Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 391

Spotlight on Summertime by Chuck Gould

SummertimeBook OneChuck Gould       
Genre: metaphysical fantasy
Publisher: Starry Night Publishing
Date of Publication: September 28, 2014
ISBN: 9781502523174
Number of pages: 298Word Count:
Cover Artist: Larry Dubia
Book Description:
Wesley Perkins, successful and privileged advertising executive, makes an apparently impromptu purchase in a pawn shop. Almost immediately, he becomes immersed in a new reality. Old values evaporate. The line between good and evil seems inconsistent. Wesley is challenged to accept profound change, all the while juggling choices of enormous consequence.
Summertime, Book One, is the first portion of a story that delves into a surreal realm of metaphysical fantasy. Situational moralities are juxtaposed with omnipresent supernatural forces. Where the boundaries of our mundane lives intersect cosmic intents, events, and conspiracies, we can become overwhelmed by involuntary transformation. We look for surrogate sacrifices, and a home in Summertime.

Available on  Amazon    BN

Excerpt Book 1
Vanessa hated the basement. Even during the daylight hours, she ventured only reluctantly down the stair to do her laundry or occasionally retrieve something from storage. She knew there were rats in the basement. She often swept up their droppings, and it wasn’t unusual to hear something scraping against cardboard boxes as it ran along the base of the wall. Oddly enough, Vanessa seldom saw a rat. Infrequently, a sacrificial rat would appear- neck broken by the savage spring of Vanessa’s 17th Century style trap. Vanessa used to pretend she had caught “the” rat, and wouldn’t need to spend hundreds of dollars for an exterminator. Over the years, she had accepted an unhappy truce with her resident rodents. These days, she didn’t call an exterminator because there was always something that seemed a more important use of the money.
Vanessa found her flip flops and bathrobe, and headed for the stairway. Her open white bathrobe hung from her shoulders, contrasting with her dark skin but failing to provide any degree of modesty. She was reluctant to venture underground at night, but the weird idea that there might be some unexplained connection between Wesley Perkins and her probable grandfather, Judah Jones, couldn’t molder until daylight. She flipped the light switch at the top of the stairs. The loud snap of the switch initiated a series of electrical flashes, followed by the muffled explosion of a failing light globe. “Shit. One lightbulb in the whole damn basement, and it just burned out. Hell with it. I’m going down there anyway. I’ve got to, got to, got to figure this out.”
Vanessa tied her bathrobe across the front of her body, grabbed a fresh globe from a kitchen cabinet next to the stairway door, and stepped slowly into the blackness. A 90-degree bend at the top of the stairs prevented any usable amount of light from filtering in from the kitchen. Vanessa moved her feet slowly and deliberately between wooden treads, feeling her way in the darkness with heel and toe. A few steps from the bottom, she gasped at the sensation of something with tiny paws ran across her bare foot tops, dragging what felt like a coarse tail behind. She was sure she saw a pair of glowing eyes near the laundry sink. There was definitely a rustle among the storage boxes. Vanessa considered turning around and climbing back up the stairs. She wanted to act as though her visit to the basement could wait until morning, but she was compelled to conclude it could not.


About the Author:
Seattle native Chuck Gould is a writer and musician.
Formerly editor of Nor’westing Magazine and editor emeritus of Pacific Nor’West Boating, he has written over 1,000 articles for recreational boating magazines.
Chuck plays a variety of keyboard instruments, and enjoys the “exercise in humility” attempting to master the great highland bagpipe.
https://www.facebook.com/Novelwerks




March 16 SpotlightD'eBook Sharing Book Reviews  www.debooksharing.wordpress.com
March 16 SpotlightLisa’s World of Bookswww.lisasworldofbooks.net
March 17 SpotlightFang-tastic Bookswww.fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com
March 18 InterviewDeal Sharing Auntwww.dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com
March 19 InterviewRoxanne’s Realmwww.roxannerhoads.com
March 20 Guest blogThe Creatively Green Write at Home Momwww.creativelygreen.blogspot.com
March 23 InterviewAuthor Karen Swartwww.authorkarenswart.blogspot.com
March 23 Spotlight3 Partners in Shopping; Nana, Mommy, and Sissy too!www.3partnersinshopping.blogspot.com/

Vampire Movies with October Weeks- What Are Your Favorites?

Thanks for having me on your blog! Today I’d like to talk about the importance of music and movies to my writing process.
I’ve always written to music and movies. It’s an important part of the process for me, just as important as having something hot to drink next to me to sip on J The trick is to have music that speaks of the characters and atmosphere of the book. For instance, when I write about ghosts, the music is normally softer—classical, instrumental, music with a soft haunting edge to it—and the movies have to be about ghosts or have a haunting feel to them. When I’m writing vampires, the music is harder—rock, metal, driving/heavy instrumentals—and the movies have vampires or supernatural creatures in them.
I cannot write in total silence. The words won’t flow if there isn’t background noise (movies) or music. I’ve tried to write in total quiet and that…didn’t work out so well.
While I was writing The Damned, the music of Evanescence was on repeat. Ninety-nine percent of the book was written to their music. But during revisions and edits, the muse wanted movies in the background. Vampire movies, of course.
Underworld and Underworld: Evolution were the main DVDs that were playing in the background. Kate Beckinsale’s Selene is one of my favorite characters, and the movies have the same type of tone and environment that my book, The Damned, does. These are movies that I could watch on repeat even when I’m not writing—two of my favorites!                                                                                     


  
What are some of your favorite vampire movies?



The DamnedOctober Weeks
Genre: Dark urban fantasy
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Date of Publication: March 12, 2015

ASIN:  B00UESEIJW

Word Count: 69,000
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Book Description:
Eight years ago, slayer Tuck Houston lost two of her closest friends to a Damned vampire named Josef Dragos—a beast who traded the sun for darkness and blood. She’s been hunting him since the day she walked into the carnage he created. But Josef has hidden himself well in the underground, from both slayers and other vampires.
When slayers around the globe start disappearing in a familiar pattern—Josef’s pattern—she’s put on the hunt. And despite the painful memories and very real threat to her future that come with tracking him down, Tuck is certain of one thing: she is going to make Josef Dragos wish he’d never been born.


Available at Amazon
Excerpt:
Tuck Houston casually strolled through the front doors of the ritzy hotel with a warm smile on her face, her hoodie and jeans soaked through from the rain. “Wasn’t expecting the downpour,” she said as she neared the front desk, cringing a bit inside as her boots left a bit of mud on the carpet.The clerk chuckled as he regarded her. “I don’t think anyone was—forecast didn’t say anything about rain.”“Damn weathermen can’t be trusted.” She laughed as she made her way to the elevator and clicked the button.“Apparently not!”When the elevator doors opened a few moments later, she said, “Have a good night.” “You as well.”When the doors opened again, she made her way to her quarry’s room, letting herself in with the key she’d obtained the day before. Digital keys were much harder to obtain than the old metal keys smaller hotels or motels used. She’d charmed the male clerk into giving her a key so she could surprise her “lover.”The room was empty, of course. As he’d done the night before, her target was having a “drink” at the bar before retiring to his room, courtesy of some idiot human. Even the Damned couldn’t kill everyone they fed from—got suspicious after a while, to humans and slayers. Walking across the high-end hardwood floors spread over the entire room, Tuck sat herself down on a chair, kicking her wet boots up on the edge of the bed and placing her pure silver knives on her thighs, which had been sheathed at her waist under her hooded sweatshirt. They weren’t her favorite weapons, but they were best for close contact. She’d been tracking Samuel Bellows for a little over six weeks, from Boston to San Francisco—the city she was now in. He was responsible for the killing of seven little girls, drinking them dry of blood then abandoning their bodies in the woods. She could practically taste his death on her tongue.But those girls were not the reason she was after him. His power had lingered at the scenes of several missing slayers—she planned on having a nice, bloody chat with him about that.Footsteps jarred the quiet about twenty minutes later. Samuel’s footsteps. No human would have heard his steps, but she was more than human—slayers had a predators’ hearing, and she clearly heard the delight in his gait. He had a new target, he had human blood on his tongue, and—she smiled to herself—he had no idea what was in his room.The key card slid in the lock, the door clicked, and into the darkness of the room came Samuel Bellows—five-foot-ten, a bit heavyset, and reeking of glee.He was a dead man.She held her position patiently as he turned on the lights. The look of surprise in his gray eyes when he saw her was so comical that she actually laughed. “Good evening, Samuel. The name’s Tuck Houston. But you can call me Ripper, if you’d like.”

About the Author:
October Weeks is a dark fantasy/horror writer and a reader with too many books and not enough shelves!
She lives in Vermont. Autumn is her favorite season—October and November are her favorite months.
Loves: reading, writing, movies (horror, sci-fi, and fantasy especially), taking walks, fishing, and family
Obsessions: Lindt dark chocolate and the SyFy Channel (Haven!).
http://octoberweeks.net/
https://hauntedoctober.wordpress.com/
https://twitter.com/hauntedoctober
https://www.facebook.com/hauntedoctober
http://instagram.com/octoberlibby/
http://octoberweeks.tumblr.com/
https://www.pinterest.com/octoberlibby/

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Guest Blog and Giveaway The Morrigan by Kennan Reid

Inspirations and Distractions: Overcoming and Succumbing to Writer's Block
My house will be clean, my closet organized and my car detailed and I still haven’t written a single word.  It’s the absolute worst feeling in the world; an itch you can’t scratch no matter how many procrastination-made brownies you throw at it.  When the dreaded Writer’s Block hits, it’s like a biblical plague spreading grasshoppers and wildfire across the land.  And the harder you try to fight it, the worse it seems to get. 
I discovered that it’s in the distractions that one can find the best inspiration to write.  Sometimes it may be mundane activities, your usual daily routine, but in that routine the imagination is unlocked.  Other times it may be an overheard conversation, a news story of some great event or daring person.  Or maybe it was a song...
Music can always inspire my writing and usually I have a song that sets the tone for the entire book.  For Return to Arèthane, it was the song “Amazing” by Johnette Napolitano.  When I first started out writing about these elves, I wanted the reader to experience them through the eyes of a human.  I had intended for my elf queen, Karawyn, to be the main character and Emily was only supposed to be a fly on the wall, allowing the reader access to these incredible and amazing creatures.  Of course, Emily took over the story, but the song created the atmosphere in which the reader meets and discovers Arèthane along with her.  For the second book, Arcade Fire’s cover of “My Body Is A Cage” offered a soundtrack for decisions and choices that would alter the elves and humans of Arèthane.  I listened to “Fires” by Band of Skulls over and over again while writing Always Me.  In each book I have written, there has always been a song creating a current of feeling beneath the words.
There have been too many times that I have sat before my laptop staring at a blank Word document, fingers poised over the keys and...nothing.  It seems the longer I stare, the harder I try to force it, the less the words flow.  But I’ve found that inspiration comes in the oddest and most inconvenient places.  Like the shower.  I’m not sure if it’s the white noise of the water falling or the isolation, but whatever the reason I do most of my writing while shampooing my hair.  In that small space, dialogues seem to always occur, my characters have their best conversations.  The exposition comes out in bits and pieces while caught in traffic to work every morning.  Knowing I was plagued by inspiration coming in inconvenient ways, a friend gave me shower markers and a handheld tape recorder.  Unfortunately, I can only seem to write and think, but not speak the words and so instead I started keeping notepads and pens in my passenger seat.  While maybe not the safest way, it gets the job done.  And I haven’t rear-ended anyone.  Yet.
The best distraction in which to be inspired is reading.  Stephen King had stated in On Writing that to be a good writer, you must be a voracious reader - read everything.  The good, the bad, all of it.  While this may help my writing skills, reading bad writing seems to inspire me to write.  It was what spurred me to write in the first place.  Having finished a pretty bad YA novel, I thought to myself, “I could do that.”  And since then, as I’m reading my mind drifts to what I would write in my own book, crafting scenes and chapters and seeing where the story will go.  But it’s only bad fiction that does this.  A good book will pull me in, suck me into that world and I will think of nothing else.  So next time, when a friend says, “Oh, you don’t want to read that book, it’s awful” pick it up!  Read it and you may find your block smashed by the need to do it better.
In On Writing, King had recommended that the writer must steel himself away from the television, the radio, other people.  Lock out the distractions and write.  But when you’re blocked, welcome those distractions and you may find yourself back in front of your computer sooner than you think.  Embrace the block!





The MorriganDamaged DeitiesBook 1Kennan Reid
Genre: Adult Paranormal Romance
ASIN: B00U3VPSW6
Word Count: 106k
Cover Artist: Najla Qambar
Book Description:
Morrie Brandon is the best horse trainer in Oklahoma, able to tame the wildest of beasts.  She's also the Celtic goddess of War and Sex, The Morrigan, abandoning her supernatural life for a simpler, more human one.   
When Morrie is hired by a secretive Scottish family to capture a killer horse ravaging their Highlands manor, the past she has spent thousands of years running from calls her back. 
Will Morrie learn from her past mistakes and embrace the bold goddess she truly is, or is it too late?


Available at AmazonExcerpt

She’d heard the whistle before she noticed the man.  Without even looking up, Morrie knew Kade approached her on his way home from town, whistling a slow, sad tune as he hiked.  She could feel his presence. As soon as he noticed her, that tune changed, a grin creeping at his lips.“Told ya the ol’ girl didna like tae be gripped so hard,” Kade smirked, stopping in front of her.Arms crossed, Morrie expressed her lack of amusement with a dull glare. “That’s not what happened.  This rusted bucket of junk lost a wheel.”“Ack, don’t speak o’ her so,” he chided, pulling his hands free of his coat pocket, frowning with fake concern.  He sidled around to the driver side, inspecting the damage. “Tis’ nothing, I can fix her right up.”Morrie jumped off the back and stood behind him as he crouched down beside the truck.  Leaning his shoulder into the side, he lifted the truck up, giving enough space beneath the tire to straighten the wheel.  Morrie’s eyes widened with surprise.“It’s a lot lighter than it looks,” she said, impressed.With the wheel corrected, Kade stood up and faced her, dusting his hands off.  “Looks can often be deceiving, Morrie.  And I’ll be takin’ tha ride now, if ye doona mind.”“Not if you’re driving,” she replied dryly, tossing him the keys.Once inside and chugging down the road, the truck's cabin seemed much smaller than before.  Kade’s body filled it like an occupying force.  Morrie kept her face free of expression as she watched the horizon, but still noted with an occasional glance the way Kade leaned back casually, his strong, tan hand hanging over the wheel while he rested his arm on the window.  Out of the corner of her eye she could see him looking at her, watching her more often than the road.“Are you determined to wreck us?” she asked.“I know this road better than my own home,” he replied with a deep voice Morrie only then noticed had a way of vibrating her ribcage. “Doona worry yer bonnie head, lass.  Ye’re safe wi’ me.”“Somehow I doubt that.” He chuckled, but she kept her face turned away from him, watching the landscape slowly pass by.“Ye know, the shore’s a bit past the house on this road.  There’s a great restaurant there right on the water.  It’s about lunchtime anyway, what do ye say for stopping for a bite?”“No, thank you.”“They serve Dr. Pepper.”She looked at him at that, knowing her face was bright and hopeful despite herself.  He had one dark eyebrow quirked, waiting.  Opening her mouth to speak, Morrie struggled a moment longer with her basic urges before saying, “Well, I guess I am hungry.”“I’m no’ too ashamed tae admit that hurt, Morrie.” Kade had his eyes back on the road, a smile playing at his full, soft lips, though his tone had been serious. “That a soda is more appealing tae ye than me.”With her stunned gaze on him, a grin crept its way on her lips before she could hold it back, lightening her words.“Well, it’s been two days since I’ve had any.”“Ye could’ve had plenty last night had ye stayed in bed,” he quipped, his voice dropping seductively.“Is everything about sex with you?” she asked, eyes wide.“Canna help myself,” he muttered, a tone of genuine disbelief entering his voice. “When I’m around ye, I seem tae lose my mind.”In a way, his admission was a surprising compliment, and Morrie couldn’t help smiling at it.  He frowned.  “My god, is that a smile I see?” He made a show of looking at her, inspecting her face, which only made it harder for her to squelch the silly expression back down. “Doona hide it, Morrie, my dear, that’s the first time I’ve seen ye smile.  It's beautiful.”“Don’t be silly,” she said, facing forward but her lips still upturned.“Quite right, lass,” he adopted a playful serious tone. “Put that thing away, wouldna want the angels above tae cry with jealousy over its beauty.”Morrie rolled her eyes and glanced at him. Something odd happened inside of her, a weird sensation like she had been filled with warm, rich chocolate.  Every time she looked at him, at that bright smile he flashed and the warmth in his eyes, it seemed to stir that molten feeling.“Just speakin’ the truth.”"You speak with too much familiarity." She rested her head in her hand, watching him.  He locked eyes with hers and somehow their chocolate depths darkened, his voice husky when he spoke."I really canna help it," he answered. "I feel as though I know ye, as though I've known ye my whole life."She felt it, too, an odd and inexplicable connection that seemed to justify her sudden lust.  And though the feeling was brief and fleeting, it sent a shock through her body.  Unable to think straight, Morrie sat up and looked out, hoping if she focused on the storm clouds rolling in, it would help relieve the strange sensations at play within her.  Lips parted, she took a breath.“How much farther?” Kade cleared his throat. “Not much.”Thank the gods, Morrie thought.  Another half mile and she might end up ordering Kade to pull over and take her there in the cow pastures.

About the Author:
Kennan Reid traveled from the vast, open spaces of Texas to the vast, open ocean of California where she enjoys sitting outside in the sun, tossing a frisbee to her dog, Barnabas, and on occasion, writing a few words hoping one day they behave and become a book. When she's not pretending to be a romance author, she is writing young adult novels about elves, witches and reincarnation. The Morrigan is her first adult romance novel and after falling in love with the feisty goddess and her crazy sisters, will not be her last.

Kennan also writes Young Adult as Kelly Riad.  Other Novels include Return to Arèthane and Prince of Arèthane. 

For more information on Kennan visit:

 www.facebook.com/KennanReidWrites
http://kellyriad.blogspot.com/

@KennanReid



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Free Read The March Issue of Bewitching Book Tours Magazine

The March Issue of Bewitching Book Tour's Magazine Features: Stuck in the Research Mudbog with Rachael Stapleton, When Fantasy and Reality Collide with Anise Rae, Writing Young Adult with Pembroke Sinclair, Poetry by Abigail Madison Chase, and The Naughty Nook featuring Dewdrops and Decadence by Roxanne Rhoads and Pin Up Files Photogrpahy by Steven Jon Horner
Featured Authors Include: Laura Bickle, Marina Myles, Ami Blackwelder, Ruth Fox, Tamara Linse, and Ann Gimpel.
http://issuu.com/bewitchingbooktours/docs/magazine__33

Review of The Soup Club Cookbook: Feed Your Friends, Feed Your Family, Feed Yourself

My Review:

I love soup, really, really love soup. So the concept behind this book intrigued me. Now I'm not sold on being part of a soup club yet I am sold on these recipes. 

And there's so much more than just soup recipes-sandwiches, snacks, dips, quiche, stew, chili, salads, hummus and quick pickles.

My daughter and I are hummus fanatics so those recipes will come in handy...and the quick pickles...yum. I'll have a new way to use my freshly harvested vegetables at the end of summer. Which is always a plus. 

There are sooo many great soup recipes in here- bean soups, vegetable soups, meatball soup...and you'll learn how to make broths from scratch- chicken, beef, vegetable.

My favorite soup recipes from this book are the Potato Cheddar and Roasted Broccoli. Those will be going into regular soup rotation in my house.

Now the recipes make a huge pot- 8 quarts. That's so you have enough to share for a soup club. I'll probably cut them in half then send half of that to my mom. I don't know anyone else close by that's as passionate about soup as I am. So maybe mom and I can do a mini soup club. One week I'll make the soup, the next week she can make the soup. Sounds good to me. It'll be the mom and me soup club. :-)


The Soup Club Cookbook: Feed Your Friends, Feed Your Family, Feed Yourself 

by Courtney Allison, Tina Carr, Caroline Laskow, Julie Peacock 

January 13, 2015

Pages: 240  
ISBN: 978-0-7704-3462-5

ABOUT THE BOOK

Food-sharing is the hot new thing in the "getting dinner on the table" conversation, and in The Soup Club Cookbook, four busy moms share not only their formula for starting a soup club--which gives you at least three meals every month when you don't have to worry about dinner--but also 150 fantastic recipes for soups and sides and storing tips for stretching those meals across the week.

The Soup Club began when four friends (who, between them, have four husbands and ten hungry kids and several jobs) realized that they didn’t actually have to cook at home every night to take pleasure in a home-cooked meal. They simply had to join forces and share meals, even if they weren’t actually eating them together. Caroline, Courtney, Julie, and Tina happen to be neighbors, but a soup club is for anyone: colleagues, a group of workout buddies, a book club. All you need are a few people who simply want to have more home-cooked food in their lives.

In a soup club each person takes a turn making soup—and sometimes other dishes for sides or for when everyone needs a break from soup, so if a club has four people, in a month each person will have dinner delivered three times—a dish that can start as a full meal and stretch into more dinners or lunches or even morph into a sauce. Soup is forgiving, versatile, and perfect for sharing; it can be spiced to taste, topped elaborately or not at all, and dressed up or down. It travels well and reheats beautifully.  The Soup Club Cookbook also has dozens of tips for cooking in quantity and for tailoring soup to individual tastes and needs. Here, too, are simple guidelines for starting your own soup club, anecdotes, and a few cautionary tales  that will inspire anyone to share food and eat well. 

Recipes include quick and easies, classics, twist on favorites, and dozens of flavor-rich new crowd pleasers:  

   • Carrot Coconut and Chicken Chili, 
   • Senegalese Peanut Soup 
   • Faux Ramen 
   • Red Lentil Curry Soup 
   • Potato Cheddar Soup 
   • Sun Dried Tomato Soup 
   • Jeweled Rice Salad 
   • Cheddar Cornbread, 
   • Summer Corn Hash 
   • Soy Simmered Chicken Wings



"I received this book from Blogging for Books for this review."

One Day Blitz for Angel Codes by Ami Blackwelder

Angel CodesAngelFire ChroniclesBook 3Ami Blackwelder
Genre: Paranormal Romance, Angel suspense
Publisher: Eloquent Enraptures Publishing
Date of Publication: March 14, 2015
ASIN: B00SU3X9MA
Number of pages: 217Word Count: 78,000
Cover Artist: Ami Blackwelder
Book Description:
After Kian is taken away from Ali, she and the other Angelfire must defend Manhattan on their own, while learning where Kian is and how to retrieve him.
Meanwhile, Kian is fighting his own internal and external demons deep within the cell of The Underground.
Will Ali and Kian finally find love or will Dumah destroy it all? Find out in the last book to the AngelFire Chronicles.

Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/G7PJRQ3iFhA
Available at Amazon
  Get it free March 15, 16, and 17
About the Author:
Ami Blackwelder is a Paranormal and SciFi author. Her stories range from Tween & YA to Adult. Growing up in Florida, she graduated UCF and in 1997 received her BA in English and additional teaching credentials. Then she packed her bags and travelled overseas to teach in Thailand, Nepal, Tibet, China and Korea. Thailand is considered her second home now.
She has always loved writing and wrote poems and short stores since childhood; however, her novels began when she was in Thailand. Having won the Best Fiction Award from the University of Central Florida (Yes, The Blair Witch Project University), her short fiction From Joy We Come, Unto Joy We Return was published in the on campus literary magazine: Cypress Dome and remains to this day in University libraries around the USA.
Later, she achieved the semi-finals in a Laurel Hemingway contest and published a few poems in the Thailand’s Expat magazine, and an article in the Thailand’s People newspaper. Additionally, she has published poetry in the Korea’s AIM magazine, the American Poetic Monthly magazine and Twisted Dreams Magazine.
http://amiblackwelder.blogspot.com
http://amiblackwelder.blogspot.com   
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Angel-Fire-Chronicles/262738260422879

Giveaway and Vlog with Ami Blackwelder

Angel CodesAngelFire ChroniclesBook 3Ami Blackwelder
Genre: Paranormal Romance, Angel suspense
Publisher: Eloquent Enraptures Publishing
Date of Publication: March 14, 2015
ASIN: B00SU3X9MA
Number of pages: 258Word Count: 80,000
Cover Artist: Ami Blackwelder
Book Description:
After Kian has been kidnapped by his demon sister Dumah, he falls into a spiral of good vs evil and must overcome all of Dumah’s cruel games or face loosing himself to the darkness. 

Ali must learn to be strong without Kian at her side to save him, to save her friends and family, and to save Manhattan. While Lucianda mends her broken heart after the death of Jacob, Molly and Jen must also come to terms with this Otherworld that exists under their noses. 

Will Ali save Kian? Will their love survive? Find out in this final book, the conclusion to the AngelFire Chronicles series. 



Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/G7PJRQ3iFhA
Available at Amazon
  Get it free March 20 and 21

Regular Price $4.99

April 1 the book will be just $1.99Excerpt Kian POV
     I knew Dumah too well to not fear her, and fear what she’d do if she found out about my betrayal to her, my secret exposé letter to Ali. I had to watch Sergio closely, make sure he’d stay loyal to Angelfire. I could only hope they’d given him enough reason do to so. Maybe the human part of him could hold up against my sister’s dark influences, maybe not. Maybe the demon inside him would consume him? Time would tell.      We flew through cloudy skies as we returned to The Edge. I used to feel free at the dance club, meeting Ali with her friends late at night. Now, the club only made me feel tense. As we landed, my wings brushed up against Sergio who was being held by two Dark Angels. Dumah glowed with brilliant satisfaction, something akin to a pregnant woman.       “Magnificent wingspan you guys have. Will I get my wings soon?” Sergio asked.      “When you’re ready,” I commented, and Dumah took the cue to speak for all her kind.      Dumah waved her hands in the sky as if she owned them, with her coal black wings billowing behind her in the cold winds. “I will teach you all you need to know to acquire your wings… your destiny awaits you inside these doors.” She opened the door that separated me from my freedom and descended with Sergio close to her side. For someone who grew up in the rich part of Manhattan, he handled the grubby scenery quite well.      “How long have you known about your Gifts?” I asked Sergio from behind, with a gang of Dark Angels about me. 
     He shrugged. “I think I’ve always had them, but recently they’ve become more powerful.” He eyed my bare chest and then looked at Dumah’s leather top, more of a bra to cover her during flying. I could see him putting two and two together, the effects of the wings on the body and our clothing. 
About the Author:
Ami Blackwelder is a Paranormal and SciFi author. Her stories range from Tween & YA to Adult. Growing up in Florida, she graduated UCF and in 1997 received her BA in English and additional teaching credentials. Then she packed her bags and travelled overseas to teach in Thailand, Nepal, Tibet, China and Korea. Thailand is considered her second home now.
She has always loved writing and wrote poems and short stores since childhood; however, her novels began when she was in Thailand. Having won the Best Fiction Award from the University of Central Florida (Yes, The Blair Witch Project University), her short fiction From Joy We Come, Unto Joy We Return was published in the on campus literary magazine: Cypress Dome and remains to this day in University libraries around the USA.
Later, she achieved the semi-finals in a Laurel Hemingway contest and published a few poems in the Thailand’s Expat magazine, and an article in the Thailand’s People newspaper. Additionally, she has published poetry in the Korea’s AIM magazine, the American Poetic Monthly magazine and Twisted Dreams Magazine.
http://amiblackwelder.blogspot.com
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Angel-Fire-Chronicles/262738260422879



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Interview and Giveaway with Chantel Fourie Author of The Vengeful

The VengefulChantel Fourie
In a world where vengeful creatures battle humans, knowing who to trust could be the difference between losing his brother and saving the human race.
When Zack ends up in an alternate dimension and loses his brother to the Vengeful, the last thing he expects is that one of the soul-seeking creatures would save his life. 
Vale, a Vengeful with human capabilities, needs his help to retrieve an orb from the last remaining human settlement. In return, he promises to help Zack save his brother and take them back to their own world. 
In the settlement, he learns the truth about the Vengeful and the orb’s power. But it is only when he meets Shiro, the human leader, that Zack begins to have doubts. Can he trust Vale to keep his promise, or should he believe Shiro instead? 
The fate of the human race rests on his choice.
Available at
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What inspired you to write this book?
I had a strange, lucid dream about reaper-like creatures: The scene where Zack and his brother drive down the foggy road and see the Vengeful for the first time. That one scene shaped into a story after I woke up.
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’m very picky when it comes to names, but for me it’s not about the meaning of the name, it’s about fitting the name with the character. It has to sound like it belongs to the character. I usually google or use a name generator tool until I find the perfect one.
Is there a character that you enjoyed writing more than any of the others?
Yes, Vale. I love the grave sound of his voice and his good/bad characteristics as a Vengeful.
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?
Hmm, well if readers jump into a series other than the first book it’s only natural that they will miss something important. Most things happen in the first book that readers should want to know about.
For example: How Zack arrives in the parallel world, the different kinds of Vengeful, what happened to Zack’s brother, who is Vale and Shiro and why they are important to the story, etc.
The second book will be a direct sequel, but I think if the reader decides to only read one book that it can be read as stand alones.
Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? How do you deal with it?
I’m one of those lucky people that rarely experience writer’s block. I have the opposite problem. I have so many ideas that I write multiple stories at once. When I’m stuck on one scene, I move to the next story. It works for me so far and I hope to keep it up.
When did you consider yourself a writer?
I’ve been fascinated with words ever since I learned how to write. I have a whole collection of stories that I wrote in school, but it’s in 2012 when I played the game, Alan Wake, that I decided, “I want to be a writer”. Alan Wake’s life and struggles as a writer touched me deeper than any other game or book and I found his writing so thrilling and fresh that I wanted my own stories to do the same for readers.   
Other than writing, what are some of your interests, hobbies or passions in life?
Ah, where to start… I read books or play computer games in my free time and watch anime twice a week. I love all things paranormal and enjoy finding out more about ghosts, vampires, human abilities, etc. Science, Space, and technology intrigue me. Oh, and I would love to do Martial Arts and Snowboarding someday… Yip, I have too many interests.
What was the last amazing book you read?
Divergent. I wanted to read it before watching the movie and WOW, didn’t think I would enjoy it as much as I did. I love how well-written and thought-provoking the book is. A must-read for anyone who like Young Adult.
What can readers expect next from you?
I’m working on three Young Adult fantasies alongside the sequel of The Vengeful.It depends on which one I finish first.
Where can readers find you on the web?
I’m mostly active on Twitter @darkwrld1021. Readers can visit my website for links to my other accounts:
chantelfourie.weebly.com
Would you like to leave readers with a little teaser or excerpt from the book?
Sure. Here is an excerpt from chapter 1:
Excerpt:As soon as the engine shut off, silence crept in. It pressed down on Zack’s chest, almost suffocating him. He needed to get out of here before he went crazy. His hand went for the door, but Jake grabbed his arm. Zack shot him a glare, brushing off his hand, wondering what the issue could be this time. But then he saw it too. His stomach dropped as he looked at the figures of three more of the strange cloaked people. He noticed these were different. They were bigger and cloaked in a darker shade of gray. The hoods shadowed each of their faces and their hands and feet were invisible. Two carried weapons. One held a sword, engulfed in a dark purple energy, and the other a giant hammer, surrounded by the same substance.“I don’t think you should have stopped, Jake.” Zack gulped.“I didn’t,” Jake said as he turned the key in the ignition, but the car stayed quiet. There wasn’t even a click. “It’s dead!”The people hovered closer. The giant hammer-wielding creature stopped at the side of the car. Zack’s side. Blood drained from Zack’s face as it lifted the hammer high above its shoulder.“Drive, Jake! Drive!”“I can’t. It won’t start!”“Oh crap.” Zack ducked as the hammer swung down. He waited for the pain to sink in... For the car to explode... Anything. But when nothing happened, he sat up slowly. The car was still in one piece. He checked his body for any changes and relaxed. The hammer did no visible damage at all. “What’s going on?” a bewildered Zack asked.“Whoa, it went right through! Did you see that?”Zack didn’t answer, because first, he didn’t see, and second, one of the other people moved forward. This one held no weapon. It stopped in front of the car, standing with its face cast downward for what felt like forever, and then let loose a terrifying screech. The frequency was so high it nearly pierced his eardrums.“Cover your ears!” Zack yelled as he covered his own with the palm of his hands, but it didn’t drive out the noise or stop the pain pulsing through his brain.“It’s not working!” Jake said, looking right into the screamer’s face.Instead of looking, Zack shut his eyes, thinking it would help if he didn’t see it.“Can’t handle this, my... brain...” Jake groaned.Zack jerked his head at the click of the car door, catching Jake stumbling out. “What the hell are you doing? Get back inside!” Zack yelled. “Are you crazy?”Jake ignored him. He stumbled down the road a few feet before he stopped and looked back. His face was stripped of all emotion, his eyes still fixed on the screaming person who moved closer toward him. The other people followed. What’s so interesting about that thing’s face that Jake wasn’t running! Zack got out of the car to jerk him away, but he was too late.The people were upon Jake before he could move. Let go of my brother, you freaks! Zack wanted to scream, but his voice refused. The two carrying weapons swung them down through his body with sheer force. As Jake yelled, a wave of cold rushed through Zack’s body, chilling him to the bone.
“No!” Shaking, he stepped forward. “Jake!” He forced a yell as he gasped for air. His heart pumped wildly in his chest. This couldn’t be happening. Not to Jake. Not his brother.
About the Author:Chantel Fourie is a YA author, specializing in Fantasy and Paranormal fiction. She lives in Despatch, a quiet town in South Africa. Since a young age, she has treasured books and spent many afternoons at the local library. Even after the librarians suggested the adult section, she kept loyal to the Young Adult shelves. Her first novella, The Vengeful, is published with Lycaon Press. She is currently working on various short stories and novellas, including the sequel of The Vengeful. When she is not writing, she is most likely absorbed in a world of fiction or playing online computer games with her friends.You can find her on:Twitter: www.twitter.com/darkwrld1021Google+: www.google.com/+ChantelFouriedarkwrld1021Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/user/show/36448188-chantel-fourieWebsite: www.chantelfourie.weebly.com

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Becoming Andy Hunsinger by Jere' M. Fishback

Hi, folks, I'm Jere' M. Fishback; I primarily write Young Adult fiction, and you can read about my titles at my website: https://www.jeremfishback.com  My latest release is a novel titled Becoming Andy Hunsinger; it's narrated by the title character,, and on the book's first page, Andy says this:
"On my seventh birthday, my parents gave me a Dr. Seuss book, The Cat in the Hat.
"I still have the book; it rests on the shelf above my desk, along with other Seuss works I’ve collected. Inside The Cat in the Hat’s cover, my mother wrote an inscription, usingher precise penmanship. 'Happy Birthday, Andy. As you grow older, you'llrealize many truths dwell within these pages. Much love,Mom and Dad.'
"Mom was right, of course. She most always is.
"My favorite line in The Cat in the Hat is this one:
"'Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don’t mind.'"
Becoming Andy Hunsinger is all about having the courage to be different in a society that values conformity. The book takes place in north Florida during 1976-77. It's not autobiographical, although I did attend law school at Florida State in Tallahassee during those years, and certain events in my book actually occurred while I lived there.
People always ask me, "Where do you get your ideas for the stories you write and the characters you create?"
I always answer by saying, "I don't know, actually, and it's true."
Firstly, I'm what fiction writers call a "pantser"; I don't outline my book before I start writing it; I get an idea for a story, and then I start by writing a scene that begins the story. I never have any idea how any of my stories will end. In fact, I don't plan any "plot twists." I don't prepare character profiles in advance, either. I write "by the headlights" as E. L. Doctorow once called it; I only know what's going to happen in one or two scenes beyond the one I am working on.
Oftentimes, my characters will "take over" a story and tell me what to write. That's when I know I've got a good story on my hands.
People also ask me, "Who are your favorite writers and what's the best novel you've ever read?"
The best novel? Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird.
My favorite writers? Michael Chabon, Annie Proulx, Cormac McCarthy, Pat Conroy, John Irving, Tom Franklin, Kurt Vonnegut, and John Updike, to name a few. I also like history books, particularly biographies written by David McCullough . Right now I'm reading his biolgraphy of Harry S. Truman; it's really good.
My first two novels, Josef Jaeger and Tyler Buckspan were Young Adult titles, suitable for reading by teens in high school. Becoming Andy Hunsinger's classified as an "Edgy Young Adult" title by my publishers because it contains semi-explicit sexual scenes. It's more suitable for readers over the age of eighteen.
Thanks to Fang-tastic Books for hosting me today, and thanks to readers who follow this blog for taking the time to get to know me a little. If anyone has any questions or comments for me, feel free to send them via this blog; I'd love to hear from you.
Happy reading, everyone ….


Becoming Andy HunsingerJere' M. Fishback
Genre: Historical romance, GLBT,Historical,Edgy Young Adult
Publisher: Prizm BooksDate of Publication: December 30, 2014
ISBN: 978-1-61040-858-5ASIN: B00RN6L8HS
Number of pages: 208Word Count: 65,800
Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde
Book Description:
It's 1976, and Anita Bryant's homophobic "Save Our Children" crusade rages through Florida. When Andy Hunsinger, a closeted gay college student, joins in a demonstration protesting Bryant's appearance in Tallahassee, his straight boy image is shattered when he's "outed" by a TV news reporter.
In the months following, Andy discovers just what it means to be openly gay in a society that condemns love between two men.
Can Andy's friendship with Travis, a devout Christian who's fighting his own sexual urges, develop into something deeper?
Available at Amazon    Prizm Books
ExcerptOn my seventh birthday, my parents gave me a Dr. Seuss book, The Cat in the Hat.
I still have it; the book rests on the shelf above my desk, along with other Seuss works I've collected. Inside The Cat in the Hat's cover, my mother wrote an inscription, using her English teacher's precise penmanship.
 "Happy Birthday, Andy. As you grow older, you'll realize many truths dwell within these pages. Much love, Mom and Dad."
Mom was right, of course. She most always is.
My favorite line in The Cat in the Hat is this one:
"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."                                                            ***Loretta McPhail was a notorious Tallahassee slumlord. On a steamy afternoon, in August 1976, she spoke to me in her North Florida drawl: part magnolia, part crosscut saw.
"The rent's one-twenty-five. I'll need first, last, and a security deposit, no exceptions."
McPhail wore a short-sleeved shirtwaist dress, spectator pumps, and a straw hat with a green plastic windowpane sewn into the brim. Her skin was as pale as cake flour. A gray moustache grew on her winkled upper lip, and age spots peppered the backs of her hands. Her eyeglasses had lenses so thick her gaze looked buggy.
I'd heard McPhail held title to more than fifty properties in town, all of them cited multiple times for violation of local building codes. She owned rooming houses, single family homes, and small apartment buildings, mostly in neighborhoods surrounding Florida State University's campus. Like me, her tenants sought cheap rent; they didn't care if the roof leaked or the furnace didn't work.
The Franklin Street apartment I viewed with McPhail wasn't much: a living room and kitchen, divided by a three-quarter wall; a bedroom with windows looking into the rear and side yards; a bathroom with a wall-mounted sink, a shower stall and a toilet with a broken seat. In each room, the plaster ceilings bore water marks. The carpet was a leopard skin of suspicious-looking stains, and the whole place stank of mildew and cat pee.
McPhail's building was a two-storied, red brick four-plex with casement windows that opened like book covers, a Panhandle style of architecture popular in the 1950s. Shingles on the pitched roof curled at their edges. Live oaks and longleaf pines shaded the crabgrass lawn, and skeletal azaleas clung to the building's exterior.
In the kitchen, I peeked inside a rust-pitted Frigidaire. The previous tenant had left gifts: a half-empty ketchup bottle, another of pickle relish. A carton of orange juice with an expiration date three months past sat beside a tub of margarine.
Out in the stairwell, piano music tinkled -- a jazzy number I didn't recognize.
McPhail clucked her tongue and shook her head.
"I've told Fergal -- and I mean several times -- to close his door when he plays, but he never does. I'm not sure why I put up with that boy."
McPhail pulled a pack of Marlboros from a pocket in the skirt of her dress. After tapping out two cigarettes, she jammed both between her lips. She lit the Marlboros with a brushed-chrome Zippo, and then she gave me one cigarette.
I puffed and tapped a toe, letting my gaze travel about the kitchen. I studied the chipped porcelain sink, scratched Formica countertops, and drippy faucet. Blackened food caked the range's burner pans. The linoleum floor's confetti motif had long ago disappeared in high-traffic areas. Okay, the place was a dump. But the rent was cheap, and campus was less than a mile away. I could ride my bike to classes, and to my part-time job as caddy at the Capital City Country Club.
Still, I hesitated.
The past two years, I'd lived in my fraternity house with forty brothers. I took my meals there, too. If I rented McPhail's apartment, I'd have to cook for myself. What would I eat? Where would I shop for food?
Other questions flooded my brain. Where would I wash my clothes? And how did a guy open a utilities account? The apartment wasn't furnished. Where would I purchase a bed? What about a dinette and living room furniture? And how much did such things cost? It all seemed so complicated.
Still . . .
Lack of privacy at the fraternity house would pose a problem for me this year. Over summer break -- back home in Pensacola -- I'd experienced my first sexual encounter with another male, a lanky serviceman named Jeff Dellinger, age twenty-four. Jeff was a Second Lieutenant from Eglin Air Force Base. I met him at a sand volleyball game behind a Pensacola Beach hotel, and he seemed friendly. I liked his dark hair, slim physique, and ready smile, but wasn't expecting anything personal to happen between us.
After all, I was a "straight boy", right?
We bought each other beers at the Tiki bar, and then Jeff invited me up to his hotel room. Once we reached the room, Jeff prepared two vodka/tonics. My drink struck like snake venom, and then my brain fuzzed. Jeff opened a bureau drawer; he produced a lethal-looking pistol fashioned from black metal. The pistol had a matte finish and a checked grip.
"Ever seen one of these?"
I shook my head.
"It's an M1911 -- official Air Force issue. I've fired it dozens of times."
Jeff raised the gun to shoulder height. He closed one eye, focused his other on the pistol's barrel sight. "Shooting's almost... sensual," he said. Then he looked at me. "It's like sex, if you know what I mean."
I shrugged, not knowing what to say.
Jeff handed the pistol to me. It weighed more than I'd expected, between two and three pounds. I turned the pistol here and there, admiring its sleek contours. The grip felt cold against my palm and a shiver ran through me. I'd never fired a handgun, never thought to.
"Is it loaded?" I asked.
Jeff bobbed his chin. "One bullet's in the firing chamber, seven more in the magazine; it's a semi-automatic."
After I handed Jeff the gun, he returned it to his bureau's drawer while I sipped from my drink, feeling woozier by the minute. Jeff sat next to me, on the room's double bed. His knee nudged mine, our shoulders touched, and I smelled his coconut-scented sunscreen.

Jeff laid a hand on my thigh. Then he squeezed. "You don't mind, do you?"
About the Author:
Jere' M. Fishback is a former news editor and trial lawyer. He writes Young Adult novels, short fiction, and memoirs. A Florida native, he lives on a barrier island on the Gulf of Mexico, west of Tampa/St. Petersburg. When he's not writing, Jere' enjoys cycling, surfing, lap-swimming, and watching sunsets with a glass of wine in hand.
http://www.jeremfishback.com/blog1/


https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2920032.Jere_M_Fishback

http://www.amazon.com/Jere-M.-Fishback/e/B00DDXM806/

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Legally Undead .99

 
A reluctant vampire hunter, stalking New York City as only a scorned bride can.Elle Dupree has her life all figured out: first a wedding, then her Ph.D., then swank faculty parties where she’ll serve wine and cheese and introduce people to her husband the lawyer.

But those plans disintegrate when she walks in on a vampire draining the blood from her fiancé Greg. Horrified, she screams and runs--not away from the vampire, but toward it, brandishing a wooden letter opener.

As she slams the improvised stake into the vampire’s heart, a team of black-clad men bursts into the apartment. Turning around to face them, Elle discovers that Greg’s body is gone—and her perfect life falls apart.  


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ExcerptThe worst thing about vampires is that they're dead. That whole wanting to suck your blood business runs a close second, but for sheer creepiness, it's the dead bit that gets me every time. They're up and walking around and talking and sucking blood, but they're dead. And then there's the whole terminology problem--how can you kill something that's already dead? It's just wrong.I was twenty-four the first time I . . . destroyed? dispatched? . . . a vampire. That's when I found out that all the books and movies are wrong. When you stick a wooden stake into their hearts, vampires don't disintegrate into dust. They don't explode. They don't spew blood everywhere. They just look surprised, groan, and collapse into a pile of corpse. But at least they lie still then, like corpses are supposed to.Since that first kill (I might as well use the word--there really isn’t a better one), I've discovered that only if you're lucky do vampires look surprised before they groan and fall down. If you're unlucky and miss the heart, they look angry. And then they fight.There are the other usual ways to kill vampires, of course, but these other ways can get a bit complicated. Vampires are notoriously difficult to trick into sunlight. They have an uncanny ability to sense when there's any sunlight within miles of them, and they're awfully good at hiding from it. Holy water doesn't kill them; it just distracts them for a while, and then they get that angry look again. And it takes a pretty big blade to cut off someone's head--even an already dead someone--and carrying a great big knife around New York City, even the Bronx, is a sure way to get arrested. Nope, pointy sticks are the best way to go, all the way around.My own pointy stick is actually more of a little knife with wood inlay on the blade--the metal makes it slide in easier. I had the knife specially made by an old Italian guy in just about the only ratty part of Westchester, north of the city. I tried to order one off the internet, but it turns out that while it’s easy to find wood-inlay handles, the blades themselves tend to be metal. Fat lot those people know.But I wasn’t thinking any of this when I pulled the knife out of the body on the ground. I was thinking something more along the lines of “Oh, bloody hell. Not again.”

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About the Author



Margo Bond Collins is the author of urban fantasy, contemporary romance, and paranormal mysteries. She has published a number of novels, including Sanguinary, Taming the Country Star, Legally Undead, Waking Up Dead, and Fairy, Texas. She lives in Texas with her husband, their daughter, and several spoiled pets. Although writing fiction is her first love, she also teaches college-level English courses online. She enjoys reading romance and paranormal fiction of any genre and spends most of her free time daydreaming about heroes, monsters, cowboys, and villains, and the strong women who love them—and sometimes fight them.

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