J.P. Roth

J.P. R o T h

Author, dreamer, and wild child extraordinaire: JP Roth is an American Novelist, and owner of Rothic comics, founded in 2012, through which she has produced and published five of her original series. JP Roth lives in Long Beach, CA with her beautiful family, and their adorable Bichon Frise. Her days are spent writing fanciful stories, walking on the beach, and attending comic conventions across the globe. While JP Roth enjoys travelling to 56 | UncagedBooks.com exotic locations, she admittedly prefers to stay home,

wrapped in a soft fluffy blanket, drinking tea, and penning her next novel. Stay Connected

rothic.com

Welcome to J.P. Roth

Welcome to Uncaged! Your latest book released in May, Ancient Dreams. Can you tell readers more about this story?

Ancient Dreams, Blood and Shadows, is the continuation of Cara’s journey. Cara is beginning to piece together the broken memories of a past life that haunts her. Lost in a spell, she relives her own death, and subsequent rescue by Hades’ son, Draken, Drake, the man she died for and can’t stop loving.

Wrapped in visions of a life that ended brutally, Cara has thirteen days to break a curse placed on her by the vengeful goddess. The goddess Aphrodite, who once claimed her life and stole her chance at true love. With Drake, and her sister Lily at her side, Cara discovers there is much more to the world of ancient Lore than meets the eye. Vampires, Lycans, witches, and the old gods seek her blood. Warriors of hell stalk her every move as she battles the ghosts of love, sacrifice, and loss.

What are you working on next that you can tell us about?

I am working on the novel for DiVinica. Currently a comic series produced by Rothic comics, with art by Dawn McTeigue. A dystopian fantasy that tumbles through Mythological realms. In my downtime I do bat-

You are also the owner of Rothic Comics. Can you tell readers more about this venture and your contributions?

I started Rothic comics in 2011 with the inception of Ancient Dreams. We now have five ongoing series and have since sold comics and graphic novels across the globe. Rothic comics are published through Rothic, Ablaze Publishing & Diamond Previews. Notable, artists that have contributed to my work are, Eric ‘E Bas’ Basaldua, J. Scott Campbell, Dawn McTeigue, Sabine Rich, Mike Krome, Nei Ruffino, Paolo Pantalena, Collette Turner, and Ale Garza.

Current titles found in Diamond Previews.

Ancient Dreams Southern Nightgown REM 8 Theory of Magic DiVinica

What is the most difficult scene for you to write? What is the easiest?

I adore writing love scenes. Romance will always be my first crush. I always hope to make each one I write perfect, so in many cases they are also the most difficult scenes for me to write. I often battle with the need for perfection. I have to tell myself to just close my eyes, do my best, and let the rest go.

What are you looking forward to doing when the pandemic is over that you haven’t been able to do?

Comic conventions are resuming around the globe, I look forward to traveling, and seeing all those I have missed so much this past year.

Which comes first, the plot or the characters in the planning stages?

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Characters, they are always yelling in my ears, each talking over the other, all trying to tell their story. At times it is hard to compartmentalize the clashing narratives.

What are some things you like to do to relax when you aren’t writing or working?

I am always reading or listening to an audio book. Sometimes, when I really want a brain break, I game while doing both.

If you could have one all-year season, which would it be and why?

I love fall time. When light from the witching hour colors the auburn leaves, I see magic.

How many hours a day do you write? On average, how long does it take to write a full novel?

I try to average about 2-5k words a day. Time may vary depending on the level of difficulty.

Do you prefer ebooks, audiobooks or physical books? Are you reading anything now?

I will read or listen to anything I can get my hands on. My current read is: The things we cannot say, by Kelly Rimmer. Stunning, heartbreaking tale, of love survival and strength.

What would you like to say to fans, and where can they follow you?

Thank you so much for bringing this series to life. Thank you for sticking with us since the crazy beginning and having what it takes to wander through all my wild worlds. I love you all.

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Enjoy an excerpt from Ancient Dreams Blood and Shadows

Ancient Dreams Blood and Shadows JP Roth Fantasy Releases June 24

In Ancient Dreams, Blood and Shadows, Cara is forced to battle the monsters of her past, and deal with the conclusion of a curse haunting her present. A curse which has the potential to take more than her life.

It’s a strange thing to wake up dead, knowing you are standing in the center of unchangeable destiny—strange, yet acceptable. When the moment holds the death of someone you love—that’s where the rules of destiny deserve to be broken—Cara Wynter

Cara Wynter read a book that told her stories of another place. A forgotten time. As she read, she remembered the man she loved—the dark stranger in her dreams, re-lived her own death in his arms. Now he is in front of her, wanting her, loving her, desperate to save her, even from herself.

From the dark halls of Hades to the hidden mountains of Transylvania, Cara finds herself falling yet again for the man who once traded his soul to save her own. Spells, witches, mythical creatures, and ancient, avenging gods threaten her daily. Terrifying, emerging powers and twisted murders—are her new normal. The horrors she tried for years to ignore, come for her with a vengeance, dragging her into a hidden world of fantasy, and magic.

Drake stood at the end of the hall, a silhouette in a beam of rainy light. He and Gary were in the process of lifting the front door off the floor—somehow, impossibly pounded in by monster hands. Drake heard my footsteps, he stopped mid-motion and gave me a romance novel look, like I was the focal point of his universe, the only woman in his world.

To him we are, Arias told me. “You are!” I shot back, under my breath. “He doesn’t even know me. I don’t even know him.”

That’s not true, is it? She returned, echoing Lily. No, it was not true at all. I knew so many things about him; the way he slept with one hand under his cheek, how he cleared his throat when he was nervous—what all the varying looks in his dark, expressive eyes meant. Especially the look he gave me right now, like his soul had been gutted, and the remaining pieces reduced to ash. “Will you please, just shut up!” I told her. “I beg your pardon?” said Lily, sounding mildly affronted.

“Crap, sorry,” I squeaked. “Not you.”

“You know,” said Gary, in a conversational tone, giving myself, and Drake sidelong glares. “This door is about two hundred years old,” he grunted, quickly repositioning his hands, “I think it’s also solid oak—not exactly the lightest thing in the world, if we could all rape each other with our eyes later, that would be great.” “Sorry,” grunted Drake, tearing his gaze from me. Swearing, the men jostled the door into place, Drake held it steady while Gary set the hinges. Lily let go of my hand and went to hug Andi, I busied myself by putting on my gloves and trying to walk in a straight line. Drake let go of the door, brushed his hands down the front of his jeans. I saw him try to smile, the emotion on his face conflicted badly with battle raging in his eyes. Still, my eyes went to his lips—drawn there by a force beyond my control—consequently my right foot tripped over my left foot and I nearly wiped out. I caught the wall.

Steady Cara, I told myself. It was nothing, just a kiss—an extraordinarily little thing which frequently happens to normal girls, on a daily basis. “It is absolutely nothing,” I whispered. A memory, however, of his hands on my naked hips in a room of gold brought a wealth of shivers and made a liar out of me. My cheeks went up in flames. How was I ever going to properly face him? Talk to him for god’s sake—hell, yell if I wanted to.

Gary dropped a screw and said a word that made me cringe.

“Jesus! Gary!” gasped Lily.

Drake bent down, picked up the screw, then handed it back to him. Gary grunted in lieu of thanks—uncharacteristically glum. If Drake noticed the strange rudeness, he made no sign, just bent down again to retrieve the screwdriver.

I love you! I wanted to shout. Oh my god! I love you so much, and I missed you so terribly—but I had not, I did not, so I kept silent. It is possible he heard me anyway, because he lifted his head and looked right at me, looked at me the same way he had in his father’s chamber of eternal death, surrounded by fire and stars, our feet planted on that living floor. “How are you?” he asked, walking to stand in front of me. “Physically?” “Yes.” I shrugged and looked in his sad eyes. “I’m—” “Fine?” he finished cynically. “Yes.” I hated the space between us. He stepped closer. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry, Cara.” “Not here,” I told him. I took off my right glove and held out the same hand. “Come with me.”

“Anywhere,” he said. My bare fingers touched his palm. I could feel the deep emotion simmering just beneath the surface of his control. Lord, but he was strong! I wished for one second—even if it meant pain for me—that he would just let go and allow himself to feel. I led him through the living room, past Lily’s felled Ficus plants, and through the shattered back door. In silence we walked the small cobblestone path leading to the forest. I stopped a few feet from the tree line, and spun to face him, holding up my ring-wearing hand. “Did you give me this?” I demanded without preamble. I heard anger in my voice. Well, why not?! My mind screamed. Promise breaker! He owes us a freaking explanation!

Drake shifted his weight; his eyes were burning. “I thought you found it.”

I nodded; my hands made fists at my sides. “Yes, I did, right here actually.” I pointed to a spot under my foot. “I know where I found it this time, did you give it to me last time?” I shook my head. “The first time?” “Cara—” he pleaded.

“What? Where did you get it?” I demanded. The ensuing silence stretched for so long I expected him to end it with a lie, shockingly, he did not deliver. “My mother gave it to me, her mother gave it to her,” Drake took a deep, bracing breath. “I gave it to you under a tree in a forest, a very long time ago.” “You mean you gave it to Arias?”

Drake shook his head so dark curls fell over his forehead, impatiently he brushed them away while his eyes continued to burn into mine, making ashes of my soul. “No, Cara. I gave it to you.”

“I went back?” I whispered, shocked. I had not expected that answer at all. “Oh,” I took a breath. “How long?”

Drake closed his eyes. “I had two years with you.” “How?” “I don’t know, little on—” he stopped himself from

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dropping the endearment in the last second. “Cara,” he corrected. “I’m sorry, I wish I did. Were I to guess, from what I saw yesterday, I would say my sister had a hand in it. I never knew she wrote that story. It’s sick, such horror—immortalized forever.” He rubbed the back of his neck; his face could have been carved in stone.

“Why didn’t you want Andi’s spell to take me back? If I hadn’t gone back, I would be dead.” “Yes,” he said, his eyes pleaded with me to understand. “If you never drank that cursed spell, then you never would have gone back. You would not have been visible to Persephone, and she would not have claimed you. You would have died that night—so many thousands of years ago—I would never have taken my father’s evil deal—and the world would once again be, as it was meant to be. It would be done. No more curses, no more loss or fear, for either of us. If you hadn’t come back—it would simply be over. I don’t want to put you through it all again.” His voice broke. “Put us both through it.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. Tears of frustration filled my eyes, I blinked them away. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

I watched as the hard lines of his face softened. His eyes—red-rimmed and wide—were twin pools of misery drowning me. He tugged on my hand and I flowed into his arms, they closed around me and I felt home. He kissed my forehead and simply held me. “You are Cara,” he said against my temple. “You are Lily’s twin, a Scorpio and a dreamer. You share the soul of a girl from a lost time. You swim like a water goddess and ride a Ducati like a devil.” Leaning back, he touched my chin until I met his eyes. The dark gold flecks dancing in the amber hypnotized me. “You’re brave, selfless and kind. You would give your life to help a stranger,” his voice dropped low. “You are Cara Wynter, a writer, a witch and a beautiful creature.” I swallowed hard, shoving away the intoxicating feeling his words gave me. “When did you give

“A long time ago,” he repeated. I heard the smile in his voice.

I could not help my own slight smile. “You’re infuriating, did you know that?”

“I’ve been told a time or two, by you actually.”

“Drake…when?” I repeated. He waited, I looked down at my hand, so I did not see his expression, his voice however sounded muffled.

“The day I married you,” he said. I watched his knuckles tighten convulsively. “I don’t know how it came into your possession this second time—that’s the truth, though I do have my suspicions.”

“I almost remember,” I told him.

He sighed, deeply. “I know. I am afraid it’s inevitable, I feel the waves rushing to the shore, I fear there is no way to stop them.”

“It comes back to me in pieces.” My fingers sunk in his biceps; I think I shook him a little. “Can you make me remember?”

“No! Cara! Never!” His tone made my eyes fly up. I saw his eyes and felt a surge of triumph. I had finally broken through his wall, stripped away his tranquil mask. In that second of weakness, I was overcome by his emotions. Rage, anger and so much I felt I would fall to my knees, die in his agony. Drake held me up. I found my feet, and he stepped back. His face was blank, the emotion gone, his eyes bleak and exposed. I felt him lock it all away behind that steel wall I was coming to loathe. “Erastís,” he breathed. “Never.”

ROBERT W. BRADY JR & Cruiser

Our resident peacock, Roseby, is a neighborhood pet, but he lives in our tree, so we claim him. He’s not the brightest of birds, but what he lacks in mental brightness he makes up for on glorious plumage. During mating season he can be found fighting with his image reflected on our cars. The rest of the year, he strolls up and down the street, looking cool and searching for snacks. But we love him and are lucky to watch his clumsy flight onto our roof and into his tree every night around sunset.

This is ‘Cruiser.’ He should be ‘Tank,’ but I was in the Navy, not the Army. He was returned to the humane society three times before they called me and asked me to take him. I have experience with big dogs, and we think he’s a bull mastiff/ Akita mix. He had an intense pursuit instinct to the point where he’ll even chase cars if he’s out without a leash. He resists house training, he’s a ‘marker,’ and he wants to bully my other dog.

At the same time, there’s a good boy in there. He’s got love to give. My last dog like him took me 5 years to reach. I never give up – Cruiser will be fine. Meet Bo, our rescue dog. Can you believe some dumb a** left him behind? Good thing my little sister swooped him up and talked me into giving him a good home. We already have a cantankerous Chihuahua mix and a surly cat “gifted” us by our neighbors, plus the slew of wild animals that show up at our back door for organic scraps. Bo has been a breath of fresh air and positive energy in the house, especially during Covid. He not only keeps me company while I’m writing, but he also nudges me for walks when he’s determined I’ve spent enough time on the laptop. Best editor in the world!

CHRISTIAN CAMERON & Sappho

This is a picture of our new cat Sappho lying on my keyboard and preventing me from writing. Even better, when she wandered off I found that my keyboard was locked and only able to type the letter E with an accent aigu…. And that somehow my ‘zoom’ app had been deleted just before I was do to start an interview with English writer Matthew Harfly. Handy. Despite which, she’s a great cat.

AUTHORS AND THEIR PETS

Pets and companions come in many shapes and sizes. From furry to feathered to hairy and scaley - there is a place for all of them. Authors have a special relationship with their pets - whether they remind them to get up and take a break or they inspire their writing. Meet the critters that share their love and devotion to Uncaged Feature Authors.

J.P ROTH & Prince JOHN HAZEN & Castle

Prince is pure white Bichon Frise, and a happy boy, always. He is five years old, and thinks he is the cutest. He loves to run and play. He has many deep thoughts, and intrinsically knows that he is smarter than people. When he is not sleeping, he guards our little family with a vengeance.

Meet Castle, our loveable and crazy Airedale. He’s a handful but he’s also very sweet