light. Lila the lead in book three, Crimson Dahlia, has an ice blue light inside her. Finally, Adelaide, the heroine of Black Orchid, has a pale yellow light.
Mom’s SuggestionThe origin of the idea for the lights themselves came from Mom. She was a High School English teacher. When I finished the first draft of Blue Violet I sent it to her for an opinion. One of the critiques she provided was she wanted better descriptions of my characters when they were using their powers. She doesn’t read paranormal romance, so she found it difficult to visualize the supernatural sections of the book.
While applying this great suggestion, I found that describing the physical powers like my firestarter or my shapeshifters was easy. But trying to put these more mental gifts on paper was a bit tricky. Consequently, I came up with the imagery of the lights to give me something more “physical” to describe. I can show my characters seeing the lights, manipulating the lights, extinguishing the lights, etc.
Dad’s SuggestionOriginally, my lights were going to be colorless (just a glow) and “internal” (so visible only to the Ellie’s and Selene’s of this world). After I’d done many rounds of edits, my dad read the book. I have to give him some major props because paranormal romance is so far from his genre it’s ridiculous. So it meant a lot that he’d take the time to read the book. By that time, I’d changed the lights to be certain colors.
Dad came up with an extension of the colors concept that I loved. In the finale of Blue Violet, Ellie shapeshifts into a rather extraordinary creature (I won’t ruin it for you by telling you what). Dad suggested that I have her eyes glow her violet blue color and another physical characteristic of her power also be that color (hope that’s clear without giving it away too much.)

I decided to run with this and came up with the concept that violent use of a power would create a visible, external manifestation of the glow within (in different ways). Since then, through the next two books – Hyacinth and Crimson Dahlia – I have taken this concept to a whole new level. One that will ultimately culminate in the fourth and final book, Black Orchid, due out this coming February. You’ll have to read them to see what I mean. I hope you’ll think it’s a unique take on superhuman powers and how they are described.
You never know where the spark for an idea will come from. In this case, two proposals that sparked a concept that will become central to my entire series. I do have to say a huge thank you to my parents for their support and suggestions which have lead this storyline down paths that have been a pleasure to write and fun to see where they take me.





The Svatura SeriesAbigail Owen
Genre: paranormal romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Cover Artist: Debbie Taylor
Series Description:
Meet the ladies of the Svatura series: Ellie, Selene, Lila, and Adelaide.
One will come out of hiding to protect others from the fate she suffered. One will lead her people after being released from a hellish nightmare. One will try to start a new life only to discover that her path lies where it always has. And one will experience a loss so terrible that only oblivion can stop the pain.
Individually they are strong. But together these sisters of the heart are a force before whom even their most powerful enemies will tremble. However, that may not be enough. Is the key to their salvation power…or love?
Svatura Series Additional Info
The Svatura Series Pinterest Board
Book Trailer

Blue VioletThe Svatura SeriesBook OneAbigail Owen
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Cover Art: Debbie TaylorPage Count: 266Word Count: 62050
ISBN (digital): 978-1-62830-946-1ISBN (print): 978-1-5092-0358-1

About the Book:
When fairy tales turn into nightmares…
Ellie Aubrey has spent most of her unnaturally long life hiding her extraordinary abilities from the world. On the run from the shapeshifting wolves who murdered her family, she risks discovery in order to secretly watch over another group of similarly gifted people, determined they won’t suffer the same fate.
Alex Jenner has come home to protect his family from an unknown danger lurking in the woods. Suspicious of the new girl in town, he challenges Ellie in ways that will spark one of two possible outcomes: they’ll spontaneously combust, or she’ll lose control of the one power she’s fought so hard to contain.
In this fairy tale, the dragon the prince must slay is also the princess who holds his heart.

Excerpt #2 (555 words)

A separate part of her mind remained grudgingly impressed with Alex’s powers of observation. Very few people paid close enough attention to catch little nuances as he had with her. Usually they were too self-centered. But he’d called her out on her vagueness from day one. It had the effect of strengthening the connection she was resisting so desperately.

“What is it that you think I’m hiding, exactly?” Ellie asked, hands on her hips.

“You can’t be who you say you are.”

“I don’t say I’m anyone. I’m just me!” she exclaimed. “Who else would I be?”He flashed her a dark look. “I saw you.”

“Saw me doing what?” Ellie’s confusion was feigned, but her exasperation was authentic.“Standing in the woods outside my house.”

Ellie gave him a dumfounded look. “And when exactly was I supposed to be standing outside your house?”

“Late last night,” he snapped.

“Yeah,” she scoffed, “that makes total sense. You really are full of yourself. You know that? You think that some little high school girl likes you so much that she’s just going to stand around your house in the cold, hoping for a glimpse?”

“I think you’re a damn good liar is what I think.” Alex clenched his fists. He looked like he wanted to shake her.

Ellie fumed. Forget that he was right. He didn’t know that for sure, and here he was calling her a liar to her face.

She narrowed her eyes, and her voice grew cold. “And what exactly am I supposed to be lying about?”

Alex’s mouth set in a grim line. “I can’t tell you that.”

Ellie arched an eyebrow. “So let me get this straight…After becoming, well, friends I guess, you suddenly start ignoring me. We barely say two words to each other in six weeks, then out of nowhere you kiss me. But based on…” She flung her arms out all akimbo. “I don’t know what exactly…you come over here to tell me that I’m not who I say I am. That I’m apparently stalking you. Then you call me a liar. But you can’t tell me what you think I’m lying about. Could you be more insulting or more weirdly vague?”

“I guess that’s usually your role, isn’t it? Is anything you’ve ever said to me true?”

“Ah!” Frustration engulfed Ellie until she couldn’t speak. She just stood there, her hands on her hips, shaking her head and blinking.

She couldn’t do this, she suddenly realized. She didn’t want to lie to him. She didn’t want to fight with him. But she couldn’t tell him anything. And he was in the same predicament.And, just like that, her anger with him turned in on herself and the situation. She started shaking. A violent trembling that signaled a loss of control…and the horrifying possibility of what she might become if she didn’t immediately rein it in. Anger, and now fear for Alex’s safety, warred within her as she struggled to keep her human form.

Without another word she turned and rushed for the back door, grabbing her keys off the kitchen counter. She had to get away from him and force herself to calm down before something terrible happened.

Alex grabbed her arm and whipped her around. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Away from you.”



HyacinthThe Svatura SeriesBook TwoAbigail Owen
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Cover Art: Debbie Taylor
About the Book:
Selene sacrificed everything when she took her brother’s place as ruler of the Vyusher—including her secret love for one-time adversary Griffin Aubrey. When nightmares that are just a little too real start, Selene fears she’s turned into a cold-blooded killer…the monster Griffin thinks she is.
Griffin and Ellie Aubrey are finally safe for the first time in over a hundred years, and Griffin doesn’t want to easily forgive the woman he blames for killing his family. But when an unknown menace drives Selene to leave her people and seek their help, Griffin must decide.
Can he move past his hatred of everything she is? Or will the bond that could bring them both the greatest joy now be the source of their deepest despair?

Excerpt #2 (506 words)

The nightmare had started the same as all the others….

She was in her wolf form which was always different than her human self—enhanced sight and more sensitive hearing, attuned to the sounds of the night, and her point of view was lower to the ground. In this dream, she’d been watching a house from the deep shadows of the woods. It was nighttime, and with the lights on inside the house she was watching, she had an easy view of the inhabitant—a middle-aged woman who appeared to be alone. The urge to hurt that woman filled her, overflowing into a barely contained snarl of aggression.

What is happening to me? Confusion swept through Selene. Her urge made absolutely no sense. She’d never deliberately harmed another being in her life.

She started to move, as though her body had a will of its own. She wasn’t in control, the need to kill dictating her actions. Selene prowled over to a small patio that extended from the back of the house. She stopped within feet of the structure and crouched low in a pool of moonlight. Her white form blended in perfectly, rendering her almost invisible.

And there she waited. But the rational part of Selene had no idea what she was waiting for exactly. It was as though her dream-self had been here before, stalked this woman, and knew something was about to happen.

Selene didn’t recognize where she was. She was sure she’d never been to this place when she was awake. What was she doing here? Panic started to set in, she could feel it in the thumping of her heart. Or maybe it wasn’t panic, maybe it was anticipation for the kill. Her thoughts were all tangled up. What was wrong with her?

The fur on her back bristled, and Selene realized that a moment of no return was fast approaching. Her keen hearing picked up the soft tread of the woman inside the house, followed by the click of the door handle. Her muscles coiled more tightly, ready to pounce. The door opened, a ray of light from inside just missing the spot where Selene was hidden, and the woman stepped out onto the patio.

Selene felt her body spring into the air.

No! No! No! She tried to hold herself back, make herself stop. But she couldn’t.

Screams pierced the night air, ringing in Selene’s ears as she slammed into the woman. Selene sank her sharp teeth into the sweet spot at the back of the woman’s neck. Bones crunched under the pressure of her jaws and the sharp, metallic taste of blood surged into her mouth. The woman continued her screeching, thrashing around hysterically under Selene’s deadly grasp. With a guttural growl, Selene clamped down harder before she shook the woman like a rag doll. She felt the satisfying crack when the woman’s neck snapped.
Then, as suddenly as the nightmare had started, darkness consumed her and she jerked awake to find she was safe in her bedroom.

Crimson DahliaThe Svatura SeriesBook ThreeAbigail Owen
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Cover Art: Debbie Taylor
About the Book:
Lila Jenner left her family to start a new life away from Ramsey Pierce. After decades of rejection, she needs the chance to discover who she is without him. Helping to rebuild relationships between tribes of Svatura is just the opportunity she needs.
Determined that the fire raging inside him will never harm Lila, Ramsey denies the magical bond that could be theirs alone. But when an old enemy resurfaces and Lila disappears, he realizes he’ll do anything to win her back and make her his.
However, Maddox, driven by a centuries-old quest for revenge, is stronger than any of them ever imagined. Friends and enemies must band together against this shared threat. Even then, they may discover too late that one dragon is not always enough…
Excerpt #2 (300 words)

With a muttered curse, Ramsey closed his mouth over hers. His kiss was not gentle. He was to full of pent up need and frustration for gentle. He didn’t merely kiss.  He devoured her, his need was so great. She tasted of mint and a hint of the wine they’d had with dinner earlier that night.

Slowly, savoring each sensation, he moved his hands over her. Every delectable inch of her body. He couldn’t get enough of touching her. Every luscious curve under his hands spurred him to more intimacy. He swept one hand around her waist to her lower back and then inched his fingers under the elastic band of her undies.

Lila suddenly broke off their kiss with a sharp cry. She stepped back from him, realized that he could see all of her, and hurried over to a nearby bush to grab her dress.

That’s when Ramsey saw it. An ugly welt in the shape of a handprint was rising on the back side of her hip.

“Lila,” he choked.

She pulled her dress over her head. “Don’t. It’s not your fault.”

“I burned you.” The horror of what he’d done to her—and how much worse it could have been—doused every last desire in ice water.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” she said. She reached out for his hand, but he jerked away from her, stumbling in his haste.

“We need to get Hugh. He’ll heal it for you,” he said.

“No!” Lila shouted. She took a breath and spoke in a calmer tone. “There is no way I’m explaining to my dad how your handprint ended up burnt on my butt. It’s fine. It’ll heal on its own.”

“It’ll scar.”
She tipped up her chin. “I’ll live with that.”

Black OrchidThe Svatura SeriesBook FourAbigail Owen
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Cover Art: Debbie Taylor
About the Book:
Only oblivion can stop her pain.
Adelaide Jenner feels nothing… she is completely numb inside. Her fated love abandoned her and joined their enemy. On that day her sister turned off all Adelaide’s emotions in order to save her from a heartbreak that could push her over the edge of sanity. But the great power she claims, wielded without compassion or love, can only lead to pain.
Nate Pierce believes Adelaide used her extraordinary powers to deceive him all these years. So he destroyed a relationship he thought to be false and hungers for revenge. Now, Nate serves Maddox, unaware that his new leader is using him as a pawn in a bid to enslave or kill all Svatura.
The only hope of finally defeating Maddox is for Adelaide and her sisters to combine their growing powers against him. But the key to a Svatura’s power is the heart, and Adelaide is still missing hers.


Excerpt #2 (325 words)

“You can’t be here,” she said in a low, raspy voice.

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you…. I just saved you!”

She raised her gaze to his, and Nate was stunned to see her green eyes were now glowing bright yellow.

“You don’t understand,” she whispered. “I could really hurt you. You need to leave. Now.”

Nate took a step closer to her. He could see that her slender body was quaking from head to toe.

Adelaide held up both her hands. “I can’t hold it in much longer. You really need to go.” The anguish in her voice concerned him. He could tell she was terrified, but it seemed to be for him, not because of him. She bent over and put her hands on her knees, sucking air into her lungs as fast as she could.

Nate took a step closer but hesitated. She’s a con artist, don’t forget.

But he also wasn’t exactly sure what was happening to her. As far as he knew, none of her powers were actually dangerous.

Suddenly Adelaide fell to her hands and knees. He could see her chest heaving as she struggled for control. Nate acted on pure instinct. Tapping into his speed, he was at her side in less than a blink. He wrapped his strong arms around her from behind, sat down on the ground, and pulled her in tightly to his body. Leaving one armed wrapped around her midriff, he started running his other hand through her hair in a soothing gesture.

Now that he was touching her, Nate was amazed her shaking wasn’t rattling her very bones. It was that violent. Definitely not faking it.

“Breathe.” Come on.
“I… can’t,” she choked out. He knew that if he could see her face, tears would be streaming down her cheeks. And he didn’t like it. It reminded him way too much of his dreams. But he couldn’t think about that right now.
About the Author:
Award-winning paranormal and contemporary romance author, Abigail Owen was born in Greeley, Colorado, and raised in Austin, Texas. She now resides in Northern California with her husband and two adorable children who are the center of her universe.
Abigail grew up consuming books and exploring the world through her writing. A fourth generation graduate of Texas A&M University, she attempted to find a practical career related to her favorite pastime by earning a degree in English Rhetoric (Technical Writing). However, she swiftly discovered that writing without imagination is not nearly as fun as writing with it.
Website/Blog: http://abigailowen.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Abigail.Owen.Books
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AOwenBooks
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/abbyowen/
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The Vampire, The Handler, and Me by Eileen Sheehan

Hello, my name is Eileen Sheehan and I'm an author of fantasy romance.  One of the characters of my imagination that I enjoy writing most about is the vampire.  I have always found them charismatic in a sexy kind of way.
I've been getting some wonderful feedback about my vampire character, Nevi Sharpe, which leads me to believe I'm not alone when it comes to falling for a sexy vampire.  I like to think vampires are like people with some good and some bad. Like with people, I gravitate to the good ones.  It sure doesn't hurt if they're well build and handsome besides... and let's not forget rich!  Why not.  If I'm going to create a vampire to fall in love with why not have him be everything wonderful? 
What about you?  Do you prefer vampires who are good and protective of humans and sexy bedfellows or the ones who hunt them down and drain their blood? 
The Vampire, The Handler, and MeEileen Sheehan
Genre:  paranormal romance
Publisher:  Eternal Press, LLC
Date of Publication: September 1, 2015
ISBN: 978-1629293110ASIN:  B01494XZB8
Number of pages:  202Word Count: 100 k
Cover Artist:  Dawne Dominique
Book Description:
In a romantic triangle of good and bad, it's hard to tell who is good and who is bad.
Lizzy Ewing is caught in a romantic triangle between a two enemies; the handsome vampire, Nevi, and the hunky handler, Geoffrey. A handler herself, Lizzy must choose between Nevi and Geoffrey. One wants her for all the right reasons and one doesn't.
Will she discover who is who before the bad destroys the good?
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/_uPA_tE9aU8
Amazon     BN    Eternal Press
Excerpt:
“My name is Nevi, Nevi Sharpe,” he said with a deep, sultry accent. “May I ask with whom I have the pleasure of sharing scratch-off tickets?”
I wanted to answer him but I was still stuck on stupid. I opened my mouth to speak and absolutely nothing came out.
How embarrassing.
How ridiculous.
How mortifying.
He was just a man, after all. What was my issue?
I just couldn’t move past the sense of magnificence that permeated the air around him. It was both electrifying and nerve wracking.
“You have a phone call,” blurted the bland voice of Miss Congeniality as she approached my newly discovered god-man with a cordless phone.
“Please excuse me,” he murmured in my direction as he snapped the phone from the clerk’s hand, obviously unhappy to be disturbed.
“Lizzy. Lizzy Ewing,” I forced past my lips as he stood up. “My name’s Lizzy Ewing.”
I could feel flames consume my cheeks when I realized how desperate my voice must have sounded. He studied me with dancing eyes—momentarily forgetting his annoyance about the phone call.“Nice to meet you, Lizzy Ewing,” he said warmly. “Please excuse me.”
With that, he lifted the phone unceremoniously to his ear and disappeared through a doorway behind the counter. I assumed it led to his office. At the faint sound of another door shutting behind that door, I felt I assumed right.
The clerk shuffled through the array of lotto tickets spread out on the counter in front of me with a notable smirk on her broad, acne infested face before looking up at me. “That’ll be twenty-five dollars,” she stated smugly.

I stood there looking at her for a brief moment while it registered with me…I was getting stuck with the entire bill of my not so private scratch-off tryst!
About the Author:
Eileen Sheehan lives in her native upstate New York where she enjoys the beauty of the New York Countryside.
When she is not sitting at the computer creating a new fantasy, she can be found helping her clients through her holistic business as Lena Sheehan a.k.a. Psychic Lena.
She takes advantage of her experiences, wisdom and knowledge of the paranormal and often finds ways to insert them into her writings.
http://www.sheehan-author.info
https://twitter.com/AuthorSheehan
https://www.facebook.com/sheehan.author
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14219489.Eileen_Sheehan

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Deviant Storm by LM Preston

Deviant StormPurgatory Reign SeriesBook TwoLM Preston
Genre: YA PNR
Book Description:
The battle is on. Peter Saints thought he'd killed It. But bad people never stay down. Now the jail of his enemy is weakening. Luck is running out for Peter and the girl he saved by wagering the Earth. Only now, with each second and secret revealed, his enemy gains the answers to destroy Peter and devour the world.



Series Trailer: https://youtu.be/atvKA9E4bPI


Teaser Excerpt:
He screwed up. So bad, he didn’t think he could fix it. Peter tossed the ball against the wall once more as he drowned out Kyle’s words. He never admitted everything that had happened to him in the Stronghold to Kyle. Didn’t think he could. One thing for sure, time was up. Peter was through waiting to be told what to do by the Elders of at this dump who seemed to have their own agendas. Dealing with the nightmares of what he’d done - possibly killing a man by pulling something beyond evil out of him, plagued Peter every night. Those times when he wasn’t careful, it pressed his thoughts, even when awake.
          “We’ll go get her.” Peter’s dark brown eyes landed on Kyle’s questioning blue ones.
About the Author:
LM. Preston was born and raised in Washington, DC. An avid reader, she loved to create poetry and short-stories as a young girl. With a thirst for knowledge she attended college at Bowie State University, and worked in the IT field as a Techie and Educator for over sixteen years. She started writing science fiction under the encouragement of her husband who was a Sci-Fi buff and her four kids. Her first published novel, Explorer X - Alpha was the beginning of her obsessive desire to write and create stories of young people who overcome unbelievable odds. She loves to write while on the porch watching her kids play or when she is traveling, which is another passion that encouraged her writing.
http://www.lmpreston.com/
https://www.facebook.com/THE-PACK-by-LM-Preston-127604857259681
https://twitter.com/lm_preston
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3348681.L_M_Preston


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Calling Your Muse: 6 Tips To Bring Out Your Muse- Beware Of Warlocks Box Set by Marilyn Vix

Calling Your Muse: 6 Tips To Bring Out Your Muse
Everyone needs inspiration in anything they do. Something to inspire one’s imagination is hard to find, especially when you get writer’s block. But I have a couple secrets I like to employ to get the muse to sing within me. Here’s a list of what helps get my muse speaking to me:

1)    The Music/Video Playlist: This is my go to in creating an atmosphere that helps my mind get creative. I have different playlists on Youtube for different writing projects. From my Scottish Writing List to my NaNo Writing list, the different songs I mix together put me into a writing zone that gives me the feel of each project. While I was writing Saving My Heart, I listened to a lot of Taylor Swift or Bruno Mars. While writing Everything For Love, I have a lot of the songs and videos from Moulin Rouge and Panic At The Disco songs like “Ballad of Mona Lisa”. Music is a big draw to bring out my muse.
2)    Going for a Walk: One thing I’m thankful in getting back is my ability to walk. I’m finally able to get out on the trail near my house and walk next to the creek and under the California oaks. It helps clear my head and think through things I’m having trouble with. Not only is it good for figuring out writing issues, it’s great exercise. Something physical seems to help give my brain a rest so it can refocus on writing later.
3)    Social Media: Sometimes I just like taking a break and talking to my friends. I’m a total Facebook addict. So, I like going on-line and seeing what everyone is up to. It’s a way to take a break, and makes me forget about anything that might be bothering me for a while. Then, it’s easier to come back and fix later. If you want to connect with me and see what I’m up to, here’s my Facebook link: https://www.facebook.com/marilyn.vix
4)    Shopping: I write about this a lot in my books. Sometimes shopping can bring out some ideas. Just going to the mall and walking around gets those people watching ideas flowing. I start looking at people and making up stories about why they are there, why they are wearing certain things, and making up the background of their relationships. Ok, this is what I do when I’m sitting having a cup of coffee looking at people, don’t you? Ok, that was a clear glimpse into the writer’s mind. Next.
5)     Taking A Bath: So, this is the ultimate relaxation and take on my day. I unwind in the bath and do a rehash of the day while I’m relaxing. Sometimes I’ll think through things in my books and solve them. Nothing like bubbles and scented bath crystals to coax the muse within to appear.
6)    The Cat (And other furry babies): The last ditch effort, I’ll have a cuddle with my black, furry baby. Just stroking her relaxes me. She’s also my cat editor, and will sit next to me as I’m writing. If I get stuck in the middle of writing, I turn to her and stroke her. Often, I’m rewarded with a huge purr, that relaxes me, and I can finally get my brain to function again.
These are my top tips in helping you direct your inner muse. No matter what you need to call your creativity forth to do, sewing, cooking, painting, drawing, or any other inspirational hobbies, I hope these tactics will help you to call forth your muse.

As always, love and best positive thoughts, -Marilyn


Beware Of Warlocks Box SetBeware of Warlocks Box Set Books 1-3Marilyn Vix
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Shadowcat Publishing
Date of Publication: 10/26/15
ISBN: 9781310016684ASIN: B015YYQ4AQ
Number of pages: 128Word Count: 41, 483
Cover Artist: Melody Simmons
Book Description:
Can two warlocks be too many?
Yes, if one happens to be your ex-husband trying to kill you for a witch divorce.
The other, a sexy Aussie that makes you forget all the rest.
Catherine walks in on her husband in bed with her best friend. What is a woman to do? It helps that she is a witch. Unfortunately, so is her husband. Before you can say spell battle, Catherine high tails it up the coast of California to clear her head. Lucky for her, she finds an Aussie hitchhiker. She's going to have to face her husband in the awaiting spell battle. Can she have a little fun with her newfound boy toy, or will he get scorched in the foreplay?
But nothing turns out as you think. Catherine runs to Las Vegas with Jeff finding her feelings for him the saving grace from the dangers of Las Vegas. Confused between her husband cheating and a new addition to her heart, she will have to choose between the two of them. Will she marry either, or end it all in a spell battle that will bring Las Vegas to its knees. Only time will tell. No one knows the mind of a witch better than herself. Unless, she falls in love.
Amazon   Smashwords
This box set includes the novelette titles:
Never Marry A WarlockNever Fall For A WarlockNever Cross A Warlock

Book Trailers
Never Marry A Warlock: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcjRquuEYLY
Never Fall For A Warlock:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bmtu3i6KETw
Never Cross A Warlock:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BsgS1cUL9IE


Excerpt from beginning of Never Marry A Warlock:
My husband’s arms were wrapped around her naked body. The blankets were strewn and interwoven between their legs. He was spooning her with his biceps draped over her. I stood in the doorway taking in the scene of my husband and my best friend. It was the end of the world, at least for me. But I wasn’t going to take it lying down. I should have known better than to have married a warlock.
I hit him with a force spell that knocked him up against the headboard. He fell back down and braced his hands out to catch his fall. Cassandra scrambled out of the bed, dragging the silk comforter with her. Bitch. She better get out of my way. She was next.
Rich was naked as he sat up to look at me. Normally, the abs-flash trick would work. But not now. I was too pissed off. I knew what spells he used to look like that. It was easy to fool a mortal and ex-best friend on the floor. But not me. Thing is, we were too evenly matched. I think that was the problem.
He threw a counter spell that lanced light through my arm, digging into the flesh as it tried to anchor and link me to him. I flicked out a removal spell that broke the connection, laced my hands together, and hit him with a burst of everything I had. He went flying backward, through the window into the pool. It was satisfying to watch. He tried to rise up and hover toward me, but I knocked him back in the water with another force spell.
He yelled from the pool. His wavy, brown hair trenched with water. “Baby, we can talk it out. It’s just a moment of weakness. You’ve had them with mortals.”
I’d drown him if he couldn’t breathe water. Blowing up the six-million-dollar house probably wouldn’t kill him either. Like I said, never marry a warlock. I shot another burst of energy, creating a field that pushed him under. He swam back up and came to the side, with both chiseled arms on the edge of the pool. His brown eyes tried to melt my insides. I wasn’t going to let him win again.
I walked through the window ledge, broken glass crackling under my heels. “It’s over Rich. Just over. I’m done with playing the games, or sharing you with the next mortal you pick up. Really, when I said my vows, it was forsaking everyone. Including mortals.”
“I haven’t touched another witch in ages, Catherine. Really. Scout’s honor.”
I blasted him into the pool again. Rich came up from the bottom, laughing. He swam back to the side and got out. He walked toward me with glistening, rock-hard muscles. I fought down the attraction, along with the writhing anger. Maybe blowing him up was too good for him. Slow, painful death. Maybe.



About the Author:
Marilyn Vix writes paranormal romances for women that want to forget the real world and find their new alpha boyfriend made to order from their deepest desires. She enjoys the characters that just don't fit in. From witches to time traveling researchers, she is letting her imagination soar to explore new worlds and write all the details down. Marilyn has traveled to Paris, London, Sydney, Las Vegas and Munich. She loves to include these in her settings. Best of all is letting her readers enjoy them through the perspective of a character. She currently lives in Northern California with her husband and cat. The cat, of course, is the center of attention.
Website/Blog: http://marilynvix.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/marilyn.vix
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarilynVix
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7340842.Marilyn_Vix

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Dead of Night by Carlyle Labuschagne

Humbled by Writing
I had written from the age of twelve, secretively to myself in the form of poems, song writing, keeping a diary. I had always been that girl who wanted to be liked, who needed approval from the world. I had changed myself to become popular, altered my whole being to conform to the ideals of others.

I might have been a little too good at it and in turn it cost me my YA years. 

Being popular consumed me. I tried my hand with great success at many things, from figure-skating, gymnastics, ballet, art, drama; TV presenting…the list goes on. But all those things never really touched me, moved me. The passion was lacking. So, many years later–many wrong turns later–the bad girl had to change.

The only thing ever keeping me solid and grounded was my writing…being by myself, to not have my thoughts corrupted by others. (Of course I allowed it to happen). But it wasn’t until 2009 that I felt compelled to shut the world out and indulge in my imagination without caring what anyone thought of me. I had always been ruled by that element. Self-consciousness. I felt that unexplainable sense of belonging almost instantly when I embarked on my first Novel The Broken Destiny. And in many Ava’s story reflects my own. To embrace a destiny of greatness you have to find the greatness in yourself!

At first it was all about getting all the emotion out there, and through writing my first novel, I came to terms with who I was. I finally started dealing with all my baggage I had always run away from. Writing saved me from becoming what I hated in myself.

I knew from the moment I thought about writing The Broken Destiny that I’d be published, I’d make it happen. It was not to prove anything to all those who did me wrong (okay, maybe a little). It was to be okay with me, self-approval above all approval of the untrue world out there – to set away all those false needs of belonging. It was like someone chimed a magic wand over me and I became me again.

The journey has been amazing–life changing. I have really been accepted with great encouragement by the most amazing people. And it is because of all of those who did me wrong , all those wrong turns, mistakes and bad decisions that I am able to inspire and help others feel better about themselves. My insecurities melted away the more I wrote. It is amazing to find something that is utterly and truly satisfying. For me, my novels are my soul, my journey though the dark to find the light. So yes, I am very nervous about people reading my work, as that is my soul-baring experience set in a tale of difficult and trying times created by one ’s self.

I hope to inspire, change and motivate you to follow your dreams and stray true to yourself. The only person that can hurt you is you. By being truly you, you can achieve anything you so dearly desire. I had never worked for anything in my life, one of those spoiled kids who grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth (that is how you say it in English, isn’t it?). I have overcome my language barrier with such ease; I have surprised myself and have grown because of it. I have never worked so hard and so passionately for something ever before. Having great friends along the way has helped me hang on through difficult, frustrating times. My deepest gratitude to all who have touched my life during this time (you know who you are – yes, you reading this!)

My friends still find it strange that I don’t wear high heels everywhere I go. I find myself not relying on makeup and things. Writing is my feel-good med. I am humbled by the magic it has brought to my life. I am at peace. My first novel is all about overcoming those insecurities, believing and loving one’s self. I not only changed myself through writing – I hope to change all those who read my work.

~ Don’t let fear cripple your dreams. Let love and passion give you wings ~

Happy writing all,

 Carlyle Labuschagne”



Dead of NightThe Aftershock SeriesBook OneCarlyle Labuschagne
Genre: YA Dystopian
Publisher: Fire Quill Publishing
Date of Publication: September 21, 2015ISBN: 978-0-9946536-9-7
Number of pages: 236Word Count: 72 000
Cover Artist: Sandra Valente
Book Description:
In a dark and desolated After Earth, love still does exist, but the cost of bearing such a flaw is death.World War III has left Earth in utter turmoil. People’s beliefs are said to be the cause of the worldwide destruction. After The Clearing new laws are set about – to show certitude in anything besides the law is weak and chargeable as mutiny. To be illogical and have faith in religion is illegal, to be limitless is dangerous. And Illness is seen as a defect – all flaws that are inexcusable.
But to love is the greatest betrayal of all man kind. It is a fault the world has long forgotten and punishable by death, a fatal risk Aecker and Opel are fully prepared to take – because in love there is freedom. But how far can they push back before it claims their lives and of those they care about?

Excerpt: CHAPTER ONEHEART ON FIRE
HIS VOICE ECHOES THROUGHOUT THE VAST room. It’s a voice I feel I could know, one that is as familiar to me as his handsome face. When he moves, the bunk’s springs squeak like a little rodent that is desperate to scurry away. I don’t mean to stare—but those soft gorgeous lips and strong jaw, the warm smile that brings sparkle to his honey-colored eyes, carries forth a loud voice in my head, telling me this boy can be trusted. Lingering beneath his gentle stare I can see something else, the embers of concern. They drown out the spark in his stare as he waits for my answer. Why would he show me this consideration? I don’t know who this beautiful stranger is. I look around, realizing that I don’t even know who I am. Or, if the blue cotton uniform I am wearing is even mine. I glance back down at the green tin cup I hold in my hands, and the sweet and salty aroma of corn soup fills my nostrils.“Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice is calm, but the quickening thump of his pulse and the tight set in his jaw relays something else entirely. He inches closer, beads of sweat darkening his dusty blond hair, giving away the secret he is trying so hard to hide. He is upset. Nervous. Maybe both. Is he withholding something? Unknowingly, my head tilts to the side, trying to figure out what happened to me, and who this perfect stranger might be. And why I think I might know him. The stabbing sensation in my head throbs with each breath I take, making it hard for me to think clearly. I feel wrapped up in a thick fog, and just beyond it lives some useable memory.From across the room, I stare at dirty clothes disregarded near the burn shoot. They reek of vomit and old blood. Staring at the clothes, I can immediately tell they belong to a female. The material is new, stretchy, and cut for a slim, short figure. Quickly glancing down at my body, I assume they could be mine―those clothes most definitely hold clues as to who I really am. My familiar stranger sits across from me on the bunk bed, his body turned slightly toward mine. My hand creeps up to my head wound, making me wince at the feel of the raw, painful flesh. At my obvious discomfort, he immediately moves closer, his breath warm and sweet as he leans in. His gentle fingers lift the hair from my forehead as he inspects the injury. “We need to get you to a doctor.” His voice comes out shaky, uncertainty tainting his beautiful tone.“No.” I jerk away. The dregs of my warm soup spill over the rim of the cup, splashing onto my raw fingers and wrists.He watches me carefully as I stare forcefully into his eyes. His hand suddenly moves away and then I feel it―pain. I pull back farther, even though I crave his touch.“Sorry,” he mumbles, moving one seat over, his back resting on the gray, concrete wall beside the bunk. “It hurts,” I say, confused as to what hurts more, the wound or the fact that I have no idea what is going on. “How long have I been out?” I ask him.He shrugs. “Not more than two days.”I sigh at his answer, one that comes from somewhere deep and mournful inside me. As the feeling of loss wraps around me, it’s like a vice, squeezing tighter and tighter until I can’t breathe anymore. I close my eyes, attempting to block out whatever memory is making me feel so utterly terrified.“It’s okay. He can’t hurt you anymore.”I shake my head. “It’s not that.”But, I must ask myself, who is ‘he’? Who is this brutal attacker I do not even remember?Standing slowly, I place the soup cup on the wooden bench situated beside the metal-framed bed. As he looks up at me, I feel the sudden need to run far and fast and never look back. “Thank you for your hospitality, but I-I must go.” I stumble over my words.Moving too quickly, my head meets with the source of light above me. The light ebbs out for a second, and I pull in a sharp breath as pain shoots through me once again. Suddenly, I am terrified of the dark and feel myself reaching out for him. His forearm is soft, warm, strong, and alluring all at the same time. The fear that makes my pulse race alters slightly. I suddenly fear being trapped by an emotion I do not understand. Ruled by a feeling that is strong and fatal. I lose control of my thoughts.He chuckles. “Where are you going to go in this storm?”The light flickers back on. I look up as it continues to sway back and forth above us, searching the room for something, anything, yet I’m not sure what it might be. A feeling of anxiety washes over me. It’s so intense it spreads and enters my chest, as if a bald eagle has flown down to take my heart on gilded wings. The feeling to run tugs at me again. But when I look down, I notice I’m still gripping his arm. Instinct tells me that what I’m doing is wrong, that I should never be so close to a human. “Sorry,” I apologize. When I release his forearm the golden color immediately returns to his flesh.“It’s okay.” He smiles, invitingly. “Quite a grip you have there.” He keeps the grin, shaking out his hand as if I have stopped the blood from flowing through his veins.I look away. “I can’t stay,” I announce, staring at the glimmer of light bouncing off the silver armlet wrapped tightly around my wrist―that shine, that glow, the entire piece is trying to remind me of something.As he moves, the light brings out the blond streaks in his hair, and his shirt pulls tight around muscular pecks as he crosses his arms over his chest. He grins mockingly, and ever so slightly his feet shift toward me.Nevertheless, I am aware of every single move he makes, like the way his eyelashes touch the top of his cheeks when he blinks, and how the corners of his eyes crease with the revelation of his gorgeous smile. His impeccable chest moves slowly as he breathes. His eyes hover on my face, making me shift uncomfortably. I don’t like the way he looks at me, it’s wrong. But I don’t know why I feel this way. All I know is that I don’t want to feel weak. “What?” I ask sheepishly, suddenly feeling as if my dark, blue pantsuit has become transparent. Heat rushes to my face―an unexpected and unpleasant moment.“You’ve been stalking me for weeks, and that’s all you have to say? You’re not even going to ask me my name? Or thank me for saving your life?”It’s like an anchor falls, dropping me back to the depths of the uneven mattress. The squeak fades away as shock kicks me in the gut and allows me only one long, shuddering breath. “I-I,” I falter. I have no recollection of my assault, or anything else that came before.“What is it? What’s wrong?” he whispers, his charming voice now peppered with unease. “It’s me, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?” Sitting down, he keeps his distance, as if making sure that I do not feel I am prey to his predator.“I’m not sure…I know anything.” My brows furrow, as my fingers tremble over the soft skin of my lips. The frigid cold forms goose bumps on my skin as I stare into the thick, dark, naked concrete walls of the bunker. I am just that. I am colorless and empty. I have no present. And the past has vanished. I am back in that tunnel in the dead of night, with no sense of anything other than the blackness and the loneliness reaching out for me, attempting to make my soul crumble into dust. “I don’t remember,” I finally admit, the words bitter and brief on my tongue. I wait for a while in the silence of the moment, hoping my inner animosity will dissolve, and that the fear will leave me alone so I can figure things out. What thought might trigger a memory? Gingerly, he grabs my hand and turns it, flattening my palm against his hard chest. “Aecker. My name is Aecker. You don’t remember me at all?”I shake my head.His eyes are gentle, digging up unsettled feelings within me. But he is not really sad or bothered by my sudden memory loss. In fact, he seems almost relieved. I stare at his long fingers as they wrap around my tiny wrist. The contrast between his tanned skin and my pale hand is strikingly beautiful. But the shiny, silver bracelet that takes up most of my forearm is what bothers me. I wish I knew what it meant. I feel my pulse ticking beneath his fingers, sense the beating of his heart through my palm. It’s slow and steady at first, but as time passes and as the silence mounts, the heat of our touch grows into a black hole, sucking me in to his endless gravity. I feel attached to him, as if my hand is melting right into his chest. I want to grab hold of his human heart and become one with it. I wish to wrap my hand around it and try to translate the language that’s making it move. We are suddenly tethered to each other in ways I cannot begin to fathom.With my gaze shamefully glued to his chest, his heart rate increases. Strangely, this effect rubs off on me and I can feel the beat of my own heart increase to match his, causing a perfect symmetry between us. In slow motion, I watch his Adam’s apple move up and then down as he swallows nervously. My eyes affix to his luminous, ochre gems as they grow wider―the darkness of his pupils swallowing up the magic of his irises.Abruptly, it all disappears, and I am aware of another presence in the room. Jerking my hand away, the feeling I now own is awkwardness, almost as if I have somehow been caught trespassing.“Aecker, what are you doing?” a deep voice calls out.“I can explain.” Aecker stands, the bed springs moaning at the release of his weight. I stare up at yet another beautiful man, with similar eyes and square jaw. He places a device on the center table, and then his gaze falls on me. This tall man’s eyes widen. “What happened?” He moves closer, lifting my hair from my face, his other hand―fingers unbelievably icy―grips my chin, raising my face to the light.“I couldn’t leave her…” Aecker begins.“Who did this to you?” the man asks, sitting me down beside him, allowing the creaks and groans of the mattress to once again spring to life. “She has no idea,” Aecker replies. It’s almost like his words filter right through me, and I feel like I am falling into a downward spiral, face first, swirling into the void where the forgotten stray. It’s all sitting wrong with me; my sudden memory loss, and the fact that this boy known as Aecker called me a stalker. But the most disturbing, are the feelings I just experienced between him and me. It felt sinful, but I couldn’t stop myself. So perhaps it was just as well the stranger interrupted when he did, or who knows what would have happened.The tall man stands, clears his throat and asks me my name. From the corner of my eye, I see Aecker shaking his head. “Do you have a name? Or shall I just call you ‘girl’?”“No, sir.” I shake my head, too.“Sir?” His head jerks in Aecker’s direction then back to me, as a look of confusion appears in his eyes. He takes a few steps back, like I’m infected with some horrific disease that he will do anything to protect himself from. “Do you remember anything at all?”I continue to shake my head as if I were made of nothing but wires and conduits―something completely mechanical that is unable to think or feel, just follow orders. “She must be a City Dweller.” His words are said with distaste, sounding like he wants nothing more than to spit on the floor at the mere thought of something as hideous as me infiltrating his life. When he notices the bracelet around my wrist, his shoulders slump dramatically. Closing his eyes and pressing his long, dark lashes against tanned skin, he looks as if he is trying desperately to hold back something, yet impatience appears in his voice. “She’s a Tracker. She must leave right now,” he states with finality, making me feel like I have successfully drowned in that black void where my forgotten memories live, where I will be washed away and swallowed up, never to be seen again. “She does not look anything like a Tracker!” Aecker’s words are defensive. “There are whispers of the new generation.”“It doesn’t matter, Dyllian!” Aecker says passionately, moving closer and pushing the older boy away so that he is now standing between us. “You know it does. You have to get rid of her. If they find her, if Cupola even catches one scent of this intruder and your involvement with her, you will be killed and I can’t do anything to stop it. Trackers bring nothing but death. You know that!”Aecker moves even closer to me, his hands come to rest on my shoulders as he stares into my eyes. “She’s nothing like them.”“What is a Tracker?” My thoughts are finally voiced.Dyllian steps back, resting an elbow against the wall. With the other hand, he pulls out a dirty old rag and wipes his face. “Trackers are soldiers, spies, assassins. They are here to kill any Inborns and infiltrate their hideouts. To bring violent death to Believers and make examples of their flaws.”“Believers of what?” I interrupt again.Dyllian’s eyes pin mine so strongly, I feel like a deer staring down an eager hunter’s arrow.“Of anything.” Aecker notices my distress, and I grip my hands together so they don’t see me shaking. Fear is a weakness. “Like I said,” Aecker strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers, “You are not one of them.” Despite his tender eyes holding mine, trying to offer comfort, his words still burn a hole through my chest. A deep and intense heat causes my heart to beat erratically, because I realize that he is looking at me like I am his only possession; his to protect until his very last breath. And this time, I don’t mind the way it makes me feel. As Dyllian turns to study me, something alerts my brain that my small, dark world is about to be buried by this revelation, and the flicker of hope I saw in Aecker’s eyes just moments ago is about to be extinguished. I know why my heart feels as if it is on fire; I want to be his hope, but I don’t know how I possibly can be. If I am a Tracker, it will mean the death of something that is being born between us. I might not know who or what I am, but I know unequivocally that I don’t want to live without the promise of a future and a life beaming in Aecker’s eyes. I like the way it makes me feel.


About the Author:
Calyle is an South African award wining author, with a flair for mixing genres and adding loads of drama to every story she creates. For now she is happy to take over the world and convert non Sci-fi believers.
Her goal as an author is to touch people's lives, and help others love their differences and one another by delivering strong messages of faith, love and hope within every outrageous world she writes about.
"I love to swim, fight for the trees, and am a food lover who is driven by my passion for life. I dream that one day my stories will change the lives of countless teenagers and have them obsess over the world literacy can offer them instead of worrying about fitting in. Never sacrifice who you are, its in the dark times that the light comes to life."
Carlyle used writing as a healing tool and that is why she started her very own writers support event - SAIR bookfestival.
 "To be a helping hand for those who strive to become full times writers, editors, bloggers, readers and cover artists – it’s a crazy world out there you dont have to go it alone!"
https://www.facebook.com/Carlyle-Labuschagne-189835811074342
https://twitter.com/CarlyleL
https://instagram.com/carlylelab/
http://www.amazon.com/Carlyle-Labuschagne/e/B00CHZ2IWE/

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Guest Blog and Giveaway Confessions of a Punk Rocker by Nessie Strange

TOP TEN FAVORITE PARANORMAL/HORROR TV SHOWS
I’ve always been a huge fan of anything paranormal and/or horror, so this was real tough to narrow down. I know I’m missing some…but these are ones that I either watch now, or stick out in my memory even years later. Here are a few of my favorites, in no particular order: 
1) Supernatural: Sam and Dean Winchester. Crowley. Castiel. This show has pretty much everything—a fantastic cast of characters, the perfect balance of humor and creepy moments, and one hell of ride along the way.  I discovered this show by accident a few years ago, binged watched until I caught up, and still watch to this day.
2) Walking Dead: Zombies, drama and no character is safe in a zombie infested, post-apocalyptic world. We see some of the worst parts of humanity and the constant struggle for survival. Riveting.
3) Tales from the Crypt: I watched this when I was in high school. Each episode was a self-contained story…with the Cryptkeeper with his stupid puns and one-liners. This one sticks out in my mind.
4) Parasyte: The Maxim: This one is an anime, about a parasitic alien species that invades earth and turns people into these weird, limb extending, murderous creatures…then the teenage boy who coexists with his parasite rather than being taken over by it. Strangely compelling story, very gruesome. 
5) X Files: This show took up a large part of my TV viewing past when I was in high school and college. Agents Scully and Mulder and all their bizarre cases showed a world where there was much more unexplained phenomenon than we could ever imagine.
6) Scream Queens: This is a recent discovery for me. I love black comedy. Some (Ok, most) of the characters are over- the-top atrocious people that you can’t help but root for them to be taken out by the mysterious, devil costume wearing dude.  
7) Ghost Hunt: Another anime. This centers around a high school girl who finds herself part of a paranormal investigation team. Some very creepy scenes and great art work, mixed with interesting story lines as the team takes on each new case.
8) The Strain: This one is also new to me. Parasitic worms that turn people into vampires? Sure, why the hell not. Humanity’s fight for survival, NYC almost completely incapacitated and an unlikely group of survivors trying to stop it. 
9) Bates Motel: I was a bit skeptical going to this one, but was pleasantly surprised. Creepy mother-son relationship and young Norman Bates’ fight against his dark nature. 
10) Shiki: I admit it. I watch a fair amount of anime. This one is about a vampire family that descends upon a small, isolated village and begins taking its inhabitants out one by one. If you ignore all the characters have really weird hair, it’s a dark story where nobody is safe and the humans are capable of things just as monstrous as the creatures. 





Confessions of a Punk RockerLiving Dead WorldBook 0.5Nessie Strange
Genre: Paranormal/Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Etopia Press
Date of Publication: Sept 25 2015
ISBN: 978-1-944138-05-9ASIN: B015QJ7TAS
Number of pages: 268Word Count: 55305
Book Description:
The dead should stay dead...
Jack Norris has just lost his best friend—who also happened to be his band's drummer—to a drunk driving accident. As he struggles to deal with the band's uncertain future and his own personal demons, those issues soon become unimportant. His dead friend has come back. And he's not showing any signs of going away. Questioning his own sanity, Jack finds his life spiraling out of control. But when a new acquaintance not only hooks him up with a drummer, but promises to help get rid of his ghostly stalker, Jack's life does a one-eighty.
Drew MacLellan, the new drummer, is more than just a new set of sticks—he's the brother of the insanely hot Jen MacLellan, who's definitely not Jack's biggest fan. Jen is nothing like the women Jack's dated in the past, but the more he gets to know her, the deeper he falls. The only problem is she's got a boyfriend. Caught between his growing attraction and the desire to do the right thing, Jack does everything he can to keep his distance. But the more he sees of her, the more he realizes he can't. He's determined to win Jen's heart, if only he can figure out how to help his dead friend rest in peace...permanently.
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EXCERPT#2
She follows me into the house, and I sing along to the Ramones, really ham it up to try and lighten the mood. I gesture toward the couch, and she sits. It’s kind of a stiff, awkward-looking pose, and I’m not sure if that’s because of me or because she’s upset.“So, princess. You’ve sunk to a whole new level coming to me for help, haven’t you?” I mean it as a joke, to cut myself down, but she clearly doesn’t find it funny because her eyes fill with tears again.“Shit.” I exhale a slow breath. I’m a little too good at saying the wrong thing where she’s concerned. I hate this feeling, whatever it is, because I’m on edge. No, I’m self-conscious. On a level I never dreamed possible. Funny how I can stand up on stage and feel like a king, but one girl has me second-guessing myself with a single expression. Of course, it doesn’t help that I’m in front of her wearing only a towel. “Look, I’m gonna go get dressed. Just sit tight, OK? I’ll see if I can figure something out.”She nods, her face still flushed, but the tears are drying again. And as sick and twisted and inappropriately timed as it seems, my first thought looking at her is that this whole disheveled look she’s sporting is sexy as hell. OK, I need to leave the room, now. I realize as I shut the bedroom door behind me that my heart is pounding. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Don’t be fucking stupid, Jack. That girl wants nothing to do with you. Not to mention, this is not the time to be having thoughts like that. Yet, the image that flashes into my brain is Voodoo Chick, and that matter-of-fact way she says I know you dig her, there’s no point in denying it. Do I? Yeah, she’s attractive, but I see attractive women all the time. But they don’t make me feel like a moron when I’m around them, not like this girl. What kind of a fucking joke is this situation?I take my time getting dressed. Mostly it’s to compose myself. No need to treat her any different than any of my other friends. There’s no point in letting myself stress over a girl I can’t have. Wait…is that what it is? Do I want her because I can’t have her? I frown at my reflection in the mirror. No, that’s never been my style. Why waste the effort? That’s always been my philosophy. Which means, I really am into her. Fuck.What a stupid, inconvenient time for self-realization. I head back downstairs, stuffing that newfound realization into a little compartment somewhere deep inside me. Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, does it? She’s got a boyfriend. She doesn’t even like me. And there it is. Truth, but it stings. That little compartment won’t stay shut now. The lid keeps popping open, and what’s inside taunts me.



About the Author:
Nessie is a Massachusetts native and mother of two who has dabbled in everything from abstract painting to freelance sports reporting. She also loves a good story, whether it's reading or writing one. The first two novels in her Living Dead World series--Living Dead Girl and Reaper Madness--were published in 2014.
http://www.nessiestrange.com
http://nessieslivingdeadworld.blogspot.com
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Nighttime Promises by M.A. Church

Nighttime PromisesMake a WishBook 2M.A. Church
Genre: M/M, Sci-Fi
Publisher: ARe Books
Date of Publication: November 1, 2015
Word Count: 54,000
Cover Artist: Erin Dameron-Hill
Book Description:
When you wish upon a star… it comes true in ways you never expected.
Things have gone downhill since Sheriff Bryan Coltrane got involved in the FBI’s investigation of a recent UFO crash. Not only is a homophobic agent pushing his buttons, but he’s made contact with one of the aliens…who wants him for a mate!Daroshi, a warrior with tentacles from the planet Maz’Rar, monitored the rescue of his captain, Ziang. Impressed by the courageous and brawny human male, he wants Bryan for his own despite knowing little about the race. Neither man is prepared for the problems arising from Daroshi’s desires, or the passion exploding between them.
What’s an alien to do when his mate harps on his civil rights and makes demands? He makes the wishes come true.
Excerpt: Bryan came awake with a snap. One second there was nothing, then the next he was awake, his body jacked up with adrenaline. His heart went from zero to sixty in two seconds flat, and his muscles tightened. His brain yelled at him through the sludge in his mind. Danger! Confused, he lay quietly, not moving. Something teased the edge of his brain, a warning that something was wrong—dreadfully, Earth-shatteringly wrong. He fought to control his breathing as he tried to figure out the hazy feeling of impending danger that haunted him. Earth-shattering wrong… Earth…“Fuck!” Bryan yelled as memories exploded over him. He reared up on the table, his head bobbing back and forth, eyes wide. The room he was in reminded him of a creepy alien movie set with its dim lighting, odd symbols, strange equipment, and funky-colored walls that looked… alive. Fear snaked through his chest as he recalled those two tall-ass fuckers chasing him through his house. The knowledge that he was screwed—totally and completely screwed—scared him witless. He was more than likely going to die here.“Fuck!” he yelled again, his hands frantically pawing at his naked chest as another memory hit him. He’d been shot. One of them raised its arm, fired a beam of light at him, and shot him—then darkness. He took the hit in the chest. So where was the pain, the mess of being shot, the blood? There was nothing: no hole, no burn from whatever they shot him with, no blood. Just nothing. A boot scraped across the floor, and he looked up. Both aliens he’d fought with were moving toward him. Neither had their faceguards on this time. Bryan sat stunned. They looked amazingly human in the face. On each side of their necks was a thick cord of muscle that thinned as it reached their ears. The shape of their noses was human, but flared. There was a ridge running down the middle too. They had high foreheads and scales around the eyes. Their eyes were human-shaped, but the sclera was red instead of white with vertically split pupils. In place of eyebrows, there was a line of scales, and under the eyes were marks that looked like small symbols. The shape of their lips was also human. Instinct kicked in. He pulled his leg up and grabbed the knife out of his ankle sheath. If he was going to die then, by God, he was going to go down fighting. He gripped the knife as the smaller of the two aliens approached.“Bryan, don’t!” Daroshi held one hand out while he waved frantically at Ziang to stay back. “Put that down. We’re not going to hurt you.”Startled, the knife wavered in Bryan’s grasp. He could understand them perfectly. “How the hell can I understand you?”“I implanted a device that helps translate language. We all have one. I did it while you were unconscious. No one’s going to harm you, so put the knife down.” Horrified, Bryan stared at the smaller alien. They messed around in his head? What else had they done to him? Did they not understand consent and boundaries? “Yeah, right, that’s not happening.”“Bryan, you’re on my spaceship orbiting Earth. There’s no way off this ship,” Ziang said. “I know you’re frightened, but I give my word you’re safe. Put the weapon down.”“Your word—that’s supposed to mean something to me?” Bryan clutched the weapon tighter. “If you plan to kill me, I will—”“Kill you?” Daroshi gasped at the direction Bryan’s thoughts had run. “Gods, no! Why would you think that? The last thing I want is you dead. We’re not going to harm you.” “Not going to harm me? Are you kidding me? Last I checked knocking me out, hauling my ass here, and messing with my brain—shit, you put something in my damn head—falls in the category of harming me.” Bryan shot a glance at Ziang, who stood frozen. “Why the fuck am I here? What do you want with me? I didn’t tell anyone about you. I went out of my way to cover for you. So what the hell?”Daroshi took a deep breath and moved closer. “I’ll explain everything to you, but I need you to put the weapon down.”“I don’t fucking think so.” Daroshi took a step closer. “Bryan—”“Stop! Don’t get any closer. I will use this.”“Would you believe Shawn?” Ziang suddenly asked. Something had to be done before the situation escalated more out of control. “Would seeing my mate help you understand we aren’t going to hurt you? Do you understand I’m willing to put him in harm’s way to prove we won’t hurt you?”“But, Sir—” Daroshi jerked his head to look at Ziang, shocked. Would he really do that to help Bryan and him?“Yeah.”Daroshi’s head snapped back around to Bryan. At this rate, he was going to have whiplash.“Just stay calm, and I’ll have Shawn here momentarily.” Ziang tapped on his wrist device. Ziang opened the com so Bryan could hear the conversation. “Blayno, I have an emergency in Medical. I need you to contact Shawn and transport here. Now. Tell him Bryan is here and awake.”“Yes, Sir.” Blayno responded, then the com when silent.“Shawn will be here shortly. But I will warn you, Bryan, you attempt to harm my mate, and I will stun you.”Daroshi growled, the very thought of Ziang stunning Bryan triggered his protection instinct. “Ziang, if you do—”Bryan kept his eyes on both aliens. What was going on? Both aliens looked ready to square off. “Hey, I have no intention of harming Shawn—”“Oh, only us?” Daroshi snapped as he turned to look at Bryan.Zing sliced his hand through the air, trying to stop what was fast building into another useless conversation. “Regardless—”Bryan gripped the knife. “He didn’t fucking ambush my ass after I went to all the trouble of covering for you guys—”“We couldn’t very well have walked in the front door.” Daroshi hissed. “In case you didn’t notice, we don’t look human.”“—nor did he stun me.”“Dear gods, come on, Shawn,” Ziang muttered.Daroshi glared. “You stunned my commander first—”“I had two big-ass aliens after me, of course I tased him. What did you expect after the way you busted through the window? You think I was going to offer you a beer? And fuck, my house is probably gonna burn down since I left the damn stove on!” Bryan yelled. “Son of a bitch, I left the damn stove on.”The door to Medical opened and Shawn walked inside, with Blayno guarding him. He’d heard most of the conversation from outside.“Huh, I did tell you he wouldn’t come without a fight.” Smirking, Shawn took in the flushed faces of Daroshi and Bryan. “Think I also warned you to disarm him.”Daroshi threw his hands up in the air. “Are all humans like this?”“Only the ones half scared out of their minds.” Shawn turned to Bryan. “How’s it hanging, dude?”“Shawn?” Bryan whispered, relieved to see another actual human. “Is that really you? They didn’t, like, turn you into a pod person or something, did they? It’s really you?”Shawn choked back a laugh. “It’s me.”He walked closer to Bryan, and Ziang growled loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls. “Shawn, do not move any closer to him, he has a—”“Chill out, E.T. I’m not the one he’s threatening.” Shaking his head, he jumped on the medibed and sat down next to Bryan. “Bryan, they aren’t going to hurt you, I promise. But the knife has to go, dude.”Shawn held out his hand. A nasty brew of emotions flooded Bryan’s throat. Fear, confusion, shock, embarrassment—and relief—spiked, and the overwhelming need to cry flooded him. No longer quite so afraid, he handed the knife to Shawn, who quickly threw it on the floor at Daroshi’s feet. Shawn held out his arms, and the bigger man fell into them. “What do they want with me, Shawn?” Bryan’s voice was quiet.
“That would be better left to Daroshi to explain.” Shawn’s voice was just as low. “By the way, the shorter one is Daroshi. Just listen to him and keep an open mind—a very open mind—and I promise you won’t regret it. A whole new world is opening up.”
 About the Author:
M.A. Church is a true Southern belle who spent many years in the elementary education sector. Now she spends her days lost in fantasy worlds, arguing with hardheaded aliens on far-off planets, herding her numerous shifters, or trying to tempt her country boys away from their fishing poles. It’s a full time job, but hey, someone’s gotta do it!
When not writing, she’s exploring the latest M/M novel to hit the market, watching her beloved Steelers, or sitting glued to HGTV. That’s if she’s not on the back porch tending to the demanding wildlife around the pond in the backyard. The ducks are very outspoken. She’s married to her high school sweetheart, and they have two children. She was a finalist in the Rainbow awards for 2013.
For more information on other books by M.A., visit her official website: www.machurch00.blogspot.com
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5141393.M_A_Church

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The Killing Cure: Drink by C.S. Kendall

Hello, and thanks so much for having me on your blog today! It’s an honor to be here. So, let’s talk about story. Those transcending, inspiring, time-robbing plots that suck us in and keep us turning the pages until the last one.
What is that?
Why do we feel with certain books and characters that we’ve teleported from our reality to an alternate one?
This, my friends, is the power of story.
I remember as a kid losing myself in book after book. It didn’t really matter what type of book, though I had a proclivity toward mysteries. I’d daydream about the characters, the situations they found themselves in, what happened to them beyond the pages of whatever book I read. And into adulthood, those tendencies continued. Taking it a step further, I can recall several occasions leaving a movie theater with a feeling of invincibility, that the world was my oyster and I could conquer it at will. Or leaving the theater or closing a book with solemn observation as it caused me to reflect and think and wonder what I would do in those situations, or how a given scenario applied to me.
Some of my books, like my debut, The Killing Cure: Drink, are paranormal or contain some type of fantasy component. Those kinds of books are important because we need a chance to feel the world outside of our own realities. That world is ripe with possibilities, where anything can happen, as long as you can imagine it. These kinds of book take us from real life and transport us someplace else.
Then there are other books that reflect our realities or take guesses about what may become our reality should we continue down a certain path. Those books give us characters to cling to who are not unlike ourselves--who struggle with similar troubles and motivations and questions and doubts. And we say to those characters: “Do this!” or “Don’t do that!” because we can put ourselves in their shoes and live vicariously through their experiences, which may not fall too far from our own. And it provides a type of empowerment, only to find ourselves at the mercy of whatever fate is penned for them. Even so, we enjoy the ride, we relish the chance to say “If I were in their shoes, I would….” and sometimes it makes a difference. We may feel inclined to take a step we’ve been holding back from or to seize the day because a book reminded us of the preciousness of life.
This is the kind of experience I’d love to offer people who read what I write. An opportunity to transcend…whether you need a break from is a life that seems to be taking all the wrong turns or a tough decision or a feeling of being stuck in limbo. Whether you’re depressed or anxious or just coming out of a tough relationship or bogged down with mommy duties or work demands or endless stress. I want to be an author among many whose characters offer that to people--a chance to escape--whether that escape is a truly temporary leaving of one's situation or if it’s a chance to re-evaluate our real lives through the lens of a character we can relate to. If readers can dive into my books and experience this, that makes me a success as an author.
After all, isn’t that what a good story is all about?


The Killing Cure: DrinkBook OneC.S. Kendall
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Booktrope
Date of Publication: September 24, 2015
ISBN: 978-1513704586ASIN: 1513704583
Number of pages: 200Word Count: 63,871
Cover Artist: Shari Ryan
Book Description:
Childhood friendship turns to love in this dark reimagining of the fountain of youth. In 1919, Charlie returns from WWI and gives his heart to Julia. As their love story begins, tragedy strikes when Julia contracts a deadly illness.
On her deathbed, dreams of a future together shatter, but Charlie refuses to give up, convincing Julia to drink from a vial of “healing waters” his war buddy swore would bring spontaneous healing. Julia's miraculous recovery brings hope, but the water's murderous side effects snuff out the couple’s short-lived joy.
Can Charlie help Julia fight the water's call to kill? All their efforts may be in vain when Julia has to choose between running from the curse or embracing it in order to save Charlie.
Journey with Julia and Charlie through a love story that spans a hundred years and an age-old curse that spans more and worse, puts Charlie’s life and Julia’s soul at risk.
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/NLNDojMxckQ

Amazon     BN
Excerpt:She wheeled me to our meeting place. Charlie was not sitting on the lumpy couch like he usually was; instead, he stood, his feet almost bouncing as they met the ground. His eyes were bright, his smile bigger than I’d ever seen.As soon as we were alone, I asked, "What are you so happy about?""First," he said and then kissed me. "Second, I’m happy because today you’re going to get well."I hardly had the energy to lift my gaze to his face. "Can you sit, please?""Oh sure, of course. See, I knew you’d beat this thing. It only became clear to me today how it would happen. I took the next train as soon as I knew.""What are you talking about?""Sorry. Okay." He took a deep breath and tried again. "Do you remember my war buddy Arnold I told you about?""Was he the one who wanted to be the horse doctor or the one with the bizarre obsession with water?""The water." Charlie’s eyes lit, and he pulled a chain from his pocket. On the end of it was a small vial with a clear liquid in it. "All I’ve thought about since I left you last was how I couldn’t lose you. I racked my brain all week long, prayed to God for you when I should've been sleeping, until the answer came this morning. I remembered I had it. You should've heard how he carried on and on about this water, how it would heal, how he went through hell to get it but it was worth it should he ever need it. And I thought, ‘Why let it go to waste?’ Especially now that you need it so badly. Obviously there was a reason I held on to the water. It wasn’t clear until now.""Oh, I love you. But there's no such thing as healing waters. You said yourself he was superstitious.""I know I did, but what if there's more to it than I thought? I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before.""Look at me, Charlie. I am skin and bones. My entire body hurts, and I can barely eat. I am being consumed right before your eyes, and you’ve got your sights set on some silly potion."And then I saw it. Behind the fire in Charlie’s eyes lived desperation. All his hope hinged on this sip of water. Insane as it was, he was willing to embrace any farfetched possibility if it meant he didn’t have to face the reality of living without me.His face fell a little at my words, but he wouldn't be discouraged. "What will it hurt? Drink it, please. For me." He held the vial out, and I studied him. Hopelessness threatened to burst through the expectation in his eyes, and I felt sad for him. I, with a body full of consumption, pitied Charlie.The pity came on the heels of my love for him. His plea warmed my heart, desperate as it was, because somewhere, deep down, despite all his optimism and prayers, he knew I was going to die. I took it from him, opened it up, and tipped it back. What harm could one small sip of water do?

About the Author:
C.S. Kendall spent her formative years growing up in the small town of McPherson, KS. As such, there was not much to do, so her imagination, which always lagged behind her age, had free reign. From playing dress up into her teens, recording radio shows with various voices and storylines with her friends, to dappling with the art of crafting a novel, there were few dull moments for her. Enter adulthood, a day job, and the backburner. But story came calling, and finally, her imagination woke up and answered. Though she loves and is fulfilled by her job as a social work therapist, she equally enjoys running away in her mind to imaginary lands with made up people. She lives happily with her husband and their two amazing children in southwest Michigan.
Learn more by visiting http://cskendall.net
Facebook: www.facebook.com/cskendallbooks
Twitter: https://twitter.com/CSKendallwrites
Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/C.S.-Kendall/e/B015UEF7IK/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9836561.C_S_Kendall

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