Bewitching Book Tours October Magazine

Bewitching Book Tours Magazine Issue 28 October 2014

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 Ad space rates are: $40 full page ad $20 half page ad $10 quarter page ad You can subscribe to this magazine at http://issuu.com/bewitchingbooktours Š Copyright 2014 Stock images from www.123rf.com

Contents In Your Dreams Feature Strigoi: The Blood Bond Witch’s Rule Hooray for Halloween Sexy Ghosts Clarabelle’s Custom Creations Burn for Me Feature Feast of Fates Wicked Flower Tainted Blood Ursa Unearthed Dark Curse Green Living Tips Whisper the Dead The Blue Effect The Making of Michael Bishop Words that Bind The King’s Mistress Naughty Nook Stronger Loose Morals Pin Up Files

4 8 10 16 18 22 24 25 30 33 42 44 50 54 57 58 59 62 65 66 70 73

Interview with John Swan Do you write in different genres?

I hope too! I don’t ever want to limit my creativity to one genre. Who knows, maybe I’ll try them all!

If yes which is your favorite genre to write?

I feel most at home with fantasy fiction/science fiction. That’s just where my mind lingers.

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

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

Mystery/Adventure. I love those kinds of books and movies. I just haven’t tried to write one yet, because if I do, it’s going to be good. Really good. I won’t release anything I'm not 100% happy with.

If this book is part of a series…what is the next book? Any details you can share?

Oh yes. It is the first of a six volume series. I was probably being a bit overzealous for my first outing, Tolerance, compassion, kindness, acceptance… To but I knew it was time to write it. And I always knew me, these are the basics of being a happy, healthy per- it would be six books. son who does well and treats others well.

What books are in your to read pile?

Is the book, characters, or any scenes based on a true life experience, someone you know, or events I need to finish the Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan. I had to wait until all of them were done, bein your own life? cause I didn’t want to wait. I’m terrible at waiting for Haha! Yes! Everything I write is influenced by some- books, which is why I’m trying to release one of mine thing, (mostly). And this story came to me by a dream every 6 months. I am also going to start Fablehaven I had after seeing LOTR: The Fellowship of the Ring. eventually, and I would like to revisit some of TolMy 9 best friends and I were all standing on this kien’s work soon. wooded limestone bluff in different colored robes, each with a unique staff. I sensed we all had a purpose What books/authors have influenced your life? and “specialty”, if you will. That is how it all began.

Obviously as my writing and storytelling has imTolkien, C.S. Lewis, J.K. Rowling, and Robert Jordan proved over the last ten years, I have drifted into mak- would be the main ones. I grew up reading their work ing characters unique and not based solely on friends and, especially Tolkien & Rowling, greatly influenced or family, but visually I still picture them that way. my style and the scope of work I hope to achieve.

And in dialogue it helps me create believable interaction between characters.

If you had to choose, which writer would you con-

sider a mentor?

I honestly couldn’t say. Based on their writing and what I have read about him as a person, I would say Tolkien. But it’s very difficult to say without having had the pleasure of meeting any of them.

Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?

Keeping track of what I know, as opposed to what the reader knows. I have to consciously be aware at all times that no one else is in my head, and that I can’t reveal things by accident. I’m always scared of that!

And I have my editor on the lookout for spoilers.

Who designed the cover of your latest book?

Natalie Spasic.

Do you have a song or playlist (book soundtrack) that you think represents this book?

I listen to a lot of Stevie Nicks & Loreena McKennit radio (via Pandora), when I’m writing. I always dreamed someday they could write a song for the series or something. You never know!

When you’re not writing what do you do? Do you have any hobbies or guilty pleasures?

I work a lot to finance my writing. In my free time I swim & hike. As for guilty pleasures, I LOVE food and drink. I love cooking, good wine, beer, entertaining etc. But I’m surprisingly private outside of my group of friends.

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

Do you have any advice for other writers?

To continue the series. Book two is in the works now, Stay the course!!! I have two science degrees that I and I’m also working on the first Aldaya themed short worked very hard for. Now I’m a fiction writer, wait- story that will be released in between each book. They ing tables and doing everything I can to get my author- are going to deal with historical events that influence ship going. It’s because of my love for writing and the story, and it gives me an outlet to bring them to the what I want my life to be. I know I’m going to be a reader without one of my characters sounding like a writer, and I’m going to love traveling the world and thesaurus. My editor will get that soon, and it will be writing until I die. There is no other option. out before Christmas. (Fingers crossed.)

In Your Dreams The Aldaya Series Book One John Swan Genre: Epic Fantasy Date of Publication: Sept. 14, 2014 ISBN:978-0-9906555-0-3 ASIN:B00NI96DC4 Number of pages: Estimated 276 Cover Artist: Natalie Spasic Book Description: On an ancient planet within our galaxy, a dark and fearsome terror has awoken from its long slumber. Its task is to work quietly from the unseen, spreading dissent through the vulnerable territories of the free races; weaken-

ing them for its master. By a chance meeting, it comes across a young girl in the swampy and mist choked lands of Endmoor.

Her name is Mim, and the pairing of her platinum hair and violet eyes has not been seen since the Great War 1,000 years earlier; and has attracted unwanted attention. Knowing it hunts her, Mim flees and starts on a journey that takes her far across the Great Isle of Aldaya; the only landmass that now sits above the waves.

Unbeknownst to her, she is the key to unraveling the darkness that is falling over the Great Isle; an emptiness that threatens to swallow not only Aldaya, but the Sphere as well, and all its futures to come.

Available at Amazon US Amazon UK Amazon Canada Candy for direction, the two were expressionless. They stared ahead in some sort of trance. What was wrong Her words caught in her throat and she was un- with them? able to breathe. The woman at the table was the strangA lightning bolt cracked overhead and the est looking person she had ever seen. Her body was woman let out a high-pitched laugh. When her overthin and gangly, and her pale skin stuck out jaggedly in sized mouth opened, Mim could see two rows of places as if it were trying to cover too many bones.

Even sitting down Mim could tell she was tall, and her sharpened teeth that filled the inside: one in the front thin robes were midnight black and hemmed in places like normal, and another jagged row sitting just behind it. The two figures that accompanied her said nothing, with dark maroon embroidery. remaining still and hidden under their cloaks.

Excerpt:

Then Mim took in her face, and it was paler and more terrifying than the rest of her body.

As she looked down at the blond girl, for the first time in over a thousand years, curiosity crept into Her cheekbones were set a little too pointy and Morra’s mind. The girl had no smell, and try as she might, Morra Losis couldn’t sense a trace of her except high. The mouth was nothing more than a thin slit stretched too far across the length of her face. The nose with her vision. But even stranger were her eyes. Purple eyes like those she had only seen many ages ago, looked as if it had been removed, shrunk, and poorly and the bearers of them had disappeared from the placed back on. And her eyes were ghastly and titled sphere before the Great War in the north had begun. upwards too far, and completely black with veins around the outer parts. Their color matched the hair But yet here in front of her one remained, and that came down from her dark hood, which had jagged she wondered to herself whether her queen would find protrusions poking out at a few points near the back.

“Oh! I didn’t smell a child,” the creature said. interest in this young human. Oh, most certainly, she As her black eyes met Mim’s purple ringed with blue, thought. This revelation was the only thing keeping her from devouring the succulent girl on the spot. But if she stopped. “Well, what do we have here? How strange...” She got up from the table and circled her. At she lost her now, she would have to hunt for her like mortals did, and that was certainly not going to hapfull height, the creature stood at least two feet taller than Mim.“I can smell the sweet scent of youth a mile pen. Then the most wonderful idea came to her mind. away, little piglet, yet somehow I had no idea you were With the centaurs it had always been the hunt, here.” A cold, pointy, finger ran across Mim’s cheek the Dwarves their precious jewels, and the Elves their and up to her temples. “And what strange eyes you knowledge.

But with humans it had always come down have.” to their desire for freedom and independence. And although she hadn’t been awake for long, she knew in Mim was rooted to the ground and dared not this age that true freedom could only be attained by move. Whatever stood before her seemed to be a deone thing:wealth. She knew exactly what this poor litmon that had jumped off the pages of one of Ilanya’s tle mongrel desired most just by looking at her torn stories, and as she glanced towards Miss Barley and

outfit and dirty hands. “Well, it seems that one serv- Sciences and a Bachelors in Meteorology and ant around here knows how to appease a guest of sta- Climate sciences, with emphasis on research tus. And I have always prided myself on paying the and written dictations. help.”

Morra Losis snapped her fingers and one of the tall hooded figures glided over, producing a large coin purse. She dipped her hand in and pulled out a large handful of endins and sprinkled them into the pot of meat with a smile. The taller creature then went back to standing by its twin before she drew herself closer to the girl onceagain. “That is for the meat, dear.” She then reached into a pocket from the inside of her cloak and pulled out a very small black purse. It was made of a shimmery fabric and all over it were dark maroon shapes. “And this is for you.”

He spent several years during school helping to open and manage a French Bistro before moving to Honolulu, HI, where he worked for the local Parks and Wildlife service and was finally able to give his writing career the full attention it needed.

His love for writing began at an early age, never passing up chances to submit his works to young writers’ forums through school and his local community. He grew up on a small As her hand placed the small pouch in the girl’s free hand, a tremor went through her. She could farm in southern Illinois, but spent his sumbarely contain her appetite. She grabbed Mim’s jaw mers in an enchanted little blue cottage on the banks of the Mississippi River. In this valley with one hand and effortlessly lifted her off of the ground, running her forked purple tongue up Mim’s is where he wandered beneath the trees along cheek. The pot dropped to the ground, sending pieces the bluffs with his best friends, and where taof raw pork and coins spilling onto the rough floors. les of hobbits, mages, boy wizards, enchanted Her grip was so tight that she felt the girl’s jaws bewardrobes and Native American folk lore ginning to crack. She hadn’t had a meal this intriguing in an age, and her resistance was crumbling to shaped his writing style and drove him to create an entire universe all his own. the need to satisfy her hunger. What can one little bite hurt? she thought. But as she thought of her master, she quickly let go, dropping the girl back to the ground and turning back towards the table. As she bent down and picked up a raw piece of intestine and dangled it in front of her face, she said, “I just don’t think this will do. I certainly do not eat off of the floor, and when I feed I have always desired something with a little more...spunk.” She turned towards the dark greasy haired girl and let out a low gurgle, briefly revealing her jagged rows of teeth. Lifting her enchantment, the girl came out of her stupor, and after a moment began shrieking and backing away.

About the Author: John Swan has been an independent fiction writer since 2003, with the Aldaya Series being his first published work to date. During that time, he attended Southern Illinois University and graduated with two degrees, both with high honors. He has an Associates in the

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Excerpt For the next hour, I laid in the armchair, trying to sober up while listening for the typical noises of the night. A barking dog. Crickets chirping. Tree frogs croaking. But the air had been devoid of any sound except the ticking of the clock. Then something outside thudded.

I pulled back the drape and peeked out the front window. The dim light of the desk lamp made it difficult to see anything, except my own reflection. I reached for the lamp’s switch, hesitated, and then turned it, plunging the room into darkness.

An impenetrable gloom surrounded me. If I focused for a moment, I could see the outlines of things outside, but the exact shapes remained indiscernible. The silhouette of a tree loomed just to the left. The edge of the fence contrasted against the road. Shrubs dotted the grass along the front walk. But did I really see them or did my imagination put them there? Perhaps the noise I heard earlier was just another trick of the night, or a product of my ability to fill in details.

But something moved. A figure so dark it contrasted even against the shadows of the night. The movement made me think of a cat, but the size would make it a lion or something larger. In an easy bound it leaped, cleared the fence, and landed effortlessly in the yard.

My heart raced. I glanced at the front door to be sure I had pushed the two double bolts in place. The size of the creature outside left little doubt that it could easily crash through the door and get inside.

For a moment, the beast seemed motionless, and I wondered if my imagination had played another trick on me. Tired eyes. A long day. Too much to drink. Perhaps I only thought I saw something, and the outline near the fence was a cluster of bushes.

But then it moved again, stepping slowly toward the side of the house as if taking in the surroundings, surveying the place. The dark form vanished, and I realized it was headed for the backyard.

I bolted for the kitchen. My right leg caught the desk chair and knocked it over. Books lying on the floor flew as I kicked them. I aimed for the dim rectangle that was the doorway to the kitchen. Keeping my hands outstretched, I found the kitchen table and maneuvered around it. I peered out the back door’s window, frightened by what might look back.

In the dim glow, I could see the chopping block, the wood pile, and where the forest’s edge began. Then the creature appeared, taking easy steps. The shape reminded me of a dog of an enormous size. The largest dog I’d ever seen was a mastiff, and this creature easily dwarfed that breed. The only thing bigger was a wolf.

I thought of the handgun in the box back home and how I’d almost ended my life with it. I’d put it back, thinking how stupid the idea had been. I’d vowed never to touch it again. Now I wished I had the gun.

When the wolf reached midway between the house and forest’s edge, it paused, turned its head, and stood motionless. I wondered if it saw me through the window pane. Not sure, I stepped back until I was out of sight.

Would it come toward the house? Burst through the door? My heart hammered hard. I felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of my face. The air felt cold and clammy. When I could no longer wait, I stepped

forward and looked outside again.

The creature was gone.

Strigoi: The Blood Bond Tales of the Strigoi Book 1 Ron D. Voigts Genre: Paranormal, Horror Publisher: Night Wings Publishing ASIN: B00LQRJBZ6 Number of pages: 231 Word Count: 72,000 Cover Artist: Rachel C. Colon Book Description: On the verge of suicide after his wife leaves him, Alex Regal learns he has inherited property located in a small town deep within the mountains. Putting things on hold, he heads to Glade, hoping for something positive in his life. Getting there is easy but leaving proves to be impossible. A spell exists, keeping everyone captive in this hidden place.

The town of Glade is run by a Shapeshifter called the Strigoi.

The creature needs to drink human blood to survive. In folklore, taking the form of a man or an animal, the Strigoi became the basis of stories about vampires or werewolves. Now Alex must discover a dark secret before he becomes the vampire's next meal.

Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/8wo4l7U-Xm4 Available at Amazon About the Author: Originally from the Midwest, Ron D. Voigts now call North Carolina home where he and his wife have a small house off the Neuse River. Ron’s writing credits include the Penelope Mystery Series for middle-grade readers and the dark mystery thriller, Claws of the Griffin. His reading taste is eclectic and depends if the first sentence captures his interest. When not writing and reading, he enjoys watching gritty movies, cooking gourmet food, and playing games on his PC. http://rondvoigts.blogspot.com/ Twitter: @RonDVoigts https://www.facebook.com/AuthorRonDVoigts https://www.goodreads.com/RonDVoigts

…Her thoughts turned to Tristan. Before getting snared in all the demon-muck with the minion in the plane, she’d been hoping the tawny-haired Sidhe would be part of the greeting party at the airport. There were lots of possible reasons he might not have met her, but the most likely was he wasn’t interested in her—at least not that way.

Oh give it a rest. It’s not like he’s so much as called or e-mailed in the weeks since I left the U.K. I’ll just embarrass myself—and look pathetic—if I ask after him.

Ronin had said something about Tristan being assigned to one of the garrisons dealing with the Irichna who’d been running rampant through the U.K. countryside. There was at least a slender chance he couldn’t just drop everything and show up to greet her. Worse, maybe he’d been forced into the Dreaming by a demon. Sidhe were immortal, but they could be compelled to leave the human world if they were injured badly enough.

The Rolls slowed at the carved, wrought-iron gates to Ronin’s estate. Magic flashed, and they swung slowly inward. “It’s just past ten,” Colleen said. “What’s scheduled for tonight?”

“Nothing in particular, but we do need to talk,” Ronin said.

“More to the point,” Jenna spoke up, “what ground did you cover before I got here? Is there anything I need to catch up on?”

“Oh, that’s right.” Colleen turned toward her and cocked her head to one side. Like Roz, she was dressed in a fleece jacket, jeans, and lace-up boots. Far more practical clothing than Jenna’s short skirt, high-heeled boots, and inadequate jacket. “You told us your problems, but we didn’t share ours.”

A cold fist of fear closed over Jenna’s stomach and squeezed hard. “I’m not sure I want to know, but what happened?”

“Well, we got here okay,” Roz answered. “Not here, exactly. We came out above the Sidhe armory, closer to the center of town.”

“Thought we’d pick up a few Seraph blades,” Duncan noted. “Since we can’t handle iron like you witches, the blades come in handy fighting Irichna.”

Jenna cracked her knuckles in frustration. “Yes, but what happened?”

“What else?” Colleen made a sour face. “Irichna.”

“How they figured out where we’d materialize will remain one of the mysteries,” Roz mumbled. Even though her words were casual, Jenna picked up a hint of fear beneath them. She shook her head to clear an almost paralyzing fog from creeping in. What she’d been afraid of—that the Irichna employed minions to spy on them—was looking more and more real.

“How many?” she asked, her throat so dry it was hard to get the words out.

“Fortunately, only three, but they didn’t exactly lie down and cooperate,” Ronin said. He focused his next words at the driver. “Just drop the lot of us off at the main house, Kiernan. It’s probably best if we hash out a plan before everyone turns in for the night.”

“Long story short,” Colleen picked up Roz’s tale, “it took until just before we met up with the car and Kiernan to neutralize the demons and ferry two of them to the Ninth Circle of Hell. Ronin and Duncan annihilated the third one. We never did get into the armory to pick up blades for the men.”

“Does that mean the U.K. problem is solved?” Jenna asked.

“Probably not,” Duncan replied. “There are always more of those blasted buggers, no matter what we do.”

“And they show up in different forms,” Ronin added, “which makes it tough to know if these were the ones causing all the problems.”

“It’s not as if they’re a static population,” Roz said. “We’ve never been able to estimate their numbers.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Jenna groused as the car rolled to a stop in front of Ronin’s home that looked more like a castle than anything else. Built from interlocking flagstones and huge beams of lumber, it soared five floors. Light glowed from leaded glass panes, adding a welcoming touch. Even though it was night and she couldn’t see the grounds, Jenna remembered them to be immaculate. Sidhe didn’t employ many servants. Most of the day-to-day tasks were accomplished with magic. She snorted inwardly. Maybe she could pick up a few housekeeping tips, along with whatever else the Sidhe taught her.

She exited the car behind Roz, and a thought struck her. “Aw, hell.”

“What?” Roz’s hands flew upward to draw power.

“Nothing like that,” Jenna said. “My luggage. It’s still at the airport.”

“No worries.” Ronin walked to Roz and draped an arm over her shoulders. “I’ll send someone round to fetch it.”

“You’ll have way more than us,” Colleen pointed out, “since we teleported.” She leaned toward Duncan and gave him a kiss.

Jenna glanced from one couple to the other and hoped to hell no one picked up on the emotions running through her. She was happy for her friends. Duncan and Ronin were amazing men, but the surfeit of connubial bliss underscored just how alone she was. Earlier she’d told Roz and Colleen to hurry up and produce a child or two so she could settle in as a maiden auntie and spoil them shamelessly, but nothing like that was likely to happen anytime soon. Not until they got the demons on the run.

Niall surged to her side, along with Krae and Llyr. The changeling swept unkempt black hair out of his dark eyes and caught hold of her arm. “Don’t paint the devil on the wall.”

“Huh? When did you start reading minds?”

“I’ve always been able to, and Krae showed me an easier way where I don’t have to use hardly any of my own power.”

“Really?” Jenna stopped at the top of a dozen broad stone steps and glanced at the changeling. “How?” He grinned like an imp. “Simple. I borrow yours.”

“Thanks. It’s not polite to help yourself to people’s thoughts, though, or their magic.”

“Maybe not polite,” Niall’s grin widened, “but very interesting.”

“Humph.” Jenna pushed on the ten foot tall oak door carved with runic symbols. At first it didn’t budge, but the air brightened around her hand, and then the door swung open. Someone, likely Ronin, had done something to countermand the warding protecting his home.

Kiernan shimmered into being in the great hall. Jenna drew back and blinked in surprise. He’d obviously teleported from the driveway, but she wasn’t used to squandering power so casually. Something drew her gaze upward; by the time she realized it was Kiernan’s magic, she was looking into his blue-green eyes. They were cool, laced with mystery, but fire smoldered in their depths, as if in challenge. When she tried to look away, she couldn’t. Jenna drew herself up and squared her shoulders, but the Sidhe was still taller than her by a good few inches. “Don’t force me,” she sputtered. “If you want something, ask first.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, witch.” With a cross between a smile and a smirk, he turned and trotted into a broad, furnished hallway that ran much of the length of the downstairs. Snug black pants fit like a second skin, outlining a high, tight ass. A faded, gray T-shirt strained across his heavily-muscled back and arms. He was built like an ancient Viking warrior with shoulders so broad she could almost imagine him at the helm of a warship, shaking his fist into the teeth of a shrieking tempest. Unlike Duncan and Ronin, who kept their hair long enough to braid, Kiernan’s black locks were close-cropped, which emphasized his angular cheekbones and strong, clean-shaven jaw. Breath caught in Jenna’s throat, and her belly tightened with a rush of sexual energy.

Because she couldn’t tear her gaze away, she stared after the Sidhe. Coaxed by magic, lights flared on when he passed, and an assortment of plush leather furniture in earth tones came into view. Occasional tables laden with antique sculptures, cut crystal lamps, and other artistic pieces were scattered about. Jenna took a deep breath to ease the tingling in her nipples and then another, hoping her face wasn’t as flushed as it usually got when she was turned on. To divert herself, she spun in a circle, taking in grandeur museums would have

gone rounds to own. “Where do you want us?” she asked Ronin.

“Back study,” he said as he and Roz swept past, followed by Colleen and Duncan. “It’s cozier, and we’re a small group.”

“Oh-oh.” Niall nudged her. “Better watch it. I felt that flash of energy from twenty paces.” Jenna stuck her tongue out at him, and he reached back to pinch her, edging out of the way before she could slap his fingers.

A swoosh of power behind her sent her heart into overdrive. She twirled, ready to shout at Colleen and Roz to come back and help, but the words died on her lips. Kiernan stood there beaming like a Cheshire cat. Despite the smile, he looked arrogant and dangerous, with a raw sexuality that practically held a life of its own.

Breath clattered from her lungs. “But you were ahead of me,” she stammered. “Up there.” She pointed behind her and felt like an idiot.

“Observant of you.” He closed the distance between them until he stood scant inches away. The heat of his body eddied toward her, and it took all her willpower not to throw her arms around him and drag his mouth down onto hers.

“Do, er, did you want something?” Her voice came out high and squeaky, and she coughed to cover her discomfiture. As if she were drawn by invisible puppet strings, Jenna leaned toward him, so close her breasts brushed his chest, and her breath hitched uncomfortably. She clasped her hands behind her to reduce the temptation to touch him.

“I want many things, but most of all I want to get to know you better.” He ran a finger down her cheek, leaving a trail of iridescent motes that floated before her eyes. “Once we’re in with the others, there wouldn’t have been an opportunity to tell you that.”

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, to break the sexual tension that overshadowed common sense, but he dissolved into nothingness, and she was left blinking at the afterimage of where he’d stood.

Jenna breathed deep to settle herself. If she was going to spend hours training with Kiernan, she had to get her libido under control, and damned fast. Otherwise she’d be so addle-brained she wouldn’t learn a thing.

Witch’s Rule The Witch Chronicles Book 3 Ann Gimpel Publisher: Taliesin Release Date: 11/7/14 Available for pre-order mid-October Genre: Dark Paranormal Romance Jenna falls in love with two very different men. Standing on the verge of Earth’s destruction, will she defy convention and follow the song in her heart?

Book Description: Jenna’s a special witch, sort of, when her magic works, which it often doesn’t. One of three remaining demon-stalkers, she and her sister witches, Roz and Colleen, are Earth’s only hedge against being overrun by Hell’s minions. On the heels of Roz’s and Colleen’s weddings, Jenna is headed for the U.K. when a demon confronts her. Any other witch could teleport out of the plane, but not her. Frustration about her limited power eats at her. It would be pretty pathetic to get killed for lack of skills a teenager could master.

Tristan is a Sidhe warrior, but his primary gift is attunement to others’ emotions. He fell hard for Jenna, but hasn’t had an opportunity to act on their attraction beyond a few kisses because she returned to Alaska, and he’s been in the field fighting demons.

As seer for the Sidhe, Kiernan is haunted by visions, particularly an apocalyptic sending that seems to be coming true. A confirmed bachelor, he doesn’t understand his attraction to Jenna, but it’s so strong he can’t fight it, and after a while, he doesn’t even try, despite recognizing Tristan’s claim to her.

Startling truths surface about Jenna’s magic, and then there’s the problem that she’s falling in love with two very different men. At first she believes she has to pick one of them, but her spirit refuses to walk away from either. It’s impossible to choose between a seer with dreams in his eyes and a beautiful man who intuits her every need. Standing on the verge of Earth’s destruction, will she defy convention and follow the song in her heart?

About the Author: Ann Gimpel is a mountaineer at heart. Recently retired from a long career as a psychologist, she remembers many hours at her desk where her body may have been stuck inside four walls, but her soul was planning yet one more trip to the backcountry.

Around the turn of the last century (that would be 2000, not 1900!), she managed to finagle moving to the Eastern Sierra, a mecca for those in love with the mountains. It was during long backcountry treks that Ann’s writing evolved. Unlike some who see the backcountry as an excuse to drag friends and relatives along, Ann prefers solitude. Stories always ran around in her head on those journeys, sometimes as a hedge against abject terror when challenging conditions made her fear for her life, sometimes for company. Eventually, she returned from a trip and sat down at the computer. Three months later, a five hundred page novel emerged. Oh, it wasn’t very good, but it was a beginning.

And, she learned a lot between writing that novel and its sequel.

Around that time, a friend of hers suggested she try her hand at short stories. It didn’t take long before that first story found its way into print and they’ve been accepted pretty regularly since then. One of Ann’s passions has always been ecology, so her tales often have a green twist.

In addition to writing, Ann enjoys wilderness photography. She lugs pounds of camera equipment in her backpack to distant locales every year. A standing joke is that over ten percent of her pack weight is camera gear which means someone else has to carry the food! That someone is her husband. They’ve shared a life together for a very long time. Children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out their family. www.anngimpel.com http://anngimpel.blogspot.com http://www.amazon.com/author/anngimpel http://www.facebook.com/anngimpel.author @AnnGimpel (for Twitter)

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…

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.

Many of my fiction pieces take place during Halloween including the novella Eternal Desire, my short storyA Halloween to Remember, and my length novel, Hex and the Single Witch.

SEXY GHOSTS by Diana Cachey You ask yourself, “What was that sound?” You turn, see no one. An eerie warmth washes over tingling skin.

The body quivers, feels sensuous, aroused. What just happened? Could it be one of the TOP TEN SEXIEST GHOSTS? #10 Titanic ghost, Leonardo DiCaprio An allegedly unsinkable ship, The Titanic sunk when it hit an iceberg. Leonardo DiCaprio became “King of the World” on its bow in the Best Picture. The world saw film footage of its watery grave like shoes and other personal effects of passengers, which sparked a drive to learn about its lost souls.

He’d be higher on the list, if he weren’t just an acting ghost. Who needs the real Titanic ghosts when Leo can light Kate Winslet’s fire and ours. My Heart Will Go On, loving Leo, the man who dies yearning for passion. #9 Flying Dutchman Sailors & Pirates Who doesn’t love sailors? Or pirates? The Flying Dutchman, an anomaly of ships, isn’t just haunted. It IS a ghost. Originally from 17th-century nautical folklore, the legendary ghost ship never made port and its rogue sailors cruise in perpetuity. Imagine those handsome pirates, wearing their ruffled shirts, bowed shoes, long curled locks, Tricorn hats, brandishing swords and strong whiskey. Full steam ahead, Johnny Depp style. #8, #7 Princes Edward & Richard, Some Too Young To Die At the Bloody Tower of London two Princes, young Edward V and Richard Duke of York, were murdered under authority of Duke of Gloucestershire. According legend, guards who pass the Bloody Tower spot shadows of two small figures still wearing the white night shirts they wore when they disappeared. Silently, they stand before vanishing back into the Tower stones. Poor haunted Princes, but we’ll take a Prince any day, even a ghost. #6, Ann Boleyn Once Queen of England, Henry the VIII’s most famous wife, mother of Tudor Queen Elizabeth was executed in the Tower of London. Pictures show she was quite the buxom bride. Her voluptuous ghost appears at the Bloody Tower and other places like Hampton Court Palace and Windsor Castle, where her and Henry lived during their marriage. #5 Gettysburg soldiers Battlefields keep spirits from resting in peace. Trauma, terror and extreme loss of life cause

wandering ghosts to appear. During the Battle of Gettysburg over 50,000 men lost their lives. Hundreds of people have experienced the Gettysburg soldier ghosts in places like Little Round Top (headless rider) and the Culp Farm (phantom footsteps). Men who filmed Gettysburg said some of the soldiers who came to the location were not actors. Maybe haunted actors? #4 & #3 Dead Presidents, John F. Kennedy Tops Abe Lincoln Dead presidents haunt the White House. Maybe you don’t think Abe is sexy, but JFK? He stole hearts plus married Jackie O, the most glamorous woman in the world. His tragic murder leaves him haunted and restless.

Workers also claim to see Abe’s ghost sitting on a bed. While alive, Lincoln knocked when he wanted to be heard, Roosevelt and others heard the knocks when in the White House. #2 Elvis Elvis left the building when he died. Oh did he? People swear they still see him, including his wife Priscilla. Post-death Elvis sightings are so common trashy tabloids stopped reporting it.

People flock to Memphis and Graceland to feel his presence. His ghost is also seen in Nashville where he recorded “Heartbreak Hotel.” A local television production company remains there now and crews claim that whenever someone mentions Elvis, paranormal activity picks up -- lights explode, ladders fall over. Elvis also appears wearing his white jump suit at the Las Vegas Hilton where he famously performed in the 1970s.

#1 Marilyn Monroe Sexiest ghost, Marilyn Monroe, hovers over her tomb at Westwood Memorial Cemetery in LA, and haunts the house where she died. Marilyn also appears for hours in a full-length mirror, frightening guests at Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel.

Looking this sexy deserves stares. Forever.

Lagoon Lure What Happens In Venice Book Two Diana Cachey ISBN-13: 978-1500334529 ISBN-10: 1500334529 LCCN: 2014911793 Number of pages: 160 Word Count: 40,000 Tagline: As Interpol expert Louisa Mangotti is learning, ghosts watch over Venice.

Can she trust them—or her ex-lover—when spirits offer confusing clues to solve a double murder in this sexy paranormal mystery?

Book Description:

Lagoon Lure resumes the story of Interpol expert Louisa Mangotti’s Venetian exploits and the paranormal assisted murder investigation she began in Love Spirits.

Still unnerved by the notion that Venetian ghosts are real, Louisa delves further into the deaths of two glassmakers while juggling the lustful manipulations of her ex-lover, Matteo, whose role in the murders grows murkier.

Meanwhile Louisa's usually shy sister, Barbara, explores her newfound sexuality with Venice's willing men, sharing her adventures with her sister but keeping one particularly mysterious man a secret.

When Louisa's best friend, "Rouge," arrives for Carnival to sample its masked men, she complicates the situation further by encouraging the sisters to embrace the pleasures of Venice.

Paranormal clues and apparitions lead Louisa deeper into the lagoon and she is forced to reluctantly enlist Matteo’s support. Can she trust him, or will this ghostly lagoon lure prove deadly?

Back Cover Copy: Venice has its ghosts. They haunt its byways and canals. They linger on its numerous bridges and waft through its beautiful architecture—and they've taken a definite interest in Interpol expert Louisa Mangotti.

In Lagoon Lure, Louisa continues investigating the murder of two glassmakers she began in Love Spirits.

Guided by clues sent from otherworldly sources, she struggles to determine what role her seductive ex-lover Matteo played in the deaths, constantly tempted by his handsome looks, his charm, and the volatile chemistry between them.

While Louisa is led by the ghosts to a sunken ship in the murky lagoon, her sister, Barbara, and best friend, "Rouge," embark on their own carnal explorations of Venice, sampling the men who flock to Carnival.

Amid corruption, conspiracy, and Venice's legendary sexual energy, it's all Louisa can do to think straight, let alone untangle this web of mystery. The ghosts, however, want her to persevere.

Love Spirits What Happens In Venice Book One Diana Cachey Genre: Romance/paranormal.

ISBN: 1481031767 ISBN: 9781481031769 Number of pages: 160 Word Count: 40,000 Tagline: Among the romantic canals of Venice—and oh so many Italian distractions—can a stunning American lawyer and her psychic sister help the Ghosts of Venice solve a hushed-up crime?

Book Description: Louisa Mangotti is a gorgeous American lawyer and Interpol expert who, after being offered a job working with the international crime unit in Venice, receives a mysterious postcard from the Venetian Ghosts, the ancient protectors of the Republic. But Louisa assumes her bad-boy ex, Matteo, sent it in a quixotic attempt to gain her attention. Louisa may have dismissed the ghosts, but the ghosts aren’t quite done with her.

When the bodies of two glassmakers wash up on Murano Island, the cryptic messages persist. Reluctantly, Louisa calls upon Matteo to help decipher the clues. And before she knows it, a flame that was never fully extinguished is rekindled. Sensing that her sister is in over her head, Barbara Mangotti rushes to the rescue, only to be lured away by two handsome Venetian men.

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

Available at Createspace About the Author: Diana Cachey is a licensed attorney, published academic, and former adjunct law professor. She also holds a BA in English, and while in law school, she was the first female editor-in-chief of her university's law review.

The author of the novels Love Spirits and Lagoon Lure, Cachey trained with several New York Times best-selling writers whose sales total more than 70 million books. She has built a social media platform with over one hundred thousand Twitter users, and her popular YouTube channel featuring secret Venice locations has received over five hundred thousand views.

For more than a decade, Cachey has traveled to Venice, the setting of her novels, on extended trips several times a year. The cafĂŠs, restaurants, and many other haunts of Venice play a prominent role in her sexy paranormal mystery-romance series about a beautiful American lawyer guided by the Ghosts of Venice in the investigation of a hushed-up crime. https://www.youtube.com/user/dcachey https://www.whathappensinvenice.com @dianacachey https://www.facebook.com/diana.cachey https://www.facebook.com/pages/Diana-Cachey/153347544749839

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

Burn For Me A Hidden Legacy Novel

By Ilona Andrews On-Sale 10/28/2014 ISBN: 9780062289230 Book Description: Nevada Baylor is faced with the most challenging case of her detective career-a suicide mission to bring in a suspect in a volatile case. Nevada isn’t sure she has the chops. Her quarry is a Prime, the highest rank of magic user, who can set anyone and anything on fire.

Then she’s kidnapped by Connor “Mad” Rogan-a darkly tempting billionaire with equally devastating powers.

Torn between wanting to run or surrender to their overwhelming attraction, Nevada must join forces with Rogan to stay alive.

Rogan’s after the same target, so he needs Nevada. But she’s getting under his skin, making him care about someone other than himself for a change. And, as Rogan has learned, love can be as perilous as death, especially in the magic world.

About the Author: “Ilona Andrews” is the pseudonym for a husband-andwife writing team. Ilona is a native-born Russian and Gordon is a former communications sergeant in the U.S. Army.

Contrary to popular belief, Gordon was never an intelligence officer with a license to kill, and Ilona was never the mysterious Russian spy who seduced him.

They met in college, in English Composition 101, where Ilona got a better grade. (Gordon is still sore about that.) They have co-authored two New York Times and USA Today bestselling series, the urban fantasy of Kate Daniels and the romantic urban fantasy of The Edge and are working on the next volumes for both.

They live in Texas with their two children and many dogs and cats. http://www.ilona-andrews.com/ https://www.facebook.com/ilona.andrews https://twitter.com/ilona_andrews http://www.ilona-andrews.com/newsletter/

Excerpt from Chapter 2 It was quite a jog from King’s Crown to Fates Row, the modest, middle-class district where Caenith lived on the outskirts of the Faire of Fates, and Morigan took an earthbound carriage for part of the trip. She wasn’t a spendthrift and saved almost all of what she worked for, as Mifanwae had taught, but the urge to see the smith again was a weight as heavy as stone, drawing her in his direction. Her unburdening to Thule and his approval emboldened her further, for he was a father and friend—the only one she had, lonely as that might seem—and his opinions were valued. Never did she forget the cautious side of his encouragement, however, of his unusual but apt warnings of a wolf. The more she dwelled on the idea, the more she found that a wolf was a fitting match for Caenith’s character: wild, noble, and dangerous.

Once settled with her fare, she was deposited amid squat white houses and tall white shops, with roofs that glittered in the early evening light and streets filled with weary working folk headed home for the day or into noisy taverns, of which more than a few were around. Caenith’s house, she remembered, was in quieter environs a few blocks ahead. She stayed off the road and along the path, asking strangers to pardon her as she strode at a hastened pace.

Slow down. Get a hold of your wits or lose your knickers, like Thule said. I’m paraphrasing, but still, she warned herself. She didn’t know much about men. She had kissed a few, groped some of the hardness that they kept behind their trousers, but wasn’t impressed by much of it. In recent years, she had given up on courtship entirely, for men weren’t interested in courtship with handmaidens living in less respectable neighborhoods, even though she was sure that they had other uses in mind for her. Perhaps that was what intrigued her about Caenith so much, his biding patience or surety. She knew that he desired her in a ravenous way, and yet she felt none of the frantic insistence that her other suitors had expressed toward her. None of that childlike need.

You say that, but let’s see how he behaves tonight. This whole thing is silly. You’re acting as if you know this man when you spent maybe an hourglass with him. Therein was the rub: that for a stranger, it seemed as if she knew him so intimately. Or felt as if she grasped the most fundamental aspects of him: honor, bestial pride, and the beauty and destruction of a wild rapid. All that remained was to mine out the details. Why do I trust you? Of all the men I have met, only Thule has earned that right through burying my mother’s body with me, through sheltering me when I was alone. What right have you to command my trust as you do, Caenith?

What right?

She proceeded down the lane with a fury in her step, her riding cloak billowing, her dark skirt sweeping the ground like a black ghost. She was a startling vision to those who saw her, and they moved out of her way as if she was a mad but exquisite queen. A few roughnecks, red in the cheeks and leering from a tavern porch, did not heed her stormy expression and whistled at her from their chairs. Pigs! she hissed with such righteous indignation that the fools pouted into their ales, feeling as if the Everfair Queen herself had shamed them. Night was hungry for the day, and sterling lamplights, their starry magik trapped in hanging glass spheres, were winking on alongside the lane. She arrived at Caenith’s run-down property even angrier from the catcalls, stomped up the

stairs, and went to knock on the door. It was wrenched open before her knuckles touched the wood. There was the smith.

Some civility had found its way into his comportment this evening, though he wore it awkwardly, like an animal stuffed into clothing, and haphazardly, as if he had just dressed himself and not with great success.

His highwayman’s shirt was a mess: its laces loose, a sleeve up, the other down, and the hem half tucked into trousers. The boots she recalled from yesterday. He wore a plain ebony ribbon in his hair, which was pulled back from his face. While he had certainly made the effort to be more trimmed than yesterday, she could only call him shorn, not shaved—she didn’t think he could ever be stripped to less than stubble. Still, he was no less disarming or enticing with his cologne of steel, sweat, and the deeper aromas of woods and silky fur, and what portions of his sinewy strength burst against his clothing took the remainder of her focus. She found herself completely drained of her anger and fumbling for words.

“I…I am sorry. You seem as if you are dressed and on your way out.”

Caenith stared but did not speak. Distantly and with sorrow, he remembered the Daughters of the Moon, victims of the New Age, with their milky skin and coats of nettles, raven feathers and black leaves: garments with haunting similarities to the lacy bodice and sweeping train that Morigan wore. She was as magikal as these phantoms of the past, but paler and prettier still, and her bust and cheeks were flushed from rushing. He could taste the salty-sweet sweat of her on his palate and hear the pounding of her blood as a rousing tribal drum in his ears.

“I was waiting for you,” he said.

Morigan looked around suspiciously. “You…you were?”

“I—” Smelled you down the street and hurried to make myself presentable. “I felt that you would return today, that the winds would bear your sweetness my way, and I see that Geadhain has granted my wish.”

“I see. How very…strange,” replied Morigan.

Caenith welcomed her with a grin; his canines were unusually long, they glimmered in the lamplight.

“Cups! I have been working on cups! Come inside, dear fawn.”

Cups? And there’s that “fawn” talk again. I think he’s some manner of a lunatic, thought Morigan, and against what little sense prevailed in the company of this man, she went into Caenith’s shop. Inside was brighter than she remembered, and small lamps had been lit in vases on the floor. She had to blink to understand them, these twining metal flowers, their petals opened and stigmas made of flame. She stopped to admire one, seeing the wick inside the fire, amazed that this was not magik, but more of the smith’s work, impossibly detailed and manufactured by enormous fingers.

“Resilience and beauty,” said Caenith, breathing over her neck. “The strength of steel and the beauty—and power—of fire. I was inspired to create them this morning. The metal’s song was clear with how it was to be made. Do you like them?”

“Yes, they’re…lovely.”

“I agree,” muttered Caenith, and he placed a hand upon her back, leading her farther into his den. “Cups,” he promised, but said no more.

Feast of Fates Four Feasts Till Darkness Book One Christian A. Brown Genre: Fantasy Romance Date of Publication: September 9, 2014 ISBN: 978-1495907586 Number of pages: 540

Word Count: 212K Cover Artist: Brian Garabrant Book Description: "I am a new woman. A new creature. I am myself, and yet so different."

Magic and destiny collide in Christian A. Brown's breathtaking debut novel, Feast of Fates.

Together known as the Sisters Three, Eean, the hand of fate, Elemech, the reader of fate, and Ealasyd, the spinner of fate, foresee a war between the Immortal Kings--and only one girl who can stop it.

Morigan lives a quiet life as the handmaiden to a fatherly old sorcerer named Thackery. But when she crosses paths with Caenith, a not wholly mortal man, her world changes forever. Their meeting sparks long buried magical powers deep within Morigan. As she attempts to understand her newfound abilities, unbidden visions begin to plague her--visions that show a devastating madness descending on one of the Immortal Kings who rules the land.

With Morigan growing more powerful each day, the leaders of the realm soon realize that this young woman could hold the key to their destruction. Suddenly, Morigan finds herself beset by enemies, and she must master her mysterious gifts if she is to survive.

Available at Amazon and Createspace Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/8E_RVXgpqB8 About the Author: Christian A. Brown has written creatively since the age of six.

After spending most of his career in the health and fitness industry, Brown quit his job to care for his mother when she was diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma in 2010.

Having dabbled with the novel that would eventually become Feast of Fates for over a decade, Brown was finally able to finish the project. His mother, who was able to read a beginning version of the novel before she passed away, has since imbued the story with deeper sentiments of loss, love, and meaning. He is proud to now share the finished product with the world. http://christianadrianbrown.com https://twitter.com/AuthorChrisAB https://www.facebook.com/ChristianAdrianBrown https://www.goodreads.com/author/ show/8422242.Christian_A_Brown https://plus.google.com/u/0/105782095673393074893/about

Excerpt: Wow. Had Will pegged this perfectly or what? Stefan was determined not to hear her. What hurt Dani most was how his confidence had been shattered by a ten minute conversation in a silly rose garden.

She didn’t even remember that she’d just been crying and the wetness on her cheeks surprised her when she wiped a piece of hair from her face. “But you come back. And when you do, you bring the best laughs and joy with you. You bring yourself.”

“No, don’t do that. Don’t make me out to be some good guy, Dani. It’ll only hurt you in the end.” He paused and then stabbed her with a look sharper than steel. “You sucked my cock good last night, but that doesn’t mean you own me. I don’t owe you anything.”

Her face flamed with sheer anger. She nearly spit the word asshole right back in his face but remembered Will’s warning. She could be just as stubborn. “Try again. I did suck your cock good and no, you don’t owe me anything. But you will hear me out. You know who else leaves their loved ones behind? How about soldiers?”

“That’s different and you know it.”

“How so? They stay gone for months. Thom gets one two-week break half-way through his year-long tour. He comes home one time, Stefan. In an entire year. How is that different than what you do?”

Stefan looked like she’d shot him. He held his hands over his midsection and hunched over before he righted himself again.

“I don’t know. It just is. I’m not laying my life on the line for anyone.”

“But you’re putting it on hold so you can make all those people who love your music happy.” She wouldn’t stop now. “I bet if you were with someone, you’d find a way to see that person, no matter how far away you were. And I bet that person would be thankful, and…” Her eyes welled up with tears again. “So very happy for each moment, no matter how short or how much time passed between visits. Or how big of a mean jerk you could be sometimes.”

The amount of time he stayed with his head bowed down killed Dani. Losing him in a couple days hadn’t hurt before because she realized she’d held out hope that things would work out between them. That her Superman would figure it out and fix it all. He’d invite his mom to Nashville and Dani too. All she needed was an invitation and his ability to wait two measly months for her to arrive.

“Stefan, look at me.”

She waited patiently.

“I’ll just hurt you, Dani. Don’t you get it? I fucking love you and I’d hurt you.”

Her breath tunneled around her lungs and her knees threatened to give out but she wouldn’t stop until she’d convinced him he would not do that. Not if he … not if he loved her. The way she loved him back.

“Why do you keep saying that? Leaving, when it’s your job, doesn’t hurt the one you love.”

Her mind was nearly useless after his use of the L word. Maybe he was trying to tell her he wouldn’t be faithful.

“You don’t understand me, Dani.”

“Then help me out here. Are you saying you’d sleep around on the road? Is that some inevitable part of

you being Stefan Calderon, bass player?”

Crap. He wasn’t answering her.

“Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve never been tested like that.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

Again he went silent. And this time he got up out of his stool and walked to the sink. As if they hadn’t just been in an industrial sized conversation, he reached up and pulled a glass from a cupboard and filled it with water. He guzzled the entire thing down then filled it up and walked back over to her. He set the glass down in front of her, nudging her hand which she realized was in a tight fist.

“Fighting can’t be good for the baby. Dinner’s getting cold. Let’s eat. Then maybe we’ll talk more.”

Maybe we’ll talk more? Who did he think he was? Ending their discussion like that. But her chest had tightened and she knew he was right when she took in a deep breath and felt the built up tension leave and her body relax back to normal.

She hated that he was right. But if he thought she wouldn’t fight for him, he was dead wrong. She took the glass of water, emptying it then handed it back to him.

“What did you get?”

She could play nice while they ate. He loved her.

Stefan brought their plates over. He sat down across from her and stabbed a peapod and a chunk of pink salmon, shaking his head as he bit the food from the fork and chewed. He stabbed another and another bite.

Whoever had made this man, had gotten so many things so very right. No matter that all those things combined made her absolutely crazy.

He loved her. He’d said so.

She chewed, and tried not to cry smile.

Wicked Flower A Sin Pointe Novel Book 5 Carlene Love Flores Genre: Erotic Contemporary Romance Publisher: Evernight Publishing ISBN: 978-1-77130-987-5 ASIN: B00N44IJEI Number of pages: 228 Word Count: 80,160 Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs Book Description: Sin Pointe front man Stefan Calderon is playing a very dangerous game and his mom’s live-in caretaker, Dani Foster, just landed right smack in the middle of it.

Practically strangers when Stefan rolls into his small hometown looking to patch things up with Mom, his and Dani’s worlds collide with a hot and intense hook up. He knows right away this woman will make the perfect partner for his two weeks in town. But when she realizes whose son he is, and what he’s there to do, sexy

times come to an abrupt halt.

That is until they come up with a solution. Rules. Every game needs them. The question isn’t if they’ll break them, but when and how hard.

It’s a wickedly delicious game, one neither of them intends to lose.

Sin Pointe Book Trailer Series http://youtu.be/1rfMHnkmZ14 Available at Evernight / Amazon / All Romance eBooks / BookStrand

About the Author: Carlene Love Flores is a fan of the stars (especially Orion), music (especially Depeche Mode), and her traveling family (no favorites -she loves them all). These inspire her intimate romance stories.

If she could touch someone’s heart with writing the way others have for her, she’d say there never lived a luckier girl.

Website http://carlenelove.com/ Twitter https://twitter.com/cloveflores Facebook https://www.facebook.com/carlene.l.flores Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/ show/6887320.Carlene_Love_Flores

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

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

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

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

His arrogance could get us both killed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Kate," she croaked out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded, tears streaming down her face.

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

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

Beta-Vamps were like the hippies of the vampire world. They were vampires that were missing the predator genome sequence. They weren't human killers. They survived on who knows what. Maybe animal blood.

Maybe blood stolen from hospitals. In some extreme cases, they ate rust for the iron content. Betas were rare, and, because of their peace-loving nature, extremely vulnerable to attack from all sorts of supernatural factions.

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

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

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

It also works the same in the other direction.

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

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

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

"What is it?" I pushed.

"Opium poisoning."

"Did you just say opium?"

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

"Oh. Shit. Does Dr. O know what to do?" I shrunk back. Opium. Who knew? Apparently Frankie. That ex-

plained why vampires were always told not to get their fix from heavy drug users.

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

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

He answered on the sixth ring.

He sounded groggy. "What's up?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why save her?"

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

"What the hell are you talking about?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You are in the same room with her?"

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

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

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

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

That sounded bad. And gross.

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

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

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

"I am on my way."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He ignored me. I changed tactics.

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

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

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

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

Kate's moaning was now punctuated by high-pitched cries of pain. Clearly in agony, she writhed on the floor.

Her hands formed into claws, and she scratched at the body of the seriously dead vampire closest to her. His skin tore like dried papier-mâché as she drove her nails into his corpse. As she tore at his flesh, blood bubbled out of her mouth.

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

I shoved Frankie harder towards the door. He finally snapped out of his stupor and we fled to across the room to the stairwell door. I pushed on it, but it didn't budge. Shaking the handle, I pressed all my weight against it.

Nothing. I moved aside and Frankie levered a kick at the door. He succeeded in denting the door, jamming it even harder into the frame.

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

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

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

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

Oh well. Close enough was going to have to do.

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

I opened my eyes. Kate was about to explode. Blood frothed around her lips, her shrieks now muffled as the

blood worked its way up her throat.

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

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

Tainted Blood Hell's Belle Series Book 2 Karen Greco Genre: Urban Fantasy Date of Publication: Oct. 20, 2014 ISBN: ISBN-13:978-1500844448 ISBN-10:1500844446 ASIN: TBD Number of pages: 582 Word Count: 95,704 Cover Artist: Robin Ludwig Design Inc. Book Description: After surviving a vampire assassin (not to mention an awkward affair with a hot FBI agent that ended worse than she could have imagined), witch/vampire hybrid Nina Martinez is reunited with the full Blood Ops team in Providence, Rhode Island. Her Aunt Babe is tutoring her in all things witchcraft, and her vampire partner Frankie is enjoying the benefits of daywalking, courtesy of a demon spell.

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

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

No wonder she still can’t get a date.

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

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

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

Her first novel, Hell's Belle, was released in 2013. Tainted Blood is the second book in the best-selling Hell's Belle urban fantasy series. http://www.karengrecoauthor.com/ http://karengreco.blogspot.com/ https://twitter.com/karenThegreco

https://www.facebook.com/ hellsbellebykarengreco

https://www.goodreads.com/karengreco

Excerpt: Ambar Lenn – Fate's Journey Alone in the dark, Aust sat at the bottom of the grand staircase of Jade's manse, staring at the cryptic words mounted on the foyer wall. Translated by the Centaur, Chiron of Deleran, the Queen Oracles' prophesy hung opposite the double entrance doors. Aust's Elven brothers and warrior friends boasted thoughts and theories as to its meaning, but theories they remained. And on nights when reverie evaded him—which occurred more oft than not—he sat within the silent stone walls of Jade's new home and tried to glean the prophesy's meaning: Journey of Fate, two realms to purge Weapons drawn against the Scourge Blaze of passion, Trust unearthed, Cleansing of past, Spirit rebirthed, Fate or free-will, which to choose?

With love to gain and life to lose.

Darkness hides in familiar form A brother's betrayal, a sister's storm Empower lost souls or evil shall reign Noble the child of argenteous mane Journey of Fate—the first line referred to their Ambar Lenn, everyone agreed on that point. Four fortnights past, the inception of his, Galan's and Thamior's journey to manhood had triggered unforeseen events.

On that night—the night the exile of his people was lifted—the three of them had set off from the Highborne village to find their path.

Aust had yet to find anything . . . save grief.

His Eda had been slain, his Naneth left heart-weary, and his people so offended by his goddess-given affinity to communicate with his animal brothers and sisters, they cast him out.

Galan fared well enough, and for at least that much, he rejoiced. Jade was a remarkable female, and to have Recognized with his mate . . . there was no greater blessing. Together, partners in life and purpose, the two now served Castian as Protectors of the Realm of the Fair.

Thamior's journey? Well . . . Tham remained Tham e'ermore. Aust marveled at the strength of spirit the male possessed, his love and wonder of all things, the simple joy he found in living free within the Realm of the Fair. Tham had yet to make any progress in his journey, yet paid it no mind.

Weapons drawn against the Scourge—Aust was more than ready to take up arms against the enemy of

the realm. He yearned to prove his value, burned to avenge his dead. There were moments, the fury boiled so white-hot in his blood, he almost drowned in the lure of vengeance and pain. He quelled those impulses as best he could.

For the choices made to navigate the journey of the Ambar Lenn would determine if he could ever be thought of as a male of worth. And so he pushed back the anguish and the anger and waited . . . .

Ursa Unearthed Scourge Survivor Series Book 2 JL Madore Genre: Fantasy Romance ISBN: 978-0-9916763-2-3 ASIN: B00KUEGYMO Number of pages: 340 Word Count: 100,000 Cover Artist: David Wysotski Book Description: Mika’s life has never been normal, but it’s hers.

After being told by the Great Spirit to stand up for the Earth Mother’s children and “save the great species from extinction,” she buries herself in an investigative journalism career hunting down poachers and exposing illegal trade in wildlife exotics. A survivor by nature, she would rather fight injustice than maneuver the hassles and heartache of relationships anyway.

When danger suddenly finds her unprepared, Mika’s perception of her life is shattered and she is hurled into a realm of magic and murder she does not understand. Seduced by Bruin, the powerful and sexy warrior who saves her life, Mika is catapulted into a world where Were-creatures and Scourge assassins threaten not only her life but her heart as well.

With the boundary between worlds crumbling, Mika realizes that her destiny to save the great species will draw her deeper into a reality more terrifying to her than anything she has faced before.

Trusting in love.

About the Author: JL Madore, lover of family, animals and chocolate has a soft spot for romance and a hot button for sexy stories. She didn't find writing so much as it found her. Waking each morning with a vivid cast of characters tangled in chaos in her head, it seemed essential to capture them on the page.

Vampires: Dead, Undead, or Something Else

by Roxanne Rhoads Nothing says Halloween like people running around dressed as Dracula proclaiming “I vant to suck your blood.”

I don’t think that’s the image Bram had in mind when he wrote Dracula but it’s become the vampire caricature we are most familiar with. Especially at Halloween.

In most myths, legends and even in plenty of today’s popular fiction, vampires are described as either dead or undead, sometimes referred to as walking corpses. No heartbeat, no need to breathe, no need to eat food or drink anything other than blood.

Honestly all that doesn’t make a whole helluva lot of sense to me.

For me vampires are different and extraordinary creatures- not dead at all. Just different.

I can understand them being described as dead in the early incarnations. Because before the Gothic literature of the 1800s romanticized vampires, early myths and legends portrayed them as monsters- grotesque walking corpses. More like today’s zombies than the sexy, romantic and sometimes sparkling vampires that we often envision them to be.

I see being changed into as vampire as a transformation, not necessarily a true death, though in a way it is, but not like what it is often described as. I see it as a catalyst that transforms a person from human to Other. Changing from human to vampire can be a death of human life and rebirth as a vampire, but not a true death.

I can’t wrap my head around the concept of a vampire being dead because of several things.

One they need to feed to “survive”. If you need to survive then obviously you’re not really dead, are you?

Another thing- rapid healing abilities. If you can change and heal, how can you be dead? Dead things don’t heal.

Zombies don’t heal.

Other things I don’t agree with are the cold skin, lack of heartbeat and lack of breathing. I think vampires are evolved and don’t need to breath as often as humans and their hearts don’t beat like ours- and the slowness of their heartbeat and breaths has something to do with the whole immortality thing.

And the cold skin… when they get cold that just means they need to feed, if they are fully fed their skin is just as warm as ours.

That brings me to the need for blood. As I mentioned I see vampirism as a transformation, kinda like a disease that changes the body. It changes the metabolism and the higher functions of the body but to keep these processes going the body burns up its blood supply and constantly needs to be replenished.

The other powers of vampires- the glamour and mind control and all that, even the teleportation and shape shifting that some can do…well that goes into the magic slot.

I think vampirism is one part disease two parts magic.

In many of my stories the vampires defy the normal vampire conventions. They eat, they walk in daylight, they have heartbeats, and they breathe (usually). I try not to describe them as dead or undead and I don’t often stick them in coffins or in the ground.

In my Vehicle City Vampires Series, the vampires are all a little different from each other. Some have issues with sunlight, some do not, some have silver sensitivities some do not.

This is because there are many species of Others (fae, demon, shifter, witch, etc) that have interbred with humans over the centuries. When a human is turned into a vampire the dormant powers inside them become active. Most humans will never know they have “Other” blood inside them until the catalyst of becoming a vampire brings that dormant power to the surface. In addition vampires also gain some of their abilities and powers from the vampire that made them, their sire. The result is a species of vampires that have a wide variety of powers and abilities. Which is why they are so hard to track, kill or fight- you never know what you’re going up against when you deal with a vamp.

A 100% human with no “Other” blood inside will not survive the change into a vampire.

In the Vehicle City Vampire series I wanted to take all the myths, legends and variances of vampire abilities, mix them all up and create an explanation as to why vampires are so different.

I hope that readers will enjoy my take on vampirism.

Do you title the book first or wait until after it’s complete?

I usually wait until the book is completed. There have been a few times when the title comes to my first and there have been other times when a title for a manuscript escapes my mind. Usually when that happens I'll chose either a phrase or an important part of the story and read it over and over to help my scattered brain think of a title.

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

When I was younger I read tons of traditional western novels from authors like Larry McMurtry and Louis L'Amour. Supposedly it's a dying genre but I would mind popping out one if the right idea came to mind. Either that or write about an important western historical figure since I'm a big fan of the American West.

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

My favorite character still has to be Anastasia although another character, Remy, is a close second. She was one of the first characters that came to mind when brainstorming the first Deamhan novel. Her history is very interesting and complex. She's the type of character that has enormous room for growth in the Chronicles.

She can be headstrong and yet gentle in a blink of an eye if she has to be. Many readers have told me that they find her fluky and likeable.

If this book is part of a series…what is the next book? Any details you can share?

Dark Curse is the second book in the Deamhan Chronicles. The working title of the third book is called Revelation. Many characters from the first two books are left after the aftermath of Lucius' attempt to free the Pure Ones from Limbo. Let's just say many characters from the second book are going to have life changing experiences that will not only make them second guess their existence but change alliances.

Can you share a little of your current work with us?

I would love to! Dark Curse takes place about a month after the end of the Deamhan. Many Deamhan in the city have been slaughtered or considered traitors and ran out of the city along with their disposed leader, Kei. His sire, Lucius, hunts down any remaining Deamhan as human researchers begin to mend their broken agreement with the vampires.

The Dark Curse tablet, thought to be lost to history, resurfaces. The tablet has both the power to destroy Deamhan and to release the Pure Ones, the first Deamhan to have ever existed, from Limbo.

Humans, Deamhan, and vampire soon have to chose a side. Either they can stand with Lucius and help him release these Deamhan or stand against him, threatening their very existence.

Who designed the cover of your latest book?

A close friend named John Consentino designed the beautiful cover for Dark Curse. His company is called Kazi Graphics. He also designed the cover for the first book, Deamhan.

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Don't be scared to share your work. You have to stand out to be noticed this day and age. Nothing comes easy.

You have to struggle, work through the rough times, stay motivated, positive, and determined. You'll encounter blocks along the way so prepare yourself to either go around them or climb them with ease. If this is what you want to do and you have passion for it, no one's stopping you. Now get to it!

What would your readers be surprised to learn about you?

I'm scared of toilets. I don't like them. It's a weird phobia. I have to be standing at a certain distance with a plunger in hand before I flush the toilet. I do my best to not use a public bathroom because I find the stalls too confining. If I had the chance I'd prefer to have an outhouse in my backyard rather than a toilet in my bathroom.

When you’re not writing what do you do? Do you have any hobbies or guilty pleasures?

I'm an avid gamer. I used to play them a lot with my twin brother and older sister. I remember spending most of my time in Arcades. My parents bought us majority of video game systems that were released. Currently I own an Xbox and a PS3. I have over thirty games. When I suffer a serious case of writer's block, I usually turn on my Xbox and kill a few zombies in Call of Duty: Black Ops 2 or beat up my opponent in Ultra Street Fighter IV. Except Anastasia's eyes meandered over them. They were young, no older than ten years max. When she attempted to scour their minds, a barrier blocked her. The female Ramanga rushed at Anastasia in Deamhan speed but she quickly moved out of the way, grabbing the back of her shirt and tossing her several feet in the air and onto the roof of a parked car. The Metusba catapulted himself at Remy but he jumped several feet into the air, avoiding his attack.

Anastasia rushed at the Metusba and she sank her teeth into the base of his neck, ripping at his flesh. He screamed, pushed her away, and fell to the pavement on his knees.

From the roof of the car, the Ramanga flew at Remy with fists raised and her mouth opened, revealing her fangs. “I've never hit a pretty woman before.� Remy smiled.

She swung and he ducked, feeling the brisk wind travel over his head. Her punches continued nonstop but with each punch Remy evaded, the faster the punches came. He finally found an opening and his fist connected with her stomach. The Ramanga's feet wavered but she immediately found her footing and she swerved to the left, avoiding Remy's rising left punch. She raised her knee, striking Remy's in the chin and he fell back on the pavement.

She quickly maneuvered herself on top of him, striking him over and over again with her fists. Remy's head jerked from right to left, feeling his cheeks burn with each hit until Anastasia wrapped her arm around his at-

tacker's neck and threw her off of him.

She helped Remy to his feet and they ran off in Deamhan speed with the two Deamhan following them.

Their stride took them under a freeway, splashing through knee high water, and they turned sharply left. They passed through stop and go traffic, side streets, sidewalks, and eventually near the banks of the Mississippi River.

They took the river south, leaving the city, and entered a desolate area filled with rotting cornstalks and farmhouses. They stopped in the quiet area, being only a few miles from Blind Bluff Manor. They turned around but the two Deamhan were nowhere in sight.

“That wasn't hard.” Remy scanned the area across the river. He looked to the left at the tall dirt and rock infested embankment. “I think we lost them.”

Anastasia wasn't so sure. She looked up just in time to see the female jumping down at them. She tackled Anastasia and they both fell into the wild currents of the river.

Anastasia felt the coolness of the water streaming over her face and into her ears. It was an awkward position, knowing that neither of them would drown because Deamhan didn’t breathe. She pushed the female back and she jumped out of the water, just in time to see the male, also in midair, and his right leg connect with the side of her face.

She landed on the sandy shore, swallowing a handful of sand. She turned over to see the female towering over her with a raised stake. For a second Anastasia’s eyes filled with uncertainty. Stakes were meaningless, unless the female aimed for her heart. However, if the female's goal was to incapacitate her, she would strike elsewhere, leaving Anastasia alive for them to toy with.

Remy rushed toward the female but she immediately turned, burrowing the stake into his left shoulder. He stumbled back and the female grabbed the stake, dislodging it, and struck again, hitting just beneath his heart.

Anastasia found her chance to make her move. Brandishing her teeth, she bit down into the female's neck and she pulled back, ripping flesh from bone. Blood gushed from her wound and she fell to the sand. Again, Remy and Anastasia took off down the banks of the Mississippi River. The river curved and winded around, bringing them to another remote spot. This time a freeway ran on both sides of the river with a bridge slightly above them. Anastasia stopped, noticing that stars no longer dotted the sky. In the darkened horizon appeared a tint of red, signaling sunrise. She had to finish this now and get to Blind Bluff Manor. They climbed the embankment and approached the freeway. They ran through the traffic, dodging semi-trucks, cars, and other passing vehicles until they made it to the other side.

Remy held his chest and he bent over. “Good thing these Deamhan can't aim to save their life.” He coughed.

Anastasia examined his wound. “You'll heal.”

They heard the swift steps of the two Deamhan approach them. Again the male launched himself at them but Anastasia tossed him aside. He slammed into a nearby abandoned granary and Anastasia looked from the corner of her eye, seeing the female raise her stake, aiming for Remy's back.

Anastasia quickly moved and she caught the female by her wrist before the stake made its impact. With her other hand she plunged her fist through the female's chest, reaching her heart. The female's eyes widened and she snarled before Anastasia ripped her heart from her chest. The Ramanga dropped to the ground and her body slowly began to dissolve into a puddle of blood, dust, and bone fragments.

Anastasia turned her attention to their male attacker, watching him limp toward them. Dark blood poured from his mouth and a long piece of wood protruded from his stomach. She walked calmly over to him. His heavy eyes wavered. “You failed.” She plunged the stake into his heart and nonchalantly she returned back to Remy, uninterested in watching the Deamhan's body wither away.

In the distance she heard a male’s voice coming from a small house on a hill. The front door opened and she saw the outline of a farmer gripping a shotgun in hand.

“Let's get going. We don't have much time.” She wrapped Remy's arm around her shoulder. She took one final look at the remains of their two attackers before sprinting in Deamhan speed for Blind Bluff Manor.

Dark Curse Deamhan Chronicles Book 2 Isaiyan Morrison Genre: Adult Paranormal ISBN 069226325X ISBN 13 978-0692263259 ASIN: B00MO1T7O8 Number of pages: 202 Word Count: 79,000 Cover Artist: John Cosentino Book Description: The Deamhan world is in disarray. Freed from Limbo, Lucius, the once feared and Ancient Lugat, goes on a killing spree to wipe out any remaining traitors in the city of Minneapolis.

Meanwhile The Brotherhood's return along with the growing population of vampires riles up the remaining Deamhan who choose to stay behind rather than abandon the city. The body count continues to pile up forcing both humans and Deamhan to pick a side.

Either allow Lucius to free the Pure Ones, the first living Deamhan from Limbo, or take him out and cripple their already fragile presence in the city.

Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/_Qbm8FQCXVE Amazon Print

Amazon Kindle

Website: http://isaiyanmorrison.com Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/isaiyanmorrison Facebook Deamhan Page: http://facebook.com/deamhanchronicles Twitter http://twitter.com/isaiyanmorrison

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

Store-bought Halloween costumes are often made from synthetic fabrics that can be full of petroleum by products and harsh chemicals. If you want to be eco-conscious there are a couple eco-friendly options you may want to consider for greening your Halloween costume.

First of all you could wear an old costume. Perhaps there's something sitting in the back of your closet that you haven't worn in years, or you could borrow something from a friend. By not purchasing a new costume you are saving precious resources. Reusing is very green. You can always purchase used costumes on places like eBay, too. This is a really great place to find gently used and super adorable kids’ costumes.

Another way to green your costume this year is to make one out of old clothes. Check out your attic, basement, garage or wherever you have boxes of old clothes - better yet, check your parents' or your grandparents' house for old clothes and accessories. There could be 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 also have fabulous green Halloween potential where you can find free and low cost Halloween costume items.

Skip Halloween masks. Most masks are made of vinyl, PVC or other petroleum byproducts and are full of harsh chemicals. If you really want a mask for your costume opt for the simple do-it-yourself eye masks that you can make from cardboard or craft foam--decorate with feathers, glitter and sequins.

Beware of toxic cosmetics. With all the scary stuff that's been showing up in traditional cosmetics (like lead, phthalates, parabens, etc) you’ll want to look for natural cosmetics in colors to match your costume and theme.

Search for costumes made from eco-friendly fabrics. 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.

Stores are often filled with Halloween decorations that cost a fortune and may not even survive the season and even if they do many people toss a lot of stuff straight into the trash once Halloween is over.

Quit spending your hard earned money on plastic junk when you can use stuff you have lying around the house to make your own creepy concoctions. Go green this Halloween by skipping the shopping spree and have a fun -filled family weekend craftactular instead.

Start out by raiding the garbage and recycling bins. Don’t say gross, your recycling bins should have rinsed out and semi clean containers in them not oozing food trash (that should all be composted). So, what did you find in your bins? Some tin cans, glass jars, plastic containers and cardboard toilet-paper and paper towel rolls? Perfect.

Now let's see what Halloween goodies you can 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.

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 easier-fill 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.

Paint fun Halloween colors and designs on the cans with acrylic paint. Then add candles or flameless LED lights to give them that creepy glow.

Now that you are done with the tin cans you can transform any glass jars you found into crafty candy containers or fun candle holders. To create these green Halloween containers you can glue on paper designs, add stickers or paint the bottles with acrylic or glass paints. If you are creative and skilled enough you could even etch the glass with fall and Halloween designs.

To make the jars into candy containers purchase unwrapped colorful candy in bulk and add to the candy jars for colorful displays. (This also makes a great contest if you count the number of candy pieces in the jar so you know how many there are, then you make guests guess for a chance to win a prize).

Put candles inside to jars to transform them into scary luminaries.

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 surprising 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.

Here’s another green Halloween craft idea-turn plastic containers into fun Halloween creatures. 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.

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 battery-operated 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 animatronics hand to really give people a fright. Just make sure to be green and use rechargeable batteries. J Another way to make super green Halloween decorations is by incorporating natural elements as part of your spooky Halloween and seasonal Fall decor. 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.

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 eco-soy 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 planning, 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.

You can start your eco-Halloween party out right by sending electronic invitations. Evite is a great Website that helps you organize and keep track of your mailing list, invitations and RSVP notices. Not a single piece of paper needs to be used for the invitation process. It's all electronic.

If that’s not your thing at least go tree free--or choose recycled paper for your spooktacular invitations.

If you have kids that want to make the invitations and pass them out to friends this may be an easier route.

Choose scrap paper, recycled paper or anything you already have on hand and some eco-friendly art supplies then let the kids design and make invitations and even some decorations.

Make sure to ditch all the disposables that you can. Try not to use disposable table wares 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, 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 organic chocolate bars and YummyEarth organic lollipops. Visit www.naturalcandystore.com for many organic candy options.

Want to light up the night? Consider solar powered outdoor decorations and LED lights to conserve energy and if you use candles, pick natural beeswax and soy candles.

Giving away door prizes or goody bags? Choose items that are eco-friendly. Forget about the plastic favors that often get broken, lost or thrown away within hours, consider reusable and fun things guests can enjoy for a long time like canvas tote bags, books, notebooks made from recycled or tree free paper, or for kids - ecofriendly toys.

This year you can make a difference by greening Halloween. For more info visit GreenHalloween.org

Magical London, circa 1816

By Alyxandra Harvey In A Breath of Frost, the first book in The Lovegrove Legacy, cousins Emma, Gretchen and Penelope are introduced to their own magical powers, as well as new side of London.

In Whisper the Dead, they must learn to navigate the hidden roads and neighbourhoods both to save themselves—and prevent a terrible sacrifice.

Here is a handy guide, should you find yourself in magical London circa 1816.

1Don’t eat the food. Seriously. This has nothing to do with the rules of Faeryland/Hades, where eating anchors you to another world. This is purely because in 1816, they ate calves’ foot jelly (literally a jar set with jelly and the hoof of a baby cow), and sweetbreads (pancreas. I urge you not to Google). On the other hand you might get cheese on toast and cucumber salad-- or lovely ices from Gunter’s—orange, chocolate, or pistachio.

Or parmesan. Not convinced about that last one.

And possibly, this strange pink little cherub: But you’re just as likely to be served Stilton cheese with maggots.

Maggots.

You might be safer visiting Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens where you can eat strawberries and drink champagne. And if you find the secret witching corners, you can try moon cakes or apple petal cake. Mind the stinking Mayweed by the gate, it’s there to keep away those who might be a little perturbed to find goblins and pegasi in London.

2

Stop by the Goblin Market on Old London bridge. It has an answer to your every magical question! Evil eye beads to keep away jealousy, and dove’s blood to keep away everybody everywhere. Don’t drink the Black ale, you won’t remember any of your adventures. Only goblins can stomach it. Keep an eye on your pockets—the Madcaps are free witches and I assure you, they will make equally free with your belongings.

And try not to anger the Toad Mother. The smoke from her chimney may be sweet and pink as candy but she always knows what to do with the body.

3Do send your sons to attend the Ironstone Academy of Magical Arts and your daughters to the neighbouring Rowanstone Academy, where they will be safe from all warlocks and curses thanks to the finest collection of rooftop gargoyles in the country. In fact, they insist. They need all the help they can get with the Greymalkin Sisters so currently free. Ironstone has trained many fine Mayfair young men into becoming Keepers for the Order of the Iron Nail.

Rowanstone teaches manners as well as magic and has many illustrious graduates. They would probably ask you not to judge their success on the basis of one Gretchen Thorn, hellion and wild girl.

She would remind you that she has saved their ungrateful asses and they ought to have a care.

Have fun on your travels!

But remember…a witch knot does not guarantee you safe passage. The Greymalkin Sisters may be trapped in a witch bottle but evil still lurks in Mayfair.

Whisper the Dead The Lovegrove Legacy Book Two Alyxandra Harvey Genre: YA, YA historical paranormal, witches Publisher: Bloomsbury Date of Publication: Oct 7,2014 Word Count: 100 000 Book Description: Gretchen is struggling with her newfound gift as a Whisperer; the constant buzzing in her ears from detecting spells is more frustrating than fun, especially when she is spending time with one of the Order of Iron Nail’s Keepers, the icy but strikingly handsome Tobias Lawless.

But while Gretchen tries to hide the truth and resolve her feelings for him, London fades from beautiful and bustling to deathly silent …Something evil is once again menacing Mayfair, and Gretchen and her cousins must use their powers to prevent a horrible sacrifice Available at Amazon Excerpt: The contrast between fighting off the Rovers and pasting a polite smile on her face for the single sons of earls was too stark. Residual magic burned through her. She was surprised the air around her didn’t crackle. Her mother shouldn’t begrudge her a stolen moment in the library, not if the alternative involved magic shooting off the ends of her hair. Hardly subtle.

Not to mention hardly marriageable material.

On second thought….

Better not. She’d already pushed her luck by going off with Godric.

Egyptian onion farming it was then. She walked along the book shelves, reading titles and glancing into

the glass-fronted cabinets that held Lord Worthing’s collection of painted globes. It was dull and dusty and soothing. Her witch knot stopped aching.

Until someone grabbed her arm, yanking it behind her back and spinning her around. Her check pressed to the cold glass of a curio cabinet. Pain shot up to her elbow when she tried to move.

“Who are you?” a man’s asked, his voice quiet and cold in her ear.

“Who am I?” she barked back. “Who the hell are you?” He evaded the kick she aimed at his most sensitive parts. Her skirts wrapped around her knees, hobbling and infuriating her. He turned her roughly around.

Tobias Lawless.

She wasn’t sure which of the two of them was more surprised.

Someone so chilly and perfect and wearing such a flawless cravat shouldn’t be mauling ladies in dark libraries. He also shouldn’t have several short iron daggers tucked inside his cutaway coat. It probably said something unsavory about her character that the sight of those daggers made her like him a bit more. But only a little bit.

“Let me go,” she yanked savagely down, breaking his hold. He didn’t move back, and his body continued to block her against the cabinets. The glass rattled.

“What are you doing?” he stepped closer still. She had to tilt her chin up.

“I am currently being accosted,” she snapped, driving the heel of her shoe into the top of his foot. He fell back a step, growling in his throat. Growling. He really didn’t seem the type.

She made a proper fist, not like the ones girls made when they hadn’t practiced before. She’d already punched a Rover tonight. She was very comfortable punching Tobias, Lord Killingsworth. Eager, in fact.

“What is wrong with you?” she asked finally. “Are you drunk?”

“Certainly not.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m the one being mauled and yet you take offense?”

“I can smell it on you,” he answered which was no answer at all. “There’s no use prevaricating.”

“I don’t usually bother lying about perfume,” she replied, now more bewildered than concerned.

“Not perfume,” he ground out, as if she was the frustrating one. “Dark magic.”

Her eyes narrowed to angry slits. “I beg your pardon.”

“As you should.”

She aimed for his head. It was big and fat and so perfectly groomed, how could she miss?

He caught her wrist and squeezed. Hard. He shouldn’t have been fast enough.

An iron-nail pendant in the shape of a wheel slipped out from under his collar. Gretchen stared at it, then transferred her glare to his haughty, unkindly beautiful face. “I knew it.” She gave him a smile better suited to one of the animals in the zoological gardens. “You’re a bloody Keeper.”

About the Author: Alyxandra Harvey lives in a stone Victorian house in Ontario, Canada with a few resident ghosts who are allowed to stay as long as they keep company manners. She loves medieval dresses, used to be able to recite all of The Lady of Shalott by Tennyson, and has been accused, more than once, of being born in the wrong century. She believes this to be mostly true except for the fact that she really likes running water, women’s rights, and ice cream. www.alyxandraharvey.com www.twitter.com/AlyxandraH https://www.facebook.com/AlyxandraHarvey

The Blue Effect Renegade Heroes Book One Rose Shababy Genre: Adult Urban Sci-fi/Fantasy Date of Publication: September 8th, 2014 Cover Artist: Regina Wamba Book Description: Blue Brennan is jaded and bitter despite her pinup girl looks and quick wit. Night after night, she scours the Seattle club scene looking for someone or something to fill the emptiness inside.

When she meets the mysterious Kasey, her world stops… literally. He claims she has the ability to control time and stuns her even further when he reveals his own gifts.

Blue is inexplicably drawn to Kasey and reluctantly enters his world filled with a new breed of humanity. They’re misfits like her, blessed or cursed with powerful abilities, struggling to hide their differences from the rest of society.

Then the group discovers a nameless, faceless sociopath with nightmarish powers; and he’s coming for Blue.

She’s left reeling when they discover her gifts are the key to defeating his terrible evil and saving them all.

Now she must race against the clock to harness her own powers and save her new friends. Can she be more than a renegade? Can she be a hero too?

Available at BN Kobo iTunes Amazon Excerpt As I scanned the crowd my eyes fell on one person out of sync with the rest. Close to my age, maybe a little older, he obviously didn’t belong in the club. His clothes, messy looking slacks and a gray t-shirt, hung on his lean frame. He finished his look with a tartan scarf and brown fedora that seemed more at home on an old man than one in his twenties.

He pulled his hat off and shaggy brown hair fell across his eyes as he danced. Well, he didn’t dance so much as sway to the music, his eyes closed while a hint of a smile graced his lips. As he danced, he bobbed his head back and forth and his hands moved like graceful waves. His shadow grin seemed to infuse his entire body. He danced by himself as if he didn’t care what anyone around him thought, as if he danced for himself and no one else. He looked completely out of place, yet he appealed to me and I felt myself wanting to go to him.

I was shocked by the surge of jealousy that rushed through me as I stared at him. His face broke through my drunken haze and I realized this man was no paper doll. His face belonged to a truly happy man. Hell, he looked fucking ecstatic.

He had the face of an angel.

The Making of Michael Bishop A Realm Walker Short Story Kathleen Collins Genre: urban fantasy, dark fantasy Date of Publication: August 30, 2014 ASIN: B00N5YWPCE Number of pages: 20 Book Description: Keep your distance. Don't look him in the eye. Feed him and leave.

Michael D'Augustino is a priest in the time of the Inquisition. Marked as weak for his refusal to torture those charged with sorcery, heresy, devil worship or worse, he's given another task. Feed the prisoner in the cell in the darkest corner of the dungeon. With the edict comes a set of instructions.

Ever obedient, Michael does exactly as he is told. Until the night his charge doesn't eat and Michael has to enter the cell to find out why. Instead of the beast he believes to be imprisoned there, he finds a man. A broken, tormented man who asks for help.

But all is not as it seems and, before the night is through, Michael will be changed forever.

Available at Amazon and BN About the Author: Kathleen Collins has been writing since Kindergarten. And while her ability has drastically improved, her stories are still about monsters and the people who play with them.

The rare instances that she actually finds some spare time, she spends it playing with her two boys. Three if you count her husband.

She is currently hard at work on her next book. www.Kathleencollins.net @kathy_collins www.facebook.com/kathleencollinsauthor

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7191208.Kathleen_Collins

Damn, but this was a miserable city.

A miserable city, in a miserable season, with a miserable chilly dampness oppressive enough to put out the hottest of fires. If he didn’t have to be here, he’d be reclining on a low couch surrounded by silkenclad women and the open sands of the high desert.

If he didn’t have to be here, he wouldn’t be standing in a cramped parking lot in an East Coast city (really. East Coast. The very thought made him curl his lips in disdain) staring up at a balcony three floors up.

If he didn’t have to be here, he wouldn’t. But it was here, and it was close, and he wouldn’t have to put up with this permeating on-again off-again rain much longer.

The thought of it being so close made him dizzy enough to sway on his feet. Ah, well. Wearing a human form had so many limitations. Take skin, for instance.

And this ridiculous human obsession with trousers.

A loud argument erupted on the balcony above, catching his attention.

Women. Of course. Emotional, volatile, dangerous, loud…sometimes, good qualities. Especially where low couches could be found.

On balconies, peppered with vulgar language… just annoying.

Still. It was here, its presence burning like a dull itch in the back of his brain. That particular sensation, too, was annoying, but after so many decades of not feeling it all, it was a good kind of annoying. One that soon would be quenched.

Forever.

Suddenly, the sensation brightened, became sharper, clearer, like the full moon sliding free of the clouds. The argument stopped.

Ah. Finally. He turned up the collar of his overcoat against the nip of a sudden breeze and tilted his

head, scanning the balcony, watching. Waiting.

A young female with tousled purple hair hunched over the railing, resting on her elbows, trying to light a cigarette. Repulsive things, cigarettes. Lacked elegance. Why not a hookah, or even a slender golden pipe? This modern age was all substance. No style.

He unfocused his gaze and looked through the girl. Nothing remarkable about that female whatsoever.

She had nothing to do with the object of his desire and so was of no consequence to him. He disregarded her completely.

Another figure appeared at the rail. Another female. This one seized his notice, snapping his spine ram-rod straight.

Long chestnut hair swept in waves over her shoulder, hiding her face. He zoomed in on her and almost fell flat backwards, buckling under the smacking impact upon his heart.

Her. She had it.

Suddenly, the low gray clouds burned off in a blaze of summer brilliance, so great was the feeling in his chest. Hope. Hope eclipsed centuries of despair in that single moment.

She had it!

He side-stepped the BMW behind him, wanting a better angle, wishing to see her face. So intent was he upon the other woman that he nearly missed the cigarette that sailed past his cheek to land on the car. He curled his fists, an oath on his lips. He should be used to the crude behaviors of mortals, but still, how it bristled against his insides. Obviously, they’d been raised by very different mothers.

But then woman turned, and his scowl melted from his face. Her dark eyes met his, a split-second connection that felt like the bite of an electric current.

His heart tripped on a beat and he gaped.

Remarkable. This noisy, chaotic city where all was a tangle of technology and confusion and those odd diagonal streets—she stood out: a straight line, a calm constancy, the eye within the storm. He was confounded by the impression of her psyche. Unique was too commonplace a word.

A place to sit. He rubbed his mouth, staring up at her. To sit would be good right now. He didn’t want to end up on his knees, not here amidst the puddles and wet leaves.

The young girl twisted around and hopped up on the rail. Odd. The railing didn’t look wide enough to make a comfortable seat. Well. Considering her choice of hair color, he wasn’t surprised by her action.

Obviously, she was a little off.

He thumbed the edge of the business card in his hand, one that bore the address and the name of the counselling center to which the balcony belonged. Of course, she was. Why else would she be visiting a therapist?

Apparently, the bird reconsidered her perch, because she disappeared in the next moment. A piercing shriek sounded, loud enough that he had to cover his ears. It only lasted a few seconds, however, followed by a few more desperate shouts.

And then there came no sound at all, except for the traffic and the sparrows making a racket in the hedges bordering the parking lot. The women and the mental itch had retreated back into the building.

He stood a few moments longer, watching the balcony, hoping for another glimpse of her. But the remarkable woman and that wonderful sensation did not return.

He brushed his fingers together and tugged his suit jacket straight. No matter. She may have that which he sought, but she did not need to come back out.

Because he was going in after it.

And this time, he was going to get it.

Words That Bind Ash Krafton Genre: paranormal romance Publisher: The Wild Rose Press Date of Publication: Oct. 10, 2014 ISBN: 978-1-62830-560-9 ISBN: 978-1-62830-561-6 Number of pages: 314 Word Count: 75000 Cover Artist: Debbie Taylor Book Description: Social worker Tam Kerish can’t keep her cool professionalism when steamy client Mr. Burns kindles a desire for more than a client-therapist relationship—so she drops him. However, they discover she’s the talisman to which Burns, an immortal djinn, has been bound since the days of King Solomon…and that makes it difficult.

Ethical guidelines are unequivocal when it comes to personal relationships with clients. However, the djinn has a thawing effect on the usually non-emotive Tam, who begins to feel true emotion whenever he is near.

Tam has to make a difficult choice: to stay on the outside, forever looking in…or to turn her back on her entire world, just for the chance to finally experience what it means to fall in love.

Available at Amazon and Wild Rose Publishing

About the Author: Ash Krafton is a speculative fiction author from northeastern Pennsylvania. Krafton’s first novel, Bleeding Hearts was published in 2012 as part of a three-book urban fantasy series The Books of the Demimonde (Pink Narcissus Press).

An urban fantasy novella, Strangers at the Hell Gate, was published by Wild Rose Press in 2013. Her latest project, Words That Bind, won first place in the HeRA RWA “Show Me the Spark” 2013 competition; it is also available through Wild Rose Press as an October 2014 release.

Krafton also writes New Adult speculative fiction novels under the pen name AJ Krafton. Upcoming titles include The Heartbeat Thief, Face of the Enemy, and the award-winning Takin’ It Back. She is part of a YA/NA collective known as the Infinite Ink Authors.

In addition to novel-length fiction, Krafton enjoys writing poetry and short prose, some of which earned distinctions in various writing competitions. One of her poems was also nominated for the Pushcart Prize. She’s a proud member of Pennwriters, Romance Writers of America, and Pikes Peak Writers. Krafton is also a staff blogger for the Query Tracker Blog.

Website Blog Twitter Facebook Goodreads Authorgraph Pinterest

Excerpt: The phantom caress of Freddie's touch conjured long buried memories. Ah, sweet agony. Exuberant in their youth, she and Freddie had explored all the possible sexual positions together. And now...

She fought against a tear. That was all in the past. Gone.

She closed her eyes so she might ignore the overly familiar oil landscape hung over her bed and the other tiny details that recalled the sweet and torrid memories. Her finger caught at a lace ribbon on the vanity top and pulled it across the polished wood surface. Her favorite clock ticked. Time passed. When would the hole in her heart heal? Anger at her weakness surged. She grabbed and held onto it.

"Stop being morbid, Beth. You've got a job to do." Her voice echoed in the vaulted room.

A knock sounded from the outer chamber. She still had an hour before she expected her first guest.

The tweeny scurried to answer it.

"She's not quite decent, sir."

Bethina grinned. Leave it to the young ones to state the truth. She stood and turned to welcome whoever it might be, calling out, "Let them in, Laurel. I'm as decent as I'm going to get." It took but a few steps to enter the sitting room.

The girl curtsied and opened the door wider. Sir Arthur stood in the hall, his cap in his hand and eyes wide as he noticed the extravagance of her chamber.

Once again, that phantom emotion sprang to life. She couldn't possibly take another lover. Never. Action would help to stifle her misgivings.

"Come. Come." She gestured him into the room. "It's been far too long since these rooms saw a gentleman not bent on nefarious deeds."

The man blushed, his grey eyes darkened. "You think me harmless, Lady Godwin?"

"Hah!" She strode to the chaise, settled down and reached for the bell. The tweeny reappeared. "What would you like to drink, sir?"

Dressed in a suit of black silk from head to foot, the diplomat evoked an aura of quiet power. He had not moved since pausing inside her threshold. "I like to keep my wits when dining with my enemies and my friends."

Bethina pressed her lips together before ordering, "Small ale for two."

He remained still, his gaze boring into hers. "Do you possess a more modest gown, Lady Godwin?"

She chuckled and leaned forward just a touch. "Unlike you, Sir Arthur, it is not to my advantage to fade into background. A low cut bodice is far more effective in eliciting confidences than sitting near silent in a corner with a shawl up to my chin." Even as she grinned, her melancholy vanished. Thank goodness she had somebody to match wits with.

He coughed and appeared to decide she was not about to eat him for lunch. He stretched his long legs out as he settled in the high-backed chair opposite her perch. He continued to study her. What did he want?

"Now, why the early arrival for supper?"

He turned his attention to the appointments of the chamber; the heavy furniture, damask curtains, oil paintings. Every feminine furbelow Trudy could gather dotted all possible surfaces. Lace, china, clocks, jewelry. It appeared as the room of a very wealthy lady of the nobility. No guest could possibly guess at her sor-

did past.

"Sir Arthur?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Sorry. I wondered if you required any more information before we go in for supper this evening?"

"No, I think not. Sometimes it is better to make your own judgments, true?"

He rubbed his palms together for a moment. "I would have to agree with that."

So, he was avoiding speaking his mind. Really, now was not the time to keep secrets from her.

Laurel appeared with their drinks, served and withdrew.

Perhaps if she taunted him.

Bethina ran one finger along the rim of her glass, collecting the drop of moisture sitting there and then licked it dry. "You really wanted to see what I had chosen to wear. Admit it. What would the famed mistress of King Frederyk do upon her return to court?" She sipped at her ale and decided the castle boasted a fine master brewer.

"Yes. I am taking a huge risk here. Should we misstep, I shall be back in the desert of Uiel and you in that house on the river."

"But you forget, Sir Arthur." She placed her glass on the small table at her right and drew a heart on the tabletop from the glass's condensation. "Not once in two decades was I dismissed from court. I am good at this."

He smiled and relaxed in his seat. "As am I." She met his steady gaze. Good. His defenses were coming down. She took a deep breath, her breasts pressing against her tight bodice. His grey eyes widened. He swallowed. She followed his Adam's apple down his muscled neck and grinned in appreciation at his wide shoulders. The years had been kind to him. The blood beat in her ears . Her body stirred.

And suddenly it became clear. He desired her. As much as she wanted him.

"I didn't come here for a flirtation." Her protest sounded gravelly.

His cheeks blazed with color. "I did not invite you for such."

She waited, as he appeared to want to say more. In the end, they simply shared a nod each understood.

The heat and lust would wait, for now. "I am here for Freddie's niece. She needs me."

He nodded. "Yes, she does. I think, though, that I will enjoy working alongside you."

"Just working?"

The room filled with unspoken words. Heat. Hushed sighs beneath covers.

The King's Mistress S.D. Grady Genre: Historical Romance set in a Fantasy world/Erotic Romance Publisher: Purple Sword Publications Number of pages: 200 Word Count: 80k Cover Artist: Traci Markou Book Description: Bethina Lydia Fortescue, the Lady Godwin, adored her king as no other for twenty years. But the king is dead, and as his mere mistress she is no longer welcome at court.

Sir Arthur Jeffries, newly appointed to Princess Meredith's Regency Council, needs help. He begs the legendary Lady Godwin to return to the palace as the princess' tutor, hopefully to lead the gawky teenager through the political and romantic minefield of suitors and hidden assassins invited to attend her Debutante Ball.

Bethina and Arthur fight the undeniable surge of attraction between them. Bethina cannot bring herself to put aside the love she had for her king, and now concern for his heir. Arthur knows that he will only be able to serve the princess if he continues his life of solitude. Now is no time to take a courtesan to bed.

Brought together as servants to Rushton's crown, but joined through a lifetime of bitter and shrewd experiences, Bethina and Arthur discover that when the princess finally takes a husband, and all the enemies of the land are vanquished, they will have only one thing left to live for: love.

About the Author: S.D. Grady is a lover of men, music, movies and fast machines.

A beautiful gown stirs her blood as quickly as a NASCAR race.

An author of historical and fantasy romance, she never hesitates to switch gears and plunge into the real world of sports commentary.

She lives in her house on the hill with her husband of 20 years and their cats. During work hours she runs a movie theatre and, when not writing, enjoys crocheting yet another colorful afghan.

Several times a year you can find them at the track in their RV. http://sdgrady.info http://twitter.com/laregna https://www.facebook.com/Author.SDGrady The S-Curves blog http://thescurves.blogspot.com/

Stronger The Unit Series Book Two Sarah Greyson Genre: Military Erotic Romantic Suspense Publisher: Sarah G. Greyson LLC Date of Publication: 9-26-14 ISBN: 978-0-9904123-5-9 ASIN: B00MVGCOMC Number of pages: 288 Word Count: 67148 Cover Artist: Cover Me Darling Book Description: They always wanted to fix him. Didn’t they realize there was no fixing his kind of broke?

Haunted by the loss of his beloved fiancée a year and a half ago at the hands of a terrorist cell, ex-Green Beret Rob Fabik doesn’t know how to let go. The sounds and sights of her death replay in his mind, and he tortures himself with the guilt he feels over not being able to save her life, distracting himself with alcohol and women.

Attending Harvard University, Lola Sardeson is a down-to-earth, rich girl who is tired of living under her father’s thumb. One night out with friends quickly turns into a nightmare as she is kidnapped from a busy Boston nightclub. Her nightmare intensifies as she learns that the Ortiz Cartel sells young, innocent girls into the sexslave trade.

The Unit’s mission is to rescue Lola from the nefarious clutches of the Ortiz Cartel. From the instant Rob sees Lola, she touches something deep inside him, drawing out his protective nature. These feelings only serve to intensify the guilt he feels over losing his dead fiancée.

Forced by circumstance under the same roof, Lola inspires Rob to grow stronger. Can he suppress his feelings for Lola, or will guilt consume him alive? Can he forgive himself for not saving his fiancée? Can Rob save Lola and protect her from the greedy hands of the Ortiz Cartel?

Book trailer: http://youtu.be/C6dMea1q7zY Available at Amazon About the Author: Sarah Greyson is an Amazon Best Selling author. She lives in Virginia with her husband, two children, and four spoiled animals. She earned her Bachelor's Degree in Communications with a concentration in Professional Writing and her Master's Degree in Education.

When she is not writing or spending time with her family, she loves reading sizzling romantic suspense novels that make her blush. She loves a glass of pinot grigio, back-yard barbecues with friends and family, and helping her kids with their homework (in that order).

Her interests span all genres: from Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger to Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury to Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen to Slave by Shari Hayes to The Art of Happiness by Dalai Lama XIV. Sarah's favorite genres are contemporary romantic suspense and erotic suspense; the types of novels she crafts.

While the concepts are familiar and comfortable, she brings her own unique story and personality to everything she writes. She loves the feeling of crafting a spicy, action-packed novel. Writing is her passion. She wants to leave her readers breathless after experiencing the intense ride that is her novel.

Website: https://www.sarahgreyson.com Blog: www.blog.sarahgreyson.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/SarahGreyson/724202254267061 Twitter: https://twitter.com/Sarah_G_Greyson Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00L99CNY2 Google +: https://plus.google.com/u/0/111179255301244655648/posts Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8186443.Sarah_Greyson

Excerpt: He flashed into her bedroom, materializing on the edge of her bed in a casual, observer’s pose, one leg crossed over the opposite knee. He would watch her undress, just to remind her who was in charge.

Sasha had her back to him, her shirt off, revealing the ropy muscles of her slender back. She unbuttoned her pants and shucked them, tossing them in the hamper. She had simple gray cotton panties on, but they couldn’t look more erotic to him, clinging to her muscular ass, showing enough cheek to thicken his cock.

She turned and shrieked when she saw him, clutching her pajama top to her chest. “W-what are you doing here?”

He gave a lazy shrug. “Watching the show.” He expected fury. He craved it, really.

Instead she stood stock still, and rubbed her lips together, her breastbone lifting and lowering at a rapid pace. Oh Lord. She was turned on. “Get out,” she said, but her voice held no conviction. She might have said, “Take me to bed.”

“You don’t need to put that on,” he said, indicating the pajama top. “I don’t mind sleeping with you that way.”

“You...” she spat. “You aren’t sleeping with me.” She blinked at him. “I don’t want you in here,” she said petulantly.

“Your scent tells me differently.”

She snapped her eyes to his. “What?”

“Admit it, Sasha. Your naughty parts are tingling right now.”

A flush spread across her cheeks and down her neck. “What do you want from me?” she demanded.

“Come here,” he said softly, holding his breath. Her feet began to move and he celebrated the tiny victory. When she drew close enough, he snatched her top from her hands, dropping it on the floor.

She jerked in surprise and covered her breasts with her forearms.

He gripped her wrists and pulled her arms away from her chest, pinning them down by her sides. “You have a lovely pair of breasts,” he said, his fangs lengthening.

He smelled the fresh bloom of her arousal and wondered if it came from his words, the physical restraint or the sight of his fangs growing long for her.

“Please,” she managed to say, her voice cracking.

He lifted his eyes from his study of her breasts to her face.

“Please, Charlie…”

He tugged her closer. “Please what?”

“Please don’t do this,” she pleaded. “Please let me go.”

“I like it when you beg,” he said softly.

The scent of desire grew stronger. “Please.”

He released her wrists and yanked her panties to her knees. “Go stand in the corner with your hands clasped above your head.”

Her thighs twitched together, and he watched in fascination as a droplet of moisture trickled onto her thigh.

He brought his hand across her ass with a sharp slap, making her jump. “Now, Sasha,” he ordered. He had no idea if she would obey. If she did, it would be out of desire, rather than fear.

When she shuffled to the corner, with her panties around her knees and stood there, interlacing her fingers over her head, his cock throbbed. She wanted him. Or rather, she wanted this.

He made an approving rumble in his throat. He traced behind her and ran his palm over her ass. Then he smacked her hard on one cheek.

“Ow!” He slapped the other cheek. She shivered, her breath short.

“You like being spanked by me,” he observed.

She dropped her arms and tried to whirl around, but he caught her wrists and pinned them against the wall with one hand.

He delivered another stinging slap to each cheek, then began to pick up tempo, until she danced under the steady barrage of slaps raining down. He sensed her willingness to endure the pain waning and he stopped, rubbing her heated flesh. “You look good in pink,” he said.

“Why,” she panted, “why do you do this?”

He softened his touch, making it more like a caress now, soothing the sting away. “To teach you to obey.” She stiffened, but he pressed his body against hers and murmured in her ear. “You surrendered to me.

Why?” “You made me,” she said through clenched teeth.

“No, Sasha,” he breathed in her ear. “I think you were curious. You want to know what happens next, don’t you?” When she didn’t answer, he repeated the question, with a sharper tone. “Don’t you?”

She still didn’t answer.

He slapped her ass.

“Yes,” she gasped.

Her admission flooded his chest with the warmth of success. He caressed her backside, his fingers trailing up her inner thighs. She stiffened in shock when they brushed her swollen sex. She clamped her legs together as if to keep him out.

“Come, Sasha. You and I both know you aren’t serious about that.”

Loose Morals Darling Adams Genre: paranormal erotic (BDSM) Publisher: Baronet Press Date of Publication: Oct. 1, 2014 Number of pages: 140 Word Count: approx 40K Cover Artist: Craig Patton Book Description: Blurb: When Sasha Deschamps unwittingly attracts the attention of a strange man on her late night walk home from work, she winds up with a supernatural guest she can’t get rid of. The dominant immortal demands her complete submission and cooperation, refusing to free her until she has performed an act of magick, one which she does not know how to even begin.

Charlie sees the power in Sasha and believes she has the ability to

undo the curse placed on him by a jealous lover over one hundred years before. He also loves toying with the feisty witchling, doling out humiliating punishments while arousing a lust in her that leaves them both hungry for satisfaction.

Emotionally detached to the point of amorality, his motto has been “friendly with many, close to none�, but he finds himself falling for Sasha, believing he might be able to trust a woman again. When he discovers she is actually the reincarnated witch who cursed him, though, his world turns on end. Can he believe she has returned to his life to heal the rift between them? Or will he walk away from her again, as he did so many years ago?

Publishers Note: This book contains elements of BDSM including spanking, bondage and erotic sex scenes.

Available at Amazon Amazon UK About the Author: Darling Adams is a naughty author who loves writing about hot alpha males, Dominance, submission and power exchanges.

She also writes spanking romance under the name Renee Rose.

If you enjoyed this book, please consider posting a review.

Connect with the author online: Twitter: https://twitter.com/ReneeRoseAuthor Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/reneeroseromance Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/ show/8445701.Darling_Adams