Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 376

Interview and Giveaway Shifter Magnetism by Stormie Kent

Do you have a special formula for creating characters' names? Do you try to match a name with a certain meaning to attributes of the character or do you search for names popular in certain time periods or regions?
SK: I do a bit of everything. Character naming can be about the meaning of the name, where the character is from or their ethnicity. My heroine, Leila from, Shifter Magnetism, had her name changed many times before I found the name I felt fit her. It is a feminine, but strong name. I have to like the sound of the name as well.

What is your favorite scene from the book? Could you share a little bit of it, without spoilers of course?
SK: My favorite scene from the book is when Nic and Leila meet. It is the first scene I pictured when I decided to write the book.
It is from Nic’s point of view. I love the way he thinks of her, right from the beginning.
He focused on the luscious sight before him. It took everything he had not to straighten, cross the room, and capture the woman at the top of the stairs. 

She was exquisite. Her hair fell to her shoulders in wild, natural brown coils adorned with a thin gold braided headband. The golden undertones of her medium-brown skin were set off by flawless makeup and the gold accents trimming the barely there costume. And it was barely there. 

The dark brown gladiator costume was held up by gold straps that matched the embroidery on the cleavage-baring neckline. Wolf-shifter females were tall and sleek, but this woman was lushly curvy. Her waist dipped in under the body-hugging costume, and her hips flared out, hiking up an already short hemline. She wore gold bangles at her wrists and a short crimson cape. Her legs were full and tantalizingly encased in high-heeled gold gladiator sandals that laced up to her knees. 

She was sexy as hell, and she knew it. She posed with her body angled to the side, one bent leg slightly in front of the other, and a hand resting on her hip. 

Did you find anything really interesting while researching this or another book?
SK: I learned a great deal about state forests in Maryland! Forest isn’t what I think of when I hear Maryland and it surprised me that there was so much land put aside in the state parks. They seem like perfect place for a shifter pack to let off steam. ;-)
Do you write in different genres?
SK: I write romance. My subgenres are paranormal, science fiction/futuristic, and contemporary.
Do you find it difficult to write in multiple genres?
SK: Writing is an art and a craft, so at some point honing the craft is difficult. I write paranormal, sci-fi, and contemporary romance. They have similarities, but many differences. What I find difficult is balancing my life with this art form I love dearly.
When did you consider yourself a writer?
SK: That is a tough one. This is really a question of confidence. I’ve been writing since I was a child. I think I considered myself an author after I sold my first book, Enslaved In Desire.
What are your guilty pleasures in life?
SK: Here are some things I would (or have) found it hard to live without.
My kids, I like them (even as teens) and they get me.
Coffee with a chocolate based creamer. If I don’t have this, people volunteer to get it for me. Quickly.
Books! I love them.
Science fiction, paranormal and action movies are my favorites.
Television mysteries, including made for tv movies. Love ‘em.
And finally, sarcasm. I need it like I need water and food.
Where is your favorite place to read? Do you have a cozy corner or special reading spot?
SK: I can read anywhere! I love to stretch out on my sofa where I can keep an eye on the family while I read.
What can readers expect next from you?
SK: I am working on a follow-up to Shifter Magnetism, along with a contemporary erotic romance.
Where can readers find you on the web?
SK: My blog is http://stormiekent.com/blog/.  You can also find me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/StormieKentand Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/stormie.kent.


Shifter MagnetismStormie Kent
Genre: Erotic Paranormal RomanceMulticultural/Interracial
Publisher: Loose Id
Date of Publication: June 9, 2015
ISBN: 978-1-62300-328-9ASIN: B00YQLMQO2
Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs
Book Description:
Someone is killing witches in Coldwell. Voluptuous witch, Leila Barclay, isn’t expecting to be drawn to a sexy enemy wolf shifter, Nic Lobo and be targeted by a murderous sorcerer in the same night. Her savior is the very same wolf shifter who turns out to be a detective. To save her life, they exchange pieces of soul magic. Leila knows it’s forbidden, but she really wants to survive. Now she's irrevocably tied to the shifter and changing in ways she has never expected. Plus, she and her savior must catch the murderer, before he catches her.
Detective Nic Lobo is on the trail of the supernatural serial killer when he meets his mate. His taboo witch mate. He stops the killer from taking Leila's life, but now he has to keep her alive, stay away from his Pack and her Council, convince her they belong together, and catch her magical stalker. Failure isn’t an option because Nic has already lost himself in Leila. 
Available at
Amazon    ARe  

Loose-ID     StormieKent.com
Excerpt:
Nic walked around the outside of Club Entourage looking for anything suspicious. He had a memory scent of the killer from the other crime scenes. He didn’t smell the man in the normal smells outside the club. There were other unsavory scents, especially behind the club near the garbage. Of course no alley would be complete without the pungent odors of urine and vomit.
Nic braced himself to enter the club. Shifter males gave off heightened hormones human females were susceptible to. In a highly charged sexual environment, to human females already attempting to attract bedmates, he was the equivalent of a tall glass of water to a person lost in a desert.
He passed the coat check, descended the club’s stairs, and tried to blend in with the crowd. His Western-wear shirt, jeans, cowboy boots, and cowboy hat stood out more than he’d anticipated against all the vampire costumes.
He mingled, dodging grasping hands and caresses. When he was positive the killer wasn’t inside, he took up a station against the bar, which allowed him to see the entrance and up onto the balcony. He hadn’t noticed any curvy witches, but it was early in the evening.
“Howdy, cowboy.”
He glanced at the slender redhead dressed as Venus at his side. Her incense-and-musk perfume assaulted his nose. She held a glass of champagne and smiled at him through lips that were a little too red. Normally the color made him think sensual thoughts; hers just reminded him of blood.
“Ma’am.” He kept his gaze neutral.
Her smile lost some of its luster. He looked away and caught a flash of gold near the entrance. He focused on the luscious sight before him. It took everything he had not to straighten, cross the room, and capture the woman at the top of the stairs.
She was exquisite. Her hair fell to her shoulders in wild, natural brown coils adorned with a thin gold braided headband. The golden undertones of her medium-brown skin were set off by flawless makeup and the gold accents trimming the barely there costume. And it was barely there.
The dark brown gladiator costume was held up by gold straps that matched the embroidery on the cleavage-baring neckline. Wolf-shifter females were tall and sleek, but this woman was lushly curvy. Her waist dipped in under the body-hugging costume, and her hips flared out, hiking up an already short hemline. She wore gold bangles at her wrists and a short crimson cape. Her legs were full and tantalizingly encased in high-heeled gold gladiator sandals that laced up to her knees.
She was sexy as hell, and she knew it. She posed with her body angled to the side, one bent leg slightly in front of the other, and a hand resting on her hip.
There was a hush as she paused at the top of the landing. She scanned the crowd nonchalantly, as if every eye wasn’t on her. Then she stepped down to the next step. His mouth opened slightly as he watched her body move under the costume. He might have drooled a bit. The wolf in him was close to the surface, and he swallowed a growl as he noticed a tall blond man dressed as a race car driver move forward to greet her at the bottom of the stairwell.
“How dare she? He’d better not dance with her.”
He’d forgotten the woman next to him. The redhead moved into the crowd and made her way toward the blond race car driver. Nic watched as the female gladiator, guaranteed to star in his most lascivious dreams tonight, shunned the hand of the man in front of her and strutted toward the bar. She never looked at Nic, and he was violently disappointed.
She stopped next to him, pressed her palms to the bar, and leaned forward. “Rum and cola, please.”
His already stiff cock throbbed at the throatiness of her voice. She smelled divine. The soft floral hint of her perfume didn’t overpower the scent of the woman underneath. He could lap up every trace of the tantalizing fragrance from her skin and other places hidden on her body.
A frisson of power brushed against his wolf, signaling he was in the presence of a magical being. He concentrated.Witch. Hell, he stood lusting after a curvy witch wearing a dress so short he swore he could see the shadow of her ass under the back hem. She was everything the Brain Surgeon would be looking for. She was the reason he’d been drawn here.
His wolf was also telling him she was everything it was looking for.
He stared. Finally, she looked up. Her eyes were large in her pretty face. She smiled, and he focused on the fullness of her dark red lips. Her teeth peeked through, and in his mind he saw her biting her plump lower lip just before stroking him slowly with her soft palm. He suppressed a shudder.
He took one of her hands from the bar and held it. “I’m Nic.”
“Leila.”
He smiled. “May I buy your drink, Leila?”
“It depends.” Her tongue peeked out to lick her upper lip slightly.
He followed the action with his gaze. “On what?”
One corner of her mouth lifted, and pure mischief entered her eyes. “What I have to do to earn it.”
His mind immediately went to Leila on her hands and knees as he pounded into her from the rear. “How about a dance?”
He really shouldn’t. Technically he was on duty. He had to touch her, though. He tugged on her hand lightly to draw her toward the dance floor. She held his gaze as she slowly peeled her body away from her pose leaning against the bar. Should watching her perform the simple action give him such visceral pleasure?
All around them couples gyrated to the blaring pop music. Nic made room for the two of them on the floor. He pulled her close and moved with her to the beat of the music. She swayed sensuously, making it seem a natural extension of the dance when she slid against him. Everywhere they touched, little pinpricks of awareness cascaded along his skin.
He held her flush against his chest, guiding her body the way he wanted it to go. It was easy to dip low and wedge his thigh between her legs. She rode him, undulating and moving fluidly as he tilted her back and cradled her, drawing her near again. Even among all the humans, he could smell her desire.
His reaction to her was strong. Almost too strong. He brought his mouth closer to hers. His wolf demanded he take her mouth. It didn’t understand human convention that forced his human half to play by civilized rules and not devour her on the spot. This woman made him want her on every level. It demanded he take her. Mine.
He caught the costumed race car driver’s hand before it could land on her arm. He couldn’t quite suppress the growl that spilled over from his throat. Nic squeezed the man’s hand back, and its owner winced. He felt the surge in her magic, heard her whispered words, and fought the calm that tried to descend over him. He never released the other man.
“Hey, what’s happening?” Race Car Driver looked slightly dazed.
Nic smirked in Leila’s direction. “I think you overdid it.”
“The extra push was for you,” she mumbled. “Hal, what do you want?”
Maybe she should have used the calming spell on herself. She stared hard at the other man, one hand on her hip. If her brown eyes had contained any more fire, Hal would have combusted on the spot.
“You’re embarrassing yourself. This type of getup is for our bedroom only.”
She’d been with this clown? Anger and possessiveness flowed through Nic. He didn’t want this man anywhere near Leila. Nic applied more pressure until the other man was contorting to keep Nic from breaking his wrist.
“That’s enough! Nic!” Leila’s voice was frantic as she pushed against his arm.
He looked at her.
She shook her head. “Hal and I aren’t together anymore. Not that it’s any of your business.”
He was appeased she’d said the last part so low it was likely only he’d heard her. He eased the pressure on the guy’s hand and wrist. He’d stay between them, though. If good ole Hal tried anything, he’d be more than happy to break a few of his bones.
She made a chopping motion toward the sweating Hal. “We’re over, Hal. Or did I suddenly lose a few pounds? Go away. I don’t like you.”
Nic released the man with a shove. “Take her advice and stay away.” He watched as Hal stumbled back among the ring of gawkers.
“You.”
He turned back to Leila as she poked him in the side.
“I’m going to say this in a whisper because I’m assuming by all the growling coming from your throat you have pretty good hearing. What you did was unnecessary. I can defend myself.”
“Don’t ever try to control me again.” Witch.
“Try not to need to be controlled. What am I saying? There won’t be a next time. We’re complete strangers. Hopefully this will be the last time we ever meet.” She turned and pushed her way through the crowd.
He admired her ass as she walked away. He loved the way she placed one foot almost in front of the other, so each hip cocked with every step. He could watch her walk all day. He came to his senses when she was swallowed up in the crowd. He moved then. He wouldn’t crowd her, but he would follow her. She was wrong. She’d be seeing him very soon.

OUT OF ALL the men to meet tonight, Leila would run into a shifter. She didn’t know what his animal was, yet she was sure she wouldn’t like it. Arrogant man. Sexy beast.
She wasn’t going to deny it. His beautiful, sharp features spoke of his Latin roots. Over six feet tall, broad shouldered, and darkly tanned, Nic was a hard man to resist. When she’d gotten closer to the bar, she’d felt the tingle in her limbs alerting her there was a magical being nearby. Nic’s shifter pheromones explained the immediate attraction she’d felt for him. Shifters were primal, carnal beings. Women of almost every species found it hard to resist them.
Leila stomped up the steps to the coat check. She’d worn a light trench coat since she really was indecently exposed. The only reason she’d decided on the costume was for revenge. She looked around at her frenemies staring at her from across the room. She smiled and pinky waved at the bitches. Their mouths fell open before they turned away.
Earlier in the day, she’d peered down from her hidden spot decorating the club’s balcony at Deidre, Amy, and Li, who were doing the same in the main room below.
Deidre had tucked a strand of her red hair behind her ear before marking off an item on her checklist. “Ooh, I can’t stand her. What did Hal ever see in her?”
Li’s wimpy behind had chimed in too. “She dresses in such bright colors. It’s so gaudy.”
“And she’s too big for all those colors,” Amy had said.
When the women laughed, Leila’s hand had begun to glow a faint blue neon as energy swirled and gathered in her palm. She’d contemplated just hitting them with a mild spark. It wouldn’t have hurt…much. She’d closed her hands and eyes slowly, and the energy ball had dissipated. She couldn’t do it then. She wouldn’t do it now, either. Her grandmother had always warned her about being careful with the intent behind her magic. Using it for petty revenge would rebound against her.
She’d thought the women were her friends. Their conversation proved how wrong she’d been. They were just jealous, anyway. Each of their boyfriends had hit on her in the last twelve months. She was fat all right. PHAT—pretty, hot, and tempting.
She’d settled on the gladiator costume rather than the more conservative nurse she’d planned to be for the costume party. She’d wanted all eyes on her, and they were. Including the shifter’s.
She sensed him watching her. She looked around as she put on her trench. She didn’t see him. Why did he have to be a super-alpha jerk shifter? She and the sexy Latino should have been headed back to her place right now. She could still feel every place he’d touched her. Her pussy continued to throb. Her nipples rubbed against the constricting fabric of her bra.
What a waste. Shifters and witches didn’t mix. At least not in this town. Coldwell had one hard-and-fast rule for its magical inhabitants. She’d been raised to believe shifters were crude and animalistic, fae were untrustworthy tricksters, immortals were meddlesome and coldhearted. The list went on and on. Even humans were said to be dangerous, fearful, and judgmental. Her mother hadn’t been too happy when she’d decided to associate with them.
She thought of her former friends and ex-boyfriend. Maybe her teachers had been right. Having personal relationships with other species was unwise. What would Deidre have done with the knowledge if she’d known Leila was a witch? She shuddered.
Everyone knew to stick to their own kind. She’d learned her lesson. She and the shifter were a bad idea. So it would be another lonely night with just her and her vibrator, Sam.
The club was in a renovated warehouse at the edge of town. The parking lot was lit brighter closer to the club and dimmer farther back where she’d parked. Walking all alone in a poorly lit, deserted parking lot was the price she paid for wanting to make an entrance. She could just hear her mother asking her if she intended to be a mugging waiting to happen.
Her mind turned back to Nic, and she stopped. She’d promised herself she would take a chance with the next guy she felt chemistry with. But a shifter? Did it matter? She’d felt the desire between them. It was a smoldering fire all over her body, and she couldn’t deny it. If she was honest, prejudice had forced her out of the club and away from Mr. Hotness. A woman confident in her sexuality would go back.
The hint of magic touched her before the sound of footsteps did. A hand closed around her mouth just as a black-clothed arm wound around her neck. She was jerked back forcefully. Heart racing, she struggled. She scratched and pulled against her assailant. Her nails slid off the fabric. Quickly, she reached for her power. It surged within her, bright and familiar. She was about to give this bastard the shock of his life, then run like hell.
Except her power began to dim almost immediately. He didn’t release her. He dragged her deeper into the shadows. Her limbs began to tire first, and her head hurt. Her power faded. Was he sucking it from her? She tried to struggle, but she was so tired. Her eyelids drooped and closed despite her attempts to stay alert.
Her eyes cracked open when she heard the growl. She sighted a gray blur. A large wolf barreled toward them, teeth bared. Her attacker released her, and she dropped to the ground, unable to support her weight. Her entire body tingled and throbbed as hands did when they fell asleep. Behind her she heard running feet and snarls.
She knew Nic was the wolf. She felt it deep within. She mustered her final bit of energy. “Nic.”
Would he leave her there? She didn’t want to die in the parking lot outside a stupid costume party. She should probably be grateful he’d run her attacker off. Would she have been as helpful, or would she have seen a shifter fighting and fled the scene, shaking her head about how violent and beastly they were?
The thoughts grew vague as her mind fogged. Her heartbeat, loud and slow in her ears, reminded her she was alive. She willed her limbs to move, but they remained useless. She was going to slip away, a nameless victim killed within rows of cars, discarded and alone.
Suddenly, a wet nose nudged her cheek, then her hand. She opened her eyes enough to see the large gray wolf. Tears welled. Nic hadn’t left her to die alone. He shimmered before her, and she watched in awe as bones contorted, popped, and reformed. It appeared painful and somehow grotesquely beautiful.
His magic pressed against her, and she absorbed a bit. She couldn’t help it. She knew she was close to dying. She’d be ashamed of the forbidden act later.
“Sorry.” She wouldn’t steal any more of his energy.
Nic squatted before her, beautifully naked. “Don’t worry. You need it. I have to get you to a hospital.”
He lifted her into his arms. She felt so weak. So empty. More tears slid down her cheeks as his face blurred and wavered before her.
She needed a supernatural healer, not a hospital. “Mama Tui.”
“You need medical—”
“Medicine can’t help me. I’m dying.”
“You won’t die. I won’t let you.”
His voice was determined. Somehow she believed him. He moved swiftly in the dark. Her eyes closed, and she forced herself to focus as she was jostled. He opened the door to a black SUV and deposited her on the passenger seat.
“Did it help when you touched my spirit wolf before?”
Was that what she’d done when she’d repurposed his life energy? “Yes, but I shouldn’t have. It is forbidden to take someone’s energy the way I did, and I don’t know what damage I’ve caused.”
He took her hand in both of his. Warmth traveled up her arm, and she realized she had been cold since he’d released her.
“My wolf didn’t mind. He liked it.”
Before she could protest again, he shifted, and she automatically reached out and absorbed a little more of his magic. The pressure in her chest eased, and her head cleared. She only took a little, but it was enough. She could make it to Mama Tui.
Able to focus again, she watched as Nic pulled on a shirt and pants. Where had he hidden clothes? She missed the warmth from his body. She was so cold.
“Better?”
She nodded. He closed her door before walking around the SUV to the driver’s side. He pulled his cell phone from the glove compartment and dialed.
“This is Detective Lobo. There has been an attack at 4902 Talen Lane.”
He was a detective. If he hadn’t been there, she would be dead now. Was it his role as a policeman allowing him to help her? Or was it something intrinsic about Nic? Was this wolf a better person than most witches she knew? He’d come back for her, gathered her up, and was helping her get help. He’d even allowed her to steal his magic without trying to kill her.
She stared at him as he made his call. His midnight hair was cut close on the sides and longer on the top. His golden skin stretched taut across his strong jaw as he rattled off information and orders over the phone. His hand dwarfed his cell phone.
Ending his call, he glanced at her. His deep brown eyes showed his concern.
“Thank you, Nic.”
“We’re a few miles away from the healer.” He slid his hand along her arm and then released her to grip the wheel.
So he wasn’t good with gratitude. He would have hers forever.
Copyright © Stormie Kent

 About the Author:

Stormie Kent is the author of romance with paranormal, science-fiction, and contemporary elements. She resides on the east coast of the USA, and spends many of the most enjoyable hours of her day reading and writing. Her books are filled with rugged shifters and warrior men who seek their destiny with the women who fiercely love them. Stormie has imagined a world of magic and adventure, where you might just have a passionate encounter with a witch, wolf shifter, warlord, or space pirate. All you have to do is pick your pleasure.

http://stormiekent.com/
http://stormiekent.com/blog/
http://twitter.com/StormieKent
http://www.facebook.com/stormie.kent
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Giveaway: Sarai’s Fortune by Abigail Owen

Hello All! And thank you so much to Fang-tastic Books for having me. I’m here promoting my latest release, Sarai’s Fortune, a paranormal romance featuring mountain lion shifters.
My heroine in this tale, is Sarai Bouchard. She is one of the rare shifters who also possesses an additional supernatural ability – in this case, she’s a Seer. For Sarai, this gets her into trouble in more than one way. In particular, she sees that no matter what path she chooses either she dies, or her lover dies. You’ll have to read more to find out what happens. JThose shifters with additional powers are called Kuharte. I thought it might be fun to share a bit about each type and then give you a quiz to let you find out what kind of Kuharte you would be in the Shadowcat Nation.
The term, Kuharte, is Iroquois one meaning “through a light.” Her people chose that word because Healers (another type of Kuharte) glow when they heal – at least, their hands do. There are six known kinds of Kuharte in this series of books (a few others might pop up – who knows!).
Seer
The ability to see the future is a responsibility and a privilege.  Seers get glimpses, sometimes years ahead, sometimes hours of not only their futures, but of other's as well. The future is not set in stone, allowing the Seer to manipulate the outcomes (sometimes). But there might be "holes" to what you can see. Seers also divine which couples are Fated Mates, and do their best to help them find each other. Seers tend to be one of the more common Kuharte.
Healer
Healers are one of the most coveted Kuharte to have in your dare in the Shadowcat Nation (for hopefully obvious reasons). Healers don't always heal wounds. Sometimes they heal disease or emotions. The act of healing can take a physical toll, which can be problematic when your people keep getting into massive fights. Healers tend to be one of the more common Kuharte.
SeducerA Seducer gets exactly what they want without trying. People are naturally drawn to them and they can wield heavy influence over minds (though not hearts, though they can fake the feeling). They act like a drug on their intended targets. This can be a lonely power, though, never knowing who likes you for you.
Persuader
A persuader is someone who can influence others to do their bidding. It is a subtle skill and one that doesn't always work on strong minds. Given the right environment, a Persuader can have a BIG effect on an outcome. Being trusted is hard to come by for Persuaders because others never know if their power was involved.
Knower
A Knower is someone who can access the facts-centers of brains. Brains are like the internet to them only they don't need wifi to hook in. Knowers are powerful allies when scheming or planning. Knowers deal with constant headaches and can feel overwhelmed by their knowledge and often have trouble discerning fact from assumption in the minds they access.. Knowers are one of the rarest Kuharte.
Dreamer
Dreamers have the ability to enter other's dreams and either watch or manipulate.  They need to be close to the person who's dream they enter. They never dream themselves and can find themselves trapped inside other's minds because of their fascination with the imagery.  Dreamers are one of the rarest Kuharte.
Take the quiz and find out what kind of Kuharte you are! Share in the comments. I’d love to hear. J
https://www.playbuzz.com/abigailowen10/what-kind-of-kuharte-are-you

Sarai’s FortuneShadowcat NationBook 2Abigail Owen
Genre: paranormal romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Number of pages: 246Word Count: 60,000
Book Description:
Zac Montclair's first priority is to protect his people. With the escalating war between factions of shifters over land and resources, he has agreed to an alliance between his polar bears and the Shadowcat Nation of cougar shifters. But the treaty comes with a condition…he must accept one of their Seers into his Timik and put her under his personal protection.
Sarai Bouchard doesn't need her supernatural gift to know that Kyle Carstairs's obsession with controlling her ability will eventually result in her misery and demise. Her power is essential to her people's survival, so when Kyle goes rogue, she's sent to Zac Montclair to keep her safe. However, her visions reveal that while staying will lead to their becoming lovers, it also leads to his death. Leaving Zac will result in her own.
If Sarai can't find a way to change the future, she will be forced to choose…save her lover or save herself.


Excerpt Book 2: Sarai concentrated on precise, sharp movements with as much power as she could muster. She’d only been working out for ten minutes or so. She’d started the day similarly  yesterday. She cooked breakfast, eating with the guys. She dragged George and Scott on more sightseeing trips. Today she’d decided to explore a small portion of Central Park. She didn’t try to lose them this time. When they’d got home, they’d hit the gym.Now, Sarai tuned out Scott and George—who were sparring across the way from her—to focus on her own drills.“How about you try that out on a man who moves and reacts.”Sarai spun on her heel to find Zac standing behind her. He was wearing running pants and a tight tank top, which meant she didn’t need to use her imagination to picture the muscles of his arms and chest. They were on display. Her own personal show. Sarai swallowed.Then she computed what he’d said. How was she going to get out of this? The truth was she couldn’t spar. Her visions messed her up. But that was a secret she had no intention of sharing with three people.“Not really a good idea.”He stared at her for a long moment. Then he glanced over her shoulder at George and Scott who’d stopped to listen. “I’ve got this, fellas. Why don’t you go back up to the apartment?”There was no doubt in her mind that was a command, not a suggestion. Clearly the guys thought so too. She watched them leave the room with wide eyes.As the door closed behind them, Zac’s hands landed on her shoulders, turning her to face them. “Okay, kuluk. It’s just you and me now. What are you not saying?”Sarai had never felt this vulnerable in her life. Or this scared. This man got to her in a way no one else ever had. How was she supposed to resist that?“Why is this so important to you?”He moved his hands from her shoulders to frame her face, his fingers threading through the dark blond strands of her hair. “Keeping you safe is important to me. I need to know how much you can defend yourself if you have to. It will help me determine just what I need to prepare for. No surprises. Okay?”Sarai took a deep breath. He couldn’t have meant it that way. Just the thought of being important to this big, strong man connected with the frightened, lonely little girl who’d spent her life just trying to survive. But she couldn’t think that way. She had to leave him, and that knowledge made her want to cry.Seeing her hesitation, he brushed her cheeks softly with the pads of his thumbs. “Let me help you with this burden,” he murmured softly, his voice a hypnotic, deep rumble.Sarai bit her lip. Sharing this with him really wasn’t that big a deal. She knew she could trust him.On a deep inhale, she gave a tiny nod and started talking before she could change her mind. “Okay.”He gave her one of those rare little half-smiles, making her suddenly very glad she had agreed to capitulate. Thankfully, he released her and stepped back, giving her room to breathe.

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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Guest Blog and Giveaway: Hunter of Her Heart by Kaylie Newell

The importance of junk food consumption while writing…  I think this is a sorely overlooked literary topic.  Yes, us romance writers will be the first to tell you via blog post how crucial coffee is.  How important it is to have a zen filled writing space (insert sound of crashing waves here), or even how the presence of our feline friends can actually increase word count (when they’re not napping on the keyboard).

But stuffing our face with chocolate or Cheetos, while trying not to drop any down our bra?  This is the part of the writer’s day you might not hear much about.  But it’s significant none the less. 

Take me for instance.  My junk food of choice is donuts.  And hot chocolate.  (I also enjoy Ding Dongs, but for some reason think of these as a late afternoon/early evening snack and can’t bring myself to partake before nine a.m.)  But I digress...  

My morning donut and steaming cup of cocoa are my little buddies.  They’re with me when I open my laptop, check Facebook, return emails and finally get down to the business of writing (however, they’re not with me very long.  Especially the donut).  They’re my comfort foods, the ones that I associate with romantic fiction and cellulite.  Yes, it’s a mixed bag.  It’s not all roses, especially when swim suit season comes around.  But it’s how I roll.  And I’m guessing it’s how a lot of authors roll too, even if they don’t readily admit it.

Writing can be a tough gig.  It can be a lonely gig.  Having a routine, especially one with a sugary reward, can make all the difference in the world.

So this is me, raising my donut high, dropping my hot chocolate onto my new white jeans and saying, “Thank you junk food!  For feeding my creativity every morning and leaving me more satisfied for it!”     


Hunter of Her HeartKaylie Newell
Release Date: 6/23/15Genre: Paranormal
Publisher: Entangled
Tagline: To love a bad boy is to love the beast inside him…
About the Book:
Bad boy Zane Wolfe has always been wild and reckless. Even though he’s hot for his high school sweetheart, Candi Brooks, settling down has never been in his plans. Beyond that, he’s changing in strange ways—and begins to wonder if there's truth to the local folklore that claims his family is cursed to be werewolves...
There's never been a time when waitress Candi didn't have a serious weakness for Zane and his intense, dark sex appeal. She craves him. But after her life changes dramatically, and Zane won’t commit, Candi’s reached her limit. She can't wait forever...so she's taking her heart off the table before it gets good and broken.
Something mysterious is going on in Wolfe Creek, and danger stalks Candi. Zane will do anything he can to protect her. But the one person she needs protection from might just be him…


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Purchase at    Amazon   BN   Entangled
About the Author:
For Kaylie Newell, writing ranks right up there with the things she loves most in life- falling somewhere behind her family, but ahead of Bradley Cooper (which says a lot).  She fell in lust with the romance genre when she was about thirteen and began sneaking her mother’s paperbacks from the bedside table.  After acne, college, marriage and kids, she decided to take a crack at writing one herself.  Turned out to be the best adventure she’s ever taken.  When she’s not dreaming up her next book, she’s usually eating chocolate or walking the family mutt.  In that order.
Author Website/Blog: www.kaylienewell.com
Author Twitter: @KaylieNewell
Author Facebook: www.facebook.com/KaylieNewell
Author Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/KaylieNewell



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Review of Dead Ice by Laurell K. Hamilton

Dead Ice by Laurell K. Hamilton
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I don't think any author delves as deeply into emotional entanglements and relationship issues as LKH. And there's so many to delve into, Anita Blake's harem of men (and now women) doesn't seem to get any smaller even as a few of them decide to make their relationships more serious and permanent.

Jean Claude and Anita are officially engaged to be married while Anita, Jean Claude, Nathaniel and Micah have a commitment ceremony- but as usual with the supernaturals...some kind of crazy politics intervene. The clans want Anita to choose a tiger to add to their official poly group due to a prophecy. SO to try to keep everyone happy they decide to interview candidates...which of course never goes as planned.

Anita's very public engagement has added a little stress to Anita's work life as a Marshall, who can take her seriously after her publicized princess engagement. Now everyone sees her as girl, which she worked very hard to overcome. She's also getting some flack about her poly life as those in law enforcement struggle to understand and accept how she can be engaged to Jean Claude yet still have all the other lovers.

The part I really love is that Dead Ice finally returns Anita to her necromancy work with Animators Inc. We haven't seen much of this in the last few books. She's been hired to raise a really old zombie, but something odd happens. This zombie isn't zombie like at all. He looks, thinks and acts completely human...until he doesn't.

Have Anita's abilities grown or is there something else going on? Perhaps something tying into the case she's working on with the FBI. Someone is making zombies with their souls inside...and forcing the zombies to make porn. It's horrifying even for Anita, who has seen a lot over the years.

Dead Ice puts Anita in the middle of chaos. It's non-stop action. She goes back and forth between her too perfect zombie, the FBI case, and her lovers and possible soon to be lovers.

There is a lot of character and story development in this book that finally moves this series ahead...along with some things brought up in the book that were not really addressed.

***Spoiler alert***

Like the power boosts. It is hinted at that Anita's too perfect zombie and sudden ability to control the graveyard ghouls might be connected to the necromancer raising the porn zombies. But that's never confirmed and it doesn't seem likely since her closest lovers also receive power boosts and new abilities.

I think we'll see answers and more advances in the characters and world in upcoming books.

View all my reviews

Quickie Interviews with Three Authors from Demons Imps and Incubi

Demons Imps and IncubiEdited by Laura HarveyRelease Date: June 23, 2015Paranormal / Erotic RomanceAnthology: 69,000 words
Demons, Imps, Incubi: dark, powerful, and forbidden. Only the foolish would seek one out for seduction, and yet . . . deals are struck. Souls are ensnared. 

But must a demon's agenda always be demonic? Can he be redeemed? Or does being bad feel too good to bother with redemption? Long ago, imps were more mischievous and playful--naughty, perhaps?—and perceptions of them have only grown more sinister over the centuries. The incubus craves sex, but what makes us crave him?

Explore dark and sensual worlds with eight brand new stories of magic and seduction that will set you aflame by Cori Vidae, Alexa Piper, Erzabet Bishop, Mark Greenmill, Nicole Blackwood, J. C. G. Goelz, Jeffery Armadillo, and M. Arbroath.

Available at 
Amazon   ARe    Kobo

Today Fang-tastic Has Quickie Interviews with a Few of the Authors
Welcome ladies, I'm excited to hear about your demon romances. I was intrigued as soon as I read the title, I love me some demons and hot incubi sizzle. I can't wait to read this book.
OK let's get to the interviews.
First up is Cori Vidae 
1. What intrigued you about writing a demon romance?

I think I’ve always been drawn to the ‘darker’ side of things (though I don’t think my story in Demons, Imps and Incubi is particularly dark LOL), and incubi in particular. There’s something about where they exist, at the crossroads between sex and horror that really appeals to me. 

2. What place do you think demons play in human story-telling? Why do we continue to tell stories about monsters/creatures with questionable morality?

Oh, I don’t know. Could be we use them to explore the darker sides of ourselves, or they provide the perfect medium to test out new moralities, or because to believe in Good, we have to believe in Evil. Or, in romance especially, it could be we all just like a story that comes with a frisson inspired equally by fear and attraction.

Next we have Alexa Piper
1. What intrigued you about writing a demon romance?

Well, demons and romance, what aspect of this synergy is not intriguing, compelling even? The darkness that is associated with the demonic and the brighter, lighter nature of romance just go together like strawberries and cream.

2. What place do you think demons play in human story-telling? Why do we continue to tell stories about monsters/creatures with questionable morality?

Originally, the Greek daimon was not an evil spirit, it was more--as I understand it--an expression of various states of being. Demons, of course, come with a negative connotation, although this black-and-white way of thinking feels a bit too removed from reality for my taste. So what do demons do in human storytelling? They are wants and desires personified, and therein lies a story everyone can relate to.

Now, questionable morality, what exactly is that? Certain aspects of morality have shifted over the years, one might even say our morality has evolved (and will continue to do so). The monster can challenge morality (Mary Shelley's monster surely did) or it can seduce us to stray off the moral path (Bram Stoker's Dracula and vampires in general are not seducers for nothing). I think it's these elements in the monsters' natures that make us hold them so dear. Confronting the vicious mask of the monster will in the end reveal the darker areas within ourselves.



And last, but definitely not least, Erzabet Bishop
1. What intrigued you about writing a demon romance?

I love the idea of playing with a bad boy. To skirt the edge of danger with the chance of snagging the love of your life.

2. What place do you think demons play in human story-telling? Why do we continue to tell stories about monsters/creatures with questionable morality?

Demons represent everything we’re told from day one we aren’t supposed to have or want. Sex, money, physical things of this world. Human nature will never change. People have basic needs and no matter how good you try to be, sooner or later they find their way to the surface. In fiction, you can imagine how just one little exaggeration of lust or greed can take you to the next level and bam--you have a demon on your tail. 

I think we write about and read about demons to escape the rigors of the everyday. To feel like we are taking risks and living life to the fullest even when we only do that through the pages of a book. There is just something fun about pushing the envelope and having that fantasy. Sex with an incubus without losing your soul? It would take a goddess, and that is what every woman, in her heart, longs to be.

Interview and Giveaway with Jane Kindred

Can you tell readers a little bit about yourself and what inspired to write in this particular genre?
I’ve been writing for most of my life, and my stories have always had an element of the paranormal or fantastic. Whenever I’ve tried to write something in a contemporary or literary genre, it has always turned paranormal sooner or later. I’ve given up and accepted the inevitable. ;)
Please tell us about your latest release.
The second book in my Looking Glass Gods series, Idol of Blood, was released on Tuesday. The series is a dark but romantic fantasy set in a world once ruled by a godlike race called the Meer, now fallen out of favor following a violent revolution. Idol of Blood continues the story of Jak, who identifies as genderless, and Ra and Ahr, two foreigners from the ancient-Egyptian-esque Anamnesis Delta, who share a secret, tumultuous past—both vying for Jak’s attention.
Do you have a special formula for creating characters' names? Do you try to match a name with a certain meaning to attributes of the character or do you search for names popular in certain time periods or regions?
Most of my characters’ names just come to me, but sometimes I want a name from a particular language or heritage, so I search a lot of baby-name websites. This series, however, was one in which every single character basically told me “this is my name.”
Was one of your characters more challenging to write than another?
Jak was probably the hardest character to write, because I had to avoid using any pronouns. I’ve never been a fan of the singular “they” or of any of the other alternative pronouns, so I decided Jak would just avoid them altogether.
Is there a character that you enjoyed writing more than any of the others?
There were two characters in this series I really enjoyed writing. MeerShiva is ancient, powerful—and mad, by her own admission. It was very freeing and empowering to write her scenes, where she basically did whatever she wanted. And there was always method behind her madness. The other character I had a lot of fun writing was Pearl, also known as the Meerchild. Pearl’s scenes were almost stream-of-consciousness writing, and I really fell in love with that character.
How does this world differ from our normal world?
The series is set in an alternate world that’s similar to our own, in a setting that includes highland country loosely based on Iceland and Scotland, and lowlands resembling ancient Egypt and British colonial Southeast Asia. Magic exists in this world, but most no longer believe in it or in the Meeric race who were once worshipped as gods for their ability to conjure.
With the book being part of a series, are there any character or story arcs, that readers jumping in somewhere other than the first book, need to be aware of? Can these books be read as stand alones?
The Looking Glass Gods books definitely need to be read in order. The first book, Idol of Bone, begins with a mystery that slowly unravels over the course of the book. Starting anywhere else in the series (other than the prequel novella, The Devil’s Garden) would mean major spoilers.
Do you write in different genres?
I have a gothic paranormal m/f romance, The Lost Coast, coming out in December. While it isn’t that far from fantasy with its paranormal characters, it’s the first I wrote specifically as a romance, and the first based in the real world rather than any imagined world. My latest project is also m/f paranormal romance.
Do you find it difficult to write in multiple genres?
I don’t have a hard time switching between epic and urban fantasy and paranormal romance, but I think I’d have a hard time writing in genres that were significantly dissimilar.
When did you consider yourself a writer?
I started writing stories in grade school for extra credit, and liked it so much I knew it was what I wanted to do for a living. I’ve been writing ever since.
What are your guilty pleasures in life?
I’m an unabashed TV junky, mostly fantasy and science fiction shows like Doctor Who and Supernatural, with some crime dramas in the mix. I watch television more than I read, because after writing for several hours a day following eight hours of editing for my day job, I just need to sit back, indulge in some passive entertainment, and relax.

What can readers expect next from you?
The final book in the series, Idol of Glass, is out in October, followed by my gothic paranormal romance, The Lost Coast, in December.
Where can readers find you on the web?
I’m pretty easy to find. My website is www.janekindred.com, and all of my social media accounts are basically my name: @JaneKindred, facebook.com/janekindred, pinterest.com/janekindred, +JaneKindred, and janekindred.tumblr.com.
Would you like to leave readers with a little teaser or excerpt from the book?
Since the light was beginning to lower, they set up camp, only a dozen leagues from the green riverbanks of Rhyman. Jak and Geffn lay on either side of Ra, a peculiar triad of necessity, and Geffn, fatigued, was asleep almost instantly.
Ra curled away from him toward Jak beneath her blanket, eyes seeming to glint like a cat’s, though nothing else was visible in the darkness. “We haven’t really had a moment alone since…” The soft murmur trailed off. Jak knew precisely what moment Ra meant. Before they’d left Rhyman; before Ra had disappeared in the night to rescue little Pearl—a Meerchild bred in captivity and kept in a cage by the prelate of In’La; before Ra had set fire to the temple there, and the prelate with it, Jak had thrown caution to the wind and climbed into bed with a goddess. The commitment to celibacy Jak had tried to maintain since before Ra’s arrival in Haethfalt had been tossed aside like a cheap shirt.
After returning to Rhyman with Pearl, Ra had made no further overtures toward Jak, and Jak hadn’t presumed to make any toward Ra.
“It’s all right. We don’t need to—” The weak protest died on Jak’s lips as Ra’s descended on them. Her kisses had a tendency to take one’s breath away, as if she gathered it all into herself, holding it, holding time, before giving it back.
When she finally let them both breathe, Ra slid beneath the blanket and rested her head on Jak’s breast. “I could deepen Geffn’s sleep.”
Jak considered it for a rash moment before squelching the thought. “No. That wouldn’t be fair to him.” That was an understatement. Screwing one’s new lover while asleep next to the jilted lover whose heart one had recently broken would be in bad form, to say the least. And it would add more to that invisible price Ra must be paying if she were to expend magical energy when she had so little physical energy to spare. “We’ll have time enough when we get home.”
“Home.” Ra snuggled closer. “That sounds very nice. I’ve never had a home before. Just a temple.” She said the word as if it meant “jail”. While she spoke, however, her hand moved down Jak’s arm with feathery strokes, dipped over Jak’s hip and across Jak’s belly, and played at the loose drawstring waistband, fingers just inside it.
Jak placed a hand over Ra’s, meaning to stop her, but Ra entwined their fingers and slid them lower. As if it were an act of self-pleasuring, Ra used Jak’s fingers to delve deeper and press against the supple flesh, tentative, leisurely motions encouraging Jak to show her how to proceed.
“When we return to Mound RemPetaJakGeffnMelKeirenRa—” She murmured the absurdly long name of their Haethfalt household as if they were only having a quiet conversation—“I’d like to make a quilt by hand.” She drew Jak’s fingers in a complex pattern, up and down, over and across, doubling back in infinity symbols that ended in sharp, insistent points, like the edges of rings bisecting each other. “Do you like this pattern?”
Jak shivered and breathed ascent as Ra pressed Jak’s fingers into the center point of the bisection. Her motions became smaller, tighter and more definitive.
“Some little rosettes where the squares join,” Ra whispered. “One. Two. Three. Four…” She demonstrated. “With a diamond in the center. Right…there.”
Jak had to grab the blanket and bite down on it to keep the sweet little crooning howl Ra had inspired from escaping audibly.
“And another, there.”
Jak struggled not to thrash, rationing sharp rhythmic breaths into the fabric of the blanket.
“And there.”
Oh gods.
“And then just there.”
In the grip of a wave of pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable, Jak clutched Ra’s hand so she could no longer effect her blissful torment, the other hand digging into the bedroll as pantomimed moans were buried in the crook of an elbow.
“Perhaps in peacock blue with threads of gold,” Ra continued as if she hadn’t just destroyed Jak utterly, her other hand casually stroking once more up Jak’s arm. “The colors of Ludtaht Ra. Though it may be time for new colors. I’ve always liked indigo.” She nestled against the hollow of Jak’s neck, putting a little kiss there before relaxing with a sigh to match Jak’s heaving breath. “Does that work for you?”

It took a moment to remember how to swallow and speak. “Work for me?” Jak let out a nervous, whispered laugh. “Just about killed me. I’m crazy about it.”
Idol of BloodLooking Glass GodsBook 2Jane Kindred
Genre: Dark fantasywith erotic and romantic elements/LGBTQ
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Date of Publication: June 23, 2015
ISBN: 978-161922-372-1ASIN: B00U3M5ZNM
Number of pages: 232Word Count: 80K
Cover Artist: Kanaxa
Book Description:
The price of revenge may be her sanity…and the lives of those she loves.
No longer haunted by memories of her life—and death—as the Meer of Rhyman, Ra looks forward to a quiet existence with her lover Jak in the Haethfalt highlands.
Having made peace with Ahr, her consort from her former life, Ra can finally explore her new relationship, free of the ghosts of the past—until she unwittingly unearths Jak’s own.
Out of instinct, she uses her Meeric power to heal the pain of Jak’s childhood trauma.
But all magic has a price, and Ra’s bill has come due.
Succumbing to the affliction inherent in her race, Ra flees to the mountain ruins where her mother’s temple once stood. As the madness takes hold, she resurrects the ancient city of AhlZel in a tremendous act of magic that seals her fate—and threatens to destroy those who would give up everything to save her from herself.
Product Warnings: Contains dark themes, violence, gender-bending sex, and recovered memories of childhood sexual abuse.
Available at Amazon   BN   iTunes   Kobo   Samhain


STOP   
If you have not yet read book one there are spoliers ahead- you have been warned

Ch. 1 Excerpt, Idol of Blood (Book 2)
White dunes rolled and swayed into the distance like banks of snow. Counterfeits. Snow would be cold. That was the first thing she remembered. The first thing she’d seen and felt. Snow. The brisk insistence of it like the emphatic intake of air into a newborn’s lungs.
The second thing she remembered was Jak—startled eyes of steel gray, freckled cheeks, birch-bark hair tied practically back; stubborn, reserved, and as different from anyone in Ra’s limited experience as the snow was from the lush valley of the Anamnesis Delta where Ra belonged. As different from Ahr as anyone she could possibly have stumbled into on that first day of her new life. Jak had been a safe port in the storm of memory from which Ra fled.
Foolishly or not, Ra had returned, stealing a life from the ashes of her unstrung elements, her renaissance rashly effected. She’d returned either to punish Ahr or to beg forgiveness. Or both. She couldn’t remember. Ahr had killed her. Or rather killed him, the Ra that had been, the Meer of Rhyman.
She stumbled on the powdery sand and sat abruptly. It seemed the thing to do.
“Ra.” Jak was at her side in an instant, crouching with a look of concern. “Are you all right?” The bright Deltan sun glinted off the fair hair in a silvery halo.
“I just need to rest a moment.”
Sweet Jak. Ra had finally worn down the defenses, the wall of stone that kept others at a safe distance and allowed Jak to maintain control. Jak had let her in as she was sure no one else had been. Ra had touched Jak in intimate places—but not every place. No inner sanctum for Ra. Not yet.
Jak uncorked a water skin and offered it to her before rising and drawing their companion aside. Ra supposed she oughtn’t eavesdrop, but tuning out the Meeric flow was more difficult than tuning in to it after nearly four hundred years of meditative practice.
Ra’s eyes followed Jak, black sapphires in a white marble face peering through ebony tresses damp with sweat.
Jak nodded in her direction, voice low. “She can’t make this trip, Geffn. This is absurd.”
They’d traveled barely half a day from Rhyman, the place Ra had once ruled as divine Meer, but this Ra bore little resemblance to the majestic breed who’d occupied the altar-thrones and temples of the Deltan city-states before the Expurgation had overthrown them. Weak from the hunger strike she’d embarked upon, intent upon ending her new life after the memories of the former one returned to her, it had taken the last of Ra’s strength to destroy the templar priests who’d betrayed the Meer. Jak tried not to think of the minute bits of red matter to which the prelate of Rhyman had been reduced.
“No.” Geffn’s expression was vague, as though Jak’s words didn’t quite register. He’d been perhaps the mostly deeply affected by witnessing what Ra was capable of with a word. To Geffn, Ra had been a foundling in need of protection. Following her to Rhyman when she’d fled the snow-blanketed mounds of Haethfalt after remembering the violent end of her past life, Geffn had convinced himself Ra was incapable of protecting herself. Of course, Jak had thought the same.
“Geffn.” Jak spoke sharply to snap him out of his narcosis. “You have to pull yourself together and put what you’ve seen out of your head. I need you.”
Geffn’s eyes came into focus. “Need me? You most certainly don’t need me, Jak. You don’t need anyone.”
Jak ignored this. At least it was more like his usual self. “What do we do with her, Geff? It’s not safe to take her back to Rhyman. Not in this condition.”
“No, not Rhyman.” Geffn considered. “Better In’La. At least there we could barter for one of those two-wheeled motorized contraptions.”
“What contraptions?”
“A motorcycle.” Ra’s voice startled them. She’d come up behind them while they spoke. “Did you want one, Geffn?” She took his hands and placed his palms together, wrapping her hands around them. “One only has to ask.” There was a sound behind them, and when they turned to look, a sculpture of molded metal alloy on two wide rubber wheels sat in the center of the path.
Geffn gaped, unable to speak.
“Vetmaaimeerra,” Ra murmured with a wry smile. “It’s yours. Is it what you meant?”
Geffn walked about the polished machine, touching it hesitantly. It was solid and complete, and excellently made, as though crafted itself of conjured memory. On its right was a sidecar for an extra passenger, and protective shields for the eyes hung over one of the handlebars.
“I don’t know how it works.” He crouched and studied its pipes and engine in fascination. “Or what propels it. I think they burn some kind of fuel.”
“It will have all it needs,” said Ra. “Try it.”
Jak watched her closely. There was no point now in trying to tell Ra she mustn’t conjure. She wasn’t some child. She was a conjurer, intrinsically, and had paid a dear price for her nature. Who she was, as surely as who Jak was and fought for the right to be, would have to be accepted. Coexistence without judgment was the credo of the Haethfalt settlements.

Still, the exertion was disconcerting. It had seemed before, when Ra’s origins had been a mystery, that conjuring took something from her—which, of course, it must by some law of nature. Scrutinizing her now after this latest expenditure, Jak wondered what it might be. She was mildly flushed, but apparently not physically tired, as mere walking had made her. Jak feared the invisible toll.




Book One Available on Amazon  iTunes  BN  Kobo Samhain

About the Author:
Jane Kindred is the author of epic fantasy series The House of Arkhangel’sk, Demons of Elysium, and Looking Glass Gods. She spent her formative years ruining her eyes reading romance novels in the Tucson sun and watching Star Trek marathons in the dark. She now writes to the sound of San Francisco foghorns while two cats slowly but surely edge her off the side of the bed.
http://www.janekindred.com
http://www.janekindred.com/blog
https://twitter.com/JaneKindred
https://www.facebook.com/janekindred
https://www.goodreads.com/janekindred
https://plus.google.com/+JaneKindred
https://www.pinterest.com/janekindred
http://janekindred.tumblr.com
https://www.youtube.com/user/meershiva


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Interview with Renee Meland Autthor of The Extraction List Series

Today, we will be sitting down with author Renee N. Meland to talk about her new book Burning Doors, book two in The Extraction List Series.
THE WRITING:
How did this book come about? Did you always intend The Extraction List to become a series?
I actually had zero intention of it becoming a series. But then I met the characters in the first book, and could tell they weren’t done telling their story, especially Cain, who is the narrator of the second book. It actually takes place chronologically before the first book. I wanted him to have a chance to tell the reader how he became the badass that he is in book one.
Describe the book’s place in the series:
This book gives the reader more of a glimpse into the world that gave birth to the Parental Morality Law. I wanted the reader to see what the world would have looked like in order for a law like that to exist.
How many books is the series going to have?
Right now, I’m planning on stopping at four, but who knows? The characters could take over again and we could get a book five. There are several characters who I also think could have the potential to be in a spinoff book.
THE FUN:
If you could choose to come back as any person or animal, what would it be?
Probably a cheetah so I could run really fast. Never been much of an athlete.
Who are your favorite writers?
Neal Shusterman for writing the Unwind Series, Chuck Palaniuk for being so darn good at dark humor, and Suzy Vitello for being brilliant and an all-around nice person.
Favorite Quote?
“It’s not important which way you jump, just that you jump.” It’s from a Chuck Palahniuk book. ChokeI think. I just love it because you get to points in your life where you’re so worried about making the right decision that you don’t do anything at all. Just trying something is better than doing nothing at all.




Burning DoorsThe Extraction List SeriesBook 2Renee N. Meland
Genre: Science Fiction Thriller
Publisher: Limitless PublishingDate of Publication: April 28th, 2015
ISBN: 9781680581119ASIN: B00W7GV018
Number of pages: 164
Book Description:
Cain Foley committed his first murder before he could even drive a car…
Not that he would’ve had anywhere to drive to. When he was fifteen, America was one of the poorest countries in the world, and its’ citizens took their hatred of that fact out on each other through gangs and violence.
Children barely tall enough for carnival rides peppered the streets selling drugs (or themselves) so they could buy their next meal.
Every night on the news, Cain watched as an angelic blonde woman who lost her own child swore she’d end it…
She assaulted America’s televisions with praise for the Parental Morality Law: a set of rules that spells out exactly what it takes to be a parent in the eyes of the government, and the consequences of breaking those rules. He prayed every night that she’d come to rescue him before his father took off his belt again.
Before she could save him, Cain faced a fatal choice…
Fight back or die on the basement floor.
He chose life.
Now on the run, he finds himself being hunted by a police officer with his own special brand of torture. Before he can save even a handful of the children who have been swept up in the gang life, he must first cover up not one, but two murders. His father’s and one committed by a teenage madam who is either the love of his life, or his final undoing.
As he feels himself being pushed further and further to the edge, Cain realizes that surviving his father was just the beginning.
Available on Amazon  Kindle  PrintExcerpt:
The first time I killed someone, it was an accident. Though I guess it was the kind of accident that happens when you squeeze your hands around someone’s neck for too long, or when you shove someone who is standing too close to the edge of a building. In my case, I accidentally killed my father when I beat him to death with a pipe.He had set me up that night, I’m sure of it. I was always careful to leave the TV volume down so I wouldn’t be caught. But when I flipped the power on that night, the news roared. The woman I wanted to see was there, giving a speech like always, but her voice came out with the force of thunder. Sweat drenched my body when I heard the door to my parents’ upstairs bedroom fly open and hit the wall. The foundation shook and so did my limbs. I sat frozen in a seated position as I heard his footsteps. All I could focus on were his shiny patent leather shoes coming toward me. Even in the middle of the night, he took the time to slip them on.I could smell him before I even saw his feet. He constantly stunk of mouthwash and old cologne; it was some putrid mix of sandalwood and beach vacations that we would never take. He cackled as he stepped toward me, so the minty air from his breath reached me before his hand did. I felt my head hit the floor before I felt the familiar sting in my cheek.“You’re so stupid. You really think you’ll ever leave here? Where do you think you’re going to go, huh? You need me. She hasn’t come for you and she never will!” He kicked me in the side with his foot.My stomach clenched from the impact.I usually kept quiet when he hit me. At most, I would agree with whatever he was saying to stop him before he did real damage.It never worked.No matter what I said, or didn’t say, the blows would keep coming. My mother was always  conveniently upstairs, but no one can tell me she couldn’t hear the snap of his belt or the furniture rattle as he shoved me into it.That night was different. Maybe it was watching the woman from the television, or maybe it was the way his smile stretched across his face as he struck me, I don’t know. But when he was finished and heading back upstairs, I spat towards him.My cheeks burned as I did it. In fact, my whole body felt like it was on fire. But I’d be lying if I said I wished I could take it back. Even when he turned, eyes wide when he noticed the wad of saliva glistening on the concrete floor, I didn’t regret it one bit.I may have even cracked a smile.


About the Author:
Renee N. Meland is an avid writer and reader of speculative fiction. She and her husband reside in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. When she is not writing or being a devoted doggy-mom, she is gardening or learning a new recipe.
She is currently working on the rest of the books in The Extraction List Series. Other upcoming projects involve reincarnation, and a house filled with people who all have something to hide.
Blog: https://reneenmeland.wordpress.com/   
Twitter @reneenmeland
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8194285.Renee_N_Meland
Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/pages/Renee-N-Melands-Books/311899338826241

Cover Reveal Into the Mist by Judith Ingram

Into the MistMoonseed TrilogyBook 3Judith Ingram
Genre:  paranormal romance
Publisher: Vinspire Publishing, LLCDate of Publication: July 30, 2015
Number of pages: Word Count:  91,500
Cover Artist:  Elaina Lee/For the Muse Designs
Book Description: 
For the past six months, time-traveler Victoria Ashton has been living life as Katherine Kamarov on a ranch in rural California, circa 1890. A contrast to Katherine’s brash personality, shy and gentle Victoria has won the hearts of Katherine’s family and particularly her cousin Michael. Despite her deepening love for Michael, she has rejected his offer of marriage and sent him away, knowing that she must return to her own time on the night of the new spring moon.
In this third and final book of the series, sinister forces threaten Victoria’s new family, her property, and even her life, testing her for courage and ingenuity. A confident new self emerges, and when Michael unexpectedly walks back into her life, she questions whether she must remain a victim of fate or can find a way to determine her own future.
Meanwhile, Katherine has been living a parallel year of exchange in Victoria’s modern-day life, married to the handsome but remote Ryan Ashton. Hardened by her past, Katherine nevertheless falls for Ryan and, like Victoria, begins to search for a way to defy fate and keep the life she has come to cherish.
As the night of the new spring moon approaches, both women must search their hearts to discover how to hold onto what matters most, even if they should be forced back through the barrier of time.

About the Author:
Judith Ingram weaves together her love of romance and mystery as well as her training as a counselor to create stories and characters for her novels. She is also the author of a Christian guide to forgiving and posts weekly devotionals on the role of forgiveness in healing relationships. She lives with her husband in the San Francisco East Bay and makes frequent trips to beautiful Sonoma County, where many of her fiction characters reside. She confesses a love for chocolate, cheesecake, romantic suspense novels, movies that require three hankies, and all things feline.
Website, blog and free weekly devotional: http://JudithIngram.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JudithIngramAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/@judithingram20
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/pub/judith-ingram/a/122/62
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5356538.Judith_Ingram

Guest Blog and Giveaway: The Fraternity of the Soul Eater by Scott A. Lerner

One of the common themes in Ruler of Demons as well as Cocaine Zombies is the concept of good vs. evil. In books and movies it tends to be easy to determine which is which. Sometimes it is as simple as looking to see who is wearing a white hat and who is donning a black one. Realty is more complicated. Few people are pure good or pure evil. Hitler was a vegetarian and spoke about his love of animals. Stalin was said to have loved his mother. Mother Teresa wasn't particular about who she accepted donations from, including some strongmen who probably didn't come by their money honestly. She apparently had a few other faults as well.

In the world of the paranormal identifying good and evil is even easier. Demons, Vampires, and Zombies are often portrayed as soulless creatures of the night, without qualms when it comes to murdering the innocent. Writers also tend to portray evil characters as ugly and good ones as attractive. In Ruler of Demons, a character's goodness or evilness cannot be determined just by looking at them.

Ruler of Demons revolves around the idea that sacrificing innocent people can bring about the End of Days. This seems like an easy call on the good vs. evil scale. Yet it is not. Since ancient times, there have always been people who believe that performing acts of great evil will summon the messiah to earth. Thus, they practice evil to bring about a positive outcome.  

In Ruler of Demons it is unclear if the ancient cult is seeking to summon the messiah or the devil. I also explore the question of whether or not the devil is a creature of pure evil. Did the devil simply get bad press in the Bible?   

These issues are relevant in our day and age. Terrorists believe they are doing the Lord’s work when they murder the innocent. Perpetrators of evil usually claim they are in the "right"--whatever that means. Religion has often been used to justify bad acts, from slavery to war. Religion has also helped feed the poor and clothe the needy.

Yet, all of these heavy philosophical issues need not be resolved in order to enjoyRuler of Demons. There are problems fiction can’t solve. I know, crazy, right? In fact a hug and a bottle of bourbon will do more to bring people together than any novel. That said, you never know. 

I also find that snacks have the ability to help bring people closer together. It is hard to be angry at a person, no matter what your philosophical differences, when there is a snack tray in front of you. My suggestion would be to cuddle up by the fire with a special someone along with a tray filled with chocolate, cheese and a copy of Ruler of Demons. Unless you read the book, you'll never know if Sam will actually save the world or if mankind has run out of time.

When you're done, you may still have questions about the nature of good and evil. Sam, Bob, and Susan are--in the end--just regular people confronted by unusually powerful religious zealots. Mostly I just hope you enjoy their company.





The Fraternity of the Soul EaterA Samuel Roberts ThrillerBook 3Scott A. Lerner
Genre: Urban Fantasy, Thriller
Publisher: Camel PressDate of Publication: June 15, 2015
ISBN: 978-1-60381-289-4ASIN: Not yet available
Number of pages: 218Word Count: 57k words
Cover Artist: Sabrina Sun
Book Description:
It’s been a while since Samuel Roberts was called upon to save mankind, and he’s getting restless. His girlfriend Susan thinks he’s a danger junkie, and he’s worried he has a hero complex. He’s back to his usual small-town lawyerly duties in Champaign-Urbana, handling divorces and helping people beat DUI raps. But then a young fraternity pledge calls. During an initiation ceremony he witnessed the live sacrifice of a young woman, but he had so much alcohol in his system that no one believes him. Except Sam. Lately Egyptian lore has been creeping into his life, his dreams, and his movie preferences, and he’s pretty sure he knows why. Evil is knocking on his door again.
Is the call welcome? Why can’t Sam be satisfied with his comfortable legal practice and gorgeous redheaded girlfriend? Maybe it’s because he knows that, as inadequate as he may feel to the task, he and his friend Bob may be humanity’s only hope against ancient supernatural forces combined with modern genetic engineering. Come hell or high water. Or in this case, the underworld or subterranean pyramids.
The Fraternity of the Soul Eater is the third book in the Samuel Roberts Thriller series, which began with Cocaine Zombies and continued with Ruler of Demons.
Available at Amazon

Excerpt:
She was wearing tight black jeans and a low-cut cropped T-shirt that exposed ample cleavage. A golden ankh dangled between her breasts. On one forearm was a tattoo of a bird I assumed to be a lark, and on the other, a tattoo of a hawk. Her bright blue eyes matched her hair. She was striking looking but by no means beautiful. A slight muffin top was made more visible by her short shirt, and she had apparently broken her nose at least once in her life. She smelled like sandalwood and cinnamon.I would never cheat on Susan, but I had to admit there was something sexy about Lark. I tried to put my prurient thoughts away and deal with the issue at hand. Also, the ankh made me wonder if she was playing for the other side. I was not a big fan of birds, which for me had always been a harbinger of bad luck. “So what is it that you couldn’t tell me at the courthouse?”“I’m a graduate student at the University of Illinois and heard from a friend about Chris’s case. I went to the preliminary hearing to get more information.”“That’s fine—it’s an open courtroom—but I can’t tell you the specifics of his case.”“I am here to help you, not the other way around.”“Cool!” I leaned back in my chair, trying to look casual. “Tell me what you know.”“My sister was at a party at that fraternity three years ago. She has not been seen since. I believe she was killed there. I can’t prove it, but I have been trying to ever since.”“Did you call the police?”“No, I called Pizza Hut.” She sighed. “I’m … sorry. This whole thing …. it’s hard to talk about. Yes, I called the police and the FBI. I even hired a private investigator.”“No luck?”“None. In fact, they all told me to let it go.”“I take it from the fact you are here that you didn’t ‘let it go.’ ”“You take it right. I was attending the University of Iowa. I was close to getting an MFA in fine arts but I transferred to the University of Illinois a year and a half ago. I’ve been investigating the fraternity ever since.” As she spoke Lark moved her arms about in quick gestures, reminding me of the bird she was named for.“What have you learned?”“For starters, I believe your client.”“Why?”She hesitated, as if pained by what she was going to relate. “Last year I dated a guy named George Hammond. He was a rich kid, kind of a geek, but he was okay. I essentially stalked him until he agreed to go out with me. At first I was only interested because he was pledging the fraternity. I know I was using him, but he was using me too. When he got accepted into the fraternity he told me a few of their secrets.”“Any chance I could chat with George directly?”She shook her head, a little violently. “Not unless we hold a séance. I’m sorry. I appreciate you speaking with me, and I don’t mean to be sarcastic. George died in a car accident. Actually, he was murdered, but I can’t prove it.”“What did he tell you?”“Every fall the fraternity sacrifices a girl. Their choice is based on her not having much in the way of family or money. They want someone who won’t be missed. The organs are removed as though she is to be mummified. Since there’s no pyramid to bury them in, the bodies are not wrapped or mummified or even kept.”It was difficult to absorb what she was telling me. “That is nightmarish. What the hell do they do with the bodies?”She jerked her shoulders up and down in a shaky shrug. “Who knows?”“Why would they do such a thing?”She looked mournful now. “George didn’t know. It may have been to test the pledges’ loyalty to the fraternity. He said they would commit the murder at a hidden temple and that the members would have to chant ancient prayers as part of some strange ritual. The leaders of the fraternity told him that the girls’ souls were being fed to the ‘Soul Eater,’ but George didn’t think they were serious.”“Do you believe what George told you?”“Yes.”“Why?”She looked me hard in the eye. “My sister is missing.



About the Author:
Author and attorney Scott A. Lerner resides in Champaign, Illinois. He obtained his undergraduate degree in psychology from the University of Wisconsin in Madison and went on to obtain his Juris Doctor degree from the University of Illinois in Urbana Champaign. He is currently a sole practitioner in Champaign, Illinois. The majority of his law practice focuses on the fields of criminal law and family law. Lerner’s first novel and the first Samuel Roberts Thriller, Cocaine Zombies, won a bronze medal in the mystery/cozy/noir category of the 2013 Independent Publisher (IPPY) Awards. The second book in the series is Ruler of Demons. The Fraternity of the Soul Eater is book 3. Book 4, The Wiccan Witch of the Midwest, will be released on Halloween, 2015.
You can find Scott online at: www.scottlerner.camelpress.com
www.facebook.com/ScottALernerAuthor
www.goodreads.com/author/show/6479067.Scott_A_Lerner
www.twitter.com/scottlernerauth

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Spotlight and Giveaway Can't Hide My Love by Sara York

Can’t Hide My LoveOut For YouSara York
Genre: MM Contemporary
Publisher: ARe Books
Date of Publication:  6/1/15
ISBN: 978-1-943576-07-4ASIN:
Word Count: 23,500
Cover Artist: Erin Dameron Hill
Book Description:
When desire is this strong, there’s no running from it.
Alec Harper has had a thing for Preston Gentry since high school. The one taste he got of the man only whet his appetite, now he has the opportunity to slake his need and get over the jerk. Preston isn’t walking away, though, and Alec can’t hold back. Their lust drives them into each other’s arms, but something hotter, and purer has developed beneath the surface. And it’s something neither Preston nor Alec can let go.
As a college football coach, Preston can’t afford to be gay. His job is on the line, but his heart knows what it wants. Being with Alec means he’ll be outed and he could lose his job. But some things are more important than pleasing the public…like love…

Available at ARe

Excerpt:
The door closed behind them and Preston turned the lock, securing the door to the small room that served as the boys’ public restroom at the park. The evening was warm, the scent of flowers and fresh cut grass filled the night, and in here, antiseptic burned his nose along with the dull scent of piss and something else darker.
Preston laughed again but he didn’t move away. Alec’s back was pressed against the cold tile and Preston positioned his hands on the wall beside Alec’s head. Preston’s laugh change as he leaned in close, almost touching Alec. He tried to calm his racing heart, but his body was having none of it. Alec’s dick had responded the closer Preston got, getting harder than ever before. But Preston was straight, very straight, and Alec was exceedingly gay.
“We should go,” Alec said, his voice crisp.
“Na, let’s wait out the round. They’ll run off to the other side of the park once they realize they can’t find us.” Preston was even closer and Alec swore he heard Preston sniff him.
Alec stiffened and tried to move away, but Preston closed the distance, his chest pressing against Alec’s. The world spun as his blood raced then stalled in his veins. How could Preston be doing this to him? He didn’t think Preston was homophobic, but maybe this was some big setup to destroy him. Alec started shaking then he felt Preston’s fingers trail down his arm, scarcely grazing over his sensitive hairs.
“Preston, we should—”
“Kiss.”
Frozen in place, he let Preston Gentry—only the hottest guy in school—kiss him. It was wonderful and terrible all at the same time. His dick was so hard he’d never be able to hide what he was feeling. This had to be some joke to Preston, but it was real for Alec. What if Preston’s friends were recording this? The thought sent panic racing down Alec’s spine and he pulled away, but Preston was right there, his body pressing against Alec’s, his hands insistent as he exposed skin by pulling up Alec’s shirt.
Before he could say no, Preston had Alec’s shirt pulled up to his armpits and one hand down Alec’s shorts, caressing his dick. They both gasped as Preston stroked him, their lips separating, allowing him to gulp in air. The air didn’t stop his head from spinning or his dick from throbbing.
Preston acted like he knew what he was doing. He was calm and confident, his hands manipulating Alec like he’d already done this a hundred times. Alec had no idea where to put his own hands or how to touch Preston. Lost to the sea of emotions and lust, he stood with his arms at his side, feeling more dorky than ever before.
He’d only really seen one other guy’s erect dick and that was on a porn site. He’d caught a few quick glances of soft dicks in the bathroom at school, but he sure as hell had never touched another guy’s prick.
Preston pushed both of their shorts low, and then their dicks were touching as Preston stroked them together. Alec clutched at the wall, then clung to Preston, squeezing the guy’s shirt so hard he feared he’d rip it. Preston’s breath was hot on his neck and loud in his ears. Alec’s mind started to buzz and his legs shook.
“I’m gonna—dammit, Preston.” Alec was shaking like a leaf, his balls pulled so tight he wondered if they’d ever go back in place.
Preston was doing something with his hand, reaching away, then his touch was back just before Alec blew his load. Preston was smart and had grabbed napkins. The harsh paper scratched the tip of his dick, but he didn’t mind. He’d just come with Preston—freaking hot Preston—star of the football team, Preston Freaking Gentry.

How the hell had this happened?
 About the Author:
Sara York's life is writing. The stories fight to get out, often leaving her working on four or five books at once. She can't help but write. Along with her writing addiction she has a coffee addiction. Some nights, the only reason she stops writing and goes to sleep is for the fresh brewed coffee in the morning. Sara enjoys writing twisted tales of passion, anger, and love with a good healthy dose of lust thrown in for fun.
For more information on other books by Sara, please visit her official website: www.SaraYork.com
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSaraYork
https://twitter.com/sarayork
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