Bertena Varney's Blog, page 7

How to have a haunted Halloween Party | Tips from a YA Vampire Author

 

How to have a haunted Halloween Party | Tips from a YA Vampire Author
Halloween is my favorite time of the year. I love the spooks and thrills that come with the season, but sometimes, it can get a bit gory for my tastes. But when you remove all the blood, it can start to feel too childish. So here are some tips and tricks to have a hair-raising Halloween without getting blood everywhere. 

Set the Stage
Where you host your party doesn’t matter nearly as much as how you set the stage. Whether it’s outside, at someone’s house, barn, or rented out space, how you use the space with make the difference, and a few decorations can go a long way.
But that does not mean you have to empty out your wallet. Grab some cobwebs, creeper cloth, and make a skeleton or two and you have the start to your prefect haunt. And finding things around your house like old bottles, notebooks/ journals with little or no decoration, black cloth, etc. can be an excellent way to decorate without breaking your bank. For an added effect, you can use black and silver spray paint can give your old items a whole new look. This especially works well for old bottles, using the silver paint to give it a speckled aged feel. And depending on your theme, most anything old and torn will also work. Anything to give your place that run down and ruined feel.
From there, find a corner or a spot you want to be a focal point and use your decorations to create a scene in whatever party theme you want. I prefer the haunted house vibe myself. Last year, my aunt create this awesome witch’s brewing corner for our Halloween party. Most of decorations were things she already owned or recycled from pervious years. Dim the lights and with a cauldron of dry ice, it was the perfect setting to greet guests as they joined the party. But this set up could be quickly changed to a variety of themes. Take away the cauldrons and the witch decoration, and I know a few Bloodlink vampires that would enjoy this theme.
Set the Mood
Music is everything. It can turn your party haunt into a barnyard debacle if not chosen well. But adding the right ambience music with help your guest get a sense of mood from the moment they arrive.
Some of my favorites from my Halloween playlist actually made it on to my writing playlist because they fit so well. I’m a personal fan of Nightcove_thefox, an indie music artist who writes song inspired by the popular indie horror game, Five Night’s at Freddy’s or FNAF. A few of them I’d recommend for most any Halloween playlist are “Twisted”, “Wolves” and “For You”. Of course, how can you have a Halloween party without Micheal Jackson’s “Thriller” and “The Monster Mash”. But my all-favorite song to have for the spooky season comes from the cartoon Scooby Doo movie Scooby Doo! On Zombie Island. “It’s Terror Time Again” is pure gold, and though it is a little harder to find, it’s one I definitely recommend. Whether you are planning a dance part or just want music in the background, these songs with fit most any Halloween playlist.
If possible, it is best to dim the lights in your space. Either turn off the main lights and stage the light with colored lights, or if you are lucky enough to have them, use the dimmer on the main room lights. Dimmer light will instantly create a creeper vibe as who knows if there is a ghost lurking the dark corner you can’t see. And if you have the extra cash, I definitely recommend getting a fog machine, so long as your space can handle it. Make sure to get low lying fog and use it in spacious or open air areas as breathing in too much of the fog created can be bad for you.


Set the Table
Lastly, what party is complete without treats! These can be a simple as buying one from the store and arranging them in fancy glassware to look like a mad scientist’s table to homemaking one of the thousands of recipes and ideas you can find on the internet. 



One of my favorites is making mini brownies, and while they are cooling, press the middle down with a spoon then top it with green frosting, sprinkles and a pretzel stick to make mini cauldron’s you can eat.
And with that, you’re set. I’m so grateful to have the opportunity to guest blog today and hope these tips helped you can create you own spooky party haunt. Have a happy and haunted Halloween!

BloodlinkRaye T. Watson
Genre: YA Vampire and Paranormal Mystery Publisher: Knighted Phoenix PublishingDate of Publication: August 2, 2022ISBN: 978-1-958797-04-4ASIN: 1958797049Number of pages: 421Word Count: 188,536Cover Artist: Raye T. Watson
Tagline: Sometimes, in a world of darkness, it’s the secrets that keep you sane.
Book Description:
Katelyn Phillips hates the Greatlee Wood, the small forest near her home in Effingham, England. She just wants to forget the uncomfortable feeling of being watched whenever she sees that line of trees and move on with her life like a normal person. But when she wakes up one night numb and dead, the forest becomes the least of her worries.
Now she’s lost all connection with the outside world as she fights for control of her mind and the lust for blood. But she’s not alone.
Aidan O’Conner, the superstitious Irish fellow with centuries of experience, is willing to help. Together, with his family and friends, they teach Kate what it means to be a vampire and how to manage her newfound powers, but there are some secrets they are not so willing to share. Like why the door at the end of the hallway is always locked? Or why the manor they live in was half burned down 20 years ago? And how does it all tie into the ghost tale of the Armuary Phantom?
Can Kate uncover the truth and protect her new surrogate family, or will these secrets and deceit cause her to lose trust in everything, including herself?
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/R12G-TVsRQs
Amazon      Lulu     Apple      BN     Kobo

Something is wrong. I’m finally waking up. I can almost feel my consciousness slip into focus, but I still feel like I am floating.

I pry my eyes open, and I can see I am lying in a bed, but I can’t remember how I got there or when I’d gone to bed. Had I been hallucinating? Is Ryan okay?
I put my hand to my head, or I think I did. I can’t feel it. I can hear movement, but I can’t feel anything. I frown, realizing the floating feeling hasn’t gone away. It isn’t really like floating; it isn’t as soothing. It’s just... nothing.

That scares me.

My eyes pop open, and I sit up, feeling like my heart should have shot to my throat. This isn’t my bed. This isn’t my room.

It is dark in this room, but I can see it fine. Moonlight filters in through the window to my left and helps define the room. I am in a four-poster bed in a renaissance style room. It’s as big as my living room. It is beautiful, but how did I get here?

I hear the rustle of the bed covers and look down. I can see my hands on the covers, but as I grip them, twist them, and throw them away from me, I still have no sense of their weight or texture. I rub my fingers and hands together, but nothing.

I can’t feel... anything!

Alarmed and panicked, I take in air through shallow and quick breaths as I kick away from the things I can’t touch. In the process, I fall backward over the side of the bed and hit the floor with a thud. I wish I could say that it hurt. But without the bang that resonated in the room as I hit the ground, I may not have known I’d fallen at all.

What is wrong with me? Tears of fear fill my eyes. Fear as intoxicating as poison burns inside me, and I begin to cry, too scared to think. I crab crawl quickly away from the bed, as if it was the thing that made me this way. I crunch against the far bedroom wall, which stops me from going any further. I turn and run my hands along the wall, but it’s the same as the bed. Without my sight, I wouldn’t even know it was there. Terror grips me, and I curl up in the corner and hug myself, but it doesn’t help. It’s as if my whole body is filled with novocaine.

Before too long, I can hear footsteps outside the room I’m in. They sound like they’re coming toward me. They are going to find me. I don’t know if I want them to or not.

About the Author:
Raye T. Watson grew up in Northern California near the capital of Sacramento where she continues to live with her family. She is the only girl and second oldest of four children. She graduated Brigham Young University – Idaho with a bachelor's degree and a minor in English. She enjoys learning and being a jack-of-all-trades.
As a kid, she actually did not like reading as a kid because her reading level was slight below average compared to other kids in her grade, but she loves most anything with a story: movies, TV shows, video games. But books were too boring to bother with. When she was 11 years old, her older brother tried to get her in a newer series about a young boy who learns he is a wizard and had to take an invisible train to go to wizarding school. She was not interested. But this book had a movie coming out, which he was very excited to see, so their parents took them to see the first Harry Potter movie. Watson was so enthralled with this magical world, she read books 1-4 before the second film was released in theaters. And thus, her love of reading was born.
Watson had always loved creating her own stories, whether it was creating new characters to fix the TV show plotlines during the commercials or playing games of make believe with her younger brother, but once she started reading, she began to write. None of her written stories ever got far, but she dreamed it all in her mind. 
In early 2010, she got her first glimpse of what would become her debut novel, Bloodlink. She’d always loved vampires and the spooky thrills of Halloween, and having finished the Twilight Series and Dracula, she began to define her own kind of vampire.
In the summer of 2012, she met the lady who would become her best friend and fellow author, Charity Mae. Watson and Mae swamped stories during their first meeting and have encouraged each other’s writing ever since.
Watson continues to write to this day and enjoys drawing and painting in her free time. She created the cover art and title page art for her book and hope to publish more art and books in the years to come.
https://www.rayetwatson.com/   
https://www.rayetwatson.com/blog  https://www.facebook.com/RayeTW.Writes
https://www.instagram.com/rayetwatson/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22638358.Raye_T_Watson





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The Color of Betrayal The Psychic Colors Series Book Two Hollie Smurthwaite

 

The Color of BetrayalThe Psychic Colors SeriesBook TwoHollie Smurthwaite
Genre: Paranormal Romance, SuspensePublisher: Hollie SmurthwaiteDate of Publication: 10-31-2022ISBN: 978-1-7371189-6-1ASIN: B0BD2NYV8WNumber of pages: 344Word Count: 98,000Cover Artist: Sarah Hansen at Okay Creations
Tagline: No Secret is Safe . . . 
Book Description:
As a memory surgeon, Jolene can slip into other people’s memories. She can see them, experience them, even steal them. To atone for her past, she’s been using her gift to help the Agency, a secret government entity, taking out drug lords across the US. After a screw-up on an assignment, she’s back in Chicago, where her own worst memories live.
The last thing she needs while trying to make up for her mistake is a sexy distraction.  Cass is a little sweet and a lot gorgeous.  The only problem: she can’t have him and the job.  But when he offers his friendship, she can’t resist. 
While Jolene and Cass try to pretend there is nothing beneath their friendship, her mission spins out of control. Now, both their lives are on the line. Will her growing powers be enough to save her? Or will secrets send her right back to the darkest depths of her past?
Amazon      BN     Kobo

Excerpt:

After only three weeks of dating, Jolene and Colton had fallen into a routine: dinner (both) and drinks (him), binge-watching various flavors of CSI at his downtown Boston condo (him), and a few hours of surreptitiously delving into Colton's memories (her). Jolene's practice run as a spy in the field was going well.

The late August night was cool enough for Colton to crack open the sliding glass door to the balcony to let the night air clear his lingering cigarette smoke. Jolene kicked off the stiletto heels and inwardly sighed. After some complex maneuvering, she managed to tuck her aching toes under her too-bright skirt.

The next part of the evening promised to be worth the discomfort of a thong up her ass crack to avoid panty lines.

Without asking Jolene what she would like, Colton switched on the obscenely large TV and pulled up Hulu, lounging like a czar on his pristine white couch, which was a stupid color for anyone but particularly ludicrous for a smoker who drank too much and worked with dangerous people.

In another life, he would have been regal with golden hair, long limbs, straight nose, and a boyish, charming smile. But this wasn’t another life.

As a midlevel lackey in the Red Flames criminal organization, he was not proper boyfriend material, even if he made enough cash to buy a downtown place on a high floor and have it professionally, if foolishly, decorated all in white.

Jolene wiggled her toes into the plush cushion and ignored the stale-smoke smell mixed with Colton’s spicy cologne. Any moment, Colton would slip into a CSI coma, and she would slip into his memories.

“This looks like a good one,” she said. What she always said, because why mess with what worked?

“Yeah,” Colton agreed, as he always did. He lit a cigarette and “politely” blew the smoke toward the balcony doors, tapping the ash into an antique crystal ashtray on the glass coffee table already holding three butts.

The first week, she'd been terrified he'd somehow feel her inside his mind, though she'd never had that happen before or heard of anyone sensing the process. Not that Jolene still had contacts in the memory-surgeon community, small as it was, but that sort of revelation would put memory surgery back in the 24/7 news cycle, like when they’d first been legitimized. Semi-legitimized.

This first assignment was nothing more than an exploration of what she could do on a real mission. Since Colton was a gangster and she had no close backup, fear nibbled, but confidence had outpaced her worry.

Jolene rested her head on his shoulder, slipped her arm through his, and slid her hand down his button-down shirt to rest on his hand. As soon as skin-to-skin contact was made, she mentally reached out to him. Colton's mind rose up inside her own. To boost her concentration, Jolene closed her eyes.

Within the blackness, bubbles sharpened. The different shapes and colors bobbed and slid around one another. In her mind's eye, she moved into the middle, staring at them as if in an aquarium. The memories never touched her, but she could reach out and sink into any of them. If she did, she experienced the memory in its entirety, exactly as Colton had lived through the event at the time. If she wanted, she could remove memories, but that was a level of violation she resisted unless absolutely necessary. Besides, if she took something, she had to keep it, and she didn't want to keep anything of Colton's.

Jolene already had an entire dossier in her head of all things Colton. She’d cataloged his fears: multilegged insects like millipedes terrified him, as did his brother when his eyes went icy, and his jaw shifted to the right.

Shame occupied its own section: bed-wetting for a month when he was twelve. The time he'd slapped his girlfriend after she'd gotten pregnant and decided she didn't want it. Red Flames passing him over for job after job.

Still, inside, people were infinite, and she had more to learn. She avoided the pink bubbles, as they were filled with his worst memories, and her reactions to living them were difficult to hide. Reds gave her the best intel so far. Angers, suspicions, smackdowns.

Truthfully, she should have wrapped up the mission a week ago since she wasn’t finding anything new. But playing spy and the unfettered access to Colton's recollections had been too enlightening to quit quite yet. Her skills had grown, and she didn’t feel guilty about messing in his brain because of his criminal history. She was three weeks into her two- to three-week mission, so she needed to skip out soon.

Jolene decided to make a game to test her memory-reading skills. She had recently learned how to peek and not immediately experience a memory. It allowed her to see more since she didn’t need any emotional recovery time, and she processed what she encountered more quickly.

Tonight, she wanted to test how many memories she could scan during commercial breaks, since Colton was too cheap to pay for the commercial-free version of Hulu. She’d hop through his memories like jumping into puddles.

Commercial.

A mahogany memory: his brother, Walther, stood over him, watching over his shoulder as Colton did algebra homework. Whenever Colton squirmed in his chair, Walther flicked his ear. It didn’t hurt much, but Colton’s face burned every time, and his muscles shook with the stress of not moving to avoid Walther’s attention. “Knock it off,” he grumbled, earning another sting. Colton tensed—

A buttercup-colored memory: “Mama, Mama, Mama,” Colton said, running around his mama as she walked in the park. If he ran fast enough, he would fly, his head already lightening. He stumbled and giggled, his mama laughing. Something shiny glinted in the sun. What was it? His mama scooped him into her arms before he grabbed it. She smelled of flowers and oranges.

About the Author: 
Hollie Smurthwaite is a paranormal romantic suspense author of The Color of Trauma and The Color of Betrayal. The Color of Trauma was the winner of the 2020 Soon to Be Famous Illinois Author Project in adult fiction. She lives in Chicago with her husband, son, and too few pets. In past lives, she's been a checkout clerk, massage therapist, office manager, recruiter, magazine staff writer, pepper spray hawker, and belly dancer.
Website: https://holliesmurthwaite.com
LinkTree https://linktr.ee/hollie_smurthwaite
Twitter: https://twitter.com/H_Smurthwaite
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/2336027206
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hsmurthwaite/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HollieSmurthwaiteAuthor/
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/hollie-smurthwaite-03376516b/
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/hollie_smurthwaite
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/75834809-hollie-smurthwaite



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Dainty Damsels: Halloween Collection 2022 Dainty Damsels Coloring Books Book Twelve J.N. Sheats

 

Dainty Damsels: Halloween Collection 2022Dainty Damsels Coloring BooksBook TwelveJ.N. Sheats
Genre: Fantasy Coloring Books Date of Publication: 09/04/2022ISBN: 979-8849735702 ASIN: B0BD2RR74J Number of pages: 72Cover Artist: J.N. Sheats
Book Description:
Spooky season is here and so are the Dainty Damsels with a new 30 page collection of illustrations by J.N. Sheats. 
Grab your pens, pencils, and markers and get to coloring! 
Amazon     Etsy







About the Author:
A creative mind trapped in a world of reality Jackie Sheats expresses herself in anyway that she can. From illustrating and writing to dancing like a mental patient while preparing dinner. Living in Maryland with her logic driven husband, their six cats, the dog, and a tank full of fish, Jackie spends her free time doing the backlog of housework. A movie junkie, video game addict, and lover of romance novels, she lives life under the idea that "if you don't know how to do something, go learn it!"
Twitter: https://twitter.com/jnsheats
Facebook: www.facebook.com/jsheatsart
Website: www.authorjnsheats.wordpress.com
Website: www.jnsheatsart.wordpress.com
Blog: http://insidetheinsanitycm.blogspot.com/
Amazon: www.amazon.com/author/jnsheats
Etsy: www.etsy.com/shop/JSheatsCreations
Newsletter: https://www.subscribepage.com/JNSheatsNewsletter




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Onyx Webb: The 31 Immutable Matters of Life and Death

 

Onyx Webb: The 31 Immutable Matters of Life and DeathBased on the original 10 book, 31 episode Onyx Webb series. 
Episode 1: “Should you one day discover you have both light and darkness inside you, do not despair. We all do. The only thing that matters is which you choose to act on.”
Episode 2“We do not fear heights, we fear falling. Nor do we fear the darkness… but, rather, what we think may be lurking there. And in matters of life and death, we do not fear dying: only that it may be final.”
Episode 3 “It is not important to know what fate awaits you beyond the living plane. All that matters is that you know there is a ‘there’ there.”
Episode 4“The greatest temptation in life is to pursue everything that catches your eye. What matters is: Are you willing to pursue only that which captures your heart.”
Episode 5“The universe is a blank canvas, and you are the paint. The only thing that matters is how much of yourself you are willing to splash upon it.”
Episode 6“The universe is impressed when you find the courage to stand with others. What matters more, however, are the times you find the courage to stand alone.”
Episode 7“Everything in the universe is temporary, yet everything lasts forever. And it does not matter if you believe this—it will be true with or without your consent.”
Episode 8 “It is not the job of the universe to tell you what your destiny is. For that matter, no one is destined to become anything other than what they choose to become.”
Episode 9“No matter how unfair the world may seem, the world is perfect just the way it is.”
Episode 10 “Those filled with hate believe the edge of the universe is surrounded in darkness, while those filled with love believe it to be bathed in light. But what does it matter? Upon their deaths, both will discover they were correct.”
Episode 11“Your forgiveness may not matter to those who harm you, but it was never intended for them anyway. It is a gift you give yourself.” Episode 12 “When you die, one of the following two things must be true. You are dead and gone, or you are dead but not gone. To settle the matter once and for all, as far as the Universe is concerned, we are never gone.”
Episode 13“The desire to remain young matters most to those who do not realize that growing old is a privilege denied to many.”
Episode 14 “Your dreams matter to you, but also to the universe. Do not let anyone who has given up on their dreams talk you out of yours.”
Episode 15 “The world is filled with unspeakable evil, but it is also filled with unstoppable love. The only thing that matters—as long as there is one person with a single ounce of love in their heart—is that evil cannot win.”
Episode 16“The thing that matters most in your final hours is that you do not find yourself crying and begging for more time. Only those who have failed to live fear death.”
Episode 17“There is no such thing as a lifetime—only a series of moments strung together that matter to us that we call a lifetime. To miss these moments is to miss your life.
Episode 18“The universe is not interested in your long list of casual wants. The only thing that matters is your short list of passionate desires.”
Episode 19“No matter what you think or how you feel when times are tough, life is a precious gift. Just how precious is it? Don’t worry. You know when you’re dead.”
Episode 20“If knowing every secret in the universe matters to you, your time on earth will be a disappointment. The number of secrets is infinite; the capacity to understand is not.”
Episode 21“The best way to deal with matters of hate, jealousy, anger, fear, and regret is to be so busy living your life that you simply have no time for any of them.”
Episode 22“It does not matter that you reach out to the universe. What matters is that you reach inside yourself.”
Episode 23“The universe does not care if you are beautiful. What matters is that you surround yourself with that which is beautiful to you.”
Episode 24 “Nothing in the universe is good or bad, big or small, hot or cold, up or down, right or wrong. The only thing that matters is the perspective of the observer.”
Episode 25“If fulfilling your mission on earth truly matters, why have you yet to even start? And don’t say it is because you don’t know your mission. You have always known.”
Episode 26“In matters of karma, the universe is excruciatingly fair. What goes around does indeed come around. But you must understand: the universe is under no obligation to ensure it comes around to you.”
Episode 27“Thoughts don’t just matter. They are matter. In the same way that the moon tugs on the oceans, the gravity of your thoughts have pulled both things and people into your life.”
Episode 28“The true wonders of the universe can be seen in three ways: through the lens of a telescope, the lens of a microscope, and—when it matters most—the lens of human understanding.”
Episode 29“Every choice, large or small, matters more than you’ll ever know. In the end, your life will have been nothing more than a collection of your choices.”
Episode 30“Show the universe what matters most to you, and the universe will show you… you.”
Episode 31“The differences between us matter less than the ways in which we are the same, for in the end we come to understand we were all connected by the same frail web called life.”

The Ghost Circus: An Onyx Webb Supernatural ThrillerDiandra Archer
Genre: Paranormal ThrillerPublisher: Lust for LivingDate of Publication: July 26, 2022ISBN: 978-1947814226 ASIN: B0B7QVRLYKNumber of pages: 280Word Count: 64,000Cover Artist: Alex at https://www.nessgraphica.com/
Tagline: If You Think Life is Precious, Just Wait Until You’re Dead
Book Description: 
A ragtag traveling circus sits outside a small California town. Two hundred miles north, the rumors of Onyx Webb, a legendary ghost, are "alive and well" in the seaside hamlet of Crimson Cove, Oregon.
After mysterious deaths occur in both places, the FBI gets involved. By the time the circus travels to Crimson Cove, the little town is starting to unravel. It's one thing to stop people from committing crimes, but how do you stop ghosts?
Amazon

Onyx existed in a constant state of guilt over what she considered to be stealing the best years of Noah’s life. What some would call robbing the cradle or being what was currently called a cougar.

It was the opposite of the norm, in which men had a tendency to date and marry younger women.

When Onyx brought up the topic, Noah pointed out how it was no longer a big deal for couples to have differences in their age. “Age is just a number,” Noah would say, having pointed out the age difference between Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher. “She’s like 15 years older than he is.”

First, Onyx had absolutely no idea who these people were since she never watched television. And the 15-year age difference paled in comparison to their ages since Onyx was 114 and Noah was still in his 30s.

The thing that made the age difference livable, no pun intended, was that ghosts appeared as the age they were on the day they died and returned as their perfect selves. No scars or blemishes or wrinkles. Even severed limbs reappeared.

She may have been 114 years old, but in terms of appearance, Onyx looked 39.

And as a ghost, she would be 39 forever.

Assuming she could get the energy.

Onyx watched as Noah took advantage of the last bit of daylight, shirt off—sweating and swearing when the rocks wouldn’t fit together—his skin glistening with sweat and red with color.

Onyx held up her hand and examined it. Unlike Noah’s, her skin was gray. Transparent.

When she held the hand up to her face, she could see right through it.

Unacceptable.

Tonight, she would go to the hospital and see if there was anyone whose time had come. If there wasn’t, she would go into town and look for an addict shooting up in a dark alley—the kind that could be found in all towns, even small ones like Crimson Cove.

She had no problem taking drug addicts. They were killing themselves, anyway. If they wanted to die, she was happy to help them along.

Those who were young and healthy? No. Onyx’s code would not allow it. They were off-limits.

And children? Never.

Onyx walked to the opposite side of the lighthouse and peered out toward the water, seeing thin red lines of red forming as the sun was being slowly swallowed by the ocean.

Soon it would be dark. It was time.

About the Author:

Diandra Archer is the pen name for professional speakers and best-selling authors, Richard Fenton and Andrea Waltz. Richard and Andrea have been entrepreneurs, writing and publishing non-fiction business books for over twenty years. Onyx Webb is their first fiction book series. They live in Central Florida with their cat Storey, and newly adopted senior dog, Peppers. Diandra Archer is a combination of both of their first names. 
http://onyxwebb.com/
https://twitter.com/onyxwebb
https://www.facebook.com/OnyxWebbSeries 






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The Guardian The Cities Below Book Five Jen Colly

 

The GuardianThe Cities Below Book FiveJen Colly
Genre: Paranormal RomanceDate of Publication: 10/11/2022ISBN:9798201144319Number of pages: 300Word Count: 97,000Cover Artist: Ryan Imbrock
Tagline: Prepared to die...fighting to live.
Book Description:
Savard was in a mood to die, but when a human insists on saving his life, death is no longer an immediate option. He knew of no species – human, vampire, or demon – that could see him while in his invisible Spirit form. Unique to this world, this woman's singularity was a danger to the entire vampire race.
Waking behind bars in an underground vampire city was not how Sera envisioned her night drive ending. She has come to expect nothing from those who pass through her life, but this man, dying on the side of the road, proves to be different. Savard fights to free her from tyrannical vampire laws and to hide her unique abilities. What Sera doesn't understand, is why he would fight his growing love for her.
Savard's haunted past threatens to tear them apart. Soon, Sera discovers just how far her guardian is willing to go, and what he's willing to do, to keep her safe.

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Excerpt

Savard watched her delicate jaw drop at the sight of his fangs. Never in his long life had he shown a human what kind of creature lurked behind the visage of a man. He waited for her scream, expected her terrified flight or even a fainting spell. Instead of acting like a normal human, she just sat there, taking it all in, processing, and then out of the blue, the minx slugged him in the shoulder.

He groaned, not so much from her punch, but from stabilizing his core muscles to keep his body upright. Through gritted teeth, Savard asked, “What the hell was that for?”

“Give it a guess,” she huffed, not frightened, and certainly not shying away. “You can speak. Just say what you are. You didn’t need to threaten me with the pointy teeth.”

“Wasn’t a threat…won’t bite,” he mumbled. He knew he was behaving poorly, but his body ached, his hunger beat a heavy cadence against his tongue, and this woman had ruined his plans for a quick death.

His eyelids drifted shut, his head tilted back against the cushion. He was getting worse. The pain was there, but not exactly excruciating, making it easier to speak. His body was numbing out, going cold on the inside. Sensation was slipping away, along with life.

“If you’re what I think you are, then…” her soft voice trailed off, as if redirecting her question.

“What can I do? Be honest.”

“Nothing you’d be willing to do,” Savard said, cracking one eye open to observe her reaction, and when she shifted closer, he suddenly realized she still held his hand. In fact, her grip had never wavered. Even after he’d bared his fangs.

“Like letting you bite me? How can you be sure I wouldn’t?”

“I’m not asking.”

“But if it would help you…” Her delicate eyebrows scrunched together, and she asked in earnest,

“Would it help you? And would it hurt?”

His lips twitched, the beginnings of a smile that never fully formed. For some reason, he found explaining the nuances of a vampire’s bite to this innocent human amusing. “Blood heals. A bite is more pleasure than pain.”

“I wouldn’t turn into a…”

“No.”

“When you bite someone…” Her voice was hesitant, the first subtle hint of trepidation he’d found in her. “Do they die?”

“No. Life is precious,” he said quietly.

Deafening silence surrounded him and he closed his eyes again, the calm lulling him. Several minutes passed, or perhaps more, and then he unexpectedly caught her scent. The soft, delicate flesh of this woman had a scent all its own, and he opened his eyes to see her leaning close to him, her hand pulling that fluffy white-blonde mass of randomly braided hair away from her neck. Savard growled, closing his eyes against the temptation, and turned away from her.

“Why not?” she asked, her steady voice sending shivers through his battered body.

Teeth clenched, he said, “You should have left me there.”

About the Author: Jen Colly is the rare case of an author who rebelled against reading assignments throughout her school years. Now she prefers reading books in a series, which has led her to writing her first paranormal romance series: The Cities Below. She will write about anything that catches her fancy, though truth be told, her weaknesses are pirates and vampires. She lives in Ohio with her supportive husband, two kids, one fluffy dog, and four rescued cats.
Website - https://www.jencolly.com
Twitter - https://twitter.com/collyjen
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/jen.colly.1/
Blog - http://www.jencolly.com/the-jen-mind-blog
Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/authorjencolly/
Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8634547.Jen_Colly

A Werewolf’s Thoughts on Werewolf Costumes

 

A Werewolf’s Thoughts on Werewolf Costumes
Every year for Halloween, people don costumes to present themselves as various monsters. Because my brain tends to wander to odd places, I’ve sometimes wondered what those “monsters” would think of those costumes. Since I write werewolves, I decided to ask one of my characters what they thought. The following is a take from Kyle Slidell, the world’s only(?) gay vegan werewolf; although Kyle is not a major character in Alpha Receptor, he’s a main character in other books, and his story has a big impact on the main characters and plot of Alpha Receptor.
Hmm. What do I, Kyle Slidell, think about humans dressing up as werewolves for Halloween?
Honestly, I think it’s weird as heck. The costumes don’t even look like us, for crying out loud! They’re the movie-land version of werewolves, not the reality. We look like wolves.
Since I live full-time as a werewolf, I don’t really get why anyone would want to pretend to be one. Shifting is about the least fun I’ve ever had. Not having a choice about shifting at least once every month also really sucks. The reality of being a werewolf isn’t something I would wish on my worst enemy. (Even though my worst enemy is a werewolf.)
On the other hand, I completely get spending a night pretending to be something you aren’t. There have been plenty of times in my life when I’ve either done or wanted to do exactly that.
Of course the costumes aren’t accurate depictions of werewolves, but I suppose for some humans, that’s part of the fun. They aren’t trying to actually be wolves. They’re just playing dress-up for a night, and for a lot of humans, that’s exactly what Halloween is for.
So while I personally think humans dressing up like us—or like the film versions of us—is weird, I also fully support the whole “play pretend for a night” as long as everyone’s having fun with it. Just remember that the way most humans see werewolves isn’t our reality.


Alpha ReceptorReal Werewolves True Mates Book OneKarenna Colcroft
Genre: Paranormal RomancePublisher: Vegan Wolf Productions Date of Publication: July 14, 2022ISBN: 978-1958346006ASIN: B0B4T6FMPRNumber of pages: 263Word Count: 72,300 Cover Artist: Winterheart Design
Tagline: Can a “curmudgeonly” Alpha who has closed his heart to love open up when he finds his true mate?
Book Description: 
When Lara Jameson’s employer transferred her from Orlando, Florida, to Boston, Massachusetts, moving wasn’t as simple as just finding an apartment. As a werewolf, Lara also had to transfer to a new pack. And when she met Chal Torres, the Alpha of City Pack in Boston, she knew she had found not only a new pack but her mate.
Chal Torres has resisted love since a dominance fight shortly after he was changed resulted in the death of the woman he believed he loved. Now, as Alpha of the largest pack in the United States, he allows no one close to him out of fear they might be used against him. But when Chal meets Lara and recognizes her as his mate, his resistance is no match for the call of the mate bond and of his heart.
As Chal and Lara begin to build their relationship, Chal lets down his guard. But an attack on Lara during the pack’s hunt night and the reveal of a plot within the pack to take down Chal as Alpha lead Chal to begin putting up those walls again. Will he let Lara in, or will his fear end their relationship before it truly starts?
Amazon

When he was confident none of his pack remained among the trees, he went to the house and found Art already in human form near the back door. Art possessed the distinct ability to shift instantaneously with no pain or effects; for him, it was as fluid as breathing. Meaning Chal needed to shift rapidly and give no sign of the effects.

Once back in human form, he straightened, towering over Art, who flinched. The reaction pleased Chal. The man deserved to be afraid.

“You attacked a pack member,” he said.

“Can…” Sweat beaded Art’s forehead as he frantically searched around for an escape. “Can we discuss this privately, Alpha?”

“We cannot.” He spoke more loudly than he intended, not caring that he’d drawn the attention of the other wolves. “Lara is lower ranked than you. She wasn’t interfering with you. You had neither cause nor right to attack her. Go home, Art. You are confined to your apartment until I speak with you.”

Art bowed his head. “I have no way to get home, Alpha. I rode here with others.”

“Dave.”

A small, wiry man hurried over to him. One of the trackers, second in command to Connor.

“Yes, Alpha?”

“Are you able to leave at this time?” Chal asked, continuing to pin Art beneath his gaze. “Art is going home.”

“Yes, Alpha. I’ll tell Hillary to find another ride.” Dave grasped Art’s elbow. “Let’s go.”

Art followed the other man without protest. But when he peered back over his shoulder at Chal, his eyes were filled with the same darkness weighing on Chal.It would be crucial to resolve the situation more permanently. For the moment, Art was dealt with. It was time for Chal to check on his mate.

He found her a short distance from the house, lying on her side in wolf form, panting heavily.

Tobias, in human form, sat cross-legged beside her. “Follow my voice, Lara,” he said in a low, almost hypnotic cadence. “It’s time to shift back. I’m here. Your Alpha is here. We’re both with you. Come back.”

Painstakingly, so much so Chal trembled with sympathetic agony, Tobias guided Lara back into human form. When she finished the shift, she lay gasping on the ground.

“I can’t do anything more for her,” Tobias said.

“I can. Thank you, old friend.”

Chal crouched and gathered Lara into his arms. She stirred and murmured something unintelligible. Ignoring the others around them, Chal carried her into the house and up to the second floor, to the bedroom where he and Tobias had spoken earlier. 

Tenderly, he lay her on the bed. He wished he could kiss her, stay with her, but he still had a duty to his pack. He maneuvered the sheet from under her and covered her.

“Sleep,” he said. “We’ll speak in the morning.” Quickly, he left the room.

About the Author:
Karenna Colcroft lives just north of Boston, Massachusetts, and has been in love with the city since childhood, though she has yet to encounter any werewolves, vampires, or other paranormal beings in her travels. At least none that she knows of. Though since in her non-writing life, under another name, she offers services as a channel and energy healing practitioner, it could be said that she herself is a paranormal being. The jury’s still out on that.
Karenna is a polyamorous, nonbinary human who splits time between the home she shares with her husband and the one she shares with her committed partner. She also has two adult children and a bonus son, three grandchildren, and two and a half cats. (Half in terms of time the cat lives with her, not in terms of the cat itself…)
Website: https://karennacolcroft.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KarennaColcroft









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At Half Past Two

 

At Half Past Two
Our movie broke at half past two.I begged Time to return to the black and white filmWe lived in, with you by my side;But the grand drapes stayed shut in silence and shock.I closed my eyes and opened my mouth,Mad about your sudden absence, with unrestrained outburstsTo a greedy God adored by millions. Only one adored me!Had He really just snatched you away?My mind kept restarting the movie before half past two.Each time I waited for the roll to resume playWith you and me in high-definition color,But tears blurred my vision and I couldn’t see you.I kept moving your souvenirs back and forth,With eyes unaware they should blink.I struggled to savor each memory of you in my mind,Flashing every second until my gut retched.I followed your scent aimlessly through the house,Before strength left my knees and I curled on the floor.Then I saw my arms dance, caressing the airWhere you lay last night — I thought I heard you laugh.Enough of this cruel joke. Stop it.Come back. Please.

Unusual LightJ. Elizaga
Genre: Young Adult fantasyDate of Publication: July 31, 2022 ASIN: B0B85ZRPSZNumber of pages: 86Word Count: 20,000
Cover Artist: The Book Cover Designer
Tagline: A young engineer, a ghost, and a mystery at the morgue
Book Description:
How does one keep a promise to a ghost? Engineering student Ana Juliet (AJ) Diwa takes a summer job as a swing-shift security guard at a hospital morgue—the same morgue once investigated by the police for unusual calls received during full moons. And the calls happen only when Matt, a guard assigned to the overnight shift, is on duty.
AJ scoffs at the idea of otherworldly activities. But soon after, she witnesses a mysterious orb at the morgue. The orb reveals itself to be the ghost of Binni Almond, a teenager who went missing thirty years ago. Despite AJ’s shock, she befriends the entity. She vows to use her problem-solving abilities to find Binni’s family and solve the mystery of the young girl’s disappearance. But darker spirits are afoot.
As AJ descends to the morgue’s basement to capture evidence of Binni’s remains, Matt’s visions worsen. Evil spirits surge around the premises. And AJ is in danger of getting caught in the middle of a paranormal showdown.
Amazon

Chapter 1: An Unusual Call

AT half past midnight, a public safety dispatcher received a familiar but unsettling call. Amid the static and crackle, a voice uttered, “Send help.”

The strange calls started nine months ago, and they always occurred on or near the full moon. The voice supplied only their first name and location. The caller’s name changed every month, but the location stayed the same—Shoreline Hospital morgue. The police officer who responded to the first dispatch spoke with Matt Faulson, the morgue’s overnight security guard. He denied dialing for assistance. The officer walked around the perimeter of the building and witnessed nothing out of the ordinary.

But after three monthly calls involving the same person on duty, the department assigned Officer David Jackson to patrol around the time of the full moon, when they estimated a call would occur. They suspected the twenty-seven-year-old Matt to be the prankster.

Police interviews failed to pin him. Instead, the detectives saw video footage of stationary objects moving randomly in various rooms in the morgue late at night.

The young man admitted to seeing strange activity during his shifts. Adding to the mystery, the city’s emergency dispatch system saved the calls, but the hospital had no record of any of their phones being used.

David arrived at the parking lot with another patrol car at 12:25 a.m. He saw a lone figure sitting on a bench near the morgue’s main entrance.

“Matt.” He approached the security guard with friendly caution. As the guard greeted him, the officer couldn’t help but notice the dark shadows under the young man’s eyes and the ruffled hair. “Man, you look terrible.”

Matt sighed. “There’s not a lot of sleep with the graveyard shift, as you know. I don’t like walking the floors between midnight and one a.m., but I took too long answering an email, and I forgot the time. I rushed through the hallways, and let me tell you, I had more than one sighting,” Matt said. “I guess you received a call?”

David nodded. “You have to get me in there one of these nights. I want to see for myself.”

“I’ll call next time. But I didn’t make the call tonight,” Matt replied. He stood up and prepared to go back in the morgue, but froze. “Oh.”

“What is it?” David asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the second officer took a defensive stance.

“A gray entity floated out of the wall to my left,” Matt said softly as he kept his head very still.

David looked as soon as Matt spoke. “I don’t see anything.” He glanced at the other officer.

“I don’t see anything either.”

“Really?” Matt asked as his shoulders dropped. He gingerly turned his head and looked. “Am I the only one who sees ghosts?”

“I’m beginning to believe that,” David replied.

About the Author:
J. ELIZAGA is a fan of science fiction and science mysteries. Born and raised in Manila, Philippines, she peered over her father’s shoulders as he watched TV shows such as In Search Of, and Carl Sagan’s Cosmos during the 1970s. 
J. lives in California. She wrote stories in high school but had set aside her hobby for college and career…until she attended a writer's conference in San Francisco in 2010. The experience unsealed a door in her mind that she thought had long closed.
J. works in information technology by day, and makes time to write stories about humans who face extraordinary circumstances and discover their superhuman abilities. 
Website: https://www.jelizaga.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/jelizaga1 
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jelizaga1 
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/j.elizaga/






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The Ghosts We Carry and How to Banish Them

 

The Ghosts We Carry and How to Banish Them
Have you ever noticed how in haunted house stories or an occult detective tale, there’s always an object that keeps a spirit anchored to a place?  It could be a keepsake from when the ghost was a living being or a terrible artifact use to summon darker entities.  Sometimes it’s a whole room or house, the energy of the people who have lived in it soaking into the very walls.  Other times it’s the memory of a horrific incident that has bled into the earth.
In order to banish the ghost, of course, we have to destroy the object—set it on fire, break it, or, to be less dramatic, let it go or move on from it. 
Move out of the haunted house.  
Contain the dark occult artifact that can’t be destroyed so that no one will find it (until the inevitable sequel, of course….this is dramatic fiction after all!). 
These stories remind us, in one way or another, that the things we carry with us absorb the energy of our experiences.  And that, sometimes, the only way we can move forward is to let those objects go.  Otherwise, we keep that old energy—sometimes toxic energy—around and get stuck, finding ourselves in a time loop of the same draining experiences that first tainted the objects in question.

The Ghosts We Carry 
Take, for instance, the story of The Sad Birthday Dress.  It goes like this:  There once was a woman who wanted to feel beautiful.  All day long she was asked to be nothing but a talking head.  But this woman knew she had a heart and hips and a juicy center.  So she bought herself a dress to remind herself that she could be a whole person and not just a shriveled head sitting in someone’s cabinet of curiosities.  And what a dress it was!  It was stunning, with finely spun organic lilac cotton and loud bouncy yellow and white polka dots that told her that she was allowed to have color in her life—that she was allowed to be of color, no need to pass as another kind of pale specter.   The skirt was flouncy and feminine and begged to be flipped up for illicit romance or at least a lively dance.
It was the perfect birthday dress.  So she did what any woman who wanted to feel alive did—she wore it out and ate cake and drank champagne and danced until the weight of the pale city bore down on her and her loud pretty dress didn’t make her feel pretty anymore.  Just sad.  Unspeakably so.  Because, she realized, this dress didn’t make her feel pretty.  It only reminded her that she lived in a place that didn’t want her to be a flesh and blood woman.  A city that was uncomfortable with her long wild hair and her rounded hips and the way the bodice of her dress clung to her breasts.   She knew shame in that dress.  And a sadness that welled up inside her until it became heartbreak.  That heartbreak spread from her body and into the dress as surely as the bubbly drink had spread through her body only moments before.
The woman learned a hard lesson that night:  A dress couldn’t fix a city that treated her like a brown stain on a white shirt.  And cake couldn’t disguise the fact that there was no sweetness for her there. Only loneliness and a bone-deep cold.  The solution was to leave in search of warmer hands and beating hearts.
Eventually, the dress came off.  But the heartbreak stayed.  And every time the woman tried to wear her I Am Beautiful Dress, she inevitably took it off and rehung in her closet, until one day she stopped trying to wear it all together.  It moved to the back of her closet, limp and half-forgotten, like a mediocre date or half-baked wish.  It was no longer her I Am Beautiful Dress.  It was stained with the experience of that night, which is how it became The Sad Birthday Dress.
Years later, when the woman had figured how to be a breathing, living woman and not someone else’s curiosity, she pulled the dress from her closet and her heart broke all over again.  She knew there was no reclaiming the original power of the beautiful bouncy fabric.  Of cake and champagne and moonlight.  In the dress, she saw the pain of her past welling up inside of her.  Its presence was like a ghost reminding her of all the broken things she could never fix. Of the hopeless realization that the thing she wanted—thought she wanted—wasn’t for her and, in fact, had never existed at all. She had been chasing phantoms and, in the process, almost become one herself.
So she packed it up and gave it away in the hopes that it might become what it was meant to be—that I Am Beautiful Dress—for someone else who was ready to pay the price to reclaim that joy in the way she hadn’t been when she had first purchased it.  The weight of that terrible time lifted from her shoulders and the energy in her home felt lighter. 
Now the woman has a closet full of I Am Beautiful Dresses.  They are loud.  And they sparkle.  And they have hems ready to be tossed above the knee for dancing and more dancing and things that would make you blush for me to write.   And they all radiate joy.  All because she let go of the thing that was holding her back.  All because she chose to feel the pain of the past and let it go.  All because she chose to be a loud woman with a beating heart in a sun-kissed land and not a phantom shade. 
Banishing Ghosts
Lovely little story, isn’t it?  And it’s all true.  I once had an I Am Beautiful Dress that became The Sad Birthday Dress.  And when I gave it away, I was giving myself permission to be more than that sad story.  I could learn from my past and create space for joy in my present.  The truth is, we all have a proverbial Sad Birthday Dress or something that was once a profound piece of armor in our lives that became stained by experience.  Other times, we change—becoming someone that certain objects no longer feel attached to, can no longer nourish.  And in order to keep growing, transforming, evolving, we must let them go.  If we don’t, what once was beautiful or nourishing becomes toxic.  The spirit that won’t move on becomes the ghost that terrorizes the living.
Having recently completed a massive house cleansing—saying goodbye to old ghosts and old selves—I found myself thinking about one of my pieces from Everyday Enchantments, “Letting Go of Past Lives, “ about the things you hold on to even when you are ready to let go of the person you used to be.  It can be scary to let go of the past because, as stagnant as it can make us, it’s also familiar and comforting. That’s why we hold on to so much unnecessary stuff. It keeps us feeling safe—but it also keeps us stuck.  In the end, it’s better to let go and know that you are creating space for new, positive vibes to enter your life (but not necessarily more stuff!).
The first part of banishing ghosts or old selves?  Let go of the objects they are attached to.  Say goodbye to things that don’t bring you joy or that you haven’t used in over a year.   Be conscious of the energy you want in your home and life.  Then be ruthless about protecting it—get rid of anything that doesn’t contribute to your overall sense of well-being.  Ghosts hide behind sentiment and guilt to keep you trapped under their spell.  Low-level spirits are a lot like low-level people: They want you to feel as trapped and miserable as they are, so they’ll do anything to stay in your life.  Best to see them for what they are and move on.
The second part of ghostbusting?  Let go of the troubling energy you’ve been holding onto psychically.  That last one will take a little more time, but letting go of the object that keeps constellating that energy will go a long way to dispersing its psychic impact.  Give yourself permission to heal and move on from sad or seemingly unfinished histories. 
The rest will follow.
This post originally appeared on Enchantment Learning and Living, home of professor, writer, and bruja Maria DeBlassie, where true magic is in the everyday!

Weep, Woman, WeepA Gothic Fairytale about Ancestral Hauntings Maria DeBlassie
Genre: Gothic Fairytale, Occult, SupernaturalPublisher: Kitchen Witch PressDate of Publication: August 25, 2021ISBN:978-0-578-97464-4ASIN: B09CV9P9SHNumber of pages:150 pagesWord Count: 37,935Cover Artist: Rachel Ross
Tagline: Nothing makes a woman brave except getting on with the business of daily life.

Book Description:

A compelling gothic fairytale by bruja and award-winning writer Maria DeBlassie.
The women of Sueño, New Mexico don't know how to live a life without sorrows.
That's La Llorona's doing.  She roams the waterways looking for the next generation of girls to baptize, filling them with more tears than any woman should have to hold. And there's not much they can do about the Weeping Woman except to avoid walking along the riverbank at night and to try to keep their sadness in check.  That's what attracts her to them: the pain and heartache that gets passed down from one generation of women to the next.  
Mercy knows this, probably better than anyone.  She lost her best friend to La Llorona and almost found a watery grave herself.  But she survived. Only she didn't come back quite right and she knows La Llorona won't be satisfied until she drags the one soul that got away back to the bottom of the river.
In a battle for her life, Mercy fights to break the chains of generational trauma and reclaim her soul free from ancestral hauntings by turning to the only things that she knows can save her: plant medicine, pulp books, and the promise of a love so strong not even La Llorona can stop it from happening.  What unfolds is a stunning tale of one woman's journey into magic, healing, and rebirth.
CW: assault, domestic violence, racism, colorism
Amazon

Excerpt:

One time, I was feeling mighty fine and thought I’d try something different. I saw this ad in a magazine where a woman was in an obscenely large bathtub and covered up to the neck in bubbles. This was in a room with a marble floor, and there were candles everywhere, and she had her hair up all nice and a face mask on. Well, I got to thinking a nice long soak after a hard day’s work would be nice.

This was a few months after my run-in with Sherry, and I was trying hard to let myself enjoy things more. It occurred to me after seeing her that her fatal flaw was not believing that her future was right in front of her. Or maybe she was too afraid to take it with both hands. I began to wonder if we didn’t hold back and do half the work for La Llorona with all that we ran from life.

So I bought some bubble bath and made more beeswax candles and set about having myself a spa night. I mean, my bathroom was nowhere near as nice as the one in the picture. My tub was only long enough for me to sit upright and was right next to the toilet, but I made do.

It was lovely. I mean, divine! I could see why fancy women liked this. I put on the radio, and the music was soft and sweet, like the candlelight against the fading day. I was so relaxed, that I was about to fall asleep in that tub.

That was when I felt cold hands grip the soles of my feet and pull me under.
I should have seen it coming. Why willingly linger in a body of water? But I didn’t, and that was how I found myself drowning in bubbles and thrashing around in my tub. It’s also how I learned that evil woman could find me anywhere—and I mean anywhere—so I could never let my guard down.

Her grip was strong. Seemed like the harder I fought, the stronger she got. I was flailing about, my arms searching for anything and everything to hold on to, when I knocked one of those beeswax candles into the tub. To this day, I have no idea why that scared her, but it did. She recoiled something quick at the hiss of the flame when the wax hit water.

I didn’t waste a second—I hoisted myself out of the tub and collapsed on the bathroom floor, choking and sputtering and sopping wet. Took me forever to clean up the mess and cough up all those flower-scented bubbles. My feet were cold and sore for days, with claw marks where her bony fingers hooked into my skin.

Whoever said bubble baths were relaxing was a big fat liar.

 

About the Author:
Maria DeBlassie, Ph.D. is a native New Mexican mestiza blogger, award-winning writer, and award-winning educator living in the Land of Enchantment. Her first book, Everyday Enchantments: Musings on Ordinary Magic and Daily Conjurings (Moon Books 2018), and her ongoing blog, Enchantment Learning and Living are about everyday magic, ordinary gothic, and the life of a kitchen witch. When she is not practicing her own brand of brujeria, she's reading, teaching, and writing about bodice rippers and things that go bump in the night. She is forever looking for magic in her life and somehow always finding more than she thought was there.

Find out more about Maria and conjuring everyday magic at https://mariadeblassie.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/enchantmentll

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/enchantmentll

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mdeblassie.writer

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC7rY-gLkSH-w8uuVyrhVALA

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Ask The Girl Kim Bartosch

 

Ask The GirlKim Bartosch
Genre: YA Paranormal MysteryPublisher: Woodhall PressDate of Publication: 9/6/22ISBN: 978-1954907218ASIN: 1954907214Number of pages: 110Word Count: 47, 000Cover Artist: Kim Bartosch and Wendy Bowes
Tagline: Revenge is her desire but forgiveness is her salvation.
Book Description: 
Nobody believes sixteen-year-old Lila Sadler, who was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Nobody believes that Lila’s sister Rose is possessed by the ghost of Katy Watkins. As Rose’s health worsens each day, the only way to save her is to uncover the awful truth of Katy's death so many years ago. 
And nobody knows what happened to Katy on October 31, 1925. Not even Katy. 
Unaware that she was murdered, Katy has wandered for a hundred years in complete ignorance, until the day she meets Rose and Lila. Together Lila, Rose, and Katy must confront their demons to escape this hell. But will they be able to escape? Can they forgive the unforgivable? 
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/dueV9sN29xM
Amazon      BN      Bookshop

About the Author:

Kim is a young adult writer of paranormal mysteries and thrillers. She is fond of ghost stories and has experienced many hauntings during several paranormal investigations. She has contributed many articles regarding travel, hauntings, and more on various sites. Kim has been on several ghost hunts across the U.S. with her sister. She photographed a ghost at the Crescent Hotel in Eureka Springs, Arkansas.

As an advocate for Autism and Bipolar Disorder, Kim offers her support to many charities and programs, such as Joshua Center and Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance (DBSA). Kim feels there aren’t enough programs for mental disabilities. Her goal is to give as much help to set up these organizations for success so individuals, such as her autistic son and bipolar sister, will have the support they need.

Kim is an avid member of the Society of Children Book Writers & illustrators (SCBWI.org) contributing her time to many events and conferences.

Website: https://www.kimbartosch.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KimBartosch/

Blog: https://kimberlybartosch.wixsite.com/blog

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kimbartosch/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100069061958912

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Kim-Bartosch/e/B0B26BQ8LQ

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The Inked The Inked Series Book One Kristina Streva

 

The Inked The Inked SeriesBook OneKristina Streva 
Genre: Young Adult Fantasy Publisher: The Wild Rose PressDate of Publication: 2022ISBN: 978-1-5092-4381-5Number of pages: 306Word Count: 75,290Cover Artist: Diana Carlile 
Tagline: She’d been love struck… poisoned by his venomous charm. 
Book Description:
Yuri and her sisters, Britt and Tanis, were born with eight long tentacles instead of beautifully jeweled and sequined fishtails. Banned from Atlantis because of their deformity, they live hidden away and are forbidden from entering Merfolk territory. 
Britt unknowingly crosses over the ocean's divide and leads her sisters into a sea of trouble. A flesh-hungry beast is hunting them while something much more foreboding is hunting the beast-Kaleb and Neo, the Princes of Atlantis, who are competing for the throne. Whoever kills the beast first becomes the rightful heir, but fate holds other plans. 
Can the three sisters survive a torrent of danger, desire, and deceit?
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Excerpt:

Kaleb, the son of King Oasis, sat on his red and gold chariot. Large black seahorses adorned with golden paint pulled it forward as his army followed behind, saddled on their seahorse steeds. With each command from the King’s son, they drummed their fists on their armor made from reinforced turtle shells, all stunningly painted and garnished in sequins and gold.

A few days ago, King Oasis had proudly declared that there would be a competition between him and his twin brother, Neo. A beast had been terrorizing Atlantis, and whoever brought him the head of this creature would take the throne and the enormous bounty that came with it.

“Forward! We can’t afford to lose the trail of this beast!” Kaleb shouted as he lifted a long golden horn to his lips and blew.

His army moved forward in unison. He trailed behind them in his chariot, gripping his long-pronged golden trident in one hand and horn in the other. Kaleb was on the hunt, much like the monster who had hunted the occupants of Atlantis. Just last week, two more children had gone missing, and now that his troop had moved forward, he could search the area for survivors.

His eyes carefully scanned side to side, above, and then finally to the bottom of the seabed. To his left, he spotted a damaged boat flipped upside down with a large, jagged hole in one side. He tightened his grip on the trident, swimming down toward the dilapidated rowboat. Silver strands of hair stuck out of the damage in the boat’s side, looking like kelp waving in the current.

“Hello?” His body crept forward hesitantly as he cleared his throat. “By order of the King Oasis, reveal yourself!” Kaleb’s voice bellowed through the water.

The rowboat stirred as the head of a young girl tentatively made its way out of the hole. Her pale body followed, embellished in a purple laced corset that ended where her long black tentacles protruded.

Kaleb’s mouth dropped open. Now, Yuri swayed before him. His wide eyes traced her body up and down.

What…what is this girl doing here? Oh!

“Do you mean to harm me?” Yuri asked, cutting through the silence, her tone sharp as a blade.

Kaleb’s mouth curved into an amused smile. She’s bold. He had not seen her kind very often—they stayed hidden. This was new to him.

It was for a fair reason they hid away since his people hated hers, after all. Despised them with great passion. He ran his hands through his light-brown hair and then down to his chiseled jawline.

What if my father had found her? He shook his head, refocusing mossy green eyes on Yuri as he studied her.

Her hair was beautiful, and much like that of the mermaids he had grown up with, it was long and flowed behind her in the water as she moved. Yuri’s eyes met his, and he held her gaze, staring at the stunning icy-blue that looked back at him. He traced her pale complexion from her face down to her skinny arms, now held bent and stiff against her hips.

“Do you not know who I am?” He wore a cocky smile that hollowed into dimples at his cheeks.

Yuri’s brows furrowed. Her sharp glare stabbed at his ego, causing his dimpled smirk to retreat from his face like a wounded soldier. “Honestly, I don’t care who you are. Answer the question.

Are your intentions to harm me?” Her eyes darted to his pronged trident.

Kaleb’s grip loosened on his weapon as he stooped toward the seabed, his eyes remaining focused on Yuri’s icy-blue scowl. He opened his palms, letting the trident roll out of his hands and onto the sandy seafloor.

Inching back, he straightened his arms, outstretching his hands high over his head. “No, I don’t wish to harm you. Do you wish to harm me?” He wiggled the fingers of his empty hands.

Yuri crossed her arms over her puffed-out chest.

“That entirely depends on you,” she sneered. Her nostrils flared.

The once-retreated smirk returned to Kaleb’s face. How could such a small and petite girl have so much attitude? This girl is feisty! As his heavy trident sank deeper into the ocean floor, he lowered his hands and tapped awkwardly at his sides. His armor clung to his broad, muscular chest as he gestured in a proper bow. I might as well introduce myself properly.

“I’m Kaleb. My father is King Oasis of Atlantis. My troops and I came out here to hunt the beast that terrorizes these waters.” Kaleb paused for a response that didn’t come. He waited.

His stomach knotted at Yuri’s silence. It twisted like the ends of a fishing net. Her deep-blue eyes stared off to the rowboat in which she had emerged. “And you are…”

About the Author: 
Kristina Streva grew up in Rockland County, New York. As a chronic daydreamer, she took up writing as a hobby and soon realized the magic in creating fantastical worlds. She loves museums, thrifting, movies, art, crafting, reading, and all things creative.
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