Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 410

Book Blitz: Knights of Stone by Lisa Carlisle

Knights of StoneHighland GargoylesBook 1Lisa Carlisle
Genre: Paranormal erotic romance
ASIN: B00O9EHH5E
Number of pages: 100
Book Description:
Gargoyles, tree witches, and wolf shifters have divided the Isle of Stone after a great battle twenty-five years ago. When Kayla, a tree witch, hears about the unconventional rock concerts in the gargoyle’s territory, she sneaks from her coven and into their territory to see for herself. Night after night, she returns to see one in particular shift into human form and play guitar at these unconventional shows.
For several nights, Mason has kept watch for the pixie-like female. He plans to seduce her, thinking she’s a visitor from another island. When he discovers she’s one of the tree witches, he retreats, attempting to keep his distance. The temptation is strong, but forbidden.
Kayla and Mason attempt to meet in secret, but other elements on the isle command their attention. A magical cloak created by the three clans on the island is thinning, leading to repercussions for all the clans. Kayla and Mason are caught in the middle of it, and their actions may change the fate for all.

Available at Amazon    BN   ARe    iBooks    Kobo


Excerpt: Five torches blazed on the stage all at once, lit by an unseen force. The audience erupted in cheers as the dancing lights from the flickering fire basked the statues. The flames lowered, casting the gargoyles in an eerie, almost reverent glow.Movement. So slight, Kayla wondered if it was simply a play of light and shadows in her anticipation for the change. She fixed her gaze on the statue in front of her, the one she’d gravitated to each time she’d had snuck out to see the show. Its massive gray form stood straight on two legs built for sturdiness. Its chest jutted out proudly. Gray wings with detailed feathers etched in the stone arched from a point below its shoulder blades. Eyes cast straight ahead on a face that appeared to be a mixture of canine and lion. Its right hand twitched, so slightly she would have missed it if she hadn’t stared so intently. Then a clawed foot inched forward.Murmurs of astonishment burst from the crowd as the transformation began. Their cries of fervor grew louder as the monstrous statues transformed into taller, slimmer figures with the bronzed skin of warriors who battled under the midday sun. The tartan fabric fell over their thighs as they stood erect, covering their nudity.Kayla barely blinked, mesmerized as always, as the statue before her stood to full height, taking on the form of a human male, but with beautiful raven wings. Hair just as black snaked rebelliously past his chin. The stony eyes flickered with animation, turning to a mossy green. His deep gaze seared the audience, seeming to burn anything in the path. When he found Kayla, he stopped.His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his unblinking eyes made her swallow. She froze under the scrutiny as if hypnotized, unable to break eye contact. Her stomach lurched, heart pounded, and every muscle in her body tightened, fueled with blood now scorching through her veins. His penetrating appraisal affected her so. When his eyes took on a smoldering glint, her skin tingled and a red-hot awareness grew between her thighs.He broke the stare and continued to assess the audience. She gasped, not realizing she had been holding her breath, and panted while she tried to breathe at a normal rate. He turned on robust legs and strode to a guitar stand. She tore her eyes from him to note the other gargoyles. They, too, had shifted into the form of striking males. One had black hair draped further down his back, one had long blond hair, and two had reddish-brown hair—one wavy and shaggy, the other straight. They took their place at other  instruments. She sought the guitarist again and caught the first sound of the pick striking the strings. On hearing the guitar projected through the amp, the crowd roared again, pressing Kayla forward.The freak show was about to begin.Spotlights flooded the musicians, powered by solar panels near a massive amplifier. The guitarist continued playing and the others joined in, playing a raucous crossover between hard rock and heavy metal. The one with long blond hair grabbed hold of the microphone and belted out a shattering cry that sounded like a call to battle. The crowd went pin drop silent to listen and then cheered in unison as the band played on. The front man sang piercing growls and low croons about the Knights in Stone, the protectors of the ancient forests, battling against the evil tree witches.
Kayla’s coven.

About the Author:
Lisa loves stories with dark, brooding heroes and independent, caring heroines. She feels very honored to be a multi-published author since she's wanted to write since the sixth grade. Her travels have provided her with inspiration for various settings in her novels, including deployments while she served in the Marines. She lived in Parris Island, the California desert, and Okinawa, Japan. She also backpacked alone through Europe, and lived in Paris, France, as an au pair before returning to the U.S. and buying a book store. She now lives in New England with her husband, two children, a cat, and many fish.
www.lisacarlislebooks.com
https://www.facebook.com/lisacarlisleauthor
https://twitter.com/LisaCBooks
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6463824.Lisa_Carlisle
http://amazon.com/author/lisacarlisle
http://pinterest.com/lcbooks/
sign up for the newsletter: http://eepurl.com/3qmnP
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Release Day Blitz Christmas at Thorncliff Towers by Marina Myles

Christmas at Thorncliff TowersA Cursed Princes NovellaMarina Myles
ISBN: 9781601832863Release Date: November 24, 2014
Book Description:
The Werewolf’s Servant
Thorncliff Towers is done up for Christmas, secure against wind and wolves. But Karina Petri is shut out, too, and the gypsy witch wants what’s inside. She envies the gifts, the feast, the pretty clothes, of course. But her true desire is for the love of Constantin Stoica. Her smolderingly handsome childhood friend agreed to serve Lord Draven after his brother was caught stealing last year. He suspects Karina was involved—and it would take more magic than she possesses to make him forgive…
Constantin has always been drawn to Karina’s dark curls, flashing eyes, and reckless ways. But trusting her has proven dangerous before, and this night holds more to fear than most. The wrong decisions could cost him his job, his safety—even his life. But letting Karina go could cost him his heart…

About the Author:
Marina Myles’s love of books began as soon as she read her first fairy tale. During her college days, she received degrees in English Literature and Communications—and enjoyed the unique experience of being a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader.
Now that she lives under the sunny skies of Arizona, she hasn’t left her glamorous life behind completely. After all, she gets to divide her time between her loving family, her loyal Maltese, and worlds filled with fiery—but not easily attained—love affairs.
Visit her at www.marinamyles.com
www.facebook.com/marinamylesauthor
www.twitter.com/#!/marinaauthor
www.amazon.com/author/marinamyles
a Rafflecopter giveaway


November 24 Release Day Blitz
Fang-tastic Bookswww.fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com  
Roxanne’s Realmwww.roxannerhoads.com 
3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, & Sissy, Too!   http://3partnersinshopping.blogspot.com 
Deal Sharing Auntwww.dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com
Lisa’s World of Bookswww.lisasworldofbooks.com
The Creatively Green Write at Home Momwww.creativelygreen.blogspot.com
Share My Destinyhttp://sharemydestiny.blogspot.com
Love In Every Pagehttp://loveineverypage.weebly.com/blogs.html
Deb Sandershttp://DebSanders.com
Sapphyria's Book Reviewshttp://saphsbookblog.blogspot.com/
Books N Pearls http://booksnpearls.weebly.com/blog
Readaholic's Reviews http://www.readaholicsreviews.com
Books, Books The Magical Fruithttp://booksbooksthemagicalfruit.blogspot.com

Everybody Has A History: Guest Blog and Giveaway with LK Below

Everybody Has A History
Looking at me, a twenty-four year old young woman, you would never guess that I am a widow. It’s hidden beneath my youthful looks. Upon meeting me for the first time, you would never know that I spent a winter just outside the arctic circle or that I was a vegetarian for eight full years. These are things you can’t immediately judge from looking at a person, but they are all there. They form my approach to life, they show in my manner of bearing and my attitude towards other people.
Every character in a book has experiences, a story, a life beyond what is shown on the pages. This story crafts who they are and how they react to the events that unfold around them. You can’t possibly show every single mark afflicting a person beneath their skin and smile.
Backstory is a tricky thing to feed into a book. After all, unless you start from the moment the main character is born (which is unadvisable, seeing as a story rarely begins until the character is at least cognizant of her or his own actions), the character has a past.
Sometimes, this past plays a large role in the book and is mentioned, but never delved into. For instance, the hero in Never a Princess, Always a Frog is a widow. His relationship with his late wife colors his interactions with the heroine. A breakup taking place before the beginning of the story in Beauty in his Bed provides the catalyst, driving Amy to seek refuge somewhere that doesn’t remind her of her ex and the life they shared.
Similarly, in my newest release, Hellish Haven, the backstory is the driving factor of the book. Eva and Grant are married before the start of the book and have a young son. When a drug administered by the government forces Eva to lose her memories of that life, it is up to Grant to remind her of the chemistry and connection they shared.
Backstory plays a larger role in this book than it does in my other books. So large, in fact, that I almost wrote another book detailing their meeting. I held off, however, because their happy ending doesn’t happen until this book.
Their past, just like anyone else’s, is convoluted. Eva shares a past with Grant, and she shares one with the main antagonist as well. To her, it’s more than a little confusing because the drugs have robbed her of the ability to recollect her husband and son at all. She has to take him at his word, take him on faith. For his part, Grant is not willing to let her go without a fight. She is the love of his life, after all.
As the story unfolds, they learn things. About themselves. About each other and their shared past. It is the smallest tip of the iceberg compared to all the things worth knowing about each other. But they have a lifetime off the page to share every other detail.
Everybody has a history. A way of moving, of speaking, of making decisions that is unique to them alone. Every character has something hidden from view. Remember that the next time you write -- or read -- a book. Everything might not come clear on the scant pages allotted to them, but I bet you can puzzle out a few of the details other people might not guess.

Maybe you share a history of common experiences with a character, too.
Hellish HavenL.K. Below
Genre: Dystopian Romance
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.,Lyrical Press Imprint
Date of Publication: November 17, 2014
ISBN: 9781616506254
ASIN: B00NJ0VL6A
Number of pages: 72Word Count: 33,718
Cover Artist: Renee Rocco
Book Description:
Two lives. Two realities. But only one truth.
The Senator reigns all-powerful in a manifested picture-perfect world. No worries. No wars. Only the unspoken threat of oblivion if you step a toe out of line. On the other side of the divide, the rebels face a debilitating war against an invulnerable robotic army. Every day is a struggle to earn back their freedoms. Freedom to feel. Freedom of speech. Freedom of thought.
Sergeant Grant Baker is pivotal to the war effort. But ever since his wife’s abduction, he’s been walking around in as much of a daze as the Senator’s brainwashed citizens. Then Eva reappears—without memories of him or their son. And he’s willing to do anything to keep her. Even if it means jeopardizing the war.
Eva doesn’t know which side to believe. Her predictable life as a single nurse, or the man claiming to be her husband. All she knows is she needs to discover how to end the war, quickly. If she doesn’t choose sides soon, she may lose the man—and the life—she never knew she wanted.
Available at Kensington Books  BN  Kobo Amazon iTunes

ExcerptActing as vanguard for the injured squad, Grant turned a corner and froze. A hulky man carried a limp woman over his shoulder.Grant automatically reached for his gun. Even if they weren’t yet across the divide, he couldn’t stand idle as a man accosted a woman. Or worse. He aimed the rifle at the criminal. “Set her down nice and easy.”The man froze. He glanced over one meaty shoulder, his unshaven mouth set in a scowl.“Set her down, or I’ll shoot.”A gold tooth flashed as the criminal grinned. He hurled the small woman at Grant and dashed for the slim space between two buildings.Grant moved without thinking. His gun clattered to the ground as he lunged forward to catch the woman before she split her head open on the sidewalk. He grunted as he caught her with her weight against his bruised forearms. He shot a flickering glance her way. A riot of brown curls obscured her face. He set her gently on the ground.He dashed for the opening the shady figure had disappeared into, but saw no sight of the man. The delinquent was long gone.Ashland panted as he jogged to Grant’s side. “What happened?”If Grant never heard that question again, it would be too soon. He shook his head wearily. “Mugging, I guess.”“They still have those here? I thought the Senator brought an end to violence.” Ashland drew sarcastic quotes in the air as he spoke.Grant didn’t bother to answer. He turned to the woman and where his squad was now gathered. A horrified private glanced from the woman to Grant and back again. “What do you want us to do with her…sir?”If they left her, the Senator’s people might find her and stick her back in the pen with the rest of their brainwashed sheep. Then again, that same goon might double back to continue what he started. He crossed to the woman and crouched to lift her into his arms. Her tangled hair fell away from her face. He nearly dropped her. “Eva?”Frantically, he pressed his ear to her chest. Her breathing was shallow, but her heartbeat steady and strong. He clutched her tighter. He couldn’t believe it.He’d found his wife.

About the Author:
L.K. Below wrote Hellish Haven to bring her love of Orwell’s classic 1984 into the modern day…or near future, as it turns out.
She reads as obsessively as she writes and likes to Tweet about both at @LBelowtheauthor.
www.lbelow.net
http://twitter.com/LBelowtheauthor

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Guest Blog and Giveaway with Leonie Rogers

Writing Female YA Characters Without Romance - Who’s brave enough?
I’ve been thinking about female characters quite a lot lately. Probably partly because I tend to write them, and partly because there’s a never ending debate about them.
The Female Character has been represented in many ways throughout literature. I’m an active member of a number of Goodreads groups, and the issue of female characters pops up frequently. I’ve seen it discussed in threads on sexism, tropes, equality, great books, classic books and literary awards. For what it’s worth, here’s my two cents on the subject.
I really enjoy reading female characters, and in retrospect, I owe a significant part of my adolescent and adult feminism to characters such as Enid Blyton’s George, Arthur Ransome’s Nancy, and Robin McKinley’s Harry and Aeron.
Some time back I wrote a blog post on my own site about Enid Blyton’s George, which proved to be one of the most read pieces I’ve ever written. It says a lot about how non-stereotypical characters impact us all.
Why did I choose this subject for a blog post, you might ask? The short answer is that I’ve read too many books where despite the female character’s strength and the overlying story, in the end, she is defined by her ability to attract the male character/s. And I’m deliberately writing /s because of the preponderance of love triangles in YA literature, and my books are currently YA.
Female characters are often defined by their romantic relationships. They’re also often defined by their dreadful pasts, which more often than not involves being raped or abused in some fashion, and then redeemed by ‘the love of a good man.’
By all means write romances for female characters, and by all means write in an abusive past, but don’t do it all the time, and don’t necessarily let it be the defining thing for your character unless you really want it to be and it needs to be. Characters are always much more interesting when they’re conflicted or having to deal with something out of the ordinary, but it doesn’t always have to be the same overused tropes.
As a YA writer, I read YA books. I like to know what’s going on and what YA readers are enjoying, and of course I just love reading YA stories. I like them because they often deal with the big picture events - you know, Good vs Evil, grey areas in ethics and morality, and the ability to rise above disaster. Sadly, what I’m often finding is the same characters written over and over again, thinly disguised as different people. Summarised, they can look a bit like this:
Girl - hot but doesn’t know it, usually has two or more males interested in her and sometimes they even compete for her. She’s meant to be saving the world and may well do so in some very clever and tricky fashion, but she really can’t decide between Josh and Michael. It’s soooo tricky. Is super gifted and clever but will probably need rescuing by hot boy at some point.
Boy/s - hot. Wants relationship with girl. Will be either hot and sensitive or hot and athletic. (Will have ripped abs whether athletic or not.) Will rescue girl.
The above are probably a bit rude, but it’s a fair representation of what’s out there in a lot of stories. I believe the challenge for authors is to be different, to attract their readers to a different type of character who is much more than her romantic relationships, and whose story is bigger than her romances, whether they’re included or not.
In real life, romance happens often, but it doesn’t happen all the time. The most difficult thing when we’re writing is to balance things. We can write romance for a female (or male) character, but it’s our choice as to whether the romance completely dominates the story or the character. It’s a juggling act. The question is not necessarily whether we can do it, but sometimes, whether we dare to break the mould and drag our readers along with us.

Maybe I’m off in fairyland and maybe I don’t know what readers want, but I’d like to think that there are readers out there who want to see a female character who is enough of a complete person to dominate the story without being defined by a stereotypical romance. Let’s be brave and find her.

Frontier ResistanceFrontierBook TwoLeonie Rogers
Genre: Science Fiction, Young Adult
Publisher: Hague Publishing
ISBN: 978-0-9872652-8-9ASIN: B00MTACKWK
Word Count: 133,000
Cover Artist: Emma Llewelyn
Book Description:
The much awaited sequel to Frontier Incursion.
The Garsal have landed and Frontier has changed forever. Now Shanna and her friends must master their new gifts that will enable them to seek out the alien invaders before they enslave her world.
On the plateau the Council under Tamazine (the Senior Councillor) allies with the Starlyne race. Only united do the Scouts, their starcats, and the Starlyne have any chance of surviving, but Tamazine's distrust of the alliance creates a fatal weakness.
Below, the Garsal plot. They need a new pool of human slaves to expand their empire, but first, they must locate the humans already on Frontier and subdue them. Time is running out for both invader and settler, and the outcome hangs in the balance.
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/tvymDYRwj6Y

Amazon   Apple  Barnes and Noble  Google play  Kobo



Excerpt:As Shanna entered the common room for breakfast, yawning and rubbing one eye, Arad hurried over to her looking worried. There was no one else in the room as she’d woken early, and she smiled at him as he approached.“Have you seen Nosey this morning?” he asked. Shanna shook her head and lifted a querying eyebrow at the Scout.“What do you mean? Have you lost her?” It was an odd question – no one ever lost a starcat.“Not exactly,” Arad looked slightly embarrassed. “She was on my bed as normal when I went to sleep, but she wasn’t there when I woke up. Actually, would you send Storm or Twister to search the place for her, please? I’ve looked everywhere I can think of.” Shanna took pity on Arad, and called Twister to her.“Twister, find Nosey!” Twister blinked his tidemarks once, and immediately shot out of the common room door and vanished up the corridor. “Well, there’s one answer, Arad. You couldn’t find her in here, because she isn’t in here.”“But where on earth would she have gone without me?” asked Arad in a puzzled tone. “If she needs to go out in the night, she always wakes me.” He smiled ruefully. “And everyone else as well.” Shanna shared a companionable grimace with him. The whole group had experienced Nosey’s boisterous rousing of her companion.Storm hummed quietly at them and looked pointedly at the door, and the two of them followed him as he took the path his brother had taken, but at a more sedate pace. For ten minutes, Storm wound them through the maze of underground corridors of the Starlyne habitat. After more than four weeks, Shanna could now usually recognise where she was, but this time Storm led them into a completely new area of the complex. Abruptly, Twister was with them again. He hummed quietly, and winked his tidemarks at his brother in a pattern that Shanna had learned to recognise as quiet amusement. Intrigued she shared a look with Arad as the two of them followed the two cats. Two more corners and through a sliding door, and then the corridor sloped upwards and exited into a tiny sheltered valley hemmed about by sheer rock walls. In the midst of the open space was Nosey surrounded by ten tiny Starlynes, the eleven of them gambolling and playing, rolling over and over each other. The pudgy little starcat was bouncing and leaping, and tapping the tiny Starlynes as she leapt up and over them. Would you call them children? wondered Shanna.Arad watched with his mouth open, eyes wide as his starcat and the Starlyne younglings played. They were exuberant and both Shanna and Arad could feel the enjoyment wafting in waves off the group. An adult Starlyne glided up to them as they stood there, watching the merriment. “She arrived as the younglings did this morning. They think she’s wonderful.” The tone of the creature’s voice was fond.
“She’s rather naughty, actually,” said Arad, firmly, “She shouldn’t have wandered off like that.” His eyes continued to reflect the enjoyment so obviously being had by the small group gambolling together despite his stern tone, as Nosey swarmed up a small tree and then launched herself over the little Starlynes, bouncing on her paws behind them as they turned to chase her down.

About the Author:
Originally from Western Australia, Leonie now lives in NSW in the Upper Hunter.  She is the author of “Frontier Incursion” (YA Speculative Fiction) published in October 2012 by Hague Publishing, and also works part time as a physiotherapist. She dabbles in poetry, and has had a short story published in Antipodean SF.
Frontier Resistance, part two of the Frontier Trilogy was published on the 3rd of October 2014, and she has also finished the first draft of the concluding book. They’re full of glow-in-the-dark cats who like to sleep on the bed, alien invaders, and a planet out to kill the unwary.
She has a past life as a volunteer firefighter and State Emergency Service member, and once trekked almost six hundred kilometres with eight camels and several other human beings. She is married with two late teen kids, two dogs and two cats, one of whom frequently handicaps her ability to use a laptop computer.
Twitter:        @RaeYesac
Facebook:    https://www.facebook.com/leonierogersauthor
Wordpress blog:    www.leonierogers.wordpress.com
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6542929.Leonie_Rogers



a Rafflecopter giveaway

Release Day Blitz The Prophets’ Guild by Kristen Reed

The Prophets’ Guild
The Alazne SeriesBook TwoKristen Reed
Genre: Fantasy
Date of Publication: November 20, 2014
ISBN: 978-1482007213ASIN: B00MX1CD36
Number of pages: 198Word Count: 56,800Cover Artist: Kristen Reed
Book Description:
"The year after molten sand becomes silver glass the following will come to pass: The fire shall give its life’s blood to water, and the wind will rise to claim Hesta’s daughter.”
When a member of The Prophets’ Guild is driven mad by his own divine vision, he travels to Hesta to deliver his final prophecy to the recently-crowned Fire Queen, Alazne, and that act changes the course of her life and the landscape of Faerie forever.
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/Fa5ZlBiyRuQ
Available at AmazonExcerpt:
After meeting with my Lords’ Council over breakfast and consuming a light dinner, I sat in the throne room as I regularly did and listened to the plights of my people. For the rest of the afternoon, I handed out advice and presented solutions as needed to the men and women who came before me. When I revived the old Hestian tradition of opening the great hall to my subjects, I expected to resolve quarrels of great magnitude involving large quantities of money and property, but I quickly learned that some of my people were so obstinate that they were unable to solve even the smallest disputes locally. In the space of two and a half grueling hours, I laid three conflicts centered on betrothals to rest and resolved six disagreements that involved livestock and property. Once those men and women filed out of the great hall, my herald addressed the last remaining fey in attendance.“Kneel before the throne and state your concerns to the queen,” he directed.An elderly Hestian man with closely cropped, gray-peppered carmine hair stepped forward and knelt before my throne as he had been commanded. He made the sign of the star to honor the four gods and their fey children, touched his head to the ground, and placed his outstretched arms flat on the pulsating floor tiles. While the first motion was customary amongst my people, the more submissive gesticulation piqued my interest since most male subjects simply bowed or kneeled in my presence based on their rank and our familiarity. However, as much as I wanted to indulge my curiosity about the man’s unusual supplication, he spoke before I could address it.“The year after molten sand becomes silver glass the following will come to pass: The fire shall give its life’s blood to water, and the wind will rise to claim Hesta’s daughter.”I furrowed my brow and opened my mouth to respond, but before I could ask the meaning of the man’s strange proclamation, he abruptly rose into a kneeling position and pulled a dagger from his satchel. My ladies in waiting screamed and flames formed in my hands as two knights stepped forward to subdue him, but they did not move swiftly enough. The man plunged the gleaming blade into his abdomen and fell face-forward onto the floor, which burned more brightly as his blood left his body and spilled onto the endlessly rippling surface. The knights quickly rolled the suicidal man onto his back and checked for a heartbeat.“He is dead, your majesty,” one of the knights announced, obviously shaken by the sudden suicide.“Please find out who he is,” I ordered, closing my hands to snuff out the flames. “Then report your findings to me and notify his family that he is dead.”“Yes, your majesty,” they acknowledged.As the knights lifted the man’s body and began to carry him out of the room, something caught my eye.“Wait!”The armor-clad men halted and I strode over to them, careful not to step in the blood that soiled my usually immaculate floor. Once I reached the trio, I pulled the dead man’s knife from its fleshy sheath. As I suspected, a vaguely familiar animal had been etched onto the hilt of the blade. A trio of tiny sapphires served as the scintillating eyes of the blue phoenix while its shining silver beak was open as if it had been mid-shriek when the artisan carved its likeness into the weapon.“Thank you. Now, you may go.”Once the knights resumed their gruesome task, I turned to face my ladies and made eye contact with Sera, whose naturally bronzed features were nearly as pale as the ivory lace on her dress.“Sera, please find Esti and Amaia and ask them to meet me in my library.”“Yes, your majesty,” she acknowledged with a curtsy before leaving the throne room, struggling to keep her gaze from resting on the trail of fresh blood beside her as she fled.While the man who had died moments before clearly had no desire to end my life, my intuition still told me that a considerable threat was nigh… and that the two women’s guidance would be invaluable if I wanted to protect myself and my subjects from the imminent danger that had just begun to reveal itself.

About the Author:
Kristen Reed is an artist, musician, filmmaker, and writer from Dallas, Texas. Her first book from The Alazne Series, The Kings' Council, was published in 2012, and the two subsequent books, The Prophets' Guild and The Valley of Eternity, will be released in 2014 and 2015 respectively.
Kristen also served as the screenwriter, executive producer, and co-director for the feature-length film, The Dahl Dynasty, a modern re-imagining of William Shakespeare's Hamlet. She is a graduate of the University of Texas at Dallas.
www.thealazneseries.com
www.facebook.com/thealazneseries
www.twitter.com/kristenreedtx



Giveaway 
Sign up for the mailing list and get a free copy of The Kings' Council (the first book in The Alazne Series)
Available while supplies last- sign up here http://www.thealazneseries.com/#!sign-up/c1li8 

Release Day Blitz Braving Fate by Linsey Hall

Braving FateThe Mythean ArcanaBook 1Linsey Hall
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Bonnie Doon Press
ISBN: 978-1-942085-00-3ASIN: B00O27QLAU
Number of pages: 273Word Count: 80K
Cover Artist: Damonza
Book Description: 
As chaos looms, a warrior queen is reborn
Bookish academic Diana Laughton has been having terrible dreams. Dreams of battle, dreams of blood... dreams so vivid she's living them day and night. When demons invade her quiet life, she wonders if she's going mad. Or if perhaps she's remembering a past life she had no idea existed...
In the midst of betrayal, he must protect her
Mythean Guardian Cadan Trinovante loved and betrayed Britain's warrior queen Boudica two millennia ago. Now he's tasked with protecting mortals whose lives affect the fate of humanity. His latest assignment is Boudica herself, reincarnated as a woman with no idea of her past or her fated future. Though in the irresistible form of Diana Laughton, it's possible Cadan has once again met his match...
To succumb to seduction could prove fatal
Thrown together in a shadowy world that exists alongside our own, Diana and Cadan must fight not only the demonic forces that want Diana dead, but a past and a passion that have lasted centuries. Their desire could be deadly. But as evil from the underworld unites against them, their only hope could be each other.

Available at Amazon




Book 2 Soulceress

Book 3 Rogue Soul
Also Available on Amazon




Excerpt Prologue
Central England, AD 60, eve of the Roman conquest of Britain
The woman he loved lay dying in his arms. Blood spilled over her breast, trickling from the dagger she’d sunk into her chest. Drops of blood hitting the dirt floor of the stone roundhouse echoed hollowly in his ears, amplified by the dawning knowledge of what he’d done. What she’d done. What they’d done.“Why, Boudica?” His heart and voice were breaking. “Why do this?” She shuddered in his arms, her broken body cold and fragile with looming death, but no less fierce than when she’d fought on the field of battle the previous dawn. She was their warrior queen, the force that had drawn thousands of British Celts together to revolt against Roman occupation, and he her top general. She was his love. The one bright spot in the miserable spectacle of blood and death his life had become. Boudica drew a harsh breath that rattled in her wounded chest and glared at him, her eyes alight with hatred. “Why?” It was clear she would have screamed it if she could. Another faltering breath. “After your betrayal, you ask me why?” “Betrayal? I did it for you.” Her bitter laugh died on a cough. “I thought you knew me. I was wrong. You only know what you think me to be. I’m a warrior, the leader and symbol of our beaten land. I led my people in battle for our lives, our homes, our freedom.” She paused to catch her breath. “But we’ve lost. Irreparably.” His jaw clenched, his chest aching with the weight of their past and his future. For she would die this night, her future forever erased. Because of him. Because he hadn’t been able to protect her. As he hadn’t protected his village and family before he’d joined her.“The Roman dogs are at our door.” She coughed. “My daughters dead at their hands. Our lands stolen. Why would I live when capture is inevitable and my very life will be used as leverage? My head will be on a pike in Rome before summer’s end. More likely, they’ll use me against our people.” She raked him with a scathing glance and coughed again. Blood marred her colorless lips. “What would you do, O great warrior?” “The same.” His throat burned. Capture was inevitable. And unbearable. Now, with the final battle lost and thousands of their families and allies dying in the fields around them, the fate that awaited her at the hands of the Romans would be worse than death, not only for her, but very likely for her people as well. He’d tried to save her from this, but she hadn’t let him. He would have committed any deed, no matter how terrible, to save the woman who’d changed his life when he’d met her a year ago. But Boudica was a warrior first, his woman second. And she would die believing he had betrayed her.She coughed, her pallor more pronounced. “And yet you would deny me my honorable death?” “I love you. I’d do anything to save you.” “And I thought I loved you,” she whispered. And as her eyes closed, the enormous life force that had propelled Boudica, Celtic Queen of the Iceni, evaporated.The crushing weight of grief squeezed the breath out of his lungs. Collapsing over her, the black night swallowed his roar of pain. He would have vengeance.
Chapter 1
Cadan Trinovante jerked awake, the sheets tangled in his fists. He ignored the vibrating phone that had awakened him from the nightmare and stared at the wide wooden rafters supporting the ceiling above him, struggling to catch his breath. Of all the memories that had faded in his two thousand years of life, the memory of Boudica’s death was the one that never had.Guilt tugged at him and he reached for the phone. “Cadan,” he said as he glanced at the clock on the bedside table. The gleam of Edinburgh’s streetlights shone on hands pointing toward one a.m. The yells of revelers stumbling from pub to pub filtered in through the open window. “Cadan, it’s Warren.” Cadan merely grunted in response and walked to the window. He listened with half an ear as he stared out at the gothic spires of Edinburgh’s churches and the soot-blackened stone of the surrounding buildings. They rose tall and narrow, pressed cheek by jowl on either side of the sloping cobblestones of the city’s oldest street. Cadan shut out the cool night air and the sound of fading revelry. “You’ve a new assignment,” Warren said. “Can you be here in an hour?” Finally. He needed something to keep his mind off the past. The damn dreams had been hounding him more often lately and he was ready to forget, to slip back into work. “Aye, I’ll see you by two,” he said. Damn it. He could still hear the revelers below. Living for so long was wearying, but listening to others take such joy in life was just salt in the wound.In less than an hour, he strode through the great iron-sheathed wooden doors of a building on the campus of the Immortal University. The eyes of the eerie stone gargoyles who guarded the entrance followed him as he entered the cool halls of the Praesidium, named over a thousand years ago when Latin was still the language of education. Fucking Latin. Fucking Romans.He dragged a hand through his hair. The short drive to the outskirts of Edinburgh where the university was located hadn’t fully banished his dreams.His footsteps were soundless on the marble floor of the wide, familiar hallway. It was a habit he’d never broken, though there was no need for stealth here. Terrible, unforgivable things happened when you let your guard down. But this was the safest place for a Mythean in Edinburgh since it was hidden from the prying eyes of mortals, who shouldn’t know of the existence of the supernatural beings who walked among them. He pushed open the old oak door at the end of the hall and entered his friend’s office, a book-filled room lit by a small fire that smelled of autumn. Warren looked up from his cluttered desk and leaned back in his chair. “Cadan, thanks for coming in so early.” “No’ a problem,” Cadan said. He sank into an old leather chair across from Warren’s desk. “Who’s it this time?” As one of the few Mythean Guardians in the world, it had been Cadan’s responsibility for nearly two millennia to protect those mortal or supernatural beings deemed important to the fate of humanity. Warren glanced down at a rumpled piece of paper. “Looks like a Celtic warrior.”Interesting—a man who’d been alive for as long as he. “Why’s the bloke need protecting if he’s made it this long? Destiny just revealed to him?” And why haven’t I met him before? Though he didn’t get out much, Cadan knew, or knew of, nearly all the Mytheans in Great Britain. The ones who hadn’t gone rogue, at least.“Well, that’s where it gets a little strange. The warrior hasn’t been alive. The soul has just been reborn.”“A reincarnate? They’re damn rare. Doona think I’ve ever actually met one.”“It doesn’t happen very often,” Warren said, picking up the Slinky on his desk and fiddling with it. Why wouldn’t Warren meet his eyes? The claws of nerves crawled up Cadan’s back, little pinpricks sinking into his skin that wouldn’t shake loose. It took him off guard; he hadn’t felt that in centuries. “I’ve spoken briefly to Aerten about it.” Warren finally glanced at him, but looked away almost immediately. Shite. “What does the goddess of fate have to say about it?” He hadn’t seen her in ages. Hell, he’d only seen her a few times since she’d offered him a spot in the Praesidium. Whether he should thank her or curse her was something he hadn’t figured out yet.“That only select souls are reborn. Those who were so strong in life that their souls never left this plane.” Warren set the Slinky down. “Their souls wait in stasis until humanity needs them. At that point, they’re brought back to perform a task that only they can accomplish.”“So, I’m going to be protecting a child who will save the world?” A cold sweat broke out on his skin. Killing and guarding adults—no’ a problem. But dealing with children was something he was entirely unqualified for after being alone for two thousand years. Fuck, what a mess. “No’ exactly,” Warren hedged. “Apparently with Druidic reincarnation, the soul is reborn in another person, but the person doesn’t become conscious of their previous life until they reach the approximate age at which they died originally.”“Shite, they develop split personalities?” “Ah, no’ exactly.” He paused, seemingly unaware that he’d grabbed the Slinky again and was juggling it faster and faster. “They doona survive that long. Once they remember who they are and complete their fated task, they die.”“Die? That’s some shite luck.”“Aye. The tragedy that took the soul too early the first time follows it. History is destined to repeat itself, after all. You need to protect the reincarnate until the fated task is complete, longer if you can.”That would be a challenge, but then, he liked a challenge. “Do we know what this guy’s task will be, once he regains his memory? And where is he, anyway?” “Doona know the task, but Aerten has prophesied that a catalyzing event will spur the memory of the reincarnate and lead them to Arthur’s Seat, likely today or tomorrow. That’s where you’ll meet.” Warren hesitated before continuing, finally meeting Cadan’s eyes. “And the warrior isn’t a man.”Cadan’s breath stuck in his throat and a chill broke out on his skin. Nay, it couldn’t be. “Who is it, Warren?”
“It’s Boudica.”

About the Author:
Linsey Hall is the author of the Mythean Arcana, a sexy paranormal romance series. Before becoming a romance novelist, Linsey was an underwater archaeologist who studied shipwrecks in all kinds of water, from the tropics to muddy rivers (and she has a distinct preference for one over the other). Her books draw upon her love of history, travel, and the paranormal elements that she can't help but include.
Several of her books may or may not feature her cats.
www.linseyhall.com
https://twitter.com/HiLinseyHall
https://www.facebook.com/LinseyHallAuthor
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8588556.Linsey_Hall
http://www.pinterest.com/HiLinseyHall/

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Guest Blog with Jill Corddry One of the Authors of Krampusnacht: Twelve Nights of Krampus

Thank you for letting me temporarily take over fangtastic.com! This is my first guest blog post ever, so readers, please be kind …

I wrote Marching Krampus back in 2012 as part of a short story challenge with my friend August. She'd found a post on a social media site with a bunch of creepy old photos from the early 1900s and we were giving all fifty of the images appropriately creepy stories. One of them especially stuck in my mind, and I was lucky enough to write the tale to go with it. As soon as I saw it, it screamed KRAMPUS!

I'd first heard of the Krampus some time ago in college, during one of those wonderful, meandering 3am conversations that you can really only have in college. But it then lay largely forgotten in my memory. Until I saw that image. And so a story began to form in my mind, one of a naughty boy and his pesky little sister.

Since many years had passed, any details about the Krampus had long since vanished. Which meant I got to do one of my favorite thing: research. I am occasionally teased for my love of all things research (you know who you are!), but I love diving in, mostly because you never know what you might uncover. As I read more about the Krampus myth, I selected the bits and pieces that fit my vision. I wanted it to be scary, but not gory. I wanted to honor the original myth, yet still feel like it had my personal touch.

Aaaand then it sat around in a digital folder for a while. At the time, was more focused on finishing a novel, so I wasn't trying to get any of my short fiction published. It was while I was taking a break from that novel when I started the task of sending my short fiction into the world. I stumbled upon World Weaver Press's request for Krampus stories by happy accident, and was beyond excited when it was accepted. 

It's been a fascinating – and fun – learning experience working with an editor and a publisher on this level. I can't encourage other writers enough to get your work out there. You don't know until you try. And sometimes you have to try. And try. And try. I got lucky with Marching Krampus. But I recently had a short story published on the seventh time I sent it out. So don't take a rejection sitting down. Give yourself an hour, a day, whatever you need. And then send it out again. I hope to read something of yours one of these days.

If anyone is interested, you can find me on Facebook and on twitter.

Thanks again to fangtastic.com for this opportunity. It's been fun. 


https://www.facebook.com/jillcorddryauthor
 https://twitter.com/JillCorddry
 http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00PHNSDF4 

http://blog.jillcorddry.com/ 


For bad children, a lump of coal from Santa is positively light punishment when Krampus is ready and waiting to beat them with a stick, wrap them in chains, and drag them down to hell—all with St. Nick's encouragement and approval. 

Krampusnacht holds within its pages twelve tales of Krampus triumphant, usurped, befriended, and much more. From evil children (and adults) who get their due, to those who pull one over on the ancient "Christmas Devil." From historic Europe, to the North Pole, to present day American suburbia, these all new stories embark on a revitalization of the Krampus tradition. 

Whether you choose to read Krampusnacht over twelve dark and scary nights or devour it in one nacht of joy and terror, these stories are sure to add chills and magic to any winter's reading. 

Featuring stories by Cheresse Burke, Guy Burtenshaw, Jill Corddry, Elise Forier Edie, Patrick Evans, Scott Farrell, Caren Gussoff, Mark Mills, Jeff Provine, Colleen H. Robbins, Lissa Sloan, and Elizabeth Twist.


Available at
Amazon.com  Barnesandnoble.com  Kobo.com
WorldWeaverPress.com 
Goodreads

Guest Blog Spell of Vanishing by Anna Abner

I Lived In A Haunted HouseBy Anna Abner
I’m not the kind of person who looks for evidence of the supernatural. I love to read and write about it. My favorite TV shows all have paranormal and supernatural themes (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Vampire Diaries, Teen Wolf), but I never had a concrete stance on whether ghosts are real until I moved into a haunted house.
In 2008 my husband, our daughter, and I moved to Ogden, Utah into a sixty plus year old home. We were native southern Californians and this was our first experience living in the Beehive State. My husband’s job transferred him to nearby Roy and we were excited to find a cheap house within fifteen minutes of his office.
The house has a main floor plus a full basement that can be used as a “grandma apartment” with its own kitchenette and bathroom, and an attic with two bedrooms and a bathroom. Though there were only three of us, it was perfect. We could have a playroom for our daughter, a rumpus room downstairs, and both my husband and I could have our own home offices. I loved it.
 The basement is level with the car. The main floor is in brick. The attic is above that. The garages are in the back.
The first unusual experience happened almost immediately. At the rear of the property was an older garage with a much newer garage addition built onto the side. I adopted the older garage, but when we moved in it looked like it hadn't been used in decades. It was coated with dust and cobwebs. Someone had dug their own mechanic’s pit into the ground and miscellaneous car parts and shop tools were rusting in drawers and cabinets. The first thing I did was cover the mechanic’s pit and clear out the space from top to bottom so I could park my car inside without being afraid of breathing in the Hanta virus.
What the garages looked like before we moved in. The old one is to the right. You can see part of the newer addition on the left.
After a rough day of cleaning, I was standing in the doorway of the old garage and I saw a man behind me, to my right, on the edge of my peripheral vision. Scared that a nosy neighbor had snuck up on me, I spun around. No one was there.
My little girl is standing in the same spot I was when I saw someone who wasn't really there. The old garage is on the left. The newer one is to the right.

The kitchen on the main floor didn't usually have any supernatural or scary vibes. But one day my three-year-old daughter and I returned to an empty house. With her in the lead, we rounded a corner into the kitchen. Something by the windows caught her eye and she called out, “Hi, ghost.” I'm writing at the kitchen table in front of the windows where my daughter saw someone.
There was no one in the house but us and I didn't see anything. When I asked her what she’d seen to make her say that, she didn't want to talk about it.

My daughter is making a potion with her grandma while I cook dinner in front of the windows that spooked my little girl.
The worst area of the house, though, was the attic. When we bought the property the previous owners, who’d only lived there two years, had been using the adorable attic bedrooms—with their hand built shelves, wood paneling, and sloping ceilings—as storage space. I couldn't understand why! The attic. Here is my daughter and her friend playing in the pirate ship playroom I made for her (complete with canvas sail and freestanding ship's wheel). This is the room my brother slept in. Once. See the light spot in the background?
As soon as we moved in I swept the two rooms and spread out my daughter’s impressive toy collection, made curtains for the windows, and lay down colorful play rugs. I couldn't wait to spend hours of fun, imaginative play in there.
Except no one ever wanted to go up there.

One reason, which has nothing to do with the paranormal is, heat rises. During the summer, the attic was the hottest level of the house. Beyond that, though, I always got a bad feeling up there. The stairs leading into the attic were narrow, steep, and covered in thick green carpet. I slipped on them at least a dozen times in the three years we lived there. My daughter fell so badly once, while carrying a play set down, that she still remembers it six years later. When I used those stairs I purposefully gripped the banister tight and planted my feet solidly on each step because it became an almost certainty that if I wasn't paying attention I’d slip. Especially on the way down.
And the attic stairs were always cold. Winter or summer, it didn't matter; they were colder than the rest of the house.
All those toys in the attic used to power on constantly and randomly. My daughter still has a lot of battery powered toys and I can honestly say, except for Zhu-Zhu pets that come on if something touches them, none of them power on by themselves. None. But in the attic, toys would sing and light up and talk without human interference all the time. We just got used to hearing the little piano start playing music, or the animatronic bear say, “I love you,” or the electronic book sing the Alphabet Song. At any time of the day or night.
When we had overnight guests, I set them up in the attic. They would have privacy and their own bathroom. So, when my brother came to stay for Thanksgiving I made a place for him in the attic. I didn't say anything to him about the strange feelings I got up there because I didn't think he’d believe me and I also didn't want to influence him. Maybe it was just me.
The next morning he described his night spent in my attic. First, the plastic vanity against the wall turned on, flashed its lights, and played a bright, tinny melody. He hadn't touched it, even by accident. Once he’d actually fallen asleep, he said he woke up to a man bending over him, his twisted and angry face inches from my brother’s.
My brother wouldn't sleep in the attic again after that. When he visited next time, he slept on the pullout couch in the basement and was much happier.
The final incident I can share happened over the summer when my mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and nephew were visiting. Because it was hot, we were all chatting in the rumpus room in the basement, directly under the main floor living room.
Keep in mind our house was older and had wood floors. It made noise—pops and creaks—all the time as it settled, expanded, and constricted in different temperatures. But that day I heard the front door open and close. My husband always came home through that door, never the basement door, so I knew who it had to be. I remember leaning back my head onto the couch and following the sound of his footsteps as they crossed from the door to our bedroom on the other side of the house.
Excited, I announced, “Sounds like he’s home.” I rushed upstairs to greet him, but the house was empty. The front door was still locked. There was no car in the driveway except mine. There was no one there. The red arrow points to the attic window of the room my brother slept in. The blue arrow points to my brother, yes, but also the front door I heard open and close from my spot in the basement below
I still haven’t researched the property or its previous owners. Half of me is scared I’ll find nothing. The other half is afraid I’ll discover I was living in some hellish murder house. But I have never had any other supernatural experiences in any other home I've ever lived in, and because of my husband’s job I've lived in nine different homes since we got engaged.
By the time we moved away that adorable playroom in the attic I’d spent so much time decorating was being used for storage and no one ever went up there unless they had to.


Spell of VanishingDark Caster SeriesBook 3Anna Abner
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Mild Red Books
Date of Publication:  Nov. 1, 2014
ISBN: 978-0-9914031-3-4
Number of pages: 300
Word Count: 70k
Cover Artist: Jaycee Delorenzoat Sweet & Spicy Designs
Book Description:
Cole Burkov is a formidable necromancer, but waking from a devastating nightmare spell has left him confused about what’s real and what’s fantasy. Afraid of hurting more of his friends, he casts a vanishing spell on himself, except something goes wrong. He’s not invisible to spirits. He’s invisible to everyone.
Talia Jackson doesn’t want to help Cole cast his vanishing spell. She’s on a mission to collect him for the Dark Caster. But when Cole uses her, against her will, to create the spell she becomes the only human being on earth that can see him.
Together, the unlikely allies will seek out one of the most diabolical casters in the dark cabal—the White Wraith. But when the witch fights back, Cole and Talia discover they may not be strong enough to survive her furious assault.


Excerpt: Chapter One
Rough asphalt dug into Cole Burkov’s knees, but he couldn’t remember why he’d knelt in front of a burned down church in the first place. His memory was in tatters, made up of a pinch of nightmare, a dash of reality, and a whole lot of lost time.Blood was what brought him back to himself. The old, itchy blood on his hands and the fresh, slimy blood smeared across his left forearm, obscuring the line of scars of varying ages running up his wrist like railroad tracks.When he cast magic he was always careful to cut shallow slices, but maybe sometime during the night, lost in his muddled memories, he’d cut himself too deep.He couldn't remember.Cole sucked in a deep breath, hoping the rush of humid, North Carolina air would stimulate his memory, but it only made him dizzy.As he gazed up at the charred skeleton of a former religious building, he got the funny feeling he was supposed to be doing something. That he wasn't there on his knees by chance.A large, ebony crow peered at him from a willow tree at the edge of the parking lot. Crows were bad luck, but one in a churchyard was an omen of death. The bird flapped his wings once and took flight, soaring low over the parking lot before disappearing behind a brick wall."Cole!" A familiar ghost appeared in front of him, her face a mask of agony. He had never seen his spirit companion Stephanie so distressed. "I found Dani. She's coming. Can you hear me? She's on her way. Just hang tight and everything will be okay."Daniela Ferraro. His friend. The witch.Bits and pieces of the last few days resurfaced. He had strangled Dani in a hospital room and then escaped, hiding out on the streets and in the woods ringing the town. The night before he’d slept sheltered among a copse of pine trees behind Auburn's movie theater. The night before that? Hard to say. He thought the clothes he wore, black scrub bottoms and a yellow smiley face tee, were castoffs from the hospital. Or maybe that was part of the nightmare spell. Maybe he’d never been inside a hospital.Either way, unable to suffer the guilt a moment longer, he’d come to the Dark Caster's last known gathering place to face him. Or join him. That, too, was vague.Of course the bastard wasn't there.But if Dani was on her way it meant one of two things. Either he was still in the nightmare spell and Cole would be forced to kill her again when the evil inside him rose up, or he hadn't killed her and she’d try to stop him from going to war with the Dark Caster.Neither of those things was going to happen.“Tell her not to come,” he said. “Tell her not to come anywhere near me.”


About the Author:
Anna Abner has been a writer for nearly her entire life, but some of her day jobs have included teaching, childcare, and real estate. She lives in North Carolina with her family and loves hearing from fans.
http://www.annaabner.com
http://www.annaabner.tumblr.com
http://www.facebook.com/annaabnerauthor
@AnnaAbner


a Rafflecopter giveaway


November 10 InterviewRoxanne’s Realmwww.roxannerhoads.com
November 10 Guest blog and reviewSiMPLiSPEAKiNG http://coffeebeanzone.wordpress.com/book-spotlight/
November 11 SpotlightPenny Writespennybrojacquie.blogspot.com
November 12 Guest blog and reviewCoffee Addicts Books http://www.selenityjadebooks.blogspot.com/
November 13 SpotlightSBM Book Obsessionhttp://sbmbookobsession.blogspot.com/
November 13 SpotlightShare My Destinyhttp://sharemydestiny.blogspot.com
November 14 SpotlightFreshly Baked Booksfreshlybakedbooks.blogspot.com
November 17 Guest blogFang-tastic Bookswww.fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com
November 17 InterviewThe Creatively Green Write at Home Momwww.creativelygreen.blogspot.com

Kindle Free Book Blitz: Feast of Fates by Christian A. Brown

Feast of Fates
Four Feasts Till DarknessBook OneChristian A. Brown
Genre: Fantasy Romance
Date of Publication: September 9, 2014
ISBN: 978-1495907586Number of pages: 540
Word Count: 212K
Cover Artist: Brian Garabrant
Book Description:
"Love is what binds us in brotherhood, blinds us from hate, and makes us soar with desire.”
Morigan lives a quiet life as the handmaiden to a fatherly old sorcerer named Thackery. But when she crosses paths with Caenith, a not wholly mortal man, her world changes forever. Their meeting sparks long buried magical powers deep within Morigan. As she attempts to understand her newfound abilities, unbidden visions begin to plague her--visions that show a devastating madness descending on one of the Immortal Kings who rules the land.
With Morigan growing more powerful each day, the leaders of the realm soon realize that this young woman could hold the key to their destruction. Suddenly, Morigan finds herself beset by enemies, and she must master her mysterious gifts if she is to survive.
Available at Amazon and CreatespaceBook Trailer: http://youtu.be/8E_RVXgpqB8

Feast of Fates, Excerpt #2 (533 Words)
Morigan took the bracelet.            “I accept your offering.” The Wolf’s face lit and she thought that he would leap at her. “Yet first, I have a request.”            “Anything, my Fawn.”            “I would like to see…what you are. The second body that shares your soul. Show me your fangs and claws,” she commanded.            Perhaps it was the steadiness of her voice, how she ordered him to bare himself as if he belonged to her, that made the Wolf’s heart roar to comply. He did not shed his skin but for the whitest moons of the year, and even then, so far from the city and never in front of another. In a sense, he was as much a virgin as she. With an unaccustomed shyness, he found himself undressing before the Fawn, confused for a speck as to who was the hunter. The flare of her nostrils, the intensity of her stare that ate at him for once.            I have chosen well for a mate. She is as much a Wolf as I, he thought, kicking off his boots and then shimmying his pants down to join the rest of his clothing. No bashful maiden was Morigan, and she did not look away from his nakedness, but appreciated what she saw: every rough, hairy, huge bit of him.            He howled and fell to all fours. Bones shifted and snapped, rearranging under his skin like skeletal gears. From his head, chest and loins, the soft black hair thickened and spread over his twisting flesh. His heaving became guttural and sloppy, and when he tossed his head up in a throe of agony or pleasure, his beard had coated his face, and she noticed nothing but white daggers of teeth. Wondrously Morigan witnessed the transformation, watched him swell with twice the muscle he had possessed as a man, saw his hands and feet shag over with fur and split the soil with black claws. Another howl and a final gristle-crunching shudder (his hindquarters snapping into place, she thought) signified the end of the change.            Her dreams did not do Caenith justice. Here was a beast twice the size of a mare with jaws that could swallow her to the waist. Here was a monster that had stalked and ruled the Untamed. A lord of fang and claw. The birds and weaker animals vanished, knowing a deadly might was near. Around her, the Wolf paced; making the ground tremble with power; ravishing her with his cold gray gaze; huffing and blasting her with his forceful breaths. While the scent of his musk was choking, it was undeniably Caenith’s, if rawer and unwashed.            Morigan was not afraid, and was flushed with heat and shaking as she slipped the bracelet on and knelt. She did not flinch as the Wolf lay behind and about her like a great snuffling rug and placed his boulder of a head in her lap. No, she stroked his long ears and his wrinkled snout. A maiden and her Wolf. Soon the birds returned, sensing this peace and chirping in praise of it. And neither Morigan nor the Wolf could recall a time—if ever there was one—where they had felt so complete.

About the Author:
Christian A. Brown has written creatively since the age of six. After spending most of his career in the health and fitness industry, Brown quit his job to care for his mother when she was diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma in 2010.
Having dabbled with the novel that would eventually become Feast of Fates for over a decade, Brown was finally able to finish the project. His mother, who was able to read a beginning version of the novel before she passed away, has since imbued the story with deeper sentiments of loss, love, and meaning. He is proud to now share the finished product with the world.
http://christianadrianbrown.com
https://twitter.com/AuthorChrisAB
https://www.facebook.com/ChristianAdrianBrown
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8422242.Christian_A_Brown
https://plus.google.com/u/0/105782095673393074893/about



November 17 Fang-tastic Bookswww.fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com
November 17 Roxanne’s Realmwww.roxannerhoads.com
November 17 SBM Book Obessionhttp://sbmbookobsession.blogspot.com/
November 18 Sapphyria's Book Reviewshttp://saphsbookblog.blogspot.com/
November 18 Cassandra M's place www.cassandramsplace.com
November 19 Books, Books The Magical Fruithttp://booksbooksthemagicalfruit.blogspot.com
November 19 3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, & Sissy, Too!   http://3partnersinshopping.blogspot.com
November 20 Deal Sharing Auntwww.dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com
November 21 Lisa’s World of Bookswww.lisasworldofbooks.com
November 21 The Creatively Green Write at Home Momwww.creativelygreen.blogspot.com
November 21 Emma Weylinhttp://emmaweylin.com/

Guest Blog and Giveaway: Sinner Repent by Morgan Kelley

Why I’m an Indie Author.Morgan Kelley
In today’s world of writing, the battlefield has been divided. On one side you have the traditional publishing house author, and on the other, the indie.
Which is better?
Well, as someone who has worked both sides of the fence, I’m here to tell you that I wouldn’t ever go back to being in a publishing company’s pocket. I love being an Indie.
Here’s why.
I control my characters. I get to write my stories my way. If I want to kill someone off, I don’t have to worry about someone telling me that I can’t. It’s my way or the highway in Morganville. That works for a control freak like me.
Next, I get to decide the length of my books. Did you know that most publishing companies don’t want huge novels? The amount of money they have to sell it for is a liability, so they cap it at words.
HOW?
When you’re an author, like me, you know that the story tells itself. When I sit down to write, I don’t think about how long it’s going to be. I have a defined point in my mind that I want to get conveyed. Once I start, it’s a free-for-all. I write to tell a tale, not to tell a word count.
You may think that’s silly, but when you think of it this way, each one of my novels are at least 500 pages, maybe just a few pages short or over. With my new one coming out, I hit 600 pages. A traditional publishing company would tell me to cut it in half, make it two stories, and force the reader (you) to wait for a second book release. It makes more money for everyone involved.
That doesn’t work for me.
I hate having to wait six months to read a second book in a series. So, as an author, I took an oath. I don’t do it. I put out ten to twelve books a year for that reason. I want the reader to be happy, not pissed off.
But alas, it’s not always greener on the Indie side of the fence. There is one major downfall for me. It’s the publicity.
I hate it.
I’m a writer. What the heck do I know about promoting?
Nothing .
With a publishing company, you really don’t have to stress it. You write, make them happy, and in return they sell your baby to the masses. For any author, that’s a big fat perk. As an Indie, that’s not the case. So instead, we toil away on our computers, pouring out our souls to paper, and then have to struggle to get our words to the hungry book consumers. If we fail, our books go unread, our words go unheard, and alas, our stories go…untold. It’s heartbreaking.
Maybe one day that will change.
Then again, maybe it won’t.
Either way, this author is done selling her soul to big publishing companies. Instead, I choose to live in the little world which I created, being perfectly content to please the people who find me.
For those who have, thank you.
For those who haven’t… I hope we meet someday. I have one hell of a story to tell you.
I think you’ll love it.
Xoxox
Morgan.  Sinner RepentCarter Chronicles TrilogyBook OneMorgan Kelley
Genre: Erotic suspense/thriller
Date of Publication: March 11, 2014
ASIN: B00IYH7Z7C
Number of pages: 452
Cover Artist: Laura Gordon Design
Book Description:
Doctor Callista Carter only wants to heal. Running from a near life destroying case, she’s licking her wounds in a small town and off everyone’s radar.
Only, she’s drawn quite a bit of attention.
Someone’s taking lives, disguised behind the Seven Deadly Sins. It’s stirring up the small town, making waves.
The killers want her eliminated.
And the sheriff just wants her.
When Quinton Gaines is handed a slew of killings, he’s at a loss. He, too, has escaped to sleepy Myrtle Springs to regroup. Now, he’s reminded that death has no qualms with nipping at his heels. Yet, this may be the perfect opportunity to snag the elusive doctor, who has stolen his heart.
Or so he hopes…
When the killer gets personal, Quinn wishes he didn't drag Callie into the mess. Now, not only is she in danger for helping him, she’s marked to die.
Time’s running out.
Can love beat back the vicious claws of hate?
One truth is crystal clear. Quinton Gaines has to stop running in order to save his home and woman.
It’s not going to be easy with a madman hell bent on getting one thing…
REVENGE.
The killers won’t stop at anything. It’s time to get ready, and like any good Sinner... Repent.


 Sinner Repent ~ Book One~ Callie's storyAvailable at Amazon
Sinner Realized ~ Book Two ~ Luke's StoryNow Available
Sinner Reborn ~ Book Three~ Nate's Story.Out Summer 2015
Excerpt
© Copyright 2014 by Morgan Kelley LLC All rights reserved. First Edition * No parts of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or in an information storage or retrieval system without written consent from the author.
All characters and locations are fictional and any similarity to real life or individuals is coincidental.

                ~ Prologue ~                 Saturday Late Evening
As Sissy Parker slowly began to wake, she had no idea where she was, or how she ended up there. Trying to move her arms, Sissy could tell they were restrained above her head and immediately began to panic. Struggling to get her bearings, she blinked rapidly, trying to take everything in. All around her there were candles and sinister shadows. Deep down, she had this building feeling of horror, as she could sense that there were malevolent eyes watching her from the creepy darkness. She knew that something bad was coming. As the fear rushed through her, Sissy’s body shook in terror at all the possible scenarios that were forming in her head. Having a wild imagination wasn’t her friend at that moment. It was her worst nightmare.Getting her bearings, she knew what to do. Sissy screamed.What caught her completely off guard was when no one tried to stop her frantic wails for help. Instead, she was met with laughter.  Sick.Horrible.Terrifying laughter. Finally, after a brief amount of time had passed, the first shadow stepped forward. Sissy stared at the figure, trying to adjust to the dim light in the room.“Who are you?” she asked, her voice shaking. Certainly, this had to be some kind of bad dream. Any second now, she would wake up. There was no answer to her question, and that scared her just as much as what she suspected to be the truth. In fact, the silence was chilling. “Please…what do you want from me? Why am I here?” she begged softly, as the words came out more like a whimper. The figure moved forward, running a hand slowly down her naked body. Sissy tried to pull away from the whisper light caress. At that point, she would have dislocated her own limbs to move out of her abductor’s reach. “Stop! You’re scaring me. This isn’t funny. What am I doing here?”Laughter came from another direction in the darkness, and Sissy whipped her head toward the sound. Oh God! There was more than one!At that moment, Sissy knew that she was in some serious shit. Even she wouldn’t be able to talk her way out of it with her pretty smile and nice clothes.“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?” she screamed, as two other figures moved into the dim light beside the first one. They were all clothed in hooded black robes tied with red silk belts. The first figure, the one who had touched her, must have been the leader as that robe didn’t match the others.  “We are The Brethren of the Blood.” That didn’t sound good at all. In fact, that sounded bad.REAL BAD.“What do you want with me?” she asked, scared out of her mind. The last thing that she remembered was a sharp pain in the back of her head, and then…She woke. Naked. Bound.And in big trouble.“We’re here to cleanse the sins which are suffocating our town.”Sissy glared at the figures who were moving into a circle around the table that she was resting on. The tears came as she pleaded for her life.“I’ll do anything if you let me go. Please! This has to be some kind of mistake. You have the wrong person!”“No, Sissy, we have the right one. You’re a vile example of humanity, and we’re here to fix what’s broken.”Suddenly, the words registered. “What do you mean cleanse? How are you going to do that?”“We’ll make you our offering, purifying the town of the first sin.” They began moving around her, touching her naked flesh with their chilly hands. “Please,” she begged. At the contact, the bound woman began getting more agitated. Her face was etched with desperation. And yet, they paid her no mind. Sissy began to struggle, pulling at the bonds holding her to the table. She knew she needed to fight.“There’s no use in struggling. We’ll do what needs to be done, and then make our offering.”Reality hit as Sissy finally understood what they were going to do to her. In the back of her mind, the logical part of her brain was warning her of what was to come. The confusion was finally overcome, and now it demanded she flee.“What…are…you…” She didn't get to finish. The maniacal laughter was enough to tell the tale. Sissy was going to be murdered.“No, please! I’ll do whatever you want! Please don’t kill me!”  The begging had escalated and was now more desperation than anything else.More laughter emanated from the circle, as they moved closer to the woman. Her struggles only incited them, making the inevitable more enticing to them. The first figure began opening the red robe as Sissy stared in horror, shocked to see who lay beneath the hood. It couldn’t be! There was no conceivable way that what she was seeing was true.“Oh, God, no,” she whispered at the thought of what was about to happen. “It’s too late to call his name now.”The other two joined in with laughter.Looking up into the face, it was completely void of any emotion. It was as if there was no concept that what was coming was wrong.One by one, they each undid their robes. Horrifyingly, they were all familiar. Sissy knew each of them personally. Trying to get their sympathy, she gazed into each set of eyes and pleaded her case. “No! Why me?” she asked. “I never did anything to hurt you!”Her words fell on deaf ears as they moved toward her naked body. Sissy started to scream, praying that someone would hear and rescue her. Before long, Sissy could feel something being stuffed into her mouth. It was then taped shut with a large piece of duct tape. Her body reacted. Immediately, she began gagging as the tears stung her eyes.“Hood her,” said the first figure, picking up a shiny silver blade. The intent was to let Sissy Parker see it as her final memory in this world. From the look on her face, as the hood was drawn over her features, it did what it was intended to do. There was nothing but fear present as the end came closer.Sinners needed to pay.Sissy tried to cry out in pain, as the razor sharp knife began tearing through her body. From the motions, she could feel something being carved into her flesh.The blackness surrounded her, as what little she could see swam in swirls. It was coming to swallow her. Her only thought was how grateful she was that once in the abyss, she wouldn’t feel any more agony. As the three cloaked figures stood around Sissy’s body, they began the long awaited ritual. It was now underway.The Brethren had deemed her life forfeited.She was unclean. Sissy was the first one chosen. There were words spoken over her as blood rushed, gushed, and spilled on the ground. As it coated her body, the room was heavily tinged with the scent of copper pennies. The only thing lingering there, which was more powerful, was the silence. In absence of all talking, one message was clear. It was just the beginning, and they enjoyed every second of what they had just done. This was power.This was strength. This was… perfect.

When the ritual had ended, they moved Sissy’s barely live body to the field out past Walker’s Point. They found the perfect spot and laid her in the grass. Who knew how long it would take the law to find her body? Yet, if it was meant to be, it would happen.The leader of the group pulled the black hood from Sissy’s head and stared down at the wide-eyed look on her face. It was quite obvious that she had greatly suffered. Now, it was time to end it. With one slice to her neck, the blood trickled out and sickly coated the message. With a gasp, she struggled for her last breath, as her life ebbed away. This woman fought for life, every step of the way. For that, they were grateful.Stepping back, the three stared down at their masterpiece and admired their handiwork.Sissy Parker may have been the first one to die, but practice didn't have to make perfect. They had done it to the letter of their law. At first there was worry about making a mistake, but that had long since passed. Their only hope was, as the next ones came to them, that they too, would each be just as special. No one said anything as they turned to leave. Each of the three were living in the moment, in their own way, and committing this night to memory. Everything had changed, and now there was no turning back to what used to be. As they left the beautiful woman alone in the wet grass, the next mission would be to head home and climb into their warm beds. There was nothing but pure unadulterated satisfaction filling them. Hopefully, they would each be able to sleep, despite the adrenaline still surging over a job well done.This sacrifice was going down in the books. With one glance back, the moon eerily shone down on the destroyed life of Sissy Parker. Even from where they stood, the final ominous word was visible. Each saw ‘PRIDE’, carved grotesquely into her chest, and they were jubilant. Now, everyone would see her for her true sin. There would be no doubt as to what had caused her death.
This was on her, and it was only beginning.


About the Author:  
Morgan Kelley lives in the beautiful Pocono Mountains with her husband and two children. After attending college at Penn State University and studying Criminal Justice, Morgan knew her only true passion in life would be murder and books. 
She put them both together and began her career as a writer.  Other than books and writing, you can find Morgan hanging out in her garden and digging in the dirt. 
Her other works include: The Junction, Serial Sins, The Blood Betrayal, The Killing Times (1), Sacred Burial Grounds (2), True Love Lost (3), Deep Dark Mire (4), Fire Burns Hot (5), Darkness of Truth (6), Devil Hath Come (7), Consumed by Wrath (8), Redemption is Here (9), Dead Shall Speak (10), Blood Red Rage (1) Lost & Broken (2), Unthinkable Games (3), Celestia is Falling (1), Vegas is Dying (2), Christmas is Killing (3), Love is Bleeding (4), Heaven is Weeping (5), Dangerous Revelations (1), Illegal Fantasies (Anthology 1), Romance Under Arrest (Anthology 2), and Holiday Reinforcements (Anthology 3)
Please feel free to visit Morgan at her website: www.morgankelley.comor visit her blog at www.morgankelley.blogspot.com
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2993043.Morgan_Kelley
http://www.amazon.com/Morgan-Kelley/e/B001KHAQ10/
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Morgan-Kelley/302609053207268


a Rafflecopter giveaway