Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 400

Guest Blog and Giveaway with J Tullos Hennig

It's always humbling—staggering, really—how creativity channels itself.  Not only in our hearts and minds, but in that undeniable cogency oft known as the 'collective unconscious'.  Things really do bide in the ether, surface for breath in the waters of the subconscious. And as of late, a certain Notorious Outlaw is making the rounds again.
Thankfully, that Notorious Outlaw makes those rounds on a regular basis.  You can peer back through history and see nice, fat clusters of storytelling.  It's brilliant, in every sense of the word.  Because those of us who are fascinated by something, who study it and obsess over it, love, live, and breathe it, are always willing for more.  People who crave a well-told story will visit—and revisit—that story again and again.  Each incarnation gives us new cause for either shattering insight or groans of utter dismay, brings new adventures and causes... all with which we can ponder the outlaw Robin Hood. 

And there is so much to ponder.  So much to explore and discover.  He's in the water, all right: a water horse, a kelpie who'll cozen you to back him then throw you in to drown.  Or even better, a pwca, a trickster who'll give you that wild ride but perhaps relent, share some advice and goodwill to see you back home on wobbly legs.
You see, it was about thirty years ago when I wrote and nearly published my own first invocation and incarnation of Robin (or Robyn, even as the first book has always been called Greenwode).  England's greatest archer was popping his wolfish head above the water then, too.  Some amazing novels came from that particular surge—Parke Godwin's retelling being amongst my all-time favourites of any genre.  There were also movies: one so-so, one not-so.  A man who was to become my friend was, unknown to me and across the pond, working on a very magical Robin Hood at nearly the same time as I was working on mine.  Both of these were (and are) akin in their mix of historical tradition, high romance, and old magic.  His went on to be an award-winning (and breathtaking) television series; mine was not so fortunate, though it did nearly go to contract twice before ending up in a file drawer as the cycle waned.
Such are the hazards of publishing.  Yet bad luck can hold its own share of fortune.  Those books that almost were thirty years ago now are.  I’m a better writer than I was, and Greenwodeand Shirewode are better books than they were, now in release with DSP Publications, with a third in the series slated for Autumn of 2015.  Even more gratifying, when I dusted off an old manuscript several years ago and decided upon a total rewrite and restructure, it seems Robin was also dusting off the old longbow and taking aim back into the collective mainstream.  There’s even talk of a new movie—definite cause for hope and dread and even perhaps a gnash of one’s teeth.  ;)  It's happening again: new tales and retellings, little wildfires popping up here and there... quite apropos to a firebrand archer. 
I'm sure the signs have been there for a while, but admittedly I've been spending more time larking my own 'swete greenwode'.  Amidst my larking I've shaped a story which is garnering some critical acclaim; a satisfying debut for a world that has been poking at my back brain for... well, for much of my life, really.  A strange thought, perhaps, to spend so much time in creation when our modern existence extols "hurry, put it out there, now!"  But I don't find it strange, not at all, and it is my sincere hope many others will find my books, sit back... breathe... and enjoy the ride as much as I have.
Robin Hood (aka Robyn Hode), more than perhaps any other figure from myth or history, is discontent to merely bide in the depths of history.  In a very real sense he challenges it, both flaunts and mirrors those changes history and society would choose to reveal.  How fitting that a figure often connected with the Green Man would be so wrapped up in the spiral of the Eternal Return, both mythic and prosaic.  For someone whose historical existence is ever in doubt, Robin has the ultimateextant power: he sparks stories in those of us who are compelled to tell them.
He's a pwca, all right.

GreenwodeBook One of The WodeJ Tullos Hennig
Genre: Historical Fantasy, Robin Hood
Publisher: DSP Publications
Date of Publication: Oct. 28, 2014
ISBN: 978-1-63216-437-7 PaperbackISBN: 978-1-63216-438-4 eBookASIN:  B00NPD85GU
Number of pages:  350Word Count: 151,000Cover Artist: Shobana Appavu
Book Description:
The Hooded One.  The one to breathe the dark and light and dusk between....
When an old druid foresees this harbinger of chaos, he also glimpses its future.  A peasant from Loxley will wear the Hood and, with his sister, command a last, desperate bastion of Old Religion against New.  Yet a devout nobleman's son could well be their destruction—Gamelyn Boundys, whom Rob and Marion have befriended.  Such acquaintance challenges both duty and destiny. The old druid warns that Rob and Gamelyn will be cast as sworn enemies, locked in timeless and symbolic struggle for the greenwode's Maiden.
Instead, a defiant Rob dares his Horned God to reinterpret the ancient rites, allow Rob to take Gamelyn as lover instead of rival. But in the eyes of Gamelyn’s Church, sodomy is unthinkable... and the old pagan magics are an evil that must be vanquished.
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/yA7dGnKlASs
Available at Amazon     BN    Kobo    iTunes    Audible   OmniLit


Readers love Greenwode
Winner in the 2013 Rainbow Awards: First: Best LGBT Novel, Best B/T & LGBT Debut, Best B/T & LGBT Fantasy, Paranormal Romance & Sci-fi / Futuristic

“I loved this story for taking a legend and giving it a twist … I have to recommend this to those who love folklore, mystical legends, historicals, fighting for a love against insurmountable odds, danger, betrayal and an ending that is devastating while giving you faint hope.”—MM Good Book Reviews
“This is a gutsy twist on a major classic that works.” —Gerry Bernie
“There is so much good about this book I'm not even sure where to start. … This one is a highly recommended read. Just read it. It blew me away.”—Better Read Than Dead
“Greenwode is legend. It is epic storytelling. It is fantasy and history. It is religion and spirituality. It is a world in which faith is a weapon, faith is a tool, faith is the enemy, and faith is the last vestige of hope… when there seems nothing left to hope for. If you love epic fantasy, I can’t recommend this book highly enough.”—The Novel Approach
“I can assure you the weaving of themes and legends in GREENWODE is mesmerizing. … This novel will always be the one against which I will judge all the others.”—Christopher Hawthorne Moss
“…an interesting, spellbinding read.”—Rainbow Book Reviews
“I highly recommend this any fan of an epic fantasy with historical settings. It is long but worth it. I can’t wait for the second book to come out.”—Hearts on Fire Reviews









a Prelude b

In the Deeps of the Shire Wode1175 ACE
“Wind and water, stone and tree….”Firelight flickered against rock, as if in time to the low melody. Both light and song wavered as they traveled into the depths. Not that the voice was not strong or the fire not warm—the caverns were that deep.An old man, lean and crystal-eyed, stared into the fire. Every now and then the fire would jerk and start, as if some giant had spat upon it, but the cause was natural enough. Thunder rumbled in the forest above, sending puffs of wind through unknown entrances into the caverns. The old man could hear the stones embedded in the earth above him creak, almost in reply; he tuned his low voice as if in reverent time. Those rocks that formed the circle above him might be a tiny imitation of the ring stones on the plain of Salisbury far to the south, but no less eternal in their observance of the powers that he, too, had served for



About the Author:
J Tullos Hennig has maintained a few professions over a lifetime--artist, dancer, equestrian--but never successfully managed to not be a writer. Ever. Since living on an island in Washington State merely encourages--nay, guarantees--already rampant hermetic and artistic tendencies, particularly in winter, Jen has become reconciled to never escaping this lifelong affliction. Comparisons have also been made to a bridge troll, one hopefully emulating the one under Fremont Bridge: moderately tolerant, but. You know. Bridge troll.
Jen is blessed with an understanding spouse, kids, and grandkids, as well as alternately plagued and blessed with a small herd of horses and a teenaged borzoi who alternates leaping over the furniture with lounging on it.
And, for the entirety of a lifetime, Jen has been possessed by a press gang of invisible ‘friends’ who Will. Not. S.T.F.U.
www.jtulloshennig.net
https://www.facebook.com/jtullos.hennig
https://www.facebook.com/TheWodeBooks
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Guest Blog with Kevin Henry

I’ve been asked how I come up with my ideas. I suspect most writers are asked that question. I am sure many of them are tired of answering the question. Where do any of our ideas or inspirations come from? This is not a philosophical course, just a little blog post, so I’ll steer away from some of the more ethereal options and aim for some of the tools I have used.
I grew up watching many shows on television, National Geographic Specials, Cousteau Specials, In Search Of, narrated by Leonard Nimoy. I watched a lot of PBS which gave me the ability to converse about the Dark Ages, Egyptian Pyramids, Da Vinci (before he had a Code), H.H. Crispin, Percy Fawcett and of course Baseball. My addition of the Wickenburg Massacre in Amber Gifts came from a short report I viewed a few years ago. There was a conspiracy theory that it was not Native Americans who were involved. It’s a fact that one woman and one man escaped to return to Wickenburg. Make of that what you will.
Currently my favorite tool for exploring new ideas is a show call Mysteries at the Museum. It plays on the Travel Channel and is hosted by Don Wildman. They are just finishing their seventh season. MATM shows several segments during each episode. Each segment focuses on the story behind one particular exhibit in a museum somewhere in the world. They have covered the Hunley, The Lost Colony of Roanoke, Love Canal, and so many more. It’s a tremendous wealth of uncommon knowledge and I’ve used a couple of ideas from the show already. I expect I will continue in the future.
I try not to use ideas from scripted television and movies. Nor do I want to use ideas from other fiction, fantasy, Sci-fi, or any genre. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. I remember the Afterward in Arthur C. Clarke’s novel, 3001. He was mildly distressed that he had ended the novel using a similar climatic tool as the movie Independence Day, a computer virus. When Amber Prelude is published in 2015 someone may think I took a portion of the plot from a television show but the truth is I saw the show after I wrote the story. It happens.
I am always impressed at the ability of writers to produce a good television show week after week. I have to think and research and get the information correctly laid out. I’m too slow and methodical to ever work in Hollywood. Some are able to do it though and to those I tip my hat. Well done ladies and gentlemen, well done.

~KbH
Amber GiftsBook OneKevin B. Henry
Genre: Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Time Travel
Publisher: Champagne Books
Date of Publication: February 2013
ISBN:          9781771550048ASIN: B00BAKB8B4
Number of pages:  99 pagesWord Count: 25,000 words
Cover Artist: Ellie Smith
Book Description:
After a decades long downward spiral, Mitchell is at the bottom of life’s rungs. A stranger hands him a simple, amber vial and tells him to drink it. With that one act, he is now a time traveler and when asked to help some new acquaintances, he gladly agrees. A simple request to find some items left scattered throughout time. How hard could it be?
But someone wants to stop Mitchell’s efforts and it will take more than luck for Mitchell to find all the items and survive long enough to complete his mission.
Champagne Books           Amazon       Barnes and Noble
Smashwords            KoboExcerpt:I spun in the chair. My flight instincts kicked in and I dove for the floor behind the desk. My hand grasped the vial before I escaped the target that was once a comfortable chair. I felt the second shot miss my head by inches. I gathered the package to me on my way to the floor.“Wait. Stop!” I stammered on the way to the floor. I didn’t believe for a second that he would.I uncapped the vial with a flip of my thumb while securing the package in my inner coat pocket. I recovered the rubber stopper in midair. My dexterity surprised me. What circus had I escaped from where I learned these tricks? I raised the vial to my waiting mouth. As I sipped, I took a quick look at my assailant. I wanted to be able to describe him to the Wilsons when next I saw them. He had bon vivant written all over him. He sparkled for the entire world like a fourth of July firework. I needed to ask about the meaning of that if I lived long enough. He dressed in a burgundy velvet smoking jacket, white tombstone shirt with a brown medallion ascot.His face appeared cold and insensitive, if that’s possible. His blond, short-trimmed hair seemed not to move, despite his trying violently to get through the door and in a better location for the kill shot. When his mouth opened I would have sworn I saw his teeth gleam like one of those Crest toothpaste commercials. A scowl of bewilderment appeared on his face as he rushed through the threshold. Perhaps he felt as amazed at my continued existence as I. He must have taken his first shot from across the hall and through the office entryway. I didn’t understand how he managed to miss the second shot.“Sorry, mate,” he said with an Australian accent.He had a gun in his hand, aimed straight at my head. It appeared to be a Remington Model 95Derringer. I tend to notice deadly items pointed at me with such professional accuracy. I wasn’t going to trust my life that it was only an authentic double shot model. He had the look of someone intent on firing again very soon. How fast could he pull the trigger? How fast could I dissolve? I hate life or death experiments.“1643,” I spoke softly. Instantly, I lay on an empty, white, sand beach.





About the Author:
From an early age, Kevin B. Henry was a voracious reader. His collection of science fiction, fantasy and mystery books bring tears of envy to the eyes of many small community libraries.
Kevin has worked as an educator, technology specialist and day laborer most of his adult life. During all that time he lived the life of a frustrated author. That it took 30 years for him to piece together Amber Gifts is a testament that the best meals need slow cooking to bring out the flavor. He feels the best stories revolve around time travel and the problems that such ability could produce. It’s no surprise that his first published work revolves around that theme. All the classics have touched on the subject; Star Trek, Doctor Who, Babylon 5, The Big Bang Theory. He hopes Amber Gifts can be added to that list.
Kevin is a natural storyteller, so it’s logical that he lectures occasionally. Topics range from the implementation of cutting edge technology hardware to the creation, modification and use of e-books within education. He constantly pursues research to expand his range of possible topics. His most recent research revolved around the aerodynamic properties of reindeer. He’s been known to include little known facts and trivia into his presentations. Did you know just 146 years ago today the Union Army marched into Atlanta? It took longer than anticipated. They were delayed by a traffic jam on I-75 and the tollbooth on Ga. 400
During other times, he travels if he can, both in time and space, but mostly to any available amusement park. He is not as fond of roller coaster type rides as he used to be. He still loves a good parade.
He lives in the mid-west without human or domesticated mammal companionship.
Web Site: www.ambergifts.blogspot.com
Twitter:        @Kevin_Henry
Facebook: www.Facebook.com/AmberGifts
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/6927050.Kevin_B_Henry


January 12 InterviewThe Creatively Green Write at Home Momwww.creativelygreen.blogspot.com
January 12 reviewRomance That's 'Out Of This World'http://hywelalyn.blogspot.com/
January 13 SpotlightPenny Writespennybrojacquie.blogspot.com
January 13 SpotlightLisa’s World of Bookswww.lisasworldofbooks.net
January 14 InterviewRoxanne’s Realmwww.roxannerhoads.com
January 14 reviewParanormal Romance and Authors That Rockwww.pratr.wordpress.com
January 15 Guest blogCounter Culture Critichttp://www.guyvestal.com/home/
January 16 SpotlightDeal Sharing Auntwww.dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com 
January 19 Guest blogFang-tastic Books
www.fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com 

Guest Blog and Giveaway-Angel Rising: Redemption by LaVerne Thompson

Meet Samuel GlausAngel Rising Redemption Book 1By LaVerne Thompson
My name is Samuel Glaus and some call me a master hunter. Because I hunt the soulless ones. Creatures who have no soul, no emotion other than to kill to feed their soulless existence. Only the death of others can fill the hollowness they have inside. The irony of it all is that my father was once soulless and my mother human, so I’m sort of a hybrid. I have some of their strength and speed. I never get sick and well, I’m also over 600 years old, although, I look like I could be anywhere from 25 to 30.
Unlike the soulless, I do have a soul and I feel, but don’t need to kill humans in order to feel. Instead, my need is to destroy these soulless creatures who do. I have seen too much death at their hands for me to think otherwise. Predators, blood suckers, a blight on the human race. My father, by some quirk of fate was the only exception, but even at one time he too had been a predator. But unlike others, he was able to reclaim his soul.
As the only human, at least half, strong enough to hunt down the soulless I set myself up as the protector of human kind. I and my followers live by the code that any soulless who attacks a human must cease to exist. Until…I met her—Thayla.
The soulless are unbelievably beautiful creatures; it’s how they draw humans to them. And Thalya was no different in that respect from others of her kind. But she drew me too her as no one else ever could. I loved her as no man has ever loved a woman, yet she could not love me back. She felt no emotion. She was my enemy, my love, but I would be her redemption or die at her hands trying.


Angel Rising RedemptionRedemptionBook 1LaVerne Thompson
Genre: paranormal/ interracial romance
Publisher: Isisindc Publishing
Date of Publication: January 2, 2015
ISBN: TBDASIN: TBD
Number of pages: 248Word Count: 91,272
Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde
Book Description:

To walk the earth she must feed her hollow soul.

Some of the most beautiful people in the world are not human. They have no soul, feel no emotion and are pure evil. You can tell by the color of their dark, dead eyes. Samuel Glaus knows this. He is the son of a human mother and soulless father. He is after all half human and a hunter of the soulless. He is also in love with one who cannot love him back.

Thalya is a soulless creature, but unlike others of her kind, she does not kill to feed her hollow soul. She hungers only for emotion and above all, she hungers for Samuel’s love. Her enemy. Her redemption. And she’s willing to kill for it.

Adult situations. Violence. Must be 18+
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/wcRjCtD-a14

Available at Amazon


Excerpt:
Opening up her senses, she sniffed out the most depressed in the city block around her. While she had no human sense of smell, the scents of emotions to her were as potent, as humans would say a bouquet of freshly cut roses. Right across the street a man entered the park. The scent of his depression floated right to her on the wind. Hot, potent and yummy, she would feed on it for a few days. There were no others of her kind in the area, so she wouldn’t have to warn anyone off. Although, quite a few soulless resided in New York, the size of the area ensured she didn’t run into others if she didn’t want to, which she usually didn’t.Going back inside her penthouse condo, she walked across thick sand-colored carpet. Her artist friend, Franklin, would have both loved and hated the great room. Loved it for the cool colors—reds, beiges, and golds. Those had been his favorites, but then she’d stuck a long, extra-wide black leather sofa smack in the center of it. He hated leather and black. Franklin, long gone…just another from her past.She put on her long coat, and headed for her private elevator. She didn’t need it but she wanted to blend in. Tonight she would act normal. Normal, at least for a human. As an additional benefit, when she walked through her lobby to get to the street, she would open her senses to her immediate surroundings, sampling a taste of surface emotions as she passed by. Not all of her kind could suck out emotion without touch but as an olden, one from a time long past and more powerful than most, she could. But other things also set her apart from those like her. She did not need to kill her providers or have them kill others to satisfy her needs. Draining humans of their depression, her emotion of choice, more than satisfied her. Humans carried it in abundance. She merely put her providers to sleep and afterwards, they usually woke up feeling less depressed. Hers represented a more symbiotic relationship. She actually helped people, much like a psychiatrist would. Only, instead of talking them out of their depression, she drained it right out of them. The elevator door opened and she got on.The hotel where she lived also housed private residences, but a few guests milled around the lobby for the evening. Just enough people around with some serious issues to make her grin and tremble within her ankle-length leather coat. “Delicious,” she purred. Red knee high stiletto boots clicked as she crossed the polished marble floor. She ignored the appreciative looks of the men and women as she glided among them, intentionally projecting a do not approach compulsion. Look but don’t touch, unless she was the one doing the touching.The doorman opened the door for her and smiled. “Good evening. Cold one tonight.” Bundled in layers and with a wool cap on his head, he stood directly beneath a heating vent to stay warm. He always spoke. She rarely did and tonight, she didn’t. She flashed him some teeth in the semblance of a smile. At least she hoped it looked like a smile and not a grimace. Happiness. It rolled off him in waves. She’d never tried draining that emotion from her providers, although over the centuries she’d met a few of her kind who preferred it. Anything to fill the void in the soulless place. But stealing someone else’s happiness always seemed unnecessary to her. Depression worked just fine.Out on the sidewalk, the scent hit her again. Like a shining point of light in dark woods, the depressed man she’d sensed beckoned her to follow him. After crossing the street, Thalya entered the park. It didn’t take long to find him. He sat on a bench at the other end of the park, leaning over with his head in his hands. She wouldn’t be able to read his thoughts until she actually touched him. No matter, she sensed his depression. She sat on the bench next to him; he didn’t even bother to look up. Thalya placed her hand on his shoulder and her inner feminine muscles contracted to the point, she almost had an orgasm. Depression, and so potent. “Mmm, good,” she murmured. At her touch, he raised red-rimmed eyes in her direction. Finally, she had his attention. He pulled back slightly, some form of self-preservation kicking in. “Who—are you?”“Shhh. It will be all right. I promise,” she whispered.  The man sat up and she wrapped her arms around him. Unable to help himself, he let her. Hmm, handsome. She always seemed to gravitate toward the young, good-looking ones, although she’d never sleep with any of them. Well, hardly ever. She nuzzled the side of his neck. Under the alcohol he’d indulged in, he exuded a nice clear human scent. Given his emotional state, she’d expected the scent of alcohol to be stronger. Surprisingly she only caught a slight whiff. No more than a beer. Maybe he just started on his drinking for the evening. Didn’t matter. Whatever he’d ingested, she didn’t care about.“What—?”She didn’t give him a chance to say more. Instead, she made her way to his mouth, which opened as soon as she pressed her lips against his. Unleashing her powers, she inhaled his depression into the starving emptiness that should have housed her soul, and at the same time, began to read his memories.Poor thing. Karl, yes…Karl Hammer. He’d recently lost his job and his wife, pregnant with their first child, didn’t know about it. He’d swallowed his pride and asked his blood uncle of sorts for help. Except Karl hadn’t spoken to his uncle in years. Mmm, interesting. She probed for the reason why.Samuel and the others like him lived a dangerous life. Samuel, a master hunter of the soulless and Karl, merely—bait.



About the Author:
LaVerne Thompson is an award winning, best-selling, multi-published author, an avid reader and a writer of contemporary, fantasy, and sci/fi sensual romances. She also writes romantic suspense and new adult romance under the pen name Ursula Sinclair.
She is currently working on several projects. Both of her daughters are now away at college. However, she and her husband don’t like the term empty nester. She’s added a cat to the household to keep the dog of the house company. Hopefully writing will keep her sane. 
http://lavernethompson
http://facebook.com/ursulasinclair98
http://twitter.com/lavernethompson   
http://facebook.com/groups/lavernesnews
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Free Download: The January issue of Bewitching Book Tours Magazine

Features:
An Author’s Guide to Writing a Great Guest Blog by Roxanne Rhoads, Marketing Missteps with Lisa Acerbo, Seven Quality Horror Stories Guaranteed to Scare with Andrew Terech,

Author Ideas with Maureen L Maureen L. Bonatch, writer, Kay Dee Royal Discusses Her Book Tour Experiences, The Portrait’s Story  by Jude Pittman, The Joys and Challenges of Writing Urban Fantasy with Cory Dale, Barb Jones Discusses Being a Pantster, Yeyu Discusses Chinese Culture and History Relating to The Relics of Gods, and Let's Exorcise with Tanith Davenport.
Interviews with Eden Ashley, Andrew Terech, Princess Fumi Hancock, and Christian A. Brown. 
Excerpts from Cherry Blossom by Sotia Lazu, Bear and Bear Alike by Marie Mason, and Rory’s Love by Donna Butler
In the Naughty Nook you’ll find the Glenwood Cemetery Scene from Hex and The Single Witch by Roxanne Rhoads and the Pin Up Files photo shoot from Steven Jon Horner Photography.
http://issuu.com/bewitchingbooktours/docs/magazine__31

Interview with Laura Lee Author of the Karli Lane Series

Q. What is it about the paranormal, in particular vampires, that fascinates you so much?
A. That would definitely be their immortality and superhuman abilities. Plus, fangs are totally hot!
Q. 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?
A. Character development is probably my favorite part of the writing process. I like to create bios before adding someone into the story. Where did they come from? What does their family unit look like? What past event(s) has shaped them into who they are today? After deciding who I want them to be, I think about their physical features. Once that's decided, I make a list of their traits or copy/paste a random picture from the internet into their bios.
Q. What is the most interesting thing you have physically done for book related research purposes?
A. I recently traveled to Ireland and Scotland. Both countries are heavily immersed in folklore that translate well into paranormal fiction. There was inspiration around every corner!
Q. 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?
A. With this series, you need to read it from the beginning. If you didn't, you'd miss out on significant character and plot development pieces.
Q. Do any of your characters have similar characteristics of yourself in them and what are they?
A. I may or may not share a similar love of the "F Bomb" with my character, Karli Lane. Although having children prevents me from saying it aloud as often as she does.
Q. Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? How do you deal with it?
A. Definitely. When I'm stuck, I go into revision mode. That usually helps me get back into the zone so I can pick up where I left off. If not, I take a breather and try not to stress out too much. The ideas flow pretty freely once I'm able to clear my mind a bit.
Q. Do you write in different genres?
A. I do. I'm currently published in paranormal romance and will be releasing my first contemporary novel later this year.
Q. Do you find it difficult to write in multiple genres?
A. Not at all. I enjoy reading many different genres which has carried over into writing.
Q. When did you consider yourself a writer?
A. I started taking myself seriously about four years ago. I've written short stories and poetry for as long as I can remember, but writing a novel was never in the cards until the self-publishing option came into play. One day I just decided to go for it and never looked back! It truly has been a dream come true.
Q.  What are your guilty pleasures in life?
A. A Cadbury's chocolate bar with a glass of Moscato.

Q. Other than writing, what are some of your interests, hobbies or passions in life?
A. If I'm not spending time with my family, I will read anything I can get my hands on. I'm a sucker for spicy romances starring vampires or cowboys. I'm also addicted to HGTV, especially anything involving the Property Brothers.
Q. Where is your favorite place to read? Do you have a cozy corner or special reading spot?
A. My favorite place to read is anywhere! That's the beauty of having an e-reader!
Q. What can readers expect next from you?
A. My next release will be the third installment in the Karli Lane series, Finding Faerie. Shortly thereafter, I will release Deal Breakers, which is my first full length contemporary romance.
Q. Where can readers find you on the web?
A. Readers can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or my website.
*A lonesome fairy with no clue how to wield her powerful magic.

*A ruggedly handsome warlock torn between his past and his present.

*A five hundred year old, sinfully sexy vampire who's obsessed with solving the mystery of a particularly interesting bartender.

Karli Lane is the only fairy left on the planet. Vampires had driven her race to near extinction, causing the others to return to their homeland over twenty years ago. Orphaned at a young age, she was forced to hide her identity in a world full of exposed supernaturals.

Facing her upcoming immortality, her life has become a complicated mess. A new employer and a gruesome murder bring two incredibly complex men into her life, making matters worse. She finds herself riding a non-stop emotional roller coaster while trying to figure out who she is, how to control her powers, and most importantly, how to stay alive.
Available on Amazon , Barnes & Noble , and Smashwords !


Becoming immortal sucks.

Karli Lane is a hot mess. Her hormones are out of control, her heart can’t decide between two men, and most of her magic is still a mystery. To top it all off, a beautiful stranger with ties to the past shows up in Vegas, raising questions and wreaking havoc.

With her immortality fast approaching, new dangers lurk on the horizon. Secrets are revealed, making her question everything she thought she knew. Will she be able to get her act together in time? Or will she fall victim to those who wish to see her demise?





Available on Amazon , Barnes & Noble , and Smashwords !

As a powerful warlock and supernatural detective, Vance Alexander didn’t think anything could surprise him. He’s seen it all in Sin City over the years. Or so he thought. Then one night his world is flipped upside down when he meets the mysterious Karli Lane at the scene of a horrific murder.

Karli is the most frustrating, sexy, and intriguing woman he’s ever known. She’s hiding something big and he’s determined to unmask her secret while protecting her from the vampire who’s looking to make her his next meal. He finds himself calling upon his professional and magical skills in attempt to solve the case, beat the vampire, and get the girl.

This novella is a companion story in the Karli Lane series told from a never-before-seen point of view. It is meant to be read after enjoying the first two full length novels in the series: Pixie Dust & Vampires, Warlocks, and Exes ~ Oh My!

Available on Amazon , Barnes &Noble , and Smashwords !



About the Author
Laura Lee has spent most of her life with her nose in a book thinking of alternate endings or continuations to the story. She won her first writing contest at the ripe old age of nine, earning a trip to the state capital to showcase her manuscript. Thankfully for her, those early works will never see the light of day again! Nowadays, she prefers to write for grownups, specifically focusing on romance novels with some heat. She’s a sucker for spicy romances, especially those involving vampires or cowboys!
Laura lives in the Pacific Northwest with her wonderful husband, two beautiful children, and three of the most poorly behaved cats in existence. She likes her fruit smoothies filled with rum, her cupboards stocked with Cadbury’s chocolate, and her music turned up loud. When she’s not writing or tripping over Barbie dolls, she’s reading anything she can get her hands on.
For more information, check out her website or like her on Facebook! 

Sisters of Prophecy – Ursula by Jude Pittman and Gail Roughton

Jude Pittman and I have a multi-faceted relationship.  She’s my publisher, my writing partner, my friend.  Our lives have the most fascinating mixture of similarities and differences.  The foremost difference is she’s West-Coast Canadian and I’m Deep-South American.  The foremost similarities are two-fold.  We’re both writers, and we’re both paralegals with extensive legal backgrounds who’ve spent more years in law offices than either of us care to admit.  Unlike many cyberspace friends, we’ve actually met.  That’s because Jude masterminded a wonderful ten-day vacation to Hawaii (specifically Maui—she’d been offered the use of a friend’s condo for two weeks) last April that included me and her daughter Roxanne, who’s also a Books We Love editor.  Roxanee’s also my editor because she refuses to let anybody else edit me. I protested that no, I couldn’t come.  And Jude refused to let me not go.  That’s not awkward phrasing.  That’s the literal truth.  She refused to let me not go.  So I went.  The author’s picture of the two of us shown above was taken on that tour, in fact. Jude’s a steam rollin' jauggernaut, an immutable force of nature. Don’t believe me?  I can prove it.
Let me tell you an Hawaii story.  She'd booked us a tour, "The Road to Hana", which is a scenic highway along the coast of Maui, 30 miles or so, that takes three hours to drive.  There's a reason for that.  It has about 300 hairpin turns and 50+ single lane bridges where one side of traffic has to wait for the other side of traffic to come over.  Beautiful beyond belief and occasionally, absolutely hair-raising.  Anyway, she booked a tour on a 12 passenger van, the deluxe tour.  And the 12 passenger van picked us up at our condo.  The problem arose when the passenger van connected at a Mall where they were feeding us breakfast  with a big  bus, Greyhound size,  with 25 people taking the tour. And indicated that we were to get on it.  Now, the guy driving the mini-van that picked us up was great, the guy driving the big bus wasn’t.  Let’s just say his people skills were challenged.  This driver proceeded to "assign" seats because "we can't separate the newlyweds, now can we?"  In other words, he was splitting me, Jude and Roxanne up.  How did this play with our Jude?  Not. At. All. 
She refused to get on the thing.  "If I'd wanted a Greyhound bus, I'd have booked a Greyhound bus. 
And I frankly don't give a damn about the newlyweds as I paid considerably extra for the deluxe tour."  
Needless to say, we exited the bus and Jude called the tour company.  The conversation proceeded as follows:  "I paid for the deluxe tour on the 12 passenger van with captain's seats, which is what picked us up.  I am NOT getting on a bus the size of a Greyhound with 25 passengers and assigned seating."  They put her through to the home office.  The original driver of the twelve-passenger van who picked us up waited, as did the other bus.  Roxanne and I just sat down on a planter curb in the parking lot to wait.  Like I said, we were with an immutable force of nature.  Jude went through the whole process again with the home office. This time she added that if they couldn’t accomodate us, she expected to be taken back to the condo and not left in a Mall parking lot. She further advised there was no need to hold the other bus up because she was NOT getting on it and if they couldn't get it resolved, they needed to have someone take us back to our condo and she'd take it up through her law office when she got back home. The home office said they'd call us back.  
Through all this, our original mini-van driver enjoyed himself hugely.  It was very obvious.  He loved it.  The tour company called back and said there’d been a mix-up due to the on-line booking. 
 (Though I have a private suspicion the fact that neither the deluxe van nor the Greyhound size were quite full as things were and the Greyhound would be completely full if the tours were consolidated, thus obviating the need to run the smaller bus at all, might have had more to do with it.) But to their credit, they rectified the situation quickly.  The big bus pulled off without us, and our charming driver of the mini-van pulled off with the nine people he'd picked up. Thus we enjoyed our own tour in the deluxe van.  With Captain's seats.  Jude sat down beside me and said "And that's why Books We Love has survived when so many other small presses haven't."

Indeed.  And that’s Jude Pittman for you.  It was a fabulous day, my personal favorite day of our entire Hawaiian vacation.  Our bus driver Ben was a native Hawaiian, very handsome, very charming. He treated us like queens and thought Jude was the bomb.  At one of the stops I told him I was sorry he didn't get his day off but was really glad he was our driver.  He laughed and said he wasn't sorry at all, he got paid more for driving this van anyway. He further assured me Jude was one of the greatest characters he'd ever met.  And I do believe my southern accent made a big hit with him, too.  I’ve often found that most folks are fascinated with a southern accent and believe me, nobody I met in Hawaii had the least trouble peggin’ the approximate site of my birth.  All in all, it was a memorable day with memorable people, and Jude made certain to give the tour company and driver Ben a stellar review on their website. They deserved it.  They gave us a day of stories and memories.     Sisters of Prophecy – UrsulaSisters of ProphecyBook 1Jude Pittman and Gail Roughton
Genre: Paranormal, Time Travel
Publisher:  Books We Love, Ltd.
Date of Publication: September 29, 2014
ISBN:  978-1-77145-310-3ASIN:  B00O2DTE1M
Number of pages:  164Word Count:   50,000
Cover Artist:  Michelle LeeBook Description:
What’s a girl to do? Katherine Shipton has a painting that talks, an ancestor who won’t stay in her own century, and a former boyfriend with a serious ax to grind against her new fiancé. She already has a full plate, but when said ancestor sends her tripping back and forth between the 15th and 21st century without benefit of psychedelic drugs, the poor girl begins to doubt her own sanity.
Then her best friend, a high fashion model with more than her own share of psychic energy, and her troubleshooting aunt show up on her doorstep in response to a psychic SOS Katherine swears she didn’t send. Life couldn't get more complicated.
At least, that's what she thinks until her oilman fiancé disappears in the Gulf of Mexico and a DEA agent knocks on her door.
Available at Books We Love and Amazon

Excerpt  Three
“Okay, where the hell is she?” Sylvia glanced around the room. The only Mother Shipton in sight was the sketch of an old woman on the half-finished portrait. “In the portrait again, maybe?” Katherine picked up her palate and brush, ready to call Mother Shipton back.A loud blast of rock-n-roll roared into the room, followed by a high pitched shriek.“What the—” The girls raced down the hall, following the sound. Mother Shipton stood in front of the television, hands clasped over her ears.Katherine grabbed the remote and clicked the TV off. Mother Shipton turned to face them. “What—what manner of sorcery is that?” She pointed at the screen. “And that noise! Surely ‘tis from Lucifer himself.”“Lots of folks say that about hard rock, and that’s a fact, but more about Ozzie Ozborne than Metallica.” Sylvia laughed. “Welcome to our century, Mother Shipton. That’s a television. Tuned to MTV.” “‘Tis a devil box!”
“Don’t throw stones, Mother. Your century smells like hell. Guess we all got our little sack of rocks to tote around.”
About the Authors
Jude Pittman emigrated from Canada to the United States with her mom and brother when she was 14. Her time there included 12 years in Texas where the genus for her first murder mystery, “Shadows Are Deadly” now part of Jude’s “Murder on My Mind” trilogy first took root. In 1992 Jude returned to British Columbia where she met her husband John. The couple moved to Calgary, Alberta where they continue to live. Descended from the Shipton line, Jude has always been fascinated with the historical and legendary stories about her late and often maligned ancestor, Mother Shipton and her gifts of prophecy. The Sisters of Prophecy series is a fictional account of those Shipton sons and daughters who inherited Mother Shipton’s gifts.
Gail Roughton is a native of small town Georgia whose Deep South heritage features prominently in much of her work. She’s worked in a law office for close to forty years, during which time she’s raised three children and quite a few attorneys. She’s kept herself more or less sane by writing novels and tossing the completed manuscripts into her closet. A cross-genre writer, she’s produced works ranging from humor to romance to thriller to horror, sometimes in the same book.  She’s never quite sure herself what to expect when she sits down at the keyboard. Now multi-published by Books We Love, Ltd., her credits include the War-N-Wit, Inc. series, The Color of Seven, Vanished, and Country Justice. Currently, she’s working on Black Turkey Walk, the second in the Country Justice series, as well as the Sisters of Prophecy series, co-written with Jude Pittman.
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Guest Blog and $100 Amazon Giftcard Giveaway with JA Garland

UnspokenJ.A. Garland
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: BURST BooksDate of Publication:  January 5, 2014
Word Count: 40,738
Cover Artist: E. Smith
Book Description:
Paranormal Bounty Hunter Myka Quinn left behind her failed attempt at wolf Pack life. Now she is focused on providing for her brother and staying out of werewolf territory.
But when she’s framed for a witch’s murder, she must either accept help from a very unlikely source, or watch the lives of those she loves rip apart.
Excerpt:
If someone says the root of all evil is money, they’ve never met a witch. Hot on Tara Sobrantes heels, I hungered for a quick capture. But my past experiences with brimstone-users had taught me not to eat the candy house until Gretel had heated the oven. The permanent fireball scar on my right butt cheek reinforced the lesson.Capitalizing on a rare break in the rain, I peered through the branches and foliage I’d arranged to obscure my position in one of the Pacific Northwest’s oldest forests. Drawn to the sweet scent of exhaled carbon dioxide, a deer fly landed on my cheek. I flicked away the bloodsucker while keeping my gaze on a distant group of figures.Three hundred feet away, the Mystic Monks began another round of tiresome morning rituals. For four lousy days I’d watched them worship their gods. Watched, waited and shivered through one bone-chilling downpour after another. I knew Tara was hiding at the monastery. While I might not have her yet, or the large bounty she’d fetch from shirking a loan shark, I was still in the game.A man wearing a burgundy cloak ventured away from the others, heading deeper into the woods. He glanced around, perhaps to confirm he was alone, and then crouched until he almost sat. The monk lifted the hem of his woolen robe, carefully draping the material over his knees. I scrunched my nose and started to look away when something caught and held my eye. A steady stream of yellow wet the thick carpet of pine needles between his feet. The men I’d known didn’t squat when they pissed—I got you, Tara.I stood, careful not to make a sound. In the tight cat suit I wore, the movement caused the plastic edge of my Para Hunter identification card to poke my hip. A practiced shake released two Fae kissed, silver blades from their leather holsters and into my hands. Blades were good for close combat, not for the gap I currently faced. With well placed, gliding steps, I narrowed the opening between us.Finished urinating, Tara rose, letting the hem of her heavy robe fall. I quickened my pace, I couldn’t afford to lose her bounty. My brother was all the inspiration I needed to complete this job.A scream pierced my thoughts and the damp, morning air. The pressurized wail thickened then transformed into a muted gurgle. Tara’s hood fell backward, revealing a bobbing metal shaft protruding from under her jaw. Someone, not me, had launched an arrow into her throat.Move! I lunged forward, feet slipping as my boots sought purchase on the slick ground. Razor sharp, a barb sliced through my suit and lodged into the skin and muscle of my shoulder. The force of the arrow shoved me backward and to the ground. An instantaneous, moor-like sweat coated my skin. My nostrils flared like a wounded animal, and I scrambled to my feet. Normally, I’ll stubbornly stand my ground, but I’m not stupid. My attacker knew my position, and I didn’t know his. If I stayed put, he’d fill me full of metal like a scrap yard.Racing away in a crazy zigzag, I heard near noiseless whispers as the air parted, making way for a barrage of arrows. Bolts lodged into the trees all around me, at head level. Yes, someone wasn’t trying to scare me off. Someone wanted me dead. Not here, not now. Not when my brother and his family were counting on me.Bites of pain skewered my arms, then a leg. The cold cramp of fear tightened its hold on my lungs. Holy shit, I was going to die. Adrenaline driven, I pushed forward long after my wounds should have dropped me.A misty fog had descended on the dense pine canopy when I finally allowed myself to stop running. I sank to the ground at the base of a tamarack pine. In unison, my muscles and lungs screamed a tortured ditty, whose tune I was hella familiar. I need a new profession or I’m not going to make it to my thirtieth birthday.Blinking, I tried to focus eyes blurry with tears. I had officially accepted Tara’s mark. For two weeks she was supposed to be off limits to all other Para Bounty Hunters. That was the unwritten code. Someone violated that code, and that someone was here. They’d killed her and tried the same with me. Who? Why?And how had they found Tara? Some might call it cockiness, I called it first class investigation skills. I was positive that I alone figured out the connection between brother and sister. Tara had blended in seamlessly with the monks. It took me days in that damn hidey-hole to catch her slip.Lids closing, I slowed my breathing. Trading pain for awareness, I listened to the steady dripping that came from the pine needles above. Morning dew ran down the rough grooves in the bark. A crackle here, a chirp there, then quiet. Head bowing to my chest, minutes spooled by. A long, low howl broke the quiet, followed by another, then another--young, excited yips joining in.I’d forgotten others beside the monks called the Pacific Northwest home. Wolves hunted in secluded places like this, and the blood trail I left behind was ideal for tracking.


About the Author:
J.A. is a full time firefighter in California, an addicted trail runner, a connoisseur of all things cheese puff, and an urban fantasy author. When she isn't slogging through the obstacles at a mud run, you can find her hunched over her computer unleashing demons, vampires, and werewolves upon the world.
http://jagarland.blogspot.com/

https://twitter.com/J_A_Garland
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https://www.facebook.com/jagarlandurbanfantasyauthor
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https://www.pinterest.com/garland2248/
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6535314.J_A_Garland

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Discussing Tropes Guest Blog and Giveaway: The Relics of Gods byYeyu

My stories aren’t original.
Hm…let me rephrase that a little.
As everyone knows, stories are made up of tropes. If you broke my story up into little pieces, you can probably match everything to a trope. What’s more, I usually write historical and use existing concepts and things, so it’s even less “unique”.
Nonetheless, since human civilization has been telling stories for thousands of years and it’s now 2015 C.E., nothing is truly “original” anymore. However, a storyteller’s job is not to create something original, but rather to put their own spin on existing tropes, to weave things together and add their own unique flavor so the audience would feel a different experience.
Of course, when you speak of tropes, you inevitably will also think about “clichés”. Tropes are usually thought of as okay, but clichés are usually looked down on with disdain. Yet what is a cliché, but an overused trope?
First of all, we have to think about why these tropes are overused. It’s simple: the mainstream digs it. They consistently pick those (often highly unrealistic) tropes up for the same reason I tend to steer away from those popular tropes no matter how well-written they are: tastes.
Personally, my tastes in character tropes have not changed much over the years, so I understand why mainstream is still mainstream. I always had a thing for cool, intelligent, and good-looking characters—that’s a mainstream character archetype a lot of East Asian females like, just as how a lot of American women love alpha men. In terms of romance, however, it simply happens that the dynamics I like are the opposite of what the mainstream likes, but that doesn’t mean the stories that feature reverse-mainstream dynamics are free of “clichés” within that niche.
Like me, people often lament how things are “cliché” yet continuously choose to read those same tropes up over and over again, which means the actual problem is not the trope in itself. Their problem is the story’s inability to give them a different experience and inability to make them look forward to what happens next. So, it doesn’t matter if the plot is actually nothing new, since the most important thing is whether the story could make them temporarily forget about clichés or logical fallacies. Most people, including me, read for escapism, and if that escapism is achieved, nothing else really matters.
The question is how to engage readers. Details are what differentiates a cliché from a trope, and details are what also makes an author’s work “unique”.
The fault of a cliché is not how overused it is, but rather how lazy the execution of the trope is—nothing new is brought in, no new perspective and new spin, so it is unexciting. However, people keep going back to these clichés because they actually like the trope and are simply hoping to read a well-executed version that can make them feel excited again, to remind them why they love that trope.
This love of certain tropes is especially true in terms of people’s taste in romance, but it is also equally easy for a trope to get repetitive and therefore cliché if romance is the only thing that drives it. For me, a non-romantic plot is something that can give my favorite romantic tropes a different taste, since the story will have more room to differentiate itself from other fiction using the same trope. A favorite trope is kind of like a condiment, where it is practically a must-have to make a story delicious, and it could be used to cover up the taste of otherwise crappy-material (plot). However, too much of it can make everything just taste the same (not to mention it will taste pretty bad), and when you get sick of the taste of that sauce/seasoning/etc. being used to conceal nasty material, you would end up wanting it in small doses on quality material. It doesn’t mean you don’t want condiments in your food anymore, you just want to actually taste the material. I think this is how tropes became clichés, more or less. People still like those tropes, but they’re getting tired how everything tastes the same.
Ok this stupid analogy is getting out of hand, I know. And maybe someone even used the same analogy before, which just illustrates my point how nothing is original anymore, not even the example I’m using. I’m also hungry. Sucks that I’m a picky reader and a picky eater.
At any rate, you can’t teach someone how to come up with the details for your story, which is why storytellers are considered artists. Anything you cannot truly measure or teach is considered an art. Art comes in many forms, after all. It may be the way you write, the way you draw, composing music, singing, dancing, fashion, programming…etc. There is a standard for what is “good”, but beyond that standard, there is no true better and best—opinions are the only thing that matters, and people have different tastes. You could write the most intelligent, grammatically perfect story without any logical fallacies, and people could still find your story boring and dry as hell. You could write the stupidest story littered with grammatical mistakes as well as with plot holes the size of Jupiter…and people can still love your story because of how exciting it is.
Is one story inherently better than the other? Not really. In the first place, what should you measure stories by? The author’s writing skill or how many readers the author has managed to entertain? We’d all like to put on our pretentious hat and claim our tastes are better and more refined, but in the end, tastes are just opinions.
People read/watch stories for different reasons. Everyone does it for escapism, but how they define escapism and their method of doing so varies. Everyone has a personal tolerance “threshold”—some people have a wider range of things they appreciate than others, some people are more drawn towards niche things, and most people enjoy clichés—it’s how clichés became clichés in the first place. I’m always quite envious of people who can enjoy a wide range of things and have a lower threshold for what they consider good, since it means they are able to see more beauty than I can and thus they likely live a happier life. As readers, these people have so many thing they are interested in reading they probably feel overwhelmed with the abundance of books they don’t have time to read. 
Meanwhile on the other side of the spectrum, I feel like I’m dying of thirst in the Sahara Desert since I can’t find anything I want to read but desperately want to read something. It got to the point where I had to write what I wanted to read—which is the real reason I began to write original fiction—and while I quite enjoy creating stories, in the end, I wish there were more stories to my taste so all I can do is sit back and squeal with euphoric fangirlism =P Alas, I wish I could enjoy “cliché” romance tropes.

The Relics of GodsBetween Heaven and EarthBook OneYeyu
Genre: FantasyChinese Historical/Mythology/Paranormal High Fantasy
Publisher: DSP Publications
Date of Publication: January 6th, 2015
ISBN Ebook – 978-1-62798-779-0
ISBN Paperback – 978-1-62798-778-3


Number of pages: 350
Word Count: 119,000

Cover Artist: Reese Dante
Book Description:
What is worse: Being so broke you can barely afford food, getting hired for dangerous missions way out of your league, suffocating under mountains of unanswered questions—or wanting to sexually dominate someone who can kill you without lifting a finger?
Lu Delong is a mercenary who evaluates antiques most of the time, and deals with the paranormal on rare occasions—even though it’s supposed to be the other way around. When he joins a dangerous quest for an ancient artifact, he meets and becomes strongly attracted to a mysterious and powerful immortal named Cangji. Despite his friends’ warnings and Cangji’s icy, unsociable demeanor, Delong is unable to resist befriending him. However, Cangji is deeply involved in a matter beyond mortals, and Delong is drawn into a chaotic struggle by both visible and invisible forces.
Always the pacifist who wanted to live a simple human life, Delong never imagined he’d end up involved in a conflict that will affect everything from the lowest insects on earth to the highest gods in heaven.
Excerpt: Chapter 1
AS USUAL, the market was bustling and crowded on a hot summer day. Chickens clucked, pigs snorted, and citizens of Great Ming screamed over one another at the top of their lungs, deep in heated bargaining battles. Naturally, Lu Delong was no exception.“Fifteen wen for a bundle of sorry-looking water spinach? You must be joking!” Delong complained as he examined the bunch of tasty greens with a disgusted look. The shop owner was likely from a village outside the city, since Delong had never seen her in the markets before. “This is outrageous!” he accused, staring straight into the woman’s eyes. “You operate a blackhearted business here, madam—I daresay this bundle is only worth three wen.”The tall, muscular woman’s face turned a bright shade of red. “What in the world are you talking about?” She had a strong accent and was probably one of the refugees who had moved south to escape the drought up north. “Look at how green these plants are, how beautiful and flawless the leaves are—these vegetables are planted in the richest soil in these lands and are fed quality water. Fifteen wen is actually a bargain!” Her gaze swept up and down Delong, and her lips thinned. “I don’t know how a beggar like you grew this big, but if you can’t afford the price, go away! Don’t go off slandering my shop’s vegetables!”Delong took a step back and glared at her. “Excuse me, madam. How rude of you to assume things from my attire! I am more educated than you think, thank you very much for the discrimination.” He leaned closer and continued, “Have you heard of the story of the Orange Seller before?”“What Orange Seller?” the woman growled, but she was unable to hide the curiosity in her eyes. Delong snickered inwardly, pleased to find this woman a typical gossip-lover with nothing better to do with her time.“There once was this Orange Seller who was good at storing oranges so they did not spoil. The oranges were beautiful, with a golden color and jade texture. In the markets, they sold at ten times the price of average oranges, but people still fought to buy them because they believed the fruits to be of exquisite taste. However, when they brought the oranges home to eat, they realized the oranges were all rotten and dried inside. The moral of this story? Never trust appearances,” Delong finished.“But I’m not selling oranges!” the woman argued, exasperated. She pointed at the spinaches. “You can cut these apart and they’re obviously not dried up and rotten!”“How do I know you’re not selling poisonous vegetables?” Delong inquired. “They’re so green, I find it very suspicious! If someone dies in this village and they bought vegetables from you, we know who to blame, don’t we? So I’m being nice already to actually offer to buy your vegetables at all. Three wen for one bundle, and I’ll buy two. What say you?”By now the shop owner was pale. “Fine, fine—but promise you won’t tell anyone else the story you just told me?”Delong grinned wide. “Deal.” He then proceeded to buy a few more vegetables at a great bargain, and with a basketful of beautiful, delicious vegetables, he hummed on the way back to his house. What a way to start his day—he only had fifteen copper coins in his purse, and he had bought five times his money’s worth.He eventually arrived at the least organized section of the prefecture, where walled residences of not-so-great condition were squished closely together. Like all commoners with little money and no extended family to care for, Delong lived in a sishuiguitang with a tiny courtyard cramped by one main building and two secondary buildings. He pushed open the creaky gates, stepped into the courtyard, and paused. He glanced at the building to his left, where the kitchen was, before he turned to stare ahead. It didn’t take long for him to figure out what to expect, so he continued whistling and walked into the main building.“I see you haven’t changed much, Delong,” said the lady at his table, who had already helped herself to a cup of alcohol. Unlike the other guest who sat humbly beside her, Yaqin easily garnered attention. Her robes were made of orange silks lined with beige-colored fur, scantly covering her lithe body and leaving her pale breasts and thighs exposed. Her reddish dark hair was arranged in a complex knot secured by an intricate golden hairpin, and fox fangs dangled from her ears. Any average man would be taken by her stunning beauty and sensual allure, but her charms had little effect on Delong.Yaqin glanced around the room, her gaze sweeping past the shelves that somewhat divided the place to contain a living room and sleeping quarters, his uncomfortable bed, his study table, and the broom next to it. “Still, your house depresses me,” she sighed. “Only cheap alcohol and less than a catty of rice left? The rest of your belongings are merely old tattered books! You even have a building stuffed full of useless pieces of paper! What in the world have you been doing for the past few months?”“Nothing,” Delong admitted with a shrug. “Hey, it is not easy finding work,” he said in his defense when Yaqin shook her head with disapproval. “It’s not as though people run into paranormal problems all the time! Even if they do, they’re probably just going to ask for help from prestigious Daoist sects that deal with those problems instead of a freelancer like me. My sole income is from being Old Li’s assistant....” His voice became smaller when Yaqin gave him a pointed look.“Well, of course I have you and Zhaoyang to thank,” he added hastily while he nodded at the thick-browed man sitting on the chair beside Yaqin. “Old Li always talks fondly of you two, and he takes care of me because he knows we’re good friends. Still, I’m not that bad myself—I helped him greatly with evaluating the goods people like you sell him to give the prices a competitive edge. I have to say, those history books I’ve read paid off!”“Evaluating antiques, are you?” Yaqin said, unimpressed. “Listen to yourself. All the skills your master taught you, the art you’ve learned at Cloud Fortress Sect—wasted.” She got to her feet and crossed her arms, examining Delong with narrowed amber eyes. “Old Li isn’t going to be around forever, Delong. You know how short human lives are! Do you really plan to spend the rest of your life cooped up in this pathetic shed?”Delong shrugged. “Hey, it is not nice to call my house a shed! And what is wrong with being an antique seller? You need someone to sell your spoils, don’t you? Old Li already told me that he wants to hand the shop to me, since he has no sons,” he finished proudly.“That’s—” Yaqin stomped her fur-lined boot, her hands balled into small fists. “Argh! I have never heard of a half-yao selling antiques! You should be out there training to become an immortal xian, causing problems for humans, or exploring the world—not selling antiques, wasting time and money on useless books, and being satisfied with some measly grocery bargain!”“Now, now, Yaqin, calm down,” chuckled He Zhaoyang as he raised a hand and patted her thigh. Unlike Delong, who chose to tie half his coarse brown hair up only to keep it out of his face, Zhaoyang had his black hair combed into a neat, tight bun, which accentuated his sharp jawbone. Like all who were in his profession, however, his skin was on the pale side. “There are benefits to knowledge, and not every shifter has to lead extraordinary lives, never mind training to become celestial beings, hmm? You know how few mortals, human or yao, can actually succeed in transcending mortality. Besides, we actually could use Delong’s help in our next case.”Smelling money, Delong straightened his back. “How can I help you two?”A warm smile spread across Zhaoyang’s face. “Yaqin and I have been invited to participate in what will perhaps be the biggest operation in history, and we need someone who we can trust to come with us and watch our backs.”“Wait—what?” Delong’s great smile faltered. He wasn’t too comfortable with doing what the couple before him did for a living, even though he was perfectly fine with selling what they brought back. “Well, if you ask, of course I’ll help, but I hope I won’t drag you two down...,” he said carefully. “I have never fought in that sort of... environment. I don’t know what to expect.”“You’ll be fine,” Yaqin said, waving her hand in dismissal of Delong’s protest. “You’re not exactly human, either.”“I’m still half-human,” Delong argued. “Unlike you, fox lady! There is nothing wrong with me wanting to live an ordinary life as a human!”Yaqin merely yawned. “Spare me the cliché. How many times have you used your otherworldly abilities to get your way? How many times have you used your powers during... say, sex? Don’t tell me you don’t use them to boost your stamina.”“Wh—How can you be so direct and say such things without a shred of embarrassment?” Delong said with disbelief, feeling a little hot now.Shrugging, Yaqin smirked like the fox she was. She stood, though her full height only reached Delong’s chin. “Why should I be embarrassed?” she inquired, looking up at Delong as she poked the center of his chest. “Still, I hit the target, didn’t I?” Her smile widened when Delong felt the heat spread from his cheeks to his neck. “Despite how harmless and upright your face tends to fool people into thinking you are, with your thick eyebrows, large eyes and all... I knew someone who got kicked out of Cloud Fortress Sect for breaking the celibacy rule would use his powers during sex. But still. Stop using your human lineage as an excuse.” She lifted her hand and placed it on her human husband’s shoulder. “Zhaoyang here leads a far more interesting and extraordinary life than you do!”As though taking her cue, Zhaoyang added, “Anyway, Delong, I’m asking you to come with us also because I caught wind that, ten years ago, your master was investigating our destination. This may have something to do with her disappearance.”“Are you serious?” Delong’s eyes widened. “Why would my master investigate tombs? It definitely does not seem like a mission from Cloud Fortress Sect, since defiling the dead is not exactly the best way to become immortal. Even though my master already became a xian and isn’t stuck- up like the rest of the daoshi out there, I can still hardly imagine her barging into some noble’s tomb without good reason.”“Perhaps,” Zhaoyang said in a lowered voice. “But this tomb she was investigating isn’t by any means an ordinary tomb.” He licked his lip. “This tomb... belonged to a god.”“You’re planning to rob the tomb of a god?”
About the Author:
Yeyu wrote her first story when she was 7, and she has been creating stories on-and-off ever since, be it writing fanfiction or drawing original manga. She finally ventured into writing original fiction in high school, and stuck with the form.
Most of Yeyu’s childhood was spent overseas, but by the age of 16 she moved back to the small East Asian island most commonly known as Taiwan, where she was born.
When Yeyu isn’t writing in her spare time, she is probably reading, gaming, or sleeping. No cats, sadly.
Web: https://autumnleafrain.wordpress.com/
Twitter: @QiuxiaoYeyu
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6903476.Yeyu
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/QiuxiaoYeyu
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The Love Brothers by Liz Crowe

Love GarageThe Love Brothers Book OneLiz Crowe
Genre: Contemporary Romance for Real Life
Publisher: BeerWench Enterprises LLC
Date of Publication: 1/5/2015
ISBN: ASIN: B00P4GJCL8
Number of pages: 268Word Count: 67,000
Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde Media
Book Description:
Antony Love is the quintessential responsible oldest brother of a boisterous, Italian/Irish family, placed in charge at a young age by his parents who are busy running the family business. He manages his siblings with a fair but iron hand, until his life is shattered by personal tragedy leaving him the shell of the man he once was.
When outspoken matriarch Lindsay Halloran Love becomes ill, the youngest brother Aiden shows up at Antony's garage, having dropped out of school (again), needing work and a place to crash. Antony provides both, with three caveats: "Don't smoke in my truck, don't be late for work, and don't mess with my girlfriend."
But Aiden Love, budding novelist, gets one glimpse of Rosalee Norris, young widow of Antony's lifelong best friend and all bets are off.
Set in horse country near Lexington, Kentucky, The Love Brothers Series is a saga of family devotion that runs as wide and deep as the Ohio River--except on Sundays when brothers Antony, Kieran, Dominic and Aiden work out their frustrations on the basketball court, Love brother style.
The Love Brothers: A family saga with humor, heat and heart—not to mention beer, bourbon and basketball.
Available at Amazon
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/CefA1aGVkpg

Book Trailer Featured on USA Today: http://www.usatoday.com/story/happyeverafter/2014/11/14/recommended-book-video-liz-crowe-al-goulden/18979137/

Love Garage Excerpt:
Love Garage opened bright and early the next morning, a Saturday, a day Aiden had hoped to spend recovering.“I get so many oil changes and random small jobs on Saturdays, it doesn’t make sense to be closed and let the jackasses with the Quickilube at Walmart get the business,” Antony insisted when Aiden groaned with dismay upon being awakened after two hours of drunken sleep. It didn’t help that the awakening occurred at the business end of a thrown pillow. “Get up, Romeo. You owe me rent money.”He did, slowly, queasily hitting a shower, sore all over, his skin mottled from bug bites. But nothing topped the glorious agony of a bourbon hangover like the one that had him firmly in its evil grasp.He slouched out the door, cursing Antony, cursing Tricia, cursing her ex-husband for throwing her in his path last night. But mostly cursing his own weak-ass uselessness. He rested his head against the cool comfort of the truck window until Antony hit a bump or two, which sent extra pain jolting down his spine.“Sorry,” his brother muttered, glancing over at him.“No, you’re not.”“Got me there. And you’d better warn me if you’re about to toss your cookies. I won’t have that in my vehicle, got me?”Aiden rubbed his neck and nodded, swallowing the urge to throw up all over the pristine interior on principal. “Why d’you hate me so much? You used to like me.” He stared over at his brother, heart thumping, ears humming, throat closing up with nausea. He despised waking up still drunk.“I don’t hate you.” Antony turned onto the main road headed into town.“Could’ve fooled me. You’re a real asshole anymore. Worse than Dom.”Antony merely shrugged, not rising to that tried-and-true bait. So they spent the rest of the ride to the garage in silence. Once there, Antony sat gripping the wheel. Aiden waited, hoping he’d get something out of him—something he would assure him that the man he thought he remembered as the protective, funny, and loving guy he’d grown up with still existed inside the guy walking around wearing Antony’s skin.Finally, he let go of the wheel, exhaled, and squared his shoulders as if prepping for battle. Aiden made a mental note to talk to Kieran about how badly Antony had descended into his life of non-stop mourning and jerk-hood.“So, Rosalee, not putting out for you or what? You need to get laid maybe? Knock the edge off?”The glare Aiden got for saying those particular words did make him worry Antony might punch his aching head through the passenger-side window.He clenched his jaw in the way Aiden remembered from their childhood. “That is so far outside the realm of your business as to be in another galaxy. Get to work and don’t say her name to me again.”And with that, Aiden was left with the fleeting thought that mentioning Rosalee directly was probably not a good idea. He surely didn’t need Antony to guess that her name was on his lips, or front and center of his mind.He shook his head—a Bad Plan because it summoned the pounding agony back with a vengeance. Groaning, he climbed out and shuffled over to the door.A new day began at Love Garage.
Coach LoveThe Love BrothersBook 2Liz Crowe
Genre: Contemporary Romance for Real Life
Publisher: BeerWench Enterprises LLC
ASIN: B00PHLU0CK
Number of pages: 229Word Count: 58,000
Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde Media
Book Description:The smoldering intensity of first love ~ the forbidden fantasy of temptation ~ the cold hard facts of real life.
When one man’s hopes are dashed apart in a split second after years spent chasing a dream, he returns home to Kentucky furious at the world and everyone around him.
Kieran Francesco is the middle son of the volatile, tight-knit Halloran-Love family. His role as peacemaker and the one true athlete is well established. He now faces life devoid of the sport he adores after a horrific, career-ending accident, which places him in a new and entirely uncomfortable position—that of the brother with no future.
Over the course of a few tumultuous months Kieran is plunged back into life at the center of the Love family, where he must cope with one self-destructive brother, one ill-timed reconnection to an old flame and a series of bad choices that land him in more trouble than he’d ever known existed.
COACH LOVE, book 2 of The Love Brothers, a family saga of sibling loyalty that runs as deep and wide as the Ohio River—at least until Sunday, when Antony, Kieran, Dominic and Aiden work out their frustrations at the weekly Love brother pick-up basketball game.
Available on Amazon
Book Trailer:  http://youtu.be/CefA1aGVkpg
Book Trailer  Featured on USA Today: http://www.usatoday.com/story/happyeverafter/2014/11/14/recommended-book-video-liz-crowe-al-goulden/18979137/



Coach Love Excerpt:
As he drove the twenty or so miles from his parents’ house into town Kieran’s head began to clear. The windows were down and the tunes cranked. The sun shone. Signs of summer--one of his favorite seasons--were all around him. Parks packed with families, all the basketball courts and swimming pools overflowing. The sight of a gaggle of boys on bikes riding alongside him for a while, singing along with whatever random, crappy rap song currently polluted the airwaves made him smile.
“Hey, it’s Kieran Love!” one of the punks shouted after a few blocks. “Can you come over and shoot a few with us?”
He waved and drove on, gratified but sad, the sound of their cheerful unhappiness at his refusal filling his ears, taking the stretch of four lane road at seventy miles an hour, pressing the gas pedal to the floor, the throaty, powerful roar of the car’s engine revving him from head to toe.
It would be all right because he and Melinda loved each other. They had from the moment they’d met. He passed some grandpa in a Toyota, as the deep green fields surrounded by picturesque white fences and dotted with horses filled both sides of his vision.
He’d been home and recuperating from radical knee surgery with the best prognosis he could hope for after such a nasty break--to walk normally, much less play the occasional pick up game. His depression had been deep, wide, and terrifying. He woke every day at his parents’ house, unwilling even to get out of bed, not that he could without help for the first few weeks.
Antony had tossed a laptop computer at him one day when he’d been sulking, unshaven, and eating an entire bag of potato chips, something he’d not done since the age of ten when his fate--bound for basketball fame and fortune--had been determined.
“Here, find a job, find a date, find something,” he’d said before yanking the empty chip bag away and smacking Kieran’s head hard enough to make his ears ring.
“Ow. Leave me alone, asshole. I’m grievously injured,” he’d said, not caring about the swear-free zone he inhabited.
“That’s three dollars young man,” his mother had called out from the kitchen.
“You live with this, jerk, and see how you feel about finding ‘a date.’“ He’d hooked his fingers around the words, heart in his throat at how badly he’d wanted to call Cara right then.
But by the next weekend he was caning and limping his way toward the door to some faux-fancy Italian restaurant in Lexington, rubbing his freshly shaved face and trying not to sweat through his dress shirt. The woman from the internet site sat at the bar, twirling an olive-laden swizzle stick in her martini glass, long, slim, bare legs crossed, feet encased in sky-high patent leather heels. He’d exhaled, beyond relived that he’d not been cat-fished by some troll, or worse, a dude.
He’d hesitated then, something in him telling him to turn around and leave, fast. But at that moment, she’d flashed him the whitest, most perfect smile he’d ever seen and he’d been hooked. He still didn’t know how. They’d gone out for three weeks before she let him kiss her. It’d been another three weeks before he got anywhere near her tits. It had been a solid four months before he scored but that encounter had been, in a word, epic.
Melinda liked to talk dirty, wear heels and a garter belt while he fucked her. Loved doing it with all the lights on and in semi-public places. She gave head like a pro at first, before he’d given her an engagement ring.
Her bitchiness had come across as extreme decisiveness, sort of hot in way, he’d admit, since he tended toward the spontaneous and unplanned--”wishy washy” as he now understood it thanks to Melinda’s re-categorization of his personality. Her tight grip on her emotions and her surroundings, the OCD way she ordered her life did grate on him at times but he figured she tolerated his innate sloppiness and willingness to wake on a Sunday without a plan in place for the rest of the day. When he realized he sat across from her at some overpriced, hipster restaurant near her office after going out with her for eight months, ready to present her with a ring he could barely afford, it had shocked him without seeming to even faze her.
“Well, of course I’ll marry you, but you’ve got to find a better job,” she’d drawled as she sipped her champagne.
“A new job?” He’d gotten the teaching gig at his old high school and couldn’t imagine any job he’d want or like better. She made six figures for Christ’s sake, at least he thought she did.
Elated, drunk with lust and achievement, he’d tried to get his long legs adjusted under the small table jammed between all the others and covered with small plates of “tapas” which, best he could tell were “appetizers” only twice the price and half the helpings.
“I’ll do anything you want, Melinda. You saved me, honest to God you did.”
She’d fluttered her inky black lashes and gazed at him with an expression that convinced him he’d made the drastic move for the right reasons. The following year had been a combination of frustration, anger and high school level blue balls. The double drama Antony and Aiden had foisted on the Love family during that time hadn’t helped but it had distracted him. He’d taught his classes, helped out with the basketball team pro bono without telling Melinda and had been happier than he’d ever been as a pro athlete.
The fact that she maintained her uber-bitch persona around his family killed him. But he was hooked.
Still.
Mostly.
Book 3: LOVE BREWING available in ebook format March 1, 2015
All 3 books available in print March 14, 2015
Love Brewing
The Love BrothersBook 3Liz Crowe
Book Description:
Every family has one—the black sheep, the problem child, the prodigal. But Dominic Sean Love could teach all of those guys a lesson or two. Stuck in the middle of a boisterous group of siblings, he’s given “acting out” a new meaning from the day he drew his first breath.
While he’s the one son who follows his strict father’s footsteps into the Love family business, he’s also the one who butts heads with him the hardest. Their epic clashes are the stuff of family legend. But they have made peace and work side by side to take Love Brewing to the next level of success.
Until Dominic does the one thing his father can never forgive.
Diana Brantley has been Dominic’s friend, girlfriend and ex-girlfriend so many times she’s lost count. When he shows up at the farm she’s slowly transforming into a wildly popular farm-to-table resource for restaurants all over the U.S. her first impulse is to shoot first and ask questions later. But she doesn’t. And their lives entwine once more, for good, bad and ugly.

FREE NOVELLA AVAILABLE FEB. 1, 2015 ON AMAZON ONLY: “SAFE LOVE.”
Book 4: FAMILY LOVE available Summer 2015 in ebook and print  About the Author:
Amazon best-selling author, beer blogger, brewery marketing expert, mom of three, and soccer fan, Liz Crowe is a Kentucky native and graduate of the University of Louisville currently living in Ann Arbor. She has decades of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as a three-continent, ex-pat trailing spouse.
Her early forays into the publishing world led to a groundbreaking fiction subgenre, “Romance for Real Life,” which has gained thousands of fans and followers interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”). More recently she is garnering even more fans across genres with her latest novels, which are more character-driven fiction, while remaining very much “real life.”
With stories set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch, in successful real estate offices and at times in exotic locales like Istanbul, Turkey, her books are unique and told with a fresh voice. The Liz Crowe backlist has something for any reader seeking complex storylines with humor and complete casts of characters that will delight, frustrate and linger in the imagination long after the book is finished.
Don’t ever ask her for anything “like a Budweiser” or risk bodily injury.
Website       Beer, Books & More Blog    Facebook Fan Page
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Beer Blog         Sign Up for Liz Newz
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Blood Prophecy: Queen’s Destiny by Barb Jones

First, let me say thank you for having me here for this interview!
Thanks for joining us today, Barb.
Can you tell readers a little bit about yourself and what inspired to write in this particular genre? 
I love telling stories and told them since I was little.  I was born and raised in Hawaii, the best place for stories when it comes to legends and all.  I’m just your typical quirky girl who loves vampires.  I write paranormal because I love vampires, but then you got to throw in the other races too!  Werewolves hunt, witches have real power and well, vampires drink blood!
What is it about the paranormal, in particular vampires, that fascinates you so much? 
I just love the fact that they have these special enhanced abilities to compel people, they move fast, they are sexy.  Vampires have these deep sultry voices that can be hypnotic!
What inspired you to write this book? 
I wouldn’t say inspiration but I was tired of the genre being so “fake like”.  I mean, vampires do not walk in the daylight or sparkle.  I wanted to write something that would be close to their true nature but also interact with other races.
Please tell us about your latest release. 
Queen’s Destiny is a new, ground-breaking book that tells of a prophecy that has spanned centuries involving an epic battle that will rage between the races.  A queen is destined to bring peace to the races.
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? 
It’s funny, I get asked this a lot.  There is no secret formula or anything.  I try to use names that are meaningful or that will fit the character.  I come up with the character first and see what name is worthy of them.
Was one of your characters more challenging to write than another? 
I would say, Michael is my challenging one.  Even to this day, I don’t know how he will turn out.  Will he remain true to his Queen, his lover and friend or will he turn against her?  I haven’t quite decided yet.
Is there a character that you enjoyed writing more than any of the others? 
As much as I love vampires, I love writing about Chloe, the witch.  I think it’s because she has such a Seattle girl attitude.  She’s goth, sexy and smart!
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? 
Hmm…No formula.  I just write the characters, letting them develop as the story progresses.  I have no outline or anything.
What is your favorite scene from the book? Could you share a little bit of it, without spoilers of course? 
My favorite scene…it would be between Amber and Chloe.  Vampire Queen and witch, respectively, of course.  It’s when Chloe admits to being a witch and Amber is just grasping the situation.  It’s the way Chloe teases her and makes fun of her being a genius but can’t believe there are vampires and witches!  They are the best of friends.  True BFFs.

Did you find anything really interesting while researching this or another book? 
I probably learned a lot about gypsy legends, Macedonia and such things.  I love history and all, so this was perfect!
What is the most interesting thing you have physically done for book related research purposes? 
I met and talked to a few historians about Macedonia and languages.  It was really an interesting and valuable experience.
Can you tell readers a little bit about the world building in the book/series? How does this world differ from our normal world? 
It takes place in today’s time – Seattle to be exact.  The only difference is that I bring the Seattle Underground world to life and populate it with the supernatural races.
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 standalones but only because I revive the prophecy in each book.  But, to grasp the full nature of the characters, readers would have to read the first book and the novellas will complement the books.
Do any of your characters have similar characteristics of yourself in them and what are they? 
I think each of the characters have a little of me in them!  I mean, Amber is a genius girl, well, that’s me.  I’m a bit of a nerd.  And there is nothing wrong with being a nerd!  Chloe has an attitude and edge.  I’ve got that too!  Michael can be, well, sneaky.  I was a sneaky kid at times.  And Marcus has that gentle heart.  I care so much about others and it shows in my children – the way they care about others.
Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? How do you deal with it? 
I do.  I have to sometimes put it aside for awhile or I sweat it out at the gym!
Do you have any weird writing quirks or rituals? 
(laughing!).  I will write anywhere and at any time I have a thought.  I even wrote while on a dinner date!  I love telling that to people so that they understand the muse does not wear a watch when it comes to writing.
Do you write in different genres? 
I do.  I write children’s fantasy books, children’s books about special needs, poetry and of course, my favorite – paranormal!
Do you find it difficult to write in multiple genres? 
Personally, I don’t.  My imagination is all over the place.
When did you consider yourself a writer? 
I think a lot of writers need to cross a threshold to consider themselves a writer.  For me, I was 9 and in the fourth grade (in Hawaii).  I had to write a Haiku poem, a story and my teacher told me that these were the most beautiful things she ever read.  She told me that if I believed in myself and didn’t stop writing, I could be a writer that day.  From that point on, nothing stopped me from writing.
What are your guilty pleasures in life? 
Probably chocolate and desserts.  That’s not good when you want to maintain a healthy lifestyle!
Other than writing, what are some of your interests, hobbies or passions in life? 
I love to read.  I can’t get enough of reading!  I try to stay on top of my scrapbooking as well.  Well, and living in Florida – there’s Disney!  I love anything and everything Mickey Mouse.
What was the last amazing book you read? 
I just finished Chris Kuzneski’s Hunters book.  It was absolutely amazing and I can’t wait for the movie to come out!
Where is your favorite place to read? Do you have a cozy corner or special reading spot? 
I will read anywhere so there is no favorite place.
What can readers expect next from you? 
They can expect the next book in the series to come out in 2015 as well as novellas on the characters.
Where can readers find you on the web? 
I have a facebook page at www.facebook.com/bloodprophecybookswhere I interact with my fans as well as my website at www.thebloodprophecy.com.  There are lots of games and fun giveaways for my fans just because I appreciate them.  In fact, my team is working hard to create a street team just for Blood Prophecy.  I’m excited about that.
Would you like to leave readers with a little teaser or excerpt from the book? 
Yes.  I would.  Thank you for asking.  Here is an excerpt from the book between Chloe and Amber.  You can see how their personalities are from this snippet.
“Relax, Amber.  I’m going to tell you a secret.  I’m not just a brilliant curator.  I’m also a witch.”“A what?”“I practice witchcraft.  It’s not all the crazy junk you think it is, and I think I can help you to understand your dreams.”“Oh, Jesus.”  Amber stood and started for the door.  “Are you drunk?  This is too insane for me.”Chloe put a hand on her shoulder.  “Sit down, Amber.  I can help.  There are things that people think are imaginary, but I assure you, they are real.  Please let me help you. Please.”“Chloe, what are you saying?”  Amber sat, but in the process she spilled her wine and started to cry.  She tried to hold back, but her lips began to quiver and she ended up giving in to the sobs.  All at once, she realized how badly she wanted the stress and the lack of sleep and the fear to go away.  “Amber, there are things in this world that are beyond what we think is normal.  There might very well be vampires like the man in your dream.  My mother was a witch.  Her mother was a witch.  Her mother was a witch.  We go back for hundreds of years.  I can help.”“How can you help me?”  Amber looked at Chloe, whose eyes were wide.  Was she crazy?  Chloe gestured and the candles in the room seemed to flare before burning more steadily than before.  Amber noticed an old clock sitting on a shelf with two candles on either side.  It was 8:45.  I haven’t even been in Seattle for twelve hours.Chloe gestured again, muttering something under her breath.  A warm breeze blew through the apartment and seemed to settle on Amber.  She felt her hair blow across her cheeks, and her body began to shiver.  Chloe approached Amber and took her hands.“Close your eyes and breathe in deeply.  Listen to my voice and only my voice.  Breathe, okay Amber. That’s it. Relax and listen to my voice.  Let me take you back to your dreams. Amber, you are dreaming, okay?  You are dreaming again.  But you’re awake in my apartment, and you’re safe.  Tell me what you dream.”  Amber stood in the woods.  She was naked, again, and she felt the hot breath of dogs—no, wolves—blowing against her thighs, her ankles, and her hands.  She looked down at the wolves, hundreds of them, covered in red fur, brown fur, grey fur. They snarled at her, some coming close and bearing their teeth, growling menacingly.  A large wolf, enormously large with black fur and deep yellow eyes, stepped from among the pack to stand in front of her.  “He’s giant, Chloe.” She saw its body moving as it breathed, and felt its breath against her breasts.  It stared at her for a moment and then dropped its forelegs as though bowing. “Wait, now a man is stepping out of the trees.  The wolves are going crazy.”  Amber shook on the sofa.  “They’re stepping between me and the man.  He’s laughing and pointing at me.”The man waved his fingers at Amber and smiled.  She saw sharp teeth, and the man licked his lips and blew her a kiss.  His face was still obscured, unknown, unreal. “Amber, calm down.  Are you still there?”  Chloe’s voice seemed distant. “Nothing is going to hurt you, Amber, you’re still dreaming.  Take me back to the woods, Amber.”“The man is very close now, and the wolves are gone.  He’s touching me and kissing me.  He tells me he’s been waiting, and I am his.  He’s calling me ‘Queen.’”  Amber shook on the sofa.  “I can smell his blood, Chloe.  God, all I can smell is blood.”Amber sobbed and mumbled incoherent words as Chloe held her on the sofa.


Blood Prophecy: Queen’s DestinyBlood ProphecyBook 1Barb Jones
Genre: Adult Paranormal
Publisher: World Castle Publishing, LLC
Date of Publication: October 1, 2014
ISBN: 978-1629891521ASIN: B00NCN1CJU
Number of pages: 211 Kindle282  PaperbackWord Count: 71,417
Cover Artist: Kip Ayers
Book Description:
Amber Stone, once a child prodigy, has just become curator of a special collection of Macedonian artifacts for the Seattle Museum of Natural History. Chloe, a prodigy of a different sort, holds a position at the museum focusing on tribal art. The two become fast friends, united by Amber's unsettling dreams and Chloe's unorthodox ways of dealing with them. Two strangers arrive in town, bringing with them a prophecy recorded more than three-thousand years ago, a prophecy that places Amber directly in the midst of a battle that has spanned a millennia.
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/79ydZ0W26tk
Available at Amazon and BN








About the Author:
Barb Jones is a multi-genre author with a very vivid imagination.  She writes with an uncanny ability to draw you into the supernatural world.   She also carries the talent to write for children and allows them to feel as if they belong to the magical world of King Arthur.  Barb is also a successful IT director in addition to being a mother.  Her world is filled with imagination, creativity and passion.  She made her debut in the paranormal genre with the start of an amazing series called Blood Prophecy for adults and The Adventures of Little Arthur and Merlin the Magnificent for children. 
Currently residing in Sarasota, Florida, she enjoys the beaches and sunshine.
www.thebloodprophecy.com
www.facebook.com/bloodprophecybooks
@BloodProphecy_1
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