Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 430

Spotlight and Giveaway with Rachel Carrington

Connecting StrangersDiscovering Emily SeriesBook 1Rachel Carrington
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Date of Publication: July 21, 2014
ISBN:ASIN:Word Count: ~67,000
Cover Artist: Elaina Lee of For the Muse Designs
Book Description:
Getting close is dangerous…
He’s too close, and I start to fidget, needing to keep my hands busy so they won’t grab hold of his shirt. Because that’s what they want to do. Draw him closer. So I can Inhale his scent. Taste his skin.
I didn’t run because I was in an abusive relationship; I ran because my soul was being crushed. I’d forgotten how to live, how to be happy. Running out of gas in a small town, I catch the eye of the local sheriff when the very last thing I want is to come under the scrutiny of the police. I left my boyfriend with blood on my hands, and I know as soon as the wound heals he’ll come looking for me.
Adam Madison draws me to him so easily I can’t even pretend to fight. And the closer we get, the more combustible we become.  I’ve never experienced such passion or power. My need is as great as his, but I’m sure he’ll walk away from me once he knows my secret. No other man would stay.

I’ve had enough complications in my life. I’m not looking for more, and that’s exactly what Adam is—a sexy, magnetic complication with secrets of his own. And with my ex on the hunt, I can’t risk bringing him down with me. But he won’t leave…even when vengeance could kill us both.
About the Author:
I started writing years ago, and my first attempt was a contemporary romance that will never see the light of day. I think I may even have thrown it away by now. It was absolutely horrific as I knew nothing about well…anything to do with writing.After that, I started writing fantasy romances about wizards and wizards, and once those took off, I segued to paranormal romances (hello, vampires and ghosts) and romantic suspense.
I also write articles for various magazines, including The Writer’s Journal, Writer’s Magazine, Writer’s Weekly, Writing for Dollars, Absolute Write, Freelance Writing.com, and Funds for Writers.
I’m fortunate to make my home in historical Charleston, South Carolina. Beautiful city. Beautiful people. When I’m not writing, I love to read, watch Bones, Castle, Blue Bloods, and Hawaii Five-O, create videos, keep Target in business, play visitor in my city, and drink lots of coffee.
My website: http://www.rachelcarrington.com
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/rcarrington2004
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorrachelcarrington
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/rcarrington2004
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/rcarrington2004
Wattpad: http://wattpad.com/RachelCarrington


June 23 Character InterviewEclipse Reviewshttp://totaleclipsereviews.blogspot.com/
June 23 SpotlightBook Liaison  http://www.bookliaison.net
June 24 SpotlightParanormal Book Club http://www.paranormal-bookclub.com
June 25 Spotlight3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, & Sissy, Too!  http://3partnersinshopping.blogspot.com
June 26 SpotlightThe Tome Gnomehttp://tomegnomes.blogspot.com/
June 27 InterviewA Writer's Mindwww.skypuringtonwrites.blogspot.com
June 30 reviewMore Romance Pleasemoreromanceplease.blogspot.com
July 1 SpotlightDeal Sharing Auntwww.dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com
July 2 SpotlightSapphyria's Book Reviewshttp://saphsbookblog.blogspot.com/
July 3 Spotlight and reviewThe Book Reviewhttp://www.cluereview.blogspot.com
July 4 InterviewThe Creatively Green Write at Home Momwww.creativelygreen.blogspot.com
July 7 Guest blog and reviewDiaries of 2 Thick Chicks http://diariesof2thickchicks.blogspot.com/
July 8 Guest blogRoxanne’s Realmwww.roxannerhoads.com
July 9 SpotlightBlack Lilac Kittywww.blacklilackitty.wordpress.com
July 10 SpotlightFang-tastic Bookswww.fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com
July 11 Guest blog and reviewBarb Taubhttp://barbtaub.com
July 14 SpotlightWriting from Corsets to Bustiershttp://www.christinamcknight.com/
July 15 Spotlight and reviewQueen of the Night Reviews.http://queenofthenightreviews.blogspot.com
July 16 SpotlightKristy Centenohttp://booksbycenteno.com
July 17 SpotlightShare My Destinyhttp://sharemydestiny.blogspot.com
July 18 InterviewBooklover Sue http://bookloversue.blogspot.com
July 18 SpotlightLisa’s World of Bookswww.lisasworldofbooks.net
July 21 InterviewPembroke Sinclair.  www.pembrokesinclair.blogspot.com
July 21 Guest blogDarkest Cravingswww.darkestcravings.blogspot.com



Rachel would like to thank all of her sponsors for contributing prizes to her blog tour for Connecting Strangers.
For a complete list of participating authors and how to connect with them socially, please visit: http://www.rachelcarrington.com/blog/huge-shout-out-to-these-fabulous-authors

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Guest Blog and Giveaway: Shawndirea by Leonard D. Hilley II

Sometimes a writer’s muse will do unexpected things with a character or a storyline, but that’s a good thing.  Don’t ignore the gentle prodding.  Follow.  I give you two examples of how this has worked well for me.
First:
I’ve been asked if I use an outline when I write.  The answer is: “No.”
I don’t know why, but I’ve never been able to outline events well before they occur in my fiction.  When a great idea pops into my head, I immediately write it down.  That’s my writer instinct.  I may not know where the idea will lead, but I’m willing to follow.
That’s how the Darkness Series began.  In January 1996, when I laid down to go to sleep, the opening sentence came to me:  “Dropping a cat from the top of a ten story office building was not the best way to remain hidden, but it was necessary.”
I was intrigued.  I didn’t know where the story would go or why someone dropped the cat off the building, but I got up and wrote it down.  A few minutes later when I was trying to go to sleep, the next two paragraphs came to me.  So, again, I got up and wrote down the words.
The next day I sat at my computer and hammered out twenty pages in a few hours.  At the end of those pages, I found myself in a new dilemma.  I couldn’t add anything else to the storyline.  Anything I attempted to add didn’t fit, sounded too corny, or took away from the characters and the building plot.  I was stuck, and I didn’t know why.  I printed it out and set it in a box to work on later.
Two years later, during my final year at Morehead State University, I registered to take two creative writing classes in the coming fall.  During the summer I took out the twenty pages and thought I would see if any new ideas stirred to breathe life into this story.  Rereading the piece I realized something.  I didn’t have twenty pages of the novel.  What I had was the skeleton of a novel that needed depth, description, and more urgency to push the plot forward.
I took a yellow notepad and made a lot of notes.  When I was content with how I would flesh the book out, I sat at the computer and spent a week working and revising with the new ideas.  The last sentence of the original twenty pages now ended on page 100; but still, I couldn’t add anything else.  Frustrated, I set it aside.
Once the fall semester started, we met the new creative writing professor, Dr. Chris Offutt.  He stated that his class would be treated like a writer’s workshop, and on our designated days, we could bring in a short story or the chapter of a book we were working on to have the class evaluate it.  When my day came, I brought the first chapter (~32 pages) of Predators of Darkness: Aftermath in and gave each student a copy.  The next week they came back to critique and offer suggestions about what did/didn’t work.
After everyone in the class made their suggestions, the professor walked to the chalkboard.  He drew out a diagram on the board and said, “Leonard, you don’t have one chapter here.  What you have is five or six chapters.”  In a matter of minutes he mapped out five chapters.  I feverishly wrote down his suggestions.  The best part is that something clicked.  The fog lifted.  And I suddenly visualized my characters, their uniqueness, and their voices were audible in my head.
Eventually, Predators of Darkness: Aftermath grew into 340 pages, and there are four complete novels in the series.  Had I not written that sentence down, I do wonder if the series would have occurred.  After all, I didn’t have a plot or any characters.  All I had was the one sentence.  I never imagined the opening sentence would spawn four more novels afterwards (Yes, I’m working on the fifth book), which is why I suggest that writers follow their muse, carry notebooks, and don’t get chained to an outline.  If a character takes an unexpected turn into a dark alley, don’t stop him/her.  Follow.
Second:
A couple of years ago I published Devils Den.  Due to the characters in the fantasy realm of the novel, I thought that writing a novella backstory would be a good idea.  However, my muse had a much different idea.
The fantasy characters in Devils DenI’ve known—in my mind, at least—for more than twenty years.  The first novel I attempted was based on these characters, but the plot was too weak to develop, so I killed the story.  But the characters never died.  They didn’t speak a lot, but they were there in the back of my mind, maturing.
As I started the “Prequel” for Devils Den, something strange occurred.  The characters wanted their voices to be heard, and they weren’t shy about letting me know.  What I thought would be 40-50,000 words, came to life on a much larger scale.  Twenty years of maturing in my mind, the characters suddenly brought their world to life.  And thanks to Millard Pollitt, who drew an outstanding map of the realm, so many places can be explored.  The plotlines are endless.
The new novel is a 148,000 word epic fantasy novel (Name and cover soon to be announced). Since the events in this novel are twenty years prior to Devils Den, and so much occurs between the two, the new book has become the first book in its own series.
So, you see, my muse took me in a different direction and definitely farther than the novella I had planned.  Most often my muse knows more than I do, so I follow, take notes, and I write down what I hear and see.  If there’s a better formula than that, I don’t know it.
Shawndirea34 songs, 2.5 hours, 292 MB
This is the soundtrack that I used a majority of the time while writing Shawndirea.Leonard D. Hilley II




Name Time Album Artist 1 Dusk Of A Northern Kingdom 4:35 The Witcher Adam Skorupa 2 Breton Medley 3:35 Dark Age Of Camelot Cheryl Ann Fulton 3 Spanish Point 4:10 Dark Age Of Camelot Declan Masterson 4 Star Of The County Down 3:07 Dark Age Of Camelot Henson Conant, Deborah 5 Earth 3:59 Assassin's Creed 2 (Original Gam… Jesper Kyd 6 Venice Rooftops 3:18 Assassin's Creed 2 (Original Gam… Jesper Kyd 7 Ezio's Family 3:58 Assassin's Creed 2 (Original Gam… Jesper Kyd 8 Florence Tarantella 1:52 Assassin's Creed 2 (Original Gam… Jesper Kyd 9 Tristram 7:41 The Music of Diablo 1996 - 2011 Matt Uelmen 10 Dungeon 4:23 The Music of Diablo 1996 - 2011 Matt Uelmen 11 Catacombs 5:50 The Music of Diablo 1996 - 2011 Matt Uelmen 12 Caves 4:57 The Music of Diablo 1996 - 2011 Matt Uelmen 13 Hell 4:08 The Music of Diablo 1996 - 2011 Matt Uelmen 14 Song of the Lonely Mountain (Exte… 6:01 The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journ… Neil Finn 15 The Voyage 2:54 Transylvania Nox Arcana 16 Gossamer Mist 2:40 Transylvania Nox Arcana 17 The Black Coach 2:36 Transylvania Nox Arcana 18 Into The Shadows 2:59 Transylvania Nox Arcana 19 Castle Dracula 2:56 Transylvania Nox Arcana 20 Lair Of The Vampire 6:29 Transylvania Nox Arcana 21 River Of Life 5:22 The Witcher Pawel Blaszczak 22 Returning To The Fortress 1:31 The Witcher Pawel Blaszczak 23 Evening In The Tavern 0:57 The Witcher Pawel Blaszczak 24 New Tristram 5:16 Diablo III Soundtrack Russell Brower, Derek Duke, Glen… 25 Bastion's Keep 7:31 Diablo III Soundtrack Russell Brower, Derek Duke, Glen… 26 Caldeum 7:11 Diablo III Soundtrack Russell Brower, Derek Duke, Glen… 27 A Tenuous Bond 4:50 Diablo III Soundtrack Russell Brower, Derek Duke, Glen… 28 Garden of Hope 3:25 Diablo III Soundtrack Russell Brower, Derek Duke, Glen… 29 Hibernian Village Dance 0:30 Dark Age Of Camelot Various Artists 30 Main Title From Dark Age Of Cam… 2:51 Dark Age Of Camelot Various Artists 31 Dead City 8:04 The Witcher Various Artists

32 The Princess Striga 6:52 The Witcher Various Artists 33 The Dike 7:05 The Witcher Various Artists 34 New Beginning 9:13 Trapt Trapt ShawndireaChronicles of AetheaonBook ILeonard D. Hilley II
Genre:  Fantasy (Epic, Adventure, Sword/Sorcerer)
Publisher:  DeimosWeb PublishingDate of Publication: June 27, 2014
ISBN: 9781310304965ASIN:
Number of pages: 536 printed pagesWord Count:  148,000
Book Description:
Often the smallest unexpected surprises garner the most demanding dilemmas, which proves to be the ordeal that entomologist Ben Whytten faces.  While netting butterflies to add to his vast collection, he mistakenly sweeps what he thinks is the most spectacular butterfly he has ever seen into his net.  Upon examining his catch, Ben is horrified to discover he has captured a faery and shredded her delicate wings into useless ribbons.
Devastated, Ben vows to take Shawndirea back to her realm, Aetheaon; but he discovers that doing so places their lives into immediate danger.  To get to Aetheaon, they must pass through a portal rift deep inside the haunted cavern, Devils Den. 
Once they cross the rift, Ben enters a world where mysteries, magic, betrayal, and power struggles await.  He must adapt quickly or die because Aetheaon is filled with enchanted creatures and numerous races where chaos often dominates order.  And since Shawndirea’s destined for the throne of Elvendale, opposing dark forces plot to prevent her from ever reaching her kingdom again.  The faery's magic isn't enough to fully protect them, so he must trust other adventurers to aid them during their journey.


Available at Amazon


Chapter One

The early autumn sun blazed over the freshly cut hayfield in Cider Knoll, Kentucky.  Ben Whytten rested his butterfly net against the rusted barbed wire fence and then wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.  Sweat soaked his shirt and blue jeans.  Although fall had officially begun, the outside temperature didn’t indicate it. Sporting near ninety degrees, summer refused to let go of the climate and turned what should have been a pleasant Saturday afternoon into an intimidating taunt, daring anyone with partial sanity to remain outdoors in the sweltering heat.After he unscrewed the canteen cap, he tilted it back and took a long drink of cold water.  Beads of water dripped down his short brown beard.  He sighed and twisted the cap tightly.  His piercing brown eyes studied the sky.  Not a cloud in sight.  No breeze to help combat the hellish sticky heat.Ben combed his sweat-matted brown hair from his eyes with his fingers.  He picked up the butterfly net and looked across the straw-colored field at the small grove of pastel leafed maples that lined a winding stream.  The shade was inviting, and he guessed a good ten degrees cooler than the open field.  He took a deep breath and trudged across brittle grass stems that crunched beneath his hiking boots.Collecting butterflies during autumn was better than spring or summer because the diversity of species increased.  The fall forms of butterflies were generally brighter, larger, and fed in greater clusters on the ironweed, milkweed, and clover.  Brilliantly colored swallowtails puddled along the creek beds.  Plump moth larvae were also easier to find as they searched for places to spin cocoons or burrow beneath the soil to pupate before the colder temperatures set in.“If colder weather ever settles in,” Ben thought, “Hell will have truly frozen over.”Long narrow grasshoppers jumped and took to flight as Ben crossed the field.  Their wings buzzed as the alarmed insects glided and drifted downward, landed, and propelled themselves into the air again.Reaching the shade beneath the maple branches, Ben leaned against a thick tree trunk and closed his eyes.  The shallow stream trickled softly.  Cicadas hummed.  In the distance a woodpecker rapped the bark of a massive dead pine.  Weather had stripped away sections of the rough pine bark, revealing the smooth yellow wood underneath.  The soothing sounds of nature relaxed him, and he was thankful to be outside, alone.Dr. Isaac Deiko had planned to collect insects with Ben this particular Saturday, but at the last minute, he called and said that he couldn’t go.  Deiko had to help set up tables for a gun show in a neighboring town.The news didn’t disappoint Ben.  He’d rather collect butterflies and other insects alone.  The outdoors was a place where he gathered his thoughts and meditated about life.  The forests, bluffs, and meadows were the best places where he felt at peace.  Leaving the fast-paced, bustling technological-craving addicts for a calmer, slow-paced life without all their distractions was worth more than millions of dollars to Ben.  He’d give up all the instant gadgets for the tranquility that his grandfather and great-grandfather experienced while working on their farms.Ben kept a serious outlook on life while Dr. Deiko spent more time playing practical jokes on their colleagues and students, which often irritated and infuriated Ben.  He knew if Deiko came on this field trip, the collecting possibilities would be little or none simply because Deiko was clumsy-footed and boisterous.Ben had never extended an invitation for Deiko to join him in the first place.  In fact, Deiko had invitedhimself when he found out about Ben’s collecting plans for the weekend.  Although Deiko was a biologist like Ben, Deiko was more concerned with uncovering a discovery to make him famous, whereas Ben loved science and didn’t care if anyone other than his students knew he existed.  Of course when final exams rolled around, most of his students would rather he didn’t exist.  Other than giving his students field trips from Hell, his tests were considered harsher than rigorous ten mile hikes through steep mountainous terrain.Ben looked back across the field and chuckled.  He had traipsed hundreds of acres through forests, caves, and fields when he was still in middle school.  He had done so voluntarily, without a word of complaint, and yet, today’s college students voiced disdain over the least thing.  The challenge wasn’t getting them to learn; it was getting them to do anything that didn’t require the pacifying need for their technology.His inner frustration brought more heat to his face.  He was seconds from rehashing how he wished computers and cellphones weren’t so controlling until the soft bubbling creek caught his attention.  The gentle soft sound of water allowed his mind to leave the tensions of the classroom and return to the natural calm surrounding him.  He expelled a long sigh and refocused himself.Tall narrow blades of grass covered the sandy banks of the shallow stream.  Small drab satyr butterflies fluttered lazily from grass blade to grass blade.  Ben shook his head.  After two hours of walking the fields and woods, he had hoped to capture a few new specimens to add to his collection.  But with each species he encountered, he already had at least a half-dozen of those pinned inside glass-top boxes at home.  In many ways, he believed he’d have done himself a greater service by staying home.But regardless of what he deemed bad luck, his life was about to change.Forever.He removed his backpack and set it down.  Slowly he lowered himself and sat back against the tree trunk to rest.  He set down the canteen and placed the net handle across his lap and watched the gentle stream flow.  A few minnows darted back and forth beneath the water as water striders skimmed like polished skaters across the water’s surface.Ben was drenched in sweat and drained from the heat.  A cool breeze stirred along the stream, which seemed an invitation to relax a while longer.  His eyes ached to close for a nap.  He fought the urge to doze even though the place was so comforting and peaceful.  But, if nothing interesting presented itself soon, he was going home.  He dreaded walking across the dry pasture to his SUV.Ben took his hunting knife from the sheath attached to his belt and then picked up a dried oak branch.  He whittled and shaved away bark.Perhaps it was the extreme heat that kept the most brilliant butterflies in hiding, but he still didn’t see any within the grove or along the sandy banks.  Later in the evening he might have better luck, but he refused to stick around that long.  He slid the knife back into its sheath and rubbed his tired eyes.Sunlight filtered through the leafy canopy.  Several birds flew low across the stream and through the trees.  Seconds later two yellow butterflies glided to the edge of the far bank and landed.  A larger butterfly caught his attention.  At first glance he thought it was a giant swallowtail, but instead, it turned out to be an oversized tiger swallowtail.Ben’s fingers tightened around the net handle.  He pushed himself to his feet.  He stepped lightly and headed toward the stream to get a better look at the butterflies.  Near the bank, a blur of metallic bluish-green streaked past him.“Damn!” he said, watching the zipping wings catch the breeze and glide.With incredible speed, it darted up, down, left to right, and along the stream’s edge.  Perhaps the sweltering heat or near dehydration was playing tricks on him, but he was almost certain glittery dust trailed behind it.Ben hurried after the butterfly, a prize unlike any other in his collection.Few butterflies in this part of Kentucky had such metallic colorings.  One he thought of immediately was the White M Hairstreak, but this one was too large and flew much swifter.  Another butterfly with similar colors was the long-tailed skipper, but the sheen sparkling off the butterfly following the stream was too bright.  Its flight was also more erratic.  The skipper stayed near gardens, and he doubted any strayed this far into the woods since the larvae food plant was the leaf of various beanstalks.Ben realized he had just discovered something new.  Excitement shot through him.He hurried along the stream and jumped over a fallen tree.  His sudden pursuit had not gone unnoticed.  The iridescent creature darted downward and swept through the tiny branches of a shrub.  But Ben moved faster.As the beautifully winged specimen shot through the other side of the bush, Ben arced the net sharply and captured his prize.  The end of the net pulled and stretched while his captive struggled to fight free.Quickly, Ben clamped his fingers near the end of the net, but by the time he did, the struggling ceased.He opened the net and looked inside.  His eyes widened.“What the hell?” he asked.At the bottom of the net lay a gorgeous creature, but not what he had expected to capture.  Her wings were tattered, frayed.  Unconscious, he hoped, but he feared she might be dying or already dead.  Broken scales and wing fragments covered her nearly nude body.His excitement of the chase suddenly turned to regret and dread.A faery?Ben dropped to his knees and gently set down the net.  “God,” he whispered.  “I hope I didn’t kill you.”He carefully placed his left hand beside her unmoving form.  He nudged her into the palm of his hand with the tip of his finger.  She breathed, but her eyes remained closed.  Her radiant face was more beautiful than any woman he had ever met. A door slammed and echoed near the pasture gate where he had parked his SUV.Ben looked over his shoulder but couldn’t see who had driven up.“Ben!” Deiko shouted.  “Where are you?”“Dammit,” Ben grumbled under his breath, looking back over his shoulder.  “What the hell are you doing here?”He hurried to the tree where his pack lay.  He curled his left hand gently around the faery’s limp body while reaching into the pack.“Ben!”Ben took a wide-mouthed dark plastic bottle, set it between his knees and unscrewed the hole-punched lid.  Glancing back over his shoulder he saw Deiko’s lanky figure jogging toward the grove.  Deiko smiled and waved when their eyes met.  His jog turned into a sprint as he headed toward Ben.Ben placed the faery into the jar, turned the lid, and wrapped the jar inside a white cloth before setting it back into his pack.  No sooner had he placed it there and zipped the pack shut, Deiko’s thundering footsteps stopped beside him.“Catch something nice?” Deiko asked.“No,” Ben replied, looking up but not making eye contact with Deiko.  “Not much activity out here today.  I blame the heat.”Deiko smiled broadly.  “You caught something.  Something special.”Ben shook his head, picked up his pack, and stood.  “Look around, Isaac.  What do you see?”Deiko glanced around but then his eyes focused on Ben’s backpack again.  “I agree.  Not much flying around.  But you got something.”“What makes you think that?”“Your eyes.  It’s the same with poker players who have a great hand and haven’t conditioned themselves to suppress their excitement or like kids that find money on the ground after someone drops it.  Hell, I noticed people at the gun show who bought guns from people far cheaper than the owners knew the guns were worth.”Ben’s eyes narrowed, and he chose to change the subject.  He said, “How was the gun show?  I thought you’d be there all day.”Deiko shrugged.  “That had been the plan.  Not much going on there, either.  Got a couple good deals though.  Like this Ruger.”He pulled a handgun from the back of his belt.“Nice,” Ben replied.  Carefully he slipped his pack over his shoulder and headed toward the hay field.“Well?” Deiko said.  He tucked the gun behind his belt and stepped in front of Ben.  “Aren’t you going to show me?”Sweat dripped from his Deiko’s black hair and beaded on his brow.  Ben studied the determination set in his colleague’s dark eyes and his firm muscular jaw.  Within seconds, Deiko’s boyish face had hardened into that of a fierce murderous villain.  Physically, he had no weight to put behind his facial threat.  He was tall and quite bony with slender arms.  And although Deiko was probably fifteen years younger, Ben had no doubt if he was forced to fight that Deiko would be the one sitting on the ground looking up and rubbing his jaw.  But, then, there was the gun issue.  Isaac was armed and all Ben had was his knife.  Even those odds didn’t stand in Isaac’s favor.“Show you what?” Ben asked.“Your prize.  It must be something nice since you still refuse to show me.”“How many times have I told you that I haven’t found anything?”“You and I should play poker sometime,” Deiko said.  “I’d make a fortune.”“Being as I don’t play cards, you’re probably correct with that assumption.”“Oh, come on, Ben,” Deiko said.  Hostility loomed in his voice and darkness narrowed his eyes.  “Why are you afraid to show me what you found?”Ben studied him for a moment.  Never had he seen Isaac behave like a demented spoiled brat.  He had his moments, but Dr. Deiko generally didn’t keep a quiet and intimidating tone.  But out here, away from others, Ben suddenly saw the violence that hid deep within the botanist, and it was creeping to the surface.  Knowing that Deiko lusted for fame, for a discovery beyond what man had seen or could fathom, Ben knew he could never show the faery to Deiko.  The second he did, something horrible would happen.  To Ben and the lovely faery.Deiko had not only shown the gun as his grand prize from the gun show, he had established his subtle threat by revealing he had brought it into the field.  Hunting season was still a few weeks away, and no one needed a gun to collect butterflies.  He had shown the gun for a reason—either as a bullying tactic or simply to exhibit dominance.“I think the heat is getting to you, Isaac,” Ben said, shaking his head and stepping around his colleague.“Put down the pack,” Isaac said.“What?”Ben froze when Isaac inserted the magazine into the gun and snapped the gun’s chamber back and forth.“Put down your pack.  I want to see what you’re hiding inside.”Ben turned.  He looked in Isaac’s eyes, then to the gun.Isaac shook his head.  “Uh-uh.  Just set it down.”Ben frowned and slowly lowered his pack to the ground.  He held his hands before him in surrender.  “You’re making a big mistake.”“So you did find something.”“And if I did?  You going to kill me for it?” Ben asked.Isaac chuckled.  “Depends on how good a find it is.”“Seriously?”


About the Author: 
Leonard D. Hilley II currently lives in the mountains of Kentucky with his wife, Christal.  He is a biologist that has also earned his MFA in creative writing.  Having a passion for books at an early age, he knew he wanted to author his own creative works.  He wrote his first novel at the age of eleven and has never lost his love for books.
Blog: http://deimosweb-hilley.blogspot.com/   
Twitter: @Deimosweb
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1194774.Leonard_D_Hilley_II
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/pub/leonard-d-hilley-ii/32/bb2/760  
Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Leonard-D-Hilley-IIauthor-page/157289854329916  


 June 30 InterviewEclipse Reviewshttp://totaleclipsereviews.blogspot.com/
June 30 SpotlightThe Creatively Green Write at Home Momwww.creativelygreeen.blogspot.com
July 1 SpotlightThe Tome Gnomehttp://tomegnomes.blogspot.com/
July 2 Guest blogMarsha A. Moorehttp://marshaamoore.blogspot.com/
July 4 InterviewPembroke Sinclair.  www.pembrokesinclair.blogspot.com
July 7 SpotlightDeal Sharing Auntwww.dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com
July 8 ReviewThe Avid Readerhttp://the-avidreader.blogspot.com
July 9 Guest blogpressed leaf publishingwww.benjaminmctish.blogspot.com
 July 10 Guest blogFang-tastic Bookswww.fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com
July 11 SpotlightBooklover Sue http://bookloversue.blogspot.com
July 14 SpotlightFantasy Book Lanehttp://www.fantasybooklane.com/
July 15 Spotlight Books & Tales:http://booksandtales.blogspot.co.uk/
July 16 Spotlight?Share My Destinyhttp://sharemydestiny.blogspot.com
July 17 SpotlightCassandra M's Place http://www.cassandramsplace.com
July 18 InterviewA Writer's Mind www.skypuringtonwrites.blogspot.com
July 21 Guest blogBeauty in Ruins  http://beauty-in-ruins.blogspot.ca
July 22 SpotlightShut Up &Read http://shutupandreadgroup.blogspot.com/
July 23 SpotlightSapphyria's Book Reviews http://saphsbookblog.blogspot.com/
July 24 reviewParanormal Romance and Authors That Rockwww.pratr.wordpress.com
July 25 SpotlightAngel’s Guilty Pleasureshttp://angelsguiltypleasures.com
July 28 Guest blog and reviewVailia's Page Turnerhttp://vailiapageturner.blogspot.com/
July 28 SpotlightRoxanne’s Realmwww.roxannerhoads.com

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Guest Blog and Giveaway with Peiri Ann

Here is an Interview with Tracey, one of the characters from Burdened.
Interviewer: Hello.
Tracey: Hi, I'm Tracey, from Burdened. Thanks for having me.
Interviewer: Hi Tracey, thank you for joining us. We will just get right into it. Can you tell us something's about yourself?
Tracey: You’re welcome, and yes, I can. My full name is Tracey Warren; I’m eighteen and preparing to graduate from high school. I stay with my mother and my dad but he is always gone. He works and travels back and forth for his job. I love freedom and doing what I want. I love Twinkies and Coke, and hanging out with my best friend Glen. Everything in life was good, well, it’s still good but in a different way. (She gives me an uncomfortable look)Interviewer: What do you mean, “In a different way?”Tracey: Before, me and my friends hung out all the time and partied. You know, like us eighteen year olds are supposed to. But I met this guy, his name is Nathan. He's hot, like…illegally hot, but being with him and his constricted yet amazing personality, I have to deal with his family and his enemies. And they seem to live to make our lives a living hell. Even Glen. (She rolls her eyes, shaking her head)Interviewer: Can you give me more, on how they make your life a living hell?Tracey: I cannot, I can’t give away too many of our burdens. But I can tell you Nathan is - burdened, and when we first met...I would have never expected the things he told me the first night we talked, after that party. I thought, he was talking stuff, you know, giving me the 'I'm a bad guy' and 'messed up stuff happens in my life everyday' spill. Come to find out. It wasn't a spill, he was serious. But I'm with him, and it's not like I can leave. (She shrugs)Interviewer: Okay Tracey, can you give us anything else?Tracey: Yes, oh, my best friend, Glen, mated with Nathan’s cousin, Scott. They are a headache, (She throws her head back) just me thinking about them makes my head hurt. That's what I meant when I mentioned her earlier. I mean, we still don’t know if they should be together and Nathan thinks Glen, is going to suffer in their relationship because of the way Scott treats her - maybe even try to kill herself.Interviewer: Kill herself! Suffer how? And how does Scott treat her?Tracey: You are asking a lot of questions.Interviewer: It's an interview Tracey. I'm supposed to ask a lot of questions. I am only trying to get some more information about you and Burdened for everyone.Tracey: I can’t tell you everything. And I don’t want to spoil the lovey - that’s sarcasm, mind you - Scott and Glen’s relationship. Burdened is as its name presents. There are some steamy scenes Nathan I share, that I will not get into details with you. I know you and your questions are going to ask. There is actions and fights that scared the crap out of me. I mean, I’ve seen people who look human do some non-human things, and it freaked – me – out. The unexpected things that happen living the life of an Burdened Sephlem's mate, is what gets me. Seems like all in one week, Nathan and I lived a life and encountered things from a year's worth of time.  Interviewer: Wow, that sounds interesting and overwhelming. But I assume you will not give me those details of what you encountered.Tracey: Nope, I can't. Just know, there are a lot of burdens that I encounter. Including, I'm not the same person I once was.Interviewer: Details Tracey, details!Tracey: No. (She shakes her head)Interviewer: Okay, you are killing me here, Tracey. Can you tell us about the author, Peiri Ann?Tracey: Yes. Of course she's a writer. She takes me off guard, sometimes, with her gory scenes and methods of healing. But you can't help but love her with her humble attitude and ‘tell it like is’ ways. She has a daughter and they both live in Chicago. That's the most of the "person stuff" I know. I think her website is www.peiriann.com it may have some more info for you.Interviewer: Thank You. So, you mentioned the name Nathan. Can you tell us about him?Tracey: Ah, yes. I can talk about Nathan for hours. But I won't, not today. Nathan Newcomb, is his name. He's my mate and my heart beats for him, keeping him alive. I die - he dies. Crazy right!? He is the hardest person on earth to read and you won't know what's going in with him, unless he chooses to tell you. I stated before, he's really attractive, and everything else about him…you will have to find out from Burdened. You're making me miss him.Interviewer: Okay can you-Tracey: Wait, (she puts up her finger) Nathan is calling me. He does this thing where he doesn’t’t have to be around for me to hear him. It’s annoying. I’ll talk to you later (she stands). Thanks for the interview, thank you Majanka for the spot. It was fun. (She walks to the door, waving)Interviewer: Okay Tracey, well, thank you for joining me.  And…she gone, and I’m talking to myself. 
BurdenedA Burdened NovelBook 1Peiri Ann
Genre: Paranormal Romance
ISBN: 9780991381104ASIN: B00JYOLZA2
Number of pages: ebook (381)Number of pages: paperback (423)Word Count: 142K
Book Description:
Tracey Warren has everything an eighteen year old girl should. She lives a life of expectancies; go to school, please her parents, party with friends, and revel in life as a young adult.
That is until she experiences an unexpected life changing accident caused by Nathan Newcomb; an illegally attractive yet perplexed guy who has her fumbling over her words and cracking her head on the concrete. In being enthralled by his overwhelming existence, Tracey neglects his promise of death (which never falls short of Nathan) and in ignoring his guarantee, she chooses to give into love over sanity and risks her life for the opportunity of being with him.
Nathan, knowing the risks gives into this want to have Tracey presuming it may be better to jeopardize their possible ending, than to allow her to endure the pain of his devoid. Nonetheless, with him being a burdened Sephlem, not only are they burdened by their adversaries who will risk everything but the exposure of their existence to see Nathan fall. But Nathan and Tracey come to find that their most sinister enemies lie under their same roof and regrettably share the same bloodline.
Book Trailers: http://youtu.be/8MEiI_O0j5A  and http://youtu.be/xUnMHHqvGfo   
Available at Amazon and BN
Excerpt:


We walk out of the house to the backyard, and over to a gazebo that sits off to the side, equal distance from the house and the fence. There are cushioned benches and a beautiful water fountain surrounded by lilies. It’s dimly lit and the rest of the light comes from the remainder of the setting sun.“I’m sorry about him, Tracey.” He sits down, pulling me to sit across him.“No, it’s okay. There’s something off about him though. I know you know him better than I do—him being your dad and all. But there is something about him that doesn’t sit well with me. Why all the questions all of a sudden? Just the other day he was the least bit interested in us.”“He’s an ass. That is how he is. He is one way one day and a different way the next. Fortunately, you were not able to hear what he was really saying—only what came out of his mouth.”“And what was that?” I’m curious.“‘This isn’t about you. This is about Nathan.’” He points to himself.I tense, feeling a slight discomfort. That’s what the Nathan-look-alike said to me the other night, and in that same tone. “That sounds familiar.”“How so?”“You said that to me the day you tricked me.”“That wasn’t me, again, and what do you mean?”“That exact same tone, those words. When the guy—” I can’t recall his name. “—cut me, that’s what he said.” My hands start getting cold.Nathan thinks for a moment, or maybe looks in my head. I sit quiet until he says something. “We have today. I’ll worry about it tomorrow,” he responds, ten minutes later.I smile at him. Although, that really doesn’t give me much for whatever conclusion he came up with, or if he came up with a conclusion. We sit in silence. I try to wrap my head around Nathan’s father and his mixed personalities.“What is he going to try to talk to us about?” I ask.“He has no plans of talking with us. Rather, I have no intentions of speaking with him—not with you in the room anyway.”“Why not with me in the room?” The distant Nathan is back.“I would say things to him, and perform in a way, that I don’t want you to see.”“And what, by you doing so, will make me think differently of you?”“That’s not what I’m saying.”“So what are you saying?”“I have no respect for my father. I don’t care about hurting his feelings—if he had any. I also don’t use control when I deal with him.” He looks towards the yard.“What are you saying?” I probe.“Tracey, this is not a conversation I’m ready to have right now.”“Why do you hold things back from me?”“My life is difficult. My relationship with my father is not like others. How would it sound to you if I said I want to kill my father, and every time I try, the only thing that saves him is my mother? That I don’t mind losing control around him, in hopes that I would murder him—with no doubts or regrets.” He looks at me with no hurt in his eyes about his feelings.“But if you murder your father, wouldn’t you kill your mother as well?”“No, she will remain alive, but she will be miserable and out of character.”“Wait, I’m confused. I thought one could not live without the other?”“The female can live without the male, but not the other way around. Remember, your heart beats in replacement of mine. So if I die, your heart will still beat, but if you die, that’s it for the both of us.” That’s some crazy shit. “But if I’m hurt, you can always heal me, and I you. You may also be able to feel my hurt now.”

About the Author:
A love for reading transpired into an admiration for writing at a young age for Peiri Ann. Starting off in writing poetry and short stories she indulged in the possibilities of creating new worlds and lives to live within them opening a window of unanticipated possibilities. In high school a pin and notebook never left her grasps and in college the pin was replaced by a keyboard and the notebook replaced by a computer screen. She holds a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology and certified in business management.
When Peiri Ann is not writing, reading, doing homework, or working in the downtown of Chicago she enjoys spending time with her little girl, watching action flicks, and spooning peanut butter from the jar as a midnight snack.
Web – www.peiriann.com
Blog - http://peiriannslifesloves.blogspot.com/
Twitter - @peiriann
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/aburdenednovel
Goodreads – http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7728917.Peiri_Ann


July 7 Guest blogVampChix http://www.vampchix.blogspot.com
July 8 InterviewPembroke Sinclair  www.pembrokesinclair.blogspot.com
July 9 Guest BlogFang-tastic Bookswww.fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com
July 10 SpotlightShare My Destinyhttp://sharemydestiny.blogspot.com
July 11 InterviewRoxanne’s Realmwww.roxannerhoads.com
July 14 Guest blogCloey's Book Reviews and Other Stuffcloeyk.blogspot.com
July 15 Guest blogParanormal Romance Fans for Lifewww.paranormalromancefanforlife.blogspot.com
July 16 ReviewParanormal ROmance and authors That Rockwww.pratr.wordpress.com
July 17 InterviewA Writer's Mindwww.skypuringtonwrites.blogspot.com
July 18 InterviewAngel’s Guilty Pleasureshttp://angelsguiltypleasures.com
July 21 SpotlightShut Up & Read http://shutupandreadgroup.blogspot.com/
July 22 Guest blogThe Creatively Green Write at Home Momwww.creativelygreen.blogspot.com
July 23 SpotlightCorazones Literarios http://coraznes-literarios.blogspot.com
July 24 SpotlightLisa’s World of Bookswww.lisasworldofbooks.net
July 25 SpotlightSapphyria's Book Reviews http://saphsbookblog.blogspot.com/
July 28 Top Ten ListDarkest Cravingswww.darkestcravings.blogspot.com
July 29 Character InterviewEclipse Reviewshttp://totaleclipsereviews.blogspot.com/
July 30 InterviewKaren Swarthttp://authorkarenswart.blogspot.com/
July 31 Guest blogJust Another Rabid Readerhttp://justanotherrabidreader.info
August 1 SpotlightMelissa Stevenshttp://melissastevens.us
August 1 SpotlightKristy Centenohttp://booksbycenteno.com
August 4 InterviewBooklover Sue http://bookloversue.blogspot.com
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Blitz The Zombie Upstairs by T.W. Kirchner

The Zombie UpstairsThe Troubled Souls of Goldie Rich Book 2T.W. Kirchner
Genre: YA mystery
Publisher: Short On Time Books
Date of Publication: 02/12/14
ISBN: 1494906902ASIN: 978-1494906900
Number of pages: 92Word Count: 30,000
Cover Artist: Tony Bryson
Book Description:
After the first harrowing but successful zombie encounter, fourteen-year-old Goldie Rich and her older sister, Gema, make amends. Since Gema still doesn’t share Goldie’s belief in zombies, Goldie and best friend, Rita, decide to keep their zombie activities a secret. With nine souls left to free from the magical pendant Goldie found, her zombie hunting days are far from over.
The warring light and dark magic of the pendant give Goldie frequent nightmares. Her visions give her clues of what lies ahead and what she needs to do to defeat the evil Bokor. As she struggles to unravel them while keeping it a secret, friends Jonny and Blake get pulled into the zombie hunt. Just when Goldie finally feels she has the mission under control, some new discoveries alert her that the dark magic has placed Gema in danger.
On sale for .99 July 8 through July 14 at Amazon

The Zombie UpstairsChapter 1
     The white magic charms fought against the black magic spells cast on the pendant.  The invisible battle raging inside the tiny, glass cylinder made it ice cold to everyone’s touch.  Everyone except Goldie.  Around her neck, the pendant radiated a tingling warmth that turned into a scorching poker whenever a zombie drew near—and they were coming for her.      I peeked out of my bedroom window for the hundredth time in hopes that the zombie traps would work.     “Ow! What did you do that for?”     Rita had closed the wooden blinds on my nose without warning.  Obviously, she was oblivious to my pain because she casually twirled a teal lock of hair around her fingers and strutted away from the window.  I meant to tell her that her choice of hair gel clashed with her fingernails—a bad paint job done in navy blue polish—but now wasn’t the time.     She bit her lip and squinted at me.  “Goodness, Goldie.  Stop worrying.  That was awesome the way you handled the first zombie.  Did the dude really look like Frankenstein and glow like a light bulb?  I can’t believe he died from being smacked in the face with a salt packet.  Who wouldn’t believe in zombies after that?”      “Really?  You have to ask?”  I twisted my out-of-control curls into a bun and secured them with a handy plastic bag clip from the empty pretzel bag.  “I can name lots of people that still don’t.  Seriously, Rita.  Everyone thinks it died of a heart attack.  Except for us, the Bokor, and voodoo enthusiasts.  We know the truth—feeding a zombie salt frees its soul, and it drops dead.  We already know that no one, even my dear sister, Gema, is going to believe what sounds like a wild tale spun by a fourteen-year-old.”  I stroked the floppy ears of my little dog, Chanel, to try to work out my aggravation.  “Whatever.”     Rita reached over and touched my pendant with one finger, but she pulled it right off.  She rubbed her finger.  “Geez.  That’s too freaky.  The glass froze my fingertip.  By the way, what’s the magic number?”     I lifted the pendant to my face and turned it to admire the golden dust and nine black granules trapped inside the seamless cylinder.  “Nine.  Nine souls left to free.  Nine zombies the Bokor has sent after me.”  I breathed a deep sigh.  “That’s okay, let them come.  We know what to do now.”     Wide-eyed, Rita stammered.  “We?  We’re BFFs, but you are the chosen one.  I don’t have magical powers.”     Rita was dingy, but she knew better.  “I don’t either.”     “But you have a magical necklace.”     “Good point.  Someone made sure I found the pendant.  But who?  And why?”     Rita shrugged and exaggerated a yawn, slipping into bed.  “No idea.  But you invited me to sleepover.  It’s 3 a.m., and we haven’t seen a decent horror movie yet.”     I flopped on my bed and grabbed the TV remote.  Chanel jumped up next to me and curled up into a furry black ball.  “I don’t sleep normal anymore.  Every night, I have zombie nightmares.  I see…things…clues, I think, but I can’t piece it all together.  Sometimes the Bokor appears.  His face is always hidden under a black hood, but I feel like I know him.  It’s weird.”     Rita pulled the blanket over her head.  “Do me a favor.  When you have another nightmare, be brave.  Beat up the zombies.  Face the Bokor dude.    Yank that hood off.  It’s a dream—they can’t hurt you.”     For a few minutes, I pondered the suggestion.  “You’re right, but…”     Snoring rumbled from under the blanket.      I sat my glasses on the nightstand.  “Never mind.”     Although I resisted sleep, it crept upon me like magic.  I opened my eyes and shivered.  I wasn’t in the familiar graveyard that inhabited my nightmares for weeks but a dark cavern.  My footsteps echoed, breaking the silence, no matter how carefully I stepped.  A chill rushed down my spine.  Faint light from two hanging lanterns illuminated the walls, carved from a damp, reddish earth.  It was a known fact to us zombie enthusiasts that zombies and mud went together like peanut butter and jelly.  My breathing deepened and the steam it created rose like smoke into the cold blackness.     The sound of feet shuffling across the dirt floor brought on more chills.  My body tingled from fear.  I wanted to run, but the cavern grew darker up ahead, and I didn’t know what I’d be running into.  This time, with salt packets crammed in my pocket, I was prepared to take down this zombie like I had the first one.  With as much bravery as I could muster, I spun around.  My body turned rigid.  The Bokor had found me.  As usual, I couldn’t see his face under the black hooded cape, only glowing red eyes that reminded me of hot coals in a fire pit.


About the Author:
After working an assortment of jobs, which include a computer programmer, marketing director, and substitute teacher, T.W. Kirchner decided to concentrate on her second loves, writing and art. Her first loves are her husband, two children, and furry menagerie known as the Kirchner Zoo. Pirates Off the Deep End and Pirates Off the Wall are my first published novels. The Troubled Souls of Goldie Rich: The Zombie Next Door and The Troubled Souls of Goldie Rich: The Zombie Upstairs are now available. A sequel to Pirates will be out around summer 2014
Website: http://www.twkirchner.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/tinainlv


Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100006500718993

Excuse me, You’ve Gotten Some Steam in my Punk Guest Blog with Jennifer Harlow

           Romance. Fantasy. Sci-Fi. Mystery. Literary. We love to put things, including books, into hard defined categories. It makes sense, we’ve been bombarded by so much information, even before the internet era, it just makes life easier. But thank goodness for the rebels, the mutations,. If everything remained in its pre-set category we never would have grown as a species. There would be no internet, no antibiotics, no Firefly (the last would be a crime against nature.) As the saying goes, art often imitates life. In recent decades, we have seen a great surge in the blending of genres in all art forms, especially the book world. Vampires, once only confined to the annals of horror, now find themselves the lead in many romance novels. Mysteries, once centered around an asexual sleuth with the crime in the forefront, are now taking place in space or the crime takes a backseat to the sleuth’s love life. And in the case of Steampunk, the Victorian Era now finds itself awash in amazing technology and sometimes modern sensibilities like the rights of women. We are living to see the rise of the mutants.
            My love of amalgam of genres is what drew me to the world of Steampunk, even making me wish to contribute to this growing sub-genre. I personally cannot get through something that doesn’t contain elements of various genres anymore, let alone spend a year writing one. Variety is the spice of life, and I like my food like my books, on fire. It combines so many things that I love: England, technology, pure adventure, and I even threw in some werewolves and romance to boot. There’s something in it for everyone. Which is why I think this has become such a popular sub-genre. I cannot be the only one who likes unpredictability and the new. Like the Victorian Era, this the age of advancement.
            Steampunk is the perfect example of this innovation trend because it centers around a time of great growth and change, the Industrial Evolution. Trains made it possible to travel great distances in a short time. Machines made it possible to produce mass quantities of goods for the growing population. But what if we had just stopped there? What if plastic was never invented? What if there was no rise of steel? What if women never ventured out of the home? It may have been a simpler time but was it better? As a woman, heck no, but I like most people am sometimes overwhelmed with all the information and choices now available to me. Steampunk wipes that away, at least for 300 pages. And no matter what else books do, no matter how much they evolve, their purpose will always remain the same: as an escape.  Why not travel to a complex world where we aren’t cramped on planes but travel by dirigible? Or where clockwork gears and rivets are a fashion norm? (I’ve attended cons, the steampunk outfits are always the most impressive.) And that’s where it all begins. Asking, “Why not?”
            There are only three types of story: man against man, man against nature, man against self. Every story stems from one of those conflicts. But like in people, there are many shades of gray, billions in fact. We all have a unique view on this life, one that often draws from multiple sources, a collection of experiences and thoughts. We are not simple and that’s what makes a person interesting. What we create in art to reflect that fact should not be simple either. We  should always be moving forward, trying new things, taking elements of what we enjoy and combining them with other things we like. That’s how we evolve. That’s how we move from the caves to traveling to the moon. How penicillin was invented. And how the best of the Victorian era was transported into the future for your reading enjoyment. Mutant and proud. Why not?

Verity Hart Vs. The Vampyres OmnibusA Hart/McQueen SteampunkAdventure 1Jennifer Harlow
Genre: Steampunk Romance
Publisher: Devil on the Left Books
ISBN: 978-0-9893944-4-4ASIN:
Number of pages: 293Word Count: 96,000
Cover Artist: Jennifer Harlow
Book Description:
KEEP CALM AND STEAMPUNK ON
The whole of Victorian London knows there is something not quite right about the Lady Verity Hart. She may be the daughter of an MP and the sister of famed inventor Lord David Hart, but she is a spinster whose own father threatens to send her to the madhouse every fortnight. Because Society is correct-Verity Hart is no lady. If they suspected how quick with a quip she is, let alone the majority of her brother's ingenious machines were her design, the sale of fainting couches would double.
Verity requires one herself when her beloved brother is kidnapped by vampyres in the dead of night. With the aid of an aggravating, rude American bounty hunter with a secret of his own, Verity takes to land, sea, and even air to rescue the only person who could ever love and truly accept her. Or is he?
Available at Amazon
About the Author:
Jennifer Harlow spent her restless childhood fighting with her three brothers and scaring the heck out of herself with horror movies and books. She grew up to earn a degree at the University of Virginia which she put to use as a radio DJ, crisis hotline volunteer, bookseller, lab assistant, wedding coordinator, and government investigator. Currently she calls Northern Virginia home but that restless itch is ever present. In her free time, she continues to scare the beejepers out of herself watching scary movies and opening her credit card bills.
She is the author of the Amazon best-selling F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad, Midnight Magic Mystery series and The Galilee Falls Trilogy. For the soundtrack to her books and other goodies visit her at www.jenniferharlowbooks.com

http://jenniferharlowbooks.blogspot.com Tales From the Darkside blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/jenharlowbooks
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jennifer.harlow.52
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4708453.Jennifer_Harlow
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/jenharlowbooks/


June 30 SpotlightAnya Breton Author's Bloghttp://blog.anyabreton.com
June 30 SpotlightCorazones Literarios http://corazones-literarios.blogspot.com
July 1 Guest blogJill Archerwww.jillarcher.com
July 1 Spotlight3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, & Sissy, Too!   http://3partnersinshopping.blogspot.com
July 2 Guest Blog Freda's Voice http://fredasvoice.com
July 2 ReviewSabrina Fordhttp://sabrinasparanormalpalace.blogspot.com/
July 2 SpotlightSo Bookishly http://sobookishly.net
July 3 Guest blogCloey's Book Reviews and Other Stuffwww.cloeyk.blogspot.com
July 3 SpotlightThe Indigo Quill  http://theindigoquill.blogspot.com
July 3 ReviewBarb Taubhttp://barbtaub.com
July 4 SpotlightDeal Sharing Auntwww.dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com
July 4 ReviewNicky Peacock Authorhttp://nickypeacockauthor.wordpress.com/
July 7 Guest blogFang-tastic Bookswww.fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com
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Five things about Alden Mochrie from Open World by Casey Moss

Hello, Alden. I’m so happy to have you here today to give readers an insight into you and the story Open World by Casey Moss.
05. What do you do for a living?
I was once in the military, but now I work for I-D-8 as a game designer. 04. Where are you from originally?
I’m from the east coast. I’m not at liberty to say exactly where, since it might cause trouble for the people I care about.03. You’re in Las Vegas now. Being so close to Rachel, NV, Area 51, and the Extraterrestrial Highway, I have to ask – Do you or don’t you believe in aliens and UFO’s.
After what’s been happening to me and my associates, I believe anything is possible and that includes life elsewhere in the universe.02. Would you go on one of the ghost hunting tours down in the city?
Sure. It’d be fun debunking any of the haunting claims that people are talking about.01. If you could change one thing about your partner, what would it be?

The amount of shoes, clothes, accessories and handbags she buys. Once we get married, we might have to have a second home just to store them all., Open WorldC.O.V.E.N.Book 1Casey Moss
Genre: Erotic Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Date of Publication: May 15, 2014
ISBN: 978-1-77130-852-6ASIN: B00KCE12JW
Number of pages: 146Word Count: 52,000
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Book Description:
The world has broken out in wars. Las Vegas has been ravaged by chemical warfare and is now home to several clans and creatures.
Welcome to I-D-8 Entertainment’s newest game: Clans of Vegas—Endless Night.Friends and family have gathered for a crunch time playtest of C.O.V.E.N.. When a horrible thunderstorm hits, everyone’s sucked into the game for real. In the MMORPG, Hope Collins is kidnapped by Buzz and forced to submit to his whims.
Her boyfriend, Alden, has to delay his quest of defeating a clan’s prince to save her, but time and circumstance don’t seem to be on his side. Faith Collins is bombarded by strange dreams brought on by Buzz. Her boyfriend, Tavis, learns to dream walk, but can he help break the spell she’s under and save her before she’s lost to him?
C.O.V.E.N. is more than just a game. It’s a whole other world.
Available at Evernight Publishing   Amazon   

All Romance eBooks   BookStrand
About the Author:
Casey Moss delves into the darker aspects of life in her writing, sometimes basing the stories on reality, sometimes on myth. No matter the path, her stories will take you on a journey from the light-hearted paranormal to dark things unspeakable. What waits around the corner? Come explore…
Website: http://caseymossbooks.com/   
Blog: http://caseymossbooks.blogspot.com/Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/author.CaseyMoss
Twitter: https://twitter.com/CaseyMoss_
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/CaseyMoss


June 30 InterviewDarkest Cravingswww.darkestcravings.blogspot.com
June 30 SpotlightSapphyria's Steamy Book Reviews http://saphssteamybooks.blogspot.com/
July 1 InterviewThe Creatively Green Write at Home Momwww.creativelygreen.blogspot.com
July 1 SpotlightDeal Sharing Auntwww.dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com
July 2 InterviewPembroke Sinclair.  www.pembrokesinclair.blogspot.com
July 2 SpotlightLisa’s World of Bookswww.lisasworldofbooks.net
July 3 Guest blogRoxanne’s Realmwww.roxannerhoads.com
July 3 SpotlightCorazones Literarios http://corazones-literarios.blogspot.com
July 4 InterviewEclipse Reviewshttp://totaleclipsereviews.blogspot.com/
July 4 SpotlightMila Ramoswww.jademystique.blogspot.com
July 7 Guest blogFang-tastic Bookswww.fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com

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Guest blog, Excerpt and Giveaway: Beyond the Reach of Judgement by Jo Bissell

What I've Learnedby Jo Bissell
Two years ago I started my journey towards becoming a independent author. I knew as soon as I set my mind to the project of writing a full length paranormal romance novel that I was going to take it through to publication. How was I so confident? Because prior to starting the project, back when I was dabbling in fanfiction, short stories, and WattPad I encountered other Indie Authors in various stages of their journeys, and I knew I wanted to join them. Unlike many writers, I never had any intention or interest in pursuing a “traditional” route and as I wrote on what has now become Beyond the Reach of Judgement I focused on creating something I personally would enjoy reading and something I would be proud to share with other readers, whether that turned out to be one or one million.
Beyond the Reach of Judgement now exists as an actual completed project available to the masses. I've got six unique reviews and some excellent reader feedback. While I will continue to share this project with the world, I feel a huge sense of pride and accomplishment just getting it to this point. And I've learned a great deal so far. Here's some thoughts for those considering the leap:
Dream big but work hard: everyone whom has every written anything original with the intent to let others read it, has had that moment when they feel they are pure genius and they will find instantaneous accolades and review the second their words are available to the public.  Then you come to realize that even if your book was that good (and it's probably not) you still have to find people to read it before anyone will care. And I thought writing the thing was the difficult part. So wrong. Finding readers, especially with a limited budget and time, is not an easy task. It just as much, if not more, research, planning, and effort as writing.
Write, rewrite, and rewrite again BEFORE you share with anyone: my first rough draft was barely 50K words. As above, I thought it was pure genius...until I reread it. Then I sat back and wondered what happened to all the things I thought I had written. Where was the magic? After crying over my keyboard a while about all that time wasted, I finally dove back into the project with renewed passion to capture what I previously thought I had written. Several rewrites with new scenes and expanded scenes, I had created something I felt I would enjoy reading.
Be grateful for all feedback, even the less than positive feedback: my first beta-reader tore my manuscript apart. My first reaction was to delete the email and forgot her name. Instead, I left it alone for a few days, and sat down to review the feedback. In retrospect, her feedback was brilliant and without it, I would likely have published that early draft and been very disappointed with the wave of negative feedback which would have likely echoed that of my early beta-readers. That being said, I did not blindly accept all advice, but I did consider each piece of feedback carefully. Even now that my Beyond the Reach of Judgement is published, I make a habit to evaluating each review, positive or negative for usable feedback which will help me in future endeavors. Someone took time to first of all read my words, then cared enough about those words, to evaluate them. How awesome is that?
Don't forget to write: it's so easy to get distracted, especially with the amazing amount of resources available and all the pressure to get involved in things like blogging, social media, and other forms of marketing even before you've finished the project. I know for a fact that I wasted and continue to waste  at least two hours a week that I should be writing, falling down rabbit holes of internet advice with what starts as good intentions and ends as a missed opportunity. I now block out specific times which are for writing only and separate block of time for researching and marketing.

Bask in your success: you wrote a book! It's available on the internet! People you've never met are reading it. That's a pretty cool thing. End of story.
Beyond the Reach of JudgementJo Bissell
Genre: paranormal romance; paranormal tragedy
ASIN: B00JNUJ810
Number of pages: 294Word Count: 76K
Cover Artist: Char Adlespergerat Wicked Cover Designs
Book Description:
“Did we leave any sin out?” she replied with a forced weak laugh.
“No. Between the two of us, I think we have managed to cover them all,” he mumbled as that uncomfortable lump in his gut returned.
Julien Rene Durant was once a good man. Born in France, he took the oath as a Jesuit Priest in the 1600s. He dedicated his life to spreading the Gospel. Now, he was a monster surviving off the blood of others; killing for survival even as he wished for nothing other than for his own extinction. After almost four centuries of guilt and hopelessness, he encounters someone who might just be able to rescue the good man trapped within the monster, but will his judgements deny him a second chance?
Mary Ruth Jacobson-Ryan is nothing special; a small town girl stuck in a rut. Married to the local Iraq and Afghanistan War Veteran and town hero who turned out not to be the perfect guy she fell in love with before the war, she is desperate for a way out. When things turn from bad to worse, she runs with plans to never look back. She quickly finds, however, that her search for a better future may lead her down a path with no future at all.
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/D-BSsXjx0v8
Amazon   Print Copy  Nook  Kobo


Excerpt 4:
Agent Samantha Wolf reviewed the surveillance video for the fifth time that hour. Frustrated, she rewound the tape and played it a sixth time. Her sources had verified that the woman was indeed the one for which she searched, but her case ended there. The tape remained her only hard evidence. There must be something in it she had missed. She needed something new, anything new. Her only angle thus far had been the black Porsche. Only a few people in the entire state owned that exact make, model, and trim in that color, all of which she had questioned personally. Sighing, she opened her notes and flipped through the pages. There was no body. She almost always had a body. If not a body, she had a victim with a story and a trail of clues leading straight to her undead perpetrator. She had no body, no victim, and only a dried up trail of black sports cars to work from. Why did she agree to a missing person’s case? There was absolutely zero evidence to support anything other than a human had taken the girl from that street corner. This case was not even in her jurisdiction. Looking over at the photo of her husband in uniform sitting on the nightstand in her hotel room, she shook her head and pulled the frame closer. She was not doing this because it was her job, she was doing this because it was the right thing to do for her fellow officer, and a good friend of her husband. If it was her husband missing, she hoped a friend would do the same for her. In fact, Jonathan Ryan had done that for her. By sending her the letter cataloging her husband’s last moments, and the happier times prior to those moments, including photos and comments from his other friends, he had given her something she felt she needed to return. She was determined to find his missing wife. He deserved that, and she had the training and the resources to do it.Reading over her notes, she tried desperately to connect the dots. She flipped through the profiles of the eight Porsche drivers she had questioned recently. Of the eight, two were women, and five had verified alibis. Mr. William Durand of Kansas City, MO remained the only man whom had yet to prove his whereabouts that evening. His address was mere blocks away from the location where Ms. Ryan had last been seen, but other than her gut feeling about him, she had no other real evidence against him. The car and the address hardly proved anything other than his wealth. When she had visited Magdalen Durant, as she had called herself, Wolf had no idea at the time that the girl she was investigating for unrelated reasons, would become the same woman she so desperately wanted to find now. If only she had opened the email from Jonathan sooner, instead of allowing it to drift further down her inbox until she had all but forgotten about it. As soon as she read Jonathan’s desperate plea for help and opened the picture of the exact girl she had interviewed a few days prior, she regretted her decision. Had she had this information during the interview, she imagined it would have ended very differently.Instead of just some random female who had flagged the alerts she had in place with the hospital as part of her ongoing investigation into mysterious deaths from extreme blood loss, she was Mary Ruth Jacobson-Ryan, wife of her dead husband’s best friend, and recent missing person case to which she had unofficially assigned herself. She assumed it to be coincidence. All of her other victims had been prostitutes. It seemed now to be one of her stranger cases, actually; dead, bloodless prostitutes found with slit wrists in motel rooms around the city every three to four weeks.It took the local authorities years to see the pattern and wonder if they were connected. Everyone involved in the individual cases attributed the deaths to suicide and rightly so, based on the obvious evidence. But to her experienced eyes, it had to be vampiric in nature. Nothing else she had encountered could drain a human dry in such an exact way, not even suicide via wrist slitting in a bathtub. Turning to her notes again, she read through the details regarding her interview with Ms. Durant/Mrs. Ryan. As she scanned them, her eyes stopped.“Scarring to a wound consistent with previous suicide attempt by exsanguination via laceration of the radial artery at the wrist.”While this detail had been important when Wolf had been focused on her bloodless prostitute case, somehow she had forgotten it when she realized she had missed her chance to confront Jonathan Ryan’s missing wife.Looking over at her calendar, she noted, for the first time, that the highlighted days had come and gone with no dead girl found in a motel bathtub. Furthermore, the woman’s arrival at the hospital correlated with that timeline perfectly.What if she wasn’t working two different cases? What if Mary Ruth Jacobson-Ryan was the latest victim of her prostitute-preying predator? She did disappear from a street corner well known for such activity. It could be possible that she had fallen victim in the same way the others had.  Thinking back to her interview with Mrs. Ryan, she tried to understand if indeed she had experienced and survived an attack by a vampire, why she would not have said anything about the attack during their exchange. So many questions swirled through the agent’s mind - Did she not remember? Did she not care? Did she not think she would be believed? Was she being coerced into silence? If so, how and why? Why had she been allowed to live when so many others had died? How had she escaped? Samantha’s thoughts drifted to the possibility that Mr. Durand could be one of the immortals she usually investigated. He definitely had a certain air about him - the difficult-to-place accent, the large amount of wealth for a man no one had seemed to have heard of, and a bit of arrogance when speaking with the law that she had encountered with her other vampires of significant age and experience. She remembered him being attractive and healthy in appearance at the time she had met him, meaning if he were indeed vampire, he had probably fed recently, but not too recently, judging by the whites of his eyes and the paleness of his skin. Making a note to get more security footage from Mr. Durand’s building to determine if he ever left during daylight hours, she grabbed her folder that contained the details of the prostitute case. Pulling out the map showing the locations of the victims’ bodies and their last known locations prior to their deaths, she located the loft building in which Mr. Durand lived. “Aha!” she exclaimed as she noticed the building’s location, centrally located among the mess of dots. Her suspicions increased, and now the evidence started to support them.


About the Author:
Jo Bissell started writing in middle school with fantasy stories inspired by books such as The Hobbit, and in fact once turned in a journal project written entirely in Dwarfish Ruins. She then explored fanfiction and short speculative fiction writing. Now, after many years of study, she spends most of her time working as a full time physician caring for hospitalized adults. When she is not writing or doctoring, she enjoys reading, watching movies, traveling, archery, thrift store shopping, and snowboarding. She currently resides in the Iowa City, IA area with her husband and two cats.
Beyond the Reach of Judgement is Jo Bissell’s first original novel which evolved out of a 2012 National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) project. She also has a short speculative fiction piece, His Eyes, available for Kindle. Future planned novels include a sequel to Beyond the Reach of Judgement, other works of urban fantasy and paranormal romances, and a science fiction novel. She continues to participate in NaNoWriMo.
http://jjobissell.wix.com/author
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jo-Bissell/540912922607472
https://twitter.com/jobissell
Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.com/e/B00CEDZWHM
Goodreads Author Page: http://www.goodreads.com/JoBissell

June 30 InterviewA Writer's Mindwww.skypuringtonwrites.blogspot.com
June 30 SpotlightShut Up & Read http://shutupandreadgroup.blogspot.com/
July 1 Guest blogAly @ Aly's Miscellanyhttp://alysmiscellany.blogspot.com/
July 2 InterviewPembroke Sinclair.  www.pembrokesinclair.blogspot.com
July 3 ReviewParanormal Romacne and Authors That Rockwww.pratr.wordpress.com
July 4 SpotlightTattooed Book Reviewwww.tattooedbookreview.com
July 7 Guest blogFang-tastic Bookswww.fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com
July 7 SpotlightAngel’s Guilty Pleasureshttp://angelsguiltypleasures.com


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Blitz Falling Angels by Ami Blackwelder

Falling AngelsAngelFire ChroniclesBook 2Ami Blackwelder
Genre: Angel YA Romantic Suspense
Publisher: Eloquent Enraptures Publishing
Date of Publication: June. 1, 2014
ISBN: 978-1499769401 ASIN:  B00KQ3SXZU
Number of pages:  277Word Count: 81,119
Cover Artist: Ami Blackwelder
Book Description:
Now that Ali Maney knows the world of Angels and Demons, she is discovering more secrets in the once forbidden books of the angel libraries.
Her relationship with Kian proves to be growing now that they can finally touch, but a few surprises puts her life and her feelings for him in danger.
With Were and Fanged Demons taking over Manhattan, and Ali's brother in danger, Ali will have to be stronger than ever!
Read this second installment of AngelFire Chronicles and find out if Ali and Kian make it to the end.
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/wK_gna1s-7A
Available at Amazon



Unleashed: Excerpt from Falling Angels 
     Finally, it was Saturday morning. I had only managed four hours of sleep before I heard a knock on the front door, but since I had been eagerly waiting all summer to visit the Angelfire house again, I didn’t mind. Kian promised and I held him to his word. I practiced my gifts for three months and while most of the time, I crashed and burned, I really felt toward the end that I had grown into my own.
     It was just two days before school would begin, and since I finished my summer training, Kian owed me a trip into the angel’s world. I’d wanted to get my hands on the books kept in the secret room; I’d been curious about those for a while and wondered whose pictures I would find. Who else in Manhattan would I discover as angel...or demon?
     “Ali!” Mom shouted as she stomped up the stairs, “Kian is at the door.”
     I rushed down to greet him before Mom made it to the top step. When I passed her mid-stairs, she gave me a disapproving look, a sharp glare propelling her pupils into the corners of her eyes. 
     “Got it, Mom.” I swung the door open and a smile beamed across my face from ear to ear. I couldn’t help it. No matter how often I saw him, seeing him again always felt like a rush, a rush of emotion I had been growing addicted to like a gambler in a casino.
     “Are you heading out this morning?” Mom stepped onto the first floor and headed towards me.
     “Yes, we have plans to meet up with Jennifer and Molly.”
     “Where?”
     “Just at the ice cream parlor down the block.”
     “When will you be back?”
     “Geez, Mom, twenty questions much?”
     Mom wrapped her palm over my shoulder as Kian leaned forward with a confident disposition.
     “Well, with everything we are hearing on the news, we can’t be too careful.” Worry lines creased her forehead. Kian and I glanced at each other.
     The news reported people being mauled to death or simply missing. Numbers piled up and no one had solid answers. Pressure mounted on the local police, but Samuel and I knew better. Answers would not be easy. The news could label these incidents as the results of a serial killer or a local gang, but we knew demons had been at work. Fanged and Were demons led by Dameon and Azrael.
     “I know. I’m sorry for snapping. Probably late afternoon. I’ll call you.”
     “Okay, just don’t forget to call in the afternoon or I’ll have to send your brother to fetch you.” Mom kissed my cheek and I gritted my teeth. Her doting affections reminded me of when I entered elementary school and she would wait at the bus stop for me to make sure I had safely gotten on the bus. Of course, before stepping onto my yellow educational chariot, she’d peck my cheek with a kiss.
     “I will.” Kian gripped my hand with his palm. Our fingers interlaced and I waved bye to Mom with my other hand as we stepped onto the sidewalk.
     “And don’t do anything more to your hair. Getting used to you as a blonde is hard enough.”
     “I won’t.” Now, it was my turn to glare.
     “Still don’t understand why you had to change your beautiful chocolate hair color.” She shook her head as she closed the door.   
     “She’s just worried about you.” Kian drew his face so close to me that I could feel stubble on his chin.
     “I know, and I love her for that, but at the same time, I want my freedom, and I forget she is in the dark about a lot. If Mom only knew the half of it, she’d keep me locked up in my room for good.” Plus, I hated lying to Mom. I hated lying period, but I couldn’t very well tell her what I was really going to be doing.
     Kian grew serious, “And Samuel? Have you talked to him about staying inconspicuous?”
     “Yes, I told him several times about not drawing attention to himself, because we don’t want to attract Dameon to him...or me, but...”
     “But what?” Kian stopped mid-step.
     “He’s a cop, and with people going missing and others found dead, he doesn’t have the patience to just sit back and wait for Angelfire to clean up the mess. He’s leading two teams to solve those crimes.”
     “But will he stay out of the crux of the mess?” Kian’s brows slanted inward. “Stay indoors, just keep to the paperwork?”
     “I doubt it.” I watched Kian’s worry lines furrow as the morning glow of the early sun hung behind us and glistened over his soft skin.
     “But you told him how dangerous Dameon can be? How he would kill Samuel at any given chance?” Kian sounded as if he had years of street smarts. 
     “Yes, of course I did, but Samuel is stubborn.” The cell in my back pocket vibrated and I pulled out the phone.
     “Who is it?” Kian inched closer.
     “Mom. She texted, Love you and hear from you soon.”
     We continued walking until we reached the ice cream parlor. Music set to the fifties permeated the space. “Just make sure you let me know every move Samuel makes. We need to be there in case Dameon shows up,” Kian insisted.
     “I will.” I lifted the phone in the air and snuggled close to Kian, “Ready?”
     “Sure.”
     I snapped a photo of us in front of the ice cream sign and then another one of us sitting in the booth.
     “Do you think two will be enough to fool Mom?”
     “You know her better than I do. What do you think?” he responded.
     “I think she will wonder why Jennifer and Molly aren’t in these pictures.”
     “Because we arrived before them and once they got here, we started talking and eating and you forgot.” Kian sounded like a guy who had gotten himself out of plenty of shady situations.
     “I guess we’re ready then?” I gleamed in delight at the thought of seeing the Angelfire house again. We slipped behind the ice cream parlor and into the empty alley. Our angelic wings sprawled across the air, flapped a few times and then we took off into the sky. I could get used to this.
     Like two Sandhill Cranes with sizable wings and perhaps some angelic DNA linked to some ancient existence, we flew from my neighborhood to Eagle Lake where the Angelfire mansion was situated. As much as I had flown the past three months, I still got a bit queasy when I looked down and saw the city from a sky view. Something about minuscule cars and houses felt unnatural and made me feel like a giant and so I kept my eyes on Kian.
     We landed behind the mansion where we always entered to avoid being seen out front. As Kian pulled open the iron door, I took in a deep breath, because my feet found land and soon I would be seeing my old home again.
     As Kian pushed the large frame, the thick door squeaked. The smell of rusty iron rushed past me as we walked up the spiral staircase. I noticed we never used the first floor and I figured it had something to do with keeping a low profile and staying unseen. The first floor had many more windows.
     As we walked up the staircase, I peeked over the railing and the light of the day crept over the bare first floor. Empty of furnishings except for a few boxes, the space seemed much more like a storage unit.
     “Why don’t you ever show me down there?” I pointed downward.
     “Nothing to show. Sammael doesn’t like anyone sleeping on the first floor…or dining there much. But sometimes we eat in the kitchen downstairs.”
     “Why doesn’t he like anyone staying there?” I stopped on the stairs and stared at Kian’s back as he took steps forward.
     “Because he feels too vulnerable on the first floor…because,” he hesitated, finding words, “in his mansion in Washington, his wife Ariel died on the first floor after an attack from demons. Azrael was there, briefly. Sammael only saw his back. After Azrael threw a stake into her chest, he vanished into the sky. Sammael couldn’t chase him and be with Ariel at the same time. So, he chose Ariel. She died in his arms. He couldn’t save her.”
     “Oh, my God.” I didn’t know what else to say.
     “Since then, we all sleep on the second floor and he never eats on the first floor.”
     The first room looked much as I remembered with only a few paintings from Van Gogh and Gustav Glimt hanging on the walls. Statues were in each corner and a piano in the center. Yep, still the same.


     I slid to the door, which led me to the crimson room, the library. I saw the mahogany door where we once trained, the last room I entered my junior year at Millennium High. Kian called it the Angelfire training room. Now, as a senior and as an angel, I expected I would be allowed to see a bit more. Maybe behind the doors next to the training room or the door on the left wall or right wall?
     I scurried to the bookcase on the right wall and pulled out the black bound book which once before had revealed so many strange images. My fingers fiddled with the pages of Azrael and Dameon. Their pictures seemed so different to me now. I saw them more clearly than I ever had as a human. In angel form, I became aware and in tune to the power shifts, tugs and pushes of this underworld. Their evil energy pulsated through my fingers as I felt their image. 
     I noticed a black door on the right wall near the bookcase and heard loud thumps like bodies being thrown around.
     “What is going on in there?”
     “Just our angel fledgling room.” The confused motion of my brows asked Kian to explain. “Where we keep rooms for the new angel arrivals to sleep and train.”
     “Different from the Angelfire training room?”
     “Yeah, the Angelfire room is for the experienced angels. The fledgling room is just for the newbies.”
     “Will they fight with us, against Dameon I mean?”
     “No, they are strictly housebound angels. Don’t know if you’ll even see their faces. Until they get strong enough in their powers, Sammael doesn’t want them out on the streets.”
     “But I’m out on the streets with you.”
     “That’s because you’re a human turned angel by Nathaniel’s death, and because you’re too involved in the situation with Dameon and saving your brother to be locked away somewhere for safe keeping. The angel fledglings were born angels. They just didn’t know it until recently. Like me, they didn’t find their gift till sixteen. More importantly,” his face grew serious, “we need to get to them and keep them on our side, because fledglings have a danger of turning into Dark Angels.” 
     Then the white door on the left wall thrust open and a head of waist-length blonde curls bounced up to the center of the empty room.
     “Ali!” Krysta shouted with enthusiasm as Kian watched the spectacle from the far wall. 
     “Krysta?” I hadn’t expected to see her anytime soon. I prepared myself mentally for seeing her at school, but it hadn’t occurred to me that I would see her here, now. But of course I would, I mean she is an angel too. I braced myself. “How are you doing?”
     “Good, considering.” She half grinned and the spring in her step turned into a stomp. I felt her twist of emotions toward me. My angel form amplified everything.
     On the one hand, she had a kinship with me, an old familiar face. On the other hand, I had been an unwelcome human in her fold, and a presence which had resulted in Nathaniel’s death. In a way, I guess she still blamed me. 
     The room felt emptier without him here.
     “Busy over the summer?” Small talk rambled from my mouth, and curiosity tugged on me. I mean, what had she been doing the last three months? She certainly hadn’t hung out with me. Maybe by now, her fumes had cooled over my presence with Angelfire? 
     “Busy, sure. If you call keeping your eyes on Azrael’s army busy...then yes. I’d call it a few near death experiences, but to each his own.”
     I guess not. Her anger reminded me of a fire embers, the kind that grows with every violent breath.
     “Are you alright?” I dropped the black book to the shelf and ambled toward Krysta whose wings looked as magnificent as ever. She had a way of always appearing clean and crisp.
     However, after she pulled up her long sleeved shirt and rolled up her jeans, scars on her skin became hauntingly visible. Kian darted to her side and scrutinized the abrasions with careful amber eyes.
     “What happened?” His voice grew scratchy.
     “You don’t want to know, Kian.”
     “Did Dameon do this?” Kian sounded furious. I’d never seen him this way. His usual bronze complexion flushed hot red and his hands trembled in fury.
     “No,” Krysta lowered her head, unable to look Kian in the eyes. Instead, she glanced up at me and I felt odd.
     “Then who? Azrael’s newborn army?” 
     “No,” Krysta took a step away from Kian, her body language very defensive.
     Kian’s brows made a hard slant inward and then his lips puffed. “Who, Krysta? I’ll kill ‘em.”
     Her lips sealed shut. I could feel the grind on her lips. She closed them so tightly, as if any air from them might let a secret slip. Kian placed his palm on her shoulder from behind and whispered,
     “Who?”
     “I can’t tell you.” Krysta’s pleading eyes met mine and I reached out for her as my own curiosity spun. My hands touched hers and then I pulled her into my chest. I’m not sure exactly how she ended up being comforted by me of all people...but I consoled her. I held her for about a minute before she pulled away and regained her composure.
     “I need to know.” Kian’s breath traveled from the center of the room to the bookcase where we stood.
     Krysta shook her head and then said the name like something shameful she didn’t want to say too loud, “Dumah.”
     Kian froze in his step which had been gradually making its way to Krysta. His complexion went from fiery red to pale white as if he had just seen a ghost. His eyes glossed over as if memories had taken hold of him and dragged him to a distant place.
     “Kian?” I called to him, but he didn’t respond. “Kian?”
     Krysta marched up and shook him until his eyes finally met with hers again. “Are you okay?”
     “She’s still alive...after a year of not hearing from her,” Kian said to no one in particular.
     “Yes, she’s alive.”
     “Who is Dumah?” I almost didn’t want to say the name aloud, the eerie feeling from its first mention still hung in the air like a bad odor.
     Krysta turned to me, and her glare felt like a sunburn, but Kian brushed past her mumbling, “It’s okay. She has a right to know too.”
     I couldn’t help letting my mind wander, jumping into possibilities of an old girlfriend, an old rival, and even, however unlikely, a human like Lucianda who happened to know of the angel world too. However, nothing could have prepared me for the truth.
     Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Krysta biting her lip as Kian clutched my shoulders with his palms and then met my curious eyes. “As you know, when I was younger, I lived in the orphanage. The caregivers took care of me, often beating me with a rod. I guess I got into more trouble than they wanted. What I didn’t tell you, I kept from you to protect you.”
     My ears honed in on his voice, “What didn’t you tell me?”
     “They moved me around a lot. A foster home here and a foster home there. They tried to keep families together,” he stared at me with intensity, “Foster homes took in both me and Dumah, but we didn’t last long anywhere.
     Dumah had a restless spirit and the minute we settled, she’d find her way into her new parent’s wallet or catch fire to the kitchen towels. I have to admit, I often joined in on the antics. But we eventually found ourselves runaways at twelve.”
     I nearly fainted as I took in all this information. “Dumah is your sister?”
     “My twin sister,” Kian clarified. “We didn’t much like the rules our foster families gave us, so we fended for ourselves on the streets of Manhattan. For four years, we rummaged through garbage, begged, stole, anything to survive. We had a few close calls with some shady characters.”
     Then Kian looked off to the lone window behind me. His eyes searched the clouds in the sky. “What happened?”
     “At sixteen, everything changed. My hands began to get ice cold. Dumah began to move objects with her mind.”
     “Objects?” I needed an explanation. I knew angels had natural gifts, but telekinesis seemed like an unfair power given to any one person.
     “Not all objects, but anything made of wood. She developed some sort of ability over the natural environment. She started moving tree branches while we hung out in the park as I sprouted ice from my palms. We didn’t know what was happening to us.” Kian looked at the floor, his eyes reddened and his throat grew too painful to swallow.
     “So, the two of you developed your angel gifts?”
     “Yes, but then...” a lump sank in his throat and a tear slid down his cheek.
     I took his hand and caressed his soft fingers before Kian finished his story.
     “One weekend, while we waited for Jimmy the dishwasher to give us a bag of the unused breads in the back alley of the restaurant, a local gang called Loco staggered half-drunk up to us.
     One of the guys tried to put his hands on Dumah and she slapped him. I threw my palms up to shoot ice at all of them, but I had little control over my powers at sixteen and didn’t even understand them. Then someone from behind gripped my wrists, tied a thick rope around them and then knocked me to my knees. Within seconds, my feet were bound and I had a black eye.
     Out of my other eye, I saw the man with his hands on Dumah and he pushed her up against the wall. A few of the fellows cheered him on as I struggled to get back up, but each time I managed to get an elbow to the floor, someone from behind would hammer me back down. 
     After a few minutes, the man dragged Dumah further into the alley until I could no longer see her. I could only hear her, screaming.”
     My eyes must have looked of dread as I listened to the story. Kian’s face flushed deathly white with a few tears streaming over his cheeks.
     “I screamed for her and fought the man on top of me, but he was too heavy. I couldn’t get out from under him. Then silence. I didn’t hear Dumah screaming anymore and then the gang disappeared. When I could, I ran to her. I found her curled in a ball on the ground. We didn’t move until dusk, but even then, Dumah didn’t speak to me.   
     That morning, we bumped into a young man about our age wearing a black leather jacket with just one red stripe.”
     “Dameon?”
     “Yes. He whispered something to her and she followed him. I warned her not to go, but she wouldn’t listen. She yelled something about me not being there to protect her and so she didn’t want to see me anymore. She disappeared with him and I haven’t seen her since.
     Later, Sammael found me and I lived with him. When Dameon appeared at Millennium High and Sammael revealed Dameon’s true identity to me, I figured Dumah had become one more on a long list of his victims, which made me even more determined to save you from him.”
     “But she’s not dead?” I posed the question with a stare at Krysta, who now stood several feet to the side of Kian.
     “No, she’s not and worse, she is a Dark Angel.”    


About the Author:
Ami Blackwelder is a Paranormal and SciFi author. Her stories range from Tween & YA to Adult. Growing up in Florida, she graduated UCF and in 1997 received her BA in English and additional teaching credentials. Then she packed her bags and travelled overseas to teach in Thailand, Nepal, Tibet, China and Korea. Thailand is considered her second home now. She has always loved writing and wrote poems and short stores since childhood; however, her novels began when she was in Thailand.
Having won the Best Fiction Award from the University of Central Florida (Yes, The Blair Witch Project University), her short fiction From Joy We Come, Unto Joy We Return was published in the on campus literary magazine: Cypress Dome and remains to this day in University libraries around the USA. Later, she achieved the semi-finals in a Laurel Hemingway contest and published a few poems in the Thailand’s Expat magazine, and an article in the Thailand’s People newspaper. Additionally, she has published poetry in the Korea’s AIM magazine, the American Poetic Monthly magazine and Twisted Dreams Magazine.
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Fallen: Guardian Trilogy Book 1 by Laury Falter

FallenGuardian TrilogyBook 1Laury Falter
Genre: Young Adult Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Audeamus LLC
Date of Publication: April 1, 2009
ISBN: 978-0-9855110-3-6 ASIN: B00280MFEY
Number of pages: 274 pages
Amazon
Book Description:
Fallen - the first book in the Guardian Trilogy...
Maggie is unaware of the terrifying fate that awaits her. It isn’t until she lands in New Orleans for a full year at a private high school and her unknown enemies find her does she realize that her life is in danger.
As a mystifying stranger repeatedly intervenes and blocks the attempts on her life, she begins to learn that there is more to him than his need to protect her and that he may be the key to understanding why her enemies have just now arrived.

EXCERPT 3Abaddon’s eyes met mine, and I turned to head down the dark street toward a quieter spot, a less public place. I wasn’t sure what Abaddon had in mind, but I knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant. I didn’t want anyone to accidentally find us or to valiantly step in, trying to be a hero. As I headed farther away from the commotion of Bourbon Street, into the darkness, I didn’t need to turn to make sure they were following me. I could feel them. As we got farther from safety, my radar grew more and more intense, as if it was sensing their anticipation of what was to come. I approached a dark alleyway and figured this would be as good a place as any to do it. Only the hazy illumination of a streetlight reached here, and no doors or windows could be seen, just the back sides of two buildings. An efficient place to die.It was here and now. I turned to face Abaddon, startled to find him leaning down, merely an inch away.




About the Author:
Laury Falter is a bestselling author of young adult romantic suspense and urban fantasy. She has three series out: the Guardian Trilogy, the Residue Series, and the Apocalypse Chronicles.
Website: http://www.lauryfalter.com
Twitter page: http://www.twitter.com/LauryFalter
Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Laury-Falter/196033543803745
Goodreads page: http://www.goodreads.com/lauryfalter



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Blitz Tender Deceit by H.Y. Hanna

Tender DeceitFirst Love SeriesBook 1H.Y. Hanna
Genre:  Romantic Suspense
ISBN:  978-0-9923153-6-8ASIN: 
Word Count:  67,000 words
Cover Artist:  Kim Killion
Book Description:
First love. Second chance.

All they have to do is stay alive...

Following her father's mysterious death in Singapore, Leah leaves her life in London and returns to the island that was her childhood home - braced to confront her past. Toran James may have been the boy her fourteen-year-old heart yearned for, but the magic of stolen glances and first kisses faded with his betrayal.

The enigmatic man she meets upon her return, though, is nothing like her memory, and the past holds more secrets than she realised. Was her father's death really an accident? What was hidden in his study? And why has Toran contacted her again after all these years? Someone is out to silence Leah - and that someone might be the man she is rapidly falling in love with... again.


Excerpt:
He looked up as she approached and she stopped short, stunned by the intensity of his green eyes.“Leah.”He made as if to rise and suddenly Leah panicked. Should I shake hands? Kiss him? Hug him? Quickly, she sat down at the table and waved him back down with her hand.“Hello, Toran.”It was hopelessly inadequate, a stupid inane greeting after all these years, but Leah didn’t know what else to say to the stranger sitting in front of her. Except for those brilliant green eyes, there was little left of the boy she used to know. The jaw had widened and hardened, roughened by a faint shadow of stubble, and the warm smile had been replaced by a steely line of a mouth that was at once forbidding and sensual. Dark, unruly hair fell over his brow and didn’t quite hide a thin scar along his left temple which Leah was sure had not been there before. His skin was more tanned than she remembered and that lean, boyish frame had filled out into broad shoulders and a hard, muscular physique that spoke more of outdoor pursuits than time in a gym. More than that, though, was the feeling of latent power and cool authority. Leah caught her breath. Toran James had grown up into a dangerously attractive man.There was a glass in front of him filled with a pale amber liquid; and next to it, a cigar, its wreath of smoke curling lazily up to the ceiling.Her eyes met his in accusation. “You said you would never smoke.”“You said you would never cut your hair.”Leah touched her head self-consciously before she could stop herself. She wondered if he was assessing her too and searching for the girl he used to know. Her hair fell in waves just past her shoulders now and she had learnt the art of eyeliner to make the most of her deep blue eyes. She wasn’t a gym bunny either, but walking everywhere in London had kept her trim. Leah saw his gaze flick appreciatively over her, lingering on her bare legs exposed by the short hem of her black dress, and she felt her pulse quicken.“I guess people change.” Leah attempted a light smile. “It’s been over twelve years, you know.”“I know.” He made a gesture with his hands. “I’m sorry to hear about your father, Leah.”She nodded. “Thank you.”Silence settled over them. Leah found herself unable to look at him and was furious to realise that her heart was pounding. What was wrong with her? Anyone would think that she was still fourteen! She had thought that meeting Toran again would help to lay the ghosts of her schoolgirl infatuation to rest. Instead, Leah was dismayed to discover that her feelings for him seemed very much alive, her awareness of him even more heightened than when they were teenagers. Not that he seemed to share her turmoil, she thought, glancing at him from beneath her eyelashes. His handsome face was inscrutable, the green eyes cool and remote.The Indian woman came over with a menu. Leah ordered the house special, a coconut mojito, while Toran ordered another whiskey. When the drinks arrived, he settled back in his chair and gave her a small smile. It was just a glimmer, but it was enough to remind her of the boy she used to know and Leah felt her shoulders relax slightly.“So you work in London now?” He raised an eyebrow. “Tell me about your job…”He was a good listener, as he always had been, and Leah found herself relaxing even more as she told him about her work, friends, life back in the U.K… Before she knew it, half an hour had passed and she realised that she had not learnt anything about him.“What about you?” Leah asked. “What’s—”A shrill beeping made her jump. He took a phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen, his face tightening. He stood up with an apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back.”Leah looked idly around the lounge as she waited for him to return, not quite sure of the feelings churning inside her. Why did anyone look up their childhood sweetheart? To reconnect? Rediscover? Re-ignite what had once been…?“I’m really sorry—something’s come up and I have to go.” Toran stood by the table, those green eyes once again belonging to a stranger.Leah stood up quickly and found that he towered over her. He had always been tall, but now he was well over six feet. She stared at the front of his shirt, where the crisp cotton parted to reveal a glimpse of tanned chest. He was standing very close. She found herself unable to meet his eyes. “Um… Sure, yes, of course…”“I’ll be in touch.”Leah felt something brush her hand—she could almost have imagined it—and then he was gone. Slowly, she made her way back to her hotel, her head dizzy with thoughts she didn’t really want to acknowledge. Alone in her room, she grabbed the phone on an impulse and dialed the number.“Hello?” Julia’s voice hadn’t changed, despite the years.“Hi, Julia.”“Oh my God, Leah? Is that really you?” She laughed. “I was so excited when I read on Facebook that you were coming back to Singapore. When did you arrive? Where are you staying? Hey, if you’re not doing anything tonight—”“I arrived earlier today. Listen, Julia,” Leah said breathlessly. “I know this sounds crazy, but I’ve got to tell somebody—somebody who understands. I…I saw Toran again and he—”“What?” Her voice was sharp. “Toran James? When? Where?”“Tonight.” Leah was taken aback by her sharpness. “I just got back, in fact. I went to meet him for drinks. I got this message and I couldn’t believe it… But then I thought, hell, why not, and…” She trailed off as she realised that Julia wasn’t listening.“Tonight? You saw Toran tonight? Leah, are you sure?”“Of course, I’m sure. I mean, he looks different—you know, all grown up—but his eyes…”“Wait, Leah,” she cut in urgently. “That’s not possible.”“What do you mean?”“You couldn’t have met Toran tonight.”“Why not?”“Because he died in an accident yesterday.”

About the Author:
H.Y. Hanna was born in Taiwan and has been a globe-trotter most of her life, from growing up in the United Arab Emirates to attending school in New Jersey, from working in the glamorous world of London advertising to emigrating Down Under.
Along the way, she somehow managed to pick up a wonderful husband, a huge, slobbery dog, two rescue cats, an assortment of cardboard boxes and a slightly dodgy "trans-atlantic" accent. After graduating from Oxford University, she tried her hand at a variety of jobs before returning to her first love: writing.
She’s the author of the Amazon bestselling children’s mystery series, Big Honey Dog Mysteries, and is now diving into the world of romantic suspense with the launch of Tender Deceit, Book 1 in the First Love Series.
You can find out more about H.Y. Hanna and her books at: www.hyhanna.com or catch her on Facebook at “H.Y. Hanna” or the Big Honey Dog Mysteries Facebook Page.
Website www.hyhanna.com    
Facebook http://bitly.com/hyhanna-facebook 
Amazon http://www.amazon.com/H.Y.-Hanna/e/B00EWX1C08
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7232313.H_Y_Hanna

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