Karen Swart's Blog, page 42

Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Tainted Blood by @karenThegreco

 

Tainted Blood

Hell's Belle Series

Book 2

Karen Greco

Genre: Urban Fantasy

Date of Publication: Oct. 20, 2014

ISBN: ISBN-13:978-1500844448

ISBN-10:1500844446

ASIN: TBD

Number of pages: 582

Word Count: 95,704

Cover Artist: Robin Ludwig Design Inc.

Book Description:

After surviving a vampire assassin (not to mention an awkward affair with a hot FBI agent that ended worse than she could have imagined), witch/vampire hybrid Nina Martinez is reunited with the full Blood Ops team in Providence, Rhode Island. Her Aunt Babe is tutoring her in all things witchcraft, and her vampire partner Frankie is enjoying the benefits of daywalking, courtesy of a demon spell.

When a segment of the Rhode Island vampire population is marked for death by a tainted blood supply, Nina and her team race to find Patient Zero before the local vampire population is wiped out. But when a demon infestation threatens to take control of the city, Nina must join forces with newly elected mayor—and closet demon— Ami Bertrand before the city falls into ruin.

Filled with fast-paced, edge-of-your-seat action, Nina and her group of supernatural misfits battle a surprising new enemy that threatens their very existence.

No wonder she still can’t get a date.

From Amazon.com best-selling author Karen Greco, Tainted Blood is the second book in the critically acclaimed Hell’s Belle urban fantasy series.

"Jesus Christ, Frankie," I muttered as the crowbar hit the worn marble floor with an earsplitting clatter. So much for stealth. We should have just ripped through the doors with explosives.

We were breaking into the Superman Building. At 26 floors, it was the first skyscraper ever built in downtown Providence. It lost its last tenant three years ago, and the gorgeous art deco structure was now a towering reminder of better days, when manufacturing was booming and people had money to burn. Years of attempts to "revitalize" the area had fallen flat. This left plenty of room for the underground supernatural factions to sweep in and take over.

Frankie flashed a fangy grin at me. "What's the fun in surprising them? It's never a good time unless it all goes off the rails."

I shook my head and sighed. Ever since Frankie was charmed by a demon to walk in the sunlight, he thought he was invincible. And, sure, being a vampire helped, but he could be staked just as easy as any other vamp. His arrogance could get us both killed.

We walked swiftly through the lobby of the abandoned high rise, keeping tight to the walls. In our all-black commando outfits, we blended easily into the dark hallway.

I stole a wistful look at the bank of elevators. The electricity was cut to the building. We'd be taking the stairs. "Want to guess what floor they're on?"

"I say top floor," Frankie said with his hand already on the door to the stairwell.

It was going to be a long-ass climb. Up the 26 stories and possibly a few extra flights to get to the tippy top of the building's airship docking station. Seriously. The very top floor of the building was built for docking blimp-like airships, so there was a pretty cool waiting area/corporate suite turned Depression-era speakeasy at the apex. Too bad we were seeing it under these circumstances.

About a week ago, a suspicious news report piqued our interest. A group of crazed individuals were caught rampaging through downtown, tossing cars with superhuman strength, punching through brick walls and causing general weird mayhem. A few witnesses described them with blood around their mouths.

Max, our newest Blood Ops member serving as double agent in the FBI, was on record as calling this a "bath salt related incident." It was simple to blame this behavior on meth-heads on a DIY bender. But we knew better. They were vampires, and they were out of control. Frankie and I were dispatched to take care of them.

We climbed the stairs quickly, Frankie almost a floor ahead of me as we ascended. My calves ached by the 17th floor, and I was dripping with sweat. The vamps would be able to smell me by floor 22 if they were paying attention. Since I am half vampire, I can handle a fair amount of physical exertion. But a swift walk up the stairs of a high-rise carrying an extra 35 pounds of vampire-fighting gear was punishing. Pushing through the cramps in my legs, I silently vowed to increase my workouts. It was hard enough to match Frankie's speed and strength, but now that he thought he was the Man of Steel, it was damn near impossible just to catch up to him.

We hit the top, and I finally had a chance to catch my breath. Frankie smirked at my all-too-human physical stamina.

When my heart stopped racing, I double-fisted a pair of stakes and nodded at Frankie. He kicked the door open and we launched into the penthouse. Moonlight poured through the grime-coated glass ceiling.

We rushed in like hellfire, expecting to find ourselves in the middle of a melee. But the room appeared empty.

"Top floor, Frankie? Really?" I grumbled, re-sheathing my stakes. "How much you want to bet they're on two?"

Frankie raised his arm and shushed me. I shot him a dirty look, but quickly softened it when I heard the hushed groans too.

I motioned to Frankie to move towards the sounds, and we cautiously walked to the back of the room. A shape was huddled in a dark corner with two bodies laid out on the floor in front of it. I pulled a mag light out from one of my cargo pants pockets and trained it on the shadowy forms.

A female vampire inched away from the light. Blood was smeared down her face and neck, and it covered her chest. Two male vampires were on the floor, their fronts washed in red as well. The walls were covered in sticky, black-red blood. The entire room was just dripping. It looked like a blood bank exploded.

The vampires on the floor were truly dead, their pale faces cracked like antique porcelain dolls. Their appendages were just starting to decompose, but their midsections were blown out, like they swallowed a bomb and it exploded. The one still living, for lack of a better word, looked close to meeting true death herself. The emaciated vampire half-sobbed, half-moaned as she rocked back and forth.

Although they matched the descriptions of the vamps-gone-wild group, these couldn't be our marauders. They were simply too sick. They looked like junkies who overdosed. A few times.

"What do we do?" I had never seen anything like this before. I sure as hell hoped Frankie would know how to handle this mess.

Frankie walked a wide semicircle around the vampires, his shoes making sucking noises as he lifted them off the sticky, blood-soaked floor. He was worried, clearly on guard.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Kate," she croaked out.

"Right, Kate," Frankie's voice was soothing. "How long have your friends been like this?"

"Since yesterday." Her hoarse voice was barely above a whisper. "We slept in the stairwell but they came in here last night and just...." She motioned at the carnage around her and let out a muffled sob.

"So you were able to walk back and forth to the stairwell? Can you do it now?" I asked.

She tried pulling herself up, but wasn't strong enough to handle the weight of her tiny body. So she crawled towards us, plowing over the disintegrating corpses.

"Stop, Kate! Stay right there!" Frankie visibly jumped back, his shoes making a sharp thwack as they lifted off the gummy floor. "Nina, you need to call Max and Dr. O. Max needs to get the electricity back on to this building. She's going to need to go out the elevator, and Dr. O needs to bring her down."

"Why are we taking her out of the building?" I asked. Our mission was to kill them. Two were dead, and the last one was nearly there. Mission almost complete.

"Because they are Beta-Vamps." Frankie glanced at the vamp on the floor. "Right?"

She nodded, tears streaming down her face.

"No way," I protested. "Betas don't rampage like that."

"They do if they are sick," Frankie explained calmly, his eyes still on Kate.

Beta-Vamps were like the hippies of the vampire world. They were vampires that were missing the predator genome sequence. They weren't human killers. They survived on who knows what. Maybe animal blood. Maybe blood stolen from hospitals. In some extreme cases, they ate rust for the iron content. Betas were rare, and, because of their peace-loving nature, extremely vulnerable to attack from all sorts of supernatural factions.

"So why don't we just carry her down?" I said with a shrug, stepping towards Kate, breaking my boots' suction to the floor.

Frankie was in front of me before I could take another step. My stomach rolled as Frankie dropped his guard and a wave of his panic washed over me.

A few months ago, Frankie had to bind me to him to save my life. For the most part, we're dealing with it just fine. But if he's in emo overdrive and forgets to close off our connection, I get hit with whatever he's feeling. It also works the same in the other direction.

"Don't go near her. She's been infected."

"Infected? With what? Beta-Vamps aren't vulnerable to infections."

"With..." Frankie stopped. He looked shattered. "My God, I haven't seen this since 1877."

"What is it?" I pushed.

"Opium poisoning."

"Did you just say opium?"

"Blood-born opium poison. If it gets into our bodies, we die." Frankie was visibly nervous, moving in a jittery semicircle around the woman. "We can't go near her."

"Oh. Shit. Does Dr. O know what to do?" I shrunk back. Opium. Who knew? Apparently Frankie. That explained why vampires were always told not to get their fix from heavy drug users.

"I'm not sure. That's why you need to call him. And he'll need Max since we really shouldn't stay here. Now please. She doesn't have much time."

Right. I pulled out my phone. I'd start with Max. He'd need time to power up the building anyway.

He answered on the sixth ring.

He sounded groggy. "What's up?"

"Sorry to wake you but we're at the Superman Building with two seriously dead vamps and one who is really sick. We need to turn on the power to get her out of here with the elevator. Can you get this building back on the grid?"

"Christ, can't one of you just carry her down the stairs?" His voice was muffled, like he was pressing his face into his pillow.

"Frankie and I can't touch her. She has some sort of infection, something that only vampires can contract. And it kills them."

"Really?" He jolted awake. I heard the bed sheets rustle as he got up.

"I don't know, really. I've never heard of this before. But I know Frankie is freaking out, and said we need to get her out of here. And he only freaks out if there's a damn good reason."

"You know I worked for the FBI all day, right?" he groused. I heard a closet door slam.

"Seriously? Are you going to do this right now?"

"You both were going up there to stake them anyway. So they die of something else. It's the same outcome. Why save her?"

"Because, she's not a predator vampire."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Look, I'll explain later, but we are running out of time. I need to get Dr. O here, and you need to get the electricity on at this place."

"Jesus, you people are complicated. I'll be there in 20." He hung up before I could respond.

Like Frankie, Max had made a deal with resident demon and Providence mayor Ami Bertrand. As a result, Bertrand had turned Max into a Berserker, a supernatural warrior that went extinct with the Vikings. Well, extinct up until Bertrand's curse.

Since Max had been turned into a supernatural entity, but one that was supposed to be extinct, he joined our team as a double agent with the FBI. Our team is Blood Ops, an elite government agency that deals with rogue supernatural factions. Technically, we also don't exist. To humans, anyway. Our existence — hell, the very existence of anything supernatural — was on a "need to know" basis, and even the president of the United States didn't need to know. Only a very select few Department of Defense members knew about Blood Ops. That's plausible deniability for you.

But damn, the Berserker in Max sure made him grumpy.

I hit the speed dial button for Dr. O. Dr. Lachlan O'Malley led our unit of Blood Ops. Though he mostly resembled your favorite 60-something college professor, Dr. O was a Druid priest, which made him pretty damn old. And, like the Druid priests before him, he knew absolutely everything.

"Nina, what's wrong?" Dr. O asked in his thick brogue. I could tell I woke him up.

"Sorry Doc, but we have a problem here. We have Beta-Vamps that ingested opium. Two are dead — like for real, seriously dead. One is barely hanging on."

"Opium? Are you sure?" Dr. O sounded a lot more awake suddenly.

"Frankie says he's sure. Said he hasn't seen this since 18-something or other."

"Frankie would know. Do you have her quarantined?"

"Quarantined? Frankie said not to touch her. He didn't say anything about a quarantine." This was weird.

"You are in the same room with her?"

"Where else would we be?" I asked, impatience getting the best of me.

"If any of their blood gets into your blood stream, or Frankie's, that would be very bad."

"Yeah, Frankie already explained that to me. We aren't touching her.

"Nina, I am afraid it's much more serious than that. Opium poisoning tends to make infected vampires projectile vomit out blood before they die. Then their torso explodes."

That sounded bad. And gross.

"When? When would that happen?" I gripped the phone tightly, eyeballing Kate. She whimpered in the corner near the vampire bodies with her back against the wall.

"It could happen at any time. Lock her in wherever you are, and wait until I get there. Do not wait in the room with her, neither you nor Frankie. Do you understand?" Dr. O's tone was stern.

"Yes, I got it. Okay, we are on the top floor. Max is on his way to power up the building to get her out of here. Just get here fast."

"I am on my way."

The phone went dead. I hightailed it over to Frankie, who was staring helplessly at Kate.

"Frankie, we gotta get out of here." I pulled gently on his arm.

"Please don't leave me." Kate's voice was so weak, I could barely hear her whisper.

Frankie didn't move. He just looked sadly at the sick Beta, his eyes filled with tears.

"Come on, Frankie." I nudged him again. "We can't be in here right now. Dr. O's on his way."

He hesitated. "We can't leave her like this."

"We aren't going to do her any good if we get sick, too," I reasoned.

He ignored me. I changed tactics.

"Stop being a stubborn ass," I raised my voice. He still ignored me.

Kate moaned and fell into a fetal position. She began to convulse. Frankie made a move towards her, but I grabbed him. Standing in front of him, I took him by both shoulders and stared into his eyes.

"We need to get out of here before she barfs blood all over us. Don't make me go witchy on you."

It was an idle threat. Only a few weeks before, I first learned that I am half-witch as well. My witch abilities were dormant for years — hidden by my vampire genetics — until an unfortunate encounter with a spelled knife turned on the hocus-pocus. I was working with my witch mentor, who's also my aunt, on controlling my newfound abilities. Much to Auntie Babe's frustration, I was not taking to it like a fish to water. If I tried to unleash my mojo in here, poor Kate could very well blow up, taking Frankie and me along with her.

Kate's moaning was now punctuated by high-pitched cries of pain. Clearly in agony, she writhed on the floor. Her hands formed into claws, and she scratched at the body of the seriously dead vampire closest to her. His skin tore like dried papier-mâché as she drove her nails into his corpse. As she tore at his flesh, blood bubbled out of her mouth.

"She not going to make it!" I shouted at Frankie, pushing on his lanky six-foot frame. "And neither are we if we don't get out of here!"

I shoved Frankie harder towards the door. He finally snapped out of his stupor and we fled to across the room to the stairwell door. I pushed on it, but it didn't budge. Shaking the handle, I pressed all my weight against it. Nothing. I moved aside and Frankie levered a kick at the door. He succeeded in denting the door, jamming it even harder into the frame.

"Crap, Frankie! There's no time!" I yelled over Kate's ear-piercing shrieks.

Frankie looked wildly around. "Can we break the windows?"

Everything was soaked in blood. Blood we couldn't touch. Crap. I had no choice.

"Hold on!" I closed my eyes tightly and I tried to clear my thoughts, but between Kate's shrieks and Frankie's desperation creeping into my head, not to mention my own stress, my mind was too unfocused to do this right. Oh well. Close enough was going to have to do.

I felt the air shift around me, and I latched onto this small breeze, willing it to grow to hurricane strength. My hair loosed from its ponytail and slapped across my face. The swelling wind pushed me forward. Grabbing Frankie's hand for stability, I cried out the few words of Latin I could come up with that approximated "break the damn glass." The five plate glass windows on the south side of the room shook. I repeated the words louder, putting more force behind them. The wind turned hurricane strength, pushing us across the room, dangerously closer to Kate. Finally, the windows shattered one by one, shards of glass falling 26 stories to the sidewalk.

I opened my eyes. Kate was about to explode. Blood frothed around her lips, her shrieks now muffled as the blood worked its way up her throat.

Hands still clutched, Frankie and I nodded at each other, knowing exactly what we had to do. Together, we ran straight for the windows, and leapt feet first into the star-filled sky.

Frankie's hand slipped out of mine as we both twisted our bodies and made a grasp for the ledge. I caught it, just barely, almost wrenching my shoulder out of its socket on the impact. Frankie similarly stopped short next me. We dangled 26 stories over downtown Providence.

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

Yes, pretty much from high school on, I knew I wanted to be a writer. But I stopped for a long time, thinking it was an unrealistic goal, to focus on my day job.

When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?

I am not sure I quite do yet. I think I will feel that way when I can give up the day job.

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

I do entertainment publicity and social media marketing. It's definitely not for the faint of heart, but I've met some incredibly talented people over the years, and had some wonderful experiences. So I am very lucky.

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

The latest book is called Tainted Blood. When a weird vampire infection fells the local population of vamps, it's up to Nina and her motley crew to save them.

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

From original idea to release, it is probably about a year and a half.

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

I hope you can! I am definitely an urban fastasy writer, so more in that genre for sure.

What genre would you place your books into?

Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance

What made you decide to write that genre of book?

I love all things paranormal--anything that goes bump in the night excites me.

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

This is like asking a mother to choose a favorite child! I love Nina for her badassery, I love Frankie and Casper because they are both funny and care about Nina so much. I am warming up to Max in this book. I didn't like him very much in Hell's Belle.

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

I started writing in high school, so a long time. I don't know that anything really inspired me. I just did it, and enjoyed it. I like living with the characters inside my head.

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

I pretty much can write anywhere. My schedule is so erratic that if I needed a routine, I'd never do it.

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

I try not to read reviews. One thing I learned from years and years of doing press is that it is very unhealthy to believe your own press --good or bad. My husband keeps an eye on them for me, though. I do have to know what's being said to a point.

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

Book first, then title.

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

I grew up in Rhode Island, and there is such rich wonderful paranormal history there, I had to set the book there. So those place names are real. For my characters, it's really about what fits each individual.

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

I do my character sketch first and then try on some names.

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

I have a good idea of the character traits going into the book (see above) but I am open to adding things if they come up in the course of writing the character.

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..")

The books really are about family. What makes up a family? Do you have to be blood related?

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

eBook. I miss paper, but it's just so much lighter. I can carry hundreds of books with me!

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

This is a tough one, since both mediums are different.  The old "but it's not like the book" argument is just not a good argument to make.  Of course it's not like the book! I think the best adaptation I've seen is Game of Thrones (not a movie, but...). The books are so dense, I think they did an incredible job translating Martin's world onto the small screen.  For "worst," I'd have to go with the later seasons of True Blood. I love Charlaine Harris' books, and the HBO series was terrific to a point, and then it just went off the rails. But I heard they got their mojo back for the final season, so I may keep going with it.

Your favorite food is?

Cheeseburger. And fries!

Your favorite singer/group is?

Nirvana. I never left grunge behind.

Your favorite color is?

Black. And flannel.

 

 

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Karen Greco has spent close to twenty years in New York City, working in publicity and marketing for the entertainment industry. Originally from Rhode Island (she loves hot wieners from New York System, but can't stand coffee milk), she studied playwriting in college (and won an award or two).

After not writing plays for a long time, a life-long obsession with exorcists and Dracula drew her to urban fantasy, where she can decapitate characters with impunity.

Her first novel, Hell's Belle, was released in 2013. Tainted Blood is the second book in the best-selling Hell's Belle urban fantasy series.

http://www.karengrecoauthor.com/

http://karengreco.blogspot.com/

https://twitter.com/karenThegreco

https://www.facebook.com/hellsbellebykarengreco

https://www.goodreads.com/karengreco

Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Haedyn’s Choice by @Jenn_L_Oliver @RoxanneRhoads

 

 

Haedyn’s Choice

The Haedyn Chronicles

Book 1

Jennifer L. Oliver

Genre: Dark fantasy

Publisher: Small Escapes Publishing, LLC

ASIN: B00CPCCSRY

Number of pages: 212 pages

Word Count: 54,000

Cover Artist: Jennifer L. Oliver

Book Description:

There’s always a choice.

Haedyn chooses to survive. As the last Unnamed, a species mistakenly created from angels and demons, she is an abomination to both the human and supernatural worlds. If survival means being the favorite servant of the demon Azazel, it’s a choice she can live with. Until she meets Lex.

Former investigative reporter, Lex Carter knows more than the average human - he saw his brother murdered by vampires. Now he’s dedicated his life to learning everything there is to know about monsters, how to kill them, and what happens to their victims. But when he’s kidnapped by a super-human albino who claims she's protecting him, he realizes that not all supernatural creatures are monsters and there may be one that's worth saving.

Together, they just might be able to discover the truth about Haedyn’s past and free her from Azazel’s bonds. But will she still choose to survive when it means risking the souls of those she loves?

Available at Amazon

The concrete cell reeked with a mixture of rotten trash, burning flesh, and the sweet tanginess of blood. Haedyn twitched her nose. No matter how often she had to deal with it, she'd never get used to that smell. It was horrible.

Dirt crunched and rolled under the soles of her boots as she circled the silver chair in the middle of the room. Its occupant was furious, snapping and snarling at her. Not that she blamed him. Being captured by a demon's minion wouldn't rate high on her list of fun, either.

The prisoner struggled against his restraints. “Bitch. My Alpha’s gonna kill you. Just wait," he growled, pupils wide with the animosity of a trapped animal. "He’ll come here and rip through that white skin of yours like it's a sheet of paper, then hang your head on the wall like a trophy.”

She rolled her eyes and ignored his aggression. Werewolves had the worst tempers, especially when they were wounded or trapped. This one was both. Plus, he’d been drugged and was unable to change to his more powerful wolf form. Yeah, he was beyond pissed.

She sighed and continued circling. He'd wear himself out eventually. The anger and vile comments were all part of the process. Then the next phase would begin, full of tears and begging. That's when she'd break him, make him tell her where to find the human. But for now, she'd play the game until he was ready.

“Where's the human?”

"I ain't telling you shit." He spat on the floor at her feet.

"Tell me where the human is and I'll set you free."

The werewolf narrowed his yellow eyes. "You won't set me free. You think I don't know who you are? You're that demon Azazel's little bitch. You don't set no one free. You kill 'em."

Haedyn clenched her jaw. The werewolf was right; he wasn't going to leave here alive. She needed that information and there was only one way he was going to tell her. Poor sap. He just forced her hand.

She circled the chair again. This was the part of the job she hated. Inflicting pain. Killing. Every time she heard them scream, made them bleed, she swore a piece of her insides turned to dust.

It was the price she paid for serving a demon. But she didn't have a choice. Either she did what was expected of her or she faced punishment from her master.

Demons didn’t give second chances, and Azazel was no different. Disobeying his orders meant death. And even if she was stupid enough to go up against him, she had no one to turn to for help.

She was the last Unnamed. A mistake created by the demons and angels, which is why they killed off the rest of her kind. Humans mistakenly called her “albino” and kept their distance once they saw her deep red eyes. The supernatural world thought she was an abomination. If they weren't scared shitless of her, then they wanted to kill her.

She didn't fit in and she was all alone. Which is why she made the decision fourteen years ago to do whatever she had to in order to survive. Serving Azazel was the only choice she had.

Besides, what else would she do? She was evil, part demon. And like Azazel said the night he found her at the orphanage, she had a gift for death. One which he had honed. Now, she was his best interrogator, his best assassin.

Haedyn looked again at the werewolf. He shifted and squirmed, pulling at his shackles. Drops of blood beaded along his forehead. She smelled the panic and the fear mixed in with his sweat. Then she met his eyes. For a brief moment, a part of her screamed to let him go. She quickly pushed the impulse away.

Discipline. She had to maintain discipline. Compassion was a weakness. How many times had Azazel pounded that into her during their sessions? Fourteen years of intense training and still she had to remind herself.

She closed her eyes, burying the whispers of empathy deep inside. A stillness settled within her. Then she re-emerged as the cold-hearted, unemotional assassin Azazel had molded her into.

This is what she was trained to be. This is what she was trained to do. Save them. Deliver them. It's what kept her alive, and that’s all that mattered.

Playlist for book

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-IPkwQd99OxquJtkZd_MTDZQKlCRHsNi

 

Character Name: Haedyn

Character Bio: As the last Unnamed, a species mistakenly created from angels and demons, Haedyn is an abomination to both the human and supernatural worlds. She was trained from a young age to serve the demon Azazel and is now his best assassin. Survival is the only thing that matters to Haedyn… until she meets Lex.

Describe yourself - what is your worst and best quality?
My worst quality is my lack of trust. I’ve learned never to trust a single living being, they all lie and have their own agenda. Especially demons. And vampires. I’ve never met a bloodsucker who didn’t lie.
My best quality? My patience. When working for a demon, you have to be patient. There are times when he expects the impossible, or will send me out to hunt down something twice my size. I have to be able to shut off all those pesky human emotions and focus on the task at hand. Sometimes that means watching and waiting, making the right move at just the right time, and being able to analyze my opponent’s strengths and weaknesses. I don’t have the luxury of being scared, or angry, or frustrated. I do what I do to survive. And compassion is a weakness I can’t afford in my life.

What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?
That just because I work for Azazel, just because I’m his favorite servant, doesn’t mean I’m anything like him. I don’t get off on causing pain or death. I don’t get off on torturing others. I do it because I have to, not because I want to. Azazel enjoys it. That’s his “thing.” I mean, he is a demon after all. But I’m not. Well, I’m not all demon. I’m only part demon. But that doesn’t make me his little mini-me clone.

What is your biggest secret, something no one knows about?
That I hate killing, hate inflicting pain. But I have to do what I can in order to survive. So if that means following Azazel’s orders, completing my assignments whatever they may be, then that’s what I have to do. I don’t have a choice.  I wish I did. You don’t know how much I wish I had a choice to do something else, to be something other than this abomination with evil running in my veins. But this is who I am.
This is what I was trained to be. This is what I was trained to do.

What are you most afraid of?
 Death. I don’t want to die. Especially dying alone. I want to live, but I want to be a part of something bigger, be a part of a family. I don’t want to die before I have that chance, if I have that chance.

What do you want more than anything?
A place to belong, someone to belong to, a family.

What is your relationship status?
Definitely single. It’s not like there’s a big old list of mates out there for me. I’m the only one of my kind. And as far as every other male in the world, well they either want to kill me, or they’re scared of me. Regardless, it kind of makes it hard to be all lovey-dovey with someone, ya know? Besides, it’s better this way. I have enough trouble just keeping myself alive and well. Add someone else to the picture and I can’t guarantee their safety. It’s just better this way. Lonely, but better.

How would you describe your sense of fashion?
Um, well, it’s not something I really think of. I mean, the gloves are for my own protection. Without them I’d be falling into visions every time I touched something. That takes a lot out of me, and I don’t always have time to recoup from it.
The jewelry isn’t for fashion’s sake. Every piece is charmed. It either warns me of danger, or protects me from magic. Like this bangle on my arm? It’s actually a whip. A little magical chant and poof - it’s a weapon.
The material of my suit is flexible and sturdy, which helps in a fight. I have to be able to move fast. So I can’t have clothing that is loose or baggy on me.
But my favorite is my cloak. I wear that more to blend in, but it’s comfortable. And it makes me feel a little less vulnerable. Like I can hide away from all the prying eyes and sneers. Plus, it’s practically indestructible, so, you know, that helps.

How much of a rebel are you?
Seriously? I work for a demon. Rebelling isn’t an option. Azazel would kill me in a split second- No. I take that back. He wouldn’t kill me, not at first. He’d torture me, and enjoy every moment of my pain. It’s what he does. So, yeah, no rebel here.

 

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?
Surviving. I mean, think about it. I’m not even supposed to be in existence. My kind were killed off centuries ago. It’s a fluke that I was even born, much less that I survived eight years at a human orphanage. And then I was taken in by a demon. So, yeah, I’d say surviving this long is a damn good achievement.

What is your idea of happiness?
I’m not sure happiness truly exists. Not for me anyway. But, if I allowed myself to imagine what it might be like… I’d be part of a family, maybe have a sister, a boyfriend or a husband even. I wouldn’t be this, wouldn’t be an abomination. I’d be human. I’d be normal. I wouldn’t have to kill or hurt anyone ever again. Yeah, I think that would be my idea of happiness. But, it will never happen. Not unless a miracle happens and well, I don’t believe in angels or miracles. Not anymore.

What is your current state of mind?
Determined. I don’t have much of a choice, really. I can’t give up. Doing so means I die. And there’s got to be something more, some purpose that I’m here. But it’s hard, you know. It can wear you out, always hoping and never getting anywhere. I’m tired of killing, tired of causing pain. But I have to survive and that’s the only way I can.

What is your most treasured possession?
That’s easy. My Italian longs word. It’s made out of cold steel. I love it. I don’t go anywhere without it. It’s like a part of me, another appendage.

What is your most marked characteristic?
I think everything about me is probably unique. I mean, how many beings have you seen that have this pale of skin and silver white hair? And let’s not forget my eyes. I haven’t met a single soul who likes looking into these deep red orbs of mine.

What is it that you most dislike?
Lies. I hate being lied to. Of course, I’ve grown up with a demon and his servants, so I’m kind of used it by now. But I still hate it.

Which living person do you most despise?
Well, they aren’t really living beings but vampires are at the top of my list. I can’t stand those freaking bloodsuckers. They are the most arrogant species on this planet. And I haven’t met one yet that understands the need for a toothbrush. You’d think that a being that is practically immortal would figure out that they might need to brush their fangs. But no, they just go around drinking all the blood they can get and breathing their foul air on others. It’s gross.

 

What is your greatest regret?
That I wasn’t able to safe the rest of the orphans the night that the vampires attacked. I tried. I thought for sure that if they went into that tunnel they’d be safe until morning. Then they could follow the river into town. But Azazel… he found them. He said that it was how it was meant to be. That I delivered them straight to their fates. But I had really wanted to save them. They were so little, so innocent. It just sucks that I wasn’t able to help them.

What is the quality you most like in a man?

Honesty. Though I’ve yet to meet one who can pull it off. Especially human men. It’s like they are predisposed to spit out lies every time their mouth opens. But, maybe one day I meet someone who will actually tell me the truth. We’ll see.

Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

 I don’t really have much time to read, which is kind of sad because I enjoy it. But Azazel insists that I keep in shape, keep up my training. So every bit of spare time I have is pretty much taken up by sparing with him, or meditating to keep my sanity in check.

Which living person do you most admire?
Um, that’s tough. I mean, I don’t really know anyone other than Azazel and his servants. And you can well imagine that I don’t admire any of them. But I’m still kind of young, so maybe I’ll met someone eventually, like a queen or something. You know, someone who I can look up to and trust.

If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?
I’d no longer be an Unnamed. I mean maybe if I was something else, a human even, then maybe… maybe I wouldn’t be alone. Maybe I’d be part of a family or a pack or clan or whatever. I just know I wouldn’t be the only one of my kind anymore.

What is your motto?

Never give up.

 

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During her many years of working at a daily newspaper, Jennifer L. Oliver honed her writing skills in secret. As an avid reader, she enjoys books that give her an entertaining and temporary escape from the ruckus of everyday life. Now, she hopes to bring the same enjoyment to others through her own work.

Jennifer is the author of The Haedyn Chronicles, and other dark urban fantasy and paranormal thrillers. She is also a freelance proofreader and always looking for the opportunity to help other authors reach their publishing dreams.

Although she was born and raised in North Carolina, she now lives on Florida's gulf coast with her husband, two cats, and a Royal Bahamian Potcake dog who is more than half her size and thinks the world revolves around treats. When she's not writing, you can find her playing in the flower garden, giggling with her granddaughter, and enjoying time with her family and friends.

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Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Laying Low in Paradise by @KristyKJames

 

Laying Low in Paradise

The Casteloria Series

Book One

Kristy K. James

Genre: Romance

ASIN: B00CNK49JS

Number of pages: 191

Word Count: 56,661

Cover Artist: Vila Design

Book Description:

He's hiding out because someone wants him dead...

Cameron Rafferty is keeping secrets. Dangerous secrets that could endanger the lives of everyone around him. His plan was simple...keep a low profile until the would-be-killer was found. And it was working - until an accident changed everything. Before he knows it, he finds himself becoming more involved with the family next door, and wishing for things he shouldn't. Things that will put their lives in jeopardy, too.

Her summer plans didn't include secrets and danger...

Spending summers on Bois Blanc Island was a tradition for author Laura Keane and her young son. Filled with special memories of the husband she'd lost to war, she looked forward to days of reminiscing, playing, and working on her newest novel. She didn't expect this year to be any different - but that was before their sexy neighbor came to her rescue like a knight in shining armor. Will that armor be tarnished when she finds out what he is and why he's living next door?

Available at Amazon and Smashwords

“Sometimes I wish I could just wiggle my nose or nod my head,” Laura Keane sighed, pulling into the parking spot that would be home to her seven-year-old Jeep Cherokee for most of the summer. “The traffic was brutal – and it’s not even a holiday.”

“Well, I know you know how to nod your head, but I don’t know how that, or wiggling your nose, could have helped,” twelve-year-old Sam said vaguely.

A quick glance his way, and Laura couldn’t hold back a grin. Even before the words left his mouth, he was throwing the passenger door open and scanning the marina for the boat, her references to Jeannie and Samantha already a memory.

Since heading out from Lansing at six that morning, Sam had been anxious for the long drive to be over. Not many boys on the brink of becoming a teenager would look forward to a summer of relative solitude on Bois Blanc Island. But every year he couldn’t wait to arrive, and then he dragged his heels when it was time to head back home for the school year.

Of course, some of his best and happiest moments with Jake had taken place on that little stretch of beach, so that probably explained his enthusiasm. Even though she’d had several videos of their family burned to a DVD, sometimes she was afraid that he would forget the father who had loved him so very much. Maybe Sam was afraid he would, too.

“There it is!” he exclaimed, yanking the back door open. “Mr. Benton has it ready for us.”

Rather than pointing out the fact that she paid Mr. Benton well to not only store the boat, but to have it ready for them when they needed it, Laura opened her door, taking a moment to savor the familiar sights, sounds and smells before she got out.

Gulls soared overhead, screeching as they circled above the beach, on the lookout for the tourists who kept them supplied with pieces of sandwiches and other treats. Waves lapping up on shore, the brisk breeze blowing in across Lake Huron. She couldn’t imagine a more beautiful place on earth to spend a long, relaxing vacation.

“Hey, Mom! C’mon. Help out a little here, huh?” Sam asked impatiently.

Laura quickly exited the jeep and pulled a couple of suitcases from the back, while her son loaded himself down with plastic grocery bags.

“We don’t have to get it all in one trip,” she reminded him.

“No, but the quicker we load the boat, the quicker we can get home,” he said logically.

“Just don’t hurt yourself.”

They hurried down to the dock, depositing the first batch of supplies in the boat before heading back up for the rest of their gear.

“Good morning, Ms. Keane,” Henry Benton called from his lounge chair on the beach.

“Good morning, Mr. Benton. How are you today?”

“Couldn’t be better,” he assured her with a grin. “Need some help there?”

“Thanks but we’ve got it. It feels good to be moving around after that drive.” Henry Benton must be nearing seventy and, though he appeared to be in excellent health, Laura worried about him hauling anything heavier than his fishing pole.

“Couldn’t have picked a better day for it though. Clear as a bell since I got up this morning. Not a cloud in the sky.”

“Can’t argue with you there,” she said with a laugh, adding three of the seven bags of groceries to the boat. “Wish I could say the same thing about the freeway.”

“See a lot of clouds on the road, did you now?” Henry teased.

“Ha-ha.” She heard Sam snicker behind her. “I wish it had been clear, but there were about ten million cars, trucks, SUV’s, semis, and motorhomes. You name it, and they were on the road.”

“That’s true,” Sam laughed. “And they were all out there just to aggravate my mom.”

“That what she thinks?”

“Yup.” Both Henry and Sam had a good laugh over that, as the last of the groceries were removed from the Jeep. Laura locked it up, and they wandered back down to the dock.

“Do you know if anyone is occupying the other chalets yet?” she asked, stopping for a moment to chat with Henry.

“As a matter of fact, Ben Pommeroy was telling me just the other day that he rented all three of them for the whole summer. Looks like you and the boy will have neighbors.”

“I sure hope they’re quieter than that bunch from last year,” Laura muttered, shuddering at the thought of another invasion of college boys with a penchant for loud music and late night partying. It had been a solid month of hell on earth, and one she didn’t want to repeat.

“No worries there. Ben said they’re all adults and they seemed like good, respectful people.”

“Well that’s a relief.”

“He also said they’d liked to have rented your place, too. Said he was going to offer you ten thousand more than he did last year.” Laura shook her head when Sam’s gaze met hers.

“I’m afraid poor Ben is going to be disappointed again. The chalet is not, and never will be, for sale. It was nice seeing you, Henry.” She nodded toward the boat where Sam was drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. Henry grinned.

“Nice seeing you, too, Ms Keane. Safe trip. You get your satellite turned on?” Laura nodded. “You’ll be wanting to keep an eye on the weather station. They’re calling for a doozy of a storm system to move in around Thursday. You might want to get over here before it hits to stock up on some supplies.”

“If it gets bad, we’ll just make do with whatever we have on hand. If it lasts too long, Harpers will do in a pinch.”

 

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

Until I was about twenty years old, I just looked at writing as something I loved to do. What I really wanted to was be a policewoman.  However, as mentioned in my author bio, being a chicken at heart, that wasn’t the best fit for me.

When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?

I’ve been writing stories since a ninth grade creative writing class. Before that, as an adolescent, I wrote plays – which a supportive aunt forced my siblings and cousins to perform for all of our parents. So I’ve been writing one thing or another for most of my life, and called myself a writer for most of that time. But it was never ‘real’ to me until I got my first piece of fan mail in 2011. And then it was like, “Wow! I really AM an author!

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

My only other job is that of a mother. It is and always will be the most important job I will ever have, and it will still be mine when my kids are senior citizens (I plan to celebrate my 100th birthday, and for them to celebrate theirs long after I’m gone).

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 newest book is A Cool Summer in Paradise and it’s the second installment in my Casteloria series. I’m touring the first, Laying Low in Paradise to promote the new one. Twenty words? “First impressions are often wrong as scruffy Dr. Nolan Campbell and reserved Abby Keane are about to discover.”

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

I have a bit of a rebellious nature, so when I discovered that traditional publishers require their authors to use formulas, I decided to self-publish. I’ve never believed the only way to tell a story is by using X, Y, and Z. I write the stories I need to tell – in the way I feel they need to be told. So self-publishing works well for me.

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

There’s a good question. Enza took me about ten years. A Fine Mess took five weeks from the original idea until ‘the end.’ Usually from the first hint of an idea to the finished manuscript is two or three months.

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

While I will always, always make romance the central focus of any story I tell, I find I can’t just stick with the romance genre. I’ve written historical fiction, and have a couple of fantasy stories out – with more to come. I also like to tackle real life issues and have outlines for books that will deal with death, alcoholism, and Alzheimer’s Disease, as well as a sequel and prequel for Enza, so I’ll be back into the historical fiction. But mostly, it will be romance and fantasy romance.

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

This is a tough question. There are so many, but if I have to choose one, it would have to be Elliot Owens. He is a devoted husband and a fabulous father with just the right amount of discipline and sense of fun.

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

I’ve been writing most of my life. What inspired me? The fact that I got too old to play with Barbie dolls. I needed a more mature way to continue the adventures of Barbie and Ken, and writing was the only real way to do that.

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

I’m trying to develop a better routine for writing. Thus far, what works best is to back myself into a corner by promising a book by a certain date. And then I procrastinate until the last minute because my muse seems to perform better when under extreme pressure. I’m trying to retrain her. But yes, I write best when sitting at my desk in my quiet office, and I do listen to music. As to which kind, it just depends on what I’m writing. I had a playlist for music from 1918 when I wrote Enza. When I’m writing sad scenes, I listen to sad music. When I’m writing a romantic one, I listen to … of course, romantic songs.

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

I do, yes. Fortunately, most are positive, but I appreciate the ones that are not as well. If they include constructive criticism, I take it to heart and try to avoid those mistakes in new works.

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

Almost always, the title comes after the book is written. I used to come up with them first … until they were ready to publish I’d find someone else had already used it – and then I’d have to come up with a new one. So unless it includes a character name, like A Hero For Holly or Her Best Friend Jon, I just save the hassle of coming up with two and wait until I’m ready for it.

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

With eighteen novels, novellas and a short story out, it becomes a challenge to come up with names. One reader pointed out that I really seem to like Jake and Sam, and another pointed out that I used Michael and Mike as the bad guys in a couple of books – and I don’t know why because I love the name. In fact, I always laugh because I used the name Michael Weston in Reluctant Guardian about five years before Burn Notice came out. As for how I choose them, I think it’s more that the characters choose them. I often start out with one name then, as I get to know him or her better, the name will change.

As for places, I think I’ve only made up the name of Casteloria and its other two islands, as well as the cities. For that, I used different parts of Irish surnames and put them together. Casteloria itself … that was just made up and it took days to figure it out.

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

I usually have a good idea of who the main characters are before I choose the names – or they choose them for me.

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

Once I have a general idea for a story, the single most important step I take is creating and getting to know my characters. If I don’t know them – extremely well – then the story is almost impossible to write. I need to know more about them than the reader ever will in order to know how they will respond to any given situation. And sometimes, when I know them better than I know myself, they hijack my stories. I’ll be planning to write a scene one way, but the characters won’t have any part of it and by the time I’m done, not only am I surprised, but the scene is far better than what I’d originally planned.

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..")

If there are morals, they’re unintentional. But I suppose all of them have basically the same core lesson. Live an honorable life, love with all of your heart, and you just might get your happily-ever-after.

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

I actually prefer a paperback. Hardcover books get really heavy to hold after a while. That said, I do most of my reading on the Kindle these days. It’s just more convenient. I don’t have to worry about losing which page I’m on, and I can carry an entire library – with books of my choosing – when I go to a doctor’s appointment, or am relaxing at home or in a hotel room.

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

My sister gave me an old book called ‘Alas, Babylon.’ She found it in the high school library and thought with my love of history, I’d love it too. And she was right. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve read it, but I wore out the first copy. Thank goodness it was still available in print-on-demand, and I bought a new copy. It’s a story about a worldwide nuclear war in the 1950s, and centers on a group of survivors in Florida. Unlike another one from that same era (On the Beach), this ends with hope that at least some of the world’s population would not only survive a catastrophic war, but thrive.

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

I think they can, and sometimes do. Surprising to me, I thought The Host transferred very well to a movie. I put off seeing it for a long time because I didn’t see how a 650+ page novel could be turned into a two-hour movie without losing a lot of the story in the process – but the script writer pulled it off. I can’t really think of a ‘worst’ one because I tend to be drawn to quirky Netflix movies no one has ever heard of. Or anything involving any of The Avengers.

Your favorite food is?

It’s a toss-up between steak or meatloaf and either baked potatoes or garlic-parmesan potatoes cooked over hot coals (in foil). Throw in a big salad or a bunch of broccoli and I’m a happy girl. Oh. And a brownie. Can’t forget the brownie.

Your favorite singer/group is?

Hands down … REO Speedwagon.

Your favorite color is?

Hunter green.

Your favorite Author is?

Oh wow. This is the hardest question of all. I have three – Debbie Macomber, Jude Devereaux, and Nora Roberts … and I can’t choose just one.

 

 

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Kristy K. James' first goal in life was to work in law enforcement, until the night she called the police to check out a scary noise in her yard. Realizing that she might someday have to investigate scary noises in yards just as dark as hers if she continued on that path, she turned to her other favorite love...writing. Since then her days have been filled with being a mom and reluctant zookeeper (7 pets), creating stories, and looking for trouble in her kitchen.

http://kristykjames.net/

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Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: The Hoodoo Detective by @RigaHayworth

 

The Hoodoo Detective

Riga Hayworth Paranormal Mysteries

Book 6

Kirsten Weiss

Genre: Urban fantasy/Paranormal mystery

Publisher: Misterio Press

Date of Publication: October 31, 2014

ISBN: 978-0-9908864-1-9

ASIN:

Number of pages: 291

Word Count: 75,000

Cover Artist: Becky Scheel

Book Description:

Hoodoo, haunts, and horror.

Riga Hayworth just wants to wrap up her supernatural TV series exploring the magic of New Orleans. But when she stumbles across a corpse, she becomes a police consultant on a series of occult murders, murders that quickly become all too personal.

Book six in the Riga Hayworth series of paranormal mysteries.

Available at Amazon BN Kobo

“What we need is more conflict.” Sam frowned, his sandy hair stirring in the breeze from a nearby fan.

Riga Hayworth caught a waiter's eye, pointed to her empty cocktail glass, and raised a digit.

Nodding, the waiter bustled off, abandoning her to the crew of the reality TV show. Tourists and black-aproned wait staff swirled about their courtyard table, in that New Orleans mix of soupy heat and raw excitement.

But all Riga felt was irritation. Irritation that so far the Haunted New Orleans episode of Supernatural Encounters had been a bust. Irritation that she’d felt obliged to do the reality show. Irritation that she didn’t really need the money from the series, her husband had plenty for them both. And that left her awkwardly trying to demonstrate some relevance, keeping her hand in as an income earner. And why did she feel the need to prove herself in their marriage? At the thought of her husband, her annoyance vanished, replaced by longing. What was Donovan doing now?

“We need tension,” her field producer went on. “It doesn’t have to be a fight per se. Tension can mean two people who want different things.” He was dressed for an L.L. Bean safari, but judging from his darkening freckles and ruddy face, he wasn’t any cooler than the rest of them.

Summer in New Orleans. Why?

Riga glanced across the table at her slim, tousle-haired niece, Pen. One bare foot was propped on the edge of her chair, straining the knees of her cargo pants. Today's t-shirt read: KEEP CALM AND GET OFF MY LAWN, an image of a shotgun bracketing top and bottom.

At least with Pen on the Supernatural Encounters camera team, they had a chance for some quality time. The opportunity to do magical research was an added bonus. One of their interviewees, a local hoodoo queen, had joined them for lunch, and Riga had been picking her brain about gris-gris charms.

Riga angled her head back, meditating on a puffy white cloud. If Donovan had been able to get away from his casino in Macau, New Orleans would have been different. Her lips parted. Fun.

She pulled her auburn hair off the back of her neck, enjoying the play of the fan on her damp skin. Discreetly, she unstuck her white silk tank from her back, leaned forward in the wrought iron chair.

“Story is conflict,” Sam, rattled on.

Pen fiddled with a video camera. Her chair was slightly back from the table, angled toward her boyfriend and fellow camera tech John Wolfe. Her other foot rested, hidden, in Wolfe's lap, being massaged.

Angus, their sound man, turned a deeper shade of pink and looked away from the couple.

“I mean, you're gorgeous,” Sam continued. “A Rita Hayworth clone whose name is actually Riga Hayworth. The heart-shaped face, the hair. Your eyes are more of a browny-purple, which is stunning, but the point is...”

Ignoring the producer, Riga narrowed her gaze at Wolfe, still massaging her niece’s bare foot. With his long sideburns and wavy, dark hair, his looks fit his name. Seven years older than Pen, he was a grown man, challenging, virile, sexy. And though Riga liked him, his relationship with her niece made her uneasy. Pen wasn't even old enough to drink yet.

Catching her eye, his face paled, and he laid his broad hands on the table. Riga was unsure what her role of chaperone entailed and had decided to err on the side of militancy.

“You're ignoring me again,” the field producer said.

Riga looked up, studying the spot between his pale blue eyes. “I'm not ignoring you,” she lied. “Just waiting for you to elaborate.”

“As am I, chère.” Beside her, Hannah the Hoodoo Queen propped her head in her hands and fluttered her lashes. Tall, with the sculpted cheekbones of a supermodel and the muscular frame of a pro tennis player, Hannah’s dark skin shimmered in the heat. Dreadlocks streamed from beneath her gold-colored turban.

Sam waved his manicured hands in the air. “Conflict. Stories are built on conflict. Our pilot show had it in spades—”

Riga's mouth turned down. “In the pilot we crossed paths with a serial killer. Do you really want that again?”

“No, no. Of course not,” he said. “Just... conflict.”

“We've got some great footage of Riga rolling her eyes and smirking.” Pen shook her loose, chestnut-colored hair, smothering a smirk of her own.

“It's a start,” Sam said. “But we need more.”

“How much more?” Riga asked.

“We need conflict between people.”

“It's too hot to argue,” Riga said. “Whose bright idea was it to come to New Orleans in June?”

He sighed, glancing at Hannah. “Can't you two at least disagree a little? Magical practitioner to magical practitioner?”

“Why would I disagree with Hannah on anything that has to do with hoodoo?” Riga asked. “She's the specialist, not me.”

“I like this girl,” Hannah said.

He put his hands on his hips. “Work with me here.”

“So you're asking us to fake an argument,” Riga said. “For reality TV.”

“It's television,” Sam said. “You should know by now there's no such thing as reality TV.”

Hannah rose. “Sorry, Mr. Producer. I don't do catfights. And now if y'all would excuse me, I've got to meet a client in desperate need of a love potion.”

“Bye,” Riga said.

Hannah winked and sauntered through the restaurant, winding past the fountain in the center of the courtyard. Pausing beside a table sheltered by ferns, she nodded and disappeared through the garage-like entryway.

Sam folded his lanky arms across his chest. “Riga... We spent the night in one of America's most haunted houses, and you didn't react.”

“It's not that haunted.”

Wolfe's hands were under the table again, and Pen smiled. Riga relaxed, slipped through the in-between. Wolfe's drink toppled, spilling ice and mint leaves and booze into his lap. He leapt up, sputtering, dabbing at his jeans with a cloth napkin.

Pen's feet retracted onto her chair. Peeling a wet leaf from her foot, she glared at her aunt.

Riga gave her a what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it grin. After a year of struggling, her magic had had a sudden breakthrough.

Unfortunately, other parts of her magic were still wildly awry. But the possibilities both excited and terrified her. Enemies in the magical world were like gunfighters, looking to make names for themselves by knocking off tough opponents. The more adept her magic, the easier it was to defend herself, the more people came after her. She fidgeted, itching to return to her hotel room to study the thin file on the Old Man, the file she'd told Donovan she'd leave at home.

Wolfe tossed the soaked napkin on the table. An awkwardly positioned stain spread over the front of his jeans. “I'll be right back.” He headed for the bathrooms, passing the bar. A youngish man in a Hawaiian shirt and baggy shorts half-fell off his barstool, but managed to keep his tall, tropical drink upright. The drinking got started in New Orleans earlier than any other city Riga had visited.

“Riga, this is important,” Sam said. “You need to react more. People need to see your emotion to connect with you – whether that emotion is positive or negative. For example, what are you feeling right now?”

“Annoyed.”

“Great! And what do you do when you're annoyed?”

Riga's lips thinned. “As a mature adult, I express my annoyance in the appropriate time and manner. If you expect me to pitch a fit like some reality TV star—”

“You are a reality TV star. Or you could be if we get this series off the ground. Look, we've got three more days. Just… give me more reaction, okay?”

“Got it. More emotion. No problem.”

Glass splintered, and they turned toward the sound. Hawaiian shirt guy had navigated off the barstool and knocked a waitress to the ground. Clumsily, he brushed an orange from her knee. Her tray rolled along the moss-filled brickwork. A toddler in a highchair pointed at it, laughing with delight. Clutching a fistful of napkins, the bartender hurried to the fallen waitress.

Riga's brow furrowed. Stupid drunks, that was her drink seeping into the patio floor.

Waving a hand in apology at the waitress, Hawaiian Shirt staggered to the fountain, crashed into a chair and stumbled into their table.

Angus stood quickly, and laid a chubby hand on the drunk's chest. In spite of Hawaiian Shirt's six-inch advantage, the stranger stumbled back.

“Hey friend,” Angus said, his broad, freckled face serious, “the bar's that way.”

“I'm not your friend. I'm a hit man. A hoodoo hit man.”

“Well, Mr. Hit Man, you need to move along.” Angus oriented him in the other direction.

The man nodded, turned, brushing past Riga. His lips pressed to her ear, his breath hot and sweet on her neck. “And you're worth a cool quarter mil.” He leaned into her, the gun hidden beneath his shirt digging into her shoulder. Something dropped to her lap.

Pen's face twisted with disgust.

“That's enough, buddy.” Yanking him away from the table, Angus shoved him gently in the opposite direction.

The hoodoo hit man lurched into the dark corridor that led to the bathrooms and the rear exit.

Riga looked down at the scrap of paper folded in her lap. Hands beneath the table, she opened it:

Neither of us is alone.

Follow me and only one of us gets hurt.

At a nearby table, a father lifted his toddler off the ground, blew into the little boy's belly. The child shrieked with laughter.

Riga swallowed. There were too many targets. The waitress, bringing her a fresh Hurricane. A well-dressed couple, engrossed in their smart phones. Pen, smiling vacuously at Wolfe and oblivious to the danger. Riga clenched her hands, a wave of dizziness surging through her body.

Abruptly, she stood.

“Now that's an emotion,” Sam said. “That's what I want to see on your face. What have we got? Anger? Anxiety? Stress?”

“Indigestion.” Riga followed the hit man.

Walking into the cool shadow of the wood-paneled corridor, she unclenched her fists, her heart slamming in her chest. In magic, fear and stress worked against her. Riga fought to relax, rolled her shoulders.

It didn't help. Tension sputtered through her system.

A humming fluorescent light illuminated the narrow hallway in flickering sepia tones. On her left, two bathroom doors, black and splashed with red paint. Further down, a cart stacked with dirty dishes. A sliver of light gleamed at the end of the hall. The rear door stood ajar.

So he wanted her there, outside.

Which meant he was probably in one of the restrooms. Centering herself, she pulled in energy from above and below – hot molten red from the earth, cool blue from the sky.

Riga shoved open the door to the ladies room, checked the stalls.

Empty.

Riga sidled outside. She walked to the men's room, her sandaled feet clicking lightly on the tile floor. Flung the door open.

Wolfe, braced before a urinal, whipped his head around. “Hey!”

“Anyone in here with you?”

“What are you... No!”

“You sure?”

“Of course I'm sure. Do you mind?”

“Sorry.” She ducked out.

So the hit man really was waiting for her in the alley, unless he could hide on the ceiling like a bat. Glancing up, she blew out her breath. No vampires or hit men crawled across the ceiling. Not that she really believed there would be.

Riga paced down the corridor, energy rippling between her fingers.

Heat drifted in from the cracked door. Licking her lips, she tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach and pressed her fingertips to the door. She extended her senses beyond it, a gentle push on the auric bubble that surrounded her, forcing the bubble outward. She felt no one before her, outside. Which meant…

Riga spun, panting, palms extended outward, fingers curled like claws.

The corridor was empty.

Sounds of normalcy – the clatter of dishes, laughter, light jazz music – flowed down the corridor from the restaurant.

She stared at the alley door. What. The. Hell. Extending her senses again, Riga probed more carefully. A flicker of life sparked on the edge of her awareness. But it was too small to be the hit man. A cat? The gorge rose in her throat at a familiar pull, sickly sweet.

She pushed open the door. A wave of damp heat struck her, and the scent of copper and rotting garbage. A narrow brick alley. Tumbled cardboard boxes. A garbage can, tipped on its side. A hand, lying on the pavement, wet with...

Gripping the door, Riga took another step into the alley. She stared, breathless. The hoodoo hit man lay on the ground, blood spreading from the gash in his neck in a ghastly smile. Blood soaked his Hawaiian shirt. Blood puddled, trickled, spattered. She stumbled back, dizzy, the warm door handle tethering her to reality, keeping her upright.

Something prickled at the edges of her consciousness, hot and cold and electric.

At the end of the alley, a tall figure wavered in the heat, its head strangely bulbous. It stretched, extended, darkening, pulling light inside it.

“What's going on?” Wolfe asked.

Riga jumped, gasping. She turned and looked into a camera lens. “Dammit, Wolfe!”

Riga glanced down the alley. The figure had vanished.

Wolfe smiled, one eye glued to the viewfinder. “I figured you were up to something when you busted into the men's room, so I went back for my camera.”

Riga couldn't trust herself to speak. She longed to punch him, to wipe that infuriating grin from his mouth.

“What...?” He turned the camera, panning down the alley. The camera dipped, swayed. “Oh.”

Digging into the pocket of her skorts for her cell phone, she called 9-1-1, hands shaking.

“At least the cops can't say you did it,” he said. “I saw you go into the alley. I've even got it on tape.”

Riga grunted. “Small favors.” Forcing down the fear and shock, her mind registered the scene. The hit man had probably been attacked from behind. But the spatter would have been hard for the killer to completely avoid, and she shuddered in spite of the furnace-like heat rising from the macadam. It cooked the garbage, the blood, the body.

There was something horribly intimate about a knife attack. It was close, personal.

She'd rather face a gun.

The hit man's shirt was ruched up, exposing his weapon, a Walther PPK. He'd never gotten a chance to draw it.

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

First I wanted to be a detective. Then I decided to write detective stories (that was around age six). So not always, but pretty close to it. Then adulthood and reality got in the way. I’m glad to be getting back to my childhood dreams!

When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?

I’m still not sure I do, though I’ve got seven published books to my name and an agent.

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

I’m self-published my first book, and then for my second I found a small press which is fairly nimble when it comes to publication schedules.

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

I work overseas as a development finance consultant. In real-world speak, that means I work with microfinance nonprofits and banks to help them provide financial services (savings and credit) to micro and small business owners in developing countries. Lately, I’ve been working a lot in Ethiopia.

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

The Hoodoo Detective. It’s about a metaphysical detective in New Orleans for a reality TV show and stumbles into a murder.

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

My publisher is Misterio Press. They’re wonderfully supportive.

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

If I’m really cooking, I can write the first draft in a month. Then I need to let it set for at least a month before I start editing it. The editing process can take a month or two, including my own edits and edits from my publisher.

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

I really love paranormal mystery. Currently my agent is trying to sell a paranormal cozy mystery I wrote, called The Perfectly Proper Paranormal Museum. Fingers crossed she succeeds, because I really like this one.

What genre would you place your books into?

Urban fantasy/paranormal mystery.

What made you decide to write that genre of book?

I’ve always loved mystery, and I think the paranormal gives it an added spice.

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

I love Riga, because in spite of her magic, she’s very human. But my fans seem to like her sidekick, Brigitte the gargoyle, best.

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

No. I try not to look at them. The good ones needlessly inflate my ego and the bad ones are crushing. I usually go straight to the comments and thank the reviewer for taking the time to write the review (good or bad).

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

The book comes first. I often struggle over the titles.

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

Definitely before. Character drives the action!

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..")

In The Hoodoo Detective, I explore nihilism, and I don’t like it much. Is that a moral? People can take it or leave it.

 

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Kirsten Weiss is the author of the Riga Hayworth paranormal mystery series: The Metaphysical Detective, The Alchemical Detective, The Shamanic Detective, The Infernal Detective, and The Elemental Detective. She’s also the author of a steampunk novel, Steam and Sensibility.

Kirsten worked overseas for nearly fourteen years, in the fringes of the former USSR and deep in the Afghan war zone. Her experiences abroad not only gave her glimpses into the darker side of human nature, but also sparked an interest in the effects of mysticism and mythology, and how both are woven into our daily lives.

Now based in San Mateo, CA, she writes paranormal mysteries, blending her experiences and imagination to create a vivid world of magic and mayhem.

Kirsten has never met a dessert she didn’t like, and her guilty pleasures are watching Ghost Whisperer reruns and drinking good wine.

You can connect with Kirsten through the social media sites below

Web: http://kirstenweiss.com

Blog: http://parayournormal.wordpress.com

Twitter: @RigaHayworth

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

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5346143.Kirsten_Weiss

New Release!! Heart Ties by @empetrova @MyFamHrtBookRvw

BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – Heart Ties SERIES – Club Ties AUTHOR – Em Petrova GENRE – contemporary biker romance, romantic suspense PUBLICATION DATE – Nov 6 LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – Novel 65k words PUBLISHER – Hartwood Publishing

BOOK SYNOPSIS

The only thing keeping Ex-Marine Drake from drinking himself into an early grave is his love of leather, horsepower, and his motorcycle club. Battling to adapt to a world where he isn’t blowing everything up, he roams the highways to keep his mind off his past. But after a mission to kidnap the curvy, tattooed goddess, Delta, he finds avoiding the bottle a little easier. Especially since he can only dream of finding solace against her silky body.

Delta would do anything to escape a life where pain and fear control her. She’s lived as a slave and outsider since she could walk. When a scary biker clan storms into her life and introduces her to her long-lost sister, she’s shocked to find warmth and comfort. While Delta knows better than to hope for a life she can’t have, Drake refuses to let her slip back into the hell she knows.

Plunged into a world of gambling, guns, and drugs isn’t her idea of paradise, but hunky Drake makes her pulse pound. Is it too much to believe that Drake can save her from her torment? And what can she do about extinguishing that burning, haunted look in his eyes?

BUY & TBR LINKS

AMAZON KINDLE US – GOODREADS

EXCERPT

Jamison brought his fist down on the table. “You couldn’t have mentioned that you stormed into the Raiders club and took Delta?” Drake stared at his vice prez. He liked Jamison—trusted him. Only Jamison knew how deep Drake had sunk after his tours of duty or how much alcohol he’d consumed. The few who knew about Drake’s leg thought he’d lost it in war, but the truth was, he’d lost it to idiocy. Jamison was a fool if he believed they hadn’t used force to get Delta. “Did you think we’d just parley with the enemy and they’d gladly hand over their woman?” Jamison raked his fingers through his hair, leaving tracks. His face was tense. “The MC rules are full disclosure. You fucking tell me everything that happens out there.” He pointed at the door and the world beyond. “I don’t care if it’s a drug run or you shoot up a club to get back Ever’s sister.” “No one fired a shot,” Pax said. “Then how the fuck did you take Delta by force?” Jamison looked at each of them, probably looking for split lips or knuckles, evidence of a fistfight. “Drake had a bomb.” Jamison met Drake’s gaze. He knew what Drake had done in the Marines. What he’d done for his country. He blew shit up, but he’d lost his leg from driving drunk. “Okay.” Jamison’s eyelid twitched. “From now on, the club needs to know this shit. Got it?” “Yeah.” Drake wasn’t concerned with the club at this moment. When the asshole Raiders’ prez had moved, Delta had folded up. An abused woman if Drake had ever seen one. He clenched his teeth. “If this is club business, what the fuck are we going to do to get her back?” Jamison rested his hands on the table. Strother might be president, but they’d all followed Jamison while Strother took care of his own shit. First he’d lost his son to drugs then his wife had gone crazy with grief. “She wasn’t trying to escape the Raiders in the first place,” Jamison said. Drake didn’t agree, but he remained silent. “She has a right to return with them.” Silent—until now. “Do you think for a minute they’ll let her come visit her sister?” He had opinions about how free Delta was to come and go anyway. Now they’d lock the fortress around her. Jamison shook his head. “No, they won’t. But do we start another war?” The Hell’s Sons had just battled the local charter of the Raiders in order to get Ever back. Just days ago some of their men had fallen. They’d barely gotten them buried, and now they were talking about another war. “I’ll go alone.” Everyone stilled. In the other room, Ever’s sobs sounded, followed by Ace’s comforting tone. Jamison clenched his fists. They were all protective of Ever, and that had extended to Delta for the time she was here. Both women had something that reached into a man’s chest and tugged at his heart.

BOOK SOUNDTRACK

Family—Noah Gundersen Crash This Train – Joshua James Come Away to the Water—Maroon 5 Lay Low—Shovels and Rope Boathouse—Noah Gundersen That Sea, the Gamler—Gregory Alan Isakov A Tendency to Start Fires—Bush

AUTHOR BIO

Em Petrova lives in Backwoods, Pennsylvania, where she raises 4 kids and a Labradoodle named Daisy Hasselhoff. Her heroes are hardworking heroes—in bed and out—and she is known for panty-scorching erotic romance.

AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKS

WEBSITE – GOODREADS – AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE – BLOG – FACEBOOK FAN PAGE – TWITTER

GIVEAWAY

Up for grabs is a photo of Jax from Sons of Anarchy signed by Charlie Hunnam

AUTHORS GIVEAWAY - CLICK HERE

Tour Organized & Hosted By:

Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: By Sea - Supernatural Renegades # 1 by @CarlyFall1

Title: By Sea
Series: Supernatural Renegades # 1
Author: Carly Fall
Audience: Adult
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Formats: E-book
Publisher: Carly Fall
Cover by: PJ Friel
Editor: Madison Seidler
Pages: 250-300
ISBN: 1502405598
ASIN: B00MRORVBI
Date Published: 11 October 2014










 While fighting the War on Drugs in Latin America, Marine Brody Teller was involved in an accident that left him with a supernatural power: a deep connection to the sea and the ability to control it.
When the mysterious Joe Smith approaches him with an incredible job offer, Brody thinks it’s too good to be true. His life-saving need and his desire to be near the ocean while earning a living are rolled into one perfect job.
Rayna Lopez lives a quiet life as she tries to climb her way up the CIA ladder, always in fear the government will learn of her family lineage. When her father asks for help getting her famous and belligerent half-sister out of trouble, Rayna reluctantly agrees to travel with her and they board a yacht where they will be protected.
Brody and Rayna realize they’ve met before, and despite a significant lack of trust between them, they face an attraction neither can deny. As they fight to keep Rayna’s sister alive, lies are revealed and secrets are told. They must both learn to trust each other, and—if they live through their voyage—figure out what to do about their whirlwind romance.

Amazon / Goodreads / Barnes and Noble / Smashwords / Itunes / Kobo     Taking a deep breath through her snorkel, she looked back at the fish. Reds, yellows, and blues . . . it seemed every color of the rainbow was represented on swarm of beauty before her. About ten feet away, Margarita let go of another handful of cat food, and the fish teemed around her as they fed. Rayna found it mildly amusing that the fish seemed to adore the cat food, and cats loved fish.
She glanced over at Brody again, and he motioned her to follow him. She caught up with him, and they swam together, the sun warming her back. When they were out of range from Margarita and Jason, Brody laced his fingers with hers.
Rayna looked up and saw they were headed for the caves. Katie had said the fish inhabiting them were different, and Rayna looked forward to the exploration.
As they entered the cave, the light waned, but Rayna caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see a thin, dark, four-foot long fish emerge from the darkness. She gasped and grabbed Brody’s arm as the fish swam out of the cave.
Rayna lifted her head, and Brody did the same.
“That was a barracuda,” he said after removing his mouthpiece.
“That thing was huge!” Rayna exclaimed, her heart still pounding with fear.
Brody chuckled and pulled her close to him, removing his mask, and then hers. “Is Ms. Hot CIA afraid of a little fish?”
Rayna laced her arms around his neck, thankful the ocean gave them such buoyancy. “Yes,” she murmured, as he peppered her neck with slow kisses.
“Don’t worry about him,” Brody whispered, his voice barely audible over the waves lapping at the rocks in the cave. “Barracudas don’t like humans. He has no desire to nibble on your toes. Now on the other hand, I’m a different story. I want to lick, suck, and nibble every inch of you. If there’s anything you should worry about, it’s me.”
Rayna laughed despite the bolts of heat coursing through her. Her heart still pounded, but she knew it was from Brody’s touch, not fear. His lips met hers in slow exploration.
“So I should actually be worried about my Captain who has promised to protect me?” she teased.
“Oh, yes, Rayna,” he whispered in her ear. “You should be very worried about what I plan to do with you.



By Sea has been described as " amazing and suspense filled storyline about betrayal, government secrets and finding love." Renegade by Styx https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KOQ4pkUAFbA Bankie Banx - Hitchin' a Ride https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/hit... It's Five O’clock Somewhere - Jimmy Buffett https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BPCjC543llU&list=PLdiDN6Uc46DHD4a1e5bWkP_z5XId5eHBz Give Me the Simple Life - Patrick Ki Sugar, We're Going Down Swinging by Fall Out Boys https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N68BgieLs3s Little Lies Fleetwood Mac https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qf63D4EQtV8 Interstate Love Song by Stone Temple Pilots https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WUoEMFYbxiI AC/DC Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=onE43h_TUUY Bankie Banx - Bring it Out https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/bringing-it-out/id330618552?i=330618624        

Character Name: Brody Teller, former Marine

Character Bio:

Describe yourself what is your worst and vest quality?

Thanks for having me, Karen. My worst quality is I tend not to trust people, especially after what the government did to me. My best quality is that once you earn my trust, I'm very loyal

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

I loved being in the military—it was my life—and my feelings were hurt when the government experimented on my unit after I'd given them everything.

What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?

I don't have one thing that no one knows about, however, there are only 5 people who know about my connection with the sea and my ability to control it.

What are you most afraid of?

The government finding out where I am and coming for me.

What do you want more than anything?

To be left alone and live my life.

What is your relationship status?

I'm currently deeply in love with Rayna Lopez, super hot ex-CIA agent.

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

I'm a captain of a yacht, so it's short and t-shirts, and every now and then my uniform.

How much of a rebel are you?

Well, considering By Sea is the first book of the Supernatural Renegade series, I would say probably a ten.

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?

My service to my country, even though they screwed me over.

What is your idea of happiness?

I'm on the ocean, which I love, but also need to live. I'm with the woman I love. I don't think it gets much better than this.

What is your current state of mind?

Currently, I'm relaxed and happy, but who knows what my next assignment will bring. When that rolls along, I could be a stressed out mess.

What is your most treasured possession?

I don't really have anything that is "mine," as I left all my possessions except the clothes on my back in my former life when I came to work for Joe Smith.

What is your most marked characteristic?

My ability to control the sea.

What is it that you, most dislike?

Lying and betrayal.

Which living person do you, most despise?

I don't know his name, but it is the man or woman who ordered the experiment on my unit in Guatemala. But then again, if that hadn't happened, I would never have met Rayna.

What is your greatest regret?

That I was so awful to Rayna when I first met her.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?

Intelligent, funny, and strong.

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

I used to say my ability to control the sea, but since it saved my life and the lives of Rayna and my crew, I guess I'm cool with it. Besides, if I didn't have this connection with the sea, I wouldn't have the dolphins hanging around all the time, and I'd miss them.

What is your motto?

To be alive tomorrow, I have to stay vigilant today.

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Carly Fall is a wife, a mother and a slave to the dog, Nicky.
She loves to laugh, thinks chocolate and wine should be considered their own food group, and wishes Christmas happened twice a year.
She is the author of the award winning and Amazon best selling series, the Six Saviors, as well as paranormal and contemporary romance.
Website / Facebook / Twitter / Goodreads / Amazon
Tour Schedule - One Week Blog Tour for By Sea ,Supernatural Renegades #1 by Carly Fall from Nov 3 to Nov 11, 2014. Nov 3 Kelly P's Blog - Promo http://kellyatx.blogspot.com/ Accepted Wisdom - Promo & Book Soundtrack http://icanonlybehele3.blogspot.com Booky Ramblings of a Neurotic Mom - Promo & Top Ten http://bookyramblingsofaneuroticmom.blogspot.co.uk/ Nov 4 Deal Sharing Aunt - Promo http://www.dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com Book Geek - Promo & Book Soundtrack http://www.bookgeekuk.com Indy Book Fairy - Promo & Book Soundtrack http://paranormalbookfairy.blogspot.com/ Nov 5 Movies, Shows & Books - Promo http://moviesshowsnbooks.blogspot.com/ Patricia D. Eddy - Promo http://www.pdeddy.com Portals to New Worlds - Promo, Character Interview & Book Soundtrack http://authorkarenswart.blogspot.com Nov 6 Trips Down Imagination Road - Review http://a-reader-lives-a-thousand-lives.blogspot.co.uk A Cauldron of Books - Promo & Book Soundtrack http://acauldronofbooks.info Nov 7 Angels with Attitude Book Reviews - Promo & Author Interview http://angelswithattitudebookreviews-joelle.blogspot.com The Avid Reader - Promo & Author Interview http://the-avidreader.blogspot.com Nov 10 Diane's Book Blog - Promo & Author Interview http://dianes-book.blogspot.com Darkest Cravings - Promo, Author Interview & Book Soundtrack http://www.darkestcravings.weebly.com Nov 11 Hooked On Books Forever - Promo, Review http://hookedonbooksforever.blogspot.com/ Eclipse Reviews - Promo, Top Ten & Book Soundtrack http://www.eclipsereviews.weebly.com Dalene's Book Reviews - Promo, Review & Book Soundtrack http://dalenesbookreviews.blogspot.com/

Pre Order Today: Knight in Highland Armor by @amyjarecki

Title: Knight in Highland Armor Series: Highland Dynasty # 1 Author: Amy Jarecki Audience: Adult Genre: Scottish Historical Romance Formats: E-book and Paperback Publisher: Rapture Books Cover by: Kim Killion Editor: Arran McNichol Pages: 380 pages ISBN: 978-1502390295 ASIN: B00OQT919M Expected Date of Publishing: Jan1, 2015.     Grieving from the death of his wife, Lord Colin Campbell listens to the cries of his newborn son whilst penning a missive to the king. With no marriage prospects, Colin petitions his majesty for help in finding a stepmother. Never again will he fall in love—the death of a woman brings more pain than losing a whole contingent of men on the battlefield.
Feisty, quick tongued and smart, Margaret Robinson is delighted when her father receives a messenger from the king…until she discovers what news he brings. In a sennight, she will wed the notorious Black Knight—her life is about to end.
Tension builds during the wedding and deteriorates from there…until an accident draws them together. Just when their love begins to blossom, a dire request arrives from the Pope. Colin must join the Crusades at once.
Their fragile love is forced to withstand the seductions of hell—Margaret tempted by a scoundrel laird—Colin courted by Satan himself. Aye, the war for Christendom could very well ruin their dreams forever.


Amazon / Goodreads / Barnes & Noble / Smashwords / Itunes     Margaret reached into her purse to pluck a farthing when horse hooves pummeled the ground. Looking up, she scarcely had the chance to dash aside. Two riders thundered through the fete at a brisk canter. She tripped over her gown. The fruit flung from her basket as the horses sped past. Margaret crashed into something sturdy and hard. Her hands whipped around it, saving herself from falling. Her hood flew from her head and dropped to her back.
It wasn’t until a pair of massive arms encircled her that she realized she’d fallen into a man—a very large, very strong man. She inhaled. The heady and exotic fragrance of cloves laced with a hint of ginger and male toyed with her insides. Struggling to drag her feet beneath her, Margaret made the mistake of grasping him tighter. His back muscles bulged beneath his quilted doublet. Her heart fluttered.
“Forgive me,” she uttered breathlessly.
His enormous hands held her shoulders firmly and helped her gain her balance. “Are you all right, m’lady?”
Flustered, Margaret pushed away and smoothed her fingers over the white ribbon encircling her crown. She brushed her fingers down the length of her exposed tresses, cascading over her shoulder to her waist. First, her gaze leveled on his red tunic, with a white cross emblazoned on the center of his very broad chest. Then her eyes drifted to his face, framed by dun-colored curls. Beneath his cap, they shone like silk in the sun, and she wanted to reach up and touch them to see if his hair was actually as soft as it looked.
Dark brown, wide-set eyes gazed upon her with a glint of humor. They were so friendly, her tension immediately eased. His features were undeniably masculine; his bold nose slightly bent toward full lips that grinned, revealing a row of healthy white teeth.
“I…I am unscathed, thank you.” Margaret inhaled a stuttered breath and hoped to heaven she wasn’t blushing. “Please forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive. Those lads had no business riding through the fair at full tilt. I shall have a firm word with them.”
“I’m sure they are long gone…” Margaret peered up at his feathered ermine cap—a fur only worn by Scottish barons like her father. “…m’lord.” She stepped back, taking in the whole picture. She’d seen the square white cross on his tunic somewhere before—it definitely identified him as a knight, though she could not place the order. Unusually tall, he had to be at least eighteen hands—six feet was enormous, especially compared to her five. He wore a stylish doublet of black beneath the sleeveless tunic. His woolen hose were also black, and they clung to his thighs like a second skin. His muscles bulged when he stepped toward her with fashionably pointed shoes.
Mmm. ’Tis said clothes maketh the man.
He bent down and retrieved her basket. “I believe this is yours.”
“Thank you.” Margaret spotted apples and pears scattered everywhere. “But I’m afraid the fruit I’ve purchased is ruined.”
He frowned and stroked his bold chin. “Most unfortunate. Please allow me to replace it.”
“That should not be necessary. I only wished to help a poor man feed his family.”
“Most charitable of you, m’lady.” He offered a polite bow. “If you no longer require my assistance, I shall be on my way.”
“Very well. Should I fall again, I shall simply find another gallant knight to keep me from dousing myself in the mud.”
“A lucky man indeed to rescue a lady as bonny as you.” He bowed again and tapped his fingers to his hat. “Good day, m’lady.”
Margaret swooned, watching him walk away. Broad shoulders supported by a sturdy waist. To her delight, the knight’s doublet was short enough to give her a peek at his muscular buttocks. With a sigh, she smacked her lips while the crowd swallowed up the magnificent warrior’s form. If only her betrothed could be half as handsome.
“Margaret,” Mother called from across the aisle. “Come, I have something to show you.”
This time, she looked for racing horses before she set out. God forbid she fall into another knight. And heaven help her. On the morrow, she’d have to look upon such magnificent specimens with disinterested eyes. How on earth would she do that?


 
Amy has won multiple writing awards and lives in Utah with her husband, Bob. She writes contemporary romance and Scottish historical romance. For fun, she hikes, bikes and plays a mean game of golf. Born in California, Amy holds an MBA from Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh, Scotland.


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Cover Reveal: It’s Not My Favorite by Rue @ItsNotMyFavorit

It’s Not My Favorite The Lake Effect Series # 1 by Rue Audience: NA and Adult Genre: Contemporary, Chick Lit, Lesbian Formats: E-book and Paperback Publisher: Sittin’ On A Goldmine Publications LLC Cover by: Rue and Anne French Editor: M. Scott Gilbert; Kathy Gorchesky Pages: 312 pages ISBN: 0986062766 ASIN: B00KMHFW04 Date Published: April 21, 2014 The Hutchinson sisters grew up under the piercing, pious stare of a preacher’s wife. Plagued by her ever-disappointed refrain, “Well, it’s not my favorite.” Their search to find their own way in the world has not been a screaming success.
Gwenn is a good girl, a responsible girl…a miserable girl. Her steady diet of vivid fantasies is the only part of her life she enjoys. She daydreams of new parents, a more exciting job and an actual love life. She struggles to run a business as The Organizer, while she stacks relationship carcasses in the closet of her own completely unorganized life. Her only real friend is her younger sister, Rachel.
Rachel is outgoing, risqué and happily gay. The only people who don’t know this little secret are her judgmental parents, Pastor Ed and Shirley. Rachel struggles mightily to dodge her mother’s constant attempts to set her up with “nice Christian boys”; while holding down a job at the bakery and keeping up with her rock-star girlfriend!
Gwenn uncovers a photo that brings her imaginary world careening into reality. She’s forced to ask herself if wealthy artist, Daniel Gregory is the answer she’s been seeking or a grand delusion.
Break-ups, meltdowns, family secrets, wild nights and finally a journey of self-discovery to exotic New Zealand keep Gwenn and Rachel stumbling toward independence.
So grab your parka and join the Hutchinson girls, as they experience the Lake Effect in Duluth, Minnesota!
  Amazon / Goodreads / Barnes and Noble   “Why Jeff, I had no idea you were a necromancer.” Gwenn saw the confusion cloud Jeff’s face. “Sorry, bad joke. She’s a ghost. I mean literally, sheet with holes, etc. Good luck finding her.” Gwen pretended to see someone in the crowd and smiled at Jeff as she rushed away. She turned the corner just in time to see Rachel climbing up on the buffet. “Oh, you gotta be frickin’ kidding me.” Gwenn made it to the bathroom before Rachel hit the chorus of Let’s Go Crazy.
Hiding in the bathroom, Gwenn remembered a far more embarrassing Halloween. She was barely ten and had just started fifth grade at a new school, several weeks late in keeping with the Hutchinson family annual relocation tradition.
“Hi, I’m Gwenn.” No one at the lunch table acknowledged her existence. “Um, sorry, I didn’t want to bug you. I was just wondering if any of you wanted to come to my big Halloween party?” Gwenn smoothly lied.
All heads turned.
“Cool!” Came from several directions.
“Yeah, totally,” chimed in a few guys.
“Awesome. What’s your costume, Jen?” Sarah Beth asked.
“Oh, it’s Gwenn, and my costume is Catwoman.” Gwenn embellished.
“Wow. My mom is making me dress like Alice in Wonderland. I can’t wait to come to your party.” Sarah Beth made room for Gwenn at the table, “Here, sit by me.”
Gwenn had rushed home, filled with the excitement of acceptance—finally.
“Hey Trixie, yer home early.” Pastor Ed patted Gwenn patronizingly on the head. “Take a seat in the living room. We are havin’ a family meeting.”
Gwenn felt her stomach churn. Oh crap they were moving again. She just made an actual friend. Why were Ed and Shirley so dead set against her having friends?
“Hi Gwenny!” Rachel beamed.
“Shut up, twerp.” Gwenn stuck her tongue out at Rachel.
Shirley took the reins, ”Girls the Lord has spoken to us and He has shown us that Halloween is Satan’s night. As good Christians we cannot sin against the Lord by paying tribute to the Devil.” She closed her eyes and folded her hands in prayer.
“What’d that mean mommy?” Rachel innocently asked.
“Halloween’s canceled idiot! No costumes. No candy.” Gwenn stormed out of the room.
Big wet tears rolled down Rachel’s chubby cheeks. “No candy!” She wailed.
But the torment was much greater for Gwenn.
Ed and Shirley didn’t have the decency to cancel Halloween at the Hutchinson house. Instead, they carved up some pumpkins and turned on the porch lights to lure the unsuspecting children. Gwenn hid on the stairs and watched through the banister as innocent trick-or-treaters came to the door and Shirley shoved little orange tracts in their treat bags and told them Jesus died for their sins.
Sarah Beth did not make room for Gwenn—ever again.
That’s when the emotional deformities started. The inability to trust completely, the gnawing nameless guilt and finally that unsettling feeling that someone was judging her every action—and Gwenn always came up short.
She kept telling herself it would change, that someday she would find the key that would unlock the door to her invisible prison and she would be free.
Gwenn jumped when the music stopped. She wiped an unexplained tear from her cheek, exhaled the yuck and marched out of the bathroom.
The party was winding down and Rachel had crossed the line between life of the party and annoying drunk; landing clumsily on the pain-in–the-ass side of that line. Gwenn shepherded her sister through the maze of glass and steel skyway corridors connecting the buildings of Duluth’s downtown.
They emerged into the bitter cold wind knifing across the harbor and Gwenn tried to hurry the procession to her car. Rachel was already quite numb from the alcohol, so the cold had little effect.
“Rache, come on. I’m freezing. I’ll take you back to my place.”
“No…home,” slurred Rachel, insistently.
“But…”
“Gotta work…”
“You have to open the bakery tomorrow? Rache, how the hell are you gonna—”
“No worries, mate,” Rachel spouted off in her best Australian accent.
“Oh, crikey!” Gwenn was keenly aware that in the order of Rachel’s sorrow-drowning inebriation, accents preceded vomiting and passing out was just around the corner.
“Fine. I’ll take you home, but you have to hurry.” Gwenn steered zig-zaggy Rachel to the Jeep and fishtailed out of the icy parking lot in a hasty attempt to arrive at Rachel’s loft before phase vomit emerged.
Gwenn beat the odds and managed to get Rachel into her own bed without further incident. She removed the alcohol-stained costume and placed it on Rachel’s dry cleaning pile. Gwenn kissed her sister on the forehead, tucked the comforter under Rachel’s chin and quietly flicked off the light as she left the loft.


Rue graduated from Pepperdine University in Southern California with a degree in Journalism. Her intimate knowledge of the Midwestern United States, the inordinate amount of time she spent in its churches’ pews and her unique parentage make her an expert on life after religion. Having moved 17 times by the time she graduated from high school Rue has seen more than her share of the Great Plains. She never stayed in one place long enough to make human friends. Her best friends were all characters from her beloved books; and the love of reading led to a lifelong passion for writing.
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Book Blast_ Destiny Finds Her by @MirandaLynnBks

Presented by:


Destiny Finds Her Destiny Series # 1 by  Miranda Lynn Audience: Adult Genre: Historical Romance/Paranormal Formats: E-book and Paperback Publisher: Miranda Lynn Cover by: Sister Sparrow Graphics Editor: Jennifer Clark Sell Pages: 178 pages ISBN: 1502554267 ASIN: B00OZ8JZTU Publishing Date: November 1, 2014 Jami Morgan travels through time to fulfill a destiny set in motion hundreds of years in the past. Devlin O’Rourke’s life is turned upside down from the moment he sets eyes on Jami. Will Jami be able to accept her heritage, melt Devlin’s heart, and harness her powers in time? Amazon / Goodreads I took a seat on the stones and pulled my knees up to my chest, resting my chin and just taking it all in. Moss crept up the stones on the bank, giving way to a lush carpet of grass and wildflowers. Again, I smelled heather, but couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. Heather couldn't survive in this climate, even next to this little brook. It must be the combination of all the wildflowers' scents mixed together.
My eyelids became heavy. This seemed odd as I’d rested well last night and hadn't been up that long. I sat there, feeling a bit hazy and sleepy, and noticed a small creature venturing up, maybe to drink from the brook? It wasn't a squirrel. The tail wasn't long enough. Maybe a chipmunk, though the markings on the fur weren’t right. This wasn't anything I’d seen before.
I watched it, trying to decide what animal family it could be from, when it looked up at me. It stared right into my eyes. I gawked, my eyes widening when I realized this little creature’s eyes weren't the little black dots I would expect, but a misty gray seeming to swirl as if a fog was contained within them. This little creature winked, and then scampered away.
I shook my head. My imagination was running away with itself again. I attempted to move, but my body had other plans. Instead of finding myself standing, I’d actually lain down. My eyes got heavier the longer I rested. A small nap can’t hurt. I had no pressing work, and the call to Todd could wait. I closed my eyes and let the sun warm my face as I drifted off to sleep.
"Jami," a voice whispered
Startled, I sat up and shaded my eyes.
"Jami, dear."
I scanned the trees, trying to locate the owner of the voice.
"Down here, dearie."
Peeking down, I found that the little creature who had scampered away, was in fact at my feet, gazing at me. I drew my feet up quickly.
"I’m dreaming." I scanned the area again. "Who's there? This isn't funny."
"Yes, dear, ye are dreaming and please quit thinking of me as a creature. I have a name, and it’s Roma."
I stared at this little creature with its round black eyes and fluffy, multi-hued brown fur. I rubbed my eyes. Sure enough, she was still there. "But, how?"
"It's a dream, dearie. Anything can happen in dreams"
"Who or what are you?"
"As I said, my name is Roma, and all ye need to know is I am here to help you. To give ye a bit of advice"
"What kind of advice?" Heck if this was a dream, I may as well play along. It could make for a great story if I remembered it when I woke up.
"Keep an open mind and an open heart. Yer fate is going to show itself to ye soon." Roma skittered away into the trees.
Mother to two boys, 3 four legged babies, and wife to a loving husband who doesn't mind the extra voices in her head. Miranda grew up on a dairy farm in Illinois, but calls Portland, TN home now. She is an avid reader, coffee addict, and loves her day job working at the local public library. Though her true passion is in creating her own worlds, characters, and stories for her readers.

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Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Chasing the Sun by @EarthRelic

 

 

Chasing the Sun

An Earth Relic Novel

Book 1

Sasha Abernathy

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Crimson Frost Books

Date of Publication: October 21, 2014

ISBN: TBD

ASIN: TBD

Cover Artist: Suzannah Safi

Book Description:

Hunted by Chaos. Protected by Death. Guided by Fire.

Terran is now the key to a world she never knew existed.

Normal was what Terran did best – house, job, dog, friends – rinse and repeat. She never knew demigods existed, or that you could journey to other realms, manipulate nature with your mind, or that the dead weren’t really gone at all, but instead existed in the Underworld. No, she lived the mundane life of any twenty-seven-year-old Alaskan girl…until she met Aiden, the complicated and gorgeous new local art gallery owner.

As their fiery relationship evolves into something more, Terran finds herself surrounded by a world of nightmares and gods, when the mysterious Aiden proves to be more than a simple man. Soon, Terran finds that she is not so simple herself. As an ancient evil threatens to escape and unleash all Hell, Terran must dive into a magical world she never knew existed to save them all…even if that means giving up her life to do it.

When I walked in, I could feel an energy in the air. Its warm and soft pulse had a slight humming sensation that tickled my skin. Wisps of heat surrounded my necklace as it pulsed ever so slightly. Amazing. I had taken care of these plants their whole lives, from seedlings to sale. They truly felt like a piece of me now. As I tended to the flowers in the back of the shop, blue, purple, white, and yellow petals swayed to a gentle rhythm as I moved to the music playing in my earbuds. Was this the gift Marc had given me? If it was, it had gotten stronger. No way, this could be real. It was so bizarre. I had to know if anyone else saw this. I needed to find someone I could trust. I decided I would call Jon.

I ran to the ladies’ room and whipped out my phone. Please pick up, please pick up. After five rings, he finally answered.

"Terran? Sorry, I was in a meeting. What's up?"

"Are you super busy? I need a favor, a kind of crazy favor."

"Okay. Anything, but first are you okay?" It wasn’t like me to call Jon while he was at the office, so his concern was definitely warranted.

"I'm not hurt, but I might be crazy." I laughed, my tone laced with an anxiety that couldn’t be contained. "Can you meet me at the nursery? I could use your eyes for something."

"Sure. I'll be there in about twenty. Do you need anything while I'm on my way?"

"Just you, please. I'm in the back where we keep the marigolds."

It only took Jon about fifteen minutes to get here. He must have been worried and speeding. I was back with the marigolds when I heard him enter the room. I turned to see him in his dark charcoal suit with a light blue dress shirt. He looked handsome as usual.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he came in to hug me. We embraced and I instantly felt better. Jon always made me feel safe.

"I think so, I just think I'm going crazy." Tears pooled in my eyes as I had finally admitted out loud the one thing that I feared most.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm sure that's not true. What's going on?"

I told him about the plants moving for me. I didn't want to repeat myself and I knew Micah would want to know about Seth. I wasn't sure I wanted to share the dancing plants bit with her.

"Watch… "

I leaned over the marigold and brushed the tips of my fingers across the petals, moving my hand in a quick swipe over all the ones I could reach. Each little red, yellow, and gold petal shivered and shook, wiggling like you would when you get a chill, an involuntary movement. And like a newborn, they began searching for their mother, swaying and leaning towards me. My pulse sped up, the heat from my necklace warmed me to my core. It was a perfect heat, a warmth that exhilarated my soul. I turned back to Jon, who watched with intensity. And when I looked into his eyes, I could tell he had seen nothing. His eyes saddened as he realized I knew.

Character Name: Terran

Character Bio: Terran late twenty-something widow and native to Anchorage, Alaska. Horticulturalist and all around girl next door.

 

Describe yourself what is your worst and best quality?

I guess my best quality is my hair. I love it. I mainly love it because I can wash and go and the curls look perfect. I’m not one for makeup and frills, so it’s truly a blessing. I’d be even more of a hot mess than I am most days if it wasn’t for the fact that my hair normally looks good. My worst quality? I guess I’d have to be that I can sometimes be an introvert. I try not to be. But I think it’s my friends that get me out and about. I wasn’t always this way, just since the accident.

What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?

 Well… it’s a secret for a reason. J

What are you most afraid of?

  My dreams. Seriously. They’ve just been getting worse and worse. And I feel like I’m on the verge of not being able to tell what’s real and what’s not.

What do you want more than anything?

 To be free. I’d love to be free from the fear that I’m losing my mind.

What is your relationship status?

Well, my husband passed a couple years ago, so there really hasn’t been anyone since. But thanks my pushy girlfriend, Micah, and a freak storm, I’ve now got two beautiful complications in my life.

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

It’s all about the comfort! Don’t get me wrong…I love to look nice, but never at the cost of comfort!

How much of a rebel are you?

 Depends on the day? J

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?

My boys. No one could have asked for the most perfect little boys in the world.

What is your idea of happiness?

Being able to sit in silence with someone you love, snuggled up on the sofa with a nice cup of tea and a good book.

What is your current state of mind?

Well…I’m not sure. See, there has been some crazy things going on right now. I’m not sure if it’s real, or if I’m becoming schizophrenic like my mother.

What is your most treasured possession?

The necklace my father gave me as an infant. The stone is so unusual. It’s actually pretty worn on the back where I’ve rub it almost flat. It’s really like my security blanket now. LOL. There’s just something about it that feels like it’s a part of me.

What is it that you, most dislike?

 Liars. There is nothing that sets me on fire more than listening to a liar. Seriously…nothing is that bad that you have to lie to me. And if you feel so guilty that you think you should lie…you probably shouldn’t have done it in the first place, right?

What is your greatest regret?

 I try and tell myself I don’t regret anything. Believing that everything happens for a reason is the one thing that keeps me (mostly) sane.

What is the quality you most like in a man?

 Am I allowed to answer his butt? J

What is the quality you most like in a woman?

 Being honest. I mean I want honesty to the max. That’s one thing I love about my best friend, Micah. She might be a little much sometimes, but I always know where we stand.

Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

 Definitely Poison Ivy! Okay, so she’s not really a hero, but she’s got some killer botany powers! The plant-girl in me can’t help it.

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

 I don’t think it’d be anything. I might not like everything about myself, but I was made this way for a reason, right?

What is your motto?

 Never give up hope.

 

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Born in Germany to a Puerto Rican mother and All-American Military father, who saw fit to give her a Russian name, Sasha Abernathy has always loved storytelling, traveling, and doing all things silly. Raised in Oklahoma, but eventually moving everywhere from Alaska to Spain, Sasha has finally settled in the beautiful state of Colorado. With her loving husband, two wild sons, and neurotic labradoodle, Sasha is surrounded by way too much testosterone and escapes through her mysteriously whimsical and romantic novels.

http://sashaabernathy.blogspot.com/

http://www.sashaabernathy.com/

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Twitter: @EarthRelic