Bewitching Book Tour Magazine October 2013

Bewitching Book Tours Magazine Issue 16 October 2013

Bewitching Book Tours Magazine is a publication of Bewitching Book Tours and Bewitching Books.

Editor: Roxanne Rhoads Design Editor and Layout: Lisa McGeen Contributors include Bewitching Book Tours Authors and Tour Hosts learn more at www.bewitchingbooktours.blogspot.com

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Contents

Behind the Mask Feature The Outside Feature The Hallow Hooray For Halloween Tarot in Fiction Adrianne deWolfe Interview

4 6 12 13 14 16

Urban Fantasy Flash Fiction Wolf Born Feature The Party A Guide To Greening Halloween Candace Osmond Interview Boone Brux Feature Three Wishes Feature Communion The Carnival of Madness ClaraBelle’s Custom Creations True Tales of Paranormal Encounters The Temple of Indra’s Jewel Charles O’Keefe Interview Hell’s Belle Feature No Shelter From Darkness Devil’s Play Feature Wedding from the Dark Side Neiko’s Adventure Saga Feature The Ghosts of Rue Dumaire Kain Excerpt Bejeweled Black Halloween Cat The Megalith Union Feature The Chronicles of Orlando Feature Setting the Stage for Creepiness Her Ghost Wears Kilts Feature Naughty Nook Section Should Relationships Have Secrets?

Halloween Interview with The Witches of Paranormal Pleasures Glenwood Cemetery Pin Up Files Ginger Kewl Interview

28 32 34 38 42 46 50 54 56 59 60 62 64 68 72 76 78 80 84 87 92 94 96 98 102 104 105 108 114 119 120

Behind the Mask by Jacqueline Paige Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance Word count-26,000 words Tagline: Her world is calm and predictable until one night, one costume party and one sexy masked man happen.

Warm up for Halloween with...

Book Description: In a fit of temper, Gracelyn’s only sister curses her so she’s forgotten the moment anyone turns away from her. Only one thing, at an exact moment, can break the curse. After years of failed attempts, she is forced to accept living her life completely alone.

Her world becomes calm and predictable —until one Halloween night … one costume party … and one masquerading man change everything.

About the Author: Jacqueline Paige lives in Ontario in a small town that’s part of the popular Georgian Triangle area. No one has ever heard of Stayner, so she usually tells people she lives “near Collingwood” and no, she doesn’t ski at Blue Mountain or at all, in fact she’s not even fond of snow.

She began her writing career in 2006 and since her first published works in 2009 she hasn’t stopped. Jacqueline describes her writing as “all things paranormal”, which she has proven is her niche with stories of witches, ghosts, physics and shifters now on the shelves.

When Jacqueline isn’t working at her ‘reality job’ or lost in her writing she spends time with her five children, most of whom are finally able to look after her instead of the other way around. Together they do random road trips, that usually end up with them lost, shopping trips where they push every button in the toy aisle, hiking when there’s enough time to escape and bizarre things like creating new daring recipes in the kitchen. She’s a grandmother to four (so far) and looks forward to corrupting many more in the years to come.

Jacqueline loves to hear from her readers, you can find her at www.jacqpaige.webs.com , www.jacqpaige.blogspot.ca or http://magicseasonsbooks.blogspot.ca

When Humanity Slips

By Laura Bickle One of the scary things that happens in a story is when people stop being human and become something else.

That’s something my heroine, Katie, has to face in THE OUTSIDE. She’s been kicked out of her Amish community for failing to follow the rules, and is facing an outside world that’s been devastated by a vampire apocalypse. The contagion has spread far and wide, obliterating towns and cities, leaving an empty road before her.

gion is a nonviolent, pacifist one. She’s violated the rules over and over again in order to protect those she loves. She fears that she’s slipping, that she’s becoming nothing better than the creatures she destroys. At what point has she become irredeemable, a shell of what she was? At what point has she committed murder?

And yet through this darkness come the shining ones: luminescent men and women with the power to deflect vampires and survive the night. At first, Katie thinks that they are angels, come to save the remains of humanity from the curse of vampirism. Can these new people be trusted, and are they even people at all? If These are not the vampires that Katie has read about in Katie joins them, will she become less than human…or library books. They aren’t beautiful and romantic peo- more than human. ple yearning to recover their lost souls. They aren’t wooing vampires. These are chewing vampires. The The Outside vampires Katie faces are revenants from old world legThe Hallowed ends, bloodthirsty and amoral. There is no velvet seOnes Book Two duction in them, no struggling with the fate of their Laura Bickle immortal souls. They simply want to feed, to devour the flesh of the living…and the survivors are dwinGenre: paranordling in number.

mal YA

Katie is forced to view these monsters as less than human. They look somewhat human, and seem to retain some of their memories and power of speech. They haunt places they knew in life, waiting in the shadows to tear apart any unwary humans who would fall into their trap. Katie feels pity for them, to be certain. But in her world, she must kill them or be killed…there is no negotiation. She must not only destroy any vampires that approach with her homemade wooden stakes, but she must also prevent any vampire attack survivors from rising as vampires. That’s the most soul-crushing part for her – killing those she loves before they become inhuman monsters.

ASIN: B00AUZS6PQ

Katie fears that she’s lost her own humanity. Her reli-

Number of pages: 320

Publisher: Harcourt Date of Publication: September 3, 2013 ISBN: 9780544000131

Word Count: 85000 words

pire attack, and each sunrise the threat of starvation.

Cover Artist: Shane Rebenschied Book Description: One girl. One road. One chance to save what remains…

After a plague of vampires is unleashed in the world, Katie is kicked out of her Amish community for her refusal to adhere to the new rules of survival. Now in exile, she enters an outside world of unspeakable violence with only her two “English” friends and a horse by her side.

Together they seek answers and other survivors—but each sunset brings the threat of vam-

And yet through this darkness come the shining ones: luminescent men and women with the power to deflect vampires and survive the night.

But can these new people be trusted, and are they even people at all?

In this edge-of-your-seat thriller, it’s up to one Amish girl to save her family, her community, and the boy she loves . . . but what will she be asked to leave behind in return?

BN Amazon Print Amazon Kindle IndieBound

THE OUTSIDE “Dei Reich loss komme . . .”

Copyright © 2013 by Laura Bickle I strained to see into the night. Shapes seethed. I knew CHAPTER ONE that something terrible was out there. The bullfrogs had stopped chanting and the late-season crickets had gone silent. I heard crunching in leaves, saw something shinThe hard part about the end of the world is surviving it, ing red. surviving when no angels scoop you up to fly you away to heaven. God doesn’t speak. But I kept asking.

“Dei Wille loss gedu sei.”

“Unser Vadder im Himmel . . .”

My knuckles whitened on the wood in my hands.

My breath was ragged in my throat, my voice blistering “Bonnet, c’mon!” around the words of the Lord’s Prayer. I spoke in Deitsch, the way my people always did when we prayed. It My head snapped around, my bonnet string slapping didn’t matter if evil understood me, only God. my chin. I could see two familiar figures retreating behind me. A short, round woman scurried through the “. . . Dei Naame loss heilich sei . . .” field. Her platinum hair was bright against the night, almost appearing as a moon bobbing along churning I opened my arms, my coat and dark skirts flapping water. She reached a nervous white horse who was around my legs and wrists. I stared out at a field, hold- pawing at the earth, clambered clumsily onto its back. ing a sharpened pole in each fist. One had been a garBetween her and me, a lanky shadow in a dark jacket den hoe in a previous life and the other a shovel. The gestured at me with white hands. Alex. metal had been stripped from them, but they were still tools. Weapons. A crumpled piece of paper was fasBonnet. That was Alex’s nickname for me. My real tened to my chest with straight pins, the writing grow- name is Katie. ing faint and illegible in the gathering darkness.

Alex said that God did not rule the end of the world.

Darkness with eyes.

Alex said the end of the world was ruled by sun and

Darkness. By time. And time was one thing we had very little of. The light had drained out of the day, and we were vulnerable.

I saw Alex taking off his jacket, wading through the grass toward me. I swallowed. That meant that he sensed the same thing I did, that the hair also stood up on the back of his neck, that he was ready to fight.

He stripped off his shirt. My heart flip-flopped for a moment and my grip on the stakes slackened for a fraction of a second. His pale skin was covered by black sigils that seemed to blur in the twilight. It was cold, but for them to work well, the creatures pursuing us needed to see them —the same reason I’d pinned the petition to God to my chest.

I worked the prayer through my teeth, one eye on the horizon, at the roiling shadows in the east. “ . . . Uff die Erd wie im Himmel.”

“Damn it, Bonnet.” He grabbed my elbow. He tore the white bonnet off my head, stuffed it into his pocket.

I snatched at the strings. “Don’t . . .”

“This thing makes you a target. I could see you from all the way back there.” He stabbed a thumb at Ginger’s retreating figure on horseback, melting into the grass. “It shines like a beacon.”

“Unser deeglich Brot gebb uns heit, Un vergebb unser Schulde, Wie mir die vergewwe wu uns schuldich sinn.”

I ran. I felt the grass slashing around my skirts as I plunged into the gathering night. The landscape slipped past, and I had the feeling of flying for a moment, of hurtling through that striped shadow in which no crickets sang.

But I knew that a more solid Darkness gathered behind me. I could feel it against my back, the way the air grew thick and cold, the way it felt above the earth right before first frost.

The last lines of the Lord’s Prayer slipped from my lips: “Un fiehr uns net in die Versuchung, Awwer hald uns vum ewile.

Fer dei is es Reich, die Graft, Un die Hallichkeit in Ewichkeit . . .”

Evil hissed behind me, crackling like ice popping over a fire. I felt the thread of a spider web slip through the grass, breaking on my hands.

“Amen.”

I turned, swinging the hoe in an arc around me. It whipped through the grass with the sound of a card I lifted my chin. “Ja. Maybe it should.” trapped in bicycle spokes. A pair of glowing eyes leapt back, but claws scrabbled around the makeshift stake. I This was an argument we repeated often. Though the lunged with the second weapon in my left hand. The end of the world had come, I adhered to the old ways. I point struck home into something solid, and that somewas born Amish, and I would die Amish. thing shrieked. I fought back the urge to shudder.

But hopefully not tonight.

Nothing human made a sound like that. It was a sound like a bobcat wailing at sunset, mourning the loss of the day. Only this shadow mourned the loss of flesh.

Alex’s eyes narrowed and he looked over my head. I could feel his hand grow cold through the sleeve of my dress.

Alex, ever the anthropologist, had a theory about that sound. In the calmer daylight hours, he speculated that “They’re here,” I breathed. this shriek had been at the root of the banshee myth, in an earlier, more orderly age. Once upon a time, when He swore. there had been civilization. I’d never heard the myth before, but I knew that inhuman sound all too well Alex pulled me back, back into the tall grass disturbed now. by a breeze.

My breath hissed behind my teeth:

The stake broke off in my hand, and I stumbled back to the sea of grass. I landed on my backside, my feet with only splinters in my fist. Something swept up from tangled in my skirt. Its cold shadow passed over me, the grass and ripped at my sleeve with claws. blocking out the pinpricks of starlight in violet sky. It smelled like blood.

I howled, smelling my own blood. The scent would bring more of them.

“Food,” it rasped. “Lovely food . . .” It reached toward my face, gently, reverently, almost as an intimate might.

I twisted in its grip. The letter pinned to the front of my It was a very human gesture, rendered savage by the dress rustled and the creature with the glowing eyes greed in the red eyes. By hunger for the blood that hissed. It loosened its hold, enough for me to jam the slipped down my arm and pooled in my palm. ruined stake into its face.

“Get away from her!”

I was no longer a pacifist. I meant to kill.

A black and white blur passed between me and death.

I was no stranger to death. We Amish lived close to the Alex. From behind, I could see the familiar tattoos earth, under the watchful eye of God and all of his king- stretching across his skin: a Djed pillar, sacred to Osiris. dom. I had helped with the butchering of pigs, mourned And on his chest, an ankh made of scars, which he told the loss of dogs at my kennel in whelping. I had stood at me was the symbol of eternal life. the bedsides of my grandparents when they died. I’d held my mother’s last child, a stillborn, and witnessed a It was nothing like the carefully scripted letter pinned to neighbor die during child-birth. Those things had hap- my dress. It was called a Himmelsbrief, and had been pened in normal life. made for me by my community’s Hexenmeister, a petition to God on my behalf. But any symbol of divine But when life stopped and God’s kingdom fell into power behaved in the same way, the way that crucifixes shadow, I saw death in an entirely different fashion. I and holy water did. God, in whatever guise he chose, had dressed the bodies of women in my community for did have some power over these creatures. burial, only to be forced to cut their heads off before daylight’s fingers of sunshine had left them. I had seen The vampire reached for Alex with an expression of children torn asunder, reduced to unrecognizable smears longing. on a ceiling. I had slain men who were once like brothers to me, impaled them, and burned them.

“Food,” it whispered, with a nearly palpable sorrow.

I had seen too much.

But its hands were stilled just above the ankh burned on Alex’s chest. It was as if this was an invisible barrier it I had seen true Darkness. could not cross. The vampire froze in puzzlement, and I could almost imagine that some thoughts still rattled My heart thudded against the fabric of my dress and the around its head as it had learned what was safe to eat holy letter pinned there —small defense against the un- and what was poisonous. dead, but still a defense. I thrust down with all my might to jam the stick into the face of the creature twist- “Not food,” Alex responded. There was a subtle jerk at ing beneath me in the grass. his elbow, and the flash of a silver knife plunged between the vampire’s ribs. The creature clawed, scratchThis was not murder, I had decided. This was doing the ing at the edge of the ankh. I could hear the sizzle of his Lord’s dirty work. Putting the dead back in the earth. flesh, a sound like bacon frying. Black blood flowed over Alex’s wrist. He shoved the vampire down to the “Bonnet!” grass, and I could see his knife slashing, the black droplets of vampire blood clinging to the tips of the grass I glanced up to see a pale face with a gaping maw hurt- stalks like dew. I was still mystified by it, by its lack of ling toward me. I saw fangs, red eyes, little else. I flung redness, by its soft, inklike consistency. It smelled like my right hand with my remaining stake up before me, iron, though, which was enough to tell what they had but the creature slammed against it, buffeting me back

once been. Alex speculated that iron oxidized in their blood, darkening it.

“Never mind, then. I’ll tell you later.”

Ginger’s horse was climbing a slope ahead of us. This That black blood was on my wrist. I smeared it against part of the meadow wasn’t cultivated, and the grass and my skirt as Alex’s fingers wound around my hand. weeds swelled over this rill in the earth, perhaps five “We’ve got to go. There will be more.” feet tall, stretching east to west.

I nodded. This was no time to contemplate biology or humanity. This was time to act, to move. To survive.

My skin prickled. In the far distance, I could see more glowing eyes gathering. They had heard us. They smelled blood. I pulled at Alex’s sleeve and pointed.

We ran, hand in sticky hand, sliding through the grass like ghosts.

Ginger had reached the top of the hillock. She was panting, and her glasses slid down over her nose. She I could see the bright helmet of Ginger’s hair and the was dressed as an Amish woman, but she was not one stark white figure of the horse far before us. We’d giv- of my people. She was an Englisher, like Alex. She en them a head start, which was good —Alex and I had was an old friend of my family who had lost everythe only really effective weapons against the vampires. thing: her husband, her children. And she was the only Alex had his tattoos and I had the Himmelsbrief. They part of my old life I had left. I clung to her. were more of a deterrent, Alex said, like spraying mace at a perpetrator. The startlement they created someThe horse stared to the south. His ears flattened, and times gave us enough opening to run away. Or kill. his eyes dilated black as obsidian. His nostrils flared, and his tail swished back and forth. He pawed the “Where are we going?” I asked, casting my gaze about earth, pacing nervously. I had found him back on the dark landscape. It was suicide to be out in the open Amish land with an empty saddle, smeared in blood like this. “We can’t fight until daylight.” and with his former rider’s boot still in the stirrup. We had discovered that the horse had a sixth sense about He shook his head, mouth pressed in a flat line. “I the vampires. Perhaps he could sense them the way don’t know. The sign said that there was a church back dogs could sense earthquakes. Or perhaps he was merethere, but all we saw was burned timbers. Useless as ly a nervous horse and vampires were everywhere. shelter, if it was desecrated by the vamps.”

Alex had named him Horus, after an Egyptian god of “We’ll have to find someplace else,” I decided, nodthe sky who defeated evil. Ginger and I just called him ding sharply to myself.

Horace.

“How do you feel about sleeping in trees?” His face split open in a lopsided grin, his teeth white in the darkness. There were some at the horizon we could possibly reach, but none in the field.

“They’re out there,” Ginger said, staring out at the dark and patting Horace’s sides soothingly.

“Ja. They’re coming.” I climbed up the hill, gazing at the flattened trail of grasses we’d left.

“I’m quite sure the vampires can climb trees.”

Alex scrambled to the top of the hill. Ginger and I “Maybe not if we set fire at the roots . . . they don’t like made to rush down the slope on the other side, but he fire.” said: “Wait.”

I made a face. “I don’t much fancy the idea of being roasted alive in a tree.”

I looked up at him, my brows drawing together. “What do you mean?”

“Reminds me of a movie, The Wicker Man . . .” he began.

Alex shook his head. He squatted, and squinted to the beginning and the end of the strangely squiggling formation of land.

I glanced at him blankly. I had never seen a movie.

“Alex. We’ve got to go.” Now it was me urging him on. hill. I expected them to rush to us like water in a trench after a rainstorm.

He slipped on his jacket. “We wait here.”

Ginger’s head popped up above the grass line like a platinum gopher. “What are you talking about? We’ve gotta get moving.” She tugged at Horace’s reins, but he would not budge. He stood on the pinnacle of the hill as if he were a statue.

They reached up with pale fingers that smelled like metal. Their lips drew back, hissing, and I could see the thirst in their eyes. But they made no move to climb the hill.

I sidled closer to Alex. “What’s stopping them?”

Alex shook his head, and he pressed his hands to the ground. He was smiling. “No. We wait here. On the hill.”

“Holy ground,” he said, grinning.

My brows drew together. I didn’t understand. I saw no I bit my lip. Perhaps the stress of running from vamsign of any human habitation here. No church. No pires for the last several weeks had caused Alex to final- graveyard. Just this oddly shaped hill that rose up out of ly lose touch with reality. Perhaps he had some desire to the field. make a last stand. I confessed to myself that I felt like that often. I hadn’t been baptized, so I wouldn’t get to “How?” heaven, but it was sometimes peaceful to imagine not existing in this chaotic world any longer. I didn’t think Ginger started laughing behind me. She turned on her I’d be sent to hell, but I just wasn’t sure. heel and surveyed the sad little hillock. “I see it now,” she said. She huddled in closer with us when a vampire In any event, I wasn’t quite ready to test theology. snarled at her.

“Alex,” I said. “We need to go if we’re to have any chance of—” “Do you trust me?”

He crouched on the top of the hill, looking at me with an infuriatingly jovial smile. I felt myself frown, but I reached down for his hand. Behind me, Ginger sighed and scrambled up the grass bank.

We sat on the crest of the little hill, looking down, as dozens of glowing eyes converged upon us.

“We’re screwed,” Ginger said.

I didn’t disagree with the sentiment.

Those luminous eyes drew near. I counted more than two dozen pairs. My heart hammered, and my mouth felt sticky and dry. I fingered the rough edge of my makeshift weapon. I might be able to kill one vampire with it. Not dozens.

“See what?”

“We’re on an Indian mound,” Alex said. “A holy site built by any one of a number of tribes in this area. They were used as burial mounds, ceremonial sites, astronomical measurements . . . some, we have no idea what for.”

“How did you know?” It looked like just a rill in the land to me. A bump.

“See how it’s sorta shaped like a snake?” He gestured to the west. “It’s hard to see underneath the tall grass, but notice how it undulates in the ground?” He swished his hand back and forth like a snake swimming, and I could see some of the suggestion of a reptile in it.

“I saw a mound one time that was shaped like a big serpent eating the moon.” He cocked his head and started to walk off down the snake’s back. “I wonder if this one is like that . . .”

Ginger snagged the back collar of his jacket. “No exJagged silhouettes of people pulled themselves from the ploring in the dark with the monsters down below.” grass, like spiders extricating from webs. I braced myself, clutching my puny staff. Their eyes swept up the

“What do we do now?” I leaned on my staff. The hissing and bright eyes below were unnerving. Pale fingers combed through the grass.

About the Author: Alex sat down. “We wait for morning.”

Laura Bickle’s profesI sighed and knelt down to pray. I could feel the chill of sional background is in the earth beneath my knees, dew gathering. My skin criminal justice and licrawled at the thought of the creatures, only feet away. brary science, and when I shut my eyes, trying to prove that I trusted God. He she’s not patrolling the had kept us safe so far. He would keep us safe as long stacks at the public lias it suited his purposes. brary she’s dreaming up That was part of what I believed —what the Amish be- stories about the monsters under the stairs (she lieved. We believed in Gelassenheit — surrendering also writes contemporary fantasy novels under ourselves to God’s will. It was difficult, at times like the name Alayna Williams). this. I struggled to keep my eyes closed, seeing crescents of light beneath my lashes; I could not quite make myself trust the darkness.

“Unser Vadder im Himmel . . . . . . dei Naame loss heilich sei . . .”

“Damn. I wish I had a harmonica,” Alex grumbled.

Laura lives in Ohio with her husband and six mostly-reformed feral cats. www.laurabickle.com

Hooray for Halloween

By Roxanne Rhoads Halloween…the one day when spirits can walk this world in the flesh when those who are no longer ‘real’ once again become corporeal. A day full of ghosts, witches, fairies, magick…

I don’t know where the love of the paranormal came from, it is something that has always been part of my life.

Maybe it was the books my mother read to me or maybe that just helped it along. I grew up reading fairy tales with my mom, not the Disney versions either but the real Grimm style fairy tales that did not always have a happy ending. (In the real Little Mermaid story, she turns to sea foam at the end and drifts away, there is no happily ever after).

By the time I was 10 I was already reading Steven King, Dean Koontz, and other adult paranormal novels. At the age of 11 I found Anne Rice’s Interview with a Vampire at a garage sale and was forever after seduced by vampires.

As I grew older the paranormal stories became more than just a little creepy and scary but also a little…sexy. And later… outright erotic.

Over time I have watched books transform and change from the veiled eroticism in Dracula and Anne Rice’s books to the flat out hot sex scenes in today’s romance and erotica novels. And something about creatures with supernatural powers just adds a whole new level of sexiness to the books.

Alpha male shapeshifters give us that power, control, and animal magnetism coupled with primal urges that can’t be denied, vampires have centuries of sexual experience and awesome powers that make us swoon, demons are the ultimate hotties with badditude written all over them, and then there are the other magickal men; beautiful, wicked fey: wily wizards, seductive sorcerers… They are just full of preternatural hawtness, are they not?

And Halloween they all come out to play.

It’s no wonder the Halloween season is my favorite time of year.

During the Halloween season I can walk around vamped out in Goth attire looking dark and spooky. I get to play dress up for all the parties and costume balls (and yes I attend a couple every year) The rest of the year I tend to hide the darkness inside only letting it out in my fiction.

But on Halloween I can let my freak flag fly high and be as sexy, spooky, Gothic and vampy as I want- and I can make my house match. Got to love that.

Halloween- the one time of year I can truly be as dark as I want and no one thinks twice about it.

Hooray for Halloween.

Several of my paranormal erotica stories take place during Halloween including the novella Eternal Desire, my short erotica story- A Halloween to Remember, which appears in my collection of shorts- Paranormal Pleasures: Ten Tales of Supernatural Seduction My full length novel, Hex and the Single Witch, also takes place during the Halloween season.

Tarot Cards: Strength Strength is one of my favorite Tarot cards.

It's actually a very subtle card, and one that I used to help profile Tara Sheridan, the heroine of ROGUE ORACLE. Tara is a criminal profiler who uses Tarot cards to solve crimes, and I'm sure that she would approve of the use of the Tarot as a story prompt.

When I think of Strength, I automatically think of big stuff. Burly guys. Large trucks. Weightlifters. Earth moving machinery. Car crushers. St. George slaying a dragon. Maybe Thor, brandishing a big shiny hammer.

And that's the immediate bias that many of us often have: thinking of Strength as a physical quality.

But in the Tarot deck, we see a woman with flowers in her hair, wearing a long white dress. She has a calm, peaceful expression on her face as she leans down to close the jaws of a lion with only her hands. This isn't a bloody battle of swords and fists. She's accomplishing her goal with a certain amount of tenderness, a gentleness that we can almost see in her face as she looks upon the lion. The lion seems to submit to her willingly, without a struggle, in the face of her compassion.

Traditionally, the card symbolizes fortitude and control over our own animal instincts, discipline to accomplish one's goals. It's interesting to me that Strength subdues her opponent without bloodshed. By her pose, we can't tell if she's been holding the lion's jaws for moments or hours. She is determined to achieve her goal, and she approaches it from a deep wellspring of courage and faith in her own power.

I was accustomed to heroines who kicked down doors with guns blazing and asking questions later. But in creating Tara, I wanted her to be different. I wanted

her to have the endurance to solve the cases she's working, to be able to approach the lion in a thoughtful fashion. But I didn't want her to face all of her problems with a gun. As I thought about this card, I wanted her to be powerful, and confident in her power. I throw many obstacles in her way: death, disaster, secrets, betrayal, and estranged love.

I decided to have Tara draw this card in ROGUE ORACLE, to identify with it. In her dreams, she became the figure walking across the desert with a lion at her side. She was able to tame the lion, to face the future and strategize about how she might conquer it. She fought monsters, saved the innocent, and rescued her lover from death.

And she did it with a softness about her that I admired, even in spite of myself. In the process of writing about Tara, I learned something: Strength doesn't have to be harsh or brittle. Strength means rolling up sleeves and facing one's fears, using one's mind and heart as well as one's hands.

ADRIENNE DEWOLFE, #1 Bestselling Romance author How long did it take you to write your new book?

SEDUCED BY AN ANGEL (Book 3, Velvet Lies series) was 13 years in the making!

When SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE and HIS WICKED DREAM were released in paperback (1999 and 2000, respectively), Sera was a minor character – the sister of each hero. I’d always intended to write Sera's story, but you know what they say: stuff happens!

In May 2012, my ePublisher, ePublishing Works, asked me to write Sera's story in anticipation of releasing SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE and HIS WICKED DREAM for the first time as ebooks.

Sera’s love triangle is the other reason I chose to publish directly to ebook. Paperback Romance publishers are squeamish about letting authors write Love Triangles in which the heroine is torn between two strong, charismatic males – unless the author makes one of those men the villain or kills him off.

I can’t tell you how I resolved this dilemma in SEDUCED BY AN ANGEL. But I can tell you that Cass’s story, DEVIL IN TEXAS, is in the works!

What inspired you to write this story?

Although SEDUCED BY AN ANGEL is a Western Historical Romance, the story has a paranormal twist. I got the idea for the character of Sera, the heroine, when I went to a rural antique store, where I met a psychic.

This psychic was wandering from desk, to armoire, to fire screen, “touching” the furniture and reporting the various scenes that she psychically observed through the furniture (weddings, school classes, Christmas parties, etc.)

The psychic explained that she was learning to fine-tune her gift of “psychometry.” When she touched man-made objects, she could see their owners “through time” and peek into their lives. I thought, “Oh my gosh, I HAVE to write a story about that!”

So in SEDUCED BY AN ANGEL, outlaw Jesse Quaid (who is part Cherokee,) has a dream from Great Spirit that Sera can help clear his name of murder. Jesse can't possibly imagine how a 19-year-old preacher's daughter can help him, until he learns that Sera has visions about the future and the past.

What is your favorite thing about writing?

I love when a character opens his or her mouth and something funny comes out. You can’t plan humor; it happens organically. For example, here’s a snippet from SEDUCED BY AN ANGEL, after the heroine and her sidekick discover a snake-bitten stranger in the woods: “I'm going to roll up your sleeve,” Sera told him. “My friend is bringing the medical kit. No! No, don't sit. You'll spread the venom."

"It's too late for that, darlin'."

He flailed in her arms, acting groggy and disoriented.

Until Collie returned.

The minute the boy bobbed into view, wearing a Stetson and carrying his shotgun by the barrel, Cass shoved her sideways and drew his .45.

The boy blinked at the revolver that was aimed so steadily at his chest.

"That's my hat," Cass challenged in a gravelly, Texas baritone.

Collie scowled. It was too late now to raise the shotgun to defend himself. But the boy was half weasel, with a good deal of coyote mixed in.

“Yeah?” Collie had the audacity to snort. "How 'bout I trade you for the anti-venom, dumbass?"

What would readers be surprised to learn about you?

It’s a little-known fact that I’m a holistic healer, specializing in Attitudinal Healing (which I use A LOT to motivate my writing students!); sound healing (I’ve been called by hospital ICUs and hospices to play my “angel harp” for comatose patients), and Reiki, (a system of natural energy healing.) See my post, “Author Learns Hands-On Healing to Write Fantasy Novels:” http://wizardmagicfantasy.com/author-learns-hands-onhealing-to-write-fantasy-novels/

Is the VELVET LIES series based on any true life experiences?

My Reiki training triggered my psychic gifts of clairaudience and clairvoyance. To write the séance scene in SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE (Book 1, Velvet Lies,) I drew upon my dealings with skeptics.

The fortune-teller became one of my favorite characters. I made her a larger-than-life eccentric, and yet, she’s the only “honest” character in a book full of lovable scoundrels, all of whom are trying to hoodwink each other.

While writing HIS WICKED DREAM (Book 2, Velvet Lies,) I drew upon my experiences as an energy healer to contrast Michael’s “traditional medical training” with Eden’s “medicine show” healing in HIS WICKED DREAM (Book 2, Velvet Lies.)

To write the character of Sera, a preacher’s daughter who has visions in SEDUCED BY AN ANGEL (Book 3, Velvet Lies,) I drew upon my personal experience of clairvoyance and what intuition “feels like” in my body.

Can you share an excerpt from SEDUCED BY AN ANGEL with us?

I’d love to! Here’s a little sexual tension to pique your curiosity: EXCERPT: SEDUCED BY AN ANGEL

By Adrienne deWolfe "Can I have my pants back?" A wicked dimple flirted with his lips.

"Maybe." She narrowed her eyes at his bawdy show of humor. "Are you going to pack them in your bedroll and ride?"

"Now that's an interesting question, coming from a maid."

"That is not what I meant!"

"Isn't it?" Those strong white teeth flashed in a feline smile. "It seems to me a young, unmar-

ried woman shouldn't be visiting her hired hand's digs in the middle of the night. Unless, of course, she has a certain kind of pleasure-riding on her mind."

Sera's jaw dropped. She couldn't believe Jesse would think such a thing about her!

Well, okay. Maybe she had imagined kissing him with a reckless abandon. And maybe she'd imagined stripping off his shirt to feast her eyes on his rock-ribbed planes. But was that such a crime?

Imagining?

"Why are you being so contrary?" she demanded. "I thought we were friends."

"So did I. Until I came in here tonight and caught you spying on me."

She caught her breath. "Jesse, I swear. That is not what I—" With a speed reminiscent of his quick-draw, he ripped the denim from her hands and caught her wrists. She shivered a little when she recognized the hunger in his jungle-cat stare.

"Jesse, please don’t be angry with me—" "I’m not angry with you, Sera. I want to do forbidden things to you. I want to do scandalous, bawdy things that will make you pant and gasp and shake with the sheer, wild pleasure of my kiss . . . "

Is SEDUCED BY AN ANGEL part of a series? Any details you can share?

Five books are planned for the Velvet Lies Series. I’m in the midst of writing Book 4. Look for excerpts and purchase links for the following titles at http://ebookdiscovery.com.p8.hostingprod.com/ AdrienneDeWolfe.html SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE HIS WICKED DREAM SEDUCED BY AN ANGEL

If you could be any famous person for one day, who would you be?

I’d love to have the creative vision of Walt Disney, the presence and sophistication of Katharine Hepburn, and the business success of George Lucas.

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Never, EVER give up on your writing dream.

A young woman from a college in Hawaii called me for advice. She reads Romance novels and dreams of becoming published in that genre. She confided her hurt and confusion because a Creative Writing professor, whom she admired, had disdained to become her advisor.

When I asked why this professor rejected her application, this aspiring author told me, “My professor said she wanted to concentrate on serious (translation: literary fiction) writers.”

I reminded that young woman that commercial fiction writers – like J.K. Rowling and Nora Roberts -have carved out respected careers, are read by millions of adoring fans, and are making more money writing “pop fiction” than some Creative Writing Departments are allotted for their annual budgets!

If you run across a literary critic, remember this truth: criticism always says more about the critic than it does about your writing.

What is next for you? Do you have any works in progress?

Devil in Texas (Book 4, Velvet Lies), featuring Cass, “the other man” in Sera’s love triangle with Jesse. For a sneak peek of Cass’s story, visit: http://ebookdiscovery.com.p8.hostingprod.com/ AdrienneDeWolfe.html DarkWind (Book 1, Guardians of Aeld,) a YA Fantasy series. For a sneak peek featuring Raevyn, the Wind Sorceress visit: http://wizardmagicfantasy.com/darkwind-meet-raevyn-the-windsorceress/

Wizards of the Wild West (series.) To chuckle at the Wizard’s otherworldly sidekick, visit: http://wizardmagicfantasy.com/meet-the-wizards-sidekick-a-cornish-knocker-2/

Seduced by An Angel Velvet Lies Series Book 3 Adrienne deWolfe Genre: Western Historical Romance with paranormal elements (ghosts and a clairvoyant heroine) Publisher: ePublishing Works Date of Publication: Aug. 28, 2013 ISBN-13: 9781614174295 Number of pages: 362 Word Count: 94,592 Ebook Discovery AMAZON BN WATERSTONES KOBO iBOOKS Book Description: Kentucky belle Seraphina Jones craves a dashing stranger worth kissing. When she spies her handsome, half-naked hired hand at the riverbank, she thinks her dreams of romance have come true. But this Texican is wanted for murder.

Jesse Quaid can't let Sera's sweet kisses distract him from rendezvousing with Cass, a childhood friend, to clear his name of a crime he didn't commit. But then a case of mistaken identity turns Cass into Jesse's deadliest rival for Sera's heart.

Now, Sera must find a way to end the feud before the man she loves is lost forever.

Velvet Lies: Book 1: SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE Book 2: HIS WICKED DREAM Book 3: SEDUCED BY AN ANGEL Book 4: DEVIL IN TEXAS (Available 2014)

Seduced By An Angel Book #3 Velvet Lies Series by Adrienne deWolfe Chapter 1 Stanford Lincoln County, KY April, 1882 "A preacher's wife has no business riding around on the back of a horse, especially one as high-strung as a thoroughbred," grumbled the mountain-sized man in the elegantly tailored, black broadcloth.

"I'll have you know, Michael Jones," retorted his spirited young companion, a petite southern belle with a heart-shaped face, "I shall not be rushed into marrying some fuddy-duddy preacher just because you would rather chase your new wife around the bedroom rather that act as a respectable guardian to me."

Michael's clean-shaven face turned crimson. "Seraphina, that is not only ludicrous, that's offens—" "And secondly,"Sera interrupted breezily, tossing her blue-black ringlets, "you're not footing the bill for my filly. My brother who loves me is."

Straining his ears to eavesdrop on this family dispute, Jesse Quaid stroked the nose of the frisky filly in question and murmured endearments to silence her whickering. The rangy, trail-weathered Texican considered himself a good judge of horseflesh, and he knew that Michael Jones had accurately assessed the yearling's temperament after watching her perform in the pre-auction parade around the racetrack at Sportsman's Hill.

On the other hand, Jesse had always possessed a knack for handling horses. He'd sneaked into Tempest's stall to acquaint himself with the coal-black mischief-maker so he could pose as the filly's trainer. Jesse was hoping this ploy would finally let him meet Seraphina Jones.

For nearly a month, Great Spirit had been sending him dreams of a dark-haired White Woman riding astride a flying raptor. Jesse's Cherokee grandmother had taught him to look for signs in his waking world when the Eagle Messenger of Great Spirit appeared in his sleeping world. Still, Jesse had never imagined that Sera was real.

Then, earlier that morning, Jesse had spied her from across the street as she and her chaperones had exited the Gables Hotel. Stunned to observe his dream in the flesh, Jesse had broken one of his cardinal rules of self -preservation: he'd risked being recognized in a crowd. Discreetly trailing Sera, he'd entered a restaurant to watch her eat breakfast with her sister-in-law. He'd strolled across the street as she'd window-shopped with her brother along Stanford's busy commercial district. He'd tracked her family's private carriage to the yearling auction at Sportsman's Hill.

All of this reconnoitering had taught Jesse a great deal about the Jones family, and more importantly, about the vivacious Sera. He knew that she considered herself a proponent of the Woman's Reform Movement, and that she was hoping to vote in a presidential election someday. He knew that she had a soft spot for a 16year-old orphan, named Collie, who'd been failing to report for his chores on the Jones's property. He knew that she was excited to become an aunt to the baby that her sister-in-law, Eden, was due to birth in six months.

Jesse had observed that Sera freckled in the sun; that she was fond of flavored ices; that she favored gardenia perfume; and that she never removed her white matinee gloves, even if she was buttering cornbread at a restaurant.

This observation had been Jesse's first clue, explaining why Great Spirit had led him to Sera.

Jesse's second clue had been Sera's collapse in the milliner's stairwell. The incident had occurred shortly after lunch, in plain view of Stanford's commercial district—or rather, it would have, if her brother, Rafe, hadn't sheltered her so expertly with his body. Sera had emerged from the hat shop without her right glove. By the time Rafe had noticed that the glove was missing from her hand, Sera's fingers had already closed over the

wrought iron banister.

In a flash, the color had drained from her face. Her knees had buckled. Even from Jesse's hiding place, some ten yards away, he could see Sera's bright, curious eyes grow dull and sky-blue vacant.

"Sera!" Rafe cried, dropping her hatbox and squatting in the stairwell beside her. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Th-the milliner's assistant," Sera half-marveled, half-gasped. "She let a man put his hand on her bodice! Right in this stairwell, during some late, dark night! Oooh. Sloppy. After a kiss like that, Preacher Prescott would have that young woman cleansing her soul for the rest of her natural born—uh-oh. Now that vulgar young man is hiking Abigail's skirts up above her—" Sera choked, her eyes growing as round as terrapin shells. "Abby's not wearing any bloomers!"

During the course of this monologue, Rafe's expression had dissolved from worried, to amused, to comically distressed. He grabbed his kid sister's white-knuckled hand and gently but persistently began to pry her fingers from the banister.

"Sera," he crooned, "let go now. Let go, my angel. You're having one of your Episodes. Did you bring your Spirits of Hartshorn? Give me your reticule."

Sera collapsed on her buttocks in a heap of China-blue damask. She was knuckling her eyeballs.

"Why'd you do that?"she groused, grimacing at the smelling salts that Rafe had uncapped. "I might have learned something!"

"That's precisely what I was afraid of."

Sera tossed her saucy curls. "And you pride yourself on being the Black Sheep of the family. Since when did you turn into the fluffy white, bleating kind?"

"Now, now. No hitting below the belt," Rafe drawled, returning the bottle of salts to her reticule.

"Did you used to kiss your sweethearts like that?" she asked wistfully.

"Absolutely not."

"You've become a lousy liar."

"Ah. My nefarious plot to lull you into a false sense of security is working. Are you feeling better?"

The color had returned to her cheeks. She grinned, letting him help her to her feet. "You're so much more fun as a chaperone than Michael."

"Guilty as charged."

"Michael would've shoved a tongue depressor down my throat. Or worse, a sedative."

"Doctors can be such pills."

"He's half-convinced I'm possessed by demons," she confided unhappily.

"Nonsense." Rafe patted the hand that she'd placed on the impeccable sleeve of his pearl-gray, swallowtail coat. "Michael thinks you're sick. Doctors are inclined to think that way. It pays the bills."

"What do you think?" she ventured, biting her lip. Her expression was pleading as she gazed into her tawny-haired brother's shuttered face.

"I think you're an adorable imp," Rafe teased glibly.

Sera sighed, looking troubled. But she quickly hid the truth of her feelings behind a playful, wellrehearsed smile. "Well, you would be the perfect judge of that, Raphael Jones. I daresay the walls in the Louisville Theater are still stained tomato-red after you played Shakespeare's Juliet. Tell me. Did you draw upon that balcony scene to teach Silver how to spark? Or did she already know how to kiss before you married her?"

Rafe's golden tan slowly turned a shade of pink. "Those are not the sorts of questions that you should be asking about your sister-in-law."

Sera rolled her eyes. "Don't go turning all growly and Michael-like on me. I can't very well get married without learning something about kissing. Collie's too young to teach me. Eden's too private. Michael's too... well, Michael. And Aunt Claudia would rather fill a man full of buckshot than... Raphael Jones, I do declare. You're blushing!"

Recalling Rafe's embarrassment, Jesse chuckled to himself. He didn't normally seek out the company of wide-eyed innocents who were eager to be kissed. In truth, Jesse avoided female entanglements for the same reason that he had never put down roots in any civilized place. An outlaw couldn't be too careful.

Much to Jesse's irritation, however, his best friend of 11 years didn't worry about attracting attention.

Cass liked to cut his wolf loose—so to speak—whenever he rode into a new town. As a result, the younger man had been arrested the night before on yet another public intoxication charge. Since Cass couldn't afford the $25 fine, he was expecting Jesse to break him out of jail after nightfall. Instead, Jesse had been seriously considered losing himself in the mountains, to teach the unrepentant Cass a lesson.

Fortunately for Cass, Great Spirit had conspired to keep Jesse in Stanford by presenting him with the flesh-and-blood embodiment of the Eagle Messenger from his dreams. Somehow, Jesse had to befriend Sera.

He was hoping that posing as a horse trainer would lower her guard—and Michael's.

Jesse's beautiful Eagle Messenger stood only 20 yards away in the sun-beaten dust of the stable yard.

She was arguing with her towering, 30-something chaperone, who outweighed Jesse by at least 25 pounds.

Jesse steeled himself to patience, the kind of patience that had caused Cass to dub him "Lynx." Jesse wasn't the kind of man who let physical size intimidate him, but he was sensitive to the fact that he was wanted by the law. Whatever he said or did to Michael Jones in the next few minutes could irrevocably change his life.

With the silent tenacity of his bob-tailed namesake, Jesse waited in the shadows of the stall for Sera to enter the stable. He didn't think that she or Michael could see him; they were standing directly outside the open door of the building, beyond which stretched a white picket fence, a pasture of blue-green grasses, a milling crowd of elegantly dressed bidders, and the ribbon-festooned stage of the empty auction block.

The purple parasol that Sera twirled so irritably in her gloved hands gave her and her brother a modicum of relief from the midday heat. Still, Sera must have been pretty fired up to ignore the sticky discomfort of her lavender-silk walking dress and God-only-knew how many pounds of underwear. Even Michael's chiseled features were ruddy and moist.

Observing them from his comparatively cool stall, Jesse kept his Stetson tipped and his face shadowed, a strategy born more from habit than need. Sera and Michael were dressed in a gentrified manner, which suggested that they weren't inclined to converse with a drifter, who sported a three-day old beard, faded cotton work shirt, patched linen duster, and scuffed riding boots. Indeed, the Jones siblings were unlikely to notice, much less remember Jesse, unless he gave them some cause for alarm.

That's why Jesse had concealed his cartridge belt and the low-riding holster of his .45 by fastening several buttons on his duster. To Jesse's mind, appearing as a hired hand, rather than a hired gun, gave him the advantage. He wasn't yet ready to reveal his purpose for meeting Sera.

Sera hiked her chin and glared at Michael. "Because I don't want to ride a Tennessee Walker," she told him tartly. "Nor do I wish to ride a Morgan. I want to ride Tempest."

"Sera, be reasonable," her chaperone chided. "Tempest was sired to be a long-distance racer. Even a Quarter Horse would be better suited for your personal—" "Tempest,"Sera insisted stubbornly.

The filly tossed her head, as if she was aware that she was the bone of contention between the noisy humans outside. Jesse hushed the filly, hard-pressed not to chuckle as Tempest put on airs. Sera was proving much like the horse she adored.

"Trouble, brother?" drawled a dashing gentleman in an impeccably tailored, fawn-colored coat.

"Rafe!"Relief flooded Sera's face. She rounded on her tawny-haired brother as he strolled across the stable yard toward his bickering siblings. Rafe looked only slightly younger than Michael. However, Rafe's gilded complexion and hair made him hard to recognize as a Jones sibling.

Sera grabbed his arm and dragged him into the fray with a well-practiced pout. "Michael won't let me have the pony I want!"

Rafe halted beside his sister. He arched a mocking eyebrow at his taller, brawnier brother. "Michael, for shame. It's Sera's birthday."

Michael's brow darkened. Jesse had already observed that bad blood existed between the brothers; he just wasn't sure what the feud was about.

"While you're gallivanting around Aspen, piddling away the financial resources of your sorely misguided wife," Michael growled, "I shall be left behind to mend Sera's broken heart after your foolish thoroughbred breaks its leg on the rugged terrain of Blue Thunder Mountain. Assuming, of course," Michael added tartly, "that Tempest, the budding widowmaker, doesn't throw Sera headlong over a cliff and break her neck first."

"Spoken like a physician," Rafe countered, feigning a yawn. "We'll take your Diagnosis of Doom under advisement, Dr. Jones."

"No, we won't!" Sera butted in.

Michael ignored her. "The child is my responsibility—" "I am not a child!"

"—And until she marries or turns 25, I am her legally appointed guardian—" "Gabriel wouldn't have had to live with a guardian until he turned 25," Sera grumbled.

Rafe reacted as if he hadn't heard her. "You've turned into your father," he taunted his brother.

"Gabriel would have had the good sense to run away,"Sera insisted more loudly.

Rafe rattled on: "The only difference between you and Jedidiah," he told Michael, "is that you carry a medical bag rather than a Bible to beat unfortunates with."

Sera stomped her foot. "Tempest and I are going to run away to a Hallam Street mansion, where we can drink sparkling champagne, and waltz until 4 a.m., and hire a British butler to serve us breakfast in bed!"

Rafe started.

"So you're planning to move to Aspen and live with Rafe, is that it?" Michael asked Sera dryly.

Rafe's neck reddened. He shot his brother a withering glare.

"You don't want me either?" Sera demanded in wounded tones, retreating a step from Rafe.

He recovered his composure with a speed and an aplomb that would have made wily, sweet-talking Cass look like a bumpkin.

"Sera, my angel, you must never think that. As soon as Silver and I finish the renovations for the nursery—and Max finishes erecting his new theater, of course—I shall speak to Silver about your visit—" Sera snapped her parasol closed to hear how neatly he'd foiled her plan. "You are both beastly brothers, and you have both ruined my birthday!"

"Sera," Rafe cajoled.

"Go away!" She jabbed her umbrella at each of them in turn. "Gabriel is the only brother who ever loved me! He brought me rainbows for my birthday. Did you know? I woke up to rainbows in my hotel room this morning!"

Rafe and Michael exchanged uncomfortable looks as Sera turned on the heels of her lavender kid boots and fled into the stable. Before Jesse could announce himself, much less exit Tempest's stall, Sera was tearing off her gloves, flinging open the door, and throwing her arms around the filly's neck.

The yearling whickered in sympathy while Sera's slender length trembled with suppressed sobs. Jesse fidgeted. He'd always been as worthless as a four-card flush when a woman started bawling.

A moment or so later, however, Sera must have sensed him doing his uncomfortable best to shrink into the darkest corner of the stall. Slowly, inevitably, she raised her tear-streaked cheeks from Tempest's mane. Eyes as blue as a robin's eggs blinked up at him through the slanting shafts of the Kentucky afternoon.

"Are you Tempest's jockey?" she whispered.

"No, ma'am," he said kindly, repressing a smile. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a jockey who stood six feet tall. "Just a trainer."

Sera sniffled, her forehead furrowing. Her glistening eyes raked him from hat to spurs before finally locking stares with him once more. "You're from Texas?"

"I lived there a spell."

He let his dimples peek. He'd always considered them his most appealing quality. Compared with Cass, whose fallen angel's smile fairly made women swoon, Jesse knew he was homely. But he possessed straight teeth, a full head of black hair, and eyes as green as a Chinaman's jade. As long as Cass wasn't in the same room, flirting and showboating, Jesse could hold his own with the women.

"What gave me away?" he drawled.

She dashed away a tear. The tiniest hint of humor tugged the corners of her mouth. "The way you dragged out 'ma'am' as if it had three syllables." She blushed a charming shade of rose. "Michael tells me a lady shouldn't speak so directly to a man. But you did ask. And I meant no offense, Texican."

"None taken, ma'am."

He was rewarded with a genuine—albeit watery—smile. Her whole face lit up when she smiled, making her porcelain skin glow from within.

"I haven't been having the best birthday," she confided, stroking Tempest's neck with a childlike yearning. "Rafe and Michael—they're my brothers—are arguing again. I wish they would stop. I told them

both that all I really wanted for my birthday is for them to get along, but Rafe insisted on buying me a pony, which hurt Michael's pride, I think. Michael is watching every penny so he and Eden can have their baby..."

When he was silent, she glanced up shyly from beneath wet, spikey lashes. "Do you have brothers?"

"None that are bloodkin."

She nodded, sighing wistfully. "I guess brothers aren't the worst thing that can happen to a girl. Gabriel was a decent sort."

She chewed her bottom lip for a moment, as if trying to think of something else to keep their conversation going.

"I've never been to Texas," she confessed, "but Rafe wrote to me about it. He tried to be a cowboy there, but he wasn't much good with scorpions or tarantulas."

Jesse cleared his throat. He didn't dare laugh, not with the wealthy Aspenite arguing with his brother only 20 yards away.

Sera's forehead puckered again. Her expression turned deeply melancholy as she gripped Tempest's harness and kissed the filly's nose.

"I love her already, you know," she whispered, mostly to the filly. "We were destined to meet. Like the kid sister I never had. She needs me. And if she doesn't want to race, she shouldn't have to race. She's not fast enough, anyway. But the other bidders don't know that yet. They'll buy her, hoping she'll win them a fortune.

When she doesn't, the beatings will begin. They'll whip her, and whip her, and whip..."

Sera shuddered. A tear spilled down her cheek.

Raising those unnaturally bright, blue eyes, she locked her stare with his. "I can't let that happen," she said in a husky, hurting voice. "Don't you see? I have to save her, Jesse."

Every hair on his head stood on end.

She guessed my name?

Chills scuttled up and down his spine.

How did she guess my name?

"Sera?" Rafe called, stepping into the stable. "Are you coming? The second half of the auction's about to begin."

She staggered a bit, as if Rafe's voice had broken her concentration. She blinked down at her gloveless hands. She looked confused.

Jesse recognized the signs of an interrupted trance state. His grandmother, Hiawassee, had been training as a Medicine Woman long before she'd left the Cherokee nation to marry a White man.

Instinctively, he offered Sera his arm to keep her from teetering and falling off her spiky heels.

But Michael, being a White man's doctor, saw signs of faintness in Sera's condition, not a rude awakening. "Dammit, Rafe. You got her over-agitated. She's having one of her Episodes."

Outpacing his brother, Michael tugged a small bottle from his coat pocket. As he screwed off the lid, the stench of Spirits of Hartshorn invaded Jesse's senses. He grimaced, imagining how those smelling salts would burn Sera's sensitive nose and eyes. He squeezed past her in the stall, protecting her with his body.

"Step aside," Michael barked. "I'm a doctor."

"She's all right, doc," Jesse said, striving for a jovial tone.

Michael ignored him. "Sera, where your gloves? Put them on."

Michael's command confirmed Jesse's suspicion that Sera's Episodes were triggered by touch and that she hadn't learned to control her clairvoyance—which Cherokee Shamans had dubbed the gift of half-sight.

Sera's brow furrowed. She appeared to be searching for her gloves. She glanced at the oats bag and then at the horse blanket that had been thrown across the wall of the stall. She didn't look entirely lucid, so Jesse stooped, shaking straw from the daintily-sewn, white kid before handing her gloves back to her.

Michael looked far from pleased by the solicitous attention that his sister was receiving from a stable hand. Although there wasn't enough space for a single other human in the stall, Michael stepped forward, hellbent on pushing inside, anyway.

Rafe caught his brother's arm. "Give her room to breathe, for pity's sake."

"I think I'm better qualified to judge Sera's medical condition—" "What the hell are you folks doing in that stall?" a booming voice challenged from the stable's doorway.

Jesse started, realizing that a small crowd of groomsmen and handlers were descending upon the build-

ing to lead the horses to the auction block.

Sera emitted a tiny gasp, snapping out of her daze. She ran to Michael's arms for protection, but her panicked gaze flew to Rafe. A sweaty, cigar-puffing man was stumping along the corridor of stalls, ignoring the curious horses that nickered or turned their heads to follow him.

Cigar Man shoved his way past Jesse. Squatting in Tempest's straw, he inspected her legs for sabotage. He must not have found any problems, though, because when he straightened, his grunt held a grudging note of satisfaction.

"You folks shouldn't be here," Cigar Man snapped as he untied the filly's lead rope. "The auction has started. The stable is off limits to bidders. Get along with you, now."

"Rafe,"Sera whispered desperately, tugging on her gloves as they followed the procession of horse flesh into the stableyard.

"We'll rendezvous at the lemonade pavilion," he soothed, flashing a confident smile.

Michael frowned. "Now hold on a—" "What I purchase for my sister on her birthday is none of your concern," Rafe told his brother curtly.

He gave Jesse a nod before turning on his heel and cutting across the stable yard.

Michael scowled after him.

Jesse watched Rafe's golden head dissolve in the river of bonnets and bowlers that were bobbing toward the auction block.

"Yes, yes, Michael, I shouldn't have taken off my gloves," Sera was meanwhile apologizing. She rolled her eyes as he bent his dark head over her wrist and took her pulse. "I'm perfectly healthy," she insisted when he felt her forehead with the back of his hand.

"You're flushed."

"So are you," she retorted. "The day is hot. Don't you dare open that hideous bottle again, or I swear I shall cook you nothing but turnips for a month!"

Michael's lips quirked, belying the worry in his midnight-blue eyes. "Fortunately, I now have a wife to take pity on me in the kitchen."

Sera sniffed. "Not after I tell Eden how you tried to keep me from Rafe's birthday present."

Jesse cleared his throat, readjusting his hat brim to hide his amusement. "I reckon a filly as spirited as Tempest would be a handful for any new owner," he said diplomatically. "But thoroughbreds are smart. They can be retrained. Otherwise, they'd just get fat and lazy when their racing days are through.

"So if the lady has set her heart on taking Tempest home," he drawled, encouraged by Sera's enthusiastic bounce, "I'd be happy to turn that filly into a proper saddle horse, Doc." Sera rewarded him with a smile that was pure sunshine.

Michael wasn't as easily influenced. He raked cool, appraising eyes along Jesse's rough-rider attire, his gaze focusing narrowly on the bulges beneath the linen duster. Fortunately, Jesse had won his coat in a poker game from a cattleman who'd been a good 20 pounds heavier than he. The fabric draped Jesse's cartridge belt and holster like a tent.

"And might I know whom I have the pleasure of addressing?" Michael countered coolly.

Jesse stuck out his hand. "The name's Jesse, Doc. Jesse Quaid."

Michael hesitated to take Jesse's hand, but the reason why wasn't immediately clear. Michael could have been averse to Jesse's interference in a family matter. Or he could have been reluctant to do business with a man whom he considered beneath his financial station.

Michael did finally overcome his hesitation, though. He shook Jesse's hand, which cued Jesse that today, at least, he looked White enough to pass inspection.

"Michael Jones," Michael introduced himself tersely. "I believe you've already met my sister, Miss Seraphina Jones."

Jesse tipped his hat. "A pleasure, ma'am."

Sera beamed at him as if he was some kind of hero, and he felt his insides warm. He wasn't accustomed to being favored so openly by respectable females—especially in front of their White menfolk.

"Mr. Quaid is Tempest's trainer," Sera told her brother enthusiastically. "He would be the perfect person to make Tempest safe for pleasure riding. Then you wouldn't have to worry about me riding her on Blue Thunder Mountain or anywhere else! Please, oh please, Michael. Hire Mr. Quaid for my birthday!"

"Sera, it could take weeks, maybe months, to retrain a thoroughbred—" "Rafe will buy Tempest for me, Michael. And I do intend to ride her, with or without your permission.

So the sooner you hire Mr. Quaid, the better."

Michael's expression suggested that he was torn between spanking her and pleasing her.

"The truth is," he told Jesse, "we don't live in Stanford. We live in Whitley County, about five miles east of Ywahoo Falls—although you may be better acquainted with the Sundowner Logging Company, which runs a sawmill about 12 miles north of our town, Blue Thunder."

Sera lives close to sacred Cherokee burial grounds?

A fresh set of chills gusted down Jesse's spine.

"Don't you fret, Doc," he drawled. "I'm used to traveling wherever the work leads. I'd be right pleased to spend as much time as it takes to train Tempest in Blue Thunder. The fact is, I've grown rather fond of that filly."

"You see, Michael?" Sera gushed. "Mr. Quaid is a Godsend. You must hire him quickly before some other bidder snatches him away."

Michael's jaw twitched. His business sense was clearly vying with his affection for his sister, who didn't know the first thing about negotiation and had all but dashed any advantage that Michael would normally have had, haggling over wages.

But Jesse didn't give a damn about the wages. And he didn't need room or board. He could camp in the hills and live off the land—which was his preference, anyway, since he sometimes encountered his own Wanted Poster whenever he rode into an unknown town.

No, the only thing that Jesse needed was to rid himself of the price on his head. And if that meant following Great Spirit's Eagle Messenger to Blue Thunder to clear his name of murder, then so be it.

"My sister drives a hard bargain, Mr. Quaid," Michael said dryly. He fished in his vest pocket and pulled out a white, embossed calling card. "If my brother secures the filly at the auction—" "You mean when," Sera interjected with glee.

Michael's reluctant amusement threatened his Poker face.

"—Then we shall be leaving Stanford on the six o'clock train. You may meet me in the lobby of the Gables Hotel, about four o'clock this afternoon, to discuss your employment."

The six o'clock train? Jesse steeled himself against a show of alarm. Did that mean Michael would expect him to leave for Blue Thunder tonight with the Jones family?

How the hell am I supposed to break Cass out of jail between now and six p.m., in broad daylight?

"Much obliged," Jesse rallied, accepting the card.

Michael inclined his head. Sera turned to wave a jubilant goodbye as her brother escorted her toward the auction block.

Jesse drew a long, steadying breath. He brushed his thumb over the bold, black lettering of the calling card. A lot was riding on his business arrangement with Michael, not the least of which would be his ability to pass himself off as a law-abiding waddie, who drifted from town to town, seeking employment from ranchers.

Fortunately, Stanford was the furthest east that Jesse had ever ridden. When he'd conceived the idea of training Tempest, he'd been assuming that his reputation as a livestock rustler hadn't preceded him to Stanford.

Now he had to hope that his Wanted Poster wasn't hanging in Blue Thunder.

And speaking of lawless behavior...

Jesse frowned.

Cass's fondness for getting drunk and shooting up the town was going to be a problem in Blue Thunder, just as it had been in Fort Worth, Wichita, Dodge City, and now Stanford. But what was Jesse supposed to do?

Leave Cass in Stanford's jail? Let some bounty hunter catch up with him?

Even if Cass hadn't saved Jesse's life eight times over the last 11 years, Jesse couldn't turn his back on the hothead. Cass was more like a kid brother than a friend.

Distracted by the commotion at the top of the bidding platform, Jesse watched the auctioneer's gavel come crashing down. He heard the booming, "Sold!"and Sera's delighted squeal as Rafe stepped forward to claim the ticket that would let his sister take Tempest home.

Jesse squinted at the sun. He reckoned the time to be shortly after 3 p.m.

Muttering an oath, he turned on his heel and hurried across the yard to the public livery, where he'd sta-

bled Kavi.

At 4 p.m., he would have to provide Michael with a legitimate excuse for not leaving Stanford until the morning. Failing that, he would have to break Cass out of jail before 6 p.m.

Hoisting himself into Kavi's saddle, Jesse turned the mare toward town and spurred her into a canter.

With any luck, he would find the solution to both predicaments at Stanford's apothecary shop.

About the Author: Adrienne deWolfe is a #1 Bestselling Author and a recipient of 48 writing awards, including the Best Historical Romance of the Year. She consistently delights readers with sexy, actionpacked, western-style romances, including her Wild Texas Nights series and her Velvet Lies series. In addition, she is the author of the bestselling non-fiction ebook series, The Secrets to Getting Your Romance Novel Published.

Fascinated by all things mystical, Adrienne writes a weekly blog about dragons, magic, and the paranormal at http://MagicMayhemBlog.com to help her research her upcoming YA Epic Fantasy series.

She also writes a weekly blog with fiction writing tips and advice about the business of writing at http://WritingNovelsThatSell.com. She enjoys mentoring aspiring authors and offers professional story critiques and book coaching services.

Amazon Author Central http://www.amazon.com/Adrienne-deWolfe/e/ B000API9SA Facebook (Writing Novels That Sell) http://facebook.com/Writing.Novels Good Reads http://www.goodreads.com/Adrienne_deWolfe Google Plus (Writing Novels That Sell) https://plus.google.com/109088666107201832076/ Story Critiques and Mentorship for Fiction Writers http://writingnovelsthatsell.com/story-critiques-privatecoaching-for-how-to-write-a-novel/ Subscribe to the Newsletter for Writing Novels That Sell http://eepurl.com/eGgbs

Lenny Blue

By Jerry Bolduc

I knew Jenny wanted something when I heard the wind slam into my windows followed by the rapid staccato knock, tinny on the door of my apartment. Jenny lived next door with Mandy and never came over unless she wanted something or complain about something I was doing. I made my living making stuff for the renaissance festival and sci-fi/fantasy convention circuits. I can make anything in leather, metal, or wood. Some of the challenges given me involved authentic construction methods and materials that admittedly stunk the place up. Plus the noise, that’s true too.

But mostly Jenny came over because she wanted something. Like the night the Lady in White appeared in my apartment. Jenny came over and was like “we should hang out and do stuff” but really had a broken earring. This wasn’t the first time and usually after the favor her calendar would be full and she “would try to free up some time.” I’d stopped trying. I just wanted to get her thing done so I could get back to work.

I was a realist named Leonard Bluetarski. At 22 years old I was mostly a bald Pollack with crooked teeth and uneven eyes. In high school and college I never had a steady girlfriend and though rare, the scene of the girl waking up and regretting having had drunken sex with me was familiar.

After the Lady in White took me I changed. My hair grew back and I became handsome and strong and fast. Not Jenny fast, but Olympic runner fast. I really don’t know what to call them. Some are calling them gods, I don't know what they are. They are playing with our lives and releasing monsters into the world. The Lady in White, what ever she is, took me and made me more than I could have ever hoped.

Nearly all of the chosen within the grasp of the United States wound up at McDill Air Force Base in Tampa Florida. I woke up there in a hospital being poked, prodded, and was surprised to see Jenny there

too but we had been together in my living room workshop. Right away I realized we were being chosen for teams. There were four of the twelve groups at McDill and I made a point of not getting too chummy with the competition. I was polite but I kept my thoughts to myself.

“Come on Lenny!” Jenny yelled. “I don’t have time for this!”

I opened the door to find Jenny dressed in a filthy tee shirt and jeans that were obviously not her own. “What’s up?”

“The Lady in White sent me to find you,” she said.

“Why?” I asked ushering Jenny in. “What did she say?”

“She said to come get your help,” Jenny said.

“With what?” I asked.

“The werewolves took Mandy,” Jenny said somberly. “I ran them down but the werewolves killed me.” I’d seen the news and like everyone else I loaded a shotgun and hunkered down.

“Killed you?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”

“I got stabbed through the back,” Jenny said and slapped her breastbone. “The tip came out here.”

I realized she was serious and asked “then what happened?”

“I appeared at a place in Bronson Park naked,” she looked down clearly uncomfortable with that. “The third time the Lady in White appeared and told me if I died too many more times I’d be out of the game and to seek out Leonard Bluetarski for aid.”

“Three times you appeared in the park naked and I wasn’t there,” I laughed.

“This is serious,” Jenny said.

“I know,” I said. “I only ever see you when you want something.”

“Don’t be like that,” Jenny said. “The Lady sent

me.”

“I’m going to help,” I said. “But what about the cops? The National Guard?”

“They were waiting when I popped up in Bronson Park,” she said. “They just wanted me to go the V.A. hospital to get checked out.”

“You didn’t go,” I said. I didn't blame her. After some of the defiant chosen up and left McDill air force base, the government politely asked that we continue to be tested so they could learn what had been done to us. I submitted, as far as I could tell they were learning diddly. I wasn't really helping them deliberately lagging behind the others. I still went twice a week to run on a tread mill our something else stupid.

“No, I raced back after them,” she said frustrated.

“Every time I’d get a glimpse of Mandy I got stabbed in the back.”

“You just raced around till you found Mandy?” I asked.

“Yeah. There are a lot of werewolves out there, thousands,” she said. “They are running in all directions away from Kalamazoo like it is going to explode.”

Maybe it is, I thought but said, “How do you want me to help you?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “You’re one of the ones without powers. I don’t know what you can do but you do make armor and stuff.” She added hopefully.

“I can make you armor,” I said just a little insulted, but I was the one concealing my talent. “Come on, let’s go to my workshop.”

“Let me change and get something to eat,” Jenny said.

“Change, we’ll eat on the way,” I said. “Wear sweats if you got them. Metal armor can eat up your clothes.”

I was waiting in my plain white cargo van for Jenny, when she came down it was in yoga clothes eating a big bag of potato chips. We finished eating up her chips in a drive through and headed to Bob’s Mini Storage. At the contractors entrance I punched in the code and the gate rolled back. I had taken over the back two rows and fenced it off from the rest of the storage units.

“Can you keep a secret?” I asked.

“Yeah sure,” Jenny answered automatically.

“I’m going to show you something and you must keep it to yourself,” I said. “You tell anyone and I’ll never help you again.”

“Yeah,” Jenny said. “Ok.” I honked the horn and a copy of myself dressed in welding leathers rolled the gate back and waved us through.

“You have a twin?” Jenny asked.

“Sort of,” I answered parking the van. Most of

the doors were open and production was in full swing.

There were half dozen copies busy at various tasks. One rushed over to Jenny with a flexible tape measure. “Let’s get this finished,” I said and started measuring Jenny calling out the dimensions to another copy of me over by the metal shear.

Jenny looked at me, the me that drove her there.

“They are all you,” she said. I couldn’t help but grin, in fact all of me in earshot grinned. “That’s your power?

You make more of you? Like clones or something?”

“Yes” I said in stereo. I spawned my clones by desiring to do more than one job at a time. Since I was already task oriented my behaviors were like job descriptions. I like copies better than clones or duplicates. I’m nobody’s dupe! But Clone didn’t really cover what I was. It was me right up till the moment we spawned into two or more. A bubble was what it felt like, like I somehow blew a bubble with my body, and like a bubble bursting as I reabsorbed the copy.

“How many can you make?” Jenny asked.

“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. I had been able to make as many copies as I wanted. “A lot.”

“Do you like all share the same mind?” She asked.

“No more like copies,” I said. “When I reabsorb them I get their memories. Sometimes its odd having memories from many points of view, but I’ve gotten used to it.” Then I reached over and touched the copy with the measuring tape and disappeared, all gone but the keys and money that fell on the ground where I had been. I picked up the litter laughing.

“What?” Jenny asked.

“I forgot who I was,” I said.

“Oh,” she said thoughtfully.

My van left and rolled back in with more food.

“Come on,” I said and began to modify armor that I already had in stock. In an hour I had her in a suit of gleaming stainless steel armor. I bubbled down one copy. As we ate Jenny painted her bright shiny armor flat olive drab. “It’s a shame really,” she said. “It’s so pretty.”

“Better to be hard to see,” I said gluing felt between the plates to quite them and make the armor a little more comfortable.

“What are you going to wear?” Jenny asked adding other colors to the armor.

“I have the swat gear the state police wear,” I answered finishing a bag of French fries. “Remember I don’t want anybody else to know I can do this. So I’m going to masquerade as an entire swat team. I’ll keep the mask pulled down so nobody but you will know.”

Jenny had marked a map where she had found Mandy and died. The pack was moving northwest to-

wards Muskegon. And we talked about strategy. She was confident she could find Mandy again. “I’m fast.”

I thought about it and said, “Yes, you are.” I opened a smaller unit with finished swords and knifes.

I pointed at a rack of sabers. “The way horsemen would use those against men on foot was to hang the blade down aiming it towards the victim letting the speed and weight of the horse do the work.”

“You think I can do that?” she asked. “Let the blade hang out in space and just run by the werewolves?”

“You might have to learn to not hurt yourself or damage the blade,” I said. “Lets put you in the armor and practice with a stick and move up to targets.”

Jenny complained about the comfort of the armor. I told her to get used to it but made adjustments after she ran around the units. After only a few passes, destroying one saber and three of my copies that popped out of existence. It took fifteen minutes for her arm to heal and she was back at it. I stopped her long enough to ask “pizza or Chinese?”

“Chinese!” she yelled.

Food on the way I loaded the van with guns and ammunition for twelve, plus all the sabers. I added tools, food, water, and a big military medical kit. The blur that was Jenny stopped at the back of the van. “I never thought of you as the survivalist type,” she said.

“After McDill I decided that I would take all this seriously,” I said.

“Since McDill? But you were complaining about being broke and out of money,” she said. “This is a fortune in guns.”

I stared at her. I knew it but had no idea she knew it. “I had a few of them.” I lied.

“My folk’s hunt,” she said. “I know that Remington 870 is at least a $300 shot gun and the rest well if you got a good deal is $3,000 worth of guns, and do you know what’s happened to ammunition prices?”

I was impressed and said, “I never thought of you as a gun chick.”

“A girl’s got to protect herself,” she said.

“You have a gun?” I asked.

“9mm colt pistol,” she said. “But I lost it when the werewolves got me the first time. Where did you get the guns?”

“Craig’s list,” I said. There was close to $15,000 in guns at the current market. I had four more gun safes loaded to over capacity. Money didn’t mean much anymore. I didn’t care if the guns and ammunition were stolen I was buying everything and the money was free.

Just like I could copy myself I copied every-

thing on me. It didn’t take me long to realize that the money on me was copied as well. I started by going to the ATM and withdrawing everything I could which was $600. I would copy myself and deposit the money back and the branch and spend the money on things I needed. It wasn’t long before I was copying thousands of dollars a day. I began to worry that money might collapse and began to put it in raw materials, weapons, food, water, fuel, everything I might want or need. I paid cash for the mini storage facility. Bob couldn’t believe it when I handed him the briefcase.

“Where did you get the money?” Jenny asked.

“Fortunately I had a lot of orders to fill when I got home,” I said. That was partially true. “I sold a lot of stock wholesale to vendors.”

I ate friend rice going over the map again.

When she found the werewolves she was not to stop but find me and point me in their direction. I dressed in the tactical swat gear, minus any law enforcement markings, but otherwise I looked the part of a state police swat team member right down to the sidearm. It was tight sitting behind the wheel in the body armor even with the seat all the way back. Jenny left in a blur and I drove out in the direction where Jenny marked her last death.

I couldn’t duplicate cell phones without problems. I had cell phones for van, the apartment and the workshop at the mini storage. I had Jenny put those numbers in her cell phone but also gave her a 5-mile FRS radio. I could duplicate those and they would work.

Nearing the last place Jenny had died I found a Muskegon County Sheriff roadblock. All four deputies were dead, their guns and ammunition gone. The news was reporting the werewolves had been eating the bodies. Maybe Jenny’s relentless search had kept them pushing, or the news was over reacting. A few miles later and Jenny stopped me on the road her saber bent at an odd angle. She pointed the direction they were in and said, “I killed two.”

“Alright let’s ring them in,” I said. You just keep an eye on them till I have them surrounded.” She smiled and was gone with a fresh saber.

In the back of the van I copied myself and geared up. Every hundred yards or so I dropped off a team armed with a combination of assault rifles and shotguns. Before I could ring in the whole square mile of woods surrounded by farmers fields the werewolves struck. There was a shotgun blast to my left follow by the rattle of AK 47 fire. The entire team on my left was gone. Through a scooped AR15 I saw a werewolf poke its head up to look around. I sprayed its brains on the tree behind it. Werewolves came at me from natural

concealment and out of the trees. Only once did I get a shot off before they struck down one or two of my copies that popped out of existence.

Jenny called on the radio, "They're running north!"

I ran to the north side of the woods. The werewolves had nearly sprinted across the farmer’s field.

Had they been pursued by me or anyone human they probably would have gotten away. Then Jenny Boom was among them and they fell. I really couldn't see her.

Only the carnage in her wake.

I found one of my copies down with a sucking chest wound having other copies try to absorb it didn't make the wound go away. The wounded me could do nothing but lay there. What if the spears were poisoned or some other nonsense? I didn't think the copy knew anything I didn't already know, other than what it was like to have a sucking chest wound. I shot him/me in the head and it bubbled out of existence.

Mandy and three other teenage girls were held captive tied together by a length of chain wired around their necks and an oak tree. I brought up the van while circling around and checking the dead werewolves, ready to repel a counter attack that didn’t come. Jenny was carefully untwisting the wire as I brought up the first aid kit. Mandy and the girls were battered with bruises, black eyes and split lips.

In the woods I made a startling discovery. Some of the werewolves were different. They were human women wearing wolf head disguises. All of the true werewolves were male but five were costumed human females. I made the report over the radio.

The girls confirmed this. “They all spoke in growls and grunts,” Mandy said.

“It was the women that beat us up,” said one of the teenagers.

I gave the girls basic first aid but there was nothing life threatening. I unloaded the van and gave Jenny the keys. “Go on and take these women to the hospital to have them check out.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“I, we’re going to watch the bodies till the national guard gets here and takes over,” I said.

I cleaned up the scene waiting for the National Guard. It took forever but I met them with only one copy of me an assault rifle and a shotgun and no body armor. I gave all the credit to Jenny Boom and they were all too happy to cart off the bodies.

Back at home I showered and changed to fresh clothes. Again the blast of air hit my windows followed by the staccato knock. ‘What now?’ I thought automati-

cally. Jenny was waiting on my doorstep with six pizzas and a case of beer.

“Dinner’s on me!” she said, “I don’t know how else to thank you.”

“I have a few ideas,” I said. “Beer, pizza, and fast women! What else could a man ask for?”

I didn’t see her move but she was on me kissing me like her life depended on it. Later we were lying naked on the cushions of my broken living room furniture drinking the beer and eating the pizza.

“I noticed how you were copying your stuff, like the guns and ammo and stuff,” Jenny said.

“Yeah,” I said.

“I was thinking,” Jenny said. “If I gave you a wad of cash, do you think you could copy it?”

“I could,” I said. “But the money would just pop back into one stack.”

“But it might not happen till I made it to the bank?” she asked. “Worth a try.”

“If anyone found out,” I said cautiously. “I think it would still be considered counterfeiting.”

“Only if you get caught,” she said, and then brightened. “I could spread the money around the whole country. It could take years to get back together.”

“What do I get out of it?” I asked.

“Me silly!” she squealed.

“Ok,” I said. “Bring me a wad of cash and I’ll copy it for you.”

“Great!” she said and blurred being fully dressed a second later. “I have to go see Mandy at the hospital,” she said and kissed me. “Round two when I get back!” She was gone, the door slammed in her wake.

“You know she’s using you,” I said walking from the other room still wearing my work clothes.

“I know,” I laughed naked on the pile of cushions. With a pop the naked me vanished and I enjoyed the pizza, the beer, and the memory of Jenny Boom.

About the Author: Jerry Bolduc has been a pilot boat dispatcher, boatmen, commercial diver, radiographer, mechanical inspector and non-destructive testing technician. Currently he's an industrial electrician in the auto industry.

Jerry clowns around juggling and doing sleight of hand magic and is a certified hypnotist. He lives in Clio Michigan with his wife, nest fleeing children, and geriatric dog.

Witchcraft, Writing, and Cooking

By Ann Gimpel I was in the beauty shop the other day and my hairdresser carted out lots of little plastic bowls for the various colors we streak my hair with.

She chatted about mixing a little of this and a little of that and said she cooks the same way.

Then she grinned and said she was probably a witch in a former life.

I can sure relate to that one! Not so much mixing hair color, but cooking. I rarely use recipes.

Just sort of toss things in until it tastes right. It’s probably not accidental that Ceridwen and her cauldron show up in some of my books. Not that she was a witch, but she was the Celtic goddess Shakespeare probably used as his prototype for the witches in Macbeth hovering over their cauldron.

Back to cooking. Many years back, I baked a lot of bread and made pastries and pies. I still do, just not as much. Bread dough and pie crust are two items that are different every time you make them. I look for a certain consistency and manipulate the flour/water balance until I have what I need. In many ways, writing isn’t all that different.

I start with characters (my ingredients). They have to be fresh, the best I can obtain, just like when I cook. Then I mix them together in unique ways, add heat and tension—not too

much, just enough—and voila! A novel emerges in much the same way I pulled bread or a soufflé from the oven. Thank goodness I can alter my books until they feel “right” to me. If I blew the timing on that soufflé, or overcooked the bread, there wasn’t much I could do to remedy the situation.

Creativity, whether in the kitchen, at the keyboard, or studying a grimoire for a handy spell, taps into right brain fluidity. That’s the side of the brain that does math and listens to/ appreciates music. It’s also the side that allows writers to enter their fictional worlds and make their characters come alive. The linear, left brain function is what allows writers to edit and cooks to assimilate a recipe before they begin tinkering with it.

How about you? Where does your creativity lie? Is there something you yearn to do, but haven’t?

Wolf Born Underground Heat Book 2

By Ann Gimpel

Publisher: Liquid Silver Books

ISBN: 978-1-62210-030-9 About the Author Genre: Paranormal Romance 50,000 words

Ann Gimpel is a clinical psychologist, with a Jungian bent. Avocations include mountaineering, skiing, wilderness photography and, of course, writing. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she beIn a futuristic world where shifters keep their gan writing speculative fiction a few years ago. friends close and their enemies closer, passion Since then her short fiction has appeared in a flares hot and sweet. number of webzines and anthologies. Several paranormal romance novellas are available in eformat. Three novels, Psyche’s Prophecy, Book Description: Psyche’s Search, and Psyche's Promise are small press publications available in e-format and paperback. Look for three more urban fantasy novels coming this summer and fall: To Tame a HighIn a futuristic California that’s almost out of resources, Max leads a double life. A Russian wolf- land Dragon, Earth’s Requiem and Earth’s Blood. shifter, he heads up the State of California as its governor—and the shifter underground. He took on the governorship to help his people. ThreatA husband, grown children, grandchildren and ened with genocide, many shifters have gone into three wolf hybrids round out her family. hiding. Some blame Max and the underground for their plight, rather than the governmental edict that’s meant death for so many. www.anngimpel.com http://anngimpel.blogspot.com Audrey works for Max. Unlike most humans with low levels of shifter blood who bless their lucky stars they avoided the purge, she wants to be a shifter. If she could find a way to finesse it, she’d quit her job in a heartbeat and go to work helping the shifter underground. The only sticking point is Max. She’s been half in love with him forever.

Against a dog-eat-dog political backdrop where no one knows who their allies are, Max and Audrey spar with one another. Max fears she’s part of the group trying to kill him. Audrey has no idea about Max’s double identity and worries she won’t be able to walk away from their fiery attraction to help the underground.

After a second attempt on his life, Max faces critical choices. Should he follow his head or his heart?

http://www.amazon.com/author/anngimpel http://www.facebook.com/anngimpel.author

The Party A Halloween Short

Charlie Daye This is a work of fiction. Any semblance to know persons or places living or dead was purely coincidental. Please do not copy, duplicate or share this work without the author’s express permission. ©2012 Charlie Daye I hope you enjoy this spooky little short. I appreciate you for taking the time to like my page and learn more about my books.

So, thank you and welcome to my world.

Charlie Charliedaye.com

It was a drenching, beastly night. Thunder and lightning tore the skies apart to the steady hum of the windshield wipers while Gaby and Raina listened to the eerie sound of Monster Mash ringing through the car speakers.

It was Halloween night and the women were on their way to a costume party that Gaby’s brilliant boyfriend decided to hold in an old abandoned house on Hanover Street. Gaby had decided to dress up as a dead bride. The gown she purchased from the thrift store was perfect especially once she ripped it in several locations and poured fake blood down the front of the dress. Even the veil was shredded and dirty.

Shifting one of the vents to blow heated air directly on her, Gaby rubbed her arms and shivered, “Raina, I think we should turn around and go home. I’m not having a very good feeling about tonight.”

Raina laughed, “Don’t be overly dramatic Gaby. I’m sure it’s just the weather creeping you out.”

Gaby crossed her arms and huffed, “I’m not being overly dramatic. I’m attempting to follow my gut instinct which has kept me out of trouble more times than I can count.”

Raina reached over and patted her leg, “C’mon Gaby, chances are you’re just freaking out because the weather sucks, it’s Halloween and the party of the year is being held in the old dilapidated colonial up on Hanover. I promise tonight will be a blast!”

They drove on in silence until they reached the house. Raina was almost positive that in its day the house was gorgeous but now it was run down and looked exactly like that one house that no one wanted to go into because they just knew it was haunted. The front yard was covered in fog and packed full of cars. Several of the windows on the first floor of the house were flickering with the soft glow of candlelight. Raina glanced up at the second floor of the house and caught a glimpse of a ghostly image in a window that immediately faded away. She grinned, “Man, they went all out for this party tonight. C’mon Gaby, let’s make a mad dash for the door!”

Gaby and Raina jumped out of the car and ran as fast they could to the front door of the house. Their only hope was that the rain wouldn’t wash away the makeup they spent hours trying to perfect. As they neared the door, it opened and the women were greeted by a sexy vampire, “Good evening ladies and welcome to my party.”

Gaby giggled, “Hi Josh. Thanks for inviting us.”

Josh wrapped an arm around Gaby’s neck and kissed her on the cheek, “May I have this dance? And perhaps a little sip of your

blood?”

Gaby laughed, “The dance you can have, the blood will have to wait.” Raina watched as Gaby and Josh disappeared into the throng of gyrating ghouls, witches, zombies, vampires, pirates, ghosts and anything else this lively bunch decided to wear as a costume. They had been dating for the better part of a year and were almost inseparable.

Deciding she needed to finish putting her costume on, Raina made her way through the crowd of partiers looking for the bathroom. She began walking down a hallway as a door on her left opened and a couple walked out. She looked at them and asked, “Bathroom?”

The guy, who was dressed like a 1920’s gangster, held up a lantern and said, “Right in there.”

“And the lantern?” she asked raising her brows in question.

He shrugged, “No electricity.” Raina nodded her understanding.

Accepting the lantern, Raina walked into the bathroom and turned the flame up as high as it would go so she could see herself in the dirty mirror. She had decided to dress as a gothic fairy for the party. She wore a black corseted dress that laced up the front and rather than displaying her naturally red hair, she opted for a white wig. The wings she was trying to clip on her back were made of black sheer material that had white airbrushed tips and silver glitter all over them. While she struggled with the wings she never heard the man enter behind her, “Can I be of some assistance?”

Raina nearly jumped out of her own skin as she spun and slapped her hand to her chest trying to keep her heart from beating right out of it. “You scared the begeesus out of me,” she breathed.

The man, who wore a half mask over his face, grinned, “My apologies. That was not my intention. I simply wanted to offer you some assistance with your wings since you seem to be having a bit of trouble.”

Raina smiled, “Well, thanks. I’d appreciate that.” She spun back around to face the mirror after the man picked up the wings that she had dropped on the floor when he scared her. After securing her wings he said, “You look great.”

“Thank you,” Raina replied turning to face him. “I’m Raina.”

“Brandon,” he replied.

Raina frowned, “I knew someone named Brandon once.” She sighed, “I miss him.”

“You miss him? What happened to him?” he asked.

Raina nodded sadly, “He was my boyfriend. He died a year ago.”

Brandon frowned, “I’m sorry for your loss. Did you love him?”

“With everything that I am,” she replied.

Wanting to change the subject, Raina glanced down at his outfit. He wore a pair of black slacks, a white collarless shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a dealers vest. His long brown shoulder length hair and been pulled back in to a pony tail at the nape of his neck and tied with a black silk ribbon. He face was covered by a black half mask. She smiled, “I love your outfit.

It’s very 1800’s meets Zorro.”

He chuckled, “Thank you.”

He held out his arm to her, “May I escort you back to the party? Or perhaps I could interest you in a leisurely walk around the house? I’d offer a garden stroll but the weather is making that impossible.”

Raina giggled, “Such a gentleman. You really are playing the part tonight aren’t you? Well, Brandon, I’d be honored to walk with you.” Raina wrapped her hand around Brandon’s arm and they began their stroll through the house.

As they strolled through the various hallways, Raina couldn’t stifle the shiver that ran up her spine. She began to feel like something bad was about to happen but wasn’t sure what it could possibly be. Deciding it was just her overactive imagination, Raina brushed it off to spending too much time listening to Gaby talk about her gift of prophecy and walking through a truly creepy house.

Raina and Brandon walked around the house while they talked of nothing important. They danced to a few songs and when the rain finally stopped he escorted her outside to a balcony that overlooked the rear gardens of the house.

Raina rested her hands on the balcony railing and watched as the clouds shifted in the night sky allowing the full moon to peak out and shine down on the grounds making it look like tiny diamonds decorated the foliage.

Brandon studied Raina’s profile. He always thought of her as perfect. Smiling he said, “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

Raina smirked, “Laying it on kind of thick there aren’t you Brandon?”

Brandon smiled, “I suppose you would think so. Do you have any idea how I’ve longed to hold you in my arms again?”

Raina slowly turned to face the man that she spent a majority of the night with as a terrifying fear gripped her heart, “Excuse me?”

He stepped towards her reaching for her as if to grab her, “I’ve missed you Raina.”

Stepping away from him, Raina scowled, “Is this some kind of joke?”

Taking another step towards her, Brandon reached up and pulled off his mask. Raina’s eyes widened in shock and fear as she stumbled back away from him shaking her head, “No, it can’t be!” Holding out her hands to ward him off, she continued moving backwards until she finally tripped on her gown and began to fall backwards and into the balcony railing that literally disintegrated when she hit it allowing her to tumble over the edge.

“RAINA!!” Brandon yelled as he flew across the balcony attempting to reach her before she fell.

Raina stared up at Brandon as she continued her slow motion descent to the ground below and only when she hit the mud covered ground did she finally lose sight of him.

Brandon rushed down the stairs to Raina’s side and cradled her head in his lap, “Raina, are you alright sweetheart?”

Raina frowned while she tried to clear the cobwebs from her head. I must be dreaming, she thought, because only in my dreams would Brandon be real. Ever so slowly she opened her eyes and stared into the honey gold beauty of his eyes. As realization set in, tears began to fall from her eyes. She reached up wrapping her arms around his neck, “I’ve missed you so much baby! I thought you were gone forever.”

Brandon smiled as he wrapped his arms around her, “I’ve missed you too sweetheart. And no, I wasn’t gone forever only temporarily.

Are you up for a stroll through the gardens?”

Raina hesitated briefly mentally checking for any broken bones, when she felt none she said, “Sure.”

Brandon wrapped his arm around Raina helping her up then guided her into the gardens. Raina was surprised to see how well the gardens looked considering the house had been empty for years. He directed her to a stone bench where they sat with their fingers entwined together. Brandon cupped Raina’s chin and turned her to face him. He kissed her softly on the lips and whispered, “I love you Raina.”

Raina smiled, “I love you too.”

Brandon tucked Raina into his side and kissed her deeply. Rising to his feet Brandon held out his hand to Raina which she immediately accepted and began leading Raina back to the house as the pink light of day colored the horizon. Raina gasped as she looked at the gorgeous colonial standing in front of her, “I don’t remember the house looking this amazing.”

Brandon grinned, “You like it?” Raina smiled, “I love it.”

Brandon squeezed her hand, “Then I’m flattered.”

Raina looked at Brandon in surprise, “The house is yours? I had no idea.”

Brandon turned fully to face Raina. He cupped her face and kissed her passionately stealing her breath from her chest, “Stay here with me Raina.”

Raina grinned, “Always.” ***

Gaby stood next to Josh clutching his hand as if he were the only thing left in the world that would keep her sane. The tears rolled freely down her face and no matter how much she brushed them away they just kept coming back. When a quiet sob broke free, Josh released her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her blonde head, “It’s okay Gaby.”

Gaby shook her head, “It’s never going to be okay Josh. I knew going to your party was a bad idea and yet I did nothing to stop her - us - from going.”

Josh sighed, “Raina’s a big girl and you better than anyone should know when she wants to do something she’s going to do it.

Besides her fall was a complete accident. There was nothing you could have done to save her Gaby.”

Gaby sighed and leaned into Josh, “I know. I just miss her so much.”

Josh hugged her, “I know baby. I miss them both too but at least there together forever now.”

Gaby leaned down and placed a single white rose on the ground. She kissed the tips of her own fingers and touched the cold hard marble stone that read…

Brandon Summers

Raina Hammond

1985-2011 1985-2012 May you find happiness in each other’s arms for eternity

Other Titles by Charlie Daye The House The Colonial The Reservation The Gypsy’s Dance The Mermaid’s Sanctuary Breeders Her Last Request The Portrait Butterfly Mistaken for a Call Girl About the Author: Charlie Daye began writing at the tender age of thirteen. With an obsession for romance, happy endings and the supernatural she delves into your greatest fantasies and worst nightmares. She will have you laughing, crying, falling in love and getting angry. She will always give you a HEA but getting there is the journey worth taking.

Charlie Daye was born in Lynwood, California. Her greatest passions are music and writing. Her first short story was written at the age of thirteen. At the time her entire class was asked to write a short story for Halloween as part of a homework assignment.

Most of the kids in the class wrote one to two page stories... Charlie wrote eight. The short story titled The Haunted House went on to win her district wide awards and was published locally. From their she began writing poetry as means of expression.

Since her writing career began she's published several titles... The House, The Colonial, The Reservation, The Portrait, The Gypsy's Dance, Mistaken for a Call Girl, Her Last Request and her national best seller Breeders. Four of which have been nominated for the 2012 RONE Award.

For updates on her books or just to spend some time in her fun and crazy world check out her webpage at charliedaye.com or find her on Facebook!

A Guide to Greening Halloween

By Wenona Napolitano Halloween is one of the holidays that can really take its toll on resources: candy, decorations, food, costumes, and more but here’s a guide that can help you green the three major areas of Halloween fun: the costume, the party and the decorations.

Green Your Costume

a treasure trove of items just waiting for new life as your Halloween costume. Think of the possibilities: 20’s flapper chick, 50’s sock hop style, groovy hippie clothes, and awesome 80’s…you get the idea.

Go on a costume and clothing scavenger hunt.

Visit thrift stores, consignment shops and even antique stores to look for old costumes or clothing that can be transformed into a cool Halloween creation. Some online sites like eBay, Craigslist and your local Freecycle chapter may Store-bought Halloween costumes are often made from synthetic fabrics that can be full of also have fabulous green Halloween potential petroleum by products and harsh chemicals. If where you can find free and low cost Hallowyou want to be eco-conscious there are a couple een costume items. eco-friendly options you may want to consider Skip Halloween masks. for greening your Halloween costume.

One of the first ways to green Halloween this year is by making sure your costume is as ecofriendly as possible.

Most masks are made of vinyl, PVC or other petroleum byproducts and are full of harsh Perhaps there's something sitting in the back of chemicals. If you really want a mask for your costume opt for the simple do-it-yourself eye your closet that you haven't worn in years, or you could borrow something from a friend. By masks that you can make from cardboard or craft foam--decorate with feathers, glitter and not purchasing a new costume you are saving precious resources. Reusing is very green. You sequins. can always purchase used costumes on places Beware of toxic cosmetics. like eBay, too. This is a really great place to find gently used and super adorable kids’ cosWith all the scary stuff that's been showing up tumes. in traditional cosmetics (like lead, phthalates, parabens, etc) you’ll want to look for natural Another way to green your costume this year cosmetics in colors to match your costume and is to make one out of old clothes. theme.

First of all you could wear an old costume.

Check out your attic, basement, garage or wherSearch for costumes made from eco-friendly ever you have boxes of old clothes - better yet, check your parents' or your grandparents' house fabrics. for old clothes and accessories. There could be If you can’t put together a great costume out of

old clothes or old costumes search for costumes made from fabrics like hemp, bamboo, peace silk and organic cotton.

Halloween Décor That’s Eco-Friendly Halloween décor is another area where everything seems to be mass produced and disposable.

If that's too hard you just punch holes around the top and bottom in a row all the way around the can, and then a few in the middle. Just put plenty of holes in them so the candlelight will shine through.

A tip to make the punched hole designs easierfill the tin cans with water and freeze them.

While the water is frozen inside punch the holes in the can. This makes the process so much easier.

Stores are often filled with Halloween decorations that cost a fortune and may not even survive the season and even if they do many peo- Paint fun Halloween colors and designs on ple toss a lot of stuff straight into the trash once the cans with acrylic paint. Then add candles Halloween is over. or flameless LED lights to give them that creepy glow.

Quit spending your hard earned money on Now that you are done with the tin cans you plastic junk when you can use stuff you have can transform any glass jars you found into lying around the house to make your own creepy concoctions. Go green this Halloween crafty candy containers or fun candle holdby skipping the shopping spree and have a fun- ers. To create these green Halloween containers you can glue on paper designs, add stickers filled family weekend craftactular instead. or paint the bottles with acrylic or glass paints.

If you are creative and skilled enough you Start out by raiding the garbage and recycould even etch the glass with fall and Hallowcling bins. een designs.

Don’t say gross, your recycling bins should To make the jars into candy containers purhave rinsed out and semi clean containers in them not oozing food trash (that should all be chase unwrapped colorful candy in bulk and add to the candy jars for colorful displays. composted). So, what did you find in your bins? Some tin cans, glass jars, plastic contain- (This also makes a great contest if you count ers and cardboard toilet-paper and paper towel the number of candy pieces in the jar so you know how many there are, then you make rolls? Perfect. guests guess for a chance to win a prize).

Now let's see what Halloween goodies you can Put candles inside to jars to transform them into scary luminaries. create out of these items.

You can turn the tin cans into spooky candle holders with a little paint and a hammer and nail. Use the hammer and nail to punch holes in the can. The designs can be random or made in scary Halloween designs like pumpkins, ghosts witches and cats.

Another recycle bin craft is turning the cardboard toilet-paper and paper towel rolls into fun favor boxes and creepy little crafts.

With just a little paint, some stickers, maybe a few pipe cleaners or even a few jewels, you can turn plain and ordinary into something sur-

prising and extraordinary. To transform them into simple Jack O' Lanterns, paint them pumpkin orange, let them dry, and then paint black or yellow faces on them.

tronics hand to really give people a fright. Just make sure to be green and use rechargeable batteries.

Plastic laundry soap bottles can rather easily be turned into spooky black cats and big orange pumpkins with a little bit of spray paint for plastic and a good imagination.

Pumpkins, gourds, squash, cornstalks, dried corn and apples look really great arranged artfully together as show stopping Autumn displays., Add fall flowers like mums, marigolds and late-blooming sunflowers for beautiful flower accents.

Another way to make super green HallowHere’s another green Halloween craft idea- een decorations is by incorporating natural turn plastic containers into fun Halloween elements as part of your spooky Halloween creatures. and seasonal Fall decor.

Does that sound a little too crafty for you?

How about getting ghostly with old sheets, pillowcases or tablecloths?

Old white or very light colored linens can easily be made into ghastly ghosts that you can hang indoors or out. Just toss a sheet over a ball or a "head" made of stuffed newspaper, tie something around the head and let the rest of the sheet float freely. Get fancy and shred the bottom of the material to let it float freely in the breeze, get creative and add some blood spatter with red paint or tape in a few batteryoperated LED lights for glowing creepiness.

More creepy green décor can be made with old clothes.

You can welcome trick-or-treaters or party guests with scarecrows, zombies and dismembered body parts by using some old clothes to create spooky creatures and dismembered parts that can be placed in chairs, seated on benches or arranged shockingly wherever you wish. All you have to do is stuff the old clothes with other old clothes or crumpled newspaper; then add a mask or a pumpkin head. Make it super spooky by adding a small tape recorder with some creepy sounds or a moving anima-

Pumpkins are very versatile and can be used alone, with other natural elements or even used as elegant vases.

The tops of pumpkins can be cut off, scooped out and filled with water, then used as a decorative vase filled with flowers. And don’t forget about carving some pumpkins. The trusty Jack O' Lantern is still one of the best ways to decorate green for Halloween. Grab some pumpkins, have a family fun night and see who can carve the best pumpkin and don't forget to light them up on Halloween with ecosoy candles or safe battery operated LED candles.

Green Your Halloween Party Are you planning to have a Halloween party this year?

You can have an earth friendly Halloween party by being a little more aware while planning and making just a few changes to make sure this year is a green Halloween.

Even though ecological awareness is growing many people get confused during holiday plan-

ning, especially if they are throwing a party.

They fall back into the ways they've always done things like using plastic silverware, disposable plates and tablecloths and other one time use items. That’s not exactly an ecologically friendly option. Ditch the disposables.

Forget the plastic. Opt for natural, sustainable things that won't hurt the earth.

caramel apples, fresh apple cider, apple tarts, and other sweet treats made from organic ingredients. Visit your local Farmer’s Market to see what’s in season and stock up on the local grown goodness.

Give party goers and trick or treaters earth friendly tasty treats. You can give out yummy organic candy like Endangered Species mini You can start your eco-Halloween party out organic chocolate bars and YummyEarth orright by sending electronic invitations. Evite ganic lollipops. Visit is a great Website that helps you organize and www.naturalcandystore.com for many organic keep track of your mailing list, invitations and candy options.

RSVP notices. Not a single piece of paper needs to be used for the invitation process. It's Want to light up the night? Consider solar powered outdoor decorations and LED all electronic. lights to conserve energy and if you use canIf that’s not your thing at least go tree free-- dles, pick natural beeswax and soy candles. or choose recycled paper for your spooktacular invitations. If you have kids that want to Giving away door prizes or goody bags?

Choose items that are eco-friendly. Forget make the invitations and pass them out to about the plastic favors that often get broken, friends this may be an easier route. Choose scrap paper, recycled paper or anything you al- lost or thrown away within hours, consider reready have on hand and some eco-friendly art usable and fun things guests can enjoy for a supplies then let the kids design and make invi- long time like canvas tote bags, books, notebooks made from recycled or tree free paper, or tations and even some decorations. for kids - eco-friendly toys.

Make sure to ditch all the disposables that you can. Try not to use disposable table wares This year you can make a difference by greening Halloween. For more info visit or one time use tablecloths. Opt for fun and colorful plates, napkins and tablecloths in fun seasonal colors and prints that can be reused year after year. And use regular silverware.

Yes, that means washing more dishes, but it's better for the environment and it won’t kill you, honestly it won’t.

Decorate your green Halloween party with natural, reusable and recycled items. See the previous section on green Halloween decorating for ideas.

Try to serve an organic, local and seasonal menu. Think of fresh apples, pumpkin muffins,

Interview with Candace Osmond What inspired you to become an author?

I used to make up a lot of stories when I was a kid, to the point where I almost believed them myself. I had to channel that imagination into something like writing or else I would have caused a lot of trouble for myself as an adult lol! Plus, I've always enjoyed writing. Just like reading, I can get lost in creating a story and the characters that live in it.

just try to learn from your mistakes.

If you had to choose, which writer would you consider a mentor?

Cassandra Clare. Her ability to create people and magical worlds as if they really do exist have always left me in awe after reading one of her books. I look to her and what she does as inspiration for my own career.

What is your current “work in progress” or upcoming projects?

My biggest project is a bit of a secret. But I'm teaming up with a few other industry professionals to create an amazing platform for new writers and aspiring authors to break out into the publishing world. The goal is to help the writers but also to improve the quality of selfHow did you come up with the title for your published work available to the world. Follow me on Twitter and Facebook to be kept in the latest book?

Well, the first book was easy, Iron & Wine. It loop! represented the two worlds that Avery Quinn lives in, the cold human world full of iron objects and the magical land of Faerie. I guess the Do you have to travel much to do research second book was easy, too. It's full of fighting, for your books?

I travel in my mind. Growing up around folkdeath, and blood. Hence the name Blood & lore on the east coast really instilled a lot of Bone. great ideas and perspectives that I use in my writing. It doesn’t matter where I go, I can always close my eyes and picture what I need.

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

Yes! It's hard to stay true to yourself, especially in your younger years. And everyone falls off Who designed the cover of your latest book? the wagon sometimes. The best you can do is Corey Majeau from Coris Designs. He does my covers, created my website, and also does Do you have a specific writing style?

I like writing in first person POV. I read somewhere that authors who write in this POV are considered "method writers" because we have to really get into the main character. We feel what they feel and reflect it onto paper.

amazing work for other clients and authors.

You can find his stuff on Facebook under Coris Designs or just follow him on Twitter @coreymajeau. He really enjoys working with indie authors and helping them with amazing cover art.

I listened to a lot of sad songs for writing Blood & Bone. There's a lot of loss and pain that just can't be dreamed up. Music really helps put me in that place. Off the top of my head I can name Lykke Li, Cold Desert by Kings of Leon, Dying by Hole, tons of Paramore, My Chemical Romance, and a bit of Do you have a song or playlist (book sound- Radiohead were on my repeat playlist. track) that you think represents this book?

Blood and Bone The Iron World Series Book Two Candace Osmond Genre: YA Urban Fantasy ISBN: 9781301362028 ASIN: B00ED406KI Number of pages: 250 roughly Word Count: 74,960 Cover Artist: Corey Majeau from Coris Designs Amazon Kobo Smashwords BN Book Description: The stakes are high in the second installment of The Iron World Series as Avery Quinn decides which path her life will take. Become a vampire and be with Jack forever, or pledge herself to the Fey and help save Faerie from the horrible Queen Mabry?

The more she thinks about it the more she wants to remain human. But as she sinks further into the magical world she has come to love, Avery realizes that remaining human is next to impossible, especially when a dark king sets his sights on her. To make matters worse, a secret society of shape shifters have sworn themselves as Avery’s enemy all because of a certain classmate with a caustic temperament.

With a mythical war brewing and Evaine close on her heels, Avery must decide who to give her humanity to before it’s too late.

About the Author: Born in 1985 as Candace Osmond in North York Ontario, I began to travel with my parents at the very young age of four years old. I had lived all over Canada and seen everything my country has to offer, from the enchanting

shores of Newfoundland to the gigantic snowcapped mountains of British Columbia all by the time I was ten. I did, however, spend most of my life in Eastern Canada where I was surrounded by folklore and legends, not knowing how they would shape my personality and imagination for the rest of my life.

rally, I planned to attend university for nothing more or less than that. In 2003 I planned to attend university for Creative Writing and Literary Studies. But, with the fear that I would spend all my time and money on an education and end up in a field that I may very well struggle to succeed in, I backed out and attended school for Design instead. Now, a successful Designer specializing in interiors, I met a man and fell in love. His pasBeing the only girl of my age in a small group of kids, sion and talent for art far exceeds my own, but he motiin an even smaller town, left me spending most of my vated me and awakened my old habits of staying up late and waking up early to scribble down dreams and time by myself and, in result, letting my imagination take over. I would sit by the shore and dream up stories ideas before I had forgotten them and they disappeared of mermaids and other fantastic creatures to pass the forever. time. Coming from a family with writers and artists dispersed throughout, it was only natural that I spend my Twitter: https://twitter.com/candaceosmond time writing, drawing and reading. I dreamed of becoming nothing more than an artist, a creator of any Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Ironkind. By the age of eleven, I spent most of my waking World-Series/457807120906947 hours scribbling down short stories, poems and anything else I could think of, while adding my own perWebsite: http://www.ironworldseries.com/ sonal illustrations. By the age of fourteen, I had won numerous local and minor arts and writing competiWattpad: http://www.wattpad.com/user/ tions.

CandaceOsmond Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/ I excelled at anything art and literature related so, natu- show/6094575.Candace_Osmond

Roxanne Interviews Boone Brux I was lucky enough to have had the chance to hear some of the inspiration behind this story at AAD NOLA, could you tell readers a little about "the story behind the story" for To Catch Her Death?

This story has been a series in the making for quite a few years now. Finally I got a break between my contracts with Entangled Publishing to get To Catch Her Death out. Yipee!!!

I wanted to write something funny and a little different than my previous stuff. My heroine is 35, a widow, and mother of three. Plus she's a little on the fluffy side. Something many women can relate to. A lot of paranormal heroines are sexy, young, and kick ass. Not Lisa Carron. I mean, she's not a hideous toad and eventually finds her reaper persona, but she's definitely a hockey mom who just happens to be a reaper. Though I will say, she's got a few surprising moves in her.

At first she's a little overwhelmed trying to balance family, home, and collecting souls. Again, balancing is something a lot of women can relate to, but Lisa needs a job and being an angel of death pays pretty good.

Since I know Alaska so well, I decided to set the series in my home state. There are soooo many opportunities to show what life is really like in the bush. Some of the plots come from real life experiences I've had. Seriously, you can't make some of this stuff up.

Some authors have a character that is "them". How much of Lisa is "you" compared to other characters you've written?

Me, me, and me. I won't lie; Lisa Carron is completely based on me. I wanted to create an older heroine, who didn't have it all together, but would do anything to keep her family going. I tried to infuse a lot of reality into To Catch Her Death. I found myself asking myself, "What would you do in this situation?"

And I'll tell you a secret; a lot of the characters in the series are actual people. I'm sure they'll be able to guess who they are if they read the book. (Insert evil laugh) I love the comment in your book description about stupid people- can we expect a lot of sarcastic humor in this series?

Uh, yeah, and toilet humor because Lisa has eight year old twin boys and a teenage daughter. The idea of reaping stupid people was one of those wonderful "ah ha" moments. I needed her to have a specific charge. This demographic seemed fitting. These would be the people I'd get if I accidentally became a reaper.

And wait until you meet her porter. That's the person or demon or angel (we're not sure what he is...or if he even is a he) that she hands her souls off too. Think of a demonic transvestite circus ring master--Dennis Rodman meets Circus de Soleil.

So tell us, how does the reaper hide her "new job" from her family and nosy neighbors?

The company she works for is called GRS, Grim Reaper Services. However, the first three floors of the building front as an employment agency and go under the name of GRS, General Resource Services. Everybody thinks Lisa got a job as a case worker at the employment agency and that she'll have to do a little traveling for her new job. After all, that's what she thought her husband did for years. What a surprise that was. You'll have to read the book to find out the skinny on her dead husband.

Being a reaper has a lot weird perks, like her familiar, Fletcher. He's a fat raven that stalks her. He's really hard to get rid of.

Her neighbors are going to be the toughest crowd to keep in the dark. Don Burner is middle aged playboy and has been trying to "comfort" Lisa since her husband died. Claire Goucher, who lusts for Don, is the always poking her nose in Lisa's business. Thank God Lisa has her best friend Vella to help out and run interference.

She's a sassy Texan hairdresser who loves expensive toilet paper.

Will there be romantic elements? How steamy?

There will be but nothing steamy right now. Her partner, Nate, is hot but kind of arrogant and doesn't think she'll cut it as a reaper. They tolerate each other. There's also Constantine. He's in charge of command central, but a little out of her league. Angel? Demon? Supercharged reaper? Lisa is curious, no doubt.

I can tell you that Lisa will be having a side adventure this December in a novella titled Death Times Two. CJ Ellisson and I teamed up, joining our characters. Lisa has to take a trip to Ellisson's Vampire Inn in the Arctic to reap the souls of all the vampires and people that have been killed there. Lisa and a very hot vampire have a little fun in the midnight sun.

How many books do you have planned for this series?

I will continue to write these stories as long as people keep buying them.

Something that I think is unique about this series is that Lisa's teenage daughter will have her own young adult series that runs tandem with Lisa's books. The story lines are intertwined. At the end of To Catch Her Death events happen that allow for Sudden Death, the young adult, to pick up. Readers will be able to follow both series if they want and even read them with their tween/teen daughters. Or they can only read the adult or only the young adult books. All stories will be stand alones, meaning you don't have to read the young adult to follow Lisa's adventures and vice versa.

Thank you for sharing, I think readers are going to love this new series. I know I'm looking forward to reading this book.

Thank you so much! Being featured is so awesome.

To Catch Her Death Grim Reality Series Book One Boone Brux Genre: Paranormal Humor Publisher: Red Hot Publishing

Date of Publication: Oct. 2013 ISBN: e-book – 9781938601118 Print - 9781938601125 Number of pages:250 Word Count: 60K Cover Artist: Jennifer Meyers & Hot Damn Designs Book Description: What do you get when you cross a hockey mom with the grim reaper? Me, Lisa Carron.

If being a depressed, frumpy, widowed mother of three wasn’t bad enough, I just discovered I’m a grim reaper.

I know what you’re thinking. Wow, that’s kind of sexy and full of awesomeness. Hardly. Oh, and my clients?

Stupid people. Like I don’t get enough of that from the living.

Since Alaska is big and angels of death are few, I’ve been partnered with reaper extraordinaire, Nate Cramer.

He’s strong, silent, and way too good looking for my recently widowed state. Oh, and he reaps violent criminals, so that should be interesting.

Forget the danger and the hours of self-analysis it will take for me to find my reaper mojo. My biggest problem? Hiding it all from my overly attentive family and nosy neighbors. Now that’s going to take a miracle.

Short Excerpt: “You’re not welcome here.” He took a step forward and I slapped my hand against the wall, blocking his path with my arm. If he was a grim reaper then maybe he couldn’t enter my house until he was invited— like vampires. “Be gone.”

He smirked. “I’m not a vampire.”

“I know you’re not. There’s no such thing.” I rolled my eyes, trying to give the impression I hadn’t totally been thinking that. “What do you want?”

“Give me ten minutes. Then I’ll leave and never bother you again.”

It sounded too good to be true. “Never ever?”

“I promise.”

He didn’t do any kind of scout’s honor hand gesture, so I didn’t know if I could completely trust him.

“Ten minutes.”

In that amount of time, he could have me sliced up and vacuum sealed, but what choice did I have. I spun and walked into my kitchen. The idea of he being a grim reaper was the lesser of two evils made me want to laugh. Not in a haha, ironic isn’t it way. But a deeply disturbed things keep getting weirder and weirder way.

His footsteps followed. I cursed myself. He’d probably leave big, stupid dirt marks all over my sparkling floor. I scooped up my glass and turned to face him. My upbringing forced me to offer him a drink.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

He held up a hand and shook his head. “No, thank you.”

Hmm, very polite—for a killer. I pulled out the chair and sat, indicating he should do the same. I sipped slowly, wishing it was something stronger. “Okay, speak.”

He lowered himself into the chair and propped his elbows on the table, leveling a stare at me. “You are a grim reaper.”

“So you’ve said.” I took another drink and set down my glass. “Are we done?”

“Hardly.” He eased back and sized me up, his gaze narrowing. “All right then, you explain what happened at the Holiday station this morning.”

I considered giving him Vella’s explanation, but those reasons sounded even more ridiculous than reaping a soul. I decided to change tactics. “Let me ask you this. Why do you think I’m a reaper?”

“We recently lost one of our own and you came on our radar as the next reaper in line.”

“Lost one of your own?” I didn’t like the sound of that at all. “You mean one of your reapers died?”

He shifted in his chair. “Yes.” “That’s a bit ironic isn’t it? The angel of death dying.”

He shrugged. “We’re mortal, tools for the greater good of mankind.”

I refrained from telling him how much of a tool I thought he was. “Isn’t the grim reaper immortal?”

“You watch too many movies.”

That was true but I didn’t confirm his statement.

About the Author: As a bestselling author, Boone Brux’s books range from high fantasy to humorous paranormal.

A former nanny, Boone has lived all over the world, finally settling in the icy region of Alaska, where she writes full time. Always looking for the next adventure, it’s not unusual to find her traversing the remotest parts of the Alaskan bush. No person or escapade is off limits when it comes to weaving real life experiences into her books or blogs. www.boonebrux.com http://www.boonebrux.com/ boonesblog.html www.twitter.com/boonebrux www.facebook.com/BooneBruxAuthor www.goodreads.com/boonebrux

The Fictional Characters I’m inviting to my Ultimate Halloween Party We all have our favorites. Here’s a sneek-peek of who’s on my Halloween Party invitation list this year, and why:  Edward Cullen, cuz you know, he just makes vampires look sexy.  Andre Maras, the lead vampire from Amber Belldene’s novel Blood Vine. I figure Andre and Zoey Porter would be fun at a party, especially if they were pouring the wine.  Beast, from Disney’s Beauty and The Beast, because he’s just so much fun to look at. Besides, we’ll need a bouncer, right?  Tony Stark, from Iron Man. Who doesn’t want to attend a party where Tony’s flash and dazzle will light up the venue?  OK, ALL the Avengers! Bound to make for interesting party conversation.  The current Dr. Who, because I love his English accent and he can stage the Tardis outside for time-travel fun rides.  Chewbacca. He can bounce with the Beast just in case the vampires and the Avengers take issue with the party favors.  Hiccup and Toothless from How To Train Your Dragon. I’ll have them staged next to Dr. Who and the Tardis for party-goers who want to stay in this realm and take a dragon ride.  Jarrid, and The Eternal Order from Tricia Skinner’s novel Angel Bait – you never know when you’re gonna need half-angel assassins to back up the bouncers. This is an eclectic group, and thing might get out of hand!

And last but definitely not least, Michael McKnight and Abigail O’Malley from my short story Three Wishes, the guests of honor. Word on the street is they’ve got a fairy dance troupe following them around that’s bound to please the Halloween crowds. Dancing is a must at my outrageous party.

How about you? Any favorite fantasy characters on your list for your Ultimate Halloween party?

Three Wishes Paula Millhouse Genre: Fantasy Romance Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group ISBN: 9781938876585 ASIN: B00BUPDH61

Number of pages: 46 Word Count: 18,500 Boroughs Publishing Group Book

Smashwords

All Romance Amazon Book Description: Abigail O’Malley wants to find true love…which is about as easy as catching a leprechaun.

Abigail O’Malley’s world turns upside down when a rival Irishman threatens to take her bar, an historic Savannah landmark, mere days before the start of the annual St. Patrick’s Day celebration.

When she captures a leprechaun, her three wishes include his gold, fairy magic, and the mystery of her One True Love.

Will Michael McKnight have time to prove he’s up to the task of granting all her wishes before the bad guys close in and destroy Abby’s dreams forever?

Short Excerpt: The afternoon had gotten away from her and twilight loomed, so Abby took the charms and strode across the yard to the old oak. Her imagination ran wild with thoughts of fairies dancing in the wooded area, fireflies though they might have been. She longed to see them again, longed for a time when she had the unfettered mind of child, when her world revolved around her parents, when she was safe and loved, and happy.

She approached the old live oak and placed the miniature fairy door at the base of the tree, just so. Next she settled one of the delicate little chairs beside it. Now the bench, and the remaining two chairs belong on the other side, on the old rock. She walked around the tree, set up the fancy little charms in an inviting arrangement, squeezed her eyes shut and asked a mighty question of the universe and whatever power imagination truly held within the world. She asked for hope, peace, and some way to solve this mess with her father’s bar.

“Please, little fairies, I need all the luck you can lend me today. I’m inviting you back to play. Please come back home and show me what to do.”

A mighty wind kicked up and swirled through the branches of the grand old oak, fluttering her hair with its force. Abby opened her eyes then frowned, surprised. Clearly, the stress of it all had finally taken its toll. The fairy charms vibrated and glowed with brilliant color, and a leprechaun dressed in a Kelly green suit, with a top hat and pointed shoes, stood waiting on the other side of the tree. A radiant smile lit his face.

Abby gasped, stepped back, and scurried around the oak toward the safety of the house. Then she shrieked. Her world closed in around her. Her heart hitched and her brain screamed foul. Her knees chose that moment to give way, and she collapsed into a heap at the base of the tree.

About the Author: Paula Millhouse grew up in Savannah, Georgia where Spanish moss whispers tales in breezes from the Atlantic Ocean, and the Intracoastal Waterway. As a child Paula soaked in the sunshine and heritage of cobblestones, pirate lore, and stories steeped in savory mysteries of the south. She’s a member of Romance Writers of America, the Fantasy, Futuristic, & Paranormal chapter, the Mystery/Suspense chapter (Kiss of Death), and a member of Savvy Authors.

She lives with her husband at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains with their pack and pride of furry babies.

In the southern tradition of storytellers, she loves sharing the lives of her characters with readers, and following her muse on the quest for happily-ever-afters in thrilling romantic fiction.

Website Address: www.paulamillhouse.com Blog Address: www.paulamillhouse.com Twitter Address: https://twitter.com/pmillhouse Facebook Address: http://www.facebook.com/authorpaula.millhouse Boroughs Publishing Group Book site: http://boroughspublishinggroup.com/books/threewishes Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5398221.Paula_Millhouse Pinterest http://pinterest.com/pmillhouse/three-wishes-a-lunchbox-romance-by-paulamillhouse/

My Top 10 Favorite Vampires

By B Patterson

#6: Angel (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) Hero or villain? That’s always the question when it I like vampires who experience their vampirism in a comes to Angel. Either way, here’s a vampire who was unique way, compared to other characters in their book/ too big for one show, they had to give him his own movie/TV show. Vampirism, when possible, should be spinoff. enjoyed. Also, I like vampires are b*d*ss. #5: Jessica (True Blood) #10: Morrigan Aensland (Darkstalkers) We need some more girl power on this list! Interesting Technically, she’s a Succubus. And one of the most perspective: the sheltered Christian girl gets turned into powerful around. But I mention her in case I have any a vampire. What does she do first? Explore the wonreaders who are 90s kids or gamers. ders of profanity. Sadly, I stopped watching True Blood after season 3. But I’m still pulling for Jessica #9: Kevin (Vampire Bytes) and Hoyt to get together.

Vampire Bytes is a series by one of my favorite Indie Authors, JC Harker. This series features vampires #4: Blade (Blade Trilogy) whose source of powers is technology-based. Kevin is Daywalker. Vampire Hunter. Unconditional B*d*ss. a socially awkward programmer-turned-vampire. Oh, the possibilities… #3 Camellia (Communion) Speaking of b*d*sses… Of course I love all the #8: Christian Ozera (Vampire Academy) dhampir in Communion (I wrote it), but Camellia has a A brooder. It’s not so much that he enjoys being a special place in my heart. In Communion, we find vampire, but he’s something of an outcast among the dhampir society has fallen apart. Camellia is on a oneother Moroi in the Vampire Academy series. His par- woman mission to make it right, even though her methents went to the dark side by becoming Strigoi and eve- ods are… questionable. As she says, “Sometimes to ryone expects him to do the same. Rather than wallow- stop the worst kinds of evil, you must become the worst ing in his self-pity, Christian works with others to turn kinds of good.” their happy magic into battle magic to take the fight to the evil Strigoi. #2: Louis (Interview with a Vampire) The original brooding vampire. I love Louis because he #7: Claudia (Interview with a Vampire) savors the vampire experience like no other. Who else I can’t think of anything as terrifying as having to expe- can get lost for hours staring at nothing? rience eternity in the body of an 8-year old. But no one has as much fun with it as Claudia. She uses her cute- #1: Damon Salvatore (Vampire Diaries) ness to her advantage when hunting prey. Don’t under- The ultimate bad boy among vampires. Damon’s wit estimate her. Or you’ll get burned like Lestat did. and unpredictable actions are a huge factor in why I en-

joy the TV show Vampire Diaries so much. Sure, he’s Twitter: www.twitter.com/bpattfiction arrogant and mischievous at times. But when something bad needs to be done for the greater good, Damon Facebook: www.facebook.com/pages/Bis willing to make that move.

Patterson/554587371251275 I’m always willing to chat with fellow vampire fans.

You can find me at:

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/ show/3144548.B_Patterson

Blog: www.bpattfiction.com Communion B. Patterson Genre: YA/Urban Fantasy Number of pages: 155 Word Count: Approximately 46,000 Cover Artist: Jason Alexander Book Trailer: Book Description: "Lester Fuller knows isolation well. It has been his only friend since Jadarius Singleton humiliated him last year. But one night after Jadarius's taunts go too far, Lester stumbles upon Gwynn's body. He's sure she's dead. Until she bites him.

Vampires are extinct. There are only the dhampir.

Now something more than human, Lester struggles to determine where he fits in this new society. Just what secrets about the dhampir are his friends keeping from him? And what will he do when a notorious figure from dhampir history sets her eyes on him?"

About the Author: I’m a 25 year old writer. I’m a graduate of North Carolina State University where I majored in Psychology and minored in Japanese. I currently live in Maryland.

I wrote a lot as a kid. I began a new story (or 3 or 4) every school year, but rarely finished them. I finally finished one when I was 16. It was about ninjas. It was really bad.

Communion, my first completed novel worth publishing, will be released October 1st. I have that and many other works coming down the pipeline. I plan to be writing for many years to come.

My values as a writer include: Writing high-quality books Diversity Integrity Entertainment

The Carnival of Madness by Devin Kile Welcome to the Freak Show

The Circus Ring Leader Model: Erika Cam

A Possessed Marionette Doll Model: Jasmine Tillotson McLeod

A Dark Magician controls the marionette Model: Emily Miller

Photos by Devin Kile of Southern Allure Photography.

Southern Allure Photography is based out of Fulton Missouri, we specialize in custom photo shoots for our clients and themed shoots with models. https://www.facebook.com/SouthernAllurePhotography

Bewitching Book Tours is now offering custom book swag creations that can be added on to tour packages or ordered separately.

We are offering high quality, hand crafted, one of a kind items made to match your book. Currently we are offering beaded bookmarks, beaded keychains, purse charms, belt loop charms, wine glass charms, and earrings.

These items can be created with colored beads to match the colors in your book cover.

We can also add small charms to coordinate with book content- we have a wide variety of charms to choose from and if we don't have something that matches your book we can get it.

Some of the silver charms available are: vampire fangs, wolves, witch hats, keys and locks, books, hearts, haunted houses, bats, foxes, hamsas, dragons, sugar skulls, rhinestone skull and crossbones, high heeled shoes, Fleur de lis, masquerade masks, owls and many more.

You can also opt to have the items completely customized by adding your book cover to a metal charm. The book covers are encased in small metal photo frame charms and sealed in resin for a high quality charm that looks fabulous and is very durable.

Our goal is to create custom book swag that represents your book.

Prices start at just $5.00 per keychain, purse charm, bookmark or pair of earrings.

Contact Roxanne at RoxanneRhoads@bewitchingbooktours.com for custom price quotes

The Banishment of Bob

By Roxanne Rhoads I inherited my house from my grandmother. I practically grew up in the house as it is right next door to my parents’ house. The land has been in my family since the 1940’s. As a young teen my mother lived in a small farmhouse on the land. My grandfather tore that house down and built the one I now live in.

Part of my house started as a building in Flint Park. To this day I have no idea which part. My grandfather purchased a structure from the park when they closed; he brought it here, put it on the basement foundation and used it as the starting point of the house.

I often wonder if that part of the house is the source of the “experiences” we have but the one room that we think was the Flint Park building because of differences like electrical outlet placement, building materials, etc. is not the room where the majority of “paranormal activity” occurs.

The main area of activity is my grandmother’s old bedroom. I never remember her actually sleeping in it though. She would sleep in the living room. She seemed to avoid that room.

When I first moved in it was my youngest child’s room. Now that he’s older he has told me about his experiences in that room. He is now 21 and falls asleep during horror movies. I often attribute this to him falling asleep afraid. Now his normal reaction to fear is sleep. Odd I know, but it seems to fit.

When my daughter was born it became her room. And she never slept well in it. I would hear strange noises and crying through the baby monitors only to walk in and find her quiet or asleep. One night my husband heard a noise and walked in there to find all the drawers on the dresser open, yet she was in her bed sound asleep and honestly she was still too small to have opened them all anyway. She couldn’t even reach the top drawer.

She would wake up a lot during the nights and want out of the crib and out that room. Once she big enough to get out of the crib or her toddler bed she would leave her room and crawl in bed with me or go to her big brother and crawl in bed with him. When we changed her to another room she was fine and slept in her own bed.

My youngest…he absolutely refused to have anything to do with that room- ever.

Now the room is my husband’s office and man cave, he seems to be the only one not sensitive to the activity even though he has reported seeing a dark figure walk through the room and stand by the window look-

ing out.

There have been odd occurrences in other areas of the house as well. Like the basement door that opens by itself, strange things disappear, and then there’s the music that you can hear in a distance, you can never quite make out the words or the tune.

But the incidents that left me the most shaken happened in the same week… in my bedroom.

The one room in the house that has always been a safe haven for me, the room free of creepiness…until the night I was roused from sleep by the creaking of my floorboards. All around my bedroom the old floors creak when you walk on them. Even I have a hard time avoiding the creaky spots because they all around my bed. I woke up to the sound of someone pacing back and forth at the end of my bed. I could tell the placement and movement of… the whatever it was- by the distinct creaks. I was paralyzed with fear. I knew no one could have been in my room. The door never opened because I immediately wake up when my door opens thanks to the loud scraping sound it makes (yes my old house is full of creaks and scrapes).

I laid there listening to the pacing movement. I tried to listen for anything else- breathing, a voice…but there was nothing. Finally I took a deep breath, gathered my courage and sat up with my eyes open ready to confront it. The sound abruptly stopped. And of course, nothing was there.

A few nights later I awoke to a strange sound. It was kind of a rattling, shaking noise. Non-stop. It just kept shaking. Finally I got up and turned my light on and began to search the room.

I found the sound. It was bobble head turtle, Bob. His head was shaking like an invisible hand was shaking him at warp speed. Yet the rest of him was not moving. Nothing else was moving. Nothing in the room was rattling, vibrating or shaking. Just his head, moving extremely fast.

I stood there in shock and stared at him. Then I grabbed him and stopped his head from moving. I picked him up and looked at him. I shook him really fast. No matter what I did I could not make his head move like it had been. It seemed humanly impossible to replicate that movement.

I took Bob out of the room. He was banished. Now I find him in odd places. I have no idea where he is at this moment. Frankly I don’t care as long as his head never moves like that again.

I don’t know what or who was trying to get my attention that week, nor do I know why. I saged and salted my room. So far nothing else has crept in. I’m all for helping those in need, but contact from the great beyond…I’m not really down with that.

Seriously if something out there has a message for me, I prefer they send an email or just text me.

The Temple of Indra’s Jewel Rachael Stapleton Genre: Fiction/Fantasy/Romance Publisher: iUniverse, LLC ISBN: 978-1-4917-0223-9 ISBN: 978-1-4917-0224-6 ISBN: 978-1-4917-0225-3 Number of pages: 274 Word Count: 75,279

Book Description: Sophia Marcil awakens from a snorkeling accident in the Lérins Islands to find herself in the chambers—and the body—of a nineteenth-century princess.

In a confused state and with no idea of her whereabouts, Sophia embarks on a desperate quest for answers, hoping she can find her way back to her fiancé, Nick, and her true identity.

After she finds a diary in an antique desk, Sophia follows a clue that leads her to a questionable alchemist, who relays the history and magic of the mysterious amethyst she inherited from her greatgrandmother— the only possession that made the leap through time with her and perhaps the only thing that can prevent her from becoming a pawn in a murderous plot for the throne.

Using her inheritance, Sophia races through time to the twenty-first century to solve the mystery of her family’s past.

But once she is there, she unearths a dire warning about a curse that clings to her heirloom, leading her down a dangerous path involving two men from different times and ultimately puts her

life at risk.

In this tale of obsession, greed and passion, a woman on a journey through time struggles to regain a family heirloom and control its magic, hoping to break the curse before it breaks her.

About the Author: Rachael Stapleton grew up in a small town, writing as a hobby until the age of sixteen when she was given the opportunity to pen a column for the Orono Weekly Times. Today she is a dedicated writer who contributes to a weekly writer’s circle and is also a proud member of the Writer’s Community of Durham Region.

Rachael lives in Ontario, Canada, with her husband and two children. http://www.rachaelstapleton.com/ http://rachaeljacksonthetempleofindrajewels.blogspot.ca/ https://twitter.com/RaquelleJaxson https://www.facebook.com/pages/Rachael-Stapleton-Author-of-The-Temple-ofIndra/137831156290570 http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18501101-the-temple-of-indra-s-jewel

What inspired you to become an author?

A friend of mine put out a book “The Dying Days” in 2006, which made me think why just be in the acknowledgement section when I could be the author?

Really the ideas for my first book where in my head but this got them turning more. I suppose though that ultimately through encouragement with my friends and some interviews I heard with other authors I got determined and put my mind to it. I felt my life was stagnating a little (I was 34) and writing a book was something important, different and exciting for me to accomplish.

How did you come up with the title for your latest book?

It was near the end of the writing process for my second novel. I love to attach music to a scene (and weave it into the story). When Donald heard the song “Rider’s on the Storm” by the Doors I knew that line “there’s a killer on the road” was the perfect title. I wanted something simple but still have meaning attached to it.

Is the book, characters, or any scenes based on a true life experience, someone you know, or events in your own life?

A bunch of scenes actually, since Joseph is based on me he gets to go to lots of places I’ve been. For example when Joseph and Cassandra go to Montecado , Mexico and visit a bar, I really went to that small town and visited that bar. I also did see a dead cow on the side of the road and I went to a family’s house to buy beer. Obviously some details where changed but

whenever I can I find it fun to have characters visit places I’ve been.

Of all the characters you’ve ever written, who is your favorite and why?

Even though Joseph is me I’d have to say Cassandra.

Joseph was kind of cheating as he’s me and always been real to me. Cassandra though, once I had my first book written she felt real. I can always imagine what she’ll say or do and I wanted to continue her story just as much as Joseph’s. She’s beautiful, sexy, adventurous, fun, strong , secretive and ultimately dangerous. I also love the way she’s turned out in book 2, with the help of my editor she’s a much more believable and exciting character.

If this book is part of a series…what is the next book?

Any details you can share?

Yes this is book 2 of my Newfoundland Vampire series. The next book will show how Joseph’s tries to reconnect with human society once more, it will also reveal that actions he took in the past will come back to haunt them both. The coming battle between good and evil vampires will be given focus as well the introduction of some other new characters.

Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?

I have a few challenges, writing good dialogue, realistic female characters, making flashback scenes relevant, keeping the story exciting and handling all the grammatical issues. I find it very hard to remember all the conventions and rules involved for constructing

sentences and scenes in chapters, I am a stream of con- any hobbies or guilty pleasures? sciousness typing writer and polishing it for me is quite difficult.

I have plenty of hobbies, walking, reading, board games, Pilates, acting, martial arts, updating my blog, Who designed the cover of your latest book? movie, TV and traveling. I think playing poker would For the latest book I found this guy Nils Dannemann, be my guilty pleasure, it takes away time from my he did a great job I think. writing but it is so rewarding to win at it.

Do you have any advice for other writers?

If you enjoy writing stick with it, it’s a long road but the reward is worth it in the end. Be prepared for editing, a lot of it and be prepared for some hurtful comments. People will hate your work and there’s nothing you can do to change their minds, all you can do is move on and try to learn from it. Finally don’t expect to get rich overnight, be happy with the success you get and then keep writing, like most things in life it’s something you have to work at.

What is next for you? Do you have any scheduled upcoming releases or works in progress?

Aside from book 3 (which will hopefully be out next fall or earlier) I do have a short story to be published at the end of America’s Galactic Foreign Legion Book 20: Time Machine by Walter Knight (another Penumbra author). That will hopefully be out before Christmas this year.

Thanks for the interview Roxanne, good questions and it was fun! If anyone wants to read more about me and When you’re not writing what do you do? Do you have my books please to go my website here.

The Newfoundland Vampire Book II: Killer on the Road Charles O’Keefe Genre: Horror / Paranormal / Romance / Vampire Publisher: Penumbra Publishing Date of Publication: August 31, 2013 ISBN-10: 1938758293 ISBN-13: 978-1938758294 ASIN: B00EWTYM3G Number of pages: 193 Word Count: 74,020 Cover Artist: Nils Dannemann Amazon Amazon Kindle Amazon UK BN

Book Description:

Joseph O’Reily is still adjusting to the lifestyle and the dangers that come with being a new vampire. He and Cassandra recently fought to the death with Cassandra’s estranged husband John Snow, and now Joseph has experienced his first ménage a trios, as only a vampire can. As if all of this was not complicated enough, he and Cassandra have been tasked with hunting down and killing a rogue vampire, Donald Rathmore.

Another of John Snow’s creations, Donald is an evil misogynistic killer in his own right. Donald has no interest in avenging his creator’s death, but killing Cassandra is at the top of his list.

While Donald continues his murderous spree, Joseph and Cassandra always seem to be one step behind him.

The chase is further complicated as they encounter other vampires and learn more about the mysterious nature of the Vampire Council and the coming war between good and evil.

Joseph is only now beginning to trust Cassandra, and this trust will be shaken when he discovers she has even more secrets than he imagined. Her idea of justice and morality is at complete odds with his own. Despite all his powers and growing skill, Joseph is tested physically as a vampire and emotionally by Cassandra.

This time the answers and challenges may be too much for the young vampire to handle.

working. The simple truth was, the duration of a human life was usually too short to build the financial stability to which most vampires were accustomed. Like most vampires, Anne chose not to flaunt her wealth. Going unnoticed made it easier to hide from humans. Peace and quiet was easy to obtain on a deserted island.

She had always loved tropical locations, and the Hawaiian Islands were so near the equator that the temperature almost never changed. She also loved sunsets so much that it was worth the suffering and slight risk of being out in the open before full dark. Green Island was primarily a bird sanctuary now, with the occasional monk seals that showed up on the beaches. Anne didn’t hate animals, but she killed a few birds that had the audacity to crap on her head one afternoon. At night, her vampire presence kept them away. In case something happened to her human servants, she could call out to a seal for assistance.

She sang to herself, “My bonny lies over the ocean; my bonny lies over the sea...” She liked that song, even though it wasn’t about her. As she sang and took another sip from her drink, she closed her eyes and grimaced in pain. This was a different kind of pain from that of a vampire out in the day. She knew that her estranged youngling John was in terrible danger and perhaps faced death. Despite the pain, she smiled and reclined easily on her lounger. “Serves the bastard right,” she whispered to herself. “He was my biggest regret in life. His charms fooled me, and I made him one of us. It’s time his life was brought to an end.”

Anne sighed, feeling better as the sun dipped near the horizon. She thought of that spring day in 1834 Newfoundland.

John was a handsome man who exuded charisma and confidence.

A hundred and thirty years didn’t seem so long ago. Time was relative when one was immortal. Still, she should have vetted John Snow and read his thoughts before turning him. But she was horny, hungry, and foolish. She not only bit him but kissed him afterwards with blood still on her lips. She didn’t see the harm in Prologue turning a wealthy fisherman. She realized too late that he was married, and she vowed not to cause the destruction of his marMy Bonny Lies Over the Ocean riage. When she saw him shot and dropped into the ocean, she thought that was the end of him, but she was wrong once more.

Fish, it seemed, didn’t like the taste of vampires, and she learned that even a shot to the head and an injury to the brain would heal.

Many years later, she heard of his rash actions, but didn’t want to Anne Bonny sat on the beach of Green Island, Hawaii, admit to the Council that she had caused the mess. Best let them sipping a mai tai as she admired the view of the sunset. The sky began to turn crimson red, which helped dull the intense headache deal with it in their own way. she suffered as a vampire up before dark.

Newfoundland had seemed like a good place for a pirate to go – Peter Easton, Black Bart, and George Fielding all had freShe resided near what was thought to be an abandoned Coast Guard station, which secretly harbored her mansion under- quented the area in years gone by. She enjoyed her life as a pirate.

She loved to capture booty, but didn’t delight in slaughter. ground and several paid servants and guards. Underneath a rundown airstrip lay a subterranean waterway where a submarine was docked. The submarine was used primarily for the human servThen she thought back to October, 1720, in Ocho Rios, ants that needed to leave the island to fetch supplies or take vaca- Jamaica. She had been imprisoned there and convicted of piracy. tions. The runway itself could still handle flight landings if a Luckily she had dreamt of her own capture and had grown her friend popped in for a visit. belly in the two weeks prior, so as to appear pregnant. It was a simple matter then to ‘plead the belly,’ as it was known at the Anne, like many vampires, was quite wealthy. Wise in- time, and receive a stay of execution. This stay gave her a chance vestments over enough time provided financial comfort that most to escape and resume her pirate career disguised as a man. By well-to-do humans accumulated only through inheritance, corpo- 1860, with Albert Hicks hung for piracy in the US, she knew it was time to stop. The world had changed, and she had to change rate sharking, or a serendipitous blend of ideas, timing, and net-

with it. Riverboat gambling was easy money. She did enjoy being on the water and the attention men paid her.

Anne took another sip of her drink and concentrated.

John was fortunate that the sun was about to set, and her powers were activated in time. A man in a white shirt and shorts came over to her. “Excuse me, mistress. May I get you another drink?”

Anne opened her eyes. “No, Charles, I’d like to be alone for a few minutes. Take away the glass and bring me my cell phone in a bit.”

The man nodded. “As you wish.” He took the glass and left.

Anne resumed her concentration, and John entered her mind fully. He thought to her, Anne. my dear, my own youngling Catherine and this motherfucker Joseph are about to kill me. If you ever cared for me, avenge my death. I am in Newfoundland, and I will give you my last images so you will know their faces.

Anne snorted and thought back, Go fuck yourself, John. I just wish you had died in 1834 instead of living this long. Anne received no reply, but did see through John’s eyes at his moment of death. She saw a statue of Peter Pan, animals at his feet, and a lot of blood. She saw a woman with beautiful long, red curly hair who looked terribly wounded in her chest, and man who seemed to have been shot as he stabbed John with a sharpened wooden stick.

Anne gasped as her own chest hurt terribly for a second.

And then she received one final thought from John. They are watching us.

Anne waited for the pain to fade and rubbed her chest right above her heart. She snorted again and grumbled to herself, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

With the sun gone down, she sat up and smiled, absently admiring her slim, athletic figure in her gold bikini. She tossed back her fiery red hair, kept straight at shoulder length. “My dear John,” she said aloud, “your death, and these other vampires in Newfoundland, are enough to pique my interest.”

The last remnants of the sun disappeared below the horizon, and Anne felt her senses fully come to life. She heard Charles’ heartbeat and smelled the sweetness of his blood. As he approached, she stood and held out her hand for the phone.

Charles said in his accustomed manner, “Are you hungry, mistress?” He passed her the phone and stretched his neck to one side.

Anne smiled. “Yes, Charles, you’ll have the next few days off, as I will drain you deeply. Remember, until you pass out, that I liked to be fondled. I’ll make certain Michael carries you to sickbay.”

Charles nodded. “Of course, mistress. Thank you for choosing me tonight.”

Anne took the phone and clipped in on the back of her

bikini bottom. She took off Charles’ shirt and sunk her teeth into his neck. He tasted lovely, with not a hint of drugs or alcohol, and had a pleasant taste of cinnamon in his blood. She also enjoyed his ministrations, but she became more excited at the thought of sex with another vampire. It had been too long since she’d enjoyed the company of others of her kind. Any vampire capable of destroying John must be worth my interest.

She drained Charles until his heartbeat started to slow and he drifted into unconsciousness. Anne cared for her servants, the way a pet owner cared for her animals, and she laid him gently on the sand. She took the cell phone out and punched in the mansion number. She didn’t allow time for a greeting but simply stated, “Have a boat waiting on the southeastern end of Midway Island. I’ll whistle loudly. Also, prepare the sub and head off for Honolulu. I’ll be there in a few days. Make sure it has my weapons on board. Oh, and send Michael down to take Charles to sickbay. He’ll need a few days off.”

The reply came instantly. “Of course, mistress, right away.”

Anne tucked the cell phone into Charles’ right front pocket and, after a brief glance at the first stars that came into view, dived into the ocean. The water was warm against her cool skin. She could easily swim in the Arctic and break through ice if necessary, but this was much more pleasant. Fish, dolphins, sharks and the occasional whale all moved out of her way as she cut through the water like a knife. She had been an excellent swimmer as a human, and when she was turned, her swimming speed and skill reached legendary levels. She could easily swim thirty kilometers an hour at night and go for eight to ten hours with a belly full of blood. Like all vampires, she had an uncanny sense of direction and knew she was headed for Midway Island. She planned to reach it just before sunrise. Perhaps, when she got to Newfoundland, she would find a new companion or at least some friends. John had created Catherine, after all, and she did at least owe her an apology. She wondered if this Joseph had experienced a blood embrace. In any case, he had not done it with her.

It would take her weeks to get there this way, but she was in no rush. Anticipation was a wonderful thing, and time was certainly on her side.

The Newfoundland Vampire Book One Charles O’Keefe

Genre: Horror/ Paranormal/Vampire

Publisher: Penumbra Publishing

pires.

ISBN: 978-1935563853 ASIN: B007TRWUCS

To find out more about Charles, go to Twitter and Facebook or visit his web site. http:// www.charlesokeefe.com/

Number of pages: 224

Blog: http://p45crok.wordpress.com

Word Count: 86,737

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/TheNLVampire

Amazon US Amazon UK Kindle Amazon Canada Amazon Kindle

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/ profile.php?id=826155483

Amazon UK

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/ show/6151429.Charles_O_Keefe

Chapters

Book Description: Like every other geek alive, Newfoundland native Joseph O’Reily secretly wants to be a superhero. At thirteen he fantasized about being a vampire, and ten years later he’s still fantasizing – but mostly about a beautiful redheaded woman who has eyes only for him. The one thing different about Joseph’s adult fantasy is that, amazingly, it comes true one night when he goes to a local university pub. Cassandra Snow, literally the woman of his dreams, invites him to her place for an evening of personal pleasure. Of course he’s not going to say no.

But when strange things start happening afterward, Joseph quickly learns that not all dreams should come true.

About the Author: Charles O’Keefe lives in the beautiful province of Newfoundland, Canada, with his wife and two feline ‘children,’ Jude and Esther.

He works in IT support and enjoys many hobbies and activities that include writing, reading, watching fantasy/science-fiction movies and television shows, gaming, poker, walking, Pilates, and of course fantasizing about vam-

Amazon author page

Hell's Belle Karen Greco Genre: Urban Fantasy ISBN: 1484830202 ASIN: B00DEUDXH0 Number of pages: 238 Word Count: 74,722

Cover design by Robin Ludwig Design Inc. Book Description: Half-vampire, half-human, Nina Martinez spent most of her life underground as part of an elite secret team of government agents who quietly take down rogue monsters -- the human world none the wiser.

She moves back to her hometown of Providence, RI to keep an eye on the recent uptick in supernatural activity, and to help run the bar she co-owns with her aunt. Her attempt at a “regular” life, not to mention a budding relationship with smoking hot FBI agent Max, is cut short because of a string of ritual murders targeting the city's community of witches.

But Nina's investigation unearths deadly secrets from her long buried parents. Now the target of supernatural assassins, could Nina be the most dangerous vampire hybrid to ever exist? No wonder she can’t get a date.

An urban fantasy set in a decaying Providence, Rhode Island, HELL'S BELLE is a fast-paced, adrenaline-fueled roller-coaster ride through a city on the cusp of becoming an urban wasteland.

An energetic, expansive, and cinematic, HELL'S BELLE was called "captivating"by Kirkus Re-

views.

Book Chick City gave it 5-stars, calling it "one of the best urban fantasies I have read this year!"

Amazon About the Author: An award-winning playwright, Karen Greco has spent close to twenty years in New York City, working in publicity and marketing for the entertainment industry.

A life-long obsession with exorcists and Dracula drew her to urban fantasy, where she can decapitate characters with impunity.

HELL'S BELLE is her first novel.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/karenThegreco Blog: http://karengreco.blogspot.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/hellsbellebykarengreco Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17858864-hell-s-belle

Do you write in different genres and what is your favourite to write in?

whilst writing the book. It wasn’t until I’d finished writing it about seven times and I gave some serious thought to it that I came up with “No Shelter from Darkness”. I actually came up with a few and threw them at my beta reader, and when I threw her this one she replied immediately with a simple “That’s it!”

Almost everything I’ve written so far, both published and unpublished, has been in some kind of weird, dark and twisted genre that I guess would lie somewhere between “horror” and “thriller”. I did say “almost”, though, for I have written a couple of science-fiction pieces (though they normally The next book I’m writing is the sequel to this one, and for that I already have a title. I’m confident have a dark underlying theme). it’ll stick, but saying that I was confident that “Red As such, my favourite to write in would have to be Rain” would stick for the first. the horror/thriller blend of which I’ve spoken.

This is certainly what comes most naturally to me. Is there a message in your novel that you want your readers to grasp?

Having said that, I have stories brewing that are more directly sci-fi, as well as others that are firm- Definitely! Throughout the saga there’s a few mesly in the thriller section. I even have an idea for a sages, and I intend on each novel carrying its own romance story (though knowing me it’s bound to theme—its own moral lesson, if you will. With this end up a bit atypical). one, the primary message—or question—is this: is a person born evil, or is it a choice? It’s about perDo you come up with the title first or after writing the ceptions and judging a book by its cover (no pun book and how did you come up with the title of your intended). latest book?

Is the book, characters or any scenes based on true life I have lots of story ideas in gestation and almost experience, someone you know or events in your own all of them already have a title. However, if one of life? those ideas gets to the next stage and further, I wouldn’t be surprised if the title changes.

I went to some lengths to ensure the book, which is set in 1941, is as factually correct as I could Likewise, the title for this book has changed so make it, however I obviously don’t have personal many times. It was “Red Rain” for a very long experience of that time (I’d have to be a vampire if time, before being “What I Am” and then “The I did, hmm).

Darkness Inside”. All of these titles came about

There are characters based on real people, or rather parts of them. Interestingly, this was done subconsciously. The character of Susan, for example, I didn’t realise until somewhere around the fourth draft was actually someone from my childhood. Not totally, of course, but there was a person called Susan who shared some of her qualities.

There’s also a cameo from a family member that very few people know about.

This first book introduces Beth and her family, and is somewhat of a horror, drama, mystery novel as Beth discovers some pretty big secrets about herself and those around her. Set almost entirely in London in 1941, the world is at war with itself.

Beth is on the cusp of womanhood and changes are afoot, but more than she could ever expect.

With sinister cravings and evidence of foul misdeeds, Beth isn’t just growing up, she’s growing into something inhuman, and the war outside reflects the war that ends up raging internally.

I never want to write anything conventional, and for this book (and the saga) I didn’t want to write just another vampire story. I wanted to write something far more involving and engrossing with I’ve already mentioned I have an idea for a romance. I don’t know why, but I’d love to have a go multiple layers, which I plan to carry through the at that genre even though it’s the one genre I gen- saga as a whole. erally stay away from.

Is there a genre that you’d like to write in that you haven’t tackled yet?

I also want to have a crack at out-and-out, proper What is next for you? hardcore science-fiction. And a western (for some I want to get the second book of “The Cruentus reason).

Saga” done and published next year (2014) as advertised on my dedicated cruentus-saga.com webIf you had to choose, which author would you consider site. After that, I’ll see if I have enough time to work on something outside of the cruentus world a mentor? before getting book three ready for 2015.

Dean Koontz. I’ve been asked before who inspires The bigger picture? Film rights, billion-dollar revme, and I’ve said that no one does; that it’s a deenues and a castle in the sky. [Damn! I’ve got to sire to write that inspires me. While that’s true and is still true, only recently have I realised that get a handle on these daydreams.] while I’ve always said Dean Koontz is my favourite author, he is also an inspiration and if I had to What would your readers be surprised to learn about name someone, I would definitely say he’s been a you? mentor.

Bearing in mind I have a go at anything from skyI aspire to write like him. diving to skiing to dog-sledding to bungy jumping, ice-climbing, sand-boarding, mountaineering and goodness know what else, I’ve not yet broken a Can you share a little of your current work with us? bone and only fractured one—my thumb. How? “No Shelter from Darkness” is the first book in the Embarrassingly, by catching a basketball wrong proposed five-book “The Cruentus Saga”, chroni- (trust me, only I could do that). cling the journey of, primarily, Elizabeth “Beth” Wade and whisking you, the reader, along for the ride.

No Shelter From Darkness The Cruentus Saga Book One Mark D. Evans Genre: Paranormal, Horror Publisher: Booktrope ISBN: 978-1620151396 ASIN: B00D5C9IJ4 Number of pages: 304 Cover Artist: Greg Simanson Amazon BN iTunes Book Description:

“Her hands began to shake as she looked down wide-eyed at the blood-soaked cotton that covered her.”

London emerges from the Blitz, and every corner of the city bears the scars. In the East End—a corner fairing worse than most—thirteen year-old Beth Wade endures this new way of life with her adoptive family. She also suffers the prejudice against her appearance, an abiding loneliness and now the trials of adolescence. But with this new burden comes a persisting fatigue and an unquenchable thirst that ultimately steals her into unconsciousness . . .

What happens next is the start of something Beth will fear more than the war itself. She begins to change in ways that can’t be explained by her coming-of-age, none more frightening than her need to consume blood.

The family who took her in and the former best friend who’s taken refuge in their house can never know.

Aware of the danger she poses to everyone around her, Beth has never felt more alone. But someone else knows Beth’s secret . . . someone who understands just how different she really is. He alone can decrypt her past and explain her future. But he’s been sworn to destroy her kind, and as Beth grows ever more dangerous, he’s forced to take sides.

Can Beth keep all of the secrets? Can she trust a man sworn to kill her? And can she stop the vampire within from taking her humanity?

Exerpt: Beth breathed furiously. She was exhausted, but the air she breathed had a new scent to it.

It stopped her short. Her insides jumped in excitement at the rusty metallic scent. Her jaw twitched and her body flinched. She spun her head around, toward the aroma. Oliver had felt his way back to the uneven wall and leant against it cradling his arm. He sobbed and whimpered, while looking aimlessly at it. Beth could see what he couldn’t: a jagged edge of bone poking out from his forearm. He was slightly sheltered under the broken floorboards above him, and the rain wasn’t washing away the blood that now oozed freely. Beth didn’t need to see everything. She could smell it.

Beautiful, delicious, unparalleled and unbeatable human blood.

Her head tipped forward. Her nose flared involuntarily and her lips snarled into a sadistic smile. She felt the four pointed canines being pushed out; unsheathed. The tip of her tongue curled under one of the two fangs that slid down. Her heart deafened the rain and the approaching bombers. Almost subconsciously, she lowered herself into a half-crouch, ready to pounce, and though her nails were trimmed short, her fingers curled into claws. She couldn’t even feel the hole in her palm any more. She felt nothing at all except raging bloodlust. Her brother leant there sobbing, oblivious to the bloodthirsty creature no more than a yard away that wanted nothing more than to cover everything with his precious life force. To swim in his blood.

Beth could almost taste it.

About the Author: MARK D. EVANS was born near London, England. He graduated university with a degree in something not even remotely connected with writing and went on to become a successful consultant. Then he threw it all away to chase his dream of being an author, via a considerable amount of travelling. Today, his life largely resembles that of a nomad, and he can currently be found typing away in a tiny flat in north London, sustained by coffee.

He is the author of two short stories, one of which made it into a Kindle Top Ten. His latest work is his debut novel, No Shelter from Darkness, which is the first book in his series, The Cruentus Saga.

Visit Mark online: www.markdevans.com www.markaeology.com www.cruentus-saga.com https://www.facebook.com/authormarkdevans Twitter: @TheMarkDEvan Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/markdevans

Hitchcock

By Kenya Carlton My writing niche is a bit of everything with romance thrown in. I will be the first to admit, I will never, ever write a book without someone falling in love or getting a good amount of sex. However, I will tone down the variation of hay rolling, but all of my books will have a little lovin’ in them. Now with that said, let’s talk about Alfred Hitchcock. The master of mystery always had specific themes intertwined within his mysteries. Romance thrown into one of his creepy crawlies for good measure was a must; whether it was ever after or doomed didn’t matter in the world of Hitchcock.

The famous director had his favorite themes he relied on just like a lot of authors who have a hook or thread they like to explore in different variations of their books. Whether it’s a character or a setting, some writers like to take the same theme and twist it. Sometimes it’s recognizable, but most of the time these authors are so adept at taking the reader into another world that one doesn’t see the similarities right off the bat.

The cool blonde: Hitchcock loved the unobtainable blonde. Grace Kelly was among his favorites of this sophisticated and aloof bunch. His leading ladies would always be steps out of reach of the protagonist. At times, the audience would often be misled to believe she was the villain instead of the simply beautiful love interest.

Damaged Hero: Jimmy Stewart was an emotionally and physically damaged photographer in Rear Window. In Vertigo, Jimmy Stewart was, you guessed it, scared of heights and to beat the killer he had to face his fear. To Catch a Thief is about Carey Grant having to come out of retirement to catch a thief imitating him, see this dude is flawed.

(The antagonist in Hitchcock movies were never all bad, which made for an interesting dichotomy when the viewer finds themselves rooting for the baddie.)

Bad Guys: Norman Bates wasn’t exactly the archetype for murderous hotel owner. Unassuming, no one suspected that cute Anthony Perkins of being *spoiler alert* an endearing serial killer. Dial M for Murder, Robert Cummings wanted to kill his wife and was having a hell of a time pulling it off. There were moments I was so caught up with the antagonist actual plan, I found myself unwittingly rooting for him to succeed … Wait what? Who said that!

The most important part of Hitchcock was the ambience, his setting of mood, and timing. The buildup in the birds, how could someone make a whole movie about birds flipping out be interesting? Trust me, I have no idea, but those flying rats did become scary for two hours. Now I am completely aware that this is a book blog, so why the hell are we reading about Hitchcock? Watching a Hitchcock movie is an experience, similar to reading a book. With several moving pieces to construct—i..e characters, settings, plot, and pacing—it takes a lot to keep a reader interested. Crafting a good book, which someone actually takes time out of their lives to read, is an amazing art.

Devil’s Play Sweet as Sin Series Book Two Kenya Carlton Genre: Paranormal Multicultural Erotic Publisher: Parker Publishing Date of Publication: May 25, 2013 ISBN: 978-1-60043-130-2 Number of pages: 169 Book Description: Snuggled within the warm embrace of marital bliss, biologically altered army Captain Drake Devilin and his supernatural bride Sienna face their biggest challenge to date.

Called back for duty in World War II, Drake must leave his amazing life behind and join his troop to fight the Nazis. Although he’s certain his new mission is merely a rouse to obtain his most precious commodity, his wife, Drake leaves, but not before giving Sienna a magical necklace in the hope it will protect her against unknown enemies.

Lured from her prosperous island by a sorcerer who is convinced she was always meant to be his bride. Sienna is challenged to play three magical games to ensure her husband’s safe return.

In each game, a limited time is given to Sienna to immerse herself into a new world, situation, and persona; find Drake; and have him acknowledge her by name. And she can’t use her powers to make it happen.

Everything dear to Sienna’s heart is put in jeopardy. Willing to fight for the love of her life and her happiness, Sienna takes on the sorcerer in his own game of cat and mouse.

About the Author: Native of Chicago Illinois, Kenya worked in the Network operation Center for PBS and TLN television stations. Executive producer of her own production company Black R.O.K Productions Kenya produced a pilot for travel series Destination Everywhere, Independent short film Dawn shown at the Chicago Latino film Festival, and wrote and directed the documentary Our Africa. Writing titles available; Jaded, Sweet as Sin, Brazil re-issue, Devil’s Play, and Remember This.

Kcbookcafe.com Twitter @kcbookcafe

Weddings from the Dark Side Wenona Napolitano I love weddings, the brilliant beauty and charm of them, the elegance, the dreamy fairy tale happily ever after ambiance…but I have another side too and really love to imagine weddings that have a darker theme.

Whether it is a fun Halloween theme, an elegant Halloween costume ball, a sexy Goth or a Fanged Vampire theme, I love wedding from the dark side. And judging from the growing popularity of vampires, zombies and all things ghoulish I am not the only one who has dreams of walking down the aisle wearing black.

Of course I am already married and I wore the traditional white gown. But if I had it to do all over again I’d wear black or red, or maybe a bit of both.

The key to having a fabulous wedding from the dark side is to keep it from being over the top and tacky. Now everyone’s idea of tacky is a little different but having expletives written across your back or the putting the bride and bridesmaids in corsets and stockings and bright colored wigs may border on the edge of tacky for many people.

One popular dark side wedding theme that keeps gaining steam is vampires thanks to the overwhelming response to Twilight and True Blood. You can totally vamp out your wedding in black, red and fangs or you can give an elegant nod to your fanged love and just include a few small details that say vampire without going overboard. A vampire cake topper (found on Etsy) would make a nice accessory to top off a white cake with red and black accents.

Halloween themes can be done very tastefully as well, if that’s your thing. Of course if you want to have fun you can always just throw a big Halloween wedding complete with the guests being invited to wear costumes.

The thing is, it is your wedding. If you walk along the darker edges then by all means have a frightfully dark wedding. Make it all about you and not what your guests will think. You can have the wedding of your dreams…or nightmares, depending on your style.

Whether you want to have a frightfully fun wedding or a ghoulish gala what you need is out there and if you can’t find it you can always get creative and make it yourself.

If inspiration is what you seek check out www.weddingskulls.com for all things creepy, gothic and wedding related. The creator of Wedding Skulls, Stephanie Green, has e-books available for purchase on planning Halloween and Gothic Weddings.

Another great place to get great ideas and DIY projects for Halloween wedding themes is All Hallows Design, http://allhallowsdesign.blogspot.com, where it’s Halloween all the time.

To see photos of a real Halloween wedding that is beautiful, elegant and tasteful check out these fantastic photos from Janae Shields: http://blog.janaeshields.com/2008/11/halloween-wedding-monique-mark.html For fun how-to’s and Goth inspiration check out the Gothic Martha Stewart at http://www.trystancraft.com/ martha/index.html Google “Halloween wedding” and go to images- it’s a plethora of ideas just waiting to inspire.

And if you are in the New York City, New Jersey, or the Pennsylvania area Pink Cake Box makes the most awesome cakes ever, you should see their Corpse Bride Cake and their beautiful and classy red, white and black cakes, perfect for black tie event or an elegant nod to the dark side. Have fun planning your wedding from the dark side.

Neiko’s Five Land Adventure The Neiko Adventure Saga Book One A.K. Taylor Genre: YA Fantasy Action Adventure Publisher: Two Harbors Press Date of Publication: September 1, 2010 ISBN: 978-1936198856 ASIN: B0051WJP0S Number of pages: 354 Word Count: Approx 101K Cover Artist: A.K. Taylor, Kristeen Autographed Kindle and Paperback Amazon Paperback Kindle My Book Orders Nook Amazon UK Sony Ebooks.com Kobo iBookstore Book Description: The Indians and the Crackedskulls are locked in the turmoil of war and presently in a stalemate. Her enemies, Raven and Bloodhawk, have come up with a scheme to up the ante and break the stalemate into their favor. Neiko later finds out that a land she thought she had only imagined is actually real and contains a legendary and otherworldly evil within it. Not only that, she becomes trapped there and must escape the world, the people within it, and the sinister evil within.

Neiko must find her way back home and turn the tables on her enemies. Can she come back home and escape the evil that seeks to claim her?

Neiko’s Five Land Adventure Excerpt: After her eyes adjusted to the glare, the two friends could see there was a cavern that was full of perfect crystals. They were in all shapes, sizes, and colors and they came out of the walls, floor, and ceiling. The beauty was spellbinding. “Wow! If I found this in Hawote, then I’d be rich! This is a rock collector’s dream come true!”

“Yeah, but didn’t you say that there were writings about Ramses somewhere in here? I wonder where the ruins of Shadazar are,” Quickstrike rambled.

“Somewhere in here, I guess, and I think we’re close. Let’s keep walking and look at the walls. If there are any branch-offs, then we’ll split up. If you find anything, then come looking.”

“Actually, I’d rather stick together, so we won’t get separated.”

“Good idea, well, I like that idea better too,” she said as they journeyed deep into the caverns. They walked and looked at the walls, but all they found were arrangements and shapes created by crystal; they gleamed and sparkled when the light hit them like multicolored diamonds. Luckily for them, there were no branch-offs, and the caverns appeared as if they were carved into the crystal. New formations were growing in the hewn walls.

Neiko found several broken pieces on the cavern floor; she picked them up and slipped them into her pocket.

“Look, there’s an exit up ahead,” said Quickstrike as he saw a break in the glamour and a darkened cave. As they entered the door, darkness overtook them and there were ruins just ahead. “We found what’s left of ancient Shadazar!”

“Yeah, and we have an underground lake to cross. I wonder what’s on the other side.”

“I dunno, but I’ve noticed the further we go in, the further we go back in time, so that could mean the writings are probably after the lake. How do we get across?”

“There’s a boat right there.” They climbed into the boat, and Neiko got the oars and began to paddle while Quickstrike carried the torch. They could see broken columns and the remains of a bridge that possibly was a shortcut long ago towering over them. She kept paddling, and then they saw a waterfall just ahead.

Neiko paddled around it and parked the boat on the bank of the hidden cavern. When they entered the hallway, there were pictures and writings. “Neiko, look! We found it!”

“Hmm,” she said as she looked at the letters which were surprisingly in the alphabet of her tribe.

“Well, it’s written in English, but it is written in the alphabet of my tribe. This will be easy for me to translate.”

“That’s good. So, what does it say?”

Neiko looked at the battling figures and the dark, shadowy form of the Dark Pharaoh fighting and slaying them. She ran her finger under the letters as she read. “This is talking about something called the Good Pharaohs. It says that God created powerful beings called Pharaohs to protect the universe from evil.

Escape from Ancient Egypt The Neiko Adventure Saga Book Two A.K. Taylor Genre: YA Fantasy Action Adventure/ Historical Fantasy, time travel Publisher: Telemachus Press ISBN: 978-1484107355 ASIN: B00AR3G4MS Number of pages: 290 Word Count: Approx. 90K Cover Artist: A.K. Taylor, Steve Himes Autographed Ebook and Paperback Amazon Paperback Createspace

Amazon Amazon UK Smashwords Nook Kobo iBookstore Book Description: Seeking his revenge on Neiko for exposing him, Francesco banishes Neiko into ancient Egypt just like he did her friends eleven years ago. During her stay there, she unravels the mystery of what happened to her four friends.

Now she’s faced with a bigger problem—how to get home. After a series of unfortunate events, Neiko is now entangled with Pharaoh Ramesses II. Francesco also comes to make sure their fates are sealed. Can Neiko and her friends beat impossible odds and return to Hawote and back to the present?

Escape from Ancient Egypt Excerpt: Neiko’s vision turned from the green light to the world spinning around her in dizzying speed. Neiko wasn’t moving, but she felt like she was in freefall—like someone had cut the cable from an elevator and she was plummeting with it. Descending in what—space and time? The evergreen and colorful deciduous vegetation of the Hawote woodlands changed to a desert with a river with some greenery and palms nearby. The cool autumn air of Hawote in October transformed into stifling, searing, dry heat. Pyramids, sphinxes, and strange statues spun around her after her house, porch, and front yard disappeared within the vortex. It was nighttime in Hawote, but the sun rose and set as time flew by—from west to east--backwards. Beneath her bare feet the wood from her front porch turned to nothing then into hot, soft sand.

Neiko’s world stopped spinning, and the sun was high in the sky. Neiko watched the sun to be sure it didn’t move again. Wherever she ended up, she guessed the time must be about high noon there judging by the sun’s position in the sky after a few moments of observation. The heat was intense, and she discovered she must be somewhere far from home. “Where?” was the ultimate question. A gust of wind blew the feathers in her long, black hair. Her hair wrapped around her face, and she brushed it back. Sweat beaded out on her body, and she tugged at her shirt and headband. “Phew! It’s hot out here! Where am I--Death Valley?” she asked. Death Valley was the only desert place she thought of off the top of her head. She had never been there, but she’d read and watched TV programs about the place. She looked around, and a city was only a few feet away. She could see the buildings down below from the high dune where she stood. She took a deep breath and fingered the fringed sheath of her knife to reassure her confidence—without thinking and by instinct. Then after a few more seconds, she trudged down to the city in the soft sand from the dune to go find some answers.

Neiko entered the city still dressed in her buckskin, decorated warrior clothes and painted for war. As she took in the sights and from the confusion, she had forgotten she was armed. Her machete was sheathed to her back, and so was her knife on her side. Incense, perfumes, and music filled the air. She didn’t recognize any of the smells, but the music seemed to be like Egyptian reenactments in movies. The buildings were white alabaster covered in brilliant wall paintings. Some men rode on camels like horses and others led them by a leash. Chariots cantered by. Neiko looked around in amazement. This ruled out Death Valley, Arizona. Neiko lifted her eyes to the sun to get a bearing on north. North was as good of a direction as any to begin a search for answers. After her eyes fell from the sun and to the north, she could see the Pyramids of Giza towering in the distance. She recognized them instantly. She had seen enough pictures and documentaries on the monuments—they were unmistakable. Even though they were miles away, they towered above the city and in view. This definitely wasn’t Death Valley.

In that case I can get on the first flight home, she thought. She believed that she had landed in Cairo. This city came to mind because it's the only one close to the Pyramids of Giza. Then she realized she didn’t have any money as she put her hands in the pockets of her buckskin shorts and only felt the house key. She had left her wallet in the car back at home when she left from Phoenix’s house after the battle.

“Well, I can probably make up some story that I was abducted or something—which is sort of true. Really funny, Francesco. I guess you meant no way back since I’m broke. I’ll hitchhike back to Hawote if I have to.

I’ll scrounge around to see if I can find some change for a pay phone on the road,” she remarked to herself, and maybe the phone book would have some information on where to find an airport or something. But, then again, would the phonebook be written in English or Arabic? It was a chance she had to take. The worst that could happen was not getting anywhere.

Neiko began walking to find help, change, a pay phone, the U.S. Embassy, an airport, or whatever she could find first. After a few more minutes of exploring, she recognized the clothing of the people: white linen kilts, some wore robes and fine jewelry, some wore headcloths while others did not. No one seemed to be dressed like the Arab residents of 21st century Egypt. “Why is everyone dressed like ancient Egyptians?” she asked herself. She wondered if this was some sort of a cult or a weird secret society that lived like the Amish in Cairo.

A small group of armed soldiers marched in front of her, but they didn’t pay any attention to her.

They carried swords, shields, spears, and were dressed in ancient Egyptian armor. She had seen it in books and movies. They weren’t carrying guns or dressed in desert camouflage BDUs like Egyptian soldiers of the 21st century.

She headed farther in to the marketplace. It was obvious since people had shops and bazaars selling goods. People were yelling and haggling. People thrust things at Neiko trying to entice her to buy. Neiko put up her hands and shook her head. She couldn’t understand a word anyone was saying. Funny, no one seemed to be selling T-shirts, souvenirs, or that type stuff for tourists. Quite frankly, no one seemed to be selling any maps.

Neiko walked up to a man who was a merchant at a bazaar. He was selling all manner of fine jewelry. Heavy collars, bracelets, necklaces, arm pieces, earrings were on display. All gaudy like the ancient Egyptians liked. “Excuse me, can you tell me where I am? I seem to be lost. Do you know where I can find a map or where the airport is? A phone?” she asked as she made her hand like a phone and put it to her ear; her thumb the earpiece and her pinkie the mouthpiece.

The man looked at her startled because of her strange appearance and because he couldn’t understand her. He was dressed in linen like everyone else and sported some of that same Egyptian bling since he was a successful jeweler.

“That’s a little out of style, don’t you think? I mean, guys don’t wear eyeliner…and, that skirt and that sheet on your head are not how people dress nowadays. People dress like ancient Egyptians only on Halloween.

Last I checked it was still three weeks away,” Neiko said to the man as she shook her head.

About the Author: A.K. Taylor grew up in the backwoods of Georgia where she learned about nature. She enjoys hunting and fishing, beekeeping, gardening, archery, shooting, hiking, and has various collections. She also has interest in music, Native American history and heritage, Egyptian history, and the natural sciences. A.K. Taylor has been writing and drawing since the age of 16. A.K. Taylor has graduated from the University of Georgia with a biology degree, and she shares an interest in herpetology with her husband.

Twitter Facebook Profile Fanpage Goodreads Blog/Website New Author Education Blog Amazon Librarything Google+ Newsletter Signup Link http://eepurl.com/zXRvD Authorgraph Link http://www.authorgraph.com/authors/ A_K_Taylor

Excerpt Danica leaned against the doorframe and reflected on the various stages of childhood and adolescence she had gone through while occupying this room. The rainbow-painted walls her mother had painstakingly decorated for her had been replaced with posters of boy bands and television heartthrobs until her mother had died. After the funeral, Danica had come home and removed all the posters in a fit of rage, wanting to be surrounded once more by her mother’s rainbows. The last year she had spent in this room, she had felt comforted by those rainbows, as if her mother’s love had been forever sealed beneath the paintbrush strokes on her walls.

"I missed this old place," she whispered.

A sudden rush of cold air moving down the hallway caused Danica to turn away from the bedroom door and peer into the darkness behind her. She took a few steps further down the hall until the aroma of cigar smoke mixed with a hint of brandy wafted in the air around her. Danica remembered that smell. It had always filled her bedroom whenever the dark man would appear.

"Is it you?" she softly called into the hallway. "It’s me, Danica. I’ve come back. Just like I said I would."

Danica walked briskly past the entrance to the master bath to the final door at the end of the hall. Without hesitation, she pushed the cypress door open and walked inside the master bedroom. The light from the large picture window overlooking the courtyard shone into the room, accentuating the deep burgundy color of the carpet beneath her feet. She stepped into the center of the room and observed the ceiling fan above. Danica waited, straining with every breath to hear the slightest stirring.

"Welcome home," a man’s wispy voice resonated around her.

A hopeful smile curled the edges of Danica’s heart-shaped mouth. "Thank you, Gaston. It’s good to be home."

A few minutes later, Danica returned to the living room, where she found Pat scrolling through messages on her cell phone.

"Let’s sign the papers," Danica happily announced. "I want to get moved in as soon as possible."

Pat gave her a wary going-over with her brown eyes. "You positive about this, Danica? I need to make sure you’re aware that other tenants have had problems—" "It’s fine, Pat. I know you said the place is haunted and people have had some bad experiences, but this…."

Danica waved to the room around her. "Just feels right."

Pat gave a skeptical shrug. "I have the papers ready back at the office. The rent is eight hundred and fifty a month. Mr. Caruso wanted me to charge you the same rate he charged your father. He insisted I make this as appealing to you as possible. You must have made quite an impression on the old man when you were a kid.

He never cuts anyone a deal."

"Please tell Mr. Caruso I appreciate it."

Pat replaced her cell phone in her front jacket pocket. "Let’s turn off all of these lights and head back to the office."

Suddenly, from the shuttered window beside them, three loud knocks reverberated across the room.

Pat grabbed at her chest. "Jesus! What in the hell was that?"

Danica smirked as she watched the color drain from Pat’s perfectly made-up face. "Just someone outside on the street banging on the wall…happened a lot when I was a kid. Drunk tourists would often bang on the shutters at all hours."

Pat regained her composure. "Of course, you’re right. I didn’t think of that."

Danica motioned to the pocket doors leading to the kitchen. "Let’s get you out of here, Pat, before you have a heart attack."

"Gladly," Pat offered and rushed to the doors. "I never liked this place. I just hope you know what you’re doing, Danica."

"I know," Danica asserted with a grin. "I’ve always known."

The Ghosts of Rue Dumaine Alexandrea Weis Genre: Paranormal Romance Publisher: World Castle Publishing Date of Publication: 9/1/2013 ISBN: 1939865646 ASIN: Number of pages: 240 Word Count: 82,000 Amazon Book Description: Ready to get her life back on track after ending a painful

marriage, Danica Giles returns to the Creole cottage where she grew up in the New Orleans French Quarter. Danica is anxious to rekindle her friendship with a former resident from her old neighborhood, the seductive Gaston Deslonde. But Gaston isn’t exactly a normal guy.

The charming man has been dead for over a hundred and fifty years, and the childish crush Danica once had on her ghostly playmate quickly turns into something much deeper.

When a handsome new man enters Danica’s life, Gaston vows to do whatever he can to hold on to her. Danica soon discovers that the most forbidden of all desires cannot be satisfied without paying a grave price. Love can blur the lines between life and death when you are living among The Ghosts of Rue Dumaine.

About the Author: Alexandrea Weis is an advanced practice registered nurse who was born and raised in New Orleans. Her first novel, To My Senses, introduced readers to the world of Nicci Beauvoir and garnered numerous awards and rave reviews.

Her popular second Nicci Beauvoir novel, Recovery, won the Gold Medal for best romantic suspense from The Reader’s Favorite Book Awards 2011, and was named best Romantic Suspense novel by the Spring 2011 NABE Pinnacle Book Awards. Her fourth novel, Broken Wings, won best Contemporary Romance by the NABE Pinnacle Book Awards in 2012, was a Silver Medal winner in the ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year Awards for Romance, as well as a finalist in the USA Book Awards for Romance in 2012, and a finalist in the Reader’s Favorite Book Awards for Contemporary Romance for 2012. Diary of a One-Night Stand, was released in August 2012 and was named a Paranormal Romance Guild’s Best Reviewed of 2012. Her last novel, Acadian Waltz was a Readers’ Favorite Book Awards finalist for Best Contemporary Romance and Best Southern Fiction.

A permitted wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries, Weis rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans. https://www.facebook.com/pages/To-MySenses/113609858681394 https://twitter.com/alexandreaweis http://www.alexandreaweis.com/index.html http://www.goodreads.com/author/ show/1211671.Alexandrea_Weis http://alexandreaweiscom.blogspot.com/

Excerpt from Kain First chapter: Chase Brigham twirled the tip of his salt-and-pepper goatee, mesmerized by the bright graphs flickering on a computer screen: breath rate, heart rate, neurotransmitter and hormone levels, all the vitals. He snapped his fingers. “Skirra, increase the current.”

“Yes, Sir.” The female assistant in a snug ivory labcoat adjusted her glasses, and pecked an entry into a portable computer beside the examination chair. “Output is increased by twenty units.” She chewed a fingernail and tapped her foot, transfixed with the screen.

Skirra let out a long breath, and her eyes settled on the youth in the chair: twenty-four years of age, he was among the specimens in perfect condition. A silver helmet capped his skull, wild with protruding lights and wires, exposing tufts of flaxen hair; electrodes dotted his smooth and sturdy chest; thick leather bands clamped his rugged arms and ankles to the chair.

His head tilted to one side, with eyes closed, breaths cresting in shallow and frequent gasps.

The height recorded on his medical chart read an inch or two shorter than the other soldiers in his class.

“He’s primed.” Brigham turned to Skirra, pointing at the screen. “Inject him.”

“Sir, Commander Brigham, Sir, if I may speak--” Skirra curled her right hand into a mousy fist and lifted it to her chest, saluting him. “The biomedical research team in the Nanotech Department submitted a recent study of the compounds for review, and--” Her eyes darted to the side, and she rubbed her bitten nails together. “One of the primates in the experiment went mad.”

Brigham stared at her, dark eyes blazing, but didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He didn’t blink.

Skirra swallowed, and ducked her head forward in an anticipating nod. “Sir, not to say I am comparing your investments to a bunch of monkeys, Sir--” She offered another pantomimed salute. “I believe... this injection will progress our work and bring Glory to the Empire, Sir!” Brigham tilted his head back, rustling a mane of waist-length silver hair. He raised his eyebrows. “Then do it.”

Skirra traced her fingers over pencil-thin lids on a rack of vials on the table, hefty onyx rings glittering on her fingers. She selected a vial, a glass tube with a murky, bloody liquid,

and unscrewed the lid. She opened a disinfectant pad, and prepared a cotton ball; she jammed her syringe into the vial, extracting the necessary liquid for the experiment.

“And that is the department’s shortcoming.” Brigham wandered closer to the examination chair, staring at the youth. “They have become so obsessed with transcending human limitations that they’ve grown disgusted with the body.” He glanced at the screen, a satisfied smile twisting his lips. “It will forever retard their efforts.”

Skirra blotted the youth’s arm with a disinfectant-soaked cotton ball. “How is that, Sir?” “The will to live is something animal, irrational. It can’t be quantified. It can’t be predicted.

So they eschew it, negate it from their calculations.” Brigham glanced at the digital clock in military time on the wall. “But that same will is infinitely powerful, and if they could learn to master it, to subdue it...” He clenched a fist and shook his head. “If they could bend that power to serve their goals--” Skirra drove the needle into the youth’s arm.

“If we don’t push him to the limits--” Brigham rested an arm against the back of the chair, surveying the unconscious man. “We won’t ever know what he’s fully capable of doing. If we don’t understand his capabilities, we’ll never be able to control him; and, if we can’t properly control him, we’ll never be able to utilize those capabilities.”

Beads of sweat pooled on Skirra’s forehead as she monitored the values on the screen.

Brigham spun around and paced toward the door, twirling his goatee, deep in thought. A long kluzein baton dangled from his belt and knocked against his leg.

Skirra waited for Brigham to turn his back, and reached to give the subject’s hand a firm squeeze. She pressed her palm against his bare chest, and worry warped her face. She bit the fingernails on her free hand.

Brigham tapped his fingers against the back of the examination chair, studying Skirra.

“Oh! Sir!” She threw both hands into the air and blushed. “Sir, I--Oh--” She tucked her arms into her chest. “Sir, his vitals are stable!”

“Let’s begin.” Brigham marched toward the chair.

She scampered away and leered at the restrained man, lurking behind Brigham’s broad shoulders.

Brigham loomed over the youth, and with a sharp gesture of the hand, spit the booming command: “Aadima.”

The youth stirred from his drug-induced catatonia. He rolled his head to one side, the silver wired crown tipping forward, and slowly sat upright, confined by the bonds of the chair. His eyes fluttered open, brown, wide, and blank, reflecting an awareness scrambled.

He squinted, struggling to draw Brigham into focus. A moment passed: he shook the fog out of his head, and his posture stiffened, recognizing the man in front of him. He pounded a fist against his chest in salute. “Commander Brigham, Sir!” Brigham looked to the screen; he glanced at his watch, and turned to Skirra. “Thirty-seven seconds. Note it.”

Skirra fumbled with an electronic notepad, trembling and tapping in her notes.

Brigham knelt on one knee beside the examination chair, and waved an intricate series of hand gesticulations in the subject’s face. “Greetings, Kain.”

The man sat rigid in the chair, staring blankly ahead.

“Dvitiiya.” Brigham paired his command with a symphony of motor signals. “Disable.”

“Secondary Dvitiiya functions.” The youth spoke in an empty voice. “Disabled, Sir.” “Kain.” Brigham climbed to his feet, clutching the back of the chair. “Tritiiya.”

The subject remained frozen in his chair, eyes glossy and unblinking.

“Damn you!” Brigham grabbed a flat remote from his pocket, pointed it at the man in the chair and clicked.

The youth moaned, violent tremors wracking his body. He convulsed and flopped in the chair, the leather bonds subduing him, holding him in place.

Skirra brought her hands to her head, watching in horror as graphs spiked and numbers soared.

“There are no uses for faulty machinery!” Brigham towered over the shackled youth, indifferent to his pain. “None! You remember that.”

Skirra glanced at the clock, and chewed her nails.

“Kain.” Brigham cleared his throat. “Load Tritiiya.”

The subject’s breathing slowed and he shifted his posture, sitting upright. He stared ahead, speaking in a monotone. “Tertiary Tritiiya functions loaded, Sir.” “Kain.” Brigham waved his hand, and spoke in a thunderous voice. “Load Caturtha.”

“Identification confirmed: granting access to restricted Caturtha systems.” He mechanically rotated his head toward the floor, and spoke with eyes closed. “Proceed with instructions.”

Skirra slinked beside Brigham, and lifted a pair of clunky taupe goggles covered in a swarm of blinking lights. She leaned over the chair and rested the goggles on the bridge of the youth’s nose, and fitted the frames, one at a time, over his ears with a gentle touch. She paused, her rings glittering beneath the blinding light above the exam chair, and compulsively thumbed the bristle of hair poking out beneath his helmet. She stroked his temples once, twice, before yanking her hands away and lifting them into the air. “Sir, goggles are ready, Sir!” Her cheeks blushed.

“Kain, do you recognize the image of this man?” He drummed his fingers against the back of the chair.

“Recognition affirmative, Sir.” “Spectacular.” Brigham joined his hands in a deafening clap. “Execute primary Caturtha commands, and target this man.”

“Target confirmed, Sir.” He stared in a daze at the lightshow provided by the goggles.

“Requesting variables of mission duration, Sir.” Brigham pealed his final command. “Caturtha functions will terminate when his Glorious duties are fulfilled.”

The youth twitched. “Parameters understood, Sir. Caturtha, execution complete. Awaiting further instruction.”

Brigham waved dismissively. “Kain, I require no further services from you today.”

The youth’s eyes fell shut and he slumped forward in the chair, restrained by the leather bonds.

Skirra hovered over his body, moving to take the glasses away. She paused, glancing at his chest, and swiped the goggles from his face, retreating behind Brigham.

“Skirra, send for Krodha. We’re finished today.” Brigham turned and strode toward the door.

Skirra stood up on her toes, lifting a hand to her mouth, and reached out, groping with words, with questions. “Ahem--Yes--” Brigham exited. The electronic door slammed shut.

Skirra curled a limp fist against her chest. “Sir--” She trotted to the desk and lowered her head over the intra-complex communications device. She pushed a button and made demands through a speaker. “Session cleanup required!”

Skirra scrambled across the floor and knelt beside her subject. Unimpressed with the numbers on the screen, she clutched his lifeless hand. She struggled to loosen his bonds, wiggling the straps, and succeeded enough to rotate his wrist so his palm faced up. She felt for one pulse point, pawing at his flesh until she found it, and repeated the action on a second pulse point.

She tugged at the straps binding his other wrist, and felt again for one pulse point, two pulse points, pressing the pads of her fingers into his skin. “You poor thing.” She removed the helmet from his head and ran a hand beneath his chin, pinching his cheeks together, watching his lips pout.

The electronic doors to the examination room clicked open.

Skirra leapt away from the chair, eyes wide.

A broad-shouldered hellion stormed into the room, dressed in a black uniform wrapping tightly over every bulging vein, every curving muscle of his body. He had a mane of black ringlets, square jaw, and frosty eyes. “You said you were finished!” His lips curled when he spoke, revealing a flash of teeth.

Skirra made a trembling salute at her chest. “Yes, Krodha, my apologies, Sir--” She rushed to the table and dutifully unbound her subject, unhooked him. She found a knit grey sweater on the floor and tugged it over his head.

Krodha stomped toward the unconscious youth, grabbed both of his wrists, and ripped him from the chair.

He drooped in Krodha’s arms, feet dragging on the floor.

Krodha hoisted him up and gave him a shove.

The youth’s legs folded and he crashed against the floor, cracking his elbow, smacking his face against the hard tile.

“Aah!” Skirra zipped across the room and dove onto the floor, rolling her subject over and resting his head on her lap. She ran her fingers across his forehead, through his hair. “Be careful with him!” She rebuked Krodha with a pointed finger.

“Ms. Department Head, you know all about Ascended Machine Technology.” Krodha squatted, wrapped one of the youth’s arms around his neck and held a steady grip on one of his legs, hoisting him onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. “You know how it works.”

Skirra swallowed.

Krodha dropped him.

The youth crashed against the floor, landing on his back.

Krodha kicked him in the ribs with a cold laugh, and squatted to hoist him into another carry. He sauntered to the edge of the doorway, the youth dangling over his shoulders, and glanced at Skirra. “You engineered this stupid mongrel to take a beating.”

Kain Sex, Drugs, and Cyberpunk Book One Brie McGill Genre: Cyberpunk/Steamy Romance ISBN: 148267324X ASIN: B00CQ8BJLI Number of pages: 323 Word Count: 115,000 Cover Artist: Jeanne Quinn Amazon Book Description:

Counting days is irrelevant in the life of a well-to-do man, unless he counts the days passed in total service to the Empire. Salute. Submit. Shut up and scan the wrist. Therapists armed with batons and brass knuckles guide the derelict along a well-beaten path to Glory.

When human experiment Lukian Valentin escapes the Empire to save his crumbling sanity--through a grimescape of fissured highways, collapsing factories, putrescent sewers--he realizes the fight isn’t only for his life, it’s for his mind.

Torturous flashbacks from a murky past spur him on a quest for freedom, while the Empire’s elite retrievers remain at his heels, determined to bring him home for repair.

Lukian needs one doctor to remove the implanted chips from his body, and another to serve him a tall glass of answers.

Lukian attempts a psychedelic salvage of his partitioned mind, gleaning fragments of the painful truth about his identity.

A scorching, clothes-ripping rendezvous with a mysterious woman offers Lukian a glimpse of his humanity, and respite from his nightmarish past. It also provides the Empire the perfect weakness to exploit for his recapture.

To rise to the challenge of protecting his new life, his freedom of thought, and his one shot at love, Lukian must reach deep into his mind to find his true identity. To defeat the Empire, he requires the deadly power of his former self--a power that threatens to consume him.

About the Author: Doctors suspect Brie developed an overactive imagination during childhood to cope with the expansive corn maze known as rural Pennsylvania. Unable to afford an operation to have the stories surgically removed from her brain, she opted instead to write them down.

Brie lives in British Columbia with her boyfriend and naughty black cat, somewhere not too far from the sea. She enjoys trips to the local farm, chatting with her longdistance friends on a rotary phone, and roflstomping video games from the nineties.

Brie's favorite authors include Anne Rice, George Orwell, and Hunter S. Thompson.

Official page: www.sexdrugsandcyberpunk.com

Plastic Laundry Detergent Bottle Transformed into a Bejeweled Black Halloween Cat

By Wenona Napolitano Supply List: Large Plastic Laundry Detergent Bottle Fine Grit Sandpaper Black Spray Paint for Plastic Glue Gun Glue Sticks Scissors 1 Black Sheet of Craft Foam for the ears 1 Piece of Black Craft Felt for the tail Assorted Collection of Flat Backed Faceted Acrylic Jewels (Used Jewelry Essentials Jewels Item #JC11378-123 purchased from Michaels) for eyes, nose, inside of ears, collar, paws, and tail tip. Used 2 yellow cat eye shaped jewels for the eyes, 3 clear/silver triangle jewels for inside each ear and tip of tail, two pink upside down teardrops for the nose (a pink heart could also be used), 1 clear/silver square and 8 clear/silver small octagon jewels for the collar, and 2 large round clear/silver jewels and 4 tear drop shape jewels for the paws.

Silver Fine Tipped Paint Pen (Used Elmer’s Painters Metallic Ultra Fine Silver) to draw the mouth 3 Silver Metallic Pipe Cleaners for whiskers and tail Approximate Time Needed to Complete Project: Around an hour total, not including dry time for paint Age Level: Older kids because of glue gun use, though the glue gun can be exchanged for quick dry craft glue for younger children.

Size of Finished Project: Approximately 15 -18 inches tall counting the tip of the tail

1) Grab a large plastic laundry detergent bottle that is empty and clean it out really well. Allow to dry.

2) Gently sand bottle with a fine grit sandpaper to rough it up so the paint will stick to it. Don’t bother trying to

remove the labels; they are seemingly impossible to remove. They can be painted over.

3) Take the bottle outside and spray it thoroughly with black spray paint made for plastics. You may need to apply two coats.

4) While your paint is drying gather all your materials. You’ll need black craft foam to cut out the ears, black felt and a pipe cleaner for the tail, two metallic silver pipe cleaners for the whiskers, and an assortment of jewels for the eyes, nose, ears, tip of tail, collar and paws. You’ll also need scissors, a glue gun and glue sticks.

5) Start by cutting out your ears from the black craft foam. Trace a pattern onto the foam and cut into rounded triangles.

6) Glue 1 clear or silver triangle jewel to the middle of each ear.

7) Garb your black felt and a pipe cleaner to make your tail. Roll the felt around the pipe cleaner. Cut the felt into a 2 inch wide strip. This should wrap all the way around the pipe cleaner with room to spare.

8) Have your glue gun ready and roll the pipe cleaner up glue the first fold around the pipe cleaner. It should end up between a half inch and three quarters of an inch wide.

9) Roll again and glue, seal up the ends as well.

10) Pick the tip and fold each side down and glue so the tip becomes triangular in shape. Glue a triangle jewel over the folded section to hide it.

11) If your paint is dry grab your bottle and face the front toward you. The handle should be the back that is where your tail will go. Make sure your lid is screwed on tight.

12) Attach your ears first and work your way down. Position the ears where you want them then add a little glue at the bottom of the ear and attach to the lid.

13) Now position your eyes toward the top of the bottle lid and glue them on.

14) Glue the teardrop (or pink heart) jewels below the eyes for the nose.

15) Move onto the collar and glue on all of your jewels.

16) Position your paws and glue them on.

17) Now you can glue on your tail. Make sure the folded side is down and glued against the handle of the bottle. You can bend and shape the tail to droop, twist, curl or stick up however you like best. Make sure the jeweled tip is at the top.

18) Make your whiskers with the silver pipe cleaners. It will take two pipe cleaners to make 3 whiskers on each side. Cut each pipe cleaner into three equal lengths so you end up with six pieces for six whiskers.

You can leave them straight or make them twisty by wrapping them around a pencil then stretching them out a bit. Glue each whisker on extending out from the nose.

19) Draw your mouth on with the paint pen.

20) You are done unless you want to use leftover jewels to add more decoration to your bejeweled black Halloween cat.

The Megalith Union Celtic Mythos Book Two Brad A. LaMar Illustrator: Igor Adasikov Genre: Fantasy, Myth & Fairy Tale, Middle Grades / YA Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/EyWf2pWEFrQ www.balamar.lightmessages.com Book Description:

The fate of mankind teeters on the edge of the megalith union‌ Just as life was returning to normal for Brendan as a college freshman, the hands of fate intervene and adventure besets him again in the second installment of the best-selling Celtic Mythos series.

Elathan, the golden god of Celtic lore, is reborn out of the ashes of a dead king and evil witch.

Through Brendan and his family, Elathan maneuvers the tendrils of destiny, seeking to gain ultimate power at the expense of all humanity.

Dogged by giants, alphyns, and ruas Brendan, Dorian, Lizzie, and a new cast of characters risk it all to unravel the mystery of the ultimate foe.

With Corways under attack and Brendan’s father captured by a forgotten enemy, can Brendan and his allies prevent the end of days?

As the megalith union looms, Brendan and his friends must look to the past to prevent a future where Elathan reigns supreme.

If you liked Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Fablehaven, you won't want to miss The Megalith Union!

About the Author: Brad A. LaMar is an author and educator who resides in the Indianapolis Metropolitan area.

He has worked with middle school age students for fourteen years and loves the enthusiasm they can bring to learning. Sure, he enjoys long walks on the beach at sunset, but it’s hard to beat getting into a great story whether he’s writing it himself or enjoying the fruits of someone else’s imagination.

He is married to Lori, a beautiful and supportive woman, and together they’re raising Evan and Paige, two intelligent and wonderful children. He loves the way a story can make a reader think, laugh, react, and experience a wide range of emotions. Brad has tried to deliver those experiences in his best selling YA fantasy series, Celtic Mythos, and he is thrilled to be able to continue the adventure in The Megalith Union.

Brad’s imagination is bursting with stories and he can’t wait to share them with his readers. In fact, you can look for The Dominion Pulse, book three in the Celtic Mythos series, to be released soon.

Learn more about Brad and the bestselling Celtic Mythos series at balamar.lightmessages.com www.facebook.com/bradalamar29 www.twitter.com/bradalamar29 www.goodreads.com/bradalamar www.bradalamar.com

The Un-Dead Circus The Chronicles of Orlando Book Four M.M. Shelley A circus has arrived and it brought the Un-dead with it.

Since Orlando moved to Los Angeles he had been attacked by zombies, zombie bulls, ghost and now a band of immortals want him dead.

Betrayed by someone close and running low on resources Orlando has only one option-- to join the enemy he had been fighting as he faces his biggest challenges-- facing the mysteries of the Un-Dead Circus and keeping his friends alive.

Smashwords Amazon City of the Un-Dead The Chronicles of Orlando Book Three M.M. Shelley What would you risk for immortality?

The Day of the Dead is celebrated once a year, a day when those who have died are remembered. This year the dead are returning and they are returning as an army to seek venge-

ance against Orlando.

Smashwords Amazon Dead Relatives The Chronicles of Orlando Book Two M.M. Shelley After discovering what was hidden in Mexico and having to sneak back across the border Orlando returns to Los Angeles, but is unable to return to his home.

Instead of hunting Zombies he is now hunted.

Betrayed by those he thought he could trust, Orlando must keep the truth of what he knows to himself.

That is until dead relatives return with dire warnings.

Amazon

The Zombie Story The Chronicles of Orlando Book One M.M. Shelley Unfolding on the streets of Los Angeles is a new breed of monster...

Orlando, fresh from the mid west, arrives at his new high school on his Harley Davidson.

All he wants is to make it through the day, and begin his training as a Zombie Hunter.

But someone has different plans for him.

Currently free for your Kindle

Setting the Stage for Creepiness Choosing the Perfect Locations for Story Settings There’s an old saying that truth is stranger than fiction- after some strange encounters with odd people and more than a few occurrences that left me shaking my head in disbelief I tend to agree.

There’s also advice for writers telling them to “write what they know”.

Combine these two tidbits and fiction magic can occur, especially when choosing the perfect location for a scary or unique story. There are so many fascinating and creepy locations out there that really exist it’s easy pickins for authors looking for the perfect setting.

In this feature we have three authors discussing their story settings.

Magical Places: Michigan Central Station

by Laura Bickle There are some places in the real world that have just stuck with me as I write, and have managed to work their way into my fictional worlds. These places have their own magic, their own special gravity that pulls pieces of stories around them.

One of those places is Michigan Central Station. In SPARKS, I was needing an architectural focal point. A place that was beautiful, haunted...and could serve as a way station for ghosts in my fantasy world, a gateway to the afterworld. Michigan Central Station fit the bill perfectly.

It's served as a conduit for all kinds of travelers in real life. Built in 1913, Michigan Central Station rose up in an era in which public buildings were made to be beautiful.

It was designed by the same architects who created Grand Central Station in New York. The train depot included three stories of vaulted ceilings, and the office tower was eighteen stories tall. More than four thousand travelers passed through its arches daily by 1945.

But that was not to last. By 1988, passenger rail traffic had dwindled to nearly nothing, and the station closed.

Since then, suggestions to revitalize it have been raised and discarded, and the once-beautiful building has fallen prey to vandals and disrepair. It still holds the ghost of beauty, though, in its bones...and I imagine that it holds other ghosts.

Images by Jairus: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jairus/ Vehicle City Vampire Set in Flint, MI

By Roxanne Rhoads

Hex and the Single Witch: Vehicle City Vampires Book One is paranormal romance/urban fantasy series based in and around my hometown of Flint, Michigan.

The original background for the story came to me while I was driving through downtown Flint one day. After leaving the main strip of Saginaw Street that is the “downtown” area, surrounding areas and neigh-

borhoods look like ghost towns. Businesses are boarded up, empty, and falling apart. Houses are even worse off. There are entire neighborhoods in and around Flint that are completely or almost completely empty. Out of fifty houses two may still have residents.

That’s scary on so many different levels.

Suddenly an idea popped into my head- “what if, after all the humans left, Others started moving in?”

And the basic back story of my series came to life. Flint, Michigan becomes a hotbed of supernatural activity. Ghosts, ghouls, vampires, demons and were-creatures move in and become the majority making the human population the minority.

Most of the remaining humans don’t even realize Others walk among them. A mass Hysteria of the late twentieth century almost eradicated entire species of Others- humans and Others were at war. Causalities were many on both sides. To end the war and stop the Hysteria a mass worldwide spelling was cast that made humans once again lose their memories that Other folk exist. (This spelling was massive, exhausting, and performed by magic wielding Others of many species and broadcast over radio waves, television signals and via satellite to reach as many people around the globe as possible- the spell also has to be maintained periodically) Most humans think that vampires, were-creatures and all types of Others are just movie magic and works of fiction. The spelling was so successful that Others can now walk openly among the humans and never be suspected of being Other.

The only people that see Others as the beings they really are- are those who have the faintest drop of Other in their blood and those who were so strong willed the spelling didn’t take, and of course teenagers and children who were born after the spelling took place.

The problem with this scenario is that not all Others are harmless, there are those thrive on danger, fear, and despair and revel in destruction.

So to keep the Others in line and keep supernatural crime to a minimum the Preternatural Investigation Team (dubbed the PIT Crew) was created as a special task force for the Flint Police Department.

Recruits for the PIT Crew are either Others or humans that know Others exist.

The main character of my book is Detective Anwyn Rose. She is an Other, a witch to be precise but her magic hasn’t ever been too flashy, however she has the ability to “know” things. Either by touch or just a direct line into someone’s mind, Anwyn is very useful at a crime scene. She can see what happened just by touching the victim or an object at the scene.

Her partner, Detective Mike Malone is human, and not too friendly with the “monsters”.

However he has a thing for Anwyn even if technically she could be labeled as one of the “monsters”, but Anwyn has a thing for a vampire, Galen. To Malone a vampire is the worst of all monsters especially when Anwyn’s love interest turns out to be the prime suspect in a string of killings they are investigating.

The whole situation leads to heated arguments, steamy encounters, a lot of misfiring magic- and a hot love

triangle.

And all that began with just a drive around Flint one day.

A Ride with the Krewe of Kreeps Setting the Scene in Elysian Fields Suzanne Johnson Usually, authors develop settings for particular scenes in their novels and adapt the setting to fit the scene. Every once in a while, that perfect setting comes along that completely dictates the scene.

Welcome to Six Flags New Orleans.

Here’s how Six Flags looked on August 29, 2005, after storm surge from Hurricane Katrina sank the amusement park under anywhere from six to twelve feet of water.

With nowhere to drain in this below-sea-level land, the water just sat. And sat.

Want to know what Six Flags looks like today? Take the same photo and dry up the water. Don’t repair anything. Don’t clean it up. Add some rust and graffiti. And there you have it, a monument to eternal litigation—and the creepiest place possible in which to set an urban fantasy novel.

I remember when Jazzland, as it was originally known, was being built, wondering why in the world anyone would build a theme park in a city that never exactly catered to the carnival crowd—at least not this kind of carnival. And it was a good thirty- or forty-minute drive outside the French Quarter where most visitors would be staying. Not exactly convenient. Plus, why would you want to visit cute, kitschy, Cajun- and Creole-themed buildings and rides when you could just drive down any street in town and see the real thing?

Anyway, it was no surprise to me that Six Flags New Orleans was never a financial success. But when I began seeing photos of it in 2010, still sitting out there like an amusement park for ghosts and ghouls, I knew I had to use it.

I ended up setting four scenes in Elysian Fields in the abandoned Six Flags, including much of the key climactic scene.

My heroine DJ, a wizard who doesn’t have very good aim with her ancestral elven staff (oh, and the nasty old elves want it back, by the way), has to take lessons in elven magic conducted at Six Flags. Perfect place, right?

Plenty of targets to aim at. No people.

During the lessons, she manages to set quite a few things on fire with the staff, including blowing out a chunk of this massive clown head, which looks to be about the size of a VW Beetle. She also burned down several buildings, might have sunk the Jean Lafitte Pirate Ship ride, and collapsed the Krewe of Kreeps haunted tunnel ride—although the last one was intentional.

You know, blame Stephen King but I’ve always found clowns creepy. Mr. Happy here has done nothing to improve that.

Another couple of key scenes in Six Flags involve the Flying Chairs Carousel, which comes to life in the middle of a driving rainstorm, twirling madly in the downpour, its lights flashing and music fighting to drown out the thunder.

Doesn’t it just make you feel all warm and fuzzy? No?

Me either. But it was a great place to set some scenes. Now, as I begin working on the next book in the series, I keep looking for an equally graphic and memorable place to use as a key setting, and everything has paled in comparison.

Six Flags Photo Credit: David J. Phillips/Corbis Clown Head Photo Credit: Julie Dermansky/Corbis Swing Carousel Photo Credit: Julie Dermansky/Corbis

Excerpt Imagine normalcy and contentment as a single woman suddenly interrupted by a Casper Casanova, what would you do? Have you been to a psychic for a palm reading and had your breath taken away by a gorgeous poltergeist?

Here’s an excerpt from a light paranormal romantic comedy published by Crimson Romance - “Her Ghost Wears Kilts”: ors.

“Give me your hands, my lady.” Each of Lady Nell’s fingers wore rings of silver and stones of different col-

“Be gentle,” Baillie said to be funny. “This is my first time, and I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to do or how this goes.”

Baillie closed her eyes as the woman’s warm hands enveloped hers. A soothing aroma of vanilla floated between them, even in the stifling tent. An energy level flowed between the hands, a bonding between the two women. Baillie exhaled as a single bead of sweat trickled down her chest, pooling against the bottom of her bra.

A second later, a blast of familiar chill attacked Baillie, snapping her shoulders back like a flush of ice water doused over her head. She stared at Lady Nell for assurance and watched the woman’s head move in the slightest nod. Baillie didn’t panic, nor did Lady Nell pull away. The power of the cold grew stronger around them, and Baillie clenched her teeth as the cold stung her flesh. Not a strand of hair moved, nor a hint of breeze inside the draped walls, just a soul-crippling presence of ice.

“He’s trying to talk to you,” the woman whispered with a shaky smile. Her sepia brown eyes focused beyond Baillie’s head. Baillie could almost see her reflection in their darkness.

“He? You’re telling me this is a guy, a somebody, doing this?”

“His need is important, but he doesn’t know how to communicate from the other side.”

“Who is he? I don’t understand. These weird things go on at my shop. It’s like a deep freeze one minute, off and on like a freaking switch, and I swear I hear bagpipes. This cold thing is really unnerving.” Baillie rambled almost incoherently, her face numb from cold. “I don’t understand what’s going on.” The woman’s hands tightened around Baillie’s and would have caused pain had Baillie been more cognizant.

“You are…” Lady Nell’s voice came out breathy and low.

“What? I am what?” Baillie leaned forward.

“Beautiful.” The woman actually blushed under the theatrical makeup and perspiration.

“Come again?” Baillie’s voice squeaked. “Are you hitting on me?” Nice distraction, but it didn’t explain the numbing cold still around them.

“No, that’s what he said. His words are thick with a brogue and talking so fast that’s all I understood.” Their eyes locked across the table. “He thinks you’re beautiful.”

Her Ghost Wears Kilts Kathleen Shaputis Genre: Paranormal Romance Publisher: Crimson Romance Date of Publication: August 26, 2013 ISBN: 978-14-4405-7215-9 ASIN: B00ECGP8XM Number of pages: 240 approximately Word Count: 69,660 Amazon iTunes Book Description: Drag queens, a ghost and murder, oh my. Love spirits through the modern day tale of inheritance and greed, crossing the vale between worlds.

Baillie thought life was content, successful in the Pacific Northwest until her bookshop became haunted. Inheriting a Scottish castle leads her on a wild adventure of Celtic chaos where she meets her gorgeous ghost. Finding her life in danger, Baillie calls the diva squad to the rescue: her friend Gillian Nation and his girls.

Will she choose her normal, safe existence or grab onto an unusual love that makes life magical?

About the Author: Kathleen Shaputis, author/ghostwriter, lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, Bob, where curling up with icy Diet Coke, writing romantic comedies is her ultimate paradise. www.shaputis.com Twitter Facebook Pinterest

Should a Relationship Have Secrets?

By Roxanne Rhoads Almost everyone keeps secrets but is the key to a successful relationship full disclosure?

Experts are torn on whether or not a person should keep a secret from their significant other.

Personally as long as it isn’t something super serious I think a few secrets in a relationship are healthy and perhaps necessary. Once the mystery is completely gone a relationship can grow stagnant.

Most experts believe it depends on the person, the situation, the relationship and most important-the secret. Others are adamant that full disclosure is the only way to go.

“Secrets are cancer to a relationship,” says Marriage Counselor Ace McKay, Author of The Marriage Playbook.

Dr. Dennis W. Neder, CEO of Remington Publications, the publishers of Being a Man in a Woman's World I & II thinks that secrets should be kept. “In fact, it's impossible not to. The concept of a truly ‘open and honest relationship’ is a nice sound bite, but in fact, doesn't exist.” I’m with this guy. I think it is impossible and hurtful to be completely, 100% truthful all the time.

Lisa Abbie Paz, LMFT, Ph.D. explains that “The word ‘secrets’ has a negative connotation in the realm of relationships because it implies an active choice to ‘hide’ information and that feels inauthentic. However, individuals ARE entitled to their privacy. Not every relationship requires 100% disclosure - in fact I would say 100% disclosure is problematic.” Yeah guys, like when she asks you if she looks fat in those pants, tell her no even if she does. If you tell her yes, there will be blood.

Victorya Rogers, Life & Love Coach, author of the books Finding a Man Worth Keeping and The Automatic 2nd Date believes “Intimate details of past loves are best kept secret. Can your partner know you have had previous serious relationships and minor information about that person, sure. But they do not need to know everything including positions, quantity, location and any other details of your previous physical relationship. There is a difference between honesty and advertising.” Unless of course you are with a voyeuristic person who gets off on details like that. To each their own I suppose.

In Breathing Room - Creating Space to Be a Couple, Relationship Coach Elayne Savage, PhD writes that secrets can inhibit intimacy, that true intimacy is “sharing your secret thoughts and feelings, allowing yourself to expand, opening your heart, so your truest essence is revealed. It means inviting another person into this sacred space and understanding that the other person is willing to allow you in, as well.” I don’t know about you but my sacred place needs a little space, I can be intimate without letting go of all my feminine mystique.

Jeanine Swatton, Relationship Coach says “In my opinion, I feel as though secrets should not exist in a relationship unless you are planning a surprise birthday party or other special event.”

This is what most experts agree on, “little harmless secrets” are no big deal in a relationship. Your significant other is likely to get more upset if you didn’t keep the secret.

Thomas Edwards Jr., Dating & Lifestyle Development Coach believes that “every relationship, the dynamic is different and it can definitely be an, "it depends" kind of thing.” He also says “The most damaging secret to keep would be if you had (or are having) an affair. It will only fester and explode down the road, causing insurmountable damage.” Other experts disagree believing that if the affair is over, or if it was a onetime deal you will only hurt your partner by confessing. Keep it a secret otherwise you risk ruining your relationship.

Edwards also believes, as do many other experts, that common ‘secrets’ should be shared before getting into a serious committed relationship: STDs, kids and child support, if you have been divorced, your financial situation, family issues, if there’s a history of genetic diseases, etc.

Julie Spira, Dating Coach and Bestselling Author of The Perils of Cyber-Dating: Confessions of a Hopeful Romantic Looking for Love Online agrees and says that you should offer the truth “If there is something from your past that could affect the physical, emotional, or financial health of your partner.”

Comedian and author of God is a Woman: Dating Disasters, Ian Coburn thinks that complete honesty is the only way to go. “We don't keep secrets for our significant other and their best interests. We keep secrets for ourselves and our best interests. When you keep secrets, you rob people of control over their own decisions.

Keeping secrets is simply a form of manipulation and that's never good.”

“There is no "right" or "wrong" answer about keeping secrets,” says Chris Auer, M.A. I think Debbie Mandel, M.A., author of Addicted to Stress sums it up best, “We all have buried treasure and do not need to reveal our fantasies, innermost thoughts to another nor by the same token does the other person… if you need to get it off your chest to feel lighter, then do it. The truth will set you free. However, only you can make this decision. Keep in mind that everyone comes to a relationship with baggage, and the important thing is to get rid of idealizations and deal with reality to make a fresh start.”

So in the end it’s up to you whether or not you want to keep secrets in your relationship. You just have to use your better judgment and hope you make the right choice.

Halloween Interview with the Witches from Paranormal Pleasures Roxanne Rhoads I recently had the pleasure of chatting about Halloween with a few of the witches from my erotic short story collection Paranormal Pleasures: Ten Tales of Supernatural Seduction.

Here’s what transpired: I started with Marissa from “A Last Goodbye”. Marissa is new to the supernatural world, being a late bloomer with her magic but her trainer, Deirdre, who happens to be a vampire, is showing her the ropes and helping her acclimate quite well.

RR: So Marissa how are you celebrating Halloween this year?

Marissa: Deirdre’s brother Dante is throwing a Masquerade Ball at his mansion, it’s going to be blast.

RR: Are you going in costume?

Marissa: Yes I’m wearing a Marie Antoinette era gown and gorgeous mask- authentic too, no reproductions. It was Deirdre’s, you know vampires, they are such hoarders, which can come in handy when you’re searching for rare antiques and vintage clothing.

RR: I would love to peak into her closet, or should I say closets? Considering she’s been around for a long time I bet she has tons of clothes.

Marissa: Oh she does, I haven’t even begun to see everything. I’ve only been to two of her houses here in the states, she and Dante share several in Europe.

RR: Vampires and their luxuries…

Marissa: You know it.

As Marissa giggles thinking about her new life full of vampires I turn to Ariadne from “Witch in the Middle”. Ariadne has not one but two gorgeous men in her life. Such a greedy witch  RR: Hi Ariadne, how are you celebrating Halloween this year? Anything special planned?

Ariadne: I’ve been invited to a couple parties. I’m not sure if I’m going though.

RR: Why not?

Ariadne: The whole “who to take issue”, choosing which guy will go where with me is such a headache.

RR: Why not take them both?

Ariadne: And risk the dirty looks, the questioning looks…or even worse the guys getting into it in the middle of a party and embarrassing me? No thank you.

RR: So they’re still having issues with each other?

Ariadne: Men are so territorial, jealousy is always an issue. They are always trying to one up each other or be the better man. Sometimes I wonder if I should just choose and be done with it.

RR: I’m sorry to hear that, I was really hoping the three of you had worked things out.

Ariadne: Perhaps they’ll get over the pettiness so I can have a Happy Halloween, it is my favorite holiday of the year and above all both guys love to make me happy.

RR: Well there you go, just tell them you want to go out and have fun without their egos getting in the way.

Ariadne: Thanks, Rox I will do that. Now I just have to figure out what to wear.

RR: Maybe you should go chat with Marissa and Deirdre I hear Deirdre has closets full of amazing clothes.

Ariadne: Thanks, I’ll do that.

Ariadne wanders off to find Marissa and I turn to Elita from “The Questioning Concubine”.

RR: Hello Elita, glad you could join us today. How are things going with the investigation?

Elita: Thanks to Connor I’m finally making some headway with the case. I’m closer than ever to finding out who killed my parents.

RR: That’s great news. Are you taking any time off to enjoy the Halloween season?

Elita: I have to. Taking my parent’s place in the circle means I have to organize and head up all of the Samhain activities- the bonfire, the ritual, and of course the party.

RR: Will Connor be joining you?

Elita: A wicked little grin creeps across her pretty features…He will.

RR: Does anyone know what he is, other than you?

Elita: No, he passes quite well as a witch. Glamour can hide all the little things that some might notice and think strange.

RR: So amid all those witches you don’t think anyone will notice that he’s different?

Elita: They haven’t yet and I’ve been dragging him with me everywhere. He has a way of making people talk, making them give up secrets, information they might not have even known they had. It’s a tremendous help with the investigation.

RR: That’s good news. I’m glad that summoning him turned out to be a good thing. You hear so much about those things going wrong, it’s good to know they can go right sometimes.

Elita: Oh that summoning was definitely right, and amazing and so damn hot… she blushes as she realizes she’s getting a little carried away RR: I clear my throat thanks for joining me for this little interview, I hope all of your Halloween/Samhain festivities turn out to be fabulous.

Elita: Thanks Rox I’m sure they will as long as Connor is by my side.

Elita wanders off and I turn to the witch that’s left, Vicki from “Witching You A Merry Christmas”.

RR: So Vicki, You and Daniel ended up having a very wonderful Christmas last year, will you be celebrating Halloween together as well?

Vicki: She gives me a shy smile Yes, we’ll be together for the holidays, all of them.

RR: Wonderful. So any plans? I know you come from a blended family- do you celebrate the harvest, Samhain, or Halloween?

Vicki: All of them. We’ve already attended quite a few harvest festivals, went on hayrides and drank spiced apple cider. This weekend we have a few Halloween parties to drop in on then a special Samhain ritual and bonfire on Monday night.

RR: Sounds like a busy weekend. Will you be dressing up?

Vicki: Oh yes. Daniel and I are wearing steampunk inspired costumes with some very nice gadgets and gizmos he made that look right out of the 1800s, of course most of the parts are from the 1800s with a little bit of modern tech thrown in.

RR: Parts from the 1800’s? Another example of vampire hoarding?

Vicki: She laughs Oh you have no idea! Daniel is such a pack rat. The man has boxes and trunks and all kinds of stuff tucked away in his house…houses I should say.

RR: I know he loves Christmas and goes all out with the decorations, is he the same way for Halloween?

Vicki: Let’s just say there is the biggest skeleton I have ever seen currently residing in his front yard along with a vast collection of other iconic Halloween creatures and features.

RR: So that’s a yes? I laugh.

Vicki: Most definitely.

RR: Well thank you for joining me today, thanks to all the witches that took the time to stop by during this busy haunting season.

It’s interesting to know that the supernaturals pretty much celebrate just like we do: costumes, bonfires, parties, hayrides, along with silly and scary decorations.

To learn more about these characters be sure to check out Paranormal Pleasures Ten Tales of Supernatural Seduction.

Paranormal Pleasures Ten Tales of Supernatural Seduction Roxanne Rhoads Publisher: Bewitching Books Genre: Paranormal erotica ISBN: 0615470386 / 9780615470382 Page Count: 138 Book description: Ten tantalizing, erotic tales of vampires, witches and demons grace the pages of this short story collection by Roxanne Rhoads.

Step into the darkness and let these tales tempt and tease to satisfy your paranormal cravings.

Eight of Roxanne Rhoads' previous eBook publications appear in print for the first time, along with two brand new, never before published tales of supernatural love and lust.

Extended Description A Last Goodbye New witch Marissa is learning the ropes of being one of The Others. One of her mentors is vampire Deirdre, a tall beauty who really irritates Marissa. Marissa is extremely pissed when she shows up to Dante's Ball and finds Deirdre there with Marissa's recent ex-boyfriend, Jeff. The one she was encouraged to break up with because of his humanity. Deirdre explains her reasons for bringing Jeff and offers to help Marissa say goodbye to him in a way none of them will ever forget Overkill Vanessa is tired of her boyfriend Simon’s promiscuous vampire ways and stakes him, repeatedlynot close enough to the heart to kill him but close enough to make it hurt. But now she’s had a change of heart and considers embracing the sexual world of the vampire instead of being jealous of it.

Witch in the Middle Ariadne is a witch torn between two men, a vampire and a human. Her heart doesn’t want to choose but the men force her to make a decision that could break her heart, unless with the help of the Goddess all three of them can come to a mutually acceptable…and enjoyable agreement.

When It Storms Devon’s witchy girlfriend becomes insatiable every time a storm rolls around and he’s more than happy to give her exactly what she needs.

Monster Inside Shannon’s never seen her vampire boyfriend, Logan, vamp out before. Then one night he has to kill to save her life. Can she ever look at him the same way again?

The Questioning Concubine Elita, a pure blood witch, has come home to find who or what killed her parents and to take her rightful place as the head of the coven. After five years of investigating and exhausting all conventional methods at her disposal, she decides to do the one thing a good witch should never do— summon a demon. The demon is not what she expected. Elita is soon swept up in his power… and her own.

Renata The residents of the sleepy little town of Flushing, Michigan had no idea a vampire lived among them, seducing and drinking from all the men in town. Renata walked among them, blending in, taking only what she needed. One night, while she was on the prowl for fresh blood at a carnival, a handsome carnie caught her eye. She had no way of knowing he was a vampire hunter and was there for her.

Sea of Blood Liana made Nerissa a vampire centuries ago in the islands of Greece but she’s never tired of her companion or the way she hunts her prey.

A Halloween to Remember What says Halloween better than a wild party at an old Victorian mansion complete with its own cemetery? Perhaps meeting the man of your dreams thanks to the magic of Halloween.

Adena can’t believe her eyes when she spots Dimitri in the library- he looks like something straight off the cover of a historical romance novel-the type of guy she’s always dreamed of. Too bad he disappears before she has the chance to introduce herself. When she finally spots him again later that night she decides she’s not letting him get away again. Adena thinks she’s finally found the one. Until she wakes up alone the next morning- in the cemetery.

Halloween magic brought them together but will it be strong enough to keep them together?

Witching You A Merry Christmas Witch Vicki has been leery of vampires ever since she was attacked five years ago. Daniel's a vampire and he's been secretly in love in with Vicki for two years ever since becoming Vicki's partner in The Guardians a supernatural group of paranormal crime fighters. Daniel loves Christmas and hopes the spirit of the holidays will soften Vicki's hatred of vampires and help her see him in a new light. Will he get his Christmas About the Author: Story strumpet, tome loving tart, eccentric night owl...these words describe book publicist and erotic romance author Roxanne Rhoads.

When not fulfilling one the many roles being a wife and mother of three require, Roxanne's world revolves around words...reading them, writing them, editing them, and talking about them. In addition to writing her own stories she loves to read, promote and review what others write.

Roxanne is the owner of Bewitching Book Tours and operates Fang-tastic Books, a book blog dedicated to paranormal and urban fantasy books.

When not reading, writing, or promoting Roxanne loves to hang out with her family, craft, garden and search for unique vintage finds.

Glenwood Cemetery Scene From Hex and The Single Witch

By Roxanne Rhoads “Satinka spotted some activity in Glenwood Cemetery. A real fire and a circle. Someone was doing magick, but by the time Satinka landed they were gone. She said it was like they disappeared into thin air.”

“I thought being able to teleport was one of those urban legend powers, no one can really do it?”

“Very few can, but Wyn, rumor has it Roark could teleport and supposedly he could take others with him as well. That really adds fuel to the demon fire. Demons can teleport. If Roark is back and he can teleport, then we definitely have a demon on our hands. A pissed demon gunning for Galen.”

“Galen? Oh my goddess, Mel, you said he disappeared out of his quarters at Satinka’s, disappeared into thin air. Mel, Roark took Galen, I know it. We’ve got to get to the cemetery now. I have to find out if I can get any visions.”

Mel grabbed a bag and reached in, searching for something, she pulled up a set of car keys. “I got my keys, let’s go. We’ll sneak out the back, now is not the time to have Malone following us.” Mel looked freaked out, which freaked me out, because Mel was the calm one when it came to things like this. **** Satinka waited just inside the main cemetery entrance off West Court Street. She climbed into the backseat of the car and told us to drive around past the old tombstones and beyond many of the plots, all the way around until we reached the creepy mausoleum covered with vines and leaves. I guess at night everything in a cemetery was creepy, during the day the place probably appeared quite stunning especially with all the fall colors brightening up the stone gray of tombstones and grave markers.

Nestled in the middle of a residential neighborhood surrounded by black wrought iron fencing, Glenwood was the oldest cemetery in Flint. In it lay all of the influential people whose names still adorned street signs, buildings and landmarks: Mott, Crapo, Dort, Whiting, Atwood, Whaley, even the founder of the city, Jacob Smith was lain to rest in Glenwood.

I spotted a lot of gravestones that looked like miniature Washington monuments. Weird. Some monuments were so old they had fallen over, others completely crumbled. The place held a still but powerful energy and a quiet reverence one could find in places filled with history. But I could tell the energy had been disturbed tonight, the power hummed painfully like something had ripped through the once seamless and peaceful fabric.

“Do you feel that?” I asked Mel and Satinka quietly.

“Yeah, someone has disrupted the peace here. The energy of this place was used for something dark.

We better get out and find out what happened here.” Mel shivered making no move to open the car door.

Finally, I opened my door and stuck my foot out. A dark cloud filled the air, my mouth suddenly tasted like sulfur, I almost choked on it. The dark magick was so thick, so strong it threatened to gag me. Mel pulled me back into the car.

“Wyn, you okay?”

“Whatever was done, it is bad, Mel. Once I get a solid read on it you are going to have to do a cleansing, the serenity of this place has been soiled. I’m not sure if it can cleanse itself.”

“Let’s find out exactly what was done. Let me and Satinka get out first. We’ll help shield and ground you against this so it doesn’t take you over as you try to read it.”

In theory it sounded good but one foot in and I was overwhelmed, pain rippled through me. I really didn’t know if I could do this.

Mel squatted down in front of the open car door. “You can do this Wyn. You have the power to get through it. Come on girl, this will help us find Galen.”

With the mention of his name, it reminded me of why I was doing this in the first place, to save him.

Whether or not we ended up together didn’t matter right now, what I cared about was making sure he was alive and keeping him that way. However alive a vampire could be.

I had to connect, read the energy no matter how dark, see the vision. I needed to find Galen. With the help of Mel and Satinka I made it out of the car and into the charred remains of the fiery circle, now just smoldering ashes. I knelt and put both hands on the ground while Satinka and Mel each had a hand on my shoulder to ground me. I knew Mel was casting a protective circle around us. I could feel their energy sur-

round me, protect me, making my own shields stronger, my own magick work harder. Normally, we would need salt and tools but since Mel was more powerful than your average witch, she cast spells with nothing but the magick within her and the power she tapped into through the elements around her. She spindled it through her, pulling on the elements, combining them with her own strength then pushing them out to create a powerful circle to shield us from all of the negativity.

I let go of my puny shields I had automatically thrown up when the blast of negativity rip through my foot. As soon as I let go of my shield I probed the locale to see what I could learn. I sifted through old tears, grief, decades, even centuries of pain and sorrow. Some so old they were barely whispers, some so fresh I could feel the grief threaten to tear through me. I pushed past those emotions until I found a flash of Devlin.

But the new memories were blocked. Devlin used the same old magick to mask his activities that he had with the murders. Bastard.

My shoulders slumped in defeat. I wouldn’t be able to break through his mysterious dark magick.

Then hands were on my shoulders, both Satinka and Mel reached out to me, lending me their power.

I again focused on the image of Devlin and Galen while pulling energy from Satinka and Mel. Images flashed through my mind like a slide show: Galen with Devlin, Galen tied in silver cords, Devlin casting the circle, Devlin morphing into something else, and then fire, lots and lots of fire… like the gates of hell opened.

I pushed, trying to see more. I put my palms to the earth drawing on the magick and memories of the cemetery. I held the link to Satinka and Mel and pulled more from them. Power filled me, more power than ever before, I hummed with it. My body almost ached from all the energy flowing through it. I couldn’t hold it for long. I pushed at the visions trying to see more. But nothing more came.

I couldn’t hold the power any longer. As I pulled my hands away an image of Galen writhing in agony flashed in my mind. I told Mel and Sati what I had seen as pain spread throughout my body. Darkness filled me, my brain fogged up and I couldn’t think straight.

“Filthy bastard,” Satinka cursed. “I should have known he was up to no good. Devlin has always been a power hungry fool. He’s trying to cross Roark over, to bring him back to the flesh in this dimension. I just don’t understand why he needs Galen.”

That was all I heard before the wave of darkness washed over me and I passed out.

The images included with this excerpt were a few captured at a custom photo shoot for this excerpt of Hex and the Single Witch and for the upcoming Vehicle City Vampires Book Two. If you have ever considered having a custom photo shoot for your book- especially for a cover- consider using the services of Steven Jon Horner Photography. You can find him at https://www.facebook.com/ StevenJonHornerPhotography and http://www.stevephoto.me

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Hex and the Single Witch Vehicle City Vampires Book One

By Roxanne Rhoads Publisher: Bewitching Books Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance / Urban Fantasy Word Count: 83,000 Anwyn Rose is descended from a long line of powerful witches yet she can barely cast spells young witchlings have mastered. She has one functioning witch gift, the power of knowing, which she puts to good use as a Detective on Flint’s Preternatural Investigation Team.

It’s a new era in Vehicle City, supernaturals are running the town.

The P.I.T has their hands full with paranormal crimes. Top priority is a serial killer, who appears to be a vampire, draining young women in the city.

Anwyn is on the case with her sexy partner Detective Mike Malone. Complicating things is her relationship Galen, a vampire who looks more guilty than innocent, although Anwyn trusts her instincts even if her power is on the fritz.

Mysterious spells, compromising situations, and a possible demon on the loose make it hard to focus on the case, but Anwyn has to make things right before the human police execute the wrong vampire.

Hex and the Single Witch contains magick, a little bit of mystery, a lot of supernatural mayhem, and a sexy love triangle that will leave you wanting more.

Amazon Kindle Print Book Bonus material http://roxannesrealm.blogspot.com/p/hex-and-single-witch.html Book Trailer http://youtu.be/TnlTlZ2VEMY About the Author: Story strumpet, tome loving tart, eccentric night owl...these words describe book publicist and erotic romance author Roxanne Rhoads.

When not fulfilling one the many roles being a wife and mother of three require, Roxanne's world revolves around words...reading them, writing them, editing them, and talking about them. In addition to writing her own stories she loves to read, promote and review what others write.

Roxanne is the owner of Bewitching Book Tours and operates Fangtastic Books, a book blog dedicated to paranormal and urban fantasy books.

When not reading, writing, or promoting Roxanne loves to hang out with her family, craft, garden and search for unique vintage finds.

Roxanne Interviews Pin Up Model Ginger Kewl

photo by Glen Hertz

Women are always recreating and reinventing themselves. When it comes to evolution we are masters because throughout our lives we never stay the same- from hair color to weight- a woman is always changing. When it comes to careers and creative pursuits this holds true for many of us as well- which is evident in your new career as a model.

Did you model when you were younger?

No, I wanted too. I had a couple of agencies look at me when I was in middle school. My parents wouldn’t allow it.

What made you decide to launch a modeling career in your 40s?

I was in a bad place in my self image. I had lost my job and was in a depression. I wanted to like myself and I thought if others liked me, I would to. After I started I

Photo by Fantasy on Film, Oliver Cole

realized I really liked it and had so much fun that I could make modeling my creative outlet.

Some models choose not to do nude photos, but you have. What led you to that decision? Was it a tough decision or are you comfortable enough in your skin that nude isn’t a problem?

Well, I’m comfortable with me. I have problem areas but I know I can pose a certain way and trust the photographers to work magic. Now my husband on the other hand, had a fit when he saw the first nude. I think he has mellowed out a bit, or at least he hides it well.

I can imagine my husband having a fit if I modeled nude without him knowing about it or discussing it with him ahead of time. He would probably be OK with it as long as he was around during the shoots.

My kids on the other hand would probably have a fit. Or just shun me forever. J Do your kids know about your new creative pursuits? Have they seen your photos? How do they feel about mom being nude online?

My kids know I model and sometimes that I pose nude. I’m sure they have seen pictures as I sit and plow through the many trying to decide which ones I want. I may do suggestive but I will never do anything pornographic. All my nudes are artistic in nature, the study of the human form. As a matter of fact, my mother was looking and commenting on which photos she liked the best the other day. It surprised me.

How would you feel if your daughter followed in your footsteps as a model?

Once she is of an age to make good sound decisions and not be swayed by the people out there that would lead her into doing things she would regret. If she does it, I would like her to have a little life experience first.

Your photos are sexy and tasteful- where do you draw the line in what is sexy and what is too much?

First off, thank you for saying that. Hmm... I know I won’t do any open leg shots that expose what’s there. After that being nude is not sexual, it’s a state of being. What you are doing nude defines what is inappropriate. I really look back at some the great pin up ladies like Marilyn Monroe and the Vargas drawings. I think about the centerfolds found in garages. Those are my inspirations.

You recently had a moment of doubt about the direction of your modeling career- care to share why that was or what you decided?

Sure, I was overwhelmed and not seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. There was a bit of jealous mixed in when I saw other models. It was a moment of weakness. I posted and received much support from my fans.. Lol strange to say that but they label themselves as fans. Not me.

For those interested in starting out as a model- do you have any advice?

Find a local photography group. You can trade your time as a model for their time as a photographer. You can learn how to pose and position yourself to look your best, while working with many photographers and their styles. Also decide what your “will shoot” and “will not shoot” lists are.

How does the model-photographer relationship work? Do you pay the photographer?

Does the photographer pay you? Do you call it even – as in using each other’s work for experience and promotion- i.e.- the photographer and model each use the photographs as they see fit for promotion and advertising?

I guess I answered that a little above. There are different types of shoots. One where you pay the photographer and he does what you want. You pick him because you like the work he does.

The other is a TFP or “time for print”. It’s a trade and generally the photographer owns the copyright on the photos but the model can use them for any promotional purposes. If you sell them you must get the photographers permission and probably work out some percentage deal on the money. The last and the one I aspire to, is the paid shoot. The photographer or somebody pays you. I have had several paid shoots but always wanting more.

What’s next for you?

What’s next? A good time. I want to have fun on my ride to being able to sell you that cereal on the TV commercial. I am an older model. I can’t compete with the models in their 20’s for high fashion runway gigs. I am a pin up and there is a certain part of the population that loves mature women, however I want to land contracts for clothing, magazine ads, commercials and promotional events. It’s not the glam life people think of, but the life of a working model.

Thank you Ginger, for sharing your story with us.

If you would like to see more of Ginger you can find her at: https://www.facebook.com/ginger.kewl https://www.facebook.com/ginger.kewl.7 http://www.modelmayhem.com/3038525 http://www.zivity.com/models/GingerKewl Black and White Photo by Photos by Steven Jon Horner Photography https://www.facebook.com/StevenJonHornerPhotography Skull Shirt Photo by Allen Oatley