Jeaniene Frost's Blog, page 8

Last call for KISSCON Chicago tickets!

KISSCON Chicago is fast approaching! I can't wait to see many of you there, but your chance to attend this fabulous event with over 30 authors and several hundred readers is coming to an end. Ticket sales for KISSCON Chicago end on March 31st, so if you've been putting off reserving them, don't wait any longer! Go HERE to get your tickets (link: https://info.harpercollins.com/kissco...) Go HERE to reserve your hotel room. 

Haven't heard of KISSCON Chicago yet? Here's the info, courtesy of KissCon Weekend Affair: 
Pucker Up, Romance Lovers...

We're launching a weekend-long Kisscon event, KISSCON Chicago, starting on Friday, April 5th and ending Sunday, April 7th, at the Hyatt Regency O'Hare hotel. KissCon Chicago features more than 30 of your favorite Avon and HQN authors! There will be panels and parties, a #SensationalSigning on Saturday, tons of swag, and a special Sunday morning sneak preview of the coming year’s top releases:

 

$75 – Butterfly Kiss Ticket (Saturday Only) BUY.

$150 – Smooch Ticket (Friday, Saturday) BUY.

$185 – French Kiss Ticket (Friday, Saturday, Sunday) BUY.

Attending authors: Tessa Bailey, Alyssa Cole, Sonali Dev, Helen Kay Dimon, Jennifer Estep, Lori Foster, Jeaniene Frost, Lorraine Heath, Lori Foster, Megan Frampton, Brenda Jackson, Eloisa James, Beverly Jenkins, Sophie Jordan, Julie Kagawa, Eva Leigh, Carolina Linden, Tracy Livesy, Vivienne Lorret, Sarah MacLean, Charis Michaels, Julia Quinn, Alisha Rai, Jennifer Ryan, Cat Sebastian, Jill Shalvis, Nisha Sharma, Joanna Shupe, Mia Sosa, Sally Thorne, Marie Treymayne, and Lori Wilde.  The full lineup of events is HERE. 

Book and a show rec for International Women's Day

Happy International Women's Day! (and I can thank the first DEADPOOL movie for the highly inappropriate image saying that gives me ;)). To celebrate the day, I'm recommending a book and a tv show both created by and starring women.

First up, GOOD GIRLS. The show's network home is NBC, but they made the clever move of putting season 1 on Netflix, which is how I found it. Or, more accurately, how my husband found it. I was working and heard him repeatedly laughing, so I stopped to see what he was watching. It was GOOD GIRLS, and he stopped watching it by himself after episode two because "Honey, you've got to see this. You'll love it."



I did, oh so much.  It starts off with two sisters and their best friend holding up a local grocery store due to their dire financial needs. But the trio gets more than they bargained for when they realize the store is a money-laundering front for far more dangerous criminals. The premise might sound dark, but the story isn't. It's sharp, witty and hilarious, with moments of danger and sweetness blended in. Definitely binge-worthy! Watch GOOD GIRLS on Netflix or NBC.

Next up is the novel INTO THE DROWNING DEEP by Mira Grant. I've been Tweeting my love of this story recently, and a reader chimed in to say "I love it, too! It's like Jurassic Park, but with mermaids!" Yes, yes, and yes. This book pits all the hubris of science combined with the desperation of a struggling tv network against creatures that shouldn't exist, but do - and they are NOT Disney's versions of mermaids. No, these mermaids are like velociraptors with fins.



Need an example? Here's my Tweet recounting me giving my husband an update on INTO THE DROWNING DEEP as I read it: "One of the mermaids just ate someone's face off. The others are about to attack the boat. I love this book!"

And here's one of the many lines that made me smile with (admittedly twisted) delight, delivered by the character of a scientist who'd been repeatedly warning people that mermaids were real, and dangerous: "The Atargatis had found the mermaids because the people on the ship were made of meat, and the mermaids had empty stomachs that they wanted to fill. That was how you found things, in the sea. Be delicious."

The prequel, ROLLING IN THE DEEP, has been optioned for film, so this awesome murderous mermaid mayhem might be coming to a big screen one day. I certainly hope so. Until then, order your copy of INTO THE DROWNING DEEP: Amazon, B&N, Apple Books, Kobo, Indiebound

Got a favorite female-featured book or show to recommend for International Women's Day? Tell me in the comments. I'm working on Wicked Bite during the day, but at night, I'm always up for some great new shows and/or books.

Wicked Bite release date

I've been dreading writing this post. So, I'm just going to rip off the bad news quick like a band-aid: the release date for Wicked Bite, the second Night Rebel novel featuring Ian and Veritas, has been pushed back from July 30th to January 28, 2020.

Ouch. Saying that hurt as much as I knew it would. 

Short version of why Wicked Bite got pushed back: I'm not done writing it yet, and my publisher (any traditional publisher) requires several months at least to process a book after it's turned in. It's not just a matter of releasing Wicked Bite as soon as it's gone through edits. My publisher has a lot of other books in their queue, so they had to find an opening. This required considerable juggling and I'm very grateful to them. Contractually, Avon could've waited until 2021 to release Wicked Bite, so they really hustled to get it into readers' hands by slotting it in January 2020. 

Why aren't you done writing it yet, Jeaniene?

Another short answer for those who don't want details: there was something wrong with it.

Long answer for those of you who do want details: 

It takes me about nine to eleven months to write a book. Yes, other authors can do it much faster, but I can't, and I am in continual denial about this. That's why, after I turned in Shades of Wicked last year, I told my publisher I would have Wicked Bite done in six to eight months. Thus, they scheduled my July 30th release date. 

Sigh. It almost worked. It would have been a tight turnaround time revisions-wise, but it was doable. However, as I was writing Wicked Bite, something kept feeling...off. I couldn't put my finger on what. I kept combing through the pages trying to find the problem, and rewriting when I thought I had found it, but still, that "off" feeling persisted. It was so frustrating. Ever spent several minutes searching your pantry for an item you knew was there, but you just couldn't seem to see it? That's what it felt like, multiplied by months.

Eventually - much like when I yell to my husband "Where's the ketchup? I know it's in here!" and he comes over to look - I asked for help. In this case, I asked BFF and fellow author Ilona Andrews. I sent her everything I'd written and asked her to please find what was wrong.

Much like when my husband points to the ketchup bottle on the same shelf I'd been repeatedly searching, it didn't take Ilona long. Also, much like that ketchup bottle, as soon as it was pointed out, I could suddenly see it, too. But unlike the "Here it is!" relief with the ketchup bottle, this wasn't a quick fix. What was wrong with the book would require an extensive re-write.

Reader, I cried. My "turn in or else" deadline was too close to do that and keep my July 30th release date. I could either keep writing as fast as I could and HOPE I had time to fix it during my quick-turnaround revisions, or I could stop writing to revise it, which meant losing my summer release date, losing the money that came along with it (half my advance is held up until after publication) and disappointing all the readers who already thought July 30th was too far away.

Okay, I might have cried a lot. Poor Ilona. She'd only done what I asked her to do. She'd even stopped working on her own book to do it, and how did I thank her? Hiccup tears.

Anyway, after I hung up with Ilona, I thought about what to do. It didn't take long. I've always told readers I couldn't promise that they'd like my books, but I could promise that my books represented my best effort. I'm not breaking that promise now. I'd much rather have readers mad at me for a publication delay than mad at me for knowingly giving them a sub-par book.  

So, I stopped writing and revised. It took a while, but now, I'm going forward without that horrible "something is wrong" feeling. I can't tell you what a difference that makes. Please know that I am sorry for the release date being pushed back. I really am. But I'm not sorry that I'm going to give you a better book because of it. After all, I didn't start writing just to push out books as fast as I could. I did it to share the characters and stories inside me. They deserve my best effort and so do you, readers. Always.

Hugs, apologies, and hugs again,

Jeaniene

Ghosts in the machine

If you're connected to the publishing world, you've probably heard about the plagiarism scandal this week involving an "author" (you'll understand why I put that in quotes in a moment) named Cristiane Serruya. If you haven't heard of it, you can read recaps from Courtney Milan here, Ilona Andrews here, and Nora Robert here. There's also a #CopyPasteCris hashtag on Twitter.

To sum up, it was discovered that Cristiane Serruya's books were Frankenstein-like compositions of plagiarized passages from over two dozen other authors' books. When called out, Cristiane initially denied it. Then, in the face of mountains of evidence, Cristiane claimed that SHE didn't plagiarize; someone in her stable of ghostwriters who actually wrote her books did!

You read that right. Her excuse was that she didn't write her own books. 

This didn't get Cristiane out of trouble, of course. It also doesn't appear to be true, according to more than a few of her ghostwriters who came forward. But, the appalling plagiarism aside - and the plagiarism is APPALLING in its breadth and scope - it also created a new discussion that I'm weighing in on:

Is it ethical to have ghostwriters write your books?

Before I unpack this, some disclaimers: I have nothing but respect for ghostwriters. They're working hard for sometimes pennies on the dollar, all without getting recognition for their hard work. Also, sometimes, it's understood that the author on the cover isn't the author who wrote the book. Celebrities and politicians are notorious for using ghostwriters for their memoirs, for example. In other cases, an author dies but the family wants to continue that author's works, like V.C. Andrews, whom Nora Roberts referenced in her post linked above. There are also many work-for-hire projects. One example is The Vampire Diaries, owned by Alloy Entertainment. L.J. Smith wrote the original books, but Alloy later hired other authors and ghostwriters to continue the novels. All that type of ghostwriting is NOT what I'm talking about.

I'm talking about fiction authors using their names as "fronts" for books they didn't write. Cristiane was far from alone in this practice. Kindle Unlimited has given "authors" like this a place to thrive, though this practice sadly isn't limited to KU. In order to keep up with reader demand - and to gain those coveted Amazon promotional algorithms - these "front" authors use ghostwriters to churn out multiple titles a year.

Is it legal to put your name on a book you didn't write? Well, if you hired a ghostwriter who signed away their rights to the story, then yes, it's perfectly legal. Is it ethical? That's what some people consider a gray area.

Some say yes. What's the big deal, they ask, if Author A doesn't want to write the story? As long as it's her story idea to begin with and it's legal, why should it matter if she didn't write the book?

I can understand why some authors would prefer not to do the actual writing. It is a hell, hell, HELL of a lot easier to write an outline than an actual book, and that is coming from someone who hates outlines with the fire of a thousand suns. But outlines typically take a week or two, whereas writing an entire book can take a few to several months (or longer.) Writing a book word by word, page by page, chapter by chapter is, after all, where the real work lies. It's also where the story lives or dies. I could write a dynamite outline that resulted in a "blah" book, and readers will give me zero credit for the outline because the book is all that matters. Ideas, outlines, character boards, setting research and any other prep work might be an integral part of starting a book, but they are not the same as writing a book from beginning to end. (If they were, my backlist would increase by leaps and bounds overnight!)

But they're not, so even if the author provides the idea or the outline to the ghostwriter, I fall on the side that thinks it's unethical not to disclose to readers if a book was written partly by, or in full by, someone else. I'd add especially in romance, where the author's name is often their brand. It's very easy to add another author's name on the cover, after all. Or mention it in the bio, or in the Acknowledgements page, or anywhere else in the book. Even if the ghostwriter preferred to remain anonymous, the publishing author could still disclose that there WAS another author involved in writing the book. If there's no deliberate intent by the publishing author to deceive readers, why conceal the truth about who really wrote some/part/all of the book? 

Nora Roberts, in her post linked above, put it this way: "The reader deserves honesty. The reader’s entitled to know she’s buying the author’s–the one whose name’s on the book–work, not somebody that writer hired for speed or convenience."

I agree, and in case anyone wondered, I write all my own books. Every. Single. Word. It takes a helluva long time, and there are days when I would rather drill my own teeth than write, but it's my name on the cover, so it's my work on all the pages. Should I ever decide to collaborate with another writer (and there's nothing wrong with collaborations, some of my favorite books are co-written!) you'll know it, readers, because then you'd see my name and someone else's name on the cover. Or, at minimum, you'd see it disclosed elsewhere in the book, if the other author insisted on remaining anonymous. 

It's what that other author's hard work would deserve, and most importantly, I think it's what you deserve too, readers. 

WICKED BITE prologue and first two chapters

As promised, here is a sneak peek from WICKED BITE, book two in the new Night Rebel series featuring Ian and Veritas. This sneak peek consists of the prologue, Chapter One and Chapter Two. Before we get to it, however, HUGE SPOILER WARNING: If you haven't read SHADES OF WICKED (book one) yet and you read the below, you WILL get spoiled on major plot points from Shades, including the ending. So, if you hate spoilers, don't read this before you read SHADES OF WICKED. Seriously, I cannot stress that enough. 

That aside, here's my standard disclaimer about all pre-published excerpts: it hasn’t been revised or copyedited, so you will probably find spelling errors, grammar errors, and missing/incorrect words. It also might change from the final, published version for all the same reasons.  

Disclaimers and spoiler-warnings aside, happy reading :).

Prologue

“This is a waste of time,” Ian snapped. “I shouldn’t be cooling my heels waiting for the bride of Dracula to grace me with her presence. I should be out finding the little vixen that somehow convinced me to marry her.”

His best mate, Crispin, glanced around as if making sure Vlad hadn’t been close enough to hear him. Ian didn’t care. Vlad owed him for…something. Ian couldn’t remember what, but he knew it was significant. Sod his host’s temper tantrum if he overhead Ian calling him by his most-hated nickname of Dracula.  

“The fact that you can’t remember the real reason behind your new…attached state is why we’re here,” Crispin said. “Vlad’s wife knows a secret you were hiding from the rest of us. If it’s the cause, we need to find it out before we proceed.”

Attached state. Ian’s lips curled. Crispin still couldn’t bring himself to say “marriage.” Every fiber of Ian’s being should reject that word, too. Instead, he was driven by a near-crazed need to find his runaway bride.

True, he couldn’t remember why he’d married Veritas, or the equally stunning reason why she’d left him, then lied about their marriage after pulling off such an incredible feat. His memories of her were fragmented. His feelings weren’t. They burned, making everything except finding her irrelevant.  

“Ian.” He looked up to see a raven-haired woman in the doorway, her scowling spouse right behind her. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Leila continued before glancing behind her at Vlad. “We were late because we were fighting.”

“Over me?” Ian let a sly smile lift his mouth. He would have taunted Vlad anyway – it was his nature – but he had a stronger than normal urge to annoy his host. “Don’t tell me I forget something else significant?”

Vlad’s growl caused Leila to shoot her husband a look. “That’s why you’re waiting outside during this conversation,” she told Vlad. “I can’t trust you not to get your flame on otherwise. And really, Ian.” Now Leila’s attention was back on him. “Can’t you behave for five minutes?”

Ian gave her his most innocent grin. “Me? Harmless as a lamb, I am.”

“Yeah, if that lamb had a werewolf curse,” Leila murmured.

Then pity filled her eyes. Ian stiffened, though his grin remained in place. Whatever secret Leila knew, it was bad.      

“You need to go, too, Bones,” Leila said, calling Crispin by his vampire name instead of the one he’d been born with. “What I have to say is for Ian alone.”

Crispin’s features drew together until he duplicated Vlad’s scowl. “I hardly see why that’s necessary.”

Vlad’s sharp laugh sliced the air. “If I couldn’t convince her to change her mind, you think you have a chance?”

Crispin looked as if he did. Before he could open his mouth, Ian pushed him toward the door. “Don’t start a row, mate. Don’t know what you’re fussing about. I can tell you what she says afterward.”

“You didn’t before.” Crispin’s voice was tight. “You refused despite that refusal nearly costing you your life.”

Phantom pains stabbed the back of Ian’s head. He managed not to flinch. He’d shared much of what he remembered about the past month with Crispin, but not this.

“Things have changed,” Ian said easily. What Crispin didn’t know, he couldn’t fret about. “Go on. The faster you leave, the faster we’ll have answers.”

Crispin looked at Leila. Her expression hardened into a perfect mask of “you don’t stand a chance.” He sighed in defeat, then followed Vlad as the Impaler, after a final glance at his wife, also left the room. 

“Let’s tour the dungeons,” Ian heard Vlad say. “I have a sudden urge to stab something with a hot poker.”

Leila shut the doors, cutting off whatever Crispin’s response was. Ian waited until he was sure Crispin and Vlad were far enough away, then said “Spill,” to the lovely brunette.

“What’s the last thing you remember from the time you spent helping me and Vlad?” Leila asked him.

“Driving away while wanting to kill your husband,” Ian replied, shrugging. “Don’t know why. I can’t remember much of the past month, expect slivers shoved into my mind from a creature I’m fairly certain was the Grim Reaper. But those memories mostly consist of the woman who married me, then fled.”

And ignored his calls and texts ever since. Why the devil was Veritas avoiding him? One of the clearest memories he had was her shouting “Don’t go!” with the same feeling that burned through him now. “So if you have more to add, be quick about it,” Ian went on. “You already cost me two days insisting this meeting be in person.”

“This isn’t the kind of news you relay by text or over the phone,” Leila said softly.

“Does it have to do with Dagon?” Leila’s eyes widened. Ian grunted. “Crispin told me he’d been warned a demon by that name was after me. Happen to know what I did to brass him off?”

Leila looked away. “No. But Dagon really hated you, and you avoided him with a warding spell until you thought Mencheres had been murdered. Then you…you cut it off, summoned Dagon, and sold your soul in exchange for Mencheres’s life. I’m so sorry, Ian…”

She kept speaking, reiterating apologies, regrets and other platitudes he paid no attention to. He was too stunned by sold your soul. He would’ve sworn she was lying, except his vampire sire, Mencheres, was one of the few people in the world he would have sold his soul to save. And had, if Leila were to be believed.

This was why his blood tasted wrong. He hadn’t told Crispin this, either, but since he’d woken up in that whorehouse, his blood had been altered. He’d hoped there was another reason aside from demon brands. Apparently not. 

“How does my wanting to kill your husband fit into any of this?” His tone was calm despite the storm raging inside him.

She didn’t fall for his faux zen. She edged away while a sparking line of white extended from her right hand; a reminder of the voltage running all through her body. The lights in the room also briefly dimmed as she pulled power from that, too.

“A group of necromancers wanted Mencheres dead. Vlad faked Mencheres’s death to appease them, but we were there when Vlad made the supposed execution video, and we didn’t know the person Vlad killed was only glamoured to look like Mencheres.”

After all he’d overcome, he’d been taken down by a simple trick involving a glamour spell? Gales of harsh laughter broke from him. Leila backed away, her electric whip growing until it coiled at her feet.

“No need,” he finally managed. “I’ve never harmed someone for being the bearer of bad news.”           

“And Vlad?” she asked in a cautious tone.

Another burst of bitter laughter left him before he controlled himself. Oh, he would like to kill Vlad, but he couldn’t. His own fault was glaringly clear. “I should’ve sensed the glamour Vlad used on the poor bloke he killed. I also should have verified that Mencheres was dead before bargaining away my soul. I didn’t do either, so that’s on me, not Vlad.”

Leila’s whip disappeared back into her hand. “That’s what you said months ago.” Then she sprang forward, taking his hands. “And once again, I am so sorry.”

Ian jerked away from her pity. Leila gasped, then her eyes narrowed and she tried to run her right hand over every inch of his skin that wasn’t covered by his clothes.

“Stop that.” What sort of pity-pawing was this?

“It’s gone,” Leila said with shock. She got in a few more swipes before he held her wrists in front of her. She only rubbed his hands with her fingers, repeating “It’s gone.”

“What is?” Her sanity, clearly, but that might be good. If she was barking mad, she could be wrong about his soul…

“Everything! Take off your pants. I need to see if that’s still there, too.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “It is, and while I would’ve found it hilarious to cuckold Dracula under his own roof a short time ago, I’m not interested now-”

“Neither am I,” Leila interrupted. “But I am interested in seeing if you still have Dagon’s demon brand on your groin since nothing else on your skin is the same.”

Ian loosened his grip on her wrists. “Explain.”

“You remember that I pull psychic impressions from people when I touch them with my right hand?” At his impatient nod, she went on. “When I touched you months ago, I saw your worst sin, same as when I touch anyone for the first time. Your skin was also littered with emotional imprints from other people, but now, they’re all gone.” She tapped him with her right hand for emphasis. “Makes you wonder what else might be gone, right?”

Could he have somehow gotten out of the soul deal? Ian let her go and unzipped his trousers. Leila knelt down, whisking the hem of his shirt out of her way. At the same moment, the drawing room doors opened, revealing Vlad and Crispin.

Ian began to laugh. “For once, I can honestly say this isn’t what it looks like.”

“I imagine it’s not,” Vlad replied coolly. “Were you examining his cock because you suddenly decided you were in the market for erotic piercings, darling? If so, I would have modeled some for you. I’m a much better subject.”

Ian snorted his disagreement while Leila sputtered, “I was looking for demon brands, not that!”

“Yes, so could someone either look under my cock or hand me a mirror?” Ian interjected. “I'm flexible, but even I can’t bend that far.”

Leila backed away, flustered. Crispin strode over, frowning as he bent down. “No brand of any kind,” he said after a moment.

“I’m telling you, it was there,” Leila insisted. “I saw Dagon put it on Ian when he sealed their soul bargain!”

Crispin rose to shoot a horrified look at Ian. “You bargained your soul away to a demon? Why?”

“What you’d expect – more power,” Ian said, giving Leila a warning glance. He couldn’t have word of his real reason reaching Mencheres. His sire didn’t deserve that pain.

“But now the brand’s gone,” Leila said. “So is the original memory of Ian’s worst sin and a bunch of other stuff. I need to check the rest of him to see what else is missing. Take off all your clothes, Ian.”

Ian drew his shirt off and stepped away from his crumpled trousers. Then he couldn’t help himself – he winked at Vlad over Leila’s shoulder as she began to run her right hand over his naked body. Vlad glared at him, but not a hint of fire or smoke escaped him. Must be secure in their relationship.

Leila was brisk yet thorough. When she was done, she said, “Not only is the demon brand gone, there’s no psychic evidence that it was ever there. In fact, your whole body reads as new.”

Impossible. “I’m more than two hundred and fifty years old,” Ian reminded her.

“Your skin isn’t,” Leila said bluntly. “It’s so new, there are only essence imprints from four people on it. You left one, Bones, when you were very worried about him. Cat left a worried one, too, and the essence trails by Veritas are practically screaming with worry and regret. Lastly, some terrifying creature left one on your head, but aside from that, you’re a blank slate, and unless you were recently skinned or you somehow re-grew a whole new body, I have no idea why.”

Those phantom pains stabbed him in the head again. For a terrifying moment, he felt swallowed by darkness. Then his vision returned and he saw Crispin glance away as if he knew something he didn’t want to admit.

“Mate,” Ian drew out. “Have something you want to add about the story you fed me concerning how I spent my last month?”

“I might have left a few pieces out,” Crispin began.

Ian was gripping Crispin by his collar before Leila could finish gasping “Holy crap, you can teleport!”

“What?” Ian bit out.

“She said it was safer if you didn’t know,” Crispin hedged.

Crispin had been hiding the reason why Veritas had left him this whole time? “Know what?”

Now Crispin’s gaze didn’t waver. “Last week, Veritas called me and Cat to retrieve your mostly-withered body from an abandoned amusement park. You were surrounded by dozens of demon corpses. Don’t know how either of you survived such an attack, but Veritas said that your marriage was a sham, your memory was gone and more powerful demons would be after her. She made us promise to feed you lies about your whereabouts this past month, saying you would only be safe if you stayed far away from her.”

She’d left him to protect him? And Crispin, who definitely should have known better, had let Veritas face that danger alone while stalling Ian’s attempts to find her? He’d roast Crispin’s arse and shove the burnt pieces down his throat! But first…

Ian pushed Crispin away. “Your psychic abilities include finding people in the present through essence trails, do they not?” he asked Leila in a clipped tone.

She sighed. “Yes. Come here.”

Leila placed her right hand on Ian’s cheek. The voltage she emitted made his jaw ache, but he didn’t flinch. After several minutes, Leila dropped her hand. “I can feel Veritas, but I can’t see her at all.”

Of course not. With demons after her, Veritas had cloaked herself from every tracing spell imaginable. He hadn’t married a fool.

He teleported out of there without another word, leaving Crispin and the rest of them behind. Sod his mate’s attempt to protect him. Sod Veritas’s fear for his safety, too. He wasn’t about to lose her by playing it safe.

Don’t go! her pained shout rang again in my mind.

“Don’t fret,” Ian muttered. “I’m coming.”

 

Chapter One

Three weeks later 

I dropped out of the dark Egyptian sky, landing near an overloaded Jeep that stood out like a neon sign against the sea of sand around it. Unlike the famous section of the Valley of the Kings, this stretch on the western edge wasn’t popular with archeologists, tourists, or anyone except criminals.

Lucky for me, my job was hunting criminals. 

No one was inside the Jeep. I walked around to the back, seeing a small stone slab half pulled back from a hole in the ground. Ah, a hidden tomb. Two distinct voices came from it as well as lots of odd, swishing sounds.

Grave robbers. I hated grave robbers.

I pulled out a sharp silver knife and a double-pronged bident made of demon bone. Now, I was armed to fight two out of the three supernatural species that existed. Right before I jumped into the hole, I lit my gaze up with vampire green.

Two men looked up at me in surprise. At first glance, they were normal middle-Eastern men, but then their eyes turned glowing red. Demons. And the ground around them slithered in every direction. Snakes.

I landed on the nearest demon, knocking him down while ramming both ends of my bone weapon through his eyes. His eyes burst into flames as death cut his scream short. I yanked the bident out and immediately flew up, leaving the other demon to smack into the wall instead of me. Before I could stab his eyes out, too, he teleported away.

He appeared on my right, fist flying. I ducked under the punch, then pain exploded in my head from a blow to my left. Damn demons and their ability to teleport.   

“You’ll pay for murdering Malfeous,” he snarled before flinging several cobras at me.

Dick!

I fought my urge to shake them off me. Their bites wouldn’t kill me, but he could. I kept both weapons at the ready, spinning in quick circles so he couldn’t sneak up on me again. He reappeared in front of me, swinging one of the tomb’s ancient axes. I threw myself backward, but my throat still burned and blood splashed his face from the deep slice. When I hit the ground, the impact made new pain erupt in the back of my head.

Good. More pain meant I wasn’t dead yet.

The demon grinned and licked my blood. Then shock replaced his sneer. “What-?” 

I hurled my silver knife into his open mouth, pinning his head to the wall. Then I flew at him, shoving the bone bident into his eyes until I felt the tips hit the wall.

His eyes exploded, smoke and blood pouring out. The sulfur scent choked me, but I shoved the bident in harder. Relief overtook battle exhilaration as he began to shrink into the skeletal state of true death.

I yanked my weapons out and whirled, ready in case any other demons teleported in. After fifteen or twenty minutes, I tucked the silver knife into my belt. That wouldn’t kill demons. Only bone of their own brethren would, and now, I had plenty more to make new weapons with.

I tore the arms off the two demons, throwing them out of the hole above me. Then, I began to explore the tomb. Time and dust had faded the paintings and hieroglyphs on the walls, but I saw the falcon-headed god Horus in one scene and the green-skinned god Osiris in another. There were more paintings showing scenes from the life of the deceased. There should have been various personal effects, statues, treasures and other ceremonial items, too, but the tomb's inner hall had been stripped. That explained the overloaded Jeep.

The seals on the doors of the inner chamber were broken, too. I went inside, angry but not surprised that both artfully painted coffins containing the mummy had been breached. Only the clay jars containing the mummy's internal organs were left. Then I smelled something unexpected. Fresh blood.

I nudged a mass of cobras aside to reveal the body of a young woman opposite the sarcophagus. Her skin was the same golden bronze as mine and she had long black hair that covered her face. When I brushed it away, I swore.

I’d been tracking her since I hacked into all the online medical records I could, searching for a very specific type of psychosis: people who claimed they came from another time, and who had no modern records to prove otherwise.

I winced as I looked at her body. Large gashes covered her torso, but the wounds weren’t sloppy. They were precise, avoiding vital organs or arteries in order to deny her a quick death. Beneath the blood, I saw markings inked onto her body. I rolled her over, revealing more markings beneath her. As soon as I did, dark magic crawled across my skin with the unsettling sensation of dozens of spiders.

A nearby cobra suddenly reared up and struck me in the face. Annoyed, I flung it aside, only to have another one bite my leg. Enough! I grabbed as many as I could and flew out of the tomb. Once outside, I let them go. It took several more trips before I was through, but I was glad to get rid of them. They must have been brought in to add to the poor woman’s terror. Fear was a powerful ingredient in dark magic, and someone had performed a horrific ritual on the slain woman.

I went back to her body, using my clothes to clean her blood off the symbols. I recognized a few, but I didn’t know the others, and I knew a lot of magic. I took out my mobile, snapping pictures of them. Then, I bent down next to her, closed my eyes, and released the hold I had on my deepest senses.

The magic used to perform the ritual hit me first, choking me with a sickeningly familiar taste. Dagon. The smell of her blood, fear, and the sulfur stink from all demons had been too strong for me to scent my worst enemy before, but I could taste Dagon’s magic now, and it was all I could do not to vomit.  

I swallowed hard and pushed past it, searching to see if she had other magic traces within her. Death had left almost nothing behind, but then Dagon’s magic soured my senses again, though far fainter this time.

She’d had some of Dagon’s power deep within her. I knew only one way that could have happened. She’d been telling the mental health facility she’d escaped from the truth. She wasn’t from this current time. She was from long before it.

Maybe that’s why she’d been spotted running into this dismal part of the desert. It was a wasteland now, but a few millennia ago, it had been part of a prosperous city, and when people were frightened, they tended to run home.

I sat back with a frustrated sigh. Had Dagon murdered her because she was one of the newly-resurrected people that had been freed when the souls Dagon hoarded inside himself had been released? Dagon was spiteful, but there was one thing demons valued even more than payback. Power.

I traced the markings again. A lot of power had been siphoned from this woman with her gruesome death. From the look and scent of her body, I’d only missed saving her by hours. Earlier this evening, Dagon might have been right where I now knelt, weakened, unsuspecting and oh so killable, if I’d only been a little faster getting here…

But Dagon had gotten away. The other demons with him almost had, too. If I hadn’t had a birds-eye view of the Jeep while flying over the desert tonight, I never would have found her, and I’d been tasked with finding all of the newly-resurrected souls…except the one I most wanted to see.  

Pain rolled through me, familiar and relentless. It burned until I looked at the slain woman with the darkest kind of envy. She was now out of reach of the pain I couldn’t escape from. I was actually glad I was now as mortal as any other vampire. It meant this awful ache would end when a lucky stab through my heart with silver finally killed me.

But before that day came, I had a vow to fulfill.

I hadn’t been able to save this woman, but I wouldn’t leave her where she’d been murdered. I picked her up and flew her out of the tomb. Then I dug a new grave using my hands since I’d brought weapons with me, not a shovel. Still, with the soft sand and my supernatural strength, it didn’t take long.

Once she was properly buried, I said a prayer asking the gods to show her mercy. Then I stared at her makeshift grave, that aching part of me wondering if I’d soon be like her: dead and rotting in an unmarked grave somewhere.

If so, I hoped my last thoughts were of Ian. Not the way I’d left him – still regenerating from a death he’d never know about since his memories had been erased. No, I wanted to remember his cocky grin, his quick wit, his bone-deep loyalty and his ferocious courage. Most of all, I wanted to relive what I’d felt when I was in his arms. I'd never before felt so completely exposed yet wholly accepted. Cherished. Maybe even loved, if we’d had more time…

With a hard swipe, I dashed away the tears that snuck down my cheeks. I couldn’t let myself dwell on Ian. If I did, I’d run back to him no matter that my presence would draw all the demons after me right to his side. I’d already gotten Ian killed once. I wouldn’t let that happen again.

 Yes, I might end up dead and in an unmarked grave before this was over, but there were benefits to being over four and half thousand years old. If I didn’t explode the way I normally did when I was killed, I was still so old that my body would probably turn straight to dust. No rotting in a grave for me.

As the modern saying went, I just had to look on the bright side.

Chapter Two

I spent the night in the desert on the off chance that Dagon might come back to the tomb. He couldn’t teleport anymore – my father had removed that ability from him – so Dagon would have to walk up or drive up.

He did neither. In the end, I drove the Jeep far away from the tomb and left an anonymous call about it to the Egyptian Ministry of Antiquities. They’d make sure the relics were properly cared for. After dawn ensured that no demons would be around since they couldn’t tolerate the sun, I went back to my hotel.

I opened my door and was immediately mobbed by a flying gray bundle. I caught Silver, hugging the Simargyl to my chest. He made happy yipping sounds despite him being a supernatural creation instead of a canine. Still, Silver resembled a dog, if you didn’t look close enough to realize he was covered in downy feathers instead of fur. And, of course, there was the very un-doglike aspect of his wings.

“I missed you, too,” I told Silver, giving him another hug before setting him on the floor. Silver looked behind me at the closed door, his wings wiggling with hope.

“No,” I told him, fighting the new crack in my voice. Seeing Silver still waiting for Ian to come through the door was another kick to my heart.

“No,” I said again, more firmly this time. Silver’s wings drooped as he walked away, giving the door a last glance before he resigned himself to it staying closed.

“Hungry?” I asked to distract Silver. It worked.

He followed me, wings wiggling happily again. I ordered room service as I took off my ripped, bloody clothes and wadded them into a plastic bag. I’d throw them away where they wouldn’t be found later. Then, I put on a robe and waited. Silver wasn’t the only one who was hungry.

Twenty minutes later, Silver was devouring his plate of sautéed vegetables and I was wiping a stray drop of blood from my mouth. The room service attendant had no memory of feeding me, of course. He’d only remember that I was a good tipper.

I was on my way to the shower when my mobile chimed, indicating a new text. I ignored it, anxious to get the stench of death, blood and dark magic off me. My phone chimed a few more times. I kept heading to the bathroom. I had taken a leave of absence from my job as Law Guardian, so it couldn’t be work related, and most of my closest friends were dead. If I were looking on the bright side of being a currently-on-leave workaholic who’d outlived nearly everyone I cared about, I’d say that meant I could get back to whoever was texting me when I was damn good and ready.

I showered, taking my time. After that, I dropped my glamour, losing the blue-eyed, petite blonde appearance I normally wore. When I looked into the mirror, I now saw my real image of a muscled, curvy woman in her mid-twenties with silver eyes and long, almost white hair streaked through with gold and blue. Then I dried my hair, put on a robe and went back into the other room. I’d log in a few more hours of online research trying to find the next resurrected soul before I allowed myself to sleep. This was my life now. It might be emotionally empty, but at least it was productive.

Silver was on the bed, his gaze following me with drowsy expectation. He was waiting for me to cuddle him before he fell asleep. Cuddling Silver would be the highlight of my day, but first, I picked up my mobile.

Nine unread texts. My stomach clenched. Only Ian left that many in a row, though I never read them. Ian’s memories of me had been wiped from his mind, so I surmised that he kept calling and texting because someone had told him we were married.

He needn’t worry. I was getting the few people who’d witnessed the ceremony to “forget” it and thus nullify it. Until then, I didn’t need to torture myself by listening to Ian’s voicemails or reading his texts, though I’d accidentally caught “I’m warning you” from him yesterday before I hit delete.

He had nothing to threaten me with. Ian couldn’t hurt me more than he already had if he made it his life’s goal to try. Seeing his dead body had ripped my heart out. Weeks later, I was still trying to put myself back together.

But these texts weren’t from Ian. Serious charges have been filed against the Council because of you, read the first one from Xun Guan, my oldest friend and a fellow Law Guardian. Come in at once. The next one was from Felix, another Law Guardian. You must appear before the Council immediately to answer charges involving you.

What? I scrolled to the next one from Thonos, the council’s official executioner. Your presence is required. The man who claims to be your husband has refused to leave until the charges he’s brought against the Council regarding you have been addressed.

“He what?” I shrieked.

That scared Silver so much, he flew up and hit the ceiling. I was too shocked to comfort him. I scrolled the remaining messages, their pertinent parts burning into my brain.  

Ian is accusing the Council of forced spousal abandonment…

Claims the Council is keeping you away from him in violation of our laws and your will…

Refuses to leave until you present yourself to confirm or deny these charges…

“You arrogant, reckless maniac!” I raged, hurling my mobile across the room. It shattered and I cursed myself next. Now, I had to use someone else’s phone to call and beg the Council not to kill Ian before he did something meriting a death sentence, if he hadn’t already.

“How could you go to the Council?” I continued to fume as I threw my clothes on. “Bones told you our marriage was a fake! And you never cared about the law. Why would you do this?” 

I’m warning you.

Ian’s partial text flashed across my mind. So much for thinking he had nothing to threaten me with! But how could I have guessed that he’d sue the highest ruling court of vampires? Here I was, running all over the world fulfilling the vow I’d made in order to bring Ian back from the dead, and he was daring the Grim Reaper to come back for seconds!

Now, I had to go to Ian, pretend not to care about him while I talked the council out of whatever harsh retribution they were planning, then abandon him all over again. It would hurt less to tear my guts out and stomp on them. 

But I had no choice. I couldn’t leave Ian at the Council’s mercy. I also couldn’t ignore a direct summons from the Council. If I did, I might as well resign as Law Guardian on the spot.

I ground my teeth until my jaw crunched. Ian wanted a meeting, probably to have me formally renounce our marriage so there’d be no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was a free man?

Fine. He’d get his meeting, and I hoped I could convince the Council to let him live long enough to regret it. 

***

I hope you enjoyed this excerpt! You can pre-order WICKED BITE at: Amazon, Apple Books,  B&N ,  BooksAMillion ,  Kobo ,  IndieBound  or your favorite book store.

Whew!

*blows dust off* Is this thing on?

Yes, I know. It's been a month since I blogged. Believe me, that's a good thing. The last time I blogged, I made a whiny rhyme about how the first week of the New Year hadn't gotten off to a great start for me. It's like Fate picked its head up to say, "You think THAT'S hard? Ha!" I'll summarize my past four weeks:

Doctor: You've started early-clogging your arteries, so you need to change your diet, start exercising, and take these pills.

Me: Dammit. 

Doctor: And the nodules on your thyroid have doubled in size, could be cancer, see a specialist.

Me: Dammit!

Sister 1: Dad's got a tumor on his bladder, it's probably cancer (he has history of renal cancer), he needs surgery.

Me: DAMMIT!

Sister 2: I have a large tumor on my ovary that might be cancer. Doing tests now.

Me: DAMMIT, DAMMIT, DAMMIT!!!

Needless to say, there was a flurry of new doctors appointments and tests for all of us. Now, I'm beyond relieved to say that:

Dad came through surgery and the doctors think they've got everything, so he won't need chemo.
My sister's cancer test came back negative.
My thyroid nodules are okay.
I'm dealing with my new diet fairly well, although cheese, fried food & butter, I miss you!

So, as the subject line says...whew! January, I will forgive you for the surprise emotional stress test because February has given out so much good news. 

And since I've put you, readers, through two straight posts of nothing but personal blathering, I have a gift for you: The prologue and first chapter of WICKED BITE, book two in the Night Rebel series with Ian and Veritas, will be posted early next week, so stayed tuned for that!

In the meantime, I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend. I'll be home, chillin' with my new carrot stick snacks ;). 

Eight Days of New Years

Note: This post has nothing to do with books or publishing. Instead, it has everything to do with me being whiny. You’ve been warned :).

Happy New Year, all! I’ve meant to blog over the past two weeks, but things kept popping up. In lieu of a normal post, I’ve decided to describe it as if I were singing along to the 12 Days of Christmas melody. So, read the below while mentally singing along to the melody, too (as a reminder, the 12 Days of Christmas starts out with “On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a partridge in a pear tree…”

One the first day of 2019, the universe sent to me….

a very nice day actually.

On the second day of 2019, the universe sent to me…

a bad migraine

and a very nice day actually.

On the third day of 2019, the universe sent to me…

another migraine

a bad migraine

and a very nice day actually.

On the fourth day of 2019, the universe sent to me…

a sinus infection

another migraine

a bad migraine

and a very nice day actually.

On the fifth day of 2019, the universe sent to me…

stabbing throat pain

a sinus infection

another migraine

a bad migraine

and a very nice day actually.

On the sixth day of 2019, the universe sent to me….

a low grade fever

stabbing throat pain

a sinus infection

another migraine

a bad migraine

and a very nice day actually.

On the seventh day of 2019, the universe sent to me…

a steaming pile of dog shit

a low grade fever

stabbing throat pain

a sinus infection

another migraine

a bad migraine

and a very nice day actually.

On the eighth day of 2019, the universe sent to me…

an early menstrual period

a steaming pile of dog shit

a low grade fever

stabbing throat pain

a sinus infection

another migraine

a bad migraine

and a very nice day actually.

*grins* Needless to say, I’m hoping for more days like January 1st instead of the rest of them. For anyone reading this and getting concerned, I'm fine. It's just the sinus infection makes it feel as if there's a ragged piece of glass stuck in my throat on top of the low-grade fever. However, I saw a doctor two days ago and I'm now on antibiotics, so I'm hopeful that the symptoms will abate soon. I'm also hoping that my poor little dog feels better. It’s not her fault that she dropped a steaming runny pile of poo onto my carpet at 2am. I was so tired from all the above, I didn’t hear her whimpering to go out until it was too late. Hubby didn't hear her, either. He'd been sleeping like a log because he hadn’t slept at all the night before. Thus far, he’s avoided catching my sinus infection, but he’s had some migraine flare-ups, too. Maybe it’s the weather. Florida’s been a schizophrenic combination of warm/cold/warm/cold for over a week now.

In any event, that’s how my January's been so far. As you can tell, I'm not bearing it with admirable stoicism. I'm whining my ass off about it instead ;). Here’s hoping that 2019 gets better for all of us, even if you’ve had a far more pleasant start to it than I have (and I hope you have!) To ensure that this post isn't ALL whining, I leave you with a picture of Gypsy. She looks too cute to have befouled anyone's carpet, doesn't she? 

Final Holiday Favs contest winner!

Thank you so much to everyone who entered the final Holiday Favs contest! It was great reading about your holiday traditions and/or favorite holiday drinks. However, as the Highlander movies say, there can be only one. So now, it's time to announce the randomly-chosen winner. 

The winner of the final Holiday Favs contest, who will win any book of their choice from my backlist PLUS a $100 Amazon egift card, is....*drum roll*

Sophia Stennet, who said "Since my family is Bahamian… we have to cook!!!  So we make all types of traditional Bahamian dishes for the holidays. My holiday tradition involves having a mini festival. Dancing, music, showing love, reminiscing of the good times and praying for better times to come.. all while drinking rum!!! Lol, it’s a win win for anyone!! Happy holidays guys!"

Congrats, Sophia, and check your email! I'll be sending you a message on how you can claim your prizes. 

To everyone else, I hope you have a wonderful holiday! I'll leave you with a picture of my youngest dog, Loki, who also hopes that you have a wonderful holiday, but let's face it: what Loki REALLY hopes is that he'll get more toys like the one he's pictured with (he will ;)). 

Holiday Favs Prize 2 winners AND final Holiday Favs contest!

Once again, hundreds of you entered, so I’m sorry that I’m about to disappoint most of you. BUT, these five winners below won't be disappointed. Before we get to them, once again, these contests have been brought to you by SHADES OF WICKED, my latest release. So, let’s thank our sponsors, Ian and Veritas, shall we? Observant viewers (heh!) might notice what my good friend and fellow author Ilona Andrews added to the cover in order to make Ian more festive for the holidays. Don't worry - Ian wouldn't mind. He'd probably add one of those bells a little lower, too ;).

The Rule Breaker

Master vampire Ian is unrepentant, shameless…and every shade of wicked. He’s made one too many enemies in his two centuries of existence, including Dagon, a demon who now lays claim to his soul. Ian’s only chance to escape Dagon is to join forces with a Law Guardian, but he’s never been able to abide by the rules for long.

The Law Maker

Veritas’ normal role is police, judge and jury to reprobates like Ian. But she has her own ax to grind with Dagon, so if she can use Ian as bait…well, all’s fair in law and war. As they scour supernatural hotspots to perfect their trap, Veritas soon realizes Ian’s devil-may-care, roguish image hides something much more powerful. And Ian discovers that Veritas has shocking secrets of her own. As they’re drawn to each other with a passion as intense as their peril, either love or justice will prevail. But each will have devastating consequences… Order: Amazon, B&N, IndieBound, Apple Books, BooksAMillion, Kobo or Malaprops.

Shameless promo plug out of the way, let's get to the winners! Reminder: Winners were chosen randomly because of course you can’t expect me to choose between you.

The three winners of the first part of Prize 2, which was choosing any book from my backlist in either ebook or print (winner’s choice which), are…

Kristen, who said “My favorites are Santa Baby by the lovely Eartha Kitt and Carol of the Bells.”

Jenn M, who said “My favorite holiday song is Dick In a Box from the infamous Saturday Night Live sketch by Justin Timberlake and Andy Samberg. It cracks me up every single time and I look forward to it every Christmas. If you haven’t seen it, you’ve got to watch it. As for holiday treats, one of my closest friends make rocky road fudge with 3 ingredients – chocolate chips, mini marshmallow and peanuts and it’s so easy and amazingly good – you just melt the chocolate in the microwave, mix in the marshmallows and peanuts, spread it in an 8×8 pan and let it set. Yum.”

And Kimberly Rice, who said “We wait all year for my Moms candy rolls!”

The one winner of the second part of Prize 2, which is a $25 Barnes & Noble egift card is...

Revi, who said "Favorite Hanukkah song is Hanukkas, Oh Hanukkah. Favorite dessert is Sufganiyot! Gotta have me some jelly donuts.”

And now, the one winner of the grand prize section of Prize 2, which was any book from my backlist in ebook or print (winner’s choice which) PLUS a $25 Barnes & Noble egift card, AND a $35 Amazon egift card, is…

Hillary, who said “My favorite song this time of year would be O Holy Night. My favorite dessert this time of year is a tie between cheesecake and apple pie.”

Congratulations to the winners! I will be emailing you shortly to get your information so I can send out your prizes. For everyone else, don’t worry, there's one more contest left. Since time is running out on the holiday season, I'm announcing it now, and it will be short and sweet. ONE WINNER will get any book from my backlist below, in ebook or print (winner's choice which)



AND that same single winner will also get a $100 Amazon egift card. This contest is open to US readers only.



The rules: Tell me your favorite holiday tradition or your favorite holiday drink. This is open to all the winter holidays, of course (Christmas, Hanukkah, Solstice, Kwanzaa, etc). My favorite holiday drink is Southern Comfort Vanilla Spice Eggnog, unspiked. I don't like regular eggnog most of the time, but there's something about this flavor that hits the spot. And my favorite holiday tradition is watching It's A Wonderful Life on Christmas Eve with my husband. Even when things are less than ideal, such as the holiday after my Mom died, when I was too depressed to decorate or really celebrate, there's something comforting about reserving that time for me and hubby. 

I mentioned an example of each, but remember, you only have to tell me one of your favorites to be eligible to enter. Just like last time, reply in the comments on my website blog ONLY so I have them all together in one place. Winners will be randomly selected. Not sure if you’re at my website blog? Here is the link: http://jeanienefrost.com/2018/12/holi...

Contest opens NOW and ends Friday, December 21st at 9am Eastern time.  Please only enter once per person. Winners will be announced on my website blog after the contest closes. Thanks and good luck!

WICKED BITE cover reveal and Holiday Favs Giveaway Prize 2!

As promised, here is Prize 2 of my Holiday Favs Giveaway! This one is brought to you by the cover reveal for WICKED BITE, book two in my new Night Rebel series! SPOILER WARNING: If you haven't read SHADES OF WICKED yet, then DON'T read this description unless you're okay with being spoilered on things that happen in book one. Got it? You've been warned. Now, here's the back cover description and the ab-tastic cover :). 

Some promises are meant to be broken…

Veritas spent most of her life as a vampire Law Guardian. Now, she’s about to break every rule by secretly hunting down the dark souls that were freed in order to save Ian. But the risks are high. If she gets caught, she could lose her job. And catching the sinister creatures might cost Veritas her own life.

Some vows are forever…

Ian’s memories might be fragmented, but this master vampire isn’t about to be left behind by the woman who entranced him, bound herself to him, and then disappeared. So what if demons, other Law Guardians, and dangerous, otherworldly forces stand against them? Come hell or high water, Ian intends to remind Veritas of the burning passion between them, because she is the only person seared on his mind—and his soul… Releasing July 30th, 2019. Preorder yours: Amazon, Apple Books,  B&N ,  BooksAMillion ,  Kobo ,  IndieBound

Now that you've seen the pretty cover, let's get to PRIZE 2 of my Holiday Favs giveaways! Like last time, the first part of the prize features books. THREE WINNERS will get to choose from ONE of the books below, which contains ALL the novels in my Night Huntress, Night Huntress World, Night Prince and new Night Rebel series, with an added extended novella from The Bite Before Christmas anthology because it’s an important Cat and Bones story. Books are arranged below in my  Author Recommended Reading Order . The three winners can choose to have their prize in either paperback or ebook. This part of the contest is open to US and international readers, although due to ebook restrictions, any international winners are limited to receiving their prize in paperback only.



But I've already read all of your books! some of you might be saying. Well, then clearly you need MORE BOOKS to read! ONE LUCKY WINNER will also get a $25 Barnes & Noble egift card so you can buy whatever books you want. This part of the contest is limited to US readers only.



But wait! As usual, there’s more! What goes better with books than more books, you wonder? Books, more books AND MONEY, of course 🙂. ONE LUCKY WINNER will get any book from my collection above, PLUS a $25 Barnes & Noble egift card, AND a $35.00 Amazon egift card! This part of the contest is open to US readers only.



THE RULES:

If you want your chance to be one of the five total winners, then tell me your favorite holiday song. Or, if you don't have a favorite holiday song, tell me your favorite holiday dessert. This is open to all the winter holidays, of course (Christmas, Hanukkah, Solstice, Kwanzaa, etc). Now,  my favorite holiday song is - as usual - a tie. This time, between O Holy Night and The Little Drummer Boy. I love the spiritual lyrics and the soaring crescendo of O Holy Night, but I also love the childlike sweetness of The Little Drummer Boy. My favorite dessert is nothing fancy but I love it: pumpkin pie. I only seem to eat it during the holiday season (note to self: Live a little, pumpkin pie would taste good in July, too! ;)) and there's just something about it that perfectly finishes a great holiday meal for me.

I mentioned a few examples, but you only have to tell me one of your favorites to be eligible to enter. Just like last time, reply in the comments on my website blog ONLY so I have them all together in one place. Winners will be randomly selected. Not sure if you’re at my website blog? Here is the link: http://jeanienefrost.com/2018/12/holi...

Contest opens NOW and ends Saturday, December 15th at 9am Eastern time. Please only enter once per person. Winners will be announced on my website blog after the contest closes. Thanks and good luck!