Rachel A. Olson's Blog, page 69

Ashes & Ice Book Blitz @rockyiswriting

[image error] Title: Ashes & IceAuthor: Rochelle Maya Callen Release Day: February 4th, 2013Genre: Young AdultBlitz Host: Lady Amber's Tours
[image error]  She is desperate to remember.
He is aching to forget.
Together, they are not broken.
But together, one may not survive.

​Jade wakes up with no memory of her past and blood on her hands.

Plagued by wicked thoughts, she searches for answers. Instead, she finds a boy who doesn't offer her answers, but hope. But sometimes, when nightmares turn into reality and death follows you everywhere, hope is not enough.

LUST. LOVE. LOSS. Sometimes, all that is left are Ashes and Ice
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EXCERPT 
  “Have you ever been in love?”            I spill my popcorn on my lap. “I, uh, what?” I say, swiping off the kernels. The question catches me off guard.            “You know, in love.”            “No. No, I haven’t.” I shift on the couch, needing more space between us. “What about you?”            “Nah.” She flicks her hand toward me as if she is brushing away nonsense, but the hard look in her eyes says something different.            “Why?”            She points to the TV screen and the couple making out there. “Figured if you had been, then you could explain that to me.”            The guy sweeps the girl up and carries her into bed before they… you know. “Uh, sex?”            She bursts out laughing. “That too. But I was talking about what  it feels like to be, you know, in love. Totally, without question. Like, does that,” she points to the screen again, “exist?”            “Yeah, I think it exists.” I think of mom and dad—the way they kissed every morning, hugged a few moments longer than anyone else, laughed so hard they cried, and cuddled, shutting out the world, looking more content than these fakers on the screen. “It exists. And in real life, it’s better than that crap.” I say, suddenly uncomfortable by the moaning coming from the TV.            “I thought you said you’ve never been in love?”            “I haven’t. But I’ve seen it. And I haven’t ever seen anything come close to that in the movies.”            She opens her mouth as if about to ask a question, but then closes it and smiles, accepting my answer. “Well, it’s good that there may be something in life to look forward to.” She drops a kernel of popcorn in her mouth.            “May be?”            “Well nothing is guaranteed. Who knows, I may die an old spinster.” She’s smiling, but her eyes aren’t.            I think about the movie store guy’s possessive eyes, Jesse’s chair fiasco, and Dominic’s leering, my heart. “I doubt that.”

Rochelle grew up dreaming up stories. When she entered high school, she tucked away her creative side and jumped head-first into academics, work, and service projects. She graduated summa cum laude with a degree in Political Science and Communication when she was twenty years old. After years away from her writing, Rochelle picked up a pen and started fleshing out a character sketch that she outlined when she was twelve. That sketch was the start of the Ashes and Ice story. Rochelle lives in the DC metro area with her husband and daughter. By day she works as a behavioral therapist. By night, she is a dreamer and is busy tapping out new stories on her keyboard.
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Mohawk Moon

[image error] Janelle hasn't been back to Fort Edward in ten years. All of a sudden, she's dealing with her mothers death, her broken relationship with her sister, and a dark, sexy stranger following her. She doesn't know whether to be scared, or excited.


Damien needs to restore his families honor. He wants to use Janelle to do it. There's one problem, someone is standing in the way. He's vowed that no one will stop him from getting what rightly belongs to his family. But, can he sacrifice Janelle for it?

Together they must try to save what's left of both their families, and along the way, deal with what's growing between them. Join Damien and Janelle on the beginning of their journey, under the Mohawk Moon.
Amazon

I love how this is a fast read. Why? Because that means I was hooked. I really did enjoy how N. Kuhn gives a new voice different from anything I've really ever read before. My attention was snagged from the very beginning and I quickly fell in love with Jany and Damien. I look forward to reading more by this author! Easy 4 stars from me!










I was born and raised in western New York. I grew up with a love of books, and a passion for writing. I was always found with my nose in a book. At times it's hard for me to decide to write or read a book! I just love anything to do with books. I read to my youngest daughter daily, hoping she will grow up with the same love of books as I have.

In the Shadows Blog Tour

[image error] I, Emma Mayweather, was the victim of bullying. Some of the students at my school thought it would be funny to charge the other students to see a particularly embarrassing video of me in the locker room, and as a result of the trauma I endured, I lost my eyesight and now I have to get use to living life without the benefit of my eyes. I spend most of my days in the shadows, because that's where I feel the safest and don't feel like an outside in the school that I've attending for the past fifteen years, but when I overhear someone say something that could be potentially dangerous to another student, I have to decide whether to come out into the light and reveal the truth or sit on my hands and keep my mouth shut. 
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EXCERPT
It’s called a shadow, I wrote in my notebook as I sat behind the old water heater; the ancient contraption overcasting me with its dark shadow and hiding me from the world that lay beyond the four walls that surrounded me. In fairy tales, it’s where the light is extinguished and the evil beings take up residence. But, for me, it’s my salvation. The shadows are where I spend my life, feeding off of the seclusion from the world and the bullies that torment my days. When I step into the black haze, a warmth envelopes me like a velvet blanket on a cold winter night. I feel safe in the shadows, with only the dust bunnies and a few occasional spiders as company. Spiders might be scary and ugly, but spiders don’t bully me because my hair is particularly frizzy that day or because I choose not to dress like the popular kids.

Into the Light Release Day Blitz @HKSavage

Title: Into the LightAuthor: HK Savage (Book 2, The Admiral's Elite) Genre: AdultPublisher: Staccato PublishingBlitz Host: Lady Amber's Tours
[image error] A vicious serial killer is on the loose in Wisconsin and it's up to the Admiral's Elite to stop him. Admiral Black's second in command, Captain Michael Rossi, has been tasked with finding out who or what the killer is and put an end to his reign of bloodshed while avoiding some pitfalls of his own. Like hiding the fact that he's falling in love with Becca from the admiral who would be sure to use it against them. Ghosts from Gabrielle's past threaten her place with her unit and Ryan's bed.
Local police are puzzled and the town is terrified. The Admiral's Elite must find a killer, stop him without anyone finding out their true identities, and not be torn apart in the process.
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EXCERPT The smell of decay hit him full in the nose and Michael skidded to a halt, putting a hand out unnecessarily to signal Ryan to do the same. He’d caught the same scent. Both fell into a crouch and Michael squinted into the white mess, scanning for signs of movement. “Holy fuck,” Ryan breathed from beside him. “Found it.”Michael followed the track of his unit member’s gaze to behold the skeleton hovering on the rock, a living creature straight out of a nightmare. The wind had picked up with the storm and whipped the dark tattered clothing about the bony gray creature’s filthy head. He registered that the lump in front of it was alive and not a part of the rock. She was curled into a ball and a howling sob rolled out just as the creature lowered itself to touch her.Ryan’s snarl cut through the wind and the creature’s face came up. It was cut short as he beheld the thing exactly as horrible as Michael had described it. The gray flesh hung loosely over hollow cheeks and empty black eyes. Sagging lips did nothing to hide the fangs that were as long as a man’s ring finger and nearly reached the bottom of its chin.Seeing the stronger being that was Gabrielle incapacitated had Michael in a frenzy. Casting his eyes wildly about, he searched the area for Becca. There was no sign on the rocks or in the woods. And to further inflame his frustration, the wind gusted again, filling his nose with aged death and taking with it any chance of finding Becca that way. A second growl erupted from his shoulder mate and Michael quit any semblance of secrecy.“Becca!” he yelled.No answer.Narrowing his eyes, he rose and rushed forward. There was no making this thing speak; it was unable due to the level of physical deterioration. Death was its only future. Michael and Ryan matched strides to be the deliverers of its sentence.Two legs turned to four as Ryan changed on the fly, clothing bursting into pieces to litter the forest floor. Together they broke from the trees and hopped from rock to rock, splitting to flank the thing. Michael sunk lower, gathering himself to leap, knowing Ryan would be doing the same.The vampire snarled as he took the head and the wolf’s teeth snapped on bone where he clamped onto the femur. The thing’s body went down, legless and headless but not destroyed. Michael had educated Ryan on the destruction of this specific creature during their pursuit. The body was torn limb from limb into tiny pieces without a word being spoken between them. No blood in the body, it was set into a dry pile of crumbling bones that Michael easily set ablaze using its clothing as tinder, burning the parts so that no amount of magic could ever reassemble it.That done the men split, their goals no longer common. Ryan’s soft reassurances echoed in his ears as Michael began circling the perimeter, scanning the fresh white blanket covering the ground and blinding shower of large wet flakes obscuring even his vision.“Becca,” he called again, stopping to listen for a response possibly too weak to hear over the sound of his boots crunching in the snow. He was circling back around the rock, peering into the woods when the wind dropped for a few seconds and he caught a whiff of blood. Fresh blood. Head shooting up, eyes searching, he caught one more sniff before the wind picked up again. It was enough. It was Becca’s blood and it called to him.Long strides carried him to where she lay on the other side of a cluster of trees and heavy brush that blocked her from him until he was almost on top of her. The blood had stopped, but he saw with a stomach dropping realization that it had come from her head. She’d hit it on the rock sticking out of the ground not a foot away. White flakes were working to cover the dark stain his eyes didn’t need to tell him was there. His nose gave him all of the information he needed. She was hurt, thankfully not severely though.

HK Savage has been a voracious reader of anything she could get her hands on going back to the second grade when she would set her alarm two hours early to read before school. Her passion for the written word has continued and flowed into writing going back nearly as far. Her books have fans in twenty countries on six continents with hopes of attracting attention on Antarctica if for no other reason than to check a box. 
Currently, HK is a mother, wife and black belt in Karate as well as an avid dressage rider. Her three dogs: a Doberman she uses for therapy dog work and two ancient Doxies keep her busy when she is not writing or working or whatever else.
In addition to editing for the past ten years in advertising, HK has been an editor for several newsletters over the years; her favorite being for Heifer International where her ideas were put into effect and complimented by those on high. Currently her skills are being focused on clients in the writing world.
Paranormal is her favorite genre and science fiction because both address the possibilities we have not yet realized and the darker things we have. Her favorite premise: “what if?”

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Darkspire Reaches - Elizabeth Hull HOP

[image error] Her birth mother left her as a sacrifice to the Wyvern, believing a second born twin had no soul.
Her foster mother thought Raven possessed the magic of the First born. She believed she raised a slave.
The emperor of all the lands believed she knew the secret of his birth and that he must silence her.
Her tribe thought they could trade her for safe passage out of the emperor’s lands.
The Wyvern knows better. He is coming for her. His fury has no limits. 
EXCERPT  
Raven worked on a poultice, trying hard to ignore the sound of children’s laughter from the forest. The ill-luck child they called her, and she hated them for it. A patch of sunlight crept across the hard-packed dirt floor of the rickety shack to while she pounded a root between mortar and pestle. Her arms ached, but her foster mother needed the crushed remains ready that day. Old Margie’s spells to the Earth Spirits would bind together healing magic with the waxing light of a full moon as the final ingredient. This was a new spell for Raven and one she must commit to memory if she wanted to be a healer, too. The table wobbled, sending the implements slithering across it. Dropping the pestle, Raven grabbed Margie’s scrying bowl, now dangerously near the edge. An ice-cold tingle ran up her fingers into her arms as she held tight, biting her lips until she could push the table back into a better place with her hip. Ever since Raven could remember Margie had warned never to look into her scrying bowl when it bore the water of sight; the water that now slopped in the bowl, swaying in a shaft of sunlight. Her reflection wavered against the black interior of the vessel. It was a face the village youngsters said belonged to the witch’s bastard offspring. Not fair of skin with corn-colored hair like the other children, but a darker coloring and night-black lock. ‘Sins of the mother’, they had yelled when she tried to join in their play as a little child. Yet she wasn’t Margie’s child.The reflection altered, becoming a woman grown, shifting and maturing. Raven shuddered—this wasn’t her face anymore, not with those hollowed cheeks under brown eyes, and those full lips. The image changed perspective until all of the woman’s body showed against a moorland landscape. Wind howled between boulders that stood like giant bones in scraggy patches of grass and scrub. A gust tugged at the ankle-length green and brown tunic to tease the fringes decorating the strange attire. The figure hurried to a large flat rock, and placed a bundle in the center. Now the thin wail of a newborn carried on breeze.The great shape of a wyvern blotted out the stars as it swooped closer. Wings as big as the meeting-hall roof flapped with the sound of wet leather smacked on rock, and a huge head on a long neck snaked back and forth, searching. Wicked talons extended from birdlike feet, and flames erupted from the beast’s mouth. Stars, the thing wasn’t even close, and it was clear it could swallow a person whole.Was this her future? No, for she’d die before she let a wyvern take a child of hers. This was her past.“Raven! What are you doing?” The image dissolved into blackness. Shaken, Raven backed away from the table, far from the tang of water magic. She hadn’t meant to touch the bowl. She knew Margie didn’t want the magic weakened by the feel of another hand. “I didn’t be looking on purpose. The table lurched, and I afeared your scrying bowl might smash.” Margie took the bowl outside to dump the contents on a radish patch near their door. Her old, jowly face wobbled as she shook her head. “Peasant talk.” Margie slammed down the bowl with such force that the table creaked in protest. “How many times must I tell you not to copy their talk? It won’t make them like you any better, and why would you want to be friends with peasants? If we don’t sound better than them why would they trust us to know more?” “I wasn’t looking on purpose,” Raven said, concentrating on proper words. “Afraid and never afeared, too. Now put some water to boil. We eat of the beasts of the earth tonight.” Water for boiling and no talk of a roasting spit? Not a feast, by any means, yet the meat needed a slow boil. Raven tried to guess the contents of the small sack Margie carried. “Chicken feet.” Margie looked in the direction of the village, scowling. “The headman wanted a son birthed and got himself another daughter after I’d told him when to try for a boy. We pay the price for his lust.” “Poor payment for a lying-in,” Raven agreed, not looking forward to watery soup thickened with the few shriveled carrots left from the last payment. Herbs would give more flavors, though.
“I saw some turnip-tops growing by the old healer’s place in Delvin’s Hollow.” Margie settled in her chair by the hearth, ready to keep an eye on their soup. “You’ve seen the wild garden by the burnt-out ruins?” Raven’s skin crawled. The wise-woman’s shade haunted that rubble-strewn hollow where a stone cottage once stood, and some of the villagers claimed to have heard the echo of the woman’s shrieks when she burned alive. How had a fire started in a house built of stone? If it had been more intact, she guessed it would have been home to her and Margie instead of where they were. “After you have drawn water, go and get us something filling for our soup,” Margie said.
Once she’d set the cauldron over their hearth-fire, Raven collected their broken-handled shovel—what was left of the shaft served her shorter frame better than a full-sized implement. While she dreaded Delvin’s Hollow, she wanted to get outside and into the forest. The cool greenness called to her in a way she had never been able to explain to Margie. Raven liked walking the deer tracks, away from any people, all except one. Only Tomar, the baker’s son, had welcomed her whenever she had happened on the village children, and when they wouldn’t play, he’d walk with her in the forest. Since he’d grown to a man’s stature this year the sight or even just the thought of him brought a blush to her cheeks, for she liked his looks along with his care for her feelings. His growing beard fuzz had tickled her when he’d given her a shy kiss in thanks for one of Margie’s healing potions. Thinking of Tomar helped dim the image of the wyvern in the scrying bowl. Margie had often said Raven was left as a sacrifice to the wyvern and the vision of the woman in the water gave truth to Margie’s claims; although Raven had never really doubted them, for she had heard the call of the beast in the night many times. The sound burrowed into her soul, trying to compel her to go to the nearest clearing. Her magic fought it off each time. Fern fronds rustled, tugging at her long brown skirts, and the leaf-litter underfoot released a pungent odor of dirt and toadstools. A white-tailed doe and her spotted fawn ambled across Raven’s path, pausing to savor her scent. Liquid eyes stared into hers without a trace of unease. Raven smiled at the beautiful fawn, not sure if the doe understood or not. None of the beasts of the earth feared her, yet they ran away from old Margie. Maybe the creatures disliked her bright clothes. Raven preferred the earth-tones Margie left to her when they got a barter gift of cloth. She continued into the dappled greenness until she stood on the brink of the hollow. High-pitched nervous laughter rippled through the sunlight. She crouched in a tall bank of ferns. If the young villagers were here, she preferred to keep out of sight. From her leafy screen, Raven scanned the area to see if the people were staying. Tomar’s blond head came into view and Raven started to stand up, her heart beating faster. He was just a few yards away, holding hands with Katra, his long strides shortened to keep pace with the girl. Katra, always fond of showing her importance as the headman’s daughter, had often made her dislike of Raven plain. Raven guessed what might be coming next if they caught sight of her. She didn’t want Tomar to hear the cruel words and so called within to a place of power, imagining herself fading into the forest colors so that none could see her; a trick she had learned accidentally when hiding from Margie.“Where be your little black mongrel today?” The girl giggled. “Off the leash?” “Our dog is brindle-colored.” Tomar paused, a half-smile lighting his face. “Unlessen you did mean Raven?” He joined in the laughter, catching Katra to him. “I keep her sweet in case I do need herbs. She’ll give me what others pay to get.” Raven’s heart contracted painfully. Where was the friend she trusted? Who was this stranger in his body? Was he just lying to please Katra? But Tomar didn’t lie, did he? “Please me well to stay away from the First Born savage. She isn’t fit to mingle with pure-bred Angressi folk.” “She did saved my dog from a poison he’d eaten. All it costed me was a kiss.” Tomar pulled Katra closer. “What’ll you give me to shun her?” Katra stood on her toes to kiss his lips, but Tomar turned his face away. He slowly unlaced the front of her bodice. When she didn’t stop him, he reached inside. “I’ll do be wanting more than this.” He pulled down her chemise to bare her breasts. Katra, her face flaming, didn’t move away. “Is this what your black dog lets you be doing to her?” “That and more if I do want. Shall I get my needs from you or from her?” He bent to kiss her nipples, first one and then the other. “Not here, someone might come.” Now Katra pushed him away, but she didn’t cover herself. Instead, she took his hand and led him from the path into the trees. Raven didn’t cry, no tears came to give an outlet for her grief. Fifteen summers old with a life holding no purpose after this moment. Her heart pounded while a lump in her throat threatened to choke her; yet her eyes remained dry, her lack of tears another bitter reminder of being different. As the forest grew quiet around her, all those oddities separating her from others came to haunt her. She moved into the dappled shadows to become a creature of the forest.Tomar didn’t care for her. She was the pet dog who gave him herbs, only useful until a pretty village girl caught his eye. She had loved him so much, still loved him. How could he say such a thing? And the way Katra said the name ‘First Born savage’. She speared the ground with her shovel, thinking all the while of Katra’s face on the dirt. Several turnips suffered for her anger before she saw what she had done with her savage thrusts. Sounds of movement brought Raven back to the present. She peered out of her green sanctuary. Tomar stepped back onto the forest trail with Katra hanging on his arm, talking quietly with a whine in her tone. Catching the smug look of triumph on Tomar’s face, Raven melted back into her quiet shield of fronds. The couple headed off in the direction of the village. A cloud slid over the sun, darkening the day. From deep in the forest the lone howl of a wolf left ripples of silence in its wake. Raven stashed her tubers in a sack, hefted it over her shoulder and made for home, burning with questions, but not about Tomar. She’d seen and heard enough to know he wasn’t the person she thought was her friend. He had laughed at her, he had told lies about her and now she wouldn’t think about him anymore. Better to feel nothing than to give a man a weapon to carve a path of misery through her life. Raven wouldn’t run after him like Katra. Those two deserved each other. ***“Truth cuts sharp and straight to the bone, Raven,” Margie said, her rheumy eyes filling with ancient injury. “Aye, I’ve heard them, cruel little devils. People fit into who they think they are. First Born tribes aren’t civilized like us, they are wandering nomads to the north east of our lands.” “But why am I here? Why so far south and out of their range?” The image of the woman with black hair haunted Raven. Why would a tribeswoman come into Angressi territory to abandon her child? “The stars only know why someone of the tribes would leave a babe here. Our hunters kill any of their kind on sight, and the same holds true for them. Their warriors loose their arrows at the first glimpse of any Angressi.” She sighed. “I knew you were First Born and should have left you when I found the bundle of misery you were, laying out on a rock on the moor. But the wyvern hunted overhead, and by the time I had hidden us… well, it was too late when I found you had been left as a sacrifice.” “Margie–the First Born tribes?” Raven wriggled on her stool, dying inside from Margie’s opinions of the nomads. Surely Margie could remember one good trait? Would she remember, though? Sometimes the old woman didn’t seem to know where she was. Margie set out their soup in wooden bowls on the rickety table and picked up a stale crust of bread that had been left on their doorstep. She broke the bread in unequal portions, putting the larger piece by her own serving.“They arrived here before the Angressi people.” Margie spat on the earth floor; a stream of saliva clumped over one hapless roach. “They’re a wandering race who worships the wyvern. They’re hunters, not warriors, who flit through the forest glades with no more sound than a butterfly.” “But—” “The women plant crops when the tribe makes camp for the warm season. Then there’s Samara Maidens dedicated to the mysteries. I’m reckoned a wise woman, but them …” Margie gummed a piece of chicken skin, rolling it around in a futile attempt to find a place in her mouth not hurting. “My family turned me out when they caught me scrying. They said I must have witch blood. Never proved it. We got away, my brother and me. No justice and no home except what I found—”
Raven knew by rote how the rest of it went. She’d get no more sense until the old woman had finished her long list of grievances against those dead for so many years that even Margie couldn’t remember their names. Raven continued picking at her meal to the sound of the old woman’s drone. “Just as well I took you, for you’d have fed the wyvern and I’d have lost the dark magic inside you,” Margie said, rolling self-justification into her list of woes, as if one balanced off the other. “Even if we had been at peace with the tribes, taking you to them would have meant the terrible life of a Samara Maiden for you.” “Samara Maidens?” Raven seized the opportunity to stem the flow before Margie slipped back into her memories again. “I’ve never heard tell of such women. What are they?” “The First Born maidens keeping the festival of Samhain are never-mated women. They can bring storms strong enough to destroy a harvest, or drown a village under floods. All their life-giving force is channeled into magic till the day they die, unless some man defiles them. Angressi men make much sport of a captured Samara Maiden.” Margie snickered. “An arrow or a thrown rock, any pain to stop the woman focusing her power will bring her down and at their mercy. Didn’t steal my powers with their nasty tricks. Not First Born power–something else. Thought they …” Raven let the rest roll over her head. Margie’s voice had taken on a singsong tone, a sign that the old woman’s sorrows buried her for another evening. The tongues of flames from their fire drew Raven’s eyes and gave her a form of comfort. A Samara Maiden with magic? How different a life from living with Margie: no one to taunt her for being strange and no need to hide what little magic she had. Margie liked Raven using her healing hands to soothe old and aching bones, but her foster mother wouldn’t let her touch any of the villagers to cure sickness. Did Margie think they would be frightened of her, or was it because Raven couldn’t abide the touch of iron? It froze her to the bone and drained her power. What if a man came to her with an arrow wound? All of the village men stole game from the Imperial forests, risking the warden’s retaliation. Raven rolled her thumb and forefinger together, idly kneading a fireball into existence. The ball tingled with a need for release, and yet Raven held it captive. Looking at the flaming sphere, she hid an urge to transform it into a lightning ball; this was a newly learned skill and Margie got angry if she thought Raven knew more about magic. Samara Maidens lost their magic if they mated, did they? The village lads didn’t like her anyway, and Raven had no mind to be used like Katra. The girl had become Tomar’s creature in her desperation to keep his attention after giving him her body, her greatest gift. Katra meant to trap him into marriage, and yet who snared who? Tomar would gain much wealth from Katra’s dowry. Ashamed for him and relieved she now knew his true feelings, Raven wondered if he would have abused their friendship if she had golden hair. How could she trust men after Tomar had let her down? No man was going to strip away her life by such a selfish act. Determination awoke inside her to dull the pain. Now she understood the vision in the scrying bowl. Her mother had abandoned her, left her as a sacrifice to the wyvern, a creature Margie said dined off living human flesh. Raven wouldn’t be an easy target now. Feed the power, nurture the magic and take the gifts given, until she had all the strength to fend off the evil beast if she ever encountered it.
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Elizabeth Hull, writing under the by line of C.N.Lesley, lives in Alberta with her husband and cats. Her three daughters live close by. When she isn’t writing, Elizabeth likes to read and to paint watercolors. She is also a keen gardener, despite the very short summers and now has a mature shade garden. Once a worker in the communications sector, mostly concentrating on local news and events, she now writes full time.
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Remember the Stars Book Blitz @BatesNatalie

Title: Remember The Stars
Author: Natalie-Nicole Bates
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Blitz Host: Lady Amber's Tours
[image error] For Leah Rhodes life as she knows it has just changed forever.
Waking in a gutter in the dark surroundings of her distant past, a familiar man stands out in her confusion.
But Remy Moreland has been dead for years.
It soon becomes apparent to Leah that both she and Remy are trapped in a hell of their own making.
Can one night together not only lead to the way out, but to love as well?



Excerpt
“Remy,” she said his name. Where did she know that name from? It wasn’t common. Think, Leah, think. Then it hit her—hard. She remembered exactly who Remy Moreland was. He was in the newspaper years earlier. Her mother had shown her a copy. Remy Moreland was involved in a fatal street race. His Porsche had been split in two, killing him and a young woman in another car. Remy Moreland was dead.But if he was dead, what was he doing here, alive, and with her? Sweat broke out on the back of her neck and her vision clouded. This was someone’s idea of an evil, evil joke. She had to get out. She had to find her way home.Standing, she grabbed the edge of the deck for support. “I have to get out of here,” she mumbled and stumbled her way around the desk.He grabbed her around the waist. “You can’t go back out there. It’s dangerous.”She sunk her open palms against his chest and struggled to get out of his grip. “Get off of me, you malevolent freak! You’re dead! You’ve been dead for years!” she blurted.Immediately, he let go and jumped back from her as if he had been stung.“What are you talking about? He demanded.She backed away, ready to make a run for the front door. But the confused mix of anger and disbelief in his contorted expression stopped her. How could he not know he was dead?“It was years ago, Remy. You had an accident. It was in the newspaper.”He tilted his head, his blue eyes huge. “Do I look dead to you?”Well, he was pale, his blue eyes ethereal. She hesitated, and then spoke. “Now that you mention it…”“You bitch!” he snapped.The force of his voice caused her to flinch and she raised her fingers to her throbbing temples. All she wanted at that moment was to get out of this man’s sight and find her way home.“I’m not dead,” he stated ominously.“Okay, you’re not dead,” she conceded as she rubbed circles on her temples.He took a step closer. “As a matter of fact, right now I am languishing across town in a nursing home. I eat through a tube in my belly and piss into a catheter bag. I remain nothing but an emaciated, contorted version of the man I once was.”She closed her eyes. This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening. None of this was real.When she opened her eyes, he was in front of her, a macabre grin creasing his handsome features. He lifted a brow. “So, what did you do?”“Do? What are you talking about?”“To get here. You know my situation, so what’s yours?”He wasn’t making any sense. She turned away from him, left the office and began to walk the long hallway to the front door, but he followed her closely.“Let me guess,” he provoked. “You look like a murder-suicide kind of girl. You’re not wearing a wedding ring, so I’m assuming you shot your boyfriend in the head and then offed yourself in some spectacular way—like jumping off a balcony and splattering on the ground. How could you have known you would wind up here?” he chuckled unpleasantly.She stopped cold. How could he say such a horrible thing? She turned back to him only to find him mere inches from her. “You’re horrible. You don’t even know me, but you’ve resorted to participating in some sort of evil joke on me. I just want to go home…or wake up.”“Your life as you know it is over, Leah.”“What are saying, Remy? That I’m dead?”Natalie-Nicole Bates is a book reviewer and author. Her passions in life include books and hockey along with Victorian and Edwardian era photography and antique poison bottles. Natalie contributes her uncharacteristic love of hockey to being born in Russia. She currently resides in the UK where she is working on her next book and adding to her collection of 19th century post-mortem photos.

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Branded Cover Reveal @abiandmissy

[image error] Twenty years ago the Commander came into power and murdered all who opposed him. In his warped mind, the seven deadly sins were the downfall of society. He created the Hole where sinners are branded according to their sins and might survive a few years. At best.
Now LUST wraps around my neck like blue fingers strangling me. I’ve been accused of a crime I didn’t commit and now the Hole is my new home.

Darkness. Death. Violence. Pain.

Now every day is a fight for survival. But I won’t die. I won’t let them win.
The Hole can’t keep me. The Hole can’t break me.
I am more than my brand. I’m a fighter.
My name is Lexi Hamilton, and this is my story.



Chapter One Excerpt


I’m buried six feet under, and no one hears my screams.
The rope chafes as I loop it around my neck. I pull down on it, making sure the knot is secure. It seems sturdy enough.
My legs shake. My heart beats heavy in my throat. Sweat pours down my back.
Death and I glare at each other through my tears.
I take one last look at the crystal chandelier, the foyer outlined with mirrors, and the flawless decorations. No photographs adorn the walls. No happy memories here.
I’m ready to go. On the count of three.
I inhale, preparing myself for the finality of it all. Dropping my hands, a glimmer catches my eye. It’s my ring, the last precious gift my father gave me. I twist it around to read the inscription. Picturing his face forces me to reconsider my choice. He’d be heartbroken if he could see me now.
A door slams in the hallway, almost causing me to lose my balance. My thoughts already muddled, I stand, waiting with the rope around my neck. Voices I don’t recognize creep through the walls.
Curiosity overshadows my current thoughts. It’s late at night, and this is a secure building in High Society. No one disturbs the peace here—ever. I tug on the noose and pull it back over my head.
Peering through the eyehole in our doorway, I see a large group of armed guards banging on my neighbors’ door. A heated conversation ensues, and my neighbors point toward my family’s home.
It hits me. I’ve been accused and they’re here to arrest me.
My father would want me to run, and in that split second, I decide to listen to his voice within me. Flinging myself forward in fear, I scramble up the marble staircase and into my brother’s old bedroom. The door is partially covered, but it exists. Pushing his dresser aside, my fingers claw at the opening. Breathing hard, I lodge myself against it. Nothing. I step back and kick it with all my strength. The wood splinters open, and my foot gets caught. I wrench it backward, scraping my calf, but adrenaline pushes me forward. The voices at the front door shout my name.
On hands and knees, I squeeze through the jagged opening. My brother left through this passage, and now it’s my escape too. Cobwebs entangle my face, hands, and hair. At the end, I feel for the knob, twisting it clockwise. It swings open, creaking from disuse. I sprint into the hallway and smash through the large fire escape doors at the end. A burst of cool air strikes me in the face as I jump down the ladder.
Reaching the fifth floor, I knock on a friend’s window. The lights flicker on, and I see the curtains move, but no one answers. I bang on the window harder.
“Let me in! Please!” I say, but the lights darken. They know I’ve been accused and refuse to help me. Fear and adrenaline rush through my veins as I keep running, knocking on more windows along the way. No one has mercy. They all know what happens to sinners.
Another flight of stairs passes in a blur when I hear the guards’ heavy footfalls from above. I can’t hide, but I don’t want to go without trying.
Help me, Daddy. I need your strength now.
My previous desolation evolves into a will to survive. I have to keep running, but I tremble and gasp for air. I steel my nerves and force my body to keep moving. In a matter of minutes, my legs cramp and my chest burns. I plunge to the ground, scraping my knee and elbow. A moan escapes from my chest.
Gotta keep going.
“Stop!” Their voices bounce off the buildings. “Lexi Hamilton, surrender yourself,” they command. They’re gaining on me.
I resist the urge to glance back, running into what I assume is an alley. I’m far from our high-rise in High Society as I plunge into a poorer section of the city where the streets all look the same and the darkness prevents me from recognizing anything. I’m lost.
My first instinct is to leap into a dumpster, but I retain enough sense to stay still. I crouch and peek around it, watching them dash by. The abhorrent smell soon leaves me vomiting until nothing remains in my stomach. Desperation overtakes me, as I know my retching was anything but silent. My last few seconds tick away before they find me. Everyone knows about their special means of tracking sinners.
I push myself to my feet and look left, right, and left again. Their batons click against their black, leather belts, and their boots stomp the cement on both sides of me. I shrink into myself. Their heavy steps mock my fear, growing closer and closer until I know I’m trapped.
Never did I imagine they’d come for me. Never did I imagine all those nights I heard them dragging someone else away that I’d join them.
“You’re a sinner,” they say. “Time to leave our society.”
I stand defiant. I refuse to bend or break before them even as I shiver with fear.
“There’s no reason to make this difficult. The more you cooperate, the smoother this will be for everyone,” a guard says.
I cringe into the blackness along the wall. I’m innocent, but they won’t believe me or care.
The next instant, my face slams into the pavement as one guard plants a knee in my back and another handcuffs me. A warm liquid trails into my mouth. Blood. Their fingers grip my arms like steel traps as they peel me off the cement. The tops of my shoes scrape along the ground as I’m dragged behind them until they discard me into the back of a black vehicle. The doors slam in unison with one guard stationed on each side of me, my shoulders digging into their arms. The handcuffs dig into my wrists, so I clasp them together hard behind me and press my back into the seat, unwilling to admit how much it hurts. My dignity is all I have left.
Swallowing hard, I stare ahead to avoid their eyes.
Did they need so many guards to capture me?
I’m not carrying any weapons, nor do I own any. I don’t even know self-defense. High Society frowns on activities like that.
The driver jerks the vehicle around and I try to keep my bearings, but it’s dark and the scenery changes too fast. Hours pass and the air grows warmer, more humid, the farther we drive. The landscape mutates from city to rolling hills. They don’t bother blindfolding me because they escort all the sinners to the same place—the Hole. Twenty-foot cement walls encase the chaos within. There’s no way out and no way in unless they transport you. They say the Hole is a prison with no rules. We learned about it last year in twelfth grade.
To the outside, I’m filth now. I’ll never be allowed to return to the life I knew. No one ever does.
“All sinners go through a transformation,” one of the guards says to me. His smirk infuriates me. “I’m sure you’ve heard all kinds of stories.” I don’t respond. I don’t want to think about the things I’ve been told.
“You won’t last too long, though. Young girls like you get eaten alive.” He pulls a strand of my hair up to his face.
Get your hands off me, you pig.I want to lash out, but resist. The punishment for disobeying authority is severe, and I’m not positioned to defy him.
They’re the Guards of the Commander. They’re chosen from a young age and trained in combat. They keep the order of society by using violent methods of intimidation. No one befriends a guard. Relationships with them are forbidden inside the Hole.
Few have seen the commander. His identity stays under lock and key. His own paranoia and desire to stay pure drove him to live this way. He controls our depraved society and believes sinners make the human race unforgivable. His power is a crushing fist, rendering all beneath him helpless. So much so, even family members turn on each other when an accusation surfaces. Just an accusation. No trial, no evidence, nothing but an accusation.
I lose myself in thoughts of my father.
“Never show fear, Lexi,” my father said to me before he was taken. “They’ll use it against you.” His compassionate eyes filled with warning as he commanded me to be strong. That was many years ago, but I remember it clearly. My father. My rock. The one person in my life who provided unconditional love.
The vehicle stops, and I’m jerked back to reality. “Get out,” the guard orders while pulling me to my feet. The doors slide open and the two guards lift me up and out into the night. A windowless cement building looms in front of us, looking barren in the darkness.
The coolness of the air sends a shiver up my spine. This is really happening. I’ve been labeled a sinner. My lip starts to quiver, but I bite it before anyone sees. They shove me in line and I realize I’m not alone. Women and men stand with faces frozen white in fear. A guard grabs my finger, pricks it, and dabs my blood on a tiny microchip.
I follow the man in front of me into the next room where we’re lined up facing the wall. Glancing right, I see one of the men crying.
“Spread your legs,” one of the guards says.
They remove my outer layers and their hands roam up and down my body.
What do they think I could possibly be hiding? I press my head into the wall, trying to block out what they’re doing to me.
“MOVE!” a guard commands. So I shuffle across the room, trying to cover up.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five of us sit in the holding room. One by one, they pull people into the next room, forcing the rest of us to wonder what torture we’ll endure. An agonizing amount of time passes. I lean my head back and try to imagine a place far away. The door opens.
“Lexi Hamilton.”
A guard escorts me out of the room, and I don’t have time to look back. As soon as the door closes, they pick me up and place me on a table. It’s cold and my skin sticks to it slightly, like wet fingers on an ice cube. Then, they exit in procession, and I lie on the table with a doctor standing over me. His hands are busy as he speaks.
“Don’t move. This will only take a few minutes. It’s time for you to be branded.”
A wet cloth that smells like rubbing alcohol is used to clean my skin. Then he places a metal collar around my neck.
Click. Click. Click.
The collar locks into place, and I struggle to breathe. The doctor loosens it some as I focus on the painted black words above me.


The Seven Deadly Sins:
Lust ¾ Blue
Gluttony ¾ Orange
Greed ¾ Yellow
Sloth ¾ Light Blue
Wrath ¾ Red
Envy ¾ Green
Pride ¾ Purple


“Memorize it. Might keep you alive longer if you know who to stay away from.” He opens my mouth, placing a bit inside. “Bite this.”
Within seconds, the collar heats from hot to scorching. The smell of flesh sizzling makes my head spin. I bite down so hard a tooth cracks.
“GRRRRRRRRR,” escapes from deep within my chest. Just when I’m about to pass out, the temperature drops, and the doctor loosens the collar.
He removes it and sits me up. Excruciating pain rips through me and I’m on the verge of a mental and physical breakdown. Focus. Don’t pass out.
Stainless steel counters and boring white walls press in on me. A guard laughs at me from an observation room above and yells, “Blue. It’s a great color for a pretty young thing like yourself.” His eyes dance with suggestion. The others meander around like it’s business as usual.
I finally find my voice and turn to the doctor.
“Are you going to give me clothes?” A burning pain spreads like fire from my neck to my jaw, making me wince.
He points to a set of folded grey scrubs on a chair.I cover myself as much as I can and scurry sideways. Grabbing my new clothes, I pull the shirt over my head and try to avoid the raw meat around my throat. I quickly knot the cord of my pants around my waist and slide my feet into the hospital-issue slippers as the doctor observes. He hands me a bag labeled with my name.
“Nothing is allowed through the door but what we’ve given you,” he says.
I hide my right hand behind me, hoping no one notices. A guard scans my body and opens his hand.
“Give it to me,” he says. “Don’t make me rip off your finger.” He crouches down and I turn to stone. I don’t know what to do, so I beg.
“My father gave this to me. Please, let me keep it.” I smash my eyes shut and think of the moment my father handed the golden ring to me.
“It was my mother’s ring,” he’d said. “She’s the strongest woman I ever knew.” With tears in his eyes, he reached for my hand. “Lexi, you’re exactly like her. She’d want you to wear this. No matter how this world changes, you can survive.” I turned the gold band over in my palm and read the engraving.
You can overcome anything… short of death .
“You’re going to take the one thing that matters the most to me?” I say, glaring into the guard’s emotionless eyes. “Isn’t it enough taking my life, dignity, and respect?”
A hard blow falls upon my back. As I fall, my hands shoot out to stop me from smashing into the wall in front of me. The guard bends down and grabs my chin with his meaty fist.
“Look at me,” he commands. I look up and he smiles with arrogance.
“What the hell?” He staggers a step backward. “What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with your eyes?”
“Nothing,” I respond, confused.
“What color are they?”
“Turquoise.” I glower at him.
“Interesting,” he says, regaining his composure. “Now those’ll get you in trouble.”
Reality slaps me across the face. I have my father’s eyes. They can't take them from me. I twist the ring off my finger and drop it in his hand.
“Take the damn ring,” I say. I walk to the door. He swipes a card and the massive door slides open to the outside.
“You have to wear your hair back at all times, so everyone knows what you are.” He hands me a tie, so I pull my frizzy hair away from my face and secure it into a ponytail. My neck burns and itches as my hand traces the scabs that have already begun to form. Squinting ahead into the darkness, I almost run into a guard standing on the sidewalk.
“Watch where you’re going,” he says, shoving me backward. His stiff figure stands tall and I cringe at the sharpness of his voice.
“Cole, this is your new assignment, Lexi Hamilton. See to it she feels welcome in her new home.” The guard departs with a salute.
“Let’s move,” Cole says.
I take two steps and collapse, my knees giving out. The unforgiving pavement reopens the scrapes from earlier and I struggle to stand. A powerful arm snatches me up, and I see his face for the first time.
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Abi Ketner is a registered nurse with a passion for novels, the beaches of St. John, and her Philadelphia Phillies. A talented singer, Abi loves to go running and spend lots of time with her family. She currently resides in Lancaster, Pennsylvania with her husband, triplet daughters and two very spoiled dogs.
Melissa Kalicicki received her bachelor’s degree from Millersville University in 2003. She married, had two boys and currently lives in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Aside from reading and writing, her interests include running and mixed martial arts. She also remains an avid Cleveland sports fan.
Abi and Missy met in the summer of 1999 at college orientation and have been best friends ever since. After college, they added jobs, husbands and kids to their lives, but they still found time for their friendship. Instead of hanging out on weekends, they went to dinner once a month and reviewed books. What started out as an enjoyable hobby has now become an incredible adventure.
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Taking Angels Book Blitz @csyelle

Title: Taking Angels
Author: CS Yelle
Publisher: Staccato Publishing
Genre: YA Fantasy
Blitz Host: Lady Amber's Tours
[image error] Britt Anderson went along with everything the doctors said for nearly four years, but she was still dying at eighteen. The cancer had won leaving her without a future, without any options, and without control. No control, except for how she would leave this world. As Britt tries to end her life by going into the frigid waters she realizes her mistake. She struggles to get back to shore, to cry out for help, but her atrophied muscles are useless and the frigid water steals the breath from her chemo-scarred lungs. Despite her father’s attempts to reach her, she flies over the waterfall.
When Allister Parks finds Britt’s fragile body on the riverbank something calls out to him. Ignoring the warnings of his sister, Allister brings Britt back from the edge of death. The only problem is that an Eternal like Allister isn’t allowed to touch those who have already passed from this world. It is forbidden; an infraction punishable by death.

As Britt relishes her new cancer-free life and senior year of high school, her very existence threatens Allister’s place in this world. Allister struggles to keep Britt a secret from the Eternal Council and out of the hands of the only Eternal who already knows the truth: the one who stole her guardian angel.

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Excerpt:   Eighteen and dying. My reality sucked the big one and I’d had enough.The movement of the canoe hypnotized me while I lay in the bottom of the aluminum craft, the waves creating a hollow pinging sound as we cut across the lake. I kept my eyes closed against the bright sun baking my face, the light breeze keeping me from feeling the burn.Spending most of my time in hospitals under the dull fluorescent lighting with its incessant hum had left my skin pale and white. I’d rather be out here instead of taking chemo or radiation, anyone would. This felt like heaven; a place I’d spent far too much time thinking about lately.“Britt, you’re getting sunburned,” Mom scolded as she paused in her paddling to stare back at me. “Put your chin down so your hat can block the sun.”“Let her be, Mary,” Dad sighed.“She’s going to get burnt. It isn’t good for her skin, Jim.”“What will it do besides make her uncomfortable?” Dad argued.He paused now and again to drag the paddle in the water, steering us towards his goal across the lake. I didn’t remember which lake we were on; only that it was part of the pristine Boundary Waters Canoe Area in Northern Minnesota.I pulled the large-brimmed hat down over my eyes and went back to listening to the rhythmic waves. I moved my bony butt on the metal support of the canoe, trying to get comfortable. Without any padding, it wasn’t5happening. Still, it beat the hospital beds and the sterile linens.Shifting again and looking to where we headed: tall pines reaching for the blue sky, little white clouds floating overhead; I remembered the place. It was a nice campsite with good fishing and a waterfall leading into the next lake. The mosquitoes were murder on that trip six years ago. I hoped they didn’t like the taste of my blood as much this time. Maybe the chemo could stop something.stiff?”“Not much further, Britt,” Dad said. “Getting“Yeah.” I nodded, shifting a little more.My parents kept paddling, steady and strong. I closed my eyes again, recalling how Mom and I used to take turns paddling up front. Now I couldn’t lift a paddle, much less use one. Soon sand and rock crunched against the bottom of the canoe bringing us to a sudden stop, jolting me hard against the metal frame.“Land ho,” I cried as loud as my chemo ruined lungs allowed. I breathed like a severe asthmatic or someone who’d smoked all her life.Mom began unpacking our supplies while Dad pulled the canoe further onto shore and I went along for the ride. The smell of pine hit me and the sound of the waterfalls reached my ears.“I want to go in the water.” I forced a grin from under my absurdly large brim.Dad nodded as he lifted me in his arms and carried me to shore. “You need to get your suit on and we have to set up camp first.”“I have my suit on.” I showed him, pulling my shirt up with a thin hand.He chuckled. “We have to get things set up before it gets too dark though, Britt.”“Can I just sit in it up to my waist?” I pleaded, glancing at the outlet and the water flowing over some nearby rocks.He stopped and turned to Mom who stood with her arms crossed, listening to our conversation. She opened her mouth to object but looked at my face and her expression faltered. She gave a resigned nod.“Yay.” I clapped as Dad set me down.Mom helped take off my shorts and top leaving the baggy one-piece to cover nothing anyone would want to see. Dad picked me up again, walked down the bank, and began to set me in before I stopped him.“Hey, I want to have some current flowing over me,” I protested. “Closer.”He glanced at me and then back to Mom. Sighing, he took another dozen steps or so closer to the small waterfalls. A light rumble reached my ears as the water struck rocks out of sight and felt the mist drift over us. A bigger fall lay just beyond these.The cold, fresh water made me shiver as he put me into a spot between two large rocks, worn smooth from centuries of moving water. I gasped and tensed until my body began to relax, acclimating to the temperature.him.He looked down, impatient, as I grinned up at“What?” “Is that enough?” “No, I want to sit a while.”“Britt, I need to set up camp.” “Who’s stopping you?” “I can’t leave you alone.” His eyes were wide andanxious. “I won’t be. You and Mom are only a few feetaway, I’ll be fine.” He stared at me, cocking an eyebrow and crossinghis arms over his chest. “Go on, I’ll be fine,” I reassured him. His eyes narrowed as he leaned his head to oneside and frowned. Without another word he walked back to camp, looking over his shoulder every few steps, making sure I wasn’t going to slip off somewhere.The funny thing is...that’s exactly what I planned. The four years of treatment, the endless hours in a hospital bed; I wouldn’t allow any more. I would slide myself into the current and let the water take me away from here, from this world filled with nothing but pain and suffering. The decision didn’t come easy. My parents were wonderful, my friends, the ones that stuck by me, very supportive. I would miss them all, but to watch their eyes cloud with sympathy and sorrow as I became a hollow shell was something I didn’t want to put any of us through. Not anymore.I glanced over my shoulder at the camp. Mom was setting up the tent with Dad. I waved at her, putting on the smile I learned to use when she needed to feel better. If they knew my plan, of course they’d try to stop me. What parent wouldn’t?She waved and turned back to the tent and my smile melted away.Inching my butt forward, closer to the current tickling at my toes and ankles, I slid down further, pushing off from the smooth boulders. My suit hitched up, but I didn’t care about a wedgy before floating to my death. I grinned at the thought. After all those months in a hospital bed, sliding down as my underwear crept up wasn’t even a worry. It ended today, now.Stealing another look at the campsite revealed them collecting firewood around the edge of the camp’s clearing. Their backs to me, I took my chance.I thought it would feel different, somehow, when my body floated off the rock. The panic I feared would seize me at that moment didn’t come. The urgency to reach this point melted away. I leaned back, my head rested in the water. An eagle drifted above me gliding on air currents while it searched the water for fish, captivating me with its elegance and majesty. I’d forgotten the beauty of this place. For the first time in over a year, I felt my world around me, caressing me, stimulating my senses which had gone stale and making me feel...alive.A rush of fear gripped me. What was I thinking? I wanted to live, I wasn’t a quitter. I wanted to fight until I couldn’t fight anymore. But the realization that my choice in the matter was gone hit me as I slid into the current, my head above water for a split second before the sounds went muffled. My silly hat with the big brim pulled away from my hairless head.I expected them to try and reach me, hoping they would be too late. Now, I prayed that they would come. Paddling with all the strength in my atrophied muscles, I fought the current. It tugged, hard, and carried me away.Mom screamed and Dad shouted right as a loud splash hit the water upstream.I opened my eyes in the hazy water as a dark shape darted past, too late to catch me. I hit something hard and was airborne, the sound of the falls rumbling in my ears. The feeling was like nothing I’d experienced before. The air and the water mixed to frothy foam and then I plunged underwater again, the sounds going muffled. My body hit the rocks and debris at the bottom of the falls, jarring me and forcing the warm air from my lungs to be replaced by cold, crisp lake water. Spinning over and over I lost my sense of up and down as the churning water kept me lurching from side to side. My head throbbed and my lungs bucked. The water pulled me along and soon black spots filled my vision. The spots spread until the blackness enveloped everything. Then, the pain was over and the next stage of my existence, if any, began.

C.S. Yelle was born and raised in Grand Rapids, MN, the “almost” middle child of six.  He attended Grand Rapids Senior High School where he enjoyed music and sports.  He received his BS in Chemistry from Mayville State University, Mayville, ND in 1987.  He taught 7-12 Science and coached for six years in several North Dakota schools and currently works as an Executive Account Manager in the Water Treatment Industry where he has been for over eighteen years.  He is the father of four and grandfather of one.  He writes novels, screenplays, and an occasional short story.  He has been writing seriously for over 15 years and plans to continue until his fingers are unable, maybe longer.  He currently resides in a Minneapolis, MN suburb with his wife Jennifer.
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Love You More Blog Tour @mlstephenswrite

Title: Love You MoreAuthor: M.L. Stephens Genre: New Adult Paranormal, Romance, SuspenseTour Host: Lady Amber's Tours


[image error] In life she found love, but can she hold on to it in death?Her life was fabulous, until she was murdered, but now she knows. There are only two things in a person's existence that truly matter—before and after. This is Jade's after.
Caught in a realm between life and death, Jade is torn between the unexpected love of a stranger, catching the people who killed her, or remaining true to the man she was meant to marry.
With the clock ticking, she struggles to find a way to save the life of her best friend, while deciding which man will claim her heart. One wrong decision could leave her stranded in limbo for all of eternity.

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EXCERPT
If I wasn't so involved in my own traumatic state of depression, I'd be grateful that Chad had stuck around. I'd tried running him off, but he was a real trooper—lucky me. His upbeat mood and constant optimism was enough to make me sick. I wanted to pull a Houdini and disappear for life. Well, maybe not for life, I thought, but for a while."Rise and shine, Claire. Today is all about unicorns and rainbows!" Chad's voice filtered in from the other side of the door."What did you say?" I asked, glaring at the door as I bolted up in my mess of a bed.He strolled in wearing a brilliant smile. "I said that today is all about unicorns and…"Holding my hand up, I cut him off before he could finish. "I know. I know. But why did you say it?""I don't know. It just came to me.""Have you used that expression before?"Looking mystified, Chad shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think so, but if it's a big deal…""It is a big deal! Don't ever use that phrase again!" I yelled. "Unicorns, rainbows, and fairies were reserved for me and Jade. You don't get to use those. No one gets to use those!" There weren't enough tears left for me to shed. My well of misery was dry.Crossing his arms, he pondered the situation. "Ok, Let's try this again." He left the room, shutting the door on his way out."Thank you!" I shouted, throwing myself back against the mattress. More feathers floated up around me. I watched as they glided down. Just before they landed, another knock jolted me up."What?" I was not amused.Chad burst into the room with a blanket tied around his neck. The length of it cascaded toward the floor and stopped just behind his knees. With a broom in his hand, he thrust it forward as if it were a sword. "Rise and shine, Claire! Today is all about Prince Charming and frogs!"I would have to be dead not to find the humor in that, I reasoned. Laughter ripped out of my chest, filling the space around us. Chad had the uncanny ability to turn any situation into an award winning masterpiece. The days of pain slid away as unexpected laughter took its place. The dried up tears that had stained my face, became tears of joy. I laughed until my ribs hurt. I laughed until I couldn't breathe. I laughed away my grief, my losses and my selfish depression. When I finally gained control of the uncontrollable cackles, all I could do was stare at the man in the makeshift cape and broom sword who had saved me from the cavernous ravages of hopelessness. He'd been saving me since we'd met.

I'm always clicking away at the keyboard, but when I'm not, my family, two dogs, and a very peculiar cat keep me on my toes! There's never a boring moment at my desk! Besides my obvious love for coffee and all things caffeinated, I love to travel. The occasional tourist stop is fun, but I'm a back road kind of gal. Take me off the beaten path. I want to meet the ordinary people behind the culture. My crazy family includes a husband, four kids, two grandbabies, two dogs, and a cat. That's right! Life is totally insane! Now you understand why I write!Speaking of writing, I've been spinning stories around the campfire, since I can remember. Poetry was second nature, and as a teen and young adult, short stories were constantly being penned. I'm an avid reader, who loves almost all genres. Let's face it! A good read is a good read, regardless of whether it takes place in the future, the past, or with ghosts.

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Gravity Cover Reveal @DannikaDark #GravityMageri4

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OH MY GAWD! I have no other way of expressing how excited I am right now excepter with OH MY GAWD and SQUEEEEEEEEEEEE (serious fan girl squealing going on over here). Yes, it's true that I'm a published author as well as a book blogger, but I think every author is a fan of someone as well. Dannika Dark very quickly became one of my top three favorite authors when I got my hands on Sterling and Twist close to a year ago. Ever since I came across her books, I've been the camp in the back yard with five pairs of binoculars kind of fan. Okay, maybe not that extreme, but you get the picture. 
Alright, enough of my rambling. HERE IT IS! The cover to Mageri book #4, GRAVITY!!!! I'll be one of the hundreds waiting up all night clicking the refresh button until this one goes live next month! (PSST! Be sure to read the teaser! YUM!!!)

He twirled a lock of my dark hair between his fingers, bringing the soft tendril to his nose as he drew in a deep breath.“Do I still smell like lemon cake?” I asked. My fingers wandered along the tight muscles on his arms, sliding underneath the sleeves of his light grey T-shirt.He suddenly crouched low and ran his nose along the length of my body—close and inviting. God, I loved it when he did that.Smelled me.What a strange thing to love about a man. The gesture felt erotic and the tiny hairs on my arms would stand up. With each inhale, his soft purr rumbled and I pulled his face close to mine, planting a soft kiss on his warm cheek. He caged me with arms that had once climbed a thirty-foot tree with blinding speed to rescue me—his agile body leaping from branch to branch as he held me tightly to him.“Put your mouth on mine, Little Raven. I’m ready for a taste of lemon cake,” he said in a deep and tumbling voice.“Maybe I’m not so sweet,” I whispered, wetting my lower lip with a sweep of my tongue.Logan’s eyes followed every movement, and he licked his lips in response. “I want your mouth… on my mouth. Do it, or else I’ll have to find something else to kiss.”


[image error] Down in Texas, there's a woman who drinks copious amounts of vitamin water placed precariously close to her laptop. Yeah, I know. I've got a drinking problem. Hi, I'm Danni.
When I'm not writing (which is all the time), I'm listening to obscure music, watching movies, reading, discovering new ways to humiliate myself bowling, and burning up my laptop battery on the internet. I live with a cat who thinks she is a dog, or a goat (she eats plastic, so I'm not sure which).
Some people count sheep when they have insomnia. Since I was little, I used to make up stories in my head in a futile attempt to bore myself to sleep. The problem was, I'd get so wrapped up in my "head stories" that I would continue them through the following nights, changing it up each time to make it more exciting. Eventually, I started writing my ideas down more and more, creating short stories which evolved into poetry.
Lots and lots of poetry. It's almost embarrassing that I have an entire box loaded with spiral notebooks filled with furious, heartfelt, and blushing words. Apparently, I had a lot to say.
Another one of my hobbies is digital art. I designed all my book covers.
I am finally doing what I have always wanted to: giving my characters a pulse through publishing. I write adult urban fantasy romance, but I don't like labels. I let the story tell itself, and color outside the lines. I am not a YA author, but I think it’s pretty great that there are so many books available to teens in Urban Fantasy and Paranormal. These are the future readers!
The work that goes behind self publishing is hard work, I won't lie. On top of my regular day job: I write, edit, format, create cover art, and market.
But it's what I love to do, and someday, I'm going to be doing this full time.


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BOOKS IN THE MAGERI SERIES

Sterling (Mageri Series, #1) Zoë Merrick lived a less than ordinary life, until late one night, she was brutally attacked and left for dead.

A man named Adam spotted her running down the road covered in blood, and took her under his wing. Zoë didn't just survive that night - she underwent a physical transformation and acquired strange new abilities. Severed from her old life, her frustration grows as she tries to comprehend what's happening to her.

Serendipity leads her to Justus. He's handsome, arrogant, and not entirely human. Zoë learns the truth about what she is, and just how dangerous their world is for a young Mage. The only way she will understand her power is by putting her trust in this man, and accepting the protection he offers.

When her immortal freedom is threatened by the one man who has a right to claim her, Zoë learns the price of freedom...and the value of loyalty. 
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Twist (Mageri Series, #2) Months after moving to the mysterious city of Cognito, Silver is developing her gifts as a Mage, and learning how to live under new laws. Forced to give up her old life, she must now live in secret among the humans. She finally has hope of leading an ordinary life . . . until Logan Cross walks into it.

Their chance meeting leads her close to discovering the identity of the nameless Mage who once stole her light and discovered the unique power she possesses. That knowledge poses an unimaginable threat to Silver, fueling her search to find out who he is, before he finds her first.

Lives are at stake. Truths are revealed. And an unexpected passion ignites.



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Impulse (Mageri Series, #3) Almost one year ago, a Mage attacked Silver and changed the course of her destiny.
Immortals exist, and now she is one of them.

Within the dark and supernatural city of Cognito, Silver is living under the watchful eye of her Ghuardian and dating her mortal enemy. Neither man can protect her from a dark secret, one buried within the contents of a box. As rival factions struggle to gain control, she finds herself in the middle of a centuries-old feud that threatens to drive a wedge between her and Logan Cross, the man who intends to seduce her.

In an explosive turn of events, one life is saved and another is forever altered. Can Silver trust those around her, or are they hiding a dark secret of their own?


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If you've never read this series, YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE MISSING!!! It's a 5 star series all the way. GO GRAB YOUR COPIES NOW!!!



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