Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 389

Guest Blog The Creator’s Eye: Mover of Fate, Part I by R.N. Feldman

Thanks for having me at Fang-Tastic! 
Rather than yapp away about my book like on any other blog, let’s get weird― paranormally weird!  This is a paranormal book blog, is it not?  Not to say that my series, The Creator’s Eye, doesn’t have plenty of other-wordly stuff going on in it.  Chracaters include different alien beings who have evolved all kinds of strange abilities, such as the lighbringers who can have multiple bodies at the same time.  There are the Movers who can manipulate matter with the force of their will.  And all sorts of Folds, that bend time and space to create wondrous anomalies.  But today, I want to talk about real life paranormal activity― something that actually happened to me.
When I was a teenager, I had a ghost follow me around for about a year and a half.  I had gone to a summer camp on an isolated cove on Catalina Island.  The counselors there told us all sorts of ghost stories, but most of them sounding like trying to tell a scary campfire tale.  It was the handful of people who lived there year round who shared the good stuff―  the stories that were so specific that they actually sounded real.  The janitor told me he spent the winter months cleaning children’s handprints off the bathroom mirrors over and over again, even when there were no kids staying at the cove.  One of the cooks described the ghost of a Native American man who sometimes stood at his window.  The kayaking instructor told me about the ghost of a little girl that appeared in his bedroom and tugged at his toes.  Interestingly, I had a friend who became a counselor there many years later and stayed in the same room as that instructor.  They never met each other, but he told me the exact same story about the little girl.  This camp had a long history.  It was supposedly a native village, a military training ground, a boy’s school, and a dude ranch.  A lot can happen over such a time period.  Still, it all sounds absurd coming from someone else’s lips. 
One night, I was lying in my top bunk trying to fall asleep.  It was about 11:30 at night and everyone else in my dorm was asleep.  I just lay awake, frustrated, staring across the room.  All of a sudden, I had a creepy sensation that someone was standing inches in front of me, staring right into my eyes.  Unnerved, I rolled over to face the wall.  But then I heard someone grab a hold of the wooden ladder and climb up my bunk.  It creaked with each step, and then someone sat down on the side of my bed.  The mattress actually sank down under palpable weight.  I tried the best I could not to freak out.  I got up, hopped out of bed, trying to avoid touching the presence as best I could, and went to the bathroom.  I hung out in there for about twenty minutes until I convinced myself that I had imagined the whole thing, then went back to bed and fell asleep. 
Nothing happened to me again that summer, or the next one.  It was the Fall after that, a year and several months later, that I was lying in bed in my own home.  It was 11:30 at night.  I was unable to fall asleep again and staring out across my room, when suddenly, I felt someone standing at my door, watching me.  Creeped out again, I rolled over to face my wall and ignore it, but in an instant, the presence warped across the room and stood next to my bed.  I could feel it there, icy and cold, just staring at me.  Then it lay down on the bed beside me and tried to cozy up next to me.   Child protective services, anyone?  I shuddered, got up, wandered around the house for a while until I calmed down enough to go back to bed, and went to sleep.
The next morning over breakfast, I told my mom what happened.  I didn’t expect her to believe me, but she looked very concerned.  She had me speak to a friend of hers who was interested in all things psychic and other-wordly.  That friend told me that a ghost is someone who for some reason could not move on to the afterlife.  They had some fear, anger, or other issue that ties them to the material world.   She explained that I needed to treat the specter like an actual person who was invading my privacy and demand that it leave me alone, and once I did so, I needed to believe that it was gone.  It was my belief that allowed it to appear.  I found that odd, because I was pretty skeptical about ghosts until this point and was still somewhat doubtful even when one was sitting right next to me.
Over the next few weeks, her suggestion that the ghost was someone who could not “move on” seemed to be on the mark.  The spirit appeared to me the same way every time.  I would be lying in bed, it would appear at the door, warp across the room, sit down in bed and try to get close to me.  I would say to it in my head to “Go away!  You’re invading my space!” (I was very polite, considering the situation), but every week or two it would reappear and become more real.  I got the sense that it was a very sad person who was seeking comfort, or some sort of human contact. 
Finally, I actually saw her.  She appeared as a woman in her early thirties with long, straight, black hair.  She looked Native American, but wore a long, pale cotton night gown.  She was transparent, glowing a greenish blue, and sat on the edge of my bed looking downcast. 
I wasn’t scared at this point, just annoyed.  I was tired of being kept awake at night.  Up until this point, every time she had appeared I mentally exclaimed for her to go away, but this time I said aloud, firmly, “Leave me alone!  You need to move on!  It’s not okay for you to be here!”  I waited a moment, expecting her to look at me, but she didn’t move her head at all.  Still sitting down, still staring at her lap with a downcast expression, she floated off my bed and slowly rose through my ceiling. 
After that I knew she was gone for good.
Many ghost stories still sound ludicrous to me, but I can also tell when people sound sincere and they believe in what they experienced.  I believe that many things are possible even if science does not yet have easy ways to explain them.  A lot of sci-fi ideas have predated actual scientific developments, and it is this realm of possibility that helps to keep me energized as a writer and a reader.  The Creator’s Eye was a great place for me to explore the edges of my imagination, where metaphysics bleeds over into quantum physics, evolution can take many strange and alien paths, and mental abilities can be taken to wondrous extremes.

-R.N. Feldman The Creator’s Eye: Mover of Fate, Part IThe Creator’s EyeBook IR.N. Feldman
Genre: Science Fiction/ Fantasy
Date of Publication: November 26, 2014
ISBN: 978-1501083617ASIN: B00O705KD6
Number of pages: 270Word Count: 58,401
Cover Artist: R.N. Feldman and Caroline Miller
Book Description:
On a hidden archipelago, people known as Movers manipulate matter with their minds while strange Folds in space transform the landscape into wondrous and often deadly anomalies. 
When a young Mover named Michael Edwards discovers that he is descended from a long line of beings who can not only Move matter, but actually Create it, he finds himself at the center of a cosmic struggle for power. 
Manipulated by friends, family, and an ominous prophecy, he allies himself with a host of strange creatures and characters as he fights to become Mover of his own destiny.
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/o8-NsFjl7dA
Add it to your Goodreads Shelf
Available at Amazon

CHAPTER I DISCOVERY DAY
Michael took a deep breath as he watched another seizure wrack his mother’s body. It was a small one, but he dutifully laid her on the floor just in case it became violent. He stood nearby as she twisted and shivered. He had to remind himself not to interfere— to let the attack run its course. The seizures always caught him by surprise, but the procedure to deal with them had become almost banal— lay her on the floor, make sure she didn’t hit her head, then wait until it was  over.After a few moments, she lay still and stared vacantly at the ceiling. Michael helped her sit up. He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her to a chair at the dining table. Her wiry brown hair tickled his ear. It was the same color and curliness as his, but no amount of combing seemed to keep it in place anymore. He could barely recognize his own face in her sallow cheeks and sunken eyes. He looked more like his father anyway, with his golden skin, green eyes, and broad shoulders. His mother, meanwhile, had grown thin and frail, but when he lifted her up, her limp body felt as heavy as a sack of wet dough.“Are you okay?” Michael asked as he arranged her in her chair. Her dull, dark eyes stared ahead blankly.“Mom, do you want to eat?” he asked, although he didn’t actually expect a reply. It had been years since she had articulated a full sentence, but he didn’t like treating her like a vegetable. Once in a while she was lucid enough to grunt a response, but this time, she did not even move.“I’m going to make dinner now,” Michael told her, tentatively leaving her, hoping she would not fall or have another seizure the moment he turned  away.He went to the kitchen sink where he had only just finished washing   the vegetables when he had been interrupted by her collapse. He sliced the sweet, white ghost carrots— a summertime favorite of his town— into big chunks and put them in a pot with the other vegetables. He covered them with stock and turned up the heat on the stove. The pilot clicked a few times, but there was no whoosh of flames springing to life. Michael grumbled at the malfunctioning burner as he set the pot aside and lifted the  enameled stove lid. The firebox was out. The small carton of rocks that usually glowed red with potential heat were instead an ashen grey.Michael had boiled some water for tea that morning, so he knew that they should be working. Usually when they died, they went out slowly, becoming weaker over the course of a few days, but these had just inexplicably lost their oomph. He wondered if he had accidentally spilled something on them. Regardless, he would have to light them, but he didn’t hunt for matches. Instead, he took it as a chance to practice his  Moving.He set the kitchen timer for five minutes, rolled up his sleeves and pointed his finger at the small cluster of stones. He stared at them, or actually focused his eyes on an imaginary point beyond them. He would make them catch fire. According to the books his uncle Sefu gave him, he should not hope, need, want, or pray for the fire to manifest. He had to imagine it was already there. Anything less merely affirmed his lack of will. It was a small nuance, but made all the difference.


Michael focused his thoughts like a beam of sunlight, pushing all foggy doubt out of his mind that what he was doing was impossible. His mind wandered occasionally, but he kept bringing it back to its goal, to the reality that he required— that there was already fire in the firebox. His concentration reached a frenzied tension and his vision  blurred.Unable to hold his thoughts anymore, Michael relaxed his stare. His vision re-focused and to his satisfied surprise, a small spray of sparks issued from his fingertip. It surrounded and warmed the firestones. Without stopping his Moving, he checked the kitchen timer. Two minutes had elapsed. It was not a personal record, but Michael acknowledged that there was at least merit in consistency.The dull stones crackled, catching fire on their own. Michael ceased his Moving, lowered the stove top, and replaced the soup on the revived flame. While waiting for it to boil, he chopped garlic and parsley. Even though his mother was about as responsive as the firebox was a moment ago, he did his best to make her meals taste good. He hoped that a well-cared for meal was somehow healing or imperceptibly uplifting to her  spirit.Michael added some herbs and salt, and when the vegetables had softened, he turned off the flame and crushed the whole concoction with a sturdy slotted spoon. It was kind of a shame to mash it up, but lengthy chewing was beyond his mother’s  ability.“Here you go,” he said, serving her a bowl. “Eat it while it’s  hot.”At first it seemed she hadn’t heard, but a ghost of awareness flitted across   her face. She dipped a spoon into the beige puree and after a slow moment, dragged it to her lips. Michael watched her mechanically eat for a while. He listened to the clumsy clink of the metal spoon against her teeth and the sloppy glug of her throat. Once he was sure that she was underway, he got up to wash the dishes and perhaps find a moment to pour himself a bowl. But before he took a step, he heard the rustling of packs at the front door. His father was home.Michael hurriedly opened the door for him. His father was still rifling through his pocket for his keys. “Ah, thanks!” his dad, Simon, smiled through crow’s feet and a thick salt and pepper beard.Michael took his father’s bags.His dad stepped into their living room, shutting the door behind him. “So?” he asked as he peeled off his coat and slung it over the sofa. “Is your mom  okay?”Michael described her recent seizure and added with measured assurance, “I think she’s fine now.”“Was that the only one?” his dad asked, but did not sound particularly concerned. “No, she had a series of them a couple hours after you left. She’s been  mostlyabsent since then. I had to stay around the house the past couple of days keeping an eye on her.”His dad nodded aloofly and patted his belly, which along with a slope to his shoulders, had grown more pronounced since his wife took ill. He strode over to the stove and ladled himself a bowl of soup. “Is this all there is?” he asked  disappointedly.“Um,” Michael began, a little frustrated by his father’s dissatisfaction, “I think there’s some phoenix in the ice box from last night,” he  suggested.Phoenixes were a fiery-colored, long-plumed fowl commonly raised in the region, but lacked any of the powers of resurrection borne by their mythological  namesake.Michael’s father wrinkled his nose at the prospect of cold bird and glumly muttered, “I’ll stick with the soup.”


Michael tried not to make a face and instead asked how his trip  was. “Interesting,” Simon began as he took a seat at the far side of the table away  fromhis wife. “This was an exciting one.”Michael’s father worked as an assessor for the government’s environmental insurance agency. Arimbol, the island chain on which they lived, was full of unexplained natural phenomena colloquially called folds. They were places where nature and physics would bend. Most folds were so subtle that unless you were paying close attention you could pass through them without notice, but others were beautiful, miraculous  places.Michael had heard of some where water flowed uphill, optics went awry, or wind burst from the ground with the force of a hurricane. There were also folds that were quite dangerous, that could make you sick, crazy, or even kill you. Most folds were relatively small though, only affecting an area the size of his living room, while the largest engulfed the entire Arimbolean archipelago.Michael had never had the chance to travel, so loved to hear stories whenever his dad returned from one of his many trips. He had seen more of Arimbol than anyone else in their village, so knew a great deal about its flora and fauna, most of which existed nowhere else on Earth. Some were widespread across the islands and were even farmed. Besides the phoenix and summer ghost carrots, their town of New Canaan was particularly famous for the blue wine squeezed from coastal cobalt grapes grown on the surrounding hillsides. East of Canaan, towards Alexandria, was miles of black  wheat.While the hills around Canaan were called the Blue Mountains, that area was sometimes referred to as the Burnt Plains.Some plants and animals were less widespread. They were so specifically adapted that they might inhabit a single pool of water. His father had told him about the white thorn fish that clung to the slippery rocks of a single stream north of Urgench, or the roaks, the giant birds that nested on the tallest peaks of the Morningstar Buttes. Michael’s father told him that they were so large that they could easily carry off hesats—  the shaggy, one-horned buffalos that grazed on the southern  grasslands.Michael was anxious for his father’s story. He sat down with him, keeping an eye on his mother to make sure she was still eating. “So what did you see?” he  urged.“Well, a few days ago, a farmer in Skarra claimed that a long chasm had  opened in the ground and green fire just shot out of it, destroying a huge swath of his crops. But when I arrived, the fields were burned, but there was no sign of a fold. For all I knew the farmer had lit the fields on fire himself while burning leaves. But upon closer inspection, there was a series of cracks running down the center of his land. It looked like the ground had unzipped like a pair of trousers.” He gave a sharp snort then slurped back a spoonful of the thick stew. “Hmm, needs salt,” he said, reaching for the shaker across the table before going on. “I told the farmer, ‘Look, I can fill a report out, but there’s nothing indicating that a fold did this. For all I know, you just got drunk and did something foolish.’”“The guy looked offended and exclaimed, ‘It’s happened more than once! Just stick around tonight and you’ll see!’” Michael’s father sighed. “I didn’t particularly want to stay there any longer than I had to, but he seemed sure of his tale. Plus, in my job, I’ve seen stranger things than fire shooting out of the ground, so I agreed to spend the evening there. He and his wife were hospitable and offered me dinner, but I couldn’t take it, of course. Regulations, you know. I fortunately had the sandwich you packed for  me.”


Michael nodded, glad his cooking had been of some use.“I waited there until midnight, but nothing happened, so I got up to leave. The farmer begged me to stay just a little bit longer, but I was tired from the trip and   wanted  to go back to the inn. Just as we stepped out onto his front porch, I noticed a green glow coming from the field. We stood there watching as the ground began to hiss and jets of green fire streamed from the earth. It followed the jagged slit I had seen earlier, but it cracked wider. The crops around it caught fire, and the line jutted quickly across the field. It ran straight for their house.”“What did you do?” Michael asked, leaning in.“We were dumbfounded at first. I mean, we just sat there with our jaws hanging open like a thirsty hesat. It was probably only a couple of seconds, but the fire moved quickly. I got my wits about me and yelled at the farmer and his wife to get inside and go out the back.”Folds rarely appeared in places people had inhabited for a long time. Usually his father was called in to examine some place that people had wandered into while traveling. It was his job to categorize and map them, and to file claims for people if they were injured or lost property, but this was unusual that he had to rescue people  himself.“I ran out into the field and the damn farmer followed me. There was an irrigation ditch running nearby. I quickly Moved the ground with blasts of energy until I carved a trench running to the fissure. The water flowed through it and made the flames die  down a little, but the ground was still cracking and burning and running for the house. So, the farmer and I built up a huge mound of dirt to bury the rift.”“For a moment, it seemed like we stopped it, but then it just shot straight through the mound. A few seconds later, the farmer’s entire house was gone— just burned to ashes. The fold finally stopped just short of the tree line at the end of their  property.”“Was his family okay?”“No one got hurt, but it’s a hell of a mess for the agency. We don't know if  the land will be safe to live on, or even their neighbor's land for that matter. I’m going to have to go back with a crew and run a bunch of tests on it. For now, the farmer and his neighbors are staying with friends, but we're going to have to find somewhere permanent for them. It’s going to cost the crown a lot of money.”“What a mess!” Michael added.“But we'll solve it,” His dad said confidently as he got up to drop his bowl into the sink. “I’ll probably have to go back there next week. Are you okay with watching your mom again so soon?”“Sure,” said Michael, his willingness buoyed by his father’s heroism. “But I was wondering if you could do me a favor tonight? My friends have been back from college for the past few days and I haven't had a chance to see them, plus tonight are the Discovery Day fireworks.”Michael’s father sighed and rubbed his temples. Michael could feel the refusal coming on.“It’s been a long couple of days, son. I could really use a night to  relax…”“But I haven’t seen them in almost a year!” Michael implored. It had been a while since he had used such an insistent tone with his father, but his friends were back for summer from the Moving Academy in Alexandria and he was dying to catch up with them.

His dad grimaced, “Alright, just come back in time to help me get your mom upstairs.”Michael was elated. He thanked his father and set about finishing his chores so he could hurry to see them.


About the Author:
Mover of Fate is the first novel in The Creator’s Eye series by author and artist R.N. Feldman.  Feldman lives and works in Los Angeles, CA where he teaches at Otis College of Art and Design and spends as much time hiking through the local mountains as he can.  Art, metaphysics, useless scientific trivia, and extensive backpacking treks throughout the world have all been major influences in his work. 
Follow him on Facebook at www.facebook.com/thecreatorseye
You can also see his latest paintings on www.RoniFeldmanFineArt.com   
Website: http://www.rnfeldman.com/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/thecreatorseye
Twitter: @RNFeldman

Guest blog: Darkness Within by Candis Vargo

Thank you so much for having me here on Fang-tastic Books!

When trying to figure out what to write, something came to mind that I thought I would share with you all. It’s a crazy little experience of mine.

I’m one that believes everything happens for a reason. It could be something minute, or something huge, but it all happens for a reason.

In my novel Darkness Within, the character Mike hangs up drywall for a living. Not a luxury job, but one that people can be proud of.

Here recently, I found one of my long lost siblings. One I haven’t had any contact with since before I was two years old. The only thing I had was a picture of him before we got separated. When I found him (technically, he found me) and we got to know each other, he informed me that for a living, he hangs up drywall.

Crazy isn’t it? It’s crazy how something so small that seemed to have no relevance in my daily life, actually did.

I know it’s not some big extravagant story, but it had a big impact on my life and something I wanted to share with my readers. And it just so happened that it intertwined with my novel, Darkness Within. 

Am I the only one who has weird stuff like that happen to them? Has anything like that happened to you?



Darkness WithinThe Darkness SeriesBook OneCandis Vargo
Genre: Paranormal Thriller
Publisher: Limitless Publishing
Date of Publication: March 10
ISBN:ASIN:
Book Description:
Tragedy strikes the Roseburg family and leaves Mike struggling to help his wife, Mia. After losing their only child in an accident, Mia is far from emotionally distraught…instead, she continues on like their son is still alive.
Four months passed since the accident…
Mike begins to work with a psychiatrist to help his wife with her delusions when a darkness begins to haunt them. As this dark presence becomes violent, making itself known, Mike wonders if the illusion of their child that his wife is seeing is something far more demonic.
With the dark force looming over them, Mike is left questioning his own sanity as he tries to unravel what is real and what is not.
Soon he realizes…
Something is dreadfully wrong.
About the Author:
Growing up on an old dirty road in the middle of nowhere, as a child Candis used her love for books as a way to escape reality (and her brother constantly trying to kill her—literally). She blames her love of all things Horror on being born on Friday the 13th and will always find joy in scaring her friends.
You will find a little piece of her in every book she writes. She loves a good happy ending, but most of the time she prefers one she never saw coming.
When she’s not writing or reading, she can usually be found chasing her children around. She currently lives in Rome, Pennsylvania with her husband and three children. And her fat cat.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/CandisVargo
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/candis.vargo
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5625334.Candis_Vargo

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Cover Reveal Two Princes: The Biker and The Billionaire by Victoria Danann

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Two Princes: The Biker and The BillionaireSons of SanctuaryBook 1Victoria Danann
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publisher: 7th House Publishing,Imprint of Andromeda LLC
Date of Publication: June 16, 2015
Number of pages: 300Word Count: 90,000
Cover Artist: Victoria Danann
Book Description:
Brigid Roan is a graduate student at the University of Texas. She had no trouble getting her thesis approved, but finding a Hill Country motorcycle club willing to give her access to their lifestyle had started to seem impossible. Then she got a lead. A friend of a friend had a cousin with ties to The Sons of Sanctuary.
What she wanted was information to prove a proposition. What she didn’t want was to fall for one of the members of the club. Especially since she had set out to prove that motorcycle clubs are organized according to the same structure as primitive tribal society.
Brash Fornight was standing in line at the H.E.B. Market when his world tipped on its axis. While waiting his turn to check out, his gaze had wandered to the magazine display and settled on the new issue of “NOW”. The image on the cover, although GQ’d up in an insanely urbane way, was… him.
After reading the article, Brash threw some stuff in a duffle and left his club, The Sons of Sanctuary, with a vague explanation about needing a couple of days away. He left his Jeep at the Austin airport and caught a plane for New York, on a mission to find the guy who was walking around with his face.
Two brothers, one a player, one a playboy, are on a collision course with destiny and a woman who thought she won a prize when she was allowed a look inside the Sons of Sanctuary MC.

Available at Amazon  BN   Kobo   iTunes
About the Author:
USA Today Bestselling Author, Victoria Danann, is making her debut into Contemporary Romance with releases in May and June 2015, after taking the world of PNR by storm.
Her Knights of Black Swan series won Best Paranormal Romance Two years in a Row (2013, 2014). ~Reviewers Choice Awards, The Paranormal Romance Guild.
Victoria’s paranormal romances come with uniquely fresh perspectives on “imaginary” creatures, characters, and themes. She adds a dash of scifi, a flourish of fantasy, enough humor to make you laugh out loud, and enough steam to make you squirm in your chair. 
Her heroines are independent femmes with flaws and minds of their own whether they are aliens, witches, demonologists, psychics, past life therapists, or financial analysts from Dallas. Her heroes are hot and hunky, but they also have brains, character, and good manners – usually – whether they be elves, demons, berserkers, werewolves, or vampires.
The first book of the Knights of Black Swan Paranormal Romance Series, My Familiar Stranger, was nominated for Best Paranormal Romance of 2012 by both Reviewers’ Choice and Readers’ Choice Awards. All of her books have opened on the Amazon Best Sellers list and earned Night Owl Reviews Top Pick awards.
Many have appeared on Listopia Book of the Month as #1 across all genres.
For books published in 2013, Black Swan won three awards.
1. Best Paranormal Romance Series

2. Best Paranormal Romance Novel – A SUMMONER’S TALE
3. Best Vampire~Shifter Novel – MOONLIGHT.
In 2014, Solomon’s Sieve won Best Vampire Novel.
If you’re interested in me personally, I am also a classically trained musician who defected to Classic Rock and that’s my first love. Yeah. Even more than writing.
This is Roadhouse, the very best in Classic Rock, taken near The Last Concert Cafe, Houston Texas, 2011. I was the utility player which means I played rhythm guitar, keyboards, sang backups and a few leads.
www.facebook.com/vdanann   
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@vdanann
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Guest Blog and Giveaway with Dianne Lynn Gardner

“The sea is a cradle of mystery.” So begins the prose set to a haunting melody in Pouraka’s book trailer. “Entities shielding one another, caring for one another, so that those things which are sacred are not violated by strangers.”

Mankind’s science has unraveled obscurities in our world, traveling through outer space as easily as he explores molecules. Yet the ocean remains vague, a pounding mass whose greatness has been unexplored in comparison. 

Creatures similar to the human species, mammals that give birth to young and grow hair, live in the deepest abyss of the sea. Yet we treat them as strangers, aliens that we know little about and in many respects, treat as lesser than ourselves. Abuse even. 

They congregate as colonies, in schools and pods caring for one another, defending each other. Studies show that they speak to each other and surely in the case of spinner dolphins, they dance with each other. Their delight is in freedom and I can’t help but wonder if the very essences of their being intimidates mankind. 

It is perhaps a good thing that we know so little about the ocean and its inhabitants. It seems that whatever man explores he feels a need to conquer and often in his conquest, he destroys. Perhaps that’s the vampire in him. The blood sucking instinct that seeks to drain the life out of his prey, hoping that somehow it will make him stronger, mightier.

If mermaids and mermen did live in the deepest waters, what would they think about men? Having lived side by side with dolphins, orcas, gray whales, and the multitude of species that call the reefs their home, the currents their roads, the ocean floor their cradle, how would they view the intrusion of humans? 

 I grew up by the Pacific Ocean. I’m certain that when one falls in love with the sea, it will always beckon you no matter how far from a body of water you live. I think that when you breathe that salty air in long enough it becomes a part of you. I well understand the sailors’ dilemma. How a man can spend months on a creaky boat bouncing on swells that rise well overhead, suffering through the blast of a storm or enduring days of blazing heat with nothing but water to mirror the sun’s rays. Still they set out again and again because they had a taste in their mouth that was insatiable. It’s little wonder that in those endless days of sailing, stories of mermaids would take form. Half human, half sea creature. Indeed. A link between two worlds.

Such is the story of Pouraka. Pouraka is not only a romance that accentuates the natural and unyielding love sea mammals have for one another, but it also speaks of the everlasting battle between the meek and the strong, the powerful and the powerless. As one reviewer stated,

“We poor, landlocked humans are inclined to think of mermaids – and mermen, of course – as living a wild and free existence in the oceans of the world, having the occasional dolphin sidekick with whom they pass the time of day and are happy and joyous 24 x 7. The world which Dianne Gardner has created for this story is far different than the one of our imaginations. It is a world where merfolk are a hunted species under constant encroachment by humans, tourists, and oil rigs. The ocean waters that border the land are rapidly becoming an inhospitable place to abide, evocative of the book of Amos, 7:17. “ . . . your sons and your daughters shall fall by the sword, and your land shall be divided by line; and you shall die in a polluted land . . . “ Their dire situation invites the reader to apologize for being human.”

Such circumstances that befall the mysterious world of the ocean need reconciling. The powerful need to relent. It is my hope that Pouraka will initiate a pause and a thought of kindness for those meeker than ourselves.

PourakaBook OneDianne Lynn Gardner
Genre: Fantasy romance
Publisher: Dianne Lynn Gardner
ASIN: B00T0PED40
Number of pages: 242Word Count: 75369
Cover Artist: Dianne Lynn Gardner
Book Description:
Pouraka is a magical sea cavern tucked under the rocky cliffs near Barnacle Bay. Cora, a Pouraka mer, is torn between her friends in the seaside town, and her true love Tas, a foreign mer whose people fled when men invaded their waters.
Life becomes difficult for all mers when an arrogant oil rigger's son, Tom, finds the bay and the rich aquatic life it harbors. When Tas attempts to rescue a pod of dolphins from Tom's gill net, he is captured and taken away as a prize to be sold to a theme park. When Cora hears of his capture she changes into human form and travels south to find him, risking her life to free him.
Time away from Pouraka leaves the cavern vulnerable, and a new threat arises when tourists discover its magic.
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/EkSwqips0D0

Available at Amazon


Excerpt:
Leni brushed his hair back with his hands and focused on the ocean again. Cora followed his eye. Stars cast dancing beams that rippled in the dark. Tiny lights flickered in the distance and the lights of a boat on the horizon spread a beam of color on the quiet waters. Leni rubbed his chin awhile. “I take it he’s in merman form?” 
The look on Leni’s face when she nodded, and the way he shook his head made Cora’s stomach churn. “You have to help us, Leni. There’s no one else.”
“Cora.” Leni bowed his head. Cora waited for him to think, to come up with a plan but all he did was shake his head over and over again.
“Leni!” she pleaded.
“I’m not sure what all I can do. If they caught themselves a merman, they aren’t going to give him up just because an old fisherman asks them to. If it’s that oil rigger’s son, he’ll laugh and who knows what he’d do to Tas. They don’t have any respect for me you know. They don’t have much respect for life at all.”
“What are you saying?” She couldn’t believe his response. Leni had always been so understanding, so available when the merpeople needed him. “Are you saying you won’t do anything?”
“I’m saying I can’t just race out there and ask them to release Tas. If he’s held captive, he’s going to be under tight security. Heck, he might not even be on that boat. He might be halfway to Ocean Bend by now.”
“Leni!”
“Cora, this is bigger than you can imagine. Men have been trying to catch merfolk for thousands of years! They’ll take him to the nearest lab or university and do tests on him. The newspapers will be all over it. The government might even claim him.” He shook his head again and met Cora’s eyes. A sympathetic pout turned down the corners of his lips. “I’m afraid Tas’ fate is out of our hands, Cora. You’d better warn your friends because those people will be coming back for more. Believe me.”
About the Author:
Dianne is an author and illustrator of YA adventure fantasy with a dab of historical content thrown in. Building worlds that might resemble the forests of her home in the Pacific Northwest, or the shimmering deserts of Arizona, add to that a pinch of magic dust and a few million stars and you just might find the portal to another Realm.
Happily married to a man that puts up with her celestial wanderings and wonderings, she is the mother of seven lovely adult children and grandmother to sixteen gorgeous boys and girls.
Dianne loves writing, painting in oils and living in other dimensions. She finds life much more colorful that way! Her books are middle grade to young adult adventure fantasies with dragons and wizards and sorcery and battles on the high seas. Her grandchildren are a big inspiration for her stories. There’s a shared camaraderie, something akin to what C.S. Lewis said about someday being old enough to enjoy fairy tales again.
Dianne’s newest series Pouraka dives into the depths to explore life as a mer. She also has a series that is being re released by PDMI publishing called the Ian’s Realm Saga.
Stretching her tent stakes, she is working on an Indie Film production of her V book Cassandra’s Castle.
Website http://gardnersart.com
Blog https://diendrial.wordpress.com/
Twitter @DianneGardner
Rebel Mouse https://www.rebelmouse.com/DianneGardner/
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/Pouraka
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DianneLynnGardner
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6473931.Dianne_Lynn_Gardner
Amazing Stories Magazine http://amazingstoriesmag.com/authors/dianne-lynn-gardner/


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My Writing Journey by Layne Macadam

My Writing Journey by Layne Macadam
Thank you so much for hosting me, I am delighted to be here today and talk to you a little about my journey as a writer.
I have always been a reader. Even from an early age you could find me curled up in a sunny corner with my nose stuck in a book. I adored them all, the mysteries, adventures, and fantasies. I’d befriend the characters and accompany them as they embarked on their journeys. I especially loved stories set in foreign places. Anne of Green Gables immediately springs to mind. I laughed and cried with Anne every step of the way until she finally married her soul mate, Gilbert Blythe.
As I matured so did my taste in books. I read the classics, Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters, Thomas Hardy, Dickens, as well as numerous modern day authors. But like the fairytales, I love a happily-ever-after so always came back to the romance books, now with that added extra bit of spice!
One day, a friend suggested I should try my hand at writing. “Who me?” I asked surprised, but with a bit more convincing I decided to give it a shot. As any author will tell you, it’s not easy. Some say it takes five percent inspiration and ninety-five percent perspiration to be successful. The perspiration I’d have to agree with, because when the book is complete, that’s not the end of the journey. You then have to find a publisher.
The first rejection is tough and you want to cry out, “What, you don’t like my book? Are you crazy? It’s a great story.” How could you not like it?
Most rejections are a standard blurb with no feedback. I was fortunate enough to get a rejection that included constructive criticism. They liked my voice, so that had to be a good thing, right? But my POV was under attack, apparently it was all over the place! Mm yes, that does sounds untidy, but what were these things? And why hadn’t I heard of them before? Showing Vs Telling was another point they made that I should have been doing more of. Sure I’d written academic essays during the course of obtaining my degree, but that was nothing at all like writing a novel.  Links were also provided where I could read and learn about Voice, POV (Point of View) Plot, Show rather than Tell, things pertaining to my craft.
So after the bruises healed I picked myself up, took the constructive criticism on board, and followed the links. What a revelation! I then relooked at my manuscript with fresh eyes. I kept my Voice, sorted the POV, and set about rewriting the Telling into Showing. I then resubmitted and the next I knew there was a contract offer in my inbox. Desire Unleashed was the first book in my Desire Series.
It was a big leap from a contemporary suspense novel to paranormal, but thoughts of a wolf shifter were running amuck in my mind for so long I just had to put them down and the result was Wolf On Wheels, Book 1 in my Heritage Series, released 16 March, 2015 by Syn Publishing.





Wolf On WheelsHeritage SeriesBook OneLayne Macadam
Genre:  Erotic Wolf Shifter
Publisher: Syn PublishingDate of Publication: 16 March
ASIN: B00TP8WA3I
Number of pages:  76Word Count: approximately:  38,000
Cover Artist:  Syn Publishing
Book Description:
Caleb Grayson’s opinion of humans is about as low as it can get until Lara Walker enters his life. But can the pretty veterinarian be trusted with his secret? As alpha of his pack, he is duty bound to keep them safe and that means maintaining anonymity.
When Caleb offers Lara a job on the mountain she loves, it is like a dream come true, but there is something strange about the handsome biker. Little does she know that he is harboring a secret that once revealed will turn her world inside out and have repercussions neither could have expected.
Available at Amazon and ARe


Book Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JjfkEE_svpA


EXCERPT
Caleb Grayson’s fur spiked and his tail swished with anger as without a thought or a care, Nora bounded off down the street, leapt over the suburban fence and was lost from sight. His orders to the pack had been clear. Bare minimum—travel in pairs. Stay together at all times. Watch each other’s back. The lure of fresh rabbit must have overridden duty and common sense.
The growl he released was feral as he took off after her. The rules were put in place to keep his pack safe. Hunters were on the warpath and they were after wolf shifters with deadly intent. He’d already lost one member to their violence and would not lose another. Humans, he made a derisive sound. They were uncaring and self-centered. He’d yet to meet one he liked. He pulled his muzzle into a sneer and bared his teeth at the thought of that race.
One giant leap had him over the fence and landing smoothly on all fours on the other side. Nora was farther up the yard edging closer to her goal, but she was not alone.
Frozen to the spot he couldn’t move had his life depended on it. It was as if he’d stepped into a trough of rapid dry cement and was stuck fast. His heartbeat had ramped up and his tail twitched at the sight of the divine human before him.
Awestruck, he snarled at the smaller gray wolf beside him. They’d talk about her transgression later. Nora was an adolescent and still in the playful stage of wanting to hunt live prey. Fresh meat was tempting but no excuse for defying his orders. She pawed the ground waiting for him to speak telepathically, but he was speechless. The female human had him dumbstruck and transfixed.
She was a good head shorter than he, athletically built with dips and curves in all the right places, and her spiral curls were the color of marmalade and looked every bit as rich and glossy in the lunar light.
It came to him in a flash then; this human with her emerald eyes sparkling like gemstones was his mate. He’d waited centuries to find her, had given up hope, and now, like a bolt from the blue there she was. Not even Lycan, but human. It was cruel, preposterous, but true. He had little tolerance for the species, but he ached to carry her home, cherish her, breed with her, howl with elation, but he quashed the instinct as his homosapien side surged to the fore—tread carefully, do not rush this—she may not understand. “Caleb, what is it?” Nora’s telepathic voice quivered with unease.
He didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, so consumed was he with the human before him. Her shape was visible through the silk of her gown. The night breeze had molded the thin white material to her womanly form. She was a vision. He was grateful it was a she-wolf beside him and not a male from his pack. As he continued to stare, mouth agape and tongue lolling, the breeze picked up and she shivered. Her nipples punched out against the flimsy fabric. He whimpered. His heart pounded faster now as if he’d run for miles at top speed over the rugged terrain around his Black Mountain home. “Caleb what’s wrong, can’t you hear me?” Nora’s voice was high-pitched now and sharper than normal.
Before he could speak the woman took a small tentative step toward Nora’s midnight snack. She reacted on natural impulse. Her fur stood on end, a menacing growl emanated from lips drawn back in a savage snarl baring sharp teeth. Crouched low and ready to spring, it was enough to have him recover his voice.
“Stay. The human is my mate. Threaten her and you threaten me.” As he sent the telepathic message, Nora dropped to her haunches, and with a whimper assumed a submissive position—she would not dare challenge him.
The command was issued with his sight still glued to his female. The stiffening breeze had whipped the ginger ringlets around her face giving a halo effect, but when her eyes widened and she trembled, it pierced his heart like a blade. He hated seeing her frightened, smelling her fear, but at this point there was little he could do.

 About the Author:
Layne lives with her husband, two dogs, and a cat on the mid-eastern coast of New South Wales, Australia. In addition to being an author she has a degree in history and holds down a full-time job.
She has always been an avid reader and voraciously consumes all types of fiction, but she particularly loves a happy ending, so writing romance seemed a natural progression for her. But as she sat at the computer one day — staring at a blank screen — it all seemed rather daunting. Yet once she finally started tapping on the keys, the words kept flowing, and what was meant to be a short story turned into a full-blown novel, Desire Unleashed, the first book in the “Desire” series.
Layne writes contemporary romance, paranormal, and sci-fi. With her passion for travel and a love of history an historical romance is not outside the realms of possibility.
When she’s not writing, you might find her tackling a craft project, walking by the lake, or in the kitchen creating some culinary delights.
Website : http://www.laynemacadam.com
Blog: http://laynemacadam.blogspot.com.au
Twitter: https://twitter.com/layne_macadam


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Release Day Blitz Witch’s Moonstone Locket

Witch’s Moonstone LocketA Coon Hollow Coven TaleBook OneMarsha A. Moore
Genre: New Adult Paranormal Romance
Date of Publication: March 24, 2015
Word Count: 94,000
Book Description:
Twenty-three-year-old Jancie Sadler was out of the room when her mother died, and her heart still longs for their lost goodbye. Aching to ease her sorrow, Aunt Starla gives Jancie a diary that changes her entire life. In entries from the 1930s, her great grandmother revealed how she coped with her own painful loss by seeking out a witch from nearby Coon Hollow Coven. The witch wore the griever’s moonstone locket, which allowed whoever could unlock its enchantment to talk with the dead.
Determined to find that locket, Jancie goes to the coven’s annual carnival held in her small southern Indiana town of Bentbone. This opposes her father’s strict rule: stay away from witches. But she’s an adult now and can make her own decisions. She meets Rowe McCoy, the kind and handsome witch who wears the moonstone. He agrees to let her try to open the locket, but they’re opposed by High Priestess Adara and her jealous desire to possess him.
Desperate for closure with her mother, Jancie persists and cannot turn away from a perilous path filled with magic, romance, and danger. 

Excerpt from Chapter One: Great Aunt Starla’s Cornbread
Warm rain mixed with Jancie’s tears, and she rose to stand beside her mother’s grave. Not ready to let go, she bent at the waist and her fingers followed the arc of her mother’s name—Faye Sadler—in the headstone. She knew the unyielding shape well. The word goodbye stuck in her throat. She’d said it aloud many times since her mother died almost a year ago, only to have the cemetery’s vast silence swallow her farewells. Rain beaded on the polished granite. Her hand, bearing her mother’s silver ring, slid down the stone and fell to her side.If only she could’ve said goodbye to her mother before. After years of caring for her mom while she suffered with cancer, Jancie had missed the final parting moment while getting a quick bite of dinner. The pain still cut like a knife in her gut.On foot, she retraced the too-familiar path toward her work at the Federal Bank. Although she’d landed a job as manager at the largest of the three banks in the small town of Bentbone, the position was a dead end. Within the first six months, she’d mastered all the necessary skills. Now, after a year, only the paycheck kept her there.Jancie turned onto Maple Street. As usual, wind swept up the corridor, between old shade trees protecting houses, and met her at the top of the tall hill. September rain pelted her face and battled the Indian summer noontime temperatures. She zipped the rain parka to keep her dress dry, pulled on the strings of the hood, and corralled strands of ginger-colored hair that whipped into her eyes. Once able to see, she gazed farther into the valley, where the view spanned almost a mile out to the edge of town. Usually, farmers moved tractors across the road or boys raced skateboards and bikes down Maple Street’s long slope.Today, on the deserted acreage just east of Bentbone, people moving in and out through a gate of the tall wooden fence breathed life into the rundown carnival. Surprised, Jancie crossed the street for a better view. She’d lost track of time since Mom passed. The coming Labor Day weekend in Bentbone meant the valley coven’s yearly carnival. She and her close group of girlfriends always looked forward to the cute guys, fair food, and amazing magical rides and decorations…even if her father didn’t approve of witches or magic. The residents of the sleepy town awoke to welcome a host of tourists wanting to see the spectacle created by the witches of Coon Hollow Coven.Somehow, Jancie had forgotten the big event this year. Last year, she didn’t go since Mom was so sick and couldn’t be left. Jancie sighed and turned onto the main street toward the bank. She’d lost so much since her mother passed. Really, since the diagnosis of cancer.At that time, four years ago, Jancie withdrew as a sophomore from Hanover College, a select, private school in southern Indiana near the Kentucky border—too far away. Instead, she returned to stay with her mother and commuted to Indiana University. Balancing hours with the home health care nurse, Jancie had few choices of career paths. Not that it mattered, since her remarried father expected her to find a job in Bentbone and continue taking care of her mother. Despite the sacrifices, Jancie loved her mother, who’d always managed money for a few special things for Jancie—a new bike, birthday parties, prom dresses—even though their income was tight. Mom had paid for her tuition and listened to every new and exciting college experience.Jancie smiled at the memory of Mom’s twinkling brown eyes, that mirrored her own, when she asked about what happened during the day’s classes: if Jancie liked the professor; if she’d made new friends.When she rounded the last corner, her thoughts returned to the work day. At the bleak, limestone bank building, reality hit. Jancie pulled against the heavy glass door, and a gust swept her inside. She peeled off the drenched jacket and hung it on the coat rack of her small, plain office. At her desk again, she took her position.Through the afternoon’s doldrums, punctuated by only a handful of customers, her mind wandered to the carnival. She’d gone dozens of times before and loved it. But since Mom passed, nothing seemed fun anymore, like she couldn’t connect with herself and had forgotten how to have a good time. She organized a stack of notes, anything to put the concern out of her mind.***After work, Jancie drove her old blue Camry the five miles to the other end of town where she lived in her mother’s white frame house, the home where she grew up, now hers. Glad to own her own place, unlike her friends who rented, she’d made a few easy changes. In the living room, a new brown leather couch with a matching chair and ottoman. She replaced the bedroom furniture with a new oak suite for herself in what used to be her mother’s room. With pay saved from the bank, Jancie could remodel or build on, but she didn’t know what she wanted yet. Her great aunt Starla had told her to just wait and hold onto her money; she’d know soon enough.Pouring rain soaked the hem of her dress as she darted between the garage shed and back stoop of the small ranch house.Glad she’d chosen to get her run in this morning before work, she changed into cozy sweats, pulled the long part of her tapered hair into a ponytail, and headed for the kitchen.Her phone alerted her of a text, and she read the message from her friend Rachelle, always the social director of their group: R we going to the carnival?Jancie typed a response. I guess. R Lizbeth and Willow going?Yep whole gang. What day?Don’t know yet. Get back to u. Jancie worried she’d spoil their fun. Even though they’d all been her best friends since high school and would understand her moodiness, she didn’t want to ruin one of the best times of the year for them. Since Mom passed, they’d taken her out to movies and shopping in Bloomington, but this was different. Could it ever match up to the fun of all the times before? “I don’t know if I’m up to that,” she said into open door of the old Kenmore refrigerator while rummaging for leftovers of fried chicken and corn.The meal satisfied and made her thankful she’d learned how to cook during those years with Mom. Not enough dishes to bother with the dishwasher, one of the modern upgrades to the original kitchen, Jancie washed the dishes by hand and then called Starla. When she answered, Jancie asked, “Can I come over tonight? There’s something I’m needing your opinion on.”“Why sure, Jancie. C’mon over,” the eighty-five-year-old replied with her usual warm drawl. “Are you wantin’ dinner? I made me some soup beans with a big hambone just butchered from Bob’s hog. My neighbor Ellie came over and had some. She said they were the best she’s eaten.”Jancie glanced at the soggy rain parka and opted for an umbrella instead. “No, I just ate. Be right over.” Keys and purse in hand, she hung up and darted for the shed.Five minutes later, she turned onto the drive of the eldercare apartments and parked under the steel awning where Starla gave her a whole arm wave from her picture window. Jancie made her way to number twelve on the first floor.The door opened, and Starla engulfed Jancie in a bear hug, pulling her into the pillow of a large, sagging bosom. Starla smelled of her signature scent—rosewater and liniment.Jancie had loved her great aunt’s hugs as long as she could remember. Stress and worry melted away, and she hugged back. Her arm grazed Starla’s white curls along the collar of her blue knit top embroidered with white stars—her great aunt’s favorite emblem.“It’s so good to see you. Come sit a spell, while I get us some iced tea.” Starla pulled away and gestured to the microsuede couch decorated with three crocheted afghans in a rainbow of colors. “I thought we were done with this hot weather, but not quite yet. That rain today’s been a gully washer but didn’t cool things off much.” The large-boned woman scuffed her pink-house-slippered feet toward the kitchen. “Would you rather have pound cake from the IGA or homemade cornbread?”Jancie laughed and followed her into the kitchen. She wouldn’t get through the visit without eating. “You’re just fishin’ for a compliment. You know your homemade cornbread is better.”Starla arranged plates with thick slices of warm cornbread and big pats of butter on top, while Jancie transferred the refreshments to the aluminum dinette table.“With your hair pulled back like that, you’re a dead ringer for your Ma. So pretty with that same sweetheart-shaped face.” Starla folded herself onto a chair beside Jancie. “You look to be getting on well…considering what all you’ve been through.”“I’m doing okay,” Jancie said through a mouthful of the moist cornbread. She washed it down with a swallow of brisk tea that tasted fresh-brewed. “But sometimes, lots of times, I feel lost, like I can’t move on.” She ran a hand across her forehead. “I didn’t get to say goodbye. I spent time with her through all those years, and it shouldn’t matter, but it does every time I visit her grave and most every night in my dreams.”“Oh, honey. I know it hurts.” Starla smoothed Jancie’s ponytail down the middle of her back and spoke with a voice so slow and warm, it felt like a handmade quilt wrapping around her.  “You spent all that time and gave so much. Just like when I cared for my husband some twenty years back. I know. I never got the chance to tell Harry goodbye either. Time will heal all hurts.”Jancie looked down at the marbleized tabletop to hide her teary eyes. “I don’t think I’m ever going to heal, Aunt Starla. I don’t know if I can ever move on.”“There is one thing you can try. I’d have done it, if I’d have known before decades softened my aching heart. Way back, I was desperate like you.”Jancie looked into Starla’s blue-gray eyes, set deep inside wrinkled lids.Her aunt leaned closer. “Not many know about this,” she whispered as if someone outside the apartment door might hear. “There’s an old story about how a member of the Coon Hollow Coven, one who’s recently lost a loved one, is made the teller of the moonstone tale.”Jancie rolled her eyes. “That’s just a silly story, one of lots that Mom and Dad told to scare me when I was little, so I’d stay away from the coven. When the moonstone locket opens at the end of the tale, you’ll get your wish but also be cursed.”“Oh no.” Starla shook her head and pushed away from the table. “Let me get Aunt Maggie’s old diary. I got this in a box of old family things when Cousin Dorothy passed. ” She lumbered to her spare bedroom and returned with a worn, black-leather volume only a little larger than her wide palm. Once seated, she thumbed through the yellowed pages. “Here.” She pointed a finger and placed the book between them.




About the Author:
Marsha A. Moore loves to write fantasy and paranormal romance. Much of her life feeds the creative flow she uses to weave highly imaginative tales.
The magic of art and nature often spark life into her writing, as well as watercolor painting and drawing. She’s been a yoga enthusiast for over a decade and is a registered yoga teacher. After a move from Toledo to Tampa in 2008, she’s happily transformed into a Floridian, in love with the outdoors. Marsha is crazy about cycling. She lives with her husband on a large saltwater lagoon, where taking her kayak out for an hour or more is a real treat. She never has enough days spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at stories with toes wiggling in the sand.
Every day at the beach is magical!
Website: http://MarshaAMoore.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/marshaamooreauthorpage
Twitter: http://twitter.com/MarshaAMoore
Google +: http://google.com/+MarshaAMoore
Pinterest:  http://pinterest.com/marshaamoore/
Amazon author page: www.amazon.com/author/marshaamoore
Goodreads author page  http://www.goodreads.com/marshaamoore 

Foxglove In Springtime by Abigail Madison Chase

Foxglove In SpringtimeShort stories and PoemsAbigail Madison Chase
Genre: Poetry
Date of Publication: February 28, 2015
Number of pages: 30
Cover Artist: Keri Knutson
Book Description:
Foxgloves In Springtime, is a collection of beautiful lyrical expressions of love in the springtime. Lovers of romantic poetry can scarcely go wrong with this collection. 
Many of the poems reflect on longing, loss and great passion. Written from the perspective of a lover, there are poems for every mood and occasion.
This thoughtful collection of poems is a treasure for connoisseur of poetry and those who are not big poetry readers.


Care Instructions for Springtime Love
Prepare your heart for love. Carefully weed through the dirt bagstill the best bachelor or bachelorette,begins to shake free of those who are unworthy.Set out each season carefully planting yourself in your best light. Don’t dig a hole with lies.Sow the seeds of love and happiness, as you watch love hop your way.

Spring Showers of Truelove
Truelove showers open hearts in the springtime,the fertile earth gives birth to the gentle beauty of,a blissful season of truelove.
Sweet rays of springtimethaw the freeze heart.Gone like the first day of winter,
Love Springs forth like the hands of time

 About the Author:
Author Abigail-Madison Chase is a 20 something (ok, 40something) neurotic mother of two. A highly trained professional (ok, only in her mind she's Jane Bond super heroine), along the way she writes terrible poetry and illegible books.
Abigail Madison Chase lives in the beautiful Mountains of the Western United States. Always a dreamer, Abigail has been writing since she was in Mrs. Turners 4th grade Language Arts class. There she won 1st prize in the Creative Writing Fair. Abigail holds a B.F.A and M.F.A in English and Literature.
Abigail's family, and her writing exist in a world of make-believe harmony. Each fighting for their right to become a character she want kill off. Sarcasm, quick wit and lots of laughs are the hallmark of Abigail's Wonderful World. A place were lots of peace and harmony descend upon, she and her two children is where Abigail-Madison Chase lives.
http://www.amazon.com/Abigail-Madison-Chase/e/B00QER23FI/
https://www.facebook.com/abigailmadisonchase
http://chasinggabbieabbie.blogspot.com/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8203404.Abigail_Madison_Chase



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Character Interview and Giveaway Mother May I by Genevieve Jack

I’m Genevieve Jack and I’d like to thank Roxanne for hosting me today on Fang-tastic Books blog as part of the Mother May I release tour. Today we are very fortunate that one of the stars of the Knight Games series has agreed to sit down with us for a one on one interview. Please welcome Grateful’s raven and magical familiar, Poe!

Poe: ONE of the stars. Don’t you mean, THEE star?
G. Jack: I’d say Grateful Knight plays the starring role in the series as the main character, wouldn’t you?
Poe: That hot mess? She’d be vampire fodder if it weren’t for me. If she’s the main character of the story, who am I?
G. Jack: A supporting character. Isn’t that what you do in the story? Support Grateful?
Poe: Mmm. Yes. I suppose, I am her familiar. It’s practically in my job description to support Grateful.
G. Jack: For readers who might not know, what is your job description? Can you explain to us what a familiar does?
Poe: A familiar is a magical creature given to a witch by the goddess, Hecate, to help that witch overcome a personal shortcoming. We also amplify magic. For example, a witch who is lacking in common sense might get an owl. On the other hand, a witch who lacks independence may be given a cat. I am a raven, and ravens are given to witches who lack self-worth. I don’t think I need to tell you that ravens are the best and most important familiars to have. Who’d want a cat? ACK!
G.Jack: So, you came to Grateful when she needed self–worth. How exactly did you fix that particular shortcoming?
Poe: The secret is to never do for a witch what she can do for herself. So many familiars these days coddle their crones. Not me. If she doesn’t order me specifically to do something, I don’t do it. No wishy-washy, namby-pamby magic for me. If the girl doesn’t know what she wants, she doesn’t get it.
G.Jack: In other words, you’re lazy and do the bare minimum to keep yourself in birdseed.
Poe: *snorts* Ravens do not eat birdseed. We eat meat, usually rodents, insects, and the occasional piece of random carrion. Maggots are surprisingly sweet, actually.
G. Jack: Excuse me while I gag.
Poe: As for being lazy, it’s a gift. Not everyone could sleep fourteen hours a day in between eating six meals. But, I do it out of love. It makes my witch stronger, which is important to me.
G. Jack: There’s a reason for that, isn’t there? Why don’t you fill our readers in on why it is so important to you?
Poe: We’re connected. If she dies, I die. Looking after the lil’ sword swinger is in my best interest.
G. Jack: I see. So, it’s all about you.
Poe: Exactly. Isn’t this where we started this conversation? It appears you are in need of an owl, Ms. Jack.
G. Jack: Hey!
Poe: Hmm. Maybe two. Well… arrivederci! The mice are not going to eat themselves, you know.
It appears Poe has left the building… and a wretched mess on the chair. Damn bird. Should’ve put down newspaper. I hope you have enjoyed this interview with Poe. Read about him and his witch, Grateful Knight, in the Knight Games series, available anywhere eBooks are sold.




Mother May IKnight GamesBook 4Genevieve Jack
Genre: New Adult Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Carpe Luna Publishing
Date of Publication: March 16, 2015
ISBN: 978-1-940675-17-6ASIN: B00SNAFPF4
Number of pages: 300Word Count: 65,000
Cover Artist: Steven Novak
Book Description:
Love will launch the mother of all battles.
Grateful Knight is one stressed out witch. Not only has she failed to restore her caretaker, Rick, from an evil witch’s mind-control spell, but the loss he endured extends well beyond his memory. To make matters worse, compensating for his absence could cost her the job she loves and the strength she needs.
When a new supernatural threat leaves Grateful for dead, a vampire ally saves her life but at a price. Her assailant's calling card makes it clear she’s marked for death, possibly by her goddess mother. With the help of her half-sister Polina, can Grateful gain the power she needs to win Rick back and beat the goddess at her own game?
Available at Amazon   iBooks   Kobo  Smashwords
Power is a pain in the ass. People think they want it, they’ll kill themselves to get it, but in the end, it’s nothing but trouble. Take Tabetha’s power; I was ringing with it. As I patrolled the street in Salem I’d seen in the mirror, the geraniums in the window boxes overhead stretched their necks in my direction. Don’t get me started on the roses in my living room. I’d become the freaking Jolly Green Giant of witchdom. The summer night veritably buzzed around me as the elements of wind and wood tuned in to my presence.
So much power and so much responsibility. I hadn’t asked for it, and I sure as hell didn’t want it. But here I was.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Poe, my raven familiar, asked from my shoulder.
“Not sure. I couldn’t tell from the mirror.”
“What do you mean you couldn’t tell? And, more importantly, why on earth are we here if you don’t know what we are looking for?”
“There’s an evil presence here. We saw a woman die. She fell twitching to the street. I couldn’t see the perpetrator for some reason. Maybe she was poisoned, or it’s some sort of poltergeist or invisible demon. All I know for sure is a supernatural being means to do a human harm, and it’s our job to stop them.” Again I wondered if the deficiency of vision was due to Rick’s presence. I shook my head, not wanting it to be true. For all I knew, the enchanted mirror might be on the fritz.
“Mmm. It’s not the mirror, and I doubt it’s Rick,” Poe said, doing that intuitive thing he did that made me feel like he was in my head. “If you ask me, without Rick’s blood and, er, affections, your magic is weakening.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m more powerful than ever. I can feel every blade of grass from here to Vermont.”
“Yes, you have more power, but a more sizable engine requires a more sizable battery. You, Witcherella, are running on empty. The mirror knows and is answering in kind.”
“Hmph.” I hadn’t considered this possibility, but Poe was probably right. It wasn’t Rick’s presence making the mirror go wonky; it was his absence. Three weeks had passed since I last enjoyed Rick’s blood and as far as physical contact, that enjoyment ended at handholding. Every time I tried to get close to him, it was the fishing pole all over again. A distraction. An evasion. “I want Rick to come around on his terms. This is all new to him. He doesn’t remember anything, especially not me. I was there, not so long ago, when I first met Rick and I didn’t remember who I was. I need to be gentle with him.”
“Sex can be gentle. Have I mentioned you’re weakening?”
I groaned at his lack of subtlety. “It’s not just about blood and sex,” I murmured. “He either can’t or won’t shift or do magic of any kind. The answer is to jog his memory. I bought him a laptop today and showed him some cat videos.”
“Cat videos?” Poe forced a gag.
I spread my hands. “I want him to learn about the modern world. LOL cats are the gateway drug. Oh, and that panda that sneezes. I love that one.”
“Is he still hunting?”
“And fishing. Sometimes he stares blankly out the window,” I said honestly. “Have you ever seen squirrel stew, Poe? It ain’t pretty.”
“Sounds delicious.” Poe smacked his beak.
“I try to be charming, but it feels forced.” I pressed a finger into my chin. “It is forced. We are two strangers, and I’m trying to force him to fall in love with me like a creeper. He probably wishes the entire thing was a bad dream. Plus, I think he might be depressed.”
“Ya think? He falls asleep in 1698 and wakes up in 2015, having witnessed his fiancé burned at the stake and his entire community, including his parents, struck down by the cursed spellbook used to bind her. Of all the things Rick could be, depressed is the most logical.”
“I don’t know how to help him remember. I need him, Poe. If you’re right about the mirror and my magic is waning, things are going to go downhill fast.”
“Perhaps if you dressed a bit more comely?”
I looked down at my black T-shirt, jeans, and boots. My outfit was enchanted to remain comfortable in any weather and to bend and stretch to the demands of my job. I loved it. “What’s wrong with this?”
“You have a skull and crossbones on your chest.”
“It’s fun. It says dangerous, yet fashionably casual.”
“It says weird goth girl with emotional problems.”
“You’d have emotional problems too if your fiancé left you at the altar and then forgot who you were. This is who I am.” I stretched my arms to the sides. “Grateful Knight. Love me or leave me.”Poe cleared his throat. “Only problem is, if Rick doesn’t love you and leaves you, it could mean your death. This is serious. If you can’t bring back Rick’s memories, at least try to make him want you. Tell him you need blood and sex, pronto. Love can happen at its own pace.”
Love. I hoped it could happen at all. Sometimes Rick treated me like his captor, like he didn’t quite trust me. I still loved him, even after he left me at the altar and ended up drugged in Tabetha’s bed. Those are hard things to forgive, but I’d let them go. I loved Rick from a deep, forever place in my soul. A place that couldn’t be reached by all the nastiness Tabetha had doled out before I tore her apart.
I rolled my eyes. Poe’s concern for my well-being had as much to do with his existence being tied to mine as for my safety. I got it. I did. I couldn’t go on much longer without Rick. But I also couldn’t lose him. If I pushed him too hard, I might drive him away.
“What was that?” I said, perking my ears.
“What?”
“You didn’t hear that? It was a twanging sound. Very faint. Like a guitar string being strung.”

“Crap, Grateful. Move!”
About the Author:
Genevieve Jack is a former registered nurse turned author of weird, witty, and wicked-hot paranormal romance. She grew up in a suburb of Chicago and attended a high school rumored to be haunted. There she developed a love for old cemeteries and ghost tours. Today, she specializes in original, cross-genre stories with surprising twists. She lives in Illinois with her husband, two children, and a Brittany spaniel named Riptide, who holds down her feet while she writes.
http://www.GenevieveJack.com
https://twitter.com/Genevieve_Jack
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorGenevieveJack
http://bit.ly/KnowJackNews



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Interview Underworld Queen by Sharon Hamilton

Can you tell readers a little bit about yourself and what inspired to write in this particular genre?
I live in a fantasy world all the time, it seems. Raised 4 kids (and a husband), and I prefer my world sometimes to the real one. LOL. I’m 25 years old and gorgeous. Men falling at my feet, lol. Writing guardian angels was more appealing to me, but now I’ve gone to the dark side too, writing about dark angels and vampires. Good vampires (and some bad ones), but even the dark vampires can be redeemed.
What is it about the paranormal, in particular vampires, that fascinates you so much?
I like their brooding, misunderstood nature. I love their tracing, the way they can listen to certain thoughts. They can enhance the sexual experience with another vamp, but more fun with an unsuspecting human. In my vampire world, children are highly coveted because they are rare (true mate issues of blood), which is one of the mottos: Blood Never Lies. I love the contrast of my Goldens to the dark vampires who have to go to ground and avoid the sun.
What inspired you to write this book?
The vampire series happened because one of my good friends, Tina Folsom was writing her Scanguards series, just getting them out there. When she hit it so big, I was impressed and decided to try my hand at it and found that yes, I could write about blood suckers. They don’t always have to take it from the neck, you know!
Please tell us about your latest release.
Underworld Queen is about the bad girl in Books 1 and 2, who finally gets her happily ever after. Newpaper headline would be something like this:Bad girl gets knocked up, in danger of losing the Directorship (of the Underworld).
What has happened by accident to Audray turns out to be the best part of her coming through, that her higher calling and true self is not as a dark angel, but as a mother and lover of one of the hunkiest, dark angels in the universe. She has a shot at redemption, and with the help of her true love, is able to be saved.
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?
I do try to match their names with their personality, where they grew up (some cases nationality). I wouldn’t, for instance, call a really bad girl dark angel Barbie. The madame in the Underworld is named Helena. The cab driver-guardian angel is Doris, who is a tough cookie and a delight to write. The hero, Jonas Starling is a name I got from a history book, as part of his past is historical, although I took liberties…
Was one of your characters more challenging to write than another?
One time the bad boy took over the book, and I had to have a date with my hero to fall back in love with him. That was Heavenly Lover, and I created a “Date With Daniel” fantasy, where we danced (he’s Brazilian, think Rodrigo Santoro) all night and eventually wound up in a huge bed with jungle vine canopy down by the beach at moonlight.
It’s fun when you character says things to you like, “No, thank you, Sharon. You bring me to life like no other has before, or will ever do again.” And it’s true! The bad boy, Joshua Brandon, was really getting to me when I wrote Heavenly Lover. So he got Book 2, Underworld Lover. His stunning bad girl accomplice is the heroine of this new book, Underworld Queen. She was too “big” as a personality, a character to leave in the dust. And she demanded her own book.
Is there a character that you enjoyed writing more than any of the others?
I’ve been asked that many times and the answer is always the same. I fall in love with the hero in every book. Full on lusty-leave-my-husband love, otherwise I cannot write him. For some characters, they have to simmer awhile before I can write them. Others, like Joshua, try to take over. I do like it when that happens, but it’s inconvenient. Like having sex with your lover when you’re already late somewhere. Messes up my schedule.
Do you have a formula for developing characters? Like do you create a character sketch or list of attributes before you start writing or do you just let the character develop as you write?
Writing is a lot of work. I try not to pile it on. But I do have a general idea of where I’m going. I write organically the first 8-10 chapters and then start storyboarding where I’ve been to see where I can go. I make choices and mentally think about it before I put it to paper. But, in the end, the story comes out a little differently than what I’d imagined. It would be hard to do a blurb and then write the story later. No. Can. Do.
What is your favorite scene from the book? Could you share a little bit of it, without spoilers of course?
Audray goes back to her past, to find her human mother, who is just barely alive. She moved from the trailer park in Bakersfield to Los Angeles and became a success and never looked back. This is looking back, and it’s painful.
The seedy outskirts of her birthplace announced the town as surely as any billboard. Recalling how close the trailer park was to the freeway, she had no trouble locating Riverbend Estates, though the sign was still unrepaired from the rifle shots fired at it some twenty years ago.
Bet that would be a story.
She entered the potholed drive, avoiding two white chickens as they scurried past. There certainly wasn’t a river in sight, and these trailer homes were not estates—they were dumps on wheels. A small band of bedraggled children were playing with sticks at the side of the road. Girls in dirty rags and bare feet carried naked dolls by the hair.
Nobody was smiling, but they looked at the car.
Slowly, Audray pulled up to a concrete parking pad near the trailer with a torn front door screen. The door was open.
Is she home?
At that moment, a thin older woman with graying blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail stepped onto the front stoop and dumped an ashtray full of cigarette butts onto the ground. Tapping the plastic bowl on the metal railing twice, she turned and just as she reached for the door handle, saw Audray’s car. She stopped, frozen in place.
Audray turned off the motor, opened the driver’s side door and stepped out into the dusty air. She removed her sunglasses and stared into the lined and tormented face of her mother.
“It’s me,” Audray said, just loud enough to carry above the noises of the freeway nearby.Her mother set down the ashtray as if it were a piece of crystal and shuffled with a limp across the metal porch to the top of the steps. Her cheeks were sunken and her face had a definite green pallor to it. When she smiled, Audray could see half her teeth were missing.She could have been beautiful at one time.Audray glimpsed a flicker of recognition, but suspected it was through an alcohol-induced haze. Her mother’s eyes appeared to have trouble catching up to her head movements.
“Auddie? That you?” The woman hesitated as if confused what to do, but all of a sudden, her legs seemed to propel her on their own, as the older woman hobbled down the stairs. She stopped at the bottom, hanging on to the railing for balance, breathing with difficulty.Audray crossed the yard and stood in front of the woman who gave birth to her. As much as she had tried over the years to tear her own heart out, she could not find it in herself to hate the disheveled sack of bones before her. The unhealthy woman was obviously close to the end of her human life. For her mother’s sake, as well as for her own, Audray hoped this would silence the pain forever. Audray was surprised to find that she didn’t want her mother to suffer.
“You came back. I always thought you’d come back.” The woman weaved. Her right hand clutched the handrail, but her left arm shot out, fingers splayed.
“Yes, Mama.” Audrey grabbed the woman and hugged her carefully, as if too much pressure would shatter her brittle bones. The woman began to shake, and Audray thought she was crying, but soon realized they were tremors. She looked at the grey-green closed eyelids and wondered if her mother was dead.

What is the most interesting thing you have physically done for book related research purposes?
For my vampire series, I walked the cobblestoned alleys and streets in Genoa, and found a chapel that became the scene in my first vampire book, Honeymoon Bite. Every time I go back to Italy, I go there, and light a red candle just like Anne, my mortal heroine, did when she asked for blessings for the rest of her life, and didn’t realize her fated mate, a 300 year old vampire named Marcus Monteleone, was standing nearby and felt her for the very first time.For my Cruisin’ For a SEAL I took a cruise from Italy to Brazil, which is exactly the itinerary the cruise ship took in the story. I found the lifeboat where the H/H had their sex scene, viewed the kitchen and the engine room and saw part of the crew quarters. I met staff and wrote nearly 60% of the book while on board.
Can you tell readers a little bit about the world building in the book/series? How does this world differ from our normal world?
Heaven isn’t 100% perfect by design. The Underworld isn’t 100% evil by accident. I leave it that Father allows diversity, and a certain amount of free will. Guardians can become tempted, and if they can’t handle it, they can go for the wash, which is like a reset button for them. Dark angels, the heroic ones worthy of redemption, have a little curiosity in the light side, have a subconscious desire to do something important and lasting, to redeem themselves, although sometimes it takes awhile for them to experience this. Each side plays this internal struggle inside them while they battle the forces of good and evil on the outside.
I think a reader would enjoy my books if they just trust me and go with the story, instead of seeing formulas and judging the arc or how it compares with other Guardian Angel books, or any angel books for that matter (this series is unlike any I’ve ever read or heard of). Suspending disbelief can make it more fun. If a reader enjoys other books I’ve written, they’ll love this one too, no matter the genre.
Sometimes the things that go on with the paranormal world are similar to the normal world (honor, duty, loyalty, temptation, lust and destiny), but the way it’s played out is of course different.
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?
These can be read as stand alones. Probably makes sense to read them in order, but you don’t have to. I say pick up one when it is on special and then save it until you’re ready, go to Book l and right up the line.
As I said before, with free will being part of my world, not just in the human world or the Underworld, but in Heaven as well, characters can sometimes do things that violate certain “rules” of that world. That’s where the fun comes in. So an overall story arc is that Guardian Angels are ruined by Dark Angels through having sex, and Father wants them back. He can’t or won’t go get them. They have to want to come home, like the prodigal son, because free will is more important than control. Control and domination are virtues of the Underworld (and then those characters discover that’s not what they truly want). So this good vs. evil, free will vs. domination and dominion, design vs. accident, are all themes throughout the series. It can literally go on forever.
Do any of your characters have similar characteristics of yourself in them and what are they?
I don’t see myself very much. I see my fantasy self there. You’d have to ask my narrator about that. He does, he says.
Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? How do you deal with it?
Writers’ block happens when you doubt yourself. It usually occurs when you take your foot off the pedal of writing. I used to coach Realtors in my past life, and I found everyone wants to become an overnight success. I’d use the illustration of driving a locomotive. You start off with your foot on the pedal. It doesn’t matter how hard you smash your foot on that pedal, that train is only going to go so fast so fast. Pushing down hard won’t make it go quicker. But, once it’s going, if you take your foot off, it doesn’t just stop. You can coast a bit. So I guess I’d say for writer’s block, to focus on building the momentum of your career by keeping a steady and relentless foot on the pedal, your habits and routines. You must be easy to start and hard to stop. I could talk about that all day.
Do you have any weird writing quirks or rituals?
I do write to music and often will play the same track over and over again all day, or until I finish the chapter. When on deadline, I write until I begin to feel tired, then go to bed for a couple of hours, then get up and write until I’m tired, then go back to bed. I can squeeze 3 or 4 good writing mornings out of a single day that way.
I can’t write to music that has words in it.
Do you write in different genres?
Yes, I write in paranormal as well as Romantic Suspense. I plan to write in futuristic/time travel – IN THE FUTURE!!
Do you find it difficult to write in multiple genres?
Only when one sells the other a boatload. I like writing them equally, the characters and the worlds.

What are your guilty pleasures in life?
I love the movies. Love to garden. Like my hot tub necked! I love going wine tasting, and quilting. Taking bubble baths. I have a hard time staying away from chocolate. Love coffee (cappuccinos, can’t you tell). Love interacting with positive people and get all evil with dark lords and ladies (not sexy dark lords and ladies but the evil time-sucking ones).
I suppose I’d have to say the thing I love to do best, other than writing, is to daydream. I’ve always been a dreamer.
Other than writing, what are some of your interests, hobbies or passions in life?
I enjoy my freedom and I try not to take for granted those who paid a heavy price for that. I like true friends, a good laugh. I enjoy quilting and I think up great stories while I quilt. I’ve been an organic gardener my whole life. I enjoy my grandkids, but I really enjoyed raising their parents too. The newer generation takes me back there in ways I never could go before. I’m passionate about becoming a bestseller with every book I write.

Where is your favorite place to read? Do you have a cozy corner or special reading spot?
I have a reading corner, upstairs next to my writing desk. I can overlook the green hills, and my vegetable garden, can see sunsets from there and lights after dark. I used to look down and watch my chickens when I had them.
What can readers expect next from you?
New SEAL release 3/31/15 and another 6/30/15. A hybrid vampire/angel book in the summer/fall, a couple of new novellas in the SEALs, and a fun project I’m playing with in my mind I can’t talk about!
Where can readers find you on the web?
www.authorsharonhamilton.com
Stay tuned because in about 2 weeks I should have a brand new website. I went all out.
Would you like to leave readers with a little teaser or excerpt from the book?
Since I left one already, can I leave one from the book coming 3/31/15? Just a little tease. I squealed when I wrote this.
For those of you who’ve read my SEAL Brotherhood series, I have one SEAL who is Hispanic, short, with big wavy hair and a unibrow with a pockmarked face. Not one of the handsome guys. But a heart the size of the ocean and it took awhile, but he got the girl, in the end. He’s going to have a novella this summer because I have so many fans out there who love him. His name is Fredo, and he has a very dry Spanglish sense of humor. Here’s a very short quote from him, a Fredoism, if you will:
              Tyler ran to the window ledge, searching outside and examining the glass at the floor. “Blood all over here. She’s probably out there.” He pointed to the graveyard of broken things. “Judging from the amount of blood, she won’t get far.”               Rory whipped past Tyler, nearly toppling the man, struggling to get his frame through the window opening. He heard someone chuckling behind him, but he was far from caring. He heard Fredo make a comment he didn’t have time to stop and appreciate fully.                “Man. Those two get married? Remind me not to get that bitch knives for a wedding present. She’ gonna go all Bobbitt on him if she gets pissed.”

Thanks for having me.



Underworld QueenThe GuardiansBook 3Sharon Hamilton
Genres: Paranormal Romance, Romantic Suspense, Mystery and Suspense Romance, Romance – Angels, Romance - Fantasy
Publisher:  AL Publication
Date of Publication:  December 30, 2014
ASIN:  B00IU2E9JS
Number of pages:  285Word Count:  80,000
Book Description: 
Audray has just assumed the title as first-ever Queen of the Underworld.
As she attempts to consolidate her rule, characters from the past threaten to destroy her and the love she shares with Jonas Starling, a 300-year old dark angel. When she discovers she has been the recipient of a miracle, suddenly their whole immortal lives are changed forever. 
Will they survive the coming war or get snagged in the power struggle over not only the underworld, but the human world as well?
Book Trailer:  http://youtu.be/AmvCeqr3QDU
Available at   
Amazon         Amazon UK        Amazon Canada
iBooks         Barnes and Noble 
Excerpt Jonas Starling, Hero:
The charred remains of the executed dark angel smelled like the soil at a slaughterhouse Jonas had seen as a child. It was disgusting then, and it was even more disgusting now, as his black boots trudged through the crispy black flakes, kicking up a fine dark-grey dust that got lodged in his nostrils. He forced a sneeze to clear himself out, but was rewarded with a whirlwind of fine particles—the remains of the dark angel who had come to meet him. Jonas had not told Audray everything about his past and this now festered like a splinter under the nail of  his moral code. He might have to reveal things he’d hoped he could bury forever, along with the story of his youthful love and her family who had died, partially because of who he’d become.He had to see for himself what was left of the fellow. He found a melted silver medallion, like a large dollop of shiny wax, still attached to the grape wreath silver chain some of his ancestors wore when Jonas was a boy. He couldn’t make out any indentation or markings as he cleaned the smooth surface from the black grit of death. It reflected back his distorted face.Although already dead, Jonas had begun to cherish his afterlife as an immortal dark angel. His relationship with the new Director made him feel strangely alive for the first time since becoming immortal some three hundred years ago.  After his disastrous years at Court, where he’d been conscripted into doing despicable things, he’d slipped aboard a vessel bound for the Caribbean, and set up a new life on several of the islands there, until he’d been discovered and then took the only option available to him as a last resort: join the Underworld as a dark angel. 
It had been a long three hundred years, and he’d considered ending himself in a true death. Until recently, he’d wondered if he could tolerate living forever. But finding Audray had changed everything and opened up a brand new bright future for Jonas. She was every bit his equal, in intelligence and strength of character. Her desires in the bedroom also matched his perfectly. If he could have a thousand nights with different women or one night with her, he would take her anytime. He’d thought of himself as completely dark and brooding. But these past few weeks he was beginning to feel the warm afterglow of—could it be—love?
About the Author:
Sharon’s NYT and USA Today bestselling novels are almost-erotic Navy SEAL stories of the SEAL Brotherhood. Her characters follow a spicy road to redemption through passion and true love. This series continues with book 8, SEAL's Promise, which will release November 11, 2014. All of her SEAL Brotherhood Series are available in audio book. She has maintained an Amazon top 100 author status in Romantic Suspense for since the end of 2012.
Her Golden Vampires of Tuscany are not like any vamps you’ve read before, since they don’t have to go to ground, and can walk around in the full light of the sun. Honeymoon Bite, Book 1 of the Golden Vampires of Tuscany Series, has earned the Amazon designation of #1 Gothic Romance. It and Book 2 in the series, Mortal Bite are both available on audio as well.
Her Guardian Angels struggle with the human charges they are sent to save, often escaping their vanilla world of Heaven for the brief human one. You won’t find any of these beings in any Sunday school class.
Sharon lives in Sonoma County, California, with her husband and two Dobermans. A lifelong organic gardener, when she’s not writing, she’s getting verra verra dirty in the mud, or wandering Farmer’s Markets looking for new Heirloom varieties of vegetables and flowers.
"True Love Heals in the Gardens of the Heart"
Website:  www.AuthorSharonHamilton.com
Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/SharonHamiltonAuthor
Twitter:  https://twitter.com/sharonlhamilton
Pinterest:  http://www.pinterest.com/AuthorSharonH/
Youtube:  http://www.youtube.com/channel/UCDInkxXFpXp_4Vnq08ZxMBQ
Amazon Author Page:  http://www.amazon.com/Sharon-Hamilton/e/B004FQQMAC/
Google+:  https://plus.google.com/+SharonHamiltonAuthor/posts
Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5752621.Sharon_Hamilton
Shelfari:  http://www.shelfari.com/authors/a1002861/Sharon-Hamilton/


February 23 Spotlight StopLore Lush Bookswww.lorelushbooks.com
February 24 SpotlightBeppe DM Books Blog  http://www.dmgsoft.eu/
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Blitz and Giveaway The Dragon King by Candace Blevins

The Dragon KingThe Chattanooga SupernaturalsBook 1Candace Blevins
Genre: Paranormal romance
Publisher: Excessica
Date of Publication:  March 20, 2015
Number of pages: 350Word Count:  102,000
Cover Artist: Syneca Featherstone
Book Description:
Book one of The Chattanooga Supernaturals, paranormal romance with claws...
Aaron Drake is nine thousand years old and one of the last remaining European were-dragons. With no female Dragons, his only hope of children lies in his grandmother's dying words. "The Swan Princesses may be the Dragons' only hope."
Sophia Siyanko is the first Swan Princess without at least one brother to take the throne in Aaron's long memory. However, her father chooses her husband when she’s twelve, and sets the date for her twenty-fifth birthday. She is sequestered in her father's mansion, raised by governesses and tutors to be the future King’s arm candy, and Aaron’s options are limited.
But then Sophia escapes her father’s compound a few weeks before her twenty-fifth birthday. Determined to escape or die trying, she comes to Aaron for help.
To protect her, he’ll have to fight every Swan and Eagle on the planet, most of the Wolves, and all of Faerie.

Also part of Kirsten O’Shea’s world, Book 2


Excerpt: “Do you think it has anything to do with true-love’s kiss?”He shook his head. “No.”I took a breath and asked before I could chicken out. “Could you kiss me anyway, just in case?”Aaron’s gaze felt as if it penetrated my soul. “Do you know what you’re asking, Soph? I was prepared to give you a few days to get used to me touching your hand, your back, your face, before I tried to venture farther. You froze last night when I touched your back. I assume I’m going to be your first romantic kiss?”I nodded, unable to talk, and he said, “You stole my heart at three, but I think I fell the rest of the way in love with you when I threw you in the river. It wasn’t a romantic love then, but it will be, now.” He shook his head and said, “It is, now.”“I was seven!” I finally found my voice, and it came out in almost a shout.“I know.” His smile was gentle, as if he was afraid of spooking me. “If I kiss you, it won’t be to test out your theory.” His eyes were intense. Dark. “We need to get to know one another better as adults, and have a lot of discussions about consequences and repercussions before we…” He stood, stepped to me, and pulled me from my chair, drawing me into the warmth of his arms. No one had ever held me like this, enveloping me, surrounding me, and I had to think about breathing as his heat and power surrounded me and threatened to overwhelm me. Holding onto my reactions was hopeless now, but this was Aaron and he’d never expected me to be someone I’m not.“Not saying no, Princess. I’m giving you a chance to decide for sure, though.”I leaned my head against the hard wall of his chest as I tried to get my heart to slow down. “Don’t call me Princess.”“Deal with it.” No apologies. His voice was a rough scrape over my skin, but I understood. He wanted me to consider the ramifications of kissing him — and doing more than kissing — as not only Sophia, but also the Princess who might want to try to hold the reins as Queen, one day.I needed to know more about him, about us, before I could decide. “You made this house, in this cave, to hide me.”He stilled, frozen in time for a brief second, and then caressed my back. “To hide supernaturals, Soph. Every way into the cave has a body of water you must cross, and the air is sucked into the earth in this cave system and rarely blows out. The crystal formations in the area help camouflage both of our magical signatures, and with no ley lines close, not even the Fae have a hope of finding us.”“Not many supernaturals have occasion to need to hide from the Fae.”He chuckled and kissed the top of my head. I liked this, being so close to him, feeling the vibrations of his chest as I heard him laugh. His lips on top of my head, if only for a brief second, set my insides on fire.“More of us need to hide from the Fae than you might think,” he said. “In my business, when someone comes to me needing protection it’s always good to have options.” His sigh told me he’d given up on me deciding whether I wanted a kiss, but when he tried to pull away, I held on. He relaxed and snuggled me back into him. “I’d given up on any hope of the swans providing an answer, and then had to feel guilty when your mother died and the news came that there was one viable egg, and the Fae announced you were a girl. I felt grief for your father, and heartache for the child who would be born without a mother to raise her, but at the same time I felt a spark of hope. And then I got to know you, came to adore you, and later came to love you. Part of me wants to spirit you away to an island that shows up on no maps, and is out of bounds so the Fae can’t get to it from the Summerlands. I would make you fall in love with me, and try to figure out how to make it work…but I care too much about you. You’ve been locked away all your life, and if it kills me, or kills both of us, I’m going to do everything in my power to give you your freedom.”I gave in to the sensory input snowballing in my brain. For the first time I my life I didn’t have to worry about revealing my body’s reactions, so I looked up, caught his gaze, and said, “Kiss me, Aaron. I don’t want to wait.”His face came towards mine, slow, as if he were giving me a chance to change my mind. He ran his lips across mine, fast, hot. He paused, pulled back a few millimeters, and then touched his mouth to mine again, so languorous, delicate, and sensually slow my lips opened to him without my realizing it. I closed my eyes, relaxed into his arms, and let him have my mouth, let him do whatever he wanted with it.His tongue encouraged mine to move, to do a kind of dance with his, and once I relaxed into the kiss, my lower body came to life in a way I’d never experienced and I pressed my thighs together, alarmed he’d smell what he was doing to me.The kiss grew from a slow, relaxed caress to an urgent, demanding, hungry claim. I felt as if he branded me, owned me, and if he hadn’t ended it I’m not sure I’d have been able to. I was breathless and speechless as I opened my eyes to see him watching me, and all I could do was smile, close my eyes, and rest my face against his chest. The quick fantasies I’d allowed myself while swimming laps in the pool, or while showering — places no one was likely to smell the scent of arousal — were nothing compared to the larger-than-life reality of Aaron Drake in person.“If that wasn’t true love’s kiss then the real thing might be enough to give someone a heart attack,” I said into his chest. “I had no idea, Aaron. Is it always like that?”He kissed the top of my head and his voice rumbled on my cheek through his chest. “No, that was an exceptionally good kiss. We have chemistry, Soph. I knew we would, but it’s nice to have reality live up to what I’d hoped for.”



About the Author:
Candace Blevins is a southern girl who loves to travel the world. She lives with her husband of 17 years and their two daughters. When not working or driving kids all over the place she can be found reading, writing, meditating, or swimming.
Candace writes BDSM Romance, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, and is currently writing a Motorcycle Club series.
Her Safeword Series gives us characters who happen to have some extreme kinks. Relationships can be difficult enough without throwing power exchange into the mix, and her books show characters who care enough about each other to fight to make the relationship work. Each book in the Safeword series highlights a couple with a different BDSM issue to resolve. Books are standalone and can be read in any order, with the exception of the two Davenport books, and the four Matte books.
Her urban fantasy series, Only Human, gives us a world where weredragons, werewolves, werelions, three different species of vampires, as well as a variety of other mythological beings exist.
Candace's paranormal romance series, The Chattanooga Supernaturals, is a sister series to the Only Human series, and gives some secondary characters their happily ever after.
You can visit Candace on the web at candaceblevins.com and feel free to friend her on Facebook at facebook.com/candacesblevins and Goodreads at goodreads.com/CandaceBlevins.
You can also join www.facebook.com/groups/CandacesKinksters  to get sneak peeks into what she's writing now, images that inspire her, and the occasional juicy blurb.
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