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Guest Blog and Giveaway Dark Curse by Isaiyan Morrison

First, I'd like to thank you for having me on Fang-tastic books. I'm a Adult Paranormal Author who loves to dabble into the dark side of fiction. Dark Curse is the second book in the Deamhan Chronicles.
Dark Curse picks up where Deamhan, the first book in the Chronicles, ends. The massacre at the Gathering has left Deamhan shaken to their core. With their leader,Kei, ousted and on the run, the once feared and Ancient Lugat, Lucius, goes on a killing spree to wipe out the remaining traitors in the city of Minneapolis. Meanwhile The Brotherhood's return along with the growing population of vampires riles up the remaining Deamhan who chose to stay behind rather than abandon the city. 

The body count continues to rise signaling to humans and Deamhan that something malicious is on the horizon. All with have to chose a side. Either allow Lucius to free the Pure Ones--the first living Deamhan from Limbo--or take him out and cripple their already fragile presence in the city.
I've always wanted to write a paranormal novel but I didn't know where to start. I love vampires but I wanted to write a different type of vampire book. After several years of researching, I came up with Deamhan.
Deamhan are interesting creatures. I consider them to be the cousins of vampires.  They share similarities however, they stand on their own when it comes to brutality and the will to survive. The Deamhan are vampires who live off the psychic energy from their victims. They aren't the common sanguine (blood) vampires that most readers are familiar with. There are four types of Deamhan:
Ramanga - Live off the psychic energy in human blood. They have retractable and sharp canine teeth. 
Lamia - Feed by draining the psychic energy from their victim’s mouths, sucking them into dry husks.
Metusba - Feed from the psychic aura of their victims around them. They don’t have to kill their victims to live. 
Lugat - Feed on the psychic imprints of their victims and like the Metusba, they don’t need to kill their victims to live. Often, the Lugat Deamhan prefer to move freely in the human world and enjoy human company.
Deamhan are mean and ruthless. They don't cry about their existence. They kill to survive, if they have to, and majority of the time they like it. Survival is their main goal and an important aspect of their nature.
Thank you for having me on your blog today!


Dark CurseDeamhan ChroniclesBook 2Isaiyan Morrison
Genre: Adult Paranormal
ISBN 069226325X        ISBN 13 978-0692263259ASIN: B00MO1T7O8
Number of pages:  202Word Count: 79,000
Cover Artist: John Cosentino
Book Description:
The Deamhan world is in disarray. Freed from Limbo, Lucius, the once feared and Ancient Lugat, goes on a killing spree to wipe out any remaining traitors in the city of Minneapolis.
Meanwhile The Brotherhood's return along with the growing population of vampires riles up the remaining Deamhan who choose to stay behind rather than abandon the city. The body count continues to pile up forcing both humans and Deamhan to pick a side.
Either allow Lucius to free the Pure Ones, the first living Deamhan from Limbo, or take him out and cripple their already fragile presence in the city.
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/_Qbm8FQCXVE
Amazon Print     Amazon Kindle
Excerpt: Anastasia's eyes meandered over them. They were young, no older than ten years max. When she attempted to scour their minds, a barrier blocked her. The female Ramanga rushed at Anastasia in Deamhan speed but she quickly moved out of the way, grabbing the back of her shirt and tossing her several feet in the air and onto the roof of a parked car.  The Metusba catapulted himself at Remy but he jumped several feet into the air, avoiding his attack.Anastasia rushed at the Metusba and she sank her teeth into the base of his neck, ripping at his flesh. He screamed, pushed her away, and fell to the pavement on his knees.  From the roof of the car, the Ramanga flew at Remy with fists raised and her mouth opened, revealing her fangs. “I've never hit a pretty woman before.” Remy smiled. She swung and he ducked, feeling the brisk wind travel over his head. Her punches continued nonstop but with each punch Remy evaded, the faster the punches came. He finally found an opening and his fist connected with her stomach. The Ramanga's feet wavered but she immediately found her footing and she swerved to the left, avoiding Remy's rising left punch. She raised her knee, striking Remy's in the chin and he fell back on the pavement. She quickly maneuvered herself on top of him, striking him over and over again with her fists. Remy's head jerked from right to left, feeling his cheeks burn with each hit until Anastasia wrapped her arm around his attacker's neck and threw her off of him.She helped Remy to his feet and they ran off in Deamhan speed with the two Deamhan following them. Their stride took them under a freeway, splashing through knee high water, and they turned sharply left. They passed through stop and go traffic, side streets, sidewalks, and eventually near the banks of the Mississippi River.They took the river south, leaving the city, and entered a desolate area filled with rotting cornstalks and farmhouses. They stopped in the quiet area, being only a few miles from Blind Bluff Manor. They turned around but the two Deamhan were nowhere in sight.“That wasn't hard.” Remy scanned the area across the river. He looked to the left at the tall dirt and rock infested embankment. “I think we lost them.”Anastasia wasn't so sure. She looked up just in time to see the female jumping down at them. She tackled Anastasia and they both fell into the wild currents of the river.Anastasia felt the coolness of the water streaming over her face and into her ears. It was an awkward position, knowing that neither of them would drown because Deamhan didn’t breathe. She pushed the female back and she jumped out of the water, just in time to see the male, also in midair, and his right leg connect with the side of her face. She landed on the sandy shore, swallowing a handful of sand. She turned over to see the female towering over her with a raised stake. For a second Anastasia’s eyes filled with uncertainty. Stakes were meaningless, unless the female aimed for her heart. However, if the female's goal was to incapacitate her, she would strike elsewhere, leaving Anastasia alive for them to toy with. Remy rushed toward the female but she immediately turned, burrowing the stake into his left shoulder. He stumbled back and the female grabbed the stake, dislodging it, and struck again, hitting just beneath his heart.Anastasia found her chance to make her move. Brandishing her teeth, she bit down into the female's neck and she pulled back, ripping flesh from bone. Blood gushed from her wound and she fell to the sand. Again, Remy and Anastasia took off down the banks of the Mississippi River. The river curved and winded around, bringing them to another remote spot. This time a freeway ran on both sides of the river with a bridge slightly above them. Anastasia stopped, noticing that stars no longer dotted the sky. In the darkened horizon appeared a tint of red, signaling sunrise. She had to finish this now and get to Blind Bluff Manor. They climbed the embankment and approached the freeway. They ran through the traffic, dodging semi-trucks, cars, and other passing vehicles until they made it to the other side.Remy held his chest and he bent over. “Good thing these Deamhan can't aim to save their life.” He coughed.Anastasia examined his wound. “You'll heal.”They heard the swift steps of the two Deamhan approach them. Again the male launched himself at them but Anastasia tossed him aside. He slammed into a nearby abandoned granary and Anastasia looked from the corner of her eye, seeing the female raise her stake, aiming for Remy's back.Anastasia quickly moved and she caught the female by her wrist before the stake made its impact. With her other hand she plunged her fist through the female's chest, reaching her heart. The female's eyes widened and she snarled before Anastasia ripped her heart from her chest. The Ramanga dropped to the ground and her body slowly began to dissolve into a puddle of blood, dust, and bone fragments.Anastasia turned her attention to their male attacker, watching him limp toward them.  Dark blood poured from his mouth and a long piece of wood protruded from his stomach. She walked calmly over to him. His heavy eyes wavered.  “You failed.” She plunged the stake into his heart and nonchalantly she returned back to Remy, uninterested in watching the Deamhan's body wither away. In the distance she heard a male’s voice coming from a small house on a hill. The front door opened and she saw the outline of a farmer gripping a shotgun in hand.“Let's get going. We don't have much time.” She wrapped Remy's arm around her shoulder. She took one final look at the remains of their two attackers before sprinting in Deamhan speed for Blind Bluff Manor.


About the Author:        
Isaiyan Morrison was born and raised in Minnesota. She moved to San Diego, California while in the Navy. She now resides in Texas with her two cats, a pit bull dog, and two guinea pigs. Dark Curse is the second book in the Deamhan Chronicles.
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/isaiyanmorrison
Facebook Deamhan Page: http://facebook.com/deamhanchronicles
Twitter http://twitter.com/isaiyanmorrison
Website: http://isaiyanmorrison.com
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7163501.Isaiyan_Morrison
Google+ : https://plus.google.com/u/2/b/112494687658017649418/+Isaiyanmorrison/posts
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Blood Diva and the Camille Connection: Guest Blog and Giveaway with VM Gautier

In 1847 the novel The Lady of the Camellias was published and became a sensation. It was written by Alexandre Dumas fils the son of the celebrated author of  The Three Musketeers, but that wasn't the only thing that made it a bestseller.


The younger Dumas had had an affair with Marie Duplessis – a recently deceased courtesan known for her delicate beauty and her love of a camellias. In those days courtesans or “grandes horizontals” (literally “great horizontals”) were the “it” girls – sexy, ambitious adventuresses who ignored the rules of polite society. Therir favors were for sale, but only at premium prices. Their homes were salons where the most prominent artists, politicians and other movers and shakers might meet, but never bring their wives or other respectable women. This was the “demimonde” – the glamorous “half-world” spoken about in whispers.
So naturally everyone wanted to read the book.
How much of it was true? Dumas insisted that many conversations were word-for-word, but he also admitted he hadn't loved Marie as his fictional counterpart loved her fictional counterpart. Certainly, Marie left little evidence that Alexandre, or Adet as she called him, was the big love of her life. Then again, she left few letters and no diaries, and often told different versions of events to different people.
In the novel, Marguerite gives up her livelihood for Armand Duval, and then she gives up Armand, even though it breaks her heart and probably hastens her death. The reason? His father asks her to in order to save his family from scandal. In reality, Marie would have been unlikely to give in to such a request, and Alexandre's father was certainly not the type to be concerned about propriety, but the story of the redeemed prostitute who sacrifices her very life for love became a classic.
Dumas turned his novel into the play we know as Camille. The play became the basis for the opera La Traviata. In the opera, the characters names were changed, but in both versions, the main character's name is also the name of a flower. Marie's birth name was Rose Alphonsine. (“A rose by any other name” as Shakespeare said.)



The play became known as Camille. Sarah Bernhardt toured in it for years, and starred in a film version in 1911– though she was far too old for the part. That was not the first film version. There was a Danish version in 1907. In 1921, the story was updated to the “jazz age” and starred Nazimova and Rudolf Valentino as the ill-fated lovers.


The film we are most likely to know and remember, is the 1936 movie starring Greta Garbo. That's the one that's been parodied numerous times including by Carol Burnett, and in a1970s stage version performed with the heroine played by drag queen.
Marie's legend (as interpretted by Dumas) continues to hold us. 
It was the basis in 2001 for Moulin Rouge, and in Pretty Woman– another story about a big-hearted prostitute – the opera that Edward takes Vivian to see is, of course, La Traviata.

But we still only have Alexandre's fictional side of things. What would the “real” Marie have thought about the story? Would she have found the whole gold-hearted-hooker-willing-to-give-up-riches-for-love silly? Would she have been angry with Alexandre for exploiting her? Or amused? And how would Marie – an opera fan – have felt about becoming Violetta – possibly the most coveted soprano role of all, in a work that is always being performed somewhere?
When I decided to revive Duplessis as a very modern vampire, undead and on the loose in New York City, those were questions I wanted to answer. My aim was not to write La Traviata with Vampires. I wanted to  tell a woman's story from herpoint of view, to create a character who would be young forever, but would  have trouble moving on from her past and escaping the myth created by an ex-boyfriend. I would write Marie's version.

Is there a lot of sex and blood in Blood Diva? Sure, it's a sexy, vampire story and if that offends, it's not for you. But let's be honest, sex was always at the heart of the tale, and so was that red stuff Camille kept coughing up. 
Blood DivaVM Gautier
Genre: Urban Fantasy
ISBN: 9781620154663
Number of pages: approx 450.Word Count: 120,000
Book Description:
The 19th century's most infamous party-girl is undead and on the loose in the Big Apple.
When 23 year-old Parisian courtesan, Marie Duplessis succumbed to consumption in 1847, Charles Dickens showed up for the funeral and reported the city mourned as though Joan of Arc had fallen. Marie was not only a celebrity in in her own right, but her list of lovers included Franz Liszt – the first international music superstar, and Alexandre Dumas fils, son of the creator of The Three Musketeers. Dumas fils wrote the novel The Lady of the Camellias based on their time together. The book became a play, and the play became the opera La Traviata. Later came the film versions, and the legend never died.
But what if when offered the chance for eternal life and youth, Marie grabbed it, even when the price was the regular death of mortals at her lovely hand?
In 2014, Marie wonders if perhaps nearly two centuries of murder, mayhem, and debauchery is enough, especially when she falls hard for a rising star she believes may be the reincarnation of the only man she ever truly loved. But is it too late for her to change? Can a soul be redeemed like a diamond necklace in hock? And even if it can, have men evolved since the 1800′s? Or does a girl’s past still mark her?
Blood Diva is a sometimes humorous, often dark and erotic look at sex, celebrity, love, death, destiny, and the arts of both self-invention and seduction. It’s a story that asks a simple question – Can a one hundred ninety year-old demimondaine find happiness in 21st century Brooklyn without regular infusions of fresh blood?
About the Author:
VM Gautier is a pseudonym. This is not the author's first book, but it is his or her first book in this genre. You haven't heard of him or her.
Web: http://www.blooddiva.com
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22731729-blood-diva
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Blood-Diva/1478472872374508
Twitter:  https://twitter.com/VM_Gautier

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Reap and Redeem by Lisa Medley

Reaper Rules: The Basics 
How will you know if you meet a reaper? Two ways. One you’re already dead and it will become obvious rather quickly or two…you’ll never know. Reapers blend into the background. You may have already crossed paths with one. If you did, and you’re reading this now (which means you are NOT dead) you’ll never remember him.
You’ve probably heard the stories of the “mysterious angel” who showed up at the scene of an accident and lifted the car off a child, pulled a driver to safety, saved a drowning person, _____________ (fill in the blank), and then disappeared. No one got a description. No one took a photo. No one remembers clearly what the helpful stranger actually looked like. 
There’s a good chance they met a reaper on his way to or from collecting a soul. 
There are two rules of survival as a reaper: 
1. Keep your energy.
2. Keep your head.
Everything else is survivable, but it also means that even reapers aren’t immortal. They can live for a long time but usually flame out after a couple of centuries. Ferrying the dead is a soul-sucking job (pun intended). 
Reaping is a full-time job with a human population over seven billion. And that doesn’t even count all of the other creatures with souls that need reapers. Yeah, there are reapers for every creature with a soul. And they all meet in one place. Purgatory. 
While they might not all get along topside, Purgatory is supernatural Switzerland. Forced détente. Conflict will get you smited lickedy-split. 
And no one enjoys a smiting.





Reap and RedeemThe Reaper SeriesBook TwoLisa Medley
Genre: urban fantasy      
Publisher: Harlequin EDate of Publication: Oct. 6, 2014
ISBN: 9781460337769ASIN: B00KV62OP2
Number of pages: 250Word Count: 78K
Book Description:
He’s a reaper who has given up on saving souls. Will a dying woman be his salvation?
After a century of enslavement to pure evil, Kylen Larson is finally free. But he’s long past caring. The only woman he ever loved is dead, and he’s tormented by memories of the horrors his demon parasite forced him to commit. Now, he lives for nothing more than hunting down the infernal creatures invading Meridian, Arkansas, and destroying them.
Olivia Evans is in the final stages of cancer when Kylen accidentally saves her from demonic possession. When he rescues this innocent soul, Kylen rediscovers his mission—and his heart.
All he wants is to help Olivia stay alive. He’ll just have to fight off an invasion from Hell first…
Available at Amazon   BN  Kobo  iTunes


An Excerpt from Chapter Two of Reap and Redeem.
He squatted in the darkness by the outdoor spigot on the side of the house, letting the water run over his hand and his blade. Pulling a soft cloth from his back pocket, he dipped it into the stream of water before turning off the spigot. He caressed it across the blade, removing the last traces of blood from his scythe, polishing it until the moonlight glinted off its deadly surface.
Satisfied, he crossed to the detached garage and pulled the whetstone down from the tool pegboard. He dragged a bucket outside the garage, overturned it and sat facing the woods. Reaching out with his senses, past the magical circle of protection that was vigilantly defended by Nate, he watched and listened.
There were things out there in the woods. Things that were drawn to him still; things that awaited his command.
He drew the whetstone across the curved blade of his scythe with a slow, easy pressure, stroking its length. He rocked his body forward and back with each rasp of the steel, enjoying the hypnotic rhythm of the work. Honing the scythe to perfection was a comforting task. Turning the blade, he sharpened the other side, careful to return its lethal edge. It was a supernatural weapon, given to each reaper upon his or her first reaping, so the task was unnecessary. Still, it was a ritual he’d performed for years, and it gave him peace in the darkness. A man needed to respect his weapon.
When he was finished, Kylen slashed it into the waist-high weeds before him, watching as they fell to the ground with a whisper. He stared off into the darkness again, resting the blade across his thighs. The night was soothing to him. At night he wasn’t reminded that he could no longer see in color.…
Ever since the demon had been torn from him, he saw the world in shades of gray, and he could no longer make out people’s auras. He could see the light but only its intensity. The color had been stripped from him, which was handicapping him as a reaper. Every reaper worth his or her salt knew that the color gray represented dark thoughts and unclear intentions. Well, that pretty much summed up his inner world these days.
He hadn’t bothered to mention this disturbing fact to any of his roommates.
He had thought it would be a temporary affliction. But now, months later, his color vision still hadn’t returned. It was one more thing that had been stolen from him.
Damaged was an understatement…and he wanted revenge. If he had to, he would find each and every demon himself, making sure Deacon had ample opportunity to send them to their final deaths. Then he would find his own…death, that is.
He was more than ready for it.
About the Author:
Lisa Medley writes reapers. The grim kind. A lover of beasties of all sorts, she has a farm full of them in her SW MO home including:  one child, one husband, two dogs, two cats, a dozen hens, thousands of Italian bees and a guinea pig. Not so in love with the guinea pig. She can do ten pushups IN A ROW and may or may not have a complete zombie apocalypse bug-out bag in her trunk at all times. Just. In. Case.
Website http://lisa-medley.com
Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/+LisaMedley/
Twitter https://twitter.com/lisamedley
Amazon Author Page www.amazon.com/author/lisamedley
Facebook Fan Page https://www.facebook.com/lisamedleyauthor

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Interview with Rachel Elisabeth Judd Author of Rain of Ash

Can you tell readers a little bit about yourself and what inspired to write in this particular genre?
I'm a thirtysomething English graduate living in Los Angeles who has also studied game design. I've long been a fan of the dark and spooky, and I'm really loving the current trends in urban fantasy. Not just the plethora of stories with a modern setting dealing with the supernatural and fantastic, but I also really enjoy that one of the most common conventions for urban fantasy are female leads. Exceptions exist, of course, but it really seems to me as though urban fantasy is a very woman-oriented genre, and I dig that.
I also really appreciate how fluid urban fantasy is as a genre, and how easily it can adopt and incorporate tropes and conventions from other genres. A good urban fantasy could also be a mystery or horror or epic, depending on where the author decided to go. So when I sat down to write my first full novel, urban fantasy is what I chose.
What is it about the paranormal, in particular vampires, that fascinates you so much?
Vampires are the perfect engine for literary catharsis. When Aristotle wrote about the value of drama, he talked about invoking catharsis by making the audience experience both pity and fear. This feelings would happen at different points in the work, but I think vampires persist in our collective imagination because we find them so classically cathartic. Vampires (at least the traditional conception of vampires) have tremendous gifts and are exceptional predators - but at a terrible cost. We're afraid of what vampires can do to us (their supernatural powers, their immortality and seductive beauty), but we also pity what they've lost (sunshine, emotions, etc). This makes them complex and compelling.
I also like urban fantasy because of the juxtaposition of magic and mythology with modern life. There's a sense that just around the corner is a world of mystery and wonder - your bartender could be a werewolf, your neighbor could be a witch, you could take a wrong turn and find yourself in the middle of a fairytale. I really like anything which helps engender a sense of wonder and discovery in the reader. 
What inspired you to write this book?
Two things really inspired Rain of Ash: Vampire$, by John Steakley, and Hunter: the Vigil by White Wolf.
Vampire$ is an extremely fascinating novel about a group of men dedicated to hunting and eradicating vampires; and about the relationships between members of the hunting team and how they respond to the stresses of their calling. I really got into the book, and I loved seeing an alternate viewpoint on vampire stories - and I kept thinking, If I were writing this book, I'd have done that a different way. No insult intended to Mr. Steakley! I'm actually not often inspired in that way, and it's a testament to his writing that I was able to so fully engage with the story!
Hunter: the Vigil is a roleplaying game (I am a giant nerd) where players assume the role of hunters. Not necessarily vampires - any critter from White Wolf's truly impressive line of horror RPGs can be incorporated. And I have so much fun playing the game! Hunterhas a fairly unique mechanic for teamwork which I think is great, and really lays out what being a hunter would do to the average person.
So when I sat down to write Rain of Ash (working title: Oh, No! Vampires!), I decided I wanted to write an urban fantasy story, centered around a woman and chronicling how she became a vampire hunter.
Please tell us about your latest release.
Rain of Ash follows Gwendolyn Bradshaw, a woman in her early twenties who, through the mysterious disappeareance of her older sister Lydia, becomes aware of the existence of vampires. After vampires destroy most of Gwen's family, Gwen finds herself falling in with a team of vampire hunters. The story chronicles Gwen's growth from a mousy teenager into a committed and talented vampire hunter... all through the lens of Gwen's very complicated relationship with her sister.
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?
Every name in Rain of Ash has probably been changed at least once. I think only Gwen and Timothy got to keep their original names. Tabitha started out as Teresa, and I must have changed Sava's name five times. One day, I'm going to be participating in a trivia event and get Teague's first name wrong because of how often I changed it (I actually named Tabitha after a cat I rescued many years ago, but could only keep for a short amount of time).
I do try to fit names to the characters. Teague, for instance, goes by his last name because of his time in the Army; everyone called him Teague for so long that it became what he called himself after being discharged. For Timothy, I tried to pick a very bland name. 
I did have a lot of fun coming up with Vauliard, though the reasons why are a little spoiler-y!
Was one of your characters more challenging to write than another?
Gwen is the point-of-view character, so she was certainly the most challenging. I had to try hard to strike a balance between a woman experiencing profound grief at the loss of her loved ones while also writing about her journey to overcome that grief and find meaning and passion in her new life. I also had to be aware of a few subtle conflicts in Gwen's psyche, so I could carefully convey to the reader what Gwen's attitude was while also conveying that Gwen herself wasn't consciously aware of these feelings.
Is there a character that you enjoyed writing more than any of the others?
I really liked writing Roddie. He's such a gentle spirit, and trying to do the best he can for those around him. I modeled a lot of him after my best friend's father, who was also an excellent cook from Oaxaca with a solid sense of hospitality. Writing scenes with Roddie reminded me a lot of happy memories spent having dinner with my best friend's family in high school.
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?
The most important thing I need to know about every character is what he or she wants, and why. Sometimes I can start writing a character and know exactly what she wants and how she's going to get it. Sometimes, though, I'll have included a character to fulfill a specific role, but I will be hazy on what he, as a character, wants. In that case, I'll engage in some writing exercises to help me flesh out who this character is and why he is the way he is (my favorite are the exercises detailed in Novelist's Boot Camp by Todd A. Stone). Once I have a character's desires down, the rest comes easy to me.

What is your favorite scene from the book? Could you share a little bit of it, without spoilers of course?
My favorite scene is in Chapter Eighteen, when Roy (a member of the vampire-hunting squad) and Gwen go to the bar together, and Gwen sees some 'Black Dog' larpers across the room. The scene is taken directly from my experience larping in Santa Barbara, and the two people playing rock paper scissors are cameos of good friends of mine. And I don't want to give away too much, but Gwen and Roy going to the bar definitely has consequences later!
Can you tell readers a little bit about the world building in the book/series? How does this world differ from our normal world?
I've really been influenced by the World of Darknessmultiverse, and that comes across in my stories. The world of my books looks a lot like our world - cell phones and computers existing alongside vampires and potentially other powerful supernatural entities. It's not quite so threatening, however - there is hope that, if regular people can figure out a way to work well together, they might be able to take down even the worst threats.
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?
Rain of Ash is the first book in Project Fifteen, readers need have no familiarity with anything else.
Do any of your characters have similar characteristics of yourself in them and what are they?
I don't like self-insert characters and avoid them at all costs. Though I share a somewhat similar background to Gwen, I took great pains to separate her personality from mine. Gwen is far more direct than me, and certainly more self-reliant than I was at 22!
Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? How do you deal with it?
I've found the most successful antidote to my writer's block is physical activity. At a certain point, I'm just wasting time sitting at my computer with nothing happening. So I grab my mp3 player (the music is a critical element) and go for a run. While I'm out and moving, the answer to my issue will come to me. I have to be Zen about it, though - the answer won't come if I think directly about the the problem. I have to let my mind wander and eventually I'll have a flash of inspiration and know exactly what to do.
If that doesn't work, then I'll switch projects. I have a document I call the Vault of Ideas, which is a list of various creative inspirations I've been struck by. If vampires aren't working out for me at the moment, I'll switch to my adventure game or my post-apocalyptic fantasy project. Or perhaps I'll abandon words altogether and instead sew or cook (I'm surprisingly domestic).

Do you have any weird writing quirks or rituals?
I absolutely cannot write in sans-serif fonts. I have an unreasonable and completely unjustified disdain for Arial, I much prefer Times New Roman or Georgia.
I also usually need to be drinking something. Not necesarily booze, but coffee or mineral water or something else I can sip on while I ponder.
Do you find it difficult to write in multiple genres?
Not in the slightest. Each genre has it's own unique conventions and tropes, and I enjoy taking a break from one genre and being able to play around in another. I do generally always prefer science fiction or fantasy genres, with a slight preference to fantasy.
When did you consider yourself a writer?
Several years ago, I co-wrote Game of Tears with John Wick. We released the book at a convention, and when the first person came up and asked me to sign their book, that's when I really felt like a writer. Though I'm glad that e-books exist, I'm a little sad that there's no good way to distribute signed copies of Rain of Ash yet.
What are your guilty pleasures in life?
I kind of make it a point to not feel guilty over things that give me pleasure!
Other than writing, what are some of your interests, hobbies or passions in life?
I am a huge nerd. I like games of all kinds - tabletop roleplaying games, video games, even live action games. Several times a year, a bunch of friends and I will descend on a local park and spend the weekend hitting each other with foam weapons; it's a blast! I also like other creative hobbies. I enjoy sewing as a way to relax, and I sometimes will brew beer or make pickles.
What was the last amazing book you read?
Feed, by Mira Grant. A lot of zombie stories focus on the Zombie Apocalypse, but Feed is set twenty years afterward. Grant has done an amazing job of imagining not only where the zombie plague came from, but also what society would look like in the wake of zombies.  I really got into her setting, and her story immediately drew me in.
Where is your favorite place to read? Do you have a cozy corner or special reading spot?
Oddly enough, the bus or other public transit! I usually can't read for long periods at home; there are too many distractions and things to do. But on the bus, I don't have to worry about dishes or laundry or getting the next task done - I can just sit and enjoy whatever I'm reading.
What can readers expect next from you?
Rain of Ash is part of a transmedia project which will ideally occupy me for the next several years. The next installment scheduled to come out is Lydia's Story. Rather than being a book, Lydia's Story is intended to be a game (playable on most e-reader devices which support apps!) which tells the same story as the novel; but from the perspective of Lydia. I'm really excited to start working on this, and I can't wait to see how it turns out!
Where can readers find you on the web?
My website is Stolen Fire (http://stolen-fire.com), and you can also follow me on Twitter, @Stolen_Fire.
Would you like to leave readers with a little teaser or excerpt from the book?Here's the first half of the first chapter. You can also find a more extensive preview at Smashwords (https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/477697), where I've made available the first 20% of the book.

Chapter One
I'm working on a theory that police station coffee is really condensed misery. They brew it dark, thick and bitter, and somehow you always get to the coffee station right after the cream and sugar have run out. The thin paper cups scorch your hands, and the coffee stays tongue-blisteringly hot... until it immediately drops twenty degrees. No one ever drinks coffee in a police station because they enjoy it, they drink it because they need to.
As to why police station coffee behaves this way, I think the coffee pot is channeling all theunhappiness which it sees during the day. I mean, few people are ever overjoyed to be at the station house. I imagine there might be a few happy reunions or a detective experiencing the triumph of cracking a difficult case, but those are exceptions. By and large, a police station is a miserable place to be, and the bitter black coffee reflects such despair perfectly.
I first came up with this theory in high school, as I waited to be interviewed about the very recent disappearance of my older sister, Lydia. On Monday evening, she and Dad had gotten into a fight, and Lydia ended it by storming out of the house. Everyone assumed she'd be back after cooling off. As much as Dad didn't want to admit it, Lydia was an adult and could mind herself. But by Tuesday night, when no one had heard from her, and her cell phone went straight to voice mail (even when I called), we knew something had gone wrong.
The police didn't believe us at first, thinking she'd be back on her own soon enough. But after she had been gone for nearly two days, Dad managed to bully a rookie into filing a Missing Persons report.
Then he bullied the sergeant into bumping this up to a kidnapping case, despite there being no evidence Lydia had left against her will.
Until that day, I hated any coffee which didn't come from a blender, fully loaded with sugar and milk. But tonight, at the station, I needed something to do with my hands or I would go completely fucking batshit. I tried playing with my car keys, but the jingling earned me several dirty looks. My phone had some games, but I was paranoid Lydia would try calling and somehow not get through.
So, I spent my time slowly acquiring a taste for black coffee. Cup after cup of bitter black swill.
Mom was in the same jittery way, though she spent her time walking the twins up and down the hallway. Of course, decaf coffee just doesn't exist in a police station, so my jitters only got worse.
After the cops finished interviewing Dad and then Mom, my turn finally came. I refilled my cup and followed an officer, surprised by how unlike TV shows the station looked. I expected to be taken to a bare room and questioned repeatedly while a lieutenant watched through one-way glass. Instead, I sat down at a neatly organized desk, across from an underslept detective.
The nameplate read 'Det. Vincent Moore.' Unlike the officer who had led me in, he didn't wear a blue uniform. Instead, he dressed in in a plain button-down shirt without a tie. His salt and pepper hair stood slightly askew, and I could tell he hadn't shaved in a day or so. A picture sat prominently on his desk, a framed photograph of a girl about ten years old with a Golden Retriever. His daughter and her pet, I assumed. I liked that detail, it made the detective seem more human.
I wondered in turn how I would appear to him. I'd been raised strict evangelical Christian, and though I'd begun to rebel in small ways against a faith which wanted me to do nothing more than bow my head and say 'yes', I still very much looked like my father's daughter.
My unstyled, mousy brown hair hung halfway down my back, and I wore excruciatingly modest clothing – a long belted skirt, plain blouse, and simple flat shoes. In defiance of the warm California weather, I also wore a pair of black leggings, just to be extra modest. I had on a little makeup, too. Not much, just some lip gloss and a dab of neutral eye shadow. Nonetheless, daring for a girl like me to wear (if my father hadn't been so distracted, he probably would have ordered me to wash it off by now). Would the detective think of me as a Good Christian Woman, or a dumb religious girl?
I clung to my coffee while Detective Vincent Moore arranged a few papers on his desk. He looked at me, a warm and disarming smile which put me somewhat at ease.
“You're Gwendolyn Bradshaw?” he asked, copying some information off my driver's license.
“Yes, sir,” I answered, “but I go by Gwen.”
“And your birthday is... oh, you just had one! Happy birthday!”
“Thank you,” I said.
“How old?” he asked, I suspect more to make conversation – after all, he had my ID right in front of him.
“Eighteen, sir,” I replied, trying to be as polite and helpful as possible.
He made a brief note in the file on his desk. “Vincent's fine, hon. My boss is the 'sir' around here.
So, tell me about Lydia. She's three years older than you. What's your relationship like?”
“Pretty good,” I said. “I mean, she's my sister. She made me this messenger bag for Christmas last year.”
Detective Vincent Moore eyed my black canvas bag, but apparently decided it wasn't evidence and moved on.
“Did you two fight much? I know how older siblings can be, I have three older brothers myself.”
I shook my head. “No, not really. We've always been close. She's at college half the time, now, though, and I have my own school things going on. I'm going to Uni this fall, too,” I said, before realizing the busy detective probably didn't care about my college plans. But he dutifully took my words down anyway.
“How about your parents? She fight with them much?” he asked.
I squirmed, a little uncomfortable. I didn't want to reveal my family's dirty secrets to a stranger, but what if I kept something from him which could help find Lydia? “Yeah, a little,” I finally got out.
“A little?” The detective was gentle yet insistent with his questioning, making it hard for me to not answer.
“Well, my Dad is... he's very conservative. Our family is evangelical. So the only way Dad letLydia enroll at university was if she still lived at home, and she hates how Dad treats her. Says it's demeaning to still have a curfew as an adult, and she's not going to live happily in the box Dad has for her.”
“Hmmm. Did they ever have any bad fights?”
I paused. “Um, I'm not going to get her in trouble, am I?”
“No, of course not. We all just want to find your sister,” he reassured me.
“So, hypothetically, if I wanted to tell you about a time when Mom might or might not have found half a joint in her purse, you're not going to care?”
Detective Vincent Moore shook his head, chuckling slightly. “Half a joint in this precinct isn't worth putting on shoes for, not even for the boys in Narcotics. I'm more interested in the fight it caused. When did this happen?”
“Okay. About six or seven months ago, around Thanksgiving. When Mom found it, she flipped out. She wanted to send Lydia to rehab, and Dad almost made her drop out. Lydia just barely managed to stay enrolled by promising to attend youth services twice a week, plus regular services. And now Mom goes through her purse almost every day. She won't admit it, but I've caught her a couple times.”
“Thank you for telling me this, Gwen. Do you know if your sister was involved in any harder drugs, something she really didn't want your parents to find out about? Heroin, maybe, or meth?”
“No,” I shook my head emphatically. “I'm positive. Only weed.”
“How about any other secrets? Anything she might not have wanted to tell your parents?”
I didn't say anything at first. I wanted to find Lydia, and I didn't want to lie to a cop. And I didn't know if Dad had already mentioned it. I wasn't sure if my information could even be relevant.
But Detective Vincent Moore picked up on my ambivalence quite easily, and gently pressed me until I started talking about Emily – Lydia's girlfriend. Three months ago, Lydia had sworn me to dire secrecy before telling me she'd just started dating a girl. And I'd kept my promise, but our parents found out when a church 'friend' ratted on Lydia. Discovering Emily had precipitated the whole fight which made Lydia leave.
“I could tell Mom felt weirded out, but she tried to be accepting,” I told the detective. “She thinks Lydia's just going through a phase. Dad, though, thinks it's gross. Or, like, sinful. They had a really bad fight. Dad threatened to make Lydia drop out, and he meant it this time. He wanted to put so many restrictions on Lydia, it was insane. Our little brothers have more freedom!”
“I take it Lydia wasn't happy with these developments?” he asked, and I was relieved to hear no judgment in his voice.
“Not in the slightest. They both got really loud. Lydia said he was a bigoted old fart, and Dad said he was a bigoted old fart who paid her bills, so she'd do as he said. He said he wasn't going to have someone living under his roof in open rebellion against God, and Lydia said that was fine by her. Then she just grabbed her keys and left.”
“Could she have moved out and not told anyone?”
I nodded. “That's what I think she's done. She can't stay away forever!”
“Do you know any of her friends? Anyone she might be staying with? What about this girlfriend, Emily?”
“We called most of them all already, but I know about some Mom doesn't.” I rattled off a short list of people Lydia had mentioned, tagged faces I'd seen on her secret social media profiles.
“I don't know anything about Emily, really,” I said after the detective finished taking down my list of Lydia's friends. “I know she and Lydia had been dating for a few months and that they'd met at some kind of campus club. I don't know which one, though. I'm sorry, I wish I could be more helpful.”
“You've been plenty helpful, Miss Bradshaw.” He handed me one of his business cards. “Call me if you think of anything else which you believe might be helpful. Day or night, doesn't matter.”
I tucked the card carefully into my wallet. “Do you think you'll be able to find Lydia?”
The detective seemed confident when he told me yes, he thought Lydia would resurface soon. I took hope from his words.
Too bad Detective Vincent Moore turned out to be dead wrong. If you look up the newspapers from back then, you can follow the whole drama. The days wore on, one after the other, and we slowly realized Lydia wasn't just cooling her heels at a friend's.
Something had happened – but no one knew what. Even if Lydia had run away or moved out, I knew she'd at least send me an e-mail or a text message, letting me know what was up. She might not call Mom or Dad, but she'd let me know.
But, nothing. Every lead, no matter how promising at first, eventually fizzled and came to a dead end. 
Rain of AshProject FifteenBook OneRachel Elisabeth Judd
Three years ago, after a terrible fight with her father, Lydia Bradshaw vanished without a trace. 
Her younger sister Gwen never gives up hope, though, waiting for Lydia to eventually come home. 
But when Lydia finally does resurface, it's not what Gwen expected. Lydia's changed in her time away, in ways Gwen can barely understand. After her family home burns, Gwen gets taken in by a cadre of vampire hunters who call themselves Project Fifteen. They welcome Gwen, teaching her how to hunt and fight vampires. And Gwen embraces the opportunity to take revenge on the vampires who have hurt her family. 
But not everyone is what they seem. Everyone has secrets, even Gwen. Will Gwen be able to survive her introduction into the hidden world of Project Fifteen?
Available at Smashwords and Amazon

Sexy Ghosts Guest Blog and Giveaway with Diana Cachey

SEXY GHOSTS by Diana CacheyYou ask yourself, “What was that sound?” You turn, see no one. An eerie warmth washes over tingling skin. The body quivers, feels sensuous, aroused. What just happened? Could it be one of the TOP TEN SEXIEST GHOSTS?  #10 Titanic ghost, Leonardo DiCaprioAn allegedly unsinkable ship, The Titanic sunk when it hit an iceberg. Leonardo DiCaprio became “King of the World” on its bow in the Best Picture. The world saw film footage of its watery grave like shoes and other personal effects of passengers, which sparked a drive to learn about its lost souls. He’d be higher on the list, if he weren’t just an acting ghost. Who needs the real Titanic ghosts when Leo can light Kate Winslet’s fire and ours. My Heart Will Go On, loving Leo, the man who dies yearning for passion.#9 Flying Dutchman Sailors & PiratesWho doesn’t love sailors? Or pirates? The Flying Dutchman, an anomaly of ships, isn’t just haunted. It IS a ghost. Originally from 17th-century nautical folklore, the legendary ghost ship never made port and its rogue sailors cruise in perpetuity. Imagine those handsome pirates, wearing their ruffled shirts, bowed shoes, long curled locks, Tricorn hats, brandishing swords and strong whiskey. Full steam ahead, Johnny Depp style.#8, #7 Princes Edward & Richard, Some Too Young To Die  At the Bloody Tower of London two Princes, young Edward V and Richard Duke of York, were murdered under authority of Duke of Gloucestershire.  According  legend, guards who pass the Bloody Tower spot shadows of two small figures still wearing the white night shirts they wore when they disappeared. Silently, they stand before vanishing back into the Tower stones. Poor haunted Princes, but we’ll take a Prince any day, even a ghost. #6, Ann BoleynOnce Queen of England, Henry the VIII’s most famous wife, mother of Tudor Queen Elizabeth was executed in the Tower of London. Pictures show she was quite the buxom bride. Her voluptuous ghost appears at the Bloody Tower and other places like Hampton Court Palace and Windsor Castle, where her and Henry lived during their marriage.#5 Gettysburg soldiers Battlefields keep spirits from resting in peace. Trauma, terror and extreme loss of life cause wandering ghosts to appear. During the Battle of Gettysburg over 50,000 men lost their lives. Hundreds of people have experienced the Gettysburg soldier ghosts in places like Little Round Top (headless rider) and the Culp Farm (phantom footsteps). Men who filmed Gettysburg said some of the soldiers who came to the location were not actors. Maybe haunted actors?#4 & #3 Dead Presidents, John F. Kennedy Tops Abe LincolnDead presidents haunt the White House. Maybe you don’t think Abe is sexy, but JFK? He stole hearts plus married Jackie O, the most glamorous woman in the world. His tragic murder leaves him haunted and restless. Workers also claim to see Abe’s ghost sitting on a bed. While alive, Lincoln knocked when he wanted to be heard, Roosevelt and others heard the knocks when in the White House. #2 ElvisElvis left the building when he died. Oh did he? People swear they still see him, including his wife Priscilla. Post-death Elvis sightings are so common trashy tabloids stopped reporting it. People flock to Memphis and Graceland to feel his presence. His ghost is also seen in Nashville where he recorded “Heartbreak Hotel.” A local television production company remains there now and crews claim that whenever someone mentions Elvis, paranormal activity picks up -- lights explode, ladders fall over. Elvis also appears wearing his white jump suit at the Las Vegas Hilton where he famously performed in the 1970s. #1 Marilyn MonroeSexiest ghost, Marilyn Monroe, hovers over her tomb at Westwood Memorial Cemetery in LA, and haunts the house where she died. Marilyn also appears for hours in a full-length mirror, frightening guests at Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel. Looking this sexy deserves stares. Forever.



Lagoon LureWhat Happens In Venice Book TwoDiana Cachey
ISBN-13: 978-1500334529 ISBN-10: 1500334529  LCCN: 2014911793       
Number of pages: 160 Word Count: 40,000
Tagline:
As Interpol expert Louisa Mangotti is learning, ghosts watch over Venice. Can she trust them—or her ex-lover—when spirits offer confusing clues to solve a double murder in this sexy paranormal mystery?
Book Description:
Lagoon Lure resumes the story of Interpol expert Louisa Mangotti’s Venetian exploits and the paranormal assisted murder investigation she began in Love Spirits.
Still unnerved by the notion that Venetian ghosts are real, Louisa delves further into the deaths of two glassmakers while juggling the lustful manipulations of her ex-lover, Matteo, whose role in the murders grows murkier.
Meanwhile Louisa's usually shy sister, Barbara, explores her newfound sexuality with Venice's willing men, sharing her adventures with her sister but keeping one particularly mysterious man a secret.
When Louisa's best friend, "Rouge," arrives for Carnival to sample its masked men, she complicates the situation further by encouraging the sisters to embrace the pleasures of Venice.
Paranormal clues and apparitions lead Louisa deeper into the lagoon and she is forced to reluctantly enlist Matteo’s support. Can she trust him, or will this ghostly lagoon lure prove deadly?
Back Cover Copy:
Venice has its ghosts. They haunt its byways and canals. They linger on its numerous bridges and waft through its beautiful architecture—and they've taken a definite interest in Interpol expert Louisa Mangotti.
In Lagoon Lure, Louisa continues investigating the murder of two glassmakers she began in Love Spirits. Guided by clues sent from otherworldly sources, she struggles to determine what role her seductive ex-lover Matteo played in the deaths, constantly tempted by his handsome looks, his charm, and the volatile chemistry between them.
While Louisa is led by the ghosts to a sunken ship in the murky lagoon, her sister, Barbara, and best friend, "Rouge," embark on their own carnal explorations of Venice, sampling the men who flock to Carnival.

Amid corruption, conspiracy, and Venice's legendary sexual energy, it's all Louisa can do to think straight, let alone untangle this web of mystery. The ghosts, however, want her to persevere.

Love SpiritsWhat Happens In VeniceBook OneDiana Cachey
Genre: Romance/paranormal.
ISBN: 1481031767ISBN: 9781481031769
Number of pages: 160Word Count: 40,000 
Tagline: Among the romantic canals of Venice—and oh so many Italian distractions—can a stunning American lawyer and her psychic sister help the Ghosts of Venice solve a hushed-up crime?
Book Description:
Louisa Mangotti is a gorgeous American lawyer and Interpol expert who, after being offered a job working with the international crime unit in Venice, receives a mysterious postcard from the Venetian Ghosts, the ancient protectors of the Republic. But Louisa assumes her bad-boy ex, Matteo, sent it in a quixotic attempt to gain her attention.  Louisa may have dismissed the ghosts, but the ghosts aren’t quite done with her.
When the bodies of two glassmakers wash up on Murano Island, the cryptic messages persist. Reluctantly, Louisa calls upon Matteo to help decipher the clues. And before she knows it, a flame that was never fully extinguished is rekindled.  Sensing that her sister is in over her head, Barbara Mangotti rushes to the rescue, only to be lured away by two handsome Venetian men.  
With time running out, can the two beauties solve a crime that could threaten the city of Venice itself?

Available at Createspace
About the Author:
Diana Cachey is a licensed attorney, published academic, and former adjunct law professor. She also holds a BA in English, and while in law school, she was the first female editor-in-chief of her university's law review.

The author of the novels Love Spirits and Lagoon Lure, Cachey trained with several New York Times best-selling writers whose sales total more than 70 million books. She has built a social media platform with over one hundred thousand Twitter users, and her popular YouTube channel featuring secret Venice locations has received over five hundred thousand views.

For more than a decade, Cachey has traveled to Venice, the setting of her novels, on extended trips several times a year. The cafés, restaurants, and many other haunts of Venice play a prominent role in her sexy paranormal mystery-romance series about a beautiful American lawyer guided by the Ghosts of Venice in the investigation of a hushed-up crime.


https://www.youtube.com/user/dcachey
https://www.whathappensinvenice.com    
@dianacachey
https://www.facebook.com/diana.cachey   
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Diana-Cachey/153347544749839
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Interview and Giveaway: Whisper the Dead by Alyxandra Harvey

Can you tell readers a little bit about yourself and what inspired to write in this particular genre?
I love historical fantasy. I love taking a particular time period like the Regency and introducing magic and goblins and curses. It’s especially fun to give women who had very little personal autonomy in 1816 an extra secret weapon.  Maybe Gretchen still can’t own property or control her own finances—but at least she can set fire to the rug with a spell or release goblins into Mayfair.
And I love research and finding out new strange little details about life in Regency London—some are as odd  as the goblins.
Rewatching Pride and Prejudice,  and Sense and Sensibility for atmosphere and pretty costumes is also never a hardship.
And do  I have to say it?
Mr. Darcy
What is it about the paranormal that fascinates you so much?
I love the mystery of it, the unexpected turn-your-world-upside quality, and the desperately beautiful imagery.  And frankly, if the girl turns into a monster, it’s just more fun.
Please tell us about your latest release.
Whisper the Dead  is the second book in the Lovegrove Legacy which revolves around three cousins, Emma, Gretchen and Penelope, and their discovery that they are witches.                 In this part of the story, Gretchen is struggling with her newfound gift as a Whisperer; the constant buzzing in her ears from detecting spells is more frustrating than fun, especially when she is spending time with one of the Order of Iron Nail’s Keepers, the icy but strikingly handsome Tobias Lawless. But while Gretchen tries to hide the truth and resolve her feelings for him, London fades from beautiful and bustling to deathly silent …Something evil is once again menacing Mayfair, and Gretchen and her cousins must use their powers to prevent a horrible sacrifice.
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?
Characters usually pop into my head and they are not shy about jostling for space. As I percolate the book, they come into focus.
There are usually character-related songs on a musical playlist for the story, a Pinterest board for images, and occasionally mini-book trailers that never see the light of day but help me get to know them better.
I will also create mini collages in my working notebook, mostly images and colours and anything that “feels” like the character. This is more symbolic than anything else.
The Lovegrove Legacy Pinterest board is here: http://www.pinterest.com/alyxharvey/the-lovegrove-legacyby-alyxandra-harvey/
Do you write in different genres?
I write mostly paranormal… vampires in The Drake Chronicles, Victorian ghosts in Haunting Violet, and magical Regency London in The Lovegrove Legacy.
Do you find it difficult to write in multiple genres?
The supernatural aspects to my stories tend to tie them together, but I really enjoying being able to move from a modern setting to a historical (ish) one. And my current work-in-progress is futuristic!
What was the last amazing book you read?
 I am currently reading the last book in the Shadow and Bone (Grisha) trilogy by Leigh Bardugo. I love the fantasy and the historical slant and the writing. And I recently finished the Under the Never Sky trilogy by Veronica Rossi which I also loved! Futuristic world with strong interesting characters, yum.
Where is your favorite place to read? Do you have a cozy corner or special reading spot?
I will read anywhere, at any time, with whatever tiny light I can find.  I do rather love sitting by a campfire with a good book and my dogs sleeping peacefully. But seriously I’d read upside in a tree if it was the only way.
Where can readers find you on the web?
Readers can find me at www.alyxandraharvey.com
I am also on twitter:   www.twitter.com/AlyxandraH
and tumblr:    http://alyxandraharvey.tumblr.com/
and Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/alyxharvey/
Would you like to leave readers with a little teaser or excerpt from the book?
            The Lovegrove Legacy: Whisper the Dead
Gretchen was on her way to the Worthing musicale when her head exploded.She finally knew exactly what a ripe melon felt like when it burst open. Frankly, it was knowledge she could have done without.            She’d told her chaperone, Emma’s Aunt Mildred, that she was leaving for Lady Worthing’s annual musicale from the Rowanstone Academy, she’d told the school she was leaving from home, and she’d avoided her mother altogether. All to snatch a few minutes alone without a hovering chaperone or a lady’s maid who would tattle her every deed to her parents. Gretchen had fancied herself rather clever at subterfuge. But now, clearly as a punishment for lying, her head was exploding.            And it still wouldn’t excuse her from another tedious evening, more’s the pity.Magic burned inside her like embers, just waiting to catch. But instead of doing something exciting with it, she was on her way to an event where young ladies were expected to sing and perform for young eligible men of the aristocracy dragged there by their own mothers. And before that, she’d attended three balls, the opera, the theatre, and two supper parties. She’d danced the quadrille with a perfectly polite peer’s son, curtsied at duchesses, and had only hidden in the library twice. A girl could only take so much.        

Whisper the DeadThe Lovegrove LegacyBook TwoAlyxandra Harvey
Genre: YA, YA historical paranormal, witches
Publisher: BloomsburyDate of Publication: Oct 7,2014
Word Count: 100 000
Book Description:
Gretchen is struggling with her newfound gift as a Whisperer; the constant buzzing in her ears from detecting spells is more frustrating than fun, especially when she is spending time with one of the Order of Iron Nail’s Keepers, the icy but strikingly handsome Tobias Lawless.
But while Gretchen tries to hide the truth and resolve her feelings for him, London fades from beautiful and bustling to deathly silent …Something evil is once again menacing Mayfair, and Gretchen and her cousins must use their powers to prevent a horrible sacrifice
Available at Amazon

About the Author:
Alyxandra Harvey lives in a stone Victorian house in Ontario, Canada with a few resident ghosts who are allowed to stay as long as they keep company manners. She loves medieval dresses, used to be able to recite all of The Lady of Shalott by Tennyson, and has been accused, more than once, of being born in the wrong century. She believes this to be mostly true except for the fact that she really likes running water, women’s rights, and ice cream.
www.alyxandraharvey.com
www.twitter.com/AlyxandraH
https://www.facebook.com/AlyxandraHarvey
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Guest Blog and Giveaway Shifting Currents by Lissa Trevor

Deleted Scene: Lewis Captured!ByLissa Trevor
In my erotic, post apocalyptic novel, Shifting Currents, I have a few point of view characters and each one has chapters describing their cross country journey across the ravaged United States.  Sex is the favored currency and the trip is expensive.
Bethany, a human who has mutated into a Tech, can channel energy through her body to charge up devices.  Because of her rare ability, she doesn’t need to trade her body for goods and services, but she misses the intimacy of a lover who wants her for herself instead of her being able to charge up his radio for a few hours.
Lucas, a shape shifter, can transform into any beast he wants.  Shifters are enforcers in this day and age.  Common enough to be used as “cannon fodder”, their abilities are dangerous enough that if someone wanted to become king of all they surveyed, having an army of Shifters would be the way to go. He’s determined to free  his pack who have been taken prisoner by a band of scientists looking for a way to reverse engineer them – or worse.  They’re being held in a prison called Alcatraz, a mysterious building that survived the meteorite’s impact fully intact, while the rest of the state sank below the waves.
Lisa, Lucas’ sister, is also a shape shifter.  She just wants to live her life without persecution.  Demanding the finer things this new, budding civilization has to offer, Lisa is more than willing to orgasm her way to being rich and fulfilled.  When her brother joins a caravan going to California to rescue his pack, she comes along for the ride and the possibility of looting.
These are the three main viewpoints in Shifting Currents.  I had another view point, that was cut in the final draft.  It was one of the caravan masters Lewis.  Lewis is a special type of Shifter.  He can shift into mythical beasts.  In this deleted scene, Lewis has been taken captive by his former business partner, Misha who is also a specialized Shifter:
Lewis flew after the nomads, keeping the giant, scurrying scorpion in his sight.  He became aware of his mistake when fire exploded into his side and Misha in dragon form followed up the blast by grasping his wings in her talons.He had been careless and now would pay the price.  But he wasn’t going to godown easy.  Wheeling on her, he tried to bite her underbelly, gnashing at the soft underside.  She jerked back, smacking him across the eyes with her barbed tail.  Blinded, Lewis pumped his wings, but they were damaged and he began to lose altitude.  He raked his back claws against her chest, when she got too eager, too greedy. But she still drove him to the ground with her teeth in his neck.  She clamped down until he passed out from lack of oxygen.When he came to, he was chained to four spikes in the center of a large paviliontent.  The bitch made sure the spikes her silver to stop him from shifting.               Misha was naked on red velvet pillows a few yards from him.  Human again, she writhed against the man whose head was buried deep between her legs.  She was lovely, all brown skin and dark brown eyes.  Her hair was wild and long caressing her as she rubbed her body on the pillows.  Misha tugged on the man’s head and he slowed down.  She undulated her hips and smiled when she saw Lewis was awake and watching them.               “So it’s to be torture,” Lewis said,  testing the chain’s hold on him.  Solid. He was going nowhere.               “I want my money,” Misha said.  She gripped her lover’s face between her thighs.               “I seem to have misplaced my wallet.”               “Then I’ll have to hold you ransom.  That idiot Clark will pay me to get you back in one piece.”  She leaned back and absently played with her breasts.               “I could be of service to you.”               Misha dipped her head, spilling long black hair across the ground.  “I can take from you what I want.”  She began to breathe heavier.  “Besides, with a tongue like his, I don’t need you.  Oh.”               Lewis watched her body tense and shudder. Misha was the one woman he couldn’t get enough of.  She was exciting, dangerous, wild as an animal.  But she couldn’t, wouldn’t share him with others.  So he was forced to cut her out of the partnership.  She took it badly and tried to kill him.  He liked that in a woman.

I hope you liked this small snippet. Let me know in the comments if you’d like to subscribe to my newsletter and receive more deleted scenes like this every month.


Shifting CurrentsLissa Trevor
Genre: Erotic Paranormal
Publisher: LooseID
eISBN - 9781623001667ASIN: B00KR1NCQ6
Number of pages: 191Word Count: 60,000
Cover Artist: April Martinez
Book Description:
After the meteorite wiped out civilization and most of the population, it took thirty years to scrabble together rudiments of society again. Sex is the main currency, for those who haven’t mutated special abilities.
Bethany, a Tech, is able to channel electricity through her body and charge up electronics. When she saves a Shifter girl about to be sold at auction, the girl’s brother, Lucas, offers to repay the debt with his body. While Bethany would love to have Lucas at her beck and call, she’d rather have sex with someone who wanted her as a partner instead of an obligation. But unable to resist the sexy Shifter, she agrees to his terms.
When an opportunity presents itself to travel cross the ravaged countryside to loot the remains of California, Bethany believes this is the best chance for her to find her own brother, a rogue Shifter on the run for a crime he didn’t commit. Lucas wants to go, too, to free his Shifter pack.
The caravan members are expected to provide sexual services to the owners in exchange for passage out and back. As the lines between pleasure and payment become blurred, Bethany struggles to remain human while the pull of the energy feels good enough to leave her meat sack body behind. Can Lucas learn to ground her against the shifting currents?
Available at Loose ID  Amazon  BN  iTunes KoboExcerpt:
Bethany Macgregor searched the airwaves until she found a funeral dirge that was used hundreds of years before the meteorite hit. She let the heavy organ music wash over her through her tiny headphones. Keith was getting married today. Leaning against the wooden post, she felt the crisp air like a sympathetic caress on her face and neck. She focused on the livestock being sold in the pen across from her and let the smell of nature take her mind off her loneliness.“Shouldn’t you be over at the looters’ tents?” Maya, her tribe’s chief, walked up to her and put a hand on her shoulder.Bethany tried not to flinch, and Maya removed her hand. Bethany sighed, popped out an earbud for politeness’ sake. “I did a quick walk by. There’s nothing that can’t wait until the last day of conclave when the prices drop because the dealer doesn’t want to pack it up for the long schlep back home.” And because the silence was starting to get awkward, Bethany added, “Shouldn’t you be attending some back-slapping meeting in the main cabin?” Or having a “massage” in your cabin with someone who wanted a favor?Maya snorted. “Backstabbing, you mean. No, we’re on our morning break. And I decided to breathe in the fresh smell of horse manure to clear my lungs.”Bethany managed a wry smile. Maya was fifty years old and the oldest one in their tribe on the bluff. She had been twenty-one when the meteorite hit the world and knocked everyone back to the Jurassic period. Well, probably better than the Jurassic period. Then, all the dinosaurs had died whereas this time a few tough humans and animals survived. And of course the cockroaches, but Bethany hadn’t seen one of those since she left the part of Florida that was still above water to go up north where the Tech was strongest. Maya had gathered together the Bluff tribe with a shrewd sense of purpose and snapped Bethany up as soon as she entered the territory.“Keith’s doing a good thing. We need another potter since we lost Angie to the Three Rivers tribe last year,” Maya said.Bethany nodded. It was important to have the right mixture of artisans, farmers, and tradesmen to survive in today’s world.“Lem has volunteered to share your bed, if you’re interested.”Bethany’s stomach curled. Lem had already made that offer, and it was apparent he was only doing what Maya told him to do. Trying to keep the anger out of her voice, Bethany said, “I’m not going to switch tribes over Keith’s marriage. The Bluffs are my home. You can tell Lem he’s off the hook.”“It’s not like that,” Maya said but cut off when Bethany turned away and put the earbud back in.The wind picked up a bit, and stray bits of energy lit up the portable media player in her hand. Pain jabbed into her temple, like a screwdriver had been jammed into it. Bethany exhaled through the agony that turned her vision red, and pressed the center button on the device. Maya watched fascinated, as always, when the menu came up, and Bethany scrolled down to Alanis Morrisette’s “You Oughta Know.”“Just don’t go flaunting that Tech. You don’t have to be willing if another tribe gets it in their mind to snatch you from us.”Bethany just turned the music up loud to match the pounding in her head that channeling the energy to run the device gave her. Maya went away after one last longing look at the portable media player. Letting the angry song fill her, Bethany rolled her neck to get the kinks out of it and sat down with her eyes closed, helping her body deal with the intensity of pulling in the energy. If she had done it gradually, the pain wouldn’t have been that wretched, but she didn’t want easy or slow. The pain was cleansing, wiping away a little of the self-pity she was feeling. When the song was over, Bethany let the energy go with a sigh and a silent thanks. Getting up, she felt eyes on her, and she looked around. The tribes were socializing, chattering happily about the things they were going to trade.She lovingly put the portable media player back into her pocket. She had traded a looter her ham radio setup for it. Bethany didn’t like hearing all the voices crying out in the darkness. Although on cold, lonely nights it was a comfort to realize the world was still going on and her tribe wasn’t the last people on Earth. Most of California and Florida had sunk into the oceans. Mount St. Helens and all of the Alaskan volcanoes had erupted, adding to the chaos. In a second after the meteor hit in Russia, worldwide communications dropped. If Europe was even still there, no one on this side of the Atlantic knew. There hadn’t been any contact outside the United States for the past thirty years. There were rumors, but nothing verified. And in the interim, strange and different creatures evolved. Bethany was one of them.“You look lovely.”Bethany glanced up at Keith’s voice, but he wasn’t talking to her. She watched her ex-lover, tall and handsome in a rough-and-ready sort of way, lean down and kiss his almost-bride on the cheek. They were strolling around the market, hand in hand, not a care in the world.Darting into a tent, Bethany clenched her teeth as sharp jealousy drilled into her. It didn’t have the purity of the energy pull. It was aching like a bad tooth. She willed herself not to cry. It should have just been a marriage of convenience. A way to bring the River tribe and the Bluff tribe together. Keith had told her so. In bed. Several times. It didn’t look like it was convenient. In fact, it looked a lot like love. Bethany listened to the vendor’s spiel since he was kind enough not to notice her bright eyes or quivering lips. She was so grateful for the time it gave her to pull it together that she wound up trading a set of charged batteries for one of his canteens filled with a sweet honey mead before leaving his tent.Blinking the tears away, she pretended they were from looking up at the sun that was muted from the ash still in the atmosphere. A flutter of wings caught her eye. A brown eagle perched on the tree next to her. It looked at her like she was a mouse. Intelligent yellow eyes regarded her intently. It was a magnificent bird, beautiful feathers and a regal look. Big too, she saw as it spread its wings and folded them back to preen. Bethany bowed her head, feeling ridiculous at her awe of the noble bird who continued to survive in such a desolate world. It would have been born amid the chaos, like she had been.Today wasn’t the first time she had seen it. Or at least one that looked just like it. Up on the bluffs, she’d sensed eyes on her and looked around only to see an eagle observing silently. She had gotten used to it, tried to tempt it closer with bits of meat, but it disdained her attempts at domestication. Still, when she walked in the woods, the bird wasn’t ever far. Not for the first time, Bethany wondered if it was a Shifter. She had given it plenty of time to shift in front of her, often dillydallying in the brush far from camp, hoping the bird would transform.The truth was she had been lonely even when she and Keith were together. The tribe needed her, wanted the Tech she could provide. But they never fully accepted her because she wasn’t normal. Dinners were a stilted affair, and social events strained, so Bethany learned just to avoid them. Walking alone in the woods, she pretended the animals in the woods were companions, like she had done when she was a little girl. It was a game her brother, Daniel, had taught her, before he went feral and killed all those people.“I’ve got to stop this, or I’ll be a sniveling wreck,” she told the bird, but the eagle wasn’t looking at her. She followed its inscrutable golden eyes to the next animal up for auction.



About the Author:
Lissa Trevor has her stilettos firmly entrenched in the romance community. Spank Me Mr. Darcy is her debut novel from Riverdale Avenue Books. She is a frequent reader at Manhattan's Between The Covers events, where her novellas Wild Oats and Timelash from Coliloquy's Entwined volumes 1 & 2 have been very popular. Lissa also created an erotic story template for Coliloquy's ValEntwined promotion that allowed readers to download a personalized ebook starring themselves and their significant other.
http://lissatrevor.wordpress.com/
@jamiekswriter
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6574318.Lissa_Trevor
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lissa-Trevor/364854163628828

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Loose Morals Release Day Blitz

Character interview with Charlie, the vampire from Loose Morals:
Charlie: Thank you for having me on your blog today.
Where did this book get its title?
Charlie:  Is that a polite way of asking if I’m the one with loose morals? Clearly, I’m the vampire in the book. We’re not known for walking the straight and narrow.  Did you ever see Pirates of the Caribbean, where Elizabeth and Will Turner are shocked by Captain Jack Sparrow and he offers by way of explanation, “Pirate”?  It’s the same for vampires. Don’t expect too much from us and you won’t be disappointed.
You do tell Sasha, the heroine of Loose Morals, you can be a real dick when you’re threatening her, but do you ever truly harm or frighten her?
Charlie: No. It’s all a game to me. I love to see her get riled up and I love to make her nervous, but I consider that foreplay. I need something from her and I enjoy tormenting her until I get it.
And what about sex?
Charlie: The attraction between us is electric. I want Sasha the moment I first lay eyes on her and even though I keep her on the edge of fear, I can tell she wants me too. It’s only a matter of time before she gives in.
Are you worried when Sasha learns to use her power, you will no longer be “at the top of the food chain” as you put it?
Charlie:  I’m in a tricky position. I’m using my dominance to force Sasha to lift the curse on me, and yet if she becomes strong enough to do so, she will presumably also be strong enough to refuse to help me. I can only hope I’ve won her over with my sexual prowess by then.
Oh please (eye roll).  You are too full of yourself.
Charlie: (shrugs). Vampire.
Will you share a little from the book?
Charlie: Sure. Here’s a passage where I’m playing my games with Sasha:
To give her a taste of vampire strength, he lifted her entire body from his knees and spun her in the air to place her on her feet. He pulled her shirt off over her head.“Hey, what are you doing?”“Every time you sass me you will lose an article of clothing. You may earn it back by showing your subservience to me.”“Are you fucking kidding—wait,” she cried as he reached for her shorts. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry, your royal highness.”He pursed his lips. “I thinkI’m going to go with sassy on that one,” he said, grabbing her pink bra in between her breasts, and yanking her forward. He sliced the fabric in two with his fangs and let it fall to the floor.Her hands flew to cover her breasts, her face a mask of rage. Underneath the anger, she appeared shaken, and this time she seemed to consider her words before she spoke. “You owe me a new bra,” she said sullenly.He lifted an eyebrow. “You may never get to wear a bra again at the rate you’re going.”She glowered. He made a show of letting his eyes travel to the two pert breasts protruding from behind her hands. Her face flushed a pretty pink. “What do I have to do to earn it back?”“Kneel,” he ordered.“What?” she asked indignantly, even as her eyes pleaded for mercy.“You heard me. On your knees at my feet.”“What for?” she asked warily, her eyes traveling to his crotch.He hadn’t intended anything like that, but his cock thickened in response to the idea. “I could just go put another bra on,” she tested.“And I could just glamour you to walk down Congress Street topless.”“You wouldn’t dare!”

Loose MoralsDarling Adams
Genre:  paranormal erotic (BDSM)
Publisher:  Baronet Press
Date of Publication:  Oct. 1, 2014
Number of pages:  140Word Count:   approx 40K
Cover Artist:  Craig Patton
Book Description:  Blurb:
When Sasha Deschamps unwittingly attracts the attention of a strange man on her late night walk home from work, she winds up with a supernatural guest she can’t get rid of. The dominant immortal demands her complete submission and cooperation, refusing to free her until she has performed an act of magick, one which she does not know how to even begin.
Charlie sees the power in Sasha and believes she has the ability to undo the curse placed on him by a jealous lover over one hundred years before. He also loves toying with the feisty witchling, doling out humiliating punishments while arousing a lust in her that leaves them both hungry for satisfaction.
Emotionally detached to the point of amorality, his motto has been “friendly with many, close to none”, but he finds himself falling for Sasha, believing he might be able to trust a woman again. When he discovers she is actually the reincarnated witch who cursed him, though, his world turns on end. Can he believe she has returned to his life to heal the rift between them? Or will he walk away from her again, as he did so many years ago?
Publishers Note: This book contains elements of BDSM including spanking, bondage and erotic sex scenes.
Available at Amazon  Amazon UK
About the Author: 
Darling Adams is a naughty author who loves writing about hot alpha males, Dominance, submission and power exchanges.
She also writes spanking romance under the name Renee Rose.
If you enjoyed this book, please consider posting  a review.
Connect with the author online:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ReneeRoseAuthor
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/reneeroseromance


Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8445701.Darling_Adams
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A Review of Wickedly Dangerous by Deborah Blake

Wickedly Dangerous by Deborah Blake
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

A fabulous beginning to a new series.

In a genre filled with vampires, werewolves, demons and angels Blake's modern day Baba Yaga is a fresh new tale in urban fantasy.

Blake updates Russian folklore and myths and brings them into the 21 century creating a Baba Yaga that is kick ass, quirky and fun to read.

She took the old myths and spins them into an all new cast of characters you'll love reading. She also combines mystery, magic and romance creating a story you will not want to put down.

Wickedly Dangerous, Baba Yaga Book One, focuses on Barbara Yager, one of the three Baba Yagas in the US. She's been summoned to find a missing child and in the process encounters the handsome town Sheriff Liam McClellan. Drama and budding romance ensue.

I can't wait to read book two which will focus on another Baba, Beka Yancy.

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Spotlight, Excerpt and Giveaway: Devoted by Emery Skye

Short Q and A with Emery Skye
What celebrity would you chose to play the main character(s) in the movie rendition of your book?
• Oh boy. I’d love Teresa Palmer to play Anna. I think she has the intensity and bad-assery necessary for the part. 
Where is your Favorite Writing Spot?
• Sitting out of the porch in a lawnchair with a cup of coffee watching the sunrise. 
Can you give us a quick sneak peek behind the scenes look at the book?
• Amalie has a secret that only her and Alyosha know. Anna plays a bigger role than she thinks she does. Taylor knows something, but isn’t coming clean about it. Nathan may have lost the one thing he never knew he wanted, but always did. 
Tell us about a day in the life of you as an author
• I usually struggle with sleep, so I’m up ridiculously early and lately I’ve been cuddling with my puppy (his name is currently puppy, lol).  I write or read first thing in the morning with a cup of coffee nearby and headphones in my ears (if, I’m writing). When I’m reading, I don’t listen to anything, but the story that’s unfolding in my head. 

Top twenty quotes from the book
1. Amalie—“An artist in Chanel surrounded by robots in Gortex.”2. “I appreciated books. They were my escape. A desperately needed escape from the excellence demanded by the Academy and that I demanded from myself.3. We were constantly at the mercy of The Powers. 4. “Only discipline, determination, and commitment will keep you alive.”5. “Our studies taught us that God is love. His love is great, eternal, infinite…” 6. “It’s the raw beauty of defending humans while standing back to back with a fellow Warrior surrounded by peerless odds, that makes me feel at home.”7. “Some of the noviates resented humans, but I couldn’t understand that. The smile on a kid’s face, the sound of laughter from a happy family around a dinner table; it gave me a sense of duty. I had a responsibility to keep those smiles and that laughter alive. Being a Warrior is about experiencing a sense of pride that I can stand tall and strong in the face of adversity, in the face of demons.  It gives me an electrifying burst of adrenalin leaving the tips of my fingers tingling. I can’t get that from the sidelines. It’s about enduring hardships that few even think about or could ever stomach. God created us to serve His will. His will is to protect mankind. 8. “When I’m fighting, it’s like a quiet inner light blossoming in my chest. It feels like a breath of fresh air on the cusp of a mountain peak. There’s nothing more powerful to me than dying for a cause greater than myself.”9. Warriors didn’t gossip, but this was too juicy not to chat about. I imagined the Legion’s top commanding officers discussing recruits for the Legion, my name being mentioned, and them recoiling, crossing themselves. Noviate Anna Hasdiel – the freak show. They’d probably exile me to some prison somewhere. I'd never be a Legite now.10. I observed the other noviates and envied their blasé attitudes. The disappearing noviates should have worried everyone, not just their relatives and friends.  We were all connected. Didn’t they realize that? Didn’t they realize they could be next?11. The other noviates were smart. They did as we were told; as we were taught. We were told not to concern ourselves with the disappearance of the other noviates. So they didn’t. The lines didn’t blur with them.12. “You’re a noviate, start acting like it or you’ll be lucky to end up dead.” –Nathaniel Deror13. “You have no concept of eternity until you suffer through part of it.” –Nathaniel Deror14. “Demons aren’t the only ones that are dangerous.”15. “When I choose to be a Warrior, that’ll be for me and no one else.” 16. “I'd do anything for her. I'd give my life to save hers...  It’s just, sometimes; I wish I could trust her to take care of herself… I’m afraid for her.”17. Most Warriors would say that duty always comes first. I always thought I agreed. Now, I wasn't so sure. The lines were blurred and I couldn’t seem to bring it back to black and white.18. “I’m here because I decided to. At any point I could’ve turned back. You are not responsible for the actions of others. Like humans shape their own lives, we shape ours. I chose this. Not you. And the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility.”19. Comradary had gotten us this far. Thus, our collective attitude was not to die for each other to fight for one another. That attitude resulted in the most savage, ferocious fighting in which there were no rules commanding our next strike.20. “That’s because Miss. Anna went all Buffy on his demon ass.” –Taylor 


DevotedAngel Academy Volume 1Emery Skye
Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Publisher: LemonPress Publishiing
Date of Publication: August 20, 2014
ISBN: 1936617250ASIN: B00MWZDSM8
Number of pages: 388Word Count: 96K
Cover Artist: Tamara Sands  
Book Description:
“Her world, her mission…is about to change. What do you choose when your blood is on the line.”
A world where your life is a mission and to succeed you must have resolute devotion to duty. 
Seventeen-year-old Anna Hasdiel is a noviate at Hope Academy, a secret school for young angels where she and her sister, Amalie, train to become Warrior Legites with the duty of protecting humans from Demons for the Legion United.
Anna's devoted to the angelic cause.
She's always known she would be a Warrior for the Legion. Her world is about to change.
Noviates have been disappearing from Angel Academies around the world. No one knows why. They just hope they won’t be next.The Powers send in Legite Nathaniel Deror for protection. Legite Deror is strong, fierce and mysterious. He seems to have it in for Anna one second and the next he’s rescuing her. He makes her feel things she shouldn’t.
They must travel to the home of the fallen Archangel Lucifer, where they will fight past a host of deadly enemies. Where do loyalties lay?
 She never planned for this. She never planned for him.

Amazon Kindle  BN  Amazon Print


Excerpt from Chapter 1I was enveloped in darkness. I tried to run, but my limbs were frozen. I tried to scream, but couldn’t. Invisible icy fingers squeezed my throat shut.It was happening again.The darkness slowly lifted like the curtains on a stage. Only this was anything but. My surroundings materialized. Large mounds of black rock encircled me. There were three gloomy, sinister tunnels ahead of me. Orange light flickered from a few torches held in the mouths of metal brackets on the stone walls. The shadows they cast licked the sides of the room while air whistled around stone stalagmites protruding from the ground. I envied the wind. It was free to move, free to leave. I wasn’t.The high back of a scarlet chair with eagle talons for feet faced me. I tried to shut my eyes. I didn’t want to watch. Like any nightmare I was afraid of what I would see.But, a stronger force was making me watch. Too bad that force wouldn’t get a life.A demon hurried around the corner. I studied him as best I could. He wore all black from his chin to the ground obscuring his feet. The skin on his bald head appeared pasty white, out of place in the darkness. His head was bowed. I couldn’t see his face. He was shaking. It made me pity him. It made me think of somebody having a violent seizure.Unexpectedly, a cavernous voice came from the chair and filled the space giving it an oppressive quality that felt both hot and curiously thick. It made my skin crawl. I couldn’t see the man responsible for striking fear into the creature. He was faced away from me. The demon was trying hard to control his movements, I could tell by the jerking of his arms.“Shamir, I was beginning to wonder if you would ever come,” I could practically hear his jaws grinding together.The pale demon looked at the voice in the chair, and I was immediately drawn to his bottomless eyes. The sorrow I saw made me want to cry and run like a coward.But, I quickly realized I had no control in this room. Not of myself or the unfolding scene. I never did. If it were a normal stage, I’d have the ability to run onto it, but this wasn’t normal.Shamir was gruesome. His face was concave: he had a prominent forehead; six fingers high, and eyebrows that dipped into his forehead. The nose was small and curved inward. His chin was also flat, but with an outward curve like a dirt bike ramp. Deep wrinkles and heavy lacerations marred his already awful features. His thin lips were tightly stretched into a grimace. Shadows slithered in his mouth. After an arduous moment, he spoke in a mournful voice.“Sire, I came when I could. There is chaos in the Dark World, but,” his hands crossed in front of his stomach, he fiddled with his thumbs. His nervous energy was a buzz against my skin.The suddenly irate voice from the chair interrupted him. “Silence! Why do I give such a pitiful creature as you a place on my council? Can you answer me that, Shamir?”“Because, Sire, I am your loyal servant,” he sounded both afflicted and distant. I saw millennia of anguish in his eyes that had me shaking in my slippers.“That you are Shamir... Do you know why I called you to me?” The voice paused momentarily and then began again, “it is time Shamir. Do you know what time it is?” Every word dragged on.“How can that be sire?” Shamir remained composed; distant, yet, his eyes took on a fiery glow like an inferno.“You must find…”A moment of ringing silence passed and my stomach knotted. I strained my ears and eyes to catch the words... images that blurred at the edges, but it was useless. My time was up.Not yet! I thought furiously, Just a little longer! I need to hear more... just a little more!
Ring! Ring! Ring!
I swung my arm around and hit my alarm clock. Sweat beaded down my head and my clothes were practically drenched -- I'm sure I looked like I’d been lying in a steam room all night.I peeled my down comforter off my sticky body, planted my feet on the carpet that felt soft and reached I for the spiral bound notebook laying on my end table. I began jotting down notes about the dream… or... nightmare.  My  mother  told  me  it  would  help  me understand them, but it hasn’t. Night after night I dreamt about the voice in the chair. It made the hairs on my arms stand at attention and my toes curl. The person in the cave sometimes changes, but the voice from the red chair never does.“We’re going to be late, Anna!” My sister shouted from the other side of my paper-thin door. Her voice as different than his as night is from day. It warmed my skin like sunshine.I shuffled sleepily into my bathroom. I glanced in the mirror and was slightly horrified, to be perfectly honest. It’s not like I’m the super girly type, but this took things to the other extreme. The damn thing was mocking me. My face was shiny, (in the 'I just ate four cheeseburgers' way) and my hair was an absolute freaking rat’s nest. I quickly turned on my straighter - a present from my sister – (she would be disgusted by my appearance). It took a while to heat up. In the meantime, I jumped into the shower that desperately needed some bleach. Small mounds of black residue sat in the corners of, the otherwise, pristine shower. It wasn’t much, but enough. I’m a teenager. Cleaning is not my strong suit. This was only a problem because the Academy was a lot like a military school. Cleaning the floors with a toothbrush wasn’t far off.I love steaming hot showers. My usual shower was about five minutes. Five minute showers were something that we, my sister and me, learned about by the time we were four. My mom always told me, “showers aren’t supposed to fun.” Blah, blah, blah. Thus, I had to learn to love and enjoy the hot, relaxing water, quickly. For me showers helped drum out the constant thought collisions in my mind. I jumped out of the shower; I started the slow walk to my shoebox of a closet and was greeted by the crisp, clean scent as  fresh  as spring air from an open window.I looked casually through my wardrobe that offered a slim selection of worn and practical clothing. As I sorted through my clothes the feeling of wool, cotton, and denim rubbed against my hand. I plucked a ball of lint from a violet shirt hanging crookedly on a wooden hanger and tossed it in the plastic trashcan. I chose a black long-sleeved V-neck shirt and my favorite pair of loose black cargo pants. They were comfortable and practical.The only problem left was my crazed hair. It looked like a cat had thrown up a fur-ball and it landed on my head. I took a small chunk of it and began the irritating straightening process. Gradually, my silky, blonde hair transformed into something slightly easier on the eyes. I was relieved to see that my skin was clear, and sighed. My mother always told me that my fair skin was a blessing, but I couldn’t help the jealously that ate me when I thought of the other girls’ tan skin. Suddenly, my train of thought was interrupted.“Anna, hurry up woman!” Of course, my sister, Amalie, would be up and chipper at this time in the morning. She was the spirited one. I envied, and sometimes disliked her for that.I grabbed my heavy, black coat. When I inhaled the little hairs from the synthetic fur hood tickled my nostrils and caused an unladylike sneeze to erupt from my body as I ran downstairs to the dorm lounge, the free area for noviates. The sound of cutlery clattering against a table and the murmur of conversation greeted me in the stairwell.“Hey, Am,”I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt. Just the look of my little sister put me at ease. Mom said it was a miracle that two sisters could be best friends. It’s understandable that mom didn’t have a close relationship with her sister— Aunt Trisha. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that she was a fiend — or close to it. We never talked about Aunt Trisha.The dorm lounge was like everything at Hope Academy: white, immaculate, and dreadfully boring. There was a large kitchen with a dozen small, round, white tables dotting the room. They each had a metallic napkin dispenser in the middle that reflected the sunlight streaming in through the large bay windows. Old bookcases lined the perimeter of the room. Every book a noviate could ever want to read was in the Academy somewhere, or at least I thought so. I hadn’t exactly looked to see if that was a fact, but I wouldn’t doubt it. That was something that I truly appreciated—books. Books were my escape. A desperately needed escape from the excellence demanded by the Academy and that I demanded from myself.“What took you so long?” she griped.I didn’t respond to Amalie. I was still consumed by the dream. The voice haunted me in my sleep, and started to haunt me when I was awake. After a moment she chucked a granola bar in my direction. “Earth to Anna,” she barked.“Sorry. My hair refused to cooperate.” I noticed Amalie’s hair always cooperated. Amalie, unlike me, had dark, thick hair. It wasn’t quite black, but it wasn’t just brown, sort of chestnut. She was sitting at the kitchen bar with a notebook open. Amalie was an avid artist. You’d never guess it, because she hid it so well.“What’s the topic today?” I asked referring to the artwork of the day…or week.She glanced down at the page that had various black lines running across it and shook her head. “Nothing special,” she told me. I didn’t believe her. The depth of her eyes told a different story. Amalie could see the beauty in even all the fine, straight lines of the Academy.“Okay then,” I muttered.She closed the book and stood up.She was a slender, short girl at just over five foot. I had almost six inches on her. Her eyes gleamed a sapphire blue and changed to an almost indigo color when she was upset about something. They were a little indigo now. She always dressed fashionably. Today, she had outdone herself. She looked beautiful in a glistening white blouse—with just a bit of her nearly non-existent cleavage revealed — and tight, skinny jeans with knee high black boots. A poet in Chanel surrounded by robots in Gortex.“What’s the occasion? Are you going to a modeling gig?” I asked, laughing.“Well, actually, no. You forgot didn’t you?” She was disappointed, chin down down.“No... no... I didn’t forget.” I said awkwardly, and too late. I had forgot, and wished I still did. With my birthday just under a month away, Amalie had been begging to take me to the new club—the Inferno—and her persistence finally beat me down. “I'm excited,” I said, trying for glee, but it came out strained, so I gave her a reassuring smile. Amalie had the attention span of an ant. That worked because she usually forgot what she was mad about pretty quickly.“You did too forget. Lucky for you, I worked way too hard on this outfit to let it go to waste.” She twirled a few times, watching me, hopeful.I grabbed her arm, stopping her from twirling and gave her a big hug. “You’ve worked hard on every outfit you’ve worn this week. But yes, this one is, by far, the best.” I stood back like a spectator at an art show and took another good look at my best friend, confidant, and sister. She smiled back and then pulled me to her. We held each other briefly. Noviates started passing by and Amalie released me and went back to her food.“Thanks, sis. We're going to have so much fun at the Inferno. I wish were going this weekend! Everyone says the Inferno is off-the-wall.” She continued to speak; in a language I didn’t fully understand, while pausing every few words to shovel in a spoonful of oatmeal. The Inferno was her kind of place, carefree and fun. “I just can’t believe we haven’t gone yet—”“Eat much?” Taylor came around the corner and pulled up a stool on the other side of the island stroking the white counter with a finger capped by a perfectly manicured nail. Bleh. Taylor was a superficial beauty even though I hated to admit it. She had short, brunette, spiky hair, and foxy green eyes that held a spark my dull, green eyes lacked.“Don’t be mad ‘cause I'm skinnier than you, Taylor. Be mad 'cause I don’t need anorexia to pull it off,” Amalie shot her a haughty look that would make any big sister proud.Taylor was slender, but a bit curvier than the rest of us, and had a darker complexion too. Everyone envied her for looking exotic in a place that made me, and the rest of us, feel so ordinary. That was probably why she was so popular, that, and she was reputedly the biggest slut for hundreds of miles. We live in Hope, Alaska for Power’s sake.Amalie scanned Taylor from head to toe with predatory eyes thinned to slits. Amalie had taken it upon herself to be my sidekick when it came to Taylor, who had insisted on being my arch nemesis for as long as I could remember.“You’re not skinnier, just without  essential curves, if you don’t mind my saying.” She then shifted her attention to me and said, “Only twenty-five more days till I leave for Bethel.”She and I were in the same class at the Academy. Her birthday was before mine, by two days, and she never let me forget it. When a noviate turned seventeen, they were sent to Bethel, capital city of The Fourth Dimension, where The Powers resided for a pronouncement hearing. When noviates returned, everyone else at the Academy looked him or her at in a new light. It was our first step toward success. It was our equivalent to a human getting their driver's license. Except if the noviate failed their “driver’s test” they could never show their face at the DMV again.The Powers were the authority of the Archangels and lower angels. The Archangels, unlike other angels, protected  mankind  from  evil  spirits,  also  known  as demons. There's more. I can explain it, but politics aren't my thing. Plus, we were taught to do our jobs not ask questions.There are seven angel-training academies around the world; one for each of the seven Archangels that no one ever actually sees. They are as much a mystery to us as humans, but we know they exist. They are among the superiors in the Legion United, the elite fighting force made up of the best angels from the Nine Choirs. The Nine Choirs were split between three spheres. The first sphere was the Counselors: Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones. The second sphere was the Governors: Dominions, Virtues, and the Powers. The third sphere comprised the Harbingers or Warriors: Principalities, Archangels, and Angels. Everyone was a part of the whole, and vital to keep the machine operating smoothly. The smallest wrench could cause disaster.We were taught that God created the seven Archangels, then removed Himself and put the Angels in charge.She pursed her full lips with a deeper cupids bow than could possibly shoot an arrow. “I’m more than ready. Are you?” she baited.When an Angel Noviate (AKA angel in training) became a junior, he or she went to Bethel where The Powers would determine if the noviate would continue until graduation, or if they would have their wings clipped.A thin-lipped smile was my answer. She hung on my last nerve.Since we are all born into this life, it only made sense that we were kept close track of by the Powers, who supervised all the Lower Choir angels to ensure dedication and purity, meaning that no angel used their abilities against another angel, or any human. It was uncommon for a noviate to have their wings clipped. Every angel was needed in the war against demons. However, no one was immune to that outcome, either. If the noviate’s wings were cut, they would be forced to spend the rest of their days in the human world, living a mortal life. I cringed at the thought.We were constantly at the mercy of The Powers.


About the Author:
Gemini Emery is a horse trainer living in Colorado with two yappy dogs and a few quirky horses.
She graduated from Regis University with a BS in Business Administration and a minor in philosophy.
A life-long reader, Emery has always had a special affection for the urban fantasy and paranormal romance realms.
When not riding horses or writing, she likes archery, hiking and shooting. She reads until her vision blurs, spends time with family and drinks an excessive amount of chai and coffee. 
Devoted is her first novel.
www.Emeryskye.com
@Emeryskye
www.facebook.com/EmerySkye4
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Emery-Skye/603636976320736
https://www.goodreads.com/emeryskye 

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