Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 71
December 7, 2022
A Bewitching Wednesday
Guest Blog- Midpoint: A Memoir by Patricia Angeles #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/SmvI50LXlbl
DECK THE HALLS WITH BOOKS HOLIDAY EXTRAVAGANZA - PNR - WOLF DEFENDER by M Guida #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/h6yN50LXlfX
Fix by Melodie Bolt #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/iw0w50LXl4J
In Her Own Words: A Collection of Short Stories and Flashku by Cendrine Marrouat ~ Fiction/ Short Stories / Women’s Fiction @haiku_shack #EnterforaChance #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/SUUP50LXl83
Fix: The Flint Chronicles by Melodie Bolt ~ Peek Inside And Giveaway #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/zXqc50LXl65
Bewitching Book Tours Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza: Edge by Susan Mac Nicol #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/YgBx50LXl3y
Signed copies of Haunted Flint, Ghosts and Legends of Genesee & Lapeer Counties, and Pumpkins and Party Themes along with fun Halloween lover's holiday gift boxes are available in The Bewitching Cauldron
https://the-bewitching-cauldron.squar...
INTERVIEW WITH DC STONE (INTIMATE ESCAPE) #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/VXrk50LWbr1
In Her Own Words: A Collection of Short Stories and Flashku by Cendrine Marrouat Virtual Book Tour #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/hBzR50LXl1O
HOLIDAY EXTRAVAGANZA: CHRISTMAS BITCH a novel by JACK LELKO featuring HERE AND GONE (Flash Fiction) #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/8tlt50LXkYx
Avalon: a Heartwarming True Cat Story by Vanessa Morgan - Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/x5qO50LXkVK
Intimate Escape by DC Stone #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/CN9K50LXl9q
The Color of Trauma by Hollie Smurthwaite #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/6cUW50LXleC
Mother of the River by Emily McPherson #YAFantasy #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/526a50LXlce
December 6, 2022
A Bewitching Tuesday
INTERVIEW WITH DC STONE (INTIMATE ESCAPE) #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/VXrk50LWbr1
Mother of the River by Emily McPherson #YAFantasy #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/Hv9H50LWbsu
Fix The Flint Chronicles Book One by Melodie Bolt - Epic Urban Fantasy - Fix will do anything to get home, even murder. #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/mM9t50LWbpb #giveaway #AmazonGiftCardGiveaway
Bewitching Book Tours Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza: Wolf Defender by M Guida #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/jVRF50LWbwp
THE COLOUR OF TRAUMA by HOLLIE SMURTHWAITE & Bonus Cranberry Cake recipe #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/Nybr50LWbun
In Her Own Words
A collection of eight contemporary and emotionally gripping stories told from the point of view of women at different stages in their lives.
https://lshadowlynauthor.com/2022/12/...
Midpoint: A Memoir by Patricia Angeles [Tour Spotlight] #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/gZOc50LWbrO
Signed copies of Haunted Flint, Ghosts and Legends of Genesee & Lapeer Counties, and Pumpkins and Party Themes along with fun Halloween lover's holiday gift boxes are available in The Bewitching Cauldron
https://the-bewitching-cauldron.squar...
Avalon
Some cats need nine lives to make a difference. Avalon only needed one.
https://lshadowlynauthor.com/2022/12/...
In Her Own Words: A Collection of Short Stories and Flashku by Cendrine Marrouat - Book Tour + Giveaway https://www.jazzybookreviews.com/2022...
Help support my writing projects for as little as $1 per month & get EXCLUSIVE paranormal content! #Patreon #ParanormalInvestigations #ParanormalResearch #GhostHunting #HauntedHistory https://www.patreon.com/RoxanneRhoads
Edge by Susan Mac Nicol- Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/XQ8A50LWboq
Mother of the River by Emily McPherson #YAFantasy #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/Aw3N50LWbnT
In Her Own Words: A Collection of Short Stories and Flashku by Cendrine Marrouat #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/nTXF50LWbqy
December 5, 2022
A Bewitching Monday
Author Interview- In Her Own Words: A Collection of Short Stories and Flashku by Cendrine Marrouat #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/j5HM50LV2RA
Ten Writing Tips from Shrek Writer Joe Stillman #tipsforwriters #Shrek #JoeStillman #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/rEbi50LV3vE
Author Interview - In Her Own Words: A Collection of Short Stories and Flashku by Cendrine Marrouat #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/recM50LV2Ve
The magical creatures in Flint are being murdered. The killers have an agenda: to leave the mortal world and live their fairytale ending in Fairy, and they will kill everything they can to get there. https://amzn.to/3Xy26JA
#urbanfantasy #writing #firstnovel #dragons #shifters
Wolf Defender by M Guida - Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/aCQK50LV3tF
DECK THE HALLS WITH BOOKS HOLIDAY EXTRAVAGANZA - THE COLOR OF TRAUMA by Hollie Smurthwaite #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/sGyW50LV3nR
The Art of Always
The biggest mystery is why we lie to ourselves #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/ozJI50LV3lt
Midpoint: A Memoir by Patricia Angeles #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/l4J650LV34g
Mother of the River The Protectors Book One by Emily McPherson May you have the hindsight to know where you’ve been, the foresight to know where you are going, and the insight to know when you have gone too far. - Irish Proverb #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/xLbO50LV3cq
Fix: The Flint Chronicles Book One by Melodie Bolt #UrbanFantasy #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/rcFy50LV2Nh
Midpoint: A Memoir
An immigrant woman’s story of perseverance and building a legacy future generations can be proud of.
#bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/NvRG50LV396
Escaping the clutches of the cartel & going undetected through Mexico presents significant challenges when no one knows
where you are, & when you’re insanely attracted to your subject of investigation. Intimate Escape by DC Stone #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/WYEW50LV2ZU
Edge
Words cost nothing to write but sometimes, they lead to heartbreak and tragedy. #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/xtxl50LV2Kx
Avalon: a Heartwarming True Cat Story by Vanessa Morgan - Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/Obxj50LV2CZ
Bewitching Book Tours Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza: Christmas Bitch by Jack Lelko #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/3IFW50LV2GA
Help support my writing projects for as little as $1 per month & get EXCLUSIVE paranormal content! #Patreon #ParanormalInvestigations #ParanormalResearch #GhostHunting #HauntedHistory https://www.patreon.com/RoxanneRhoads
Real Haunted Locations - Jerome Arizona Guest Blog by Patricia Friedrich #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/J5JJ50LSh5f
Mother of the River by Emily McPherson #YAFantasy
Mother of the RiverThe Protectors Book OneEmily McPherson
Genre: YA FantasyPublisher: Eyebright BooksDate of Publication: 03/07/2023ISBN: 9798986797311 ISBN: 9798986797304 ISBN: 9798986797328 ASIN: B0BJJH5ZXVNumber of pages: 272Word Count: 73,800
Cover Artist: Berterra Forester
Tagline: May you have the hindsight to know where you’ve been, the foresight to know where you are going, and the insight to know when you have gone too far. - Irish Proverb
Book Description:
Ianthe was only six years old when her mother vanished and the strange statue appeared in the river near her home. Now, eleven years later, the statue stands as a memorial and a place where Ianthe often visits to tell her mother about her life. But when an old acquaintance returns to town and suggests the statue isn’t just a statue, the presence of a mythical creature comes into question, and Ianthe begins to wonder what really happened all those years ago.
With her best friend, Fintan, by her side, Ianthe searches for a lost legend and discovers fantastical dangers, family secrets, and the magic of Ireland. But finding the myth may not be enough to mend the past. And finding the truth just may threaten her future.
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/yyytpAIc89Q
Excerpt
“Ianthe, you could have said goodbye to your friend, you know. I didn’t mean to pull you away so quickly.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Ianthe said, waving her hand in dismissal. “You didn’t.”
“But I did interrupt something, didn’t I?” Dubheasa smirked, almost amused with Ianthe’s discomfort.
“Well… sort of,” Ianthe said, “but believe me. I might owe you a favor for that one.”
Ianthe dropped her hands into her pockets and suppressed her embarrassment for another time. They arrived at the tea shop, opting for the outdoor seating on such a beautiful spring day, and claimed a small table with chipping white paint at the edge of the patio. The proprietor, Idina, weaved in and out of tables taking orders, quick as a hurricane wind.
“What’ll you have, darlings? Oh, Ianthe.” Idina’s tone brightened as she recognized Ianthe at the table. “Evening, love. How are you?” she asked with a dip of her head. A deep brown coil fell in front of her eye, and she flipped the curl back into place.
“Hello, Mrs. Kent,” Ianthe said with a cordial nod. “Just grand, and you?”
“Fine, perfectly fine. And I’ve told you to call me Idina, haven’t I?”
“Right. Sorry, Idina.”
As Ianthe got older, more and more people in town asked her to call them by their first name, as though she was one of the adults—a concept much too odd for Ianthe to accept. Now she was expected to call Ms. O’Malley from down the road Eleanor. Mr. Wilson, who brought the morning paper, asked her to call him Norman. (Who knew he’d named his cat after himself?)
And now Mrs. and Mrs. Kent were Idina and Hazel.
“You’ve just had a birthday, haven’t you?” Idina said.
“Yes— well, it’s been a couple of weeks.”
“Seventeen now, are we?” she asked, adjusting her apron.
“That’s right,” Ianthe said, and she straightened up in her chair as a proud smile dimpled her cheeks.
“I’ll have Hazel bring you some dry herbs and teas to take home then. Now, what’ll you two have?”
“I think tea and scones,” Dubheasa said, raising her brow at Ianthe, and Ianthe nodded.
“Two cups, two scones,” Idina confirmed. “Extra butter, Ianthe?”
“Yes, please,” Ianthe said with a smile.
A loud shatter sounded from inside the shop, and Idina jumped out of her skin.
“Oh, Hazel, good grief. Slippery fingers, slippery fingers,” she continued to mutter as she hurried inside.
“I hope she remembers our order,” Dubheasa said, chuckling at the commotion.
“She will,” Ianthe assured her. “They can be a bit chaotic, but Idina and Hazel are the best around. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Hazel is magic with her teas.”
“What makes you so sure she isn’t?”
Ianthe giggled at the insinuation, but Dubheasa’s eyes only narrowed.
“You’re not serious,” Ianthe said. “Tea can’t be magic.”
“Perhaps not, but people can be.”
“Pft. I was only having a laugh, Dubheasa. I know Hazel doesn’t make magic tea because magic isn’t real.”
“Here you are, darlings,” Idina said, setting the tea and scones on the table. “Enjoy!” And she rushed off again.
Ianthe slid a cup and a scone to her side of the small table and slathered butter onto the bread while Dubheasa eyed her carefully.
“Well then,” Dubheasa said, thankfully moving on to a new topic, “when did we last see each other, dear? Do you remember?”
“Um,” Ianthe paused to take a bite of her scone. “Two summers ago, I think.”
“And has much changed since then?” Dubheasa asked, stirring cream into her tea.
“Besides growing a bit taller, nothing at all.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re still here.”
“Why wouldn’t I be here?”
Dubheasa sipped her tea and waited for Ianthe to come to some sort of conclusion, but Ianthe stared back, lost as ever.
“Well, the Scréch Sídhe, of course,” Dubheasa finally said.
Ianthe couldn’t help but subtly roll her eyes, feeling a sliver of annoyance in her gut.
“Oh, right. Of course,” she said flatly. “How could I forget.”
“You still don’t believe in the Sídhe, do you?” Dubheasa asked, though she already knew the answer.
“No, I must admit. I don’t.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why is that?”
“You told me the Scréch Sídhe would come for me after my mother disappeared, but it’s been eleven years. Do you really believe a magical faerie would need this much time to find a person?”
Dubheasa continued to sip her tea with squinted eyes before offering another question.
“Then how do you think your mother turned to stone?”
“Oh, this again?” Ianthe said, reminding herself a bit of her dad. “My mother didn’t turn to stone.”
“I’ve seen her, Ianthe. I know she stands in the river.”
“I’ve told you,” Ianthe said, dropping her hands to the table rattling the teacups. “My father had that statue made in remembrance of her. It’s not actually her.”
“And yet, he never visits her to remember her.”
“N—no, you’ve got it wrong, Dubheasa. My mother disappeared.”
“And disappearing into thin air is a more acceptable explanation for you?” Dubheasa asked, studying Ianthe’s face.
“Certainly more acceptable than ‘cursed by a faerie’,” she said in a failed whisper, gripping the edge of the table and leaning in.
About the Author:Emily McPherson is an author for young adult readers with a liking for fantasy. As a member of the LGBTQIA+ community, she strives to normalize seeing characters of the rainbow on the page without harmful stereotypes. She is an Irish dancer with a slight obsession with mythological creatures. She lives in Connecticut with her husband, son, and—the real mythological creatures—her two rescue pugs.
https://www.eyebrightbooks.com/emilymcpherson
https://www.facebook.com/emilymcphersonauthor
https://www.instagram.com/emilymcphersonauthor/
https://www.tiktok.com/@therealemilymcpherson
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December 2, 2022
A Bewitching Friday
INTERVIEW - CONTEMPORARY SUSPENSE - INTIMATE ESCAPE (Empire Blue, #4) by DC Stone #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/rQNf50LTj1u
Giveaway – Wolf Defender by M Guida @RoxanneRhoads #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/K5aW50LTjmY
Fix will do anything to get home, even murder. #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/QEcb50LTiZw Enter to win $100 Amazon GC
Mother of the River by Emily McPherson #YAFantasy #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/SVLZ50LTj3V
Edge by Susan Mac Nicol- Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/CMuZ50LTiVm
Midpoint: A Memoir by Patricia Angeles #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/BcCi50LTj5Z
Christmas Bitch by Jack Lelko - Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/oHYj50LTiU4
Bewitching Book Tours Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza: The Color of Trauma by Hollie Smurthwaite
https://www.mommasaystoread.com/2022/...
Mother of the River
May you have the hindsight to know where you’ve been, the foresight to know where you are going, and the insight to know when you have gone too far. – Irish Proverb #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/jCoA50LTj9b
Avalon by Vanessa Morgan [Blitz with Excerpt] #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/ey8g50LTiQV
Writer’s Block Be Gone Spell by Melodie Bolt #UrbanFantasy #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/6IHT50LSgYC $100 Amazon Gift card Giveaway
Signed copies of Haunted Flint, Ghosts and Legends of Genesee & Lapeer Counties, and Pumpkins and Party Themes along with fun Halloween lover's holiday gift boxes are available in The Bewitching Cauldron
https://the-bewitching-cauldron.squar...
“The demons I fought to keep in their cages had broken free and I had the messy job of rounding them up one by one and putting them back where they belonged.”
The Crimson Daughter by J.I. Hens
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BNMYF2QT
#paranormalromance #bookstagram #kindlebooks #newbookrelease
Help support my writing projects for as little as $1 per month & get EXCLUSIVE paranormal content! #Patreon #ParanormalInvestigations #ParanormalResearch #GhostHunting #HauntedHistory https://www.patreon.com/RoxanneRhoads
Real Haunted Locations - Jerome Arizona Guest Blog by Patricia Friedrich #bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/J5JJ50LSh5f
The Man Who Came and Went by Joe Stillman #MagicalRealism #Fantasy
#bewitchingbooktours http://ow.ly/JTTY50LTjg8
Fix: The Flint Chronicles Book One by Melodie Bolt #UrbanFantasy
Fix The Flint ChroniclesBook OneMelodie Bolt
Genre: Epic Urban Fantasy
Date of Publication: December 1, 2022 Number of pages: 412Word Count: 95,411Cover Artist: BRoseDesignz
Tagline: Fix will do anything to get home, even murder.
Book Description:
The magical creatures in Flint are being murdered and Koko and Damien hardly know each other, let alone how to track down serial killers.
Each death is tipping the balance toward something darker. The killers have their own agenda: to leave the mortal world and live their fairytale ending in Fairy, and they will kill everything they can to get there.
How can Damien and Koko find and stop them before the real evil unfolds?
Amazon
Meet the Cast of Characters
Fix - Changeling from Fairy who wants to return home. He thinks he can get there with the help of Jira's shark magic.Jira - a Japanese Italian heiress who longs for a place called home and someone to share it. She’ll do anything to help the love of her life including murder.Damien - A golden born dragon. Smart with no street smarts. Definitely doesn't know how to track down serial killers. Might like Koko.Kishona - Koko- daughter of the Sekhmet line. Granddaughter to the Flint Guardian. Trying to find her purpose and understand her path until finding serial killers becomes her purpose.Amera - Fix's Fairy mother who wants a life with her Unseelie lover, Sting.Sting - Fix's Fairy father who believes love can undo everything.
Excerpt
The Fairy MidlandsSting Crowwing, tall and thin in his fairy form, exited the Unseelie portal and led out his ebony stallion, Carrion. Sting was counting down the hours as the Change grew closer. He had one chance to build his own future, and he was determined to make that happen. But first things first, he needed Amera. As the runes faded the door disappeared into the trunk of the massive, rotted oak, closing the way to Omnion and the Court.
Sting slipped the heavy black reins over the large head of his war horse. The reins brushed the cat skulls and dog bones woven into Carrion’s mane. Sting pulled a silver clasp from his pants pocket, gathered his long black hair, and fixed it at the nape of his neck. Carrion stood still as Sting slipped his leather boot into the stirrup and mounted. He adjusted his over-long black wings on either side of the saddle. The fairy checked his weight in the stirrups, then gathered the reins and commanded the stallion forward into the night.
Carrion picked his way through the tangled roots and moved slowly through the Unseelie-marked land. Sting breathed a sigh of relief. The rules and expectations—the Court’s and his father’s—shackled him to a future he didn’t want. Outside Omnion, it was just him and his own desires.
He stopped the horse at the edge of the forest and studied the long grass undulating in the breeze, the feathered seed tips of which just brushed Carrion’s belly. The greens and tans looked like smoke under the night sky. Sting cast an invisibility glamour and, as they crossed the meadow, the massive horse and his rider appeared as nothing more than shadow.
Slowly, they approached the rolling hills of Seelie land. Honeysuckle and roses sweetened the wind. The trees appeared fuller, sharp branches softened by foliage. Sting listened to the cricket and frog songs, the harsh wildness of his home replaced by the touch of Seelie creativity and mirth. Even the moon appeared gentled, suspended like a white boat riding the dark currents of night.
When they arrived at The Hill Sting halted Carrion, and they waited in front of the massive rose-covered mound that housed the portal to the Seelie Realm.Sting’s father had laughed at him when he’d found out about the girl, but instead of discipline his father didn’t seem to care that Sting kept slipping outside the Court to visit her, even though it was forbidden. His father had just smiled, showing his sharpened teeth, and warned the boy,
“Become what you are.”
But what did his father know? Old and wing-clipped, he lived according to all the rules and disciplines of the Unseelies. His father was an Enforcer, Vollstrecker of House Orba Alis, the Dark Queen’s punisher. He delighted in pain. There were plenty of Unseelies who loved his father’s lash, but none lasted. His father used them and tossed them aside. The thought sprinted across Sting’s heart and chilled his blood: maybe his father didn’t love anything, even their queen. Wasn’t he, even now, tacitly helping Sting by ignoring visits like this?
Sting studied the fully open blossoms on the hill and noticed that, like the grassland, Night, deity of the Unseelies, had her effect on Seelie land. In daylight, these roses reminded him of Amera’s lips and tongue, but under the moon they appeared the color of bones.
He smiled and let his thoughts wander, loving the sweet agony of waiting. The thought of Amera’s lips pressed against his, the smell of her hair, made his aching body thrum with magical possibility. Carrion tugged on the reins, seeking to lower his head and graze for insects. Sting let them fall slack. But then a buzz, like a trickle of lightning, got his heart pumping, indicating Amera’s approach.
He felt a coldness still clinging to him from the Dark Forest, and he shook his shoulder blades and wings to shrug the chill away. His chest feathers ruffled then smoothed down. His stallion, sensing Amera’s mare, tossed his head, the bones in his mane sounding like Brownie percussion. Carrion’s ears pricked forward, and he whickered softly.
With a shimmer, the gem-encrusted golden door appeared then solidified in the hillside. Seelie runes glowed blue, one of the sacred colors of the Seelie Court as it signified life and purity. The door swung open.
A palomino mare entered the meadow, prancing and moving until she finally stood head-to-head with Carrion. The horses blew softly at each other; Carrion stood stock still while the mare, Pear Blossom, tossed her head and shifted on her feet, dancing with impatience. But Sting’s eyes fixed on Amera, who walked out and closed the Seelie door. She glanced shyly at him and smiled. Her long golden hair glowed white under the moon and her dark skin appeared washed out, looking almost as bloodless as his own. Odd, he thought, then grinned at her, eager to touch her. She gracefully swung onto the mare’s bare back.
They both looked at the door to make sure no one had followed her out. It thinned, shedding solidity until it billowed like a ghostly curtain and vanished, the runes fading like fireflies in the dawn.
The horses started moving, knowing the way. As Sting looked at Amera, her shoulders sagged and her head angled downward. Her hair, which normally curled over her shoulders, thinned and drooped, and her youthful face sagged and wrinkled like a rotten apple. Her long, slim fingers curled claw-like, knuckles knobby and protruding. Startled, he reached for her.
She glanced at him and smiled faintly. The crone image flickered and disappeared. Slipping out of his reach, she urged Pear Blossom forward. The mare broke into an easy canter, and Sting and Carrion followed.
Once they left the meadow and entered the unclaimed land Sting and Amera began changing the landscape, moving toward their bower and far away from prying eyes. The final point of passage was a golden gate locked with mixed magic. He sang the lock open with a deep note laced with darkness, and her laughter, light and golden, pushed the barricade out of their way. They dismounted, leaving the horses outside, and entered the bower together.
As the gate swung closed soft candles flickered and caught, ringing the small room. Thrumming with anticipation he watched her, waiting for her transformation. Her forest- green riding tunic swirled into a sky-blue dress of spider webs and dew drops that sparkled in the soft light. His breath caught as he studied her face—high, sharp cheekbones, summer-sky eyes, and skin the color of a black deer’s hide.
He knew she had bespelled him but, in the radiance of her glamour, he didn’t mind. She was so unlike any of the dark females in the Unseelie Court that leaving her made his heart all the more shadowed. How he relished the sting of separation.
“I’ve missed you,” he said.
Amera reached up and tenderly stroked his cheek, but where light usually beamed in her smile sadness gathered across her face. She had dark shadows under her eyes and her aura appeared dull and flat. She embraced him, pressing her cheek against his chest feathers. He frowned, bewildered by the sadness that didn’t belong to her. He bent his head and breathed in the scent of her hair. He felt her tears spilling against his feathers, eliciting a nip of pleasure. He pushed it away.
“What’s troubling you?” he said.
Amera looked up, blinking wet lashes. “We’re in trouble.”
“What? Do your parents know?”
She shook her head. “No, not that.” She studied his face and frowned. “Do yours?”
Sting raised an eyebrow. “No.” The lie spilled off his lips.
Her eyes darted away.
“So, tell me already,” he prodded. Patience felt strange to him. He needed answers. Sweat gathered between his wings as her brow creased. He knew she was trying to find the words, was struggling.
“It’s better if I show you.”
She stepped away from him and circled her hand in front of her dress. Sparks glimmered and spun in the air, spiraling and brightening to reveal an object wrapped in green blankets. It hung suspended in front of her, and she reached out; taking it in her arms, the light faded. Sting stepped closer and looked as she carefully peeled the blanket away like a leaf of cabbage.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A mistake. You have to fix it. I-I can’t.” She tilted the bundle so that he could see the golden face of a sleeping baby.
A little bit of fluffy black hair stood upright. Sting frowned at the straight, ink hair with the tanned skin. It didn’t look right. The Seelie hair curled tightly. Some said from their laughter catching in the strands. While the Unseelie hair hung sleek, letting fear and love slip away from their minds. Amera waved her palm over the baby’s face and its eyes opened, revealing one sky blue one like hers and one toxic green like his own. He stepped back and hissed in surprise and disgust. Amera bespelled the child back to sleep, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Sting knew without asking that the baby was theirs. As impossible as it felt, somehow their need for each other contained just the right elements to make life.
“When did that show up?” he asked.
“Last night, I guess. I woke up with it next to me in bed this morning.”
A chill ran up his spine. The mixing of light and dark magic was forbidden to manifest life. Mixed magic had no place in Fairy; it belonged to neither the Seelie nor Unseelie Court. Whether plants or animals, they always caused trouble and heartache. But a child! There would be consequences, punishment for them both. And Amera! Did the Seelie have Enforcers? They must. Sting couldn’t bear the thought of someone’s lash nipping and slicing Amera’s silken skin. He looked at her tear-streaked face and knew he had to do something. This abomination had to disappear. Or, better yet, die.
“Give it to me,” he said. As he took it, he could feel the weight dragging on his magic. He looked at Amera, who smiled and stood straighter. Her aura brightened and the shadows under her eyes faded.
He placed the bundle on the ground and ran his hands over his feathers. He felt the magic blur his body, sharpening his nose and chin into a beak, feet into claws. His arms merged with his wings. His claws took hold of the baby and lifted it skyward. Amera glamoured the bundle, lightening the weight so he could fly with ease, and she camouflaged it to reflect the surroundings so that it was near invisible.
Sting flew toward the edge of Fairy. When he returned, Amera would owe him for this favor. He was going to enjoy making her pay.
About the Author:Melodie Bolt has lived in and traveled to many places. She understands how location influences culture which is why she chose Flint for her debut novel, Fix. Although Flint is well known for the Water Crisis, which Melodie is a part of, there are many beautiful sites and people with a can-do attitude for rebuilding. Many locations in Flint are featured in her novel. Having both PTSD and rapid-cycling Bipolar, Melodie is always building and rebuilding her writing.
http://www.melodiebolt.com/
https://twitter.com/melodie_bolt
https://www.facebook.com/MelodieBoltAuthor/
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The Man Who Came and Went by Joe Stillman #MagicalRealism #Fantasy
From the writer of "Shrek" comes "The Man Who Came and Went," a magically realistic novel about a grill cook who can mind read orders, and a small town diner that changes lives.
The Man Who Came and Went Joe Stillman
Genre: Magical Realism / Mature YA / Literary FictionPublisher: City Point PressDate of Publication: 3/1/22ISBN: 9781947951389Number of pages: 240Word Count: 64,000Cover Artist: Barbara Aronica-Buck and Susan Stillman
Tagline: A grill cook who mind-reads orders. A diner that changes lives.Tips appreciated.
Book Description:
Fifteen year old Belutha Mariah, our storyteller, is the oldest of three kids from three different fathers. Her life’s goal is to keep her dysfunctional mom, Maybell, from procreating yet again and then to leave the coffin-sized town of Hadley, Arizona the second she graduates high school.
Along comes the new grill cook at Maybell’s Diner, Bill Bill, a mysterious drifter with the ability to mind-read orders. As word spreads, the curious and desperate pour into this small desert town to eat at Maybell's. Some believe Bill knows the secrets of the universe. Belutha figures he’s probably nuts.
But his cooking starts to transform the lives of locals and visitors, and Belutha finds her angry heart opening as Bill begins to show her the porous boundary between this life and what comes after.
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Excerpt
That day, the day Bill arrived, my mom was serving up eggs and complaints.
“Dammit, that daughter ‘a mine,” she yelled to Dolene, across the diner. “She’s like walking birth control. Does she think I’m trying to have babies? ‘Scuse me, Darlin’” Maybell gave Clover’s bubble walker a little kick, sending it between tables 4 and 6 so she could get by and dump a load of dishes behind the counter.
Dolene was homegrown, like the tumbleweed, with eyes like a golden retriever that never quite looked at you directly. She was smart enough to add up a check, but you could tell she was never getting out of Hadley. “I take it you didn’t get laid last night.”
Maybell pointed to her sour puss. “Does this say ‘laid’ to you?”
There was a ‘harrumph’ from booth 5 by the window. That was Rose. Rose was an old woman by the time she was 30. Now she was in her late 60s, . She liked to spend her afternoons at Maybell’s Diner, reading her book and keeping an eye on the goings on around her, as if she was the town’s homeroom teacher.
“Look at Saint Rose,” Maybell said, stuffing dirty plates into the plastic tub under the counter. “Thinks she smells better than Mentos. I ain’t running a library here, Rose. Next time bring Reader’s Digest!”
She never took her eyes off her book.
The door opened with a DING from the bell that hung on it. No one noticed Bill entering. He was about average in height, but his skinny frame made him look taller. You could tell from his face that he was in his mid-20s, but those were hard years he had lived, and his body looked frail and geriatric. His clothes were old and clung to him like an extra layer of skin, with a smell that would never wash out.
The angles of his face were sharp and careworn. But his eyes, those were different. His face was hard and weathered, but his eyes were soft. They seemed brand new.
No one in the diner even looked. If they did they would have seen those eyes taking in every little detail: the people talking, forks carrying food, the string lights behind the counter, Dolene ringing up a check. But what drew Bill more than anything else was the grill. Harley, the grill cook, must have had four meals going at once, each with its own set of sounds and smells. Most of those meals involved eggs. His spatula made a metal-on-metal scrape as he turned them. Bill was riveted. He went to sit at the counter to watch.
Down the counter, a porkish-looking man named Earle—probably one of three men in town who had never slept with my mom—raised his empty cup. “Can I get a refill, Maybell?”
Maybell stopped and faced him. “Seriously, Earle? Is it so goddam much trouble for you to get up off your ass and get it yourself? Can’t you see I’m working here?”
“Well…” he stammered. “I just—was I—I was—”
Maybell pointed to the coffee pot. “How far away is that? Two feet?”
“Sure, I guess…”
“Am I your personal slave, Earle? Is that why God put me on earth?”
“No, I don’t think you’re—”
Maybell grabbed the pot and sloshed coffee in his Earle’s cup. “There. You happy now?”
He nodded meekly.
While she had the pot in her hand, Maybell filled the cup sitting in front of Bill. “I’ll be by to take your order in a minute, hon.”
Maybell walked on. Bill just sat there and stared at the coffee. For him, there was no diner anymore, no Maybell, no clanking dishes or dumb conversation. He leaned closer to that cup like it was the only thing in the world. And there he was, smelling coffee for the first time. And it smelled like life. Like a whole world. Like this is how a planet smells if you’re up in space and could take a deep breath. Bill was motionless for who knows how long. And then, when he was good and ready, he took his first sip.
Those eyes, the ones that didn’t belong on his head, they closed as if he was praying. No, more like he was hearing a prayer. The coffee was praying to be heard, and Bill heard it.
About the Author:Joe Stillman co-wrote “Shrek” for Dreamworks which earned him an Academy Award® nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay and the Annie and BAFTA Awards. Other produced features are “Beavis & Butthead Do America”, “Shrek 2”, “Gulliver’s Travels”, “Planet 51” and “Joseph King Of Dreams”.
In television, he was co-producer and writer on “King of the Hill,” for which he received two Emmy Award® nominations. He was a writer and story editor for Nickelodeon’s “The Adventures of Pete and Pete” and a writer on MTV’s “Beavis and Butthead”. More recently he worked on Nickelodeon’s “Sanjay And Craig” and “Kirby Buckets” for Disney. Other TV credits include “Albert” for Nickelodeon, “The War Next Door” for the USA Network, “Clueless”, “Doug” and “Danger And Eggs” for Amazon.
Joe is currently working on “Curious George” and “Half-Baked 2” for streaming on Peacock.
https://www.joestillman.com
https://www.facebook.com/joe.stillman.16
https://twitter.com/JoeStillman1
https://www.instagram.com/joethestillman/
https://www.tiktok.com/@joethestillman
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