Blurb: Julie Walker thought she found true love with Jase. Until he betrayed her in the worst way, with one of her best friends. Devastated and heartbroken she runs away,leaving behind her family and friends. She starts a new life filled with secrets.
When Julie meets Dean, she thinks he is the answer to all her prayers, but Dean isn’t who she thinks he is.
Jase Gibson is a player. Even when he had the girl of his dreams, he still played. When he lost Julie, his life fell apart. He turned to whiskey and women, to fill the void. But, only Julie will ever make him whole.
Nine years later, Julie's back home, but shes not alone. What will happen when all of Julie's secrets are uncovered?
Jase vowed that if he ever got her back, he would do right by her and never let her go. Will he let Julie's secret keep them apart?
When Julie's ex-husband refuses to be her ex, Jase must choose to help her or hang on to his anger.
Jase and Julie have to find a way to give their whiskey lullaby a happy ending.
Expected Publication Date: September 30, 2013
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/whiskey-lullaby-dawn-martens/1116871346?ean=2940148723585
Goodreads Link: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18192905-whiskey-lullaby
Series Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/lovesongsseries
Meet the authors...
Title: Halo City: Michael's Journey
Author: Mary Ting
Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
When a massive group of angels known as nephilim—half human, half angel—had been found by the Royal Council, they were taken to Halo City. Instead of cleansing the Earth with a flood, which had been done before, the Royal Council created a place just for this group of angels. While they were being taken, one of the Twelve, named Aden, rebelled and convinced many alkins to join his cause—to live freely among the humans and take over Crossroads.
After the fall of Aden and his followers, Michael was taken to Halo City to heal. Not only did Michael had a difficult time settling into his new environment, he had conflicting issues regarding his past. Upon meeting the alkins, a particular one by the name of Davin refused to give up on helping him deal with his struggles. Together, they discovered a strange being that would appear at the Crossroads at unexpected times. Souls wandering there is nothing new, but this one aged as time passed. Mystified, they both searched for answers while refraining from telling the Twelve about her. Who is this being that had enraptured Michael’s attention? And will Michael finally forgive himself and find the happiness that he yearned to have?
Title: Eternity (Crossroads Saga, 4)
Author: Mary Ting
Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Tour Host: Lady Amber's Tours
Having happily ever after is never easy when evil lurks nearby. Now that Claudia has her memories back and her life seems to have settled down, the fallen have come out of hiding with the news about Aliah’s and his demons’ death. The fallen coming out of hiding is not a concern; there are those who want to be left alone. However, one particular fallen, Dantanian, is hungry for revenge. Being one of God’s first fallen angels, he is the evilest of his kind, known as an angel of many faces. He will do anything to get his way, even if it means forcing others to join him. And he will stop at nothing to get Michael on his side.
Dantanian will torture, kill for pleasure, and concoct evil schemes to get Michael’s attention; and once in his hands, he will try to destroy all the happiness Michael fought so hard to gain. Having no support from the Twelve, and with Claudia temporarily losing her powers, the venators and the alkins must work together once again to save their friends. As death draws near to those captured by Dantanian, will the gang reach them in time? Or will Michael return to the dark angel he once was and destroy everyone he loves?
Crossroads (FREE) http://www.amazon.com/Crossroads-Saga-ebook/dp/B005F768GI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1378598809&sr=8-1&keywords=Mary+ting
Halo City http://www.amazon.com/Halo-City-ebook/dp/B00EHFTUH8/ref=pd_sim_kstore_2
Blogs blurb for Eternity
“Eternity erupts with action as the saga comes to a tearful close with amazing characters, outstanding loyalty, extreme action, and artistic conclusion. Thank you Mary, for allowing me to travel this amazing journey through your creative writing skills.” Michele, Insane About Books.
“Jealous are we? I’ve got your attention didn’t I? You were kind of paying more attention to the books than me.” Michael gave a wicked grin, carefully shelved the book back into its space and placed his hands on her waist. Peering down at her eyes, his body pressed into hers.
“You’re not looking for a book boyfriend, are ya?” His tone was low and playfully challenging.
“Now, who’s the jealous one?” Claudia’s finger traced his lips. Michael slightly turned his head and teasing licked and nipped her finger. “No, I don’t have a book boyfriend cause only a real boyfriend could make me do what I just did, Mr. Michael. You made me wet.”
Mary Ting resides in Southern California with her husband and two children. She enjoys oil painting and making jewelry. Writing her first novel, Crossroads Saga, happened by chance. It was a way to grieve the death of her beloved grandmother, and inspired by a dream she once had as a young girl. When she started reading new adult novels, she fell in love with the genre. It was the reason she had to write one. Why the pen name, M Clarke? She tours with Magic Johnson Foundation to promote literacy and her children’s chapter book, No Bullies Allowed.
You can find Mary at:
Title: The Keeper: Awakening
Author: O. L. Ramos
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Tour Host: Lady Amber's Tours
Elizabeth is a brilliant loner with a troubling secret she doesn't even know. As if the trauma of her mother being abducted before her eyes as a young girl wasn't enough, the small town she lives in thinks she’s crazy. That all changed when she met Michael, a mysterious and handsome man who identified with her like no one else before. Michael’s long time friend Vincent visits and drops the bombshell of a lifetime on Elizabeth and her world becomes completely unraveled.
Vincent’s information has revealed the world for what it is; a place where the impossible is real, and myths and legends walk slyly in shadow. A world that Elizabeth will learn she too is a member. Now, the three are caught up in a thousand year long conspiracy they never could have imagined. The three must rely on one another and the secret connection they all share if they have a chance to survive.
O.L. Ramos was born in Miami, Florida to Cuban immigrant parents. From a very young age he found himself drawn to books and telling stories to anyone who would hear it. His job titles have been so diverse, from being a sales manager to a retail giant to even being a deputy sheriff, but his love of the written word never left. After a work related injury as a deputy sheriff forced him to tone down his workload, he was able to use that as an excuse to finally dedicate his sole focus to writing
Chapter 5 (Excerpt)
As the hours pass by, I consider more and more that conversation with Michael. It’s all so much to take in. I can’t help but feel more than a little foolish as I recap to myself everything I said to him. He must see me as a complete loony; he can’t possibly be seriously considering what I said to be true.
Yet he stayed there the entire time. His eyes were focused and without judgment. He made me believe he wasn’t lying. That I could trust him, and I do. The entire issue was still completely out-of-this-world crazy, though.
I go to bed that night with all of these thoughts swirling around in my mind. Chalk up another sleepless night. This is getting old…
When I make it to Jack’s place, he can tell right away how ragged I am. I’m sure my hair is a mess and I can feel my eyes almost desperate to jump out from my head. I’m exhausted. But there is nothing I can do. I made a promise to my friend to take her shift, and if I hadn’t come in, Jack would be in big trouble.
After I bat away Jack and Roy’s initial protests, the day continues normally. It drags on, and the minutes seem like hours.
Before I even notice, it’s close to quitting time. Michael’s text messages help the day go by faster and even though I’m ecstatic to see him tonight, I don’t think I’m up to it. The door to the restaurant swings open and my heart jumps immediately. I’m hoping it’s Michael so he can just sit at the bar with the boys and keep me company until we are really done for the entire day.
But instead of a surprise early visit from Michael, it’s just another customer. Except I’ve never seen him before in my life. And honestly, I don’t know if it’s the exhaustion or the last-minute patron, but this guy has me feeling irked.
Until I see his face, that is.
He stares at me with a smirk on his face. He has this arrogant look about him, the kind of look that would make me almost immediately hate him. But his face is perfect. He’s almost the complete opposite of Michael. Whereas Michael has green eyes this man’s are sea blue, and they glisten like sapphires. Once again I find myself wondering if a person’s eyes could possibly really be that color. They are just so blue. The angles of his face, his cheeks, his complexion, he is…beautiful. Instead of Michael’s big, athletic build, this man is lithe, but his muscles are also very clearly defined. His hair is light, not like a dyed blonde, but his hair almost looks as if it is spun of gold.
“Hey sweetheart,” he whispers softly near me. I’m so lost in my own thoughts I must not have noticed him walking towards me. “You are the one to see about a table, right? Or am I being too presumptuous?”
He smiles at me confidently, seductively. His smile is also perfect. This guy has to be a model or something. If he isn’t, he really should be.
“This way,” I reply as I walk him to a table. I extend my arm and motion for him to sit, but he just stands there, looking at me. Almost as if he’s judging me.
“I think we have a mutual friend, Elizabeth,” he whispers again as if we are exchanging pillow talk.
“And who might that be?”
Truth be told, this guy is incredibly attractive. But I’ve seen his kind a million times before, all over campus. Spoiled rich kid who‘s been given everything he ever wanted in his life. Exhibit A is his perfect smile. It screams of braces and whitening treatments.
Besides, I am technically seeing Michael. Technically. And I am way too inexperienced in romance to even be thinking of flirting with a guy like this.
“I know where this is headed, hotshot,” I respond assertively. “You’re a great looking guy, and I’m sure you have all the women fawning over you. But I’m just not that type of girl. I never was and I doubt I ever will be. Besides, I like my men to be manly and honorable. I bet you’re just your typical player who stepped out of a fashion catalog. So if you don’t mind, here is your menu, if you need anything, I’ll be waiting right over there.”
“Ouch, crash and burn,” he says, feigning a wounded heart. “Always treat your customers that way? How could you earn a living like that? I’m guessing you’re a student, right? Working here to make ends meet? The public can’t possibly tip you well with that attitude. I like that attitude, though. It’s like a tiger, caged all her life. All she needs is someone to release the lock.”
“Very smooth turnaround,” I remark sharply. I wasn’t lying, either, but I try to make it sound as snarky as I can as I turn to walk away. I give him my back in hopes of hiding my smile. Something about his confidence is really attractive. “Just let me know when you get your mind settled on something to eat.”
“You should really take my advice, you know,” he continues, unfazed. “I know what I’m talking about. The customer is always right and all that. It’ll affect your tips. But then again, I’m sure you aren’t really concerned about tips right now, are you? Good ol’ Michael is tipping you as much as you need, isn’t he?”
I feel both indignation and fear. Who is this creepy model guy who knows about Michael?
“Is that the mutual friend you spoke of earlier?” I ask, still turned around to avoid his expression.
“Yep, sure is,” he answers proudly. I imagine a large grin on his face. “You’re really quick to judge people. That’s a very savage quality, especially in a young lady like you. You don’t want the folks around here to think of you as unladylike, would you? But then again, they really don’t have you figured out…do they? I wonder why that is.”
I turn slowly towards him and prepare myself for the worst. Did Michael tell this guy everything about us? Is this his employee, or a friend? Or maybe even worse, some sort of relative?
He smiles at me again and extends his hand to me.
“Please, sit down here,” he says as I notice his eyes staring deeply into mine. “It’s a really comfortable booth. Take a seat next to me, I insist. You could learn a thing or two.”
As if the sea truly was in his eyes, those two deep blue orbs are sucking me in. I feel a need to sit down next to him as he asks. But I’m not that type of girl. And I’m definitely not falling for his playboy crap. I want to know everything he knows about Michael.
So I’ll bite and listen to him rant. For now.
I walk closer to the booth and sit across from him. Ironically, we’re in the same exact booth I sat Michael down in when we first met. I notice the man’s face smirk once more as he chuckles to himself.
“I see,” he says softly, as if he is the only person in the room who gets the joke. “Well then, so your Michael’s new friend eh? It’s the talk on the internet and newspapers worldwide.”
I eye him suspiciously as I arrange the salt and pepper shakers on the table. He’s starting to make me more than a bit nervous. Is Michael really the kind of guy that would brag about us to his friends? We haven’t even done anything yet! If he is that type, I swear…I could just punch him in the face.
But I do suppose it’s my fault as well. I’m the one that’s rushing into everything. And I also might have made Michael out to be better than he is. He’s the first guy I ever dated as an adult. after all. Who am I kidding? He’s the first guy I’ve ever dated.
“Don’t pout, now,” the man says as he reaches for my face. “I’m only joking. I’m sorry; I have a dark sense of humor. I hope it can grow on you?”
“That’s not something you joke about. I have never been accused of being that kind of girl. I don’t intend to start that reputation now either.”
“What kind of girl are you referring to exactly?” he asks with another confident smile. “A girl who has fun? As opposed to the nun you currently are?” He places his right elbow on the table and plants his face in his hand, examining me closely. Just who does this guy think he is?
“So, let me get this straight,” I say as I motion to Roy to get me a drink. If I’m going to be yelling at this jerk, my vocal cords definitely needed the fluids. “Not only do you come in here and insinuate I’m some type of floozy, but now you’re also going to pretend like you know me? All of the sudden and out of the blue?”
“Hey now, I can see you’re getting upset,” he states as he straightens and offers his hands up in peace. “I never meant anything like that. But I do have a way of knowing people. For example, I can tell you’re a very intelligent girl. You want to be taken seriously. And although you could get by in the world easily with your looks, you want to get by with your brains. You’re also a goody two shoes. Were you a girl scout?”
“What?!” I almost yell at the top of my lungs. “I was never a scout, I didn’t have the time. It wasn’t really my thing either. You obviously aren’t as good at reading people as you thought you were.”
“Everything alright here, Lizzy?” Roy asks as he places my soda on the table in front of me.
I nod at him and take a deep sip of my glass. Roy walks away with clear confusion on his face. I stare at this guy sitting across from me. Oh, if my eyes could burn a hole in him…
“See that?” he says as he tilts his head to the side without a care in the world. “That glance right there. Only a caged tiger could produce such a powerful stare. If I’m wrong, please, feel free to tell me how wrong I am.”
I continue drinking from my glass and staring at him. I don’t know what to say. I’m still wishing for that ability to burn holes in him with my eyes.
“So I’m right, I take it? What a surprise,” he says in a mocking tone before extending his arm. “I’m not only right, you know. I’m also Vincent. And it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I breathe deeply as I remove the glass from my mouth and extend my hand also to shake his. At least now I have a name, and that’s enough to interrogate Michael with.
“So Vincent, did you come over here tonight to eat, drink, or just torture me?”
“Oh but I was hoping I could do a little of everything,” he says with a boyish laugh. “I suppose I’d take the torture option if I only have my choice of one. But really, I just came to see what had Michael so enraptured and out of focus. I can clearly see why he hasn’t been able to…concentrate lately.”
“It’s just that I knew you’d be lovely, and knowing Michael the way I do, I figured you were more than just another pretty face,” he continues on as if having a monologue in front of a sold out audience. “Michael’s a brooder. When something took him out of that loop, I figured it had to be someone extraordinary. I never counted on it to be so very exquisite, however.”
“So, are you a family member or do you work with Michael…?” My unease is growing and I fear that Vincent will realize it immediately if given a free moment. “Has he talked about me to you much? And I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, Vincent, but you do have a lousy way of introducing yourself to people.”
Another soft laugh. This time he doesn’t even allow his mouth to open as he stifles the noise. He looks down briefly before turning right back to me with yet another smile.
“Michael and I met through work,” he explains as if the topic itself is dull. “Now, I merely consider him a very old friend, more likely my little brother. Frankly, I’m hurt he never told you about me. I guess I’ll have to cross him off my Christmas list this year.”
Vincent was right, now that I think about it. And as I allow myself to return to my first impression of Vincent, I realize that I was spot on with my initial instinct. This is a man that is completely different, almost a polar opposite of Michael. Michael is tough and rugged; Vincent seems more like an aristocrat. Michael is extremely tall with wide shoulders and large arms and legs. Vincent is noticeably in shape, his muscles easily visible in any light I’d imagine, but he is still very slender and statuesque.
But their biggest difference perhaps is what Vincent himself pointed out. Michael does seem to be the quieter of the two. He is introverted and pensive. Vincent seems to be at home in social situations and wears his thoughts on his sleeve. He has a dark sense of humor and seems like the guy who is always sarcastic and cracking jokes. Most of all, Vincent seems to enjoy making me squirm. How could these two be friends?
“To ease your mind, no, Michael never told me about you,” Vincent announces. “Michael doesn’t really talk to me about women or his relationships. I don’t think Michael talks to anyone about his personal life, really. I just saw that he was a little off key lately, for him, anyway.”
“What do you mean, off key?” I ask with worry ringing clearly in my voice.
“He’s happy,” Vincent says, almost as if the idea of Michael being happy distresses him. “I can see why now. I guess I just didn’t expect the object of his newfound bliss to be such a…keeper.”
Yet again, Vincent laughs to himself. I officially have had enough. I was done playing his game.
“Listen here Vinny,” I say as I look at him dead in the eyes. “I bet you make all the women fall all over you with your subtle wit and banter. I’m sure that icy, mysterious stare works on all the girls, but it doesn’t do a thing for me. And this whole act of laughing to yourself as if you’re the only one who knows what’s going on behind the scenes and everyone else is in the dark; it’s getting really old. So how about you stop laughing to yourself like a jerk and let the world in on the joke? If Michael is in trouble or if he’s going through something, I want to help him. I feel he would do the same for me. So fess up, order something to eat, or leave. Because right now, you’re really getting on my nerves. And I’m nowhere near nice when I’m angry.”
Vincent curls his lips up in a toothless smile and tilts his head to the other side.
“Vinny, huh? Like I said, you’re a tiger,” he says as he licks his lips. “I have quite the temper on me as well, you should know. I guess that makes us both tigers. It just recently dawned on me, just now, that is. He hasn’t told you, has he?”
“Told me what? Michael isn’t the type to keep secrets. He’s been nothing but honest with me. You, on the other hand, are playing some sick, twisted game that only you’re enjoying.”
“Michael is a stickler for the truth,” Vincent says with a couple clicks of his tongue and a nod of his head. “I’m amazed he’d keep such a secret from you. But then again, he’s probably trying to protect you. You are indeed worth protecting. I’m not so sure he really is by keeping the truth from you. And in keeping the truth from you, some might say that in itself is lying. How do you feel on the issue, Elizabeth? If I withhold some important information from you, is that lying?”
My mind races at all the possibilities Vincent could possibly be getting at. I really don’t know this man; I should just brush off whatever he says to me. But for some reason, I know he’s telling me the truth. But I also suspect it’s a distorted truth.
“Is he married or engaged?” I ask with a shake of my head. Confusion and panic are starting to settle in. That would definitely explain his absence earlier and why sometimes it was near impossible to get in contact with him.
But Vincent just laughs, harder than before.. His face is flooded with amusement.
“No, it’s nothing like that,” he answers softly, calmly. This time, there is a tenderness to his tone. “Michael is a good guy, a goody two shoes, like you. He wouldn’t do something like that.”
I exhale a sigh of deep relief. What else could be so bad to make such a big spectacle of it? It’s like Vincent was intentionally trying to make it ominous, just to grab my attention firmer. He reaches across the table and takes my drink, pulling it towards him without a second thought, and takes a sip.
“Excuse me?!” I exclaim in frustration. “How could you just grab my drink like that?”
“I was thirsty, you haven’t taken my drink order,” Vincent says as he looks up from the glass. “You really are a very poor waitress.”
This guy has a real way of getting under my skin. Worst thing about it is that he wasn’t really upsetting me. The only time I was truly frustrated was when I thought Michael might have been in trouble or seeing someone else. Now I’m just surprised at the depths of Vincent’s confidence. I wonder if he has any limits in trying to push my buttons. It’s as if all of this is a game to him. I’m not about to give him the satisfaction.
“What did he tell you he does for a living?” Vincent asks nonchalantly, still attending my drink.
“He told me he inherited his family’s wealth,” I reply, a little unbalanced by the question. “But he said he also has a family business that’s involved with protection of the environment. I assumed it was mostly pro bono work.”
Vincent smiles to himself as he wipes the excess liquid from his lips with a napkin.
“I suppose all that is truthful, if a little…skewed,” he answers. “Did he tell you why he was here? I hear he’s going to school. Always very meticulous, that one. I’m just surprised he’s stayed in the area for so long. It’s not usual for him.”
Vincent is giving me more than plenty to think about.
“Skewed…?” I ask, trailing off. “I know his work takes him many places, but I didn’t know it was strange for him to be in one area for long. You make it seem like he’s always on the move. What do you mean, skewed?”
“I mean it’s all really at how you look at it,” he answers without a second’s thought. “Kind of how I asked whether it’s a lie to withhold a truth. I like to ponder these types of petty, perhaps insignificant things. So, did he tell you why he was here?”
With growing concern, I’m starting to hesitate before answering Vincent’s questions. But if I don’t answer them then that meant that Vincent succeeded in making me uncomfortable enough to avoid him. I’m not about to let that happen.
“He’s trying to scare a Russian businessman away from here,” I say as I look Vincent dead in the eyes, trying to appear completely unafraid. “The guy wants the land to build some stores and things like that. It’ll destroy this tiny town. The small businesses will go bankrupt almost immediately, and all the animals in the forest will have to find another place to go. We’ll end up with rabbits and wolves and who knows what else in our front yards.”
Again, a smile from Vincent.
“I suppose that’s true also,” he says as he scratches his right eye. “Although one might consider that to be skewed as well. A Russian businessman can’t be the only reason he’s staying here.”
“You’re his friend,” I answer immediately in protest. “Shouldn’t you know if there’s more? Maybe he’s staying here because he likes my company. Does that make you jealous? Am I taking away your best friend, and you just can’t handle it?”
In my meager attempt to act and sound tough, I only succeed in making Vincent laugh louder than ever. All of the customers left in the restaurant are now completely focused on Vincent and me. This is beyond embarrassing. After what seems like an eternity, Vincent stops laughing and everyone goes back to their meals and drinks. My face is undeniably red, I can feel it.
“You couldn’t be farther away from the truth, my dear Elizabeth,” he assures me smugly as he sits up again properly. “If Michael wants to ignore me for the rest of all eternity, he could. I wouldn’t say I won’t miss my playful jabs at his oh-so-serious demeanor, but there has to be more than just you keeping him here. Or perhaps I should say, you weren’t the original reason why he came here.”
“Of course not,” I report incredulously. “He came here for his work. He didn’t know I existed until he just happened to come in to get a bite to eat here.”
“Somehow, I really doubt he didn’t know you existed,” Vincent asserts confidently. “What I really do doubt is what that old dog is still doing here. I came looking for something. It was only after coming here that I knew Michael was here. But you…you might be the reason he came here to begin with.”
“Vincenzo” I hear Michael’s voice call out calmly. I didn’t notice him appear next to us. Even though Michael speaks low, his voice still booms, almost menacingly, to Vincent. “That’s enough.”
Vincent smiles and winks at me before standing up to face Michael. Michael towers over Vincent, who, in his own right, was pretty tall himself.
“Playing games as usual?” Michael asks, his tone and expression deadly serious. What kind of relationship did these two “friends” have?
“Ah, I see it now,” Vincent answers suavely as he measures Michael’s body language. Vincent isn’t backing down. It was clear he wasn’t intimidated at all by Michael’s presence. “You did come for the keeper. That’s extremely interesting. I assume you know why I came?”
“To ruin my life, as per usual?” Michael answers with a hint of hostility.
“I came for the ring,” Vincent answers calmly. “I’m sure you know why I would do such a dumb thing?”
“That’s unimportant right now,” Michael says as he diverts his attention to me. “I’m sorry if he bothered you. It’s his way. He gets a kick out of playing with people’s minds. Are you okay?”
Amidst this confusion, I don’t know if I am okay. What in the world are these two talking about? And for old friends, they really do act oddly with one another. I shake my head nervously in hopes that the attention can focus away from me. I want and need an explanation, but Michael can enlighten me later. I have the feeling this should be discussed in private.
“What did you tell her, Vincenzo?” Michael asks, as if he was an interrogator.
“Elizabeth?” Vincent asks coyly as he turns to me once more. “We were just talking. We were getting to know one another. I found out about your…philanthropic work here and your concerns with a Russian businessman. I must say, your work with nature sure has you working a very…unorthodox angle this time.”
“It’s not an angle,” Michael defends his stance as he aggressively grabs Vincent by his shirt. Vincent does nothing to engage or even resist Michael’s grasp. “You know the truth. You also know the danger of finding the ring by yourself. You should have told me, sought me out. Even you shouldn’t take on a circle of this size by yourself. And why did you involve her in all this? She has nothing to do with it.”
“Oh, but Michael,” Vincent says as he turns to face me with a large, comfortable smile even while still gripped by Michaels large and overpowering hands. He stares at me, right in the eyes again. “I think she has everything to do with this, and I bet you knew all about it.”
Author: Lynn Davis
Tour Host: Lady Amber's Tours
Rhonda Emerson had the relationship she had wanted, an understanding man, good loyal friends and family that loved her. She just graduated from college and has the rest of her life unfolding before her. She lands a job with a highly sought after employer. Just when life seems to be going in the right direction for Rhonda, Miguel returns from Afghanistan and wants to tie up loose ends. Rhonda starts to feel things she thought were dead but how can she give in to her feelings for Miguel when she is engaged to be married to Roland?
When Roland laid his eyes on Rhonda, he was not confused...He had to had her in his life. He immediately takes matters into his own hands and in spite of her friends, he wins her heart. Now after three years of dating, she is ready to start a life with him only. The heart knows what the heart wants and Rhonda Emerson is the girl for him, but is he ready to challenge a bond from the past?
This is book one of the Rhonda Emerson Series
Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Enticed-Rhonda-Emerson-Series-ebook/dp/B00EGG2Q5G/
Rhonda and Roland had been dating for two and half years when Roland decided to ask her to be his wife. She remembered that everything in her wanted to scream, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” and jump up and down, twirling and clapping her hands and doing her happy dance, but she held her composure and said, “Roland, let’s finish our degrees first. I’ll accept your ring as a promise of our commitment. Once we graduate, if you feel the same, you can ask me then, and I’ll answer.”
Roland hadn’t heard anything but that he had a promise of her saying yes after graduation. He placed the ring on her finger, grinned a big Cheshire cat grin and said, “Deal!”
A year and a half later, they had graduated, and that night, Roland wanted to claim what was his. Rhonda, on the other hand, wanted to celebrate one thing at a time.
“Let’s not overshadow the academic accomplishment we’ve both been awarded by rushing into another life-changing event right away.”
Roland looked disheartened. “Did you change your mind, love?”
“Oh no, babe. I’m just saying let tonight be about our graduation. Tomorrow, we can discuss everything else.” She touched the right cheek of his chiseled, handsome, chocolate-brown face and stared into his greenish hazel eyes.
She watched as his deep worry lines and thick, burrowed eyebrows gave way to an idea. His eyes illuminated, and a sly grin crept across his ample, thick lips.
“Deal!”was all he said as he took her slender hand into his massive one and kissed it gently before pulling her to him and kissing her mouth deeply.
When they finally got ready for bed, Rhonda was feeling a bit frisky, and as they lay in their favorite spooning position, she pressed against him and wiggled her ass. This had always been her sign that she wanted to make love. He would then press against her, begin to caress her body, and the fun would begin. Tonight, however, was different. He kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, “Good things comes to those who wait, little girl.”
Rhonda felt the words way deep in her belly, and she clenched her thighs together with the promise of the ecstasy to come. The only thing was that she didn’t know how long she would have to wait.
She fell asleep still waiting.
Lynn Davis is an emerging author from Literotica.com. Her stories Danielle and David, I NeverMeant to Fall in Love and A Lesson in Love has jumpstarted her writing career. With an average of about 10K viewers, she is ready to launch in to the literary world. When Lynn is not writing, she is a life coach of women empowerment, non-profit director and an entrepreneur. Her favorite things consist of cross-stitching (to help her relax), reading a good book or watching a good movie (girl flicks, of course). Lynn lives in California as a single woman who loves life but often she hangs with her niece and nephew. She is interactive with her loyal readers and welcomes you to contact her. She actually loves hearing from you.
Want to contact Lynn?
Title: Hyde (Dark Musicals Trilogy, 3)
Author: Laura DeLuca
Genre: Young Adult, Thriller
Tour Host: Lady Amber's Tours
Rebecca Hope has looked death in the face twice and lived to tell her tale.
She and the love of her life, Justyn Patko, land a summer internship at a local dinner theater, performing the musical Hyde. While they are excited about their first paid acting gig, they soon find themselves surrounded by more experienced cast mates, jealous of their success. As if the tension isn’t bad enough, they soon discover that the business might be a front for something much more sinister.
When Justyn is accused of a crime that she knows he would never commit, Rebecca must decide if she wants to follow her head or her heart. While trying to prove his innocence, she makes a shocking discovery of her own.
Everyone has something to conceal in the grand finale of the Dark Musicals Trilogy. Rebecca has to look beyond the façade to discover the true Hyde or face her final curtain call.
Be sure to add Hyde to your to-read list on Goodreads!
Amazon * Smashwords * Barnes &Noble
Amazon * Smashwords * Barnes & Noble
Amazon * Smashwords * Barnes & Noble
The act ended with Hyde grabbing hold of a scantily dressed Lucy and pulling her into his arms. Then the lights on the stage were extinguished, and the silent crowd suddenly burst into thunderous applause—even some of the cast was clapping. Rebecca couldn’t help but notice Steve was watching the fanfare with a frown, especially when Fernando, dressed for the next scene as the butler, clapped Justyn on the back with undisguised approval and pride. Rebecca had the distinct feeling Steve was plotting something sinister and definitely Hyde-worthy.
From that point on, Justyn scarcely had a moment out of the spotlight. Rebecca didn’t even get a chance to tell him how fabulous he was. It felt as though the show had only begun when Rebecca found herself decked out in the splendid Victorian wedding gown signaling the final act was about to begin. The dress came complete with realistic bell sleeves, an excessive bustle, and a long, flowing trail embroidered with delicate lace. The elaborate wardrobes and happy wedding guests gave the audience the illusion that it might be a happy ending after all, but for Dr. Jekyll and Emma, that wasn’t meant to be. As soon as the reverend began to recite the vows, Hyde made his final deadly appearance.
At the beginning of the scene, it was sweet and romantic. Justyn started out holding her hand, looking happy, almost ecstatic to be with his true love. Then he suddenly started to sway. Tom, in his role of John, the best man, tried to steady him, but there wasn’t anything he could do to stop the transformation. Dr. Jekyll doubles over in agony and tries to run before Emma can see him change into a monster. Justyn was supposed to head toward the back of the stage where Rebecca would pursue him and eventually become Hyde’s captive. But they should have known no opening night could ever go exactly as planned, especially when it was obvious at least half the cast was out to get them.
Just as Justyn stumbled across the stage, Steve, who was blending in with the other guests on the sidelines, stuck out his foot. It was doubtful anyone else observed the sabotage, aside from Petya, who was smirking at her husband’s side. But Rebecca was at the perfect vantage point to see the intentional attack. Unfortunately, Justyn was so wrapped up in the role he didn’t notice the danger, especially since his loose hair was dangling in front of his eyes. Before Rebecca could cry out a warning, Justyn’s foot was caught in the snare. With a grunt, he tumbled off the side of the stage. Even over the background music and the gasps from the audience, Rebecca heard the loud thump as he hit the ground. She raised her hands to her mouth and couldn’t help but scream.
Laura “Luna” DeLuca lives at the beautiful Jersey shore with her husband and four children. She loves writing in the young adult genre because it keeps her young at heart. In addition to writing fiction, Laura is also the editor of a popular review blog called New Age Mama. She is an active member of her local pagan community, and has been studying Wicca for close to eight years. Her current works include Destiny, Destiny Unveiled, Phantom, Morrigan, Player, and Demon.
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Title: Aphrdite's War Author: Donna Milward
Genre: Adult, Paranormal
Publisher: Staccato Publishing
Blitz Host: Lady Amber's Tours
Aphrodite despises Aries and when Zeus proposes a contest, the prize being expulsion of her enemy from Olympus, Aphrodite cannot resist. The catch: should Aries prevail it is Aphrodite who must leave her home. Risks aside, she cannot refuse the possibility of a future without her former lover.
The challenge: two mortals must fall in love. It is simple. However, the players could not be more ill-suited. Poetry, a free spirited artist and Adrian, a defense attorney would not normally choose one another. But when gods interfere anything is possible.
Donna Milward lives in Edmonton, Alberta in a tiny house with a huge yard. She’s been writing all her life, but decided to put writing on hold to get ‘a real job’ as a meat cutter and build a future with her beloved troll, Dan and her cats Freya, Sully, and Spartacus Jones. Twelve years later, an invitation to a Romance Writer’s Conference in Washington D.C. led not only to new friends and new knowledge, but to the inspiration to write again. Thoeba was completed the following year. Donna likes to mix her fascination with reincarnation and all things paranormal with her love of mythology in her work, and has even written her own myth ‘The Sacred Truth” (on earthtothoeba.blogspot.com) as the lore behind Thoeba and future novels to come. Donna enjoys fishing, gardening and canning. Despite these hobbies, she much prefers city life.
If I were the pretty-boy offspring of a prissy, naïve love-goddess-whore where would I be?
To her left were more businesses: a dental office, nail salon, and a florist on the end. Her head throbbed with his presence.
She remembered Hermes carrying his basket of roses, not to mention the golden logo seen around the world representing flower delivery bore a strong resemblance.
Eureka. Some people never changed tactics. Predictability will get you killed, Hermes.
Strife yanked the door open, nearly tearing it from the hinges. Chimes jangled in protest.
A pair of scissors flew past her head. She heard the loud chunk as they embedded themselves in the wall.
“Is that so, Strife?” Hermes crouched behind the till. He’d recognized her as well, now he had her at a disadvantage. “So will barging into a man’s domain when he knows you’re coming.”
“This ends here.” She pried the blades from the wooden frame with a tortured squeal. “You’ve interfered with my work long enough.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” A small paring knife sliced the air, but Strife dodged before it could strike her left eye. “I am Ares’s son, after all.”
Strife snorted. She aimed the scissors for Hermes’ face but missed. “He donated his seed, nothing more. You are a disappointment to him. He won’t protect you from me.”
“I don’t need protection from you.” Hermes edged backward, and Strife made ready to strike. “You’re just his whipping-bitch underling, begging at his feet for scraps and cock. Ares only kept you because my mother had more respect for herself than to tolerate his abuse. “
Strife shrieked, vaulting onto the counter in a single leap. She perched like a gargoyle, hissing her rage as Hermes fled.
She pounced on his back before he could escape.
“I’ll kill you,” Strings of spittle flew from Strife’s mouth. “I’m going to snap your neck.”
Title: The Reapers (My Demonic Ghost, Book Two)
Author: Jacinta Maree
Genre: Young Adult Paranormal
Publisher: Staccato Publishing
The day you die is meant to be the end, but for 18 year old Jordon Hastings, his death was only the beginning.
The sun was well set by the time I left school. It was a chilly night as the clouds above my head grew fat and heavy. Not wanting to dawdle, I heaved my bag up onto my shoulder and started to trot through the dense park. The route was covered mostly by shadow and over lapping trees but took half the time if I followed the bend through the suburban streets.
And as I moved my foot onto the dirt path and into the body of the forest, I started to get this feeling. A sinking feeling. It tightened the muscles in my stomach, my arms felt stiff in the cold that my bones ached. I had walked this track a million times during my schooling days, and not once had I felt the icy touch of the wind move under my clothes. I had almost contemplated going back to the lit streets but my pride wouldn’t let me alter. There’s no way I’m getting afraid of the dark, I’m nearly a full grown man with a track record to put all others to shame.
So I continued on.
I nearly laughed at myself when I felt my spine straighten. Every whisper turned my head and every twig snap had my heart pounding.
“Gees get a hold of yourself.”
The sunken shadows that pressed into the ground started to get longer and more defined. Like a collection of moving silhouettes reaching across the dirt. They moved with just enough speed that I doubted myself. I was so focused on the shadows that a touch of warm breath flicked my neck and caused me to cringe. I spun around with an outstretched swing ready to strike... but there was nothing.
The dry taste in my mouth made every inhale sound stained. Shallow and quick, was I panicking? Impossible. It’s just my imagination. I’ve gotten the idea stuck in my head and now I can’t seem to look past the possibility of make believe monsters.
I rubbed my eyes and felt the tingle in my right eye start to burn. I pulled my sleeve up to wipe it clean when I saw a bulky mass shift to my left. It moved from behind one tree trunk to the other.
I power walked forward feeling ridiculous when a low groan forced me to a stop. That was not imagined. It was not a groan from a dog, or a man or a wild boar. It carried with it a distinct cracking noise, like the crack of electricity.
I glanced over my shoulder not sure what to expect. The forest was getting darker; the hand print of night had covered almost every touch of surface and smothered out the moonlight. Everything went quiet, unnaturally quiet that all I could hear was each breath whistle through my nose. I strained my eyes into the depths when the beast appeared.
Something huge stepped out from the bulk of the trees just down the path from me. I couldn’t see much detail, just a slim canine head hovering a good two feet higher than my height, its eyes of silver shimmering with an unnatural glow.
It was panting heavily, its body coated in black scales that melted with the rest of the dim bush. The panic hadn’t set in yet but I could feel the fear flooding behind my eyes. The creature then slowly started to step forward on all fours and I could hear the heavy crunch of its padded feet press into the dirt. It lowered its head so its shoulder blades arched upwards like pointed thorns. A touch of light crossed its face and caught the white shine of fangs. Its lips were curled back, letting another series of cracking hisses through. As it opened his jaws, a harsh smoky, silver glow seemed to be emulating from the core of its body, seeping out of its eyes and mouth like escaping smoke. It was dangerously foul, a creature that clearly did not belong to this world, let alone Whitehaven. I stepped backwards just as the beast jumped into a sprint straight towards me. It was fast. Really, really fast. I bolted as soon as it moved.
It was to my left in moments, snapping its jaws. I stumbled away but it appeared again just seconds later, crouching in the bushes to my right and leaping upwards when I tried to scamper past.
The forest groaned around me as my arms pumped and my legs flew me across the park. Every root that was slightly elevated from the ground hooked my shoes, tripping me up and slicing my speed in half. I didn’t stop. I didn’t stop even though I couldn’t see it pursuing me anymore. I didn’t stop even when I reached the exit and flew wildly into the streets. I didn’t even stop when I turned onto my driveway and body slammed into the front door, praying for it to be unlocked. I had dropped my bag but I don’t remember where. I ran in and slammed the door shut with a bang that shook the house.
What the hell was that? I have never seen a dog that big before? I ran my hand across my forehead, blinking against the dimming shadows sprayed across the floors.
Something wasn’t sitting right. I crunched my eyes closed and buried my face into my folded arms, scratching the back of my mind for answers. But every time all I could pull up was the nasty dream, before I woke in hospital. Was it even a dream…?
Impossible! It had to be. Otherwise I would be a walking monster with leather bound skin and long gaping claws… wait a minute. My neck shot up. Wait… that thing.
That creature that just chased through the forest, it had been in my nightmare as well. I recognised its bulky body and silver flaring eyes shredding through the shadows like a blade. I recognised the way its chest protruded out from its body as if it had worn its skeleton on the outside. The canine head tilting at the scent of my exhaling breath like it was searching for a hot meal.
“You’re supposed to be dead…”
“WHAT THE?” My back slammed into the door frame startled.
There was a tall silhouette of a man towering over the top of me, hidden behind a curtain of black. No, he was literally wearing the shadows over his clothing; I could see the straining points from where the darkness fell unnaturally over him.
“Come...” He held his arm out and I shook my head in refusal.
“How the hell did you get into my house?! Who are you??” I jumped up immediately. The man was shorter than I was, but not by much.
“Jordon – you must listen…”
“How do you know my name? Get out of my house or I’m calling the cops!”
He was concealed behind the darkness, the shadows keeping his form distorted and unclear. I turned back towards the front door where I wrenched it open only to have the wild animal prowling by my door step. This time it was a different beast, the head of a bull but the firm body of a lion. It snarled its teeth at me that I fell onto my back foot.
The moment I hesitated the dark hooded man hooked his arm around my neck, muffling me into silence. I fell obediently into the darkness, feeling the man’s arms tighten and drag downwards through the floor and beyond the dirt.
“It’s fine – you’re going to be okay.”
Okay? How could I possibly be okay?But as long as he held his arms on me I was kept sedated. We fell weightlessly, like we were gliding through layers of soft smoke. My clothes raffled in our descent through the earth, but it had felt like I was just being suspended in the air and that the earth was the thing falling around me. Title: An Undying Oath Author: HK Savage
Publisher: Staccato Publishing
Sargent Justin Shaw returned from the war with what is left of his unit, though instead of being hailed as heroes, they are being sought as test subjects. Their last mission behind enemy lines to obtain a WMD ended with them exposed and on the run. Their goal is not only to destroy the weapon, but also the program being run by their own government. Justin and his men have sacrificed everything for their mission. Will it be enough? Samantha James, a girl whose father disappeared almost twenty years ago unwittingly holds the key. When her father returns bodies start to fall. Sam doesn't know who to trust. Both Justin and her father have their own agendas and either one of them could end up with her dead.
HK Savage has been a voracious reader of anything she could get her hands on going back to the second Currently, HK is a mother, wife and black belt in Karate as well as an avid dressage rider. Her three dogs: a Doberman she uses for therapy dog work and two ancient Doxies keep her busy when she is not writing or working or whatever else. In addition to editing for the past ten years in advertising, HK has been an editor for several newsletters over the years; her favorite being for Heifer International where her ideas were put into effect and complimented by those on high. Currently her skills are being focused on clients in the writing world. Paranormal is her favorite genre and science fiction because both address the possibilities we have not yet realized and the darker things we have. Her favorite premise: “what if?”grade when she would set her alarm two hours early to read before school. Her passion for the written word has continued and flowed into writing going back nearly as far. Her books have fans in twenty countries on six continents with hopes of attracting attention on Antarctica if for no other reason than to check a box.
Links: Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4522217.HK_Savage
Sam felt her resolve waver when she parked her car and saw his black Accord parked up the block. Dreading the hurt she knew she was about to cause, Sam walked down the hall, keys in hand. So entirely in her own head was she, Sam was caught completely unaware as a meowing creature barreled into her legs. Reaching down, she scooped Bill up and held him tight as she craned her neck, trying in vain to see her doorway around the corner. Her skin tightened, bringing the hairs on her neck up in warning.
When she reached her unit Sam saw how Bill had gotten out. The steel door stood ajar, the light from inside visible through the crack. Bill started struggling in her grasp. Believing she was holding him too tight Sam relaxed her arms, yet he continued to wriggle.
“Stop it Bill,” she scolded sharply.Carefully, she pushed open the door and entered her apartment. The growling ball of fur in her grasp was having no part of it. Clawing at her with his sharp back claws, Bill took a few chunks out of her forearms as he finally leapt free of her, racing down the hall and out of sight. Sam didn’t give chase or even turn her head to see where he went. He wouldn’t go far, he never did on the rare occasion he got out. In a few minutes he would be beating at the door with his soft, declawed front paws. Her focus was on what had incited such panic in her even keel pet. Why was Bill so scared to go inside? He liked Paul. Even more unsettling was the feeling crawling down her spine. Something was very wrong. She could feel it.
There was no sound or movement coming from inside. When Paul was over he always had the television turned on a game whether it was football, basketball, soccer, whatever. He always had to have background noise. Unlike Sam, he liked noise.
“Paul?” Sam realized she was crouching. Telling herself she was being ridiculous, she forced herself to stand up, pushing the door open and peering inside. There was no answer. Maybe he was tired and had nodded off she told herself. It did nothing for the now painful gooseflesh covering her body. “Paul?” she called his name again, whispering it this time. He wasn’t in the living room or kitchen. She pushed a cabinet door closed with the back of one hand as she walked past. He had to have been here, she never left drawers or cabinets open. Glancing around, she noticed a piece of mail hanging over the edge of her sorter. What had he been doing in here, snooping? With considerably more effort, she forced her feet toward the bedroom, stepping over one of Bill’s toys lying in the middle of the floor.
“Paul?” His name died on her lips as she walked past the open bathroom door and froze. Without knowing what she was doing, Sam drifted inside and stopped just inside the doorway. Her hand flew to her mouth too late to stop the scream.
The hammering of her heart in her ears drowned out her ability to hear herself as she sank down to her knees and pulled her phone from her pocket. Sam didn’t hear anyone answer when she dialed 911. She pushed the buttons, waited a few seconds, and spoke. Her voice felt rough, jagged as she recited the necessary information for help to come.
“This is Samantha James. I live at Pheasant Ridge apartments in West Bloomington, unit 309. My boyfriend is here. He’s dead.” She dropped the phone and heard nothing of the woman’s requests for more information.
Title: End of Dreams (The Immortal Destiny, Book One)
Author: Kim Faulks
Genre: Dark Paranormal/Horror
Tour Host: Lady Amber's Tours
A vicious killer hunts a young pregnant woman. He wants more than her blood--he wants her baby too.
Young Eve dreams of being a good mother to her unborn son, that dream is shattered when child killer, Edric Hasting finds her in the middle of the night.
Haunted by the images of black wings on her baby’s ultrasound and the killers last words Eve knows her only hope of survival is to run.
She soon finds hard-bitten detective Adley Scott who dreams of justice for a string of murdered children which hit too close to home.
A group of Immortals are drawn into Eve’s battle for survival as events are played out across the globe by two opposing factions of immortal beings.
The fragile, divine balance of all things is at stake, and the world is the ultimate prize.
Against a background of universe-changing events and an ensemble of vivid, unforgettable characters, Eve and Adley will have to fight to survive as they begin to learn the truth of The Immortal Destiny.
Buy link (Amazon only): http://www.amazon.com/End-Dreams-Immortal-Destiny-ebook/dp/B00DPR22FQ/ref=sr_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1377400618&sr=1-6
Eve tucked her hair behind her ears and straightened her blouse before stepping inside Hurrow’s Federal Hotel. Narrowed eyes and glassy stares followed her all the way to the bar. She sat down on a ruptured leather stool, listening to the juke box belt out some hit from back in the eighties. The song sounded vaguely familiar. Like something Mother had once listened to—before she became a Christian, before she found God.
“What’ll it be?” The bartender’s voice boomed beside her. Eve jumped and her heart sped. He gripped the counter, leaning forward. He was waiting for her to say something, anything. Eve opened her mouth. But no words came, so she closed it again.
This was her first drink. In her first bar. On the first night of her new life. She was finally away from her mother’s controlling rule once and for all—she was free. She stared back at the bartender as a feeling of hope fluttered low inside her belly like a weighed-down moth. Even his scowls wouldn't dampen her mood tonight. Eve couldn’t help but grin.
The bartender no longer glared at her, but exhaled, closed his eyes and swore. Beer? No. Sex on the Beach? I’m not saying that. Eve’s gaze danced along the row of bottles, trying to find something nice which didn’t look like liquid fire. “Umm. May I have a glass of champagne?”
His brows shot upwards, hovered there for a moment before his forehead creased. “Champagne? Does it fucking look like we serve champagne?”
Like a ghost, Eve’s confidence dissolved, as though it had never been there at all. Someone behind her laughed. A woman who called out behind her, “Champagne? Who does this bitch think she is?”
Eve’s face burned.
“Don’t give the girl a hard time, Trev. Can’t you see she’s nervous? Just give her something sparkling and make it expensive.”
Keeping her head still, Eve glanced sideways at the man sliding onto the seat beside her. He was older, by a lot. His pitted face and long, greasy hair matched a black ensemble of leather jacket and dirty jeans which covered his stick-like physique. He caught her staring and winked. Tiny black stumps she guessed had been teeth were revealed with a smile. She looked away and slid from her seat, her eyes drifting to the door. “No. I’m fine, thank you. I… I’ve changed my mind.”
The stranger caught her arm with a soft hold. His touch made her wince. “Nonsense, come on. You’ve come all this way. Just have one little drink.”
It wasn’t his conviction that made her hesitate—it was his words.
She had come a long way. A lot farther than the four-hour bus ride with one suitcase to her name. Her longest journey was the road she’d traveled within herself. Her fight for freedom, even though she was afraid to be alone, but more afraid she’d give in and go back, so the loneliness was bearable. You won’t survive, you’re too weak. Her mother’s parting snarl still haunted her.
Eve’s vision blurred and her throat thickened, cutting off the air to her lungs. She inhaled sharply, wheezing, coughing. The stench of sweat and nicotine filled her nose as tears blurred her gaze. She thought she’d be able to leave behind all the hurt and the hateful words. There was no new life, here or anywhere. Only the baggage of her old one she dragged behind wherever she went.
Her hair fell into her eyes and she shoved it away with the back of her hand, along with a tear. She’d never escape her father’s suicide, or the depression and Valium which followed. Eve took in the bar, now that her rose-colored glasses were gone. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong anywhere. But she had nowhere else to go.
The bartender slid the frosted glass toward her. The drink wasn’t champagne, but at this moment, she didn’t really care. Tiny bubbles surged from the bottom to break free on the surface. She’d tried to break free and yet somehow she still failed. The bartender waited patiently while Eve dug for a crumpled ten-dollar note. Her fingers skirted the tiny yellow pill lodged in the crease of her pocket, her weakness and her disease. She grabbed both the note and the tablet while the stranger beside her opened his wallet. His thick pile of bills was hard to miss. He pushed a twenty along the bar.
“No… please, it's okay.” She might be a lot of things, but she’d never be bought. Not for a drink in a bar, not for anything. “I can pay myself.”
She palmed the pill and slid the note across the bar. The bartender nodded snatched up her crumbled bill. “Looks like she be buyin’ her own drink tonight, Matty. You just run along now and leave the young lady alone.”
The stranger pushed off the stool to tower over her. A flash of rage filled his eyes and Eve was paralyzed. His lips slithered back over his gums. Her scalp quivered and her hands shook. He loomed over her, breathing heavily and pinning her with a piercing glare for what seemed like forever before he stormed away.
Her cheeks buzzed with heat and her hands trembled. She shoved the pill into her mouth and washed it down with the fake champagne. She wanted for one moment not to feel hurt and humiliation. She wanted for one moment not to feel anything.
For Eve, time wasn’t measured in weeks or days, or even hours. She counted time by the minutes and seconds it took for the magic pill to dissolve the grip clenching her insides, so she could breathe.
Valium and alcohol made for a dangerous combination. By the time she swallowed the last of the bubbles, she felt off-balance. The room spun out of control and took her stomach with it. Her heart beat frantically and the walls closed in around her. The barroom chatter became screams of laughter. The raucous roar was too much for her and Eve slipped from her seat, leaving the stares and snide comments behind, and stumbled for the doorway.
The November air was thick and warm. Eve fanned the bottom of her shirt to catch a breeze and headed for the alley which would lead her home. The haunting bay of a dog caught her attention. Her heavy thoughts were captured by that woeful sound while she turned and stumbled in the dark until hands dug into her back. She was shoved hard against the side of a building. The brick walls were unforgiving. Her head cracked against a wall and the pain slashed like lightening through her head. She stumbled sideways and lifted her hand toward the back of her head, her thoughts frozen.
“Fucking stuck-up bitch! You think you’re too good for someone like me?”
Eve’s world seemed slow and thick, like syrup. The snarl in her ear became distorted. She didn’t understand his words, but revulsion shot like cold fire through her veins, fighting the effects of the pill. He pushed his hand inside her shirt to fumble at the cup of her bra. Her thoughts sharpened. She screamed.
The stranger from the bar invaded her field of vision. He gripped her jaw and squeezed. Eve ignored the pain and whipped her head from side-to-side in an effort to break free. But he held on, snaking his leg around hers to pull her tight against him. Please God, no. Not like this… not like this. “Get away from me! Let me go!”
“I’ll show you. I’ll show you good, you stuck up little bitch!”
Her words were silenced by his mouth. Eve felt violated, filled with revulsion… sickened by his touch and the fear of what might happen next. His hands were everywhere. Not one part of her body was left sacred. His tongue slithered in and out of her mouth. His fetid breath, forced into her lungs, became hers as she struggled to breathe.
Valium fought against the adrenaline, pushed along by the rapid fire of her heart, Eve hit, scratched, and kicked with everything she had. Her arms felt like lead, her movements seemed as though she moved underwater. She tried to escape his touch, rolling her shoulders forward and tucking her chin down. He held her still, and his hands burrowed deeper, finding the soft flesh of her nipple. Eve's stomach rolled and the taste of acid filled her mouth. Her attacker stopped moving, his frantic fingers left her bra. Has he given up? Please God….
“I said, take your hands off her.”
A new voice bounced around the alley, low and threatening. Her attacker stilled, but he didn’t let her go. The sound of his voice reverberated against her body as he spoke. “You best be on your way. This doesn’t concern you.”
Eve thrashed, using her weight to break free. He held on, his grip on her mouth became harder, distorting her frantic words. “Pease, pease. Hep me.”
“Shut the fuck up,” her attacker growled into her ear.
The deep voice bounced around Eve once more. “I’ll not say it again. Let the woman go.”
“Or what? You best fuck off or—”
He pulled her forward and slammed her back against the wall. Her shoulders took the brunt of the impact and her head snapped back against the brick. Agony roared inside her skull, the pain took her breath away and dominated her thoughts. White lights sparked in her vision. She stumbled and her knees connected sharply with the sidewalk. Screams from her attacker filled the air. Eve lurched forward as hot wine and acid flowed from her mouth, spilling onto the pavement. Helpless, she rode the waves of panic and revulsion until only dry heaves were left.
She wiped her mouth and glanced sideways. Her attacker flailed on the ground. His body jerked and thrashed in the air and then was slammed to the ground by a blur of a hand. She caught a glimpse of a face, a beautiful face hidden behind savagery. Eve covered her ears, but his screams drilled through the gaps of her fingers. A loud snap fractured his wails. Eve looked up to the night sky. Please… please make this stop.
And the night became silent like the moon above her.
Scared to move, she stayed still and sneaked a glimpse at the fight. The streetlight cut a triangle across the alley entrance, dividing light from the dark. Shiny black shoes and the bottoms of perfectly-creased pants seem to glide toward her.
“It is okay. I will not hurt you.”
Eve wrenched her hands from her ears to grip the edges of her torn blouse.
“You have nothing to fear from me.”
Her rescuer knelt before her, his hand outstretched. The street light illuminated his broad cheek bones, revealing arctic blue eyes and glossy black hair.
Eve searched those eyes for kindness and compassion. She found none. It's enough he just saved my life, isn't it? Her gaze shifted to the unmoving feet of her attacker.
“He is not dead, merely asleep.”
Eve turned back to her rescuer. He waited for her to take his hand, like he had all the time in the world. She reached out. Her own hand hovered in the air and trembled before she grasped his and he helped her to stand. The minute she felt steady on her feet, she snatched her hand away and gripped the edges of her shirt tightly. Forcing the words through the pain in her jaw, she whispered, “Thank you.”
“Please tell me you are okay. When I saw him hurting you I thought he had already—”
She cut him off, needing to stay the words for her own reassurance. She wrenched her hand from his grasp. “No. Thank God.”
He stared at her, his eyes reflecting the street light. He smiled. “Yes, thank God. Although you really should be thanking me.”
“I’m so sorry, please forgive me. Thank you, thank you so much, Mr…?”
He shook his head and smiled.
He doesn’t want to give me his name. He’s afraid I’ll drag him into this mess… Into my mess. Can I blame him? “I am grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I’m Eve.”
“Eve. That... is... a beautiful name. The name of the woman who begat the fall of man, if I remember correctly. How... fitting….”
He moved closer to her, drawing her into his gaze. In this moment, Eve no longer stood in the darkened alley with the remnants of cheap wine drying on her lips. Instead, she floated, caught in his ice-blue gaze.
Her mind slowed and then stilled. Her panic eased until everything apart from this stranger seemed to fade away. His words were hypnotic. “May I walk you home?”
“Yes.” She answered before she’d had a chance to think it over. Her response had been so automatic. Should I really allow a stranger to walk me home at night? Shouldn’t I be concerned? Those questions seemed to slip through the numbed fingers of her mind. Instead of fleeing in fear, she found herself nodding and taking his hand when he held it out once more.
He walked beside her, not too close so they touched, nor too distant, giving her space to slip away.
“Are you afraid of me?”
His question was carried to her on the soft night breeze. Even though she wanted to pretend she hadn’t heard him, shame forced her to answer. This man had risked his life to save her. But she couldn't lie, not even to herself. Honesty forced her to accept the fact Valium was a way for her to cope, hiding the truth from her and everyone else—the truth that everything scared her.
“Look at me.”
She stopped, glimpsing the door to her apartment building in the corner of her eye. Keep walking, don't stop, said a tiny voice inside her.
“Eve. Look at me.”
There was something about his voice, something so spell-binding and compelling. It was hard not to look, impossible to not obey his commands. Eve turned toward him, yet somehow a part of her was urging her to run. But she couldn’t run, she was frozen. Eve stared into his bottomless eyes, unable to tear away from his gaze, or his touch.
“You are exactly what I am looking for, someone pure and so... tender.”
His accent was so strange, old-fashioned and rigid. It wasn’t Australian that she was sure of. It wasn’t anything she knew. He trailed his fingers down her jawbone. His finger hovered on the end of her chin and then lifted her face to his. His words were jumbled, whispered phrases she couldn't quite catch. All she could see were his perfect, soft lips. “Shall you succeed where others have failed?”
He didn’t wait for her answer. Instead he stepped closer, towering over her. “Well, we shall see, won't we?”
He stared into her eyes, as though he seemed to savor this moment, before lowering his head. “Ahh, humans,” he whispered, and then he kissed her.
The author of The Fire and Ice Series, No Angel Series and now the Immortal Destiny Series I was raised on a staple diet of Stephen King and Dean Koontz, there I fell in love with the darker styles of writing. I started writing at a young age but quickly realised that I lacked an important ingredient, life experience. Now I have this in spades.
I am firstly a Mum and a wife and second an Author of Dark Fantasy/Horror, although sometimes I'm sure my family feels it's the other way around. I live in Queensland Australia and work full-time. Writing is my passion and a dream and I'd love to share it with you.
Author Link: http://www.amazon.com/Kim-Faulks/e/B005J7EPH8/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1377400549&sr=1-2-ent
Buy link (Amazon only): http://www.amazon.com/End-Dreams-Immortal-Destiny-ebook/dp/B00DPR22FQ/ref=sr_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1377400618&sr=1-6
Title: The Prophecy (The Children of Lilith Volume 3)
Author: C. David Belt
Genre: LDS, Horror, Vampire
Tour Host: Lady Amber's Tours
Volume 3, The Prophecy:
For 6,000 years, Lilith and her Children have walked the earth, hunting, preying, seducing, corrupting, ruling from the shadows...until now.
An ancient prophecy, spoken by Adam, Lilith's grandfather, foretells her doom. She will do anything, corrupt any innocent, murder countless mortals to save herself. To survive, she knows she must destroy Carl and Moira Morgan. The war has begun. And Carl and Moira know, win or lose, it all ends here.
Volume 2, The Penitent:
In 6,000 years, no vampire has ever defied Lilith, Queen of the vampires...until now.
Moira and Carl Morgan have saved the city from the horror of Michael and his evil wives, but victory has come at terrible cost. And there are consequences to every choice, every victory. Word has spread that someone has broken Lilith's power, that someone has defied the ancient Queen of the vampires. And she's not happy about it.
Volume 1, The Unwilling:
In all the 6,000 years that the Children of Lilith have walked among us, there has never been an unwilling vampire...until now.
The Unwilling is the story of the world’s first and only unwilling vampire. Set in present-day Utah, it’s the story of Carl Morgan, a decent LDS man who loses his wife and children in an automobile accident. Then he witnesses the murder of his wayward sister at the hands of the beautiful and mysterious Rebecca. When the police can’t find the killer, he goes searching for her. He finds Rebecca, but she takes away everything. She transforms him into the world’s FIRST and ONLY unwilling vampire. Vampirism is a choice, and you’re choosing to become a serial killer, because you can only survive on HUMAN blood, not animal blood. Carl is unwilling to murder to survive and he really doesn’t understand what has happened to him. He’s found and mentored by Moira MacDonald, a two-hundred and seventy year-old Penitent (repentant vampire). She teaches him how to survive without killing, how to stay true to his temple covenants (in spite of his condition), and how to get justice for his murdered sister. But to Moira? Carl’s very existence as an unwilling vampire turns her world upside-down, because Carl is an impossibility. In the 6,000 years that the Children of Lilith have walked the earth, there has never been an unwilling vampire, because eternal damnation cannot be forced on someone: they must choose it, just as Moira did. And yet, there’s Carl. If he can exist somehow, there must be something about Moira’s condition that she doesn’t know. Is it possible that, after two and a half centuries of searching for redemption and repentance with no hope, perhaps there might somehow be a way back? Meanwhile, Rebecca’s vampire Master, Michael, plans to unleash a wave of new vampires on the city. Carl and Moira must stop him before countless innocents are slaughtered.
Amazon: Paperback: http://www.amazon.com/The-Unwilling-C-David-Belt/dp/1427695210/
Barnes & Noble:
Amazon (Kindle): http://www.amazon.com/The-Penitent-Children-Lilith-ebook/dp/B008ELF124/
Barnes & Noble (Nook): http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-penitent-c-david-belt/1111504640
Amazon (Kindle): http://www.amazon.com/The-Prophecy-Children-Lilith-ebook/dp/B00CNFV5U4
Barnes & Noble (Nook): http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-prophecy-c-david-belt/1115218875
“Where am I?” I ask.
She hesitates a moment and then replies, “Ye are in my home. Do ye know how ye got here?”
Now I’m getting worried. “My memory’s a bit fuzzy. Sorry.”
“Ye carried a young woman into the emergency room at the LDS Hospital. She was unconscious and covered in blood. Ye were stag-gerin’ about and yellin’ incoherently. Ye frightened everyone. We took the young woman and attended to her, but ye collapsed. I thought it best nae to let the staff examine ye. So, I brought ye here and tended to ye myself.”
The girl. Yes, I remember the girl. “Is she OK?” I ask.
Moira nods slowly. “Aye, she’s fine. Some blood loss, but she’ll live. Ye did nae kill her.”
Kill her? What?
“W . . . why would I kill her?” I stammer. “What’re you talking about?”
She stares at me again. She seems to be holding some kind of internal debate. Her eyes narrow as she comes to a decision.
“Blood,” she says simply.
“Blood. Human blood.”
I look at her without understanding, blinking stupidly.
“The drink,” she says. “’Twas human blood.”
In an instant, it all comes back to me.
Michael. Rebecca. Chikah. Benjamin. The Cult. The Ritual. Every-thing.
I think I’m going to throw up.
I lurch to my feet and look around frantically for a bathroom, a sink.
Moira is at my side in an instant. She pulls me toward the kitchen. “Dinnae ruin my carpet, laddie!”
Wow! Her grip is strong!
By the time I reach the sink, the nausea has passed. I lean against the sink all the same. The room is still spinning.
Moira gave me blood to drink. I drank human blood.
And I liked it.
There’s something seriously wrong with me.
I cannae Sleep.
Or, to be more precise, I dinnae want to Sleep. And since I can catch a full day’s rest only once each week, abstaining could have . . . consequences. It makes me irritable. It affects my judgment. It in-creases the ever-present likelihood that I might . . . slip up.
And if I slip up, people die.
Ach! I’m so hungry!
’Tis another thing that’s worrying me. I should nae be hungry! Nae even a wee bit! I Fed just after sunrise! We both did. Carl, my husband, and I consumed two quarts each just before we went to bed. ’Twas a bit of a luxury, those two quarts. One should’ve been sufficient, enough for a week in a pinch. But here I am, lying in bed beside my Sleeping husband, and all I can think of is how hungry I am, how tired I am, and how much I dread going to Sleep!
’Tis nae use.
I rise from bed. Carl does nae notice. To all appearances he could be dead. I slip into my dressing gown and make my way to the living room. I take several turns about the room as I try desperately to think of something else, anything other than my hunger, my weariness, and my fear.
A scratching sound! Aye, lassie, focus on that. Someone’s at my flow-er bed again, digging it up. And I’m nigh certain I know who ’tis. That’s twice this year. I should peek out and catch . . . but, nae, ’tis the side facing the Sun.
My stomach growls.
Perhaps just a wee pint more.
I walk into the kitchen. Though nobody’s watching me, I try to keep my pace casual, walking, strolling as if I’m nae in a hurry, as if I’m nae desperate to get there. Why do I bother? There’s nary a soul to see me. Who am I trying to deceive? Myself?
I open the refrigerator, and the cold air transports the sweet fra-grance to my nostrils. To be sure, ’tis tainted by the odor of the preservative, but that cannae mask the nectar of . . .
There! Outside! Something far sweeter than the contents of my icebox!
Though I cannae smell it just yet, I can feel the general direction.
Quickly I close the refrigerator and head to the window. A cau-tious glance, while I carefully stay in the shadows, reveals nothing about the source of the evil, but it does show an overcast sky.
I shudder with relief, and my mouth begins to water. In a trice, I rush to the door and throw open the chest beside it. This is my emergency kit. I retrieve all the things I need: the bottle of heavy-duty spray-on sunscreen, the sweatpants, sweatshirt, gloves, boots, sun-glasses, cloak, and hood. In just a few seconds, I’ve applied every bit of protection. Only at this point, when I’m prepared, do I pause for a wee tick to be sure there’s still a reason to venture outside.
Aye, the evil’s still there. Sweet corruption.
I open the front door quietly so as not to alert anyone to my pre-sence. Aye, but I want to throw it open!
And the scent of pure evil washes over me. The honeyed fragrance engulfs my senses. Drool spills from my eager lips.
The familiar rage builds like a smithy furnace stoked by a bellows within me. Here! In my very neighborhood, practically on my front lawn!
Through the red haze of my wrath, I barely notice that my flower beds are indeed torn up, the destroyer having fled. I dinnae care for that. The one I Hunt now has done far worse than petty vandalism. Nae, the evil I smell can be caused only by murder and violence.
The scent turns my head to the southwest. I cannae see the source, but the direction is certain. I follow the airborne spoor across the street and to the right toward . . . Aye! That open garage! ’Tis the Mur-phys’ home. I can see two cars, neither one of them running. Now I can hear voices—hushed but emphatic voices.
“. . . my money, cabrón?”
I dinnae recognize the voice.
“Tomorrow! I’ll have it tomorrow!”
That voice I recognize. ’Tis Aaron Murphy. I dinnae know the the family well since they are nae in my ward, but Aaron’s the oldest boy in the family. He’s plays football or baseball or some other sport at the high school. I do hope he’s nae the source of the evil.
I approach the garage with all stealth, fighting hard to contain the mounting rage and the ravenous hunger.
“You said that yesterday, man. And the day before that. You been hiding from me!”
“I swear, Manny! Tomorrow!”
“You don’t get it, muchacho. I give you product. You sell it to your little friends at school. You give me my money. I give you more product. You sell it. You give me money. You get to go on making everyone think you just a good little Mormon boy. That’s how it works.”
“Not this time, cabrón! I gotta teach you a lesson. Today, I’m just gonna break your fingers.”
I round a corner of the garage and take in the whole scene. In the confined space between a compact car on the left and the Murphy fam-ily’s minivan on the right, Aaron, the all-American boy, is pinned a-gainst the larger vehicle, held there by a big Hispanic man complete with bandana, gold chains, tattoos, multiple piercings, and a nasty-looking switchblade. Manny, the thug, has one hand at Aaron’s throat. The other hand holds the knife an inch away from the lad’s eye.
“Next time I cut off one of your fingers, muchacho. Just try catching a football like . . .”
A snarl rips from my throat.
Manny releases the boy and spins to face me. He looks startled, but nae frightened. Aaron’s head snaps in my direction, but he remains rooted to the spot. He looks horrified.
The thug’s face twists in an evil leer. “Beat it, chica. This is none of your business.”
I laugh low and menacingly. “Ach, nae, rat. Ye are my business.”
I step into the shade of the garage, safely out of the muted sun-light. I throw back my hood and pull off my sunglasses, setting them on the trunk of the sedan. I fix Aaron’s eyes with my own and say with Persuasion, “Lad, go stand over there and wait for me while I deal with this.” Aaron’s expression goes slack, and he turns obediently and walks to the far wall of the garage.
I return my gaze to the gangster, who’s staring at Aaron in amaze-ment. “Now, rat,” I say, “face me. Look into my eyes and see the hellfire that awaits ye.”
Manny looks at me, his face a mask of fury. “Listen, puta . . .”
I open my mouth wide, revealing my dripping fangs.
His brown eyes go wide, and the color drains from his face. “Madre de . . . ! ”
I advance toward him, savoring his terror as I will the honeyed sweetness of his evil blood. I want to tear this vermin to shreds . . . after I consume his life.
Still brandishing the knife in one hand, he fumbles at his breast with the other and lifts a rather large and ornate gold cross on its chain. He holds it toward me as a talisman.
I cower back, shielding my face from the crucifix.
Through my fingers, I can see Manny’s face split in a leer of tri-umph. “That’s right, zorra. Now you know who’s . . .”
I straighten up, no longer feigning fear. I shake my head slowly from side to side, laughing softly. “Ooh, did I give ye a wee moment of hope, ratty? That bonnie bit of jewelry cannae protect ye from me.”
“‘Sons of God! Brood of Light-Bearer who fell!’ That is how I would render the first half.”
The message is in plain text. The email address looks like a random mix of letters and numbers, and the email provider is one that supports anonymous accounts.
I’ve been collaborating with colleagues across the country and in the U.K., Israel, and Egypt for more than a week. We’ve been trying to decipher the twenty-four syllables of Adamic (at least I assume it’s Adamic) that Lilith uttered at the battle at the farm. My colleagues are experts in Hebrew, Arabic, Egyptian, Greek, and Latin. We’ve been exchanging emails ever since I asked for their help.
Of course, I’ve told them I’m not at liberty to reveal the source just yet, but I’m certain it’s a language that predated all others, a protolanguage. In the beginning, some refused to collaborate on the project because I wouldn’t reveal my source, because I was being cryptic. But eventually, most couldn’t resist the lure of the puzzle. That’s something we all share in common, my colleagues and I: we can’t resist the potential, the lure of hidden knowledge.
And of course, I can’t tell my academic friends that the source is a native speaker. I also can’t tell them that the text is an outburst from a six-thousand-year-old vampire after she’d been impaled by the very spear that once pierced Christ’s side, a spear being wielded by a former Nazi assassin who is now a repentant vampire.
In other words, I can’t betray my friends.
C. David Belt was born in Evanston, WY. As a child, he lived and traveled extensively around the Far East. He served as an LDS missionary in South Korea and southern California (Korean-speaking). He graduated from Brigham Young University with a Bachelor of Science in Computer Science and a minor in Aerospace Studies. He served as a B-52 pilot in the US Air Force and as an Air Weapons Controller in the Washington Air National Guard. When he is not writing, he sings in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and works as a software engineer. He collects swords (mostly Scottish), axes, spears, and other medieval weapons and armor. He and his wife have six children and live in Utah with an eclectus parrot named Mork (who likes to jump on the keyboard when David is writing).
Thanks so much for dropping by and sharing your story, David. Now let's give readers a treat by allwing them to get to know you a little better...
When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer? I’ve been writing short stories all my life, but about thirteen years ago the idea for The Children of Lilith took hold of me and wouldn’t let me go.
How long did it take you to write your book? It took me ten years to get started, because a fundamental plot point just wouldn’t gel in my head: if vampirism must be voluntary, how can there be an unwilling vampire? Once I resolved that, the first book took me about a year. Each of the other two volumes took about a year apiece.
What genre is your book? What made you choose to write in that category? It’s hard to shove it into one genre, but let’s say LDS/horror/vampire/urban-fantasy. Once the story took hold of me, it wouldn’t let me go. My current work-in-progress is a straight-up science fiction novel unrelated to vampires.
What was your work schedule like when you were writing? I write whenever I can: during spare moments, late at night, on the way to and from Mormon Tabernacle Choir rehearsals (if I’m not the one driving).
What would you say is your interesting writing quirk? I love to listen to Irish pub music when I write. That’s right: a good Mormon boy who has never had a drink is inspired by drinking songs!
Where do you get your information or ideas for your books? I get some of my best ideas while sitting in the Conference Center choir loft, gazing out into that vast space (assuming I’m not singing at the moment). It seems to clarify my thoughts. As for information, I do a lot of research on my own. And in the Choir, I’m surrounded by experts on just about any subject imaginable. If I have legal questions, I know a few attorneys in the Choir. There are doctors of several specialties. One of my fellow baritones is an expert on criminal psychology. (I talk to him a lot!) There are physicists, rocket scientists, professors of religion and ancient languages, and of course, musicians. If I need to translate something into any language imaginable, there’s probably someone in the Choir who can speak that language.
How many books have you written? Which is your favorite? I’ve written three: The Children of Lilith trilogy. My favorite is probably the third volume, The Prophecy, because that is where all the various threads of the story were finally woven together.
Are you currently working on another book? If so, is it part of a series or something different? Yes. My current novel is titled “Time’s Plague”. It’s a standalone science fiction novel unrelated to vampires. “Time’s Plague” borrows themes (and character names) for Shakespeare’s “King Lear” and is set roughly a century or so in the future. It starts out on a penal colony on Callisto (one of the moons of Jupiter). The story centers on Edgar Cordell, an innocent man, who has been sentenced to life (there can be no parole and no escape from the Hades penal colony) for a murder he did not commit. He was framed by his ex-wife and his best friend. The prison has no warden and is ruled by the prisoners, all of whom are male. It is literally a hellish place populated by murderers and rapists, the worst of the worst. New prisoners and supplies are dropped from orbit and no ship ever lands on Callisto… that is, until a shuttle crash-lands. There is only one survivor—Edgar’s ex-wife, the one person in the universe he hates more than any other. No woman can survive on Callisto. Edgar has to figure out a way to get her off-world and protect her from the other inmates.
What do you like to do when you're not writing? Between my day job as a software engineer, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, family, and writing, there isn’t a lot of time for much else. I love history and collect medieval weapons and armor. I have thirty-seven weapons (including swords, axes, spears, a mace, a war hammer, a flail, a Roman dart, a sword-breaker, a fighting targe, and assorted knives) and various pieces of armor (including helms, a full suit chain). I am learning to play the bagpipes (very slowly). I love to watch “Dr. Who” and “Downton Abbey”. And I love to read, of course.
What does your family think of your writing? Most of them are proofreaders, so it is their job to be very critical. However, they are enthusiastic and often ask me when the next chapter will be ready. My father, who generally refuses to read anything that contains violence or tragedy (he walked out of “Dr. Zhivago”), has told me that many people today would find the message of The Children of Lilith helpful and inspiring. “They need to read your book!” That was not a reaction I expected.
What was one of the most surprising things you learned about yourself in creating your books? What caught me most by surprise was when Moira MacDonald spoke up in my head and said, “I would nae ever say such a thing, laddie. Here’s what I’d say…” I learned to let the character dictate the story to me. The other thing that surprised me was how easy it is for me to delve into the minds of sociopaths, serial killers, and rapists. One of my sons said, “You watch too much SVU.”
Do you have any suggestions to help others become a better writer? If so, what are they? Number one, tell the story YOU want to tell—don’t worry about if anyone else will want to read it. Number two, LISTEN to your characters—they may come from your mind, but they know who they are better than you do. Number three, be honest and don’t cheat—if it doesn’t ring true, if it doesn’t make sense, if it isn’t logical, don’t try to force the story to go a direction that it shouldn’t, even if that means you must change direction or even the ending.
Do you hear from your readers much? What kinds of things do they say? I do get feedback, both complement and critiques, but most of it is positive. I do get fan mail and email. The questions I get most often are, “What are you working on now?” and “When will the next book be out?”
What do you think makes a good story? Something that feels real, honest, that is both relatable and opens my mind to new thoughts and ideas. I love a story that can make the fantastic and magical seem perfectly logical. I love stories that portray history accurately.
As a child, what did you want to do when you grew up? Batman. Then later, an astronaut. Then a jet pilot. Guess which one I actually achieved?
Are you self published or do you have a publisher? If self published, what made you decide to go that route? Parables is my publisher ( http://www.parablespub.com ). I suppose I need the validation that someone outside my circle of family and friends thinks my work is worth investment.
Do you have a website, fan page, blog or twitter we can pass on to your fans? The website for The Children of Lilith: http://www.unwillingchild.com.
There is also a website that is mentioned in The Prophecy, so I bought the domain and created the website: http://www.theywalktheearth.org
Where can your books be found? Please list Your author page from amazon and links to your books anywhere else they can be purchased. thank you
Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B005ODEK3Q
The Unwilling: http://www.amazon.com/The-Unwilling-Children-Lilith-Volume/dp/1427695210/
The Penitent: http://www.amazon.com/The-Penitent-C-David-Belt/dp/1427695792/ref=tmm_pap_title_0
The Prophecy: http://www.amazon.com/Prophecy-Children-Lilith-ebook/dp/B00CNFV5U4
Title: Fated Truth (Volume One of the True Witch Saga
Author: Tasha Gwartney
Genre: Erotic Paranormal Romance 18+
Blitz Host: Lady Amber's Tours
Ella Reese has never been a normal girl. She grew up in a small town where everyone knew everyone else’s business. In the home she grew up in she was despised for everything that she is. Ella didn’t fit into the mold that her parents desperately wanted her too. She learned early on to keep her head down and try to fit into a world that was never really meant for her. All Ella wants is to live a normal life and spend time with her two best friends. Maybe even make it through her senior year of High School without being maimed. But when Fate intervenes, picks up your roots, and sends your life in a new direction. You can’t exactly say no. Ella finds herself on a journey where she discovers herself to be a Goddess Touched True Witch with unequaled powers, falls madly soul deep in love with her chosen life mate, experiences horrific tragedies, reunites with those she thought she had lost forever, and discovers along the way that she has found a family that accepts her for who she truly is. But Fate doesn’t deal her cards lightly. When you are handed enormous power. That power comes with great responsibility. When Ella’s whole world falls apart and her love for her soul mate is put into doubt. Will she be strong enough to travel the path Fate has set her upon? Or will she fold under the weight of her new Fate?
Find out when you read Fated Truth Volume One of The True Witch Saga.
When Ella Reese touched Jaxx’s hand for the first time she knew her life would never be the same, never had a touch between two seemingly ordinary finger tips spark a light so bright that Ella felt it ignite the embers burning deep within the withered flower that she called a soul, with the mere brush of a finger Ella bloomed, and Jaxx opened her eyes to a world where she could truly belong.
Facebook Release Party: https://www.facebook.com/events/504048183012029/
Tasha Gwartney is a Military wife and devoted momma to a handsome little man by day. At night she drops her domestic goddess cloak and becomes an avid writer. She lives in Central Louisiana with her family and two huskies. Tasha has been writing poetry and short stories since she was ten years of age. There wasn’t ever a time when a story plot wasn’t found somewhere in her head. Tasha has had several of her poems published. She is looking forward to publishing many more poems and novels as well.
Tasha has always enjoyed bringing the worlds that begin inside her head to the minds of others.
Tasha Gwartney started writing short stories when I was about ten years old. I would print them out on the sides of worksheets in school, basically write them on anything that was handy when the idea would pop up in my head. My elementary teachers would tell me to stop because it was disruptive and not pertaining to the subject that I was so post to be learning at the time.
All the way through school I wrote. My short stories got longer and I branched out into poetry. Some of my school teachers encouraged me to write. They even said they liked some of my work. But it wasn’t until I was a junior in High School that it really hit me that I wanted to do this. I wanted to write and reach people. To put the stories that were bouncing against the walls of my mind down on paper, and teleport someone into my own private world.
My Science teacher caught me writing a poem on the back of a test during class one day. That was a HUGE no-no in his class. You did not get side tracked. It was one of his major pet peeves. He asked me to stay after class that day, and I was literally shaking in my platform boots. He was majorly hard on people that ticked him off during his classes. Come to find out, I wasn’t in trouble. He wanted to talk to me about the poem that he had read on the back of my end of term test. He asked if he could give it to his wife for their anniversary. I was so happy that I wasn’t in trouble that I quickly said yes then shot from the room.
The poem that I had wrote on the back of that test was about love and loss. I had read a novel the night before that really touched something hidden deep inside me. You have to remember I was sixteen. I was a teen that knew nothing of truly feeling emotions of love on this deep of a level. But the novel I read the night before had me enthralled. I fell into the main character and felt every emotion that she felt, celebrated her every triumph, and cried her tears when she lost the man she loved. That was how I was able to write a poem on the back of a test that touched even my grouchy Science teacher.
After that I wanted to be that author that transported readers and wrote something that made them feel every emotion that the characters I made come to life feel. This is the reason that I write.
FB Fanpage: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorTashaGwartney
Twitter Link and Tag: https://twitter.com/Tattered_Me @Tattered_me
Title: Sweet Escape (Sweet, 2)
Author: Bailey Ardisone
Genre: New Adult Fantasy
Tour Host: Lady Amber's Tours
Sometimes the hardest war to fight is the one raging within yourself…
Life will never be the same for Nariella Woodlinn. Just when she thought she had it all figured out, her world comes crumbling down around her-yet again. With no idea who she is or even where she came from, how can she save herself?
She once thought her biggest problems were the ones brought on by the mysterious man she refused to fall in love with—Mycah. But she quickly discovers none of that compares to what she is about to encounter next.
This time, it isn’t because of who Mycah is.
This time, it’s because of who she is.
Naminé risked everything to save her people. Her goal was to bring their only hope back to their Kingdom. As the war rages on around her, Naminé gets thrown into the lion’s den—the false King’s chambers. Can she fool a King who can’t be deceived on his playing field? Forced to do his bidding, can she prevent the downfall of the only hope she worked so hard to bring home? Will she be able to escape with her life and mind intact?
With everyone’s world falling apart and deceit around every corner…can any of them truly Escape?
I pushed him back against the wall by his taut chest, never disconnecting my lips from his, and kissed him like I was starving for this one thing. Starving for him.
And I so was.
I couldn’t breathe, and I didn’t care. There was nothing else in this world but him and me, and I soaked it up like a dry sponge. He nipped my lip at the same time his hand savored the bare skin at the small of my back under my shirt.
It sent a rush of blood to every nook and corner of my body, giving me a euphoric high. I pressed myself further against him, but it wasn’t enough.
And I knew he felt the same when he slid his hands over my backside down to the inside of my thighs, picking me up off the ground. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist and let him lay me down along the cold, hard rock below.
I wanted him. So badly, I wanted him. Desire pooled in my gut, just for him. And I could feel he wanted me just as badly. I grinned against his hot lips and suppressed a giggle—knowing the others were just an earshot away.
Author Bio -
Bailey Ardisone was born and raised outside of Chicago, Illinois. She married the love of her life and spends her days submerged in books, movies, music, or art, and loves traveling. Fantasy books and movies have been a huge part of her life, and she is desperately obsessed with Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.
Her sister contributed some of the writing in Sweet Oblivion and Sweet Escape