Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 358

Blitz Wendigo Rising: A Yancy Lazarus Novel by James A. Hunter

Wendigo Rising:
A Yancy Lazarus NovelEpisode ThreeJames A. Hunter
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Shadow Alley Press
Date of Publication: November 3rd, 2015
ASIN: B0163REPD6
Number of pages: 400Word Count: 110,000
Cover Artist: Dane EbookLaunch.com
Book Description:
Bigfoot is real. Yancy Lazarus—mage, bluesman, and rambler—knows because there happens to be a nine-foot-tall, walking myth standing in the road, flagging him down.
Yancy just can’t escape his reputation as a supernatural Fix-it man even when cruising through the forgotten backwoods of Montana. Turns out Bigfoot has a serious problem on his hands: one of his own has gone rogue, developing a taste for the flesh of humans and Sasquatch alike. A greater Wendigo has risen for the first time in thousands of years and if Yancy can’t stop the creature it could be a slaughter for the residents of a rural Montana town.
But even with the monstrous threat looming on the horizon, Yancy has bigger fish to fry. He’s working as an agent of Fate, attempting to put the kibosh on a nefarious scheme, aimed at upsetting the tenuous balance between the supernatural nations. When your boss is Lady Luck, however, nothing is ever left to chance, and his two cases may have more in common than it appears. If he can’t figure out the missing link it could usher in a new world order: an age of inhuman creatures and walking nightmares … one where Yancy Lazarus doesn’t exist.

Available at Amazon

Excerpt:Bigfoot is real. I know the existence of this nigh-mythical figure is pretty controversial in a lot of circles; tons of drunken bar brawls and fistfights have started over this very topic. Money, religion, politics, and Bigfoot: these are the things best avoided in polite conversation. Unless, of course, you want someone to punch you in the nose or call the men in white jackets. Don’t believe me? Next Thanksgiving, ask your assorted family members their thoughts on Bigfoot and see where the conversation goes. It’ll be entertaining, that much I can promise.Me, though? I’ve never been one for polite conversation, and I’d love to see the crazy-police try to haul my ass in.Plus, this isn’t some delusional, government-conspiracy, paranoia thing. I know Bigfoot is real. There was one standing in the road, flagging me down. Jeez, my life.I’d glimpsed one years ago and at a distance. A rare encounter. The creatures—Chiye-tanka, for those in the know—are elusive as hell and covet their privacy like paparazzi-weary celebs, evidenced by the fact that no one has ever managed to get much on ’em despite what basically amounts to a nationwide ape hunt. They’re monstrously big and about as inconspicuous as a pro wrestler sporting a neon pink tutu, but they’re also faster than the Road Runner high on speed, uncannily quiet, and boast some crazy-impressive skills with illusion and glamour constructs.Apparently, the creature standing in the road was the slow kid in the class, the one sitting in the corner with the dunce cap, because this big, hairy roadblock was taking approximately zero percent of the usual Bigfoot evasive precautions. Might as well have been wearing a road guard vest and waving a friggin’ hand flare. He was colossal, nine feet easy, all mud-colored hair and muscle. Lots and lots of muscle—heck, his muscles had muscles with their own gym membership. He was built on the same scale as a gorilla, only bigger. Much bigger. His face was leathery black and flat, surrounded by flecks of silvered hair. He had deep recessed eyes of brilliant green, which regarded me with a strangely thoughtful expression.He didn’t look particularly pissed off, which was good since I was sure he could throw me into orbit with those big ol’ monkey arms. Either that or put an asteroid-sized dent in the hood of my ’86 El Camino—part car, part mobile home, and one hundred percent badass—the worse of the two options in my book. I braked since there was no point in trying to run the walking carpet over. With my luck, a collision would level my car without putting so much as a dent in Kong. I slowed to a crawl, the engine rumbling beneath me as I tried to decide what in the hell to do. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel.
Dammit.  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 Talented Characters as Alcoholic Beverages

Carmel’s Chocolate Cupcake Cocktail
Ingredients:• ¼ cup Vanilla frosting• 1 cup Rainbow jimmies• Chocolate syrup• 1oz Whipped cream vodka• 1oz Amaertto• 1oz Chocolate cream liquor• 1oz Heavy whipping cream• Ice cubes• Serving glass (I used a martini glass, but any glass you have could be used)

Instructions:1. Rim your serving glass with a generous amount of vanilla frosting. Make sure to get the inside, outside and top of the rim.
2. Place rainbow jimmies into a flat bottomed, shallow bowl (or a small plate). Press frosted glass into the jimmies. You may need to move the jimmies around to ensure that all the frosting has be covered.
3. On the inside of the glass, swirl chocolate syrup starting at the top and ending at the bottom of the glass.
4. In a large glass, place the ice, whipped cream vodka, amaertto, chocolate cream liquor and heavy whipping cream. Stir with a spoon until well combined and chilled.
5. Carefully strain into the prepared glass.


Flora’s Tea Time Flip

Ingredients:
• Infused Gin:• 2 cups gin• 2 tablespoons loose leaf earl grey tea• Flip:• 2 teaspoons egg white powder• 2 tablespoons warm water• 3/4 ounces fresh Meyer lemon juice• 3/4 teaspoon maraschino syrup• 1 lemon twist• Serving suggestion: Chilled cocktail glass

Instructions:
1. To infuse the gin with tea: Put the gin and earl grey tea in a non-reactive container; stir to combine. Cover and set aside to steep for 1 hour. 
2. Strain without pressing down the leaves. The infused gin will keep, covered, for up to 3 weeks.
3. Whisk the egg white powder and warm water in a small bowl until smooth and frothy.
4. Fill a cocktail shaker two-thirds full of ice and add 1 1/2 ounces of the infused gin, lemon juice, simple syrup, and egg white mixture. 
5. Cover and shake vigorously until thoroughly mixed and chilled, about 30 seconds. (In general, the drink is ready by the time the shaker mists up.) 
6. Fill the bottom of a martini glass with maraschino syrup. Strain cocktail into the glass to float on top of syrup. Drop in the lemon twist. Drink.
Devon’s Mojito

Ingredients: 
• Ice• 6 ounces light rum• 12 mint sprigs, or spearmint, 8 roughly broken apart• 6 tablespoons fresh lime juice• 4 tablespoons sugar• Club soda• 4 slices lime


Instructions: 1. Place ice in beverage shaker.
2. Then add in the rum, 
3. Next add in 8 broken up mint sprigs, 
4. Followed by lime juice and sugar. 
5. Finally Shake well and serve over ice in a high ball glass. 
6. Top off each glass with a splash of club soda.
7. Garnish each with a slice of lime and a sprig of mint


Ricky’s Rum Runner
Ingredients:• Two cups ice• 1 oz. pineapple juice• 1 oz. orange juice• 1 oz. blackberry liqueur• 1 oz. banana liqueur• 1 oz. light rum• 1 oz. dark rum or aged rum• Splash grenadine

Instructions: 
Blended:
1. Fill your blender with the ice
2. Add all of the liquid ingredients
3. Blend the contents until smooth
4. Pour into a Hurricane glass and garnish with an orange slice
5. Add the 151 floater!

On the Rocks:
1.Fill glass with ice. Add the liquid contents. Pour the 151 in the straw or on the 



The Talented 2:Past Lives RevealedThe TalentedBook TwoDesy Smith
Genre: YA Romance Fantasy Fiction
Publisher: Floebe Publishing          
Date of Publication: September 20, 2015
ISBN: 978-1512216714ASIN: 1512216712
Number of pages: 223Word Count: 55,377
Cover Artist: Rose Smith    
Book Description:
Carmel’s time at the H.O.T hasn’t been all that pleasant.  She’s gotten drugged, captured, and had to endure her painful change.  When Carmel finally starts to enjoy her life at the H.O.T with her friends and her boyfriend Devon; Queen Ice, her annoying past life, contacts her.  Queen Ice not only tells her about the impending battle between the good angels and the evil angels, she also continues to pop up in Carmel’s mind, showing her images from her life in the past.  Now, Carmel, her friends along with her boyfriend, race to find a sword that they believe will give them leverage in the battle to come.
Unfortunately it isn’t as easy as it seems.  There are others who are aware of the sword, and they’ll do anything to retrieve it before Carmel does.  In addition, Carmel can’t use her Water or Ice Talent to help in the battle and she doesn’t know why!  On top of that, there’s one or more people in Carmel's group who aren’t whom they say they are.  Can Carmel find the sword?  Will she be able to figure out why her Talents aren’t working?  Can she discover who in the group is lying to her and the others about who they really are? 
Be sure to read the second series of The Talented by Author Desy Smith to see how the story unfolds!
Available at Amazon  and DesySmith.wix.com

Excerpt: We’re a couple of streets down from the museum, waiting on Devon to issue instructions.  Earlier, as we laid in bed, I brought up Ms. Platinum Blonde from the airport. Her name is Tray and as I thought, it wasn’t anything serious. He did sleep with her before he met me and that was it. It was just about sex, and honestly, that didn’t bother me. I knew Devon had a life before he met me. I would be dumb to think otherwise.“Okay, so here’s the plan, we go in teams of two.” Devon says inside the car outside the museum. I know I should have been overjoyed because this is my first mission with them. But I’m not. My lower back was bothering me. But I endure the pain, because I knew if Devon found out, I would be left behind, again. “Mel and Ricky are one team, and Flora.” He says her name with disgust. “And I are another team.”“Oh, no sir.” Flora says. “I would rather go by myself.”“Flora, go with Devon. This will give you two time to bond with each other.” I add. I look at Ricky who is nodding his head in agreement. “I don’t want to bond with him!” Flora yells. Ricky gently grabs her and they both get out the car and start talking, well, arguing.“I told you she wouldn’t want to do it.” Devon says. I roll my eyes.“You weren’t very nice about it.”“Really? I thought I was.” Liar. Flora and Ricky open the car door.“Okay, we’re ready, and Flora said she would be honored to be in your company.” Ricky says.“You’re pushing it.” Flora replies with her arms cross, glaring at Devon.
            We make our way toward the back entrance of the museum, where two dead police officers are holding the door open. “Someone’s already here.” Devon says and Flora gives him a ‘duh’ look. He and Ricky move them both inside the door and close it. I notice the alarm on the right side of the door, smoking.“The alarm system has been fried, which prevents the alarm from being triggered.” He tells us. “Okay, let’s go ahead and split up. Flora and I will take downstairs, Mel and Ricky will take the second floor and we will meet on the third floor, and divide that equally.” He turns his attention to Ricky. “If anything happens to Carmel, do know I will take your life.” Ricky sighs while I roll my eyes. There he goes again, threatening to kill people. The museum is really creepy at night without any lighting and people. I and Ricky’s first stop is the Egyptian room. “Did the Egyptians exist when the angels were here?” I question. Even though my back is killing me, and I want to soak in a bathtub, eating eggs with syrup, I am joyous because I have alone time with Ricky, which means I can grill him.“Yes, remember the angels came down when Adam and Eve were placed on earth.” Oh yeah. I start to recall the story Flora told me.   “Your great times 10 grandfather knows a lot about the Angels.” I say as I pick up another vase and look inside before tossing it in the ‘don’t need’ pile. “I think it’s amazing how the stories of Queen Ice were passed down from child to child, but maybe they’re a little less than factual.”“I don’t believe I understand what you’re implying.” I turn to look at him, and try to make out his facial expression but couldn’t because of the moonlight being the only lighting in the museum.“I’m just saying people tell stories to each other and sometimes they add a little extra in. Who’s to say that didn’t happen?” I’m purposely trying to anger him, hoping his rage will make him spill his secret accidently.“It didn’t.”“How would you know? You weren’t there?” I stand up. “Or were you?” “You’re acting like Devon now. Do you have something to say, or will you speak in riddles for the rest of the night?” Ricky states calmly, showing no signs of anger. “Were you there, Ricky?” I ask, getting to the point, enough of the bull crap.“There, as in I was an Angel in the Angel era?”             “Yes.” He laughs.“That’s unlikely, I would be very old and senile.” Anything is possible, I say to myself, repeating what Ice told me weeks ago. “Well, I don’t believe we age like humans. Actually, I think we can be century’s old and still look young.” Like Ricky, I thought. “Time doesn’t matter to us.” Suddenly, a light bulb goes off in my mind. I make my way to the wall where a directory is hung. I notice a room on the third floor dedicated to artifacts with no accurate time. Otherwise known as the Timeless room. The vase has to be in there.“I think I figured it out, Ricky.” “What, how angels age?” I shake my head.“Nope, I think I know where the vase is at.” I run out the door, ignoring Ricky as he calls my name, and up the stairs. I walk down the hall until I come upon a cracked door with the words Timeless printed in white calligraphy on the door. I found it.
I’m sitting on the floor, looking through another row of blue vases. I was starting to understand how Devon felt, this whole thing is repetitive and annoying. I want to find the vase and be done with this part of the mission. I keep asking Ice if she sees the vase, but of course, when I need her the most, she ignores me. I get ready to give up, until a particular vase catches my attention in the moonlight, almost like God was putting a spotlight on it.  The vase is round, and blue with snow white flames from the bottom to top. It’s really beautiful. I go to grab it and turn it upside down. On the bottom there is an engraving. “Engraved it shall say To Queen, From Flame.” Ice says. Look who finally decides to make an appearance. I look at the inscription and it says just that.

About the Author:
Desiree “Desy” Smith was born and raised in Dallas, Texas.  As an avid reader, Desy read several books until she ran out of things to read.  Having nothing else to read, at the age of thirteen, she decided to write her own book.  Her love for reading soon turned into a passion for writing.  She self-published her first book, The Talented, under Floebe Publishing, which she started to  give a voice to new and aspiring authors.  Desy writes to inspire and to provide an escape for anyone who wants to live in a fantasy world without worrying about the challenges of everyday life.  The Talented is part one of a five part series, with the second installment arriving finally here.  Currently, Desy is hard at work on her third novel, Supernatural Resident Advisor with an expected release date of October 2015.  Desy’s genre of choice is fantasy romance fiction.  Aside from reading and writing Desy enjoys various types of food, especially dessert.  When she’s not reading she can probably be found eating a cupcake or two.

Web: www.desysmith.wix.com/desysmith
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authordesysmith
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/40394618-desiree-morrow
Instagram: Author_Desydiva23 

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Getting lost in the dark... Dark Submissions by Laurel Cremant

Roxanne, thank you so much for having me on the blog today. I'm excited to showcase my new release, Dark Submissions, and discuss a little about my inspiration for the anthology.I've always found mythology fascinating. It started with my first viewing of "Clash of the Titans" when I was ten years old, and continued through my first reading of Homer's "The Odyssey" . In high school I discovered books by Joseph Campbell and my fate was sealed. I became a myth junkie. Mythology from around the world provides an interesting insight into how different cultures and times deal with life and death.
Regardless of whether the stories take place in life or death; love, honor and revenge happen to be key subjects in many myths. The issues that plague us in life tend to carryover to the afterlife in these worlds and I've always loved that, so when I decided to write my first set of dark fantasy stories, I couldn't resist drawing from mythologies of Hell and the Underworld. The opportunity to create heroes and heroines that were demons, spirits or demigods was just too delicious to pass up.Add my love of mythology to my near obsession with anime and the whole thing was a no brainer.My stories have a death demon falling in love with hope; a vengeance demon trying to atone her guilt and find love; and a Viking trying cope with his new life in Hell and avoid losing his heart. Each story has some dark elements, but at their core, each is a romance and has an happy ending.
Residing in a place a darkness doesn't mean that one can't find love. It also doesn't mean that beauty can't be found in the wicked and strange. I encourage readers to explore fantasy and get lost in the dark worlds filled with sexy demons and spirits.
Are there any myths or mythical worlds that have always drawn your fascination? If so, please share.



Dark SubmissionsLaurel Cremant
Genre: Paranormal Romance/Dark Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Winged Moon Publishing
Date of Publication: October 31st 2015
ISBN: 0991635728
Number of pages: 110Word Count: 25,000
Cover Artist: Taria Reed Digital Artist
Book Description:
Love doesn't exist only in the light. Travel to the Underworld and get lost in the dark with three erotic tales of sensuality, lust, and the quest to find love...
Death’s Hope
The dating scene in Hell is rough for a woman who embodies the essence of pure hope, but Dora is trusting that death demon, Alphonse, won’t mind introducing her to a little sin. Her plan to convince Alphonse she’s no innocent demon-in-training, takes a wicked turn, when Alphonse decides to show her exactly how decadent his needs are.
Guilt’s Pleasure
Vengeance demon, Morgan, is looking for a little relief from a guilty conscious, and fire demon, Dax, has just the remedy for her within the walls of his dungeon. A simple bargain for relief turns sensual, when Dax realizes Morgan needs more from him than a steady hand and a long whip.
War’s Peace
Being a war demon isn’t all fun and chaos. The existing peace demon has decided to retire and Hell’s rules dictate that there can be no war without peace. Not willing to give up any of her war games, wrath demon Alyssa is determined to make recently slain warrior, Elrich, her new partner in crime by any means necessary.


Available at Amazon 


About the Author:
Laurel is a romance author, who like most writers loves to read. Her first love (pun intended) has always been romance. From the sappy YA romance novel to the more risqué erotica novels, Laurel is a sucker for a good love story.
Laurel writes paranormal and contemporary romance and is a self-proclaimed, out of the closet nerd. She admits that she can't seem to avoid adding a bit of "nerdology" or "geek-dom" to all of her books. Living in Miami, she also admits that she can't seem to avoid giving her heroines gorgeous shoes, "In Miami, we worship everything strappy, open toed and just plain hot!"
Website: www.LaurelCremant.com
Blog: www.laurelcremant.com/blog
Twitter: @LaurelCremant
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/LaurelCremantAuthor
Instagram: @laurelcremant
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/laurelcremant/
Google +: www.google.com/+LaurelCremant
YouTube: www.youtube.com/c/LaurelCremant
Newsletter Sign Up http://laurelcremant.com/newsletter/

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Forty Candles by Virginia Nelson

Forty CandlesVirginia Nelson
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publisher: ARe Books
Date of Publication:  November 1, 2015
Word Count: 28,500
Cover Artist: Erin Dameron-Hill
Book Description:
Will she get her wish when she blows out Forty Candles?
Chloe Walker did everything right. She went to college, got a good job, dated the right men—everything. Peering at forty from a bit too close, she realizes she can be miserable that she didn’t end up happily married to the handsome prince…or she can count her lucky stars. She tries to go with stars, but the universe seems to have other plans.
Jack Leonard has loved Chloe since they were kids. He’s stood by her through all life’s little messes, been her shoulder to cry on, and figured one day they’d wind up together. He figures he’s just waiting her out. When her life goes swirly, he’s got to convince her that some men are worth risking it all for.
Can Jack make Chloe rethink her birthday wish or will she get just what she asked for when she blows out Forty Candles?




About the Author
Virginia Nelson, USA Today bestselling author, likes knights in rusted and dinged up armor, heroes that snarl instead of croon, and heroines who can't remember to say the right thing even with an author writing their dialogue. Her books are full of snark, sex, and random acts of ineptitude—not always in that order.
For more information on other books by Virginia, visit her website: www.virg-nelson.com
https://www.facebook.com/virg.nelson
http://www.twitter.com/virg_nelson
http://virginianelson.blogspot.com/

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November 2 Zenny's Awesome Book Reviewshttps://zennysawesomebookreviews.wordpress.com/
November 2 3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, and Sissy, Too!http://3partnersinshopping.blogspot.com/
November 3 The Creatively Green Write at Home Momwww.creativelygreen.blogspot.com
November 4 Lisa’s World of Bookswww.lisasworldofbooks.net
November 4 Vampires Werewolves and Fairies Oh My  http://vampireswerewolvesfairiesohmy.blogspot.com/
November 5 Teatime and Bookshttp://www.teatimeandbooks76.blogspot.com/ 
November 6 Literary Musingshttp://literarymusing.weebly.com/
November 6 Tobi Heltonwww.forgethousework.com
November 9 Roxanne’s Realmwww.roxannerhoads.com
November 9 Monlatable Book Reviewshttp://www.monlatablereviews.com/
November 10 Deal Sharing Auntwww.dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com
November 11 Book-o-Craze (review)http://book-o-craze.blogspot.gr/
November 11 All I Want and More Books  https://alliwantandmorebooks.wordpress.com/
November 12 Books and Warpaint (review)http://www.booksandwarpaint.com
November 13 More Romance Pleasewww.moreromanceplease.blogspot.com
November 16 Sapphyria's Book Reviews (review)http://saphsbookblog.blogspot.com
November 16 Romantic Reads and Such (review)http://romanticreadsandsuch.wordpress.com
November 16 Romantic Fanatic (review)http://romanticfanaticblog.com/

Halloween Giveaway: Dark of the Moon by Karen Robards

About the Book:

"I'm not a child, Connor!" Caitlyn snapped, exasperated. "I want you to kiss me. Now. Please." 

For a moment longer, he resisted her gentle assault. Then he kissed her fiercely, as if starving for the taste of her mouth. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she clung to him as the only solid thing in a whirling universe. 

"Don't stop," she whispered when he pulled his mouth away. 

"Even if I wanted to, I could not," he confessed. Then he was kissing her again, with increasing hunger, as his arms slid around her and he fumbled for the buttons at the back of her dress…. 

Disguised as a lad, Irish street waif Caitlyn O’Malley makes what could have been a deadly mistake when she tries to rob a tall, black-haired, dazzlingly handsome aristocrat on a cobbled Dublin street. Connor d’Arcy, Earl of Iveagh, is far from the English fop he appears, as Caitlyn soon discovers. Taken under Connor’s protection, conveyed to his family home in the shadows of Donoughmore Castle, Caitlyn grows up into a beautiful lady—and in the process finds herself falling madly in love with her enigmatic guardian. 

Funny, heartwarming and passionate, this sweeping tale of adventure and romance by the New York Times, USA Today and Publisher’s Weekly bestselling author races from an Ireland seething with rebellion to the glittering heights of London society as Ireland’s boldest highwayman fights for his country—and to keep from falling under the spell of his own ward. 

DARK OF THE MOON is the winner of Romantic Rimes’ Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Historical Romance Novel. Karen Robards is the six-time winner of Affaire de Coeur’s Silver Pen Award for favorite romance novel. 

Available at Amazon
“I enjoyed every minute and highly recommend it.” – Johanna Lindsey 
“Karen Robards penetrates the steamiest of women’s fantasies.” – Chicago Sun-Times 
“One of the finest, most talented writers of romantic history today.” – Affaire de Coeur 
“Ms. Robards has the marvelous talent to zero in on the heart of erotic fantasy. She seems to know instinctively our most secret thoughts and then dreams up the perfect scenario to give them free rein. The result is pure magic.” – Romantic Times 
“Karen Robards is one of the most popular voices in women’s fiction.” – Newsweek 
“Robards is one terrific storyteller.” – Chicago Tribune 

About Karen Robards

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve loved to write. My first book was a ten-page effort written at age five for my grandmother. Throughout grade school, high school and college I wrote for various school publications. When I was eighteen, my first professionally published piece—a humorous anecdote—appeared in Reader’s Digest. Still, it never occurred to me that I might become a professional writer. I aimed for a career as a lawyer and was actually in law school when I sold my first book. When that happened, the world lost a would-be lawyer and gained a writer. That book, which is still in print, is Island Flame, and it was published when I was twenty-four. Since then, I’ve written over forty books, which regularly appear on the New York Times, USA Today, and Publisher’s Weekly bestseller lists, among others. The mother of three sons, I read, I write, and I chauffeur children. That’s my life.

Connect With Karen Robards

Website: http://www.karenrobards.com/ 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKarenRobards 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/TheKarenRobards 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/33408.Karen_Robards 





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Vampires, Zombies and Witches, oh my! with Kathleen Collins

Tomorrow is Halloween here in America and I couldn’t be happier. I have always loved this dark holiday, and even as a child my fascination went beyond my costume and how much candy I could get from the neighbors. I have always been enamored with the supernatural and Halloween was the day it suddenly wasn’t weird for a ten year old to know so much about ghosts, vampires and all manner of things that go bump in the night.
And believe me I was a fount of knowledge. Unfortunately the books available on such subjects at my school were few but I had two town libraries at my disposal.  I read every book in that section I could get my hands on. And there may have been a night or two when my eyes peered at shadows over the edge of my blanket as I tried to decipher whether that was a shirt or a ghost on that chair in the corner.
Naturally that fascination bled into my fiction reading as well. I burned through R.L. Stine and Christopher Pike among others and was reading Stephen King by the time I was a freshman in high school. I watched the rise of paranormal romance and urban fantasy with giddy anticipation.
Now I write about all those things that have always fascinated me. And I’m always coming up with new ideas on how I can use them in my series or in future books. In the Realm Walker universe you’ll find gods, fae, werecreatures, vampires, witches, sorcerers and just about anything else you can think of. Blood Slave even has zombies and leprechauns. What’s even more fun for me is using all these creatures everyone knows in new and unexpected ways. My mages are tightly controlled and overseen by a director. My vampires aren’t undead; their lives have been extended by ancient blood magic and they feed to keep the spell working.

So, tonight, as darkness falls and the wind begins to blow as the witching hour draws ever closer think about your favorite supernatural creature and come back here and share them with me. If you’ve got one rarely heard of, even better. You never know I might find something new to research. 
Happy Halloween and Happy Reading! 



Blood SlaveRealm Walker SeriesBook 3Kathleen Collins
Can she find a killer in a town where the basest desires are allowed to run free?
There are zombies in the Dead Zone and Juliana Norris is sent to take care of the problem. And for there to be zombies, there had to be bodies. When vampires are found to be the culprits, Juliana is sent undercover in the red light district of Kansas City. Lying to her mate, Thomas Kendrick, isn’t something she wants to do, but she’s in another vampire’s territory and Thomas would not be pleased. Besides, she’s more than capable of doing the job and she needs to prove it to everyone. Most of all herself.
Charles Morgan is in control of the Kansas City area, making a rich living off his various enterprises. Juliana goes undercover at the strip club Lust and gets sucked into his dark, decadent world. More victims turn up and the Agency is positive they’ve got their man, but Juliana is not so sure. When the Agency refuses to listen, she reluctantly turns to Thomas for help. He intervenes but finds Juliana unaware of the danger she is in and discovers she may just be too deep for him to save.


Available at Amazon    BN    iTunes


Excerpt 1:
The zombie Pomeranian yipped at Nathaniel in between growling and tugging at the leg of his jeans. Juliana pulled her foot back to kick the creature away from her friend and made ready to bring her sword down on it as soon as it was clear.
“Don’t,” Nathaniel protested as he held up a still-clawed hand. “You might hurt it.”
Her brows arched up into her hairline. “That would be the general idea.” The thing growled again and she looked down at it where it was doing its utmost to gnaw a hole through Nathaniel’s jeans. And she wasn’t entirely sure it would stop when it got to skin. I realize you have a particu-lar kinship with all things canine, but it’s gnawing on your leg.”
“Just my jeans.” Now back in fully human form, he bent and disengaged the dog from the denim.
“Easy there, boy. Good dog.” When the Pomeranian continued to express its displeasure with the situation in general and Nathaniel in particular, he lifted the beast above his head, looked at it nose to nose and growled back. Evidently recognizing an alpha even in its altered state, the dog curled in on itself and whimpered before darting its tongue out to lick Nathaniel’s nose. Juliana grimaced. Zombie breath couldn’t be pretty.
“See, he doesn’t mean any harm,” her friend said as he tucked the abomination under one arm. Their scruffy brown hair made them look surprisingly similar. She blinked at him in disbelief before taking another look at the creature in question. When she bent closer, it growled and she straightened with a huff. “She.”
“What?”
“She. Name tag says Fifi. Last time I checked that was a girl’s name.”
Nathaniel snorted in derision. “Fifi. What a prissy name.”
“Hate to break it to you, partner, but that is a prissy dog. And it smells like mold.”



About the Author:
Kathleen Collins lives and works in Missouri. By day, she labors in the local prosecutor's office. At night she writes while surrounded by her husband, two boys and two loveable mutts. She is constantly thinking of her next project and loves to connect with her readers. You can fine her most often on Facebook or on her website.
www.Kathleencollins.net   
@kathy_collins
www.facebook.com/kathleencollinsauthor
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7191208.Kathleen_Collins

Dying in Pleasure by Lady Ristretto

Character Interview:  Ibis
In Dying in Pleasure, Ibis is manages a whorehouse in Pompeii.  Whorehouses weren't out in the open on the streets of Pompeii.  They could be found by following carvings of penises on buildings and in the road.  Customers would pay with coins which functioned like arcade tokens.  Only the coins were for specific sexual acts.  Prostitutes specialized in certain acts and would occupy specific tented cubicles. 

INTERVIEWER:  When I do these interviews, I always begin with the same question:  tell me about Pompeii.
IBIS:  It's my home.
INT:  Were you born there?

IBIS:  I don't know where I was born.
INT:  Why is that?
IBIS:  I'm a slave.
INT:  But there are slaves who know where they were born.
IBIS:  I think it's a little...It's best I don't know.  It would only make me long for another life.  What good is that?  To make me miserable.  Pompeii is the life I have.  I long for nothing because I have everything that I've always been.
INT:  You're happy in Pompeii?
IBIS:  I have friends and a good job as a slave.  And a gentle master.
INT:  What is your job?
IBIS:  I manage a brothel.  One of the worst, I'll admit, but the whores are clean and I keep them honest.  I don't threaten them.  I find empathy is a better motivator than sadism.
INT:  Who is your “gentle master”?
IBIS:  Julius.  Pompeii's aedile.  Which is very convenient because his part of the government regulates the brothels.  And gladiators and theater.  The fact that he owns the house brings us more business than if we stood without a common owner. 
INT:  He owns you?
IBIS:  Yes.  We aren't owned by the city.  He owns us privately.
INT:  You are his personal slave.
IBIS:  Yes.  And to answer your next indelicate question, I'm his mistress, not his whore.
INT:  What's the diffence?
IBIS:  He talks to me.
INT:  Excuse me?
IBIS:  Just that.  He talks to me.  We have conversations.  Customers should not, and most of the time do not, talk to whores.  Occasionally some do, and they end up becoming an emotional nuisance.  Then I must hire a gladiator to escort the person from the premises.  It's very annoying and a headache and one of the things I hate about this job.  This is job is so frustrating and I work very hard to make money, make the house turn a profit, but the place is a wreck and we get some of the worst customers.  I can't even raise the prices because Julius won't allow it.  I don't understand him at all.
INT:  Let's return to what you were saying before.  Julius speaks to you.  Do you find him annoying?
IBIS:  He's different.  He's refined.  He sees shades.  The others, the lovesick, only see in extreme colors.  Julie sees in rainbows. 
INT:  Are you in love with him?
IBIS:  I respect him.  But he...
INT:  He what?

IBIS:  He's tainted.  His wife died in his presence.  It has tainted him.  I'm afraid he's brought a curse on the house.  I do rituals daily to cleanse, but he returns day after day.  I can't keep up with him.  I pray to the goddess for help, but one can only guess if the gods listen.  Something terrible is coming.  And Julius is bringing it with him.    Dying in PleasureLady Ristretto
Genre:  paranormal/historical erotica
Publisher: Lady Ristretto
Date of Publication: April 1, 2015
ASIN: B00VHIM7UA
Number of pages:  385Word Count: 102,000
Cover Artist:  Ebooks Covers Design  
Book Description:
Lucia, the daughter of the richest family in Pompeii, disappears one night. The mystery goes unsolved and life moves on. The lives of Pompeii's citizens intertwine: Ibis, a prostitute running the whorehouse owned by the Aedile, a city official, gets murdered by his wife Lucy. Lucy falls in love with Narcissus, the most treasured gladiator in Pompeii. The Aedile's daughter, Julia, marries Rust, the man suspected to have murdered Lucia. Maro, Lucia's slave, holds the families together and eventually discovers Lucia when she reappears in Pompeii twenty years later, and as a witch.
The events in Pompeii converged and lead to its ultimate, inevitable destruction. Only Lucia can help the city and save lives. In a ceremony requiring possession by a god, murder, and necromancy, Lucia discovers what is going to happen. But not everyone manages to get away.
Dying in Pleasure brings to life the long dead city of Pompeii, showing its citizens as vibrant, eccentric pleasure seekers. History, pain, violence and ritual blend in a pansexual orgy that is both exciting and extreme from beginning to end.
Available for Nook and Kindle
Excerpt:
LUCIA REFERRED to her patron goddess as Father.  It was more respectful, a gesture insisted upon to mirror and mock Lucia’s upbringing: the Roman father is the family’s absolute authority.  His power is unquestioned.  The lives of his family are to do with as he wishes.  In essence, he is the god of the family.
Lucia howled in rage on the hills; it wasn’t a wholly unique incident, but it wasn’t uninspired by Rust and Maro either.  Lucia had grown accustomed to venting her rage in loud spectacles in nature.  Her Father was pleased and Lucia could hear Her approval.  She liked Lucia to explode: to remain pent up, repressed, and quiet not only kept the emotions in, it kept her power in.Lucia wanted to wander the fields and find Father in the wilderness, but she was nervous to stray too far from the villa.  On the edge of the woods, now darkening in dusk, Lucia could smell Bacchus out there; He was running toward her at full speed, like an animal galloping toward its prey.  She could hear blood engorge His Penis, and the sound was a storm in her ears.  If she stepped into His wilderness, He would fall upon her.  Father would think the action, the willingness to enter the realm of another god, as disloyalty, a kind of cheating, and give Lucia up to His angry hunger.
Walking the opposite direction, Lucia started on the road back toward the city, to the necropolis she had visited during the night.  The trip had been fruitless—the dead shrinking in terror from her like beaten dogs.  She was used to fear, but nothing this intense or reckless.  The dead were insulting in their terror, shrieking silent obscenities at her.  Rather than taking it badly, and snuffing out what little power their trapped souls possessed, she walked away silently and curious.
Lucia returned to the entombed urns, and felt them quake from her approach.  Normally, having received such hostility and unwillingness from the dead to be helpful, Lucia would respond with threats and violence.  Perhaps seduction was more in order.
In the language of the dead, Lucia said, “Don’t be afraid.  I need your help.”
In their language (with Latin accents from the freshly deceased, who still retained memories of Latin), they replied in an overlapping, echoing gaggle of sounds: “Keep away.”
“I only want to speak with one of you.”
“Away,” they whimpered dusty, silent heaves.
“One of you approached me.  One of you has been haunting my dreams.  One of you brought me back to Pompeii.  I want to speak with her.  If you help me find her so I can speak to her, I will do you no harm.  I swear by my Father.”  Lucia, of course, didn’t use the term Father to the dead—she used one of her goddess’s real name, the name in the language of the dead.  It made the dead shake, the necropolis stones tremble.  Her seriousness startled them; she was trapped by her oath, and they knew her Father would make her keep it.They had no choice really but to answer her, for by refusing would bring her wrath down upon them.  They echoed and reechoed, chanted one word which became for them a plead for peace: Ibis.
Repeating the name to herself, Lucia let Ibis bring her to her.  There was a small entombment on the east side where the dead poor lodged.  The tombs were less than tombs, less than places for remembering, inhabited by people who were hardly regarded in their lifetimes; but these were ghettos for ashes also thought too powerful to allow in the city, or cast aside in a rubbish heap.  Dead beggars, madmen, slaves, whores, and gladiators there trembled at Lucia’s  approach.  Her voice thundered Ibis and the souls swept aside as if by a blast of wind, leaving Ibis alone to face her.  Invisible, but a clear, solid form to Lucia herself, Ibis stood facing this woman she knew in life only as a legend.
Lucia glared through Ibis’s formlessness and forced the soul of the dead prostitute to assume a physical form.  Only so Lucia would have something to look at and speak to.  Even Lucia preferred to have a face when having a conversation: Lucia treasured the luxury of normalcy and insisted upon it whenever dealing with the dead—no matter what pain it caused.  Ibis winced in the cramped confinement being in her former shape.
“Tell me what you want.”
Ibis’s mouth moved, and Lucia knew it would require a few moments for Ibis to accustom herself to her form again.  She sighed impatiently: she had no patience for the dead, and their suffering, struggles, and pain angered and annoyed her.  At first, speaking with the dead had been a horror.  Repetition made it an annoyance, and sometimes Lucia wondered if her severe irritation was only self-protection.
Ibis was especially bothersome to Lucia.  In form and in formlessness, Ibis was stained as murdered souls are.
“Help.  Julius,” Ibis said with trembling lips.  She spoke not normally, but in a shrieking rage.  The stones quivered.
Lucia sighed.  “Julius who?”
“The Aedile.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Tell.  Him.  Go.  To.  Rome.”
“I have no time to be running errands for you,” Lucia said.
“Please.  Please.”
“I have been begged by more pathetic souls than you and if you annoy me more I will extinguish you.”
“Then why speak to me at all?” Ibis asked.
She advanced on Ibis but Ibis didn’t move.  Lucia found herself staring closely into the pained face struggling to hold itself together.  Lucia could see how Ibis’s pale cheeks swarmed in flesh colors like millions of bees.  There was even a small buzz of energy.  It was more disturbing that Ibis didn’t flinch.  Lucia wasn’t accustomed to seeing the dead this close.  Lucia arched her eyebrows.  It was rare to find a dead soul with the ability to think quickly.  “You brought me to Pompeii for a reason.  I thought it was for something more important than carrying messages.”
“I didn’t bring you,” Ibis said.  “You came on your own.  You wanted to come home.”
Lucia opened her mouth to argue, but couldn’t find anything to say.  She felt shame, as it was entirely possible it was true.
Ibis said, “Help Julius.  Something horrible will happen to him.”“I don’t care about the Aedile.”
“Something horrible.  Something horrible.”
Lucia stepped back as Ibis began to cry.  Ibis’s tears were bloody.
Normally, this would not be enough to move Lucia.  She had heard more virulent entreaties and extinguished these souls who asked for less.  But as Ibis cried—an unusual occurrence for a soul—the other dead echoed her “Something horrible”.  Then it became a chant of “horrible horrible horrible”, not just in this necropolis, but all over Pompeii. As if all the dead were chanting to Lucia.
This had never happened before, and Lucia felt afraid.


About the Author:
Lady Ristretto spent the beginning of her career writing under her real name and as a playwright. She has a BA in English from UCLA and an MFA in playwriting from Southern Illinois University, Carbondale.  Her plays were produced in Illinois and Texas, and her most popular work, Wonderland in Alice: The Uncertainty Principle was produced in New York off off off Broadway. 
Her first book, Dying in Pleasure, had been a full length play that was rejected as her thesis play: the professors on her committee felt it was too misogynistic and violent for undergraduates to stage. Always stubborn and obsessed, Lady Ristretto spent years rewriting the play into a novel and has recently published it as an ebook on Amazon and Nook. Lady has recently become obsessed with cricket and deeply wishes America would form a formidable team which is worthy to compete in the World Cup.
http://www.ladyristretto.com
https://twitter.com/LadyRistretto4u
https://www.pinterest.com/lristretto/
https://tablo.io/lady-ristretto
http://dommeladyristretto.tumblr.com/
http://selfpublishersshowcase.com/lady-ristretto/
https://www.goodreads.com/ladyristretto

My Brand of Zombie The Eternal Undead by David Monette

Hey there, my name is David Monette and I have just released the third and final book for my  In the Time of the Dead Trilogy called, The Eternal Undead . Today I’m going to discuss how and why I came up with the type of zombies in my books.
To start with, let’s look at the way that zombification typically occurs in today’s zombie tales. For the most part, this happens by way of a virus, bacteria, fungus, or radiation somehow infecting corpses or living people. This then somehow turns them into either zombies or zombie-like sick people. We all know the way this goes. Now, don’t get me wrong, this angle is interesting and fun. But frankly I felt like it was pretty played out, not to mention (in the case of any of these methods causing actual dead people to move around) physiologically impossible.
So what to do? Well, there is another way. To find it, I went back to some of my first memories, my first associations with zombies, back to when I was a kid playing Dungeons and Dragons with my friends and we had that old Basic Rules Set open before us (you know the one; red cover, stylized image of a water dragon fighting a couple of adventurers, and that funky TSR logo right in the bottom corner). At that time, when zombies would attack our group of characters, there was never a thought about how they came to be. It was taken for granted that some evil creature, some being with godlike powers, maybe even a god itself, had granted its chosen followers, its necromancers, the ability to raise the dead.
How perfect. How different from the common fare of zombification treatments.

In one swoop, this explanation disregards any qualms one might have about the biological feasibility of a nasty bug somehow reanimating dead flesh and granting it the will to move around. And that was my starting point, that kernel of an idea. I took it, and I ran with it, or in this case, wrote. If you have a chance, pick up my books and give them a read… see if I succeeded.     
The Eternal UndeadIn the Time of the DeadBook III     David Monette
Genre: Horror, Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Severed Press
Date of Publication: October 1, 2015
ASIN- B015NY9J4A
ISBN- 978-1-925342-53-6

Number of pages: 280Word Count: 100,579
Cover Artist: David Monette
Book Description:
They thought they had escaped.
The battle for Washington DC is behind them, and the last remnants of the human race have fled from their undead enemies to a remote Caribbean island where they try to salvage what is left of humanity. But even here, the zombies have come. Led by the architect of the holocaust, an invading army wreaks havoc trying to acquire the one thing that can stop them, and the one thing a small contingent of soldiers knows they must never get. 
Join with Sasha, Terrance, Virgil, and the little girl, Max, in an all or nothing gamble as they fight down the road to either salvation or horrible defeat in the thrilling conclusion of this series.   


Available at AmazonExcerpt: As the day slipped away far off to the west, the darkness of the jungle became a living thing. Knit together by the slow creep of lengthening shadows, it grew by degrees into a massive being, shapeless and black. For nourishment it ate the weak or the unlucky. In return it exhaled moist heat and a cavalcade of sound, the sound of thousands of separate voices, large and small, all coming together to meet the ear in a constant sheet of noise. Those who were responsible for the making of this chaotic ballad were invisible to the naked eye of man. This was so not just because of the darkness, but because most of the performers—the frogs, birds, and insects—were hidden within the surrounding vegetation, frightened of being killed by their neighbors, either eaten, or as was the case with the troop of humans quietly slipping along a trail, flattened under a boot. For one of the six members of this troop of humans, such an act would have been celebrated with a certain degree of relish. Terrance hated the sound of the jungle at night. There were not many things in his life that he gave away for free, but in his hatred he was quite generous. He hated the bleats, the croaks and hoots, and he hated the creatures that made the noise.  He hated the darkness and the fact that he had to wear a pair of thermal goggles to plumb its depths. He hated the heat, and the plants, and the bugs. He hated the head-to-toe leather suit he wore… and most of all he hated the reason he had to wear the suit, the reason he was out in the jungle at night in the first place. He hated the zombies. Or more accurately, he feared the zombies and he hated them for that fear. His terror of these beasts was not unfounded. Since the first day of the apocalypse when a host of diabolical necromancers eradicated most of the human population on earth and then raised the dead as zombies, the resulting creatures could, with a single bite, turn any living person into one of them. Terrance had seen it done before. It was not pretty. The resilient leather he wore formed a fairly reliable barrier between a bite and death, so day or night, no matter how hot it was, whenever he or anyone else left the barricades surrounding the city of St George’s on a patrol, they wore the protective clothing. The safety it provided far outweighed the bladders of water they needed to carry or the periodic “cool downs” they had to perform while nestled in the boughs of a tree.Either way, Terrance hated it all. In fact, he was so busy nursing his various hatreds that he barely noticed when Danger, the woman on point, suddenly raised her fist head-high and froze.The fire team immediately came to a stop.Terrance’s finger slipped from outside the trigger guard of his MP5SD sub-machinegun to curl around the curve of the trigger. The contact made him feel safer, more in control.Around the task force the sound of the jungle withered and slowly died.The point person opened her fist, laid the flat palm parallel to the ground, and took a knee.Seeing this, Lieutenant Burgis, the officer in command, looked back and motioned those behind to follow suit.They crouched and in the dark waited.There was something out there.

About the Author:
David Monette was born and raised in the cold rural hinterlands of upstate New York. As a typical kid in a typical community, life for him was pretty... typical. He liked to draw creatures and contraptions but as the second born of four sons, such ability was merely a convenient way of standing out from the crowd. As he inexpertly stumbled through high school, his talent for capturing the images in his head onto paper was noticed and encouraged by both teachers and family members.
Without any other idea of what to do with himself after graduation, besides a vague idea of doing something art oriented, he decided to attend Mohawk Valley Community College where he received his associate's degree in Advertising Design and Production. Acting on excellent advice from his teachers at this institution, he went on to Syracuse University where he learned a great deal about art and eventually wound up with a bachelor's degree in Illustration.
With a disturbingly large amount of student debt and a decent portfolio, he learned what it was to be a starving artist. Namely, he found that artists don't starve; they simply pick up an endless series of part time work to pay the rent while continuing to plug away at their true passion. This was essentially what he did until he received his first illustration job and from that point on, he didn't look back. As an illustrator, his highly detailed fantasy and science fiction work has appeared in many books, magazines, board games, and collectible card games for such varied publishers as Dell Publishing, Wizards of the Coast, and Atlas Games. Initially, he had completed these diverse projects utilizing oil and acrylic paints as well as pen and inks.
As digital technology continued to improve, however, he decided it was time to tackle the arduous task of mastering the computer and eventually figured out a way to adapt his style to a digital format. With this knowledge and experience, he went back to school and received his master's degree in Illustration from the University of Hartford. While there, his instructors reviewed his written work and had strongly suggested that he combine his writing ability with his talent as an illustrator to chart his own path.
And hence, an author was born.
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/davidmonetteauthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/PaintWriteDave
Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7334521.David_Monette
Blog: http://davidmonette.blogspot.com/
Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/davidmonette
Instagram: https://instagram.com/paintwritedave/
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/David-Monette/e/B00FMX73DM

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Release Day Blitz The Rise of the River Man by L. S. O’Dea

Here is an illustration of what Mutter looks like once he turns into a River Man.  I don’t have an illustration of him before he was genetically modified, when he was Mutter the Guard.

In the Lake of Sins series, Mutter is called Christian by Trinity (the main character).  I had no intention of making Christian a major character but he had other ideas.  That may seem a weird way of looking at things but let me explain something about me.  I feel that the characters for all my current and future books reside in my mind.  They are already individuals with likes and dislikes.  My job as the writer is to get them to tell me about themselves.  Some are open while others are shy.  Christian/Mutter was not shy.He kept pushing himself into the Lake of Sins series—kind of a whisper in my ear.  “I could help in this scene.  I’d do this in that scene.”  In general, he was right.  By adding him to the book more often he made it better, but he wasn’t satisfied with that.  He continued to pester me until I wrote down his entire story.  I think he is as happy as he is going to be, although there might be an end for him in the Lake of Sins series.  I’m hoping his end will make him happy because he was a good Guard who had a rough life.  He deserves some happiness.



The Rise of the River ManConguise ChroniclesBook 1L. S. O’Dea
Genre: Fantasy, Paranormal
Publisher: LSODea
Date of Publication: 10/30/2015         
ISBN: 978-1-942706-04-5ASIN: B014I7M82I
Number of pages: 108 pagesWord Count: approx. 27,700
Cover Artist: Vincent OCampo
Book Description:
Obedient monsters are hard to create.
Mutter was sure that his pending execution at the Guards’ Shelter was the worst thing that could happen to him, but that was before he met Professor Conguise.
Now, he is living in a laboratory and the Almightys are giving him shots. He fears that they are attempting to mutate him into some kind of monster like those in the other cages. The creatures in the other cages are unnatural. Things that he can’t believe exist. Things that shouldn’t exist and if he doesn’t escape, soon he will become one of them.
Available at Amazon
Excerpt:
MUTTER WAS IN TROUBLE.  No one wanted a Guard like him.  He was too big and too strong and too ugly.  He stretched out on the concrete floor and winced.  He definitely had some broken ribs, but he’d fought and won with broken bones in the past.  He started coughing.  It was this sickness that had cost him the match.  He sat up; the coughing subsided.  He’d pleaded with Vickers, his Almighty master, not to make him fight but the money had already switched hands.  He leaned his head against the bars of the cage.  He’d lost the fight and now he’d lose his life.  Vickers did not give second chances.The door opened and a male Almighty around thirty years old with blond hair entered the room followed by Satcha, the House Servant who ran this establishment.  The Guards’ Shelter didn’t allow visiting at this hour but Almightys did whatever they wanted.  He didn’t even bother to stand up.  No one wanted him.  It was a bit embarrassing, but he’d tried to find a new home his first few days here.  He’d even trimmed his beard, but it had done no good.  Every time that he’d run to the front of the cage and had smiled at the Almightys, he’d smelled the fear on them as they’d passed.  Most tried not to look at him, but he was big and scarred and hard to ignore.They stopped in front of his cage.“Ableson, this is the one I told you about,” said Satcha.  “Looks like he was a fighter, so he should be used to obeying.  He does have a bad cough, but I thought he might work for you.”The Almighty remained quiet, his blue eyes sizing Mutter up.“Come here,” said Satcha.Mutter wanted to stay where he was to annoy the Servant but Guards like him didn’t get many chances for a home.  He slowly stood, letting the Almighty get used to his size and appearance.“How old are you?” asked Ableson.“Not sure.  Been around for a while but not too old.”  That was the safe answer.  He had counted nineteen winters but that might be too old or too young.  He never could tell what an Almighty wanted.“By his teeth and body we estimate around twenty-five to thirty years,” said Satcha.Ableson twirled his finger.  Mutter understood that signal.  Before the fights started, when the betting happened, he was often sized up by the gamblers.  He turned in a circle, slowly, giving the Almighty time to study him.  “I’m strong and healthy.”  That was a lie but he would be healthy again.  He just needed a little time and food.“Does have that cough, that I mentioned.”  Satcha sent him a glare.“Just a little.  From this damp, rotten place.”  He hated Servants.  They didn’t know when to keep their big mouths shut.“I need an obedient Guard.”  The Almighty’s eyes roamed up and down his frame.  “Won’t find one more obedient than me.”“Let’s see if that’s true.”  Ableson walked down the aisle.  “Is there another Guard who he’s close to?”“Him?”  Satcha laughed, following the Almighty.  “He’s so big and ugly even the other Guards stay away from him.”Ableson stopped in the hallway.  “Take this one out.”The Servant opened the cage and slipped a rope over a young Guard’s neck.  Mutter’s chest pinched.  Typical.  The Almighty’s always chose the young ones.  His only chance was gone.  They would walk out and soon he’d be executed.  He started to sit back down, when the three of them stopped in front of his cage.  “Put her in with him,” said Ableson.“Ah, we keep the younger ones separate from the older ones, especially the older males,” said Satcha.The Almighty didn’t say a word, but his look was enough.  The Servant muttered an apology and opened the door shoving the young Guard into Mutter’s cage.  He glanced at the little Guard who stood as far away from him as possible.  She couldn’t have been older than nine.  She had russet hair and large, frightened, brown eyes.“Hit her,” said Ableson, his tone conversational.“Wait,” said Satcha.  “That one’s young and attractive.  I can find a home for her.  Let me get—”“I’ll pay for both.”  The Almighty’s eyes never left Mutter.  Mutter kept his face a mask but his stomach clenched.  He didn’t want to do this.  He’d fought females before but they were all older, experienced fighters.  This wouldn’t even be a fight.  “I need an obedient Guard,” reminded Ableson.The girl trembled in the corner, tears streaming down her soft, round cheeks.  “Please, don’t hurt me.”Pleading didn’t do any good.  It didn’t change anyone’s mind.  He knew the game and it would be her or him.  He stared into the girl’s scared brown eyes.  “Bruised, broken or dead?”  “Just hit her.  I’ll tell you when to stop.”Mutter stepped forward.  The girl curled in a ball on the floor, pleading and crying.  He grabbed her by the shirt.  She weighed next to nothing, all skin and bones.  He punched her in the gut, making the blow look harder than it was, but the girl was so small she gasped and coughed.  He hesitated, waiting for the Almighty to stop this, but no words came.  He hit her again.  She yelped in pain.  He shifted his stance, stalling again and praying for the words that would allow him to quit, but the only sounds were the yells of the other Guards in the nearby cages.  Most screamed for him to stop but some cheered him on.  If the Almighty wouldn’t end this, he would.  His next punch caught her upside the head, knocking her out.  He let her slide to the floor.He walked toward the Almighty.“I didn’t say stop.”  Ableson’s blue eyes challenged him.He stared at the girl on the floor.  Only in the roughest fights, those to the end, did they hit opponents when they were down.“Forget it.  He won’t work.”  Ableson turned and headed for the door.His only chance was leaving.  He’d be dead tomorrow if that Almighty walked out the door.  The girl’s tiny frame was about the size of his arm.  She was still breathing.  “Wait.”Ableson walked back to the cage, a smug smile on his face.  “Obey or I leave.  This is your one warning.”He nodded.  His heart thudded as each footstep moved him closer to the little female.  The other Guards had fallen silent.  He grasped her by the back of the shirt.  Her head lolled to the side, her eyes closed.  His supper churned in his stomach.  He stared at the tears on her cheeks as he punched her over and over, trying to hit non-vital parts but it was difficult.  She was tiny and his fits were big.“Enough,” called the Almighty.  He lowered her to the floor.  Her breath was ragged as blood trickled from her lips.  His eyes burned, but no wetness came.  He hadn’t cried since he’d lost his mother.  It didn’t do any good.  He wiped the girl’s blood on his shirt as he faced the Almighty.Ableson smiled at him and handed an envelope to the Servant.  “I’ll take him.”  Satcha looked in the envelope.  “Ah, the price for the girl…”Ableson frowned at the Servant but dug in his pocket and handed Satcha a few more bills.  The Servant stuck them in his pocket and opened the cage door, putting a rope around Mutter’s neck.  He fisted his hands, fighting the urge to kill both of them, but he’d never make it out of the shelter if he did that.  “Come.”  Ableson yanked on the rope.  “What about her?” asked Satcha.“Do what you want with her.” “But…you already paid….”“If she lives, sell her again, or kill her.  I don’t care.”  Ableson walked toward the door.Mutter refused to look back at the girl, the sacrifice for his freedom. 





About the Author:
L. S. O’Dea sees things a bit differently than most people. This is probably a bi-product of being the youngest of seven children in a time when TV was only worth watching in the evenings or Saturday mornings and there were no computers. Back then, kids had to amuse themselves and being five years younger than her closest sibling she was often the unwilling entertainment.
Since she was so much younger than her siblings, it was only reasonable that they knew how to do many things that she could not, such as read and write. One day, before she started kindergarten, she really wanted to learn how to spell her name. Her mother was busy cooking or cleaning (she had seven children to care for), so her brothers were instructed to help their baby sister.
After she learned how to spell her first and middle name (Linda Sue), she raced into the kitchen to share this new knowledge with her mother. She was so proud, standing tall and reciting the letters of her name. L-E-M-O-N H-E-A-D.
Her mother was not happy with her brothers and stopped what she was doing to teach Linda the correct way to spell her name. L. S. still receives a box of Lemonhead candy every year for Christmas.
http://www.lsodea.com
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Release Day Blitz and $50 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway Dark Submissions by Laurel Cremant

Dark SubmissionsLaurel Cremant
Genre: Paranormal Romance/Dark Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Winged Moon Publishing
Date of Publication: October 31st 2015
ISBN: 0991635728
Number of pages: 110Word Count: 25,000
Cover Artist: Taria Reed Digital Artist
Book Description:
Love doesn't exist only in the light. Travel to the Underworld and get lost in the dark with three erotic tales of sensuality, lust, and the quest to find love...
Death’s Hope
The dating scene in Hell is rough for a woman who embodies the essence of pure hope, but Dora is trusting that death demon, Alphonse, won’t mind introducing her to a little sin. Her plan to convince Alphonse she’s no innocent demon-in-training, takes a wicked turn, when Alphonse decides to show her exactly how decadent his needs are.
Guilt’s Pleasure
Vengeance demon, Morgan, is looking for a little relief from a guilty conscious, and fire demon, Dax, has just the remedy for her within the walls of his dungeon. A simple bargain for relief turns sensual, when Dax realizes Morgan needs more from him than a steady hand and a long whip.
War’s Peace
Being a war demon isn’t all fun and chaos. The existing peace demon has decided to retire and Hell’s rules dictate that there can be no war without peace. Not willing to give up any of her war games, wrath demon Alyssa is determined to make recently slain warrior, Elrich, her new partner in crime by any means necessary.

Available at Amazon 
About the Author:
Laurel is a romance author, who like most writers loves to read. Her first love (pun intended) has always been romance. From the sappy YA romance novel to the more risqué erotica novels, Laurel is a sucker for a good love story.
Laurel writes paranormal and contemporary romance and is a self-proclaimed, out of the closet nerd. She admits that she can't seem to avoid adding a bit of "nerdology" or "geek-dom" to all of her books. Living in Miami, she also admits that she can't seem to avoid giving her heroines gorgeous shoes, "In Miami, we worship everything strappy, open toed and just plain hot!"
Website: www.LaurelCremant.com
Blog: www.laurelcremant.com/blog
Twitter: @LaurelCremant
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