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Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: The Beast by A.R. Davis @writerardavis @sparklebooktour

  PRESENTED BY  
Title: The Beast
Author: A.R. Davis
Audience: Young Adult   
Genre: Fantasy
Format: E-book and Paperback
Publisher: Alice Davis
Cover by: Joseph Bradley
Editor: Kathrin DePue
Pages: 438
ISBN: 1514781743
ASIN: B010QVQ9RA
Date Published: 7/7/2015
 
 









  The citizens of Leola live in fear of the dense, dark forest that borders their town. Men disappear into the brush or are found dismembered as if they were attacked by a rabid Beast. But fear of a different kind also breeds in the citizens of Leola. For Valerie Mason, starvation is worse than potentially disappearing. With her former guardsman father drowning his troubles in spirits, it’s up to Valerie to keep them afloat by any means necessary…even if it means breaking the law.   Young Aubrey, the future Lord of Leola, fears that once he dies, the pages of his personal history will be left blank. When he hears of the dangers threatening his town, he knows the only way ensure that he lives on in the memory of his people is to venture into the forest and defend it himself…even if it might cost him his life. Valerie and Young Aubrey must each breach the veil of trees again and again on their own quests. Will Valerie or Young Aubrey emerge victorious, or will they fall victim to their own demons and The Beast?          AMAZON / GOODREADS    
Chapter 1

Valerie Mason emerged from the relative quiet of the forest and stepped back into the town of Leola just as the sun peaked above the buildings. She carried a bag of two dead rabbits whose blood was seeping through the bottom. She wrapped her arms around the bundle and walked as quickly and inconspicuously as she could, though the obvious tears around the skirt of her dress made it hard for her to blend in with the crowd. The hunters would not appreciate her encroaching on their territory again. She had been scolded a few times. The last time, they had taken her cargo away from her. She could not afford to have that happen again.
On her way to the marketplace, she passed the pub her father frequented. Valerie wondered if her father was in there now. She had half a mind to go look, but it would only delay her and it was quite useless otherwise. Last night, her father had returned home with a black eye and shards of glass embedded in his arm. With their combined salary, they were able to cover most of the doctor’s expenses. Whenever Valerie had any doubts about the necessity of her going into the forest to steal, she was reminded of the reason she had to continue with this dirty business. If Valerie refused to steal meat from the hunters’ traps, they would have had to choose between rent and supper—or doctor’s visits and rent and supper. Was it so wrong with the fact that she did not want them to starve?
Her father was, of course, apologetic as always, and as always, she forgave him before the words were even out of his mouth. It was easier for Valerie to forgive than to be angry with him. After all, he was all she had left, and she could not lose him, even if sometimes it felt like he was determined to be lost. Her father assured her that the other man struck first. The childish part of Valerie wanted to ask, “But why did you have to strike back?”
Valerie turned sixteen the previous spring, and she was too old to ask such naïve questions. She was of age to be considered for marriage, but there were no suitors lining up at her door, not that Valerie was interested in such things. She was only thinking about her father. Although, if she married, it might be easier to take care of him.
The town of Leola was drinking in the remains of late-summer. Women hung their laundry out the window, on the line between buildings. Wet slopping sounds of waste being tossed down into the alleyways could be heard as it spilled down the cobble-stone streets toward the main road. Lord Aubrey’s guardsmen marched in a unified line carrying rifles, their metal armor winking in the sunlight. Several passersby waved hello to Valerie, and she waved back cautiously. Children ran breathlessly as they chased each other, their laughter ringing in the air and mixing with the incoherent shouts of stall owners. Horses clopped lazily along pulling their carriages with heads bowed low as though they feared to make eye contact with beings around them. The aromas of waste, horse hide, and baking bread created a strange concoction in the air. All of this blended together to form the smell of the town that Valerie knew best.
She stopped in front of the tailor’s display window. The tailor himself was arranging a beautiful emerald gown for all of Leola to see. There was already a group of girls standing in front of the window, pointing, giggling, and gossiping. Valerie took a moment to imagine herself in that gown. Maybe she would join the girls in their gossip. Maybe she would be invited to one of Lord Aubrey’s parties, and he would be so impressed by her wit and charm that he would give her enough money to take care of her father forever.
The weight of the dead rabbits was enough to snap her out of her momentary daydream. No lady could carry such cargo and still be considered lovely or charming or witty. Valerie thought she had completely rid herself of such fantasies, but they kept finding her as though she was engaging them in an endless game of hide and seek.
A severely strict looking woman, who wore her hair in a bun so tight that it appeared to pull her face up toward her ears, was just turning the sign from Closed to Open on the front door of the bookshop. Valerie waited patiently for Mrs. Lind to finish arranging the books in front of the display window before walking inside.
The bell rang when Valerie pushed the door open. Mrs. Lind promptly swiveled around wearing a scarily forced smile and folded her hands in front of her. Her voice rose to an unnaturally high pitch.
“Wel –” she said before dropping three octaves into a low, disappointed tone. “Oh. It’s you”—her substitute for “Good morning.”
Altogether, it wasn’t said unkindly, though anyone else might have taken offense. Valerie simply shrugged it off.
Mrs. Lind snatched the bag away from Valerie. She made a face like something smelled rotten. “Did anyone see you?”
“No, ma’am.” If they did, you would already know, Valerie thought. It was best to keep such comments to herself. She didn’t want to argue with Mrs. Lind and lose her job. Even though she was only allowed to clean the shop and alphabetize the books, Valerie enjoyed it. There was something about being quiet in a room where hundreds of stories were at her fingertips. It was the only place where Valerie felt she was in control of anything.
“If they catch you, I’ll have to fire you. And I’ll pretend I knew nothing.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Lind sniffed. “Is that all you can say to me?” She imitated Valerie’s tone, “Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am. Are you a machine?”
Valerie didn’t know how else to respond to that question. “No, ma’am.” Though some days, she did feel like a machine. This was one of those days.
Mrs. Lind sighed with a hint of pity and stored the bag in a safe place where the rabbits would take longer to rot. Then she returned to Valerie, touting.
“What on earth are we going to do with you, child?” Mrs. Lind asked as she pinched Valerie’s torn skirt. “If your father finds out about this, he’ll have my head!”
Valerie wondered what Mrs. Lind would say if she told her that not only did her father already know but that he had given her a knife for her birthday. “If you’re going to disobey me,” he said, “you may as well defend yourself while you do so.” Valerie had only ever used it to finish what the traps started.
Mrs. Lind continued to fret over Valerie and Valerie let her because, in a way, it was nice to be the subject of someone else’s worry, rather than the worrier, for a change.
“If you leave this with me tomorrow, I can probably fix it,” Mrs. Lind said about the sleeve of Valerie’s dress, “I can’t make any promises, however.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Valerie said.
“Yes, yes. You can keep your thanks. I’d rather you show your gratitude by stopping this nonsense altogether.”
Mrs. Lind narrowed her eyes at Valerie as though waiting for her to promise that she would do just that. But Valerie couldn’t, and, frankly, Mrs. Lind knew that too.
After a moment of silence between them, Mrs. Lind said, “Can you please re-alphabetize the adventure stories? And when you’re done, dust the top of the shelves.”
“Yes –”
“If you finish saying what I think you’re going to say, so help me, I will do what your father refuses to.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Valerie said under her breath.
Mrs. Lind resigned to the counter while Valerie started her work. Children were their most frequent patrons, and sometimes they would leave sections in disarray. They loved holding the books in their hands and looking at the pictures. Some of them couldn’t quite make out the words. Sometimes Valerie would read to them. She liked watching their eyes widen in wonder. It reminded her of when she was a little girl; she used to stay up late to listen to her father’s stories, especially the one about the Beast. That was always her favorite.
Valerie could appreciate the adventures of dreaded pirates and Greek heroes, but her favorite genre was romance. There were rarely any female characters in adventure stories, and most of them were spoken of rather than seen. In the romance books, the ladies were sometimes permitted to follow the hero wherever he went. There was a sort of magic to them; no matter what dire situations the couples were plagued with, they always succeeded and ended up together. Valerie once thought her parents would make great characters in a romance novel. Her father was utterly mad about her mother, and her death was almost too much for him to bear. Coupled with what happened to him during the war, Valerie could almost understand why he turned to drinking and fighting. In a way, reading those books was Valerie’s “drink.” When she read about heroines like Caroline and Cynthia and Emily, she found herself stepping into their shoes, becoming mysterious, sweet, and desirable all at once. Sometimes, when she looked at herself in the mirror, she would recall her favorite lines and pretend she was wearing those pretty dresses in the window of the tailor’s shop. And the heroes they met weren’t half bad, either. Saxon and Daniel and Gregory: she could see herself spending time with them if they were real.
What she could live without was the stupid dialogue between the characters, the proclamations of everlasting love. Love was not everlasting.
Her mother’s death had taught her that much.
Mrs. Lind promptly closed shop when the clock tower began to ring the four o’clock hour. She gave Valerie a wary glance as she held up the bag of dead rabbits, as though she was deciding whether or not to give it back and whether doing so would be an act of encouragement. It spoke volumes that Mrs. Lind handed over Valerie’s pay before she handed over the rabbits. In the end, she gave them to Valerie without much fuss.
“Until tomorrow,” she said.
Valerie wished her a good evening (adding a “ma’am” at the end for good measure) and proceeded down the lane to her house. The buildings along her street reminded her of crooked teeth in a grey mouth. They certainly weren’t as nice as the buildings near Aubrey Manor. The manor rested on the tallest hill in Leola, and Valerie saw it as a white eye staring down at the rest of the town. Valerie had only ever seen Lord Aubrey once when he dismissed her father from the guardsmen’s service. She barely remembered him. She supposed she should hate Lord Aubrey—that she should blame him for everything her father went through—but being angry at him was like being angry at the wall. There were more important matters that required her energy, such as making it home in time to make a good rabbit stew and whether or not her father would be home on time to enjoy it.
She entered her house to see her father sitting at the dining table as though he had been waiting for her for quite some time. He undoubtedly still felt guilty about last night. He meant well. He always did.
Valerie resembled her father more than her mother. She had his dark brown eyes and long, lanky frame. She did not have her father’s scarred, leathery skin and the despair he often wore like a branding mark. War left him to deal with ghosts and a bad leg. When her mother was alive, her father smiled all the time. When she reminded her father of that now, he replied, “Now I save all my best smiles for you.”
Her father was offering his best smile now. He greeted her with an embrace and a kiss to the top of her head. “Did you have a good day at the shop?” he asked. He glanced down at the bag in her hand and then quickly looked away as though he could not bear to see it.
“Yes, Papa. Did you have a good day at the smith’s?”
Her father worked at the gunsmith near the edge of upper-Leola. He helped make guns for Lord Aubrey’s men.
“It was tolerable,” her father said. “Everyone is stressed about the deadline. It seems nobody is ready for Lord Aubrey’s son to take the seat.”
Valerie set the dead rabbits on the counter. “I’m sure you will make it. You always do.”
Her father stood at the dining table. Valerie could feel his eyes on her back.
“Did you have many customers?” he asked.
“A few. They came in sparingly.”
“That is unfortunate. Did you bring anything to read?”
“A Saxon Matthews book.” Saxon Matthews was a romance series that Valerie loved. She sometimes read them to her father while he sat in his chair and smoked his pipe. He’d say, “Now there’s a man I’d want to see you with,” at her description of the series hero.
“Ah. I wonder what he’s up to this time.”
“Well, we’ll see after supper.”
Valerie succeeded in removing the heads and began skinning the bodies. The smell of blood was potent.
“Did you hear about Mr. Randall?” her father asked.
Valerie sighed. She did not know Mr. Randall, but she was certain she knew what happened to him. “No, I did not.”
“He’s gone missing—has been gone for several days now.”
Valerie had heard such stories of people vanishing in the forest. At first, she thought they were tales to warn children against going in and getting lost under the dense crown of trees. However, a few days after her birthday, Mrs. Knott’s son left to get married and was never heard from again. Disappearing was a frightening prospect, but to Valerie, starvation was worse.
“That is unfortunate, Papa.”
“It’s been happening quite a lot recently—more people missing every day. I hear Lord Aubrey is considering sending his men into the forest to investigate.”
“Hmm.”
“The guards might catch you stealing.”
If they do, I’ll act like I’m thick in the head, Valerie thought. That’s what got her out of most similar situations. I don’t know any better, sirs. I was just trying to help the poor animal.
“Or you might be…”
Valerie turned to face her father. His hand was on his mouth as though he couldn’t bear to say the word.
“You know I don’t mean to keep…” His shoulders slumped over in defeat.
“I know,” Valerie said softly.
“Things are going to get better,” he continued. “I’m not going to keep forcing you to put yourself in danger. I’m going to get better. I’m going to be a better father.”
“Papa –”
He held up his hand. “Don’t. I’m supposed to keep us together. If I can’t fulfill that duty, then I am less than a man.”
Valerie walked over to him and embraced him as tight as she could. She had heard those words before. Their effect had dulled over time, but she could never stop loving her father.
He meant well.
He always did.



    A.R. DAVIS first picked up writing at age six after getting annoyed that the characters weren't right in a Donkey Kong Country novelization. She loved it so much that she went on to graduate with a BFA in Creative Writing at UNCW. Visit her site: http://pencilprofessional.com/ to learn more and connect.       WEBSITE / FACEBOOK / TWITTER / GOODREADS / AMAZON      
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Character Name: Valerie Mason

Character Bio:

Age: 17 years old at the time of this interview
Town of Birth: Leola
Known Whereabouts: Unknown
Parents: Deceased
Hair color: Brown
Eye color: Hazel
(This is the last known interview Ms. Mason was willing to give. As you can see, she offers no explanation of where she had been for the last year. We know she was living with someone and was possibly involved romantically, though she denies it. She was found by a group of Lord Aubrey’s men, and it is speculated that she had been wandering in the woods for several days. She had been held at the Aubrey estate for about three weeks. During the time of the execution, she had escaped. No one has seen or heard from her since.)

 

Describe yourself what is your worst and best quality?

I think my best quality is my perseverance. Even when things get rough, I try to keep going. I do my best to care for others, even setting aside what I want because I don’t want to be selfish. And I always try to see the good in people. My father killed many in the war, but I still think he’s a good man.

My worst quality would have to be that I care too much sometimes. It sort of . . . well, it didn’t go well for me. That’s all I’ll say.

What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?

I wish other people knew about my life before . . . well . . . before everything happened. After I lost everything. Most people look at me with pity now. But all that, I was normal and happy and relatively unknown. I wish I could go back to that time.

What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?

It’s . . . I . . . I don’t know if I want to talk about it, yet. It’s still raw for me. All I will say is that I did the best I could. I only wanted to be happy, and I wanted to be selfish. And I thought that, if I could just keep pretending, I could stay there.

Was that really so wrong of me?

What are you most afraid of?

I’m afraid of the future. I’m honestly not sure what’s going to happen to me now. I’ve had this worry ever since my mother died, and I don’t know if it will ever go away. But I have to keep going, right? I have to see things through, even if I’d rather just stay in bed sometimes.

What do you want more than anything?

I just want to be happy and live a good, full life. I want to see the world and stop being so ignorant of the things I don’t know.

What is your relationship status?

. . .

It’s over. Though, I suppose it never really started. I think he loved me. And I think I wanted him to. But maybe that was all a lie.

Sorry, I’m rambling.

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

I wear whatever is convenient and whatever I can afford.

How much of a rebel are you?

More than I’d like to admit, I suppose. I didn’t exactly follow the normal society rules when I agreed – I mean, after I agreed. I didn’t exactly agree the first time – to live with him. But maybe that isn’t exactly rebellious.

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?

I don’t think I’ve quite gotten there yet. Wouldn’t it be sad if the greatest thing I was ever going to do happened right now? Then what would I have to look forward to? Right now, I live my life. I’m trying to figure out what I’m moving towards.

What is your idea of happiness?

Getting on a ship and traveling the world. Also reading all of the Saxon Matthew books in existence. You haven’t heard of it? You can borrow one of mine. But only borrow. I would like to have that back.

What is your current state of mind?

I have a lot of regret. And I think . . . I think I miss him. Is that strange? How could someone like that be the most important person in my life? And yet that’s how it is. Sometimes I wonder if he even thinks of me.

Probably not. It’s not like I really meant anything to him.

What is your most treasured possession?

The figurine of The Beast. It was the only real possession my father owned. That, and the book I’m going to let you borrow.

How did I get it?

You’ll have to ask him.

What is your most marked characteristic?

I have my mother’s hair. It’s curly to the point of being unruly. It doesn’t matter how many times I brush it; it still insists on poofing out like a little brown cloud.

What is it that you most dislike?

Dishonesty. People keeping me against my will. People thinking they know what I want in my life. People not telling me how they feel.

Which living person do you most despise?

Are you really asking me that? After all I’ve told you? I would think it would be obvious.

You can miss and hate someone. Feelings are complicated. They don’t have to be neatly categorized like books.

It’s funny because if you had asked me before all this, I would have said my father. Sometimes I blame him just as much as myself. But he’s gone. Has been for a while. It wouldn’t be fair of me.

What is your greatest regret?

That I wasn’t there for my father when he needed me most.

What is the quality you most like in a man?

I . . . uh, I don’t know. Honesty. He has to like reading, at least. He has to be kind. Understanding. Do you think you could be my type? Or does my past disarm you?

You don’t have to answer that. I was only kidding with you.

Here’s a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off your brow.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?

I like your way of forward thinking! I’ve never actually thought about being with a woman. I suppose I would value the same qualities as I do in a man. It all depends on if I would be ready for a relationship with either. If I could rid myself of my lingering feelings, it would be easier.

No, I never said I loved him. I said I missed him. There’s a distinction.

Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

Saxon Matthews. I hear there might be a new book soon.

Which living person do you most admire?

Captain Jonasson. He is a good, honest man. I appreciated what he’s done for me while I’m here.

What is your motto?

“It is better to travel well than to arrive.” –Buddha

Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: The Beast by A.R. Davis @writerardavis @sparklebooktour

  PRESENTED BY  
Title: The Beast
Author: A.R. Davis
Audience: Young Adult   
Genre: Fantasy
Format: E-book and Paperback
Publisher: Alice Davis
Cover by: Joseph Bradley
Editor: Kathrin DePue
Pages: 438
ISBN: 1514781743
ASIN: B010QVQ9RA
Date Published: 7/7/2015
 
 









  The citizens of Leola live in fear of the dense, dark forest that borders their town. Men disappear into the brush or are found dismembered as if they were attacked by a rabid Beast. But fear of a different kind also breeds in the citizens of Leola. For Valerie Mason, starvation is worse than potentially disappearing. With her former guardsman father drowning his troubles in spirits, it’s up to Valerie to keep them afloat by any means necessary…even if it means breaking the law.   Young Aubrey, the future Lord of Leola, fears that once he dies, the pages of his personal history will be left blank. When he hears of the dangers threatening his town, he knows the only way ensure that he lives on in the memory of his people is to venture into the forest and defend it himself…even if it might cost him his life. Valerie and Young Aubrey must each breach the veil of trees again and again on their own quests. Will Valerie or Young Aubrey emerge victorious, or will they fall victim to their own demons and The Beast?          AMAZON / GOODREADS    
Chapter 1

Valerie Mason emerged from the relative quiet of the forest and stepped back into the town of Leola just as the sun peaked above the buildings. She carried a bag of two dead rabbits whose blood was seeping through the bottom. She wrapped her arms around the bundle and walked as quickly and inconspicuously as she could, though the obvious tears around the skirt of her dress made it hard for her to blend in with the crowd. The hunters would not appreciate her encroaching on their territory again. She had been scolded a few times. The last time, they had taken her cargo away from her. She could not afford to have that happen again.
On her way to the marketplace, she passed the pub her father frequented. Valerie wondered if her father was in there now. She had half a mind to go look, but it would only delay her and it was quite useless otherwise. Last night, her father had returned home with a black eye and shards of glass embedded in his arm. With their combined salary, they were able to cover most of the doctor’s expenses. Whenever Valerie had any doubts about the necessity of her going into the forest to steal, she was reminded of the reason she had to continue with this dirty business. If Valerie refused to steal meat from the hunters’ traps, they would have had to choose between rent and supper—or doctor’s visits and rent and supper. Was it so wrong with the fact that she did not want them to starve?
Her father was, of course, apologetic as always, and as always, she forgave him before the words were even out of his mouth. It was easier for Valerie to forgive than to be angry with him. After all, he was all she had left, and she could not lose him, even if sometimes it felt like he was determined to be lost. Her father assured her that the other man struck first. The childish part of Valerie wanted to ask, “But why did you have to strike back?”
Valerie turned sixteen the previous spring, and she was too old to ask such naïve questions. She was of age to be considered for marriage, but there were no suitors lining up at her door, not that Valerie was interested in such things. She was only thinking about her father. Although, if she married, it might be easier to take care of him.
The town of Leola was drinking in the remains of late-summer. Women hung their laundry out the window, on the line between buildings. Wet slopping sounds of waste being tossed down into the alleyways could be heard as it spilled down the cobble-stone streets toward the main road. Lord Aubrey’s guardsmen marched in a unified line carrying rifles, their metal armor winking in the sunlight. Several passersby waved hello to Valerie, and she waved back cautiously. Children ran breathlessly as they chased each other, their laughter ringing in the air and mixing with the incoherent shouts of stall owners. Horses clopped lazily along pulling their carriages with heads bowed low as though they feared to make eye contact with beings around them. The aromas of waste, horse hide, and baking bread created a strange concoction in the air. All of this blended together to form the smell of the town that Valerie knew best.
She stopped in front of the tailor’s display window. The tailor himself was arranging a beautiful emerald gown for all of Leola to see. There was already a group of girls standing in front of the window, pointing, giggling, and gossiping. Valerie took a moment to imagine herself in that gown. Maybe she would join the girls in their gossip. Maybe she would be invited to one of Lord Aubrey’s parties, and he would be so impressed by her wit and charm that he would give her enough money to take care of her father forever.
The weight of the dead rabbits was enough to snap her out of her momentary daydream. No lady could carry such cargo and still be considered lovely or charming or witty. Valerie thought she had completely rid herself of such fantasies, but they kept finding her as though she was engaging them in an endless game of hide and seek.
A severely strict looking woman, who wore her hair in a bun so tight that it appeared to pull her face up toward her ears, was just turning the sign from Closed to Open on the front door of the bookshop. Valerie waited patiently for Mrs. Lind to finish arranging the books in front of the display window before walking inside.
The bell rang when Valerie pushed the door open. Mrs. Lind promptly swiveled around wearing a scarily forced smile and folded her hands in front of her. Her voice rose to an unnaturally high pitch.
“Wel –” she said before dropping three octaves into a low, disappointed tone. “Oh. It’s you”—her substitute for “Good morning.”
Altogether, it wasn’t said unkindly, though anyone else might have taken offense. Valerie simply shrugged it off.
Mrs. Lind snatched the bag away from Valerie. She made a face like something smelled rotten. “Did anyone see you?”
“No, ma’am.” If they did, you would already know, Valerie thought. It was best to keep such comments to herself. She didn’t want to argue with Mrs. Lind and lose her job. Even though she was only allowed to clean the shop and alphabetize the books, Valerie enjoyed it. There was something about being quiet in a room where hundreds of stories were at her fingertips. It was the only place where Valerie felt she was in control of anything.
“If they catch you, I’ll have to fire you. And I’ll pretend I knew nothing.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Lind sniffed. “Is that all you can say to me?” She imitated Valerie’s tone, “Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am. Are you a machine?”
Valerie didn’t know how else to respond to that question. “No, ma’am.” Though some days, she did feel like a machine. This was one of those days.
Mrs. Lind sighed with a hint of pity and stored the bag in a safe place where the rabbits would take longer to rot. Then she returned to Valerie, touting.
“What on earth are we going to do with you, child?” Mrs. Lind asked as she pinched Valerie’s torn skirt. “If your father finds out about this, he’ll have my head!”
Valerie wondered what Mrs. Lind would say if she told her that not only did her father already know but that he had given her a knife for her birthday. “If you’re going to disobey me,” he said, “you may as well defend yourself while you do so.” Valerie had only ever used it to finish what the traps started.
Mrs. Lind continued to fret over Valerie and Valerie let her because, in a way, it was nice to be the subject of someone else’s worry, rather than the worrier, for a change.
“If you leave this with me tomorrow, I can probably fix it,” Mrs. Lind said about the sleeve of Valerie’s dress, “I can’t make any promises, however.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Valerie said.
“Yes, yes. You can keep your thanks. I’d rather you show your gratitude by stopping this nonsense altogether.”
Mrs. Lind narrowed her eyes at Valerie as though waiting for her to promise that she would do just that. But Valerie couldn’t, and, frankly, Mrs. Lind knew that too.
After a moment of silence between them, Mrs. Lind said, “Can you please re-alphabetize the adventure stories? And when you’re done, dust the top of the shelves.”
“Yes –”
“If you finish saying what I think you’re going to say, so help me, I will do what your father refuses to.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Valerie said under her breath.
Mrs. Lind resigned to the counter while Valerie started her work. Children were their most frequent patrons, and sometimes they would leave sections in disarray. They loved holding the books in their hands and looking at the pictures. Some of them couldn’t quite make out the words. Sometimes Valerie would read to them. She liked watching their eyes widen in wonder. It reminded her of when she was a little girl; she used to stay up late to listen to her father’s stories, especially the one about the Beast. That was always her favorite.
Valerie could appreciate the adventures of dreaded pirates and Greek heroes, but her favorite genre was romance. There were rarely any female characters in adventure stories, and most of them were spoken of rather than seen. In the romance books, the ladies were sometimes permitted to follow the hero wherever he went. There was a sort of magic to them; no matter what dire situations the couples were plagued with, they always succeeded and ended up together. Valerie once thought her parents would make great characters in a romance novel. Her father was utterly mad about her mother, and her death was almost too much for him to bear. Coupled with what happened to him during the war, Valerie could almost understand why he turned to drinking and fighting. In a way, reading those books was Valerie’s “drink.” When she read about heroines like Caroline and Cynthia and Emily, she found herself stepping into their shoes, becoming mysterious, sweet, and desirable all at once. Sometimes, when she looked at herself in the mirror, she would recall her favorite lines and pretend she was wearing those pretty dresses in the window of the tailor’s shop. And the heroes they met weren’t half bad, either. Saxon and Daniel and Gregory: she could see herself spending time with them if they were real.
What she could live without was the stupid dialogue between the characters, the proclamations of everlasting love. Love was not everlasting.
Her mother’s death had taught her that much.
Mrs. Lind promptly closed shop when the clock tower began to ring the four o’clock hour. She gave Valerie a wary glance as she held up the bag of dead rabbits, as though she was deciding whether or not to give it back and whether doing so would be an act of encouragement. It spoke volumes that Mrs. Lind handed over Valerie’s pay before she handed over the rabbits. In the end, she gave them to Valerie without much fuss.
“Until tomorrow,” she said.
Valerie wished her a good evening (adding a “ma’am” at the end for good measure) and proceeded down the lane to her house. The buildings along her street reminded her of crooked teeth in a grey mouth. They certainly weren’t as nice as the buildings near Aubrey Manor. The manor rested on the tallest hill in Leola, and Valerie saw it as a white eye staring down at the rest of the town. Valerie had only ever seen Lord Aubrey once when he dismissed her father from the guardsmen’s service. She barely remembered him. She supposed she should hate Lord Aubrey—that she should blame him for everything her father went through—but being angry at him was like being angry at the wall. There were more important matters that required her energy, such as making it home in time to make a good rabbit stew and whether or not her father would be home on time to enjoy it.
She entered her house to see her father sitting at the dining table as though he had been waiting for her for quite some time. He undoubtedly still felt guilty about last night. He meant well. He always did.
Valerie resembled her father more than her mother. She had his dark brown eyes and long, lanky frame. She did not have her father’s scarred, leathery skin and the despair he often wore like a branding mark. War left him to deal with ghosts and a bad leg. When her mother was alive, her father smiled all the time. When she reminded her father of that now, he replied, “Now I save all my best smiles for you.”
Her father was offering his best smile now. He greeted her with an embrace and a kiss to the top of her head. “Did you have a good day at the shop?” he asked. He glanced down at the bag in her hand and then quickly looked away as though he could not bear to see it.
“Yes, Papa. Did you have a good day at the smith’s?”
Her father worked at the gunsmith near the edge of upper-Leola. He helped make guns for Lord Aubrey’s men.
“It was tolerable,” her father said. “Everyone is stressed about the deadline. It seems nobody is ready for Lord Aubrey’s son to take the seat.”
Valerie set the dead rabbits on the counter. “I’m sure you will make it. You always do.”
Her father stood at the dining table. Valerie could feel his eyes on her back.
“Did you have many customers?” he asked.
“A few. They came in sparingly.”
“That is unfortunate. Did you bring anything to read?”
“A Saxon Matthews book.” Saxon Matthews was a romance series that Valerie loved. She sometimes read them to her father while he sat in his chair and smoked his pipe. He’d say, “Now there’s a man I’d want to see you with,” at her description of the series hero.
“Ah. I wonder what he’s up to this time.”
“Well, we’ll see after supper.”
Valerie succeeded in removing the heads and began skinning the bodies. The smell of blood was potent.
“Did you hear about Mr. Randall?” her father asked.
Valerie sighed. She did not know Mr. Randall, but she was certain she knew what happened to him. “No, I did not.”
“He’s gone missing—has been gone for several days now.”
Valerie had heard such stories of people vanishing in the forest. At first, she thought they were tales to warn children against going in and getting lost under the dense crown of trees. However, a few days after her birthday, Mrs. Knott’s son left to get married and was never heard from again. Disappearing was a frightening prospect, but to Valerie, starvation was worse.
“That is unfortunate, Papa.”
“It’s been happening quite a lot recently—more people missing every day. I hear Lord Aubrey is considering sending his men into the forest to investigate.”
“Hmm.”
“The guards might catch you stealing.”
If they do, I’ll act like I’m thick in the head, Valerie thought. That’s what got her out of most similar situations. I don’t know any better, sirs. I was just trying to help the poor animal.
“Or you might be…”
Valerie turned to face her father. His hand was on his mouth as though he couldn’t bear to say the word.
“You know I don’t mean to keep…” His shoulders slumped over in defeat.
“I know,” Valerie said softly.
“Things are going to get better,” he continued. “I’m not going to keep forcing you to put yourself in danger. I’m going to get better. I’m going to be a better father.”
“Papa –”
He held up his hand. “Don’t. I’m supposed to keep us together. If I can’t fulfill that duty, then I am less than a man.”
Valerie walked over to him and embraced him as tight as she could. She had heard those words before. Their effect had dulled over time, but she could never stop loving her father.
He meant well.
He always did.



    A.R. DAVIS first picked up writing at age six after getting annoyed that the characters weren't right in a Donkey Kong Country novelization. She loved it so much that she went on to graduate with a BFA in Creative Writing at UNCW. Visit her site: http://pencilprofessional.com/ to learn more and connect.       WEBSITE / FACEBOOK / TWITTER / GOODREADS / AMAZON      
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Character Name: Valerie Mason

Character Bio:

Age: 17 years old at the time of this interview
Town of Birth: Leola
Known Whereabouts: Unknown
Parents: Deceased
Hair color: Brown
Eye color: Hazel
(This is the last known interview Ms. Mason was willing to give. As you can see, she offers no explanation of where she had been for the last year. We know she was living with someone and was possibly involved romantically, though she denies it. She was found by a group of Lord Aubrey’s men, and it is speculated that she had been wandering in the woods for several days. She had been held at the Aubrey estate for about three weeks. During the time of the execution, she had escaped. No one has seen or heard from her since.)

 

Describe yourself what is your worst and best quality?

I think my best quality is my perseverance. Even when things get rough, I try to keep going. I do my best to care for others, even setting aside what I want because I don’t want to be selfish. And I always try to see the good in people. My father killed many in the war, but I still think he’s a good man.

My worst quality would have to be that I care too much sometimes. It sort of . . . well, it didn’t go well for me. That’s all I’ll say.

What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?

I wish other people knew about my life before . . . well . . . before everything happened. After I lost everything. Most people look at me with pity now. But all that, I was normal and happy and relatively unknown. I wish I could go back to that time.

What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?

It’s . . . I . . . I don’t know if I want to talk about it, yet. It’s still raw for me. All I will say is that I did the best I could. I only wanted to be happy, and I wanted to be selfish. And I thought that, if I could just keep pretending, I could stay there.

Was that really so wrong of me?

What are you most afraid of?

I’m afraid of the future. I’m honestly not sure what’s going to happen to me now. I’ve had this worry ever since my mother died, and I don’t know if it will ever go away. But I have to keep going, right? I have to see things through, even if I’d rather just stay in bed sometimes.

What do you want more than anything?

I just want to be happy and live a good, full life. I want to see the world and stop being so ignorant of the things I don’t know.

What is your relationship status?

. . .

It’s over. Though, I suppose it never really started. I think he loved me. And I think I wanted him to. But maybe that was all a lie.

Sorry, I’m rambling.

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

I wear whatever is convenient and whatever I can afford.

How much of a rebel are you?

More than I’d like to admit, I suppose. I didn’t exactly follow the normal society rules when I agreed – I mean, after I agreed. I didn’t exactly agree the first time – to live with him. But maybe that isn’t exactly rebellious.

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?

I don’t think I’ve quite gotten there yet. Wouldn’t it be sad if the greatest thing I was ever going to do happened right now? Then what would I have to look forward to? Right now, I live my life. I’m trying to figure out what I’m moving towards.

What is your idea of happiness?

Getting on a ship and traveling the world. Also reading all of the Saxon Matthew books in existence. You haven’t heard of it? You can borrow one of mine. But only borrow. I would like to have that back.

What is your current state of mind?

I have a lot of regret. And I think . . . I think I miss him. Is that strange? How could someone like that be the most important person in my life? And yet that’s how it is. Sometimes I wonder if he even thinks of me.

Probably not. It’s not like I really meant anything to him.

What is your most treasured possession?

The figurine of The Beast. It was the only real possession my father owned. That, and the book I’m going to let you borrow.

How did I get it?

You’ll have to ask him.

What is your most marked characteristic?

I have my mother’s hair. It’s curly to the point of being unruly. It doesn’t matter how many times I brush it; it still insists on poofing out like a little brown cloud.

What is it that you most dislike?

Dishonesty. People keeping me against my will. People thinking they know what I want in my life. People not telling me how they feel.

Which living person do you most despise?

Are you really asking me that? After all I’ve told you? I would think it would be obvious.

You can miss and hate someone. Feelings are complicated. They don’t have to be neatly categorized like books.

It’s funny because if you had asked me before all this, I would have said my father. Sometimes I blame him just as much as myself. But he’s gone. Has been for a while. It wouldn’t be fair of me.

What is your greatest regret?

That I wasn’t there for my father when he needed me most.

What is the quality you most like in a man?

I . . . uh, I don’t know. Honesty. He has to like reading, at least. He has to be kind. Understanding. Do you think you could be my type? Or does my past disarm you?

You don’t have to answer that. I was only kidding with you.

Here’s a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off your brow.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?

I like your way of forward thinking! I’ve never actually thought about being with a woman. I suppose I would value the same qualities as I do in a man. It all depends on if I would be ready for a relationship with either. If I could rid myself of my lingering feelings, it would be easier.

No, I never said I loved him. I said I missed him. There’s a distinction.

Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

Saxon Matthews. I hear there might be a new book soon.

Which living person do you most admire?

Captain Jonasson. He is a good, honest man. I appreciated what he’s done for me while I’m here.

What is your motto?

“It is better to travel well than to arrive.” –Buddha

Book Blast & Interview: Defiant by H.G. Lynch @HGLynch @sparklebooktour

    PRESENTED BY       Title: Defiant Series: Blaze Trilogy Vol or Book #: 1 Author: H.G. Lynch Audience: Young Adult Genre: Paranormal Romance Format: Ebook Publisher: Vamptasy Publishing Cover by: H.G. Lynch Editor: Catherine Stovall Pages: 136 ASIN: B017XWM0TG Date Published: 13/11/15     Sometimes Love Burns. The intelligent loner, Anson, soon learns this when he falls in love...but the girl he wants isn't what she seems. Poppy is part of a secret organisation of vampires trained to fight werewolves. She's been sent to recruit Anson, and if she fails, they'll both have to outrun the rulers of her society...or face death together.

    AMAZON / GOODREADS    He raised his hand and gently wrapped his fingers around my wrist, drawing my palm down his face to his lips. Light as the flutter of a butterfly wing, he kissed my palm and each of my fingertips. It felt so thrilling, my whole hand ached to bury itself into his bright hair, and I was distinctly aware of how close we were standing. All I would have to do was lean up on my tiptoes and my mouth would meet his. His cobalt eyes fixed me in place, I couldn’t look away, though I knew I should. I wanted this so badly, but I couldn’t have it. If I kissed him, I was afraid I’d shatter into a million pieces, and only he would be able to put me back together.
 
  H.G. Lynch is a Scottish Paranormal Romance author, avid reader, and cat-lover. She spends most of her days writing, while wrestling her cat, Sooki, off her laptop. She believes that chocolate cake can save the world, and is highly caffeine-addicted. She loves horse-riding, Star Trek, and snow.
 
      WEBSITE / FACEBOOK / TWITTER / GOODREADS

Did you always wanted to be a writer? If not what did you want to be?

When I was younger, I wanted to be a veterinary nurse. It wasn’t until I was fifteen that I decided I wanted to be a writer.

When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?

Probably after my fourth book got published. Before that, I sort of just felt like I was playing at being a writer.

How long did it take to get your first book published?

A year and a half. I went to several different publishers before one picked up Born Dark and it was published about four months after I signed the contract.

Do you do another job except for writing and can you tell us more about it?

I have social anxiety, which means that I struggle with day-to-day interactions with people. It makes finding a suitable job very hard. I do however make my own jewellery and sell it in my Etsy store.

What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?

Defiant is my latest release, and to summarise it, I’d probably say: Sometimes true love means breaking society’s rules and running with your heart, no matter the cost.

Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?

Vamptasy Publishing, an imprint of Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly, publishes my books.

How long does it usually take you to write a book, from the original idea to finishing writing it?

It depends on the story. Sometimes it can take months. Sometimes just a few weeks. For example, my first book, Born Dark, took six months. Run only took three weeks.

What can we expect from you in the future? ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?

I’d like to try my hand at Sci-fi as I’m a huge Star Trek fan, but I will definitely be writing more Paranormal Romance. That’s my true calling.

What genre would you place your books into?

Paranormal Romance with a slight Horror twist

What made you decide to write that genre of book?

I’ve always been an odd duck. As a kid, my imaginary friend was a ghost. At seven years old, I wanted to be a vampire when I grew up. I’ve always believed in the paranormal and been fascinated by it.

Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?

Reid Ashton from my Unfortunate Blood series is my favourite, partly because he was my first character and partly because he’s a very unique and heartfelt character, despite his cockiness. He has a very special place in my heart.

How long have you been writing?, and who or what inspired you to write?

I started writing seriously at fifteen, after reading L.J. Smith’s Vampire Diaries novels. I start with fanfiction because I loved Vampire Diaries so much (I read the first four books twelve times in three months) but quickly moved on to my own original works.

Do you have a certain routine you have for writing? ie You listen to music, sit in a certain chair?

It depends on my mood and the story I’m writing, but usually I’ll sit by the fireplace with my laptop and make a playlist that I think fits the atmosphere of what I’m trying to write.

Do you read all the reviews of your book/books?

Yes. It absolutely makes my day when I read a good review for one of my books, and sometimes when I’m feeling down and feeling like giving up on writing, seeing the wonderful things my readers have said is the only thing that keeps me going.

Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?

Story first. Title later. I never know exactly where the story is going to go so I can’t put a suitable title on it until it’s done.

How do you come up with characters names and place names in your books?

Baby name websites mostly. I especially like Irish and Scottish names. Most of my books are set in Scotland, even if it doesn’t specifically say so in the book.

Are character names and place names decided after their creation?

Or do you pick a character/place name and then invent them? I like to picture the place or character, outline his or her personality, and then find a name that I feel fits.

Do you decide on character traits (ie shy, quiet, tomboy girl) before writing the whole book or as you go along?

I tend to find that the characters develop themselves as I write. They tell me who they are and what they want to do – I just write it all down.

Are there any hidden messages or morals contained in your books? (Morals as in like Aesops Fables type of "The moral of this story is..")

I’d say the one thing I’ve always tried to do with my stories and characters is to make them unique and let them be who they are, even if it means they make mistakes and get into trouble. I firmly believe you should always be whatever and whoever you want to be. Don’t conform to society just because you think you should. If you want to have green hair and a tattoo of a rat on your arm, go for it. If you want to dance on rooftops in the rain, do it. If you’re bisexual, or gay, be proud of it. Ignore the haters. There are people out there who will love you for exactly who you are.

Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?

I prefer to read paperbacks There’s nothing like the smell of ink and paper.

What is your favorite book and Why? Have you read it more than once?

Clockwork Prince by Cassandra Clare. I’ve only read it about six times.

Do you think books transfer to movies well? Which is you favorite/worst book to movie transfer?

Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Harry Potter is a good example of it working. Beautiful Creatures is an example of it not working.

Your favorite food is?

Macaroni cheese

Your favorite singer/group is?

Nickelback

Your favorite color is?

Red

Your favorite Author is?

Cassandra Clare

Happily Ever Alpha: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set

 
PRESENTED BY     Title: Happily Ever Alpha: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set Authors: NY Times Bestselling Author Sarah Makela
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Amazon Bestselling Author Aimee Easterling Audience: New Adult - Adult Genre: Paranormal Romance Format: eBook only Publisher: Bestselling Boxed Sets Cover by: Sylvia Frost Editor: Various Pages: 5,000+ ASIN: B017C2Y37Y Date Published: PreOrder publishes Jan. 26  

 
When Once Upon A Time Isn’t Enough Fourteen HOT paranormal alpha-male romances and six additional kick-ass paranormal romance tales bundled together in one of the steamiest collections to date! With twenty-one novels and novellas and over one million seductive words of fiction, this paranormal romance boxed set will leave you Happily Ever Alpha. These hot heroes and tough as nails heroines will steal your heart and make your beg for more. How about a little Heat to keep you warm this Winter? Our first tagline was so hot, Amazon wouldn’t let us publish it here, but you can find that same heat burning inside the pages of this set. Treat yourself to a varied collection of hot, steamy, and passionate paranormal tales. This satisfying collection has something to excite all readers. With sexy shifters, hot vampires, wickedly cool witches, and so much more, this boxed set will has titles that will either warm you up or set you on fire—Take your pick! For a limited time, you can enjoy books from today's NY Times, USA Today, and Amazon Bestselling authors! When purchased separately, these books cost over $50! But they are yours today for less than $1. Every selection in this rare, limited edition paranormal romance boxed set are full-length novels and novellas! Save over $50! This set is only available at this price for a limited time, so order your copy before it's gone!


       
AMAZON / NOOK / IBOOKS / KOBO   We have a landing page here: http://hotboxedbooks.com/     
    22 New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon Bestselling Authors     WEBSITE / FACEBOOK   Website– http://hotboxedbooks.com/ Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/Bestselling-...

Book Blast: Tail Lights & Teardrops by Connie L. Smith @clsmithbooks @sparklebooktour

PRESENTED BY     Title: Tail Lights & Teardrops  Author: Connie L. Smith  Audience: YA/NA Romance (Clean)   Genre: Contemporary Romance Format: E-book Publisher: InkSpell Publishing Cover by: Najla Qamber Editor: Vicky Burkholder Pages: App. 213 Date Published: Oct. 2015

                 
Bruised and battered hearts can keep beating. But can they heal? Preston and Nick endured the breakup of all breakups when Nick accused her of cheating on him. He insisted, and she denied while the rain pounded against her driveway and thunder roared in the distance. Then they both ran—Preston to a life of Rock & Roll, and Nick to a career in the Army. Four years later, they’re damaged and broken almost beyond repair. He’s carrying baggage from his military days, and she bears the scars of living a lifestyle she’s grown to hate. When Preston’s label forces her to take time away from music, their paths cross in a parking lot not twenty-four hours after her hometown return, anger and sparks flying in a confusing blend. But regardless of the feelings neither has been able to shake, too many lies and secrets stand in the way of the one thing they need in order to recover. Each other.     AMAZON / BARNES AND NOBLE / ITUNES / KOBO / ALL ROMANCE    
I ended the song with a haunted chord and frowned when I heard clapping coming from somewhere beneath me. Standing, I propped my guitar on the balcony rail and looked over the edge to find Nick leaning likewise one floor below. The sadness in his eyes let me know, without a doubt, he understood the lyrics were about us.
He smiled anyway. “Good song. What’s it called?”
“‘Pirates and Cowgirls,’” I whispered, uneasy that he’d heard a message so personal between us. On the radio would’ve been different. Listening to it being written, and almost face-to-face? “I didn’t mean for you—”
“Don’t apologize, Preston. It happened, and you’re a songwriter. I’d be shocked if I didn’t end up in a song or six. I might even be insulted.” He put a deliberate spin on his last sentence, but the teasing quality didn’t hide his hurt at the reminder of our history. I could see pain in his clouded gaze and thin smile, making me wonder why he’d bother with the attempt to lighten the situation.
Was he trying to make me feel better? I couldn’t think of another explanation, and I had a hard time reconciling that the man who’d broken my heart without mercy was now attempting to lessen my pain by downplaying his. How could the two reactions come from the same person?
I decided not to question the matter out loud. Instead, I offered him a grin as phony as the one he directed at me. “Is this you being civil?”
“Well, you did perform a concert. I hear it’s customary to applaud.”
I rolled my eyes, and he smiled genuinely for a second before he pushed away from the rail. “I guess I should head back in.”
I didn’t want him to leave, but asking him to stay would’ve been one of the dumbest decisions of my life, so I nodded and grabbed my guitar. “Good night, Nick.”
He grunted a response like he’d done so many times when we were younger and he was too tired to bother with an actual reply, then turned toward his apartment. I fought back the warm memories of the same noise being used over the years to mean, “yes,” “no,” “sure—pizza sounds fantastic,” and countless other random, small, beautiful things. If the smile those recollections brought to my face was any indication, diving into the thoughts would be dangerously lovesick territory.
      Connie L. Smith spends far too much time with her mind wandering in fictional places. She reads too much, likes to bake, and might forever be sad that she doesn’t have fairy wings. And that she can’t swing dance. Her music of choice is severely outdated, and as an adult she’s kind of obsessed with Power Rangers. She has her BA from Northern Kentucky University in Speech Communication and History (she doesn’t totally get the connection either), and is currently working on her MA.       WEBSITE / FACEBOOK / TWITTER / AMAZON / GOODREADS

Series Blast & Giveaway: What Happens In Venice Trilogy by Diana Cachey @dianacachey

 

 

What Happens In Venice Trilogy

Diana Cachey

Genre: Paranormal Romance

TAGLINE: Among the romantic canals of Venice—and oh so many Italian distractions—can a stunning American lawyer, her psychic sister and a free-spirited best friend, help the Ghosts of Venice solve a hushed up crime?

About the Series:

Louisa Mangotti, an American lawyer working as an Interpol expert for the international crime unit in Venice, receives a mysterious postcard from the Venetian ghosts, ancient protectors of the Republic. She scoffs at the ghosts, who plant clues for her to help them solve a hushed up crime that threatens Venice, because she suspects her bad boy ex-lover, Matteo, has crafted a plan to distract her from his own involvement in the crime. Nonetheless she’s forced to depend on him to decipher clues, including diving with him on a haunted shipwreck in the lagoon and venturing to far out hidden islands. Her sister, who communes with ghosts, arrives to rescue Louisa but is lured away from the chase into a steamy affair with a possible phantom. Another feisty foreigner, Louisa’s best friend Rebecca, further spices up the action and adds to the antics when she visits for Carnival and samples the Venetian charm and romance. More sexy men, as well as ghosts, distract the women as they follow a maze of cryptic clues, baffling signs and cunning messengers.

As the three women fall deeper into the whirlpool of the mysterious lagoon town, its wonderful sights, and alluring men, they continue to navigate a stormy course. With time running out, can the beauties solve a crime that threatens the future of Venice itself?

On top of being sexy, gorgeous and classy, Louisa Mangotti is a respected attorney and Interpol expert who is puzzled by the odd postcard that arrives in her mailbox signed mysteriously… "Venetian Ghosts". She assumes it's a quixotic attempt by her bad-boy ex, Matteo, to re-ignite their relationship. Louisa may have dismissed the ghosts, but the ghosts aren’t quite done with her.

Ghosts take over Venice video, Part One

https://youtu.be/GKlQhIjm1vY

Ghosts take over Venice video Part Two

https://youtu.be/V673QdQZQwM

Available at Amazon

Halloween Day of the Dead Sale .99 cents!!

Keywords: 1. Chick lit mystery 2. Venice fiction 3. Ghosts 4. Paranormal mystery 5. Contemporary women novels 6. Travel Italy

 

 

Love Spirits

What Happens In Venice

Book One

Diana Cachey

About the Love Spirits:

When the bodies of two glass makers wash up on Murano Island, the cryptic messages persist. Louisa is drawn to the story of the Venetian ghosts and initiates a personal investigation. Reluctantly, Louisa calls upon her bad boy ex, Matteo, to help decipher the clues. Before she knows it, a flame that was never fully extinguished is unexpectedly rekindled.

Sensing that her sister is in over her head, Barbara Mangotti rushes to the rescue, only to be lured away by two hard-to-resist good-looking Venetian men.

With time running out, can these two beauties solve a crime that could threaten the city of Venice itself?

This book is like a magic carpet ride that takes you to Venice, capturing in a most wonderful way its unique allure and mystery. Part travelogue, part mystery, part romance novel, it will warm your heart, send goosebumps up your spine, and leave you breathless.

Available at Amazon

From the Top of Our Great Bell Tower

Saint Mark Square

Venice, Italy

Dear wide-eyed tourist,

Don’t go to Venice.

But if you do, don’t fall in -- in a canal, in love or into Venice itself. As if you have a choice. Hear us cackling?

Listen. We came to warn you about La Serenissima, the Most Serene One, as Venice has been called since before the Middle Ages. You will not heed our warning and you will come looking for us. How do we know? It happens every time a Venetian ghost story is told.

As ancient protectors of the Venetian republic, we ghosts guard her virtues of which she has many. One reason we love her, and you will too, is that she is stuck in time. Did you know Venice functions without motorcars or trucks? We don’t like motorcars or trucks. Hundreds of tiny islands sewn together by foot bridges leaves no need for noisy, fume-spewing vehicles, thankfully.

We prefer floating.

Our classic transport is the gondola. Mostly reserved for you tourists now, gondolas are and always have been helmed by the most prestigious oarsmen in the world -- highly trained gondoliers who stand while rowing through the labyrinth of canals. They don’t mind when we ride with or without you while they serenade us with opera, Frank Sinatra songs and romantic favorites.

Ah yes, romance. As one visitor put it, “It’s their schtick, a Venetian ploy, an act to get sexy with you.” It is true. Venice equals romance equals sex.

If the shadows of Venice frighten you or you feel like you’re in a dream, have fun with it, float with us. We are watching over you. We want to further your journey to a more magical life because we think a person is charmed by a trip to La Serenissima.

It could change your soul forever. Just ignore this cautionary tale.

We remain in your service,

The Venetian Ghosts

 

Lagoon Lure

What Happens in Venice

Book Two

Diana Cachey

About the Lagoon Lure:

Sexy sleuth Louisa is back! She captivated romance novel readers and mystery lovers in Love Spirits, the first book of the intriguing international mystery and crime series, What Happens in Venice. Book Two, Lagoon Lure, continues this seductive ghost story and resumes the carnal pleasures, conspiracy and corruption.

American in Venice, Louisa, resumes her Venetian exploits, steamy love affairs and paranormal assisted murder investigation she began in Love Spirits. The mystery and romance further ensnares her in the second book of the What Happens in Venice mystery series.

Still unnerved by the notion that Venice ghost stories are real, Louisa delves further into the mystery of the deaths of two glassmakers while juggling the lustful manipulations of her ex-lover, Matteo, whose role in the double murder grows murkier.

Meanwhile Louisa's usually shy sister, Barbara, explores her new-found sexuality with Venice's willing men, sharing her adventures with her sister but keeping one particularly mysterious man a secret. Romance novel readers will love the changes in her and the tension created by the affairs of the heart that Venice leads her into before she realizes that she's fallen hard despite the haunted happenings around her.

When Louisa's best friend, "Rouge," arrives for Carnival to sample its masked men and create her own romance novel subplots and complicates the situation further by encouraging the sisters to embrace the pleasures of secret Venice. Rouge not only steams up the landscape but she is lured into her own complicated romances and supernatural events, if not a reluctant ghost story or two.

With Venice as the lush backdrop for double murder and a web of passionate intrigue, Louisa deciphers clues planted by ghosts and struggles to resist the wicked charms of the very tempter she suspected in the crimes. Her unfinished romance and ghost story compete against her love affair with Venice and its secrets. While she tries to enjoy her days of Venice travel, food and fashion, as well as her new admirer’s own brand of magic, the mystery of the dead glass makers still looms in the lagoon.

Lively supporting characters add sex, chuckles and suspense to the already twisted plots and turned phrases when they too must navigate Venice mystery, romantic liaisons and the ghost story encounters. The gothic setting, the romance laden environment, the mysterious corners and shadowy lagoon lead everyone astray. Haunted Venice gives everyone plenty to puzzle over right until the end.

Venice cafés, restaurants, and other haunts play a prominent role in this sexy supernatural romance and international crime series about a beautiful American in Venice guided by ghosts to solve the mystery of a hushed-up crime. Paranormal clues and ghost apparitions lead Louisa deeper into the lagoon, and she is forced to reluctantly enlist Matteo's support. Can she trust him, or will this ghostly lagoon lure prove deadly?

Available at Amazon

Venice always delivered. For thousands of years she spread out her bounty for swarms of people who feasted upon her beauty. They stayed in ornate palaces or luxury hotels and paraded in stylish fashions. They admired diverse art, listened to sweet music, sampled delicious food.

They also enjoyed plentiful romantic opportunities.

Ah, the romantic allure of Venice. It continues to this day. Indeed, soon after Barbara’s arrival, Venice offered her no less than three handsome men. Now there stood her sister, Louisa, who begged to hear the dirt on two of them but knew nothing of the third man, the one Barbara wanted most.

She planned to keep him a secret.

Barbara looked around and tried to take it all in, all that Venice had to offer. She saw in front of her a small island, which sat placidly in the lagoon and proudly displayed its huge monastic bell tower. Although a massive presence, this tower was easily dwarfed by the one it faced -- the more famous one -- the one that housed the bells of San Marco. She gazed across the water, let the reflecting sun’s rays warm her face and both Venetian towers began to toll their bells behind her and before her. They echoed across the lagoon, reverberated throughout the tranquil setting. Barbara took note of the bells. She’d been trained by her Italian friends to pay particular attention to what she’d been the thinking in that precise moment these bells began to chime.

She’d been thinking about secrets. That third man. He must remain her secret.

Thus began her diversion, a long philosophical theory about her twin orange cats.

“Back home in Seattle,” she said, “my cats confuse and distract me during morning meditation, just like those two Venetian men did my first night in Venice. The two inquisitive cats circle my cushion then jump on the table where I offer blessings of flowers and candy. They sniff and inspect as if they’ve never seen the ritual before.” 

Louisa yawned.

“Those cats seem to see me anew each day, as a thing they need to supervise, approve or inspect. Eventually, they settle nearby to meditate on their own. They observe my struggle to quiet my mind while they remain perfect little meditators. Those two Venetian men were the same. While I was nervous and disquieted, they just purred.”

Louisa frowned.

 

Magic Island

What Happens In Venice

Book Three

Diana Cachey

About Magic Island:

Sexy sleuth Louisa is back — with Venice as the lush backdrop for double murder and a web of passionate intrigue. In this final installment of the Trinity, Louisa captivates readers by deciphering clues planted by ghosts & struggling to resist the wicked charms of the very tempter she suspects. Her unfinished love story continues to compete against her love affair with Venice and its secrets. She tries to enjoy her days of Venice travel, food and fashion and new admirer’s own brand of magic but the mystery of the dead glass makers still looms in the lagoon.

Lively supporting characters add more sex, chuckles and suspense to the already twisted plots and turned phrases as they too must navigate their own romantic liaisons and thought provoking ghost encounters. Magic Island gives everyone plenty to puzzle over right up to its surprising finish!

Available at Amazon

 

At the landing point, halfway to the upper level, she felt it. A cold wind blew.

Why would the thrift shop women leave the window open during one of the coldest days of the year? Venetians, and Italians generally, were obsessed with energy conservation, not out of duty or political bent, but out of necessity or greed. Why would the darling elf-man allow it? Why hadn’t he gone up to close it?

She blinked.

In the second floor attic room, a man stood by the open window and fanned himself. He’d removed his coat, hat, scarf and shirt. Bare-chested, he was about to try on what looked to be the next best deal in the shop, a cashmere sweater with Armani label.

The room wasn’t suffering from the dreaded “they heat the place like people don’t always come in dressed for the outdoors.” It was not an unbearable oven. It was chilly. Yet sweat poured down the man’s face.

Louisa couldn’t help but stare for he stood half naked with perfect abdomen and a peek of what was below the belt. His pants hung low on his tan, tempting, tapered waist.

The man jumped and gave an unnecessary apology in thick Buranese dialect.

“My name is Antonin. Your friend, Marco, sent me,” he whispered. He made no attempt to cover up for which Louisa gave another silent nod of gratitude.

She stepped closer then remembered she was supposed to seek guidance before acting. She started to speak but he gestured for her to be quiet and pulled her to the window. He pointed to the canal.

Not exactly the answer to my prayers, but go with it, she reckoned.

She leaned squarely up against him then wrapped an arm around his waist, that tempting, tapered waist.

He felt her desire rising so he moved them both away from the window where he pulled his pants a little further down to reveal those, those whatever those lines are, those muscle things that go diagonally from the hips to the important region.

“Spetta mattimo,” he whispered, “wait a minute,” or something like that, and he pressed his hips against hers.

“Prima, guarda la,” (First, look at this) he said and nodded towards the window.

************

  

 

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Diana Cachey is a licensed attorney, published academic, and former adjunct law professor. She also holds a BA in English, and while in law school, she was the first female editor in chief of her university’s law review.

The author of the novel Love Spirits, she has trained with several New York Times best-selling writers, including Robert Allen, with more than seventy-two million books sold.

For more than a decade, Cachey has been traveling to Venice, the setting of her novel, on extended trips several times a year. The cafés, restaurants, and many other haunts of Venice play a prominent role in her sexy paranormal mystery-romance about a beautiful American lawyer guided by the Ghosts of Venice in the investigation of a hushed-up crime.

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00N6HDHSG

https://www.youtube.com/user/dcachey

@dianacachey

https://www.facebook.com/diana.cachey

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Diana-Cachey/153347544749839

HAUNTEDP-PALOOZA VIDEO: https://youtu.be/4wTodeBxiY8

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Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: The Talented 2: Past Lives Revealed by Desy Smith

 

 

The Talented 2:

Past Lives Revealed

The Talented

Book Two

Desy Smith

Genre: YA Romance Fantasy Fiction

Publisher: Floebe Publishing

Date of Publication: September 20, 2015

ISBN: 978-1512216714

ASIN: 1512216712

Number of pages: 223

Word Count: 55,377

Cover Artist: Rose Smith

Book Description:

Carmel’s time at the H.O.T hasn’t been all that pleasant. She’s gotten drugged, captured, and had to endure her painful change. When Carmel finally starts to enjoy her life at the H.O.T with her friends and her boyfriend Devon; Queen Ice, her annoying past life, contacts her. Queen Ice not only tells her about the impending battle between the good angels and the evil angels, she also continues to pop up in Carmel’s mind, showing her images from her life in the past. Now, Carmel, her friends along with her boyfriend, race to find a sword that they believe will give them leverage in the battle to come.

Unfortunately it isn’t as easy as it seems. There are others who are aware of the sword, and they’ll do anything to retrieve it before Carmel does. In addition, Carmel can’t use her Water or Ice Talent to help in the battle and she doesn’t know why! On top of that, there’s one or more people in Carmel's group who aren’t whom they say they are. Can Carmel find the sword? Will she be able to figure out why her Talents aren’t working? Can she discover who in the group is lying to her and the others about who they really are?

Be sure to read the second series of The Talented by Author Desy Smith to see how the story unfolds!

Available at Amazon and DesySmith.wix.com

We’re a couple of streets down from the museum, waiting on Devon to issue instructions. Earlier, as we laid in bed, I brought up Ms. Platinum Blonde from the airport. Her name is Tray and as I thought, it wasn’t anything serious. He did sleep with her before he met me and that was it. It was just about sex, and honestly, that didn’t bother me. I knew Devon had a life before he met me. I would be dumb to think otherwise.

“Okay, so here’s the plan, we go in teams of two.” Devon says inside the car outside the museum. I know I should have been overjoyed because this is my first mission with them. But I’m not. My lower back was bothering me. But I endure the pain, because I knew if Devon found out, I would be left behind, again. “Mel and Ricky are one team, and Flora.” He says her name with disgust. “And I are another team.”

“Oh, no sir.” Flora says. “I would rather go by myself.”

“Flora, go with Devon. This will give you two time to bond with each other.” I add. I look at Ricky who is nodding his head in agreement.

“I don’t want to bond with him!” Flora yells. Ricky gently grabs her and they both get out the car and start talking, well, arguing.

“I told you she wouldn’t want to do it.” Devon says. I roll my eyes.

“You weren’t very nice about it.”

“Really? I thought I was.” Liar. Flora and Ricky open the car door.

“Okay, we’re ready, and Flora said she would be honored to be in your company.” Ricky says.

“You’re pushing it.” Flora replies with her arms cross, glaring at Devon.

We make our way toward the back entrance of the museum, where two dead police officers are holding the door open.

“Someone’s already here.” Devon says and Flora gives him a ‘duh’ look. He and Ricky move them both inside the door and close it. I notice the alarm on the right side of the door, smoking.

“The alarm system has been fried, which prevents the alarm from being triggered.” He tells us. “Okay, let’s go ahead and split up. Flora and I will take downstairs, Mel and Ricky will take the second floor and we will meet on the third floor, and divide that equally.” He turns his attention to Ricky. “If anything happens to Carmel, do know I will take your life.” Ricky sighs while I roll my eyes. There he goes again, threatening to kill people.

The museum is really creepy at night without any lighting and people. I and Ricky’s first stop is the Egyptian room.

“Did the Egyptians exist when the angels were here?” I question. Even though my back is killing me, and I want to soak in a bathtub, eating eggs with syrup, I am joyous because I have alone time with Ricky, which means I can grill him.

“Yes, remember the angels came down when Adam and Eve were placed on earth.” Oh yeah. I start to recall the story Flora told me.

“Your great times 10 grandfather knows a lot about the Angels.” I say as I pick up another vase and look inside before tossing it in the ‘don’t need’ pile. “I think it’s amazing how the stories of Queen Ice were passed down from child to child, but maybe they’re a little less than factual.”

“I don’t believe I understand what you’re implying.” I turn to look at him, and try to make out his facial expression but couldn’t because of the moonlight being the only lighting in the museum.

“I’m just saying people tell stories to each other and sometimes they add a little extra in. Who’s to say that didn’t happen?” I’m purposely trying to anger him, hoping his rage will make him spill his secret accidently.

“It didn’t.”

“How would you know? You weren’t there?” I stand up. “Or were you?”

“You’re acting like Devon now. Do you have something to say, or will you speak in riddles for the rest of the night?” Ricky states calmly, showing no signs of anger.

“Were you there, Ricky?” I ask, getting to the point, enough of the bull crap.

“There, as in I was an Angel in the Angel era?”

“Yes.” He laughs.

“That’s unlikely, I would be very old and senile.” Anything is possible, I say to myself, repeating what Ice told me weeks ago.

“Well, I don’t believe we age like humans. Actually, I think we can be century’s old and still look young.” Like Ricky, I thought. “Time doesn’t matter to us.” Suddenly, a light bulb goes off in my mind. I make my way to the wall where a directory is hung. I notice a room on the third floor dedicated to artifacts with no accurate time. Otherwise known as the Timeless room. The vase has to be in there.

“I think I figured it out, Ricky.”

“What, how angels age?” I shake my head.

“Nope, I think I know where the vase is at.” I run out the door, ignoring Ricky as he calls my name, and up the stairs. I walk down the hall until I come upon a cracked door with the words Timeless printed in white calligraphy on the door. I found it.

I’m sitting on the floor, looking through another row of blue vases. I was starting to understand how Devon felt, this whole thing is repetitive and annoying. I want to find the vase and be done with this part of the mission. I keep asking Ice if she sees the vase, but of course, when I need her the most, she ignores me.

I get ready to give up, until a particular vase catches my attention in the moonlight, almost like God was putting a spotlight on it. The vase is round, and blue with snow white flames from the bottom to top. It’s really beautiful. I go to grab it and turn it upside down. On the bottom there is an engraving.

“Engraved it shall say To Queen, From Flame.” Ice says. Look who finally decides to make an appearance. I look at the inscription and it says just that.

Character Name: Devon

Character Bio: He’s 5’10 with green eyes, and short black hair. His skin is golden due to his mixed heritage. He’s 20, and his Talents are Water, Earth, Air and Fire. Nonchalant he may appear to be, but in reality his true nature is kill now, deal with the consequences later. This rash judgement causes many people to hate and fear him; which he’s okay with. His enemies are as numerous as the stars in the sky. His love for his equal Carmel is uncontrollable; he would move mountains for her. Devon believes she sees the good in him and because of her, he knows he can become a better man. Devon would be ultimately satisfied if he and Carmel were the only two people in the whole wide world.

 

Describe yourself what is your worst and vest quality?

My worst quality is being awesome.

I possess all four talents: water, earth air and fire. I’m pretty much indestructible. My worst quality according to my girlfriend is my attitude.

What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?

I’m misunderstood, and that’s not my fault.

What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?

It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you.

What are you most afraid of?

My destiny, my future

What do you want more than anything?

To stay with Carmel forever.

What is your relationship status?

Taken and very happy.

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

Non-existence, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t wear any clothing.

How much of a rebel are you?

On a scale of 1-10, a 100.

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?

You’ll have to read book three to find that out.

What is your idea of happiness?

My idea of happiness is being with Carmel alone and forever, not having to deal with angels good or bad, and Flora’s nosy butt.

What is your current state of mind?

Right now I’m worried about Carmel finding out my secret.

What is your most treasured possession?

Carmel

What is your most marked characteristic?

My attitude.

What is it that you, most dislike?

My privacy and Flora, okay maybe not.

Which living person do you, most despise?

I do not know if he could be counted as a living person, but Lucifer Morningstar.

What is your greatest regret?

You guys are asking a lot of question; I can’t answer without giving away the third book.

What is the quality you most like in a man?

Courage

What is the quality you most like in a woman?

Compassion

Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

The monster of Frankenstein, as he was misunderstood and created so was I, and I can relate to that.

Which living person do you most admire?

Good question, and no one. I tend to not admire humans.

If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

How I was made.

What is your motto?

Que sera sera

 

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Desiree “Desy” Smith was born and raised in Dallas, Texas. As an avid reader, Desy read several books until she ran out of things to read. Having nothing else to read, at the age of thirteen, she decided to write her own book. Her love for reading soon turned into a passion for writing. She self-published her first book, The Talented, under Floebe Publishing, which she started to give a voice to new and aspiring authors. Desy writes to inspire and to provide an escape for anyone who wants to live in a fantasy world without worrying about the challenges of everyday life. The Talented is part one of a five part series, with the second installment arriving finally here. Currently, Desy is hard at work on her third novel, Supernatural Resident Advisor with an expected release date of October 2015. Desy’s genre of choice is fantasy romance fiction. Aside from reading and writing Desy enjoys various types of food, especially dessert. When she’s not reading she can probably be found eating a cupcake or two.

Web: www.desysmith.wix.com/desysmith

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

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/40394618-desiree-morrow

Instagram: Author_Desydiva23

Book Blast: With Every Breath by Niecey Roy

PRESENTED BY  
Title: With Every Breath       
Series: River Bend
Vol or Book #:  1
Author: Niecey Roy                              
Audience: Adult 18+
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Format:  e-Book
Publisher:  River Mist Media
Cover by:  RBA Designs
Pages:  Appox. 200 pgs
Date Published:  October 28, 2015












     
Jaden Miller had one plan when she left her hometown, and it was simple—never return. She has her dream job, her freedom, and miles separating her from a past she needed to outrun. Only one thing could make her return to River Bend, and that’s her best friend on the verge of a breakdown.
From the moment Cole Brooks realized he married the wrong woman, he’d done his best to not let fantasies of the one who got away haunt him. Now that his marriage is over, and Jaden’s back in town, is the universe giving him a second chance?
Jaden isn’t about to let her guard down around the man who broke her heart, but Cole won’t give up until she admits how perfect they would be together.
 
  AMAZON / BARNES AND NOBLE / GOODREADS           Once upon a time, there was a young girl who wrote sappy poetry about every relationship gone wrong. She had her heart broken many times before the man of her dreams stepped off a big Navy ship and swept her off her feet, promising to never hold her shoe obsession against her.
From that day forward, she swore she’d never again write sappy poetry of unrequited love. Instead, a sucker for smooches and happily-ever-afters, Niecey Roy now writes contemporary romance inspired by her sailor’s sexy brown eyes and charming sense of humor.
          WEBSITE / NEWLETTER SIGN-UP

Cover Reveal: Mortality by Ava O’Shay @AvaOShay

   
Title: Mortality, Book Three of the Serenity Series
Series: The Serenity Series   
Vol or Book #: 3
Author: Ava O’Shay
Audience: New Adult/ Adult +18
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Format: ebook and paperback
Publisher: Raven Books and Design
Cover by: Raven Books and Design, photograph
Editor: Eden Plantz
Pages: 250
Date to be Published: January 2016










 Leaving his rocky past behind Quill heads out with the band Pick-Six. Quickly thrust into the lime light of a rock and roll super star he finds his past isn’t so easy to leave behind. Alcohol, drugs, and an endless stream of available and willing woman push Quill to his limits of restraint. But he has more at stake than his sobriety, Quill will do almost anything to win Assad back even if it means baring his soul on stage. Just when things seem to be going his way Quill’s mother comes back into his life. A force he has never been able to overcome. Soon Quill’s feeling of responsibility for his family threatens to take him and the band down. Struggling against his demons Quill must learn to take what he wants before it’s too late.
 
 
  Sweat trailed down Quill’s back, his hair matted to his forehead, the rays of the overhead lights were hotter than the face of the sun but the screams from the row of girls, five deep in front of the stage were making it all worth it.
He pulled the microphone out of its stand. His band, Pick-Six was on the last songs of the set. The rush adrenaline laced with anxiety was the high Quill used to get him through the nerves threatening to destroy each performance.
“It will get easier,” Simon, their manager said before each gig.
It hadn’t.
Each night Quill tried to figure out how he’d ended up the lead singer of a band he’d watched at the local rave bar. Each night he fought his inner demons so he could get through another performance without allowing himself a hit, a drink, or a hard screw. He’d sworn off any type of crutch to get him through. However he’d done it before the band hit it big and he was thrust in front of an overflowing bar full of people every night. He was going to face his fears and God only knew—his feelings—head on even if it killed him.
No more burying.
No more hiding.
And if people didn’t like it they could go fuck themselves.
 
  After many years trudging through the social awkwardness of high school and the whirl wind of college romances I finally landed in the Seattle area writing about the hell, horror, and don't forget the hot romance of youth. I love all things outdoors and can be found hiking, kayaking, mountain biking or doing anything active. I am a former Mrs. Washington United States but hung up my crown to focus on family and career. I love to learn and possess many degrees. I am a Christy McCullough Excellence in Education Award winner and I am Nationally Board Certified. I love to interact with my readers and meet them at signings so never be shy to come up and give me a hug and ask me anything.
 
 
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Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Idol of Glass by Jane Kindred @JaneKindred

 

 

Idol of Glass

Looking Glass Gods

Book 3

Jane Kindred

Genre: Dark fantasy with erotic

and romantic elements/LGBTQ

Publisher: Samhain Publishing

Date of Publication: October 27, 2015

ISBN: 978-161922-373-8

ASIN: B0118ZFO4W

Number of pages: 268

Word Count: 91,000

Cover Artist: Kanaxa

Book Description:

Madness didn't destroy her; atoning for it might.

Ra has ruined everything. Returning to life through “renaissance” was her first mistake. Magical excess was her second. Now she must face the consequences of her reckless conjuring. Her beloved Ahr is dead by her hand, and the comfort she’d found in gender-rebel Jak seems lost to her forever.

Ra takes solace in punishment—and in communion with her punisher, the mysterious and merciless MeerShiva. But Shiva has spun a skein of secrecy over centuries—secrets about Ra’s origins and the origins of the Meer themselves. And as the secrets begin to unravel, someone else’s magic is at work from the hidden realm. Someone with the ability to redraw the fabric of the world itself.

As the picture becomes clearer, Ra must face some harsh realities: not everything is about her, and punishment isn’t enough. She must stand before Jak and try to atone for what she’s done. But seeing Jak will reveal one more secret Ra never saw coming—and one that may mean her own undoing.

Product Warnings: Contains scenes of intense BDSM, non-binary genders, and a preponderance of kick-ass women.

Amazon ARe BN BooksaMillion iTunes Kobo Samhain

Even spattered in dried blood and pieces of the dead man’s flesh, they cut a striking pair of figures on the dunes of the falend. Jet and dark poppy, their hair hung down their backs in the colors of atrocity. Light caressed them, knowing they were more than human, rippling iridescent over their tresses like quicksilver in the presence of the divine.

As in the youth of her former life, Ra was attired in the manner of a Meeric prince, the plain kaftan of black silk muting much of the violence that covered her.

MeerShiva was less subtle, the pearl-embroidered train of her sheer citrine gown, from the same ancient era, dragging behind her, caked in mud from the heath they’d left behind. They were two livid strokes of pigment on the canvas of sun-blanched sand.

Satisfied with the decimation of the remains they’d dumped in the marsh outside the small trading post beyond Mole Downs, they had simply walked away, and continued walking until they’d left the high country altogether. Coming down out of the mound-riddled moors and across the lowland heath, they followed the Filial River toward the east, past the falls that plunged beneath the bluff at the wasteland’s edge, and into the high desert north of the Anamnesis delta, until at last even Meeric sensibility demanded rest.

The palette of the sky behind the scattered stars held the deep lack of pigment that came with the hours after midnight, and they were in the center of nothing, a vast stretch of arid land that separated mound country from the Deltan lowlands. With a few murmured words, Shiva raised a single tower around them, round and made of stone, with windowless walls that stretched up over them into immeasurable heights. Meeric conjuring was often merely out of whim, influenced by the current state of mind and body. They lay on a floor of heather, an anomalous afterthought, with barely a pause between waking and sleep.

§

Jak lay at Geffn’s side, staring at the ceiling. They shared a bed for comfort, though nothing more. The question of their long estrangement had been settled once and for all in the formal dissolution of their bond after Ahr’s body had been consigned to the elements in the Bone Fire. During all that ceremony—the harvest rites marking the turn of the year, the final parting with Ahr, the unbinding rite in which Jak and Geffn had cut the red braided strings they’d worn around their wrists to symbolize their union and set each other free—Jak had been in a state of stasis. Unable to feel anything, unable to fully comprehend the loss of Ahr, despite the grand Deltan memorial.

In mound culture, funeral rites were less dramatic. Haethfalters didn’t believe in the necessity of the destruction of the body by fire to free the spirit for its next life. Hadn’t, at least, until Ra had come, having effected her own cremation from the grave in order to hasten her return, “renaissanced” as a fully formed adult in an instant on a cold winter night. But that was an exception to the rule. Ra’s renaissance was devilry and madness, and Jak should have recognized it from the start.

Haethfalters practiced a form of sky burial, building a platform for the deceased and laying the body out in the elements to be excarnated by carrion birds. Burying bodies below ground was impractical in a place where the ground was frozen half the year and where underground real estate was at a premium for their souterrain dwellings. When the bones were picked clean, they were taken and placed in the family’s burial cairn—a place that didn’t require such deep digging, and which they had to dig only once, during the warmer months.

They’d used the sky burial platform as Ahr’s crematory, and Jak had watched his elements spiral up into the warm autumn wind. Smoke and embers and ash. It hadn’t seemed real. It hadn’t seemed like Ahr’s body wrapped in fragrant oils and spices and covered in flower garlands. It hadn’t seemed like anyone’s body at all as the platform was consumed in bright flames against the dusk sky. It had all been too surreal.

But there’d been no denying the reality once the urn was placed in Jak’s hands. Within the unassuming clay vessel was all that was left of Jak’s dearest friend.

Jak had led that final ceremony, the procession to the family cairn, the slow march alone down the dank steps beneath the circle of stones, accompanied by Oldman Rem’s mournful highland fiddle from above, to place Ahr’s vessel in the narrow vault that normally held the bones of the dead. By custom, and not belief, Jak murmured prayers to the ancestors—Jak’s mother, Fyn, and Fyn’s parents, whom Jak had never known—and then tried to say good-bye to Ahr somehow. The finality made it impossible, and Jak dropped onto wobbly knees before the vault and wept.

Ahr was family to Jak, and no one had questioned his interment under the cairn. Family, after all, was a broad term in mound society, having little to do with blood. In the niche beside Ahr’s were the bones of Fyn, the last person Jak had said good-bye to here. And on Fyn’s other side lay the remains of Geffn’s brother, Pim, who’d died before Geffn was born. They were all connected to Jak in one way or another. But kneeling there among the sputter of tallow candles as the sobs receded into sighs, Jak had felt the wrongness of it. Ahr was a Deltan. His ashes didn’t belong below the highland moor.

Jak sighed, still staring up at the stone ceiling. There was still so much damage in Haethfalt from the rains. It was a terrible time to leave. But Jak couldn’t let this wait until spring.

“I have to take him home.” Jak spoke in the darkness beside Geffn. “I know I’m needed here to help rebuild, but Merit deserves to know. They were lovers. He should have the ashes.”

“You do what you need to.” Geffn squeezed Jak’s hand atop the blanket. “The moundhold will be here for you. Whatever you decide to do will be all right.”

But it wasn’t true. It would not be all right. Nothing could ever be all right with so much gone wrong.

 

Did you always want to be a writer? If not what did you want to be?

Yes. Since I wrote my first short story in grade school, I’ve wanted to be a writer. I toyed with the idea of going to medical school, but the studying got in the way of writing novels.

When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?

If you mean a professional writer, I guess that would be when I sold my first short story. But I’ve considered myself a writer since I started writing.

How long did it take to get your first book published?

I had written six novels and a novella before any of them were accepted for publication. I started querying on the first novel in 1999 and the second novel in 2000. It was a novella I wrote in 2005 (The Devil’s Garden, the prequel to Looking Glass Gods) that was finally published in 2011, the same year my first novel was published a few months later—which was actually the third novel I’d written. (My second novel, which I’d started querying on in 2000, became the Looking Glass Gods trilogy that was published this year, of which Idol of Glass is the third part.)

Do you do another job except for writing and can you tell us more about it?

My day job is editing for a multinational consulting firm. Not nearly as interesting as writing erotic paranormal romance and romantic fantasy.

What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?

My latest book is Idol of Glass, in which a reincarnated goddess seeks atonement for crimes committed in madness brought on by absorbing too much pain from others.

Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?

The Looking Glass Gods series is published by Samhain Publishing.

How long does it usually take you to write a book, from the original idea to finishing writing it?

I try to write 1,000 words a day, which means it takes me about three months to complete a novel. Pre-work is usually a week or two, and I don’t usually plot out the whole story in advance.

What can we expect from you in the future? ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?

I have a book in a slightly different genre coming out in December, The Lost Coast, which is m/f gothic paranormal romance. My next m/m fantasy romance, The Water Thief, comes out in March 2016.

What genre would you place your books into?

Most of my books are romantic fantasy or paranormal romance.

What made you decide to write that genre of book?

I write in the genres I’ve always enjoyed reading.

Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?

How long have you been writing?, and who or what inspired you to write?

I’ve been writing since I was 11, and I was inspired by the books I read, particularly The Chronicles of Narnia, which was the first fantasy series I started reading at age 7.

Do you have a certain routine you have for writing? ie You listen to music, sit in a certain chair?

I don’t have a hard-and-fast ritual that I have to follow, but I like to burn candles while I write, and I need it to be quiet. Very, very quiet.

Do you read all the reviews of your book/books?

I read them if I come across them, but I no longer seek them out. I used to check Goodreads obsessively to see if anyone had reviewed my books, but I don’t find it useful, because everyone’s taste is different and personal. I tend to take the bad reviews to heart despite the good reviews that outnumber them, so it isn’t healthy for me to keep looking for external validation that will just be crushed by a single, snarky DNF.

Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?

Usually, the book idea and the title come to me at the same time, though recently, I’ve been having a lot of trouble coming up with titles.

How do you come up with characters names and place names in your books?

Again, they usually just come to me as I write, but sometimes I’ll want names that go with a particular language or culture, so I’ll search on baby name websites or sites related to that culture.

Are character names and place names decided after their creation? Or do you pick a character/place name and then invent them?

It’s mostly a simultaneous process.

Do you decide on character traits (ie shy, quiet, tomboy girl) before writing the whole book or as you go along?

The characters tell me who they are as the story progresses.

Are there any hidden messages or morals contained in your books? (Morals as in like Aesops Fables type of "The moral of this story is..")

I wouldn’t say they’re hidden, no.

Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?

I have a slight preference for paperbacks just because I like to have a physical object to hold, but I enjoying reading just as much when it’s an ebook. I usually can’t afford to buy hardbacks, and they’re heavy, so while they’re a much nicer physical object to own, they’re not as much fun to hold and cart around.

What is your favorite book and Why? Have you read it more than once?

The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis. I’ve read it dozens of times. I think I enjoy reading about men who are tied up. ;)

Do you think books transfer to movies well? Which is you favorite/worst book to movie transfer?

It depends on how it’s done. If people get hung up on putting every moment of a book on film, it isn’t going to work. The Harry Potter books are probably the best translation to film that I’ve seen. The worst in recent memory is the obviously money-motivated stretching of The Hobbit into three movies. By the third one, it was absurd and tedious.

Your favorite food is?

Chocolate, the darker the better. Extra points if it’s cake.

Your favorite singer/group is?

My current favorite is Daft Punk. Longtime favorites are Kate Bush and Prince.

Your favorite color is?

Purple. (See Prince.)

Your favorite Author is?

Shakespeare.

 

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Jane Kindred is the author of epic fantasy series The House of Arkhangel’sk, Demons of Elysium, and Looking Glass Gods. She spent her formative years ruining her eyes reading romance novels in the Tucson sun and watching Star Trek marathons in the dark. She now writes to the sound of San Francisco foghorns while two cats slowly but surely edge her off the side of the bed.

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