Margo Bond Collins's Blog, page 90
October 11, 2014
Blog Barrage: Her Avenging Angel by Felicity Heaton
Her Avenging Angel, the seventh book in New York Times best-seller Felicity Heaton’s hot paranormal romance series, Her Angel, is now available in ebook and paperback. To celebrate the release, she’s holding a FANTASTIC GIVEAWAY at her website.
Find out how to enter the Her Avenging Angel international giveaway (ends October 26th) and be in with a shot of winning a $75, $50 or $25 gift certificate at her website, where you can also download a 6 chapter sample of the novel: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/her-avenging-angel-romance-book.php
Here’s more about Her Avenging Angel, including an excerpt from this paranormal romance novel.
Her Avenging Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 7) Felicity Heaton Once a proud angel of Heaven, Nevar is now a servant of Hell, bound to a new master—the King of Demons. Consumed by darkness and driven to seek revenge, he set in motion a series of events that awakened the Great Destroyer, a force that will bring about the apocalypse. Now, he is the creature’s master and the fate of our world rests in the hands of an angel with only darkness in his heart.
Lost in the mortal realm without any recollection of how she came to be there, Lysia is only aware that she has survived a great battle. When she stumbles into a demon bar, she finds more than a chance to discover what happened to her—she finds a dark and deadly angel warrior who stirs fire in her veins and awakens soul-searing passion she cannot deny.
With the mounting threat of the Great Destroyer, the forces of Heaven and Hell against him, and a band of dangerous angels intent on capturing Lysia on his heels, can Nevar protect the beautiful woman who is light to his darkness and find the strength to save the world?
Her Avenging Angel is available from
Buy Links:
Amazon US – http://amzn.com/B00NKBZNOY
Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00NKBZNOY
Amazon DE – http://www.amazon.de/dp/B00NKBZNOY
Amazon CA – http://www.amazon.ca/dp/B00NKBZNOY
Amazon AU – http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B00NKBZNOY
iBooks US – http://itunes.apple.com/us/book/isbn9781909306509?at=1l3voM2
iBooks UK – http://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/isbn9781909306509?at=1l3voM2
iBooks AU – http://itunes.apple.com/au/book/isbn9781909306509?at=1l3voM2
iBooks CA – http://itunes.apple.com/ca/book/isbn9781909306509?at=1l3voM2
iBooks NZ – http://itunes.apple.com/nz/book/isbn9781909306509?at=1l3voM2
B&N – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/her-avenging-angel-felicity-heaton/1120514386
Kobo – http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/her-avenging-angel-her-angel-romance-series-7
ARE – https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-heravengingangelherangelromanceseries7-1628136-143.html
GooglePlay – https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Felicity_Heaton_Her_Avenging_Angel?id=jQ-FBAAAQBAJ
Her Avenging Angel – Excerpt
It was cold. Dark. She ached, a thousand lacerations and bruises burning on her tired limbs, the result of the battle she had survived.
Noise blurred around her, loud and piercing, a din of unfamiliar sounds.
It drove her to move.
She was vulnerable here, out in the open. Exposed.
Her stomach growled.
Hungry.
Lysia shoved her bloodstained hands against the green earth and pushed herself up into a sitting position. Verdant nature closed in on her from all sides, and beyond it pricks of bright yellow lights. Where was she?
She tried to remember how she had come to this place.
Sharp pain stabbed behind her eyes and she screwed them shut, unable to bite back the whimper that slipped from her lips. The fierce fiery ache subsided and fragments of memories of the battle took its place, speeding through her mind, distorted and bringing their own form of pain as her head throbbed and her body throbbed with it. Each blow she recalled echoed on her body, pain that burned in her limbs and seared every healing gash anew.
She forced her eyes back open and scanned the area around her, focusing on it to push the memories to the back of her mind. No sign of the battle she had taken part in. It hadn’t happened here.
Lysia thought back to it again and pain blazed through her bones, setting them on fire, and she cried out as it seared her mind. She collapsed against the grass, breathing hard, each inhale filling her senses with the smell of it and the sweet coolness of the dew that clung to each blade.
The memories ended with the darkness of sleep.
She could only surmise that she had stumbled here from the battlefield and had passed out.
Lysia pushed herself up again and studied her surroundings. They were unfamiliar, noisy and strange. She could see great stone buildings beyond the trees and odd colourful growling creatures that roamed beyond the boundaries of the patch of nature. Their bright eyes swung her way at times and she shrank back, her heart pounding, fearing they would come for her while she was weak.
She needed a haven. Somewhere warm that would provide her with sustenance so she could restore her strength.
She stumbled onto her feet and closed her eyes, tipping her head back and her face to the inky sky.
Deep within her, she felt a familiar stirring. Demons were nearby. She would be safe with them.
She followed the sensation, using it to lead her to them. When she reached the edge of the trees, she hovered in the shadows, watching the growling boxy beasts as they rumbled past, seemingly patrolling the area but not acknowledging each other. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to notice her.
There were a few mortals on the path ahead of her, between one set of the great buildings.
She was in their world.
She waited for them to disappear from view before scurrying across the black smooth rock surface to one of the buildings. From there, she stayed close to it, hurrying along the paved path, tracking the demons. She was closing in.
The sensation led her down narrower paths into darker areas, and she slowed her pace, sensing mortals ahead of her. Where the demons were.
Why were the demons with mortals? Were they feeding?
Her stomach growled again, the noise loud in the quieter air.
In the distance, she could hear the distinct chatter of voices, and a heavy tribal beat. A gathering?
Perhaps there was a sort of feast happening.
Her stomach made a stretched out series of gurgles, whistles and peeps at that. She rubbed it and hurried forwards, stopping only when she came upon the mortals. She lingered in the shadows of a building, hidden behind the corner of it, and peeked around to view the feast and gauge whether it was safe.
A string of mortals were lined up against a wall, a large demon ushering them one by one into the building. He eyed them all closely and turned some away. Was he in charge of picking the best from the worst? He flashed a toothy grin at two females and raked dark eyes over them as they entered.
Lysia had the impression he had earmarked them for himself.
A bright colourful sign hung on the wall above the door, the language unfamiliar.
She studied it until her eyes hurt and the words were burned onto her retinas, trying to make sense of it, and then shrugged. It didn’t matter. She would enter this place and there she would find sustenance. She needed to be inside, out of the cold and safe. She would be safe inside. She felt sure of it.
Lysia scurried across the flat cool expanse of stone to the door. The big demon looked her way and his eyes widened.
She smiled and he staggered backwards, his eyes dropping to her body and widening further. Pleased that he was allowing her entrance, she hurried inside and immediately clapped her hands over her ears. The noise she had heard from outside was even louder inside, pounding at an ear-splitting volume. She growled beneath her breath and searched for food.
And paused.
The demons in their human forms were not eating the mortals.
This was not a feast.
Many of the demons were occupied in dancing with the mortals, grinding against them and almost fornicating in front of everyone.
She hovered by the entrance, unsure whether to enter or leave. Her stomach gurgled again, making her decision for her. She had to stay. There were colourful glass bottles lining the wall to her right and demons there were serving drinks to people who lined a long black bar. If they had mead and other liquids then perhaps they had food for her.
She moved deeper into the room and everyone turned to stare at her, their eyes wide. She frowned at them all. Why did they stare? She thought them all strange but she wasn’t being rude by staring at them. If she hadn’t been so hungry, she would have asked them, or forced them to tell her the reason.
She pushed through a group of male demons, all of which were wearing their human forms, and they turned on her. Their growls died as their eyes fell on her and they parted, staring as she passed.
Lysia leaned against the tacky black bar top.
A man walked over to her, tossed a rag over his shoulder, and smiled.
“What’ll it be?”
“I require sustenance.”
He frowned, a puzzled edge to his dark eyes, and shook his head.
Lysia tried again. “I must eat.”
He waved his right hand and another man joined him, a blond with pale eyes.
“Problem?” the blond said.
“Not getting this one,” the brunet responded.
The blond raked his eyes over her, his right brow quirking. “Taking things a bit far, aren’t we? You want something?”
She nodded. “I need sustenance.”
He looked at his friend and shrugged. “I don’t understand her.”
What was there to understand? She only wanted food.
Blood.
The two men walked away, serving others who seemed to have no problem ordering what they desired and receiving it. She cursed them and everyone who communicated with them with ease. While she could understand many languages, she could write and speak only one. Without being able to speak to the serving staff, she had no chance of getting blood.
A woman beside her cast a glance her way, looked down at herself, and slipped off her seat and walked away, disappearing into the heavy crowd.
Lysia sighed, perched herself on the seat, and leaned on the bar with her forehead resting on her arms. She was warmer inside this noisy inn but still hungry, and still tired. She needed to feed. How?
A male stopped to her left.
She turned her head towards him and ran her eyes up from the waist of his impeccable crisp black suit to his shoulders and then his face. Vampire. She knew his kind and could see through his façade to the wretched monster beneath. He smiled, his fangs on show to her and his pale blue eyes swirling with ill intentions.
“Having trouble?” The dark-haired vampire leaned his left elbow on the bar beside her and she sat up.
She nodded. “I need to order blood.”
He frowned at her and her heart sank. He didn’t understand her either.
“What language is that? I’m afraid I’m not familiar with it. Can you mime what you want?” He shifted closer and she focused hard on every word he said, listening closely so she could grasp the words he used and use them too.
He smiled a little wider, and shifted a little closer. His gaze drifted down to her chest and back up again.
“Mime?” He made a show of using his hands to make shapes.
She was about to do as he asked when he danced his fingers over her left shoulder.
A cold shiver ran over her flesh and skated down her spine.
Lysia flicked her right wrist and hurled him across the room, scattering the crowd and ripping a few shocked gasps from them.
A male further along the bar looked her way.
She froze as her eyes met his, heat pulsing through her, a visceral throb that reached right down to her bones.
The male was handsome, but darkness clung to him, danger that called to her and lured her to him. There was evil in him.
He would know her tongue.
He raised a glass filled with green liquid and tipped his head, causing threads of his silver-white hair to fall and brush his brow. He swept them back and she caught a brief glimpse of tiny horns above his ears. Her belly flipped and heated.
“Kudos for giving Villandry hell,” he said above the thumping music, his deep rumbling voice doing funny things to her insides and turning her knees to rubber.
She presumed Villandry was the name of the vampire now picking himself up off the floor across the busy room. She wasn’t sure what kudos meant though.
Lysia swallowed her trembling heart, slipped off her seat and approached the pale-haired male with all the confidence she could muster when he was staring at her, his jade eyes burning into her body and setting her aflame.
Rousing strange feelings within her.
She halted beside him.
He swivelled to face her, set his drink down on the bar but kept his left hand on the stem of the elegant glass, and raised an eyebrow.
“Why are you naked?”
Her Avenging Angel is available from Amazon Kindle, Kobo Books, Barnes and Noble Nook, Apple iBooks stores and other retailers. Also available in paperback.
Find all the links, a fantastic 6 chapter downloadable sample of the book, and also how to enter the giveaway and be in with a shot of winning a $75, $50 or $25 gift certificate at her website: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/her-avenging-angel-romance-book.php
Books in the Her Angel paranormal romance series:
Book 1: Her Dark Angel – FREE in ebook at selected retailers
About Felicity Heaton:
Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons! If you’re a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will enjoy her books too.
If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling Vampire Erotic Theatre series. Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled with hot-blooded alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons to shifters and angels, then take a look at the new Her Angel series.
If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places:
Website: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk
Blog: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/blog/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/felicityheaton
Twitter: http://twitter.com/felicityheaton
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/felicityheaton
October 10, 2014
It’s zOctober . . . Time for ZOMBIES!
Hi, y’all!
It’s October . . . and over at My Book Addiction, it’s . . .
And that means it’s time for all sorts of Zombie fun!
Today, I’m over at the website talking about zombies and our cultural fear of individualism and giving away a SIGNED copy of F. J. R. Titchenell’s Confessions of the Very First Zombie Slayer (That I Know Of).
Check out the post and enter to win!
Early this evening (around 5:30 Central/6:30 Eastern), I’ll head over to the zOctober Facebook Party to talk about surviving the inevitable zombie apocalypse . . . and maybe hand out some flash-giveaway prizes while I’m there!
So stop by tonight to talk zombies and win some prizes–then stick around for the rest of the zombie goodness!
_______________________________
Hand-Bag Throw-Down, Day 2: A Guest Post by Author Vicki Batman
Most Over-the-Top: Many of you will recognize this sparkly embellished with everything from the kitchen sink handbag from the sixties. It’s an Enid Collins. Collins of Texas opened its doors in Medina, Texas in 1959, producing whimsical, happy handbags. Enid Collins, owner and designer, operated the company until 1970, when it was purchased by the Tandy Leather Corporation. Each purse was decorated by hand with paint, sequins, and rhinestones in themed designs. They were intended to be good quality, fun day handbags.
Mine is entitled “Cable Car.” And in case you are wondering, I do have six more Enid bags, all different (and two papier mache brooches). I probably paid about $70.00 for this lovely one. A lot of things fit inside. It does get a tad heavy as the bottom is wooden—rare nowadays!
Find out about Enid Collins at: http://www.coololdstuff.com/EnidCollins.html
____________________________________
Hattie Cook’s dream job is down the toilet and her new SUV violated. Desperate for cash to cover the basic necessities of rent and food, she takes a temporary job at Buy-Rite insurance company where she uncovers an embezzling scam tied to the death of a former employee—the very one she replaced. The last thing she wants is to clash with By-the-Book Detective Wellborn, no matter how much he makes her heart pound.Allan Charles Wellborn has secretly adored Hattie all his life. He evolved from a pocket protector-wearing geek to a handsome police detective. When the police determine there’s more to the death of a former Buy Rite employee, he steps in to lead the investigation. Overly dedicated, always perfect, he puts his job first, even if doing so ultimately hurts the one he loves.Can the killer be found before Hattie’s time is up?
Preorder now! Temporarily Employed New job. New love. And murder.
____________________________________
Vicki Batman ~ sassy writer of sexy and funny fiction
Available now! Bug Stuff…and Other Stories 5 stars
Handbags, Books…Whatever * Plotting Princesses * Twitter * Facebook * Pinterest
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Review: Naturally Yours by Adele Downs
Review
When Mickey saves a child on the side of the road, he doesn’t know what he’s in for. To a paramedic it is in many ways a standard stop—the kind of routine heroism that happens on a daily basis. To the child’s parents, of course, it means much more—asking their hero to come have a meal at their restaurant seems the least they could do. And their business partner Amanda absolutely refuses to take no for an answer, even if the refusal stems from a personal code that keeps Mickey from interacting with the people he’s helped.
Amanda serves as a healing force in Mickey’s life as he comes to terms with his past, and the novella’s use of food as both a metaphor and a method of connection between the two works beautifully. The EMT and the master chef who can save him create a beautiful and heart-wrenching story together that explores the value of forgiving oneself and connecting with another.
Ultimately, Naturally Yours offers exactly what I come to an Adele Downs story to gain: a strong story with a wonderful couple and a satisfying ending. Once again, Downs delivers. Brava!
BOOK INFORMATION
Title – NATURALLY YOURS
Author – Adele Downs
Genre – Contemporary Romance
Publication Date – October 7th, 2014
Length (Pages/# Words) – 26,000 Words
Publisher – Boroughs Publishing Group
BOOK BLURB
Who will save the man that saves the world?
Paramedic Mickey Kendall hasn’t slept a full night since his return from Iraq. He rescues victims by day and protects the innocent after dark. Mickey doesn’t do it for glory; he wants absolution, not admiration. He lives by the rule: No personal contact after a rescue. That code meets the ultimate test when Mickey saves a child’s life on a roadside and declines the parents’ invitation to dinner at their upscale restaurant.
Master chef Amanda Greer lives by the principle that delicious food and good company build bridges. When she learns Mickey has refused her partners’ hospitality, she persuades him to change his mind. On the night the handsome paramedic visits her restaurant, Amanda joins him at his table, and their unexpected chemistry leads to a passionate kiss.
In Amanda’s arms, Mickey finds relief from the stressors that haunt him, but resists falling in love. When Amanda challenges him to confront his demons and accept the love she offers, Mickey arrives at a crossroad. The war-weary paramedic must face a different kind of battle to claim the woman who reignites his passion for living and revives his wounded heart.
BUY & TBR LINKS
Amazon Kindle Link – http://goo.gl/q0MXs5
Goodreads Link – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23295209-naturally-yours?ac=1
EXCERPT
(Book is rated PG-13. Sensual, but not explicit.)
“They called you a hero in the press.” Her dark lashes lowered and lifted and she smiled at him with admiration shining in her eyes. “They were right, of course. What you did for Jack can never be repaid.”
Mickey winced at the hero reference. “I hate to disappoint you, but I only did what I’m trained to do.”
Amanda made sounds of disagreement low in her throat. “Elena told me at least a hundred and fifty cars passed her on the highway. Every one of them ignored her cries for help. Of all those people, don’t you think one might have been medically trained? Or at least cared enough to respond? No. You stopped. Only you.”
Oh. He hadn’t thought of that.
She pointed a finger at his chest. “There’s a difference between you and other people. There’s no other way to explain what happened on that roadway. Elena is convinced you’re special, and I never doubt her perceptions. That’s another reason why I wanted to meet you.”
Mickey stared into Amanda’s eyes and her pupils dilated. Her lips parted, ever so slightly, as if to welcome a kiss. Her tongue touched the inside of her bottom lip and disappeared. Mickey knew then, she felt it too. Synergy. Chemistry. An attraction so powerful it turned kinetic on contact.
Some called it love at first sight.
Amanda. Even her name was beautiful.
She took a sip of her drink and he watched her mouth and throat work the liquid. When she set down the tumbler, she wiped a droplet from the corner of her mouth with a trimmed, unpolished fingertip. Mickey wished he could have swiped the bead away with his tongue.
Amanda leaned closer and pressed a hand to his wrist. “Trained or not, you were the only stranger on that highway who had a heart.”
Mickey laid his hand over hers and she let him keep it there. Until now, he wasn’t sure he still had a heart. His had been chipped away, piece by piece, like a block of ice since the war. He’d considered it long gone, with his soul. In mere minutes, what was left had thawed in the center, leaving him raw and exposed.
Amanda continued to speak; clearly unaware she’d stripped away another layer. “I love Jack like he’s my own son. He’s a terrific kid. I’ve helped take care of him since the day the Martins and I started this restaurant. When you saved him, you saved us all.” Amanda leaned in and pressed a quick, sweet kiss against Mickey’s jaw.
Their gazes locked when she sat back in her chair. The gravity of her words and her straightforward kiss humbled him into speechlessness. He’d been thanked many times before, but this woman had gotten to him like no one else. He squeezed her hand and then downed the rest of his drink. Amanda took another sip of hers and set the glass on the table before retreating into silence. She turned the tumbler slowly in her hands.
Mickey looked back at her and tapped two fingers against the menu’s leather cover. “Nothing here is what I expected.”
Amanda returned a quiet smile, either assuming he meant food choices, or pretending he had. She tucked her arms beneath her breasts and leaned forward against the edge of the table, lifting perfect white swells above the neckline of her red blouse. “Organic means untouched by artificiality. Grown and consumed in its natural state. We eat only healthy foods unspoiled by chemicals, preservatives, hormones, steroids, antibiotics, and genetically modified seeds or cells. Pure.”
Pure. Mickey gazed at the stunning woman by his side and sensed that was true for her, too. The texture of her skin looked smooth as cream and welcoming to the touch. He longed to run his hands along her thighs, imagining sleek roads leading to heaven at their apex. “I like the sound of that.” The way she looked back at him while he studied her face made him wonder if she’d read his mind.
The one that had gone dirty.
AUTHOR BIO
Adele Downs writes contemporary romance inside the office of her rural Pennsylvania home. She is a former journalist, published in newspapers and magazines inside the USA, UK, and Caribbean.
Adele is an active member of Romance Writers of America and her local RWA chapter where she serves as a past-president. She has written several articles for RWR magazine (Romance Writers Report), the trade journal of Romance Writers of America, and has presented workshops for writers.
When Adele isn’t working on her current project, she can be found riding in her convertible or reading a book on the nearest beach.
FOLLOW LINKS
Amazon Author Page – http://www.amazon.com/Adele-Downs/e/B00G1RRS60
Website/Blog – https://adeledowns.wordpress.com
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/authoradeledowns
Twitter – @Adele_Downs https://twitter.com/Adele_Downs
Pinterest – http://www.pinterest.com/adeledowns/
GIVEAWAY PRIZES
USA Residents Only Please
Firefighters Kick Ash! — Hanging ornament and Swag (1)
Fire & Rescue Refrigerator Magnet and Swag (1)
Amazon Kindle Gift Copy of NATURALLY YOURS (1)
October 9, 2014
Books & Authors from the Sanguinary Release Party
Check out all the cool authors and books that participated in the Sanguinary release party last night!
Sanguinary: A Night Shift Novel
Chasing the Star Garden (The Airship Racing Chronicles Book 1)
Curses, Fates & Soul Mates: 5 Paranormal New Adult Novels
Man Theory…and Other Stories (romantic comedy short fiction): Three hilarious short fiction stories
First Impression (A Shadow Maven Paranormal Book 1)
Limerence (The Obsession Series Book 1)
Join my mailing list! https://confirmsubscription.com/h/d/03A21E5E161401F0
Hand-Bag Throw-Down, Day 1: A Guest Post by Author Vicki Batman
When Margo invited me to her blog, I decided to post about something we both love: handbags.
I adore handbags and have acquired many over the years. I have vintage, handmade, and designer ones. But mostly, I look at vintage. For a while, the designers were churning out the same ol’ style: large garbage bag. That was so not buttoned-up, nice, value-conscious me. And I would much rather buy a whole passel of bags for $100 than one. Of course, it depends on the bag.
So Margo and I came up with three categories: Best Bargain; Most Over-the-Top; and Least Practical.
Today, I’m featuring the Best Bargain.
Best Bargain: This is a lovely rectangular, green kid leather bag, definitely vintage, and I can’t read the manufacturer. The handle is short which I like as shoulder bag handles fall off my shoulders. The catch is plastic with a fun gold latch. Surprisingly, it does hold many items. But I bet you are wondering how is this a best bargain? I paid $3.00 for it at a flea market. Go me!
I’ve purchased many a vintage bag and some have never been carried. Surprising—right? So that makes them brand new in my book. But if it had been carried, wouldn’t it be lovely to think of that bag belonging to someone special who had been given it by someone special or picked out for a special occasion.
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Hattie Cook’s dream job is down the toilet and her new SUV violated. Desperate for cash to cover the basic necessities of rent and food, she takes a temporary job at Buy-Rite insurance company where she uncovers an embezzling scam tied to the death of a former employee—the very one she replaced. The last thing she wants is to clash with By-the-Book Detective Wellborn, no matter how much he makes her heart pound.Allan Charles Wellborn has secretly adored Hattie all his life. He evolved from a pocket protector-wearing geek to a handsome police detective. When the police determine there’s more to the death of a former Buy Rite employee, he steps in to lead the investigation. Overly dedicated, always perfect, he puts his job first, even if doing so ultimately hurts the one he loves.
Can the killer be found before Hattie’s time is up?
Preorder now! Temporarily Employed New job. New love. And murder.
____________________________________
Vicki Batman ~ sassy writer of sexy and funny fiction
Available now! Bug Stuff…and Other Stories 5 stars
Handbags, Books…Whatever * Plotting Princesses * Twitter * Facebook * Pinterest
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October 8, 2014
Spotlight On: Return by Skye Malone
Title: Return
Author: SkyeMalone
Series: Awakened
Fate (Book Three)
Genre: Young
Adult Paranormal Romance
Publisher:
Wildflower Isle
Publication Date:
October 6, 2014
Cover Designer:
Karri Klawiter
For Chloe, the ocean was supposed to mean safety and for a time, it almost did. She overcame the Sylphaen’s drugs. She discovered an unforeseen attraction to Zeke, one that he shares for her. A life underwater seemed possible, until she learned that nothing was as it appeared.
After an unspeakable betrayal shattered everything she thought she knew about Zeke’s world, she and Zeke have fled the ocean for the one place Chloe never expected to want to go.
Home.
But the challenge of living as a mermaid over a thousand miles from the ocean isn’t the only problem facing her. Home has changed. Enemies are waiting, ones she never saw coming. Her little Kansas town is full of surprises.
Including Noah, the guy she left behind.
Purchase:
All Romance eBooks | Amazon | Barnes and Noble
Google Play | iTunes | Kobo | Smashwords
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Other books in the Awakened Fate series
Awaken, book #1
Only 99¢!
All Romance eBooks | Amazon | Barnes and Noble
Google Play | iTunes | Kobo | Smashwords
Descend, book #2
All Romance eBooks | Amazon | Barnes and Noble
Google Play | iTunes | Kobo | Smashwords
October 7, 2014
Spotlight On: The Ferryman, by Amy Neftzger
Title: The Ferryman
Author: Amy Neftzger
Genre: Fantasy
Publication: October 7th, 2014 by Fog Ink Publishing
Like most large career moves, this one happened by accident. Karen spent a lot of time planning what she was going to do with her life, but Fate had other plans for her, as she often does for most of us. Karen just happened to rob the wrong grave.
As a single mother who’s struggling to make ends meet, Karen stumbles into the worst job on earth: transporting souls into the afterlife. To make matters worse, she is contractually bound to continue the job indefinitely, and her difficult employer is none other than Fate. It doesn t take long for Karen to learn that Fate may be fashionable, but she’s also heartless.
Purchase
Amazon | B&N
Excerpt
Episode One
The Ferryman Is a Woman
Karen studied the coffin she had just uncovered. The lid, once a shiny lacquered surface, was now partially decayed and fell apart as Karen pried it off. Bits of wood turned to dust in her hands as she worked diligently to make an opening. Her arms were tired from digging and the fatigue made it more difficult to be gentle with the rotting wood. She paused to shake her arms vigorously and relax the tension in her muscles and upper body. As she breathed in the chilly night air, she could smell her own sweat mixed with the fragrance of the rich earth and decaying wood. She took a few more deep breaths and turned back to the task of opening the grave. She worked patiently to handle the lid with care and managed to remove a large chunk that was nearly a third of the entire lid. Through the hole she had made she saw the top half of a well-dressed skeleton.
The grave was on the edge of the cemetery in a neglected corner that looked as if it could be part of the adjoining land. The gravestone had fallen over years ago and weathered so much that it looked like an ordinary limestone rock. A few days earlier when Karen recognized that it was actually a grave, she decided to rob it. She was hoping that no one had gotten to it before her.
This particular plot was an older grave from a time when individuals placed ancient coins over the eye sockets of the corpse, although the coins weren’t ancient when they were buried. Most of these graves had already been robbed, but due to the location and lack of distinct marking or some other mystical reason, this one had gone unnoticed by robbers until now. It was almost as if the grave had been hidden until the right person came along. Karen wasn’t the typical grave robber, and perhaps the corpse found this attractive. Regardless of how the grave had remained unspoiled for so many years, Karen was the one who finally opened the casket and plucked up the coins. It was at that moment that Fate appeared.
“You have three days to finish the task,” someone said as soon as Karen had snatched the coins and a few other small trinkets from the corpse. Karen jumped when she heard the voice. It had a rich, mellow tone and resonated with authority. Karen turned around and briefly thought about running, but she decided to stay put when she saw a woman staring her down. The woman had come out of nowhere and appeared to be alone.
The woman was, if nothing else, fashionable. She was very fit, toned but not bulky in stature, and wore clothes of the finest quality. Her boots were Italian leather and the jacket and pants looked like something from a Chanel boutique.
Karen slowly put the coins into her pocket, along with the gold watch she had taken from the breast pocket of the skeleton’s suit, and addressed the woman. Other people might have felt intimidated by the situation. Karen was ready to fight.
“What task?” Karen demanded. “Who are you?” A pocket of night air brushed past and gave her a chill as she waited for an answer. However, she would not let her discomfort show.
“I am Fate, of course. You took the coins intended for the Ferryman. The work is now yours. You’re hired.” The woman stood with one hand on her hip as she spoke with confidence.
“To do what?” Karen glanced around to see if anyone else was nearby. Surely Fate was not alone in the graveyard at three in the morning. Karen had chosen the time based on her experience of when graveyards were most empty. She’d learned a lot since she started grave robbing and knew that the time between when the bars close and the coffee shops open are the most vacant hours of the night.
“This gentleman paid for safe passage to the next life. Your job is to get him there,” Fate explained. “And you’re already late.”
The novelty of the situation wasn’t lost on Karen. She knew the legend of the Ferryman and about how people would be buried with coins on their eyes or lips to pay for a successful journey into the afterlife. She also knew that there were very few graves left where the gold coins were still in place. Karen was unlucky enough to find and rob this particular grave when Fate was nearby and looking for someone to do her bidding. Fate probably just liked the look of Karen. There were few women strong or daring enough to rob graves, and that probably worked in Karen’s favor. She was also physically strong for a woman her size and had a determined appearance in the way she carried herself as she moved. Whatever it was, something had attracted Fate, and once Fate has her eye on you there’s no getting away. Of course, Fate always has a way of putting someone into a situation and then leaving, which is what she did with Karen. Some people would call this poor management. Others call it being smart.
Fate abruptly vanished and Karen saw the ghost that had been standing behind Fate. He was dressed in a black suit with a starched white shirt, a black vest and red tie. His shoes were polished and glowed. He certainly seemed less solid than everything else in the graveyard. Looking at him made Karen’s eyes water, as if she was watching heat coming from a flame. Everything about him was wavy and unstable. He took a step forward.
“I’m Jerome Brown,” the ghost said politely. “Managing partner of Smith and Brown Trading Goods. I ran the general store in town.” When Karen didn’t respond after a few moments he continued, “What’s your name?”
“Karen Irving.” She looked from the coffin to the ghost and then around the graveyard.
“So you’re the one who’s going to take me?” the ghost asked hopefully.
“I don’t know,” Karen replied. She wiped her forehead with her hand, smearing a small amount of dirt onto her face as she did so. “I don’t know where to take you.” She remembered her son, Claude. She shouldn’t have left him home alone, but he was a sound sleeper and the house was locked. She thought she’d be gone for a couple of hours when she left. Now it looked like it would be a bit longer.
“That lady called you ‘The Ferryman.’”
“I’m not.” Karen carefully pushed the pieces of the coffin lid shut again and climbed out of the grave.
“She looked like she knew what she was talking about.”
“Who?” Karen asked, unsure if the ghost had seen everything that she had. She began kicking some of the loose dirt onto the grave. She was starting to feel cold and the activity helped warm her up a bit.
“The bossy one. She just left.” The ghost pointed to where Fate had been standing.
“So, she was real,” Karen said more to herself than to the ghost. Of course, the ghost could have also been a dream. Anything was possible.
“Yep.”
“And you’re real?” Karen shoveled a few piles of dark brown earth onto the coffin lid. If she had more work to do before morning, she wouldn’t have time to put things back properly, but she wanted to do something. She hated the thought of leaving the coffin completely exposed. Besides, the feeling of the wooden shovel in her hands was reassuring to her. She was, after all, talking with a ghost. Shoveling seemed to help her feel a bit more normal about the situation.
“As real as you. Maybe mores so, since I’ve been around longer.”
“How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know. You just stole my watch,” he said with a shrug.
“This watch hasn’t worked for at least a century,” Karen replied as she stopped shoveling. She reached into her pocket to pull out the timepiece for a better look. The gold felt soft compared to a modern watch, and she knew it was high quality. She opened and closed it a few times. The hinges were stiff but still moved even though the hands had stopped. Perhaps it just needed a good winding, but there was no time for that now.
“That explains a lot,” he replied. “I never went anywhere because I thought I had plenty of time.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Karen asked, ignoring his last statement. She threw down the shovel and looked squarely at the ghost. “You put those coins on your eyes. She said it was payment for the Ferryman. What does it mean?” She knew the legend, but she didn’t understand how or why she was supposed to get involved in the process.
“I didn’t put those coins on my eyes. My daughter did that to help me into the next life. You’re supposed to carry me across the river. That’s what a ferryman does. He takes passengers across the river.”
“The river?” Karen asked. It sounded silly to her, but she knew where the river was located. It wasn’t terribly far and the guy didn’t look very heavy. After all, how heavy could a ghost be? It’s mostly air — or some other floaty stuff. If all she had to do was to get him to the other side of the river, she could do that and be back home in an hour before her son woke up.
Getting the ghost into the car was awkward for Karen. After she had placed her shovel and other tools in the trunk, she opened the passenger door and watched him float inside. She wasn’t sure if he was able to manage the door handle, but once he was inside, his translucent fingers began exploring the interior components. At first Karen reached down for the seatbelt to secure the ghost, but then she changed her mind as she realized that it might not work. First of all, he wasn’t made up of firm matter and if an accident took place he was likely to pass right through the belt, anyway. More importantly, safety wouldn’t be a primary concern for someone who was already dead. She slammed the passenger door and ran back to her seat to start the car. The ghost giggled when the engine roared to life.
Jerome enjoyed the ride in her car, which was a completely new experience since he’d died before cars were invented. He was a real chatterbox, too. He kept talking about how much the town had changed, and he repeatedly asked her to slow down so he could get a better look at things. Karen ignored him and kept driving. Whatever weirdness was going on needed to be done before Claude awoke in the morning.
Karen drove quickly toward the center of town and over the large expansion bridge to the other side of the river. All the while, the ghost asked her questions about everything he had never seen before and what these new things were called. She gruffly responded to his questions, enduring the roughness of the ride in her haste to complete the job and get back to living her life. As soon as the bridge ended and she reached the other side she turned to look at the ghost.
“Shouldn’t you be gone?”
“I don’t know. Isn’t that your job?” he asked.
“You’re on the other side of the river.” She paused to think about the situation and then added, “Perhaps you need to step out of the car and onto the ground to touch the earth on this side.” So that’s what he did, after struggling with trying to figure out how to open the car door. Once it opened, he marveled at the mechanics of the electric safety locks, listening to the clicking noise it made each time he pressed the button. Karen finally urged him to get moving and out of the car. She looked hopefully at the ghost as he made his way out of the car, but the ghost simply continued to talk about how things on this side of the river had changed just as much as they had on the other side. “This is wrong,” Karen sighed.
“You’re telling me!” the ghost exclaimed. “Electric lights. This black stuff on the roads —”
“Asphalt,” Karen interjected.
“Ass fault. What a funny name!” he said with a smile in his voice. “Ass fault,” he said slowly, listening to the sounds of the words as he pronounced them, “and cars with radios. This is all so fascinating. I don’t think I should have died at all. It seems as if life has become wonderful while I’ve been in the grave.”
“Perhaps you need to walk over the bridge,” Karen suggested. “Maybe the car interfered with the process.”
“Do you think so?” he asked. “Although, I’m not in a hurry now because I really like what I see, and I wouldn’t mind exploring more of the town.”
“I’d love to show you the town, but I have someplace I need to be,” Karen replied. She thought again about Claude.
“You don’t have anywhere else to be,” the ghost replied. “I think you’re supposed to be here. Isn’t this your job?”
“This isn’t my regular job. I work for the cable company.”
“A telegraph operator? You’re a very talented woman, I see.”
Karen dismissed his comments as the ravings of a simple-minded ghost from an earlier time period. She wasn’t enjoying this job, but she didn’t enjoy most of the others she’d had. Few people do. There’s something about a thing being called “work” that makes it automatically unpleasant. Although, some more adventurous types who came across a two-hundred-year-old ghost might think to ask a few questions about what life was like all those years ago. Someone else might be scared or might be curious about what it feels like to be a ghost. Karen, however, was short on sleep and long on worrying about her son, and she was too baffled by the weird situation to enjoy any of it.
She still wondered how she had stumbled into the odd situation. She had never planned on robbing graves and had only resorted to the activity out of desperation. At one time she had been a successful college student when she became pregnant. Claude’s father abandoned her before Claude was born, and then Karen struggled for several years to support her son. She had been fired from or quit a series of different jobs over the course of about five years. These jobs ended for various reasons, but most had to do with Karen’s obligations to Claude. Whenever his asthma was acting up or the scheduled babysitter didn’t arrive, Karen was forced to stay home and this made her appear unreliable to her employers. She had no extended family and no partner to help her with the baby.
She struggled financially for a long time and was eventually evicted from her small yellow house with a white picket fence for not being able to pay her rent. One frustration led to another and one day, while walking past the graveyard, she felt herself envying the inhabitants because they didn’t have any problems. It was then she realized that the individuals in the cemetery didn’t have the needs that a living person had and, therefore, had little use for the things buried with them. That night she robbed her first grave. It wasn’t what she wanted to do. It was a job with a flexible schedule and an occasional large payoff. She had never dreamed that Fate would get involved.
“Let’s try walking over the bridge,” she suggested as she started down the sidewalk.
“You walk, I’ll float,” Jerome replied with a chuckle. “I’m just trying to lighten things up,” he said after Karen didn’t respond to his joke.
“Sorry,” she replied politely, “I’m just a little low on sleep right now. I only slept four hours before I got up to head to the graveyard.”
“To rob my grave,” he replied with emphasis.
“I wasn’t planning to rob your grave. It just worked out that way.”
“And here we are.”
“Stop finishing my sentences. We’re not telling a story.”
“Aren’t we?” Jerome smiled, as if having his grave robbed was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
“No. We’re not together in this.”
“You’re the one who entered my grave without permission.”
“Look,” she said, frustrated, “I didn’t plan on this. I wasn’t looking for it. I’m sure you weren’t looking for me.” Karen turned her head to look at the water. There was a constant lapping noise and slightly fishy smell coming from it. Normally these things would be soothing, but things were different tonight.
“Actually I was — ”
“You were looking for someone else,” she replied.
“I was avoiding other people,” he explained as they reached the top of the bridge and continued their descent down to the other side. “I didn’t like the looks of those other grave robbers. You were the first woman who’s noticed me in years and I thought you were beautiful.”
“Are you flirting?”
“If I were alive, perhaps,” he replied, “but as it is, I don’t think we could be more than friends.” He continued to ask questions about new roads and buildings until they reached the other side. Instead of answering him, Karen thought about Claude’s smooth, dark hair and how peaceful he looked when he slept, and she wished she was at home with him at that moment so that she could kiss the top of his head. She had never meant to have a child so young. She was planning to get her career started first, and it had been difficult ever since he was born. She wouldn’t trade him for her career now. She loved the way his whole face and body laughed when he thought something was funny. He engaged in life and didn’t worry about the things she did, and this helped her to remember what was really important in her life. Even though they were poor and she struggled to keep him fed and clothed, he brought her joy. She felt as if his simple presence in her life added more than the responsibility of parenting took from her.
“Are you listening?” Jerome asked. He had noticed that her mind had been wandering. “You’re not much of a Ferryman, are you? You can’t even handle one passenger.”
“We’ve crossed the river again. Shouldn’t you be gone?” Karen huffed.
“If you were doing your job, I would be.”
“Look, I’m new at this. I’ve never done it before so please don’t insult me,” she said, feeling very tired. The lack of sleep and physical effort of digging up the grave were finally taking a toll on her. Instead, she quietly thought about everything she had ever heard about the Ferryman and tried to come up with something that he was supposed to do that she hadn’t done yet.
She remembered that the Ferryman carried his passengers in a boat so that they could cross the river Styx and reach the underworld. Perhaps she needed a floating vessel so that the ghost could be a passenger, but then she recalled that she had taken the ghost in her car. It was pretty much the same thing, except that one went across water and one rode over a bridge. Then she wondered if she should somehow try to physically carry the ghost across the river.
“STOP AND LISTEN!” Jerome shouted. “You’re not listening to me! No one has ever listened to me! Not my wife or children or anyone! I spent my whole life talking without being heard.”
“And a good part of your death, it seems,” Karen replied with a dismissive tone. She was still in thought about how to be rid of the ghost.
“You’re not listening now. You never even asked my name. I had to tell you.”
“I’m sorry,” Karen said after a brief pause, and she meant it.
For the next hour Karen didn’t talk or think about herself or her needs. Instead, she asked Jerome to tell her about himself, and she listened. Karen sat on the cold brick wall at the edge of the walkway that led over the river and she listened, because that was what Jerome needed the most. He just needed someone to listen.
He told her his life story and what he had been thinking about while he was alone in that grave for the past two-hundred years. He had a wife named Elizabeth and four children, all girls. He adored his family but often felt outnumbered and overwhelmed by the presence of women. He was also the managing partner of the only store within 50 miles and knew most of the community. The other business partner, Elias Smith, spent most of his time locating inexpensive trading goods in other cities and shipping them to the store. Jerome had been the one who sold these goods to the community, so he knew everyone in town and also knew their problems. There had been no local tavern with a sympathetic barkeep, and a conversation with Jerome when the store was empty was as good as therapy for the residents. He spent most of his life listening to other people’s problems and needs. He had been a friend to everyone but often felt lonely.
When he finally appeared to have run out of words she said, “Well, Jerome Brown, it’s time for you to cross the river.” She didn’t know how she knew it would work this time, but she was certain that when Mr. Brown set foot on the other side that his soul would finally go to rest. And it did.
As soon as Jerome stepped off the bridge, his translucent form vanished from the bottom upwards. He tried to say goodbye to Karen as his legs disappeared, but he was gone before the words left his lips.
“That wasn’t too bad,” Karen said to herself as she stared into the empty space where the ghost had stood.
“I gave you an easy one to start with,” Fate said. Karen jumped when she heard the voice and turned to see Fate wearing a three piece pinstriped suit, which still managed to appear very feminine on her.
“I thought I was paid to carry him across the river. The job is done. I’m going back to my life.”
“You accepted the pay, so you’re the new Ferryman. It’s a full-time job with plenty of customers, and you’re not done until I let you go,” Fate said. “And don’t try to get fired by slacking off or doing a bad job. It doesn’t work that way.” Karen’s first instinct was to challenge Fate, but she wisely decided that this was neither the place nor the time. She needed to get home.
“Why me?” Karen asked Fate.
“It takes a woman to get a job done right. Some men can’t even die properly without the help of a woman.” She looked away as if she had said all that needed to be said, and Karen knew enough not to push for more. Instead, she addressed what she really wanted to know.
“I got him where he needs to be. I did my job. I want my life back,” Karen said.
“You’re not done,” Fate replied. “You’re done when I’m done with you.”
“When will that be?” Karen asked, angry and confused.
“I’ll let you know,” Fate replied and vanished.
Karen knew that Fate would return, but she didn’t know where or when. No one does. All Karen knew was that this was the beginning, but of what she didn’t know. As she returned to her car and headed home to check on Claude, she realized that the river was a metaphor. It was never a physical river that Jerome needed to cross. That’s why the crossing had been so difficult. She also understood that while death knew no gender bias, Fate did. While the weight of this last realization intrigued Karen, it also instilled a sense of alarm in her about her future and she felt as if the bridge she was driving over was giving out beneath her, allowing her to tumble into the rapidly moving river below.
About Amy
Amy Neftzger began writing and publishing for various journals in 1995. Her first fiction book, a collection of short stories called Conversations With the Moon, was published in 2003. Her writing style in this book contained elements of romance and whimsy mixed with more literary passages that engaged audiences. She followed this release with picture book for children called All That The Dog Eve Wanted, which is a story about a dog seeking approval from his owner, a little boy named Cole. The book was designed to to introduce children to jazz music and comes with a jazz CD sampler. Curriculum was also developed to be used along with the book in elementary school classrooms and is available on the publisher’s website here.
Often being praised for her abilities with wordplay, she has continued to publish fantasy books for middle grade/ young adult readers and literary pieces that sometimes lean more towards the genre of magical realism. She continues to write nonfiction as well as assist other writers and artists in developing their craft through individual mentoring, leading discussion groups, and classes.
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Giveaway
Hosted by Good Choice Reading Blog Tours
Spotlight On: Summer Alone by Amy Sparling
Summer Alone (Summer Alone #1)
by Amy Sparling
Release Date: 10/01/14
Summary from Goodreads:
From the best selling
author of Summer Unplugged, comes a new series set in the same world. Becca’s
senior year of high school is approaching and she’s tired of being the dorky
best friend. Determined to reinvent herself with help from Bayleigh, she plans
to spend the summer breaking out of her shell. When Bayleigh gets grounded and
sent away for three months, Becca’s plans come crashing down before they’ve
even started.
Now Becca is alone and can’t even talk to Bayleigh on the phone. Not wanting to
miss out on the summer before senior year, she takes a job at the local indoor
BMX track. The job is fun, her boss is laid back, and the place is packed with
hot guys. One of them just might have a crush on her. This may be a summer
without her best friend, but it doesn’t mean she’ll have to spend the summer
alone.
Part 1 of a 4 part novella series.
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Excerpt
It’s the first day of summer and I’m sitting in my bedroom, still wearing pajamas. It’s pretty much where I can be found any time I’m not in school. If there’s one thing to know about me, it’s the one thing everyone knows about me: My name is Becca Sosa and I am a loser. Or in the words of Trey Sheppard at the senior’s party last week, I am a lame-o dork-o.
I hate insults like that. The ones that are said behind your back, directed to other people as you walk by. The insults you weren’t prepared to hear because the people who say them—Trey Sheppard—are usually nice to your face. It’s one thing to call someone an asshole if they are being an asshole; that’s a trait you have control over, something you can choose to be or not to be. Like when my best friend Bayleigh accidently dropped a piece of popcorn and it fell on her little brother’s head and he got all confused about it. Then she kept tossing popcorn at him all night, just to mess with him. I told her she was a jerk for doing it. That’s an insult that was deserved, even though she thought it was hilarious.
But lame-o dork-o? I didn’t set out to become the lamest, dorkiest person in the city of Lawson. It’s not like I was intentional about it. Besides, I’m normal. I’m not dorky. I don’t wear thick-rimmed glasses with tape holding them together, or suspenders or orthodontic headgear or something like that. That’s why those are the worst insults. Being made fun of for something that’s just…just you.
The sad thing is that I didn’t realize there were people who thought of me that way. Sure, when your best friend is crazy beautiful and wild in the best way and makes friends everywhere, you kind of expect to be known as the less popular one out of the two of you. But I guess I hadn’t realized how low I actually was on the popularity totem pole.
Bayleigh has always been more popular and more outgoing than me. She’s had boyfriends since we were in sixth grade, back when having a boyfriend meant holding hands before and after school and telling everyone you had kissed when really you hadn’t.
But even with the drastic differences in our personalities and likeability factor at school, Bayleigh has always stuck by me. We met at a daycare when we were four years old, during a time when my stay at home mother had temporarily gotten a job to help pay for Grandma’s nursing home. Bayleigh and I were instant best friends, according to our mothers, and even though I only had to go to that daycare for four months, our moms exchanged phone numbers and we stayed best friends with play dates and sleepovers. I really owe a lot to Bayleigh. She’s the world’s greatest best friend.
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