Bertena Varney's Blog, page 10

Urbantasm Book Four Connor Coyne

 

Urbantasm:The Spring StormUrbantasmBook FourConnor Coyne
Genre: Magical Realism,Teen NoirPublisher: Gothic Funk PressDate of Publication: May 1, 2022ISBN: 978-1-956722-02-4Number of pages: 474Word Count: 158,000Cover Artist: Sam Perkins-Harbin
Tagline: Eventually, everything comes to an end. Even endings.
Book Description:
Urbantasm: The Spring Storm is the fourth and final book in the magical teen noir serial novel inspired by the author’s experiences growing up in and around Flint, Michigan.
The stage has been set. The chessboard awaits. Against a background of love and friendship, of hard-won grades and groundbreaking plays, John and his friends are ready to claim their lives, their futures, and their city. They have identified their adversary: a mysterious man who calls himself “God” and manipulates the Chalks street gang through the influence of his children. John has also unlocked the secret of O-Sugar, an otherwordly drug with the ability to distort space. But God wields a powerful influence throughout the city of Akawe, and nobody seems to understand his true motives or intentions.
As the ice and frost of a long and unrelenting winter finally crack under cold, torrential rains, frozen things begin to stir again. The brutal murder of one of John’s friends and the abrupt disappearance of another signals that the moment of action has arrived. Who will survive this dying city, and how will the experience change the survivors?  Akawe has been unstable for decades. A bit of lift and heat and moisture is all it needs to build a spring storm.
Amazon

Excerpt:

I borrowed a flashlight from Charles before I left rehearsal that night. I half-expected to hear some winos as I passed under the viaduct, but all was empty. I directed the flashlight beam away from the looming silos and made my way across the wet stepping stones with aching care. When I got to the other side, I saw Bill standing beside my tent, staring at me, his forehead hatchet rent.
That was when everything I had kept at a distance collapsed beneath its collected weight, and I knelt and vomited and cried. We will never be free, we will never be free, we will never be free of this, it will never go away. Then the food was gone, and I was dry heaving. I swallowed and slowly gathered my breath and looked up again.

Bill hadn’t moved. He still stared at me, the wound in his head like a third eye that didn’t watch me but looked instead at the silos hidden behind the concealing trees.

“Since you’re just staring at me, you won’t mind if I get something to drink,” I said.

I rummaged in the tent and got the water. I swirled it in my mouth and spat out the bile. Then I drank. Then I ate a Pop-Tart. Then I ate another. Then I reached into my backpack and took out some fishing line and silverware from the home ec room. Ignoring Bill, I tied the fishing line around the trunk of the willow tree and drew it in a broad loop around the clearing, wrapping it around trees as I went. When I had returned to the willow tree, I tied the line off and began hanging the silverware, in twos and threes, every meter or so. It probably took me an hour.
I plucked at the fishing line. The silverware clattered and banged.

“Now I can hear like a pigeon,” I said.

Bill started to walk away. He went a dozen paces up the trail, then looked back at me.

“What is it?” I said. “Why are you here? Why don’t you just go away? You’re an urbantasm. You can’t see me. You can’t hear me. What the fuck do you want?”

He watched and waited.

“You aren’t even there,” I said, but I picked up the flashlight and followed him along the path.

Bill led me slowly. In the utter dark – the sky was cloudy above the hundreds of branches – I had to step carefully over the cracked roots and desiccated vines. I followed Bill back to the main path, and he led me southward. We scrambled up and down a couple of hills, and I could hear the churning of the water far beneath me. I caught up with Bill at the edge of the stream. He was standing near a lightly submerged concrete pillar, which seemed to provide passage to the other side.

“What is it?” I asked.

Bill stepped onto the pillar, his footsteps not disturbing the water, and crossed to the opposite side.

I followed, my feet clumsily kicking up waves. At one point, I slipped, and my whole left leg went into the water. I almost fell off the pillar completely, but I held the flashlight overhead and hauled myself back up. I finally made it to the opposite side, dripping and freezing, and saw Bill moving away from the stream onto the bank.
Is this where she is? I wondered. Did she come back in the woods here and die, and I’m about to find her body, and then he’ll vanish, and I’ll be left alone with what’s left of Selby? Is that what happens now?

There were no paths here, and the growth was younger and denser than where I had made camp. Branches and nettles scratched my face, and the flashlight beam flew wildly. I finally emerged into a massive grassy clearing, where Bill stood waiting. He pointed. I followed his gesture.

We stood at the back of a broad lawn, looking up at a great, hulking, shuttered building made of brick and stone. It was only three stories high but close to a hundred feet tall, and the vast wings of the structure stretched off to the right and left. For a moment, I wondered how such a colossal building had gone unnoticed in the middle of the forest. Then I recognized it as the mental asylum. We’d come out of the Happy Hunting Grounds on its westward side and stood behind the massive complex. I could hear the quiet hum of traffic along South Street.

“Is Selby in there?” I asked.
Bill’s mouth moved.

“No,” he said, and there was a slight delay between his speaking and the sound that followed.

“So you can talk too. And I can hear you. And you can hear me.”
Bill stared at me.

“I’m not going in there,” I said. “No way.”

I returned the way I had come. Bill didn’t follow me. When I got back inside my tent, a blue glow rose around me.

“Is that you, Aunt Ellie?”

“Yes, my love,” came my aunt’s voice.

“Why is Bill following me? What does he want?”

“Yes, my love.”

“Why am I able to hear you now? I thought you were just images pulled back to me because of the O-Sugar. How are you able to talk? Is it a flashback? Are you just illusions? Or are you real ghosts?”

“Yes, my love.”

“Whatever you are, please protect me from nightmares again. Because the days are nightmares right now. I can’t do this if both days and nights are nightmares.”

“Yes, my love.”

I undressed and crawled into the sleeping bag. The blue glow wavered, and I knew Ellie was taking a seat outside. I closed my eyes and wondered if Bill was going to follow me for the rest of my life. I wondered if Selby died, if her urbantasm would appear to me as well. Would I give up my search at that moment? I thought about May. I wanted her. The warmth of her arms. She could protect me, but now it was up to me to protect the others. I started to say a rosary to myself. I thought it might help me calm down. It doesn’t matter if I don’t have the beads, as long as I say the prayer. I knew the number and order of the Our Fathers and Hail Marys, but I’d forgotten what came before and after. Was it the Nicene Creed at the beginning or another saying? And what were the right ruminations? The scourging and the crown, yes, but what else? When Pilate washed his hands? No, that’s not right. None of us can just wash our hands. I said prayers until the sleep finally closed in around me.

About the Author:
Connor Coyne is a writer living and working in Flint, Michigan.
He’s published several novels and a short story collection, and his short work has been featured in Vox.com, Belt Magazine, and elsewhere. He lives with his wife, two daughters, and an adopted rabbit in Flint’s College Cultural Neighborhood (aka the East Village), less than a mile from the house where he grew up.
Learn more about Connor’s writing at: 
Author Website: http://ConnorCoyne.com 
Series Website: http://urbantasm.com
Blog: http://connorcoyne.com/blog
Author website: http://connorcoyne.com
Newsletter signup: http://eepurl.com/bzZvb5
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/connorcoyne
Twitter: https://twitter.com/connorcoyne
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/connorryancoyne
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/user/connorcoyne
TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@blueskiesfalling
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4218298.Connor_Coyne




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Mystical Inspiration and Writing Prompts for Writers, Insomniacs, and Night Owls Diane Riis

 

Midnight Pages Mystical Inspiration and Writing Prompts for Writers, Insomniacs, and Night Owls Diane Riis 
Genre: Nonfiction, Self Help, Writing, Journal, Workbook Publisher: Earth and Soul PublishingDate of Publication: Feb 2, 2022ISBN: 9798985131000Number of pages: 370Word Count: 25,000
Cover Artist: Book Designer: Andrea Schmidt, a-schmidt.com
Tagline: The night has something to tell you.
Book Description: 
Midnight Pages is a workbook of magical prompts and creative writing exercises. It is also the antidote for anyone who has ever tried (and failed) to get up early to write morning pages. 
Embrace your nature! Whether you do your best work at night or you’re going through a bout of insomnia, you will deepen your writing practice and learn to listen to the voices of the night. 

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WRITING PROMPT From Midnight Pages:

Close your eyes. What do you hear, smell, taste? What do you sense at an energetic or intuitive level? Spend some real time. Find at least twenty-five things. When it gets hard to add to the list is when it gets interesting…”

Excerpt:

VIGILANTIA

Vigilantia: lying awake, sleepless, vigilance. The silence and stillness of midnight might feel suffocating, dense, and thick—heavy with foreboding. It might have you lying in bed, heart pounding, afraid of the dark.

Under the cloak of night, your hearing is heightened. Sounds startle you awake as you drowse. Your mind can ramp up: haunting memories, recriminations, regrets, and stuck thoughts keep you from your rest. Some “insights come up as well and sensations: the surge of adrenaline, pricklings on your neck. You might feel the weight of the dark bearing down on you or you notice movement in the shadows. Maybe you have the sense you’re being watched. Something lurks in the dark that’s imperceptible during the day. You might feel like you are not alone, and that subtle presence over your shoulder seems familiar. You wonder if it’s been there before, maybe even always. During the day, with music blaring and people talking, you just don’t perceive it. Ask what message all this has in store for you. Don’t reject what you hear. Don’t dismiss. Allow.

Night belongs to the spirits. –Proverb

About the Author:
Diane Riis is author of five books and owner of Earth and Soul Coaching and Publishing which works with Indie authors, writers and magical practitioners who want more joy in their lives. She is a metaphysical minister and witch offering spiritual direction (which is a process of reflecting on your journey and learning to observe how you participate in your personal spiritual framework.) She offers writing coaching and classes as well as High Vibe, Soul Deep writing workshops and retreats for women who understand the power of the collective. Rev. Dr. Diane owns and operates a remnant flower farm on Long Island, NY all the while raising dogs, cats, chickens and a boy.

Website: https://www.themidnightpages.com  
Blog: https://www.bellywitch.com
Website: https://www.earthandsoulpublishing.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/dianeriis.71619533 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dianabellywitch
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/BellyWitch/_created/ 

Kingdom Legacy Series Book Two Rachanee Lumayno

 

Heir of Memory and ShadowKingdom Legacy SeriesBook TwoRachanee Lumayno
Genre: Fantasy/ YA FantasyPublisher: Miss Lana PressDate of Publication: May 2022ISBN: 9781736181126Number of pages: 338Word Count: 72, 197Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde 
Book Description: 
Kaernan Asthore may be one of the most gifted Seekers in the kingdom of Orchwell, but he wants nothing more than to be rid of his gift: the ability to find lost loves, which often ends in heartbreak.
So when Lady Adallia Pahame hires him to find her own lost love, Kaernan assumes it will be an easy, routine commission.
But when the mystery surrounding his new traveling companion causes them to run afoul of an infamous gang of bounty hunters, Kaernan realizes this is one commission he might not return from. Will he be able to uncover the truth in time to save his friends — and himself?
Heir of Memory and Shadow is the second book in the Kingdom Legacy series.

Amazon     BN     Kobo      Apple Books

Tolino      Vivlio      Books2Read

Excerpt:

I bow over the lovely young woman’s outstretched hand as I agree to assist her. As we ride together, I see the sunlight halo behind her head, hearing her sweet laughter as she smiles hopefully at me, believing the world is full of possibility.

But, unfortunately, her hope is misplaced.

I watch as her face crumples in tears. Not the restrained, dignified sniffles that I would have expected from someone of her standing. Instead, the tears are great gulping sobs that rack her thin frame, threatening to break her in two.

Just as her heart was breaking.

I had been taught to remain neutral, but it is difficult to see to see the poor young lady react so violently to the news. But what had she honestly expected?

I try to calm her, to comfort her, even though it isn’t my place nor my business. I hold her firmly by the shoulders, speaking in a low, soothing voice as if she is an easily spooked animal.

The wild look in her eyes begins to settle. The tears begin to slow.

I breathe easier. It will be all right now.

Then, without warning, her hand shoots out toward me. I instinctively recoil, expecting to feel the sting of a slap. Instead, she grabs the hilt of the dagger sheathed at my belt. In one swift motion, she draws the knife out and plunges it into her heart. Her eyes never leave mine as the light fades from them.

I scream.

Or, at least, I think I do. All I know is, my mouth is gaping open in shock as she falls gracelessly into my outstretched arms. Her blood is everywhere. On my hands, my arms, splashed all over the front of my shirt. Pooling on the floor beneath her crumpled body. Her now sightless eyes are still fixed on me.

Accusing me, forever, that I could have prevented this needless death.

Couldn’t I?

* * *

I came out of the magically-induced memory doubled over, gasping for air, even though I wasn’t bound by enchantment or by physical means.

No, I was just bound to the lady Rosemary through my memories of my failed commission. “Thank you for allowing the Council to see that once more,” a deep, gravelly voice above me said. “I know that isn’t easy for you to relive, over and over.”

The voice recalled me to where I was: in my home country of Orchwell, standing before the kingdom’s other governing body, the Council of Seekers, on day ten of what seemed like a never-ending trial.

My trial.

Because my commission had ended so brutally, the Council had called me before them, repeatedly going over the events that led to Rosemary’s death. This was the fifth time I had had to relive the memories of what had occurred.

While the memories were painful, they were nothing compared to the possible futures before me. Depending on the Council’s ruling, I could be stripped of my Seeker ability, which at best meant I would lose my livelihood and at worst meant I would go insane. Or they could even sentence me to death.

I didn’t know which was the better outcome.

My breathing now under control, I looked up to regard the seated members of the Council of Seekers. Pellham Ravenwood, head of the seven-person Council, regarded me from his place at the center of the raised stand where he was flanked on both sides by the other council members. I recognized some of their faces: elderly Madame Kenestra, her white hair piled high on her head as she turned her shrewd brown eyes on me; the former knight Sir Lantley, a lean, athletic man with silver-streaked black hair; and Lord Olivera, the queen’s cousin, a bulky, solidly-built man with long blond hair that he often wore tied back from his face. He was at least a good five or ten years younger than his peers on the Council.

Orchwell’s ruling king and queen were the ultimate authority in our country, but they tended to delegate many of the day-to-day affairs of governing to the Council of Seekers. It made sense; Orchwell’s royal family was, by design, one of the few families of nobility that did not have the Seeker ability running through their veins. Or, if any of the royals did, it was often an extremely weak ability, akin to a minor magical skill. If anyone in the direct line of succession showed a strong aptitude for seeking, they weren't eligible to inherit the throne. There were too many headaches as a Seeker — and in my world, heartaches — to wish upon a future king or queen. Orchwell needed their rulers at home in the kingdom, fully able to focus on their duties.

Which was another reason why the Council of Seekers existed.

Several of those on the Council were members of the royal family who had been ineligible for succession. The rest were former Seekers who had since passed on their duties to other family members, but still wanted to serve the kingdom in some way. Members of the Council weren’t paid, but would occasionally receive monetary gifts from the Crown.

Pellham Ravenwood was a rare combination: as the king’s fourth younger brother with strong Seeker abilities, he had actually been allowed to pursue his Seeker career since he was never a strong contender for the Orchwell throne. Being a part of both worlds gave him remarkable insight and made him a formidable leader, which helped him earn the position as Head of the Council.

Pellham turned to Lord Olivera. “Well, as you were the one who requested Kaernan go over his commission yet again, are you satisfied with what you saw?”

Lord Olivera tapped his chin thoughtfully. He was wearing an extravagant wide-brimmed red hat with a silver feather; as he nodded, the feather nodded in time with him. “It was thorough, to be sure, but it didn’t give us any new information. It would be nice to have another perspective on the situation.”

I ground my teeth, pressing my lips into a thin line to stop myself from blurting my thoughts. Of course my story, rehashed multiple times, wouldn’t have given the Council new insights. The only person who could give the Council another perspective is dead.

While I hadn’t expected much sympathy from the Council during my trial, I found I really disliked Lord Olivera. The man seemed to enjoy torturing me, asking the same questions repeatedly, making me relive the commission over and over before the Council, and casting doubt on every move or motive I had during Rosemary’s commission. I already had recurring nightmares about it, and had barely slept for the last four months since returning home with the lady’s death on my hands.

Besides my nightmares and insomnia, I was constantly on edge from not exercising my Seeker ability. Seekers had to use their gifts regularly or potentially go mad, and I had been denying my gift for several months. And pre-trial, when I had to undergo the Council’s intense process of magically sealing witnesses from talking outside of the courtroom, I had barely recovered from it.

So I was definitely not in good physical or mental shape right now. And Lord Olivera’s “attention to detail” — as he called it, although I would have termed it otherwise — wasn’t helping me. I firmly believed that the Council would have come to a decision about my fate much sooner if he hadn’t been present.

“Perhaps we could —”

“Pause the hearing here, and meet again in ten minutes after we get some refreshments.”

Madame Kenestra smoothly interrupted Lord Olivera. “These old bones can’t go for much longer without some sustenance.”

“But —”

“I, for one, agree with Madame Kenestra.” Sir Lantley also cut off whatever Lord Olivera was going to say. “A short break would do wonders to clear my head.”

“If we could just —”

“Sir Lantley, you agree with me? Now that is a first! Pellham, did you hear that? Have the Council secretary note this day, for it truly is a momentous occasion: Sir Lantley agrees with me.” The twinkle in Madame Kenestra’s eyes as Lord Olivera’s face grew mottled red with rage told me she knew exactly what she was doing. I almost felt sorry for Lord Olivera.

Pellham Ravenwood sighed. After spending a few days with the Council, I had a vague idea of what he had to put up with on a daily basis. I ducked my head so the Council members wouldn’t see my smirk.

“Who would like to continue the hearing?” he asked the group. Only Lord Olivera’s hand shot up. “Who would like to take a short break?” Everyone else, including Pellham, raised a hand.

“All right, then, the majority has it. We will take a break and reconvene in, oh, about ten minutes.”

Pellham looked at me, then, really taking in my haunted eyes and drooping shoulders.

“And then, we will decide on the fate of Kaernan Asthore.”

About the Author:
Rachanee Lumayno is an actress, voiceover artist, screenwriter, avid gamer, and amateur dodgeball player. She grew up in Michigan, where she spent way too much of her free time reading fantasy novels. She still spends too much of her free time reading fantasy novels, although now she writes them too. Heir of Memory and Shadow is her second novel, and the second book in the Kingdom Legacy series. 
You can find her online at:
Website - http://www.rachanee.net
Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/rachanee   
Discord - https://discord.gg/Ru6qPxq
Twitter - https://twitter.com/rachaneelumayno
Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/rachaneelumayno/
TikTok - https://www.tiktok.com/@rachaneelumayno
Newsletter signup - https://www.rachanee.net/  
Books 2 Read - https://books2read.com/rachanee
YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCXVJnaB6cV48iVsL5UqSG2w



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Shifter The Healer Chronicles

 

Shifter The Healer Chronicles Book TwoMichael J. Bowler
Genre: Teen and Young Adult Horror/Science FictionPublisher: Michael J. Bowler, AuthorDate of Publication: 4/12/2022ISBN: 978-1-7333290-5-7ASIN: B09R2K41L7Word Count: 105KCover Artist: Streetlight Graphics
Tagline: Alex fears his power. Andy craves it.
Book Description:
Fifteen-year-old Alex and his learning-disabled friends barely survived the events of Spinner, but their nightmare has only just begun. 
Alex’s wheelchair has never stopped him from doing what he wants, but his supernatural power to heal every human ailment known to science has put him in the crosshairs of a dangerous doomsday cult that will stop at nothing to capture him and his long-lost twin, Andy, who can shift illness from one person to another. When the boys combine their “gifts,” they unleash the power to control life and death.
Now Alex, Andy, and the others have been kidnapped by the U.S. military. On a creepy Air Force base in the remote Nevada desert, they must decide who to trust and who to fear while uncovering secrets this base wants to hide from the world. Who is the young boy with unusual abilities who’s treated like a soldier? What is hidden in an ultra-secret hangar that no one can access? And what unnatural experiments are conducted in that closed-off laboratory? 
As Alex unravels these mysteries, he strives to bond with his twin, but Andy is distant and detached, trusting no one. He’s also more attracted to the dangerous power they wield than Alex would like. When misplaced faith in science ignites a hidden lust for supremacy, rescue can only come from the most unlikely source, and Alex must confront a terrible truth. 
The Healer Chronicles continue…

Book Trailer:  https://youtu.be/SiHwa4Ml3Ns  
Amazon      Books2Read

Excerpt:

He studied his silent brother, staring upward as though hypnotized.

“You okay, Andy?”

Without dropping his gaze in the slightest, Andy said, “You dreamed about Teacher too, didn’t you?”

Alex flinched, his breath momentarily on hold. “Yeah.”

Now it was Martin who looked confused. He shifted position on the chair and that’s when Alex noticed the gun strapped to his belt. Martin studied them both in the dark, his face hidden in shadow. “What are you guys talking about?”

When Andy remained silent, Alex pulled his gaze from his brother’s back and faced Martin. “A teacher we both had. She’s part of the group that’s trying to get me. She says she’s gonna find me no matter where I go.”

Martin’s expression turned from grim to resolute. “I’ll protect you.” He patted the gun in its holster.

Alex eyed his brother once more. “She…she said you belong to her, Andy.”

Alex thought he saw his brother recoil, but the moon wasn’t completely full, so he couldn’t be sure.

“I won’t be in a cage ever again,” Andy said quietly, his voice almost a whisper, as though talking to himself. “I told that to Teacher and I meant it.”

Martin leaped to his feet, startling the boys.

Alex whirled to face him. “What?”

Martin threw a finger to his lips and reached down, pulling out the gun and pointing it over Alex’s head.

Now Alex heard it. Movement. The sound of people trying hard to be quiet, but a slight crunch of gravel gave them away.

Martin waved the boys behind him and darted in front, gun aimed toward the house.

A red light rounded the corner and before Alex could even think of the red light that had killed Juan back at the church, Martin fired his weapon. One pop, muffled, like he had a heavy sock over the barrel. The red light spun crazily and then toppled to the grass.

Alex glanced at Andy with wide eyes. They’d been found!

After that, everything happened so fast Alex could barely process it. Another figure rounded the corner with a gun and fired. A tiny burst of light accompanied the pop of a gunshot, and then Martin grunted, collapsing to the lawn.

“Martin!” Andy dashed around Alex’s chair and knelt by the unmoving form of their protector.

More figures rounded the corner of the house and bore down on them. Alex backed up, but suddenly Andy grasped his hand. Alex felt the rush of power surging through him—just as it had at the church when they’d brought Roy back to life—heavy floodwaters that meant their combined powers had been activated. He looked down at Andy, still kneeling beside Martin’s body.

Andy whispered, “Death, to me!”

Alex stiffened, his vision growing dim, his mind filled with a gray nothingness that terrified him.

As though from miles away, he heard Andy hiss, “Death to them!”

About the Author:
Michael J. Bowler is an award-winning author of the five-book urban fantasy series The Lance Chronicles, the mystery-thriller The Film Milieu Series, the supernatural-sci-fi The Healer Chronicles, and several standalone books. He also writes screenplays. His horror screenplay, “Healer,” was a Semi-Finalist, and his urban fantasy script, “Like A Hero,” was a Finalist in the Shriekfest Film Festival and Screenplay Competition, and his sci-fi screenplay, “The God Machine,” was the 2017 Scriptapalozza First Place Winner.
He worked as producer, writer, and/or director on several ultra-low-budget horror films, including “Fatal Images,” “Hell Spa,” “Club Dead,” and “Things II.” 
He taught high school in Hawthorne, California, both in general education and to students with learning disabilities, in subjects ranging from English and Strength Training to Algebra, Biology, and Yearbook. 
He has also been a volunteer Big Brother to eight different boys with the Catholic Big Brothers Big Sisters program and a long-time volunteer within the juvenile justice system in Los Angeles. 
He has been honored as Probation Volunteer of the Year, YMCA Volunteer of the Year, California Big Brother of the Year, and 2000 National Big Brother of the Year. The “National” honor allowed him and three of his Little Brothers to visit the White House and meet the president in the Oval Office. He also adopted a child in 2020.
His goal as an author is for teens to experience empowerment and hope; to see themselves in his diverse characters; to read about kids who face real-life challenges; and to see how kids like them can remain decent people in an indecent world. The most prevalent theme in his writing and his work with youth is this: as both a society, and as individuals, we’re better off when we do what’s right, rather than what’s easy.
Website: www.michaeljbowler.com
YouTube: https://bit.ly/3rDSdfp 
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Ice Floe Ice Floe Series Book One Melissa Birling

 

Ice FloeIce Floe Series Book OneMelissa Birling
Genre: YA Fantasy Romance, YA PNR Publisher: Purpance PublishingDate of Publication: April 28, 2022Number of pages: 320Word Count: 87,000Cover Artist: Thea Magerand
Tagline: Secrecy is safety. Sisterhood is everything.
Book Description:
Seventeen-year-old Glacia didn’t plan to track a kidnapper, stick a middle finger to the government, and fall into a forbidden summer fling. This is simply what happens when you’re the resident odd girl out, in a shoal of all-female mermaids whose values are a little cracked. Or a lot cracked, if you consider government-endorsed murder and the seizure of male infants to be an issue.
When society rules, family, and romance collide, Glacia fights back the best way she knows how: by taking the matter into her own combat-trained hands and kicking some tail. The problem is, no amount of training can prepare Glacia for the crime circle she discovers, secrets she unveils, and human guy she can’t get out of her head. Glacia finds herself at a crossroads where she must decide whose rules to follow. Who she can trust. And ultimately…who lives and who dies.
Amazon      Goodreads

Ice Floe Excerpt: Chapter 6

We’ve been sitting on the ledge a while now, mostly staring at the view. I steal occasional glances at Tucker. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s a force between us. Energy. A pulse. A magnet. Something. Every time I focus my thoughts elsewhere, he pulls me back in. It’s distracting.

“You ready to head down?” he asks.

“You might as well get started. I can’t climb down with all your equipment in the way.” “I have an extra harness. You should come down with me.” He reaches for his pack and
stands up.

I jump up to join him. “No way. I’m not hooking myself into that death trap.”

“Glacia, come on. This cliff is super challenging, and it’s way more difficult to climb down than up,” he says, his voice growing louder. Here we go again.

“I’ll be fine once you get your stuff out of the way.” I raise my volume to match his. “It’s not safe. I would feel horrible if I let you climb down and you got hurt.”

“Let me?”

“Not let you. It’s your choice.” “I choose NO.”
He clenches his jaw tightly and grinds his teeth. I take a few steps back in preparation. There’s enough room up here to land a solid kick to the face. That should knock him out, then I’ll have to figure out a way to climb down his cat’s cradle setup. Tucker crosses one arm over his chest and raises a hand to cover his mouth. We glare at each other – at an impasse.

“Let’s make a deal,” he offers. “You climb down with me using a harness and rope, and I’ll take you on a boat ride.”

This catches my attention.

“That’s right, I saw you light up when I mentioned my dad’s boat shop,” he continues with a cocky air.

He’s more perceptive than I gave him credit for. Volatile and perceptive. A hefty combination.

“Have you ever been on a boat?” he asks.

I shake my head. I would love to go on a boat. Tucker knows how to fix them and can
teach me everything a trainer could, plus more. What am I thinking? This is crazy. I can’t go on a boat with a human. What excuse would I give if I got caught? I can’t pretend I’m seducing.
Everyone knows that’s not high on my priority list, and you’re not supposed to seduce alone. Maybe I could say that I’m collecting information to share with the girls I teach… Hmm. That’s almost believable, given my dedication to the studio.

Tucker can tell I’m on the fence about it and ups the ante. “I’ll teach you to drive the
boat.”

Unfair. Of course, I want to learn how to drive a boat. That’s a beyond useful skill in my
back pocket. I peek down the cliff face to assess the reliability of Tucker’s wedge-rope system. Stupid. Like I know what I’m looking for.

“Fine,” I agree. “We need to be hooked together, so if I die, you die.” “Seems reasonable.”

“AND I get to drive the boat.”

“Deal. Let’s see, today is Monday, and I already have plans tomorrow. Wednesday?”

“What time?”

“Eleven a.m. on the Ula pier.” “I’ll meet you there.”
Tucker flips his pack around, unclips a belt, and offers it to me. “Do you know how to wear a harness?”

I snatch it from him, compare it to his gear, and step into the leg holes. When I have it all clipped in, I throw my hands on my hips.

“Now what?” I ask.

Tucker leans in toward me, rope in hand, then pulls back and reconsiders. “That’s not quite right,” he says haltingly. “Can I fix your harness?”

“I already agreed to this mess, didn’t I?”

He rolls his eyes. “I think that’s a yes. Pull the harness up – it has to sit higher on your
hips.”

I follow his instructions, and he flops the rope over one arm. He moves in closer and
bends down to reposition the harness. His fingers wrap around the loop against my leg as he pulls it up below my hip. My heart beats faster and my insides twists. I evaluate the top of Tucker’s head in an effort to distinguish these sensations from other emotions. He secures the loop and raises his gaze to meet mine.

“Is that too tight?” he asks. His hazel eyes penetrate mine. The edges are a deep brown that blend into a murky green with an amber starburst around the pupil.
I shake my head and look away. I hope he can’t tell how disoriented this is making me. “Pull the tabs on your waist tighter,” he instructs.

I cinch the waist while he rearranges the other loop on my leg. Why is this making me so agitated? He’s only fixing my gear so I don’t fall to my death. Tucker gathers the rope into his hand and reaches out to tie it to the front belt loop. As he does, his fingers brush my skin just below my belly button. A jolt of electricity shoots through my body. I take in a small gasp of air and hold my breath. He freezes, his fingers lingering on my stomach. Did he feel that too?

 

About the Author:
Melissa Birling strives to experience life from a “both and” rather than “either or” perspective. She enjoys living in metropolitan cities and on a small farm. She appreciates burn-your-tongue Mexican cuisine and delicious London pub food. Lately, Melissa spends her time engaging with cyber security professionals and mermaids. Not actual mermaids, although if you know any, she’d love to meet them.
The revelation that one can be both a successful corporate consultant and a fantasy author who writes about mermaids, encouraged Melissa to finish her debut novel, Ice Floe. The emotional high of typing “The End” at the completion of her first draft, triggered a writing spree that hasn’t stopped since. On any given Saturday or Sunday, you will find Melissa writing. She won’t respond to any attempts at human engagement, because she’s “at a good part,” but you’ll find her typing away, nevertheless.
Melissa lives with a ceaselessly supportive husband and their dog who enjoys hunting neighborhood skunks.
https://melissabirling.com/
https://www.instagram.com/melissabirling/
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMelissaBirling/


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Harkworth Hall Chase and Daniels Book One L.S. Johnson

 

Harkworth HallChase and DanielsBook OneL.S. Johnson
Genre: Queer Gothic Romance/HorrorPublisher: Traversing Z PressDate of Publication: 2017ISBN: 978-0998893617ASIN: B073QFH8WG Number of pages: 166Word Count: 38kCover Artist: Najla Qamber 
Book Description: 
Ask him about his wives.
Caroline Daniels must marry, and marry well. But in her remote corner of England eligible suitors are few and far between, and none hold a candle to her closest friend, Diana Fitzroy.
When Sir Edward Masterson arrives, he seems the answer to Caroline’s financial worries, though she instinctively dislikes the reticent, older merchant. Soon Sir Edward has set his sights on acquiring both Caroline and the decaying Harkworth Hall.
Caroline’s future seems secure, save that Sir Edward’s enigmatic secretary hints at a dark secret, and Sir Edward shows an unusual interest in the nearby bay. To discover Sir Edward’s true purpose, Caroline will have to face the horror beneath Harkworth Hall—and the woman who will change her life.
Books2Read    Traversing Z Press

Excerpt:

I first heard of Edward Masterson the day of the birds, though I forgot about them through much of what happened after. Indeed, in the moment, their strange flight was only a disturbing inconvenience, as it turned my father back from his walk to the village on laundry day.

My father was a gentleman of small, regular habits. He walked to the village twice each week, to gain news of the wider world and have two pints of ale before walking back. In winter, he had Mr. Simmons, who served as our steward as well as sometime butler and valet, drive him. But in the fine weather of late spring he would set off walking, in his plain suit but with his sword polished and ready should he meet any ruffians.

The rest of our little household—myself and Mr. and Mrs. Simmons; my poor mother had passed when I was young—would plan much around this simple outing, for the house was too much work for the Simmonses alone. My father made no objection to my helping with light chores such as dusting, but he had recently been infected with the disease of matchmaking, and he feared for my prospects should I develop a working woman’s hands and complexion. His solution for our overworked staff was to simply hire more help as needed, but I often snuck into his study to review our account books and there was no surplus for such luxuries. Thus, I learned to separate want from necessity, and while other women my age were dancing at assemblies or practicing their needlework, I was scrubbing floors and learning to make pastry. I learned, and I learned as well to not reflect upon my circumstances, lest I fall into melancholy—and many days there was simply no time for such indulgence. As soon as my father left, I put aside my role as Caroline Daniels, landowner’s daughter, and became Caroline Daniels, maid, stableboy, or whatever we needed me to be. Laundry especially was a daylong affair, and more than once we had sent Mr. Simmons out to delay my father so we could get the last damp pieces inside before he returned.

My father left, drawing the door closed behind him. I waited in the hall, seeing in my mind’s eye his stout figure striding down the drive. Now he would pat his pockets, ensuring he had a shilling but little more, for he had once been robbed on his return and had a fine watch and several shillings taken off him. Now he would think about that watch, and touch his sword in reassurance. All was well and nothing was forgotten; he could enjoy his journey in peace, and we could set about our work. I counted to fifty, then with a deep breath seized the first laundry basket and began dragging it back to the yard—

—when I heard the terrible sound of the door swinging open again, and my father bellowing for Mr. Simmons. At once I dropped the basket, smiling brightly. My smile faded, however, when I saw the spatters on his hat and coat, including a red smear on his face.

“Are you all right? Did you fall?” I rushed towards him, thinking to stop any bleeding with my apron.

“Quite all right,” he said. “Only the birds are going mad.”

For a moment I stared at him, believing I misheard him, but then I saw movement in the sky past his shoulder. Birds of all sizes and shapes, flying at odd angles to each other but all heading inland. As I watched two collided, then set at each other with horrific shrieks and bared claws. Feathers drifted down as they fought.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s quite late in the year to be mating, and there are gulls up there. They usually stay close to the shore—” My father suddenly broke off, frowning at the laundry basket. “What are you doing with that laundry?”

“I was looking for a petticoat,” I said quickly. “I cannot find it anywhere.”

He gave me a suspicious look, but I was saved from further inquiry by Mr. Simmons appearing. As he fetched my father a fresh coat, I slipped past him and went out onto the drive. Dozens of birds filled the sky, and save for when their paths provoked a conflict, they were doing so in near silence, as if they needed all their strength to fly. But what were they flying towards—or were they fleeing something? I scanned the horizon: there was not so much as a cloud, not a hint of an incoming storm.

Above me two more birds crossed paths, and the larger one viciously raked the smaller. It tumbled to the ground, then carefully righted itself and began limping forward, still heading unerringly inland.

“Caroline, dear, don’t distress yourself with such sights.” My father took my arm and led me back to the house.

“But what could be causing it?” I asked, still craning my head. “Something has frightened them, something worse than a storm.”

“They were probably startled by an animal—perhaps we have a wolf again. I’ll ask in the village,” he said. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you! I will be stopping at the Fitzroys’ on my way home. I was thinking if Diana spends the season in town again, perhaps you could join her? A stay of some weeks will help you become more comfortable in society, and develop your acquaintanceships further.”

And there were so many replies I wished to make, all at once. The Fitzroys were our closest neighbors, and Diana my oldest friend. Having both lost our mothers early, and without siblings, we had been for a time closer than sisters. The memories of our girlhood, pretending to be the pirates Anne Bonny and Mary Read, or the tragic princess Caroline, still filled me with longing. But the Fitzroys’ finances had flourished where ours had declined, and I took no pleasure in the prospect of marriage. A season with Diana promised only embarrassing shortfalls and uncomfortable encounters.

I wanted to say all these things, and that I had seen far worse than a wounded bird in my life, for had I not seen my own mother die in childbirth? But such was not the speech of a dutiful daughter, and I quailed at the thought of disrupting our affectionate relationship. I was still struggling for words when he kissed me on my forehead and shooed me back inside, as if I was still a little girl.

LeviathanChase and Daniels Book TwoL.S. Johnson
Genre: Queer Gothic Romance/HorrorPublisher: Traversing Z PressDate of Publication: June 15, 2018ISBN: 978-0998893624ASIN: B07DJQZ8GM Number of pages: 185Word Count: 40kCover Artist: Najla Qamber 
Book Description:
We will survive this, Caroline.
It has been several months since Harkworth Hall burned, and mere weeks since Joanna Chase came back into Caroline Daniels’ life. But when a stranger arrives in their village and asks to see the damaged bay, they know that word of the creature has spread. With tensions simmering between France and England, they depart in haste for Medby, where Sir Edward’s brother resides. There they hope to discover if Thomas Masterson has stepped into Sir Edward’s shoes, and now wields the monster called Leviathan.
The situation in Medby, however, is far worse than they anticipated. Claiming the French attacked his ships, the younger Masterson seems about to launch an audacious reply. But his true plans are not so straightforward and there is little time for Caroline and Jo to uncover them. 
With the threat of war demanding risks in kind, Caroline and Jo must weigh their deepening affection against the greater good … and learn to trust not only their instincts, but their hearts as well.

Books2Read     Traversing Z Press

The Painter’s WidowChase and Daniels Book ThreeL.S. Johnson
Genre: Queer Gothic Romance/HorrorPublisher: Traversing Z PressDate of Publication: June 26, 2020ISBN: 978-0998893655ASIN: B089QW92YN Number of pages: 182Word Count: 40kCover Artist: Najla Qamber of Najla Qamber Designs
Book Description:
You know by now what a woman is capable of.
Caroline is home with her father and the woman she loves—but with the Leviathan still unaccounted for, such peace can only be temporary. Soon, the mysterious Mr. Smith is asking for her aid once more: one of the Mastersons’ conspirators has been murdered, and the only clue lies in a painting that was last seen in Medby. Meanwhile, Jo has worries of her own, as her affianced sister wants assurances she cannot give—not without denying her very self.
With her arrival in London marked by a second murder, Caroline finds herself once more drawn into a world she wanted to forget. Aided by old friends and new, she and Jo search for the painter, while staying out of reach of Jo’s sister’s powerful fiancé. But soon they suspect that darker forces are behind the murders, involving not only the painter but his young, pretty wife … and an imaginary land called Arcadia.
As Caroline and Jo struggle to both stop the murders and protect the life they’ve made for themselves, they find a new conspiracy is just beginning … and their choices will come at a price greater than either imagined.
Books2Read     Traversing Z 
A Shining PathChase and Daniels Book FourL.S. Johnson
Genre: Queer Gothic Romance/HorrorPublisher: Traversing Z PressDate of Publication: April 2, 2022ISBN: 979-8985797213ASIN: B09SY7GJFH Number of pages: 198Word Count: 47kCover Artist: Najla Qamber Designs
Book Description:
There is so much evil in the world … but this one thing we can make right.
The island colony of Arcadia promises hope, prosperity, and tolerance to all who settle there … and asks only that they protect it with their lives. For Caroline and Jo, however, this opportunity could spell disaster, for the island’s owner is none other than Mrs. Masterson. Is her invitation an honest offer, or a deadly lure? And what relation does this Arcadia have to the one in the widow’s paintings—a place accessible only by magic, and the last known location of the monster called Leviathan?
To uncover the truth, Caroline and Jo set out for Arcadia, only to find that each of their fellow travelers has personal reasons for accepting Mrs. Masterson’s offer. Caught between this impromptu army and the might of England and France, knowing at any moment the Leviathan might reappear, they race to stave off the impending violence. 
But the further they get, the more they realize that Mrs. Masterson has set herself, and the Leviathan, against a far greater opponent than any one nation. Her success will mean catastrophe for millions, but stopping her may cost Caroline and Jo what they hold most dear: each other.
Amazon     Kobo     Books2Read     Traversing Z

About the Author:
L.S. Johnson lives in California with a spouse, a cat, and numerous goldfish. She is the author of the Chase and Daniels quartet of gothic novellas and over 40 short stories. Her first collection, Vacui Magia, won the North Street Book Prize and was a finalist for the World Fantasy Award. Her second collection, Rare Birds, was an IPPY medalist. Her vampire serial, Prima Materia, is happening now. Find her online at traversingz.com.
Website: https://www.traversingz.com/
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Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/monstroushistory/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ls_johnson
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Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/L-S-Johnson/e/B00YTFUZW0
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3147614.L_S_Johnson


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Hidden Lake: The Prophecy Denise Howard

 

Hidden Lake: The ProphecyDenise Howard
Genre: Paranormal RomancePublisher: Northern Amour WritingDate of Publication: 18 March 2022ASIN: B09CRN5YYCNumber of pages: 195Word Count: 50,383
Cover Artist: Northern Amour Writing
Tagline: What can go wrong in the hands of a newly founded teenage witch?
Book Description: 
Enter a world as new to you as it is to teenager Gracie Willton. On her 17th Birthday she learns about a secret her mother has been keeping from her. Gracie comes from a long blood line of powerful witches. Not only is Gracie a witch she is also considered the prophecy. 
Join Gracie on her journey as she learns the depths of her powers and how to control them. See how the prophecy unfolds and the bounds of the supernatural world are affected. 
However, as a 17 year old girl you still need to be concerned about high school grades and cute boys right?
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About the Author: 
Denise lives with her partner and their four legged fur babies.  She loves small town living and visiting the big city lights. When she isn’t writing or indulging in reading the next book on her endless bucket list, she enjoys nature and binge watching TV shows. 
Denise has a college diploma in Intra-Oral Dental Assisting and in Business. She is currently enrolled in Laurentian University working on her undergraduate.  On top of that she works full time within the Government sector. She is an advocate for equality and hopes one day to become a bestselling author.
https://www.northernamourwriting.com/ 
https://www.facebook.com/NorthernAmourWriting
https://www.instagram.com/northern_amour_writing/ 

The Frelsarien: Battle of Eirbor The Frelsarien Chronicles Book One Lynette Charrier

 

The Frelsarien: Battle of EirborThe Frelsarien Chronicles Book OneLynette Charrier 
Genre: FantasyDate of Publication: 3/13/2022ISBN: Hardcover- 9798985598025ISBN Paperback- 9798985598018ISBN Ebook- 9798985598001ASIN: B09Q5BPV5YNumber of pages: 445Word Count: 102K
Cover Artist: Covers By Christian
Tagline: Cursed bloodlines; Two warring nations; Three mortals trying desperately to return to their home world 
Book Description: 
One hundred years of peace have shattered, and the gods have sent the most unlikely of Heroes, mortals.
On the planet Eyon, one hundred years of peace has ended after the kingdom of Elmoria invaded the neighboring kingdom of Tharon. Desperate to regain their lands and citizens, the Tharians beseech the gods to deliver Frelsarien to them-mythical prophets who, in the past, have used the power of the gods to bring peace to the land.
Meanwhile on Earth, Idun, Ayla, and Colton have no idea their bloodlines carry a curse that enslaves them to the Overseers - supernatural beings whose divine rule stretches across the universe, earning them the status of godhood. After the Overseers come to collect them, the three humans learn that they must bring peace between two warring nations, or be damned to a life on this planet with no hope of returning home.
When the three Frelsarien arrive, the Tharians are disappointed to discover that the gods sent nothing but ordinary humans. Some give up hope that they will be of any help, while others cling to faith. The Frelsarien must either find a new way to prove their worth to the overseers, or attempt to develop the powers they were promised. In the face of adversity, will they be able to rise up to the challenge?
In a gripping page-turner, author Lynette Charrier pieces together an epic tale against a backdrop of tyranny, strength and resilience. Battle of Eirbor is the first novel in the Frelsarien series, a masterpiece of epic crossworld fantasy.

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/sY8fe_d2hSc

Amazon      BN

Excerpt:

Idun’s eyes flickered open. She had been dreaming again.

A throbbing pain pounded within her skull. She groaned and rubbed the back of her head and felt a large welt. Her bruised fingers glided around to the right side of her head, where she found another welt. She sighed while slowly propping herself up and looking around. Her eyes were still hazy, but she could just barely make out the silhouette of a woman sitting across from her. Idun rubbed her eyes before reopening them.

“I doubt that will help,” the woman said, just as Idun came to that very conclusion. “You have a concussion.”

To her surprise, Idun recognized the voice.

“Ayla?”

The woman stood up and moved towards her, taking her seat on the bed next to Idun. There were two of her in Idun’s eyes, but she could still make out the features of her lifelong friend. She didn’t look like herself. Her long, curly, brown-black hair framed a smooth face, free of acne, and unhidden by glasses. But the most striking difference was her weight. The last time Idun saw her, she was skin and bones and likely less than one hundred pounds. The Ayla sitting in front of her looked… healthy.

“Jesus! How long have I been out?” She wondered if this was still part of the dream.

“Idun! Language,” she snapped.

Idun chuckled and put her head back down on the pillow. “Seriously, though, how long have I been out?”

“Almost twenty-four hours.”

A confused expression crossed Idun’s face, and she looked up from her pillow. “Can’t be. Don’t take this the wrong way, but there’s no way you look like this after just twenty-four hours. And my hair doesn’t grow this fast either,” she said, holding up a lock of auburn hair which was now longer than the length of her arm.

“These are our Frelsarien bodies…” She said as if that were obvious. She waited a moment as if to see if this triggered a memory, but it didn’t. Idun had no idea what that meant. “So, you really haven’t been briefed on this?”

“What?” Idun picked her head off the pillow and looked up at the blur which was Ayla. “What are you talking about?”

“Where do you think we are?” Ayla questioned.

Idun looked around the room, which, from what she could tell, was made completely of stone and decorated in red. “I don’t know…”

Ayla sighed. “What is the last thing you remember?”

“The last thing I know for sure wasn’t a dream.” Idun had to think for a moment. “I climbed that cliff just outside of town.” She rubbed the back of her head again. “I must have hit my head when I fell, though. I had this weird hallucination about being chased by the grim reaper.”

Ayla stood up to pour Idun a glass of water, then walked back and placed it in her hand. “Idun… that wasn’t a hallucination. It wasn’t the grim reaper, though,” She said, with a laugh.

Idun brought the cup to her lips but stopped, giving Ayla a confused yet doubtful glance. She opened her mouth to ask her to elaborate, but Ayla beat her to it.

“It’s called the soul splitter. It separated our souls from our bodies on Earth and brought them to our bodies here on Eyon.” She waited for a moment to study Idun’s expression again; Which happened to be one of disbelief. “Does any of that ring a bell?”

“Not even a little one.” Idun tipped back her cup and then placed it down on the table. “I’m actually pretty sure I’m still asleep.”

Ayla reached over and pinched the skin on the underside of Idun’s arm.

“What the heck!” Idun propped herself up with a jolt.

“Well, you’re not asleep,” Ayla giggled.

Idun scrunched her eyebrows together and massaged the back of her arm. “And you’re not Ayla...”

 

About the Author: Lynette Charrier was born in Manitoba Canada but grew up in Southern California. There she met her husband who whisked her away back to his hometown of Naples Florida. Not long after she earned her degree in interior design and quickly found a job in the field. However her true passion lies with the writing community. Ever since she was little she had been making up stories of distant worlds and far off galaxies. Now she's excited to finally share those stories with the world.
https://www.lynettecharrier.com 
https://www.facebook.com/FrelsarienChronicles 
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60039830-the-frelsarien   

Buried Alive Spirit Walker Series Book Two Donnette Smith

 

Buried AliveSpirit Walker Series Book TwoDonnette Smith
Genre: Paranormal RomancePublisher: The Wild Rose PressDate of Publication: 3/14/2022ISBN: 978-1-5092-4082-1 PaperbackISBN: 978-1-5092-4083-8 DigitalNumber of pages: 250Word Count: 65,142Cover Artist: Kristian Norris
Tagline: When your sixth sense speaks, believe it. 
Book Description: 
As a clairvoyant, Jenna Langley has foreseen her fair share of murder. But the night she is haunted by visions of a woman buried alive in a makeshift casket, nothing prepares her for the chilling reality that the victim she saw in her vision is herself. 
Having survived a recent tragedy, and now tasked with the duty of planning her wedding, everyone attributes Jenna’s disturbing dreams to stress. Even her fiancé does his best to convince her she is perfectly safe. 
But someone wants revenge and Jenna is the target of that obsession. Her only hope for survival is if her fiancé, Detective Cole Rainwater, can root out who wants her dead before time runs out.
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/GH_Q-HoniLA
Amazon

Excerpt:

At the same time a sharp intake of breath filled her lungs, Jenna’s eyes snapped open. Blackness surrounded her; panic set in instantly as soft whimpers set off a series of echoes. It took a moment for it to sink in the sounds were her own.

Raising both hands, her palms struck a hard object not a foot above her head. She slid her palms over a rough surface, searching, feeling across the top and down the sides of what felt like a wooden crate.

That embodied her like a tomb.

She let go a shriek, crying out in agony, “No! no! please, no!” There was no doubt she was in the very place that stoked the deepest fear in her heart. Just the way her vision forewarned. She was buried alive.

About the Author: Although not a native Texan, Donnette Smith has spent more than half her life living in the Lone Star State. She is an entrepreneur and former business owner of Tailor Maid Services LLC. 
After spending a few years working as a journalist for the Blue Ridge Tribune, she realized her love for writing romantic detective novels. Her stories cover a wide range of genres, from horror, time travel, mystery, fantasy, paranormal, and thriller. But one theme stays the same, there is always a detective solving a crime, and a gorgeous victim he would lay down his life to protect. 
Donnette’s biggest fascination is with forensic science and crime scene investigations. Her first mystery/suspense novel, Lady Gabriella, was published in 2008. Her second novel was a horror/mystery/suspense titled Cunja and debuted in 2012. 
Her latest released novel, book 1 of the Spirit Walker Series, Killing Dreams is a fantasy/romance story and became available in September of 2021. Book 2 of the Spirit Walker Series, Buried Alive, is soon to be released on March 14, 2022.
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Amethyst Ambrosia Hill Book One Rebecca Henry

 

AmethystAmbrosia HillBook OneRebecca Henry
Genre: YA LGBTQ Magical RealismPublisher: Finch BooksDate of Publication: April 26th 2022Word Count: 35,000Cover Artist: Finch Books
Tagline: Sent away because of her feelings for a girl, she discovered a birthright of magic at her aunt’s lake house.
Book Description: 
Thirteen-year-old Zinnia is about to turn fourteen when her life is flipped upside down. With her parents on the brink of a divorce, Zinnia is sent to spend the summer with her eccentric great-aunts on their lake house away from her home in Manhattan. Zinnia arrives at her aunt’s massive Victorian house, with a heavy heart. 
After a recent falling out, she had with her best friend Charlotte, who betrayed her trust by showing the meanest and most popular girl in school a letter Zinnia wrote confessing her feelings for Charlotte. The aunts rely on practical magic, acceptance, and old family friends to help heal their great-niece in more ways than one. 
But what no one expected that summer was for Zinnia to meet Billie, another girl who was more like Zinnia than she would have guessed.

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/ozjlF4CCTPk 
Amazon 
About the Author:
Rebecca Henry is an American author living abroad in England. She is a devoted vegan who gardens, practices yoga, crafts, travels the world, and bakes. Rebecca’s favorite holiday is Halloween, and she is obsessed with anything and everything witchy! Besides writing fiction, Rebecca is also the author of her vegan holiday cookbook collection and green living lifestyle book. Her love for animals, baking with her family, having a plant-based diet, and cruelty-free, green lifestyle inspired her nonfiction novels. You can find all Rebecca’s books on Amazon and Goodreads.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/rebeccahenryaut
Website: https://www.rebeccahenryauthor.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/rebeccahenryauthor
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rebeccahenryauthor
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rebeccahenryauthor
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Rebecca-Henry/e/B07T44W413/  

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Amethyst Excerpt 1

By Rebecca Henry

“It’s just for the summer.” That’s what my parents told me as I boarded the train to spend three months in the countryside with my great-aunts. The city skyline faded into the distance, replaced by rolling hills that climbed high into the horizon. The gentle rocking of the train lulled me into a trance. Three months in an old house, on top of a tall hill overlooking a silent lake in a sleepy village with nothing to do, was enough to make me lose my mind.

 “Great,” I said out loud to myself, my thoughts turning to the city that I was leaving behind. There was always something to do in Manhattan, whether it was going out to eat, going to a skateboard park, catching a movie or going to the mall. By the time the conductor announced Ambrosia Hill, I was the only passenger left. Me, myself, and I, all alone, a ticket for one to the last stop on the line.

 I peeked out of the window and saw the glistening ripples of Lake Cauldron. The black turrets of a tall Victorian-style house touched the clouds like a church steeple in an empty town. I could almost see both my aunts sitting on the porch overlooking their enormous garden, drinking freshly squeezed lemonade with their long black dresses, wide-brimmed hats and crimson boots. As the train rolled to a stop, I grabbed my suitcase then left the car. The station was quiet and empty, much like my plans for the summer.