Bertena Varney's Blog, page 9

Murder in the Neighborhood—the story of the first mass shooting in the US Ellen J. Green

 

Murder in the Neighborhood—the story of the first mass shooting in the USEllen J. Green
Genre: True CrimePublisher: Thread Books, Hachette UKDate of Publication: 4/28/2022ISBN13: 9781909770706Number of pages: 324Word Count: 85kCover Artist: Thread books
Book Description: 
On 6 September 1949, twenty-eight-year-old Howard Barton Unruh shot thirteen people in less than twelve minutes on his block in East Camden, New Jersey. The shocking true story of the first recorded mass shooting in America has never been told, until now.
The sky was cloudless that morning when twelve-year-old Raymond Havens left his home on River Road. His grandmother had sent him to get a haircut at the barbershop across the street—where he was about to witness his neighbor and friend Howard open fire on the customers inside.
Told through the eyes of young Raymond, who had visited Howard regularly to listen to his war stories, and the mother trying to piece together the disturbing inner workings of her son’s mind, Murder in the Neighborhood uncovers the chilling true story of Howard Unruh, the quiet loner who meticulously plotted his revenge on the neighbors who shunned him and became one of America’s first mass killers.

Amazon     Audible     AppleBooks

Excerpt:

That September morning started much like any other. Camden, New Jersey, the sparkling little sister of Philadelphia, connected by the high arches of the Delaware River Bridge, was waking up to heat nearing the mid-seventies—by nine o’clock the humidity was sitting high above the city, waiting to descend.

Cramer Hill, a small section of Camden, bound by the Delaware River to the west, the Pavonia Train Yard to the east, State Street to the south and 36th Street to the north—a grid of streets twenty-four blocks long, and about five or six blocks wide contained within—was about to draw the focus of the world but nobody knew it, not that morning at nine o’clock.

River Road cut a swath through Cramer Hill where open-bay trucks rumbled through all day long, overloaded with tomatoes headed for the Campbell’s soup factory a few miles away. The clearly visible cargo was only held in place by wire mesh caging along the sides. The loud engine sounds called to children to get out of the street, to stand and watch, waiting for a tomato to break loose and fall into their small hands. They were often rewarded when a bump in the road threw a few of the greenish-red fruits into the street.

The smells of the river wafting in, the sounds of the boats, the hint of tomatoes cooking at Campbell’s, the smoke from the stacks of Eavenson and Sons soap factory a mile away—it was all there. But mostly it was the shoemaker’s pungent aroma of tannery oils, the lingering, savory fragrance from Latela’s Italian luncheonette on the corner, the endless din of Engel’s bar across the street, and the music that poured out of its doors after the sun went down that filled every home.

Five businesses shared one side of the small block—a cacophonic mix of a pharmacy, a barbershop, a cobbler, a tailor and a café. The other side only had two: a grocery and a bar. Most of the owners lived there, nestled in their small apartments above their establishments. They all knew each other well enough on that small stretch of River Road. Enough to pull a chair out onto the sidewalk on summer nights for a chat. Enough to get a drink at Engel’s now and again. Enough to keep an eye on things and on each other. But not one of them saw it coming. Not the Pilarchiks, the Hoovers, the Hamiltons, the Zegrinos or the Cohens. They’d safely shared that space together for years, but not one of them was spared. 

About the Author:

Ellen J. Green is the Amazon Charts bestselling author of the Ava Saunders novels (Absolution and Twist of Faith) and The Book of James. She attended Temple University in Philadelphia, where she earned her degrees in psychology, and has worked in the psychiatric ward of a maximum-security correctional facility for fifteen years. She also holds an MFA degree in creative writing from Fairleigh Dickinson University. Born and raised in Upstate New York, Ms. Green now lives in southern New Jersey with her two children.

Website https://ellenjgreen.com/

Twitter https://twitter.com/ejgreenbooks

Amazon Page https://amzn.to/3Hnikh2

Newsletter Sign Up https://ellenjgreen.com/newsletter/ 

Surrogate for a Vampire Nina R Schluntz

 

Surrogate for a VampireNina R Schluntz
Genre: Erotic Paranormal Romance Date of Publication: 5/10/2022ISBN: 9798814059086ASIN: B0B12RD9WQNumber of pages:543Word Count: 140,000
Book Description:
Every vampire has one goal- to find a surrogate human strong enough to birth their heir.
Surrogate for a Vampire spans three vampire love stories entangled around the fate of one man, who refuses to be a human, a traditional surrogate, or a vampire. 

Amazon

Excerpt

Jack and Quentin

This crazy fuck wasn’t getting the hint. Jack could barely see him since he’d leaped off the deck with that lighter-than-air shit that the vampires did. And now he was standing off in the shadows. And who was he trying to impress with that smooth jazz voice? Go join a damn poetry reading club and go away.

“If you even think of coming up here, I’ll punch you right in the jaw, and you’ll be drinking blood out of a sippy cup for the next month.” While speaking, Jack gently rapped his knuckle on the door, a sign to Teddy inside the trailer to get the gun and aim it squarely at the door. This wasn’t the first overeager dumb fuck vampire who had to be shot a few times with rock salt before they got the hint and left. Maddock had told him that as long as he didn’t kill anyone, they were welcome to do as they needed, including calling for the female vamp guards. But Jack hadn’t needed to do that yet and didn’t plan to.

Then, the guy was in front of him. Jack had blinked his eyes, and bam, there he was, standing less than a foot away and leering at Jack with those predatory blood-red eyes of a vampire. He hadn’t been able to get a good look at him before, but now he was in the porch light, and Jack’s stomach did a little fluttery kick.

Because this guy was actually hot.

His skin was buttery smooth like someone had spent hours sanding it to a perfect polish. And his black hair was in tiny little spikes, which made Jack wonder how much hair gel the guy had to use to get it to stay perfectly in place like it was. His pointy nose had a perfect edge, and Jack had to remind himself to breathe.

This was the kind of vampire that probably had humans throwing themselves at him and begging him to drink their blood. Jack had never seen one that looked as alluring as this one. Maddock was, of course, gross to anyone. Most men vampires were unappealing creatures who either did nothing to try to improve their looks or were just born ugly to the point of no hope of repair. It was like they’d crossbred with bats at some point in their lineage, and they were deformed fuckers thanks to their bestiality practicing grandpops. Now, the women vampires were a completely different matter. Most of those were turned vampires because the vampire men, being the assholes they were, only turned the hottest women they could find. But the women vampires weren’t interested in Jack. They were completely immune to his mojo. But the men, gah, he’d spent every night of his life beating the fuckers away since he’d hit puberty.

“Did you change your mind?” the vamp asked, his lip twisting in a slight smile. “I thought there was an impending danger if I came up here?”

He knew. He knew he was fucking hot, and that pissed Jack off.

“Right, yeah, I did. Sorry about that.” Jack took a step back, and the floorboard squeaked, giving

Teddy the sign that he was clear. The vampire turned his head to look at the door as if at the last second he’d heard something inside and knew he was fucked. The door exploded, and a mix of shrapnel from the door and rock salt from the 12 gauge shotgun slammed into the vampire’s chest. He was tossed off the deck and landed on the ground, on his back, right about where he had originally stood.

“Did I get ‘em?” Teddy asked. He pushed what remained of the door open. “Maddock’s gonna be pissed we need a new door.”

“What the hell?” Jeff shouted from inside. He shoved Teddy out of the way, wearing only his boxers. “What is going on?” He kicked some of the door bits aside and surveyed the situation.

“It’s another vampire,” Jack said. He ambled past them and grabbed a three-foot metal pipe from where it leaned against the steps as he descended. The pipe was coated in silver, a substance that burned vampire flesh.

He walked up to the vampire and stood over him, a leg on either side of the vampire’s hips. The bastard was dressed in black—a fitted shirt and slacks—and even had one of those capes on, not a long one, it was only halfway down his back. He saw a lot of vampires wear them, some stupid style thing. Even Maddock wore it.

“You should stay down,” Jack said. “Otherwise, I’ll use this pipe to knock some of those fangs out, and it will really be a shame if I have to mess up that pretty face.”

The vampire gave a few coughs and clutched at his shirt, which now had little holes in it. He didn’t see any blood, though, but the impact should have hurt and knocked the wind out of him, hopefully, the fight too.

“Jack, maybe you shouldn’t get so close,” Teddy warned. Teddy was three times Jack’s age and knew more about vampires than any other human Jack knew. The waver in his voice as he spoke the words made Jack wonder why he was suddenly being cautious.

“I’ll just give him one smack for good measure,” Jack said. He lifted the pipe over his shoulder, and his world was suddenly turned upside down as the vampire grabbed his calf and yanked him off his feet.

He heard Jeff shout his name right as his head impacted the ground with a smack. He landed on his back but managed to keep his grip on the pipe. He saw a flash of black cloth and felt two hot pricks on his neck.

Fangs.

The fucker was biting him!

Soddenfeld and Leoquin

“I believe I owe you an apology,” Lord Leoquin said. His finger trailed across Soddenfeld’s forehead. He jerked awake, realizing he was lying on one of the cots inside the medical tent. An IV ran in his arm, likely giving him nothing more than fluids. He knew their supplies of nearly everything medicine-wise was low.

“Ah, it’s fine. It was my mistake.” He tried to sit up, but his head throbbed a bit.

“You’ve been asleep for two nights,” the vampire corrected. “I believe that is my fault.”

“I was the one who tried to treat you when I knew the rules said not to, and then we missed the call to retreat and—” The vampire put his fingers across Soddenfeld’s lips to silence him.

“I drank from you without consent. For that, I apologize and wish to compensate you. Name your price.” He removed his finger, but Soddenfeld wished he hadn’t.

“It’s war. Things happen. It's fine. Really.”

“A debt must be repaid, Dr. Soddenfeld. If you refuse to tell me what you desire, then I shall deposit funds into your—”

“No, I don’t want your money.” He did manage to sit up this time and almost regretted it as he saw a glimmer of angst on the vampire’s face. This vampire was in a class above him, and he’d just interrupted him, and he was refusing his payment. Rude on top of rude, good job, Soddenfeld.

“I nearly killed you.” The vampire leered closer, putting his face dangerously close to his. “The other facts involved are trivial.”

“Sex.” He spoke the word and couldn’t believe he had. The vampire’s silence indicated he was as surprised by the confession as he was. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I’ve been told by nearly every person I’ve tried to date that I’m a sex addict masquerading as…I don’t know. I have excuses, but I shouldn’t have said that. I—”

The vampire put his fingers to his lips again. “Never be ashamed of what you are. Come to my tent when you are feeling better, and I shall endeavor to repay you to your satisfaction.”

The man pulled his hand back and stepped away from Soddenfeld’s cot. “You’re serious? You’ll have sex with me?”

“Am I the first vampire to accept your proposal?” He continued to back away as Soddenfeld nodded. “Intriguing.”

He left the tent, and Soddenfeld still couldn’t believe what he’d asked, nor the response he’d gotten.

Tessa and D’eclat

Tessa walked up the staircase, grateful that today was Klara’s turn to be with Azul. Someone brushed her shoulder as they passed, and she stumbled. The same person who had bumped her grabbed her shoulder to steady her.

“We seem to have this problem,” D’eclat said. “At least you were not carrying anything this time.”

“My apologizes.” She took a step away from the vampire as he dropped his hand. “I shall try to be more aware of my surroundings.”

“No need. We are leaving today. We’ll not cross paths again until Lady Azul comes to the castle for the wedding.” His tone didn’t sound thrilled by any of the news he announced.

“I thought you were staying for a week.”

“I found there to be no point.”

“What of Yuentin? He was looking forward to your mentoring.”

“I cannot stay.”

“Why?” It wasn’t until he gave her a stern look that she realized she’d pried more than her status allowed.

“I am a king. I am accustomed to taking what I want. However, there are things within these walls that do not belong to me. I fear if I stay here for any significant amount of time, my ability to restrain myself will falter, and I will take that which is not mine. I do not wish to be the kind of king who steals from other lords.”

“I am certain that whatever resides here, that you want, Lord Jaspar would give you. He wants nothing more than to please you.”

“It is not Lord Jaspar that I want to please.”

“Then Lady Azul—”

He turned from her, uttering an animalistic grunt of disgust. “Goodbye, Miss Tessa.”

She watched his folded wings twitch in agitation as he went, and she knew Jaspar would have all their heads if he saw the Vampire Potentate leave like this.

“Wait, please, if someone has offended you.” She rushed to catch up with him, not expecting him to stop. She collided with his wings, which were warmer than she expected. He grabbed her wrist to stop her fall.

“I am beginning to believe this is intentional,” he said, pushing her to the wall so if she fell, she would have it to grab. “I must leave.” His voice wavered as he said it, and his red eyes looked at her with something akin to hunger. He turned, and she did not follow this time. She remained on the steps until she heard the slam of the house’s main door and Jaspar’s angry shout. She walked into the foyer mid-rant.

“—didn’t even get her to see him. What do I say? Who insulted him? Why?” Jaspar slammed his foot to the ground, his chest heaving. He looked around at those who were gathered. “He said something happened in the kingdom that required his attention, but I don’t believe it. If I find out which of you spurred him to leave.” His eyes fell upon Azul. “I know I promised to take care of you like you’re my sister because we share the same mother.” He shook his head. “Seriously, you couldn’t do this one thing?”

About the Author: 
Nina Schluntz is a native to rural Nebraska. In her youth, she often wrote short stories to entertain her friends. Those ideas evolved into the novels she creates today.
Her husband continues to ensure her stories maintain a touch of realism as she delves into the science fiction and fantasy realm. Their three cats are always willing to stay up late to provide inspiration, whether it is a howl from the stray born in the backyard or an encouraging bite from the so called “calming kitten.”
You can find Nina at:
https://mizner13.wordpress.com/
https://twitter.com/mizner13 
https://www.facebook.com/nina.schluntz.novels
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1980193.Nina_R_Schluntz
https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/nina-schluntz/


a Rafflecopter giveaway

Forbidden Rendezvous with the Devil Dark Lore Vampire Conspiracies

 

Forbidden Rendezvous with the DevilDark Lore Vampire Conspiracies Book OneIsra Sravenheart 
Genre: Paranormal RomancePublisher: Isra SravenheartDate of Publication:  11/5/2022ISBN: 979-8410497251 ASIN: B09M61Y4HN Number of pages: 217Word Count: 64.940Cover Artist: RJ creatives 
Tagline: Trust me. Actually don't. This forbidden rendezvous could cost Sabine her life.
Book Description: 
Sabine Nevemone has just moved to the small quaint town of Gloomvale to start a new life after being dumped by narcissistic boyfriend Oliver Rein.
Sabine has landed herself a job at Bad Brews coffee house, where she is working for the handsome rogue Tristan Roseblood. A mysterious handsome devilish vampire who always gets what he desires.
At first, Sabine could not believe her luck that she’s gotten a job so fast but things in Gloomvale aren't all they seem. Tristan is a powerful man and he knows it.
Sabine is reluctant to comply when Tristan forces her to come on an errand with him, which almost results in both her and Tristan getting killed because an old enemy catches up with Tristan. Tristan patches Sabine up telling her she’s in a very dangerous world and it would be best if she got out of town for her own sake. Sabine refuses to leave. This proves to be a fatal mistake on her part.
“You can’t get close to me. Get out while you can. I’m not a good match for a sweet thing like you. Trust me. Actually, don’t.” He warns her.
The only trouble is now Sabine is in too deep. She’s falling for him. Hard. But when Tristan rebuffs Sabine and she falls straight into his mysterious brother Laurence’s arms, it can only spell disaster for all concerned. Sabine then gets herself in real trouble when she's bitten on her way home. Will Tristan find her in time or will she die alone?
USA Today Best-Selling Author Isra Sravenheart brings us into the intense world of Tristan Roseblood. A vampire with a dark past only trouble is when Sabine stumbles into it, she too becomes entwined in his chaos. A paranormal romance jam-packed with suspense and intrigue and two charming vampires to boot.

Amazon

Excerpt:
            Sabine

A new day. A new dawn. I'm Sabine, and I'm all alone here in this secluded wilderness. Gloomvale. A quaint little town that I've just moved to because, quite honestly, I had no other choice. My delightful ex-boyfriend Oliver took great pleasure in humiliating me, and let's face it, he reveled in it. It was absolutely enthralling to him. All because he'd discovered I am a witch. But here's the clincher. I'm not even that good at it. I barely know even the most basic spells. I'm terrible at making potions. I truly suck at mixing up herbs to create tinctures, and as for my despicable failure at casting love spells… let's not even go there, okay?

I’ve done this more than once. I’d never attempt it again. It was so stupid because I didn’t know what I was messing with. You know how you get that one big crush on someone who you know for a fact will virtually never date you? Yeah, well, that was the case with me and Oliver until I started weaving magic into the equation. And I get it right? Bad move. Yup, especially when he becomes a mega control freak who can’t handle things unless he’s in the know every three seconds.

I’m descended from a long line of witches and I should know better. But I'm a sucker for attention.. Heck, I fucked up. This wasn’t just the result of one spell. It was lots of little spells and while I admit I should have just allowed nature to take its course; I was really into Oliver and it sucked because he wasn’t really that invested in me. I was that dumb, naive, insecure girl that thought. He’ll play it cool. It won’t take much for him to come running over when I start throwing the right spell into the mix. Erm that was one of the craziest things a girl could ever say about a man. If he wants you then he’ll chase you until it kills him not to have you. I wish I’d taken the hint with Oliver, though, because I was determined to pursue him no matter what the cost. Which was only my self esteem and confidence being filtered out of me. But I guess what’s past is past right? After that, well, I left the magic stuff alone as I’d done enough damage.

Eventually we got to this level of a relationship where things were cool, almost simmering to steamy, with enraging tension that surged out every now and again, but it wasn’t ever romantic. We’d be casual. Dating, just not so much with the actual commitment aspect. Oliver didn’t want people to know about us. There would always be some kind of excuse. Like oh, my mother would frown upon it because of this or that. He’d come up with something to avoid us going public, so we had settled for this mundane life where I’d like to have thought we were happy but really we were skeltering over the edge. I really loved him, though, so I desperately did anything I could to hold onto the hope.

The point is I didn't ask for this, but Oliver made it so that there was no other way. He had shunned me, so the only alternative was for me to skedaddle and fast. Painquel wasn't the greatest village to live in. It had its faults. But the beach was stunning when a full moon rose and night delicately covered the midnight blue skies just enough so those tiny twinkling, silvery-white stars were visible above you. The people? Oh goodness me. Terrible. They just were the most mundane morons you could ever meet. Everyone was so focused on making ends meet and the latest goings-on with the government and this and that. It was just so pitiful, you know? The way humanity desperately clung to these mediocre things that didn't even mean anything was just baffling to me. I never really understood the way they documented their lives up to the last bagel and chai latte to try and prove to the world that they were living something that was worth it.

But I was the optimistic type. The spiritual one. Devoted to all that mindfulness stuff and making a go of it. Trying to be happy. Putting all my energy into making every moment count. Otherwise, what's the point? I'd been hiding my dark secret for years. Ever since I was around twelve years old, I'd known that I was a witch. It shouldn't have been this big dramatic secret, but unfortunately, it was. Give or take around eight generations. But witchcraft was in my family on  my great-grandmother’s side  who I'd never met but I had seen pictures of Geraldine. She lived during the first World War and was formally accused of witchcraft, so when Oliver had dramatically announced my deep secret to all who would listen, needless to say, I was a little freaked out. Thankfully the days of burning witches are long behind us, but here we are.

I was  about to start my first day properly living in Gloomvale. I was lucky. I managed to find an apartment and a job in the same week. You could say that it was miraculous, but stranger things have happened. I was a newbie in a secluded town cut off from the rest of civilization, so I was extremely blessed that Bad Brews Coffee was even hiring. But the boss was in dire need of someone to bake the cakes and pour the drinks as his last barista had vanished without a trace. I haven't met Tristan Roseblood yet, but apparently, he's quite the looker. Dangerously smart too. I envision him looking major dapper in a suit, but again, I only had my imagination to create just what he might be like. I’m rather adept at baking, having had to adjust to my own gluten intolerance. And so, I often conjured up tasty sweet treats designed to bewitch the eyes and tantalize those salivating taste buds. So when I found this quaint coffee house that was strictly gluten-free, I had to chuckle because the chances were one in a million. Seriously, everything is vegan these days. It's like a plague. I know people are health conscious, but damn that's just a little extreme for my tastes.

Ten o'clock in the morning. Friday. I've downed the last of my lukewarm coffee. I've tied my deep red mahogany hair into a tight bun. Hey, it brings out the green in my eyes. I'm getting ready to walk out the door and take the ten-minute stroll to Bad Brews, where I'll finally get to meet Tristan. The walk isn't terribly unpleasant, and the sun is gently shining down, which is ironic for October, but an Indian summer is promising. Finally, I get to the bend just down the road, where the large cherry blossom tree stands just beyond Bad Brews.

I'm about to walk in through that blood-red door. This Tristan guy must have eccentric tastes. As I walk through the red door, I am surrounded by dark violet walls and bright white lights that are almost too much for me to handle.

It's like something out of a hospital room. You'd think with the boldness of the red that he'd have simmered down when it came to the lighting. I was staring over at the jet black and purple tables and chairs when suddenly I spotted him out of the corner of my eye.

He's smirking at me from behind the counter. He really was as devilish as I expected. A sharp black tailored suit jacket and trousers, probably Armani, a white shirt with the collar raised up slightly, and a dark blue tie hanging loose around his neck. His dark brown, almost black, hair is delicately tucked behind his ears as his sideburns distract me while I find my gaze locked into those bewildering dark brown eyes of his. They are like dark chocolate, but inside there's a shade of blackness within them as though he's not quite what he seems. A little bit of a dark side, but what's new? We've all got one of those. I resist the urge to say something as I don't want to speak out of turn. After all, this is my new boss, and I want this day to go off without a hitch. If such a thing is possible.

“Finally. You are here. I was starting to get worried for a moment.” Tristan scowled at me as he stood impatiently waiting for me to take the initiative. “Oh, you're not sure what you're supposed to be doing? Girl. I'll have a coffee. Three sugars. Black as my soul,” he orders as he steps back, waving his hand towards the coffee machine, indicating that I need to go over to it and get going. I reluctantly force a smile, thinking, Oh God, he's arrogant, as I plant myself in front of the machine, grabbing some coffee beans and placing them inside before I switch on that magnificent red button that's beaming at me like a beacon.

About the Author:  

Isra is an eccentric author whose heart resides with the dark fantasy but also the paranormal genres. Cats and coffee are her main interests. She's also a pretty badass witch and often envisions new adventures involving dragons, witches, warlocks and really likes villains.

https://amzn.to/3zqkL0n

https://linktr.ee/israsravenheart

https://twitter.com/ISravenheart

https://israsravenheartblog.wordpress.com/

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/isra-sravenheart

https://www.facebook.com/IsraSravenheart

https://www.facebook.com/isra.sravenheart.12

https://www.instagram.com/israsravenheartauthor_/ 

https://israsravenheartfantasywriter.tumblr.com/

https://www.tiktok.com/@israsravenheartauthor_

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13754513.Isra_Sravenheart

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Boondocks: An Asian Evil Apocalyptic Thriller Survive the Doom Book One Jaydeep Shah

 

Boondocks: An Asian Evil Apocalyptic ThrillerSurvive the DoomBook One  Jaydeep Shah
Genre: Apocalyptic ThrillerPublisher: Rage PublishingDate of Publication: June 9, 2022ISBN:9781734982657 (eBook)ISBN: 9781734982664 (Paperback) ISBN:9781734982619 (Hardback)ASIN:B096WRWG1DNumber of pages:383 pagesWord Count: 74,668 wordsCover Artist: bookcoverzone.com
Book Description:
They believe it is only about defeat and escape.
Little do they know; it is something more than that. It is about the rise of the dead and the world’s destruction.
Lost in the desert of Rajasthan, India, Rahul and Elisa learn the truth about a wicked wizard named Dansh and some enchanters performing resurrection rituals.
Though they try to stop him, Dansh knows black magic and they find him a challenging adversary. Even worse than him, Rahul and Elisa soon discover that the churel named Dali has returned. Soon, the King of the Underworld, an immortal rakshasa named Sekiada, will make his way to the earth with the force of his thousands of fallen angels to conquer the world.
Rahul and Elisa must find a way to stop them and save humanity.
Terror inflames the nation. The country’s best commando, Aarav Singh, and the best local police officer, Arjun Rawat, reach the city’s border near the desert with the force of gifted soldiers to commence battle against evil. They turn the border into a battlefield to prevent the demons from entering the city.
The apocalypse is struggling to reach its highest peak as the Asian evils slowly spread across the nation: churels, rakshasas, pishachas, daayans, shaitans, and many more hair-raising bloodshed lovers.
Rahul must find a way to murder the immortals: the wicked wizard, the king of the Underworld, and the strongest churel of all time, and Elisa must gather her own courage to battle the demons, especially one of the immortals, to prove women are not weak.
Welcome to the world of horror, where the characters play games of deceit and betrayal to achieve their goals, and the demons enjoy slaughtering the humans.
The end is near. Or it’s just the beginning!? Dare to witness the apocalypse, but only if you are comfortable with bloodbath and barbarity.
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/QtcQ7QB36bU
Amazon US      Amazon UK     Amazon CA
Amazon AU      Amazon IN      BN
Kobo      Author Website      Goodreads

CHAPTER ONE

The Present

The white ran along the deserted road. kept his foot glued to the accelerator as he followed the route to under the clear blue sky and the burning sun. His and cellphones had lost signal, so Elisa, his girlfriend, was directing him using the paper map. It had been three hours, and Rahul had been driving without a pause. So far, they had only had a sandwich they bought in a restaurant near Nathdwara that morning. Their stomachs lurched now, craving food.

“I’m hungry as hell,” said Elisa.

“There must be a restaurant or something coming up soon,” said Rahul, and just then, his eyes fell upon a building on the right side of the road that looked like a restaurant. It was about fifteen feet away from the road in the desert. He accelerated, and the engine roared. Slowly, they came to a halt near the building.

Rahul lowered the window and read, “Manu Da Dhaba.”

“Mənu Də Dhabə!” Elisa said, pronouncing the words correctly, tilting her head, and squinting at the name on the vinyl awning.

“Would you like to go here?” he asked, unsure whether she liked spicey food. He had heard from his parents that Dhaba food was delicious, even better than five-star restaurants and hotels in the cities. But his and Elisa’s relationship was only eight months old, and he had never heard her mention Indian food before. In the United States, they spent their time in Dunkin Donuts, Starbucks, and American restaurants like Red Lobster.

Elisa gently pushed him back into the seat so she could get a closer look and asked, “What does this mean?”

“Manu Da Dhaba,” he answered. “An eating house.”

Elisa licked her lips. “I’m hungry as hell. I’m going in.” She unbuckled herself and jumped out of the Jeep, running toward the eating house, her brown Michael Kors’ Nouveau Hamilton purse hanging on her shoulder.

“Hey! Wait for me,” he shouted, hanging his head out of the window.

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” she shouted, laughing, as she entered the dhaba; Rahul grinned as he pushed his head back and murmured. “Alright, girl. Let’s see what you order!”

Hesaw a board indicating that the parking lot was behind the building, so he drove around and parked up. He fixed his hair, looking in the rear-view mirror. When he was satisfied with his appearance, he stepped out and entered the dhaba through the backdoor.

“So—” He stopped as he found Elisa sitting on a chair at a round table, gaping at their map. He was alarmed to see that it was covered in water. The map was their only solution to reach Jaisalmer and explore more Rajasthan cities, but it was now drowned. A metal water jug, now empty, lay next to it.

“What did you do?”He asked in a blend of shock and panic, still staring at the map.

Elisa startled and looked up at him. Worried, she stood up from the chair, shifting her distressed gaze from him to the map and back. “I’m sorry. I was marking a few more places we need to visit. But I accidentally nudged the jug and spilled water all over it. I’m so, so, so sorry.” Her eyes were almost wet with tears.

He swiftly grabbed her in his arms and tried to calm her down, patting her head, “No worries, and my dear. I’m sorry for the way I reacted. We’ll find another map. I’ll ask someone here.”

“I hope you’re not upset with me,” she said.

“Not at all. It’s humans’ error to make errors,” he said. “I could have done this as well. It’s just a mistake. Don’t worry. I love you.” He smiled.

“You’re so sweet,” she said, tightening the hug for a fraction of a second. “I’m glad to have you in my life. I love you, too.” Her worried face glimmered with a smile.

Rahul kissed her on the head.

Still in their hug, Rahul looked around and saw a young couple, only a few years older than them, exiting from the back door.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he said, making to walk after the couple, but at that moment a young server wearing a white shirt—not tucked into his khaki pants—arrived to serve the food Elisa had already ordered. On seeing the spilled water, he pointed to the next table and said, “Excuse me, could you please move over here? I’ll clean this up.”

At his words, Rahul stopped. He must have a map.“Thank you,” said Elisa in a soft voice, giving a quick appreciative smile.

They moved to the next table and waited for him to serve the food.

“What’s your name?” asked Rahul as he placed the bowl of sabji and a plate of two Garlic Butter Naans down.

“Bhim,” he answered, now setting up the dishes for them.

“From Mahabharat, an ancient Indian epic?” joked Rahul, smiling. The waiter chuckled as he served them Garlic Butter Naan.

Rahul cleared his throat in hesitation. He looked at Elisa and then the waiter. “Could you please do me a favor?” he asked after a moment.

“It’ll be my pleasure.”

“Could you please arrange a map for us?”

Elisa’s face flushed with embarrassment.

Bhim was holding a serving spoon halfway over the bowl, the orange-color Paneer Sabjiwithin ready to be poured onto their plates, and he glanced at the wet map on the previous table. It had become so wet that it would fall to pieces if he tried to pick it up. “I could try.”

He served the sabji and then left the table, leaving the bowl there for them to serve themselves more if they wished.

“You knew what to order?” asked Rahul, wanting to change the subject to divert Elisa’s attention from what she had done to the map.

“My boyfriend is an Indian guy, so I know a little about Indian food.”

Rahul smiled; his plan was working. He could feel it in her excited voice.

“Oh, really?” he said, “but I don’t remember hearing anything about Indian food from you.”

“That’s because you never talked about it, even though I love talking about your culture,” said Elisa. “You turned yourself into a complete American. You always want boiled vegetables, eggs, Buffalo wings, chocolate chip cookies, cheeseburgers, and so on. It was completely fine for me that we didn’t eat Indian food together, because I was waiting for the right moment to surprise you.”

“Wow!” said Rahul, and gulped down a bite. “When did you learn all this?” He hummed. “I must say you do surprise me. I find it amusing, fabulous, and fantastic.”

Elisa let out a quick laugh.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “I learned to cook some dishes from YouTube,” she added, tearing the naan with her fingers and dipping it into the , “the revolutionary platform of entertainment and education.”

“Sounds great!”

Bhim returned and interrupted them, “I’m sorry, sir.”Rahul and Elisa looked up at him expectantly. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t find a map.”

“You have no map?” asked Rahul in shock. He believed employees of any dhaba would usually keep maps, just like any restaurant or hotel would, especially if it was at a deserted place like this.

“I asked my boss, the proprietor, and he tried to find one but could retrieve none.”

“Are you sure?” asked Elisa before Rahul could say something, using a smooth flirty voice, a broad smile on her face.

“I’m sure, ma’am,” said Bhim, his tone slightly changed. It was as if Elisa’s voice melted his heart somewhat and made him feel shy.

“Please find one for me,” insisted Elisa, her voice now completely sensual, her smile so damn cute, and her gaze completely alluring as she played with her hair.

All the while, Rahul remained silent. He knew what she was trying to do. She was attempting to lure the waiter to do her bidding.

Bhim’s lips quivered and he looked down at the floor, not able to manage to look at Elisa anymore, perhaps finding it hard to release his words. Anyone could have fallen for her. Even as her boyfriend, Rahulhad to stop himself from kissing her at that moment.

“I-I’m so-sorry, ma’am,” he stuttered in hesitancy. “We really don’t have any map.”

Elisa looked at Rahul, chewing her lip.

He sensed her disappointment. “Let me try,” he told her, speaking by moving his lips in a way that didn’t let out any words. It was a common trick he used with Elisa when playing games with their friends or in any situation where they didn’t want another to hear their words.

Rahul shifted his look to Bhim.

“Even if you have one map that you can’t give us to take, please let me look at it,” Rahul asked, suspecting that Bhim might be lying. Perhaps they needed it for themselves. “I’ll take a picture of it on my cell phone and return it to you guys.”

“I’m extremely sorry, sir.”Bhim looked at Rahul with his face dropped, finding himself helpless. “We have no map.”

He walked away before they could continue.

Rahul couldn't eat anymore as he had satisfied his stomach, and Elisa seemed to have finished too, leaving some food on her plate. Perhaps she was also full, or perhaps she was just distressed. They just stared at each other with worry. Neither had an idea how they’d reach Jaisalmer.

For a moment, Rahul thought about going back to the way they came, but he didn’t remember the way. I could have asked that couple. Then, I would at least have map’s picture in my phone.

“Shit!”

“I’m sorry,” Elisa said.

“It’s not you,” said Rahul. He didn’t want to make her upset or cry. “I was just thinking that I should have gone after that couple.”

“We can check if they’re still outside.”

“They left over forty-five minutes ago. I don’t think they’d be outside still.”

“Let’s test our luck!”

Rahul left the dhaba, and Elisa rushed out after him after leaving some rupees on the table, believing it also included some tip for Bhim.

Both stood at the back door and scanned the parking lot, but the couple had already left in their car, the evidence being the stripes on the sand going away toward the asphalt.

 

* * *

 

The sun was heading back toward its home as the night approached. The Jeep was still racing even after four hours of driving. Miles and miles they went, but only the desert was visible around them. There was not a trace of hope of them reaching their destination. The route seemed to be secluded; not even one car passed them. In the middle of the colossal desert, the Jeep seemed like a rat running around in the middle of nowhere, trying to find something to feed its stomach.

“Where are we?” asked Elisa. “Oh, damn God! I should have been more careful.”

“Hopefully, we will reach Jaisalmer soon, if I have mysteriously caught the correct route.”

“I feel miserable. I’m extremely sorry for my silly error,” said Elisa.

“It could also have been me.” Rahul glanced over at her, and then he fixed his vision back on the road.

When his eyes captured something in the distance, he accelerated in excitement.

The car slowly came to a halt near a timber frame sign board. He lowered the window and read, slightly craning his head out to see: KENDRAA VILLAGE.

He was surprised at finding a village in the desert. He looked at Elisa, who seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Narrowing her eyes as if she were thinking something deeply before letting the words out of her mouth, Elisa said, “I don’t think I saw this village on the map.”

“Are you sure?” asked Rahul.

Elisa looked at the board, then down, as if she was trying to recall the map on her knees.  “Yes. I’m pretty sure this village wasn’t on the map.”

“If that’s the case,” said Rahul, “it maybe an abandoned village, so we might not find help. But there’s a better chance to try there than wait for someone on the open road.” He looked at the dashboard and his eyes widened in dismay as he noticed the fuel gauge. “We’re running out of fuel,” he sighed and shook his head.

“We better find someone here!” said Elisa, her voice full of concern.

Rahul looked up at her, then out at the colossal dry landscape. They were in the middle of nowhere, where human essentials could be barely found.

He exited the car, and Elisa followed after him.

“I hope we find kind people here,” said Rahul, standing with Elisa at the edge of the asphalt, trying to get a clear look of the place. Their eyes were fixed in the distance, about a thousand feet away, where the hundreds of small triangle-shaped huts stood peacefully.

“That’s so negative, Rahul. Can’t you think we will find kind people?” she asked. “Be positive, honey.” She stroked his hair, but his worried gaze was shifting around, careful of any danger.

“My grandma used to tell me to stay alert, especially when you accidentally find yourself somewhere where you shouldn’t be,” he said. He instinctually took out his cell phone from his jeans pocket. As he did so, he accidentally pulled out a locket along with it. It fell onto his shoes.

Elisa bent down and picked it up. She ran her fingers over the pendant. It was made of diamonds. “Wow! So beautiful.” She gazed at him and asked, “Where did you get it from? And when?”

“It’s a long story,” said Rahul. “I’ll tell you another day.”

“No. Please tell me now. We have nothing to do here.”

“All right,” said Rahul. “In brief, my grandma gave me this locket to keep me protected from negative energies like ghosts and spirits.”

Elisa hummed. “My boyfriend needs protection from things that don’t exist,” she chuckled.

“It’s not funny!” defended Rahul, unlocking his cell phone.

“Whatever!”

In every place Rahul had visited in Rajasthan in the past two days eating pizzas and sandwiches, he had seen people raising their cell phone in the air to catch signal, and it seemed to work for some of them. And so, Rahul decided to give it a try.

“What’re you doing?”

“Trying to catch the network,” he replied, “to call the police for help.”

“Seems like you now want to become a complete Indian,” she chuckled, looking at him as he struggled to extend his hand high enough.

After a few seconds, Rahul frowned. Still no signal.

“Stop stressing, honey,” said Elisa. “We’re wanderers. Let’s explore this place, and we’ll find someone to help us. At the same time, you can take photographs for our Instagram account, and I’ll shoot a video for my YouTube channel.”

“We don’t know whether this place is safe or not. I hate haunted and strange places. I only visited Bhangarh Fort yesterday because you wanted to,” said Rahul. Suddenly, his eyes fixed on the locket in Elisa’s hands. “Give me that, please.”

“No. I’m throwing it away,” mocked Elisa.

“Please don’t tease me, babe,” said Rahul. “Please give it to me. I don’t want to lose it and then go crazy; feeling like a ghost will haunt me.”

“Don’t cry, my baby boy,” said Elisa, laughing. “Here it is,” she said, extending her arm.

Rahul took the locket from her hand, and as he was putting it back into his pocket, an orotund voice came from behind, “Do you need help?”

Both spun around to see an old man standing right in front of them. He was wearing a black cloak and holding a long wooden stick as if it were a cane; the right side of his face was burned, and he was suffering from camptocormia—a medical term that Rahul knew, thanks to one of his good friends who was a doctor. Every time, he spoke to this friend, Rahul learned a new medical word, one of which was camptocormia: a bent spine.

Looking directly into Rahul’s eyes and then shifting his look to Elisa, the man said once more, “Do you need help?”

Elisa grasped Rahul’s hand; her gaze fixed on the man. Rahul’s lips quivered as he tried to speak. The stranger’s sudden appearance and his strange appearance had troubled him for a moment.

However, suppressing his feelings, Rahul finally asked, “Who are you?”

The man kept his blank stare locked on his. Elisa tightened her hold on Rahul’s hand.

The man’s silence somewhat bothered him, and before the man could introduce himself, Elisa whispered, “Why on earth did we have to encounter this creepy guy?”

Panicked thoughts were rushing through Rahul’s head. Is he a bandit? Is he here to loot us and kill us?

Rahul and Elisa stared at each other, and Elisa edged back, trying to hide behind him, believing Rahul could protect her. Rahul remained standing in place, looking out the corner of his eyes to verify whether any more people, partners of this man, were standing around them, blocking their way of escape. When he saw no one, he focused on the man and waited for his reply, trying to suppress his fright.

Elisa remained half visible behind Rahul, her worried eyes also fixed on the man, her fear escalating.

“Pardon me if I scared you,” said the man, observing the expressions on their faces. “I didn’t mean to.”

Rahul and Elisa stayed quiet and continued listening.

“I’m ,” said the man after a short pause. “It seems like you lost the path.”Dansh smiled. “I know I look a little creepy because of my burned face. That is what bothers you and many other people, I can understand. My look generates a ball of fear inside other people.”

Rahul and Elisa glanced at each other.

“Trust me, sir,” said Dansh. “I have met many like you. Lost wanderers. And you don’t have to worry about anything. I’m a guide here. I could help you explore this place if you want, or I could show you a path back to the city.”

Elisa ceased her grip on Rahul’s hand. It was although, inexplicably, she suddenly felt light and free. I can’t judge him just because of his face, she thought.Now that she had heard something sweet from Dansh, something that could help them reach their destination, she wasn’t afraid anymore.

“I’m sorry,” said Elisa. “We didn’t mean to insult you. We just weren’t expecting anyone else to here. I believe there is a tragic history behind your scars.”

Dansh nodded. “It happened when I was a kid.”

“My commiseration is with you.” Elisa pursed her lips.

Rahul still was looking at Dansh suspiciously. His grandma used to tell him ‘Trust everyone, but not blindly’. However, Rahul felt that he had a valid reason to not trust Dansh: he was a stranger, a stranger with a harrowing physique and a burned face, just like how the horror movies presented villains. And as you often learn in movies, it was often the kind, helpful person you later found out was the villain. “Do you want to explore the place, Rahul?” asked Elisa.

Rahul glanced at her and then fixed his gaze on Dansh. Then, with no agitation in his spirited voice, he said, “It will be great if you just show us the way back to the city.”

“I know I can’t force you to explore the village,” said Dansh. “But it will be my pleasure if you do so.” He paused for a moment. “I will accept whatever you will give me in payment.”

“Please give a moment while we decide, sir?” Elisa said as she took Rahul aside near the car. “Tell me the truth,” she said, looking at his face. Rahul was looking at the huts in the distance. “You think he’s a sinner?”

Rahul locked his eyes with hers. After a short pause, he sighed and peeked at Dansh. Then, as if he had mastery in reading people, he said, “He’s a crook. I can bet.”

Elisa peeked at Dansh, who was also looking away at the desert in the distance. “No doubt he looks scary because of his appearance. I was also scared. But we can’t judge him by his looks. He’s an aged person. He’s trying to earn some money, showing his village to the lost travelers.” She waited for Rahul’s reaction, but he stayed quiet. “Please. Let’s explore the place.” When she tried to take Rahul’s hand, he let her take it, and she folded her fingers over his. “For me. Please.”

Rahul continued looking at her. He knew they had little choice but to accept his help. They were lost; it was getting late, and they had no idea where to go. After a brief pause, he sighed. “All right. Just for you.”

Elisa gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Rahul smiled, looking at her contented face. Then he shifted his gazebo Dansh. His smile disappeared. “I don’t think I can trust this guy, though.”

“I believe you will learn to!” said Elisa. She turned and stepped back toward Dansh, grinning. “We would like to explore the village with you, please.”

A broad smile appeared on Dansh’s face. “It’s my pleasure. I will also arrange a place for you to stay for the night.”

“Wait,” said Rahul. “We could give you only 5000 rupees for tonight. We’ll leave tomorrow early morning.”

“That’s fine,” said Dansh as he extended his hand. Rahul took out the money from his wallet and handed it over.

Dansh securely put the money in his cloak’s pocket. Then he walked ahead of them. “Let’s go,” he said, his gaze fixed on the sand.

Elisa and Rahul followed as he continued to walk toward the village, Elisa’s thoughts filled with enthusiasm at how she could create a vlog on this place, and Rahul’s with concern and doubts about Dansh.

I hope he’s not a sinner, butchering people as you see in some horror films.

I hope he’s not a wizard performing dark magic to sacrifice people to bring something to life.

Whatever it is, I just hope we at least get a chance to escape.

About the Author:
Jaydeep Shah is an avid traveler and a multi-genre author. As a bachelor’s degree holder in Creative Writing, he aims to entertain as many as people he can with his stories. He is best known for Tribulation, the first book in the “Cops Planet” series.
In addition to those books, The Shape-Shifting Serpents’ Choice, Jaydeep’s first young adult flash fiction written under his pen name, JD Shah, is published online by Scarlet Leaf Review in the July 2019 issue. Currently, he’s endeavoring to write a debut young adult fantasy novel while working on a sequel to his first apocalyptic thriller, Havoc.
When Shah is not writing, he reads books, tries new restaurants, and goes on adventures.
Website: www.jaydeepshah.com
Instagram: www.instagram.com/imjaydeepshah  
Facebook: www.facebook.com/imjaydeepshah 
Twitter: www.twitter.com/imjaydeepshah
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/imjaydeepshah




a Rafflecopter giveaway

Vampire Musings Cover Reveal

 Vampire Musings

Join 16 vampire fans and writers from around the world for their musings on vampire music, movies, fun facts, and even mesmerizing short stories. This book will make you feel like you are in a room with friends discussing the various vampires that each of you love spanning from aristocratic vampires, to primal monsters, to the Twilight vamps. So, sit down in your comfy chair, turn on the vampire music provided in this book, pick up that Bloody Mary, and escape to a world full of vampires.

There is a recount of the life of Anne Rice, reviews of books, movies, and television shows, a look at vampires as religious figures, romantic stories, and traditional stories of the vampire.

Each of these stories holds intrigue for fans of creatures of the night.

Contributors include: Audrey A’Cladh, Azurdee Garland, Bitten Twice, Bertena Varney, Carrie Rogers, Isabella Gibbons, Jacqueline Gibbons, Kathryne LeFevre, Kyle Germann, Mary Jackson, Matthew Banks, Phaedra Walker, Roxanne Rhoads, Selah Janel, Simon Bacon, and Stavros Cockrell.

These contributors range from a 12-year-old actress, to college professors, librarians, paranormal romance authors, and even those that live the life of a vampire.

The cover art was created by Stavros while showcasing the model Xamie wearing fangs from Kaos Kustom Fangs, LLC. The model is both alluring but dangerous. She is a great representation of the book and the various stories that are told within.

Amazon https://amzn.to/3aIUIHh
Amazon https://amzn.to/3meXFC3
Other eBook outlets https://books2read.com/u/4jg5lZ

#VampireMusings #Vampires #VampireFiction #DiscussingVampires #LetsTalkVampires #Fangs #VampireLore #VampireFiction #VampireMovies #VampireMusic

THE INDIGO Heather Siegel

 

THE INDIGOHeather Siegel 
Genre: YA magical realism, fantasy, paranormal mysteryPublisher: Stone Tiger Press Date of publication: 6-1-2022ISBN: 979-8-9858240-2-5ASIN: 979-8-9858240Pages: 250Word count: 68,000Cover Artist: Rob Carter
Tagline: Stay connected
Book Description: 
Jett, a 16-year-old girl librarian from New Jersey, does not believe the neurosurgeons that her mother is brain dead. For one, her mother’s comatose body seems like an empty shell, as though she has left the premises of the hospital room. For another, there was that split-second weird time Jett swore she lifted out from her own body and travelled to an indigo-colored, starry space, where she felt the presence of her mother.  
The bad news is that only her friend Farold believes her. The good news is that he is a quantum physicist in training and has some ideas about how to help Jett get back “up there.” Also, did someone say handsome quantum physicist who may or may not give off a more-than-friends vibe?
As Jett's caretaking Aunt threatens to pull the life support plug on her mother, Jett must find this mysterious indigo place again and return her mother to her body before it’s too late, while staying connected to her own “empty shell” below-- a feat made more difficult when antagonistic otherworldly forces intervene. 
Offering astral projection cosmology with lifecords, parallel universes, and wormholes, THE INDIGO is a wild trip through one person's consciousness "above," their interconnected reality "below," and the psychological and fatal dangers of being disconnected from both.
The book is a clean read with light romance recommended for ages 13-16, and for anyone who enjoys magical realism and paranormal mystery. 
Amazon

Excerpt Quantum Meeting:

Day 787. I sponge Mom’s stringy arms and pronate her elbows. Suction saliva from her white gums, careful not to disturb the psst-psst of the breathing tube. I attach cotton-ball-size muscle-stimulation pads, all forty of them, to her biceps and triceps, her deltoids and extensors, her flexors and hamstrings. As the pads pulse against muscle atrophy, I crayon Chapstick on her lips, rub cream down her pointed nose and waxen cheek skin, brush her dark hair splayed over the starched pillow. I leave the waste bags for the nurses but check the connections out of habit — the tubes to the catheter and colostomy bag, the one to her nutrients. Then I sit, holding her hand, pretending to talk to her for the sake of passersby, even though I know she’s not listening.

Not even in the room.

Her body is an empty vessel. A coat on a hanger waiting for her arms to slip in. A mollusk on the beach, abandoned by its host. An empty carton of milk I’m here to make sure they don’t throw out.  

Because when I find her — and bring her back — she will need her container.

They’ve told me it’s dangerous to think this way. Psychologically damaging, Aunt Margaret has claimed. A byproduct of grief, the therapists have said. Denial is a natural defense mechanism, Dr. Horn has counseled. “But we can’t ignore the reality of what the scans tell us.”

He means the X-rays of Mom’s gray folded matter. The regions of her brain that still incite spontaneous reflexes — causing her arm to jerk here, her leg to twitch there. “All seemingly normal manifestations of brainstem function,” he’s told me repeatedly. “But should not be confused with actual brainstem function. Without which she has little chance of waking up.”

I can’t fault him for thinking this way. The guy’s a neurologist — his business is brains.
But I know there has to be more to us than our bodies and brains.
Call it what you want — a consciousness, a soul, a spirit, a light being. It’s the thing countless comatose patients swear gave them the ability to live whole other lives while on respirators. The thing that philosophers and spiritualists spent their lives writing about. The thing that makes us who we are. And maybe even fuels the brainstem.

And Mom’s brainstem went missing two years ago the moment she crashed her car.

An accident, Aunt Margaret had said on the phone. Black ice. A telephone pole. Coming to pick up you up in five. . . .

I flew down the stairs of our apartment and rushed into intensive care, still in my red plaid pajama bottoms, dried toothpaste stuck to my cheek. Mom lay behind a wall of glass, and I heard fragments: Her chest had banged into the steering wheel. Glass shards had lodged in her cheeks. She’s lucky to have made it out alive.

But define “alive.”

For a week, I watched machines automate her breathing, feed her, monitor her. I felt numbed, stunned, dazed. Most of all, empty. Like something in my chest cavity had gone missing, its hollowness threatening to suck my heart and lungs deeper inward.

I thought it was coming from me.

Then one night, following Dr. Horn’s delivery of yet another brain spiel — this one replete with pictures of axon and dendrites that looked like tree branches — they let us through the glass wall.

I plunked into the pink pleather chair and held Mom’s limp hand in mine; ran my thumb over her beige polish, chipped from washing beer glasses at Sharkie’s Bar and Grill. The emptiness opened like a black hole, and I yearned for my best-friend sister-like Mom, just 17 years older than me. The woman who wore my jeans and tried on my life, from basketball tryouts to friendship blips. The woman who let me inhabit her dreams of traveling the world.

“How much tragedy can one family take?” Grandma Eloise was saying. “First, I lose one daughter, and now another?”

“I know, Mom, I know.” Aunt Margaret sniffled.

They were speaking of Grandma Eloise’s oldest daughter, who had died as a teenager — Mom’s oldest sister. And I had sat there, unsure of what to say. Not only because there seemed to be some kind of dark cloud hanging over us, but because they barely noticed I was in the room.

So, when they decided to go to the cafeteria, I said, “I’ll stay here, then.”  

Aunt Margaret turned, her yellow, roller-set waves bouncing like in a retro TV commercial. “Jett, I’m sorry. Did you want to come with us?”

“It’s OK. I’m good,” I said, because I knew they were just trying to salve their own pain, even though you couldn’t have paid me a million dollars to eat a bite of food in that moment.

So off they went, leaving me and Mom and my emptiness, and because everything felt so empty, I climbed into bed with Mom, spooned to her side — admittedly feeling sorry for myself in this new orphaned state — and blubbered away into her bony shoulder.

Her respirator lulled me into a sleepy state, and my mind drifted, thinking about her running off as a teenager at 17 — just a year older than me now — to marry a guy outside the enclave of this small town. Then that got me thinking about my dad, the man I barely got to know, but whose hands for some reason I could see peeking out from his electrician’s coveralls: coppery skin freckled like mine with wispy red hair, as he meticulously spliced the wire of a lamp cord. Cut before the damage. Splice by twisting. See his hand twisting a lightbulb in, electricity zipping through its filament. We can travel as fast as this . . . in our sleep. . . . We can meet in Hawaii, where the sand is black, and the rocks are as large as grapefruits.

 I must have drifted off then, Mom’s empty container against mine, the respirator wheezing rhythmically, everything hazy and meshing and sucking me under.

Just think of where you want to go, my dad said, still coming to me in snapshots. His freckled hands on a tabletop. Suntanned face. Fiery hair. A woman beside him laid down cards splattered with ink. Palm trees swayed outside, and contentment purred in my chest like a vibration.

Deeper and deeper I drifted under, as darkness surrounded my eyelids and tunneled around me, churning into a black liquid — the way dreams work — until it ended in a circle of purple-blue light large enough to fit through.

I poked my head through and found the air was watery, indigo-colored, and pocked with millions of crystalline white stars. I wanted to climb through the hole and swim out into the starry space. But when I looked up, I saw rectangles hanging in the sky.

They were outlined in what looked like glitter — the kind I recognized from my childhood drawings, when I’d outlined geometric shapes with glue and glitter and blown the excess off. And inside were movielike images:

Palm trees in one.

The stairwell to Mom’s and my old apartment in the other.

Where do you want to go? My father’s voice sounded again, only this time my chest tightened and pulled, as though there was a rope attached to the center, and I suddenly got scared feeling . . . wondering . . . knowing. . . .

This wasn’t a dream.

I was somewhere outside of myself.

Definitely not in my body.

And Mom . . . she wasn’t in bed at the hospital. She was behind that rectangle . . . that door.

I could sense her, alert and awake, black hair not splayed on a pillow, but tucked behind her ears and parted down the middle, revealing a white line of scalp; cheeks not waxen and pale, but flushed from moving around the kitchen . . . pulling me to her.

But because it all felt so real, and because I didn’t know what would happen if I did dive through that hole, I jerked my head back. And the next thing I knew, I was yanked backwards and my whole body stung as though I were a human rubber band snapping back.

Just in time to find Aunt Margaret back from the cafeteria, shaking my shoulders.

“Jett, Jett, wake up,” she called.

“Should I call someone?” Grandma Eloise asked.  

My eyes popped open, and they gasped.

“You scared us, you were in such a deep sleep,” Aunt Margaret scolded. “You’re not supposed to be in bed with her.”

“I went to find her,” I tried to explain. “Mom isn’t here. . . .”

“What? Nonsense.” Aunt Margaret said. “You were having a bad dream.”

“Honey, we are all under tremendous stress,” Grandma Eloise said.

“But there are doorways up there,” I insisted. “We have to find her and bring her back. . . Look, there’s no one inside.”

“Honey, we don’t know what you are saying,” Grandma Eloise said.

“Jett, this is hard enough on all of us.” Aunt Margaret’s tone steeled.

My mistake, I’ve come to realize, was continuing to insist, back at Aunt Margaret’s, and for months afterward, describing all I could remember, and lugging home research and stories from the library about people leaving their bodies: about the idea that a person could ostensibly be in two separate places at once.

“That is absolutely enough. I will not have that kind of nonsense talk in my house,” Aunt Margaret snapped finally, and the next thing I knew I was seeing Dr. Karr, a grief counselor, and being asked to review more charts from Dr. Horn. And when a year later, I still wouldn’t relent about the purple hole and the doorway to Mom, and the fact that anyone can tell she is simply not in this room, the grief counselor suggested medications, and eventually whispered to Aunt Margaret terms like “grief delusions” and “detached from reality.” This led me to understand two things:  

Not only can I not convince people to open their minds, as a minor in the State of New Jersey, 10 minutes from the state’s largest psych ward, I need to watch it, or I might never find Mom.

About the Author: 
Heather Siegel is an award-winning writer and creative with interests in the arts and animal welfare. She teaches academic and creative writing, holds an MFA from The New School University, and lives with her family in Southern Florida.
www.heathersiegel.net
https://twitter.com/SiegelHeather 
https://www.goodreads.com/heathersiegel
https://www.facebook.com/heather.siegel.39
https://www.instagram.com/heather_siegel/ 

Penumbra AngelSong Book One Kevin A. Davis

 

PenumbraAngelSong Book OneKevin A. Davis
Genre: Urban FantasyPublisher: Inkd Publishing LLCDate of Publication: 2/9/22 ISBN: 978-1737391432ASIN: B09S6SDHCBNumber of pages: 265 ebook, 300 paperWord Count: ~67KCover Artist: Warren Designs
Tagline: The Next Rave Might Be Haddie’s Last.
Book Description:
Will Haddie’s power be enough?
Haddie has a power she doesn’t understand – the bizarre ability to move objects back in time – unfortunately not in one piece. With all that she has going on, Haddie ignores Liz’s call. Later, when she listens to the message, the panic in Liz’s voice is unmistakable, the words threatening to be her friend’s last. Overcome with guilt, Haddie puts everything on the line to find Liz.
Someone, or something disturbing is hiding amid the colorful lights and music of Portland’s raves. Nothing could prepare Haddie for the supernatural creatures she uncovers in the search for Liz in the secret underground raves. Haddie races time to track down Liz before she becomes another victim.
The next rave might be Haddie’s last.
Amazon

Excerpt:

Haddie swore. No wonder Dad had been calling. “Tell her I'm fine. Just looking for Liz.”

“And Dr. Aaron?” Terry sounded relieved that she didn't go off on him.

“How do you know him?”

He swallowed audibly. “Well, I mean, he's been a constant in these demon groups. A bit of a fanatic. But I got worried, and asked if anyone had seen a friend of mine around this sighting. He messaged me immediately and started demanding that I put him in touch with you. Said he knew you from last winter. That was the ski trip, right?”

Terry had posted a description of her in the forums. It didn't matter. The fight outside the hotel had to have attracted some attention, though she'd had pink hair part of the time. She opened her mouth, about to ask Terry if he'd heard anything about the fight outside the hotel, and stopped.
Wilkins would be after her shortly. The FBI wouldn't just let something like this go. She'd killed someone, no matter the circumstances.

“Haddie?”

“Huh?” She stared at the building where the rave would be happening. She needed to find Liz.

Get past those guards.

“What about Dr. Aaron? Do you want me to give him your number?”

She did want to know about the demons. He'd been suspicious of her and her powers, and had disappeared right after the fight. “Yes.”

He paused and she could hear him typing. “So what's going on? Still haven't found Liz? I mean, this could be serious. The more I look, the worse it gets. Missing people, on top of the suicides. One mom swears her son is in a mental hospital because of these raves.”

That sounded about right. Whatever the song did, she could imagine it driving her crazy. “I'm about to go into the rave now. I'm hoping to get Liz out. I'll let you know.”

“You're alone?”

“Yes.” She'd rather have Dad with her.

She peered at the building where the rave would be. If the guards were looking for her, likely considering the attack at the hotel, then she'd have to scout for a back way in. Before, she'd planned on walking in as if going to the rave, then scoop up Liz — and Matt.

“Maybe you should just call the police.”

She thought of a swat team facing down demons or the fanatical yellow-hazed men, with Liz in the middle. “Not yet.” This needed to be quiet. She looked into the mirror at the spray of pinkish brown covering the right side of her hair and leaving a shock of white down the left side of her face. Not very stealthy, Haddie. Maybe she had a hoodie in the back from last winter.

About the Author:
Kevin A Davis writes fantasy, especially urban and contemporary. His urban fantasy series, AngelSong, can be found on Amazon, Audible, and Ingram. There might even be a few paperback copies in the rural bookstore that he and his wife own. His Khimmer Chronicles series will be available starting late 2022.
Visit his website and sign up for his newsletter at https://kevinarthurdavis.com 
Facebook  https://www.facebook.com/KevinArthurDavis 
Twitter https://twitter.com/BocaVapes 
Download a free ebook of Shattered Blood at https://dl.bookfunnel.com/lasx0yv2sr 



a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wild Creek Whispers Reese Golden Mysteries Book One Cindy Keen Reynders

 

Wild Creek WhispersReese Golden Mysteries Book OneCindy Keen Reynders
Genre: MysteryPublisher: Camel PressDate of Publication: April 12, 2022ISBN: 9781942078524Number of pages: 256Word Count: 70,302
Tagline: A little girl is missing; stolen in the night. Reese Golden, Wyoming PI, will search far into the backcountry wilderness to find the truth.
Book Description: 
After being shot on duty, former Denver Police officer, Reese Golden, starts a private investigator firm in her hometown of Meadowlark Valley, Wyoming. Easier cases like skip tracing individuals and performing background checks pay Reese’s bills, and keep her from becoming too emotionally involved. 
Skylar Ellington calls Reese one day, pleading for Reese’s help in locating her 4-year old daughter Daisy. Law enforcement and any other PIs Skylar has hired haven’t located the child’s whereabouts.
Reese feels compelled to accept the case. The next day, she drives up to Wild Creek Ranch near Sage, Wyoming to meet her new client. 
Skylar’s brother Chance and her mother Leyla dislike Reese’s arrival. They fear Skylar is wasting her money by hiring another PI; that she’s setting herself up for more disappointment.
Reese wonders if Chance and Leyla have something to hide. Also, could Daisy’s absent father be the kidnapper? Local townspeople suspect Skylar of doing something with her child in order to resume her single, party girl lifestyle. 
As Reese investigates potential leads and talks with the locals, she realizes she’s being followed. It’s obvious she’s being targeted by someone who doesn’t want the truth about Daisy to be discovered. 
Despite attempts to keep her emotions in check, Reese becomes entangled in the case. Her attempts to remain focused on her goals are interrupted by several close calls where she is nearly killed, and her growing attraction to Chance. The handsome cowboy touches her heart, yet leaves her suspecting his motives.

Amazon

Excerpt:

“Miss Golden, my daughter was kidnapped in back in June, and it’s killing me not knowing what happened to her,” Skylar said. “The police, the FBI and everyone else haven’t come up with anything. And I’d do anything to find her.”

“I read about the case in the newspaper,” Reese said recalling the article in the Meadowlark Valley Chronicle. “I’m so sorry.”

 “Daisy’s only four,” Skylar said, her voice trembling. “She must be confused and upset. She’s all I can think about night and day. Pl-please help me. Don’t turn me down. Otherwise, I think…I think I’ll go insane.”

Reese closed her eyes as Skylar’s plea plucked at her heart strings. Right now, she didn’t feel confident enough to take on a case of this magnitude. Yet, how could she turn away such a desperate plea?

About the Author:

Born in Portland, Oregon, Cindy has lived all over the United States and spent five years in Misawa, Japan. She has visited Canada, the Philippines, Samoa, Hawaii, both the western and eastern Caribbean and New Zealand.

Currently, she lives in Cheyenne, Wyoming, where Cheyenne Frontier Days is held each year. CFD’s well-known rodeo is often referred to as the “Daddy of ‘em all.”

Over the years, she has won or placed in various writing contests. She has also written for and edited numerous newsletters. Her non-fiction magazine articles have been featured in “True West” and “Wild West.” She was a book critic for Storyteller Alley and is a freelance editor.

Although retired from Laramie County School District 1’s Community Relations office, she still contributes articles for the district’s Public Schools’ Chronicle, which has a circulation of approximately 46,000 readers.

In April of 2022, Camel Press released her seventh published novel, “Wild Creek Whispers,” which is the first book in the Reese Golden mystery series about a Wyoming private investigator. From baby alligators to glow worms, Cindy has seen a variety of life’s wonders.

Website: http://www.cindykeenreynders.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/littlewing1959

Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/cindykeenreynders

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cindy.k.reynders

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wrath Kendra Spark Series Book Five by S. Peters-Davis

 

WrathKendra Spark Series Book FiveS. Peters-Davis
Genre: Suspense, paranormal, romancePublisher: BWL Publishing Inc.Date of Publication: April 2022ISBN EPub: 9780228621263 ISBN Kindle: 9780228621270 ISBNWeb: 9780228621287ISBN Print: 9780228621294Number of pages: 157Word Count: 54,800Cover Artist: Michelle Lee
Series Tagline: Kendra sees ghosts, and then her BFF, Jenna, becomes one. The two friends and FBI agent Derek Knight form a team that fights for the victims of heinous, supernatural crimes.
Book Tagline: The FBI-VCU-SI team deals with the ultimate test of good vs. evil when the powerful, evil entity Chaos joins forces with the dark side.
Book Description: 
Kendra Sparks’ vacation gets cut short when Sassy Blaze, the captured voodoo priestess of the dark arts, hangs herself in prison, and a string of curious deaths follows. 
Attempting to stop Sassy costs lives, relationships, and creates unexpected complications, especially for Derek and Kendra. 
Who will defeat the voodoo, dark witch when she can possess whoever she wants?
The FBI-VCU-SI team must deal with the ultimate test of good vs. evil and it’s not looking promising, especially when the powerful, evil entity Chaos joins forces with the dark side.
Amazon

Excerpt: Kendra’s Point of View

“Thank you for your assistance,” Derek acknowledged the man who guided us to the morgue.

“Now, I’d like this entire room cleared for at least an hour. Your morgue director can verify that order.” Derek nodded, and as he turned toward me, our guide moved away to the two working coroners, escorting them out of the room.

“Dang, this place reminds me of places in the dark plane.” Jenna stood in the center of the room and spun a slow circle. “It’s almost like I can feel Bertellia’s presence, even though I know that woman is gone forever.”  

Once everyone cleared the room, I went to work crushing and mixing up the concoction of herbs in a small burning pot. “I can see the film that cocoons the body you mentioned.” I lit the herbs, allowing a quick flame. Then I blew out the little fire and left the blended ingredients smoldering. As I waved the pot over the body, I said the ritual words. Jenna and Derek joined in the mantra, repeating it with me two more times to break the bond holding Mr. Mead’s soul.

A massive pop, deep enough to shake the floor, startled me. Jenna screamed. Derek jumped in front of me, pushing my body back. “Grab your blades. Mine’s vibrating as if it wants to act on its own.” He grabbed his dagger (the one that NaNa Rosa had given to everyone on our team for protection and guidance against evil spirits from the dark plane) out of the sheath tucked into the back of his pants.

Jenna slipped hers from the sheath strapped to her thigh.

The film surrounding Mr. Mead had disappeared, and the oozing, dark entity that rose out of him charged the air with a distinct acrid odor that immediately gagged me.

I grabbed a wastebasket and threw up.

“Wow, you actually tossed your cookies, Sparky.” Jenna stared at me. “Are you sick?” She stood next to me, dagger in her hand. “Come on, woman, we need you now.”

“Rotten eggs, Kendra. Do you have your dagger in your hand?” Derek’s full attention remained on the grizzly form of leaking pustule bumps and dripping saliva.

I puked again, and my stomach continued to buck and roll. My protection sigil burned, telling me this guy came from the dark plane and would love to feed off our energy. I had tucked the blade in my bag with the herbs. Right now, that satchel lay on the floor about three feet to my right. Gagging and swallowing, I inched toward the bag to hold off the inevitable next wave of nausea.

The entity pulled itself entirely out of Mead’s body, red eyes gawking at us. It caught my movement, and a wretched toothy smile spread across its disgusting thick, slimy lips. The horrendous monster stood on the opposite side of Mead and stepped toward me through the gurney and Mead’s body as if wading through water.

“Sparky, get your dagger!” Jenna readied to throw.

“You look tasty, you’re first,” it rasped and stretched a claw at me, snapping its sharp nails.

Derek and Jenna threw their blades, hitting the evil creeper in the heart and slowing its progress toward me.

I dove for my bag, and the hilt of my dagger snugged into my hand. I yanked it out and flung it with a snap of my wrist. The blade found its mark and sunk into the entity’s heart beside the other two daggers. A vicious scream howled out, dropping Derek and me to our knees with hands covering our ears. I watched as it burned from the inside out and turned into white ash that disappeared, leaving Mr. Mead’s spirit staring at us.

“Where the hell am I?” He looked from Derek to me to Jenna and back at Derek. Then his gaze wandered around the room. “Am I inside a morgue?” His mouth dropped open when he saw his body on the gurney. “Am I dead?”

“I’m so sorry to tell you this, but yes, you died. We don’t know how. Can you remember anything that happened?” I didn’t want to force him, but his anxious shaking took a drastic turn as he stared at our daggers lying beside his feet.

“Did you guys kill me?” His image faltered into momentary static, but then he restabilized into a vivid body, appearing alive. “I want answers.” His lips pinched together, and then his eyes wandered to his dead body on the gurney. He slumped and looked at Derek. “What will my husband do?”

I glanced at Derek and watched his eyes widen.

“Let us know who your significant other is, and we’ll inform him of your passing.” Jenna stepped closer to him.

Mr. Mead huffed. “What would you say? Even I don’t know how I died.”

“We believe it had something to do with Sassy Blaze.” Derek moved beside Jenna, and I followed.

“All I remember is heading to the prison wing to check on the prisoners there. I noticed one guard sleeping beside the door, totally against protocol, so I kicked his foot to awaken him. Then I noticed a green powdery substance around his nose and wondered if he was on drugs. That’s all I recall, other than getting slammed against the wall and hearing the iron door slide open. That normally happened for my prisoner check, but I don’t remember anything after that. I blacked out.” His eyes went wide. “Did anyone look at surveillance?”

“The monitors recorded static in that cell block. That’s why I’m asking you.” Derek took a couple steps to stand directly in front of Mr. Mead. “Sassy Blaze hung herself in her cell. That got caught on surveillance and then her body disappeared. Do you know anything about that?”

“Sassy is dead?” His spine went erect, and he shook his head. “No, that can’t be right. That lunatic wants to murder the FBI Task Force team that imprisoned her. There’s no way she would kill herself.” He glared at Derek, and Derek stared back at him. “Wait a minute. You think I had something to do with Sassy hanging herself?”

“Did you?” Derek’s body went rigid.

About the Author:
S. Peters-Davis writes multi-genre stories but loves penning a good page-turning paranormal or supernatural suspense-thriller, especially when it’s a ghost story and a romance. When she’s not writing, editing, or reading, she’s hiking, RV’ing, fishing, playing with grandchildren, or enjoying time with her favorite muse (her husband) in Southwest Michigan. 
She writes Adult and NA paranormal, supernatural, suspense romance novels.
For a current listing of her book links, check her author or publisher homepage below. She’s listed as: Davis, S. Peters
Twitter: https://twitter.com/spdavis788          BWL PUblishing: http://bwlpublishing.ca/ 
FB:  https://www.facebook.com/susan.petersdavis      
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/susan-davis-8660542/ 
BWL Author Page: http://bwlpublishing.ca/davis-s-peters/    



a Rafflecopter giveaway

Damned When I Didn’t Cherie Colyer

 

Damned When I Didn’tCherie Colyer
Genre:  YA Paranormal RomancePublisher: The Wild Rose PRessDate of Publication: November 18, 2020ISBN:  978-1509233335ASIN:    B08K39XQRZNumber of pages:  298Word Count: 76140Cover Artist:  Diana Carlile
Tagline: Can an eighteen-year-old virgin fulfill her succubus duties without losing her innocence?
Book Description:
Death isn’t the end for eighteen-year-old Avery Williams, and her final resting place isn’t beyond the Golden Gates. No, the Queen of the Damned has plans for her and, unbeknownst to Avery, fought hard to gain possession of her soul. 
As Hell’s newest succubus, Avery is expected to siphon life from the living. It only takes a long, meaningful kiss, but for a virgin like Avery, kissing guys she barely knows isn’t something she’s comfortable doing. Avery focuses on the upside of her fate—she’ll be returning home, or so she thinks. 
When the Queen of the Damned cuts her off from her old life, Avery is determined to find a way back to her family and friends, even if it means facing Hell’s fury if she’s caught.
Amazon      BN     Apple      Google Play     Kobo     Books2Read

Excerpt 1:

I kicked my sneakers off near the kitchen stools and dropped my purse on the floor.

“What’s your problem?” Cole asked. He stood a few feet from me, eyes narrowed.

“Nothing.” I breathed in deep, trying to calm myself. The stench of cheap perfume invaded my nostrils. I covered my nose with my hand. “You reek of imitation lavender and…and…onions.”

Cole tossed his keys onto the counter. Obvious confusion flittered over his features only to be replaced with the realization that I was referring to the scents of the waitress.

“You’re one to talk!” he spit back. “You stink of Sport Goofy.”

“Sport Goofy, I mean Marcus, barely touched me.” Cole gave off such a strong odor, I was sure the waitress had put her hands all over him.

Cole stepped closer, placing his hands on the counter on either side of me, caging me in.

“And I barely touched her,” he growled. “When a human’s life force flows from them to us, our souls grow brighter and—”

“We smell like them,” I said, finishing his sentence. He’d told me that once.

“And because our senses become sharper, we know when our kind renews.” The blue in his irises was more pronounced than I’d remembered. I bit my lip to keep from asking him if that was because of my heightened vision or because he’d renewed, as he called it. “Now, do you want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”

I felt my face warm, and I had to fight to keep my gaze from traveling to his lips. Did I want to admit that I was irrationally jealous that he’d kissed another girl? Nope. So, instead, I said, “Her smell makes me want to puke.”

“Eau de Jock is doing the same to me.”

“You’re the one who called Sport Goofy,” I reminded him.

He smiled, clearly happy that I’d called Marcus by the nickname.

“You’re the one who pissed off the Queen of the Damned,” he countered.

I twitched a shoulder. “I still can’t stand how you smell right now.”

“Fine!” He grabbed me just under my butt and lifted me over his shoulder. I screamed. He held my legs, keeping me from falling.

“What are you doing?” I grabbed his waist from my upside down position.

“You think I smell?”

“Reek. And you said I do, too! Now put me down!”

“Let’s fix that.”

He marched to the bathroom with me slung over his shoulder. The next thing I knew we were standing in the tub. He continued to hold me like a sack of rice.

“Cole?”

He slid me down his chest so I stood in front of him with his arms keeping me from moving.

“Cole?”

He reached behind me.

I glanced up at the showerhead, then to the knob next to me. “You wouldn’t!”

“Want to bet?”

About the Author:
Professional network technician by day, novelist by night, Cherie lives a quiet life in the Chicago suburbs with her charming husband. She has four amazing sons who she loves dearly. Cherie magically weaves together stories with a paranormal twist. She’s the author of the Embrace series (Embrace, Hold Tight, and Entwined), Challenging Destiny, Damned When I Didn’t, and Friends to the End. She waltzes into the adult novel world with this enchanting holiday romance, Merry Little Wishing Spritz.

Website: https://cheriecolyer.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/CherieColyer
Instagram: www.instagram.com/cherie_colyer/ 
Newsletter signup: https://cheriecolyer.com/mailing-list/ 
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/cherie-colyer   
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5288487.Cherie_Colyer 
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Cherie-Colyer-author-250631921629169 







a Rafflecopter giveaway